Sandy Hook shooter a mystery to neighbors and former classmates.
Yahoo! News – December 15, 2012
My wife and I are headed to the farmers market. She’s handing me pieces of tangerine while I’m driving. It’s good – sweet and juicy.
I have enough money in my pocket to buy a cup of coffee if I want one.
Maybe I’ll get out of the car and stare at the sun until my eyes blister.
I was on the phone last night with some of my dharma sisters. We got around to talking about evil. Does it exist. Is it a thing all its own that falls on people or infects them. Maybe it’s just how some of us are. Maybe it’s how we all are and we have to beat back that part of ourselves. And some people don’t make it and they get consumed and visit hell upon the rest of us.
There’s a handy thing about evil; it lets the rest of us say we had nothing to do with it.
We get to the market and right away I see Melinda. She’s a yoga teacher where I teach. We come up to each other and don’t say anything. We hold on to each other for a few breaths.
I watched some of it on teevee this morning. Stephanopoulos is on the scene talking to a priest. The priest knows some of the families, has baptized some of the kids. He’s been up all night trying to console the suffering. He’s barely holding it together. The usual statements. The interview ends, and the camera is still rolling. The priest breaks down. The two men embrace as the priest sobs. I’m so tired, he says.
Children are murdered every day. Families rubbed out. It’s part of the air, some places in the world. The rebels. The government. Some invader. Your kid’s at the well drawing water and somebody makes an example of her.
Seems so far away.
We try to keep our distance.
The bombs have fallen close to home this time.
There are heroes at the school. A teacher puts her own body in front of a bullet to protect her students. Her last act on earth is one of pure selflessness.
There’s a trio playing at the farmers market – mandolin, guitar and upright bass. The guitarist is the singer and she’s got her high lonesome going. Lots of people this morning and I can’t hear the words. But I know she’s singing about some hard times. That’s what we always sing about. They’ve got my foot tappin, and there’s a lump in my throat and I just about can’t stand all this.
One of my sisters from last night lives near the fallen town. She tells how in her own town people are going out of their way to be nice to each other.
The very worst thing would be to give up on each other.
We should say I love you every chance we get.
We should try to see Buddha and Jesus in everyone we meet.
I’ve told you the news that you already knew.
May all of the sweet souls of the victims be released into peace. May those who love them – may we all – find our way.