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Last Friday we reached Week 18, and things are getting pretty serious in Utero Land.
The weekly pregnancy update video informed us that our baby now has fully formed fingerprints and the ability to grasp the umbilical cord like Tarzan swinging on a vine. Our baby is also apparently filling its bowels with its first poo, which I presume will sit there festering for the next 22 weeks? Is that why the first poo is black?
The most exciting new development beyond excrement and fingerprints, however, is the fact that our baby can now hear us! The ears that formed a few weeks ago are finally fully operational, so I need to a) start holding my tongue from saying rude things, b) start proactively talking to my wife’s stomach so that the baby learns the sound of my voice, and c) provide this baby with a quality in-utero soundtrack by acquainting him or her with some of my favorite music which will obviously have good associations and already be his or her favorite music upon arrival. A new Frank Sinatra fan is born!
Speaking of him or her, I’m also very excited to finally be learning which pronoun to use in a mere two days! Our next appointment features another ultrasound, so I’m pumped to see our kid for the first time as more of a baby-shaped blob of pixels than just the regular blob of pixels we saw last time. Seriously though, I feel like finding out the gender is going to make this pregnancy–and this person–feel real in a way that has not been the case thus far. Beyond morning sickness and my wife’s increased tiredness, the only indication that we’re pregnant has been the fact that we’re telling people that we are. At this point, I could say it was an early April Fool’s Day prank and there would be little external evidence to refute it.
That said, Theresa is working on a baby bump that will no doubt visibly blossom in the coming weeks. Right now she pretty much only has a bladder bump–a part-time, pseudo baby bump on one side of her abdomen that is only visible when she has to pee. Though when this bump is apparent, it definitely looks more like an alien body invasion than a growing fetus. But don’t tell Theresa I said that! We received some maternity clothes from a friend and Theresa recently tried on the jeans, which fit her perfectly. The form-fitting elastic waist also clings to her almost-baby bump–making her appear more pregnant than non-maternity clothes–which is exactly what she wants right now. Don’t tell her that it’s too early for capri jeans, either. I don’t think she’s going to wear anything else now.
The number one question we have gotten since our announcement is about whether or not we are finding out the gender. We never had any doubt that we would, at least for this first go-round. As I mentioned previously, I am starved for updates and information on this child , and the gender is finally something concrete that I can know. I’m not passing that up!
The next question that most people ask comes with a knowing smile: So what are you hoping for?
There is no way to win with this question. If I say a boy, the person can reply with “that figures,” since I come from a family of four sons. If I prefer a girl, the person can coo and talk about “daddy’s little girl.” Either way, I don’t think I should be hoping for one gender or the other, and I can honestly say that I’m not. I have a feeling , but it’s a gut feeling, not a preference. I want a baby of the gender that is already present in my wife’s uterus. I want the baby that I’m already talking to and will meet in early August. That baby.
But as long as we’re talking about misguided preferences, I’ll offer one that I do hold: I want my baby to be left-handed. One look at the chart below will show you that my wish is genetically unlikely, but chew on this: two of my three brothers and I are lefties, born of two right-handed parents. Three out of four us are left-handed, even though there was only a 10 percent probability that would happen. Clearly my DNA has the capacity to break the mold and continue a lineage of left-handedness. Plus, Theresa’s dad is also left-handed. I’m no Punnett square genius, but that’s got to increase the odds of another southpaw, right?
So why do I want a lefty? There are two main reasons: commiseration and ease of training. If my child is left-handed, we can collectively rage against the right-handed machine, raising our ink-smeared fists together in solidarity at all the ways the world is prejudiced against our people and setting us up for failure. Then I will train our child to overcome these obstacles by teaching her/him to write lefty, bat lefty, throw lefty, eat lefty and think lefty. They will gain lifetime membership in the worldwide club of people who see another lefty in the wild and say “Whoa! You’re left-handed? So am I!” Plus, we can celebrate Left Hander’s Day together, which falls on August 13…within about a week of the baby’s due date! Is this another sign?!
Sweet child o’mine, if you’re reading this someday and you’re right-handed, I’m sure you’re not saddened by any of this because I have no doubt been razzing you for years about being just another righty. If you’re left-handed, congratulations , and I hope they have invented an ambidextrous computer mouse by then.
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Today it was reported that Rojavan Kurds (of northern Syria) are heading north to cross the Turkish border to offer help to their beleagured cousins in North Kurdistan, which has been under constant attack by the Turkish military for some weeks. Unfortunately, this means that the frontline forces fighting ISIS in Syria will be temporarily weakened as a consequence of Turkey’s warmongering (though perhaps that’s the intention of Turkey, a NATO member, in order that its precious oil supplies from ISIS are not further disrupted). In the meantime we report from the frontline: interviews with YPJ combatants in Arif (Rojava).
Combatants from the 2nd Mobile Unit of the Women’s Defence Units (YPJ) who are undertaking some of the most significant defence acts in their area of operation by demonstrating their intent to protect the civilian population of the village Bene, Sherawa District, Afrin Canton, Rojava, Syria, were asked for their… | positive |
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More Views Farm Stay - Escargot Noblesse Intensive Toner By Farm Stay SKU: BSTOFST00005 Special Price £15.59 Regular Price: £15.77 -1% 25% OFF WEEKEND DEAL ENDS IN: Availability: Out of stock EMAIL ME WHEN IN STOCK Email Me When In Stock We'll let you know as soon as this item arrives in stock. Join Our Newsletter NOTIFY ME You'll be notified via email when this item is available in stock. We won't share your address with any third parties. THANK YOU! We'll let you know as soon as this item arrives in stock. Add to Wishlist Extra Savings On Quantity Set Explore more sets Quantity Limitation Maximum purchase of the item is limited for each order with the discounted price offer. LIMITED TIME DEAL Discount cannot be used in conjunction with other promotions DETAILS Usage: Day, Night Product Type: Toner & Mist Skin Concern: Dryness/ Hydration Skin Type: Combination, Dry, Normal, Oily HOW TO USE After you wash your face in the morning and evening, you take appropriate amount and apply it along the skin softly. 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Members of 2 LANCS are training Iraqi and Kurdish security forces on developing counter-IED and medical skills, with Royal Engineers providing mobility support using bridging and breaching.
The 2nd Battalion is based in Weeton near Blackpool. It is part of 42nd Infantry Brigade and is a light role infantry battalion. The battalion specialises in dismounted close combat operations using light vehicles and foot and is capable of operating in a variety of terrain either as a Battle Group or as independent Company Groups.
LCpl Nicquita Chamberlain, a Chindit company medic said:
“The UK training teams are well respected amongst the Coalition. The trainees respond well to our dynamic teaching style.”
Lt Col Rob Singleton, Commanding Officer of 2 LANCS said:
“The 2 LANCS training teams are having a genuine impact. We have trained several battalions and police units who have deployed forward to Mosul.
Their performance has been first class. I’m really proud of the Battalion – particularly the Kingsmen, LCpls and Cpls – because they are using their experience, flare and enthusiasm to deliver some really good lessons.”
According to a press release, some of the Zerevani trainees are experienced soldiers, including individuals who have been part of the counter-Daesh campaign. The training teams utilise their local knowledge in their teaching, enhancing the teaching methods with real-life experiences from the current conflict.
2 LANCS return to Weeton Barracks in July before starting training at Platoon and Company level in preparation to become the UK’s Stand-by Battalion for the North in 2018.
Lt Col Singleton said:
“The 2 LANCS soldiers enjoy the training role and we are a very happy Battle Group. We’ve been able to train the Iraqis and Kurds to keep their country safe and help to defeat Daesh, but it has been a beneficial deployment for my Battalion too.
We’ve been able to get fit, educate and develop ourselves, and learn from our Coalition colleagues – I’m getting brilliant soldiers out of this experience.”
UK training teams across Iraq continue with their mission. | positive |
Michael Jordan’s No. 23 has long been synonymous with greatness. Now that number has a completely different meaning for him.
Article continues below ...
As Jordan watched from his luxury box, his Charlotte Bobcats lost their 23rd consecutive game Thursday night 104-84 to the New York Knicks and finished the shrunken season with the worst winning percentage in NBA history (.106). That means the man recognized globally as the greatest basketball player ever is the not-so-proud owner of the worst NBA team ever.
A spectacular resume that includes six NBA championships and five league MVP awards would also include one very forgettable season for the record book.
It had been 39 years since an NBA team finished with a worse winning percentage than the Bobcats. In a full season, the 1972-73 Philadelphia 76ers finished 9-73 (.110).
In this lockout-shortened regular season, the Bobcats finished a woeful 7-59 — and they are every bit as bad as the numbers indicate.
They were last in league scoring and shooting percentage. They lost 22 games by 20 points or more. And it’s hard to decide what was worse, their offense or their defense.
This year’s Bobcats were everything Jordan wasn’t as a player: unproductive, uncompetitive and unwatchable.
Jordan didn’t talk with the media after the game, but guard Gerald Henderson called the season ”unacceptable.”
