So YOU are DOWN in the DUMPS, my FRIEND?

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOU ARE TAKING A DUMP?

Stare blankly at the empty space just right in front of you?

Or you close your eyes, sigh resignedly …..

and ponder over the day’s happenings?

Do you grimace when the poop takes a little longer than usual to surface …..

But no matter ….

The day’s goings may be rough – because each and everyone of us do get constipated in ideas and forms once in a while.

We are what we eat,

We are what we put into our brains,

Sometimes life’s experiences can harden our hearts making us increasingly resentful and afraid for no apparent reasons,

Not easy,

Confronting our own inner demons,

Facing toxic people …..

Shall we start a fresh attitude?

When we look to see that yesterday was yesterday, and now it is gone.

Today is TODAY and now it is NEW ….

It is like that every hour, every minute is changing.

Wish we can transform terror and pain into joy and compassion.

SRI AUROBINDO says in his poetry on SUFFERING:

” The vast universal suffering feel as thine:
Thou must bear the sorrow that thou claimst to heal;
The day-bringer must walk in darkest night.
He who would save the world must share its pain.
If he knows not grief, how shall he find grief’s cure? “

Even ANIMALS have a right to live, you know?

Have you witnessed the brutal killing of animals in uncivilized countries?

Chickens have their heads chopped clean off with an ax.

Goats and sheep have their throats cut. You lead them out to a patch of bare ground below the stable, where you pin them down to the ground with their heads pulled back and their arteries opened.

The killings are often mechanical and impassive.

Chickens would be the most frenzied : they will run around insanely, spouting blood.

The sheep are the most docile. They stand almost stupidly as they bleed, watching the world fade away.

Now pigs are a different matter. The pigs would have their legs trussed up and rolled on their backs. Then you pierce a thin filament of iron right deep into their hearts.

There is no sound on earth like the sound of a pig dying. It is a shriek that tears at the primal, unconscious mind. It is the noise of babies abandoned, of women taken by force, of the hinges of the world tearing loose.

The screaming starts from the moment the pig is seized, as if it knows what is about to happen. The pig squeals and cries, it defecates in terror, but nothing will stop its life converging to a zero on the point of that thin metal stick.

NOW, having known all these, when you look at the scrumptious piece of charbroiled meat on your platter during meal time, what would your reaction be?

LONG LIVE THE ANIMALS?

Bless you, my friend.