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Victims & Victimisers

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  • NamoAmituofo
    ... Victims & Victimisers We are all victims and victimisers of each other, in one way or another, directly or indirectly, by the things we do and not do... in
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 5, 2002
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      Victims & Victimisers

      We are all victims and victimisers of each other,
      in one way or another,
      directly or indirectly,
      by the things we do and not do...
      in an infinitely closely-knitted web of interdependence.

      We are mirrors of each other.
      So let's forgive each other.

      This, I reckon, is the first step of being a true Bodhisattva-
      to let go of all our grievances to all beings,
      including ourselves,
      so that we can begin to attempt to love them all.

      -zeph



      Please Call Me By My True Names
      by Thich Nhat Hanh


      Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow
      because even today I still arrive.

      Look deeply; I arrive in every second
      to be a bud on a spring branch,
      to be a tiny bird with wings still fragile,
         learning to sing in my new nest,
      to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
      to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

      I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
         in order to fear and to hope,
      the rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
         of all that are alive.

      I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the
         surface of the river,
      and I am the bird, which, when spring comes,
         arrives in time to eat the mayfly.

      I am a frog swimming happily in the clear water of a pond,
      and I am the grass-snake who, approaching
         in silence, feeds itself on the frog.

      I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
         my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
      and I am the arms merchant selling deadly weapons to
         Uganda.

      I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
      who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate,
      and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.

      I am member of the Politburo, with plenty
         of power in my hands,
      and I am the man who has to pay his "debt
         of blood" to my people,
      dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

      My joy is like spring so warm it makes
         flowers bloom in all walks of life.
      My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills
         all four oceans.

      Please call me by my true names, so I can hear
         all my cries and laughs at once,
         so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

      Please call me by my true names, so I can wake
      up and so the door of my heart can be left
      open, the door of compassion.

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