Benazir Bhutto knew- EVERY time she went out into the public square she was a target. Her supporters knew this too and by showing up for her public events they might also be a target.

"Islamic clerics tried to get a court to bar her from running in elections. She was a bad Muslim, they said.
"Anyone who supports the Pakistan People's Party will not enter heaven," a Muslim cleric in Lahore, Abdul Qadir, told a Friday prayer congregation ahead of the October 1990 elections. "
Of course she was a "Bad Muslim"- all of her early education was done in Roman Catholic schools with names like, " Lady Jennings Nursery School" and then the Convent of Jesus and Mary in Karachi.[2] After two years of schooling at the Rawalpindi Presentation Convent, she was sent to the Jesus and Mary Convent at Murree.

I'm not saying Benazir was a Christian, but she defintiely didn't go to a Muslim school as a child.
Could that be because there was no such place for a little girl to go back in the stone ages of Pakistan? Might it be the only institution that would cater to teaching (worthless?) little girls was that of the Christian faith? Surely, in her early years, she was somewhat shaped by a religion of grace and forgiveness; and a belief system shared by many of the founding fathers of our country, a place of democracy. Unlike the most of the Muslim leaders in the middle east who see women as merely property...or less. (one islamic document I read referred to women simply as f*ckable C*nts )

Not much has changed I'm afraid...seems Pakistan is still in the stone ages, except where technology and nuclear weapons are concerend.

Here's my point though- back to the beginning of the post- Benazir knew she was a target...every day, in every public situation- she knew her life was at risk. Her father was killed, as well as 2 brothers. She was painfully aware that her stabs at democracy would most likely shorten her life- and she was right.

My question to the American people is this- "Are you aware that WE are a target too?" The same democracy Bhutto struggled to bring to her country is the same stuff we piddle away everyday. Everything from not paying attention to how much of your paycheck is eaten up in taxes, to not voting...weakens our country. We are too easily distracted...we long for it actually- (what else explains Paris Hilton?) and too comfortable to get our feathers ruffled over the idea that the next ring of gunshots- or bombs going off....might just be aimed at us.

Benazir knew a laser sight was always locked on her heart and her head.
Don't ignore the red beam when you see it pointed in our direction. And don't tell me that no body warned you...
We are a target too, and getting bigger every day.

Respect vs Reverence~

My thanks to Gary Zukov-and "Seat of the Soul"

-

-"Reverence is an attitude of honoring life."

"Respect is a judgement."

I've lost respect for someone close to me- my father. I thought I was merely angry or disappointed in him, until I read the words above and realized it was my "respect" that was missing. And my "respect" is merely a judegement.

I'm exhausted from "judgements". I want little to do with the whole business of judging people or being judged by others. I'm weary of it, and from it.

This brings me to Reverence. I realize it's a divine thing.

Reverence is like the the ocean...and "respect" is a meager little float bobbing on the surface of the water. I've been holding on to this little tiny yellow float- thinking it had meaning and power...and all the while the greater thing keeps splashing me in the face.

The float keeps me from having to learn to swim the depths of reverence. The float, or "respect" has nothing to do with love, or grace, or divine power- it is merely human. It is an artifical placing of power. It is shallow. It is faulty.

Being Reverent allows me to see people differently. There is no need for respect in the eyes of a reverent person because they see everyone the same way...as living beings with the capacity for goodness and evil, power and corruption, love and apathy.

My father is still a person I must see with Reverence. Do you see the power of that?

I can accept him being a person as a being just like me- capable of many things- and let my "judgements" scatter like ashes on the water and disappear into the ocean of reverence.

My seeing my Dad with reverence does not negate the foolish or painful choices he's made, nor does it absolve him of his mistakes...what it does though...it absolves ME from carrying the unbearable weight of "judegement".

It's impossible to see the world with reverent eyes without the aid of forgiveness.

Today is a glorious new day. I've shed the heavy coat of sorrow I've been wearing- and sadly unaware that I even had it on until it slipped off. Much like the first 24 hours I ever used my asthma medication- I was absolutely stunned by how little I had been breathing in the weeks and months before.

Life can exist in the barest of margins... but it does not flourish there~ It flourishes in the Light, and in love...

Peace to you- all of you.

Shhhhh-

Silence affords us space to think.

It also gives us time.

Time expands into a bubble-
All of which will explode in a flash of glory...
or will die a slow death of exhalation.

Can I choose the explosion or the slow death???

