Yotingo watched the growing pile of correspondences on various AAMS desks with a sigh. Was this a sign of the times, then? Aggression, blindness at every doorstep. It was a sad state of affairs, to be sure.
Slowly, with deliberation, he pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write his own message. He went through several drafts before he found something that clicked, and even then, it was not perfect. Another sign of the times, maybe.
Or maybe just the way of the world. Yotingo smiled.
To: All Whom May Be Concerned
From: No One of Much Concern
One who cannot conceive of giving respect to the enemy cannot conceive of how the enemy can give respect back. A similar saying goes thus: one cannot respect themselves when they cannot respect the wishes of another.
What happened before is a tragedy and a shame. But as terrible as it may have been, we cannot change the past.
We can change the future.
I implore each and every one of you to look deep inside. The path laid out before you is your own. No one can choose it for you. You cannot choose another's.
I express the unpopular notion that we are, each and every one, guilty in some way for this calamity. But that is not a bad thing. We are each responsible to our own guilt; we each have the power of assuaging it. No other can do this for us, and in that lies power. Power to stand firm and not give in to the crow-calls of others. Power to lay down our pride and cooperate with another's will.
Power to choose.
We need not be shamans to be gifted with foresight. The trick lies not in what the sands of time hide from us, but what we hide from ourselves. Draw aside that curtain. Look. Shiver. Scream.
Then choose.
Peace cannot be built on the pride of either side. To defeat war, we must first defeat ourselves. Only then can a stable foundation be built on the ruins of our own aggression.
The letter remains unsigned aside from a single coyote's paw print.
Slowly, with deliberation, he pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write his own message. He went through several drafts before he found something that clicked, and even then, it was not perfect. Another sign of the times, maybe.
Or maybe just the way of the world. Yotingo smiled.
To: All Whom May Be Concerned
From: No One of Much Concern
One who cannot conceive of giving respect to the enemy cannot conceive of how the enemy can give respect back. A similar saying goes thus: one cannot respect themselves when they cannot respect the wishes of another.
What happened before is a tragedy and a shame. But as terrible as it may have been, we cannot change the past.
We can change the future.
I implore each and every one of you to look deep inside. The path laid out before you is your own. No one can choose it for you. You cannot choose another's.
I express the unpopular notion that we are, each and every one, guilty in some way for this calamity. But that is not a bad thing. We are each responsible to our own guilt; we each have the power of assuaging it. No other can do this for us, and in that lies power. Power to stand firm and not give in to the crow-calls of others. Power to lay down our pride and cooperate with another's will.
Power to choose.
We need not be shamans to be gifted with foresight. The trick lies not in what the sands of time hide from us, but what we hide from ourselves. Draw aside that curtain. Look. Shiver. Scream.
Then choose.
Peace cannot be built on the pride of either side. To defeat war, we must first defeat ourselves. Only then can a stable foundation be built on the ruins of our own aggression.
The letter remains unsigned aside from a single coyote's paw print.
Edited by Yotingo on 4/4/2011 11:47 AM PDT