”This doesn’t sit very well with me,” Henderson said Thursday night. ”These last 10 games, we’ve really tried to get after it, compete and not get that record. It just didn’t happen for us. We just didn’t have enough. We couldn’t come up with the plays.
”When you look back at it and see we lost 59 games, you always think `We could’ve won one more.”’
Jordan told the Charlotte Observer on Wednesday that he knew this was going to be a trying year, but didn’t expect it would turn out this bad.
”But did we want to chase the most pingpong balls (in the May 30 draft lottery)? No way,” Jordan told the newspaper. ”Ever since I’ve owned the team I think we’ve made some very positive moves on the business side. We had to make a difficult decision to turn over the talent. This year the talent we had didn’t respond, but that doesn’t cause me to turn my back on the plan.”
While Jordan was sticking to his plan, the Bobcats were painful to watch.
No one on the roster comes close to having Jordan’s charisma — not to mention his ability to dominate. They lack a face for the franchise, at least on the court.
And all that’s on Jordan.
His reputation as an executive continues to take hit after hit, just the way he used to make game-winning shot after shot.
Jordan’s questionable decision-making has landed the Hall of Famer at the center of a debate about which former star turned NBA executive has done the worst job.
Jordan spent a season-and-a-half in Washington as team president and later as a part-time player. And while the Wizards were attractive at the box office, they were horrible as a team and owner Abe Pollin ultimately fired Jordan.
Jordan was criticized for trading Juwan Howard and Richard Hamilton, drafting Kwame Brown with the No. 1 overall pick and signing Larry Hughes to a big contract. He resurfaced as a minority owner with the Bobcats in 2006 and assumed control of basketball decisions under the watch of former team owner Bob Johnson.
Yet poor personnel decisions continued to plague him.
The Bobcats swung and missed on draft picks Adam Morrison and Alexis Ajinca. They traded away a first-round pick to get Tyrus Thomas, who’s been a flop and is still owed $26 million over the next three seasons.
The Bobcats managed to reach the playoffs two years ago under Jordan, who became majority owner in March 2010, but after being swept in four games by the Orlando Magic he decided to blow up the roster and start over.
The top six players from that team — Stephen Jackson (San Antonio), Gerald Wallace (New Jersey), Raymond Felton (Portland), Boris Diaw (Sacramento), Nazr Mohammed (Oklahoma City) and Tyson Chandler (New York) — have been traded or waived.
”We were vying for that eighth and ninth spot and we looked at that and said, `How can we get to be one of those one, two, three or four teams?”’ Jordan said in December. ”To do that, you have to grab assets and that’s what we did. We had to create flexibility.”
At the time, Jordan asked fans to be patient, knowing it would take time to reload, but even he couldn’t have imagined this big of a mess.
”This is not a wasted season because who knows how good we can be?” Jordan said before it started. ”We’ve got some good pieces that can help us get to the playoffs. I’m not waiting until next year. I think we have a good quality basketball team this year.”
The won-loss column says otherwise.
Jordan led the Bulls to an NBA-record 72 wins during the 1995-96 regular season. Meanwhile, the Bobcats are 185-290 in six seasons under Jordan and have only made the postseason once. They’ve never won a playoff game.
Charlotte became the butt of jokes this season.
”It has been tough, but we are just trying to move forward,” guard D.J. Augustin said before Thursday’s loss. ”Many people are laughing at us and making (the losing streak) as a joke, but we take it very seriously.”
Even Jordan’s friends and colleagues have been critical of his job performance.
”The biggest problem has been I don’t know if he has hired enough people around him who he will listen to,” NBA analyst Charles Barkley said during a radio interview on ESPN. ”One thing about being famous is the people around you. You pay all their bills so they very rarely disagree with you because they want you to pick up the check. They want to fly around on your private jet so they never disagree with you. I don’t think Michael has hired enough people around him who will disagree.”
One thing everyone can agree on: This was not a season to remember. | positive |
Request for CSC Publication- TIII, TII & T 1 | DepEd Tuguegarao Toggle Accessibility Statement Home Skip to Main Content Sitemap This website adopts the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG 2.0) as the accessibility standard for all its related web development and services. WCAG 2.0 is also an international standard, ISO 40500. This certifies it as a stable and referenceable technical standard. WCAG 2.0 contains 12 guidelines organized under 4 principles: Perceivable, Operable, Understandable, and Robust (POUR for short). There are testable success criteria for each guideline. Compliance to these criteria is measured in three levels: A, AA, or AAA. A guide to understanding and implementing Web Content Accessibility Guidelines 2.0 is available at: https://www.w3.org/TR/UNDERSTANDING-WCAG20/ Accessibility Features Shortcut Keys Combination Activation Combination keys used for each browser. Chrome for Linux press (Alt+Shift+shortcut_key) Chrome for Windows press (Alt+shortcut_key) For Firefox press (Alt+Shift+shortcut_key) For Internet Explorer press (Alt+Shift+shortcut_key) then press (enter) On Mac OS press (Ctrl+Opt+shortcut_key) Accessibility Statement (Combination + 0): Statement page that will show the available accessibility keys. Home Page (Combination + H): Accessibility key for redirecting to homepage. Main Content (Combination + R): Shortcut for viewing the content section of the current page. FAQ (Combination + Q): Shortcut for FAQ page. Contact (Combination + C): Shortcut for contact page or form inquiries. Feedback (Combination + K): Shortcut for feedback page. Site Map (Combination + M): Shortcut for site map (footer agency) section of the page. Search (Combination + S): Shortcut for search page. Press esc, or click the close the button to close this dialog box. × Menu GOVPH Home About History Vision, Mission, Core Values, and Mandate Organizational Structure Office of the Schools Division Superintendent Curriculum Implementation Division Schools Governance and Operations Division Schools Public Schools Private Schools Data Privacy Notice ISO 9001:2015 Quality Policy Publications Issuances Division Memo Division Orders Division Memo with Limited Application Transparency Citizen’s Charter Procurement Bid Opportunities Minutes of Pre-Bid Conference Award Notices Procurement Related Reports Careers Appointments Job Openings AUXILIARY MENU GOVPH Home About History Vision, Mission, Core Values, and Mandate Organizational Structure Office of the Schools Division Superintendent Curriculum Implementation Division Schools Governance and Operations Division Schools Public Schools Private Schools Data Privacy Notice ISO 9001:2015 Quality Policy Publications Issuances Division Memo Division Orders Division Memo with Limited Application Transparency Citizen’s Charter Procurement Bid Opportunities Minutes of Pre-Bid Conference Award Notices Procurement Related Reports Careers Appointments Job Openings Accessibility Button Accessibility Statement High Contrast Skip to Content Skip to Footer Request for CSC Publication- TIII, TII & T 1 DepEd Tuguegarao > Vacancies > Job Openings > Request for CSC Publication- TIII, TII & T 1 Posted on July 25, 2019 147-07-19-recd-copy-Request-for-CSC-Publication-TIII-TII-T Recent Division Memo DIV MEMO. NO.201 S.2022 MONITORING OF MINIMAL HEALTH PROTOCOL DURING THE CONDUCT OF KABATAAN, KARAPATAN CARAVAN: ORIENTATION WORKSHOP DIV MEMO. NO.200 S.2022 MONITORING OF PROGRAMS, PROJECTS, AND ACTIVITIES (PPAs) IN SCHOOLS, SY 2022-2023 DIV MEMO. NO.199 S.2022 MONITORING OF THE OPERATION AND MANAGEMENT OF SCHOOL CANTEEN DIV MEMO. NO.198 S.2022 5TH DIVISION STORYBOOK WRITING, ILLUSTRATION AND DESIGNING ORIENTATION DIV MEMO. NO.197 S.2022 1ST KABATAAN, KARAPATAN CARAVAN: ORIENTATION WORKSHOP | negative |
A Bessemer attorney, who is against last year's order by the U.S. Supreme Court legalizing gay marriage nationwide, on Wednesday filed a federal lawsuit against the five justices on the high court who made up the majority in that ruling.
"Defendants (justices) goes beyond a manipulation, twist, strain, or unique perspective on the text and crosses over in to an abandonment of the Constitution," attorney Austin Burdick states in the lawsuit.
Burdick filed the lawsuit in Birmingham in the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of Alabama. The case names Justices Anthony M. Kennedy, Stephen Breyer, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kegan.
Burdick is suing the five justices for violations of the 5th Amendment, breach of contract, breach of fiduciary duty and seeks, among other things compensatory damages, punitive damages, mental anguish damages, and attorney's fees and costs. The lawsuit seeks recovery of damages exceeding $6 million.
"For centuries the Constitution has been the instrument of protection for the rights of citizens against government intrusion," Burdick states in the lawsuit. He says "specifically, since the ratification of the 14th Amendment in 1868, interpreted the plain language of the Constitution and that amendment to be a guarantee of freedom from government interference in individual liberty."
