#nonviolence — Public Fediverse posts

Lanza del Vasto parle de non-violence

https://dandanjean.com/2026/09/05/lanza-del-vasto-parle-de-non-violence/

The Archer

In the high sea of clouds,
in willowing wisps of white,
an evil lurks.

The winds of the world bring
the first whisper of change,
an alien thing.

A dragon.

Red as blood, gleaming darkness,
its armor, invincible?

Heavy metal talons, drooling jaws,
acid falling, burning earth below.

It screams through the sky,
wings creaking, flapping furiously,
breathing flame.

Men flee,
like tiny ants scurrying
from desecration
into it.

Only One holds his ground,
a bow and one arrow
in his hand.

The Prince awaits,
as if to allow the dragon to
devour him.

Then with a flash,
he looses his arrow.

It soars through the air.

Blood gushing,
the dart buried deep,
the dragon crashes to the ground.

Landing on the One.

From amongst the dragon’s corpse,
amidst dying coals and wisps of smoke,
a figure crawls,
stands.

It is the Archer,
the One,
Him.

From the collection “Words at 16 (1983)”

It’s in the Blood

In 1539, a fugitive former-priest-turned-Anabaptist, in his seminal work “The Foundation,” penned the following words:

“Christ is our fortress; patience our weapon of defense; the Word of God our sword. …Iron and metal spears and swords we leave to those who, alas, regard human blood and swine’s blood of well-nigh equal value.”

So said Menno Simons, principal leader of the Protestant sect which then became known as the Mennonites.

More than 500 years later, his words still resound with a mighty truth.

At the risk of sounding morbid, it has to do with blood.

While Menno specifically refers to the difference between human blood and that of an animal, his larger point is the “value” we place on the blood of another.

My point is quite simple.

Killing will not end through education, conflict resolution, or disarmament, though all of these are important and can help. Killing will end only when there is a fundamental shift in the mind and heart of those who kill.

For how can you kill someone if you believe that their blood is just as valuable as your own?

Let’s call it – for lack of a better term – bloodism.

The other – their humanity, life, blood – is somehow less than I, and therefore, their humanity, life, blood, is not as valuable as my own. It becomes quite easy then to justify killing the other, ie. spilling his/her blood.

The directors of death throughout history from every nation, tribe and religion have understood and disseminated this concept quite well. A person (and those like him/her) is described as having the wrong beliefs, the wrong skin color, the wrong gender, the wrong age, the wrong station in life, the wrong land, the wrong possessions, the wrong clothing, the wrong language —- the wrong blood. These others are not as valued as you are, the leaders of the macabre scream, though they couch their speech in terms such as vigilance, freedom, history, security, and truth.

Then the killing begins.

The Nazis did it to the Jews. Israelis do it to the Palestinians. Hutus did it to the Tutsis. Shiite do it to the Sunni. Palestinians do it to the Israelis. Sunni do it to the Shiite. Muslims do it to the Christians. Christians do it to the Muslims. This country does it to that country. That neighborhood does it to this neighborhood. This race does it to that race. That religion does it to this religion.

And any one of a million other combinations.

STOP!

Do not allow your mind and heart to be filled with bloodism.

We are made in the image of God.

ALL of us.

And that divine DNA resides in the very marrow of our bones and flows through our veins.

It’s in the blood.

July 28, 2014

It’s in the Blood

In 1539, a fugitive former-priest-turned-Anabaptist, in his seminal work “The Foundation,” penned the following words:

“Christ is our fortress; patience our weapon of defense; the Word of God our sword. …Iron and metal spears and swords we leave to those who, alas, regard human blood and swine’s blood of well-nigh equal value.”

So said Menno Simons, principal leader of the Protestant sect which then became known as the Mennonites.

More than 500 years later, his words still resound with a mighty truth.

At the risk of sounding morbid, it has to do with blood.

While Menno specifically refers to the difference between human blood and that of an animal, his larger point is the “value” we place on the blood of another.

My point is quite simple.

Killing will not end through education, conflict resolution, or disarmament, though all of these are important and can help. Killing will end only when there is a fundamental shift in the mind and heart of those who kill.

For how can you kill someone if you believe that their blood is just as valuable as your own?

Let’s call it – for lack of a better term – bloodism.

The other – their humanity, life, blood – is somehow less than I, and therefore, their humanity, life, blood, is not as valuable as my own. It becomes quite easy then to justify killing the other, ie. spilling his/her blood.