I don't think so.


However- if I can choose-
then next time- I want the explosion...
I'm just saying.

Slow death is a raw deal- it really is :(

parts of a song-

"Sometimes I slowly drift away
From all the dull routine
That's with me every day
A fantasy will come to me

Lately my luck has been so bad
You know the roulette wheel'sA crooked deal,
I'm loosing all I had

Soon be like a man that's on the run
And live from day to day
Never needing anyone
Play hide and seek, throughout the week

Guess I'll always have to be
Living in a fantasy
That's the way it's got to be
From now on"

Similarity

The halls are empty-
Like a great big school during summer break-
It seems surreal that a place brimming with so much life could be so quiet.
Almost eerie. My footsteps echo clumsily ahead of me, and behind me.

I call out- but only my voice bounces around in the corners.
I am alone.
Abandoned in a way I never dreamed possible.
There's only me wandering around in this part of my heart.

The walls are covered in love notes-
Which look like graffiti to me now.
Or worse...they look like lies.
Or smudges I need to paint over.

All I see around me is in need of repair.
I gave away things I shouldn't have given away.
I let those words take precedent over my own.
A "friend" used this space- but left it without saying goodbye.

Wait...I see something in the corner...
It's moving~ ugh... A spider!

A spider has taken up residency in his place.
Seems fitting actually.

I'm not alone after all.
Make a web! Spider!
Make a trap- and guard my foolish heart.
I'm not smart enough yet to know how.

Teach me spider.
Since it's just you and I in here...
In the Great hall of my heart.

But she does not speak- she just spins her web.

Telling a story~

So unsure-
Of how I fit in...
Sister, mother, lover, friend-
Where do you start?
Where do I end?

Bliss here- an ache there-
Troubled thougths,
beneath long hair...
Blue eyes hide-
deep pain resides-
Questions with few answers.

Life's ahead- full steam...
"Forge"
Do I mean motion?
Or do I mean sword?
Progress or a beating?
It's hard to tell-

Too many words said?
Or were there too few?
I once thought I understood-
Now, I don't think I do.

I'm lost- and yet I know-
Where I am "dear",
Next to the little arrow that reads,
"You are here!"
Everything is clear as mud :(

Today I wrote in a private place-
"There is balance in my singularity",
And then try as I might...to feel guilty...
I could not.
The truth was simple, it had no strings attached.

But "sigh"- there are strings galore in life,
And simplicity is rare.
I over complicate everything~
Reason, sort, compare.
Sometimes "silence is just silence."?
perhaps...

I wonder, my friends,
What you might see between these lines.
And of my "laugh lines" too?
Lines with and without words...
They both tell a story.

I sprained my wrist...every word HURTS.
But that is a story for another time-
This late hour blurrs the mind.
My mind that is.
The little mind that wonders:

So unsure-
Of how I fit in...
Sister, mother, lover, friend-
Where do you start?
Where do I end?

Public or Private?

If you write something out here- on a blog- it's Public.

If you write something at home in a journal- it's Private.

You can't write something on a blog and say "This is just for me"- there's no logic in that statement. It's impossible for your writing to be for you and you alone when you broadcast it to the world. You might as well be stepping out in a big pink evening gown on the Red carpet and shouting to the photographers "I dressed for me! Don't look!"

Pshhhhh!

He says it's just for him...but he knows I will read it.

He an isolationist- who knows how to reach out and grab you...

but he does not care how long you sit outside waiting for him.

I once described him as a hermit.

A hermit I came to love.

A hermit who has hurt me repeatedly with his silence...

And yet- I know this is exactly what a hermit does.

He's not to blame for my ache- I am.

The thing though- the thing that gets me...is that I saw all of him once.

He even let me hold him...unguarded and vulnerable- and I will never

have that again.

But every now and then, he pokes out his head to let me see part of what I can not
have...and then taunts me with his words- "This is for me...and me alone. Not you!"

Why- sigh- why?

I'm not very complicated. I wanted to be loved- and to give love. I wanted the tingle. I wanted him. He said he loved me too...and he wanted me- but only on his terms?

I'll be honest here- I have a journal for private things I don't want the world to read. I have volumns of books with hundreds of thousands of my own words- penned by my own hand- for my eyes only. If I write something out here- it's public, not private.

When YOU write something out here- it's PUBLIC- not private.

but you already know that...

It's why you write the way you do-
You know I will see it...because you want me to. It's not just for you...it never was.