The 14th Amendment, which states that "no state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges and immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws" has been rewritten by the five members of the court, Burdick claims in the lawsuit.
Burdick claims in the lawsuit that the five justices through their opinion have now rewritten that amendment to allow an expansion of government authority, not a guarantee of liberty. "This 'interpretation' is no interpretation at all. It is a tyrannical usurpation of authority to rewrite the Constitution," he states in the lawsuit.
"The opinion in fact rewrites the 14th Amendment to read: 'Every state must make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges and immunities of citizens of the United States; further, each state shall deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law under the guise of extending tax benefits or some other license; and any person within its jurisdiction may be deprived of the equal protection of the laws when it is fashionable to do so,'" the lawsuit states.
The U.S. Supreme Court ruled in June, in the case of Obergefell v. Hodges, ruled 5-4 that same-sex marriage was legal nationwide. | positive |
About Me – Brittany's Books Skip to content Brittany's Books Author of Fantasy & Science Fiction. Professional Geek. Avid Procrastinator. Menu Search Bookstore! My Current Project About Me Contact Me Search for: Search About Me Astrological Sign – Leo. Myers-Briggs Personality type – INFJ. Harry Potter House – Slytherin. Ambitious, determined, and analytical. I first discovered my love and passion for writing at the age of 12. I was in 6th grade when I had my first publication, a poem – Home is Here. I was hooked. I started spending a lot of my free time attempting screenplays, short stories, and novels. It became my dream to publish a book, whether it was successful or not. But, with each new project, I struggled with self-confidence and the fear of failure. That was, until my most recent project – The Wanderer Trilogy. It is a unique story with a great plot and dynamic characters – something I never mastered before. And yes, I still keep my old writings to laugh at and learn from. Now that I am finally published, I feel much more confident in future writings. I really hope you enjoy the plethora of stories that I hope to write in years to come! Feel free to follow me for the latest updates on my current projects! My favorite genres to both read and write are fantasy and science-fiction. Why? Because the ability to escape the stress of the ‘every day’ and delve into an imaginary world was what helped me cope through my childhood and young adulthood. Finally feeling confident enough to create these imaginary worlds and share them is even more freeing. 🙂 Admittedly, my stories can become dark and twisted. When I see an opportunity to portray the psyche of a character, open them up, and find out what makes them tick, I take it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a light-hearted and positive person, but that is not always the most exciting thing to write. Characters in constant peril are more thrilling to me. I write what I would like to read. My hope is that my stories leave my readers on the edge of their seats. Plot-twists, endless battles for survival, internal and external conflict are my muse! If you enjoy that, then you will love my stories. CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE MY BOOKS! After all these years of starting projects, writing one chapter and editing it until I hated it, then scrapping the idea. It took a very long time for me to fore myself to finish something. With multiple books now released, these worries have started to dissolve. When others ask how ‘good’ it feels to publish a book, I describe it like “standing in the middle of a packed stadium, completely naked.” Something that you’ve worked on for years and poured your heart and soul into, finally on display for the public. My goal for this blog is not only to promote my novels, but also to help other aspiring writers who struggle with Writer’s Block, procrastination, feelings of failure, or a simple lack of inspiration. Plus, there will be numerous Writing Prompts to get the brain juices flowing! I hope to keep things interesting, but I need your help! Let me know if there is a topic that you would like to know more about. Always remember that writing may be a job of solitude, but the characters you create will never leave you feeling lonely! Like this: Like Loading... Follow Me! Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Email Address: Follow Join 191 other followers Search Search for: Search The Archives February 2022 (1) June 2021 (1) May 2021 (2) February 2021 (1) December 2020 (1) November 2020 (1) October 2020 (2) September 2020 (2) August 2020 (2) July 2020 (2) June 2020 (1) March 2020 (1) January 2020 (1) December 2019 (2) November 2019 (1) October 2019 (1) September 2019 (2) August 2019 (2) July 2019 (3) June 2019 (1) May 2019 (1) April 2019 (5) March 2019 (2) February 2019 (1) January 2019 (2) December 2018 (1) November 2018 (2) October 2018 (2) September 2018 (3) August 2018 (6) July 2018 (6) June 2018 (4) April 2018 (2) March 2018 (6) February 2018 (11) January 2018 (13) Follow Brittany's Books on WordPress.com Follow Me! Facebook Pinterest Twitter Blog Stats 22,643 Views Website Powered by WordPress.com. Follow Following Brittany's Books Join 191 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Brittany's Books Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Copy shortlink Report this content View post in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar %d bloggers like this: | negative |
During Monday’s edition of Fox News’ America Live, host Megyn Kelly expressed candid frustration over the 2012 presidential campaign, shouting that both President Barack Obama and GOP nominee Mitt Romney lie in their campaign ads, contributing to a political process where truth does not “matter anymore at all.”
Kelly began the segment bemoaning the fact that the campaigns aren’t focusing on actual issues like unemployment and the weak economy: “[Recent] news headlines are replete with ‘Did Mitt Romney have operational control of Bain Capital from 1999 to 2002?’ and ‘Does Barack Obama owe Mitt Romney an apology for some senior aide saying that he might have committed a felony?’ There’s such a turnoff, both sides, the way they run this race,” she said. “The American people are disgusted with this kind of politics. Am I wrong?”
“You’re absolutely right,” concurred former Bush adviser Brad Blakeman. “I think the American people want to get onto the real issues at hand, and neither the president or Mitt Romney are actually addressing those issues. But let’s face it, Obama has invoked a 3-D strategy: distract away from your own destructive policies, distort Romney’s record, and divide the American people rich against poor.”
Kelly then asked SC Democratic Party Chairman Dick Harpootlian whether this election season is now like a sporting match: “Are we getting the truth? Are we getting to the issues? Brad doesn’t like what President Obama’s arguing about Bain Capital, but Mitt Romney comes out, ‘He needs to apologize,'” Kelly said in a voice mocking of Romney’s response. “Really? Is this how we’re going to spend our time?”
Harpootlian went on to counter Blakeman by saying that President George W. Bush did the same thing to Democratic nominee John Kerry in 2004, and that Romney ought to “put out 12 years of income tax returns and show the American people that he hasn’t been –”
“Really?” Kelly interjected. “Really? […] You tell me whether those unemployed 26 million or underemployed give two figs about Mitt Romney’s tax returns from ten years ago.”
“They don’t,” Blakeman responded. “And this is only to be used, again, to divide, distract and distort the real issues which the American people care about.” He went on to say that “we have a president about to go on television and went on television on Friday, and the message that he was giving was very destructive. And it was not hopeful about our future or what he’s done for the country –”
“Oh, they both do it,” Kelly sternly interrupted. “And they’re both talking out of both sides of their mouth. President Obama, he wants credit for being positive, for being such a positive messenger, and so does Mitt Romney. And when they sit down with an interviewer one-on-one, oh, they’re very positive. But when they get off camera, when they go to the ad campaigns, they’re completely negative,” she said as her voice began to rise to a shout, “And they lie! They lie! Mitt Romney put out an ad about Solyndra that The Washington Post said was full of pinocchios and not true, and Barack Obama did the same thing about Mitt Romney’s time at Bain Capital.”
“Does truth matter anymore at all in the political process?” she asked. She went on to get both guests to admit that “truth matters,” but lamented that both candidates will likely continue with their lines of attack regardless of whether fact-checkers have reportedly found their respective Solyndra and Bain attacks to be untrue.
Check out the segment below, via Fox News:
>> Follow Andrew Kirell (@AndrewKirell) on Twitter
Have a tip we should know? tips@mediaite.com | positive |
What a neat Baking Partners challenge. I love baking bread and this one is from Valencia. Like 18th century Valencia or something along those lines. Pretty traditional to have it in the shape of a crescent moon. It looks like an anime kitty to me though. Can’t take me anywhere.
This bread has a soft crumb, a firm crust from steaming and a classic bakery loaf taste. Aka, pretty darn tasty. While the bread is soft the dough should not be too soft, it’s a bit rough to work with. Don’t worry, it will all turn out. If it is too difficult don’t worry about it and add a bit of water.
