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Children's workshop in Thailand
“Oh this is gonna break your heart,” Nao says as she prepares to translate for me what one of the young girls has just shared. “She says she is grateful for all that Whispering Seed has done for her and for learning giraffe language and hopes you will never forget all of them.” And that’s when I begin to cry tears that are so touched by all that is contained in what this young girl has just said.
We are in the final activity of a PEACEfull Communication workshop which I am leading at Whispering Seed, a children’s home and community center in Thailand. These girls and two boys who have come to Thailand with their families to escape the violence and oppression of the military government in Burma. This is quite possibly the first time in their lives they have been given the opportunity and support necessary for them to be bale to express their gratitude. It took Nao and I trying in several explanations for them to understand what we were asking of them. But once they understood, the words flowed on the paper like the river in the rainy season. Our Chain of Gratitude was full and some participants asked for another piece of paper in order to write everything they were grateful for.
How could I ever forget them? We shared an unforgettable afternoon of trust and vulnerability.It began when I shared something that had happened that morning. A young man had approached the kitchen of Whispering Seed holding a large gun, half trying to hide it behind his back. I could tell by the way the plastic shone in the sun that the gun wasn’t real but all the same, I felt my heart become agitated and knew I had to intervene. I shared with the participants that I felt very nervous, sad and angry. I was sad because I so deeply wished that young men would prize instruments or paint brushes or pencils – weapons that can transmit all that is most beautiful in them – rather than guns. And then I shared that I felt nervous and angry because I thought: “Hasn’t he learned? How many mothers have to get shot the way Pon was two weeks ago in this very place before people understand? And will they ever understand?”
We had all been affected by the shooting. All the young people in the workshop knew about the shooting and some were particularly close to Pon. Her two oldest daughters were with us this afternoon and just after she was shot by her husband, I had held Pon in my arms administering first aid with my partner, Remi and then carried her out to the road to get her to the hospital. She survived with an injured arm and a sewn up hole in her stomach. Bloody miracle, I think.
I ended my sharing by saying that I needed hope that people around the world are growing in their commitment to peace. I added that especially given that I knew the Thai military came into the village regularly to train young boys to use guns and then left the weapons in their community, I added that I also really needed safety for those here whom I had come to care for very much, including all of them. Then there was silence and I asked them if they wanted to share anything that was coming up for them after hearing what I had to say.
One after another, like flowers unfolding in the sun, they decided to trust enough to open up. “I want to be a mediator with people in my village.” “I wish Pon’s family was together again.” I want to offer encouragement to Pon. I will pray for her.” Then I asked, “Do you think it would be helpful for her to know all that you are saying?” And they answered, “Yes. Let’s tell her.” So these brave you g people wrote letters to Pon expressing their deepest wishes of peace, forgiveness and healing for her. In her gratitude, Potsela, Pon’s eldest daughter expressed her thanks for all the support we all had shown her mom.
I imagine we all made history together that day – expressing gratitude and as a group, with others watching, offering words of comfort and support to someone in need, if not for that village, then for those young people making a conscious choice in that moment to of how they want to be in the world. They bring me hope and that afternoon has brought yet more meaning to my presence here on Earth.
“Oh this is gonna break your heart,” Nao says as she prepares to translate for me what one of the young girls has just shared. “She says she is grateful for all that Whispering Seed has done for her and for learning giraffe language and hopes you will never forget all of them.” And that’s when I begin to cry tears that are so touched by all that is contained in what this young girl has just said.
We are in the final activity of a PEACEfull Communication workshop which I am leading at Whispering Seed, a children’s home and community center in Thailand. These girls and two boys who have come to Thailand with their families to escape the violence and oppression of the military government in Burma. This is quite possibly the first time in their lives they have been given the opportunity and support necessary for them to be bale to express their gratitude. It took Nao and I trying in several explanations for them to understand what we were asking of them. But once they understood, the words flowed on the paper like the river in the rainy season. Our Chain of Gratitude was full and some participants asked for another piece of paper in order to write everything they were grateful for.
How could I ever forget them? We shared an unforgettable afternoon of trust and vulnerability.It began when I shared something that had happened that morning. A young man had approached the kitchen of Whispering Seed holding a large gun, half trying to hide it behind his back. I could tell by the way the plastic shone in the sun that the gun wasn’t real but all the same, I felt my heart become agitated and knew I had to intervene. I shared with the participants that I felt very nervous, sad and angry. I was sad because I so deeply wished that young men would prize instruments or paint brushes or pencils – weapons that can transmit all that is most beautiful in them – rather than guns. And then I shared that I felt nervous and angry because I thought: “Hasn’t he learned? How many mothers have to get shot the way Pon was two weeks ago in this very place before people understand? And will they ever understand?”
We had all been affected by the shooting. All the young people in the workshop knew about the shooting and some were particularly close to Pon. Her two oldest daughters were with us this afternoon and just after she was shot by her husband, I had held Pon in my arms administering first aid with my partner, Remi and then carried her out to the road to get her to the hospital. She survived with an injured arm and a sewn up hole in her stomach. Bloody miracle, I think.
I ended my sharing by saying that I needed hope that people around the world are growing in their commitment to peace. I added that especially given that I knew the Thai military came into the village regularly to train young boys to use guns and then left the weapons in their community, I added that I also really needed safety for those here whom I had come to care for very much, including all of them. Then there was silence and I asked them if they wanted to share anything that was coming up for them after hearing what I had to say.
One after another, like flowers unfolding in the sun, they decided to trust enough to open up. “I want to be a mediator with people in my village.” “I wish Pon’s family was together again.” I want to offer encouragement to Pon. I will pray for her.” Then I asked, “Do you think it would be helpful for her to know all that you are saying?” And they answered, “Yes. Let’s tell her.” So these brave you g people wrote letters to Pon expressing their deepest wishes of peace, forgiveness and healing for her. In her gratitude, Potsela, Pon’s eldest daughter expressed her thanks for all the support we all had shown her mom.
I imagine we all made history together that day – expressing gratitude and as a group, with others watching, offering words of comfort and support to someone in need, if not for that village, then for those young people making a conscious choice in that moment to of how they want to be in the world. They bring me hope and that afternoon has brought yet more meaning to my presence here on Earth.
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