Hiraeth: Post-Activism in the Anthropocene
Hiraeth: Post-Activism in the Anthropocene
Right Understanding
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Right Understanding

Forgiveness in a time hell-bent on justice.

If you could kindly tap the ❤️ at the top or bottom of this newsletter it will make it easier for other people to find this publication. Ahéhee'! བཀའ་དྲིན་ཆེ།! 謝謝! Thank you! ขอบคุณ!شكرا ! תודה! Спасибо! धन्यवाद! Cảm ơn bạn! អរគុណ! Ngā mihi nui ki a koe! Asante! Merci y Muchisimas gracias!

My father came of age in the era of hard men. Men of his generation were taught to keep emotions bottled up, to talk little and never show any sign of weakness. Even today, as was made evident with the election of Donald Trump (or was it the election of Elon Musk? I’m not so sure.) modern culture still seems to be holding tightly to this unbecoming archetype of the tough guy who doesn’t feel. Yet look deeply and you will discover this old paradigm narrative crumbling.

It may not seem like it, but a new world is coming into view. Clearly, this frightens the old order. The fact that increasingly throughout the world people are free to determine for themselves what gender they most align with is viewed by the patriarch as a personal attack. Nonetheless their grip on outdated stories is slipping. Workshops on how to communicate emotions clearly are not unfamiliar even amongst the most shall we say, “unwoke” corners of the western world. Men are gathering in increasing numbers to share their struggles openly. Indeed, there is an obvious rising recognition that the silent tough guy archetype isn’t really helping anyone anymore, if it ever did.

The truth is, my dad isn’t a tough guy at all, he is extremely sensitive and sweet, more a go with the flow kind of guy than the classic “Be a man and get shit done, son!” kinda dad and if it weren’t for a lifetime of being told to keep his mouth shut and be cool either directly or indirectly by an overly masculine society hellbent on keeping men in power I am sure he would have been chatting it up with us kids on the reg about everything from art to white fluffy clouds passing over our heads all these years. And as he ages, this is becoming ever more clear. He paints now and occasionally even makes beautiful cross-stitch masterpieces. It seems that as you grow into the final stages of life, you simply care less what people think of you and, at least in the case of my father, this is all for the better. I am proud of him.

Thai people on the contrary are not so tough. Don’t get me wrong, in many ways they are stronger than any people I have ever met, but not in the hard man, Rambo-esque, “You’re fired!” kind of way. It isn’t uncommon for the most respected men in society to wear pink. It is generally acceptable for men to wear women’s clothes if they wish. For the most part, transpersons are not seen as strange here at all, certainly not like they are stateside. There is a gentleness found here that I have noticed offers an excellent opportunity for visitors to Thailand to express themselves in ways they might not be so able to do in their homelands. As such, on the final day of our Holiday family reunion, my wife and I organized a typical Thai ceremony for our parents. People in Thailand, being Buddhist, hold enormous respect for their parents. Because of this, there are several rituals that take place throughout the year for expressing gratitude. I find it extremely touching and have wanted to do such a ceremony with my parents for years. Finally, on New Years day, the time came.

My wife and I rose early on the first day of 2025 to gather fresh flowers. We placed the flowers in a beautiful silver bowl of scented water. We then gathered thin white string to make into small bracelets and, before inviting my parents, my brother, his wife and our close friends to join us we made offerings to our ancestors and the local spirits, asking them for protection and guidance, that they might show us how to rightly do what so many of our modern counterparts (us included) have recently forgotten how to do.

The space was beautiful. Birds chirped overhead as our Father Sun began offering us light. The New Year was beginning. My brother and I offered some gifts to my mother and father and we asked them to take of their shoes. My wife then handed me the bowl of scented water and I began washing my fathers feet. I asked him to forgive me if I had done anything to upset him this year, or in previous ones. I told him how grateful I was for him and blessed him in the best way I could, to continue living, in a good way. He then did the same to me. He asked me for forgiveness for his own short comings and blessed me, as a new father, as a man with a life all his own now, far from his control, now adorned in shoes he once wore. We all wept. My father speaking with more elegance and clarity than I have ever heard from him before. All he needed it seems, was a place to feel safe.

My father and I, blessing each other as my wife looks on.

One by one we all did the same for my father, and for my mother as well. Somehow it always seems easier with moms. She looked so beautiful, her aging feet covered in orchids and glistening rose water. Then us siblings offered each others blessings and asked each other for forgiveness as well. By the time we were finished we all felt lighter, much lighter, ready to breathe again, to jump up and live.

In every community I have ever lived in communication has been the hardest struggle of all. Finances are surely a typical source of anxiety as are all the little challenges of managing land, getting the chores done, hosting events, raising children, etc. But learning how to really see each other, how to express our deepest inner visions, to find reconciliation and prioritize doing so before a small thing turns big, is almost always the reason communities, families, nations, indeed, all relations, often fail.