Pataqueta Bread Ingredients For the ferment 100 ml water
50 g (1/3 cup) all purpose flour
2 tsp active dry yeast
1/2 teaspoon sugar
Bread dough 450 g (3 cups) strong bread flour
200 ml tepid water
10 g (1 3/4 tsp) fine sea salt
all the ferment
a little flour for dusting the work surface and the bread. Instructions Ferment Stir the yeast into the water in your mixing bowl, then add the flour and sugar and mix well. Cover with plastic film. Put into the fridge overnight or up to 48 hours. Bread dough Keeping the ferment in its bowl, add the rest of the ingredients except the salt, and mix together with your scraper. When everything starts to come together into dough, turn it out onto your work surface (don’t flour it first). Start to work the dough for about 10 minutes, then add the salt and continue kneading until smooth and elastic. Let the dough raise in a warm place until doubled in size. Divide dough into 150 g pieces and then form the dough into small balls. Flatten with the palm of the hand, putting more pressure on the edges of the dough and make a slit at the top of the round (12 o'clock). Pull apart gently to form some ears or a cresent shape. Place them on a baking tray and cover them again with a kitchen cloth dusted with flour. Leave to rest until them double in size, for about 1 hour. Preheat the oven to 400º F Make two cuts on the bottom before baking. Sprinkle a little fine flour using a sieve or strainer. Bake with steam, 30 minutes, cool on a wire rack. 3.1 http://www.killerbunniesinc.com/2013/11/pataqueta-bread-recipe/
| positive |
GEARBODIES – Newsletter January 2022 – GEARBODIES News categories dissemination Meetings Shift2Rail subscribe to the newsletter Subscribe Home News About GEARBODIES Downloads & Deliverables Contact Home News About GEARBODIES Downloads & Deliverables Contact Latest News Home Blog dissemination GEARBODIES – Newsletter January 2022 Newsletter_2022 Date: 16 Feb, 2022 Posted by: admin Category: dissemination GEARBODIES – Newsletter January 2022 In this 1st newsletter of the GEARBODIES project (Innovative Technologies for Inspecting Carbodies and for Development of Running Gear), you will learn about the current developments, as the project has reached its halfway point. Through the various achievements that are being summarised, you should also get an idea of what’s to come going forward, until the project concludes at the end of December 2022. To find out more about GEARBODIES and its objectives, to access the public deliverables and to get a closer look at the project partners, please visit our website at: www.gearbodies.eu Enjoy the read! Download the Pdf here or read the didital version below Share this post Tags News Recent Posts GEARBODIES – Newsletter January 2022 GEARBODIES Video presentation gearbodies flyer gearbodies in the shift2rail newsletter gearbodies – kick off Categories dissemination Meetings Shift2Rail “This project has received funding from the Shift2Rail Joint Undertaking (JU) under grant agreement No 101013296. The JU receives support from the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme and the Shift2Rail JU members other than the Union. This document reflects only the author’s view and the JU is not responsible for any use that may be made of the information if contains.“ © Web by EURNEX E.v 2021 All Right Reserved. | negative |
Enough is enough
Yang Xiao Long (Fireballin17)
to me | 9:43 AM (5 hours ago)
You know the worst part about putting something off? Especially something that you don't have, like, a serious deadline on? The worst part is when you've put it off for so long that thinking about it makes you guilty. So you avoid thinking about the thing you haven't done, which makes you put it off more. Then, of course, the more you put it off, the more you think about how you're affecting other people. The people who care about you, the people who are relying on you or who are waiting on you. That just makes the guilt worse. So you shove it down and down and down, but every time you brush against it, every time you think about it even a little bit, it sends this jagged edge of regret and guilt shooting through you until you can shove it away again. So you start avoiding the things related to the thing you haven't done because those start to hurt too. You start thinking in big meandering circles and doing mental gymnastics just so you don't hurt yourself anymore. But it doesn't help, because you can't really control what you think about, and every so often it creeps back in and gets you when you're least expecting it.
I burned myself the other day.
Ruby called. I guess she got worried after three months of no communication. I was cooking on a hot stove when she did and it startled me so much that I burned myself. It hurt like hell, and hurt even more after I iced it. Apparently you're not supposed to do that. It's my right arm, my thumb and wrist mostly. It blistered up after an hour or so and I still can't really move anything without it stinging. Turns out, when physical pain overlaps with emotional pain, it gets a lot harder to ignore. For the last day and a half, I've had this steady reminder of everything I'm putting off. Coming home. Seeing you. Trying to be sober without Raven watching over me.
It hasn't been easy. In three months, I've already relapsed twice. I don't know if I trust myself alone on the road, much less trust that I'll manage when I get home. I'm scared that after everything we've done, and everything we've said to each other, I'll just end up being a burden on you. Or dad. Or Ruby. And while I'm in Chicago, I'm not a burden on anyone. Not even on Raven since I've started bartending for her to make up my share of rent and food.
I hate how scared I am. I don't even recognize myself right now. I'm supposed to be able to take charge, to put myself out there, to accept any challenge. I've always seen myself as a risk-taker, a thrill seeker. But after everything this last year I just feel...used up. Burned out.
More puns, ha ha.
Is this just what growing up is? Realizing where the lines we can't cross are? Finding our own limitations? I've never wanted to be tied down before, but now, the only time in my life I've felt truly free, I'm fucking miserable. I'm miserable, and guilty and I miss you so much it feels like it's tearing a hole in my chest.
So I'm risking it. I've already made up my mind. I'm leaving, tonight I think, so I have some time to gather my things and say goodbye to Raven. I've been putting it off for too long. I told you I wanted to be there for you, and I haven't yet. So it's time to fucking do something for a change instead of just talking about it.
I love you. I'm thinking about you.
I'll let you know what I see on the road.
Tell the world that I'm coming home.
Sent from: Chicago Illinois | positive |
GENEVA — As Saudi Arabia and its Arab allies pressed their military offensive against Houthi rebels in Yemen, Saudi diplomats were waging their own battle to fend off calls in the United Nations Human Rights Council for an international inquiry into abuses by all parties to the Yemeni conflict.
Those calls came in a council resolution submitted Thursday by the Netherlands, with support from a group of mainly Western countries, that requests the United Nations high commissioner for human rights send a mission to Yemen.
The Dutch resolution draws on deepening international alarm over the civilian toll inflicted by both sides in the conflict and the effect of a blockade imposed by the Saudi-led coalition that has delayed delivery of humanitarian aid, including medicine and the fuel needed to keep the dwindling number of hospitals operating.
At least 1,527 civilians were killed and an additional 3,548 injured between late March and the end of June, the human rights commissioner, Zeid Ra’ad al-Hussein, said last week when he presented a report that recommended an international inquiry into actions that may amount to war crimes and crimes against humanity. The report blamed both the Houthi rebels, who emerged from Yemen’s north and who last September seized the capital, Sana, and the Saudi-led coalition for indiscriminate attacks, but it pinned responsibility for most of the casualties on coalition airstrikes. | positive |
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Microsoft could be trying to chip away at Android’s dominance in its deal with Xiaomi to test the new Windows 10 operating system.
The U.S. software giant announced Wednesday that select users of Xiaomi’s Android phones will be able to download a Windows 10 Technical Preview to their handsets, and offer feedback to Microsoft. The software giant is creating a custom Windows 10 build that can be loaded on the phones.
Xiaomi has said it’s only an “experimental program” and not a commercial partnership.
The program will target “power users” already adept at using their devices to install custom Android ROMs, also known as firmware. Following the announcement, Xiaomi’s online forum said it would release the Windows 10 pack soon.
Microsoft declined to elaborate on the Windows 10 preview by Xiaomi users. But it could be a sign of how the company plans to infiltrate Android’s user base.
“After all, Microsoft’s end game is to have its services on more and more devices irrespective of the underlying platform, and China is a key market,” said Kiranjeet Kaur, an analyst with research firm IDC.
In China, like in other markets, the Windows Phone OS has not been widely adopted. Wednesday’s partnership with Xiaomi, however, could expose the upcoming OS to a sizeable audience.
The Chinese handset maker has risen to become the country’s largest smartphone vendor, thanks to a customized version of Android, which is installed across its phones.
Xiaomi’s version of Android, called MIUI, is updated weekly, using input from its more devoted users. The Windows 10 experiment will tap into these customers, and could bring much-needed visibility to the OS, said Nicole Peng, an analyst with research firm Canalys.
But in the case of Xiaomi, the custom Windows 10 build isn’t expected to go too far.
The Chinese company has made it a major goal to eventually monetize services over its Android software. This includes letting users buy special themes to decorate their phone’s user interface.
Switching over to the Windows 10 OS would risk upending all that work, especially as Microsoft wants to run its own services.
“Working with Microsoft doesn’t really help Xiaomi in this aspect,” she added. “It doesn’t really make sense for them to give up on MIUI.”
Xiaomi, however, is expanding globally, and analysts expect the company to eventually stumble into patent disputes. One major patent holder is Microsoft, so keeping the U.S. software giant on good terms is in Xiaomi’s best interest.
