lifesamaze

Can't we all be prophets?

"The gunfire around us makes it hard to hear. But the human voice is
different from other sounds. It can be heard over noises that bury
everything else. Even when it is not shouting. Even if it's just a
whisper. Even the lowest whisper can be heard - over armies - when
it's telling the truth."

It's idealistic. But if you have that charismatic personality, maybe you can make a difference. If you want it enough, you will ache to see its endpoint but you won't give up even in your dying moment. You will make it anything other than a quiet moment to yourself.

Every child is born with the strength to believe in humanity. It is chipped away as he/she grows older. Only those who are truly strong can retain this faith even through the turmoil, all the macabre. Isn't it a sad moment when we learn to stop being vulnerable? That first time we're hurt, and we learn not to trust so readily. Isn't it such a disappointment that we have to grow up? We are so much more than just taken advantage of. It's an injury that will never heal unless we can forgive and truly forget. Putting up these defenses, we are not saying, "you can't hurt me anymore," but "you hurt me and I'm still hurting."

It may be best to do things for the right reason, but I can't completely disdain any means to a good end. Maybe this means I believe it's in the destination and not the journey. I'm shamefully impatient that way. And then missing it when it's done and over.

I used to think my grandfather was weak. He won't say anything, he won't stick up for himself. His sister has wronged him so many times. And now she's forcing the sale of land that's been in the family for more than 100 years, land that their mother hoped would become a heritage. He's still just as cordial and concerned about her as he's always been, and not hung up on all her stupid indiscretions. I kept thinking he should have said something long ago, that he should never have let himself become a doormat. But no matter how many times she messes up, he'll still be a brother to her. And I admire him now. You can't make people realize their mistakes. You can't make people rectify them. You can only decide how you'll react to these mistakes. My grandfather is not a doormat. There's a big difference between letting people push you down and down until you can't get back up and picking yourself back up off the ground, dusting yourself off when something goes awry. Maybe she'll never understand that. But why does it really matter?