War is not healthy for living things.

I began planning my pilgrimage with the intent to avoid the military base because I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted to avoid.

And yet, here I am, beginning my pilgrimage in the midst of another war. “War is not healthy for children or other living things,” (thank you to the artist Corita, and to my friend Anne, for reminding me of this today.) But, while I reflect as I start my pilgrimage, I realize that war is all around us, all the time.

The war of words in the board room, faculty meetings, or on TikTok. The quiet, seething war of anger, or hatred, or despair, between partners long disconnected, or a boss in constant disagreement with supervisees, or members of political parties who despise each other (though these all can get noisy sometimes…).

The playground fight, the war games in the theater (I can never get my head around that terminology…). And bombs. That kill. When humanity is at war we all die a little bit. War is not healthy, yet we do it anyway. Pretty much constantly. Somewhere around the world. Every day.

My heart hurts. I’m holding my friends and colleagues who I heard from yesterday about the ravages of this current conflict and how it affects them because they are Russian or Ukrainian or have family in the area or in neighboring countries. And I think about the military. I have a child who wants to enlist. I think about other parents with their children fighting in this and other conflicts all over the world. I begin my pilgrimage thinking about war. The very thing I wanted to avoid. And it really sinks in that people are fighting. And I’m going to have to carry that with me, whether I like it or not.