Footprints

by Rifet Bahtijaragic

  NATURE’S CRY

  The beech trees here have grazed away at the fields,

  Multiplying downward

  Across the highlands.

  Here, both the heart and the sun are like the beech tree.

  If one could have seen how the forest ignited in shame

  When she was carried away,

  How the hairy beech trees opened their umbrellas …

  If one could have sifted through the multitude

  Of our neighbors

  Who kill, through our split genealogy …

  If one could have snuck up on them

  Without trembling eyes …

  The wolves mourned someone last night.

  The beech trees have extended above the foul waters,

  And their shadows,

  Like time,

  Sail away.

  SLUMBERING LANDSCAPE

  In the whispering of dry leaves,

  Like an evil omen,

  With eyes in the flight of birds,

  Stone devouring youth.

  Down the raving streams,

  Like a pebble in the foaming crimson,

  Deep tranquil thoughts.

  A root at the twilight of arrival,

  A gaudily baroque tree

  In a season of drought.

  Clusters of buttery dandelions,

  Rising to the sun,

  To a broken skull’s astonishment.

  FAILING TO DESCRIBE PAIN

  I have never had the artistic gift to describe pain:

  That indescribable state of human spirit

  When the boy Meskan saw a blood stained knife,

  A terribly sharp blade,

  Coming closer to him in the hand of another man

  Of the same human species.

  Such great pain is beyond the power of my senses.

  I am ashamed of my failing to describe the pain.

  The pain when the boy,

  Who was still running after butterflies,

  Became afraid of pain.

  The boy from Iris’s story.

  It does not matter. Any boy, or any human,

  Or any living being on our planet.

  Forgive me, you other beings,

  For forgetting for a moment your pain.

  The boy became afraid of pain when he lost hope.

  They asked him for his name. And he told them.

  And his ethnicity. And where he was from.

  He told them everything he knew.

  Something whispered to him that he was not guilty of anything.

  And he had hope;

  The way lightning is not guilty of its creation in the clouds.

  Or hail, when in its helplessness it

  Breaks young branches in orchards.

  He was not guilty of his birth. Nor of the name given to him.

  Nor of language and religion to belong to his people

  As they belong to him.

  I know his family.

  They vowed neither to Jupiter

  For placing anger before reason

  And lust in the hearts of humans,

  Nor to that half-witted Theutus,

  A fierce enemy of the human race.

  He knew he was not guilty

  And he looked his headsman straight in the eyes.

  The other had blind eyes. Vileness blinded them.

  He was plowing his way to the future and happiness

  With a knife. With a blade for Meskan.

  To sacrifice him to the gods of war.

  For good luck.

  But God ordered Abraham, or Ibrahim,

  To sacrifice a ram instead of a human.

  God ordered!

  That human being brought the knife’s blade to Meskan’s eyes

  That he see its sharpness.

  And the victim became afraid of pain.

  Meskan turned his eyes away from the blade

  And prayed to God to show himself,

  And saw the Furies that throw snakes on people

  And bring warmongering into human hearts.

  The image of becoming afraid I can describe.

  But not a boy’s pain. Not such great pain.

  I know of no words for pain so great as his.

  Second Part

  LIFE ON EARTH IS MERCILESS IF I LOOK

  AT IT THROUGH THE WINDOW OF KINDNESS

  I became more involved with the Dalai Lama through my former neighbor and life-long friend, Osman Kulenovic. Formerly from Bosanski Petrovac, in Bosnia, and presently from Montreal, Canada, Osman told me how he had philosophically rounded up his life when meeting with the Dalai Lama in a Canadian province enveloped in separatism. I know that the difference between the Dalai Lama’s Tibetan separatism and Quebec’s is big, though if I were the leader of Quebec, or Tibet, I would rather seek to establish a fairly organized society than opt for separatism. It seems to me that a pluralistic society created with fairness in its structure offers more possibilities both for an individual and for the whole than does an atomized society. However, it is hard for me to get involved in politics since, like Daltonists, who are color blind, I am blind to national, religious and race differences, and seeking a politics without the residues of these -isms would be asking too much. If memory does not fail me, because it was long time ago, Osman told me that he had asked the Dalai Lama why he was trying to attain sovereignty for his Tibet in a peaceful way. The Dalai Lama had replied that each of us is first a human being and then a member of a nation, and that the biggest human sin is to take up arms against other people. I tried to persuade my fellow Bosnians of this in their bloody mutual conflict near the end of the twentieth century, and the only result of my attempt was my intimate extension of that belief in non-violence to get closer to the Dalai Lama’s philosophy.

