Zen and History

History is happening—always, right here, right now, you are historying at this very second!—and right now, the history happening seems to be pretty solidly anti-zen.  While I am not in a history classroom of my own these days, I find myself still filtering everything through the lens of history—what has happened before, and what have we learned (or not) from those happenings? And one step further—how do we make sense of the history happening around us, and how do we most appropriately and effectively respond to those happenings?

Our founding fathers were hyper conscious about their place in history, about the legacy of their actions in forging a new sort of government.  You can see this time and again in their writings. We’ve lost some of that today in the glut of media and the reduction of speeches to sound-bytes, in the replacement of thoughtful responses with strident reaction.  A sense of spectacle has displaced a focus on legacy.  Appeals to chaos, fear, and emotion create an environment in which division and anger thrive. Yes, our founding fathers argued and politicked and published nasty articles about each other—and pretty much ignored the founding mothers-- but at the end of the day, they truly believed they were working for a larger good, NOT for their own egos.  They took time to think. To read. To learn. To write. Not just to spew.

I think I can safely posit that we are not in founding father land anymore.

 Being conscious of history we are forging NOW only works if we have a strong foundation of history in the distant and recent past. Recognizing evil in speech and action is easier when we understand this is nothing we have not seen before—the targets of prejudice and discrimination have just changed with each passing decade.  In this context, history seems completely anti-zen – so many bad things have happened, so many people have done terrible things to each other, even in this country I love so much. Responding to dark moments may seem impossible if we cannot look back to those who have stood in the face of darkness before.  History teaches us that bad stuff happens. A lot. And good people in EVERY era of history, without fail, stand up to answer the bad, often at great personal cost. We can make THAT kind of history.

History teaches, but rarely comforts (except to show time and time again that in spite of pretty hideous events and actions, time marches on and the world keeps going).  Progression – not to be confused with progress – is inexorable. History helps us make sense of dark times even as it gives us hope that the dark times are not forever.

The facts of history are set, but the interpretation of those facts is fluid, and if we study history honestly (and without need for self-aggrandizement ala our past) we can fulfill our responsibility to interpret history without erasing the less than flattering parts.  Interpretation takes time. Insta-interpretation is dangerous, reactionary.  History is, beyond anything else, proof that the passage of time is inherently powerful—and that over time the full import of our choices will become clear.

I sense a certain vibe of “um, yeah, and? So what? This is not your normal kind of post.”  I know. Over the last few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about history and how much I wish people would study it—maybe because I am not teaching it right now (although I have been covering a fair number of history classes in my substituting job).   Nationalism vs. patriotism, the Constitution, patterns of immigration and discrimination in the US (and elsewhere), there are so many things history can teach us about—but we have to go and learn. Learning takes discipline, and work, and a willingness to acknowledge when our own understandings have been limited or flat out wrong.  Knowledge really and truly is power, just sometimes it is a power gained through painful re-evaluation of things we thought we knew.

I love history so much.

I know I can learn from my own history. I can understand my own fears and behaviors and then respond to them in a much more zen like way if I can place them in context, my own historical context.  I was at CHOP last night with one of my kids (routine visit, just weirdly at night), and the smell of the blanket they gave me to keep warm, combined with the darkness outside, put my brain in a pretty bad place—but I understood why. I have too many memories of nights at CHOP, trying to sleep on a sheet that smells like hospital. Knowing this history helped me just breathe through the moment. I could respond, not react. I did not just start rocking back and forth and cursing at the MRI machine. I have done that before, so…yeah. I just took a deep breath, said a little prayer, and opened a Dorothy Sayers mystery to read.  History helped.

Can you imagine if we could do this in our life here in the US? If we could understand civil rights history in our country and thus respond thoughtfully to the concerns of those voters who rationally worry that their voices and votes continue to be suppressed? If we could learn about the Chinese Exclusion Act, or the quotas of the 1920s, or the “No Irish Need Apply” signs in store windows and thus respond with compassion to those people who come from afar in search of a better life like our own ancestors did? If we could look at politicians from not that long ago who worked together and got along despite deep philosophical differences, and we could hold name-calling politicians accountable for rhetoric that reduces our civic discourse to a playground argument?

The tool of history is one of the most versatile and valuable in our civic toolbox. We may not find zen, but if we understand the past, we can more thoughtfully and responsibly approach our future.

Peace to all, and to our country. Now go vote.