Part Three of "Puebla"


3rd Movement

Homily: "It Seems To Me"

"It seems that you and I could change the world together;
We could make it better by being truly who we are.
It seems to me, together, we could learn to love a stranger,
Nullify the danger that confronts us near and far.

"It seems to me, if we could see the wounds that must be healed,
We'd move our hearts to yield the compassion that they bear.
It seem to me the world could be a garden filled with laughter,
To blossom ever after with a beauty all could share.

"At night I dream, and in my dream above the hills I'm flying;
Tears of joy I'm crying from the depth of love I feel
As I descend a hand I lend to one whose fingers fashion
Understanding and compassion, with a touch that surely heals.

"And in the end I find, my friend, 'tis you, my sister/brother.
We find in each other strength we need to carry on.

And in your eyes I realize the joy I find in living.
Now, in wonder and thanksgiving I arise to greet the dawn."


Reflection: "Deux Gymnopèdie d'Embry"/"Chambre Tranquille"
(Instrumentals)


Remembrance: "Requiem"/
"A Time For Healing"

"Requiat in pacem.
May you be remembered, not by your death,
But by your life.

"We promise to remember throughout our daily lives
To make of loss, our gain.
Rest in peace, rest in peace, rest in peace.
Shalom, Salaam, Mir, Peace."


"Here is my hand; lend me your own.
Now has come the Time For Healing.
"Here is my voice; lend me your own.
Now has come The Time For Healing.

"I am in pain; hold me.
Here is my love;
Had you told me, I'd have tried
So much harder, been bolder.

"I ask forgiveness; grant me yours.
Now has come The Time For Healing,
For Healing."



Act III

It has been nearly thirty years as I sit here in this cafe in Topolobampo and I remember wondering what sort of man would emerge from the crucible. Now we know.

For I have been following him and in fact am researching a book. It will be called "The Fifth of May" for what he claims to be his birthday; his birthplace, Puebla, the beginning point of his pilgrimage. But is this place that seems to be a touchstone to him, to which he returns from time to time and where I expect to meet him today, le Cinque de Mai. My book is nearly written, actually, but one question is yet to be answered, which I will ask him this afternoon. It has to do with birthplace. Perhaps the two newlyweds' journey leads them to France (Paris?) instead of through Ellis Island. We know that two persons cannont occupy the same physical space (except perhaps in quantam theory). But what about the same time? I mean one person ... I mean .... Thinking along these (time)lines makes my teeth hurt.

The bare bones of his story are well-documented. He readily answers most question put to him, save about his past, which of course no one would believe anyway. But I alone know of the years before his "birth", as he puts it. A man tormented, he wrestled with the demons he created. He would not escape through insanity or suicide. They could not be denied and would not be suppressed. And so they must needs be dealt with. He sought the help of philosophers and theologians and shamans from along the ages and learned of the shadow part of him, that place where darkness dwells and to whence the demons must be consigned, always a part of him.

The despair he visualized as a wall before him that he must walk through. He entered it, merged with its molecules, savored its acrid sweetness, became it yet holding fast to the image of a beyond...

...and when he emerged into the light he sought, then found that small, still center within himself and made it his home. Having acquired some small number of possessions over time he now proceeded to divest himself of them until what remained were the clothes that he wore: a simple tunic with pockets around its hem for a toothbrush, a straight razor for his head and face and whatever small items might temporarily come into his possession; cotton trousers and undergarments, canvas shoes, and these convictions: that he would bring no avoidable harm to any person or creature, directly or indirectly; that he would not speak unless spoken to; that he would ask for nothing but accept that which was offered, excluding any form of flesh or eggs or dairy products (he would, however, accept milk that was fresh and and from cows milked by hand, and eggs if he felt the creatures were lovingly cared for); and that he would only walk and never allow himself to be driven or carried.

Understand, he had no agenda. He never set out to do anything, just to be, in as harmless a way as possible. He espoused no creed or philosophy, not even his own. But if he did, he would most likely employ the quote ascribed to Hippocrates: "First, do no harm."

Interestingly, it was a child who first spoke to him, then the child's mother.

"Hi."

"Hello."

"I'm David. Who are you"

"I am a pilgrim. I have no name."

From the day he set out from Puebla on the fifth of May of 1966 he rarely wanted for food or a place to stay. Otherwise he fasted, slept where he found himself. If he saw anyone who needed a hand he lent it without being asked and then continued on without a word but with a smile for his friends.

From time to time he would speak, for people were curious about who he was, where he had come from and what he had done. Anecdotal stories proliferated and eventually preceded him. And always what he said was simple: "Love yourself and those around you and bring no avoidable harm to any living creature. But do not beat yourself if you do not succeed; you will find grace in the effort." And they called him Pilgrim.

He never achieved mass popularity but his friends became legion. From all religions persuasions or lack thereof they followed his philosophy or at least tried and didn't beat themselves when they failed. And they were pacifists and vegetarians for the most part but didn't beat themselves if they weren't. For no one is perfect but does the best one can. And they all learned French and Spanish and English and even Esperanto (or at least tried) since Pilgrim was fluent in all four but preferred Esperanto because it was the least nationalistic and only complained (or what for him constituted complaining but was merely remarking) that it was too Western-centric. And they called themselves, Christians and Buddhists and Jews and atheists alike, neo-Universalists with an afinity towards Unitarians and liberation-theological Catholics whom they thought were pretty cool.

Then the first Village appeared.

