Spiritual Climate Newsletter DECEMBER 2005 Part 2 HIDDEN TREASURES By Adam Crosthwaite

HIDDEN TREASURES

By Adam Crosthwaite

 

Christmas Eve 1997 was the most beautiful night I can recall from my life in Denver Colorado.  It was a Christmas Eve without all the fancy fringe luxuries of an upscale holiday party.  I had just turned eighteen at the time and I could venture out past curfew without fear of authority, so I hopped on a bus and went downtown for an evening.  It was my first night out in the city alone.  As I stepped off the bus in front of the court house I looked up and saw an electric castle.  It sat there proud and glorious, an island of lights in a dreary sea of darkness.  I shook my head as I thought about all the families with small children who had to forego a Christmas tree and lights so they could afford to heat their homes that winter.  I was already in pretty negative mood that night.  It was two weeks after I was thrown out of my parent’s house and I was living with my sister.  The next day we were going to my mom’s for Christmas, I was not looking forward to the event.  But I knew they all loved me regardless of my reckless attitude at the time.  Silently I slipped down a side street and headed for the popular hangouts where I used to meet with friends.  I don’t recall the time, however the streets were empty.  What a feeling, not a person in sight.  There was the contrast of emptiness in the streets that I remember as crowded with all sorts of people. 

 

The only people out that night, other than the occasional police patrol which was about three hours overdue, were the homeless.  They were huddled in the usual spot behind the court house on the southwest corner of the block.   As I turned the corner I was greeted by the soft hum of a gentlemanly conversation.  I came upon a small group of men standing watch over the rest of the people as they lay sleeping across the exhaust vents behind the court house boiler room.  They were a rough looking trio with the rasp of street life in their tone, yet they spoke with such sincere respect for one another you would never know they were living on the streets by the tone of conversation.  As I approached the vents on the corner I was invited into the group; me, the passing stranger from a seemingly far away land, was included in this fellowship of strangers.  No one asked me my name or even how I found them, I was merely welcome and from that point on I was feeling better.  It is almost as if they could sense I needed something, something I was not going to find on my own.  There in the darkness I found a place I never knew could exist in this world.

 

We sat for hours watching over rows of sleeping men and women huddled close in perfect alignment across the ventilation shafts blowing warmth from the courthouse basement.  Young and old lay side by side peaceful and safe as the trio stood with their new companion gently conversing by moon light.  I could not begin to describe the feelings that flooded my young mind at that moment.  We watched the moon play hide and seek with the clouds between skyscrapers as we waited for nothing special.  There was much conversation although I fail to recall anything said that night.  For the first time my young mind was allowing a moment to unfold without intrusion.  I can not recall any words that were spoken.  All I remember is the genuine and sincere people I was honored by with this simple gesture.  These people were not judgmental, nor demanding of one another.  They simply meant what they said and enjoyed the company they were in.  I was aware that this was a rare moment to be a part of and I longed for the night to last just a few hours more.  Few moments in my life, with the exception of my experiences in Qabalistic Ministry, have been as genuine as the night I was a stranger in this exotic underworld.

 

As I reflect back at this moment, especially around this time of the year, I wonder why people don’t see life the same way as my companions did.   Reverend Strickler discussed the difference between value and regard during a Tuesday night gathering for meditation.  He handed me a dictionary, you know the kind you would use to kill a New York cockroach with, and had me look up both words.  The first one I read out loud was value. 

 

As I read, I noticed that there was no reference to regard.  Value is nothing more than a term used for measurement of inanimate objects or services.  After a further research, conducted via internet, I learned that the term value was quote “supposedly borrowed from the language of painting” as a meaning of social principle around the year 1918.  Personally I see a red flag here and I assure you I will be looking further into this overuse of poetic license which confused society.  Value has nothing to do with measuring the worth of a person.  That is unless you are a member of the big business regime and people are a commodity. 

 

The next word was regard.  I couldn’t help but notice how value was not mentioned.  Regard referenced to holding something in esteem, respect not value.  So why is it that an important word as regard is being replaced by a consumerist term such as value? 

