tears

10 am
Reading article about veterans suffering from PTSD. Different wars, different names. Eyes fill at the following: "In November 2006, the second Iraq war marked a milestone: lasting longer than WWII. In addition, many of the personnel scheduled to go home are either being kept past their original promised discharge date, or redeployed quickly."

Remembering Dad telling me about sitting alone in the dark watching late night Canadian news broadcast: wounded American GI's crying out in Vietnam. He said he'd cried. I don't think I'd ever seen my father cry.

4 pm
Paul Winter's Missa Gaia playing in background reminds me of sitting in Boston's Symphony Hall years ago at live performance. Am thrilled and moved by it, remembering in my bones and responding to the rhythm and tempo of ancient drum beats, majestic swells of that historic pipe organ, whale calls and tenor sax wailing echoes from back of hall, voices in unison rising to the rafters.... Earth Mass. Beauty and power. Alive. Makes me weep.

public/private

Never sure that anyone's at the receiving end of my missives, nonetheless I am compelled to think out loud from time to time and always hope for responses. Instead of online comments here, however, what has emerged are emails from people wanting to share some connection they've felt to what they've read. These replies mean so much and I wish that they were available for all to see, but I also respect that they are personal in nature and private by design.

Thank you to everyone who has written, reaching across the miles and years and beyond the illusions that separate us. My wish is that we all have someone who will truly listen...