tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53861348319585948712024-03-13T20:59:22.599-04:00life is exquisitelive a life sculpted in forms of love, written in the poetry of whimsy, and painted with the colours of passionUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-6764911484195831392012-10-12T01:14:00.005-04:002012-10-12T01:14:55.792-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have moved myself to <a href="http://racing-the-wind.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Tumblr</a>. I like the layout, and I just find it easier to blog. See ya there, folks!<br />
<br />
-me</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-41163155085782459002012-04-23T08:54:00.000-04:002012-04-23T08:54:21.047-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/apr/22/brazil-rainforest-awa-endangered-tribe">'They're killing us': world's most endangered tribe cries for help</a></h1>
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<a class="contributor" href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/profile/gethin-chamberlain" rel="author" style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #005689; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;">Gethin Chamberlain</a></div>
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Trundling along the dirt roads of the Amazon, the giant logging lorry dwarfed the vehicle of the investigators following it. The trunks of nine huge trees were piled high on the back – incontrovertible proof of the continuing destruction of the world's greatest rainforest and its most endangered tribe, the Awá.</div>
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Yet as they travelled through the jungle early this year, the small team from Funai – <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/brazil" style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #005689; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;" title="More from guardian.co.uk on Brazil">Brazil</a>'s National Indian Foundation – did not dare try to stop the loggers; the vehicle was too large and the loggers were almost certainly armed. All they could do was <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/video/2012/apr/22/loggers-amazonian-tribes-territory-video?intcmp=239" style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #005689; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;">video the lorry and add the film to the growing mountain of evidence showing how the Awá</a> – with only 355 surviving members, more than 100 of whom have had no contact with the outside world – are teetering on the edge of extinction.</div>
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It is a scene played out throughout the Amazon as the authorities struggle to tackle the powerful illegal logging industry. But it is not just the loss of the trees that has created a situation so serious that it led a Brazilian judge, José Carlos do Vale Madeira, to describe it as "a real genocide". People are pouring on to the Awá's land, building illegal settlements, running cattle ranches. Hired gunmen – known as<em style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">pistoleros</em> – are reported to be hunting Awá who have stood in the way of land-grabbers. Members of the tribe describe seeing their families wiped out. Human rights campaigners say the tribe has reached a tipping point and only immediate action by the Brazilian government to prevent logging can save the tribe.</div>
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This week <a href="http://www.survivalinternational.org/news/awa-launch" style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #005689; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;">Survival International </a>will launch a new campaign to highlight the plight of the Awá, backed by Oscar-winning actor Colin Firth. In a video to be launched on Wednesday, Firth will ask the Brazilian government to take urgent action to protect the tribe. The 51-year-old, who starred in last year's hit movie <em style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">The King's Speech,</em> and came to prominence playing Mr Darcy in the 1995 BBC adaptation of <em style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Pride and Prejudice</em>, delivers an appeal to camera calling on Brazil's minister of justice to send in police to drive out the loggers.</div>
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The Awá are one of only two nomadic hunter-gathering tribes left in the Amazon. According to Survival, they are now the world's most threatened tribe, assailed by gunmen, loggers and hostile settler farmers.</div>
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Their troubles began in earnest in 1982 with the inauguration of a European Economic Community (EEC) and World Bank-funded programme to extract massive iron ore deposits found in the Carajás mountains. The EEC gave Brazil $600m to build a railway from the mines to the coast, on condition that Europe received a third of the output, a minimum of 13.6m tons a year for 15 years. The railway cut directly through the Awá's land and with the railway came settlers. A road-building programme quickly followed, opening up the Awá's jungle home to loggers, who moved in from the east.</div>
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It was, according to Survival's research director, Fiona Watson, a recipe for disaster. A third of the rainforest in the Awá territory in Maranhão state in north-east Brazil has since been destroyed and outsiders have exposed the Awá to diseases against which they have no natural immunity.</div>
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"The Awá and the uncontacted Awá are really on the brink," she said. "It is an extremely small population and the forces against them are massive. They are being invaded by loggers, settlers and cattle ranchers. They rely entirely on the forest. They have said to me: 'If we have no forest, we can't feed our children and we will die'."</div>
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But it appears that the Awá also face a more direct threat. Earlier this year an investigation into reports that an Awá child had been killed by loggers found that their tractors had destroyed the Awá camp.</div>
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"It is not just the destruction of the land; it is the violence," said Watson. "I have talked to Awá people who have survived massacres. I have interviewed Awá who have seen their families shot in front of them. There are immensely powerful people against them. The land-grabbers use <em style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">pistoleros</em> to clear the land. If this is not stopped now, these people could be wiped out. This is extinction taking place before our eyes."</div>
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What is most striking about the Funai undercover video of the loggers – apart from the sheer size of the trunks – is the absence of jungle in the surrounding landscape. Once the landscape would have been lush rainforest. Now it has been clear-felled, leaving behind just grass and scrub and only a few scattered clumps of trees.</div>
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Such is the Awá's affinity with the jungle and its inhabitants that if they find a baby animal during their hunts they take it back and raise it almost like a child, to the extent that the women will sometimes breastfeed the creature. The loss of their jungle has left them in a state of despair. "They are chopping down wood and they are going to destroy everything," said Pire'i Ma'a, a member of the tribe. "Monkeys, peccaries, tapir, they are all running away. I don't know how we are going to eat – everything is being destroyed, the whole area.</div>
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"This land is mine, it is ours. They can go away to the city, but we Indians live in the forest. They are going to kill everything. Everything is dying. We are all going to go hungry, the children will be hungry, my daughter will be hungry, and I'll be hungry too."</div>
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In an earlier interview with Survival, another member of the tribe, Karapiru, described how most of his family were killed by ranchers. "I hid in the forest and escaped from the white people. They killed my mother, my brothers and sisters and my wife," he said. "When I was shot during the massacre, I suffered a great deal because I couldn't put any medicine on my back. I couldn't see the wound: it was amazing that I escaped – it was through the Tupã [spirit]. I spent a long time in the forest, hungry and being chased by ranchers. I was always running away, on my own. I had no family to help me, to talk to. So I went deeper and deeper into the forest.</div>
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"I hope when my daughter grows up she won't face any of the difficulties I've had. I hope everything will be better for her. I hope the same things that happened to me won't happen to her."</div>
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The Survival campaign reflects growing international concern over the plight of the world's remaining indigenous tribes. Earlier this year the<em style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Observer </em>revealed how police were colluding with tour operators in India's Andaman Islands to run human safaris into the jungle heartland of the protected Jarawa tribe. <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/video/2012/jan/07/andaman-islanders-human-safari-video" style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #005689; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;" title="">A video showing half-naked Jarawa women and girls dancing</a> in return for food caused outrage in India and around the world. Further revelations followed, <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/jan/29/bonda-jarawa-orissa-andaman-tour" style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #005689; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;" title="">exposing human safaris in Orissa</a>, in India, and in Peru, where tour operators are <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/feb/26/human-safari-threat-amazon-tribe" style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #005689; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;" title="">profiting from the exploitation of Amazon jungle tribes</a>.</div>