We in this fast-paced modern world like to think we have evolved beyond ceremony, that we don’t need it anymore. Well, show me a community that can honestly live well for several generations without it and I will send you a finely framed golden star. Till then, maybe it would be wiser to simply keep alive what we have known for millennia to work well.

I still feel awkward when trying to talk with my dad. It isn’t that we suddenly are at ease around each other simply because the ritual went well. Life doesn’t work that way. Humans are wildly complex and although this can at times be frustrating, this is also why we are so interesting. I may not find the perfect way to relate with my poppa in this lifetime, but because of what we shared, I do feel that we are one important step closer to truly understanding each other. I love him and I know he loves me, which seems to be the most important thing.

My mentor, Martin Prechtel recently said that there is a big difference between fighting for what you love and fighting against what you hate. I have many friends who would love to heal the broken relations in their bloodline, or with old friends, etc. But something upset them along the way and now those they once loved have become enemies and where once they devoted time to trying to creatively preserve what they love now they put all their energy into fighting what they fear.

There is a troubling rising narrative that encourages such ignorance. If people hurt us, we are often told, we should make boundaries and only let in those who serve us. (Remember how we reacted on 9/11??). There is no need to try and understand the reason why people act violently, says our society, we need to lock them up and bring them to justice! Period. End of story.

To be fair, in some cases such action is necessary. If someone is seriously harming you than yes, hard lines must be drawn. But in most cases, it would do far more good to look deeply and try to understand the reason for behaviors that trouble us, to take a step back, observe the causes and conditions of the situation, to wisely recognize the greater intergenerational cultural contexts at play, to breathe deeply, forgive and show up with an open heart, ready to transform.

My dad is doing much better at being a supportive dad than his father was able to do for him. And I am certain that my grandfather did a much better job than his father before him. We are all slowly learning together through time. Time isn’t passing, we are, together. Imagine if we could all apply this knowing not only between lovers, between parents and children, but between neighbors, nations, even between species and elemental phenomena. Then the Light might really return!

How can we show up and learn to communicate in such a way that allows us to see those around us clearly again, to genuinely hear them and understand their hearts deepest yearning? Can we make this matter as central to our lives as making money? As hosting the workshop? As posting content? As getting the promotion? As mining for bitcoin? As getting even? As being right???

Ultimately, this view must extend to Mother Earth Herself. For let’s face it, the ultimate reason for the season is about aligning Her again with Light so that all our gardens can grow. This shouldn’t suggest that Jesus didn’t exist or that the passover never happened. This world is infinitely elegant and layered in meaning and multiple truths abound. But follow the Big Stories back to the origins and all trails lead to the same place, right under our feet. In the soil. Can we thus, as all our ancestors before us for so long did, again show up and learn to communicate in such a way that allows Mother Earth to be see clearly again, to genuinely hear Her and understand Her hearts deepest yearnings?

I am so grateful for my family. For our ongoing commitment to keep showing up for each other. Even when it isn’t convenient, even when it’s awkward and uncomfortable. Even when it breaks the bank or wont allow us to get hired for the fancy new job. Some things are more important than getting ahead. I am also deeply grateful for Thailand. How important it is to be open to learning from other cultures, to build relations cross-culturally. Relations matter. Nourishing Right Relations regenerates Right Understanding. I wish all this for all of you in the coming year.

….

Hiraeth: Post-Activism in the Anthropocene is a reader-supported publication that cannot survive without your financial help. It is my belief that artists, writers, musicians, etc. make life worth living. They ask the big questions regarding love, longing, death, wonder, despair, etc. And it costs to do this. It requires real risk—physically, emotionally, and yes, financially. The more we thrive, the more everyone thrives. If you have been blessed with financial abundance and you appreciate what I am offering here, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. Such a simple act (less than the cost of one latte per month) not only helps feed my family but feeds that spark in Life that yearns for real culture to live again. 13 Thank you’s. Honey in the HeART.

If you could kindly tap the ❤️ at the top or bottom of this newsletter it will make it easier for other people to find this publication. Ahéhee'! བཀའ་དྲིན་ཆེ།! 謝謝! Thank you! ขอบคุณ!شكرا ! תודה! Спасибо! धन्यवाद! Cảm ơn bạn! អរគុណ! Ngā mihi nui ki a koe! Asante! Merci y Muchisimas gracias!

#mayallbeingsbehappyandfree

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Hiraeth: Post-Activism in the Anthropocene
Hiraeth: Post-Activism in the Anthropocene
EcoVillage Life. Bardo Travel. Parenting in Times of Uncertainty. Unschooling. ReWilding. Dharma, Animism, & Embodied Myth. SeedSaving. Grief. Praise. ReMatriation. Forgiveness. Ancient Futures. PostActivism. Memory, Culture and the Search for Home.
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Gregory Pettys