John Hemlock, more perhaps than any other living soul, understood that removing violence as an option didn’t mean surrendering.
“I get that you’re angry, I get that you want to lash out,” Johnny would tell our audiences. “But you got to get past that, you have to forgive your enemies – that’s the one path to true peace. I don’t mean what they used to call a kumbya peace, a false peace, I mean when you don’t stay up at night with a tummy ache because you hate your enemies so much.”
“What if they’ve killed your brother?” the skeptical would ask, and before the question could even echo off the wall, John would bark back: “Every man is your brother. It’s a family dispute.”
But then that huge face would soften into a whimsical smile. “If you’re having trouble with the forgiveness part, think of this: If you return hate and violence with love and generosity, it’ll drive them nuts. It’ll make them crazy if they think they can’t make you angry. It’ll be as good as dumping hot coals on their head, their brains will explode.” That would usually get people laughing a little, and then he’d add: “The really sweet part is that if you do that often enough and long enough, there really will come a day when they can’t make you angry. It’ll be second nature for you to give love and generosity to everyone, even the people who think they’re your enemies. You’re not treating them with love because it drives them crazy, you’re treating them with love because you love them. At first forgiveness doesn’t change anything except what’s inside you – but if you can stick it out and forgive and forgive and respond with love every time, eventually no one will even want to be your enemy in the first place.”
We made a good one-two punch, John and I, if I may make an analogy that involves a fighting image. He would come on and talk about loving your neighbors in a practical but theoretical sense, and I would extend the theory to the realities of the present day. I knew if we could convince people that nonviolence is the core of a stable but dynamic way of life, we could change the world.
That was why Buffalo’s choice to wage the war in the old-fashioned way – killing Earthians – shook me to the core: Because nonviolence is my core. If I couldn’t convince the woman closest to me that my tenets of common wealth would lead us to a better place, literally a common wealth, how would I convince anyone? I knew the question was silly, I knew my ideas were catching on with people, but I wanted more than anything for her to embrace the concept.
“You’re the one who says we’re each and every one of us unique, and that means we’re not going to see everything the same,” John reminded me. “She’ll come around in her own way, her own time. You guys are soulmates. Half of a soul can’t go one way and the other half completely the other forever.”
“I’m talking about realizing that even Earthians are our neighbors, and she’s off to kill them. That’s pretty much opposite directions,” I said.
“She’ll come around,” he repeated. “You both have this passion for freedom. You’re both absolutely real and unique – like everyone else is, that’s what you say, right? The passion’s taking you different ways now, but you’re going to end up on the same page, I know that. You need to be together, there’s like an aura that surrounds the two of you when you’re together.”
“An aura.”
“Don’t you give me that look, Raymond, I’m telling you I see an aura. It lights you both up. You’re what you call ‘made for each other.’”
“That won’t help much if she gets herself killed,” I said ruefully.
“Hey, seems to me you’re both committed to dying for this cause if that’s what it takes,” John Hemlock said with a big smile. “Buffalo will take care of herself, and I’m here to take care of you.”
Entry 62
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