12 March 2006

Additional commentary I have given

At Saving Hope I have offered some pieces, here and there. In help, I hope, for that is all one can do betimes.

One missive:

I have no answer for saving hope.

I have experienced my Uncle Don, a man full of life and with some strange ideas on it, and still loved him anyway. One day he had his wife go out and she came home to find him dead by his own hand with a gun.

He had inoperable cancer throughout his intestines. It had been stable but then started to metastasize. He told no one of this, not even his wife.

He had seen his father die of this same condition, one that afflicts his family. That man suffered and suffered through the agony and the final times as they stretched into months then years. The pain medications ceased to be effective and he slowly lost his mind to it. In the end while his body still functioned in a way, his mind was gone.

Others in his family have faced the same choice, each making their own decision. He faced having to give up on each and every thing he loved and then, when legal medications would no longer ease the pain, he had the contacts to get those not available on the open market. And he knew he would become addicted to them and slowly bankrupt himself and his wife, to just get a slight easing of pain for scant hours.

He would be walking in a different land of Gray, one that is the Valley of the Shadow of Death. At some point even the strongest of medications would not ease the pain and he would be faced with losing his mind in poverty.

And pitied by everyone he loved.

When one walks into the fair arms of Death, ghostly white, She embraces us. She has a decision to make for those that have chosen to enter her embrace by their own hand.

For those that have acted foolishly or out of spite or in desperation to get attention, She can step them through what would happen *if* they had decided not to rush to her.

Her arm would be around you as you saw the happiness and love and warmth you would have had. She would hold you as you saw the pain and fears and those bad and evil things that life is wont to hand us. She would step us through until we can see our own end as it was meant to be.

Then She would turn to us and say: "That is the life you were meant to have, but gave up."

To those who only have the continuation of agony, wracking pain, unending sorrow and then mindlessness, She looks upon you and says: "Welcome. Your life is over."

I am a creature of Will in the land of Gray.

As the tag line for the Daredevil comic books go, so is it true: "A man without hope, is a man without fear."

So long as I have a semblance of mind and willpower to use it and a body that functions so I can communicate, I will do so and hope to help just one more person.

Even if just a little.

I cannot save hope, but I can give a little away to any who need it. That is worth living for until my mind goes or my ability to interact with the world disappears.

Help just *one* more person. And give them hope.

I cannot save hope.

But I can give you some of mine to share.

Given freely.

To you.

Thus endith the missive.

Another missive:

There be times when Dream's older sister part two veils for us when we visit the dreaming land. And when they do it is in compassion to let us know a soul we loved and that is gone.

A short, short visit only, as neither can do more than that. And we often feel that mistiness and wonder if it is true.

But the smile of that soul upon us lingers and few words we can remember. As two veils limit us in ways we can't ignore.

Those words we will remember and still hold dear, even when we doubt. And so we are left with that hint of mist clinging to us still.

"I am all right, do not worry." Stay with us when we wake. And one last soft whisper as the veils close and we awake.

Of parting words, no matter said, their content speaks the same. And some wholeness comes to us, from beyond where the veils lay.

And when we wake, even weep and yet that wholeness stays. The simple words and feelings, always to remain.

Thus we take up more and journey forth into daylights land. And hear those words softly, just beyond where we can hear.

And know the sweetest gift thats taken, has given its return. In simple thought and memory has spoken beyond life's turn.

And though not all right we are better and learn to forgive ourselves. For we have been forgiven by that which has been and is now gone.

Because none may deny the simple words, spoken oh so faintly. And we know the meaning deeply of "I love you..." as the veils close.

Written as the hands do write.

Thus endith the second missive.

A third missive (note given in sequence written, not blog order):

It is a tough rule to learn, that when you point a finger outwards, three more point back in accusation and one to the ground to remind you of your fate.

When you hand is held thus it can do naught else: not grasp, not hold, not even slap. Every accuser is thrice accused in the accusation. To do so readily shows that one holds themselves so very low that all they can do is point and accuse.

I do my best not to do so, and try to offer something better. When I *must* accuse I understand the cost upon me to do so. And I am responsible to then close my mouth, use other organs to listen and open my hand and mind to do *better* than just accuse.

Some are so far gone from civilization that nothing can be done with them. All they know to spread is ill and have no idea of how to build and give: take and destroy is all they know in life. If they cannot listen then they must have no mind, if they can only shout and point then they have no heart, and if they can offer nothing better then they have no soul.

THOSE ONES are not worth my attention as they are *already* ghosts, lacking all that is substantial save a body. Ghosts and ghouls seeking to inflict pain upon the living, sick beyond sickness, ill beyond mere health. They may spill their venom upon me as it gives only surface hurt. Their attacks against those who cannot defend themselves, I do my best to stop in my own way. A way that builds, not destroys.

Perhaps tis not right to think that way, but it is the way I see it. They come from the Darkness and seek to drain life from those of the Light. For the most part a noxious presence and rarely of any import.

We each must learn to deal with such in our own way.

Know that You are *not* alone.

Thus endith this third missive.

And the fourth missive:

In my thoughts, but not lost.

Do not worry of us out here, we care and hope and know well that forgiveness is the source of life for those that have lost much.

So long as you live and breathe and think and dream and do all you can to keep yourself together, each of us will be with you, standing there in support though silent.

As you walk, so will we, and so throughout your life. Laugh and cry and dream and hold... live life to its fullest as you can. And if you think you shirk those who care for you, we would want naught else with you, so long as you lived as best you could.

And so it goes.

The only thing I could ever ask is that you smile heading into that land of Dreams, and be there fully. And when awake, smile in the passing and go there fully. Since you already do so, I need not ask it, save that softness of a smile. And if you live life fully you will have that already, and so I do not ask for that.

As said for survival: keep moving, even a wrong step will keep you warm and alive, stopping is deadly.

And so this missive is ended.

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