Thawing Out in a Rainforest Village

Caymans for sale at the market place
Shot on my iPhone 6.

In Iquitos, an Israeli girl, early 20's, asked for my number. She said I had to visit Jerusalem and that she would show me around. Why does she even want me to come? The Spanish girl, who was 20, saw me giving it to her. She wanted it too. I gave it to her later. Why anyone would want my number is a mystery to me, especially when I'm not talking that much?

A few days ago, I was a self-imposed mute, not really talking to anyone, not really wanting to. At least, I'm talking to people now. A little. I guess they like what little I have to say. Perhaps, the Amazon is thawing me out, unlike the dark and gloomy Lima in winter.

Iquitos is the Amazonian Capital in Peru. You must get in by bus or plane. The river cuts it off from the rest of the world. It's the largest city in the world that cannot be reached by ground transport. In other words, it's impossible to drive into Iquitos.

I didn't do much in Iquitos. It's much better than the Ecuadorian sister city of Coca I visited last year to enter the jungle. Both are concrete jungles, but the people are kinder and more alive in Iquitos. The Amazonian food is also really amazing. It's mainly meat and rice, but the rice is flavored. The salsa (also called ahi) is spicy and flavorful. I love the carne asada and the smell and taste of smoke in my food.

Unlike Coca, there are trendy cafes for the gringos (the white people). And I go to them often to read and use the internet. But in general, the internet is bad here, because we're on satellite, because we're cut off from the rest of civilization.

Most tourists are here to see the Amazon or to see a shaman. I've heard a number of tourists talk about seeing a Shaman and how it opened up their mind and spirit. I guess I'll write more about it later. It's rather an elaborate process, as you have to start on a fast and a diet and you have to enter into a trance by drinking some herbal and bitter and ugly-tasting smoothie. I'm not doing it, mainly because I'm Christian. But people have told me some unusual things about it - like how they could connect to other people's souls in the trance. I just listened to their stories.

While I was here, I was plagued by thinking about what I had to do next. I have no plans. I wanted to see the Amazon, but I didn't want to pay all that much money. It's a big scam anyways. The tour organizer keeps 90% of the money, and pays the guides and the employees probably $3 a day for all their work. I know. I did this last year, remember?

And I was so tired of doing the touristy stuff. I've been there and done that and now I'm jaded and need more.

One day, my mentor and I were looking at aquarium fish for my birthday. It made me happy. I explained to him all the rare Amazonian fish this store had. And he had an idea, why don't I make contacts with tropical aquarium fish distributors in the Amazon and make a commission on importing the fish.

I was on a mission in Iquitos, after I thought about it more. And after some researching, I was able to find the aquarium fish importers.

He showed me his fish. I was really impressed. I felt like a kid in a candy shop. I loved seeing all the rare Amazonian tropical fish. I asked him if he could organize a tour for me to catch these fish. I can't bring them home, since I'm traveling. But I would love to go into the Amazon to find fish. He said he would try. But he never got back to me.

Discus fish, king of aquarium fish

So, I asked a tour company. I didn't like the guy who came. He looked drunk. His eyes were bloodshot.

He gave me all the reasons why he was going to rip me off: It was far away, they had to provide food and shelter, and then I tuned out to what else he said.

I responded, "Even if I'm not a special tour, you have to give me all those things at a regular price."

"Yes, but we have to hire a special fisherman."

That's true, I thought. But you just want to rip me off, and I know it you little fat and drunk man.

He showed me on a map where it was and where I had to go.

"How much?"

"$100 a day."

"That's too much for me." I pointed to the spot on the map I needed to go to and asked, "Can't I just take a bus there?"

It was then, we both realized that I had figured out how to see what I wanted and cut him out of the picture.

"I'm not giving you anymore information. Good bye."

Inside, I was smiling. Greedy man, I thought. You told me everything I needed to know now.

Anyways, where I'm going, there might not be internet. I might not be able to write for a few days. Apparently, there's no ATM machines either.

As I was leaving the hostel, today, the receptionist asked me, "Where are you going?"

I told him.

He said, "And what are you going to do there? Where are you going to stay?"

I said, "I don't know. I have no plans."

"You have no plans. Must be nice to live your life that way."

"I guess. It's how I lived most my life."

I brought with me a backpack full of clothes and a few books and my camera. That's it. Let's see what stories I come back with. 

