When I was ten or eleven, I had a favourite teacher who had been a small child in London during World War II. Each year, Remembrance Day was a time when she would share her stories of the Blitz, of air raids, of losing her father. She told her stories vividly and with the hope that we would understand “Never Again” and “Lest We Forget.” I am glad I know her stories now, but they frightened me into a white silent panic, the panic that tainted my Cold War childhood, a childhood in the time of Mutually Assured Destruction.

German Bomber over London, The Blitz

My mother blames herself for my childhood anxiety, because the uncontrollable in her life would push her into rage, and her anger was traumatic. For my father, I believe the uncontrollable brought melancholy and a chronic sense of worry. They also blame their children's pain on their own divorce. I know the story and these emotions so well, and when out of balance, cycles of sadness, disappointed idealism (disillusion), frustration, worry, rage, can take awkward expression, or can turn inward, toward depression.

I believe that these are aspects of a normal response to a terrifyingly complex world. My mother and father could not keep me safe because none of us are safe. The struggle for me as a precocious, sensitive, and well-read child was to somehow integrate the truth that the grownups, the keepers of order, were not in control and could not be in control, no matter how good their intentions. And I did have the vivid, personal example of cataclysm, my family's “life as we know it” suddenly, abruptly ending in their divorce.

A turning point came when I embraced activism as a teenager. At that time, my activism focused around a movement for World Peace. Taking action, even small actions, moved me out of the paralyzing white panic and into a dance, a pulse of energy to move forward, pause, reflect, move again. Today, my focus is centered on the urgency of creating sustainable alternatives to our destructive patterns of production and consumption, recognizing also the beauty and deep humanity implicit in MAKING and DESIGNING and INNOVATING. There are irresolvable contradictions, no perfect solutions, but the dance is for love and for life.

[with(in)constraints] 8, 2007 by Rami Schandall

This child and the teenager is now an adult, entering my fifth decade. I know there are no grownups here. But in adulthood I can see more clearly how powerful fear is. I can feel how hard it is to integrate uncertainty and contradictions, be brave, and have peace (on the smallest and largest scales). I have learned to manage anxiety. As an entrepreneur I am quite comfortable with risk, and almost never experience panic. I try to put anger and worry to work, keeping it healthy, motivating for change.

On Remembrance Day, I remember the war dead, their tragic loss, our tragic loss of them. I imagine their heroic efforts for something they believed in, hopefully. But I also see the propaganda and manipulation that happens in wars and continues to this day. I see the horror of militarism and its bloody trail of destruction. I see an imperative to DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY. On a global scale, to create peace and work together on global issues, we have to embrace uncertainty and contradictions: political, cultural, economic. Can we do that?

On Remembrance Day, I would love to give a gift of integrity, personal agency, clarity of thought and purpose...to whom? The war dead can’t use it, and I cannot give away what I can only claim for myself. So my gift is a promise and a vow, to keep thinking, learning, and acting for peace and fairness, with all the integrity and stamina and creative force I can muster. Will you join me? None of us are “grown-ups,” in control of the incontrollable. But we are adults, and together, we are in charge.

Offerings, 2005 by Rami Schandall