There is a lot going on in the news right now. Bombs have exploded at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. People are dead. Others are severely injured – run a marathon and then lose a limb or two. Speculation is rampant about who did this and why. My twitter feed is buzzing and I am trying to retreat to the silence within myself. And I re-read an article I posted earlier today and it made me cry again. Each time I look at it I well up. That’s right. Just looking at it and knowing the power it had over me.

I dare you to read this and not feel it. And then ask yourself what about this made you feel the way it made you feel.

It’s not flowery or excessively gushy. It doesn’t have what you would expect from a persuasive writing piece. In fact, when I started reading it I didn’t get it – how was this an article that made all these people well up with tears – but I kept going and I felt in right there – you know, that deep down place that you venture into only on rainy days and Mondays. And today is, oddly enough, both rainy and Monday.

I wish I could write like that. I wish I could bludgeon people over the head with nothing more than a dandelion.  In the wake of this day, the blood on the streets of Boston, I look at this and am reminded that each of us is capable of so much love.

Don’t forget it people. Just don’t.