Dear Terrorist

I woke up this morning thinking of you, so I thought I would drop you a line.  I write to you not knowing who you are or where you are so how to reach you is unclear.

I imagine you are young.  I am a grandmother.  I hope this is not a deterrent to you hearing me out.  I will try to keep it brief.  Maybe you are busy, or hiding.

I know you were small once and that you have parents.  Maybe you have siblings and a grandmother like me.  It is not easy growing up and I know this because I had to grow up like you.  In a lot of ways I am still growing up.

If you are thinking that we have nothing in common, I would have to disagree.  We have everything in common that really matters.  We both have hearts that beat, we breath in and out, we seek joy, feel love, live life, desire much, experience pain, endure loneliness, and cling to hope to name just a few.  We are only human, you and I.

Which is why I am writing to you, wherever you are.  Before you take the next step into whatever terrorist thing you are planning, could you think, really think, about our common humanity?

If we sat down together in my house with whoever your youngest family member might be, my grandkids, your mom and maybe some family photos, a pot of tea or some good coffee, we could talk, about everything.  We could take turns listening.  We might be surprised to find we have a few things we could laugh about together.  Maybe you would change your mind about the suicide vest. 

We are all only human you know.  And really, what is left behind after so many die?  If you die we will be forced to go on without you.  Your dreams and hopes and ability to become great here on earth will be forgotten.  I wonder if that is what you really want?

Sincerely,
The Common Denominator

Who do you think you are?

Self righteous thoughts give me a lot to grasp and lead to a good deal of suffering.  The whole notion of, I am right, they are wrong, is like a massive rock that I am attached to.  It pulls me down into a murky, miserable place where I feel alone and sad and angry.

To be free of this crushing weight I first have to see it.  The tiny boat of morality and judgment I am floating in bumps into the right and wrong within my perceptions.  But how accurate are my ideas of things?  And, even if they are correct, what really matters most here, my response or what I think another being should be doing?

Discernment is wisdom.  Grasping is everywhere and everyone does it.  Daily I have opportunity to empty the boat that I perceive as confronting my own and let go of the urge to shout at those other boats I inevitably bump into.  I can be angry with someone or I can try to listen, watch, and respond without a mind caught up in the wrongness of that other boat.  I can be still.  Quiet.  Speak late and less.  Answer when asked.  

Not with disdain or malice then I can ask myself, "Just who do you think you are?"  The answer will be without judgment and swaddled in compassion and loving kindness.  I can put down my rock.  I can rest on this path.