Hello all of my MILLIONS of viewers..  .

I know I  have not been posting very often, but I have been stumped with school and all and finals AND ALL…coming up.

Can I get a shout out!

SO, here are a few tidbits on my mind, and then I will probably not post until after FINALS(and that’s final)!!

How are we to stay close to God in this world we live in? How much easier is it to just worship our TV’s or boyfriends, or I don’t know FOOD. In this fast paced world is there time for God? Maybe I can fit him in on Sunday, if I don’t party too much on saturday night? Maybe.

DEATH PENALTY, ABORTION, HOMOSEXUALITY, PORNOGRAPHY, MURDER, DRUGS, NEGLECT, POLITICS, WAR WAR WAR

In college especially we are being pulled EVERY.. WHICH ..WAY–this, that, this that, AND we don’t even know who we are yet. Is this not the hardest time of our lives? We are stuck in ‘I am still a teenager and these decisions that I make will determine who I become…?’

Where were the warnings for this??????

It is soo easy once you lean in toward something bad to keeeeeeep leaning, and then next time you look at yourself in the mirror you don’t even know who you are.

So what is the answer?

HECK If I know. Someone who is wise always tells me that peace is the answer. Just try to be at peace and have a moment of silence when you can. Don’t look ahead and worry about everything that will happen in the future. Be well prepared yes, but don’t freak out. DON’T FREAK OUT..ha. But, really. Pray and let it be simple. Easy right? NO WAY. Trust me I am flippppin’. But, don’t give up…MY FELLOW BEINGS…don’t.

Hmmm…more than a couple thoughts? Yes. I guess my mind is running, and at the same time I am figuring things out while I type them?

I will leave you all with this SHORT TIDBIT: Recently I have started this thing with one of my friends where I pray for someone in my life-the same person-every day. I text her and just say something like ‘praying’. And, we pray. Things surprisingly have been getting better; it gives one hope. TIP: When you have someone else doing it with you it is easier to remember. So in all the chaos, Pray.

Today at work, I was able to observe for a while, a man standing outside the doors of the mall (the temple of consumtion). In our town there is a magazine that’s made with the purpose of helping those who have a hard time getting their life together for different reasons. The articles are about social issues, and also about these people, in an effort to help people see the individuals behind the problem. 
 Half of the price goes to the seller, and the rest goes to make the magazine.

I think this is one of those genius win-win ideas that make our world a little better. The person selling is able to work and get paid, while also getting to talk to people and at least lower some of the walls we often seem to raise when people don’t fit into our frame of mind. The people reading the articles get a nuanced picture of what life is really like on the rougher side, and hopefully they gain some understanding and compassion for their neighbours.

This is already enough to make me very hopeful about the state of our community, but my spirit was lifted even further today as I stood there watching this salesman. In the brief period I observed him, several people bought the magazine, but more importantly, there were also people stopping just to chat and say hello for a second. That’s just wonderful!

The big risk for these people is to lead an isolated life in the shadows, being ignored by others and thus feeling like they don’t exist. Just a nod and a hello is actually enough to show this person that he exists and that I respect him. (See also the earlier post “By this roadside”)
 And most of all, it confirms his worth as a human regardless of his circumstances, and that’s worth more than money in my book.

Nora L. Lapitan-American Society of Agronomy Fellow

Nora L. Lapitan is a professor and geneticist in the Department of Soil and Crop Sciences, and the Cell and Molecular Biology Program at Colorado State University. She received a B.S. from University of the Philippines and M.S. and Ph.D. from Kansas State University. Her program focuses on the application of genomics to improvement of cereal crops. She is a CSSA Fellow, has served as associate editor for Crop Science and has been active in CSSA, Entomological Society of America, and Plant and Animal Genome Conferences.

Eugene F. Kelly-Soil Science Society of America Fellow

Eugene F. (Gene) Kelly is a professor of Pedology in the Department of Soil and Crop Sciences and associate director for research in the School of Global Environmental Sustainability at Colorado State University. Dr. Kelly received a B.S. and M.S. from Colorado State University and a Ph.D. from University of California-Berkeley. His program focuses mainly on Pedology and biogeochemistry. He serves as an associate editor for Geoderma, and is active in the Ecological and Geological Societies of America.

Austin Case-CSSA Golden Opportunity Scholar

Austin Case is an undergraduate at Colorado State University majoring in soil and crop sciences, with a concentration in plant biotechnology, genetics, and breeding. Case has been an active member of the Agronomy Club and is currently serving as the organization’s treasurer. He plans to attend graduate school for plant breeding and genetics and hopes to research crop improvement methods.

Kendall DeJonge-Division S-6 Graduate Student Award
(Soil and Water Management and Conservation)

The S-6 Graduate Student Award is presented each year to a graduate student whose thesis research and graduate responsibilities utilize creative approaches to gain understanding and develop solutions for soil and water conservation and management problems. This year, Kendall DeJonge, was selected from a group of eight other excellent candidates.

Endlich ist sie da, die lange erwartete cremfarbene Sonderedition MellowFellow!

Wir haben sie heute morgen bekommen und seit sie hängt, wird sie gut verkauft. Sie ist, wie immer, sowohl in unserem Geschäft in Hamburg, als auch über unseren Onlineshop erhältlich.

its a blowing a gale tonight!

i’m not even kidding. look outside if you dont beleive me, just watch your head… you know… in case it gets knocked off by a stray twig… or a flying sheep… to be honest, id be more worried by the flying sheep, theyre viscious and evil creatures.

brrrr. sheep.

moving on.

i found my phone. yay. it was in my other pair of jeans… to be honest i cant beleive i didnt look their!!!

bleh.

but we’re now reunited. oh yeah.

shit just remembered i was supposed to measure my room tonight for college tomorrow. damn. well im not doing it now. no way. its to late for that. ill just have to be late tomorrow. not like theyll notice.

i realy need to start finding something useful to blog about… i suck… sorry people.

ima gonna have a good brainstorm later… shit, you’re not supposed to say that anymore are you?!… :S

how about mindmap?

not sure… ok ill just stick with boring old think… ill have a good think.

meh.

im off to think.

