The key

The key to change
isn't politicians
or empty promises
made by those who claim to care,
but pursue their own interests
at our expense.

It's the monks in Burma,
who march in silent protest.
It's the writers and photographers and artists
who cast light in the shadows
and hold up the truth for all to see
and act.

It's those who have been oblivious
in their comfort zones of safety,
who suddenly wake up
and realise what's happening
and think, "Wait, this affects me
and my children and their children!"

Our planet is slowly eroding,
buffeted by nature's fury and manmade woes.
Poisoned by pollution and deprivation of wars,
causing cities to flounder and ice floes to melt.
Impoverished families struggling to survive, while
too many refugees trade one disaster zone for another.

We are all in this together.
The key to change, my friend
is you and me.
If not us, then who?

How we see things may not necessarily be how they are

but rather a reflection of where we are at.

Spiritual Discernment                                            Mental Discernment

       godly                                                                manly

       spiritual                                                             logical

       heavenly                                                           earthly

          eternal                                                           temporary

       trustworthy                                                       uncertain

Dear friends, this is just a brief but succinct insight into my goings on for the past week. I had my Appraisal/Review of my job on Tuesday. Am starting to digest the very faourable yet realistic feedback which I received. One of my big worries on the day was; 'Will I be able to hear what is actually being said?'

I feel I did actually hear it and I got a written copy to revisit, if need be. So at the moment am doing some digesting/discerning of the ride to the top of the mountain. The vino is adding extra bliss to a situation which deserves to be drowned in a vat in a chalet in Bordeaux, Tuscany or even the Borrosa. For now will settle in on my beautifully wild balcony and sip the red and indulge in the gentle ocean breezes and eternal workings of those waves. Slainte, prost, bellisimo, cheers...... 

”But if one listens a little harder and a little longer, one comes to hear silence…

that silence is an integral part of life…

Silence is not simply the absence of sounds.

Rather it is the presence of the dimension of time.

A realisation of the instant and the situation.

Furthermore, it is an expression of the completeness of the situation.

In a very real way, silence is heard as an integral part of existence…”
Howard Slusher

”With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony and the deep power of joy, we see into the heart of things.”

William Wordsworth

 

Just forked out $200 for a night out with Pete, this time to see Elton John. Last time I saw him was at Madison Square Gardens as a twenty first present that my Uni friend and I gave to each other: a wonderful Leo thing to do

 

Got to read the weekend papers over a scrumptious late from my fav coffee shop. At the end of it all, I was just wilder than ever to hear that the US govt pumps $610 million dollars into private security companies to fund it's new intelligence agency. The name of the agency is Counterintelligence Field Activity. The CIA is still there too. During the invasion of Afghanistan US intelligence agents let it be known that they would pay anywhere from $US3000-$US25,000 for al_Qaeda or Talban fighters handed over to the. "Get wealth and power beyond your dreams," statd a typical flyer handed out by the US in Afghanistan.So folks, 860 of detainees in Guantanamo were handed over by Afghan or Pakistani agents or fighters since the above award was introduced in 2002. In 2006 the Pentagon released 260 prisoners. Amazing coincidence!!!

 

Spent an hour in meditation-unheard of for me-after all of that overload on top of a hugley hectic past six weeks

 

Am comfortably prepared for my five year appraisal of my position at work, on Tuesday. Yes folks, the looking glass is out and am sure I will be able to face the panel of three. They will have a collation of data from survey feedback from all staff, some families and students. They will also meet with a select panel of staff, parents and students. By the end of it all I should have a fair idea of my strengths and weaknesses.Phew! Did I say I was not worried? Well, fattening the goose on Christmas Day does not exactly do the job,.

 

Powering myself with clarity to face the solicitor, this week, with my $8000 which will give the old house the hike off my to-do list. Best of all it will erase my last link with the name of the father of my children. Can't wait to see that cheque in my bank account. It will be well and truly in shock from a healthy whirlwind for a change. Then I will be making some serious plans. Travel of course figures as a number ONE must do.

 

The two week holiday is already tasting heavenly. Roll on Friday!!!!

 

 

Sarah

My name is Sarah,

I am but three,

My eyes are swollen

I cannot see,



I must be stupid,

I must be bad,

What else could have made

My daddy so mad?



I wish I were better,

I wish I weren't ugly,

Then maybe my Mommy

Would still want to hug me.



I can't speak at all,

I can't do a wrong

Or else I'm locked up

All the day long.



When I awake I'm all alone

The house is dark

My folks aren't home.



When my Mommy does come

I'll try and be nice,

So maybe I'll get just

One whipping tonight.



Don't make a sound!

I just heard a car

My daddy is back

From Charlie's Bar.



I hear him curs e

My name he calls

I press myself

Against the wall.



I try and hide

From his evil eyes

I'm so afraid now

I'm starting to cry.



He finds me weeping

He shouts ugly words,

He says its my fault

That he suffers at work.



He slaps me and hits me

And yell s at me more,

I finally get free

And I run for the door.

He's already locked it

And I start to bawl,

He takes me and throws me

Against the hard wall.



I fall to the floor

With my bones nearly broken,

And my daddy continues

With more bad words spoken.



"I'm sorry!" I scream

But its now much too late

His face has been twisted

Into unimaginable hate.



The hurt and the pain

Again and again

Oh please God , have mercy!

Oh please let it end!



And he finally stops

And heads for the door,

While I lay there motionless

Sprawled on the floor.



My name is Sarah

And I am but three,

Tonight my daddy

Murdered me.