Anvita (in red) at an AVP meeting
Last year, when I travelled to Pati, Indonesia for the Regional Justice and Peace Training, I expected a meaningful experience. Perhaps some practical tools, maybe a few valuable connections. Having spent over a decade in peace education – advocating for environmental justice, facilitating AVP workshops, and leading intercultural dialogues across India, New Zealand, and Australia. I believed I had already built a solid foundation.
But what I experienced in Pati went far beyond training. It was a profound shift — a quiet, steady transformation, a shift in how I hold space, relate to others, and understand what it truly means to build peace. I didn’t just return with new skills. I returned with a new way of being, one that continues to ripple through everything I do back home in Australia.
The training took place at the Peace Place in Pati. It is home to Nanik and Petrus, a Christian couple living and working in a predominantly Muslim community. Navigating such a delicate setting with grace and humility, their lives are peacebuilding in action. Not through grand declarations or theories, but in the quiet everyday moments, in the way they interact, run the Joglo school and consistently show up with kindness and integrity. Through these simple, thoughtful actions, they have built deep trust and lasting relationships, an important ingredient to peace. Simply witnessing them reminded me that peace isn’t something you teach or deliver; it’s something you actively choose and live by, moment by moment.
That ethos echoed through every part of the training. It was grounded, culturally sensitive, and deeply intentional. One powerful takeaway for me was how language can either build bridges or reinforce exclusion. Simple shifts like using “community agreements” instead of “safety circles” or replacing “centering down” with “stopping”, made the space more inclusive and welcoming. Since returning, I’ve become more intentional with my language, especially when working in diverse settings.
Another practice that stayed with me was empathetic listening. AVP already emphasises active listening, but empathetic listening challenged me to reconsider the instinct so many of us carry — the urge to fix, help, or offer solutions. It comes from a well-intentioned space to ease suffering, bridge gaps, and create understanding. But even well-intentioned, ‘saviour mentality’ can disempower others. True peacebuilding lies in simply witnessing the person, offering presence rather than solutions, and honouring people as the experts of their own experience.
At the same time, I learnt that communication is a shared space, and there’s a delicate balance between being an expressive speaker, a compassionate listener, a silent observer and a supportive companion. This balance is especially important in multicultural or emotionally charged settings.
The facilitators were also highly attuned to the unspoken dynamics that play out in group spaces. Dominance can emerge not only through loud voices, but through language fluency, extroversion, or unconscious saviour tendencies. In diverse groups, these patterns can quietly disempower others. Watching the facilitators respond with care and humility gave me practical ways to balance power, affirm quiet voices, and invite fuller participation across differences.
For me the whole experience reaffirmed the importance of slowing down, tuning into what is or isn’t being said, and reading the room with sensitivity and presence. It’s something I now consciously bring into my work in Australia – where diversity is ever-present but doesn’t automatically lead to connection or inclusion. In fact, as sociologist Robert Putnam noted, increased diversity can sometimes have the opposite effect, causing people to “hunker down” and withdraw. I’ve seen this in group spaces where people from different cultural or religious backgrounds hesitate to speak, unsure if they’ll be heard or valued.
This is why I was reminded so clearly that inclusion and peace are not passive outcomes, they are active, ongoing practices. They require us to show up with awareness, sensitivity, and intention. The experience in Pati didn’t just give me tools—it gave me a mindset, one that helps create spaces where all voices feel seen, valued, and safe.
If you’re considering this year’s training in Pati, I wholeheartedly encourage you to go. Bring your openness. Be ready to listen, unlearn, relearn, and grow. You’ll return not only with practical tools, but with something even more valuable: a lived experience of what peace can look like, and the inspiration to carry it into your own community.