Happy Thinking fellow thinkers.

xx.

There is a quote from H. L. Mencken that reads, “Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats.” Since first reading it, I’ve been struck by those words and have remembered them. Every normal man must sometimes want to throw caution to the wind and be a pirate, it says, to slit throats with abandon and claim the spoils regardless of consequence. It is tempting. But I also read a deeper meaning in it. A rallying cry, a warning, a call-to-arms. There comes a time, these words say, when every man will have to take action, make a stand, and risk everything to fight for what they value or else lose it to another’s plundering.

I’ve never read that line in its original context. Those sentiments may not be remotely near what the author intended when writing it. But a learned man once told me that what we see on our own is more important than what we are told to see. You can be taught to see more, to see better, he said, but never fully trust what you are told. So Mr. Mencken will have to pardon my conclusions; they are mine alone.

Hoist the black flag, he said. Slit throats. To war, then, and to the victor goes the spoils. It strikes me that much of American society is already busy at pirating, or was until the Big Bust of 2008. Wanting a large payoff from a smaller, somewhat riskier investment seemed to be the prevailing modus operandi. Flip houses. Flip cars. Flip companies. Trust Bernie with your money. Cheat (but slyly) on your taxes. In fact, cheat at anything if you think you won’t get caught. Score as much credit as possible. Buy things you can’t afford with someone else’s money. Lie and steal from your government, your employer, your family, your fellow man. Anything for the almighty dollar.

If you were in construction, you threw together as many buildings as possible and waited for fat profits to roll in, and who cares about the structural integrity of those houses and business spaces. So what if the floor joists won’t last five years, and the basement leaks if so much as a dog takes a whizz two doors down, and the wallboard emits poisonous gas? Sorry, buddy, you were dumb enough to sail into my harbor and your throat just got slit. Thanks for the booty. Besides, that’s what homeowner’s insurance is for.

If you were in insurance you issued thousands of policies that were useless and refused to pay claims, slitting more throats and raking in treasure chests of booty. Your house burnt? Oh, so sorry, we won’t pay for anything damaged by smoke or water or heat or any wall left standing. Tell you what, we’ll give you this month’s mortgage payment plus an extra $50. We’re feeling very generous today. A hurricane you say? Your house flooded? Oh how awful. But no, sorry, we don’t pay off on damages from storm surge. Nope, it’s not a flood, it’s a wave, and we don’t cover that. Sorry. Don’t forget, your next payment is due in two weeks. Bye bye now.

And of course there were still the usual rackets of car sales, internet companies, Wall Street, and, well, anything run by the government. Anything to make another dollar, and the less honest the better. Hey, that’s the new American Dream: getting something for nothing. From the world’s largest corporation to grade schoolers, everyone’s playing pirate.

But someone somewhere is losing. Someone is watching their house or car or savings or future circle the drain when that newest chest is drug on board the winning ship and its golden contents are revealed. With a pirate on every side wondering how they can get their hands on it next.

So what does this have to do with Mencken’s quote? I think the deeper meaning behind it says you have to be your own pirate, be prepared to fight for anything you want, and if you really want it you can’t let others stand in your way. If keeping your job means someone else goes unemployed, so be it. If keeping your house means another family goes homeless, that’s something you’ll just have to face. It is, in a way, Darwin’s evolution in action. No one ever wrote a treatise on the survival of the nicest.

The sad fact of life on this planet is that not everyone will have what they want, and many will not have what they need. And to have anything at all, you will have to fight for it. We do not live in a global utopian society, and if you do not take it you will likely die waiting for it to be given to you.

That goes for liberty as much as for anything else. If you do not fight for your freedoms, you can hardly expect anyone to grace you with them out of the goodness of their heart. Governments, for instance, were not constructed out of goodness but out of fear and desire … even our own illustrious “city on a hill.” It’s nice to stand safely on the sidelines and speak of pacifism and conscientious objections, but in reality they don’t work. At some point, the theory breaks down. Even one man sitting alone in the middle of a garden will have to fight if he wants to eat, fight weeds and animals and drought and frost. Idealism has yet to feed a hungry belly.

I think Mencken’s words reveal that life is simply one fight after another, and if you want to do more than simply survive, you’ll have to do so at someone else’s expense. Is your life more important than someone else’s? Is someone else’s life more important than yours? How can anyone possibly know? So hoist your flag, brandish your sword and pistol, and let the blood run.

New image in the shoes photography contest

…
fellow traveller photography picture

Douglas Burden and Kenneth Moon (after attack)

 

CNN — Hillsborough County, Florida, Deputy Kenneth Moon was alone at his station at a county jail facility near Tampa when an inmate attacked him with no warning.

Moon, 64, was no match for Douglas Burden, 24, in custody on various drug charges. With Moon still in his chair, Burden put him in a choke hold and pulled tight.

And then, surveillance video of the Monday attack showed, other in More..mates jumped into the fray.

But the other inmates joined the fight on the guard’s side, pulling Burden away from Moon and punching him in the head. One inmate grabbed Moon’s radio and called for back-up. The inmates held Burden down until other guards arrived as one of them extended a hand to help Moon up, according to the video.

Col. James Previtera, commander of Hillsborough County’s Department of Detention Services, told reporters he believed that the inmates “saved the deputy’s life.”

“The response of the inmates in this case, I think, speaks volumes as to the fact that we treat these men and women … in our facilities with a lot of respect,” Previtera said.

Previtera said that Burden was moved to administrative confinement after the attack and that Moon was not seriously hurt.

Biegając po internetowych darkroomach (fellow, gayromeo) natrafia się na niesamowite przykłady koszmaru z ulicy Wiązów wprowadzonego w życie. Chociaż materiału byłoby całe mnóstwo, nie chcę powielać już istniejących stron zawierających co bardziej zaskakujące idee promocyjne zawarte na profilach. Ale tego odpuścić po prostu nie mogłem, bo chłopiec z Krakowa (sic!) po prostu made my day.

