The Vibrations of Words

by

Ettore Grillo

Copyright © 2012.

All rights reserved by Ettore Grillo.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical

including photocopying, recording, taping or by ant

information retrieval system, without the permission in writing

of the publisher .

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Book Design/Layout by Kalpart. Visit www.kalpart.com

ISBN:

978-1-62516-216-8

TO MY UNCLE SALVATORE GRILLO

4

FOREWORD

The spiritual quest has been a popular theme in fiction and

autobiography from

The Pilgrim’s Progress to The Razor’s

Edge

. It often takes the form of a picaresque journey, exploring

strange lands, people, and beliefs.

Another time-honored formula is conveying the wisdom of

experience from a trusted elder to a fresh and receptive

member of the younger generation.

The desire to seek answers to the big questions in life

comes to all of us—if we are prepared to think at all—

irrespective of any material or social success we may have

enjoyed. The quest may be internal: studying, reading, and

meditating in monk-like isolation. Or it may be undertaken

through practical encounters with real people in their own

environment.

The author has attempted the latter—traveling to lands far

from his native Sicily—to see how different cultures and

religious groups manifest their beliefs. He relates his story

through a dialogue with a young nephew, acting as amanuensis.

We learn that one motive is to help the uncle overcome the

residue of inadequacy from childhood: his shyness, anxiety,

and panic attacks as well as the trauma of a misplaced sense of

guilt over the deaths of two acquaintances.

We join him in a theatre group, in an Apostolic church, in

an esoteric lodge in Sicily, in Osho’s Resort in Pune, and on a

tour of the Holy Land. The various practices range from the

mainstream to the bizarre: astrology, mantras, gibberish, and

white robes.

What is refreshing is how easily the uncle encourages the

5

people he encounters to explain their belief systems and the

meanings of their various rituals, costumes, and artifacts as

well as how open they are to inviting him to take part, such as

when he attends a Sabbath service in Nazareth. Although he

remains a firm Catholic after his sampling, he can maintain

with total honesty: “I follow all religions.”

This naive questioning approach, in the best sense, has

helped the uncle overcome many of his problems, and as he

says, “expel the garbage” from his system. This is a practice

most of us would find beneficial. His main question was to ask

about life after death. This book does not provide the answer,

but its clear and straightforward questions help us understand

the viewpoints of a great number of believers.

You may well find something here that seems right for your

own spiritual quest. Conversely, and possibly of even greater

value, it might help you decide what you should avoid to

prevent a waste of your own precious life.

Derek Williams

22nd March 2012

6

PROLOGUE

It is not easy to create a literary work. There are many

kinds of books: technical, scientific, handbooks, grammar

books, tour guides, and more. If you have good skills and

background, you can write a grammar, medicine, or mathematics

book. But when your main aim is to express what is inside your

heart, then things change radically. It is difficult to find the

right words to make the plot and the story gripping.

Words should manifest inner thoughts, but often they are

not able to convey ideas. Words should mirror the mind, but

sometimes they misrepresent concepts and feelings. It may

happen that, without willing it, we hurt others with our words,

while our intention is to praise them.

Whenever I attended important meetings, I worried about

finding the right words for expressing my concepts. The same

happened to me at school; when I was a student, I had

difficulty expressing what I learned in words or in good style.

My difficulties were so great that one of my teachers spurred

me to answer his questions in Sicilian dialect, as what mattered

for him was the concept, not the form. Anyway, now I am a

writer, and I have to tell what is harbored inside me.

How does one start to write a book? And once I have made

such a decision, how do I know if it is better to write fiction or

nonfiction? I feel a fire inside me, a volcano filled with lava

ready to erupt. How can I turn a vague feeling and a wish to

communicate ideas into written words?

Once there was a great Italian poet who withdrew from the

world. Secluded in his tower, he wrote wonderful poems,

which were handed down to generations.

7

Maybe I should do as he did to create good writing,

I

thought.

I talked with a Korean poet, who is my friend, about

writing that springs from the solitude of the author.

She changed my mind when she declared, “If you seclude

yourself in order to produce a novel or a poem, your writing

will not be good. It will be dead writing. What you write

should be full of life, indeed! If you live your own life fully

and at the same time, write something, then you will produce

sound writing, which will be really interesting to read, not only

interesting but also useful and a bearer of life and happiness as

well. Words,” she added, “are like seeds. If you sow good

seeds, they will sprout and flower. And passing from mouth to

mouth, they will spread their beneficial energy to the whole

universe. Even God will be pleased on hearing your words.

They have their own energy and fragrance that are like

boomerangs. The fruits of your words will come back to you.

So we have to be alert when we say something.”

I meditated upon those words, which came from my

Korean friend poet. I recalled an episode that caused a

sensation in my town when I was a student at the high school.

A young girl had killed herself in her car. I still remember her

blue car and even her license plate number. She had fired a gun

against her head. A book was found close to her. She had read

that book before committing suicide. Was it possible that

reading that book gave rise to her self-destruction?

Suicide has several coincidental causes, indeed. In that

case, the final cause might have been reading that book, whose

words were not favorable to life.

Hence, I want mine to be a living writing; a wholesome

writing that creates good energy and improves the lives of

those people who read it.

A friend of mine, who was a lawyer in Palermo, used to go

to a bookstall and purchase a randomly chosen book. He said

that doing so took him away from his tendency to read books

that only strengthened or corroborated his ideas on life and

how to live it, his relationships with others, or his personal

views in every field of political and social life. The book

8

chosen by chance opened to him new horizons, which

otherwise he would never discover.

Someday, someone will randomly pick up this book from a

bookstall and will come in contact with the vibrations of

words.

9

Memoir

PART I

When I was a university student, I used to spending my

evenings strolling the streets with my friends. We walked up

and down Via Roma chatting about this and that. One evening,

while I was standing with my friends at Piazza San Francesco,

I received a call from my Uncle Salvatore. He asked me to join

him at his old house, which he had kept even though he was

now a rich man and lived in a very gorgeous, new apartment.

He has received many proposals from people interested in

buying that old building to construct a new apartment block,

but he always refuses to sell the house, which had belonged to

his father and his grandfather. According to him, one should

never sell an ancestor’s house.

From time to time, he still enjoyed withdrawing to the

rooms where he was born and grew up. There he used to write,

pray, listen to music, and meditate. Now, at the age of ninetytwo,

his sight was weak, and he got tired in front of a

computer. It was not easy for him to write and proofread, as he

once had. He trusted me very much and considered me one of

his children.

Usually, the front door of his old house was kept open until

nighttime and then locked once he decided to go home. From

the main door, a white marble staircase led to the upper floors.

At the top of the first flight, a door on the right led to a hallway,

which on one side had two rooms full of old stuff. In these two

rooms, my grandfather’s brother had lived. He was called

The Vibrations of Words

10

Uncle Vanni (a diminutive of Giovanni).