The directors of death throughout history from every nation, tribe and religion have understood and disseminated this concept quite well. A person (and those like him/her) is described as having the wrong beliefs, the wrong skin color, the wrong gender, the wrong age, the wrong station in life, the wrong land, the wrong possessions, the wrong clothing, the wrong language —- the wrong blood. These others are not as valued as you are, the leaders of the macabre scream, though they couch their speech in terms such as vigilance, freedom, history, security, and truth.

Then the killing begins.

The Nazis did it to the Jews. Israelis do it to the Palestinians. Hutus did it to the Tutsis. Shiite do it to the Sunni. Palestinians do it to the Israelis. Sunni do it to the Shiite. Muslims do it to the Christians. Christians do it to the Muslims. This country does it to that country. That neighborhood does it to this neighborhood. This race does it to that race. That religion does it to this religion.

And any one of a million other combinations.

STOP!

Do not allow your mind and heart to be filled with bloodism.

We are made in the image of God.

ALL of us.

And that divine DNA resides in the very marrow of our bones and flows through our veins.

It’s in the blood.

July 28, 2014

It’s in the Blood

In 1539, a fugitive former-priest-turned-Anabaptist, in his seminal work “The Foundation,” penned the following words:

“Christ is our fortress; patience our weapon of defense; the Word of God our sword. …Iron and metal spears and swords we leave to those who, alas, regard human blood and swine’s blood of well-nigh equal value.”

So said Menno Simons, principal leader of the Protestant sect which then became known as the Mennonites.

More than 500 years later, his words still resound with a mighty truth.

At the risk of sounding morbid, it has to do with blood.

While Menno specifically refers to the difference between human blood and that of an animal, his larger point is the “value” we place on the blood of another.

My point is quite simple.

Killing will not end through education, conflict resolution, or disarmament, though all of these are important and can help. Killing will end only when there is a fundamental shift in the mind and heart of those who kill.

For how can you kill someone if you believe that their blood is just as valuable as your own?

Let’s call it – for lack of a better term – bloodism.

The other – their humanity, life, blood – is somehow less than I, and therefore, their humanity, life, blood, is not as valuable as my own. It becomes quite easy then to justify killing the other, ie. spilling his/her blood.

The directors of death throughout history from every nation, tribe and religion have understood and disseminated this concept quite well. A person (and those like him/her) is described as having the wrong beliefs, the wrong skin color, the wrong gender, the wrong age, the wrong station in life, the wrong land, the wrong possessions, the wrong clothing, the wrong language —- the wrong blood. These others are not as valued as you are, the leaders of the macabre scream, though they couch their speech in terms such as vigilance, freedom, history, security, and truth.

Then the killing begins.

The Nazis did it to the Jews. Israelis do it to the Palestinians. Hutus did it to the Tutsis. Shiite do it to the Sunni. Palestinians do it to the Israelis. Sunni do it to the Shiite. Muslims do it to the Christians. Christians do it to the Muslims. This country does it to that country. That neighborhood does it to this neighborhood. This race does it to that race. That religion does it to this religion.

And any one of a million other combinations.

STOP!

Do not allow your mind and heart to be filled with bloodism.

We are made in the image of God.

ALL of us.

And that divine DNA resides in the very marrow of our bones and flows through our veins.

It’s in the blood.

July 28, 2014

It’s in the Blood

In 1539, a fugitive former-priest-turned-Anabaptist, in his seminal work “The Foundation,” penned the following words:

“Christ is our fortress; patience our weapon of defense; the Word of God our sword. …Iron and metal spears and swords we leave to those who, alas, regard human blood and swine’s blood of well-nigh equal value.”

So said Menno Simons, principal leader of the Protestant sect which then became known as the Mennonites.

More than 500 years later, his words still resound with a mighty truth.

At the risk of sounding morbid, it has to do with blood.

While Menno specifically refers to the difference between human blood and that of an animal, his larger point is the “value” we place on the blood of another.

My point is quite simple.

Killing will not end through education, conflict resolution, or disarmament, though all of these are important and can help. Killing will end only when there is a fundamental shift in the mind and heart of those who kill.

For how can you kill someone if you believe that their blood is just as valuable as your own?

Let’s call it – for lack of a better term – bloodism.

The other – their humanity, life, blood – is somehow less than I, and therefore, their humanity, life, blood, is not as valuable as my own. It becomes quite easy then to justify killing the other, ie. spilling his/her blood.