Zamieszczając w ramach “opisu siebie” to oto jutjubowe dzieło.

A teraz, kochane, kiecki w górę i dajemy: iiiaijaijeeeej!

I moved away from the place I’ve grown up. It started like 6 years ago. Now I’m not going to tell about how and why I came here, rather about the result and feelings I have now.

So it’s 435 miles distance from the town I’ve grown up. Both my ex-town and my new home are very nice places. My new home is in the mountains. Is a similar small town to the “old one”. Considering the town itself, the old was actually much nicer, and the new one has much more beautiful surroundings.

Let me talk about the new one. This is in a rural area, lots of fields, villages, horses, cows and old cars. People are living a slow life, not as slow as in India or Burma but a quite slow one compared to other parts of the western world.

The dialect

People are speaking a different dialect of my language that makes a lot of fun. I’ve been here for 3-4 years now, so I already know most of the dialect-tricks. Most people still recognize my accent, however they don’t localize it correctly. They usually think I’m from the capital of this region, and that’s only 100 miles away from here. The interesting thing is that our family used to live exactly there, and my great-grandfather has left that place in the 1920’s.

If I visit my parents sometimes they note my accent change and the fact that my sentences have a different emphasizing. So it seems right now I’m speaking a dialect that I have nothing to do with. It’s neither the one I learned on the playground nor the one is being spoken around me in the last couple of years. There were times when I tried to force myself to speak this new one. It was good for my learning, however – as it’s not in my veins – I made a fool of myself many times. You know it’s just imitating.

Three hives

Actually I’m carrying 3 different places, origins, dialects. My parents were born and grown up on a place covered by flat sandy hills. Let’s call this place Sandhill. I was born there too. When I was a little baby they moved to a place next to a large river. It’s around 190 miles distance from Sandhill and let’s call it Rivercurve. Rivercurve is very close to a famous large city let’s call it Bankstone. I used to work in Bankstone for 7 years but still lived in Rivercurve. I left Rivercurve a few years ago and moved here, to this beautiful smalltown at the feet of mountains, so let’s call this place Montana Pine. I also have mentioned my great-grandfather’s place he left around 1920. This is the place I consider being the hive of my mentality similar to the people I’m currently living with. It’s very close here and I will call it Marketon.

So to clarify, I was born in Sandhill, grown up in Rivercurve and now I’m living in Montana Pine. These are the most significant places in my life. I consider them as the main 3 hives of my current cultural and mentality heritage.

The fellow countryman

Many people from Montana Pine go to work and live in Bankstone. The tendency is moving from here towards the place I left. I can say it’s quite unusual people moving here from there. Some about a year ago I met a woman in my age of 30 who is from Sandhill and used to work in Bankstone for a few years at a major TV channel. She loves this place the same way I do. She doesn’t care about less money and difficulties of integration. She got the same way here I did: Had a lover in Bankstone originating from Montana Pine. Lover gone and she decided to move. Great and simple.

Sandhill is also a poor region and has a large diaspora. Sandhill also has a specific dialect. I remember from my childhood that there where some specific jewels that only people from Sandhill were wearing. People from Sandhill could easily recognize each other far away from their homeland and they always called each other “Fellow countryman”.

So I met her in a house-party, we quickly recognized each other and have been calling each other fellow countryman since than. Life just repeats itself. I’m feeling like I’m 5 and my mother is coming home and happily telling my father about a fellow countryman from Sandhill she met in the town. In Rivercurve.

And I’m not even from Sandhill.. I was less than 2 years old when parents moved to Rivercurve. And still, I’m carrying something deep inside from Sandhill. Maybe the long summer vacations I spent there with my Grandma and Grandpa? Maybe. The fact is I’m really happy about this fellow here. If I call her she picks up the phone saying “hi fellow countryman”. That just makes my day. We are about to have a coffee together. Yesterday she took a train to Sandhill, visits her parents for All Saint’s Day.

Life’s just nice, dear fellow countryman.

Hello fellow chobots, cazmonauts, penguins, and poptropicans!

Today Happy77 talked to a party planner! I’m sure that Club Penguins anniversary will be very exciting! This post is all about it!

Here are the questions Happy77 asked the party planner:

Is it challenging to make such a HUGE cake for the Anniversary Party? Doesn’t it make you hungry?

It sure does. That is why being a cake member requires extreme self control (but I did go home and make a giant cake anyhow…)!

What’s your fave party from the past year & why?

Definitely the Medieval party! Putting on my fish knight costume and waddling amongst the dragons and fellow gallant adventurers was an experience of epic proportions!

Lots of readers are really curious about the colors of the party hat this year. What can you tell us?

Haha, part of being a super party planner is not revealing secrets. What I can tell you is that it’s my favorite color combination ever! So i’m super excited to share! But not ’til Saturday.

Pretty cool huh? I too, wonder whats this years hat color combination…

Clubpenguin4607~

Cine ? De unde?

