Let The Walls Come Tumbling Down

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it"
~Jalaluddin Rumi~

On Sunday January 29th, Canadians received the horrific news that a lone gunmen had burst into a mosque in Quebec City and killed six men gathered in prayer. This singular event shocked Canadians, and prompted a myriad of questions. "Why here?" "This is not who we are, is it?" The attack came at the end of a weekend, where we watched many of our American neighbours protest against an exclusionary travel ban on the citizens of seven Muslim majority countries, and against the building of a wall between our two southern neighbours, the U.S. and Mexico.

It was consoling, to some degree, to see citizens across Canada rally at vigils, to stand in unity and mourn with their Muslim neighbours.  Citizens,of all faiths and races seeking to ensure that a wall of hate would not exist between neighbours despite rhetoric that seeks to divide us.

As I watched the events unfold, from news reports of the shooting to vigils, it struck me that perhaps now we have been awakened from our complacency to examine what other walls need to "come tumbling down." Perhaps now, we might look to tear down the walls of racism, income inequality, sexism, poverty, xenophobia, homophobia and religious intolerance. Walls like these prevent progress, inhibit true community. 

However, with further thought and reflection, I realize that I must address the walls or barriers that I have built against love and tolerance. How do I deal with the barrier of apathy that often creeps into my soul, and leads to indifference or a sense of thinking it is someone else's problem? The wall of privilege, that allows me to stay safely ensconced in my upper middle class existence, while many of my neighbours face the daily barriers caused merely by the colour of their skin or the faith they profess. The barrier of certainty that bars me from understanding. Finally, the wall of my own ignorance that does not allow me to exercise true empathy, which comes from knowing the story of my neighbour and entering into true dialogue. 

When I sit in Circle, whether it be with primary or high school students, I need to remind myself that we are seeking to build authentic community. For Circle isn't a practice, it is a way of thinking and being. It is working "with" people, to support each other, help each member to grow, and realizing that each of us through our own stories add to the fabric of the beautiful tapestry that is our community. It is imparting to each member of Circle, a dignity that their story matters and has value. I can attest that when I am truly present in Circle, I can start to tear down these inner walls. As I tear down my own walls, I can really start to join my community to address the greater walls of society. The work of tearing down walls therefore travels on two tracks, but surely must begin within each of us.

"Yesterday I was clever so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself"

~Jalaluddin Rumi~

A Restorative Moment

A Restorative Moment

On Saturday January 21, 2017, I attended Toronto's Women's March in support of Equal Rights. As I stood in a throng of tens of thousands of people at Queen's Park, I caught sight of this young girl holding aloft a sign which read, "Be Brave Choose Love." The placard reminded me of a quote from Chief Joseph, " The earth is the mother of all people, and all people should have equal rights upon it." Yet to reach this goal, it takes love. A love that manifests itself in cooperation. Cooperation to know that when we have had our say, we must allow all to express their stories and needs. A love that recognizes there is a responsibility to listen to each other. A listening that goes beyond hearing. A listening that requires each of us to bring an open heart and mind to another's story, and to leave judgment at the door. A love that brings forth humility. In order to treat our neighbour with respect, we must realize that we have not walked the path they have, we have not borne their pains, and we have not been subjected to the fears and ridicule that they have encountered. I must simply and humbly walk beside them, use empathy as a balm to soothe their wounds.

Yet the question remains, what can I do? Numerous speakers said this moment should not pass, each of us must be called to action. This clarion call spoke to me. It highlighted for me the importance of what I do. Yes, education is a marvellous tool to impart lessons on inclusion, diversity and acceptance. As a teacher, I can model these not only for my students, but the staff and parents I work with daily. However, and most importantly, it reminded me that the use of Restorative Practice is the most effective tool I have encountered to build and maintain relationships, create safe spaces where all are included, hear all voices, manage difficult dialogue, and provide a framework for strong, healthy, learning communities.

For in a year that has begun with a sense of anger, fear and divisiveness, marked by cries of us versus them, we must redouble our efforts to provide a framework for our students, teachers, and community to give them a voice. We must encourage dialogue where it is okay to disagree but never okay to be disagreeable. We must gather in circle to celebrate our stories, support each other through times of pain and sadness, and be brave enough to choose love. As Nelson Mandela stated, "to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others."