He had lived in those rooms until he immigrated to the

United States. Nobody had occupied that part of the house

since then. No one had entered his rooms for at least fifty

years. The furniture, the bed, the couches, and the console table

with its fine-framed mirror had been covered and carefully

protected with wide sheets at the moment of his departure.

Uncle Vanni’s personal belongings were still there intact and

untouched. Mute reminders of a presence long gone, they still

waited for the improbable return of their owner. The balcony

that overlooked Via S. Agata remained shut, and nobody

opened it anymore.

My grandfather loved his brother so much and kept hoping

he would come back from America. They corresponded with

each other by mail until the end of my grandfather’s life. As for

me, I had shivers of fear whenever I passed by those rooms. I

felt like the souls of my ancestors haunted them.

On the left side of the hallway, a door led outside to an area

full of rubble thanks to a bombing during the Second World

War. Another left reveals a staircase that leads down to a space

first used as a stable and then as a garage for the parking and

maintenance of the firm’s trucks.

At the beginning of the second flight on the right side was

another room used as a storeroom. At the end of the staircase,

there were two locked doors; one led to the rooms that once

housed the shipping company established by my father and

uncles. The other door led to a vestibule and another room

where my youngest uncle, Giovanni, used to live. From the

vestibule, an iron staircase led to the kitchen that my Uncle

Salvatore uses as his writing room. He transformed the

cupboard into a bookcase, and he kept his scripts inside the

drawers. Even though it was an old house, he maintained it

quite well. The walls were recently painted white, and in the

kitchen, a set of floodlights was installed.

Whenever I received a call from my Uncle Salvatore, I quit

everything and I put myself at his disposal. In fact I loved him

and held him in great esteem. I left my friends who kept

Memoir Part 1

11

strolling, and I headed for my uncle’s house. I knocked at the

door, and he came down.

He was a thickset man; his hair was not completely white

and still thick in spite of his age. He was proud to say he never

used shampoo. When he soaped his face, he used the same

soap in his hair. Whenever he spoke his lips had a faint smile,

so sometimes you felt like he was teasing you.

As soon as he opened the door, I gave him the customary

kiss on his cheek, and then we headed towards the kitchen. He

sat down on his rocking chair and I took a seat. There was a

laptop on the bench in front of me.

In the room a glass door led to the terrace, but there were

no windows; there were only openings at the height of around

two meters from the floor. They looked onto the roof covered

with old style Sicilian tiles. Soft background music filled the

floodlit room. My uncle loved light, and for that reason, he

never hung any curtains.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Yesterday, I had a meeting with my brothers. We had

some arguments, and my youngest brother, Giovanni, claimed

he had made our family’s fortune. He has written a memoir,

which he plans to hand out to his brothers, sisters, nephews,

and nieces. In it he explains his truth about our company and

how he made our family wealthy.”

“Do you think the events happened differently?”

My uncle’s face warmed up. “Yes, I do! The reality is

totally different, indeed. I made the wealth for our family. So I

want you to write down my memoir, which I will hand down to

my children, my brothers and sisters, their children, and the

progenies to come. I want you to type my memoir on the

laptop. I’ll dictate the actual events to you.”

“Okay, Uncle Salvatore, I’ll do as you want. I am ready.

How long do you think it will take to write the entire memoir?”

“Two or three days will be enough.”

“We can meet up here every evening, at around eight.

Usually I study until seven o’clock, and then I go for a walk

with my friends in Via Roma for an hour. So eight o’clock in

The Vibrations of Words

12

the evening should be the right time.”

My uncle nodded and opened a folder with many

handwritten sheets inside. Then he turned to me.

“As a title, write the following:

Salvatore Grillo’s Memoir:

A Reply to the Memoir of Giovanni, His Younger Brother

. And

dedicate it to the Brothers Grillo and their family members.

Then continue like that: The memoir written by Giovanni, who

considers me the main culprit of the missed merger of our

companies, obliges me to write down my defense. He says that

I could not exonerate myself. Therefore, I have the duty to give

this written justification, in order that our children and

grandchildren shall know why our companies did not merge. I

want them to know the real and documented story of the firm

Grillo Haulage.

“It is unfortunately true that in the past we were not in the

habit of writing down our resolutions to make them official.

That was a real pity! For now we would have much more

evidence. Although Giovanni’s memoir does not contain

inaccuracies, he has told only the recent events and not the

beginnings of our company. Let me tell the story of our firm

from the establishment until the split into two firms. Allow me

to explain and write, as I am the elder brother and founder of

Grillo Haulage.”

I blindly typed on the laptop what my uncle was dictating

to me. I did not have any evidence to judge whether the truth

was from his brother, Giovanni, or from him. Both of them

were my uncles, as my father’s brothers, and I thought highly

of them. Probably both of them were right, and they were

reporting in their respective memoirs two distinct phases in the

history of Grillo Haulage.

My uncle dictated in a calm and low voice. His words were

seemingly detached, but they vibrated with inner energy. He

spoke without interruptions or hesitations. His words denoted

the temper of a great businessman.

Then he continued, “Our company came to light in the

month of July of the year 1930, when I, the undersigned,

discharged from military service, precisely at the end of the

Memoir Part 1

13

month of June of the year 1930.”

“Is it necessary, Uncle Salvatore, to give so many details? I

think it is important to describe how things happened, passing

over the minutiae. How can it matter if the company was born

at the end of the month of June or at the beginning of July?”

“That is my style!” replied my uncle. “Everybody has his

own way of talking and writing. I want to be myself, the person

I really am. On the other hand, if people get bored while

reading my memoir, they are free to skip over it. Anyway, I

want you to type like that!”

I looked at my uncle dumbstruck, and I winced.

Nevertheless, I did not retort, as I had been raised to show

respect to my elder relatives. I looked at his lips, which were

thin like two knife blades. Quite soon, he noticed he had hurt

me with his dry tone and authoritarian manner, and his face

became good-natured.

“Okay, let’s take a break. I’ll prepare a cup of tea. An

acquaintance of mine brought me a special herbal tea from

India.” He got up from his rocking chair and headed for the

cooking stove.

The kitchen was old style Sicilian complete with brickwork

and shining white tiles decorated with blue floral patterns.

Within a few minutes, the tea was ready. My uncle poured

it in two cups on a tray and served it.

“This tea is excellent! How did you make it?”

“For sweetening it, I used some honey of our land. It is one

hundred percent natural. Moreover, I squeezed a lemon from

our garden as well as adding some mint.”

“I didn’t know you were so good at making tea.”