„Cântarea lui Haiavata” este un poem epic scris de americanul Henry Wadsworth Longfillow (1807- 1882) care valorifică în cadrul său tradiţiile amerindienilor din zona  cuprinsă între Dakota şi Marile Lacuri, la graniţa cu Canada.De fapt  el însuşi spune în „ cuvântul înainte al  „cântării”: „Dacă mă-ntrebaţi de unde/Am cules aceste basme / şi legende-naripate”…”Vă voi spune, voi răspunde:/ Din câmpii , preerii şi codri/De pe lacurile-albastre/Ce-sentind spre miazănoapte/De pe vastele meleaguri/ Unde viaţa-şi duc Dakoţii/ Cei războinici şi-Ojibwayi/ De pe munţi, din văi şi mlaştini/ Din stufişurile dese,/Unde îşi adună hrana/ Stârcul cenuşiu , Şu-Şu-Ga/ Eu vă-nşir aceste basme/După cântecele zise / de duiosul Nawadaha.” Ce-si „ avea înaltul wigwam/ Într-un sat din valea verde/şi tăcuta, Tawasentha…acolo-şi zicea el  cântul/ Închinat lui Haiavata…”

Vă voi face cunoştinţă în cele ce urmează cu  două  pasaje integrale din „ Cântarea lui Haiavata”: „ Pipa Păcii” şi Postul lui Haiavata”. Aceastea două se adresează, ca de fapt întregul cântec celor  „ce-n inima curată/ Aţi păstrat credinţa-n fire,/Şi  încrederea că omul/ Poartă-n suflet bunătate/ Voi, ce ştiţi că  totdeauna/Inima de om cunoaşte/ Îndoială şi durere,/Bâjbâială-n întuneric/Şi avânturi spre dreptate”

Si acum sa dâm drumul visării:

Pipa Păcii

Peste munţii din preerie,

Peste culmea Stâncii Roşii,                      

Pogorâ Stăpânul Vieţii,

Ghitci Manitu,măreţul

Şi din vârfu-acestei creste

A chemat la el sa vină

Toate neamurile lumii.

De la urma lui, la vale

Strălucind în raza zilei

Ca o stea cucoada-n flăcări,

Un pârâu porni năvalnic,

Fremătându-şi unda rece.

Şi cu degetu-i, Stăpânul

Însemnatu-i-a-n câmpie

Calea de urmat şi spus-a:

„Iată matca ta de-acuma!”

Şi luând din stâncă-o piatră,

Plăsmuidin ea o pipă,

Cu figuri împodobind-o,

După-aceea,lângă apă,

Smulse-un fir de trestioară

Şi îl potrivi la pipă.

Pipa o umplu cu coajă,

Coajă roşie de salce,

Şi suflă înspre pădure.

Crengile, de-a lui suflare,

S-au mişcat învolburate

Şi, ciocnindu-se, în flăcări

Luminoase izbucniră;

Stând pe varful Stâncii Roşii,

A aprins Stăpânul Vieţii

Pipa Păcii, ca s-adune

Neamurile toate-a’ lumii.

Lin curgea din pipă fumul

În văzduhul dimineţii,

Mai întâi cordea închisă,

Abur albăstriu e urmă,

Dup-aceea rotocoale

Albe ca zăpada iernii

Aşezată peste arbori,

Tot mai sus, mai sus, în slavă,

Revărsându-se în valuri

Peste-ntreaga glie verde.

Din câmpia Tawasentha

Wyoming şi Toscaloosa,

Din a Lacurilor Ţară,

Şi din munţii cei de stâncă,

Toate ginţile zăriră

Depărtatul fum de veste

DinPocvana-Pipa Păcii.

Înţelepţii, pretutindeni,

Zis-au: -„Asta-i Pipa Păcii!

Funu-acesta ce în slavă

Ca o ramură se-ndoaie

Şi ne face semn asemeni

Unei mâini îmbietoare,

Este semnul de chemare

Al Stăpânului Vieţii,

Ghitci Manitu, măreţul,

El e-acela ce ne cheamă

Pentru sfat între popoare”.

Pe câmpii, prin văi înguste,

Au pornit atunci, îndată,

Luptători aleşi din triburi,

Delawarii şi Dakoţii,

Talpe-Negre şi Comancii,

Pawneeşii şi Omaha,

Ojibwayi şi Huronii.

Se-ndreptau, de pretutindeni,

Toţi spre culmea Stâncii Roşii,

La chemarea Pipei Păcii.

Înarmaţi, vopsiţi de luptă,

Ca şi pomii-n toamna rece,

Ca şi ceru-n faptul zilei,

Se-adunară în câmpie

Toţi, privindu-se sălbatic,

Cu adâncă ură-n inimi,

Plini de setea răzbunării,

Moştenită din vechime.

Ghitci Manitu, măreţul,

Cel ce-a zămislit pe oameni,

Îi privi pe toţi cu milă,

Cu iubire de părinte.

Ura lor nepotolită

O privi ca o gâlceavă

Ce se naşte-ntre nevârstnici,

Când se joacă fără minte!

El le-ntinse mâna dreaptă,

Firea lor s-o potolească

Şi pornirea lor s-o-mpace.

Şi cu voce lui măreaţă,

Sunătoare ca o apă

Ce-n prăpasţii se prăvale,

Le vorbi în felu-acesta,

Cu dojană de părinte:

-       „”Dragi copii, luaţi în seamă

Un cuvânt de-nţelepciune

De pe buzele acelui,

Ce la toţi va dat viaţă!

V-am lăsat vânat în codrii,

V-am lăsat în ape peşte,

V-am lăsat bizonii, urşii,

Biberi,reni şi căprioare;

Am umplut cu peşte apa

Şi cu păsări multe balta;

Ce vă face, dar, cu ură

Unul să vânaţi pe altul?

Sânt sătul de-a voastre certuri,

De vărsările de sânge,

Şi de-atâtea rugi haine –

Să v-ajut la răzbunare.

În unire e putere,

Dezbinarea-i slăbiciune.

Împăcati-vă odată,

Fi-ţi ca fraţii dintr-o ceată!

Voi trimite-atunci proorocul

Să v-arate calea bună;

Şi trăind cu voi, prin muncă,

Să v-aducă fericire.

De veţi şti săţineţi seama

De-nteleptele-i poveţe,

Veţi cunoaşte toţi belşugul,

Veţi trăi în voie bună,

Iar de nu-i veţi da crezare,

Veţi pieri în răzvrătire!

În această apă vie,

Să spălaţi a vostre feţe,

Date cu vopseaua luptei,

Să spălaţi pe totdeauna

De pe  mâini frăţescul sânge;

Plăsmuiţi în piatră pipe,

Prindeţi trestie de ele

Şi le-mpodobiţi cu pene,

Să aprindeţi Pipa Păcii

Şi să vieţuiţi ca fraţii!”