In Lima, Peru

Lima, Peru - the capital of the city

I met an Australian lady, 60, obese, with thinning and grey hair, in my room, who believed all life's questions could be answered with confirming whether extraterrestrials existed. She traveled to Nazca to see the Peruvian version of American crop circles.

I asked her why she didn't just go see the crop circles in America. She said those had to be manmade, but the Nazca lines (these complex patterns in the sand), those were different.

She snored so loud. I never met anyone who snored as loud as her. The German lady above her bunk swore, when she heard her snore. She knew then what the night would be like. I thought to myself: Her snoring could wake the dead.

I met an American mother, who was traveling with her two teenage children, a guy and a girl. Their father, her husband, died recently. I felt sad to hear their story. I think they're more lost than me.

In my room, was also a young black girl and Indian guy from Nottingham, England. We talked some. We were even going to get coffee together, but because the guy took too long to get ready, I told her, I'm sorry. I can't wait any longer.

And I really couldn't, because I was getting bored and restless. And boredom is my bane.

I walked two hours to get to the cafe. I did it instead of taking the bus, which cost 30 cents.

Bus culture is different in Lima. When they pack you in, like sardines, seats become valuable. And generally ladies will block an aisle, to take a seat when someone gets off, suffocating the space between those seating and the isle.

They're so aggressive about it. So, after I learned the trick to blocking someone with your body. I had ladies slip through my space, or hold onto the same bar my hand was holding onto. And her hand would touch my hand - making me feel uncomfortable. So, I would release my hand. They would take my space. I would lose it.

Should I give up my space to a lady? Sometimes, I do it. Especially if they look kind. But sometimes, you meet someone that feels entitled to a seat. And entitlement can be a big turnoff.

In Lima, I didn't do much, because I felt all wound up and tight inside. I kept thinking about home and my pets and my mother, and I really hoped everyone at home was ok. There were many people in my hostel, a French mansion at one point.

I really liked the saloon - which is an entertainment room. It was large and looked like a classic ballroom dance floor. In my mind, I wondered if this was the kind of room the Lost Generation met in: Pablo Picasso, James Joyce, Gertrude Stein, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald and so on. I wonder often if there's a Lost Generation of artists meeting today that'll become as landmark as them.

There were people, who came and went. I didn't talk to many of them, because I was burnt out and didn't feel like socializing.

They served bread and coffee for breakfast. I never ate the bread. It was cheap and bad for the health.

The coffee was weak and stale, but the employee who served it smiled and asked how I was every morning. For some reason, that made it taste better.

The food in Lima and Peru, in general, is good here, except for at hostels. I ate fried chicken, which was brined before being deep fried. I had it with their salsa called ahi. And it tasted really good.

The ceviche, fish cooked in lime juice, was better than other countries. They add fried corn to it and pieces of fresh seaweed. The crunchiness and umami flavors of seaweed enhance the dish. It cost $1.50.

Anyways, that's all I really have to say about Lima. I'm coming back to eat more, later. But in Lima, I decided to go to the rainforest. I'm writing to you from a cafe that overlooks the Amazon River.

A lady just watched me stare at the Amazon River, slow and silent and peaceful.

She asked me, "Are you dreaming?"

I said, "Maybe."

"About what?"

"I don't know."

She left the cafe.

I said "Buen viajes." (Safe travels.)

I have to plan out my next adventure and hopefully get more reading done. So far, I finished one book on nutrition, one episode of Sherlock, and one episode of the British version of Skins (which I'm now finished with).

I feel lost. How long until I'm found?

Almost Missing My Flight to the Rain Forest

Banksy Airplane

What am I going to do, I thought, if I miss my flight? Am I going to go back to the hostel? Am I going to argue with the airlines? Am I going to book a new ticket? The options.

Damn it. I knew I should have taken a taxi. I should have left 3 hours ahead of time, instead of two and a half. 

I'm going to miss my flight. I know I am.

The guy next to me says I'll be getting into the airport at 8:30PM. My flight leaves at 8:45PM. I'm going to miss my flight.

I've been looking at the clock constantly. And it seemed like each minute that passed, was passing faster and faster. Time was not slow to a crawl.

Then the conductor calls to me in Spanish: "Hey," she says. "This is where you get off. Airport is across the street."

I look at the time. It's 8:15.

I think I can do this. The gate will close at 8:30. I have 15 minutes to clear security and make it. 

I carry my luggage and put my backpack on. It's extra weight.

I then sprint as fast as I could to the airport. I'm wearing boots. Not the best shoes.

