Remembering the poet Wilfred Owen on his birthday

ऊं सहना ववतु
सहनौ भुनक्तु
सहविर्यम् करवावहे
तेजस्विना वधीतम् अस्तु
मा विद विशावहै
ऊं शांति शांति शांति


Om Sahana Vavatu Sahanau Bhunaktu
Sahaveeryam Karavavahai
Tejas Vinavati Tamastuma vidhwishavahai
Om Shanti Shanti Shantihi


Sanskrit to English Word Meaning:
Saha- both; nau-us; avatu- may he protect; bhunaktu-may he nourish; viryam karavavahai-may we acquire the capacity; tejasvi-be brilliant; nau-for us; adhitam- what is studied; astu-let it be; ma vidvisavahai-may we not argue with each other.

Translation:
May He protect both of us. May He nourish both of us. May we both acquire the capacity (to study and understand the scriptures). May our study be brilliant. May we not argue with each other. Om peace, peace, peace.

Brief explanation:
At the beginning of a class, the teacher and students generally recite this peace invocation together. Both seek the Lord’s blessings for study that is free of obstacles, such as poor memory, or the inability to concentrate or poor health. They also seek blessings for a conducive relationship, without which communication of any subject matter is difficult. Therefore, this prayer is important for both the teacher and the student.

This is a mantra that is recited in ashtanga yoga before a teacher begins to teach a class.It is of note that  we are requesting a blessing to be free of obstacles that obstruct communication that is conducive to learning, change and growth. We want to be free of the type of disputation that leads to destruction disregard and disrespect .Extreme disputation obfuscates  reciprocity and dialogue and can  lead to mistrust  and dishonor in our world. We then stop learning about , from and with each other. I am reminded today of this prayer as it is the birthday of the English poet, Wilfred Owen who was  was a lieutenant in WW1 as well as a poet.He graphically depicted the horrors of war,he having experienced "shell shock" .He was killed on Nov,4,1918, seven days before Armistice Day, while attempting to cross the Sambro Canal,  in the course of leading his troops.He was only 25 years old.
  A review of Owen's poems published two years after his death read,"Others have shown the disenchanted of war,have unlegended  the roselight and romance,but none with such compassion for the disenchanted nor such sternly just and justly stern judgement on the idyllisers". It has been said of Owen by the writer,Geoff Dyer,"Owen was the medium through which the missing(from war) spoke".Here is an example of a virtual Owen reciting one his poems. He is remembered for not glorifying war , he is courageously honest in the retelling of what he witnessed first hand during wartime. His bravery and compassion are to be remembered.May our disputations lead only to greater compassionate understanding of each other and ourselves....

Dulce et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime... Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.