La auzu-acestor vorbe

Luptătorii de îndată

Armele le-au us grămadă,

Straiele si-au scos în grabă

Şi în valurile apei

Au inrat tăcuţi de-a valma,

De vopsea să-şi spele faţa.

Unda apei dinstre stâncă

Limpede era ca zarea,

Iar mai jos curgea la vale

Tulbure şi întinată.

Curăţindu-şi de vopsele

Faţa, toţi pe mal ieşiră

Şi-ngropară îm ţărână

Toporiştile de luptă.

Ghitci Manitu,măreţul,

Făcătorul lumii-ntinse

Le-a zambit cu mulţumire!

După-aceea, în tăcere,

Au ciplit în piatră pipe,

Trestie le-au pus la capăt,

Leau împodobit cu pene

Şi făcut-au cale-ntoarsă,

Chiar în clipă când în boltă

S-a deschis în nori o poartă,

Ce-a ascuns Stăpânul Vieţii,

Confundat cu fumu-albastru

Din Pocvana, Pipa Păcii

Postul lui Haiavata

Şi acuma vă voi spune

Cum, în codru, Haiavata

A postit, şi-n timpu-acesta

S-a rugat cu focu-n suflet.

Nu cerea izbândă-n lupte

Cu duşmanul sau cu fiara,

Ca să-i meargă vestea-n lume;

Ruga lui era-ndreptată

Pentru-o viaţă mai ferice

Şi al oamenilor bine.

Înainte de-aşi începe

În pădure postul  aspru,

Şi-a durat în primăvară,

În a frunzei caldă lună,

Wigwam chiar pe malul apei.

Şi cu mintea stăpânită

De vedenii minunate,

Şapte nopţi şi şapte zile

A postit de unul singur.                                

Ziua-ntâia, până-n seară,

Rătăcit-a prin pădure,

A văzut o căprioară

Şi un iepure în tufe,

Un fazan zburând desupra,

Veveriţa,Adgidomo,

Zbenguindu-se prin scorburi,

Porumbelul alb,Omini,

Cuib pe-o ramură facându-şi,

Gâştele în stoluri strânse,

Drum ţinând spre miazănoapte,

Şi scoţând fără-ncetare

Ţipete tânguitoare.

-       „O, Stăpâne-al vieţii noastre –

A strigat atunci spre ceruri,

Haiavata-n deznădejde –

Oare , pe de-a pururi soarta

Ni-i legată de pădure

Şi de-a ei jivini şi păsări?”

Următoarea zi întreagă

Lângă apă-a petrecut-o.

A văzut orez sălbatic,

Agrişul vărgat,Şebamin,

Tufe de-afină,Minaga,

Şi Bimagut, viţa verde

Ce-şi întinde-a ei lăstare,

Răspândind mireasmă dulce.

Şi, cuprins de deznădejde,

A strigat , privind spre ceruri:

-       „ O, Stăpâne, viaţa noastră,

E legată pe vecie

De sălbaticele roade

Ale luncilor acestea?”

În a treia zi, pe malul

Lacului a stat pe gânduri,

Străbătând cu-a lui privire

Lucitoarea undă verde.

Şi-a văzut nisetrul, Nama,

Zbenguindu-se în apă

Şi-mproşcând cu stropi ce-n soare

Străluceau sclipind ca focul;

A văzut, bibanul,Sava,

Licărind ca raza-n apă,

Racul, ştiuca,Maşchenoza,

Şi scrumbia,Ocahavis.

-       „O Stăpâne-al vieţii noastre –

A strigat atunci, spre ceruri,

Haiavata-n deznădejde –

Soarta noastră nemiloasă

E legată pe vecie

De fiinţele din apă?”

În a patra zi în wigwam

El rămâne până-n noapte

În culcuşul lui de frunze,

Cu puterile sleite

Şi privirea-nceţoşată;

Urmărea cu-nfrigurare

Minunatele vedenii,

Ce-i zburau fugar prin cuget:

Lunci cu iarbă verde-n zare,

Ape unduindu-şi valul,

Asfinţitul roş ca focul.

Dintr-o dată se iveşte,                                   

În lumina purpurie

A apusului de soare,

Un flăcău, semeţ, cu straie

Galbene si verzi ca iarba,

Plete lungi şi moi de aur,

Şi-o podoabă împletită

Din frunziş pe fruntea naltă.

S-a oprit tăcut în uşă,

S-a uitat spre Haiavata

Cu adâncă-mduioşare.

S-a uitat la faţa-i suptă

Şi i-a spus cu glasul molcom,

Ca un susur din câmpie:

-       Haiavata, află vestea

Că înflăcărata-ţi rugă

Fost-a-n ceruri auzită,

Căci tu n-ai cerut nimica

Pentru tine şi-a ta slavă,

Nici noroc la vânătoare,

Nici în luptă grea izbândă,

Doar o viaţă mai ferice

Pentru-ntreaga omenire.

Sânt Mondamin şi la tine

Vin ca frate şi ca prieten,

Să-ţi vestesc că prin răbdare

Şi rin muncă fără preget,

Vei gasi înfăptuirea

Rugii tale-nflăcărate.

Din culcuşul tău te scoală,

Şi te lupta-acum cu mine!”

Istovit de postu-i aspru,

Şi-a lăsat atunci culcusul

Haiavata  şi din wigwam

A ieşit cu pasul moale,

Pe poiana luminată

De-asfinţitul roş de soare,

Ca să lupte cu Mondamin.

Şi îndată ce-l atinse,

Îşi simţi din nou puterea,

Şi din nou cuprinse pieptu-i

Îndrăzneala şi nădejdea.

Se-nfruntau în luptă dreaptă

Pe poiana luminată

De-asfinţitul roş de soare;

Se simţea tot mai puternic

Şi mai sprinten haiavata.

