The present situation in the Middle East has taken much of my thought these last couple of weeks; so much so that I go to bed praying for those who on both sides of the conflict are becoming the innocent victims of man's pride, greed and lack of love. I feel that the acquiescence of the powers that be of the gross disrespect for human life that we are seeing can only be interpreted as the repudiation of all that is humane, and if allowed to continue will only mark the beginning of the death of a very big part of our collective human conscience; there is simply no justification.

Outrage, disbelief and sadness are only few of the feeling that fill me when I see and hear the recent developments. It is unbelievable to what depths man will sink when there is an absence of God's love in his heart.

I pray for peace and weep for those whose only idea of love for God is that of putting and end to another being's life. Until the Prince of peace returns, I for one will continue to stand against this disease of hardness of heart and numbness of soul; if only others would awaken from the false sense of reality that surrounds them and realize than when one of us suffers, we all suffer.

Here is a little history lesson for those of you who may not be familiar with the middle east.

Sometimes people get an idea in their head that no matter how hard you try to demonstrate the truth of the matter may be different, you might as well be living in an alternate reality.

I am a stupid man, ridiculously stupid, the kind that stones have taught to fly, and yes, when I get an idea in my head (usually fueled by a resolute decision to remain true to what I either believe to be true or the sincere desire to make it so) it can be hard to let it go; but one thing I tell you, I have learned that one cannot hold on to the past.

The past; as it was, as we perceived it, as others felt it, the hidden past, the past in all it subtlety, guilt and evasiveness. Some would say that I have a hard time letting go of the past, that I choose to let it haunt me, that my present is the sum of the sentimental memories collected and acquired. Perhaps.

Although I have always preferred to see my journey in time as a continuous detachment of what has been, in the process of experiencing that which is. A choice to constantly make new...

What I was trying to say before beginning to sound lost is that I can't help myself from wanting to believe that in spite of mistakes, things can still be. Not the same, not as they were... just still be.

Does past experience, how we have felt at one time in our life determine who we are? Who we've been, yes; but who we can be?

The problem is that it seems that in order for others to have faith in you, they have to perceive you as changed, as having learned from your mistakes. Sometimes a lifetime isn't enough to show someone you care, for when they've made up their minds it as if two worlds are at odds, and you know what they say about love and war. All may be fair, it just depends what end you are seeing things from. But what does it take to be noticed when you're holding up a white flag? Is the mere act of admitting the lack of desire to continue the end in itself? Or is it for a reason?

Maybe it's just about having lived the experience. I like that thought. All the same, I will never stop saying "Te amo".

Got this mascara back when the Emma and Angie were visiting - gonna make my own film. " WHACKY (sounds like Joaqui) LIBRE!" I need a side kick.

Anyway, got to thinking that my Super Hero character needs some pizzaz and I was inspired by the STRONGBAD look. What do you think Luci?

Emails I can do; but the song writing, I think I lack his creativity on that one... dangit.

Thought you did not have to, did not want to; but you let it go.

Take back that which was given but not meant to be received.

You breathe.

Whether you form the distance or the distance forms you; peace will be found only in trust.

You accept.

I will not take away, you must choose to give: He says.

Be happy - the words that will not stop echoing.

You smile.

It is that simple.

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you..."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added:
"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an
ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you-- the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.
And he went back to meet the fox.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to
remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to
remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.


Le Petit Prince Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (June 29, 1900 – July 31, 1944)