Dear Friends,
How do I even begin? After two years of pandemic, and living in a deeply polarized and dysfunctional country of my own, we are now two months into a genicidal war against the people of Ukraine by the Russians. I have come to Poland for the month of May to offer what small measure of help and human connection I can muster at a shelter for Ukrainian refugees in Szczecin, a thriving Polish city on the Baltic Sea just across the border from East Germany. I am staying with Syzmon Olbrycowski, an architect and fellow Zen student of Harada Roshi. He and his family have generously opened their home to me during this time.
I arrived in Szczecin two days ago after a nearly 48 hour journey to get here. I’m still tired and disoriented. The feeling of being far outside my comfort zone is strong at this point. I speak no Polish or Ukrainian. Nothing looks or feels familiar. Just walking into the cavernous gymnasium yesterday at the University of Szczecin, filled with 150 tightly packed bed cots, was a jolt of reality. What can I possibly do here? Do I really have anything to offer?
It is instructive to see (and to feel in the body) how strong the physical aversion can be to such feelings of helplessness and lack of control. The urge to flee - to default back to a more comfortable place - is powerful. But sometimes there is no comfortable place to escape to. I have been feeling the size of the cloth, the gap between my good intentions and the harsh realities on the ground. The level of trauma is palpable, and the answers few and inadequate. Yesterday was hard in that way. I spent most of yesterday just trying to stay on my surfboard through those waves of anxiety and self-doubt. It is difficult at times like this to believe that simply being present can be of any use at all in situations where the need is so great.
Today was better in that regard. It is amazing how a few genuine human connections (and a good night’s sleep) can restore one’s faith in the power of simple presence. The people staffing the shelter are running on fumes, and wanted to talk. When one of the directors at the shelter found out that I teach qi gong, she immediately asked for a private lesson, and burst into tears as we shared the simple exercises. She said it was the first time she had experienced any relaxation in many weeks. Qi gong is a lovely way into the practice of mindfulness, especially for beginners. It is not a small thing to be reminded that we can access moments of ease and presence, even in the midst of great stress.
Then a group of Ukrainian teenagers asked me if I would help them with their English. Jenia, Anastasia, Victoriia, Sofiia and I spent two hours sharing stories and pictures and games as a way of practicing English, and in the process we became friends. Many of the stories were sad, but there was also lots of laughter. In so many ways they were just like teenagers everywhere. The resilience of the human spirit was strongly evident in each of these young Ukrainians.
The situation at the shelter has changed a lot from the early stages of the Ukrainian invasion, and the refugee crisis it has caused. The initial flood of refugees into Poland and other European countries has slowed quite a bit. So has the resilience of the countries facing this massive crisis. The staff is carrying a huge amount of stress. And it is becoming much harder to find places for the refugee families to go. Many have to stay at the shelter longer now because there are few places left to take them in.
It is mostly women and children at the shelter. The men (and many women too) have remained behind in Ukraine to fight. With no end to the war in sight, and with such indiscriminate destruction of cities and civilians back home, they have no idea how long it may be before they can go home and be re-united with their husbands and families. They don’t know if they will have a home, or husbands and families, to go home to. These people are carrying an enormous burden of fear and trauma and uncertainty. They are traveling now on the wildest edges of what it means to be human. But they are also clearly survivors.
We have so much to learn from these brave people. So much to gain every time we can find ways to walk on these wild edges together. It is what will keep us human.
Sending lots of love,
Kurt