“Oh, I am also a good cook,” he added with pride. “If you

like tomorrow evening I want to try a special plate made just

for you, possibly along with a glass of good wine. At the break

time, I’ll prepare macaroni with tomato sauce, eggplants, and

salty ricotta. As for wine, I have some very special old bottles

of wine from our country, but we should not drink alcohol now

because we must be thoroughly sober to write well. We’ll drink

wine once we complete the memoir. In two or three days, we

The Vibrations of Words

14

will finish our work, and you will enjoy a unique bottle of all

natural red wine, aged in a Sicilian oak barrel. Now let’s go on

writing.”

I sat down again on the cushion, quite relaxed after the cup

of tea, and I started to type.

Then my uncle dictated, “When I got back home from my

military service, I was an expert mechanic. My father blindly

trusted me and allowed me to transform his small business,

which had been based on transportation and consignments

made by animal-drawn vehicles. I transported goods for others,

and in installments, I purchased our first truck, which had the

capacity of twenty-five quintals. I purchased the light grey SPA

truck, registering it in my father’s name. So the firm Grillo

Carmelo Haulage came to light.” My uncle swallowed against

the lump in his throat that seized him. He was too moved,

thinking back to that remote past. His eyes became bright with

suppressed tears. For a while he could not keep dictating.

On my own I wanted to interrupt him again, due to the

abundance of details in his report.

Why does the number of quintals matter? Why does the

brand name matter? Those are insignificant details

, I wanted

to say to him. But I didn’t, lest I hurt him again.

“Maybe tonight it is better to stop our work and go home,”

I said to my uncle.

“Are you getting bored?”

“No, I am not. But I have some work to finish. Let’s

continue tomorrow evening, and don’t forget to cook a plate of

macaroni, as you promised.” The truth was that I did not want

to tire my uncle. He was ninety-two years old.

“Okay, as you like. Let’s adjourn until tomorrow at eight

o’clock. During the day, I’ll prepare the tomato sauce, and I’ll

fry the eggplants. Here I will boil only macaroni, but it will

take just a few minutes.”

“Let’s go together. I’ll accompany you home.”

“Okay! I’ll set the sheets of notes in the drawer, and I’ll

turn off the light. Let’s go.”

My uncle’s residence was across the street. It was an

Memoir Part 1

15

apartment on the top floor of a new building. His second wife,

twelve years younger, was waiting for him. I said good night to

my uncle, kissing him Italian style, on both cheeks.

The next evening at eight o’clock, I knocked at the door of

the old house.

“I made a special sauce for this evening, but first we have

to go on writing the memoir. We’ll eat macaroni at the end of

our work or at break time according to the situation.”

I sat down on the cushion before the laptop, and my uncle,

sitting on his rocking chair with the sheets of notes in his

hands, started to dictate.

“The activity of our haulage firm went well from the

beginning because our customers relied on us. Our firm was

preferred over others because our truck never had a breakdown,

thanks to my good and continuous maintenance, which all

trucks needed at that time. The maintenance of our truck was

done exclusively by the undersigned. I apologize if it’s a sin of

self-importance, but I am obliged to say these things because,

at that time, you nephews were not yet born, and your fathers

were too young to remember.

“At that time in our town, many rival haulage firms were

born. Truck owners believed it was easy to maintain them. But

more than seventy years ago, believe me, the maintenance of a

truck was not so effortless.

“All the rival firms gave us keen competition. Our stiffest

competition came from Gioia, Campisi & Casalino, Bonasera

Giuseppe, Barilà Rosario, and Nicosia Mario. Not one of them

succeeded. Their trucks stalled continuously. Not one of them

could survive. All of them closed down!”

“How it was possible, Uncle Salvatore? Their trucks

stalled, and your truck was always in perfect working order?

Did you have a special truck?”

“No, I didn’t, but I had a good maintenance schedule. At

that time, many vehicles had problems with their cooling

systems. The fan belt broke down frequently, and the engine

could not cool properly. I invented and made a special fan belt

that never broke, so my truck was always circulating while my

The Vibrations of Words

16

competitors were grounded.”

“I see you were very clever, Uncle Salvatore, and a good

engineer as well. You were very professional, and all of us are

indebted to you. Now let’s take a break. My mouth is watering,

and I am looking forward to your macaroni with tomato

sauce.”

“Okay, save the work on the computer, and let’s sit down

to eat.”

My uncle took a white linen tablecloth from one of the

drawers and laid it on the table. Then he set two plates with

silverware and in the middle of the table, placed a big bowl.

I was sitting at table when he called me to the kitchen

stove.

“Come here, and smell it!”

He had brought from his home, already made tomato sauce

stored in a glass jar with a lid. When he twisted off the top, the

aroma of the sauce was irresistible.

“Try it,” He put a little bit of tomato sauce in a teaspoon

and handed it to me.

“What have you done, Uncle Salvatore? I have never had

such a tasty sauce! Do you have a special secret recipe?”

“Yes, I have my secret for making a good Sicilian tomato

sauce.”

“What is this secret recipe? If it’s not too impertinent of

me.”

“First of all, I cut the green onions into very small pieces.

Then I fry onions for a few minutes with the olive oil of our

country. Then I add salt, peeled tomatoes, and finally a half

teaspoon of sugar. This small amount of sugar is very

important, for it removes the sourness of the tomato. Last, I

season the sauce with two teaspoons of raw olive oil and small

leaves of basil. Our traditional Sicilian basil has small leaves.

The fragrance given by this kind of basil is unique. But,” he

continued, “the real secret is a circle of three. For cooking well,

you need three things: first, have good ingredients, second,

love cooking, and third, love the people for whom you are

cooking. In the end, love is at the base of everything!”

Memoir Part 1

17

We ate macaroni with gusto. It needed a glass of good

wine, but my uncle said no.

“Now let’s continue writing the memoir. We need to keep

our minds lucid.”

I sat on my cushion before the laptop, and my uncle began

to dictate again.

“In the meantime, our firm went on very well without any

hindrances. So your father, Alfredo, at that time fifteen years old,

helped in the business. My brother, Mario, left his apprenticeship

as a cabinetmaker and joined the enterprise. Giovanni, my

youngest brother, was twelve years old and kept studying, thanks

to his young age.

“When Giovanni finished middle school, he enrolled in the

technical high school of Piazza Armerina, which was almost

thirty kilometers away from Enna. At that time, public

transportation between the two towns was infrequent.

Therefore, many times I drove Giovanni to Piazza Armerina on

my red Moto Guzzi motorcycle, which had a five hundred

horsepower engine.”

Once again, my uncle’s predilections for details came out,

but I took good care not to tell him that those minutiae were

not appropriate to the writing of the memoir, lest he get angry.

I bit my tongue.

He stopped for a while in order to pull himself together

after the strong emotion of reliving those remote times. Then

he reordered his notes and kept dictating.

“Therefore, the family workers in the firm Carmelo Grillo

Haulage—in fact the firm was in my father’s name—were we

three children: Salvatore, Mario and Alfredo, your father. We

continued in this way until the year 1935. Obviously, we all

felt the need to broaden our business to benefit our future

families.

