Why Can't We Truly Love?

14 years old. Allegedly shot 'nice people'. Stephen Harper and reform party people like him would have these kids punished to the full extent of the law. And H. would have those laws get tougher. Meaner.

Today an arsonist in California is sentenced to death. He started fires in southern California. People died. He will die. That's the law.

Would Canada kill these kids if they could? Would it stop them? Will it bring back the dead people?

What did you do when you were 14 that broke the law? Now?

I heard a group home councillor cry as he told a story about a 12 year old boy in the group home. No family, no friends. Just a group home. Just fear.
The councillor had to sit in on the meeting where the mom told her son in person "I just don't love you anymore. I have a new family." You are on your own.

When I was 12 I started my period. Learned to shave my legs. Got grounded for smoking. I never doubted my parent's love. Or thought I could not go home.

This boy cried. And lost his faith in humans. All the councillor could offer was a longer stay at the home and a lock on the door. A couple nights later a different unhappy kid pulled a knife on the councillor. Maybe on the inside isn't safe either.

Maybe these boys have been failed 100%. What H. offers, on behalf of every single Canadian, is further judgment, blame, and evidence that life, especially theirs, is unvaluable. They got nothing, now they have less.

The hard things in life are not hard because they are easy. They are hard cuz they are hard.
Think about it.
Stealing, murder, suicide, abortion, greed, none are easy on our souls, our psyche.

Surely blaming children like they are adults, without any of the 'training' adults get to be good people, will surely make them meaner.

The blame is on every one of us for these deaths. And the adults these kids become is also on us. Every one of us. We take more than we need. We take more than we can afford. We steal from others if it serves our purposes. We sleep not restfully and with one eye open.

I weep for these kids. And the 12 year old whose mom doesn't love him anymore. And those that couldn't love. Why can't we love? Why do we hate ourselves so much?

"We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty. "
Mother Teresa

One More Letter I Won't Write

Time and space elude me. I can't keep up or be at the right place at the right time. I vibrate at a different frequency than that I try to interact with. We all do. I have relished it my whole life. I don't want to keep up or slow down. I am always at the right place.

I am inspired by much. Stephen Hawking inspires me. His mind, his wonderings, his questions, his answers. His body, his effort, even his genetic material makes me think with wonder.

If only we all had his strength. His ability to see outside of himself.
I work hard to see beyond myself. If I can see beyond myself, I will see the potential in my life, in all life. And that is powerful good if you've ever felt it.

My diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis was emotionally overwhelming for about 2 weeks. I used concepts of eastern philosophy to see beyond myself. Ideas of space and time keep me grounded.
I could be emotional, self-limiting, depressed, sad even. But I see and feel so much more than me. From quasars to slugs to copper ore and back to quasars. With so much to wonder about, how could I spend too much time on my waning ability to walk? While interesting and curious, humans rely too heavily on emotions to guide us. As though there is nothing else; I have to be mad, sad or really glad.

I believe that Stephen Hawking has balance. He wouldn't make it 67 years with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis if he did not have balance, or a safe place to go in his mind. And his mind has been shared and powerfully applied to life.

He might be overwhelmed with physics, but not ALS.
This is my letter to Dr. Hawking to say thanks. Enjoy the journey. We'll all catch up some day.