Being Breath

stories from the wilderness of everyday life

My View. Or Hers. Or His. Or Ours. Or No Ones.

I was going to blog this morning on the news that came to light last night.  

Of the death of one who caused a great amount of pain and who couldn't see beyond his own stories.

Of the mixed emotions Americans are feeling faced with those who choose to celebrate and those who are abhored by the idea.

And yet I sit here, still swirling in an odd mix of my own awareness and awareness of that around me, unable to find the words.  Or perhaps, unable to choose the words.

So I will share THIS with you. (The War Prayer by Mark Twain)

And THIS. (Killing Our Enemy by Susan Piver)

And I strongly encourage you to take the 5 minutes out of your life it will require to read both, and as many minutes more as it requires of you to reflect on the perspectives offered.

Because this blast of news in our own mundane stories - no matter how big or small of a change in physical or mental routine it has created for you - has created a hole; a space.  

It is a perfect opportunity to embrace the space, to sit in outward silence as the mind rages on, to find out what stories make you want to cheer and cling to them and which make you want to cry and run.

Within the hole is the whole.

May we all use this opportunity to come a bit closer to our awareness of it.

Namaste.