The Abnormal Is Not Courage

Chicago, IL

October 3, 2011

7:54 a.m.

The Abnormal is Not Courage

. . .

Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being. 

. . .

The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding. 

. . .

Not the month's rapture. Not the exception. The beauty 

That is of many days. Steady and clear. 

It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment. 

                          from “The Abnormal is Not Courage” by Jack Gilbert

It’s been a couple of weeks since my daughter Viveka and I completed our cross-country pilgrimage from Oceanside, California to Washington D.C.  We’ve had a chance to enjoy a few “victory laps” -- absorbing congratulations and bathing in the glow of accomplishment: a sizable task completed.  

I almost said “monumental task” but it wasn’t.  After all, I did not walk every step of the way as some have.  I only walked about 750 miles.  For instance, I recall the example of “Granny D” (whose name was also Doris) who, at 89, actually did walk every step of the way for her cause celebre:  campaign finance reform.  After her walk, she made an unsuccessful bid for a seat in the House of Representatives.  And of course, there is always the legendary journey of Mildred Norman Ryder, a.k.a. Peace Pilgrim, who walked well over 25,000 miles -- the distance of the circumference of the earth -- in fulfillment of her vow “to be a wayfarer on the earth until mankind shall have learned the ways of peace.”  Compared with her hard core, 28-year commitment, our journey of 6 1/2 months, supported by the nightly comfort of an RV seemed like school-girl play acting.

I have to be honest.  I began this journey with much soul searching, and I finally discovered the “reason” I was walking:  I wanted attention.  And the thing that terrified me most was the very attention I would certainly get.  (Be careful what you wish for!)  I was genuinely afraid that when the camera was on and the interviewer asked the pregnant question “What is this walk about?” what would issue from my mouth would be insignificant dribble.  No memorable sound bites.  No quotable quotes.  I was afraid that my true motivation would somehow leak through and would appear mean and selfish; an exercise in ego gratification.  So we gave ourselves a statement of intention -- a banner to walk under:  We are walking to further the understanding that women’s full participation is essential NOW to solve the global challenges facing humanity today.  It sounded good.  But the nagging question still remained:  Could the mere fact of walking really make a difference?  How much of a difference?  To whom? 

Many people we talked to were skeptical.  When I shared the truly monumental mission of Peace Pilgrim with one gentleman he said, “Well, you can see how much good that did!”  Often we could tell, even though folks listened politely, they were threatened on some level.  Some were even bold enough to say our mission was flawed; that women were simply not, nor would ever be “equally-valued” decision makers.  Decision-making (on “important” issues, i.e. issues other than domestic ones) was not the purview of women.  Still others thought our cause was passe; that the “women’s lib” train had already left the station.  They could not hear that we were not feminists, or “womanists” but were advocating a greater balance between masculine and feminine -- left and right brain -- values both in the culture, and within the individual.

Since it was not our purpose to raise money we didn’t appeal to people to vote with their checkbooks. With all due respect to people who do raise money and contribute it to good causes, like finding a cure for cancer, Viveka and I were stubbornly insisting that one doesn’t have to have cancer or be at death’s door to have a dream.  One could make a difference by simply having an intention, and taking steps -- literally -- to walk one’s talk and to be the change we wanted to see in the world.

We soon realized that people thought what we were doing was courageous.  I was called “a saint,” “a prophetess.”  I had to laugh, and yet I had to pay attention to what other people were seeing and projecting on to me.  They saw an old woman walking with intention.  Some were touched, moved and inspired, and the exchanges that took place between us, time and time again as we walked and talked, left us all enriched and energized in a good way. 

*   *   * 

Was Don Quixote courageous?  If you say “yes,” then you believe that a desperate and demented senior citizen can dream an impossible dream -- an antiquated but noble dream of chivalry undertaken to prove himself worthy of the love of a worthy woman (Dulcinea) -- even if she is not the pure and spotless creature he imagines her to be.  One questionable quester, by taking himself seriously and refusing to listen to the fears and taunts of others, can climb on to a broken down nag (Rocinante) and sally forth to become a legend in his own mind.  If you say “yes,” then you are a romantic.

If you say “no,” then you belong to another group who sees the world more “realistically.”  That is not “courage,” you would say, with a cynic’s air.  “That’s just weird, strange or foolish.  That’s abnormal.”  As, for example, when the Poles rode out on horses to battle Hitler’s invading tanks.  Where was the nobility in their fruitless sacrifice?  Better they should have simply surrendered, and saved themselves the heartbreak.  They should -- at least -- have spared their noble horses.

In the end, I found that the only thing that could rescue this enterprise from hopeless narcissism was to pray each day as we set out, that our efforts would be received as an offering, an oblation; that a higher purpose and power would receive and use this effort and energy for the greater good and for the liberation of all sentient beings.  

How is that possible?  How will that happen?  I do not know.  That is not my department.  But I am confident that my daily offerings were heard and received, and like the fluttering of butterfly wings in the Amazon, they can affect the weather patterns in the Arctic, and somehow, in concert with many many others who are making similar offerings each day, we can, together, create a shift that will benefit the whole of creation.

*   *   *

What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world makes us immortal.”     --Albert Pike