  A long time later, I was granted a meeting with one of the legends of civilization at the turn into the third millennium, not somewhere on the gorges of the Himalayas but on the mountain Gabel Musa, the Mount Sinai of tradition, from where a keen eye can see the shores of the Mediterranean around Gaza and the domes of the holy buildings in Jerusalem. That arid mountain giant was more for a Buddhist monk than for me, if we were ranked according to our aptitudes for asceticism. Also, for those 4,000 steps to the top one needs a younger heart and younger legs. I have always wondered how the old Moses, or Musa, found strength to climb to the top of that mountain. I once believed that God, in the form of a burning bush, helped him so that He could reveal to him the Ten Commandments and the laws of Israel. If one is to believe in that tradition, God did not choose that place by chance, and if my logic is correct, He cannot forget that place, so He even now from the top of Gabel Musa watches how people of that part of the world are killing each other. I, however, believe that He is not happy because people do not follow the commandments revealed to Moses. When they told me that I had to go to the top of holy Sinai’s mountain in order to meet somebody very important, it dawned on me that the instruction had something to do with God’s presence on top of those deserted, barren mountains.

  First, an already dried-up Mediterranean wind brought to me the words that arrested my final climb to the top of the craggy mountain boulder covered in crimson dust:

  “There on those ascetic hills, and in those fertile oases down there, for centuries people have been competing to see who will get closer to God. Or, who will conjure a more daring image of God and his apostles, who will write down more of God’s commendations and regulations in order to rule over people more successfully.” His soft face, his eyes gracious with serenity and respect, appeared beyond the words. He was sitting on a stone, surrounded by the crimson rocks and was looking at me.

  No doubt it was he, the Dalai Lama, a man not a god, as he himself has bee
n saying in his defense against being made equal to God. I had not expected that here I would meet the most famous Buddhist monk in history, who stormed through the world of philosophy, religion, and goodness in the turbulence of the third millennium’s dawn. He was wearing a splendid long cloak made of a shiny dark brown fabric and on his left hand was wearing beads of the same color. He had that something that made his face recognizable even in the mist on top of Gabel Musa – a mild discoloration around his eyes. There was no doubt it was he, despite the cloud trying to conceal his always-optimistic face.

  Or who can think of a more genuine and powerful deity in the struggle for survival? I felt that my face was turning red because I understood that I had said something that might have sounded like blasphemy, and that I might have offended his holiness. To say the least, I might have acted crudely by turning the conversation toward things that have always interested me.

  “People have the ability to create.” Saying this, the Dalai Lama accepted the conversation, indicating to me to sit on a flat stone, like a step in front of him.

  dalai lama: Not only in their material world but in the spiritual world of imagination as well. In history, preceding the times of turmoil were the times of fear for survival. Those are the waves in the human consciousness after which come changes, as when a metal is heated until it melts, so it is poured into new forms that for a long time serve those who did the melting. Fear and struggle for survival have strongly motivated people to bond with deities. In moments of the most fierce struggle for survival leaders have reached for God’s help in order to unify and motivate people. Then people spread that idea among themselves, or imposed it, or stole it from each other, or simply let the air blow it away and used it as weapon or hope. How did that thought come to my mind? To me wind is a servant of time, its herald. It reminds me of the stream of our thoughts through time, of that which is unattainable and so liberated that there is no way it can be enslaved and prevented from performing its function. If they were to put a wall in front of it, it would spread its breath beyond the wall, like that flow of air creeping from Gaza and Jerusalem, from the oases of the modern civilization inundated with hatred. It is unnatural that hatred dominates in oases since they are natural sanctuaries of hope and life. I do not blame those who, in the struggle of life, make or invent some kind of protection for themselves and for their kin, related to them either by love, birth, or simply by desire to live in society – which is easier than to live alone.

  He was talking and looking into the depths as if seeing through the centuries long gone.

  It seems to me it would be easier if we did not have such an ability to create. I let it out spontaneously. Human creativity led people to usurp the role of nature. People nowadays create artificial brains. We are the contemporaries of the Kingdom of Bill Gates, and whole generations of cloned, synthetic beings are to come. I fear to call them human beings. What will the invasion of these creatures do to the human gene pool? What will happen with them during a collapse of technologies, a simple electricity black out? What path will the religions born in these mountains take? What is going to lead people and stimulate them to create laws which do not alienate them from nature?

  “Ha, ha, ha …” laughed the Dalai Lama and offered me something that looked like the withered root of some plant.

  dalai lama: Chew this. This plant slows down the thinking and prevents thoughtlessness. We, there in the mountains, believe that it successfully prevents blood from clotting and brain strokes. You ask questions that your offended Creator would ask. I, somewhere in the cradle of my faith, hold onto the last defense. Maybe there is a mechanism that won’t allow the transformation of humans into some other kind of beings. I believe that in the genes governing the paths of development there are regulations and limitations. I think that spontaneity is not infinite. I also feel that a rapid technological explosion is a burden for civilization. People have become obsessed with material values, which is not good because it provokes abuses of all written and unwritten laws and brings other evils. Material possessions are sweet only for a short time. Spiritual ones are long lasting. Craving material possessions works against basic elements of harmony. In our time we can find a lot more harmony in primitive societies than in cities and in economically developed societies. Traditionally organized societies have more harmonized interactions. Urban societies are disharmonious. Material development of the world is not an advantage in the new millennium because it causes the disappearance of harmony and a comfortable, quiet way of life.

