A Thought About Remembrance Day

PoppiesI love Poppies. How large, bright and striking they are, yet how delicate and fragile.

Every human being has their story and we cannot live each others story, only hope to understand some of it. When I look into the eyes of another individual and listen to him or her speak, I am not thinking what colour their skin is or what religion they are or what political affilations they have, I am looking into their eyes for the integrity of their soul, and in that single moment there is a perfect world, and often love and truth is reflected within and behind their words.

I think it is ordinary hard-working men and women that weave the fabric of goodness in the world, which protects us from the greater invasive forces that try to use and influence our lives. Often I am hurt, split apart, made angry, but these feelings, though very real have to be acknowledged, only really divert my attention for a moment, from the universal consciousness I share with everyone.

Even bad men have a vulnerable child within them.

It took me the best part of my life to realise that I don’t have to live up to other peoples expectations and that loving someone unconditionally brings on a very real feeling of happiness. The less I have the better I feel. That food and shelter are the birthright of every human being and should be free. That all life on earth is as sacred and meaningful as mine.

Perhaps there is a much greater lesson than we think in the integration of different peoples in the world. And the poppies we wear unite our spirits and for a day quieten our angry hearts.