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“Consider again that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “supreme leader”, every “superstar,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.


The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. It underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the only home we’ve ever known, the pale blue dot”

–Carl Sagan

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PSYCHOPOLITICS–the art and science of asserting and maintaining dominion over the thoughts and loyalties of individuals, officers, bureaus, and masses, and the effecting of the conquest of enemy nations through “mental healing.”

I don't want mommy to leave me but she has to go be with my sister.

I don't want mommy to leave, but she has to go be with my little sister.

I was walking through a store, when I saw a Cashier hand a little boy some money back.

The boy couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old.

The Cashier said,
“I’m sorry, but you don’t have enough money to buy this doll.”

Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him:
”Gramma, are you sure I don’t have enough money?”

The old lady replied:
”You know that you don’t have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.”

Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. She left quickly.

The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.

Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.

“It’s the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas.
She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.”

I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry.

But he replied to me sadly.
“No, Santa Claus can’t bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.”

His eyes were so sad while saying this.
“My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.”

My heart nearly stopped.

The little boy looked up at me and said:
“I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.”

Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me,
“I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won’t forget me.
I love my mommy and I wish she didn’t have to leave, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.”

Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.

I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy.
“Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?”

“OK” he said,
“I hope I do have enough.”

I added some of my money to his with out him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money.

The little boy said:
“Thank you God for giving me enough money!”

Then he looked at me and added,
“I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!

I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn’t want to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.

My mommy loves white roses.”

A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket.
I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started.

I couldn’t get the little boy out of my mind.

Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car with a young woman and a little girl inside.

The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-support machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma.

Was this the family of the little boy?
Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away.

I couldn’t stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the young woman’s wake was being held. She was there, in her coffin, holding a single white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest.

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