Iată însă că din vale

S-a lăsat tăcută noaptea,

Şi bâtlanu.n păpurişuri

A zburat, scoţând un ţipăt

Plin de jale-n întuneric.

-       „Ne ajunge”-a spus Mondamin

Zâmbitor lui Haiavata,

Mâine, când se lasa-amurgul,

Eu voi fi din nou aicea,

Să te pun la încercare”.

Şi-a pierit în bezna nopţii,

Făr’ să vadă Haiavata

Dacă s-a-nălţat ca norul,

Sau s-a risipit ca ceaţa;

Doar atât şi-a dat el seama,

C-a rămas deodată singur,

Şi că jos , luceşte-n neguri

Apa lacului şi stele

S-au aprins pe cer, deasupra.

Două zile-n şir, pe seară,

În amurg, când se scufundă

Soarele, încet, în mare,

Ca un talger de jăratec,

Oaspele vrăjit,Mondamin,

Se-ndrepta spre Haiavata

Ca să-l pună la-ncercare

Şi cu el să lupte aprig.

Se ivea tăcut ca roua,

Care din văzduh răsare

Şi-n văzduh se-ntoarce iară;

Ia fiinţă doar pe glie

Nu o vede însă nimeni

Când se-aşează, când se duce.

De trei ori în şir, Mondamin,

A luptat cu Haiavata,

Pe poiana luminată

De-asfinţitul roş de soare,

Până când se lăsa noaptea

Şi bâtlanu-n păpurişuri

Zboară cu un ţipăt jalnic.

După-a treia încercare,

S-a prit în loc Mondamin.

Şi semeţ şinându-şi capul

Îmbrăcat în verde-galben,

Cu podoaba lui de frunze

Legănată-n adiere,

Şi cu fruntea-nbrobonată

De sudoare ca de rouă.

Şi-a strigat: – „O! Haiavata!

Ai luptatcu mine aprig.

De rei ori mi-ai stat în faţă,

Şi-ţi trimite biruinţă

Ghitci Manitu asupră-mi”.

Şi cu zâmbetul pe buze

Îi mai spuse: „Iată, mâine,

O să fie cea din urmă

Zi de post şi de-ncercare;

Mâine , tu ai să mă birui;

Un culcuş să-mi faci în glie,

Ca să poată să mă ude

Picăturile de ploaie,

Şi s-ajungă pân la mine

Raza soarelui fierbinte.

Straiele ce mă îmbracă

Tu le smulge fără milă,

Şi îngroapă-ma, pământul

Sfărâmându-l pe deasupra.

Să-ngrijeşti ca nici o mână

Somnul meu să nu mi-l strice,

Buruienile şi viermii

Să nu-mi vatăme culcuşul,

Şi nici Cagaghi,Cioroiul,

Pe deasupra-mi să nu zboare;

Ca de ochii tăi, de mine

Să ai grijă vara-ntreagă,

Până-n clipa deşteptării,

Când din nou deasupra gliei,

Voi nălţa cu fală trupu-mi

În lumina calda-a zilei.

Si din nou pieri în noapte.

Noaptea-aceea Haiavata,

A dormit cu pacea-n suflet.

Auzea prin somn, din wigwam,

Cum îi cântă păpăluda

Pe acoperiş, afară,

Cum aleargă Şibovişa,

Pârâiaşul printre maluri,

Stând de vorbă-n graba mare

Cu pădurea-ntunecată

Şi cu-al ramurilor foşnet,

Legănate de-adierea

Liniştită-a nopţii calde;

Auzea , dar de departe,

Ca un murmur de poveste,

Căci dormea cupacea-n suflet.

Dimineaţă-n zorii zilei,

A venit la el Nacomis,

Aducându-i de mâncare.

Şi cu ochii plini de lacrimi

Îi spunea că o să piară,

Istovit de postu-i aspru,

Dacă după şapte zile

N-o să ia ceva în gură.

Nu se-atinse de mâncare

Haivata, doar îi zise:

-       „Lasa-ma, acum , Nacomis,

Mai asteaptă până-n seară,

Când bâtlanu-n întuneric,

Cu un ţipăt plin de jale

Va vesti sfârşitul zilei!”

Cu amar plangând, Nacomis

s-a întors cu grija-n suflet

Să nu piară Haiavata,

Istovit de postu-i aspru.

El rămase iarăşi singur,

Să-l aştepte pe Mondamin.

Şi când umbrele-nserării

Începură să se-ntindă

Dinstre-apus,ca să-nevelească

Câmpurile şi pădurea,

Când pe cer porni la vale

Soarele,strângându-şi molcom

Focul său din unda apei,

Ca o frunză roşe toamna,

Ce s lasă peste ape

Şi în valuri se cufundă,

Se ivi din nou Mondamin.

Îmbrăcat în verde –galben,

Cu podoaba lui de frunze

Verzi în plete-i de aur,

Se opri în faţa uşii

Şi îi spuse: – „”Buna seara!”

Ca în is porni spre oaspe

Haiavata, alb ca varul,

Istovit de post şi zbucium,

Ca să lupte cu Mondamin.

Se-nvârtea în juru-i totul,

Cerul şi pădurea verde.

Inima-i bătea năvalnic,

Cum se zbate un nisetru

Ca să iasă din prinsore,

Când năvodul îl cuprinde.

Toate-n jur păreau cuprinse

De mistuitoare flăcări,

Sori aprinşi fără de număr

Se uitau la lupta cruntă.

Deodată, Haiavata

Se văzu-n poiană singur,

Tremurând de încordarea

Luptei duse fără preget,

Iar în faţă-ntins , în iarbă,

Cu frumoasele lui straie

Sfâşiate fără milă,

Cu frunzişul rupt pe frunte,

Şi cu pletele-i de aur

Răvăşite peste faţă,

Nemişcat şi fără viaţă –

Trupul mândru-al lui Mondamin.