  

Ironic isn’t it, how those who hold no value in the eyes of society hold life in such high regard?  These were people without the luxury of a bed, let alone a roof over their head and still saw more in life than a mere pay off or opportunity for personal gain.  They didn’t measure life by values or any other known form you may learn about in any school or business.  They had no use for measurements utilized by the everyday businessman or woman.  When they looked at life they saw no measurable value. They saw life and they regarded life as precious.  It was the moment that mattered because that was all they had.  It is also the very thing that separated them from the rest of the world.  I never heard a homeless man or woman use the word regard in a sentence.  But I watched them express its meaning in their world as they interacted with one another.

 

Like a true artist, Reverend Strickler had shown me a new perspective and a clearer perception to adjust to after learning about the misuse of the term value.  To me value is a term, regard is a word.  I still value things, many things.  I have to use measurements every day.  But I hold in regard the use of words and the power that is held in the proper use as well as the misuse of words.

 

For a group of people who had little material possessions, these men sure did know what they were doing.  I would later learn that many of them chose to live on the streets and lived quite well considering they had no house to live in.  They would work just enough to eat and to maintain themselves for a while.  They never regarded work as a way of life.  These people seemed more real to me than the corporate executives I would meet at my parent’s work places. 

 

As I reflect now back to that moment I see more than just a trio of carefree men enjoying a winter night.  I see a world where someone in this life has the courage to live the meaning of regard.  This season we are facing a new form of homelessness.  There are people out there in the cold with children who lost their homes in one natural disaster or another.  As these people are seen to, remember those who share their blankets with them, the ones who keep watch through the night so they may sleep safely.  Although you may not feel comfortable doing so, stop and say hello to one or two of them.  They won’t value anything you give them.  They will hold you and your actions in regard.  Besides, you never know it but someday you may see them watching your back making sure you are okay.

 

I carry with me a gift in my mind from that night, a gift I now refer to as my own personal hidden treasure. Sometimes when I feel like there is no where to find peace to temporarily calm the raging ocean in my mind I remember that sight and for a moment I find my mind slows down and allows the moment to unfold as it should.  To this day I have the images in my mind of that night; someday I may have to draw these moments.  Perhaps the picture that engaged an unused portion of my mind or rather heart could do some good for others as well.

 

I have one wish to share this Christmas.  I wish we could all regard each other, even if only long enough to make that magickal connection by stopping to say, “Hello, Merry Christmas”.

 

Blessings,

Adam Crosthwaite

 

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Spiritual Climate Newsletter DECEMBER 2005 Part 4 Damn Him, He Is Right-Again!  By Christine Ford

Damn Him, He Is Right—Again!

By Christine Ford

 

It’s that time of year once again!  Seems the older I get, the faster time whizzes by, especially at this season of year.  Remember being a child and waiting for Christmas?  It seemed like an eternity, especially those four weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Once Thanksgiving was over, it was as if a Giant reached down from on high and held back the hands of the Eternal Clock of Time, squeezing with all his might and turning hours into days, days into weeks.  Now, as adults, don’t you find that it is exactly the opposite?  It is as if the Energizer Bunny grabs hold of the same hands of that Eternal Clock of Time and faster than the Road Runner can say “Beep, Beep!”, those hands take on a whole new speed of light pace as you find yourself shaking your head and saying, “How did this happen?  Where is the time going?”

 

We barely get the Thanksgiving leftovers put in the fridge only to find we have Santa, the eight reindeer, the elves and CONSUMERISM breathing down the back of our necks, chanting the ever growing mantra of purchase-mad propaganda, telling you just what material items need to be exchanged to make this the most perfect Holiday Season ever.  Christmas Carols being blasted 24-7, all the while delivering the UNHOLY Holy-day (Holiday) message of buy, buy, buy, more, more, more, faster, faster, faster!  WHEW!  I often wonder if Santa’s appearance at the end of that beautifully traditional MACY’S Thanksgiving Day Parade was a foreshadowing of the dawn of our current consumer driven society condensing that shopping frenzy into the seemingly shortened time that now exists between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Were we as an entire generation brainwashed by the seemingly innocent arrival of Santa at the end of that parade, viewed even before the Thanksgiving dinner was served, followed by the rash of old and new made for TV specials of the Christmas Season?  Something to think about, anyway!

