Wisdom born from tragedy

Never say something that will not stand as the last thing you will ever say to someone.

A powerful statement.

What would make a person make an agreement like this?

Wisdom born from tragedy.

Imagine a 15 year old girl travelling in a train towards Auschwitz with her 8 year old brother. Her parents have been lost to the war, and she fears for her life and for that of her brother.

On arrival, the passengers are herded onto the platform and in the crush, she realises that her brother has lost his shoes. Dismayed and thoroughly annoyed, she gives him a sound verbal dressing down. ' How can you lose your shoes. You are so stupid.'

And then they are separated, the sister and the brother, and that is the last time they see each other. The brother is lost to the war, and the sister, for the rest of her life, holds on her heart the last words she spoke to her darling brother.

On walking out of Auschwitz, makes the commitment:

I will never say something that will not stand as the last thing I say to someone.

This is truly wisdom born from tradegy.

It is a powerful human who can transmute a negative experience into a positive principle to guide life direction and action.

We all have stories about situations - personal challenges - that we have used to inspire us to be more authentically human.

And as you read this, I trust that you are able to transmute your challenges and stand tall in the opportunity to be more of who you truly are.

Comments

Handstands

I’m waiting for a coffee on a Saturday morning, standing next to the counter in a suburban shopping centre. Around the corner comes a Mum with three spirited children. The impact of the small family on the shopping centre energy is palpable. The children are full of life, and the mother has her hands full as the little troupe, aged five, four and three, I estimate, engage with everything with energetic gusto. ‘No running’, Mum says to Mr 4, as a four-year-old energetic boy goes tearing past me. Mum turns around to see the three-year-old walking slowly behind. ‘Come on’, she says to Mr 3, coaxing the littlest one to quicken his pace. Distracted from the older members of the troupe for a few short moments, Mum turns around and sees Mr 4 doing a cool breakdance style handstand in the middle of the shopping centre floor. ‘No handstands’, Mum says. She does not see the coolness in Mr 4’s handstand. Mr 3, however, is visibly impressed and cannot resist the call of acr...

Chapter 2

Not again, she thinks to herself. And then the stairwell begins to lose its composition. Damn she says. It's early. She grips the balustrade, knowing that it's useless. In the realisation, grips harder and closes her eyes. This, at least, is helpful. The visual experience was harrowing the first time. It still is, but at least this time it is somewhat expected and 'normal'. Remembers the first time, it must have been 3 months ago now. Was sitting at a cafe in her home town, the smell of fresh waffles thick in the morning air, mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Ethiopian, she knows. Pip and Pup was a weird name, but the coffee was to die for. The light has been different, that morning, and she wonders how it might have been different if she had not needed to use the bathroom at Pip and Pups. She had walked down the passage past the kitchen, and the passage seem to stretch out and bend to the right. Even though she had screamed loud, no one paid any attenti...

Ancestors

It's been a long time. A long time since I thought about him. And today I visited his grave. Actually, its not really his grave. His mother was buried there many years ago, and his ashes were scattered there after his cremation. His brother thought this was the best place for him to rest . I'm not sure what I expected. Perhaps I thought that this would give me "closure", or a feeling of relief. Perhaps it's been so long, and the emotion and feelings are hidden behind many years. We drove on long straight deserted roads, through old mining areas and tired looking cattle yards. We passed across the marks of an old burnout, and drove through Jarrah forests and pine tree plantations. As we got close to the cemetery, I felt something stirring deep in my belly. The stirring of pain, trauma and emotion long forgotten. The cemetery was a quiet simple clearing setback from the main road and surrounded by virgin bush. Some overgrown bushes covered the path, and I par...

Cogito, ergo sum - I think therefore I am

Search This Blog