The Dis-ease of Separation.

There is such discomfort in living in separation. All that we label "trouble" or "cruelty" stems from it. Adulterers being stoned to death by the Taliban are the victims of such extreme separation that not only is God a separate entity, that entity is cruelly judgmental and ruthlessly sadistic. God becomes a personification of fear in a land that is continually violated by invaders and torn by civil unrest, where there is no sense of safety, and where the fundamentals of life are constantly threatened. The Taliban may be cruel, but their existence is hardly a mystery. Separate countries war with each other, defending their piece of land, or perhaps grabbing some more land, the divisions stoked by the promise of safety and the egotistical building up of each nation as "good" and the other as "bad". The mind loves a story, and war stories are popular. We sit with suspicion always, see others who merely look somewhat different or speak a bit differently as so alien that they are mainly a threat, and rarely a breath of fresh air. We dislike differences, and comfort ourselves by pointing these differences out and using them to widen the chasm between "us" and the chimerical "them". Our own children's task and duty is to become more separate, and hopefully to evolve into the most unique and different individual that ever was, with as little resemblance to the parents as possible. This kind of separation is the burden of each small piece of humanity, and is, in fact, labeled "mental health". We seem like islands, alone and isolated, apart with our little thoughts and overwhelming feelings; no one is like us, and no one could ever understand. We are at war with the world, and either try to get to know it, understand it and control it, or set up a fortress against it, engaging with it as little as we can get away with. Yet there is nothing wrong with any of this. Duality is as it must be, it is life looking at itself, but that doesn't mean it's not oneness. We are each other no matter what the colour or flavour of that seems to be. Perhaps when this is recognised there will be less apparent cruelty borne of fear, perhaps there will be more compassion, and more compassionate acts. But there is always balance, no matter how dismaying the extremes are. The balance may be more centered, but there is no guarantee. The stories may abound but this is wonderment, here it is, it never left, it is nowhere to be found; this is it.