Another weekend ended, and it was eventful, not in my quiet life but on the world scene. The massacre in Norway defies imagination. I find it hard to grasp that one man can kill 85 people, not blowing them up at once, but one by one, finishing off the wounded. Eighty-five people. I once had a dream, years ago, of myself lying down on the ground, and the bad guy just above me, pointing his gun. I remember the panic and utter despair in my mind, the knowledge of doom: “Nothing to do, nowhere to run, I am a second away from death, this is IT”. The dream was so clear and desperate I never forgot it. And now all I’m thinking is that it has just been experienced by dozens of people, just before their death, only they’re no longer there to tell us of the horror.
I read Hollywood gossip magazines, I brazenly admit it. It takes my mind off of things in a wonderful, harmless way. Three days ago, I read the latest weekly issue of Star/Systeme, a magazine from Quebec. It had an article titled: "Amy Winehouse Flirts With Death". The last sentence read: “If she doesn’t get a handle on things, doctors give her 3 months to live, which is very little considering she is only 27...” These magazines are always sensationalist. I read this THREE days ago. Then I turn on my computer and read “Amy Winehouse is dead”.
This my prayer, for the grief to abate at Morning Bray Farm, for the victims of Norway’s Timothy McVeigh and their loved ones, for a lost soul who checked out. Peace to you, alive or dead. Amen
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