Credincios poruncii sale,

Haiavata în poiană

I-a săpat o groapă-adâncă,

Şi de straie despuindu-l,

La-ngropat, iar pe deasupra

A fărâmiţat pământul,

Până când bâtlanu-n baltă

A zburat cu ţipăt jalnic.

Dup-aceea, Haiavata

S-a întors la el acasa;

A fost ziua cea din urmă

De-ncercări şi frământare.

N-a uitat el însă locul

Unde-a înfruntat în luptă

Pe Mondamin, biruindu-l;

N-a uitat mormântu-n care

L-angropat,lăsând în preajmă-i

Să se veştejească-n soare

Frunzele si haina-i mândră.

Zi de zi s-a dus acolo,

La mormânt, să-l îngrijească,

Bulgării să îi sfărâme

Să plivească buruiana

Şi cu strigate s-alunge

Păsările stricătoare,

Cu-al lor cap, hârşit în rele,

Cagaghi, cioroiul negru.

Până când, mlădiu şi firav,

Răsări în ţărna neagră

Un subţire lujer verde,

Şi-apoi, lângă el, mai multe,

N-apucă să vină toamna

Şi pe locul luptei aprigi

Se-nălţă semeţ porumbul,

Îmbrăcat în straie mândre

Şi cu plete răsfirate,

De mătase aurie.

Stând în faţă-i Haiavata

A strigat cu bucurie:

-       „ E Mondamin, un prieten

Pentru-ntreaga omenire!”

A chemat-o pe Nacomis,

Şi pe Iagu, vânătorul,

Le-a-nşirat a sale vise

Şi le-a spus , pe îndelete,

Despre lupta-i cu Mondamin

Şi minunea biruinţei.

Le-arătă porumbul verde,

Noul dar măreţ al firii,

Ce a fost menit să scape

Pe vecie omenirea

De a foamei cruntă grijă.

Iar atuncea când spre toamnă,

S-a făcut porumbul galben,

Şi s-au copt a sale boabe,

Tari şi lucii ca mărgeanul,

El a stâns de zor ştiuleţii,

Curăţându-i de pănuşe,

Ca şi-atunci când după luptă,

Despuie pe-al său potrivnic.

A chemaz apoi tot satul

La o mare sărbătoare,

Arătându-i darul veşnic

Dat de pronia cerească.

zamolxe

New image in the selective color photoshop contest

Thanks to pepo for the Stock image …
Yellow Yellow Sporty FelloW photoshop picture

A friend of mine posted an article on Facebook about how a conservative group is rewriting the Bible to better fit their conservative perspective.

Candidates for deletion include such passages like, “Father forgive them,” “Turn the other cheek,” and “Love thy neighbor.” Usage of commie words like “comrade,” “labor” and “fellow” will be greatly reduced in this new version. Words like, “peace” and “word” will be updated in favor of words with stronger connotations of power. Finally, parables which endorse a free market economy will be embellished and emphasized.

Furthermore, their logo. I rest my case.

From their website: “The ensuing debate would flesh out–and stop–the infiltration of churches by liberals pretending to be Christian.”

I’ll be honest. I’ve infiltrated a number of churches in my day. The ol’ wolf in sheep’s clothing thing… works every time. I walk in the door, giving homage to the almighty white, blue-eyed, blond-haired, American, capitalist Jesus and talking about how he saved me from the horrible fires of Hell. Soon enough I have gained everyone’s trust and can begin infecting them with evil, of-the-devil, abhorred principles like: Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Gentleness and Self-control. Pretty soon, they’ve all been infected by my venom. They no longer solely pursue their own selfish good at the costs of others; they start thinking about their neighbors and how to be kind and considerate. Oh, it works so devilishly well. I make Satan proud.

Essentially, this project is an exercise in self-idolatry. Those working on the project are rewriting the Bible with themselves as the main character. They are God. They are Jesus. They are the Holy Spirit. The god of the bible they produce will be themselves, as every line of scripture will reinforce their own personal biases. They are making themselves into a golden calf, that their singular worldview will become the authoritative truth. This bible is not their source of truth. They are the source of truth for this bible.

Well, if they are going to rewrite the Bible, I feel obligated to respond. I’m officially writing my own Bible. I’m changing the part where Jesus said, “Love your enemies” to read, “Love your enemies.” The passage that reads, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” will now read, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” The part that goes, “Do good to those who hurt you,” will be updated to, “Do good to those who hurt you.”

Edgy. I know. Thank goodness he didn’t actually say that stuff. Otherwise, I’d be obligated to give a damn about anyone besides myself.

(CFD.net.au – Contract for Difference, Share, Forex, ETFs, Commodities Traders) – A Canberra adventurer has become the first Australian climber to summit the world’s 14 highest mountains.Andrew Lock reached the top of Mt Shishapangma in Tibet late on Friday on his fifth attempt.

Only around a dozen people have climbed the world’s 14 mountains higher than 8,000 metres.

Friend and fellow mountaineer Zac Zaharias says it is an outstanding achievement.

“It’s the grand slam of Himalyan climbing,” he said.

“A lot of people talk about the seven summits but that’s really a C-grade achievement in relation to what Andrew’s done.

“He’s done them all bar Everest … without supplementary oxygen.”

But Andrew Lock’s latest climb nearly ended in tragedy. He was caught in a storm on descent from the summit of Shishapangma and was forced to sleep out in the open high on the mountain.

The 47-year-old now hopes to climb Mt Everest for the third time and without oxygen.

Source: Aussie climber completes Himalayan grand slam

She was sharp to the tongue.
Crashed against her, but made her a friend.
Then she pierced right through me.
Like a pin with a string,
Though she’s left, there’s this thing hanging on my wing.
But before that we laughed,
And we swore to the sun
That we’ll both be flying in the wind.

But she grew up too fast.
I ran but she was way too fast for me.
She ran without looking.
Oh, how i wanted her to see
That the run wasn’t worth it.
But my tongue didn’t tell.
‘Cause my eyes did not see as well.

