I'm no expert on life
and Reality, that's for sure. But after thirty some-odd years, a girl can't help
but notice obvious patterns and you sort of know what can be expected from your
life.
Sometimes, however,
things happen that are just so ... well ... so unexpected that the only way their
occurrence can be explained is that some kind of reality shift must have taken
place, and suddenly all the rules are changed.
That's what happened to me on August 16, 1996. There's just no other way to explain
it.
Now you might not think
the email I received was that big a deal, particularly in my line of work as an
activist, with twenty years under her belt, turned administrator for one of the
world's largest environmental organizations. But at the time it was a monumental
shift in my understanding of the world.
I'd started out early in life as a girl burning with a passion to change the world.
I was haunted by a vision of a simpler, happier more beautiful world that had
visited my dreams for as long as I could remember.
I remember quite clearly my rude awakening when I first discovered life just wasn't
that way. But they couldn't keep me down. I honestly believed that it would be
possible to change the world so that it more clearly resembled the vision of peace
on earth I'd so clearly envisioned.
A lot of girls I knew growing up set their sites on simpler goals -- finding Mr.
Right and building the perfect little cozy life, with a perfect set of kids and
a secure future. But, during my late teens and early twenties, that passion to
create a better world was all consuming. I didn't have time for anything else.
By my thirties, my dream was all but shattered, but I never thought of "settling"
for this world.
Well, truth
be told, my goal did settle on somehow forcing myself to try and set my sites
on feeling some sense of pride and accomplishment for the little, and I mean little
victories that I could achieve to help make the world a little better.
That's what seemed to work for the
best of the do-gooders I'd come across. Over the years I'd met many people who
wanted to make life better, but no one that I'd ever met allowed themselves to
think that a real CHANGE was possible. They found joy and satisfaction in reaching
one person; in making one tiny step forward on the local level. And that gave
them the strength to live boring, plain and ordinary lives. I knew that that's
what I needed to think. How I wished I could make myself think that way.
Sometimes I was able to change my
perspective, and I felt good for the little things I was able to help happen,
but most of the time I was filled with a deep, aching disappointment, because
I knew that LIFE would never be the way I'd imagined it could be. It would never
be the Peacetopia I had dreamed so clearly.
That's the frame of mind I was in when I received that email.
There wasn't much in the email, really, but somehow it touched me and stirred
all the passion again.
I
should mention that just a month before then I'd suddenly realized that a new
millennium was rapidly approaching. For some reason, it had never occurred to
me before. I can't say why. 2001, A Space Odyssey was just some distant
future. It never came together in my head that it represented a whole new era
in human existence at the dawn of a new millennium. There I was in 1996, suddenly
consumed in hope again. I saw the New Millennium was the perfect opportunity for
the world to decide to create a brand new. I started writing, pouring out
the thoughts that had haunted and inspired me all my life. I spent every waking
moment hiding in my office, hiding in my room, pouring out my dreams.
Three weeks later I'd finished THE
PEACE ON EARTH MILLENNIUM: A GUIDE FOR THE PEACE ON EARTH MOVEMENT, and it was
inspiring. It would awaken that universal desire that I knew was hiding in every
heart I'd ever seen when they let their guards down; when they dared to dream.
I knew everyone wished for peace on earth, deep down inside. Even the darkest,
most lost souls, deep down, were only longing to be loved. Even the most cynical,
destroyed life only because they'd given up hope that life would ever be fair
and just and good.
A week
before the fateful email arrived I'd sent out my own email to every do-gooder
I'd ever known or could hunt up an email address for. I sent them an excerpt from
my treatise for a better world, inviting them to read the whole book on my website.
I felt for certain that my book would incite a global movement to seize the opportunity
of the approaching millennium. We would change the world together! For the first
time in so long I believed once again that it was possible to change the WHOLE
WORLD.
Over the next few
days I received a splattering of polite encouragement, but it was obvious that
my vision wasn't resonating with anyone.
But that one email on August 16, it was different from the others. Or at least
it's exactly what I needed to hear that night. I was having one of those urgent
moments when I just needed SOMETHING to happen or I'd just explode in disappointment.
"Bravo, Regina. Your
vision is exactly our vision. We believe that togther we can create a more peaceful,
just and sustainable world, one day at a time, too. That is our goal. We would
be honored to have you join our Peacetopian community. Peace on earth is coming,
with your help...
--
Roger Singer
Executive Director
People For Peace, Weimar, Arizona"
Roger Singer! Now that was
a name that stirred memories. I heard Dr. Singer speak at a symposium years ago.
Actually I was in college at the time, and I'd found his vision of a better world
compelling, although a little too New-Agey for me. He was a middle-aged man at
the time -- at least twice my age -- but he was so charismatic that I'd had a
school-girl crush on him. Of course I didn't pursue it back then. But over the
years his name came up quite a few times, and I always imagined our paths would
eventually cross. He must be an old man now I sighed, remembering my school-girl
crush and realizing no one I'd ever met since then really stirred me as much as
he had inspired that naive college student.
Of course I remembered that the people who'd brought his name up were always snickering
and using words like "cult" and "crazy." And yet all I could see was a memory
of his eyes staring at me, from when I was twenty; eyes filled with passion and
compassion. All I could think about now was that there was a whole community of
people who were trying to create the world I once upon a time believed could come
to be. I quit my job the very next day, packed everything I cared to keep into
my car and headed west for Weimar, Arizona, never once looking back.
I wasn't disappointed when I got there. Dr. Singer was much older looking than
I would have extrapolated, but when he greeted me with open arms, it was as if
I were coming home to an old and trusted friend. Gazing in his eyes, I felt transported
to another place and another time, when we had always been together.
