Define the Human Race:
An uncategorized collection of library books, on all types of subject matter.
All have been checked out, but none have been returned.
Some are strewn haphazardly on heavy, old, cumbersome, long wooden tables that sit silently in rooms with tall ceilings. Heavy dark purple brocade valances frame dusty paned windows.
Some are piled high on floors and others teeter one on top of the other in darkened corners.
Some are missing;
Some are lost forever;
Some are torn and tattered;
Some are worn;
Some are shredded;
Some are faded;
Some are smudged;
Some are dog eared;
Some are missing covers and pages;
Some are hopelessly smeared;
Some are severely stained;
The time-worn Librarian is desperately trying to identify them all and sort them in their rightful places. She is this tiny, little old lady, all bent over, frizzled gray hair piled into a bun on the top of her head. Her glasses keep sliding down her nose. They are wide brimmed and the blackest of black. When she doesn't have her head buried in a book, she'll look up and examine you from head to toe. Her face is a soft blur but her eyes are penetrating. Your little world stops when she is focused on you. Her fingers, even though badly gnarled from arthritis are very adept at picking up a fragile piece and laying it down, gently.
Every so often a title catches her eye and she finds herself letting go, immersed in a story of long, long ago.
She remembers when she was just a little girl and how different the world seems now. Why just the other day, she was reading about children starving in North Korea. The reason given was that the farmers couldn't plant their crops because of torrential flooding. Therefore there would be a shortage of grain to feed the people. She looked at the pictures of very young orphans whose limbs looked like tooth picks and others who were suffering from sores and worse. She noticed that none of the children were smiling. "How can you smile when you are slowly starving to death", she thought. "And, there must not be many smiles at all in North Korea where a madman is in control".
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? She strained to hear an answer but all she could hear was silence.
She continued..."On the other side of the world we have Africans who continue to suffer horribly at the hands of monsters in the Sudan and elsewhere, hacking off limbs, machine gunning any and all who get in their way, and coping with plagues and drought."
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? Again - silence.
We have certain groups bent on killing, maiming and torturing men women and children in a neighbouring country all because they don't believe this small country has the right to exist.
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? Again - silence.
We have other groups who are solely focused on annihilating any and all those who dare believe in something other than Islam.
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? Again - silence.
We have organizations who believe that taking innocent life is justified because of a mother's right to choose. She quietly asked herself, "and what about the unborn's right to choose"?
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? Again - silence.
Slowly she turned and continued to gather up the many books that surrounded her. She handled them with such reverence and care as they had become her best friends. And she had learned much from them.
She was, what we call, a Senior Citizen, a Seasoned Citizen, one who was nearing her time. Oh she could still remember those quiet walks in the park, shimmery, summer days and long cold winters. Then there were those dark days known as World War I and World War II. She remembered her father and uncle's retelling of the horrors they encountered as millions gathered at the gates of hell, had their tickets punched and were whisked through to the other side. Her mind skipped back to sips of wine and Valentines. A trip to France, her love of dance. Upon reflection, she had lived a full life, complete with its ups and downs. Sometimes more down then up. What is life without those things? And in the end, she knew she would do it all over again. From her many experiences she had so much to offer to the younger generation.
----
soule: It is a tragedy that we do not turn to the old for guidance. Their eyes twinkle when we touch upon a subject that is dear to their hearts. They may stutter and have difficulty trying to remember, but if we sit quietly and listen patiently, we will hear some wonderful stories. The old are storehouses of wisdom, fond rememberances and loving memories.
We instead turn them out, like chattel. We discard them from our homes into nursing homes and/or other institutions and out of our lives as we just can't be bothered to give back to them the time they so richly gave to us.
We lie and blurt out that we just don't have the time. Isn't it a simple act of loving kindness to find the time? What a human tragedy.
The world is in desperate need of Enlightenment...Visionaries...Wise Beings--Teachers of Wisdom, Knowledge and Truth.
Ever since we humans first appeared on this Planet we have been progressing, ever so slowly, along a learning curve.
We think we're making progress but our grade is still a D-.