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Meanwhile, drug traffickers are posing a threat to other Amazon tribes. Last year a previously uncontacted tribe was photographed from the air close to the Peru-Brazil border only to go missing a few months later after a gang of drug traffickers overpowered guards protecting their land.</div>
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The Brazilian embassy in London referred requests for a response to the president's Human Rights Secretariat, which did not respond. However, Brazil has recently been able to point to research that shows it has been making progress in tackling illegal logging. The country's National Institute for Space Research estimates that 6,238 sq km of rainforest was lost between 2010 and 2011, down dramatically from the 2004 peak of 27,700 sq km. The same year, Brazil pledged to cut<a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/deforestation" style="background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border-collapse: collapse; color: #005689; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;" title="More from guardian.co.uk on Deforestation">deforestation</a> by 80% by 2020.</div>
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The year-on-year fall last year was 11% and in March Brazil's forestry department raided and closed down 14 illegal sawmills on the borders of the Awá's land. Even so, the figures also show that two states recorded sharp rises in deforestation, and illegal logging is destroying the Awá's jungle at a faster rate than that of any other Amazon tribe.</div>
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In a statement, Survival urged the Brazilian government to give more support to Funai and to increase its efforts to shut down illegal activities in the Awá's territories. "Timing is crucial, and the timing of this is now, because while all hope is not lost an entire people are on the verge of being lost, most critically the uncontacted Awá. And we have a moral responsibility to act. EU and World Bank money has helped fund huge projects in Brazil that have exploited the Awá's land resources and made infrastructure ripe for developers."</div>
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</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-56717986714343244782012-04-15T18:54:00.003-04:002012-04-15T19:01:47.521-04:00Letters To My Daughters: A Memoir<div><div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-top: 8px; margin-right: 12px; margin-bottom: 8px; margin-left: 12px; background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/input_bg.gif); background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.4; font-weight: normal; background-position: 50% 0%; background-repeat: repeat no-repeat; "><p><em><strong>I just finished reading </strong><a href="http://www.fawziakoofi.org/" target="_blank" href="http://www.fawziakoofi.org/" style="color: rgb(0, 123, 255); ">Letters To My Daughters</a></em><em><strong>: A Memoir</strong></em><em> (The Favored Daughter <strong>in the United States) and it broke my heart. I couldn't recommend it more. Anyone who wants to know more about the Taliban, women's rights, recent history, or life in general for the past 30 or so years in </strong></em><em><strong>modern Afghanistan should read this book. You can also read the thorough review <a href="http://afghanistan101.blogspot.ca/2011/06/letters-to-my-daughters-fawzia-koofi.html">below</a>. </strong></em></p><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; ">By <a href="http://www.edmontonjournal.com/life/woman+quest+save+Afghanistan/4898433/story.html" style="color: rgb(108, 130, 181); ">Licia Corbella</a>, Postmedia News June 6, 2011<br /><br /></span></p><blockquote style="margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 20px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 20px; ">""Even the day I was born, I was supposed to die." Thus begins the first chapter of Letters to My Daughters, by Fawzia Koofi, one of Afghanistan's most popular members of parliament, in a memoir that grabs its readers by the throat and doesn't let go. Call it a death grip -after all, Koofi has literally run for her life on numerous occasions starting at the age of four when life in Afghanistan started to unravel after the Soviet Union invaded the rugged country in 1979.<br /><br />Besides risks to her own life, her father, Wakil Abdul Rahman, an MP for the northern Afghan province of Badakhshan, which she now represents, was murdered, as were four of her brothers. "I have stared death in the face countless times in my 35 years, but still I'm alive. I don't know why this is," she muses.<br /><br />Koofi was born the 19th of her father's 23 children and the seventh and last child of her mother -the second of her father's seven wives.<br /><br />About one year before Koofi was born, her mother grew depressed after her husband brought home a new bride -a 14-year-old girl. That girl bore a son and Koofi's mother, who was six months pregnant herself, hoped that she too would bear a son to gain back the favour of her husband. It was not to be.<br /><br />"Semi-conscious by the time I was delivered, (my mother) had barely enough energy to express her dismay at the news I was a girl. When I was shown to her, she turned away, refusing to hold me," writes Koofi.<br /><br />"No one cared if the new girl child lived or died, so while they focused on saving my mother's life, I was wrapped in cotton muslin swaddling cloth and placed outside in the baking sun. I lay there for almost a day, screaming my little lungs out." Sounds horrific, but within a few chapters, it's impossible not to fall in love with Koofi's mother -Bibi jan -an illiterate woman described as the "kindest, most talented teacher in the world" who suffered terribly during her life.<br /><br />"I recall watching in horror once as my father chased my mother along the corridor and began beating her," writes Koofi. "Once, my father viciously tore out a chunk of her hair during a beating. . Beating was a normal part of marriage," something virtually all Afghan women and girls expect to be a part of their lives.<br /><br />Such passages reinforce what many Canadians believe about Afghanistan's medieval ways and its violence, but what this book accomplishes so beautifully is that it reminds readers of the humanity of Afghans. Despite the tragedy that has gripped the lives of almost every Afghan over 30 years of war, these are people with aspirations and sentiments not unlike our own.<br /><br />Each chapter starts with a letter from Koofi to her daughters, Shuhra, who will turn 13 later this month, and Shaharzad, 11. While these letters are full of love, wisdom and advice, it is the narrative of Koofi's life that will keep you turning the pages. Reached at her hotel room during a visit to Ottawa on Thursday, Koofi is just as engaging to talk to as her book is compelling to read.<br /><br />While Koofi says she has been keeping a gruelling schedule of media interviews and public readings on her cross-Canada book tour, she is accustomed to long days of travel, meeting with her constituents in the impoverished northern part of Afghanistan and tending to her legislative duties in Kabul.<br /><br />But in Canada, where her life is not under constant threat by the Taliban, she says despite the hectic pace, she finds it relaxing. Koofi makes a point of thanking Canadian troops for their sacrifice and the positive difference they have made to her country. She mentions Calgary Herald reporter Michelle Lang, who was murdered by the Taliban near Kandahar on Dec. 30, 2009: "The Taliban like to kill women. They think it will stop other women from having courage and working to change our country. But it was the women and children of Afghanistan who suffered the most under the Taliban and living under the Taliban is worse than death, so they will never be able to kill the resolve of Afghan women to make a better country for their children."<br /><br />After Koofi's father was killed by mujahedeen fighters, her mother allowed her to attend school. It was there, while watching television, that she learned about British prime minister Margaret Thatcher and Indira Gandhi in India. But seeing those powerful rulers on television wasn't the spark that has Koofi vowing to run for president of Afghanistan in 2014. It was her parents -the musings of her mother and the political dynasty established by her father -who set her ambitions to lead.<br /><br />Koofi is disappointed Canada's mission in Afghanistan is coming to an end and is gravely worried for her country.<br /><br />Helping Afghanistan "is what I live for," writes Koofi at the end of her book. "And it is what I know I will die for." Here's hoping this brave woman has many more years of leadership before that happens. She might just change the world."<br /><br />Licia Corbella is a columnist and editorial page editor of the Calgary Herald.</blockquote><div><br /></div><p></p></div></div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-46701087923072422542012-03-21T10:53:00.001-04:002012-10-12T00:19:59.441-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: url(http://assets.tumblr.com/images/input_bg.gif); background-origin: initial; background-position: 50% 0%; background-repeat: repeat no-repeat; color: black; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.4; margin-bottom: 8px; margin-left: 12px; margin-right: 12px; margin-top: 8px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<a href="http://youtu.be/TQmz6Rbpnu0">The Girl Who Silenced the World For Five Minutes</a><br />