I feel like throwing up. I feel the burning and the sharp pains when I breath. But I make it to the front doors of the airport.

I probably did it in five minutes. Good time. I'm breathing hard.

I slow down. It's not good to run in the airport. I walk fast passed the escalators.

I look at the line for security. Not too many people. I start putting all my stuff in my backpack.

I walk through the security gate. I chuck my bags through the x-ray machine.

The metal detectors beep. Must be the change I have in my pocket. Must be my belt. I put both through the x-ray machine.

I walk back out. I walk back in. No beeping. Yes. Breath. Breath.

I grab my bags. I grab my change and stuff it into my pockets. I'm breathing hard. I feel a sheen of sweat trapped between my shirt and skin. I'm breathing hard.

I grab my belt. I hold it in my hands, while walking quickly to the terminal. My pants are really loose and below my waist line. I gotta go.

I see the line to the terminal. It's boarding. There's people.

I made it. It's now 8:25PM. I get to the back.

Belt still in my hand. I'm still breathing hard. I feel relieved. I can't put the belt on, because I have to walk forward while people are boarding. I just want to put my belt on.

I board. I loop my belt through my pants. I tighten it.

I sit in my chair. I check the time when they close the gate door.

It's 8:35. I did it with ten minutes. Not bad, today.

Don't do this again, I tell myself. But I have a feeling, it'll happen again.

I'm happy with myself that I made it. It feels like some big accomplishment, like running a marathon. (To be honest, I don't think I've ever got to the terminal in a large airport in 10 minutes, especially from the parking lot. That's pretty good.)

It's because I run a lot. At least that's what I want to tell myself.

I ask myself why did this go so wrong. For some reason, it was difficult for me to find the airport bus during rush hour traffic, which is one big mess in Lima. There's really nothing like it. Lima traffic is an organized chaos. It has a life of it's own.

It reminded me of a a person's arteries and veins that are clogged. Each car and bus was like different blood cells. And there was blockage and slow movement and a chaotic organization somehow. Lima traffic is like a living and nightmarish ecosystem.

I also wasn't expecting traffic, which increased the time to the airport by more than double. I wasn't expecting traffic to come to grinding halts.

Not knowing all this was a big mistake. I should have left 3 or 3 and a half hours from my hostel.

Anyways, lesson learned. And I made it.

I wondered, though to myself, if deep down inside, in my subconscious, if I enjoy almost missing flights - the feeling of my heart pumping, my minding actively thinking what to do if I miss my flight, and the rush of it all. (I have not always been fortunate and have missed flights, but somehow I talk my way out of such situations and get on the next one.)

Do I really enjoy it deep inside? I hope not.

I'm up north, near the rainforest. It's another concrete jungle city, like the one in Ecuador, called Coca. I was there last year, and you can read about it here. The Amazon Rainforest

I don't know why I came up here. I just made the decision and came. I booked the ticket the day before. I was bored of Lima and needed somewhere to go. Lima is in the middle of the country, and I wanted to travel in one direction: either North or South. I decided to start North and head Southward.

I told myself: You have nowhere to go. You have no one to meet. Let's keep it that way. I'm lost and don't need to be found.

It's not like I loved the rainforest last time. But, coming here made me think of my new nameless fish, who I bought a girlfriend for. They're both originally from South America. I hope they're both alive when I come back. I hope they're happy now with each other. Watching them swim so playfully was enjoyable.

Well, starting here lets me travel southward, until I make it to Cusco, later, which is the Southern city to see Machu Pichu and the Sacred Valley.

Write to you guys more later. 

Letter from a French Mansion in Lima, Peru

Dear Everyone:

Today, I arrived early in the morning into Lima, Peru. The flight was a little over eight hours. It was an easy flight. I ate dinner, while watching one movie. (I saw Logan, and I found it very disturbing, especially the fact that children were portrayed as heroes and heroines for acting out brutal acts of violence. Very disturbing; indeed.) Despite the movie, I slept a little, and when I woke up I was in Peru.

On the airplane, I saw the mountain peaks poking through a blanket of clouds, which looked more like a layer of white and shiny liquid crystal. Against the morning sun, the mountain tops looked like black and grey and granite shark fins, popping out of white sea foam. Never seen that before, but it was an awesome sight.

Everything about getting to Lima was easy. No traffic to LAX. No problems at the airport, except TSA seemed meaner than usual.

