To one who forgot the meaning of love

I'm one who felt that celebrating Osama's death was not something I would be happy with. "The scales of Justice" is a fiction and no one can balance them.  Maybe his death was necessary for self-defence, but I cannot see it as a happy event.

In some ways, I felt sad. Sad that people were celebrating someone's death because he was dead, not because his life was worth celebrating. Somehow, it seemed very mean-spirited and ungodly to celebrate the death of someone who had forgotten the meaning of love. Instead I wanted to send him a prayer of love to help him recover, to know that someone cared for him, that someone wanted him to turn to his God, not away from Him.

It's all in the mind!

Every morning I walk into the town, a distance of just under a mile.  Sometimes my feet feel stiff, and I seem to lack energy (I do reluctantly classify myself as an old man).  The journey is something of a chore.  But suddenly I spot, walking in front of me about 50 yards away, the back view of a young woman of pleasing proportions and interesting movement..  Miraculously, my tiredness vanishes, my feet are willing and I speed up so that I can overtake her and see if she is as pleasing from the front as she is from the back.

Even after passing her, I still have that burst of energy right to the end.


Though in theory I know that my thoughts and desires control my actions more directly and more effectively than my will, it always surprises me when it happens so obviously.