An incredible video. The following is the <a href="http://100777.com/node/1827" style="color: #007bff;" target="_blank">transcribed speech</a>:<br />
<br /><span class="Apple-style-span"></span>
<em><strong>Hello, I'm Severn Suzuki speaking for E.C.O. - The Environmental Children's Organisation.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>We are a group of twelve and thirteen-year-olds from Canada trying to make a difference:</strong></em><br /><em><strong>Vanessa Suttie, Morgan Geisler, Michelle Quigg and me. We raised all the money ourselves to come six thousand miles to tell you adults you must change your ways. Coming here today, I have no hidden agenda. I am fighting for my future.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>Losing my future is not like losing an election or a few points on the stock market. I am here to speak for all generations to come.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I am here to speak on behalf of the starving children around the world whose cries go unheard.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I am here to speak for the countless animals dying across this planet because they have nowhere left to go. We cannot afford to be not heard.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I am afraid to go out in the sun now because of the holes in the ozone. I am afraid to breathe the air because I don't know what chemicals are in it.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I used to go fishing in Vancouver with my dad until just a few years ago we found the fish full of cancers. And now we hear about animals and plants going exinct every day -- vanishing forever.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>In my life, I have dreamt of seeing the great herds of wild animals, jungles and rainforests full of birds and butterfilies, but now I wonder if they will even exist for my children to see.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>Did you have to worry about these little things when you were my age?</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>All this is happening before our eyes and yet we act as if we have all the time we want and all the solutions. I'm only a child and I don't have all the solutions, but I want you to realise, neither do you!</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>* You don't know how to fix the holes in our ozone layer.</strong></em><br /><em><strong>* You don't know how to bring salmon back up a dead stream.</strong></em><br /><em><strong>* You don't know how to bring back an animal now extinct.</strong></em><br /><em><strong>* And you can't bring back forests that once grew where there is now desert.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>If you don't know how to fix it, please stop breaking it!</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>Here, you may be delegates of your governments, business people, organisers, reporters or poiticians - but really you are mothers and fathers, brothers and sister, aunts and uncles - and all of you are somebody's child.</strong></em><br /><em><strong>I'm only a child yet I know we are all part of a family, five billion strong, in fact, 30 million species strong and we all share the same air, water and soil -- borders and governments will never change that.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I'm only a child yet I know we are all in this together and should act as one single world towards one single goal.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>In my anger, I am not blind, and in my fear, I am not afraid to tell the world how I feel.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>In my country, we make so much waste, we buy and throw away, buy and throw away, and yet northern countries will not share with the needy. Even when we have more than enough, we are afraid to lose some of our wealth, afraid to share.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>In Canada, we live the privileged life, with plenty of food, water and shelter -- we have watches, bicycles, computers and television sets.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>Two days ago here in Brazil, we were shocked when we spent some time with some children living on the streets. And this is what one child told us: "I wish I was rich and if I were, I would give all the street children food, clothes, medicine, shelter and love and affection."</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>If a child on the street who has nothing, is willing to share, why are we who have everyting still so greedy?</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I can't stop thinking that these children are my age, that it makes a tremendous difference where you are born, that I could be one of those children living in the Favellas of Rio; I could be a child starving in Somalia; a victim of war in the Middle East or a beggar in India.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I'm only a child yet I know if all the money spent on war was spent on ending poverty and finding environmental answers, what a wonderful place this earth would be!</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>At school, even in kindergarten, you teach us to behave in the world. You teach us:</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>* not to fight with others,</strong></em><br /><em><strong>* to work things out,</strong></em><br /><em><strong>* to respect others,</strong></em><br /><em><strong>* to clean up our mess,</strong></em><br /><em><strong>* not to hurt other creatures</strong></em><br /><em><strong>* to share - not be greedy.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>Then why do you go out and do the things you tell us not to do?</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>Do not forget why you're attending these conferences, who you're doing this for -- we are your own children. You are deciding what kind of world we will grow up in. Parents should be able to comfort their children by saying "everyting's going to be alright", "we're doing the best we can" and "it's not the end of the world".</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>But I don't think you can say that to us anymore. Are we even on your list of priorities? My father always says "You are what you do, not what you say."</strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span class="Apple-style-span"></span><span class="Apple-style-span">Well, what you do makes me cry at night. You grown ups say you love us. I challenge you, please make your actions reflect your words. Thank you for listening.</span> </strong></em></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-63136986868758443782012-03-21T10:17:00.002-04:002012-03-21T10:21:31.824-04:00I'm Canadian, but it applies just the same.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; "><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;">This essay kicked its way home right into my gut. I've spent some time in Asia, and while there are certainly issues with people there as well, there is a much higher sense of community, belonging, and care for the well-being of others. For example: when carrying a backpack/grocery bags/big purse on the bus or subway, someone who has a seat will take them and hold them for you while you stand. They will not steal anything. The entire point is to make your journey more comfortable. </span></em></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; "><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></em></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; "><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;">It is looking at the person in front of you, realising you can ease their discomfort, and <b>doing it</b></span></em></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; "><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;">. </span></em></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; "><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"> </span></em><br /><br /><em style="font-size: 13px; "><strong>Read the <a href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/ways-northeast-asia-is-the-future/">whole essay</a></strong></em></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; "><em>, it's worth it. </em></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px; "></span><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 28px; ">Here it isn’t every man for himself. Here people won’t steal from you on the bus. Here there is a general sense of people being connected by more than just breathing the same air. Take the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami and the way the Japanese responded to it. It was remarkable the way there were no reports of rooting or lawlessness when millions needed food and medical attention. Imagine if something similar to that happened in the United States, where we are anything but united...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "><em><strong><br /></strong></em></span></div><div></div></blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "><em><strong><br /></strong></em></span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-61966530175985612552012-02-15T12:31:00.003-05:002012-02-15T12:37:45.812-05:00Change is a beautiful thingI was actually considering creating a new blog, but I've invested so much into this one over the years, I've decided to keep it. I've also decided to make it more of a journal; not necessarily of secrets, but of experiences, feelings, and ideas. It is now an outlet for creative writing. I have some ideas, and I'm hoping to make more changes, so keep your eyes open.