“Next year, the Man is going to win the Nobel Peace Prize.”

“How do you see that, Aussie?”

“Because he’ll end the war with Iran.”

“Aussie, he started the war with Iran.”

“Of course he did. How can you make peace if you don’t have a war first? The problem with the world is that it’s too peaceful.”

“Really, Auss? Sudan? Somalia? Pakistan and Afghanistan? Russia and Ukraine?”

“But they don’t involve us, see?”

“Iran wasn’t fighting us, either, Aussie.”

“Which is a problem for the Man. In order to win the Nobel Peace Prize, he has to get into a war first. Was it his fault that there’s nothing around? There’s good old terrorist Mamdani in New York City, but he kinda sorta likes Mamdani. But the Man is brilliant, see? He figured that if he could start a war, he’d have something to end (though he prefers the word win), and then get tix to Oslo. I tell you, he’s brilliant.”

“Aussie, thousands of people have lost their lives, there are big disruptions to the world economy, and we’re paying at least $2 billion a day for this war.”

“No biggie. They can deduct $2 billion from Lori’s accident insurance payments from Workman’s Compensation, also from her social security and Medicaid. There are lotsa places from which to make up that money, don’t worry.”

A friend with Stage 4 cancer visited the house yesterday. I could see the physical traces of the aggressive treatments he’s undergone, but he was in high spirits. Loves his body, loves his life. He told me a story of going to hear a musician he’d heard about a great deal play in a club one evening, and when he arrived, he was one of only three people there: the musician, his agent, and my friend.

“Should we just forget it and watch the debate?” the agent suggested. It was 2004 and George Bush was debating John Kerry that evening on television.

“’Course not,” said the musician. “I’m playing.”

And did he ever play, my friend told me. He played his heart out, song after song, hardly broke off to drink some water, one of his guitar strings broke and he re-strung the guitar, and he just played on as if there were a thousand people in the room instead of two. At the end of that, they turned on the Bush/Kerry debate.

That’s the kind of dedication we’re often called to have if we’re to make peace. It doesn’t matter how few we seem (we’re not), it doesn’t matter that we don’t have big destroyers and jet planes (though there is a CodePink armada heading out to Cuba with urgently needed food and medical supplies to break the embargo we’ve put in place, with our Palestinian activist friend, Sami Awad, participating), and it doesn’t matter how many sit on their hands or else get distracted by the Million and One Distractions (a new Buddhist meditation hindrance). Nor does it matter that most of us don’t win Nobel Peace Prizes. We go on playing with all we’ve got. Just look at the new green sprigs–the first ones this year–at the feet of Kwan Yin.

I look at arrogant photos of Navy carriers and Air Force jets sowing havoc in places they can’t see and in people they don’t know. Photos of cities are presented like some backdrop to big plumes of gray smoke, as if the day-to-day peaceful lives most people want to lead are just background to fire and ash. But fire and ash are not the whole story, far from it.

I’ve had questions regarding the man taken by ICE when he came to the immigration court in Burlington, MA, and his wife, scheduled to go for the same appointment and afraid for her two small children. He is still detained, but at least not flown to Texas or Louisiana prisons or deported, and a new lawyer is trying to get him released while posting bond. His wife has asked for her hearing to be on Zoom given what happened to her husband, and we are waiting for the verdict. In the meantime, she continues to take care of her children and find some work somewhere.

I read a biography long ago of Andrej Sakharov in the years he and his ill fellow resistor wife, Yelena Bonner, were exiled to Gorky (Sakharov did win the Nobel Peace Prize, by the way). A reporter interviewing him asked how he felt towards those people who just pursue their mundane lives and don’t take the risks he had. Sakharov, showing his beautiful humanism, said that he never harbored any negative feelings: “There are those who fight on the front lines, and those who put their children to bed.”

Some of us have to gather to protect immigrants, and some of us continue with our daily tasks in the face of calumny and violence. Both take courage. Not so sure about that new Buddhist hindrance, the Million and One Distractions.

I’m heading down to New York City for 2 days, will blog again later in the week. But please support financially my blog; it’s my quarterly ask. I need money to maintain the blog and it’s an important part of my own support. I can’t help immigrants financially without it. Prices here are climbing just as they are everywhere, including dog care. Aussie has decided that at the ripe age of 8-1/2, she’s had it with kibble and has been lobbying for Stella & Chewy’s Freeze-Dried Beef Patties, “Perfect for picky eaters.” She has refused to eat breakfast, though she makes a big rush for her dinner. I did have some concern that she was sick, but no, she’s just getting older, like the rest of us.

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