I watched a slow harsh movie last nite about the civil war–wanton killing, vigilantes, piles of bodies of young men in huge ditches, wasted fields, murdered women and children.  I rarely watch those movies, I was taken unaware of these scenes.

I’ve lived too many lives in wars.  I’ve killed too many soldiers, women, children.  Bombed too many cities, sword in hand.  I feel this.  These images repeat inside my head like a skipped film over and over again.

Today I flood my mind and heart with gratitude.  I am thankful for the peace in this house, the silence of my neighborhood, the moonlight in the dark morning, my old dog, the sidewalks, the laurel bush, the school and everyone who goes there today, the paved roads, the tea in my mug with a handle and a straw, my big worn parka that one of my kids borrowed from a friend years ago.  I chant and chant, all day today of the grateful life I have–without any problems.

To you out there in the midst of snipers, loss, destruction, heartache, death and dying I can only say: this too will pass.  And in the next life, as me, perhaps cherishing the stillness of a quiet home, will keep the inner war from spewing onto the streets.