The two crashes of Malaysia
Airlines aircraft awaken thoughts about life and death and about
karma and predestination. Also, inevitably, about the world's – or the
gods' – injustice. “If God were good, how could he let
such evil unjust things happen?” We'll get back to that later. Two airplanes crashed one
after the other. We don't yet know why the first one went down and
possibly never will. The second one was shot down over Ukraine,
probably by separatists supported by Russia.
Welcome to our fifteenth anniversary issue. For the SCR history buffs, here's what we looked like way-back-then: September-October, 1999
The Karma of the Malaysia Airlines victims by Frank Thomas Smith
I am taking point on a “Recon” while the walking sandbags
behind me stare upwards at nothing in particular except the goddamn
sun. A sniper with an AK and a couple of RPGs were reported in this
area, just south of Baghdad proper, by some butter bar. The whole
situation steamrolls into a hunt for ghostly insurgents and a hunt
for a weapons cache by the Colonel who is aching to get his star. So,
they wake me up from a perfectly good fuck dream and say they need a
forward observer to call in the Kiowas, Arty and Apaches. And I’m
so short that I can taste the disgusting MAC flight chow. I’ve
got eight days and a wake up till I board that freedom bird and get
back to the world. I should be in the “green zone”
jerking off, but I’m the only 13Foxtrot on TDY with these
“boots” and the officers are all trigger happy since the
A World of Hurt by JP Miller
Pinocchio and the Great Metaphorical Plot by Gaither Stewart
am bizarre. No more and no less than my characters. I know that about
myself. Who gets into his car with no special place to go and decides
on the spot to drive to Istanbul? Where I smoke a water pipe, eat a
slice of kebab, turn the car around and start back to Italiya, along
the way picking up and dropping off hitchhikers through Greece and
Macedonia and bits of Serbia and lots of Croatia. Who else in this
whole city goes down to the banks of the River Tiber to lunch with a
nomadic family of Roma, offering his hosts a few dozen crème
cupcakes delicately packaged in a shiny golden wrap? Already as a kid
I was bizarre—like when I went barefoot in the mountain winter
cold just to experience what pneumonia was. Bizarreness is nothing
new to me...
Honey Time by O. Spaniel
Blue florets of borage
dangled along the path that wound from the gate to the back door.
Worker bees bloated with pollen took busy steps up the anthers or
drank at the raindrops resting in the flower's bell. Even in cool
weather there was always a small cloud of bees outside of the corner
shed, drunk on the smell of honey, their black and gold frames
hovering in the air, heavy with industry. The flywire door was kept
open with a broken brick. Archie was either inside tending to the
woodstove and sipping tea or else in the shed fixing frames or
cleaning fumeboards with the underside of his capping knife. Most
times I was there with my best friend Dorkel Faisalbad, a chubby
Turk, skipping Phys. Ed. again and stealing his father's cigarettes...
evening Nicky and his little sister Caroline were sitting in the meadow near
their home at the edge of the forest. The sky overhead was like a cape of black
silk encrusted with brilliant jewels.
A Journey to the Stars by Frank Thomas Smith
many stars are there in the sky, Nicky", Caroline asked.
I can see that, but how many?" she insisted.
laughed. "Fine, you count them and tell me how many there are."
see." Caroline stood up to be closer to the stars and began to count:
"One, two, three, four, fi...Oh no, I already counted that one."...
Check me out. The top two knuckles of my left hand look as if I’d been worked over by the K.G.B. No, it’s more as if I’d been a catcher for the Hall of Fame pitcher Candy Cummings, the inventor of the curveball, who retired from the game in 1877. To put this another way, if I pointed that hand at you like a pistol and fired at your nose, the bullet would nail you in the left knee. Arthritis.
Now, still facing you, if I cover my left, or better, eye with one hand, what I see is a blurry encircling version of the ceiling and floor and walls or windows to our right and left but no sign of your face or head: nothing in the middle. But cheer up: if I reverse things and cover my right eye, there you are, back again. If I take my hand away and look at you with both eyes, the empty hole disappears and you’re in 3-D, and actually looking pretty terrific today. Macular degeneration.