The directors of death throughout history from every nation, tribe and religion have understood and disseminated this concept quite well. A person (and those like him/her) is described as having the wrong beliefs, the wrong skin color, the wrong gender, the wrong age, the wrong station in life, the wrong land, the wrong possessions, the wrong clothing, the wrong language —- the wrong blood. These others are not as valued as you are, the leaders of the macabre scream, though they couch their speech in terms such as vigilance, freedom, history, security, and truth.

Then the killing begins.

The Nazis did it to the Jews. Israelis do it to the Palestinians. Hutus did it to the Tutsis. Shiite do it to the Sunni. Palestinians do it to the Israelis. Sunni do it to the Shiite. Muslims do it to the Christians. Christians do it to the Muslims. This country does it to that country. That neighborhood does it to this neighborhood. This race does it to that race. That religion does it to this religion.

And any one of a million other combinations.

STOP!

Do not allow your mind and heart to be filled with bloodism.

We are made in the image of God.

ALL of us.

And that divine DNA resides in the very marrow of our bones and flows through our veins.

It’s in the blood.

July 28, 2014

The Shapeshifter

“Let your ‘Yes’ be yes and your ‘No,’ no.” — Matthew 5:37

Last night, before sleep, I found myself thinking about the way I change.

Not always dramatically. Not always visibly. Sometimes it is a small shift in tone, a slight adjustment in posture, a revised sentence, a softened opinion, a joke added too quickly, a silence held too long. Sometimes I do not even know I have shifted until later, when I feel the ache of it.

I have called this being sensitive. I have called it empathy. And I think that is partly true.

There is a gift in being able to read a room. There is a gift in noticing the tremor beneath someone’s words, the disappointment beneath their politeness, the anger beneath their quietness, the plea beneath their criticism. Some people move through the world loudly, unaware of what their presence does to others. I do not usually have that problem. I notice. I absorb. I adjust.

This can be love.

It can be pastoral. It can be merciful. It can be wise. It can help me avoid needless harm. It can help me make room for others. It can help me speak peace into places where bluntness would only bruise.

But there is another side.

Sometimes I do not simply respond to what someone has actually said. I respond to what I believe they might be saying. I answer the accusation I imagine beneath their question. I apologize for the disappointment I think I see in their eyes. I defend myself against a criticism that has not yet fully arrived. I revise myself before I have even been asked to explain myself.

And then I disappear a little.

The shapeshifter survives, but the true self waits somewhere behind the curtain.

This is where the gift becomes a burden. Empathy becomes prediction. Sensitivity becomes self-protection. Peacekeeping becomes evasion. Instead of staying present, I become fluid. Instead of saying, “What did you mean?” I silently assume. Instead of saying, “That hurt,” I swallow it. Instead of responding honestly in the moment, I retreat, rehearse, reinterpret, and let the thing fester.

Then anger comes later.

Not always because the other person was cruel. Sometimes because I abandoned myself too quickly. Sometimes because I changed shape before I knew whether change was required. Sometimes because I mistook someone else’s reaction for a commandment.

There is a difference between being responsive and being ruled.

There is a difference between empathy and erasure.

There is a difference between humility and hiding.

Maybe the work is not to stop being sensitive. I do not want to become hard, oblivious, or careless. I do not want to lose the part of me that can feel the emotional weather in a room. That part of me has helped me pastor, create, love, listen, and make peace.

But perhaps I need to learn a slower form of shapeshifting.

A sacred pause.

Before I adapt, I can ask:

What did they actually say?
What am I imagining they meant?
What am I feeling in my body?
Am I trying to love them, or am I trying to escape discomfort?
Is this a moment for flexibility, or a moment for truthful rootedness?

The goal is not rigidity. Trees bend in the wind, but they do not become wind. Rivers change course, but they still remain water. Christ was deeply responsive to people, but he was not controlled by every expectation placed upon him. He listened, but he also withdrew. He answered, but he also stayed silent. He served, but he did not surrender his center.

Perhaps that is the invitation: not to stop changing, but to stop vanishing.

To remain kind without becoming formless.

To remain open without becoming absorbent of every accusation.

To remain peaceful without pretending I am not hurt.

A Possible Action Response

When I feel myself shifting too quickly, I will try to pause before I change shape. I will breathe, feel my feet, and ask myself: What was actually said? What am I adding? What do I need to ask before I assume?

Then, when possible, I can say:

“I may be reacting to what I think you mean, not what you actually said. Can you help me understand?”

Or:

“I want to respond honestly, but I need a moment so I don’t answer from fear or defensiveness.”

Or:

“That feels like criticism to me, and I want to stay open, but I also want to be clear about what you mean.”