She’s a piece i met in the whole wheat bread.
It hurts me to see that she’s in crumbles now.
She denies it to death, says she doesn’t regret
Anything that she did before she fell.
I guess I must think of it like that as well.
At least for now.

I just couldn’t resist too see the darkness of the situation.
My eyes open wider at every heavy breath she lets out.
I remember the times when we both saw the sun,
Felt it burn.
But now all that she sees is a paper mache.
A round paper ball painted yellow.
And all that she feels is her body heat slowly diminishing.

Oh my little half of the bread has crumbled.
Fell into cold water,
Hope the sun’ll evaporate the cold pool of sorrows that she fell into.
Hope the sun will do the thing.
Because I can’t do anything but wishing.
No, I can’t do anything.

I just hope the sun will shine down upon my fellow piece of bread.
And evaporate the pool of sorrows she had fallen in.
Till that i can’t do anything.

Welcome to the official fund raising site for Charlie’s 12-18 month unpaid Kiva fellowship

Whether you are friends, family, or someone who has happened upon my site, please take the time to look at why I have decided to volunteer for a year and a half. If you can any donations will help. Either way please check out kiva.org.

SEE A GREAT VIDEO HIGHLIGHTING WHAT KIVA DOES

How I decided to volunteer for 18 months with Kiva

Chicago, IL 5:00 PM February 17th 2008 -

I sat glued to my computer on the 8th floor of UBS tower in downtown Chicago with the wind blowing gusts of bitter cold outside the temperature controlled stasis where I spent the majority of my waking hours. Less then a year ago I had been paddling the frozen waters of Lake Superior in a kayak leading teenagers through the wilderness. Just before that I was locking myself in the basement of the massive Claremont library where I wrote most of my molecular biology thesis on the potential therapeutic value of histone deacetylase inhibitors via apoptotic induction of cancer cells. The millennial inside me knew that I would not be satisfied with a life culminating in middle management and a job solely for the purpose of a biweekly paycheck. In the same sense I was unsure of what direction I wanted to head professionally. I knew when I started heading in the right direction I would feel the difference and I continued working late into the evening like many times before daydreaming of the direction I might head.

Fast forward to December of 2009 and I am saying my last farewells to colleagues that had long ago became friends in the 6 years (including internships) I had spent at Bovis. In some ways I was sorry to be leaving and my superiors, fresh off giving my an excellent review, were sorry to see me go. The 6 months leading up to my departure I had been living at a cooperative, and developing ideas such as litteradicate, working closely with Human Right Watch, volunteering for the Obama campaign, and growing interested in the worldwide non-religious effects of evangelical missionaries (see me current resume). The juxtoposition of my long days in a corporate cubicle followed by evenings plotting revolution had reached their pinnacle. I would leave in January on a journey that would begin in the middle east and end when I landed somewhere that felt right.

Ten months later I am creating this website. The past ten months I could be found in Turkey, Egypt, Israel, Palestine, Jordan, India, and Nepal. Shortly into my journey I discovered a fellowship program with a non-profit organization based in San Francisco which piqued my interest. Kiva is a 4 year old microfinance distribution network that has disbursed nearly $100 million to 130 field partners in 49 countries and counting. I have been a lender with Kiva since early 2008 when I heard about the organization through a friend. Going from a lender who commits a few hundred dollars for a year to applying for an 18 month unpaid fellowship is quite a large step.

Why I have decided to take this leap?

In my opinion Kiva is one of the most prescient examples of intelligent motivated young professionals applying their training and acumen to a conscious based project while utilizing cutting edge technology. With all the examples of globalization’s negative effects, organizations like Kiva provide a a shining light. My first experience with Kiva coincided with my reading of “Commodities and Capabilities” by the economist Amartya Sen. I could not help but feel that Kiva could play a crucial role in filling the gap in opportunity  for those born at an unlucky latitude.

As I looked more into the origins, current impact, and potential future impact of Kiva I was blown away. I have worked with many of human rights organizations, aid organizations, advocacy groups, fundraising boards, and the like in my life and in my opinion the greatest change will not be made by those committed individuals who want to change the world themselves. Instead the individuals and groups that provide an accessible means for others who would otherwise not work to change the world strike me as the most important social innovators. Groups like Architecture for Humanity, who provide a platform and community for designers to work with communities in need around the world. Kiva is giving individuals in impoverished areas around the world access to credit and therefore a major tool in allowing them to provide for themselves and their families; and they are doing it with the dollars of coal miners from Pennsylvania, students in Toyko, and retirees in Switzerland. Furthermore, these individuals are providing this crucial developmental step at practically no cost. I had finally found a movement I wanted to commit to. The application process stretched over three months including multiple essays and interviews. I was committing 18 months of my life to work for free. In the end I was accepted and now I need you to help me make this dream a reality.   

Afterward

While I did not major in Economics during my undergraduate education I have always had a passion for finding ways to help others. At first I thought I could accomplish this through medicine and completed a premedical concentration while at university. Along the way I realized that my passion was for working with others, not medicine and decided not to pursue this path. Unsure of what my next step should be I headed into the private sector and project management. While I have a strong skill set for business it did not fulfill my passion and  I resigned in December to travel and pursue several personal growth projects as well a personal research project into the economic effects of fundamental Christian missionaries.

My travel experience includes studying at the University of Adelaide, working and living in New Zealand, living in a remote village in the
Lau group of Fijian islands, spending a summer in South Korea, hiking in Israel for 400 kilometers, working with a Palestinian rights organization in the West Bank, living in Egypt working as a PADI Dive Master, trekking in Kashmir, teaching English to monks in Dharamsala, exploring Nepal at 18,000 feet in the Annapurna Range, and countless other adventures (read about some of these on my blog). I will bring these experiences with me as I spend 18 months learning, teaching, recording, and growing. When I am finished I hope to continue in the microfinance genre either professionally or academically.