“In 1935, the war between Italy and Ethiopia broke out, and

everyone hoped for good business possibilities in that faraway

land where the New Italian Empire was supposed to be born. . .

.”

“I think,” I said, interrupting my uncle, “this concept is too

The Vibrations of Words

18

large. You should be more specific. If not, the writing is not

good. It sounds bombastic.” I felt that my uncle might get

angry again due to my interruption, but this time he did not,

and I heaved a sigh of relief.

“Okay, you are right, the concept is too large.”

“Dictate to me, Uncle Salvatore, the events of that time,

one by one.”

“Okay, I say again. We were four brothers who worked in

our small enterprise. Giovanni, the youngest, was still studying,

but he was helpful in the firm as well. The firm was too small

to feed four families. Sooner or later, we brothers would be

married with children. We needed to give space to our business

for it to grow.

“Is it better like that, Ettore? Are the events more fluid?”

“Yes, it is, Uncle Salvatore. Your story is much clearer

now. Keep dictating what happened. I anticipate it will be very

interesting.”

“Yes, it is, indeed. In the year 1935, the war between Italy

and Ethiopia broke out. I hoped that in that faraway land, new

business opportunities would be born for all Italian enterprises.

The Italian government aimed to give birth to the New Italian

Empire.

“To help my brothers grow our small firm from Enna, I

decided to embark on an African adventure. Therefore, with an

installment plan, I purchased a Fiat 633N truck with a capacity

of fifty quintals at a bargain price. With this truck I boarded a

ship bound for Africa in early February 1936.

“Once at our destination in Ethiopia, I immediately started

working because I had to pay the installments, which came due

every month. We Italians worked very well, despite all kinds of

danger. I was lucky. God protected me, and I emerged

unharmed from many difficult situations. Sometimes my

actions put me at risk, but I miraculously avoided bad

encounters with rebels.

“One night, I had in mind to leave Addis Ababa with my

truck and head for one of the Italian army outposts. I was eager

to leave and get paid as much as possible for shipment. For me

Memoir Part 1

19

it was not a problem to travel at night. I had a strong body, and

I could go for a long time without sleeping. Two other trucks

were due to travel with me. I was about to leave when an

acquaintance of mine from Enna came close to me and

whispered in my ear.

“‘Don’t leave tonight!’

“I still remember the family name of my fellow citizen; it

was Di Prima.

“‘Why I should not leave? My truck is already fully

loaded!’

“‘I overheard that to get to the outpost where you are

planning to go, you have to cross over a road that runs uphill

through a gorge.’

“‘Don’t worry,’ I answered. ‘Our army looks after us very

well.’

“‘No! The army cannot control every parcel of land, and I

overheard that the rebels kidnap truck drivers and then, after

cutting off their testicles, they kill them.’

“I turned pale at the words of my fellow citizen. I did not

set off that night, and it was my salvation. In fact the other two

trucks that left Addis Ababa that night were ambushed, and the

drivers were kidnapped. Their bodies were never found. I am

sure that an angel disguised as my fellow citizen, Di Prima,

saved my life!”

“I didn’t know, Uncle Salvatore, that it was so dangerous to

travel in Africa at night.”

“It was wartime and we Italians were occupying Ethiopia.”

“How long did you stay in Africa?”

“Only three years.”

“Not so long.”

“Yes, I didn’t remain in Ethiopia for a long time. At the

beginning, I worked very hard, and I earned a lot of money.

The revenues were good until military operations were

underway. In the year 1937, the war in Spain escalated. The

work came less and less often. Moreover, there was also the

fear of a war in Italy. The government cut the expenses in

Africa.”

The Vibrations of Words

20

“So what did you do, Uncle Salvatore? I would think that it

cost a lot of money embarking and disembarking your truck.”

“Yes, you are right. It cost a lot. I kept working in Africa,

but one day I received a letter from my brother-in-law,

Francesco Virlinzi, who informed me he had received an offer

from Fiat to establish an authorized car dealership in Enna. My

brother-in-law invited me to return home to form a business

called Grillo Brothers & Virlinzi Fiat Car Dealers. The offer

was alluring, for we would be exclusive dealers in all the

provinces of Enna. I was a skilled engineer and I would assist

customers with their mechanical maintenance.”

“I guess you were hesitant when you received the invitation

from your brother-in-law.”

“Yes, I was. I enjoyed staying in Africa. I loved African

people, and many native Ethiopians were my friends.

Nevertheless, I appreciated the invitation from my brother-inlaw

very much. I considered that invitation as a sign of

affection instead of a matter of business. In Africa I was still

working quite well, but the horizon was turning dark.”

“So you came back to Enna soon after hearing from your

brother-in-law?”

“Not right away. I was hesitant for a little while, but at last

in February 1939—three years after arriving in Ethiopia—I

decided to come back to Italy.

“Upon my arrival in Enna, I agreed with my brothers and

my brother-in-law to create the Fiat car dealership. We signed

a contract with Fiat, and we immediately began a car

dealership for the province of Enna.”

“What happened to your truck, Uncle Salvatore? Did you

stop your haulage business after signing the contract with Fiat

to sell cars?”

“No, I kept my truck. But during my stay in Africa, the

firm, previously under my father’s name, changed to Carmelo

Grillo & Sons, formed by my father and my three brothers,

Mario, Alfredo, and Giovanni.”

“How did you manage without a firm? Did you work for

someone else’s firm?”

Memoir Part 1

21

“No, I didn’t. I created an individual firm under the name

Salvatore Grillo Shipping Haulage. Therefore, in 1939, I was

involved in two businesses: my individual haulage firm and the

Fiat car dealership, in partnership with my brothers Mario,

Alfredo, and Giovanni as well as my brother-in-law Francesco

Virlinzi.”

“Thus was born the firm Grillo & Virlinzi car dealers!” my

uncle added.

“We continued our activities with two separate haulage

companies and with the car dealership until 1940, when Italy

entered the war.”

“What happened? Uncle Salvatore, did you go to the army?

I confess that your memoir is very thrilling. If it continues like

this, we can publish it.”

My uncle smiled. “Yes, you are right. My life’s story could

have been written by a novelist’s pen. But now, let’s proceed,

for I have to hand over my memoir to my brothers as soon as

possible. When the war broke out, all the younger age groups

were called up for military service. My three brothers were

among the first.”

“What happened to their haulage company? You told me

that when you set off to Africa, they had formed the firm

Carmelo Grillo & Sons.”

“Yes, they had formed a firm along with my father,

Carmelo. So once they were in the army, it was only my father

in charge of the company.”

“How could your father manage to drive the trucks and take

care of the company? I think he would have been too old.”

“Yes. He was old and also sick. Your grandfather’s disease

was very serious and day by day, it was getting worse. In the

year 1941, due to the terrible cancer which was destroying him,

our father was not able to take care of the haulage company. In

fact he needed frequent treatments. He also underwent surgery.

