Much has been said about violence and its many faces.
What interests me here is not to explain it, but to stay with the experience.
What happens within us when we are exposed to images of war?
Fire, people in despair, without safety, without water, without peace.
Let us stay with the image for a moment.
Each image gives rise to an inner experience.
It is not just information.
It is something that moves through us.
Neuroscience suggests that images of violence activate processes similar to those experienced by those directly involved.
In a way, we participate.
Perhaps more than we realize.
⸻
If we follow the path of the mind — the “logical” path —
we begin to see a perpetrator and a victim.
Thought begins to process:
who is right, who is wrong, who is to blame.
Without noticing, we take sides.
We position ourselves.
The world divides.
And the cycle of violence continues — this time within us.
⸻
Some people shut down in order to cope.
They withdraw.
They stop feeling.
It may offer a sense of safety.
But something is lost.
⸻
Others do the opposite.
They allow themselves to feel.
And then they become overwhelmed.
By sadness, fear, and anguish.
⸻
And then the question arises:
How can I look without shutting down?
How can I feel without becoming overwhelmed?
Can I remain in contact without falling apart?
⸻
Not to ignore it.
Not to collapse.
But to remain.
⸻
To stay in contact with what I see,
without rushing to explain it,
without closing it into meaning,
without losing myself in it.
⸻
The image of violence moves through me.
The body responds.
The mind activates.
Emotion opens.
And the heart is called to hold all of this together.
⸻
If the heart closes, I am protected — but disconnected.
If it opens without limits, I become overwhelmed.
So this is not simply about opening.
It is about something more subtle:
to feel without losing myself.
⸻
This means:
to see without falling apart,
to feel without being overwhelmed,
to remain without closing.
⸻
I cannot stop the war.
I cannot control the world.
But I can remain in relationship
with what is happening,
without losing myself.
⸻
And perhaps here lies another kind of response to violence.
Not to ignore it.
Not to reproduce it.
But not to let it close my heart.
⸻
Empathy is not about feeling as much as possible.
It is about being able to feel
without losing coherence.
⸻
To remain human.
To remain in relationship.
To remain open — without losing myself.
⸻
Perhaps the deepest response to violence
is not reaction,
but the preservation of our capacity for relationship.
And perhaps, in the end,
healing is to remain
without falling apart.