Right when I landed in Lima, there was no queue to get passed immigration. You didn't even have to fill out any paperwork. The immigration officer took my passport. Looked at it. And stamped it.

Then, I took a five minute walk to the bus stop. The bus knew where to take me. It took about 40 minutes. I paid $1 for the ride.

Like the start of many of my trips, (perhaps all of them since I came back home), it felt bittersweet. I had so many conflicted feelings about leaving. Part of me wants to stay at home and be with my family. Incidentally, we have a new member of the family, a hatched chick. It's only five days old, and they (it's gender neutral now, which appears in vogue now in America), brings much joy to my mother.

This time, my cat Jeh Pan seemed to know that I was leaving. I guess he's picked up on the rhythm of when I'm leaving home. He laid down on the titled kitchen floor. (It's cooler to the touch, especially on a hot summer day.) He put his head down and seemed down.

I asked my mom, "What's wrong with Jeh Pan?"

She said, "I think he knows you're leaving."

I finished my last appellant opening brief for the court in Tuttle's case. Perhaps, I'll write more about it later. But in general, regarding litigation, I feel burnt out. I think I've repeated that phrase a number of times in the last few months: "Burnt Out". The Chinese say "Jia you," when you're burnt out. It means: Add fuel, like you're driving on empty.

I don't know if that's how Chinese people feel. For me, I just feel toasted and hollowed out and purified (or destroyed) by fire. Fire does that. It tests you and puts you through trial (no pun intended). A spiritualist told my mother once that I was a child, born of the fire element.

The courts have not been our friend in this last round of litigation. It has let Baldwin Park get away from not releasing records, not obeying orders, and thus, keeping up with their corruption. So, I need a break.

I only have a one way to South America; so, I don't really have any plans on coming back, unless there's something urgent.

I guess that's why I was kind of sad to leave. I didn't get to say goodbye to everyone that I wanted to. But I wanted to thank everyone who has supported me and all those who helped me get this trip off the ground.

(Incidentally, before I left, I bought my male blue ram cichlid a girlfriend. He didn't like her at first, but the two seemed to be getting along better before I left. I'm glad; I didn't want him to be alone. No one should be alone. And, I just wanted to randomly mention my quirky fixation on understanding, studying and connecting with animals to better know about relationships, cycles, disease, aging, life and death.)

Male Blue Ram Cichlid
Incidentally, they come from South America.

People have asked me how long I'm staying? What I'm going to do? Where I'm going?

To all three questions, the honest answer is: I don't know. I don't have any plans. I really don't.

Last time that happened to me, I ended up staying in New Zealand for three and a half years.

I don't know anyone down here. And, I only have a one way ticket, a backpack full of books, and a carryon with clothes.

Let's see where this trip takes me. I'm just wandering now.

I think I feel like the Californian writer John Steinbeck, when he traveled on the Pacific. He said, "I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found.” ― From Travels with Charley: In Search of America.

City of Baldwin Park Worst Offender in Tow Scandal According to Civil Grand Jury

Royal Coaches is Baldwin Park's Hired Tow Company

The Los Angeles Civil Grand jury released a report this week that has found Baldwin Park the worst offender in Los Angeles County of an ongoing police-tow scandal. The news is relevant, especially given You can find the report here. Abridged Civil Grand Jury Report.

The towing scam worked like this. The Baldwin Park Police would target undocumented drivers at DUI checkpoints. They would then tow and impound the car for 30 days. The fees would be in the thousands of dollars, and the owner would lose the car at auction.

According to the report, Baldwin Park failed Due Process by not notifying those it impounded cars from, charged extraordinary administrative fees, and towed the most cars of any city, raking in millions for Royal Coaches and the Baldwin Park Police.

On June 21, 2017, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeal also held that cities can no longer hold a car for 30 days, unless it has probable cause (a fancy way of saying there needs to be some evidence) that releasing the car would cause danger to the public. Holding a car any longer than necessary violated the rights of the owner of the vehicle, under our Fourth Amendment Right to be free from an unreasonable seizure.

What the report didn't say, because the City Council fought the court order to release records is that over a 5 year period, Baldwin Park towed 15,247 cars, making $12 million between the City and the tow company. The City essentially used the police department to steal all that property to enrich certain members. Who are they? How come they don't tell us?

Since Manny Carrillo, the Director of Parks and Recreation tried to shut down the boxing club, I've been pointing out how corrupt this city is. Now, even the courts have come to find the same conclusion. (The problem, however, has been that nobody wants to prosecute these people making these decisions and hold them accountable.)