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-82168238158695671942012-01-02T09:46:00.006-05:002012-01-12T09:45:50.589-05:00What is ...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">Love? I've asked myself this question many times in my life, and I've realised that, like most abstract concepts, there is no single answer to it.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">I was raised with the "<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Corinthians+13&version=NIV">Love is patient, love is kind</a>" ideal, and watched it lived out in the lives of my parents. I have seen wonderful things done in the name of love, and I have seen love grow in extremely difficult circumstances. I have loved and been loved, and been in love. It can be easy to be loving with people I know, and who love me in return.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">It is another story when someone has 'that' personality. You know what I mean. The person who just drives you up the wall screaming with frustration. There are some personality types I can't understand, and who can push my '<b>lose it</b>' button by breathing.<br /><br />What I have come to realise, is that I am one of those people, and I imagine you are too. Some personality types just have more trouble communicating with one another than others. I don't 'get' them, and they don't 'get' me, and the result can be absolute frustration and hurt. I probably drive those same people as crazy as they drive me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">So this year I know some people will drive me insane. I will feel they are the most irrational, idiotic, self-centred, and annoying people on the planet, but I need to remember that I am most likely the same to them. I may find someone who makes me batshit crazy, but they still deserve respect, dignity, and compassion shown to them, whether they do the same for me or not. That, I think, is a new personal goal of mine.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">So, I'll love my friends and family, but will try not to forget the ass who talks too much or too loud at every event, the stupid shit who has the really, really annoying habit(s), the know-it-all who tries to be better than everyone else, all the time, or the fucker who ate the last piece of cheesecake being saved for me. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">I'm not saying I should pretend to be or feel something I'm not or don't, but I'll try to take a deep breath, count to ten, and avoid being the second asshole in the equation.</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#003300;">Happy New Year, Everyone.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-28670" style="line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top; font-size: 0.65em; ">4</sup> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. </span><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-28671" style="line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top; font-size: 0.65em; ">5</sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. </span><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-28672" style="line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top; font-size: 0.65em; ">6</sup> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. </span><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-28673" style="line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top; font-size: 0.65em; ">7</sup></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#003300;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-28674" style="line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top; font-size: 0.65em; "><br /></sup></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#003300;"><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-28674" style="line-height: normal; vertical-align: text-top; font-size: 0.65em; ">8</sup> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">Love never fails.</span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-10886096138762115842011-11-13T23:33:00.010-05:002011-11-13T23:56:39.697-05:00A State of Being<div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;">Joy</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;"><br /></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;"><i>Noun</i>:<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;">The emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying; keen pleasure; elation.</span></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;">The expression or display of glad feeling; festive gaiety.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;">A deep feeling or condition of happiness or contentment.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;"><i>Synonyms</i>:<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993399;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; ">R</span>apture - pleasure - bliss - delight</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600cc;"><b>Hap</b><b> <sup>. </sup></b><b>py</b></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600cc;"><br /></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600cc;"><i>Adjective</i>:<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600cc;">Characterized by, or indicative of, pleasure, contentment, or joy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600cc;">Favoured by fortune; fortunate or lucky.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600cc;"><i>Synonyms</i>:<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color:#6600cc;">Delighted - pleased -glad</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333399;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><br /></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333ff;"><b>Sat<sup> . </sup>is</b><b><sup> . </sup></b><b>fac</b><b> <sup>. </sup></b><b>tion</b></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333ff;"><br /></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333ff;"><i>Noun</i>: <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333ff;">The feeling of fulfillment; gratification.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333ff;">Confident acceptance of something as satisfactory, dependable, or true.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333ff;"><i>Synonyms</i>:<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333ff;">Enjoyment - pleasure - comfort</span></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">Con <sup> . </sup>tent</span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;"><br /></span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;"><i>Noun</i>: <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">The state of satisfaction; ease of mind.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">Satisfied with one is or has; not wanting more, or anything else.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;"><i>Adjective</i>: <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">Mentally or emotionally satisfied with things as they are.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">Assenting to or willing to accept circumstances.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;"><i>Synonyms</i>:<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#339999;">Appease - satisfaction - gratification</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#009900;">There are states of being which are chosen, and states which are spontaneous outbreaks of emotion. The emotions can be suppressed, and our ability to feel them may be damaged if they are held in check too often. Those states which are deliberate are elusive, difficult to grasp, and take perseverance and strength of mind to maintain.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-78699832588732635832011-10-22T22:07:00.002-04:002011-10-22T22:09:31.501-04:00New Beginnings<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;">I have a job!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#336666;">Cheers for new beginnings!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-50948836408368528332011-09-28T22:09:00.005-04:002011-11-13T13:06:03.714-05:00The Marriage of a Garrett and a GreenThis past weekend my wonderful sister Rachel married Peter Green. It was a spectacular ceremony at the Mill of Kintail, in Almonte. The day was warm and sunny, the trees had turned to autumnal colours, and there was just the slightest breeze. Rachel looked <b>stunning</b>, and Peter shudder/sighed in awe when he saw her floating down the aisle. Family and friends, both old and new, were there, and the afternoon was just about perfect. Even Nature seemed to approve, as a chipmunk scampered at the feet of the bride and groom, a grasshopper sat on the groom's shoulder, and a ladybug perused the bride's veil.<div><br /></div><div>Of course, the groomsmen were profusely sweating through their suit <b>jackets</b>, and bridesmaids were gracefully dodging bees. Whatever, it was still perfect, and we laughed about the sweat and stings later.</div><div><br /></div><div>Planning for the wedding, ceremony and all in between had been through by the <b>genius</b> of my sister Joy. She also, among other things, made two of the bridesmaid dresses, planned decorations, hosted the lingerie shower, and made the bouquets. The reception was, as Peter's auntie Elsie would say, "<i>an absolute hoot</i>!" The speeches were either rib cracking or heart wrenching, and all were full of love and congratulations. The band was lead by my uncle Brian, and he did an <b>amazing</b> job. The MC and DJ was my <b>hilarious</b>, favorite cousin Phil (FCP). I'm pretty sure everyone danced to at least one song, and I'm positive I was only off the dance floor for 10-15 minutes the whole night. Yes, I mashed those potatoes, started the lawn mower, and did the sprinkler. I jigged with the Newfie aunts and shook, rattled, and rolled with the cousins. I couldn't believe how well the two families came together. Family reunions will never be the same from here on in, they'll be <b>better</b>.