Even though we had the 'Age of Enlightenment', the 'Industial Revolution' and now, the 'Technological Age', in my opinion, we haven't progressed that far. In fact, we are falling behind. We can certainly do alot with our fingers but our minds and hearts are begging for solutions.
The lessons we need to learn are there, if we take the time for a moment of reflection.
But we just keep saying, "I don't have time."
You can see how we are losing this epochal battle for our place in the universe:
On civility--you see it in the obscenities we shout at one another.
On behaviour--someone with an axe to grind can just walk up to someone in a Walmart Store, grab a bottle of bleach and Pine Sol, and turn their out of control anger into instant harm and mayhem. Never mind the consequences. Never mind other people nearby. Never mind, never mind, never mind.
You can see it in a trash can full of dismembered, battered bodies of little ones who spent nine months getting here and then, in the last moment were bludgeoned to death and denied entrance.
Did anyone stop to think of the contributions these little ones could have made to humanity? Maybe a cure for Cancer? Maybe another Einstein? Maybe a new way to heat and light our homes? Maybe the answer we are all waiting for...a permanent end to war?
Now is the time to take account of who we are and where we are headed. For if we do not, someone or something else will surely fill the vacuum we create. (Physics 101)
Now is time to make a stand and take a stand against any and all things that get in the way of our planetary ascension.
Let the vibrations begin. (they already have and are increasing...)
For Those who perceive this message, I know who You are. You are the Ones we need. I implore You, I beseech You, I am begging You, please come forward and help us take a good look at who we really are, as our collective reflection stares hauntingly back at us through Your crystal celestial lens piece.
When we are allowed to see our true nature, painfully reflecting back at us, we will learn how we have been deceived. This will be our first step toward heightened enlightenment and the true transformation of our species.
We are a beautiful element of creation. Even though misguided and stumbling along the Path, deep within us lies the capacity for healing and harmony and beauty. Yet our banal (unnatural) nature clouds this innermost yearning.
Now is time for all of us to take stock, reach for and stand in the Light.
An uncategorized collection of library books, on all types of subject matter.
All have been checked out, but none have been returned.
Some are strewn haphazardly on heavy, old, cumbersome, long wooden tables that sit silently in rooms with tall ceilings. Heavy dark purple brocade valances frame dusty paned windows.
Some are piled high on floors and others teeter one on top of the other in darkened corners.
Some are missing;
Some are lost forever;
Some are torn and tattered;
Some are worn;
Some are shredded;
Some are faded;
Some are smudged;
Some are dog eared;
Some are missing covers and pages;
Some are hopelessly smeared;
Some are severely stained;
The time-worn Librarian is desperately trying to identify them all and sort them in their rightful places. She is this tiny, little old lady, all bent over, frizzled gray hair piled into a bun on the top of her head. Her glasses keep sliding down her nose. They are wide brimmed and the blackest of black. When she doesn't have her head buried in a book, she'll look up and examine you from head to toe. Her face is a soft blur but her eyes are penetrating. Your little world stops when she is focused on you. Her fingers, even though badly gnarled from arthritis are very adept at picking up a fragile piece and laying it down, gently.
Every so often a title catches her eye and she finds herself letting go, immersed in a story of long, long ago.
She remembers when she was just a little girl and how different the world seems now. Why just the other day, she was reading about children starving in North Korea. The reason given was that the farmers couldn't plant their crops because of torrential flooding. Therefore there would be a shortage of grain to feed the people. She looked at the pictures of very young orphans whose limbs looked like tooth picks and others who were suffering from sores and worse. She noticed that none of the children were smiling. "How can you smile when you are slowly starving to death", she thought. "And, there must not be many smiles at all in North Korea where a madman is in control".
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? She strained to hear an answer but all she could hear was silence.
She continued..."On the other side of the world we have Africans who continue to suffer horribly at the hands of monsters in the Sudan and elsewhere, hacking off limbs, machine gunning any and all who get in their way, and coping with plagues and drought."
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? Again - silence.
