International Day of Peace… 🩷🩷🩷
It’s Anzac day… after Easter last weekend… many enjoying an extended holiday.
I’ve not participated in the ceremonial activities of this national holiday… although I think there was once… up in the mountains, near my hideaway place. I wasn’t impressed with the flight of noisy fighting jets flying over our heads.
They were honouring the significant number of fighting men and women lost (in battle) from this tiny mountain village.
I’ve been thinking about my father… my brother, and my mother.
Mum was the first to leave Earth… too early, too young. But then… there is no age we get to choose.
She never went to the fighting fields… living through the consequences of them back here in Oz… caused their own battle scars.
Then after the event… up front and personal when the traumatised men returned.
We were all impacted… whether we suffered in those terrifying hell holes or not.
I can’t imagine… how truly terrifying… psyche, heart, mind and soul destroying participating in these battle fields must be.
It goes against all innate human instincts and functions.
We’re built to celebrate Life… not immerse ourselves in suffering and death.
Yes, Compassion… for all who suffered… and continue to.
Trauma doesn’t die… it lives on. Touching everyone and everything from that time forward.
Living within an environment of trauma… the hell and dysfunction continues. Beyond lifetimes.
My Dad… he was the second to leave. He carried his wounding till his very last day. Love and torture all blended together… his suffering continued.
As a child… I couldn’t erase their suffering… as much as I tried. I inherited it though… as my children do.
It can’t be erased, just lived with and understood. Accepting the lessons learned… with a thirst and willingness to live fully and thrive.
Life shapes us and moulds us in different ways… and we learn.
Have we learned?
These are big times on Earth… we need to listen, and need to learn.
We need to change… a critical requirement on planet Earth at present.
Sensitives hear the alarms blaring.
My dearest brother… the last to depart. My only sibling… I’m now the last remaining of my nuclear family.
It was hard losing my brother… I haven’t really processed it all yet. It’s a sensitive wound still active inside me. I guess it hasn’t been long… how long does it take? Is there a time?
Russ escaped the draft. Lucky, ‘cause they were conscripting even numbered birthdays at the time… his birthday the 11th. So he wasn’t shipped off to Vietnam.
My god… another horrifying war.
I got to experience it up front and personal… I’ll never forget it.
I was young, tender and impressionable. I was seventeen. My first time sharing a flat with a girlfriend… first time away from home.
The flat was at Bronte Beach. My beautiful Mum used to take me and Russ to Bronte beach every Sunday. The three of us loved the ocean… and hot and sunny sandy days.
Dad never came… he didn’t like the beach. He’d go on long walks.
(As I’m writing… heavy tears fall from the sky… overcast and sad… fitting for Anzac day.)
Mum told me I’d stay in the water from the time we arrived… till late afternoon when we left; my skin all wrinkled from being in the water so long.
I always loved the ocean.
Bronte was the beach we loved… so my first flat away from home was at Bronte Beach.
I really liked this boy… he was really nice… as well as gorgeous looking. He was a local surfer… he was a really nice person.
We weren’t officially ‘together’… but shared a close connection.
He wasn’t as fortunate as my brother… his birthday number was the one they were calling.
He was shipped off to Vietnam.
I’ll never forget his face… when he returned.
Not just his face… but his whole being. I felt and absorbed it right through my body.
He was no longer there.
My body and mind went into shock… into an altered state. I’d never experienced anything like this before.
His body stood in front of me… but there was no-one inside him. He was gone.
The memory’s still alive within me.
My direct experience of the Vietnam war.
Yes… my fortunate brother didn’t have to go…
unfortunately though, he absorbed a lot of my father’s suffering… he didn’t escape it all. He carried the imprint of that trauma throughout his life.
War… as most of us would agree… is something we don’t want. Something we reject. Yet on it goes.
Wars begin in the minds of human beings. Not the birds, the wallaby’s or kangaroos.
Little wars surround us in our daily lives all the time.
We may not have control of decisions made by governments and leaders… but we have our own personal thoughts and actions. The decisions we make…
the state of being we accept and nurture.
Change starts with you and me. As humans we hold a great responsibility…
for the continuing health and thriving of our home planet Earth…
for her entire community of beings.
Are we up to the challenge?
Sensitives hear the alarms blaring.
Wishing you love… marilyn🩷🌺🌺🩷
Marilyn’s Magick🌺 