“If Xiaomi wants to grow in scale, they will have to eventually come across working with Microsoft,” Peng said. | positive |
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Difference between revisions of "Neuromusiclab" - CCRMA Wiki Difference between revisions of "Neuromusiclab" From CCRMA Wiki Jump to: navigation, search Revision as of 10:25, 6 April 2022 (view source) Takako (Talk | contribs) (→Takako's Schedule) ← Older edit Revision as of 10:31, 6 April 2022 (view source) Takako (Talk | contribs) (→Takako's Schedule) Newer edit → Line 169: Line 169: 3:00pm: 3:00pm: 4:00pm: 4:00pm: − 5:00pm: − − - April 1 (Friday) - April 1 (Friday) 10-12:00pm: Writing club (hybrid, zoom + seminar room) 10-12:00pm: Writing club (hybrid, zoom + seminar room) Revision as of 10:31, 6 April 2022 Contents 1 NeuroMusic Lab 1.1 Website 1.2 Schedule 1.2.1 Lab Meetings 1.2.2 Takako's Schedule 1.2.3 Booking Lab Time 1.3 Lab Setup 1.3.1 General Information 1.3.2 Lab Computer Displays 1.3.3 Default Mode 1.4 Capping 1.4.1 Technique 1.4.2 Cleaning 1.5 Data Analysis 1.6 Picton Chapter Outlines NeuroMusic Lab Website work on website here [1] Schedule Lab Meetings Zoom Link Join from PC, Mac, Linux, iOS or Android: https://stanford.zoom.us/j/2479887649?pwd=S3ordkJtcnFacEV0QkJ4NjV6VmttZz09 Password: 135890 Spring 2021 meeting Tuesday 11am-12pm 'Reading: Language, Music, and the Brain : A Mysterious Relationship by Michael A. Arbib' https://searchworks.stanford.edu/articles/e000bna__606119 April 6: Kunwoo (chapter 18) April 13: Barbara (lit review update: mediation+EEG) April 20: (11:30-12pm) Marise update April 27: Vidya update May 4: Hannah update May 11: Kunwoo update May 18: Vidya task demo May 25: Barbara task demo June 1: (resess) June 8: ICMPC extended abstract feedback (Barbara, Marise) Winter 2021 meeting Feb 1: 4pm-5:30pm: Takako (Chapter 1) This chapter has overview of all other chapters. We can pick and chose what we like to read. Feb 8: 5:30pm-6:30pm: Barbara (Chapter 2) Noah (Chapter 3) Feb 15: No meeting (Presidents' day) Feb 22: 5:30pm-6:30pm: Marise (Chapter 6) Kunwoo (Chapter 7) Mar 1: 5:30pm-6:30pm: Hannah (Chapter 14) Mar 8: 5:30pm-6:30pm: Marise (Chapter TBD) Mar 15: 5:30pm-6:30pm: Noah (Chap 16) Fall 2020 meeting 'Reading: The Psychology of Music: A Very Short Introduction Elizabeth Hellmuth Margulis' https://www-veryshortintroductions-com.stanford.idm.oclc.org/view/10.1093/actrade/9780190640156.001.0001/actrade-9780190640156 Sep 29: 10-11:30am: Welcome and everyone's updates + Scheduling Oct 6: 10-11:30am: Marise (Chapter 1) + Barbara (Chapter 2) Oct 13: 10-11:30am: Bernard (Chapter 3) Oct 20: 10-11:30am: Vidya (Chapter 4)+ Barbara update (oliveros) Oct 27: 10-11:30am: Ray (Chapter 5) + Takako Kim reverb study Nov 3: 10-11:30am: Vidya (Chapter 6)+ Kunwoo (Chapter 7) Nov 10: 10-11:30am: Takako (Chapter 8)+ Bernard (Mandarin Tone Study Update) Nov 17: 10-11:30am: Barbara practice talk (APCAM) Spring 2020 meeting April 10: 12-1:30pm: Updates, Tysen's talk practice + everyone's updates April 17: 12-1:30pm: Elliot's data + Kim's apparatus? + everyone's updates April 21: 12-1:30pm: Vidya's classification? Fall 2019 meeting Wednesday 1:30-3pm: in the Lab Oct 9 : update everyone and check in Duet status (meet this time in the office 301) Oct 23 : (TBD) Oct 30 : (TBD) Nov 6 : (TBD) Nov 20 : (TBD) (this day we meet until 2:15) Dec 4 : perhaps poster presentation practice for Vidya Spring 2019 Reading Justin London "Hearing in Time" (2nd Ed) [2] Chapter 1: Cara 2: Tysen 3: Barbara 4: Kunwoo 5: Adi 6: Takako 7: Elena 8: Vidya 9: Adi 10 - May 3 : Ch 1,2,3 - May 10: (cancelled) - May 17: Ch 4,5,6 - May 24: Ch 7,8,9, (10) of 'On Repeat' by Elizabeth Margulis https://searchworks.stanford.edu/articles/nlebk__654566 - May 31: Ch 1(Takako), 2(Cara), 3(Tysen) - Jun 7: Ch 4(Vidya), 5(Noah), 6(Adi) David Huron Sweet Anticipation [3] 12 Takako 13 Tysen 14 Barbara 15 Kunwoo 16 Tysen 17 Takako - SPRING QUARTER - Meetings are at 12:30pm in the Seminar Room. - April 12 {Chapters 12,13} - April 19 {Chapters 14,15} - April 26 {Chapters 16,17} Winter 2019 Reading David Huron Sweet Anticipation [4] Chapter | Presenter 1 Cara 2 Vidya 3 Adi 4 Barbara 5 Iran 6 Vidya 7 Cara 8 Tysen 9 Kunwoo 10 Cara/Adi 11 Adi - Meetings are Tuesdays at 4:30pm in the NeuroMusic Lab - Feb 12 {Chapters 1-4} - Feb 19 {Chapters 5-7} - Feb 26 {Chapters 8-9} - March 5 {Chapter 10} - March 12 {Chapters 11, 7} - Give a summary of your chapter, your critiques, and points for discussion. Spring 2018 upcoming dissertation defense dates - Madeline May 4th (Friday), CCRMA Stage, 11am - Emily May 9th (Wednesday), CCRMA Stage, 1pm Lab meetings typically occur once per week. The usual meeting time for Winter 2018 is Friday at 1pm. Check the linked meeting schedule for updates. Sign up for presenting in lab meetings [5] Picton via Stanford Library [6] Takako's Schedule Takako @ zoom meeting 2022 Spring - April 8 (Friday) 10-11:30pm: Writing club (hybrid, zoom + seminar room) 11:30-1:00pm: Marise's presentation practice (hybrid, zoom + seminar room) 2:00pm: 3:00pm: 4:00pm: - April 1 (Friday) 10-12:00pm: Writing club (hybrid, zoom + seminar room) 12-1:00pm: Marise's presentation practice (hybrid, zoom + seminar room) 2:00pm: 3:00pm: 4:00pm: Kunwoo 5:30pm: Jordan zoom Takako @ zoom meeting 2022 winter - Jan 7 (Friday) 1:00pm: Marise 1:45pm: Hannah 2:30pm: Barbara 3:15pm: Ray - Jan 14 (Friday) 1:00pm: Barbara 1:45pm: Hannah 2:30pm: Marise 3:15pm: Marise 4:00pm: Vidya - Jan 21 (Friday) 9:00am: Nolan 10am-1pm (Writing club on zoom) 2:00pm: Hannah 2:45pm: Barbara 3:30pm: Marise 4:15pm: Kunwoo - Jan 28 (Friday) 9:00am: Nolan 10am-1pm (Writing club on zoom) 2:00pm: Hannah 2:45pm: Barbara 3:30pm: Marise 4:15pm: Ray - Feb 3 (Thursday) 3:30pm: Kathleen 4:30pm: Noah - Feb 4 (Friday) 9:00am: Nolan 10am-1pm (Writing club on zoom) 3:30pm: Kathleen 4:15pm: Ray - Feb 10 (Thursday) 9:00am: Nolan 3:30pm: Kathleen 4:30pm: Noah - Feb 11 (Friday) 10am-1pm (Writing club on zoom) 2:00pm: Hannah 2:45pm: Barbara (sorry hannah!) 3:30pm: Marise 4:15pm: Ray - Feb 24 (Thursday) 4:30pm: Noah - Feb 25 (Friday) 10am-11:30am: Writing club on zoom 11:30am-1pm: Lab meeting in seminar room + zoom (Marise's practice talk) 1:00pm: Hannah 2:15pm: 3:30pm: Kathleen 4:15pm: Ray (5:30pm CCRMA jazz jam) - March 4 (Friday) (Writing club is off) 12pm-1pm: Lab meeting in seminar room + zoom (Marise's practice talk) 1:00pm: Hannah 3:00pm: Barbara 4:15pm: Ray - March 11 (Friday) (Writing club is off) (Lab meeting is off) 1:00pm: Hannah 2:00pm: Marise 3:00pm: Barbara 4:15pm: Ray 7:00pm: Aaron (zoom) Takako @ zoom meeting 2020 spring - April 7 (Tuesday) 2:00 - 3:00pm: Kim 3:30 - 4:30pm: Vidya - April 10 (Friday) 2:00 - 3:00pm: Nolan - April 14 (Tuesday) 10:00 - 11:00am: 11:00 - 12:00pm: 12:00 - 1:00pm: Barbara - April 17 (Friday) 11:00 - 12:00pm: Nolan Takako @ zoom meeting 2019 summer - June 27 (Thursday): 4:00 - 5:00pm: Nolan - July 3 (Wednesday): 11:00 - 12:00pm: Nolan 12:30 - 2:00pm: Noah & Barbara 4:00 - 5:00pm: Aury - July 9 (Tuesday): 10:30 - 11:30am: Aditya 2:00 - 3:00pm: Nolan 4:00 - 5:00pm: Aury - July 10 (Wednesday): 10:00 - 11:00am: Noah & Aditya 11:00 - 11:30am: Noah & Barbara for Lab house keeping 11:30 - 12:30am: Barbara - July 11 (Thursday): 10:00 - 11:00am: Noah - July 13 (Saturday): 3:00 - 4:00pm: Nolan - July 15 (Monday): 4:00 - 5:00pm: Aury - July 17 (Wednesday): 10:00 - 11:00am: Noah 11:00 - 12:00pm: Barbara 12:30 - 1:30pm: Nolan - July 18 (Thursday): 10:00 - 11:30am: Aditya: CANCELLED - July 22 (Monday): 10:00 - 11:30am: Aditya & Noah for duet behavioral data 11:30 - 12:30pm: Aditya mocap data 1:00 - 2:00pm: Nolan - July 26 (Friday): 11:00 - 12:00pm: Barbara 12:00 - 2:00pm: SMPC talk practice - July 30 (Tuesday) 3:00 - 4:00pm: Aditya - August 2 (Friday) 11:00 - 12:00pm: Barbara - August 12 (Monday) 10:00 - 11:00am: Aditya - August 14 (Wednesday) 10:00 - 11:00am: Nolan - August 16 (Friday) 2:00 - 3:00pm: Barbara - August 28 (Wednesday) 10:00 - 11:00am: Noah Takako @ Stanford: 2018 Jan. 24- Feb. 7 + Feb. 21 - March 7 + March 25 - Apr 11 + May 2 - May 18 + June 8-30 + Aug3-15. Skype meeting booking with individual project team - Feb 12 (Monday): 12:00 - 1:00pm: Iran & Kunwoo - Feb 14 (Wednesday): 11:15 - 12:15pm: Madeline 12:30 - 1:30pm: Aury 1:45 - 2:45pm: Irán - Feb 15 (Thursday) 10:30 - 11:30am: Tysen 11:45 - 12:45pm: Emily and Trang - Feb 20 (Tuesday) 10:00 - 11:00pm: Ben 11:00 - 12:00pm: Barbara 1:45 - 2:45pm: Irán 3:00 - 4:00pm: Tysen - Mar 15 (Thursday) 12:00 - 1:00pm: Irán 1:00 - 2:15pm: Emily and Trang 2:30 - 3:45pm: Madeline 4:00 - 5:15pm: Keith - Mar 16 (Friday) 11:30 - 12:45pm: Ben - Mar 21 (Wednesday) 12:00 - 1:00pm: Emily and Trang 2:00 - 3:00pm: Barbara - Apr 17 (Tuesday) 2:00 - 3:15pm: Emily 3:30 - 4:45pm: Iran - Apr 19 (Thursday) 10:00 - 11:00am: Emily 11:00 - 12:00pm: Madeline 12:00 - 1:00pm: Keith 1:30 - 2:45pm: Tysen - Apr 24 (Tuesday) 11:00 - 12:00pm: - Apr 26 (Thursday) 12:00 - 1:00pm: Keith 1:00 - 2:00pm: Aury 2:00 - 3:00pm: Emily - May 24 (Thursday) 11:00 - 12:00pm: Tysen 12:00 - 1:00pm: Kunwoo 1:00 - 2:00pm: Keith 2:00 - 3:00pm: Aury - May 28 (Monday) 10:00 - 11:00am: Tysen - May 31 (Thursday) 12:00 - 1:00pm: Kunwoo 1:00 - 2:00pm: Keith - June 1 (Friday) 11:00 - 12:00pm: Tysen - June 5 (Tuesday) 11:00 - 12:00pm: Emily 12:00 - 1:00pm: Kunwoo 1:30 - 2:30pm: Tysen 3:00 - 4:00pm: Aury ICMPC talk practice meetings - July 18 (Wednesday) 3:00 - 4:00pm: Tysen 4:00 - 5:00pm: 5:00 - 6:00pm: 6:30 - 7:30pm: Iran - July 19 (Thursday) 9:30 -11:00am: Emily 11:00 -12:00pm: Kunwoo - Aug 22 (Wednesday) 9:00 - 10:15am: Emily - Aug 23 (Thursday) 10:00- 11:00am: Aditya - Aug 24 (Friday) 11:00 -12:00pm: Aury | negative |
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Roch Marc Christian Kaboré was elected president of Burkina Faso on Monday night, completing a year-long transition since the ousting of former strongman Blaise Compaore. Kaboré garnered 53 per cent of the vote with a turnout of 60 per cent, beating his nearest rival Zephirin Diabre who accepted defeat and said he would not contest the results.
“I believe in the ability of our people,” said Kaboré, referring to the challenges the country faced during a turbulent year which included a failed coup attempt led by the presidential guard.
Kaboré said challenges were put before the Burkinabe people so that they “could work together”, vowing to create a “Burkina Faso of democracy, of economic and social progress, of freedom, and of justice.”
People gathered outside the People’s Progress Movement (MPP) party campaign headquarters on Monday evening to celebrate Kaboré's victory. Results from Sunday’s polls were released by the country’s electoral commission throughout the day and the official proclamation was made around midnight.
“I congratulate the winner, who has the right to be proud having been chosen by his compatriots to steer the destiny of the whole country,” said Barthelemy Kere, president of the electoral commission.
Publication of the results one day after polling was widely seen as endorsing successful, democratic polls that were considered well organised. Codel, a domestic observation group of some 6,000 observers, had noted only minor logistical problems and 50 critical incidents from around 17,000 polling stations.
Kaboré's nearest rival Zephirin Diabre accepted defeat gracefully as results were announced. Diabre, head of the Union for Progress and Change (UPC) party, travelled to the MPP’s campaign headquarters to meet Kaboré and congratulate him on his victory.
“It’s the way of a new generation of political leaders in Burkina Faso,” Diabre told RFI, after meeting with Kaboré. “Democracy is certainly gaining some strength in this country, we don’t see it as a battle or fight - it’s a difference of ideas.”
Diabre, who was a frontrunner in the presidential race alongside Kaboré, took 29 per cent in the polls of some 5.5 million registered voters. The atmosphere at the UPC campaign headquarters was muted - preparations had been made for a party that never got underway.
The results bring to an end a transition which began when former president Compaore was overthrown in a popular uprising in October 2014. The elections had been delayed by a failed coup attempt in September led by the presidential guard which threatened to derail the transition. | positive |
LABOUR’S standing as the party of the left has been called into question by academics who found that less than half of their voters back left-wing policies.
Strathclyde University researchers found the party’s voters are not as left-leaning as they claim to be and are considerably less left-wing than those who back the SNP.
The findings were based on the responses of more than 10,000 people who completed an online voter guidance tool, which asks for users’ party preferences and political leanings before quizzing them on policies.
Just 44 per cent of Labour supporters backed policies deemed left-wing while nearly three-quarters (73 per cent) of SNP supporters gave left-wing responses. Users were asked to rate themselves left- or right-wing on a sliding scale.
Almost the same proportion of Labour (59 per cent) and SNP voters (62 per cent) described themselves as far- to centre-left, but Labour voters were less likely to give a “left-wing response” to policy choices. Academics described the mismatch as a “paradox”.
Labour has pledged to “keep university tuition fees free” and described paid fees as a dishonest “stealth tax”.
But two-fifths (40 per cent) of Labour voters said students should pay tuition fees and less than half (47 per cent) think they should be free.
In contrast, 83 per cent of SNP supporters back fee-free education and 12 per cent oppose it.
Labour has pledged “radical” land reform to “tackle the concentrated pattern of land ownership” and also to “empower crofting communities”.
However, nearly a third (32 per cent) of Labour voters did not think crofters should be able to force the sale of private estates.
Slightly more Labour voters (42 per cent) said crofters should be able to force sales, considerably fewer than SNP voters (68 per cent).
About one in 10 Labour voters oppose raising benefits while little more than half back a benefits hike, compared with almost three-quarters of SNP voters who backed raising benefits.
The study stated: “Across all of the relevant items in the tool, 73 per cent of SNP voters can be classified as left-wing while 44 per cent of Labour supporters fall into this category.”
John Curtice, Professor of Politics at Strathclyde, said: “On a number of key issues, Labour voters are apparently less keen than SNP supporters on government intervention. The electoral battle between Labour and the SNP at this election is apparently not just about whether Scotland should or should not be in the UK, but also reflects a divergence of view on how big a role voters think the government should play in Scotland.”
Meanwhile, the latest poll published yesterday continued to put Nicola Sturgeon’s party in a dominant position ahead of next week’s election.
The TNS survey found support for the party on the constituency vote stands at 52 per cent – down four percentage points since the company’s previous poll last month and down eight points from a peak of 60 per cent, recorded two months ago.
