Liminal Reflections: Seeking Peace Amidst the Echoes of Conflict

 What words can truly console a parent, sibling, grandparents, or child on the loss of those paramount in their lives? The fundamental bond between mother and child is profound, yet in the face of immense sorrow, an avalanche of words might seem no more than a mere speck of dust. The ongoing conflict in Israel and Gaza is deeply entrenched, and as we, in the UK, come together with our families in the safety of our homes, it is crucial to understand the nuances on both sides.

Hamas is often represented in the media as a political entity. However, we must remember its foundation lies in religious ideals, established by an Imam, making it a religious organization with its own set of doctrines, some of which we witness playing out. On the other hand, aspects of Jewish religious doctrine, such as the concept of "an eye for an eye," are also apparent in the dynamics of this conflict. The importance of understanding these religious underpinnings cannot be understated. As Mahatma Gandhi wisely observed, 'An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.

We are witnessing the manifestation of a deeply rooted divide. Within the corridors of power, there is unwavering support for Israel, yet on our streets and in public squares, countless voices are raised in solidarity with Palestine. Demonstrations throughout the nation have been a testament to the public's anguish over the sufferings endured by the Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza. The origins of this conflict can be traced back to the tumultuous times of the formation of Israel, when the UK chose to withdraw, leaving the region in a state of uncertainty and tension. The absence of a mediator during those crucial times laid the groundwork for the decades of strife that followed.

As each generation inherits the legacy of conflict, they also inherit the pain, resentment, and sorrow. These emotions compound over time, turning skirmishes into full-fledged wars. The renowned psychologist, Carl Jung, once dreamt of an apocalyptic war. While it may have been a manifestation of the collective unconscious during his era, it serves as a chilling reminder of the cyclical nature of human conflict. The weight of history presses upon us all, urging us to seek understanding and reconciliation.

The weight of history presses upon us all, urging us to seek understanding and reconciliation. Yet, often, the realities of the distant conflicts become blurred by the immediacies of our own lives. One evening, I found myself in an Indian restaurant, waiting for our regular takeaway. The fragrant aroma of spices and the hum of the fan overhead provided a stark contrast to the disturbing news updates from the Middle East that played on my phone. Talks of Hezbollah, Iran, and the ever-complicating geopolitical landscape juxtaposed against the backdrop of this cozy eatery made for an unsettling dichotomy.

Thomas Merton, in his 'Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander,' encapsulated such moments of introspection. He wrote, 'The truth that many people never understand until it is too late is that the more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you, in proportion to your fear of being hurt.'

An elderly gentleman, perhaps sensing my contemplation or merely frustrated by his wait, initiated a conversation. His offhand remark about the news underscored another division within our society: the choice between engagement and deliberate detachment. His words, 'I try not to think of it, I switch myself off from it,' struck a chord. It's a sentiment many resonate with, a self-imposed shield against the overwhelming tragedies we often feel powerless to change.

But are we truly powerless? Or is our chosen inaction, our conscious detachment, a reflection of our inner conflicts? Are we the 'guilty bystanders' Merton spoke of? Every choice, every act of silence or indifference, weaves into the intricate fabric of our shared human narrative. It forces us to grapple with our roles within the larger tapestry of events, to ponder whether our present decisions will one day be seen as courageous stands or silent complicity.

Will the actions and support of our Government one day be the ruin of us? Will future generations bear the weight of decisions made today, decisions they had no voice in? Could the solidarity shown to Palestine one day evolve into political ideologies that breed unrest within our very borders? Or, amidst this maelstrom of geopolitical movements, will many simply choose to turn away, focusing on finding peace within their immediate circles?

Perhaps, as Carl Jung proposed, I too am influenced by the Collective Unconscious, harbouring an underlying dread of an impending apocalyptic war. Yet, in the midst of this uncertainty, where are the peacemakers, the ones willing to lead us to the table of reconciliation?

Taking the path of peace is no easy endeavour. It's a journey marred with confronting grief, sorrow, and guilt. It demands the courage to face anger, pain, and profound lament. Yet, it is the only path that can lead us out of this crisis. As both sides reel from hurt and fear, it's imperative that we carve out a sacred space—a liminal realm where beliefs can be reformed, differences bridged, and a shared vision for humanity's future forged. We are in the midst of a real-time clash of ideologies, beliefs, and histories.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, 'Peace cannot be achieved through violence; it can only be attained through understanding.' So, as we stand at this crossroads, will we choose the arduous path of understanding, of peace, or remain passive bystanders in the unfolding narrative of history?

And as I asked that question, 'What can I do?', I found myself in my own liminal space, suspended between the realms of action and inaction, hope and despair. In this threshold of introspection, time seems to stretch, offering a pause for reflection. Surrounded by the cacophony of the world outside, this sacred space within becomes a sanctuary of silence and contemplation. Here, every thought, every emotion, carries weight. And while the magnitude of global crises might render one feeling insignificant, this space reminds me that change often begins with a single spark, a solitary voice. It beckons me to search deeper, to find that answer not just in the grand tapestry of world events, but within the intricate threads of my own being. How will I respond? What role will I play? In this quiet, liminal moment, I await the revelation, trusting that within this pause lies the potential for transformation.