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"And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more." - Anne Frank (1929-1945) I'm
broken now, but I'll not confess.
"Long
live freedom!"
The
Living Novel & Short Stories
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CrystalBay
Inspiration
"Some
people come into our lives and quickly go.
Crystal
Cafe
|
 The
beast has shown its face in the suffering of the innocents around the world.
And, as the ugly head of the violence shows it true face on the shores
of America, all good people of the world, the mothers and fathers, must
come together to work towards making more just and peaceful societies to
help stop the sowing of the seeds that grow this kind of self-serving blind
hatred. The seeds of hatred have been planted on the shores of America
too where they will no doubt grow strong in many calling for blood lust.
There can be no doubt that our world will fall deeper into hatred and the cycle of violence if we do not learn to live as one human family. The beast has no religion or nationality, though it claims to have the only one...it is simply those who would mangle and devour their fellow human beings without remorse of suffering for their deeds and the immense suffering they cause. Not even innocent children escape their blind rage, because they have sold their souls for their vision of power and glory. It is time for all good people of the world of all nationalities and faiths to come together and stand against the madness, to sincerely look at the suffering in the world's people, which is immense, and work united for civil and good societies based on basic human rights and dignity and respect for all. ---------------------------------------
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Millions,
millions!, of people died in WWII. WWIII will surely bring Armageddon as
we now have the destructive power to completely destroy all the Earth.
How many more thousands, or millions of innocent people will have to die
before we learn that we are all part of the same human family? Justice,
yes, but revenge and collective punishment, no.
Can there be peace without justice?
Important Links
One transgression against humanity diminishes us all. Each person helped brings us that much closer to goodness and reclaiming our humanity. The
Good Man
Collateral Damage: Doesn't sound so bad...a little damage here and there. Collateral, things, damaged, unfortunately by bombs and war. An orchard, a house, a city. Collateral damage, the little girl, the little boy, the mom, the dad, the one, the thousand, the ten thousand, the hopes, the dreams, dead, lying mangled, bloody, under twisted, burnt rubble. Certainly not intended. Just collateral damage, an unfortunate part of war. The
War Prayer by Mark Twain
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the Internetwork of FREEDOM WRITERS.
We don't use bombs and planes, nor swords or guns, but the noblest of all
weapons -- the heart and pen. We strike at the heart and soul, but not
to maim, to enlighten and raise human consciousness to a higher level of
love. We are seeking people of all nations and beliefs to unite in this
monumental struggle of good against evil. Join us by spreading the word
of goodness, kindness and compassion
for a world free from terror, suffering
and death, for freedom, peace and justice!
CrystalBay
Virtual Village
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Inspiration
& Memorial
The
Death of an Innocent
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| This
story came to me be way of the Tri-County Animal Shelter. They were feeling
overwhelmed by the number of unwanted animals at the pound. Even worse
than the neglect was the shock of the outright, extreme cruelty done to
some of the animals before they came in their care.
If you'd like to learn more about animal rescue, please visit our Lovable Pound Pups page for stories and links.
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family off public assistance. :^) Thank you and bless you!
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The Boy
and the Starfish
A man
walked down the beach,
He asked the boy what possible difference his efforts could make, given there were so many starfish. The
boy paused, looked at the starfish in his hand and answered, "It makes
a difference to this one."
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 A Mother's
Day 1945
A rose from the garden, wildflowers, memories shared, the best things in life really are free... Sundays as a teen, I enjoyed homemade cake with "oma" as we talked for hours and time stood still. I listened with respect and admiration as my grandmother told me about leaving her home with her little children and a few possessions packed on a wooden sled. She had hastily sewn small valuables like jewelry and coins into the lining of their clothing to barter for food, shelter and transportation on the long journey ahead. And then, with the babies bundled and secured, she left her comfortable home in the medieval village where generations of the family had lived, and pulled the sled through the snow blanketed forest. The roads were impassable, filled with the remaining men -- young boys and old men -- ragtag soldiers heading to the Russian front. After traveling hundreds of miles, she still felt fortunate having an extra pair of shoes and food to give to another refugee, a mother with a very ill infant walking with only rags wrapped around her feet to protect them from the snow. Though she is physically gone now, I remember her experiences and compassion and gain strength from them. I can't help but feel horror at the plight of the refugees of our time in Kosovo and the fact that WW2's lessons did not put an end to the madness of violence. Especially today, the relevance of reaching out to others in need and teaching compassion hits home. If we as a society and world community do not teach and learn compassion, we will never be truly free, but slaves to fear of violence. Today, Mother's Day 1999, even in our free society, the hideous head of violence disturbs the tranquility of our suburban utopias. But like my grandmother, and the numerous women before her and today, I will fight on for my family and to try to sow the seeds of compassion in a mad world overgrown with the seeds of violence. And I step out into the sun-kissed garden. The world is in the fragrant petals of a rose. Time stands still. Only the wonderful, happy sound of my child's voice permeates the stillness. And I am sitting again with my grandmother hearing the stories in my minds eye.
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