the "broken" cup

I woke up to the news of a loss, a life taken, shot and silenced. A shocker, but this is not a first of its kind, and it most likely will not be the last as human history continues. This incident has happened many miles away from me. But, even in my own homeland the barrel had spoken on many occasions. It has silenced voices that dared to rise above it's own interest and seek the good of others. Ironical, isn't it?  This incident has set in motion various responses. From grief and horror, to celebration, ridicule and mockery. The latter responses are the ones that have left me shaken and angry. How infuriatingly quick we are to celebrate death in our prejudice? How foolishly bold we are to bid good riddance rather than see the crime? Why? Just because our thoughts did not meet. The smarter the world, the narrower the vision, is that it?   Two people may not see eye to eye, but that does not ever justify one doing away with the other. That should not be tolerat...

What does hope look like? In a conference, we were each given play clay and asked to shape an object that symbolized hope for us as individuals. Everyone set to work with much excitement. Most of us a little unsure about the task, looking around at what the early starters were making, some small discussions and giggling as we each set to decide on an object to shape. Eventually, we all finished and with much delight looked at what each of us crafted.  Hope may appear different from person to person but having hope is a shared phenomenon. Losing hope is also a sad reality, but that is for another time. Our symbols of hope may also change as we grow and gain richer and deeper experience in life. One of the poems that I now resonate with a little more is William Butler Yeats' A Prayer For My Daughter . I look at this as a prayer of hope that Yeats expresses for his daughter as a storm, symbolising a chaotic world she would grow up in, rages on. Like Yeats, I have the joy of being a fa...