The city officials and administrators, like the Mayor and Council Members, are professional thieves that add no value to our City. Instead, they just take, and many of them don't even live here, like the Mayor. In my mind, it really makes me wonder why we need to be taxed and why we even need a city council. (A small percentage of our taxes are going to services, and it seems like most of it is getting laundered to corrupt players.) I think our lives are just fine without having a city council.

The residents of this City are poor. The last thing they need is for oppressive city officials and an oppressive police force to make their lives harder than it needs to be.

Remember, "Justice is conscience, not a personal conscience but the conscience of the whole of humanity. Those who clearly recognize the voice of their own conscience usually recognize also the voice of justice." -Aleksander Solzhenitsyn

On What It Means to Be Redeemed: A Milestone in My Life

Prodigal Son by Rembrandt
(I saw in St. Petersburg, Russia). 

Yesterday, I was feeling kind of down after a difficult week, but I received a letter in the mail that changed my mood. I opened it, and it was a check for a modest sum of money. (I told you finding that pearl was a good sign; you can read about it HERE). 

I smiled. I showed it to my mother, and she asked,"How much is it for?"

I said, "That's not important. It's enough to pay off the last of my student loan."

"Really?"

"Yup. That's it. It's over. I'm free. Told you that pearl was good luck."

"Maybe, huh? Well, you're lucky to live with me. That's how you paid off your loans so quickly."

"That is true. I'm so glad it's over."

I looked at the check. I looked at it again. It wasn't because it was a large sum of money, no. But it was about the right amount I needed to pay off the last of my student loan. It represented my freedom, and I was so happy to feel free: Free at last. Debt really is bondage.

For five years, it's felt like a millstone around my neck. I remember leaving law school, wondering how am I going to pay off this huge loan (which stays with you until you die, because you can't file bankruptcy against it).

This morning, I thought about it. Really, with my student loans gone, my life reads like a Grimm's Fairy Tale. The fairy tale would go like this.

Once upon a time, two poor foreigners from another land married and had two children in the Wastelands. This Wasteland was so bad, all the children stayed poor when they grew up and never made it to a good school. And the family didn't have much money, but the father always worked extra hours so that his children had books to read. Even though they didn't read much, they always told their children to read.

When his son became a teenager, he realized that the only way out of this Wasteland was going to be for him to do better on examinations than the smart and rich kids all across the kingdom. So, he told himself this every day for four years. And, because his grades were so good, the state decided to pay for his entire undergraduate education. 

At the State Academy, he struggled at first, but worked very hard, competed and did well, receiving an education in literature and biology. 

Afterwards though, he decided he needed a break and lived in a foreign land for awhile. In the new land, they too gave him an education, a job in technology, and made him a subject to enjoy the benefits of the new land.

But, in the other kingdom, the state academy called him back and offered him a spot to study law. It was his dream to be a lawyer and go to a good jurist school. At the time, 8,000 students applied for 320 spots. He was picked.

Sadly although the school would pay some, he was going to have a heavy burden of debt. (Especially, because the legal job market was one of the worst in history.) In any event, he decided to go. Graduated. And took the state law exams and passed. But still had debt.

Upon passing the exams, he found the people running the Wastelands, where he grew up, to be terrible and corrupt administrators, oppressing and stealing from the people. But fighting them wasn't going to really make him any money. And he had a crisis of faith on how he was going to make a living, pay off his debt, learn lawyering, and challenge those in power. 

But in time, other people, like his fair godmother and godfathers, saw what the new lawyer was doing and supported him. So, in five years time of graduating, he was free from debt. 

And at this is the point, this is where we're at in this saga, which is still ongoing.

[To be continued . . .]

I'm just grateful I made it against all the odds. And I'm very grateful to be free and out of debt. I'm very grateful to the one who decided I was worth it to free me, not because of anything I've done, but because of his own goodness and kindness and forgiveness. In short, to be redeemed means that someone pays a price to buy you from the bondholder; so that you can be free and know what that feels like and is.

I wanted to end this post with a parable Jesus told that I'm reminded of. In Luke 7, a prostitute spends a great fortune on perfume and pours it on Jesus' feet and cleans his feet with her tears and hair. A teacher of the law sees this and is disgusted, because the woman's lifestyle made her filthy. (He's probably also upset that all that money went to waste.) The teacher of the law says, "If this man really were a prophet, he would know who this woman is who is touching him[.]"

