There are two versions of "reality" that are going on around us all the time. It can make a big difference to us as peacemakers to have a way to tell them apart, so that we can tune in to one or the other.
The version that we notice most often is the reality of "believing our own and each others' baggage." "Baggage" (recordings in our heads from early traumas) includes whatever feelings we had during a trauma -- fear, loss, boredom, humiliation, aloneness, discouragement, feeling stupid or bad or that "nobody cares about me."
Although large parts of our young life may have been interesting, safe, happy, and playful, it's the nature of baggage to repeat over and over in our minds even during the good times. It makes us look at the world as if through dark glasses. When several people get together and start "believing each other's baggage," life can seem to be a tough and unfriendly deal, and we can get pretty discouraged about the world.
The other version of reality is the one most of us had in the first few days of our life (unless we were harmed during pregnancy by addiction or malnutrition). We began life:
-- expecting to connect in fun and interesting ways with other human minds
-- expecting to be loved for who we are, and that our love will be well-received
-- trusting that although we are small and helpless, someone will come when we call out
-- eager to explore and understand this new place we've arrived in.
Even living among grownups who mostly "saw the world through dark glasses," we occasionally had good days. We played hard, made close friends, sometimes knew we could learn everything we were passionate about, and had confidence in ourselves. There were occasional grownups who would play with us, teachers or teenagers who encouraged us, coaches who inspired us, people who liked us and who received our liking of them.
Among my listening-friends, we have made the interesting discovery that upon releasing some of the feelings from a childhood trauma, even crusty adults sort of pop into the "reality of the young child" for a while. Things we'd like to do seem more possible, we remember we have friends, we notice the beauty of Nature, we have confidence in the human race.
Just as a child will cry hard (if someone listens) when she gets hurt and then "the sun comes out" and she happily goes back to play -- an adult (if someone listens) can unload some of the baggage that has darkened her view of the world, and then "the sun comes out" and she can think creatively about some special project.
The war economy totally depends on the "reality of believing each others' baggage." Without our buying in to "human beings are crummy" and "we're helpless in the face of Big Wealth" types of baggage, the whole war thing would fall flat on its face.
While the "reality of the young child" may seem soft and fragile, in fact it is powerful because it relates back to each person's first (and very strong) expectations when they arrived on the planet. Hooking in to someone's deep memory of the goodness of life is an unstoppable motivation!
To understand the difference between the two kinds of "reality," and to understand that the war machine can only operate when there is widespread "believing each others' baggage," means that what we do to work for peace will be unlike all past peace work, and far more effective.
The core of our work will be about making new friends and about deepening friendships by taking turns listening. We will gradually surround ourselves with folks who are dropping their baggage along the side of the road -- and who no longer agree with our baggage, so that it loses its influence over us.
That weekend gave me a glimpse of what's possible. It's not so very hard to make a profound difference in the way people view the world around them. That difference -- to come into the "reality of the child" -- can make the war machine wither like an unwatered weed.