In a few days or months these will be old words and old words are often like stale air. They reveal their short-comings in their smell and their lack of substance, or rarely they hold fire in them like the moment at which they were written, in an epiphany of truth.
We are at the crossroads of good and evil, and both will survive, but only one must prevail.
The color of the Dalai Lama's robes, or the black and white uniform of the corporate killer. We are on the edge now.
Many will try to stop the movement of life toward the sun by reminding us of our fear of open spaces. They will relentlessly pound into us their own fears, and they will try to confuse us into believing that they know more than we do about everything grown-up.
They will try to convince us that blood and pain and war and death and loss and torture and sadness are the only answers for us as a species, and that the only way forward is to turn and run backwards, away from the colors and the lights, back toward the black and the white.
I drew it. It looks like this to me tonight:
Here it is, and it's all that's here, as much as any billion blogs can hold:
We are ill, we are unhappy, we are sick, because our purpose should be to help others, to make other's way easier, to show love to others. We are here for others, not for ourselves. No possession means anything. No money means anything. We are spirits, and we are ALONE now, because we have forsaken others. We torture and kill others. We ARE the darkness.
By forsaking others, we have lost our way and lost ourselves. We have lost our soul in the pursuit of wealth and gold and power over others.
We are at the crossroads.
I pray with tears of hope that we awaken from this awful nightmare of power over others. Our greed is offensive, and our loathsome hatred and fear of each other is beyond sustaining for long.
This is a birth.
Or a death.
JW - Aug 08
Below, the 14th Dalai Lama, Tinzen.