A long time ago, Cain killed Abel. It is historical fact. It is the stuff of legend. If you are not familiar with the story, look it up for yourself. By the way, Cain and Abel were brothers: the first brothers. Accordingly, brothers and sisters have been fighting ever since.
They say that time heals all wounds. I believe that is true. For some, wounds may be healed because we tend them well, but a scar can still remain. For others, the wound festers, and time’s healing comes from time being no more for the one wounded. Regardless, the wound passes, as do we.
Hat number 7 of 27, save one, is really not a hat, but more a form of headgear. This reminder of mankind being unkind to one another is called a hachimaki. It is similar to scarves worn by Japanese pilots seen when my daughter and I were recently watching a movie about the attack on Pearl Harbor. This hachimaki was a gift from a friend, a friend descended from former foes, and it is a beautiful thing.
By definition (courtesy of Wikipedia), “a hachimaki (鉢巻, “helmet-scarf”) is a stylized headband (bandana) in Japanese culture, usually made of red or white cloth, worn as a symbol of perseverance, effort, and/or courage by the wearer. These are worn on many occasions, for example, by sports spectators, by women giving birth, students in cram school, office workers, expert tradesmen taking pride in their work, bōsōzoku (teen biker gangs) and even rioters.”
One of the earlier entries about my hats mentioned my maternal grandfather and his prized Stetson. In years preceding his long walks in the cowboy hat, he donned the hat of the U.S. Navy, more of obligation than desire. The same was true of the hundreds who lined up with said young man, third from the top and far left, but undoubtedly many of them did not return to their families like he was blessed to do. Only once or twice did I hear him share stories of seeing others perish at the hand of the enemy, and never in his life do I recall seeing him angry. Undoubtedly, he mastered the art of burying the hatchet. For foes and fights much less significant in the peaceful existence I have come to know, I should learn to do the same.
Don’t take me wrong here. I am not about revisionist history, or ignoring that things of the past were not worthy of response. But, as the famed fictional Disney philosopher and Mercat Timon put it, “You’ve got to put your behind in the past, or is that put your past behind you?” Time heals all wounds, and we need to walk away from the pain to see the beauty that lies before us.
This could not be more evident than in the stories today of the Rwandan Genocide. Twenty years ago this week, Hutu tribe citizens of Rwanda began a riotous civil war process wherein they murdered over one million of their Tutsi tribe neighbors, friends, brothers, and sisters, and it all stemmed back to some social disagreements and artificial distinctions put in place long before any of them were born. Having suffered the curse of Cain and Abel, however, these people have buried the hatchet and learned to move on. There is a beautiful story of this reconciliation in this week’s New York Times, which you can read here.
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2014/04/06/magazine/06-pieter-hugo-rwanda-portraits.html?_r=0
Caveat emptor: you might want to have a box of tissues nearby.
The hat/headgear that has inspired my thoughts today was a gift from a young lady in Japan, the same Japan my grandfather and countless other grandfathers fought a generation or two ago. The friends I and my family have come to know in Japan are beautiful people. As Ayaka presented me with the hachimaki, she said it would give me the strength of a Samurai. As I wore it a year later on a grueling climb of a Mount Fuji type peak in Colorado, it did just that, and accordingly it merits mention in the list of 27.
Whatever your hatchet, find yourself a good hole and bury it, before father time heals that wound for you. Put on a hachimaki, instead. You will be glad you did.