These are not perfect words. They are practice words. They are small anchors. They help me stay present without hiding, defending, exploding, or disappearing.

I do not have to become whatever this moment seems to demand.

I can be loving and still be myself.
I can be sensitive and still be solid.
I can be peaceable without disappearing.

The shapeshifter does not need to be banished. He may have saved me many times. But maybe he does not need to run the whole house anymore.

Maybe he can become a servant of love rather than a servant of fear.

Maybe he can learn to change shape slowly, honestly, prayerfully.

Maybe he can finally rest.

Prayer

God of truth and tenderness,

Help me honor the gift of sensitivity without becoming captive to it.

Teach me to listen deeply without imagining more than has been spoken. Teach me to care for others without abandoning myself. Teach me to receive correction without collapsing, and to feel hurt without hiding it until it turns into anger.

Give me the grace of the sacred pause.

When I feel myself shifting too quickly, help me breathe. Help me return to my body, my heart, my center, and to you. Let my yes be yes. Let my no be no. Let my silence be honest, not evasive. Let my words be gentle, but true.

May the shapeshifter in me become healed and holy. May he no longer serve fear, shame, or resentment. May he become a servant of wisdom, compassion, and peace.

Keep me open.

Keep me rooted.

Keep me from disappearing.

Amen.

The Sabbath Sabotage

They told us
holiness was neat,
pressed flat like Sunday clothes,
folded into bulletins,
spoken in indoor voices,
kept safely between hymns
and handshakes.

They told us
Sabbath was a soft thing,
a nap for the soul,
a gentle pause
before returning
to the holy machinery
of earning, buying, proving, becoming.

But Sabbath was never safe.

Sabbath is a wrench
thrown into Pharaoh’s gears.
A door barred against the market.
A candle lit
in defiance of the floodlights.
A refusal
to kneel before the stopwatch.
A holy no
rising like thunder
from tired bones.

Six days, they say,
you shall labor.
And the seventh?
The seventh is mutiny.

The seventh day
the fields are not your masters.
The ledgers do not own your name.
The inbox may howl
like a beast outside the gate,
but you will not feed it.
The empire counts bricks.
Sabbath counts blessings.
The empire demands output.
Sabbath gathers manna
and says, enough.

Enough for today.
Enough for this body.
Enough for this earth.
Enough for a life
that was never meant
to be fed into furnaces
just to keep the towers warm.

Sabbath is not laziness.
It is revolt
with bread on the table.
It is trust
with dirt under the fingernails.
It is the slave
remembering he is human.
The widow
remembering she is seen.
The ox
remembering grass.
The land
remembering how to breathe.

And maybe that is why
they sabotage Sabbath.

Because rest breaks rank.
Because silence interrupts slogans.
Because delight cannot be monetized forever.
Because a people
who learn to stop
may also learn
they can refuse.

Refuse the lie
that worth is measured in production.
Refuse the sermon
of profit without mercy.
Refuse the fear
that if we cease for one day
the world will fall apart—
as though we were the ones
holding up the stars.

No.
Sabbath is the admission
that we are not God,
and the miracle
that God is still good.

So let the engines choke.
Let the schedules stutter.
Let the tyrants call it weakness.
Let the anxious call it waste.
Let the merchants stand bewildered
before shuttered stalls
and unhurried hearts.

For this is the sabotage:
to rest in a restless world,
to feast in a famine of joy,
to loosen your fist
when all of history
has trained it to clench.

To stop.
To breathe.
To bless.
To remember
that we were not made
for endless extraction,
but for communion—
with God,
with neighbor,
with creature,
with soil,
with our own forgotten souls.

And so, on the seventh day,
we commit our small rebellion:
we light candles against consumption,
set tables against despair,
sing psalms against the grind,
and call this shattered life
still sacred.

This is no small thing.
This is how the kingdom enters:
not always with trumpets,
but with napping children,
unbought hours,
shared bread,
and a people audacious enough
to believe
that the world can turn
without their frantic striving.

Blessed are the saboteurs of empire.
Blessed are the keepers of Sabbath.
Blessed are the tired
who lay their burden down
and find, beneath the weight of all they carried,
a joy the masters could not confiscate.

For every Sabbath kept
is a crack in the idol.
Every prayer whispered at rest
is a seed beneath the pavement.
Every holy pause
is a hammer blow
against the myth
that Caesar owns time.

He does not.
The clock does not.
The market does not.

Time belongs to God.
And God,
in mercy,
has given some of it back to us.