We have certain groups bent on killing, maiming and torturing men women and children in a neighbouring country all because they don't believe this small country has the right to exist.
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? Again - silence.
We have other groups who are solely focused on annihilating any and all those who dare believe in something other than Islam.
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? Again - silence.
We have organizations who believe that taking innocent life is justified because of a mother's right to choose. She quietly asked herself, "and what about the unborn's right to choose"?
She wondered, "from whence does their help come"? Again - silence.
Slowly she turned and continued to gather up the many books that surrounded her. She handled them with such reverence and care as they had become her best friends. And she had learned much from them.
She was, what we call, a Senior Citizen, a Seasoned Citizen, one who was nearing her time. Oh she could still remember those quiet walks in the park, shimmery, summer days and long cold winters. Then there were those dark days known as World War I and World War II. She remembered her father and uncle's retelling of the horrors they encountered as millions gathered at the gates of hell, had their tickets punched and were whisked through to the other side. Her mind skipped back to sips of wine and Valentines. A trip to France, her love of dance. Upon reflection, she had lived a full life, complete with its ups and downs. Sometimes more down then up. What is life without those things? And in the end, she knew she would do it all over again. From her many experiences she had so much to offer to the younger generation.
----
soule: It is a tragedy that we do not turn to the old for guidance. Their eyes twinkle when we touch upon a subject that is dear to their hearts. They may stutter and have difficulty trying to remember, but if we sit quietly and listen patiently, we will hear some wonderful stories. The old are storehouses of wisdom, fond rememberances and loving memories.
We instead turn them out, like chattel. We discard them from our homes into nursing homes and/or other institutions and out of our lives as we just can't be bothered to give back to them the time they so richly gave to us.
We lie and blurt out that we just don't have the time. Isn't it a simple act of loving kindness to find the time? What a human tragedy.
The world is in desperate need of Enlightenment...Visionaries...Wise Beings--Teachers of Wisdom, Knowledge and Truth.
Ever since we humans first appeared on this Planet we have been progressing, ever so slowly, along a learning curve.
We think we're making progress but our grade is still a D-.
Even though we had the 'Age of Enlightenment', the 'Industial Revolution' and now, the 'Technological Age', in my opinion, we haven't progressed that far. In fact, we are falling behind. We can certainly do alot with our fingers but our minds and hearts are begging for solutions.
The lessons we need to learn are there, if we take the time for a moment of reflection.
But we just keep saying, "I don't have time."
You can see how we are losing this epochal battle for our place in the universe:
On civility--you see it in the obscenities we shout at one another.
On behaviour--someone with an axe to grind can just walk up to someone in a Walmart Store, grab a bottle of bleach and Pine Sol, and turn their out of control anger into instant harm and mayhem. Never mind the consequences. Never mind other people nearby. Never mind, never mind, never mind.
You can see it in a trash can full of dismembered, battered bodies of little ones who spent nine months getting here and then, in the last moment were bludgeoned to death and denied entrance.
Did anyone stop to think of the contributions these little ones could have made to humanity? Maybe a cure for Cancer? Maybe another Einstein? Maybe a new way to heat and light our homes? Maybe the answer we are all waiting for...a permanent end to war?
Now is the time to take account of who we are and where we are headed. For if we do not, someone or something else will surely fill the vacuum we create. (Physics 101)
Now is time to make a stand and take a stand against any and all things that get in the way of our planetary ascension.
Let the vibrations begin. (they already have and are increasing...)
For Those who perceive this message, I know who You are. You are the Ones we need. I implore You, I beseech You, I am begging You, please come forward and help us take a good look at who we really are, as our collective reflection stares hauntingly back at us through Your crystal celestial lens piece.
When we are allowed to see our true nature, painfully reflecting back at us, we will learn how we have been deceived. This will be our first step toward heightened enlightenment and the true transformation of our species.
We are a beautiful element of creation. Even though misguided and stumbling along the Path, deep within us lies the capacity for healing and harmony and beauty. Yet our banal (unnatural) nature clouds this innermost yearning.
Now is time for all of us to take stock, reach for and stand in the Light.
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