The good life, as I conceive it, is a happy life. I do not mean that if you are good you will be happy - I mean that if you are happy you will be good.
Bertrand Russell English author, mathematician, & philosopher (1872 - 1970)
I am much better centered when I am happy, shadows left from the past are shrinking day by day. I continue to struggle to fit into the spot life has placed me, while I study the small orbit I inhabit and the larger one that encircles that. Some things are easily understood, others quite impossible to get a firm grip upon.
This poem was sent to me twice and I place it here with a statement and a question. I ache for all directly affected by the recent bombings. I fear this is the Earth's new reality, and wish with all my heart that it was not so. Does anyone know who the author of this is?? There was no name attached and I want to add it here if I can.
You come to place your bags of hate
On bus and train, you made us late
Yet we'll be back again tomorrow
We'll carry on despite our sorrow
Your bags of hate caused some to die
Yet we stride out strong with heads held high
You'll never win, we will not bow.
You can't defeat us, you don't know how.
This London which we love with pride
Is a town where scum like you can't hide
Don't worry we will hunt you down.
Then Lock you up in name of the Crown.
We're London and we're many races,
Just look you'll see our stoic faces.
We all condemn your heinous act
You will not win and that's a fact.
We'll mourn our dead and shed a tear,
But we will not bow to acts of fear.
You're out there somewhere all alone,
There's nowhere now you can call home.
Olympics ours, we've won the race.
Your timing then, a real disgrace.
Our strength you'll find remains unbowed.
We're London and we're very proud.