Labour, which on Wednesday was being forecast to come third in a poll for STV, was yesterday being predicted to narrowly hold on to second place with 22 per cent support in the constituencies, compared to 17 per cent for the Tories. The Liberal Democrats polled seven per cent.
Support for the SNP has also dipped slightly on the regional vote, down two points to 45 per cent compared with last month’s TNS poll.
Meanwhile, Labour is up one point to 22 per cent, the Tories are up three points to 18 per cent, the Lib Dems have dropped a point to five per cent and support for the Greens remains unchanged at eight per cent.
The poll of 1,035 people was conducted between April 1 and last Sunday, and found 67 per cent of people claim they are certain to vote.
Tom Costley, head of TNS Scotland, said: “The polls suggest the Labour Party is still struggling to match the share of the vote they achieved in 2011, let alone begin a recovery.
“The Conservative Party do not yet appear to be in a position which will see them replacing Labour as the official opposition.”
Those polled were also asked about their voting intentions in the EU referendum.
Support for staying in the EU has dropped three points from last month to 48 per cent, while 21 per cent back leaving – up two points. The remaining 31 per cent said they did not know.
Tariq Ali: We need constructive left opposition to be a foil to the dominance of neo-liberalism
| positive |
Old Red Iron is the local name given to this bridge which spans the river Suir in Waterford. Originally built in 1906, it was part of the route which linked Cork and Kerry to Rosslare via Waterford. The bridge has 9 spans and the central part could open for shipping however it has been subsequently removed. The removed section is now located a couple of hundred metres downstream on the shoreline.
With a length of 1205ft, the bridge was once one of the longest in the country and today is not far from Ireland’s longest bridge, the River Suir Bridge which opened in 2009 and is 230 metres. It’s also 112 metres high.
The line was originally used as a faster route for mail between the transatlantic port of Cobh and London via Rosslare however it closed in 1967 only to reopen again 1970 to service the mineral processing plant near Dungarvan. The Waterford to Dungarvan line was used until 1987 when it was closed to the public. It was abandoned in 1995 and by 2003, the central section and the track was removed.
The bridge was used briefly to connect Waterford South Station located near Bilberry to the north side of the river Suir before it closed in 1908 and from there on was used to transport goods to Waterford Stanley and Cherry’s Brewery in Bilberry. Part of the route south of the river Suir has been maintained as a tourist attraction by Waterford & Suir Valley Railway.
The piece of the bridge which was removed can be seen in the map below.
Location: Waterford, Ireland
Category: Railway Bridge
Abandoned: 1999 | positive |
San Diego Spine and Wellness Center - Chiropractor in San Diego, CA US × Mission Statement At San Diego Spine and Wellness Center, our mission is to help patients achieve optimal health and wellness by integrating personalized chiropractic care with holistic lifestyle solutions, allowing our bodies to heal so we can experience happier, healthier, and more fulfilling lives! Close Javascript must be enabled for the correct page display 858-676-1166 Home New Patient Center Online Forms New Patient Form English New Patient Form Spanish What to Expect Your First Visit Phase 1: Relief Care Phase 2: Corrective Care Phase 3: Wellness Care Payment Options Health Resources About Us Meet the Chiropractor Services & Techniques Services Sports Medicine Regenerative Medicine Aesthetics IV Nutritional Therapy Testimonials Shop Videos Contact Us Community Content About Chiropractic Care What is Chiropractic How Does it Work Who is Chiropractic For Vertebral Subluxation Wellness Resources Common Conditions Treated Auto Accident Injuries Back and Shoulder Pain Body Pain Chronic Condition Relief Conditions Affecting Women Headaches Herniated Discs Improved Health Pediatric Ailments Repetitive Use Injuries Respiratory Function Health & Wellness Healthy Thinking Get Positive Relaxation Techniques Life in Motion Wellness Lifestyle Tips Treat Yourself Well Treat Others Well Eat Well Wellness Essentials At Home At Work Exercise Nutrition What You Wear Wellness Perspectives Physical Social Spiritual Mental Therapies & Techniques Techniques Therapies Newsletter Library Weight Loss Staying Motivated Staying Young Life-Work Balance Stress & Anxiety Mind-Body Connection Wellness Pregnancy & Parenting Back, Body & Joint Pain Senior Health Breaking Bad Habits Healthy Tips Exercise & Fitness Injury Rehab & Prevention Kid's Health Illness Prevention Chronic Conditions Nutrition & Healthy Eating Wellness4Kids 858-676-1166 Home New Patient Center Online Forms New Patient Form English New Patient Form Spanish What to Expect Your First Visit Phase 1: Relief Care Phase 2: Corrective Care Phase 3: Wellness Care Payment Options Health Resources About Us Meet the Chiropractor Services & Techniques Services Sports Medicine Regenerative Medicine Aesthetics IV Nutritional Therapy Testimonials Shop Videos Contact Us Community Content About Chiropractic Care What is Chiropractic How Does it Work Who is Chiropractic For Vertebral Subluxation Wellness Resources Common Conditions Treated Auto Accident Injuries Back and Shoulder Pain Body Pain Chronic Condition Relief Conditions Affecting Women Headaches Herniated Discs Improved Health Pediatric Ailments Repetitive Use Injuries Respiratory Function Health & Wellness Healthy Thinking Get Positive Relaxation Techniques Life in Motion Wellness Lifestyle Tips Treat Yourself Well Treat Others Well Eat Well Wellness Essentials At Home At Work Exercise Nutrition What You Wear Wellness Perspectives Physical Social Spiritual Mental Therapies & Techniques Techniques Therapies Newsletter Library Weight Loss Staying Motivated Staying Young Life-Work Balance Stress & Anxiety Mind-Body Connection Wellness Pregnancy & Parenting Back, Body & Joint Pain Senior Health Breaking Bad Habits Healthy Tips Exercise & Fitness Injury Rehab & Prevention Kid's Health Illness Prevention Chronic Conditions Nutrition & Healthy Eating Wellness4Kids The purpose of this area of our website is to provide you with a resource for finding additional information and products that will help you live a healthier life. We describe the types of products we recommend and when we have experience with a favorite recommended brand or company, we share that with you. For your convenience you can learn more about these products here and when possible, you can purchase them at our office. Use this as your personal wellness product guide. If you have a favorite product that is not listed here, please let us know. We always do our best to stay current with the latest and greatest wellness products on the market. The products are organized by which aspect of your health they help to support. We recommend you consult with us or a specialist to determine which of the following products best fit your needs and support your wellness goals. In addition to our expertise and service, we keep these products in stock at our wellness centers for your convenience. About Chiropractic Care What is Chiropractic How Does it Work Who is Chiropractic For Vertebral Subluxation Wellness Resources Common Conditions Treated Auto Accident Injuries Back and Shoulder Pain Body Pain Chronic Condition Relief Conditions Affecting Women Headaches Herniated Discs Improved Health Pediatric Ailments Repetitive Use Injuries Respiratory Function Health & Wellness Healthy Thinking Get Positive Relaxation Techniques Life in Motion Wellness Lifestyle Tips Treat Yourself Well Treat Others Well Eat Well Wellness Essentials At Home At Work Exercise Nutrition What You Wear Wellness Perspectives Physical Social Spiritual Mental Therapies & Techniques Techniques Therapies Newsletter Library Weight Loss Staying Motivated Staying Young Life-Work Balance Stress & Anxiety Mind-Body Connection Wellness Pregnancy & Parenting Back, Body & Joint Pain Senior Health Breaking Bad Habits Healthy Tips Exercise & Fitness Injury Rehab & Prevention Kid's Health Illness Prevention Chronic Conditions Nutrition & Healthy Eating Wellness4Kids Office Hours Monday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Tuesday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Wednesday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Thursday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Friday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Saturday Closed Sunday Closed Monday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Tuesday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Wednesday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Thursday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Friday 9:00 am - 5:00 pm Saturday Closed Sunday Closed Our Location --mi Address 16445 Bernardo Center Drive San Diego, CA 92128 Contact Information 858-676-1166 [email protected] 858-676-1166 Copyright © 2022 MH Sub I, LLC dba iMatrix Admin Log In Site Map Health Disclaimer Privacy Policy | negative |
