
Peace as Inner Radiance
Peace, when it awakens within us, becomes a radiant force. It shines outward with such clarity that it can transform the shadows of pain, trauma, fear, loneliness, and stress into higher energies: trust, abundance, serenity, connectedness, love, and ultimately, peace itself.
The reach of peace is shaped by the depth of our inner light. When our souls are purified and aligned with the universal source, the radius of our peace expands beyond time and space. This is the sacred wisdom I hold as one of the most precious inheritances from my ancestors.
Peace in Movement and Memory
When we dance in circles, we mirror the cosmos. We become moving galaxies, each of us a star igniting a collective brilliance of joy, trust, unity, and shared identity.
Our hearts and drumbeats synchronize with our hands, shoulders, and feet. Our faces glow with bliss, and our souls remind us: we love one another, we love our ancestors, we love the generations yet to come, we love the soil beneath our feet, and we love the Creator, the Highest Being.
Cultural Pride as Love
Our pride as Baloch and Kurd is not rooted in ego. It is a love for who our elders were and who we continue to be.
This pride does not limit our respect for other cultures, races, or identities. It deepens it. It teaches us cultural sensitivity, compassion, and the art of giving and receiving love.
Peace Is Not Silence
Peace is a reciprocal flow of elevated energy—heart to heart, soul to soul—reaching outward to the winds, oceans, deserts, forests, mountains, and the known and unknown universes.
True peace is the opposite of the silence imposed by graveyards, military zones, occupied lands, or prisons. Negative peace is not peace at all. The cries of souls from residential schools, madrassas, refugee camps, and stolen lands echo across centuries.
Peace in War, Exile, and Survival
As a mother in a war-torn region, peace meant a safe corner with a little food for my children—somewhere without bombs, gunfire, or soldiers’ howls—so I could remove the wool pads from my newborn’s ears.
As a human rights defender raising young children, peace meant abandoning dinner and running again and again to escape raids. It was the ninth attack in a single month.
In exile, as a refugee, peace meant moving my family from the front of a shelter to the back, hoping to survive if the landmine planted at the entrance exploded.
Peace in Canada’s Contradictions
Canada, a country shaped by the rule of law and respect for human rights, can still feel paradoxically heavy. News of violence and suffering from home haunts every moment.
In deep helplessness, I sit by the Stahlo River, where the winds and waves sometimes seem to cry, remembering the stories of their daughters and sons. It is strange to feel sadness in a land known for freedom.
Immigrant communities understand this contradiction. We are beneficiaries of safety and prosperity, while also living with the knowledge that these realities are connected to histories of loss. This awareness deepens our nostalgia.
Cultivating Positive Peace Together
Canadians—Indigenous peoples, long-settled communities, and newcomers alike—carry currents of trauma, memory, sadness, and hope.
We deserve a thoughtful and intentional way to cultivate and exchange positive peace, so that its radiance can flow through our communities, across our homelands, and outward into the world and the universes beyond.
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