In Enna at that time, the hospital was not well organized for

performing such complex surgical operations. It was necessary

to move your grandfather to Palermo and Catania. I accompanied

my father to those hospitals even during the bombings from

The Vibrations of Words

22

Anglo-American airplanes. The bombings were continuous, all

day and night.”

“Didn’t you go into the army, Uncle Salvatore? Why were

your brothers called up, and you remained in Enna?”

“I was the eldest brother. So my age group had not been

called up yet.”

“With the bombings could you manage Salvatore Grillo

Haulage?”

“Yes, it was still possible to work even in wartime, but I

neglected my business while staying close to your grandfather

and taking him to the hospitals. The firm Carmelo Grillo &

Sons, at that time, was completely neglected. My father asked

me to merge the two firms: Salvatore Grillo Shipping Haulage

and Carmelo Grillo & Sons. He wished me to take care of the

newly merged firm as best as I could. I was the only child who

remained at home, and the only one who could manage the

business with care. Obviously, I was indispensable at that time.

Without me everything would be lost. I don’t want to give the

impression I am a self-important person, but this is the truth.

During the war, I was the one who shaped the destinies of our

family’s businesses.”

“Did you hesitate, Uncle Salvatore, before merging the two

companies?”

“Usually I am a hesitant person, but at that time I accepted

the request from my father without any hesitation. I obeyed

immediately. In fact I couldn’t say no to him. First of all, he

was my father, and secondly, he was very seriously ill and

unable to take care of his business.”

“I think, Uncle Salvatore, maybe your father could have

found a good manager.”

“No, in wartime, it is impossible to find a good, honest

outside manager.”

“What happened to your individual firm? It remained alive

along with your father’s firm?”

“As I told you before, I obeyed my father right away. The

consequence was that on the first of April, 1941, I entered in

partnership with the firm Carmelo Grillo & Sons, closing my

Memoir Part 1

23

individual firm.”

“When you formed the new company, was your father the

one who handed his shares over to you?”

“No, my individual firm was too valuable. So when we

merged the two firms, the compensations were plain. My

individual company was worth one fifth of the new company.

Therefore, the modified new firm turned into Carmelo Grillo &

Sons: Salvatore, Mario, Alfredo, and Giovanni. I started

working with all my strength, and I honored all the

commitments I had given. At that time, I could count on a just

few valuable workers and trucks drivers. I took particularly

good care of the commitments with the Italian army.”

“What were your commitments with the army?”

“The most important was the transportation of munitions

and supplies for the garrison, which was in Enna. Under my

management, we implemented all our equipment and with the

earnings, we bought several immovable properties. In 1942, we

bought the house called Piazza, the storehouse named Termini,

and another house called Trimarchi.”

“The real estate you bought was important for your

trading?”

“Yes, of course. I bought, on behalf of the firm, only

strategic immovable properties. In fact Trimarchi was the new

building devoted to the trading of Fiats.”

“Unfortunately, in 1942 your grandfather died from the

terrible disease, which was torturing him; so I remained alone

in the business.”

“Your brothers were still in the army?”

“Yes indeed, it was wartime, and the Anglo-Americans had

not landed in Sicily yet. So, my brothers were all far from

Enna. Your father, Alfredo, served in Palermo at the motor

vehicle depot. He couldn’t come to Enna. Nowadays, a freeway

links Enna to Palermo, and in one hour, you can cover the

distance between the two cities. But at that time, it took at least

four hours.”

“Did any of your brothers come home on leave?”

“It was wartime, Ettore! It wasn’t so easy to get permission

The Vibrations of Words

24

to come back home. I was alone,” continued my uncle, “but I

didn’t lose heart. Just like an oak tree battered by strong winds

withstands the storm and gains strength from the heavy rains,

which bring water and vital elements to its roots, so I turned

difficult situations into opportunities for me and my brothers.”

At that moment, my uncle broke off his narration for a few

minutes. He closed his eyes, opened them, and then looked at

me.

“Now, I am recalling my sister Giuseppina’s words: ‘In

life, you can go in many directions, but above all, remember

one thing: Be correct! Always be honest in your life!’”

“Your sister Giuseppina is a good trader.”

“Yes, she is, but she is also a good person with a great heart

and love for her husband and children.”

“What is the secret for being a good trader?”

“Giuseppina, who is an excellent trader, used to say: ‘It is

difficult to make the first million lire. Then money will make

money.’

“To become a good trader, you must give value to money.

In our town, there is an old proverb: If the poor man finds a

cent in the street, he says: ‘It is nothing.’ If the rich man finds a

cent in the street, he says: ‘It is better than nothing.’

“Not to waste money is the secret of being a good

businessman. You have to love money, not for itself but for

what it represents. Money is a gift from God, and it is a sin not

to give it the right value. Do you remember the very rich

Scrooge? Well, if you become rich, you have to act like him.

Obviously, I am exaggerating, but that is to make a point. I

want you to be thrifty with your life. Saving money is also

useful to the community. We live in a small town where it is

possible to move from one place to another on foot. Well, few

people do that. Most people use their cars to cover very short

distances, and there are some who use their big SUVs, which

require a lot of fuel. The excessive fuel consumption triggers

the rise in fuel prices, and that also harms poor people who live

in underdeveloped countries. Do you know how to play

chess?”

Memoir Part 1

25

“Yes, of course, Uncle Salvatore.”

“Well, one evening we’ll play together, and I’ll

demonstrate that a pawn is also important, for sometimes it

allows you to checkmate. One cent is like a pawn. It can be

added to another cent, and more cents can make a Euro. It’s

important to get into good habits. Being thrifty is a good habit,

for sure.

“It’s like a football team. What matters is that the team gets

in the habit of playing well, and then the results will come. You

have to play well in your life, in order to become a good trader.

Being a sensible person with plenty of inner strength is

fundamental for coping with the difficult situations in your life.

“Difficulties will happen in our business. That is normal,

but managing them well means you have the capacity to

succeed. It is like being at the helm of a ship. There are no

problems when you are sailing in calm waters. However, if

your hand is limp on the tiller when large waves come, you

cannot overcome the critical moment.

“Predicaments in life are like breakers, and you cannot

avoid them unless you always opt for sailing near the coastline.

If you want to sail the oceans, be aware of the breakers! So be

thrifty and strong, and you will succeed. My sister, Giuseppina,

even when she became a billionaire, did not lose her habit of

peeling uncancelled stamps off envelopes and reusing them.”

“Besides your own situation, have you ever seen your

theory about being thrifty work in the business world?”

“Yes, Ettore. You must know that when we bought Piazza,

the ground floor was rented to a small factory, which

specialized in making couches. The quality of the product was

excellent, but the owner had difficulty paying the rent. His firm

was two years behind.”

“Why didn’t you give notice to evict?”