This Old Man - Life in the Nineties by Rogel Angell
Goethe - or - The Writer by Ralph Waldo Emerson
I find a
provision in the constitution of the world for the writer, or
secretary, who is to report the doings of the miraculous spirit of
life that everywhere throbs and works. His office is a reception
of the facts into the mind, and then a selection of the eminent
and characteristic experiences. Nature will be
reported. All things are engaged in writing their history. The
planet, the pebble, goes attended by its shadow. The rolling rock
leaves its scratches on the mountain; the river its channel in the
soil; the animal its bones in the stratum; the fern and leaf their
modest epitaph in the coal. The falling drop makes its sculpture
in the sand or the stone.
se animó a tener otro futuro por Mariana Otero
Romina sueña con dar clases en una escuela de campo, aunque
aún le falta completar las prácticas en la escuela
“Yo criticaba, decía mirá lo que hacen, hasta
que me tocó estar en el aula y es muy difícil. Pero
creo que si uno le pone mucho sentimiento, pasión a lo que
hace, se puede”, sostiene, en relación a las
observaciones que ya realizó en escuelas.
“Ahí me empecé a dar cuenta que era lo mio y a
imaginarme en el aula haciendo cosas con los alumnos. Todo
lo que se hizo conmigo es lo que no quiero hacer. Tengo claro el
docente que no quiero ser”, plantea.
South Sudan -- The soft glow of the dancing white lights is a dead
giveaway. It’s Christmas in July at the U.S. Embassy compound.
Behind high walls topped with fierce-looking metal impediments meant to
discourage climbers, there’s a party under way. Close your eyes and you could be at a stateside summer barbeque or an office holiday party. Even with them open, the local realities of dirt
roads and dirty water, civil war, mass graves, and nightly shoot-to-kill
curfews seem foreign.
As a Man-Made Famine Looms, Christmas Comes Early to South Sudan by Nick Turse
...We have seen how the person who follows these words
coming to him from all the things of the world and from all the events of the
world, feels the desire to leave the majestic, illustrious sensory world and
enter into the world beyond the yawning abyss of being, which at first
confronts the human soul as black, night-cloaked darkness. But the hope exists
that in order to truly solve the riddle of humanity, what shines in light for
outer life, what is radiant there, must become dark in order for the light
which is in that other world, in which one's own self finds its being, comes
from what at first appears as black, night-cloaked cosmic darkness...
Lessons for the First Class of the School for Spiritual Science at
the Goetheanum - Volume Three, Lesson two by Rudolf Steiner
Volume Three, Lesson Three
My dear sisters and brothers, we will again begin by
letting our souls hear the words that human beings – if they have ears to hear
them – can hear from all the Beings of the surrounding world, which they could
hear in the past, can hear in the present and will hear in the future, which
allow them to envision the need for self-knowledge – that constantly comes to
them from the entire universe – which is the true bridge to what the human
being needs for his thinking, for his willing, for his working in the world if
he wishes to be human in the true sense of the word...
Karmic Relations, Volume II, Lecture Sixteen by Rudolf Steiner
The day before
yesterday I tried to picture for you the cosmic drama wherein
human beings are shown in their relation to Beings of the
spiritual world, so that one can see how there stems from this
relationship not only the working out of karma, but also the
living out of karma during physical life on earth. To-day I
should like to turn to a thought touched upon in that lecture. I
said that the present period in human evolution confronts anyone
who has the knowledge of Initiation-Science with problems of
world-karma in the deepest sense of the words. And before
proceeding to consider how knowledge of karma is acquired, we
will study its world-historic aspects, which in the nature of
things must closely concern the whole of civilised humanity at
the present time...
Prologue in Heaven, from "Faust" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The Lord, the Heavenly Hosts, later
The Archangels step forward.
The sun resounds as once of old
loving spheres of motley song,
Predestined is its journey
Ripening as it flows along.
Its sight the angels new
Though none can fathom how its done;
inconceivable still lives
In glory as when the days were one.
Across the Bridge by Stephen Hawks
I saw a crab wash up,
Another dart away into his hole,
Sure the beast was stalking prey.
These are no ordinary things;
There are no ordinary things
And when there seem to be
I think this stranger than before...
You can find us under the
Southern Cross constellation in the Traslasierra Valley, Province of Córdoba, Argentina. Visitors always welcome. Just follow the sign that reads: La Cruz del Sur.
Frank Thomas Smith, Editor
JoAnn Schwarz, Associate Editor
so we can advise you when the next issue is ready. Many people are switching to Gmail. If you do, please advise us so we can change your subscription address.
For back issues, use the issue number.
For example: http://southerncrossreview.org/79/index79.html will deliver SCR number 79. For authors or titles, enter names or keywords in the Google search box below.