“…he wanted to yell the things that white doctors had yelled at him—that he had to think only of himself, and not about the others, that he would never get well as long as he used words like we and us. But he had known the answer all along … medicine didn’t work that way, because the world didn’t work that way. His sickness was only part of something larger, and his cure would be found only in something great and inclusive of everything.”

This is an excerpt from Leslie Marmon Silko’s magnificent novel, Ceremony, about Tayo, a traumatized mixed-blood World War II veteran who, almost despite himself, undergoes a native ceremony under the tutelage of Betonie, a medicine man. Tayo is told by Betonie that he can’t think of healing just in terms of himself, that’s not how life is, and therefore, that’s not how reality functions.

On this eve of Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, I go back to Silko’s brilliant writing and feel that there, somehow, is an elusive answer to a big question. What’s the question? Maybe it is how to go on, how to take the next step.

Be here now is the big mantra derived from a variety of wisdom traditions, but so is Go straight ahead. Be here now—go straight ahead. How do I do that?

Each morning, I walk to our wooden Kwan-yin in back, the one built long ago by a young neo-Nazi carpenter, light incense and offer it to her. Henry brings sticks for her to throw. She accepts them graciously and I, as one of her arms, throw them for him to fetch and bring back, throw, fetch and bring back, again and again.

I can’t think of how many times I’ve stood there and smelled the morning air, feeling deep kinship with that beautiful woman, just one of her many, many arms. Sometimes I ask her to aim me right. I am aware that each moment will do its aiming for me, but it’s nice to ask her for help.

Over the years I’ve talked to her plenty about the Middle East, especially this past year. And these past 6-1/2 months I’ve talked to her about the challenges of caregiving, which were so alive for me when Bernie was ill and have returned after my housemate’s accident.

Other arms of Kwan-yin help me with terrific advice; they have way more expertise and knowledge than me. We talk about personalities, limitations, needs, and expectations. And yes, this particular arm has just two hands and two feet, and lucky to have those. Creativity and energy lag after 6, the last evening hours devoted to mundane tasks like cleaning the coffee machine or doing bookkeeping.

But the challenges aren’t limited. Everything is connected to everything else, so how is healing going to happen for any individual when it’s isolated and limited to that one person?

We say that healing one person affects everyone and everything else. But it’s all simultaneous. It depends on way more than a one-to-one relationship. Right now, I intuit that it’s more about creating the ground for healing, a space for recovery that permeates not just one room but an entire home, an entire community and society.

The freedom to be different is one ingredient of that space, an acceptance of the circumstances that have brought me to be me. Or as I like to say, following my Jewish tradition, God’s image is everywhere and in everything..

Another ingredient is asking the question that philosopher Charles Eisenstein recently asked; “What is it like to be you?” What is it like to come from an alcoholic family? What is it like to lose a husband or a child? What is it like to be ill or dying, or poor or in jail? What is it like to be you?

Creating a healing environment is the real job. If one can do that, I believe the healing happens spontaneously; it’s not something you’re doing or saying or writing or teaching. It’s not a political, medical, or military solution, though those efforts all have their place. It’s creating a setting where people feel no shame or defensiveness about themselves or their lives, where they’re acknowledged as children of the Buddha, as Buddhas themselves.

Once again, I think of Bernie’s vision for the Greyston Mandala. In order to prosper, folks need jobs and livable salaries, so train and hire them to work in a bakery. And they need affordable homes and not live on the streets, so provide those, too. And they need care for their children, so build day care centers. And if they’re ill with AIDS, build housing for them as well as a daytime medical center.

Create the space in which you find acceptance, where you know that folks are on your side and are cheering you on as you tackle what life has put in front of you, where, finally, you can thrive.

Approaching a year since the war in the Middle East began with a horrific attack on October 7, I’ve been asked by various people: What would you do in our place?

My answer is; In the immediate short run, defend yourself and protect your families. After that, create a healing space for everyone, because healing is not just an individual or one-sided affair, it’s necessary for everyone there, all the millions of people with fear, terror, loss, grief, and yes, even cynicism (which gets you nowhere). Ask them Charles Eisenstein’s question; What is it like to be you? Then listen. Really listen. Deeply listen.

“How Buddhist of you,” some people mock.

No, it’s not any more Buddhist than Christian or Muslim or Jewish or Native American. It’s the most practical answer in the world, the one that ensures that we thrive equally.

I once met the head of Bethlehem’s Islamic Jihad (branded a terrorist organization). We were blindfolded and brought inside a very old building; I had the sense it was adjacent to the Church of the Nativity. There ensued a conversation; the man made no excuses for his fanatic and violent version of Islam.

In the end I, who’d stayed quiet among the men (and covered my hair), asked him: “Before you got involved with this, what did you want to do with your life?”

He said, “I wanted to be a social worker. My dream was to go to NYU in New York and study social work.”

He’s dead now, but there are many others who still dream of becoming social workers and not soldiers, who want to live rather than become suicide bombers, who want to have a family and live in peace. There may always be a fanatic fringe who will want to create mayhem and destruction in the name of some religious utopia, or to settle historic scores. But that’s not the great majority, not by a long shot.

For the Jewish New Year, I’m not sitting in judgment, have done plenty of that in my life. I wish to inhabit a space of medicine, assist the Great Physician working through Kwan-yin, become a more skillful arm, and create room for all of us to prosper and live in peace.