People are Happy When They're at War

I'm reading Paulo Coehlo's book "The Zahir". As usual with his books, it's given me many things to think about. Last night, Sadie and I talked about a poem that she had memorized when she was a child, "Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream". It talks about the dream where "the world had all agreed to put an end to war". We watched John Denver sing the song, and it was really pretty. He also recited a poem about peace. It got me thinking about war, about peace, and about love. Then I was reading on the way to work, and I read this passage about life and love and war... his wife was working as a war correspondent, and talking about her experience and opinions after living and working in a war zone...


"Paradoxical though it may seem, people are happy when they're at war. For them, the world has meaning... total power of sacrificing themselves for a cause gives meaning to their lives. They are capable of limitless love, because they no longer have anything to lose. A fatally wounded soldier never asks the medical team: 'Please save me!' His last words are usually: 'Tell my wife and my son that I love them'. At the last moment, they speak of love!"

Would the world even know what it would do without war? Why is it that things that are better are often so much more difficult to achieve? That whole, "the best path is rarely the easiest one" adage... War and fighting, in the name of God, in the name of ownership, in the name of duty, in the name of oil, in the name of fear, in the name of family, in the name of scarcity, in the name of love, in the name of sadness, in the name of revenge, in the name of hunger, in the name of exorbitance, in the name of money... so many names, so many faces, so much lost, so little gained...War and fighting have gone on since the beginning of history as I know it. It used to be that battles were fought between tribes so that no group starved... There was a day when tribes and groups battled over basic needs, not over oil and mineral rights. Little things... A young man would sneak out and steal a horse from the other tribe, knowing full well that one would soon be stolen back, in the name of a rights of passage to manhood. Nothing is lost there, is it? A young man establishes himself, the single horse won't cause either tribe paucity, and nothing else is taken. Maybe there's more to it than that, and I don't know about it, but it seems harmless.

I don't understand war. I know that it's a business; young men and women risk their lives and die defending "freedoms" that equate in the end to oil rights; children are stolen away from their families to become soldiers for a cause; people's homes and lives are destroyed; we get our gas $.04 cheaper than we might have otherwise. I know that that's an oversimplification of it all, but boil it all down, and what do you have? A man that I cared for died fighting in Afghanistan last August, more and more go over, and men and women continue to die in the field every day. Not so that we could have food; not so that someone else doesn't come to take over the country; not so that there's enough food and water to keep everyone alive at home; for oil.

Goodbye Little Bunny

My little bunny Noelle died early this morning.
I don't know what happened.
Her kennel is next to my side of the bed; she sleeps in it at night when we're in bed.
I heard her last night, or early this morning, scratching around.
When I woke up this morning, she was dead.
I couldn't close her eyes; did you know that bunnies have the tiniest little eyelids?
I held her in my hand; her little furry self was cold... I was really sad.

I'll try to bury her in the park near the house maybe.
I don't know what to do with her... maybe bring her to the vet's office...
You never know about health with little baby animals, especially off the farm I guess....
She seemed healthy though...

I'm happy we had the couple of weeks we had with her; she was the cutest sweetest little fuzzy I ever held in my hand. I loved watching her lounge on the floor where it was warm, or sitting in the puppy's dish, eating her food. She loved to nuzzle my nose, or tuck in under my chin when I was laying down.

I already miss her, and it's only been a couple of hours. I'll be sad to go home and not see her hopping all around the house and playing with the dog or getting bathed by the cat...

Hrmph... Baby Bunny... Very Sad.
Shitty.