 

What really intrigues me about the whole “time speed up thing” though is that increasingly it is not just adults who feel that way!  My handicapped kids at school have been saying, “Gee, we just had Thanksgiving.  How can it be time for Christmas already?”  My five year old granddaughter who has been talking to me about my coming visit during the holidays just commented with a note of disbelief in her voice, “Gaga AZ!  It’s almost time for you to come and see me.  It seemed like it would be a long time, but all of a sudden it is time for you to come.”  From the mouths of babes!  So you see, the hurried rush to purchase of “gifts” of the Season and frantic push to attend parties, celebrations and spread Yuletide Cheer in a disgusting, offensive debauchery of the reverence for the Light and Love which graces the world sadly and increasingly unnoticed this Holy Season isn’t just for adults anymore.  The innocence of even the children has been compromised as well by the blatant commercialization of an event and a time of year so Holy that it defies description. 

 

My past pattern has been to LOVE every second of the holidays, to relish every greeting and memory, to search for treasures to share with those I love while humming along with the piped in Christmas Carols, to bake cookies, go to parties, and to enter wholeheartedly into the festivities of the so-called Christmas Spirit.  This year I seem to have hit a dead-end in that area of response, a hundred foot high brick wall that I find myself unable to climb over, go around, or dig under.  There appears to be no door to pass through to the other side, so I find myself sitting there, unable to move or function, permeated with an almost tangible numbness, a disassociation from all the busy-ness going on around me, as if a bubble of isolation, a cloak of invisibility, has surrounded me and pulled me into its quiet, dark, silent womb. 

 

Instead of excitedly preparing and planning, I find myself being overwhelmed by a questioning, a yearning, a silence and an exquisite, profound emptiness; a desire to just be alone and allow myself the time and space to hear the resounding voices of those celestial hosts of Angels that the Christmas Carols and legends speak of.  Attempting to think in terms of what has been my "traditional" celebration of the season, I am paralyzed, saddened beyond words that the sacred and joyous time of year in which the world awakens and is reborn anew to the Light and Love of the Infinite has become a sham, as well as a shame.

 

I must admit that I believe Dr. Strickler had a hand in pre-empting this response that I am having with a simple statement he made before Thanksgiving that the holidays this year would take on a whole different flavor for all of us within his classes.  Being the somewhat eternal optimist that I have been striving to corral and contain for the past thirteen years, I immediately began projecting images of beauty and splendor surpassing the “wonderful”, at least in my limited perception, Christmas experiences of years past.  I have always regarded it as a “magical” and sacred time, and in my imaginings, it could only get more radiant and glorious, so I was ready and waiting for the grand epiphany which I had built up in my mind from Dr. Strickler‘s simple statement of fact!  Hhhhmmmm. . .

 

The wanderings of an unrestrained imagination can lead to delusion and set one up for disappointment, as was the beginning of my response when immediately upon finishing Thanksgiving dinner, I was assaulted by the pounding, hammering question of “IS THAT ALL THERE IS?  WHAT JUST HAPPENED?”  That all pervasive feeling of doubt and questioning has not for a moment diminished, and has lead me to ponder just what it is that I have celebrated and joyously regaled for all my years of this lifetime, out of a learned and repeated response to patterns instilled in me and upon me by family, society, friends, and , most importantly, my own stupidity, ignorance, herd instincts and blindness. 

 

In the past I have experienced similar feelings of doubt and “What‘s it all about” type questioning, though never with the depth and power of this time.  In the years of my inward exploration, as these feelings of emptiness and isolation engulfed me, I have reacted by being terrified and have fought with all my might like a person drowning, the impinging waves of seeming separation from all that I know and am within the physical definition of “myself“, in a state of near panic as I viewed the experience as one of irrational behavior.  This time, however, I find I am welcoming the solitude, embracing the detachment, and allowing what I have now come to recognize without fear as the contact with the greater portion of what I truly am, Spirit and Soul coming into manifestation, if for only a brief moment within the confines of emptiness. 

 

This is the true gift of Christmas, the discovery and acceptance of that Holy Light and Love which each one of us is a spark of, spiraling into this physical plane of dense manifestation.  The intensity of allowing contact with that spark, gently fanning it, tenderly caressing it, nurturing it, holding your breath while the soft glow becomes an ember, talking with it, silently awaiting a whispered, sometimes shouted, answer, being alone on that starry night of Christmas Eve at midnight and gazing up and out into the infinite velvet blackness that surrounds and sustains us as we simultaneously dive deeply within to the corresponding infinite innermost sanctum of Who and What we truly are, Soul and Spirit in manifestation.  THIS is what the meaning of Christmas has become for me, and this is a humble  expression of that which I hold in regard and strive to share with not only each reader of the Spiritual Climate Newsletter, but each and every person with whom I have contact.

