The War In Ukraine Shook Me Up

The importance of holding conflicting emotions and throwing pebbles.

I woke up today and felt amazing after my morning meditation practice — lit up, energized. Clean. Ready for the day.

With my laptop in a backpack, I hopped on a bus and headed into Dundee, Scotland’s third-largest city, sitting on the banks of a two-mile-wide estuary that empties into the North Sea.

I walked along the massive body of water with the wind at my back, admiring the white caps on the water, the sun glinting through the clouds. I needed my hat and gloves — the sea air was fresh, invigorating, and cold.

When I take walks like this, I often get downloads of ideas for articles, so I just let my mind wander—the magic of walking for a writer.

It’s not hard to take in the beauty of the estuary, the hills off in the distance, and the nineteenth-century stone buildings proudly overlooking the waterfront. I felt like pinching myself — I live here, I’m not on vacation, and it feels like paradise.

After about thirty minutes, I got the download I needed for today’s article — the importance of knowing the dark parts of our psyche that sabotage us. I’m talking about the shadow stuff that makes us act like fools and project our bullshit on the very people we love — the self-destructive patterns of behavior we’d rather not acknowledge.

An ironic download considering the cloud of darkness in the world right now.

When I arrived at the coffee shop, my writing plans soon changed.

I read one piece on Medium about the war in Ukraine and instantly got depressed. Doomsday stuff, from none other than the King of Doom himself, name not to be mentioned.

Maybe he’s right, or perhaps he’s not. But he’s good at selling fear. And plenty of readers are buying. And yet, no one can read Putins’ dirty crystal ball.

I said screw my article on psychological saboteurs — I want to write about Ukraine. So, here it is.

The dilemma.

The dilemma for me is how to respond when something catastrophic occurs in the world, somewhere other than where I live.

I want to help Ukraine. But how? My choices are few and are primarily impersonal unless I take in a refugee.

Fundamentally, I’m trying to get my head around the literal meaning of compassion, which is “to suffer together.” The heart wants to relieve someone else’s suffering and when we don’t know how our internal wiring gets out of whack.

That’s me in a nutshell. Out of whack.

I know people in Lviv. How can I really help them?

I can donate to humanitarian relief organizations or the Ukraine Army and offer emotional support.

The Army got my money today.

(By the way, Grammarly, which many of us use as writers, was founded in Ukraine. They are donating five million dollars in relief efforts and have a list of organizations available to support.)

My donation, small as it was, felt good. I like to think I bought a few boxes of ammo or some mortar shells.

I’m also well aware that no matter how much money anyone donates, a conflict only ends when one side stops fighting.

Until that happens, more innocent people will die.

I want to experience peace and gratitude for being alive and at the same time express outrage, support, and compassion.

As one guy living thousands of miles away from the conflict, I want to make a difference, but it’s like being armed with pebbles and facing down a sixty-ton Russian tank.

Pebbles aren’t going to stop the tank.

But that’s not the point.

Embrace opposites.

The point is we have to do both: Remain equanimous, live our lives, appreciate what we have, and not shield our eyes from what’s going on.

Unfortunately, I think we become numb to suffering unless we suffer too. We watch the news in shock at what one human being is willing to do to millions of others. It’s maddening and impossible to comprehend the level of disregard for human life.

We’re not built on understanding this kind of horror. As a result, many of us struggle with how to respond.

I understand why some people don’t watch the news or get emotionally involved. But, as much as we like to compartmentalize things, this type of human tragedy doesn’t fit nicely into a box where we can file it away and forget about it.

It haunts us because we are designed with a built-in humanity processor, called our heart, yet we find ourselves in a world where inhumanity is far too common.

So, our instincts are to hunker down and retreat into whatever makes us feel safe. For some, that means ignoring the news, losing ourselves in our work, or numbing ourselves up.

Some of us write. We need to let the emotions out, the anger, the shock, and get rid of the poison in our body so we don’t implode.

Throw pebbles.

My words are pebbles, but they are pebbles of outrage directed at Putin and pebbles of compassion for those suffering.

It feels good to throw them because they’re all I have.

When I throw pebbles, I see the people I know in Lviv putting up sandbags in the streets, building tank barriers, storing water in the basements, and making Molotov cocktails.

A few weeks ago, they were customer service reps happily talking to clients on the phone.

Now they are arming themselves with Kalashnikovs and fighting for their lives. It’s surreal, almost incomprehensible unless you’re there.

After I throw my pebbles, I reach into my heart for more. And when I do, I find an endless supply in there. Like magic, when I take one, another appears in its place.

A few days ago, I spoke to one of my friends, Marta, in Lviv, who said without hesitation, we will never give up. I felt her steely resolve rippling through me like electricity, tears in my eyes.

Up until a few weeks ago, she had the light of hope and dreams in her eyes like any young person would —looking forward to a beautiful life ahead of her. Now, what burns in her eyes is not the dream of a Spring vacation in Crimea but the flame of unwavering resistance to the invasion of her homeland.

Her life is now living in a basement with dozens of other people, in fear of her building demolished by a missile and the city around her destroyed.

And me? I just finished taking a walk by a glorious river, without a care in the world.

Honestly, I’m still having trouble processing this whole thing, and I’m fucking pissed off. But then I remind myself, my emotions inform me; they’re not my master.

Deal with the anger and express compassion. Keep my eyes open.

So, I’m going to continue to dig deep inside, grab all the pearly white pebbles I can find in there, and throw them as hard as I can at the evil bastards threatening the life of my friends.

Final words.

F*&k you, Putin, and the horse you rode in on.

To the rest of us, let’s support the people of Ukraine in whatever way works for you.

If you enjoyed this article, you might like The Importance of Feminine Energy In A Male-Dominated World.

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