Abraham, Martin, John... and Bhutto

With the sudden violent assassination of Benazir Bhutto at the age of 35, the world has (once again) lost a peaceful voice who might have changed the world a little bit for the better.

In a heroic attempt to bring about positive non-violent change, and quite aware of the great personal peril involved, Bhutto had recently returned to her beloved country of Pakistan full of the kind of insightful hope that illuminates far to few of us. Her personal quest echoed that of Nelson Mandella in it's scope and Mahatma Ghandi in it's heart.

Once again we are faced with the perplexing question of what a life might have been, what changes might have occurred and even what yet unknown future eddies and currents of history might have been modified, altered or shaped by her hand had she lived out her life.

While her death will certainly invigorate Pakistan's current political
struggle (consider what the influence of a female leader of Pakistan would have meant to the mid-east peace initiatives or even the global war on poverty), a person's sphere of influence, the people they touch and inspire, is much greater than what we can see in a glance at any one point in time. It is truly unmeasurable.

Bhutto's murder makes me sick. I am ashamed to be a member of the planet's ruling species. I try to believe that some (probably too little) good will come of this. I yearn for the heart of a monk, able to forgive unconditionally, yet I am unable to leave my feelings of loss, regret, and yes even anger behind.

My sincere condolences go out to her family and all that ever knew her personally or were ever touched by her, either in person or at a great distance (as I was), as we add her name to a "little list" that has become morbidly long and grotesquely written in our own blood.

It is said that humans learn by repetition. Exactly when will we begin to learn?