</div><div><br /></div><div>I made friends with Pete's friends and family, and by the end of the weekend I was so sad to see everyone leave. Although I know I'll see Rae, Pete, and various new family and friends again, it breaks my heart that everyone lives so far away. I know the world is now a village, but transportation is expensive, and skyping just isn't the same as chillin' in a pub over drinks</div><div><br /></div><div>Somehow, now that Rae is married, she seems <b>further</b> away. It's more real to me that we may never live near one another again, and certainly not under the same roof. I guess now, with her most likely starting a family, and with new family and friends in Ft. Mac, I'll just have to make sure I visit. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Often</b>.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajI2DoeuUNrbG8eql6Q70eusoYjM_nlCeOeoPI7ikxLkdyiLB4vEQEPXexer5iUzzry86fTaMF-syx6K8hDZPGOAU7ui6il0OnXAjpVG175NJhFkx1Bx3GRWrWU9Im-r4wDXDiLtdPtnY/s400/307142_10150305609848173_503898172_8132246_1758483782_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657617078285615938" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtZ9tAwwJLVs1pUTcwqOD4HqDsMz7Dfr-wt9lryMdbDD4JXYX_av6KmDgjnbzUMG3q7vx_nJGervlPRHigcwLEYGF7q3050kVqXYkuCGj6f9N4Asxdh61ODVLHvJotXIMUjUd-w3nnne3/s400/309039_10150305613388173_503898172_8132300_1749654030_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657617080184240146" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwdfnVv4ihgTUZcuCwU37SLD2WJZua87342pjI1XmB7XVM0TuicaZFC95-w6PZutGbdKVe_xuWRlsBc6xIKVkx5rJWJMJHmuenelmRbRVslGENX0UBR7ZZ1CUjDeSUGHzrSfFBg9aK91x/s400/295900_10150816507800467_737835466_20800582_306400820_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657617085147371474" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8s4nSrm0-rbL1KS0pmdiUgmzm2Yr99eGz-a9z3c8U2dg93CEAqoINggYfH1llzMbckg33r8uTRFeIqigeYk_wcxIb_E_uFzv9qU1-n-7RmXYe_ASeamQBC5j3gMo2sUDvjMaXusFN4VTl/s400/313486_10150305614033173_503898172_8132310_635212493_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657618821476363106" /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-84147652494126414532011-09-08T07:50:00.003-04:002011-09-08T09:40:47.604-04:00Goals for SeptemberI've been following the blog of my lovely cousin <a href="http://networkedblogs.com/mJxYw">Brit</a>, and she gave me the idea of setting monthly goals. Hers are simple and wonderful, but most of all, they're achievable! So, without further ado, here are my September goals:<div><br /></div><div></div><blockquote><div>1. Keep my rooms room tidy. I'm pretty good at that as it is, but I could do better. Sharing a house means I have less control over the other rooms, but I will be keeping my own nice and tidy.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Go for a long walk at least four times every week. I don't like getting out and walking in the winter, so I should get as much walking in nice weather while I can!</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Stretch daily. That's pretty self-explanatory.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Cook a meal for someone I love twice a week. This may not happen closer to Rae's wedding at the end of the month, but I'll start this weekend.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Paint as often as possible. </div><div><br /></div><div>6. Write something each evening (not necessarily blogging).</div><div></div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>Okay! I think that's a realistic list! I hope I can keep it up! Thanks again Brit!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-73417628723095210542011-09-07T12:00:00.000-04:002011-09-07T15:06:44.519-04:00TreesI love them. There is something about a tree that symbolises life to me. I love trees more than flowers, grass, rainbows, and even sunsets (or sunrises). They start young and fragile, but can become these huge colossal beings; strong, but still vulnerable. They are associated with wisdom, age, and endurance, and are some of the very oldest continually living things on this earth. Some trees are thousands of years old. We use the word to describe our families, friends, and communities. We used to use the parts of trees to build our homes, furniture, and to keep us warm. They prevent erosion of soil, help moderate temperatures with their shade, and produce oxygen for us to breath. Many provide food for us to eat.<div><br /></div><div>I love climbing trees, sitting in their shade, or even just touching them. I've hugged ancient trees and planted baby ones. There's nothing quite like slinging a hammock between two trees and enjoying a good book (also provided by trees). </div><div><br /></div><div>There is something mysterious and wonderful about trees, and I want to share with you my love of them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here are some favorite tree pictures of mine:</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixq8W0JEn9ncfl9NUSGm6oZjM07LJ31o5cVGLavt9ULbHS62krRAfOKSSy-ydxj-fvP_BPOxyYoKTHWLGBpGmZ78nUAvYdKV16zaHbBtu3gb9I9nJXvMIw3MnSj8shTdUoNd4-gHrItb5d/s400/Pilgrimage+258b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649692855022424146" /></div><div>A path through a beautiful grove of soft-bark trees</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio8fcVZ4bSRRKORKyJhHn43GiZGSJR-Ny-VlL2OP6rXooyVk4GuJ_Kp-Do3XIKVnRgPY53tcNpRRBtPsW1MbRNKWNaGWKrhopwO8Wlj-ueKr4OCq_ilVBph-q__U-Z1rW0mptzeVu9cle7/s400/Pilgrimage+0+088b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649692822008354114" /></div><div>A beautiful tree in Scotland. I hugged this one.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 352px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijnLuDoLD4RMR8lC4jwRpLUrVbEMQeVuod0dJZQO43ibn0ED5HepcP61fhWgCtre26ptwsRUbNXyeDwddgFA78XaiQD0TwE560oQFEuML9T8g4Y4jxlWakgdTMhnAxgdFMjzFwBvbj6ng1/s400/Pilgrimage+231c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649692832134827570" /></div><div>What I think Bilbo's party tree really looked like</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgypx4Xiroi0iqZoVg2KxJFFzgsIEXEglz-C8rTcP6xXqS6knz0wJr454yk1k6EkftVZM8C1ifPe6aGO6NwhXciCrwzN6s5qhYyMQovfOUzxsWR_0lYphdPnnnoHG0ShVUBL0Rz1Zu2c8Sq/s400/Pilgrimage+239b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649692841814784642" /></div><div>Trees shading a walking path</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-9759770529114431192011-08-15T10:55:00.010-04:002011-08-19T14:47:46.211-04:00Hungry<div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"> <!--StartFragment--> </span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>Consumption of nutrients is a basic requirement for sustaining life in humans. It is a primal instinct in each of us. Nutrients give us energy, strength, and allow us to grow. Hunger is the alarm by which we are prompted to eat. If it is ignored we experience discomfort, and by continuing to ignore it, we experience pain. If enough nutrients are not consumed we become malnourished; our bodies become weak, our minds confused, and our energy is limited. If this situation persists, the body slowly begins to devour it’s own flesh, bones, and organs. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>Unfortunately, there are billions of people in this world who feel the warning bells of hunger every minute of every day. They feel the alarms, but they can do nothing to silence them. This is true hunger.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>Every year millions of Muslims observe Ramadan, which is a time of making peace with neighbours and letting go of any bitterness or resentment held against others. Most importantly however, it is a time in which each healthy man and woman abstains from all food and drink, while the sun is in the sky, for the cycle of a moon. The purpose of this restraint is to experience hunger and thirst, in an attempt to better understand what millions of people are forced to experience every day. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>Hunger is a very powerful thing. It is hard not to feel resentful when smelling your co-worker is eating hot pizza at the desk beside you. In the middle of the day your stomach rumbles uncomfortably, and halfway through the afternoon you start getting hunger cramps. Water starts to look like the nectar of the gods, and your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth. You berate yourself for not having just one more glass when you got up at 5:30 am for a quick breakfast. By the time mere 10 hours have passed since your last meal, eating your next one is all you can think about, yet you know you still have several hours until the sun sets.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>So you go grocery shopping for the evening meal, but you forget that you’ll have to pass the free samples of cheese, lasagne, steak, or even the newest cereal. You reach for one of the toothpicks offering a taste of ambrosia, but just as your fingers touch it you remember why you can’t have it. Not because of a religious commandment, or god-induced guilt. Those are not the reasons you do this to yourself for a month each year. You do this because it helps you to better value what you <b>do</b> have. When it is finally time to eat in the evening you appreciate your food, no matter what it is. