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It was an unseasonably warm day. The sun
shone and people were everywhere, bursting
from their suburban cocoons where the
winter
had forced a retreat for the past week
or
more. The evening came accompanied
by a brash
display of color in the western sky.
Rising
slowly, provocatively, hoisting itself
above
the world, the full moon looked down
to see
what madness humanity would undertake.
But
tonight, I hoped we would deny the
moon a
show. Tonight we would be praying under
its
light.
I got in my car and headed to our state
capitol
building where a vigil for peace was
being
held. I parked and left my car, walking
slowly,
then quickly, then slowly again, excited
to get there, but wanting to immerse
myself
in this experience, to fix this night
in
my memory. I felt like something special
was happening.
As I neared the rear entrance, I produced
a small red candle seated snuggly in
a ceramic
container -- cinnamon scent, leftover
from
Christmas. I smiled at the appropriateness…yes, peace on earth, good will to men.
I stepped onto the already crowded
extra-wide
marble steps and lit it. I looked around
me at the sea of humanity and was taken
by
surprise by my emotions. Overwhelmed,
I pulled
in my breath, my eyes welling up. I
really
just wanted to burst out in tears of
joy,
but I held back. I kept my feelings
to myself,
but I didn't feel alone. On the contrary,
I never felt so connected.
We were here burning our little candles,
hoping and praying. It was a silent
vigil
-- that is, no loudspeakers blaring,
and
no, "What do we want….When do
we want
it." Just people together standing,
overlooking a city, which could be
Anycity,
USA.
Faintly, sweetly, angelic sopranos
in unison
slowly entreated over and over, "All
we are saying is give peace a chance."
I knew John Lennon was with us. The
man who
so vocally promoted peace, who was
silenced
by the violence he protested against.
The
plaintive tune rose and fell and there
was
murmuring and silence and prayer again.
My little red candle was drowning in
wax.
I carefully tipped it. The crimson
liquid
splattered on the steps like a trickle
of
blood. Please God, let there be no war, no blood
spilled in the name of peace on earth.
The moon was high in the sky now, as
strong
as the sun was today. The candles are
burning
and it seems that everything is in
full force,
in unison, moving as one soul, one
entity.
Then abruptly I hear what could, in
another
country, be air raid sirens blaring
out.
It is the city's fire engines racing
to an
emergency, foreshadowing the urgency
of our
situation, reminding us that we live
in an
unsteady world.
A small sign with a photo of a head
shot
of George Bush Jr. sways to and fro
in front
of me, strips of silver duct tape covering
his mouth. I'm not here for the politics.
I don't really care who wants war or
why,
I am against the whole idea. I think
the
world has seen enough of it. I hope
they
have.
But it is hard to separate the drive
to war
from the driver. It is a sad day when
our
leaders seem to resist what we instinctively
know is truth, and become deaf and
dumb to
the energy of the people. Not just
the people
-- to all the living things of the
world,
to life itself. When these men forget
their
sacred stewardship of the earth and
for each
other, then we are in trouble. And
that moment
came and went a long time ago.
I believe in the sacredness of life.
For
one soul to perish unnecessarily is
one too
many. War is never an acceptable answer.
War is an outmoded vehicle spewing
toxicity
into the air, a danger to everyone.
Evil
will eat itself and disappear into
the dust.
Peace will always promote more peace.
If
we focus on peace it will return to
us. Like
a lover, there is a bond, an unspoken
energy
that draws it to us when we desire
it so
much.
I got back to my car and drove around
to
peruse the view from afar. There they
all
were, at least 1000 strong, flickering
fireflies
on the tiered steps of our state's
capitol.
I slowed to catch a better look at
these
fireflies with their own light, each
with
their own inner light, showing that
they
believe there is a chance.
Will a thousand candles make a difference?
In our hearts we must believe. In our
hearts
we have faith. In each heart there
is the
flame of a thousand candles, calling
out
as one voice, a peaceful choir standing,
waiting, listening for an answer from
the
darkness beyond the light.
Provided to The Cat's Meow by the author, Craig Howell.
See Craig's website at The Eyes of Kwan Yin
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The
Cat's 
Meow