“I didn’t do that because I noticed the owner was a good

worker, and I wanted to help him. One day when I was passing

by his factory, I saw him making a couch. I asked for the rent,

but he gave excuses wanting to borrow money from me. I sat

down on a bench and looked at him.

The Vibrations of Words

26

“‘Let’s take a rest,’ I said with a calm voice. ‘Sit down and

let’s drink a cup of tea. I want to tell you my story.’

“We were drinking the tea and looking at each other when I

told him how I could buy the properties for me and my

brothers. I told him the story of my sister and the unused

stamps. I told him how I was thrifty and how my thrift was a

winning factor. The owner of the factory listened to me, but my

words did not seem to affect him. They sneaked into his heart,

however, and had the effect of a delayed-action bomb. After

one month, I went to his factory and oddly enough, I saw him

smiling.

“‘What happened?’ I thought.

“‘I followed your advice!’ he said to me with a happy face.

‘I cut the expenses. I concentrated the selling in one shop,

instead of two. I reduced the employees. And by eliminating

what sounded superfluous, now I am happy I can pay you the

rent.’

“He paid me three months’ rent in arrears, but what

surprised me was that he was happy. A good word can change

the life of a human being. No word is without consequences.

So always remember to speak well with the purest part of your

heart. That will be of great benefit to people around you.”

I listened to my uncle who was sure that his theory about

cutting the expenses worked. But, I had some hesitations about

accepting his way of resolving economic issues.

“According to your theory, to become rich you must be

mean?” I waited for my uncle’s reaction, fearing he would get

angry; instead, he remained imperturbable.

“I don’t say you have to live a miserable life. On the

contrary, to become rich you have to enjoy your life. You just

have to cut the expenses by eliminating the superfluous: what

you don’t need and what doesn’t improve your life. All the

money you spend must give you an advantage, a joy. Instead

we often waste money without having any benefit. Spending

useless money is like smoking cigarettes. I cannot understand

what kind of pleasure one gets from smoking.

“You have to know that an establishment’s assets are

Memoir Part 1

27

divided into material assets and immaterial assets. One of the

most important immaterial assets is the set up or the

enterprise’s capacity to be alive. An individual makes a good

enterprise with his energy and good heart.”

“When I studied the classics at school, one poet I studied

maintained that the secret of a good life lies in drifting along.

His motto was carpe diem. I think, Uncle Salvatore, he might

be right. In fact we don’t know what is going to happen the

following day. We could be alive or dead; therefore, it is better

to enjoy life without giving up anything. I cannot understand

people who sacrifice themselves for some target, whatever it

might be. So, why be thrifty when you can spend money and

enjoy your life?”

My uncle was pleased by my question, and he had the air of

someone thoroughly familiar with this issue. He was sure of his

answer.

“There are two ways to live life. One you just described: as

human beings are not immortal, we should enjoy life fully.

After we die, we cannot live this kind of human life anymore,

so why waste this unique opportunity by making sacrifices,

depriving oneself, and enduring hardships in the presence of a

nebulous and uncertain future? There is another different view

that, above all, pertains to the religious field. Most religions, or

rather all religions, consider the true life—the new life— is the

afterlife. In Christianity the sacrifices and sufferings are

undertaken in anticipation of life after death. In the Middle

Ages, Christians tortured themselves to receive blessings.

Nowadays, there are still the enclosed nuns.”

“What is your opinion about this? How should one live?

For this life or the life to come?”

“I follow the Middle Way, as it was traced by Lord Buddha.

He taught us to avoid the extremes. He meditated for a long

time and finally discovered the Middle Way. It might seem an

easy concept, but believe me, he spent his whole life

discovering it.”

“You are not Christian, Uncle Salvatore?”

“I follow all religions, and Buddhism is one of the religions

The Vibrations of Words

28

I love. Buddhism helped me very much, so I am grateful to it.

All religions are important, but above all, what matters is a

person’s inner moral code, as it is sculpted in the soul of every

human being. Now let’s set aside these digressions, and let’s go

back to the writing of my memoir, for I want to finish it this

week.”

“As you like, Uncle Salvatore. I am ready to type.”

“As I was saying, after my father’s death, I remained alone

in the establishment, but in spite of being at war, our firm kept

working with our trucks, which never stalled due to my

maintenance. The only trucks in circulation at that time,

besides military trucks, were ours. I earned a lot of money, or

better, our firm earned money, as I managed the enterprise

owned by all four brothers. I took the initiative to buy more

real estate. I wanted to invest and get a good yield. Those

properties were the fruits of my hard work.

“So in the year 1943, we bought the land of Berardi in

partnership with my father-in-law, Previti, and my brother-inlaw

Virlinzi, in equal parts. Previously, in the year 1942, we

had bought the building near Via S. Girolamo where the

Cinema GriVi was later built. After the Berardi land, I bought a

lot of immovable properties: stores in Via Pergusa and Via S.

Agata as well as in Catania, Via De Branca, and Via Trigona. I

bought these last properties with the help of my brothers who,

in the meantime, had come back from military service in

1943.”

“During the war, Uncle Salvatore, you managed the family

business and also with the earnings, you bought several

immovable properties. Have you never had the temptation to

buy some property just for yourself?”

“No, I never did. The love for my brothers had prevailed

over any dirty interest. When you love people, you cannot

betray them. Furthermore, my father had taught me to be

honest, and I followed his teachings. I was an honest man, and

I hope you will follow my example. Always remember that the

money taken by a thief is like money earned by a gambler, it

doesn’t last. So I can say to you that I never betrayed my

Memoir Part 1

29

brothers’ confidence in me.”

“What happened once the war was over? Did you continue

your partnership?”

“After wartime, we resumed our Fiat car dealership

together. We all thanked God for being alive, despite the

dangers of war. Our partnership went on in good harmony until

1949. Then misunderstandings arose among the brothers, and

there were many disagreements. So, we decided to separate our

firm again. Therefore, the firm Carmelo Grillo & Sons

disappeared, and two smaller firms emerged, one under the

name Grillo Brothers, for Mario, Alfredo, and Giovanni, and

the other as Salvatore Grillo Haulage. Only as car dealers did

we remain partners. The shareholders were four brothers and

our brother-in-law, Virlinzi. The name of the company was

Grillo & Virlinzi Car Dealers.

“At this point, I want to state the truth to everybody,

especially to my sons, daughters, and nephews, who do not

know why I left a prosperous establishment with many

customers in order to create another enterprise in direct competition

with the former, knowing my individual firm was certain

to face many hardships in getting new customers with few

resources. I was inspired by great courage and confidence in

myself.

“Now I will produce the evidence that shows what

arguments arose and what unfairness took place during the

splitting of our companies. I want to explain the causes of our

conflicts. I want to unmask the culprits. . . .”

At this point, my Uncle Salvatore cut off his narration to

the reader. His reasons will be given at the end of the memoir.

