I started yesterday with a haiku in red white and blue.
Tomato stains on
my white shirt and I am blue
in a Paris dawn.
Because in the end the sweat of armpits is closer than the distant sound of gunfire. Or Janet Frame said something like that. I had a delicious 7 weeks in France two years ago and never for one moment felt the threat of terrorism. But I can’t help thinking that Syrians and Iraqis have been facing this terror everyday and that we are all responsible.
How do we manage to make such a mess of things? Not long ago we were killing Germans and they were killing us and for what? Then we are killing the Koreans, Vietnamese, Japanese, Iraqis, Isis and they are killing us. A little boy in red shoes is washed up like a piece of flotsam on a beach.
The only way I can avoid despair is to be grateful to those close to me. To be glad that Deb will pin my trousers up, that Patsy has invited me for dinner, that Granny Di and I had lunch and a scoot around Hobsonville together. I’m happy that Sam drove to a festival in Tirau and came home safely, that we have put up some pretty Christmas lights. I’m grateful for peonies and chiropractors and old dogs. Oh and I quite like angels.
I don’t believe in god but I believe in the human spirit. Thanks, Leunig
God help us to change.
To change ourselves and to change our world.
To know the need for it. To deal with the pain of it.
To feel the joy of it.
To undertake the journey without understanding the destination.
The art of gentle revolution.
I hope you do something lovely for someone or have something lovely done for you today. After all, we may only have today. FG