I did like to kill, though. I have to be honest. I had a real thing for stomping on bees. When I was 4. I would run around the yard barefoot, and stomp on the bees that were visiting the dandelions. Or with shoes on. Didn't matter. Small wonder I'm allergic to the bloody things.
Then when I was 6 and had my bike, I made a game out of playing god with the ants on our sidewalk. I would let some live, then ride along smashing every one I could get. Then I would be benevolent and let them all live- avoiding riding over all of them. Unless it was one of the large red biting ants. Then I would run over it and skid. With my back racing slick tire.
So somewhere, there's a Buddhist crying for my sins. Knowing full well that my next life will be devoted to being stomped on by a really stupid 4 year old. But I'll be able to sting her sorry ass, and cause swelling. Ha ha.
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4 comments:
hate is innate.
it's the only thing that lasts.
love is an illusion of the truth.
Funny- I had a conversation with a co-worker about the endurance of hate last night. No- I don't hate him. Like him quite a lot, actually. We were joking about hate. I thought in a rather witty fashion. Which might be construed as unusual.
He's from another land. Also unusual.
i'm talking more about fundamental hate--particularly for races/religions. going back into mankind's history, it certainly seems to hold true: hate is the only thing that lasts.
show me an example of Love that has lasted as long as hatred for a particular race or religion.
ha.
If I was feeling all sappy I would say that Nationalism can be construed as a kind of love. Think of the Irish and their ever-enduring love of the place. But that love comes with a steep cost, and you're right- the hate seeps out of the cracks.
Then there's mother love. But that's not necessarily what you're talking about. I would hope that all mothers love their children, but can think of any number of examples of that not being the case at all.
Now I'm sad. But not full of hate. I refuse.
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