The end of a rough night
The lonely road away from home.
My son (3 1/2 yrs.): Can’t we find a way to get along?
My daughter (16 mo.): I do it my own ‘elf!
Last night was rough. If it wasn’t the dog breathing in my face,or the pain radiating everywhere, it was the dream of being a small child hunted down by assassins. The crowd surrounding me was so fearful, even the lone assassin who didn’t believe I should die was afraid. It meant that those few who were focused on the death of one small child had no resistance.
A crowd capable of dissolving their fears, of overpowering the few who were intent on such an atrocity, simply parted to make way.
Was I afraid? Up until that moment I was running for my life. Then, as I looked up into the eyes of the coward who would gain satisfaction from killing a small child, I knew. I couldn’t die. He was already dead. My life was just beginning.
I said calmly, without an ounce of fear:
We have allowed our differences to define us, not our commonalities.
We have allowed our fears to divide us, not our resolve to unite us.
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That was 8:42am, after roughly 5 hours of sleep. Oddly, I’m exhausted but at peace.
Dreams are supposed to be the portals to the soul….or is that eyes??
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The saying goes that the eyes are the windows of the soul. I think dreams are the windows to the untamed mind.
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Yes, indeed … whatever violates the law of love fuels madness …
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My viewpoint on insanity is that it’s an affliction inhabiting anyone still living after the age of 5. 🙂
If it’s true that insanity is the act of doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results you need look no further than our societal penchant for falling into the same patterns and thinking the result will be different next time. It’s a theory in a book called, ” Generations: The History of America’s Future.” By Neil Howe and William Strauss. I have no doubt that different cultures have the same generational amnesia. 🙂
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