“This morning Solomon gave me the Byrd(s).” In Berlin, #4 (reading time 1:27)

Man, the 60’s was a great decade for music: Beatles, Rolling Stones, Cream (Clapton), Bob Dylan, The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, The Who, Procol Harem, Jefferson Starship, etc. …and the Byrds. I was right in the middle of it (my Hippie season…actually I’m back again). It was a time of passionate outpourings for the causes of social justice, the environment, arts, peace and freedom of expression. It was time of revolution.

I was reading the first part of Ecclesiastes from the Old Testament this morning. Written by Solomon, this is his message analyzing the life’s experiences and a critical essay about its meaning. Are all of life’s experiences, pursuits and efforts meaningless, like “chasing the wind?” Then he zings (oft forgotten biblical term) you in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8…and that’s when my MP1 (Memory Player) kicked on:

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time for peace, I swear its not too late.

A final reflection about my visit to Berlin: History records us. Its pages turn with narratives of exploration & discovery, dreams & pathways, anguish & victories, obstacles & light, expression & tyranny, wine & blood. History’s consistency is change. Turn, turn, turn. (To everything there is a season.) Turn, turn, turn. (And a time for every purpose under heaven.) Turn, turn, turn.

We can keep opening the doors.

I swear it's not too late.

I swear it's not too late.

I swear it is not too late.

The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind.

For emphasis.

(b)