A Camphouse cupboard - My Notes to me Message Board

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Pastimes : A Camphouse cupboard - My Notes to me

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From: Bill on the Hill	1/12/2009 10:58:59 PM
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click on the link, listen and read below. youtube.com Mom said "Go to your room!" quietly. She was always quiet. I do not remember her yelling. She had a tiny voice but her words were huge to me. She asked me if I knew what compassion was when I was five. She said "It is the way I make your oatmeal. My oatmeal had a huge piece of butter for a nose. Eyes and a smile drawn on the cereal with raisins and brown sugar for hair. She called my oatmeal compassionate oatmeal. She told me to treat others with compassion. I had forgotten about compassionate oatmeal. So preoccupied with what is happening around us, I have not taken the time to think of my mother, grandfather, sons and daughters. And their childrens, children. What I really want to do is cry. Instead I find my exterior steel. Impenetrable. I guess it is because of where I believe we are headed. So the wall goes up and I separate myself emotionally from involvement. Time to remember compassionate oatmeal. How much I used to love it and loved to listen to mom sing while she made it. She was an angel of love. On a planet of hate......... We all could use a helping of compassionate oatmeal. Make some for someone you love......... While you think of the ones you love. Family is the glue that will hold us together in these coming times. Lovers, wives, girlfriend or boyfriend. We are all family. We are all family. Jews, Palestinians, Russians, Chinese or American. The walls between us do not exist anymore. We will all suffer or thrive together. There is only one way to face the train headed for us. We will get by with a little help from our friends. Without it..............

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