 

As I find happens more and more frequently, as I struggled to put into words my Christmas thoughts, my daughter, who has become my cherished friend as well, Jessica, called me to read a writing she had found while doing some inner exploring. There was no author listed, so there is no one to credit the simplicity and clarity of the words she sent me, but it echoes on a more exoteric level the experience of “Becoming”, which I have alluded to.  I quote:

 

After a while, we can learn the subtle differences between holding a hand and chaining a soul.  And we can learn that love doesn’t mean leaving, and company doesn’t mean security.  And we begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts, and presents aren’t promises.  And we begin to accept our defeats with our head up and our eyes open with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child.  And we learn to build our roads on today, because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans. After a while, we learn that even sunshine burns if we get too much. 

 

So . . . plant your own Soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.  And we learn that we really can endure. . . That we are strong, and we really do have worth.”

 

May you, this Blessed Holiday Season, capture a glimpse of the one true image formed from the likeness of the Creator itself, the Light which created a spark which in turn gave birth to that star called You, born in the heavens. This is the True You, and the experience of the revelation of your Soul your Spirit.

 

Christine Ford

Editor    

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Spiritual Climate Newsletter DECEMBER 2005 Closing Notes

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Looking for powerful transformational tapes?  We are including a link to a professional colleague that Dr. Strickler has known and worked with for many years.  Mr. Artie Schiff is a Master Neuro Linguistics Programmer and currently has over 6,000 titles available along with customized tapes for individual purposes:

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Here is a link to straight forward news articles, without the bullshit and Wall Street smoke screens:

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© DECEMBER, 2005 SPIRITUAL CLIMATE®

( It is permissible to translate this publication into other languages as long as the translated version is sent to SPIRITUAL CLIMATE.  Full permission is granted for forwarding/sharing this publication with other persons.  No part of this newsletter can be quoted or used for any other publication without first in advance obtaining the express written permission of SPIRITUAL CLIMATE®.  Permission can be obtained by emailing a request by clicking SPIRITUAL CLIMATE )

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

 

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Spiritual Climate Newsletter SEPT 2005 Opening part 1

The Institute of Spiritual Climate

Is proud to present

the newsletter

 

SPIRITUAL CLIMATE®

Thursday, September 29, 2005

 

 “A bridge created by love always remains,

like a lightning flash it comes out of hiding

to remind us that it was never gone:

these bridges can never be burned,

they are fashioned out of the pure fire,

beauty and essence of Love.”

… Rev. David Strickler, Ph.D.

 

Dear Readers, Students and Friends,

As the month of September comes to a close, with the Autumnal Equinox and the dawning of some days in Phoenix when very early in the morning it is actually cooler when you step out your door than inside, it is with renewed vigor and spirit that we, the staff of the Spiritual Climate Newsletter greet you with our September Edition.  Do you notice that as the days grow shorter and the darkness of evening falls earlier, time seems to take on a quality of stillness and repose quite different from the blazing scorch of the summer sun?  It seems easier to breathe, to reflect and to just make it through the day, at least here in Phoenix.  What a welcomed change!

 

Dr. Strickler continues to DJ on www.crankitupradio.net on Friday 6p.m. to 9p.m. EST.  He has quite a following, when you tune in, pop in some requests for him.  He is having a great time with this endeavor.

 

Dr. Strickler has expressed excitement about the recent news of September 15th that he is a new Uncle to Churchill Arthur Coates.  His sister Barbara is in great health and so is the new little one, along with his father, Curt, his older sister Chelsea, and brother Chancellor.

 

On an entirely different topic, we have done away with the subscriptions for Spiritual Climate Newsletter based upon reader’s suggestions.  There seems to be a consensus for the sole option of making a donation at the leisure and ability of our readers.  When you make a donation using the link below, it will be a one time charge to your debit or credit card, so we have done away with the recurring monthly subscription.  The option is yours to donate.  We appreciate all the support we get, both monetary and prayers.  Dr. Strickler would like to thank Gregg Ford for his gracious donation. 

