Didn’t sleep well last night… deep contemplation on how to proceed? Awakened…. If I am a silent witness to violence I too am a perpetrator… read this from Jane Urguhart’s, Sanctuary Line.
How frail each life is. We mow a meadow and kill a thousand butterflies. The racket of the mower, the sound of a fist hitting flesh, an American bomb striking a Middle Eastern city – perhaps in the way of these things the only difference among them is that of scale. We keep on walking toward clamour and then cannot accept what that clamour show us. What did I do, after all, what did any of us do to interrupt the chain of events that led to catastrophe? … It is this lack of life’s energy at one pivotal moment that can in the end provoke tragedy… (not bringing ourselves to say the word stop.)
Not feeling much cheer today ~ Bruce
~ ~ ~