Once upon a time, in America, there was a person who wanted something very badly. This person held solid conservative values. She believed in hard work. She believed in family. She believed in the church and service to her community.
But this thing this person wanted, it turns out, wasn’t so easy to get. Everyone in her community agreed she should have it; it was the perfect fit for her sensibility.
She discovered, when she tried to get this thing, that she had to have a criminal history background check. After that, a child abuse background check. Then, once she cleared those, she needed to be finger printed and those fingerprints registered with the FBI.
So what was this thing that required such a thorough investigation of her background, her character and the assurance of future identification just in case?
Was it purchasing a gun?
Oh, this is America, people. Of course not.
This person wanted to work in the Children’s Section of her local library.
We drove past Sandy Hook and Newtown on our way home from Virginia this Memorial Day and next to the exit sign was a hand-lettered placard: “Free coffee and doughnuts.” This community had twenty first-graders and six teachers and administrators massacred by a man with an assault weapon. And what were they doing on this Memorial Day? Trying to keep drivers alert…and alive.
I hear people defend their right to own assault weapons because they say they need to be safe from “bad guys with guns.” I hear people say they need to protect their own. I never hear them say they want to protect their neighbors. I never hear them say they want to help. I hear them only expound on themselves and their rights.
But Sandy Hook, a town whose children did die from a bad guy with guns—they care about keeping you, anonymous you, alive.
Who has the bigger heart? Who has the richer soul? Who holds the future of our species? Do you want higher walls, bigger guns, more rampant paranoia? Or do you want the compassion of a town trying to keep holiday drivers alive, even as they continue to mourn the senseless slaughter of their children?
Some years ago, in Tulum, Mexico where I was training in Reiki, a Mexican shaman, eyeing my tiny bit of chubbiness, pointed out that it was because I was an American. I thought he meant it was because I always had plenty to eat. But no. “You Americans are so full of fear,” he said. “You build up fat as a protection from the world.” Well.
But he was right. Just look at how many guns we have in this country. We are afraid of each other, and for no good reason. We are not at war on our soil. We are a rich nation. There are pockets, of course, of poverty and violence. But the majority of us are comfortable, and the majority of us are safe.
We are fed the idea of virtual violence; our adrenaline is stimulated and pumped up. Without an outlet, the adrenaline festers, feeding an illusory fear self-constructed to counter our complacent lifestyle. We want to feel something, but we have edited the actual adventure that makes us feel alive, out of our lives.
Many years ago, in a storm at sea, I faced the certain, in my view, extinction of me. It was an uncharted emotion and I felt rank, physical fear. I remember feeling surprised that facing death was not a noble feeling at all. It was a gritty, stripped down feeling without any room for the niceties of decoration.
I thought to myself I’m going to fight this storm for three days and in the end, it will win because it is so much stronger than me (and oddly, the storm did last for three days). But in the long hours of fighting to stay alive, I realized something about myself. I realized that I don’t give up. I realized that I will die trying. That was a very good thing for me to find out about myself then and it is a very good thing to know about myself now.
But I wouldn’t know it if I hadn’t been forced, by my real adventure, to find it.
Trained to look at the bigger picture and to deconstruct what seems to be apparent; I am pushed to apply these ideas to the massacre of children. As a forty plus year resident of Connecticut who only recently moved to Massachusetts, I still feel like a Connecticut-er, and the killings in Sandy Hook affected me in a familial way. These were my people, my state. Any news of people being slaughtered will shock and tear but these were my babies. That is how it feels.
Beyond the grief, then anger, comes a desire to make sense of it all. Make sense of our society, our nation. Why, I ask myself, are we like this? Why do we need to have guns, and more basically, why is ‘personal freedom’ so pervasively core to our priorities in this country?
Religious freedom (which, ironically, became intolerance to anything differing from the new religious practice) is the historically taught cornerstone for the establishment of many settlements in the colony of America. But the idea of a place to go away from King and class restrictions had to have been appealing to many of this country’s first settlers. And then there were the amazing natural resources of this country. People came here for opportunity. This is how most, if not all human societies start. One culture usurps another and then works out how it will establish itself and grow. As it matures, it faces and addresses the growing pains of being a society.
The United States, as a nation, is a young society. I think of us as adolescents. We are not children anymore, but we are not adults either. We still think our personal freedoms are more important than what is good for our society as a whole. Like adolescents, we are the center of our universe. Our wants and needs are the most important thing to us. This is not a bad thing, it is the way things grow. Before you can look beyond yourself to establishing your place in the world at large, you must first figure out who you are. That is the role of adolescence.
In the United States, we are figuring out who we are. And like individual adolescents, our black and white ideas are being challenged. Some of us need to feel we are free by being able to own guns, and others of us need to feel free by feeling safe from people owning guns. Whose freedom is the right one? That’s what we are wrestling with now. I have no doubt that, as a society, we will grow and mature like all successful societies have. And that means limiting personal freedoms for the general good of the society as a whole.
After all, if a society cannot keep its children safe from itself, then it has failed its primary purpose—that of perpetuating itself. All successful societies have realized this at some point, and it is at that point that personal freedom has grown up and become collective good.