Resistance, Remembrance, and Comunidad: Cinco de Mayo, Mount Pleasant, and the Rebuilding That Erases

Cinco de Mayo is often misunderstood in the United States. It is reduced to a marketing holiday, a day of beer specials, paper flags, mariachi clichés, and the shallow consumption of Mexican culture without the burden of remembering Mexican history. But the heart of Cinco de Mayo is not consumption. It is resistance.

The day remembers the Battle of Puebla, May 5, 1862, when Mexican forces defeated the French army, then one of the most powerful military forces in the world. It was not Mexican Independence Day. It was not the founding of Mexico. It was a day when a people under pressure from empire stood their ground. It was a day when the powerful were resisted by those who were supposed to lose. It was, at its deepest level, a day about memory, dignity, land, sovereignty, and the refusal to be swallowed by imperial appetite. (MySA)

That is why, for me, Cinco de Mayo cannot be separated from another May 5: May 5, 1991, in Washington, D.C.

I was there.

Read the rest of the essay at PeaceGrooves.com.

Desperate #Musk is now targeting (doxxing) citizens for exercising #FreeSpeech rights in #nonviolence #Peace -ful protests

"A Tesla protester targeted by Elon Musk speaks out: 'I have to protect myself'

"When one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful person in the world is saying you've committed a crime, it doesn't matter what the truth is,"

https://www.npr.org/2025/03/17/nx-s1-5328626/elon-musk-protests-tesla-takedown

#ActBlue #Troublemakers #Seattle
#TeslaTakeDown #Tesla #TeslaSucks

Immense vegan pastries in Scotland, land of my heart 😍 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🌱

(this place was queued out of the door!)

#Glasgow #Scotland #Pastry #FrenchFood #ScottishFood #UKFood #TheDorkyFrench #AlFresco #PainSuisse #Croissant #Treat #Dessert #Bakery #Patisserie #Breakfast #Lunch #VeganCooking #Food #FoodPorn #Vegan #VeganFood #Veggie #Vegetarian #DairyFree #EggFree #EcoFriendly #Eco #LowCarbon #WhatVegansEat #Veganism #PlantBased #NonViolence

Immense vegan pastries in Scotland, land of my heart 😍 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🌱

(this place was queued out of the door!)

#Glasgow #Scotland #Pastry #FrenchFood #ScottishFood #UKFood #TheDorkyFrench #AlFresco #PainSuisse #Croissant #Treat #Dessert #Bakery #Patisserie #Breakfast #Lunch #VeganCooking #Food #FoodPorn #Vegan #VeganFood #Veggie #Vegetarian #DairyFree #EggFree #EcoFriendly #Eco #LowCarbon #WhatVegansEat #Veganism #PlantBased #NonViolence

Immense vegan pastries in Scotland, land of my heart 😍 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🌱

(this place was queued out of the door!)

#Glasgow #Scotland #Pastry #FrenchFood #ScottishFood #UKFood #TheDorkyFrench #AlFresco #PainSuisse #Croissant #Treat #Dessert #Bakery #Patisserie #Breakfast #Lunch #VeganCooking #Food #FoodPorn #Vegan #VeganFood #Veggie #Vegetarian #DairyFree #EggFree #EcoFriendly #Eco #LowCarbon #WhatVegansEat #Veganism #PlantBased #NonViolence

Immense vegan pastries in Scotland, land of my heart 😍 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🌱

(this place was queued out of the door!)

#Glasgow #Scotland #Pastry #FrenchFood #ScottishFood #UKFood #TheDorkyFrench #AlFresco #PainSuisse #Croissant #Treat #Dessert #Bakery #Patisserie #Breakfast #Lunch #VeganCooking #Food #FoodPorn #Vegan #VeganFood #Veggie #Vegetarian #DairyFree #EggFree #EcoFriendly #Eco #LowCarbon #WhatVegansEat #Veganism #PlantBased #NonViolence

Immense vegan pastries in Scotland, land of my heart 😍 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🌱

(this place was queued out of the door!)

#Glasgow #Scotland #Pastry #FrenchFood #ScottishFood #UKFood #TheDorkyFrench #AlFresco #PainSuisse #Croissant #Treat #Dessert #Bakery #Patisserie #Breakfast #Lunch #VeganCooking #Food #FoodPorn #Vegan #VeganFood #Veggie #Vegetarian #DairyFree #EggFree #EcoFriendly #Eco #LowCarbon #WhatVegansEat #Veganism #PlantBased #NonViolence