 

The donation links will be contained in all of our Newsletters from this Edition forward, and many thanks to the readers for providing the input for the donation link.  As you know, these donations are used to provide support for Dr. Strickler’s out reach into the community and helps us get his words out to the world at large.  

 

DONATE TO SPIRITUAL CLIMATE  CLICK HERE 

 

And so, without further adieu, we welcome you to the September 2005 Edition of the Spiritual Climate Newsletter.  

 

Christine Ford

Editor

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Spiritual Climate Newsletter SEPT 2005 part 2 THE WATCHERS by Adam Crosthwaite

THE WATCHERS

by Adam Crosthwaite

 

A young student once asked his master, “How do you fight without attacking?”  The master turned to his young pupil with a warm smile, “You watch”.  I have walked among ignorant minds thriving on darkness never seeking light or truth.  I am merely 25 years of age. I have spent the last year regenerating my mind which I chose to rip apart with hate.  I have only begun to live with a sober mind while helping to raise my six month old daughter.  I find my self watching, caught between frustration and sadness as the world slips further into apathy.  Why is it that I can see these things with what I consider to be my limited capacity while others who seem to be intelligent enough to see as well continue to be blind to this sickening process? 

 

I watch people claiming to be spiritual individuals herded like cattle to the slaughter houses by fundamentalists who wage war in pursuit of power and influence.  I have had the experience of watching governments take from the citizens of the nations they were “elected” by and turn around to offer empty apologies to victims who were not safe from dangers as they were lead to believe, because the budget was down sized in order to divert funds into pet projects to serve special interests; actions which cut short much needed infrastructure and left a door open for the people to receive a devastating blow.  When the warning came years in advance that the levees would not handle the force of a level five hurricane they shrugged their shoulders as they walked to the bank.  Money is more important than lives in the world of back door politics. 

 

Unfortunately like any national emergency the worst of the fallout has only just begun.  As the refugees are forced from the lives they built in Louisiana, they will require assistance with housing, food, healthcare, jobs and child care.  No problem, the system that is in place along with a few adjustments here and there will make sure these people will not go without. 

 

The problem exists on the unbalanced side of the equation.  While the victims are slowly being taken care of, single mothers whom have been on waiting lists for assistance will be waiting almost twice as long now.  Unfortunately for them they will lose time from work because childcare, which has already been paid for in most cases via taxes while they were able to work, is unavailable due to an overly stressed budget.  These are single mothers working part time because the full time child care needed for even as short a time as six months is unavailable to them due to redirected funds that have gone toward pet projects some corporation negotiated over a game golf at the local country club. 

 

Now the need is increased exponentially and the system that was originally failing is beginning to fall in on itself.  This doesn’t include the thousands of single mothers who are struggling through college with student loans in order to pull out of the hole they found themselves in.  These are hard working intelligent people who raise families while striving to build a future that effects not just themselves but the world in which they seek to better.  They know what is going on and have some very interesting ideas and plans for change.  Sadly, fewer graduate each year as the snares of a corrupt system lead to debt and further need for a cleaner more reformed system; a need that will go unattended with the current sate of affairs.

 

As the struggle over power rages on in the uppermost levels of this so called society, the effects are felt rippling through the lower tiers until it reaches the streets.  Be it with the hunger for survival or simply the need to rise by any means necessary, leading to power hungry personalities, the crime will sore and the corruption will spread further.  History once again will repeat the same formula of corruption and those that look to the system for guidance will act as the system has taught them to:  the rule of do as I say, not as I do will not apply to this generation.  Look around you, it has already begun.  It has been cycling down through layers of time for as long as there has been hunger amongst people.  

 

More and more people every day claim the world is soon going to end.  They are right in that statement, but only to the point of something will soon come to an end.  As they rationalize the behaviors they take part in people fail to honor the truths they attempt to bury in the foul waste produced by their apathy.  The end of silence among the suffering is coming.  There are vast numbers of human beings whom have chosen not to voice out loud the details of the life they struggle through.  The screaming will not be of those who have endured.  The screaming will be of a new victim.  For the children of the suffering will not forget and will never forgive the tears that mom shed when she could not feed her children. 