“I wish us to keep meeting, Uncle Salvatore. In fact your

life sounds very interesting and full of adventures. I am sure we

can make a good book with your memories. The title of the

book might be

Conversations with My Uncle Salvatore or

something like that.”

“Leave aside the title for now. What matters in a book are

the contents, not the title.”

“Okay, you are right. With your life we have plenty of

The Vibrations of Words

30

content. How do you think we can organize the work?”

“My life has been evolving according to two main facets:

an inner life and an outer life. The former has consisted in

dialogues with myself. The latter, obviously, happened through

interactions with the external world. Nevertheless, I want to

stress that the ultimate nature of the phenomena is different

from the way it is perceived by our sensory organs. In fact our

minds are, in a certain way, involved in putting the world itself

into existence. Everything depends upon our minds. Remember

that! If you switch off your mind for an instant, then the world

disappears, or rather the world that has been seen by your mind

disappears. With different minds, we have different worlds.”

“From the start, Uncle Salvatore, I sense this book will be

deep.”

“Nobody is obliged to read it.”

“Okay, as you like, Uncle Salvatore. Anyway, I think it is

better to divide the book into chapters, so we can give it an

ordered shape.”

“Yes, I agree! Let’s start with my inner life, and then we’ll

see what happens.”

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  A twenty-year-old woman has been burned alive in Papua New Guinea. It seems that she was tortured with red-hot rods before being tied to a pile of tires. Then a bucket of gasoline was thrown to her.

Is this the first case of alleged witches sent to the stake? Of course not! In Europe, in the Middle Ages putting witches to death by burning them at the stake was quite normal.

Not only alleged witches were burnt to death, but also heretics underwent the same doom.

If you happen to go to Rome, visit Campo dei Fiori and you will see the statue of the philosopher Giordano Bruno who was condemned to the stake by the Inquisition.

Nowadays, this kind of execution is relic of the past.

What would I do if I were a ruler of Papua New Guinea? First of all, I would start an educational campaign. In fact, at the base of whatever form of intolerance there is ignorance. I would make the study of morals and law compulsory.

I would teach that nobody can know what is good and what is bad, because they are two sides of the same coin. They coexist in each of us.

I would teach that everyone is convinced to be right and follows his path as a train runs on its railway. We human beings are like that; we follow our tracks and cannot understand the others who have their journey on different tracks.

I would teach that one of the most important achievements of human society is the lawsuit, which is the observance of a procedure before sentencing.

That twenty-year-old woman was condemned without a trial. Who knows if she was a real witch or not! Sometimes, what looks real reveals untrue after a long time, but it is too late to repair the mistake.

Ettore Grillo, author of The Vibrations of Words

www.amazon.com/author/ettoregrillo

 

 

  Last year the sale of printed books fell considerably while the number of persons who read e-books rises; that means we’ll live in a world dominated by e-books?

The nostalgic of printed books may worry that he will be deprived of what he considers as a special object. A printed book is not just a pile of paper sheets; it is a treasure because it contains the thought and experience of its author. There are readers who underline and highlight the passages which are important.

Last year I happened to travel in Australia. I came across the Christian movement named Born Again. They were very kind to me and allowed me to take part in their meetings. All of them had their personal Bible which they kept in a leather case. There was a lady of Sicilian origin close to me. When she opened her Bible, I was stunned on seeing she had underlined almost all lines. Furthermore, she inserted sheets that contained her personal reflections. I admired that lady who really loved her book. If she had an e-book, would the same have been done? Of course not!

While I am in India, I gave a copy of The Vibrations of Words to my piano teacher. After a few days, she showed me the book. I was surprised at seeing that she highlighted many paragraphs with a violet pencil.

“Do you like my book?” I asked.

“I like it very much.” She answered with a pleased tone.

Personally, I am not against e-books because they are useful and simple means to read everywhere. We can enjoy reading books very easily.

Every book is precious whatever shape it can take. Nevertheless, the main task of books both printed and electronic is to give information, knowledge, pleasure, and so on. A good book delights the reader’s mind and elevates his soul. But books cannot be assimilated to a shelter. There are people who flee from life and take refuge in books. If reading books is just escape from life, even a good book cannot be helpful.

Ettore Grillo author of The Vibrations of Words

www.amazon.com/author/ettoregrillo

  The latest news tells what happened in a restaurant of Houston. A family of four asked to have dinner at a distance from the table where another family with a disabled child was dining, and addressed the waiter with a few pungent words.

“Disabled persons should eat in special places when they enter a restaurant!”

On hearing those words, the waiter refused to serve those customers who finally were compelled to leave.

The news spread quite soon and the restaurant was praised by host of people due to waiter’s behavior.

My voice is dissenting.

What happened in that restaurant is quite common. People, even though they don’t express their feeling openly, tend to remove every hindrance to their comfort. In the case I am dealing with, the family who asked to dine at a distance from the disabled kid wanted to enjoy dinner without being bothered.

This is called “intolerance” and it happens in every field of life. Above all, intolerance is present in religions and it is called “fundamentalism”. Each religion claims to be the only way that leads to heaven, and considers those who have a different creed as infidels.

I don’t want to either praise or backbite that waiter; I just want to tell what I would have done if I were in his shoes. Well, I would have served the family who said unkind things to the kid with Down syndrome. In fact, a waiter’s duty who deals with the public is to show impartiality and tolerance towards all customers, putting aside his personal opinion.

Every opinion deserves to be expressed, even though it offends one’s personal feelings. At the top of human values there is freedom of speech and thought.  If I were that waiter, I would not have taken stance for or against this or that family; otherwise, I would have been as intolerant as those people whose intolerance I wanted to punish.

Intolerance cannot be fought by intolerance.

The true tolerant person shows love, respect and impartiality to everybody, even to intolerant persons.

Ettore Grillo author of The Vibrations of Words

www.amazon.com/author/ettoregrillo

   A study coming from the University of Liverpool claims reading Shakespeare and similar writers is more helpful than so called self-help books.

In my opinion all books are self-help. In my life I have read hundreds of books and can claim no book was useless to me. In fact, whoever writes a book wants to express what he harbors in his heart and mind. Knowing other people’s feelings and thoughts through ordinary books can just benefit the reader as much as self-help books.

Many times mental ailments and misconduct are caused by ignorance and error. Reading whatever book can only broaden one’s mind. Our learning springs not only from great renowned writers and poets but also from nameless writers who strive to express what they feel and know.

A friend of mine used to buy books from a bookstall by chance. According to him, the book chosen randomly made him open up new horizons in his mind and prevented him from confining himself to read books that fell within his range of interests.

Once I stumbled across a book written by a young actor who had suffered from OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder). After reading that book, I could learn many forms of OCD. One of them attracted me. There was a rich girl who could not avoid getting back to the toilet hundreds of times to check if she had flushed it.

