by Jana Pierce-van Loon

My mother, who has stepped in as editor of this fine rag you hold in your hot little paws, asked me for an editorial on my oft-seen but little thought-of email signature, “Love IS the Movement”. I was, to put it lightly, flabbergasted. “Um, ok,” I said hesitantly, unwilling to admit that I hadn’t given it much thought when I’d assigned it as my signature – it had just sounded cool!

But as most things in my life, this was serendipitous; for, while thinking on what the heck to write (and past deadline!), I discovered a valuable lesson.

I have been an activist my whole life. It was born into me, and it will leave me only by death or lobotomy. Combined with that activism is a deep river of rage, thick and juicy in its depths, red like the floes of magma beneath the earth’s flimsy crust, ready to burst forth at a moment’s notice.

And no wonder. I have much to be angry about. My parents’ generation, the hippies of Free Love and maybe just a little too much LSD, my predecessors in the Great Fight, did a bang-up job. We owe them quite a bit. They paved the road for the activists of today, much as the suffragettes and activists before them paved their path. The hippies had the right idea, folks! Love IS the movement. Much as they may be cast aside, dismissed derisively by young idiots who don’t know what their apathy is losing them, without them our world would be a lot worse.

I am proud of people like my mom, people of my mom’s generation, who fought the good fight in a time of civil rights infringement, injustice, and phony wars. Wait, that sounds familiar...I wonder why.

However, I am also angry with them. They gave up the ghost much too quickly. As they entered their twenties and thirties, other things began to matter more. A home. A mortgage. A family. A car, a dog, 2.5 kids and the colonial. Regular baths. A business suit. The Free Love generation fought for their youth and then most of them settled down, calmed down, and gave up, expecting the next generation to carry on the fight.

Hey, guys? IT DIDN’T WORK. My generation is a generation of Easy Mac meals, video games, convenience, and worst of all–APATHY. Honestly I don’t know whom my anger is directed at more–the generation before us who gave up too soon, confident their brood would carry out their great far-reaching plans, or my generation–a pile of snot-nosed, sniveling, spoiled brats who wouldn’t know hard work or sacrifice if it bit them on the arse.

Not that I’m an exception. I play WoW with the rest of them and work in fashion retail, for goddess’ sakes! A lot of days I can barely bring myself even to glance at the truthout.org articles in my inbox or to act as Hawaii State Chair of the Pagan Unity Campaign.

It’s not my mom’s fault. Goddess knows she tried. I don’t blame our parents. But our families got too caught up in personal banes of existence really to notice where this world was headed until we looked up in the last year or two and said a hearty “Oh, Fornication Under Consent of the King!”

Where have we been all these years? Not my mom–she’s a member of this and that, still carrying the torch. Where have we been–Generation Z? Yes, Z. (My parents’ generation is actually two generations previous to ours – my parents are older than many others’ my age.)

What shall that Z stand for in the coming years? Zonked, zoned, zany, zealous? Shall we be remembered as the Generation That Did Jack Shite, or will we leave a better legacy?

I’d like to see our Generation Z become the Omega Generation. Omega’s the last letter in the ancient Greek alphabet. It symbolises the ending of old things, and the beginning of new ones. As the Tarot’s Death card symbolises great change, so does Omega.

After Omega, the next letter is again Alpha, for leadership and new beginnings. Why should our legacy be non-existent or shameful? Let us put to rest old paradigms, old ideas, institutions, structures, and let the generation after us bring forth a new dawn–one we can all be happy with.

Reflecting on these truths, I realise that, to bring about this change my soul wants so desperately, I must let go of my anger. Bursts of anger can be useful, but in the long run, anger is self-destructive and harmful to others. In truth we do create our own reality to a certain extent. If all you can do is complain or rage about the world around you, then all you do is make it worse.

This time, we must approach activism in the spirit of love. We must make love our movement, and forgiveness the new “f word” of our generation. We must reach that calm area within us, however small, and learn to sit in perfect love and trust with the world. Only then may we change anything.

We must love our fellow human beings. Empathy is key here–not sympathy. True fellow feeling, reached by walking for two moons in another person’s moccasins. Then you’ll know how that person feels. Might not make you a better person, but it’ll help.

Above all, we must hold the Aloha Spirit. That doesn’t mean wearing colorful shirts and sporting a slick tan with your Maui Jim sunglasses. The Aloha Spirit is a deep-held, deeply-rooted cultural ethos in Hawai’i. It takes more than just reading about it to understand–one must experience it. However, here are the basics.

The alo in Aloha means presence, front, or share. The ha means the sacred breath, or soul. Breath is associated with soul in Hawai’ian mythology; ha is an expression of that sacredness. The Hawai’ian language is geared to awaken spiritual awareness and expression of the Aloha Spirit. Make sure to say fully, savoring the word like a fine wine, “Ah-LOH-ha!” Let it fill you, and let the experience of Aloha leave you–not breathless, but breathing wholeheartedly.

Aloha is a word that comes from two words. Someone has formed an acrostic poem with its letters, assigning five values to Aloha: Akahai, Lokahi, ‘Olu’olu, Ha’aha’a, and Ahonui.

Akahai means careful offering. The value here is kindness. Lokahi means to obtain oneness, or harmony. ‘Olu’olu means cool, refreshing and translates to a pleasant or agreeable nature. Ha’aha’a means low and reflects self-effacing modesty. Ahonui means great breath, for patience. This way Aloha helps us remember its overall meaning.

The Hawai’ians have suffered, but with grace, and continue to embody the Aloha Spirit, their divine heritage.

The Aloha Spirit is ineffable, like the beauty in a sunset, and must be felt to be understood. Does it come from the Gods Themselves? We’ll never know for sure.

Change–true, lasting, wondrous change–will never happen if we continue in anger and apathy. We must let that darkness go, and let love do the work. Hold the Aloha Spirit in your heart as you pick up litter, hold a seminar on the importance of recycling, teach your kids (or grandkids) how to compost, work for positive social change, work to overthrow oppressive systems, work for educational reform.

Do not despair, for there is hope. Hope lives only in love–Aloha, metta, lovingkindness, compassion–whatever word you use, the meaning is the same. Hold it in your heart and let it carry you, let it carry the movement onwards, for it is the only legacy that will remain once we are gone.

It is the only thing that ever has.