So, Jesus asks his apprentice a question. He tells Simon that there are two who are in debt. One owes 500 silver coins. One owes 50 coins. Then asks Simon, who would be more grateful of being forgiven his debt? And Simon answers, obviously, the one who owed 500.

And Jesus then states, whoever has been forgiven of much loves much. Whoever has been forgiven of little loves little. Stop and think for a moment why would someone spend so much on perfume and do what she did.

Personally, I've been forgiven a lot; so, I need to remember that and show it more often.

How to Start a Social Revolution (Part 1 of the Change Series)

The Rage, Flower Thrower
by Banksy

Today, I'm convinced that we are in desperate need of change. In America, it appears that a seething anger is brewing against the players controlling corporations and governments; they are also known as the 1%. So, how are things going to change? And how do we bring it about?

The answer to this question almost always fall into one of two answers: violence and non-violence. In other words, does might make right? I've spent a considerable amount of time reading what others before me have said.

To be honest, I was actually unhappy and disturbed to hear the answer of some in the nonviolence camp, some of who actually argue that we have to talk to those in power with reason and that reason will change them. Andre Trocme, who I highly respect, advocated this.

So does, Scilla Elworthy, a peace activist. She says in her TED talk (you can listen to it here: Fighting with Nonviolence): " . . . but it is hopeless to be angry with the people. They are human beings just like us. And they're doing what they think is best. And that's the basis on which we have to talk with them."

Her talk echoes the same belief as Trocme: The enemy could be reasoned with, which I don't know if I agree with. I do agree, though, that she's probably right that it's hopeless to be angry at these people.

I laughed to myself when I heard the idea about reasoning with the tyrants. I thought about our Mayor and City Council and our City Attorney and manager and thought sarcastically:

Oh, like they're really going to listen to reason. Please stop stealing from our funds, because it's making everyone in the City worse off. And you're promoting poverty by doing it. And people need to have a future, and you're stealing from their future too. 

And by the way, lying, cheating, and stealing is morally wrong and promotes a culture where you say it's ok for everyone to do. So, please stop, even though you're taking millions of dollars from us to buy your nice houses and cars. Just stop. Please, so everyone can be better off.

I don't think that's going to work with these people or other tyrants in power. Nonetheless, I completely agree with Elworthy when she says this about bullies and tyrants:

"Bullies use violence in three ways. They use political violence to intimidate, physical violence to terrorize and mental or emotional violence to undermine. And only very rarely in very few cases does it work to use more violence."

It's easy to see why violence or the use of force or power becomes more attractive when tyrants are violent, immoral, sociopathic, and indecent. And in my view, violence isn't limited to just the use of force. It encompasses the evil tactics of lying, cheating, stealing, and defaming others too, as I mentioned in my post on: On Honoring or Profaning God's Name

And the reason these methods don't work, is really; one evil regime is being placed by another one, though it is true, it can be the lesser of evils. No; really, a social revolution or change has to be focused on having good and just governance from the start. And I believe this will never happen, when it is founded and started by immorality, violence, and deception.

So, what's the answer? The starting point is for all of us to do our part to hold ourselves and those who govern us to a higher standard. This, I'm convinced of. What does it mean? That in times like this, we're called "to be strong and courageous." (Joshua 1:6).

Trocme argues in his sermon that we're called to oppose a tyrannical society, because in the end, we're all morally accountable to God first, and we all have a part in enabling that tyranny.

That means, it's not good enough to use as an excuse that you or I did something that you and I know is wrong, because our boss told us too, or that we're afraid of losing our job. That's a price that all of us have to pay; so, in the end, when we give an accounting of our thoughts, words, and actions we can say that we did the right thing - even though there was a cost in doing so, like the heroes and heroines that came before us.

In short, no tyrant can exist without people following his or her evil orders. And if we all do our part to not obey such evils, whether you're a citizen or an employee of such tyrants, then I believe that such a regime will be destroyed and come to an end.

What's the tyrant going to do? Shout more orders and shout louder, when no one is listening? That's why all of us should no longer participate in carrying out and empowering such people in power.

I end with the message Jesus announced in the synagogue, after being tempted by Satan. He quotes from Isaiah, a book of the prophets, that the time for forgiveness, mercy, freedom, and equality is now. He says:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has chosen me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free the oppressed
and announce that the time has come
when the Lord will save his people. (Luke 4:18-19).