This one hit really close to me. I was born in Boston, lived in the city for the first 5 or 6 years of my life, grew up in the suburbs around it, and lived in the city again in my 20s. I love Boston. It is close to my heart. Hundreds and hundreds of times I walked in the exact spot where the bombs went off. In fact, my cousin was watching the Marathon close to where the bombs went off. Apparently his place of work had a Red Sox game/Marathon outing yesterday. He said to my sister, “We were all close by, some so close that they saw a lot of things that will haunt them.” Luckily all 48 of them came up safe. But what about the others who lost lives or limbs or family or friends or who will have to suffer with so much pain or whose lives will be changed forever? Devastation and horror.

There is simply too much of this! Even one is too much. It’s got to stop, but how?

I’ve been through just about every emotion there is to go through about this. Every time my thinking shifts, whatever emotion is attached follows.  Each one feels extremely real. Yet each one is inadvertently made up by me. Which one is the true one? All of them. Or none. Right now there are a few people who are actually happy this happened. At this moment I’d like to break their skulls (but I won’t, of course, because my thinking would never let me).

And that’s the most astonishing thing of all about this. Whoever the perpetrator or perpetrators are of this horror believe their thinking is reality. They really believe they had to do this! If they only understood enough about how “reality” is created, they’d never be able to believe or trust or follow their thinking enough to go through with something like this, because they would know it’s not really reality at all. It’s the only reason anything like this ever happens.