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>You do this to be grateful you have the opportunity to eat at every meal, every day. Suddenly your petty complaints diminish in importance. You remember that you have only experienced hunger, but that people in the world are starving. Hunger is all you can imagine, because it is all you have experienced, and it is <b>so</b> awful it sometimes overrides your ability to control it. You realise you just can’t imagine how terrible starvation must actually be. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>For those of us who observe Ramadan the experience is incomplete, and mercifully so. When lunar cycle concludes those who have been fasting give gifts of food and money to those who need it, whether they are neighbours, or strangers who live in a distant country. If we are not able to afford to give these, we give the gift of time, and volunteer at shelters, soup kitchens, or housing development projects. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>This commentary isn't meant to make anyone feel guilty for eating out or owning a dozen shoes. Instead the purpose is to encourage us all to remember playing in the playground as children. To appreciate the toys we have, and to share with the children who sit against the wall and longingly watch us play with them.</i></span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </span><p></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-68700348589692004832011-08-13T13:10:00.004-04:002011-08-14T20:58:44.024-04:00your body is beautiful<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Most people I know are unhappy with at least one body part, and some with the whole package. I am a Massage Therapist, and I see different sizes, shapes, colours, weights, and heights. I see scars, malformed limbs, and parts which no longer function (or never have functioned) properly. It frustrates me when wonderful people despise about what they see as ugly about their physical selves. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">You are beautiful. Your body is beautiful. This is a subject about which I am most fierce.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Whether you like it or not, your body is like your biography. Every scar, wrinkle, sag, extra pound, and mole has a story to tell, and each of those stories are a part of the anthology that is you. I don't care who you are, where you are from, what you look like, or what you have and haven't done. Your body is a part of you, of how you think of yourself, and if you hate your body, how can you love, and be happy with who you are? </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">If you hate your "baby weight" and struggle to lose it, maybe you need to see it more positively: you are a mother, and that is something to celebrate. Look positively on your road to a healthy body and take each day at a time. If your goal is too far away, it will feel impossible to achieve, and then you have lost it before you have even started to reach it.
<br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Stop worrying about not having flat abs, slender thighs, or a straight nose. Don't despair over your receding hairline, small chest, or crows' feet. You are not cut from a cookie cutter! You are a unique and wonderful person! </span></span><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I want for you to see yourself the way I see you. You are a person with hopes, dreams, aspirations, heartbreak, and fears. You have preferences, favourites, dislikes, and things that make you gag. Some of these will be reflected in your body. You should be proud of your scars, stretch marks, and wrinkles, because they show that you are a person with a story. Confidence is beautiful, and if you are happy with the story you have to tell, you should be confident in the beauty of the body that tells it. </span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I think your body is art. I think your body is beautiful. </span></span></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-77024853419729689782011-08-09T18:09:00.007-04:002011-08-14T14:13:16.040-04:00Motherhood<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Today I turned on the tv and there was a movie playing called </span></span><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1220220/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Motherhood</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. The movie highlights a single day in the life of a writer-turned-wife-and-mother of two. This day is also the sixth birthday of her daughter, and revealed is all the stress, chaos, and emotions that go with motherhood for this particular woman. Now, I only caught the last 45-minutes or so of the movie, but I found that although the script is about being a mom, really it is about </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">life</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Motherhood is about accepting the limitations of time and energy, which stretch beyond you, even if sometimes it feels they could consume you. Search for and hold on to your own true self.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If you lose that, what kind of mother can you be?</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Things are always changing, no matter how much we might want things to stay the same. You could take a picture of your kids every single day, and every single day, they'd just be getting older.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">That's a fact. A heartbreaking fact, but still a fact.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So seize your days and dwell in them fully. Look to your children because they know how to inhabit brief periods of time with extreme passion. And for nothing more, really, than the sake of those moments. They can help you remember that, if you only slow down and let them.</span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Feel fortunate, because chances are good you actually might be.</span></span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">
<br /></span></i></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-14894039585916140492011-07-30T12:31:00.006-04:002011-08-13T13:09:27.798-04:00Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I wish nothing but the best for you two.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee499/garrettandgreen/?action=view&current=bittersweet.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1230.photobucket.com/albums/ee499/garrettandgreen/bittersweet.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-86729795677555635132011-06-18T09:54:00.014-04:002011-08-15T08:09:35.517-04:00heartbreak<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>Heartbreak in any form is such a simple thing. </i></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>There is no reasoning with it, no pleading, begging, or bartering to make it go away. The pain is unrelenting. When your heart is first broken it feels like labour pains, except backwards. You have already experienced the beautiful miracle, and now it is gone, starting with an explosion of agony. Then, the miracle, in your memories, becomes a curse. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>There are frequent moments of torture, when you see something that reminds you of the person; nothing simple, like a photograph (you've already hidden all of those), but a t-shirt, a book, a toothbrush. These moments feel like lightning has struck your heart; it clenches, burns, cripples you. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>So you keep busy. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>You try to keep busy, so your brain doesn't think about the one you loved, because as soon as you do, you can think of nothing else. You would become a useless mass of agony. You read or watch mindless television until you're so exhausted that you crash into a dreamless sleep. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>Because the dreams are a whole new kind of hell. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>Sometimes you relive the tearing of your heart over and over in a restless night of searing pain. Worse are the beautiful dreams. The reliving of the beautiful moments, the most loving and fulfilling of them, and then you wake up and it is like living that first moment of separation all over again. Dreams are complete torture, so you avoid them. Dreams and memories have become the enemy. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>So you keep busy.</i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>You force yourself to never think of that person, in the desperate hope that the pain will end. There will still be lightning flashes of pain: their name belonging to a stranger, an errant photograph, a favourite colour. The flashes are unexpected now and you catch you breath at the stab of pain. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>In this time you may have learned how to smile again. You may forget your pain for an instant when something makes you laugh. You pretend to heal for the sake of others, and sometimes you are surprised that in pretending, over time, some form of healing truly has taken place. The moments of stabbing pain have become aches, throbs, or clenches, but the crippling wounds in your heart have dimmed. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>This may never, ever, stop. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>Sometimes the pain is eased by the love of others: family, friends, a lover. Sometimes it must be new family, new friends, or a new lover. Basking in these can sooth the wounds of a broken heart, and allow for love to happen again. You can find delight in others, and, except for rare moments, have become happy and content. The ache may never fully leave, but you may have found a new miracle.
