I realize as well, that in A Course in Miracles, this is not the way, but still, it really upsets me and a lot of other people, of course, to say the least.
For one thing, in my novel, American Boys, in all the struggles of the White family, in my story, a single mother bringing up two sons with disabilities, in a working class lifestyle, in a rural Vermont town, (and one of the sons' friends joins the army and gets killed in Iraq), they have very few advantages, as well as very many problems.
Lizzy, the mother is a struggling, hard working single mom, who works two jobs, house cleaning and bar tending, just to scrape by, and the younger son has serious health problems. She has two sons, Nicolas, fourteen, who has autism, as well as a seizure disorder, and Daniel, eighteen, who has just graduated high school, and has retinitis pigmentosa, a degenerative eye disease, which can often lead to blindness.
The happiest part of the ending, is that Daniel, for one, gets to go to Berkeley School of Music in Boston, due to the affluence of his grandparents in Framingham, and his mother's reunion with them, and finding a lovely young woman, who is also a college student, in New Hampshire, Keene State.
I feel like the Boston bombers had what the average American, young man, may never get to have. They took it for granted. One had a wife and child, they both were athletes and one was in college, and they lived in a very expensive part of the country. What more could they want? They took assistance from our government. Their mother stole more money's worth of merchandise than I spend in a year. I see them as low lives at this point, just trash.
I realize that perhaps, I should stop blogging, because I am too candid about what I think, but I hate cruelty, I suppose.
When I was thirteen, I wrote a letter to Pete Townshend, and he wrote me back. I wrote him to vent about how I did not like the Ken Russell movie Tommy, but had loved the opera, which came out when I was seven, but since I had cool parents, who knew Pete, and lived at the Meher Center, and had met Baba, they had the opera on vinyl. Pete wrote me back, and among explaining his own experience, and the real meaning behind Tommy, said that I hated 'hate' so much, I wanted to believe it did not exist, and while my life had not been as sheltered as Pete thought, and I later met him, and found him quite humble, perhaps he was right, and the things he wrote about and lived, later my kids ended up living, in a sense. It is hard to explain. People think others live in ivory towers, and often they don't at all, if I am making any sense.
My point is, I don't get it, at all. I don't see what those creeps, who did the bombing in Boston, had to resent. They did not appreciate anything they had. I know I probably don't understand all the molarchy and religious nonsense, and rhetoric, and truthfully, I am not interested, but I am pissed at those cowards' lack of gratitude for what they had. I have no idea what their issue was, and I do not care. I just think it is a shame that there are people like this in the world.
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