 

How long will people do nothing more than watch the devastation and silently consent to extermination of lower classes in this country?  I said extermination because why else would a government knowingly take such a risk with such a high number of lives?  If the information is witheld or even denied as some people have been lead to believe then what else are we to do but expect the worst of our so called leaders?  If press conferences are staged and people are arrested for speaking their minds we might as well raise a swastika above the White House and march in the streets with locked knees.  How dare ANY government redirect funds away from programs that are implemented to protect the lives and welfare of all citizens in this Nation. 

 

Which leads to more questions:  What the hell would someone like this be hiding up their sleeve if they are counting on the fact that everyone else will simply smile and nod as the Big Business of Government takes and then lies about it?   Are they putting something in the water supply?  Is there more than just good old fashioned food supply demands behind genetically altered foods?  Is there some kind of subliminal mind rape occurring in the mainstream media?  What the hell is it that makes people think minds are easily controlled by one group in order to fulfill the needs of the elite?  All that is required to detect a problem is to WATCH the pattern unfold through the fabric of the predigested reality that is being force fed into the minds of the general public.

 

IS this just some kind of half witted rambling from a 25 year old male who is angry with what he sees going on in the daily affairs of many?

 

Is this article a repeat of August?  Perhaps it is.  Maybe perhaps it is nothing more than a big neon sign screaming in the darkness to those who have yet to wake up.  Who dares to question those that seek to hide facts and pocket funds?  Or is that too harsh of a statement?  Will I be the next to spend the night in jail for telling my government they are wrong?  I cannot offer any quick fix solutions to this problem.  All I can do is watch and question the actions I see before me.  It is the sounding of the challenging voice that shreds the veils of deceit. 

 

There was a time in my life when this saved my ass and perhaps it is a starting point for those who are lost in the cesspool of backdoor politics.  I was living on the streets for a time when one night an old friend of mind suddenly appeared on a street corner in downtown Denver.  She was distraught and I could tell she was in a bad spot so I went to her.  As it turned out a group of people she ran into had stolen her pager and were planning on doing something with her.  She was scared and desperate.  With out hesitation I demanded they all cough up the pager and back down immediately.  As they circled around me I realized they had me out numbered ten to one.  No problem!  I simply shouted at the top of my voice for all the world to hear, “Leave her alone NOW!” By the time the last syllables of my statement echoed down the alley every person within a block of our location was staring waiting for the first punch to be thrown.  All I could do was grin like an idiot as they quietly returned the pager and disappeared down the street. 

 

I actually believed she would learn from this situation leading to wiser choices and yet she is still cornering herself as she falls prey to manipulation from internal as well as external influences.  I am astounded by the hardheaded ignorance of this person whom I considered a friend.  I have stumbled over this riddle in my mind through the years whenever I think of that night on the street corner.  As I watch this world with new eyes I stand at the bottom of the ladder looking up through the political food chain at the powers of the state and political street punks who are bullying children and families on the streets of the big bad city with the stench of their well dressed, one sided policies.  It seems likely to me that the time of playing ‘possum is over.  I have seen the egos at play as they make meat puppets of men and women.  It is time to expose those who trample the freedoms gifted to people by birth.  Those who chose the path of manipulation work best in secret, they are powerless when exposed.  It is the time for mouths to open and questions to be voiced.  The time of silent suffering is over.

 

What would happen if people stood up that way with witnesses in front of the world and demanded the truth?  You should have seen the looks on the faces of that group of assholes in the alley that night!  I dream of the day our so called leaders encounter such a voice.

 

Not a day goes by that I don’t wish there is more I can do.  I cry every time I hold my daughter as I think of those mothers and fathers that lost that connection that one fateful day.  What I have watched unfold in the course of the last months as I questioned what I was watching has lead to so many more questions.  My words offer little if any encouragement to those who have suffered.  Then again it would perhaps serve to encourage those in power to act openly and honestly as we move on to rebuild the worlds ripped apart due to the weakness of apathy.  No government should ever settle for good enough when lives are at stake.  I write in the hope of lending my voice to the light as it seeks to unveil truths that I have cloaked in the shadows of misperceptions I have entertained in my life.

 

For future reference: if you are truly sorry for not providing for those whom you are responsible to, and not just because you got caught off guard by a natural disaster which exposed your ugly truths, then get your hand out of the damn cookie jar.  STOP TAKING WHAT IS NOT YOURS!

 

May the watchers of tomorrow use the truths that emerge from the questions of today.

 

Adam Crosthwaite

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