Obviously, not all books have good contents; nevertheless, this doesn’t mean that we should avoid reading them. Even from a bad book we can excerpt knowledge. Reading books with both bad and good contents help us to learn that people are not same, and books are expression of different points of view that we should respect even though we don’t agree to.

Ettore Grillo author of Travels of the Mind and The Vibrations of Words

www.amazon.com/author/ettoregrillo

   Two forty-five-year-old Belgian twins were born deaf. For all their life they worked as cobblers. Recently they became almost blind. They could not bear their condition to be both deaf and blind; therefore, they went to the hospital and asked a doctor to make them die.

The doctor established that their life condition was unbearable, and gave them a lethal injection.

In Belgium where this tragedy happened, there is a law which allows a doctor to practice euthanasia if he judges that the person who asks it cannot bear his life.

It seems that in future the range of the law will include euthanasia for children and insane people.

In the case above described, the petitioners for euthanasia were the persons who wanted to die, while in Italy and USA, two ladies who were fed artificially were put to death legally respectively under the request of their father and husband.

What happened in Belgium, Italy and USA is due to misconception about suffering. According to someone, suffering of the body involves suffering of the soul. I don’t think so.

When I was a volunteer to help disabled people in England, I looked after a young man who was paralyzed completely. He was able to move only his eyes. He was forced to lie on the stretcher. I still remember his name. He was Neil.

At that time, I volunteered in an organization called Vitalise at Skylarks in Nottingham. When I had to feed Neil, I asked the nurse how to do that.

“You have to feed Neil as if he were a little bird,” the nurse answered. “When he wants to say yes, he lifts his eyes, and when he wants to say no, he lowers them.”

So did I. I fed Neil as if he were a little bird. At the beginning, the mouthful was too big and he had some difficulties to swallow, but little by little, I learned how to feed him. Looking at Neil’s eyes, I could notice that he was happy at that moment. He couldn’t smile because even his lips were paralyzed, but his eyes radiated joy.

If some of Neil’s family members wanted to give Neil euthanasia, alleging that he was suffering and he had better die, I would have shielded Neil with my body.

Suffering is basic for Christians.

Emblematic case of suffering is given by Jobs. In the Bible it is said that Jobs lost all his children and goods. He suffered from all kinds of disease and his skin became purulent. Nevertheless, he kept living.

Another emblematic case is given by Saint Bernadette who suffered very much during her life and to whom Our Lady promised happiness after death.

A great saint called Saint Therese of Lisieux is another emblem of suffering. She was proclaimed a doctor of the Church and patron saint of the missions.

Saint Francis of Assisi and Saint Pius suffered because of the stigmata.

For Christians suffering is a mystery. If it happens to someone to suffer, he has to accept his condition. Jesus is an example of acceptance of suffering.

According to Buddhists, suffering is caused by negative Karma. The term Karma indicates the result of the actions performed previously in this life or in the past lives. It is necessary to accept suffering and expiate negative Karma in this life; otherwise, the person will experience negative Karmain the next life.

Atheists and materialists who are for euthanasia will find my argument ridiculous. But who knows? They might be right and I respect their point of view. But if they were in doubt, they would refraining from giving euthanasia, following the old Latin saying in dubio pro reo which means “if you are not sure, opt for the accused person.” Hence, if you are not sure, opt for life not for death and give another chance for life to the person who is about to die by euthanasia.

 

Ettore Grillo author of Travels of the Mind and The Vibrations of Words

www.amazon.com/author/ettoregrillo

   The news says that a deaf person was signing with another man but a passerby mistook it for gang sign. Therefore, to prevent a probable crime, he attacked the deaf person and stabbed him many times.

How many times we misinterpret reality!

According to Hindu religion, we human beings do not experience reality as it is; rather we consider as reality what is mere projection of our mind. Hindus use the term Maya to indicate “illusion”.

What happened to the stabber, who mistook the deaf person for a gangster, can happen to any of us. How many times we are self-confident about reality! But later we recognize that our self-confidence was wrong and reality was different from our judgment. With hindsight we would have acted in a different way.

Besides of “illusion”, we are victims of our “delusions”. In Italian, a corresponding term to indicate such a word does not exist. Therefore, we have to use a phrase to express the same meaning. We paraphrase “delusion” as wrong mental perspective. It is like a distorted mirror that reflects distorted reality.

Sometimes innocents are sent into jail and even to the electric chair due to misunderstanding of reality.

Personally I am suspicious of persons who are too much self-confident. Maybe they don’t know that reality is covered with Maya’s veil!

Ettore Grillo author of Travels of the Mind and The Vibrations of Words

www.amazon.com/author/ettoregrillo

Walking in the streets of Pune in India, I noticed a few peculiar things.
The small shops open every day. The New Year Day, Sunday and other holidays don’t exist for them. The small shopkeepers open their shops in the morning and close at night. They work for almost twelve hours non-stop. Many vendors use their carts to sell bananas and other kinds of fruit or vegetables. To them holidays are luxuries they cannot afford. These people are like lions in African savanna; everyday they have to hunt prey, otherwise they will starve.
In the street I saw a barber who set up his business in the sidewalk. His equipment was just a chair, a comb and scissors. At that moment he was cutting a customer’s hair.
While I was strolling, I stopped to watch a young man who set up his repair shop in the sidewalk. With a few tools he fixed bikes. He had a knack of his work, because he fixed the bikes very well and soon.
Besides these people I have mentioned above, there are many beggars in India. Whenever I come across beggars in the street, I ask myself whether it is correct to give them a little money or not. Why don’t they work like others? Anyway this is life. We are not the same. Sometimes it is better not to think much, giving up using our mind for a while and opening our heart.
Ettore Grillo author of Travels of the Mind and The Vibrations of Words
www.amazon.com/author/ettoregrillo

The news says that last Thursday a 31-year-old woman killed a Hindu man by pushing him onto the tracks of New York subway while a train was arriving. The unfortunate man was crushed to death.
Afterwards, the woman declared to police that she had killed the man because he was Hindu and she hated all Muslims and Hindus because of what they had done to the twin towers.
The news spurs me to express my opinion about it.
First of all, I want to quote the great philosopher L. Ron Hubbard. According to him, the borderline between sanity and insanity lies on the fact that the sane person discriminates people and situations while the insane lumps things together without discrimination. So the thought that all Muslims or all Hindus, Christians, Jews and so on are bad means to cross over the border of sanity.
I consider myself a citizen of the world. For me, people are all same whatever religion they have. You can find good or bad people among all kinds of religion.
My tagline is this: all people are endowed with a soul which has the same color and quality whatever might be their race, religion and citizenship. Hence, discriminate person by person and don’t discriminate basing on which race, state or religion one belongs to.
Ettore Grillo author of Travels of the Mind and The Vibrations of Words
www.amazon.com/author/ettoregrillo