The window I am looking through today…
LETTER TO MY NEWSLETTER LIST, 12/26/2023
Hello everyone,
I hope you are feeling safe and supported today.
This note does not have any information about Yoga. It is about something my older brother has asked me to share with my community. In all honesty, I am nervous about sending this email because the war between Israel and Palestine is a highly sensitive subject. But the alternative to sending this email is not sending it, which would be a form of inaction — which can crank the wheels of destructive karma as much as harmful action does — so here goes.
Let me first say that I have deep care and respect for all human beings that are working towards more peace on this planet. I believe that in order to digest and solve the terrifying conflicts that exist in the world we need to foster an environment that is physically and emotionally safe.
While I am calling you to be a peace worker, I know that you already are. Whether you are raising kids and teaching them how to be kind to others, or you are creating music and art for synthesis and catharsis, or you are calling and hugging your friends — you. are. already. a. peace. worker.
For as far back as I can remember, my brother has been a humanitarian. When I was in middle school he educated me about sweatshops when he saw me come home with a bag full of clothes from the Gap. When I was in college, he was going to law school so he could become a human rights lawyer. He has been working in the middle east for over a decade with various NGO’s and has lived in Egypt, Palestine and Lebanon.
My brother is a researcher. Even when he is not working, he is doing in-depth research on historical events, small and large, that tie into the greater web of a highly complicated political-social power structure that forms our world today. Truly, there are very few people on this planet that know as much as my brother does about the events/topics that have captured his attention — one of which has been the long-time conflict between modern day Palestine and Israel.
{Somewhat related side-bar: the best gift I ever gave my brother for Christmas was an obscure newspaper article - on a topic I can’t recall - that I found in the microfilm archives of a library in Sydney, Australia. He gave me a list of about 5 articles he hoped I could find. I came back with one, which was a miracle given I am NOT a researcher). This short article meant nothing to me, but my brother could place it in the web of things as a relevant resource that documented something both significant and complex.}
Several years ago, my brother lived in Gaza. When he came home, I noticed a change in him that is difficult to put into words. As someone whose nose is usually buried in a book or online article, I was expecting him to share an impossible-to-remember string of facts at the dinner table. But instead, he talked about the fisherman he befriended who would share food with him even though my brother’s resources and liberty far exceeded the fisherman’s. He told us about a friend named Amira, her English was better than most people in Gaza, and she helped him navigate the city and better learn the local dialect.
During the time my brother was in Gaza, the level of violence was less than it is now ~ but it was still an unstable place to be. There was always a fear that Israel would release a rocket or bomb (which was not uncommon), a fear that violence would be instigated by extremists like Hamas and fear that the squeeze of living in a very small territory - of which there is no way out - would tighten causing living conditions to become worse than they already were.
In the weeks that followed the Hamas attack on Israel on October 7th, 2023, I wondered what my brother would have to say and I wondered if Amira and the fisherman would be alive for much longer. Until recently, my brother only gave us updates on if Amira and her son were alive. They have moved south to the border with Egypt. Their home is gone.
My brother didn’t offer very much commentary outside of deep care and worry for his friends. What I implicitly understood is that, while no one can truly prepare for the terror of what both Israeli and Palestinian people have been enduring, the possibility of a more outright version of war was something the people in both countries were aware of. As one of my friends, who immigrated to the U.S. from Israel told me, “This is why my Dad did everything he could to move my family to the U.S.”. The lack of resolution between Israel and Palestine was bound to foment into something terrible.
In the past two months, I found it interesting that while my social media feed was full of opinions and “reports” on the conflict, the person that I knew had more information about the conflict between Israel and Palestine than nearly anyone, was quiet (aside from the updates that Amira and her son were alive). I can only imagine the way my brother’s heart fell when he heard about Hamas attacking Israel, the dread in his system for all of the humans who were now fighting and fleeing for their life.
When I try to put myself in my brother’s shoes, it feels beyond overwhelming to process what is happening — the paradox of not being surprised and feeling sick and distraught over it all. And how does one close the massive gap between the very limited understanding most Americans have of this conflict and the highly detailed and emotionally tethered understanding that he has?
And it may not be possible to close that gap. But because Devin gave me a little window, a simple line of connection to someone, I am going to show you the window I am looking through today.
In sharing what my brother has sent to family members in the past week, my hope is that it gives you a simple yet potent thread of connection to the people of Palestine. I hope it brings your human heart a little closer to their human hearts.
{In no way is this note, or the links provided intended to cause second-hand trauma. While there are images cute kiddos and of destroyed buildings, there are no sensitive images of human beings.}
Lastly, I know there are a lot of people in my network who are Jewish and who love and support their Jewish friends and family (I will raise my hand, that’s me too!!). This note is not meant to minimize what has happened to Jewish people in the past nor what is unfolding in the present day. It is my deepest prayer that this note does not inflict a trauma tremor for you, but instead lights the flame in your heart that recognizes the flame of love and dignity burning in others.
From my brother, Devin.
Dec 22, 2023, 5:07 AM
You know I never do these things, and they embarrass me, but in this case I simply have to. This fundraiser has been started by my friend Hani who I knew in Gaza. I reconnected with him after this horrible war started. He is one of the kindest people I ever met. Very quiet, very soft-spoken. Aside from being nice to me personally while I was struggling in a place that would always be alien and frightening to me, in his job while I knew him he worked with little kids there and tried to impart to them feelings of human decency, for lack of a better term. Him and his circle of friends were all extremely anti-Ḥamās (pro-Fatḥ, for full disclosure; I don't like Fatḥ either, but things are as they are) and were people against the grain of the destructive ethno-nationalist discourse that so depressed me there. Hani very recently got out of Gaza and got asylum in Belgium—I haven't asked him, but I presume because of his anti-Ḥamās political stance, since no country will give you asylum just because you live in a place regularly bombed by Israel—but all his family members are still in Gaza and are living under very harsh circumstances. Aside from anything you might yourself contribute, it would be even better if you could pass this onto anyone you're comfortable doing so with, any kind of social networks that include people with disposable income.
Mon, Dec 25, 10:23 AM
After a weird Thanksgiving it's a weird Christmas. I am saddened and drawn away in my thoughts by what's happening in Gaza. This is not the first time something horrible has been happening somewhere else in the world during a Christmas, but you know how it can feel different after you've lived somewhere long enough to have gotten to know people there.
To say something positive, I'm glad to have my family, and I'm really glad that we're all safe. My trip in a couple days will be very brief, but I'm glad we'll have dinner and we can have some fun as I regale you with details of how utterly, completely horrible COP28 was. Hope everyone's having the right kind of day. Love you fam.
– Devin