Part Two

Now I must go back to the beginning again

When I was very, very little. Even before I was two years old, but I have no idea how long before. They used to call me ‘the waterworks’. If anybody spoke to me, or even looked at me, in any way, other than with complete love, I would be in tears.

At that age, the ‘anybody’ in my young environment, was pretty much restricted to family, so obviously they were the ones who had given me that name.

When I was about four years old I asked my older sisters something. I had forgotten something; something important from before I was born. Eventually I decided that if I could remember where I had come from I would be able to remember the important thing. So I asked my sisters where was I before I was born. They were older than me and obviously far more knowledgeable.

That was the first of many times that I have been called mad or crazy in my life.

Of course they were perfectly justified in their assessment. I had been diagnosed as such a couple of years earlier and they were also just children, not very much older than me.

Now I remember. In fact the thing that I had forgotten was the very reason I wept so much as a small child. The thing that I had forgotten was that where I had come from everybody loved everybody. All the time. Not that anyone was conscious of it. That was just how it was. Nobody had ever felt the need to feel any other way. Nobody was even aware that there were other ways to feel.

But it has been millennia since the human race lived in perfect love. There were always some few peoples still living that way, but the last first contact happened over a hundred years ago. And, as always, the contact destroys the love. Although, not immediately.

It is this contact with people whose aim it is to harness and harvest and stockpile all the bounty of earth, in order to have dominion over it and over all life on it, that destroyed love. The people who came to destroy everything. The worst part is that your children cannot even see what they have done. Actually YOUR children will see, but will mostly end up under the yoke, doing their best to survive. It will be their grandchildren who wont see it; who will speak in awe about the advent of progress and technology that uplifted their communities while their own children struggle through the trashed earth lifestyle they have inherited.

This is Myanmar today. The heading picture is the Amazon ‘jungle’