<br /></i></span></span></span><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><i>Unfortunately, hearts can be broken over again.</i></span></span></span></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-84268560517881320902011-02-18T08:58:00.013-05:002011-08-13T13:08:00.109-04:00choose another valentine<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">I have disliked Valentine's Day since I was old enough to recognize that 'store-bought' cards were somehow more valuable than 'home-made' cards. I have rarely celebrated it since that time, decrying it as a useless holiday. I don't want my partner to have to show appreciation for our relationship on a specific day by buying jewelry, chocolate, or flowers. I dislike the social pressure that says "if you don't spend a lot of money on your woman on Feb 14th, you're a bad partner and she has to get mad at you." Ridiculous. While gifts can be a wonderful way of showing a person you appreciate them, or even that you were thinking of them, they should not be </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">mandatory; </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">it defeats the purpose altogether! The significance of a gift is diminished if your partner has to give you a new one every year. Each couple has their own romantic holiday over which they have complete control anyway: the Anniversary, whether they choose to celebrate it or not. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">
<br /></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">I'm not </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">completely</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"> free of convention. I try celebrate my relationships throughout the year instead. If I could change Valentine's Day I would make it about love in general, not just for romantic love, and I'd veto the gift requirement. It would be about spending time with the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">people </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">who mean the most to you: family and friends. I admit that I'm cynical, and not very romantic, but that's really just in the traditional sense. I melt at the unexpected, whether it's an unplanned visit or a spontaneous text/email/call, those are the things that tell me I am special to someone. </span></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">Unfortunately, I'm not very good at letting people know they are special to me. I let life keep me busy and some of the people I care about the most fall in the cracks. Although I hope that will be easier to change when I'm no longer in school, I really do need to get my priorities straight. I have grandiose plans and expectations of myself, and I guess we'll just have to wait and see if I can live up to my own expectations.</span></span></div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 75px; height: 75px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv6iz3N4FGuCvvHeBlUiK544F57f8BayFHVThRWtK1XWSbS3J61G9vZAS3maphCnXUAZ5d0c3oROGF0Kqyf2ab0YwFqJQ_PcJMYfbMyDsWH9WCQVozxGU_3im1P5luz5s7OTjiG2oO-TNF/s200/heart.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575040246287000402" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;">
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-44618874464610891732010-09-30T10:05:00.006-04:002011-08-13T13:07:35.673-04:00Ignorance<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Hmmmmm... Something I found very interesting, although not very surprising, was an article about how little Americans (and most likely Canadians) know about world religions. I took the survey and, despite taking religious studies for 3 years at university, only got a 70%. It was humbling for sure, and made me realize how much I DON'T know about the beliefs of my friends and neighbours. However, I do not believe ignorance such as mine is an excuse for the hatred and intolerance<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">It drives me crazy when people with a lot of influence, like that imbecilic and ignorant pastor in Florida who threatened to burn the Koran, encourage racism and hatred. The inability to live with others in such a way, and encouraging others to be intolerant of the beliefs of others is EXACTLY the same attitude as those who burn American flags and cursing Western society. We have a word for that attitude: hypocrite.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">For those who may be interested, here it is, along with a few comments from me.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><a href="http://news.discovery.com/human/atheists-best-informed-about-religion.html"></a></span></span></span></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><a href="http://news.discovery.com/human/atheists-best-informed-about-religion.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">ATHEISTS BEST INFORMED ABOUT RELIGION</span></a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Analysis by </span></span><a href="http://news.discovery.com/contributors/benjamin-radford/"><span style="text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Benjamin Radford</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> Thu Sep 30, 2010 12:02 AM E<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Earlier this month Florida pastor Terry Jones caused an international uproar when he threatened to burn copies of the Koran, Islam's holy book, despite the fact that he'd never read the book and doesn't know what it says.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">It's one thing to not fully understand the basic tenets of a different religion. But recent </span></span><a href="http://www.pewforum.org/Other-Beliefs-and-Practices/U-S-Religious-Knowledge-Survey.aspx"><span style="text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">research from the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> found that Americans are often woefully ignorant not only of other religions, but of their own faith.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The researchers polled nearly 3,500 Americans and asked them 32 basic questions about world religions, their texts, main figures, and tenets. Most respondents got about half the questions wrong. For example, 45% of Catholics polled did not know that the Catholic church teaches that the consecrated bread and wine in holy communion are said to actually and literally become the body and blood of Christ. About as many Americans did not know that the Dalai Lama is Buddhist.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">In fact the poll found that atheists and agnostics knew more about religion than religious people. Among religious groups, Jews and Mormons scored highest.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">That Americans don't know much about their own faith is hardly news. In one widely-seen video clip, comedian Stephen Colbert interviewed Georgia Congressman Lynn Westmoreland, who co-sponsored a bill to require display of the Ten Commandments in the House of Representatives and the Senate. Colbert asked Westmoreland to name the Ten Commandments.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The Congressman, who wanted to make sure that everyone sees and remembers most famous "top ten" list in the world, struggled to name them: "Um... Don't murder... don't lie....don't steal...." After some awkward silence, having named fewer than one-third of God's commandments, Westmoreland gave up: "Um... I can't name them all." Westmoreland is not alone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">According to a March 2007, USA Today </span></span><a href="http://www.usatoday.com/news/religion/2007-03-07-teaching-religion-cover_N.htm"><span style="text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">survey</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> revealed that 60 percent of Americans can't name the Ten Commandments.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Another measure of American misunderstanding of religion is how often one hears the phrase, "We should all just get along, all religions basically say the same thing."<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Actually, they do not: the world's major religions hold very different -- and often fundamentally incompatible -- beliefs. Anyone who thinks that Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, and Hinduism reflect essentially identical teachings is demonstrating a profound ignorance of those faiths.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Even the wildly popular "Coexist" bumper sticker, the one that incorporates religious symbols from many religions, runs into a contradiction when applied to the many faiths that proselytize. Peaceful coexistence is unlikely if a devout follower believes both that his is the only true faith and that it is his solemn duty to convert others to that one true faith.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Though many people claim to be religious and have religious faith, it's not clear what, exactly, that means in real-world terms. If a person calls himself or herself a Christian, but does not follow (nor even understand) basic principles of Christianity, what's the point? Anyone can claim to be of any faith they choose, but unless that religion meaningfully informs and influences that person's life, it's hard to see the value in claiming to follow that faith.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Sociologists have long known that religious people are no more honest or trustworthy than the non-religious, and the new poll suggests that atheists and other non-believers are actually better informed about the religious world than the faithful themselves.</span></span></span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I will be doing more research now...</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-5142587878342607742010-04-23T10:46:00.006-04:002012-10-12T00:13:46.897-04:00Community<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">I love reading the blogs of my friends; one person in particular, </span></span><a href="http://ashburtch.wordpress.com/">Ashley Burtch</a><span class="Apple-style-span">, always manages to express my feelings and thoughts with far more articulation than I have ever managed. This is an exerpt from her post </span><a href="http://ashburtch.wordpress.com/2010/04/11/fragments-of-thought/">Journey Mystery Community</a><span class="Apple-style-span">:</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><i><blockquote>