It was a simple idea, really, but it took a very wealthy developer to pull it off. She met Pilgrim and he changed her life, but gradually, in small increments and after a while she realized it wasn't enough. This required radical surgery. So she planned and saved and schemed and then, with the help of some pretty interesting bedfellows, launched it. At first she asked and cajoled but the word got around and in the end she had to turn away a multitude. Everyone wanted to be part of the experiment.

Here's how it works:

What services and facilities and institutions constitute a self-contained community? What then is the smallest population that will support it? Now build it vertically, with as much interior space open to air and direct or indirect sunlight with indoor green and growing things. Surround it with parks and community gardens and orchards and a small poultry and dairy farm (for eggs and milk only—featuring free-range chickens and cows milked by hand). It was to be a marvel of renewable energy, recycling and minimal packaging and in general be aggressively environment-friendly. Built in an unincorporated area it became its own town with school, town hall, courthouse and police force (itself a marvel of compassion, respect, courtesy and discipline). And from the beginning residents were actively recruited and were asked only to follow Pilgrim's philosophy as best they could. And to not beat themselves when they failed. And find grace in the effort.

It took many years to come into being but as it grew and others became aware of it slowly became a movement that spread across the continent. Where developers could not be persuaded (and they who could be were rare indeed!) or towns coopted, neighborhoods were re- thought and re-designed or just loose communities formed.

And one institution formed with them: a discreet computer network called the NeoUniNet with the inappropriately catholicly acronymed "the NUN" and there is where the final step began.


It doesn't matter in which village it originated, only that it did and once begun the movement was inexorable. It was not an original thought but now the means and facility to achieve it existed. The notion of a peace army was based on the idea the war is fundamentally stupid. No soldier in her or his right mind wants to go into battle. A person or a group of people talk other people into fighting for land or power or wealth that they really don't need anyway and a lot of people get killed and a lot gets destroyed in the process. And all this is made possible by the fear, ignorance and manipulation of a large number of citizens who should know better than to want to kill or be killed for another's amusement.

So you have this war going on. What would happen if a pacifist army went in as witnesses for peace, placed themselves in the line of fire. They'd get killed, naturally. Same as the poor person who goes charging with rifle and bayonet but with a little different perspective and attitude and conviction.

Every warrior is prepared to die. Every warrior. But what does your death leave behind? A transitory victory, more war, rancor and thirst for vengeance? Every soldier says they're willing to die for their country. What about dying for humanity? Can it be less noble?

So today we have 1,034 neo-Universalist communities in one form or another with a base group of pacifists of nearly 23 million throughout the world, all linked by the NUN. Pick a training base, any training base. And train and discipline.

There is a particularly virulent war going on in Eastern Europe. You have heard so much of it that I needn't even name it, except to say that the enmity there goes back two thousand years to the time of Sparticus and the slaves that escaped and to where and of the man of a certain ethnicity who betrayed them. This will be their first trial. Many will certainly die; the idea of fighting hatred with understanding and compassion may not. It may go down in history as the greatest folly of engagement of all time. But then it goes to the heart of how one wishes to be remembered and what one hopes to leave behind. Four thousand and eight hundred pacifist troops hope to live and are terrified of dying but believe that Pilgrim is right in more than just principle.

And now, having out-maneuvered the bureaucrats they are massed on the Balkan border, poised for action and awaiting the command. And here I sit waiting for Pilgrim in this cafe in this far-away land.


When he sits down at my table I am barely aware of his arrival. He smiles at me.

"How are you, my brother?" he asks in Esperanto.

"Fine, I guess," I reply in kind. "I keep trying. How about you?"

"Well, I'm here," he says, not just talking geography.

We chat idly, but mostly just sit and gaze at the harbor. For the first time in years I see a faint echo of that overwhelming sadness I once saw in his eyes that August in 1964 and it is elicited by mention of the Peace Force.

"They're not your responsibility," I tell him.

"Daniel, you know better than that," he finally smiles.

His refreshments appear almost magically, but I'm used to that. I know that there are several hundred people waiting nearby to talk to him or just to look at him but they do not make their presence felt, and I'm almost used to that too.

"Do you still carry my scribblings with you?" I pull them from my belt pouch, carefully wrapped in plastic. "But do you believe it yet?"

I just smile non-commitally.

There has been One Question on my mind ever since I met Pilgrim. Twice he has asked me, once in French (so he says) and once in English, right here in Topolobampo. Then the answer was more or less simple. By now I beleive we have both figured out the Answer. But I need to hear it from him.

After a few moments more I sense it is finally time and so I ask the One Question.

"Mon frere, qui est toi?"

"Mon frere, I am you."


4th Movement

Sanctus: "Sing Hosanna!"/
"Sing the Great ‘I Am!'"

"Sing Hossana, sing Hossana
In excelsis deo.

"Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, spirit of power and might
Heaven and earth are filled with the glory

"Sing Hossana, sing Hossana
In excelsis deo.

"Blessed are they who come in the name of the Lord
Hosanna in the highest!

"Alleluia, alleluia,
Sing the great "I am!"
We sing the great "I am!"
Let us sing the great Amen!"


Meditation/Celebration: "Thanksgiving" (instrumental)/
"Harmony, Peace & Joy!"

"Harmony, Peace & Joy!"


Closing Prayer: "I Say Yes!"

"To you, Spirit, I say yes!
To you, Spirit, I say yes!

"All light surrounding, all love abounding
All of creation, sings along.
All grace confounding, all voices sounding,
Manifested in song.

"To you, Spirit, I say yes!
To you, Spirit, I say yes!
I say yes! I say yes! I say yes!"


Write me. I'd like to hear from you!


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