where, oh where, is the love?

25 10 2015

My emotions are frazzled after a totally crazy week internationally . 

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In my home country, students united to speak out against a government who would not speak to them  Police used violent tactics against peaceful protesters, although there were elements of destructive behaviour from some groups of activists.

In our new home country, a young Swedish man attacked a school, killing a teacher and student from non-Swedish backgrounds and injuring 2 others. 

Places meant to be used for housing refugees have been burned to the ground. 

The reports from Syria-Iraq continue to be worrysome.  Israel is facing greater violence. 

And the streams of refugees-migrants continue to flow. 


Those are all people asleep (or trying to stay asleep) out on the ground…they could have chosen to stay back in the tents but after travelling so far many people want to be near the bus departure point for fear of missing a bus. — with Verberckt David at Spielfeld – Grenzübergang.    Image from  https://www.facebook.com/budapestphotodiary


And as people arrive from dangerous boats in Lesbos, they stand barefoot in the mud for four days, in rain,  waiting to be registered to continue an uncertain journey. 

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And a huge majority of people across the planet go on living life, as if the world is not trembling at its very core, and as if all that should make us human is not being tested dramatically. 

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The pressure of life is squeezing… what is really inside is coming out.  And it is not very pretty. 

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There is a scathing away and a tearing of the surface. 

If only it went deeper than just that, for so many people across the world.  This, one of my favourite quotes from literature, has been playing through my ears again and again and again this week.

Are we ready to climb into the skin of that crazy teen who plays out again and again?  What about that ragged mother, who has walked across three countries already with a toddler in her arms, facing another long queue in the frigid night?  And what about that young local man, who sees a world full of foreigners coming closer and closer and he does not know who will listen so he grabs a sword and swings wildly? 


It is impossible to try to grasp any of these stories, without climbing into the skin, or at least trying to, and imagining the lives of these people. 

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There is only one way out of our frigid selves. 

Climb out of the skin, the world you usually wear.  Sit with others who see the world in a different way.  Listen to the experiences of those who have travelled different roads. 


Love changes everything. 




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