  For a moment his face looked to me like that of a being beyond temporality, like some strange mummy hidden somewhere in the trembling heights above the Earth rather than in the depth of Earth’s sand and rocks.

  dalai lama: Caravans were passing along the roads down there long before concrete paving. They say Moses came out here when he left the Nile delta behind. Caravans went from the East to the West, from the West to the East. People used the roads more attentively than they do in our time, when cars speed as fast as the eye’s glance.

  The Dalai Lama was talking and looking into the depths as if trying to make out an old caravan.

  Because of hatred. Thoughtlessly, I continued to provoke Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama. Here where the philosophies of the encounters with God began, from where they disseminated and conquered the world, here people hate each other terribly. How is that possible? How can God allow so much hatred among people, especially here where they erected the greatest sanctuaries for him?!

  dalai lama: I have a different view on what you are calling God. If by that you mean a creator, or a stimulation for doing good deeds, than that must be inside a man. The man has to discover and cherish that in himself. If some selfish interest prevents him from doing that, then he is living a deception. A lie. And if that is the case, then it does not matter where the two of us are sitting: above Jerusalem, in Bosnia, or in the Antarctic. I mentioned Bosnia, where your roots are. I know the dean of the Franciscan Theological University in Sarajevo, Mile Babic. Mile Babic said that he did not care whether a politician is an atheist or believer. For him it is important that a politician is a good and honest man since, as he said, it cannot be rationally proven whether God exists or not. Faith is a personal matter for an individual. The worst thing is to link a faith with a nation or with a political interest since narrow nationalistic politics spread fear, one person feeling threatened by another. Spreading fear of others generates irrationality; people behave like sheep running into their corral. I think it is positive that both atheists and believers follow Babic’s thoughts. The problem is not because people are of different races, nationalities, religions and cultures. The problem is that people economically exploit and politically subjugate each other. The differences among them are the treasures of civilization, and vile deeds against each other are the evils.

  An eagle above our heads started to call so energetically that I thought it wanted to draw our attention to something that we needed to see. We looked at the sky and followed its circling; we saw its eyes forever focused on the earth.

  “They do not change as fast as people,” commented the Dalai Lama without diverting his gaze. “Human technology does not force their spiritual change.”

  To me they are similar to people in some way, I said. They instigate fear and they kill.

  dalai lama: In the eagle’s case, how can I say it, the Creator is to blame. He made them unable to survive without devouring other creatures. Eagles normally do not eat other eagles. In our case, we humans are the guilty ones. We could survive without killing, but we do kill each other. And once that process begins, it cannot be easily changed. When we make a mistake, we cannot turn the clock backwards and start from the beginning.

  Many of those oases down there are not developed. They are ruled by tradition, but hatred prevails there. In those barren places people hate each other, but praying to God and following the laws of their religion is sacred to
them. In their holy scriptures, hatred, killings and summons to killing abound. Maybe because of that you talk about Buddhism more as a philosophy than as a religion.

  dalai lama: Oh, no! Maybe I have not been precise enough. The creators of religions are human. And Buddhism has been created by people. Religions and philosophies are like their creators.

  Is Buddhism really something else?

  dalai lama: It is different in many aspects. Don’t get me wrong. We do not want any domination, neither over material possessions nor over the human spirit. Our philosophy is not a conqueror’s. We crave spiritual peace and happiness, but if one conquer and imposes, in such an act there is pain and hatred. Man’s highest moral obligation is to snuff hatred in himself and to resist the ambition to dominate other people. Human society should not be based on profit and domination.

  We live in a world of modern societies, far from primitive human communities. Behind us are millennia of human civilization. However, we have always had the same problem: as soon as one human society achieves a high power, it attacks others and destroys them. Could it be possible for one society to change that rule? To achieve great power but to not misuse it? To not impose itself by force? I tried to provoke more practical answers.

  dalai lama: The formation of military powers in our time stems from the beginnings of human social organization. People form and use military power because of the absence of spiritual revolution. Maybe the reason for this is that it is easier to improve technology than the human spirit! Not even in this day and age do people have a branch of psychology that explicitly studies the disciplining of the human mind to be good to other people. People have always been taking from and killing each other. All big invasions in human history have started in the same way. If we consider our civilization only from Graeco-Roman times, when the first institutional attempts at humanism and democracy appeared, there are too many examples of evil. The Roman Empire expanded into a mighty power and spilled its might over neighboring people, not with the purpose of bringing happiness, but to subjugate, plunder and exploit in the most inhumane manner. The Mongolians became a huge military power, and their Khans went around the world like a destructive torrent. Then Alexander the Macedonian, then Arabs, then the Turks, then the Austro-Hungarians, then Hitler and then Nazis, then …