To the Victor….

There is a saying, “To the victor go the spoils,” which speaks to the endless war we wage against each other. The word “spoils” often refers to the mountain of riches that conquerors acquire. Perhaps intentionally, the word “spoils” can also signify what gets destroyed in war, the square miles of blasted landscape and heaps of tortured flesh.

A friend and colleague named Victor took his life last week. A middle-aged man with two adult children, Victor carried scars from a life at war. He waged war against a “system” he saw as unjust to marginalized people, including himself. But he also raged against internal demons, substantial enough that he was medicated and on Social Security disability for more than the 20 years I knew him.

Victor came into my life as a student of Nonviolent Communication (NVC). He was intensely capable and was soon co-facilitating with me a 10-hour intro class in NVC at the De Muniz Resource Center, located next to the Marion County Jail. Our students, many of whom had overlapping diagnoses and life experiences with his, loved Victor because he could relate to them. He could understand their pain, their difficulties, their resentments and anger. He could truly empathize. They were brothers and sisters in arms. That’s what made him a good mentor and peer support advocate.

Most of us haven’t had to deal with mental illness, physical disabilities and a rebellious nature to the degree Victor did. He was smart and combative. He was not a fan of the cops or the court, and accordingly, they were not fond of him. It galled him that thinking “I’m right” didn’t always translate into justice. Victor carried grudges and the system gave him a lot to work with.

NVC is designed to address inner and outer conflict. Often, we must deal with both in the same day. Victor would work on that diligently, learning how to empathize with cops who were trying to meet needs of peace and cooperation, for example, and coming to see that his need for peace and cooperation might not be met the same way at the same time as the cops. So, he learned and practiced forbearance, patience and even forgiveness. But as we all know, sometimes those lessons wear thin and, in a moment of frenzy, chaos and emotional upset, those hard-won skills are nowhere to be found.

The last time I worked with Victor, he was organizing an NVC intro course at the housing complex where he lived. He insisted that both staff and residents be part of the same class because, in NVC, we’re all equals. NVC helps to level the playing field and reduce hierarchy. In that way, needs we all have for equity and a shared reality are more easily achieved. Justice is just a bit closer at hand in that field.

Victor loved to talk about his white-water kayaking on the North Santiam River. As a kayaker too, I could relate, though I never ventured into Class IV waters like he did. I came to see the river as a metaphor for Victor’s life, the turbulence and violence that is exhilarating, but lethal if you’re not prepared for it. Likewise, I saw NVC as his kayak, something that could help manage the many falls and eddies in his life.

He told me more than once his joy of sharing that kayaking experience with his sons. I don’t recall whether they were participants on the river or only hearing about his adventures. I can’t help but think that reaching across the generational divide was one of the great difficulties in his life. He had created a canyon between him and his family before starting to tame his demons, and it was painful for him to realize that the river to forgiveness is often a Class IV challenge.

Part of me today says, “It’s amazing Victor made it this far!” It took a strong man to fight as long as he did, against Class IV conditions much of his life. The other part of me honors the efforts he made to tame his own demons, but even more for his efforts to help others tame theirs. He was generous and patient with those who he saw as the most in need of care. Sadly, he was not as generous with those who he couldn’t see, those he thought didn’t need it, or those who “ought to know better”.

I’m fortunate to have healed the wounds I received in battles with Victor.  I hope others he scarred will likewise find a way to peace without him. I’m sad for those he left behind, for those he didn’t get around to asking forgiveness. These people are the “spoils” of Victor’s war, a war in which there weren’t enough winners.

I’m left with the memory of a man I admired, and I’m happy that I didn’t have his life to live. NVC has had a steadying effect in my life, but to use the kayak analogy again, I think I would have needed Zodiac raft to make it as far as Victor did.