It was only an instant, but I remembered a whole lifetime; a lifetime of lifetimes,
even. I wasn't Regina Drayer there. I was boy named Ward, and Dr. Singer was my
dear friend the Duke, to whom I had pledged a gift I had been carrying for all
time. Or was he Maya, my guiding angel. Or was I Captain Rogetto, and he my trusted
servant Melnor. Or... My head was spinning with a thousand elusive half-formed
memories.
Roger hugged me
tightly. "I'm so glad you've come Regina. We're all glad that you're here, NOW."
And as they helped me carry
my few bags inside, they each gazed into my eyes and hugged me warmly and deeply
and my old life seemed further and further away. For the first time in my life,
I knew I belonged somewhere.
The cynics would scoff that I'd joined a cult, I'm sure, but the next six months
were the most joyous I'd ever experienced. Perhaps I did relinquish my old life
and the things that I'd once possessed, but I received so much in return. I was
truly part of an amazing community of like-minded dreamers, who dared to try to
make that dream come true.
We worked side by side, about thirty of us in this close-knit community, doing
daily living chores in addition to the work that each of us had been meant to
do. No longer were our talents wasted on redtape and paperwork. Our lives were
focused on helping to create a bridge to the Peace On Earth Millennium. Of course
we were each very different, with different experiences and different hopes. But
we shared a common dream of a better world for all. We were artists and writers
and musicians, and orators and film-makers and craftsmen. Together we were stoking
the fires of our peace factory, creating the inspirations and tools to spread
our message of peace. And since the world would celebrate the dawn of a New Millennium
on January 1, 2000, we could transform that spirit of celebration into a realization
that peace on earth is possible, one day at a time, if we only try to make it
so.
It was amazing how everything
had come together, and in twelve short months, mostly through the Internet, we'd
created a worldwide network of more than 1000 organizations in 125 nations. More
than a million people had heard our message and had pledged their support to try
to make their lives more peaceful. Our Peace Factory sold dozens of CDs of music
about peace on earth, films and hundreds of books all of which helped to inspire
more artists to create works for peace, and empower people with the hope and courage
to live more peaceful lives.
Every morning I'd wake up so glad to be alive. So happy to be part of this "family"
of peacemaking dreamers. And I'd stare in disbelief for a moment as we sat together
at breakfast, sharing a moment of silence. How could it all seem to have fallen
into place in the blinking of an eye, when for thirty years it had seemed I was
lost in a world I could never fit into?
Then one rainy day, it crumbled as quickly as it had come. In truth, it had been
getting harder to convince people that peace on earth was possible. It was getting
hard to convince them that "peace" was something they wanted. "We're not at war,
why should I want peace!" some would say. Or "I don't want peace, I want justice!"
Or "Peacetopia ... Peace On Earth ... stop chasing fairytales and face reality...
the world's a heartless place." Or they'd argue that January 1, 2000 wasn't the
start of a new millennium. It was January 1, 2001, and they'd become completely
sidetracked from the whole point.
Out of the blue, people seemed to be talking about Y2K more and more. It seemed
to cast a spell over the world, making everyone feel that the future was uncertain
and they had to concentrate on their lives right now because life was hard enough
without having to worry about the future, too.
The next three years were a blur. Actually, the rest of my life is a blur. I remember
that exact moment the next reality shift happened. We were sitting around a campfire
one evening, singing songs together as we often did. Roger was sitting next to
me. I'd been in Weimar for about a year and a half. We'd been lovers for the past
few months. Every time I looked in his eyes I felt whole, but I was always hesitant
to gaze deeply, afraid that I would see too much. I was holding his hand then,
singing in harmony with my friends, but shaking for I was afraid to look in Roger's
eyes; I could feel a change coming and I knew that I would see it in his eyes.
My gaze went around the
circle and rested in Roger's eyes. I saw the rest of my life in an instant. From
an objective viewpoint, I'm sure an observer would say it was a good life, all
in all. January 1, 2000 would come and go. Although our campaign would touch and
inspire many to create more peaceful lives for themselves and their families and
their communities, we would not change the world. Not really. Y2K fears would
cause most of the celebrations and excitement our message generated to become
subdued or canceled. The media wouldn't pay us any attention. Would Y2K materialize
and destroy the fabric of our world as many had feared? No. In fact, it would
never happen. Later, no one would even explore how the world could have been convinced
to expend so much energy worrying; how companies would spend so much money feverishly
working to deactivate the Y2K bug, when nothing at all would happen.
The world would celebrate peacefully for that day on January 1, 2000, but no one
would notice really. The world wouldn't use it as the opportunity to start anew
as we'd imagined it could be. Life would pretty much go on as it had in the previous
millennium. Our little community would dissolve. We'd have treasured friendships
and lessons to bring with us through our lives. I'd eventually settle down. Not
with Roger, but with someone who made me feel like I belonged. I'd have a family,
and we would be happy, more or less. I'd continue to touch lives, a little here,
a little there. Life would go on, and I would live it contentedly, and not really
feel at all that I'd 'settled' for life.
But there in that one eternal moment sitting around the campfire, gazing into
Roger's eyes, I turned away from the path that would lead me to my future. As
if turning my life sideways, for that moment, I slipped into the place inbetween
the here and Now and the moments yet to come. There in the place InBetween, I
saw that there were many possible paths I could travel and I knew that I could
now decide which one to take. There was one that seemed to call to me, and smiling,
I followed the angelic whispers on the road to Peacetopia without looking back.