Community is never perfect. And I wouldn’t want to hang out with perfect people. I wouldn’t belong there. It’s good that sometimes I don’t like the things you say or do, because it means its okay when you don’t like the things I say or do. I still want my roots to become entangled with yours. And maybe if I listen more and judge less, I will learn something from your story. I might discover that you and I are not so different.</blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: bold;">So true. Thanks Ash.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-68082883110556280202010-04-03T22:35:00.005-04:002011-08-13T12:54:01.886-04:00looking forward<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">I think I've realized something. Today, I have no regrets. I am looking forward to the future. I now rarely look to the past. This is good. I like my life now. Most of the time, I might even be happy. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); ">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); ">:)</span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;">
<br /></span></div><div>
<br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-15171769916816472622010-03-05T22:49:00.006-05:002011-08-13T12:53:18.039-04:00broken<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;">Being broken does not necessarily make you stronger. Breaking your arm makes the bone less flexible. Without flexibility it is more likely to break again. Essentially, it is weaker. Appropriate analogy.</span></i></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-88804309118032574342010-03-03T23:49:00.007-05:002011-08-13T12:52:50.026-04:00The Walking Song<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:large;">♪ ...Home is behind</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">The world ahead</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">And there are many paths to tread</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">Through shadow</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">To the edge of night</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">Until the stars are all alight</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">Mist and shadow</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">Cloud and shade</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">All shall fade</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">All shall...</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#99FF99;">Fade</span></i>. ♪</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><i>This is a beautiful song concerning life and death; hope and despair. It is written by Billy Boyd, and is based in a poem written by J.R.R. Tolkien. It has been in my head for days, and perfectly expresses my mood...</i></span></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#555555;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">
<br /></span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-63736502340737420322010-02-10T22:47:00.005-05:002011-08-13T12:52:33.473-04:00it just keeps getting worse...<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:'Lucida Grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFF66;"><blockquote></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>It just keeps getting worse and worse in Somalia. Now, according to the </i></span></span></span><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8508176.stm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>BBC</i></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>, there looks to be a showdown, between the government troops and rebels, in the near future. Residents who had not yet left Mogadishu (the capitol) are being killed by both sides. It has been nearly twenty years since Somalia had a stable, functioning government (although even then...), and things just seem to be getting from </i></span></span><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8077725.stm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>bad</i></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>, to </i></span></span><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8284958.stm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>worse</i></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>, to </i></span></span><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8103703.stm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>terrible</i></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>, to a descent into </i></span></span><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8091403.stm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>hell</i></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>. It may not be a natural disaster like Haiti, but Somalia has been a human-fueled nightmare for so long... </i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:'Lucida Grande', serif;font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i>What can be done? Believe me, doing </i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;">nothing</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF9900;"><i> doesn't seem to be working</i></span></span></div></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:11px;">
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>links: click BBC, bad, worse, terrible, hell.</i></span></span>
<br /></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5386134831958594871.post-197016402590472492010-02-07T11:24:00.009-05:002011-08-13T12:51:31.167-04:00the shepherd<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAGszq74S4pkcsWgyP-UdxcwB_ImNecWswALkgA3NytYm_d_J5mQi6sTOf43qe8ykmb36yRFLbn1jV92Rgrsw8m2Qpws8PJTBZ4U7pLrVFGugHdMkB2J-J9LjkEbOZfMo8UN_z4w25uT5/s1600/The+Shepherd+Fireside+Al.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAGszq74S4pkcsWgyP-UdxcwB_ImNecWswALkgA3NytYm_d_J5mQi6sTOf43qe8ykmb36yRFLbn1jV92Rgrsw8m2Qpws8PJTBZ4U7pLrVFGugHdMkB2J-J9LjkEbOZfMo8UN_z4w25uT5/s400/The+Shepherd+Fireside+Al.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639033230171742050" /></a><i>
<br /></i><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>Listening to </i></span></span><a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-7549404267223475669"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>The Shepherd</i></span></span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>, by </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Forsyth"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>Frederick Forsyth</i></span></span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i> and read by CBC's </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><a href="http://archives.cbc.ca/society/celebrations/topics/3597/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>Alan Maitland</i></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i> was a family tradition every Christmas Eve when I was young. Every time I listen to it </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>my heart is glows, and </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>my throat gets tight at certain parts. I hear the story in his voice, and it is familiar, like that of an old friend. Mr. Maitland died many years ago, but CBC still plays The Shepherd, by Alan Maitland, every Christmas Eve, and I hope one day if I have children I can carry on the tradition my parents started. </i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>Even if not, I want to share this warm and love-filled memory with you.</i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>
<br /></i></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>Here you go:</i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i> </i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-7549404267223475669"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#996633;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>The Shepherd</i></span></span></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>
<br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i> </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i><a href="http://archives.cbc.ca/society/celebrations/topics/3597/"></a></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i>
<br /></i></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>
<br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">
<br /></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0