The Opposite of Enemy
“The opposite of enemy is personal responsibility.”
I once had a teacher who told his students on the first day of class, “You will all begin the year with an A. After that, it’s up to you to earn it.” There’s a corollary here, a shadow dancer that approaches and retreats in the mysterious tango of intimacy - in this case, intimacy with strangers. Though we know that hate and violence solve nothing, we continue to hate and attack. The world is polarized beyond recognition. Earth is as broken as we are. As we peer into the abyss, the possibility that we can choose to be intimate with those we abhor is a contradiction; an impossibility - and now, a necessity.
And yet, something in us can sense that it’s possible to connect with the best in someone we do not (yet) know by leading with the best in ourselves. At its root, intimacy is a deep familiarity, a meticulous knowing, grounded in the willingness to be known.
Intimacy makes it possible to navigate turbulent waters - literally. I’ve been reading Rosemary Mahoney’s book, Down the Nile Alone in a Fisherman’s Skiff. It’s the story of her travels from Aswan to Luxor in a rowboat. Before beginning her journey, she watches with wonder as her friend, Amr, literally dances his boat through the deadly rapids of Aswan. Thanks to his deep understanding of those waters, Amr was able to navigate danger with ease.
“The slightest mistake or moment of inattention could mean rapid disaster, yet Amr appeared calm and controlled, reflexively clutching up his gown at just the right moment to keep from tripping on the hem, sometimes steering the boat with his outstretched foot, as hand over hand he trimmed the sail or raised the centerboard… He knew by heart the location of every eddy and every underwater hazard in the river at Aswan and how to avoid them in the nick of time, feinting and dodging mere inches left or right with dazzling finesse… The whole operation looked about as easy as controlling an eighteen-wheeler skidding down an icy hill.”
This principle of intimate knowledge applies to encounters with beyond-human-beings as well. A few days ago I checked into an Airbnb in Los Angeles. I was exhausted and looking forward to a long, peaceful sleep. Before bed, I went into the kitchen for a glass of water. When I turned on the light, a plump little rat scurried across the floor and under the stove. After I had shrieked and jumped, I took a few breaths to calm down. I spoke to the rat. I told him that he couldn’t be in the house and asked him to leave. I promised not to hurt him. I explained that the next day, other humans would come and take him away, or possibly kill him. I said I would request they not hurt harm him but could not promise he’d be safe. I added that I’d be very grateful if he would please stay out of the bedroom and bathroom during the night while I slept.
I called the manager. She said they used an electric zapper that killed rats and mice very quickly. I asked if she’d consider getting a live trap instead. To my relief, she agreed. The next day, the manager set up two live traps in the kitchen. The following morning, there was the rat in the trap. I talked to him a bit and thanked him for letting me sleep undisturbed. By midday, the manager hadn’t yet come to pick up our guest, so I talked to him some more and gave him a snack. Blueberries, a crust of bread and a dot of cheese… gourmet rat fare! I didn’t want him to die of hunger and thirst while waiting in the cage. I watched as he held a blueberry between his front paws, turning it carefully as he nibbled. He did the same with the bread. A short time later, humans came to pick up the rat. After they left, I realized with a pang that I hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. This surprised me. Even more surprising was the realization that I missed him. This is how intimacy works. Exchanges of generosity and respect quickly create an emotional connection. Even with a rat.
The encounter with the rat was bookended with something larger, yet deeply resonant. A few days ago, with a circle of friends, we had the opportunity to offer a sound healing sequence in Israel/Palestine. On the final night, I sensed a massive obstruction. The energy was massive and dark. There was a sense of profound chaos and underneath the chaos, distress. The friend who was playing the tones seemed to be wrestling with this field of resistance. His response was to become fiercely peaceful. He cohered his energy and insisted. It was like flipping a switch. The resistance dissolved, the energy smoothed out, and the remaining tones landed in a tranquil, welcoming field - in Israel/Palestine, in the midst of a war. These sorts of encounters change outcome, even when the obstacles seem insurmountable.
This is the moment for humans to make an evolutionary leap. There’s still time, but barely. As my friend said all those years ago, The opposite of enemy is personal responsibility.
