I was born in London and I lived and worked there for several years. I know Westminster and have personally worked with MPs and civil servants who were caught up in yesterday's attacks. I even went to school with Tobias Ellwood, the heroic MP for Eastbourne who tried to save the fallen police officer. So yesterday's attacks hit home to me in the same way as those in Paris, Berlin and many other places have.
When I took to social media to find out what was happening there was shock and outrage, as was to be expected. An attack on Parliament is an attack on the nation itself, it is political and personal. But I also very quickly found the Blitz spirit that characterised my time in London. I remember several bomb threats back then and thinking, right, so that's means this station is closed, how do I get to work a different way? Never once did it occur to any of us to stop living, working and playing in one of the most multi-cultural and exciting cities in the world. Whatever the danger, a light falling of snow was probably going to shut the city down more effectively than terrorism. What also struck me was the compassion and solidarity shown by nearly everyone. The passers by helping the injured, off duty medics leaping in, nurses and doctors running from the hospital to the scene....and the calmness, the stoicism, the care. The senior police officer who took particular care to mention how vulnerable Muslim communities could be feeling. The MPs and civil servants who stayed calm and ensured that visitors felt safe. The school children who sang to cheer everyone up. This is my home city at its best. And the malicious xenophobes who sought to make political capital out of this, who sought to stir up fear and hatred? I can view them with mindful detachment. I can see their anger and fear but I won't engage in the hatred they want me to. I am angry with them, yes, and I will use all my political energy to ensure they don't get their way, but I will not respond to hatred with more hatred. This week marks the death of Martin McGuinness, a familiar bogeyman from my youth whose supporters were often responsible for my early experiences of terrorism in London. A man who found it within himself to do one of the bravest things we can ever do: to forgive his enemies, to move on from oppression and hatred and revenge and sit down and make peace for the sake of his community. Far braver than I could be in his circumstances. It take courage to be compassionate, it takes practice to not let ourselves be overwhelmed by hatred and fear, to be mindful, to recognise our emotions and vulnerabilities, and to engage with the world from a place of loving-kindness. We have to practice it over and over again because it is easy to forget and unlearn. And that is why I practice mindfulness, over, and over, and over again, every day. Because that is the only way I know how not to give in to the anger and the fear and the hatred. #HopeNotHate #WeAreNotAfraid
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AuthorI came to mindfulness through trying to find a way to be sane and compassionate in an insane and harsh world. Archives
October 2017
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