Spring Flowers – Everywhere – Wide Eyed Wonderings Skip to content Wide Eyed Wonderings Memories and Mysticism with a Wide-Eyed Spoonie Menu Home About Me Intro and Disclaimers Spring Flowers – Everywhere wideeyedwanderingspoonie autobio, Photos, Sunday stills, Weekend coffee share April 29, 2022 1 Minute For Terri’s Sunday Stills – Fabulous Florals. Spring is in the air, and everywhere she is breaking out the sparkle. Little Johnny Jump-ups (Violas) brighten any day. “Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.” ~Rainier Maria Rilke Tiny Lantana begin to burst forth. “If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, the whole world would change.” ~Buddha “Feed me Seymour” ~ Audrey – Little Shop of Horrors Spooky pitcher plants lurking in the shadows, waiting for … lunch. “Where flowers bloom, so does hope” ~ Lady Bird Johnson Many varieties of Rhododendron thrill the eye and delight the spirit. “It’s always spring and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.” ~E.E. Cummings Wild Hibiscus, a marvelous nature walk find. Flowers floating to the ground petals falling, make no sound pink snow flying fills the air petals falling everywhere flowers in my hair the scent of spring fills the air. ~JP If we were having coffee this week, I’d tell you April has been a mixed bag of a month. It started with a mad dash to South Dakota that was more exhausting than exciting. Then to a nasty virus (not COVID) that led to a Sarcie Flare, which led to a 14-day round of steroid therapy, which led to visits with my pulmo and cardio doctors, and is now ending with me wearing a heart monitor (don’t worry, it’s nothing serious). So maybe it hasn’t been quite the fun month I was hoping for but I got lots of yard work done and the front and back areas are beginning to come together. Come Spring and Welcome. Til next time ~ Stay Trippy Hippies ~JP Share this: Twitter Facebook Like this: Like Loading... Related Tagged #weekendcoffeeshare my photos sundaystills Published by wideeyedwanderingspoonie View all posts by wideeyedwanderingspoonie Published April 29, 2022 Post navigation Previous Post Sunday Stills and PPAC – Diamond and Quartz Next Post Thoughtful Thursday – May Activities 28 thoughts on “Spring Flowers – Everywhere” Pingback: Sunday Stills: Fabulous Seasonal #Florals – Second Wind Leisure Perspectives Terri Webster Schrandt says: April 29, 2022 at 5:09 pm Wonderful and fabulous flowers, JP! Those pitcher plants are so cool (my mom raised many of those carnivorous plants back in the day)! What a lovely poem…I can see the petals falling and flying from here! LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: April 30, 2022 at 1:49 pm Thank you Terri. The faux plum was shedding so many petals, it was like a pink blizzard 😉. I love carnivorous plants for their otherworldly beauty and also their inherent “creepy” factor. LikeLiked by 1 person Reply Marsha says: April 29, 2022 at 5:43 pm Your pictures are fabulous. The colors look so bright! LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: April 30, 2022 at 1:50 pm My favorite thing about Spring is the brightness of color after a drab winter. LikeLiked by 1 person Reply Marsha says: April 30, 2022 at 2:06 pm I know! Me too! You would have loved that place. LikeLiked by 1 person Natalie says: April 29, 2022 at 8:18 pm Beautiful flowers, JP. The pitcher plants are indeed spooky. I’m sorry to hear about your health issues. I hope you have a great weekend. Thank you for linking up with #weekendcoffeeshare. LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: April 30, 2022 at 1:53 pm Thank you Natalie. I’ll heal it just takes longer than it used to 😉 flowers are one of my favorite photo subjects. LikeLike Reply E.W. Bennefeld says: April 29, 2022 at 8:49 pm Pretty flowers! We are just coming off snow storms. I am hoping that something in my tiny flower garden will have survived. Good on the yard work! We have a lot of bare spots, but my husband bought some grass seed that is supposed to be shade tolerant and we got it spread out before the rain started again. Best wishes for your week! — Liz LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: April 30, 2022 at 1:57 pm Thank you Liz. Nice thing about moving a bit farther south is our snow leaves earlier in the year. 😉 LikeLiked by 1 person Reply smkelly8 says: April 29, 2022 at 9:44 pm Terrific flowers, signifying the season! LikeLike Reply Writing Sparkle says: April 30, 2022 at 10:19 am “You can learn a lot of things from the flowers.” — Alice in Wonderland I love taking pictures of flowers. They offer so many shapes and colours, beautiful. Thanks for sharing. LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: April 30, 2022 at 4:42 pm Thank you so much. Flowers are so photogenic 🌺 LikeLike Reply Janet Alcorn says: April 30, 2022 at 1:38 pm Love the pitcher plants! I grew several varieties in pots when I lived in Portland, and I currently grow venus flytraps on my kitchen windowsill. Carnivorous plants are fascinating. LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: April 30, 2022 at 1:45 pm Thank you Janet. I love Venus flytraps. I may try growing some now that I have the room 😊 LikeLike Reply Inspiring Max says: April 30, 2022 at 10:27 pm Beautiful up close photos. Love your poem. So fitting for Spring. LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: April 30, 2022 at 10:31 pm Thank you so much LikeLike Reply Susanne says: May 1, 2022 at 4:33 am I’m sorry to hear about all your health problems this month. Hope you’re getting back to normal? Your spring photos are wonderful with all those bright colours! LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: May 1, 2022 at 8:05 am Thank you so much. Yep, starting to see light at the end of the tunnel. 😊 LikeLike Reply Antoinette Truglio Martin says: May 1, 2022 at 10:28 am Lovely LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: May 1, 2022 at 11:35 am Thank you so much. LikeLike Reply Kirstin says: May 4, 2022 at 11:47 pm What beautiful photos and I love your poem! Hopefully May will be a much better month for you. LikeLike Reply crispina kemp says: May 5, 2022 at 5:50 am Sorry to hear you health took a dive, hope you’ll soon be back up. And those flowers… the colours… I am drooling 🙂 LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: May 5, 2022 at 5:05 pm Thanks so much. Flares are a real pain. I needed a good shot of color! LikeLiked by 1 person Reply crispina kemp says: May 13, 2022 at 5:46 am Happy to provide 😊 LikeLiked by 1 person Julie says: May 9, 2022 at 12:09 am I love the contrasting petals of the lantanas and violas! LikeLiked by 1 person Reply wideeyedwanderingspoonie says: May 12, 2022 at 9:03 am I adore those tiny flowers 🌹 so precious. LikeLike Reply thewanderingempath says: May 13, 2022 at 5:11 pm You do live in pure beauty!! 🪴🌸 LikeLiked by 1 person Reply Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here... Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email (Address never made public) Name Website You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change ) Cancel Connecting to %s Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. Δ Blog at WordPress.com. Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. 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Light A Candle for Marjorie Rose Bushey - Tributes.com Play Music Pause Music A A A Tweet Help | Login | Sign Up Obituary Search Advanced Search State AL AK AR AZ CA CO CT DC DE FL GA HI IA ID IL IN KS KY LA MA MD ME MI MN MO MS MT NC ND NE NH NJ NM NV NY OH OK OR PA PR RI SC SD TN TX UT VT VA WA WI WV WY Obituary Search Advanced Search Browse by Location Browse Most Recent Browse by Date Find a Funeral Home Celebrity Deaths Celebrity Death News Celebrity Deaths by Category This Week in History Year in Review Sympathy Flowers by your Local Florist Create Obituary Grief Recovery Center Start a Family Tree Find a Funeral Home Celebrity Obituaries Review this week's trending celebrity news stories Marjorie Rose Bushey Obituary Remember Marjorie Rose Bushey Unknown Croton-on-Hudson, New York Set a Reminder for the Anniversary of Marjorie's Passing Forward to Family & Friends Share a Memory Make a Charitable Donation Add a Photo Print Contact Support Death Certificates Click on the item you would like to print. Obituary Guestbook Services All Share This Obituary Obituary Funeral Services Send Condolences Add A Photo Memory Book Memories & Candles Previous “To my big sister, MargeMarge not only I but our sister Liz and brother Eddie and our children will forever miss you. You are and always will be an...Read More » ” 1 of 1 | Posted by: Laura DeLaura - Lincolndale, NY Next View All Leave A Memory Leave Audio Memory Light A Candle Sympathy Flowers Delivery Details provided for: Cortlandt Funeral Home Marjorie Rose Bushey of Croton on Hudson died on March 30, 2015. Marjorie was born in Thornwood,NY on October 21, 1934 to Gaetano and Virginia (Tranquilla) Pavone.Marjorie will be remembered for the love of her family, dogs and gardening. She is survived by her children Tina Nolan, Sandra(Susan) Levesque, Scott (Bridget), Shaun (Ivan) Ward and Ed (Denise) Denison, 11gGrandchildren, 5 great grandchildren. She was predeceased by her husband Edmund Bushey. Reposing, Wednesday 1-3PM at the Cortlandt Funeral Home. Funeral service will be 3 PM at the funeral home. Interment will follow at St. Patrick's Cemetery, Verplanck,NY. Funeral Home Cortlandt Funeral Home 97 Broadway Verplanck, NY 10596 Tel. (914) 737-1110 Profile of Cortlandt Funeral Home Send Flowers Send Condolences Previous Send Flowerss Send Food Plant a Tree in the Holy Land Send a Personalized Card Plant a Tree in the U.S. Make a Donation Send a Soup Gift Basket Create An Oral History Support Library Plant Trees in Israel Memorial Cards & Bookmarks Next SEARCH OTHER SOURCES Visitation April 01, 2015 1:00 PM to 3:00 PM Cortlandt Funeral Home 97 Broadway Verplanck, NY 10596 (914) 737-1110 Get Directions Cortlandt Funeral Home, 97 Broadway, Verplanck, NY 10596 Visitation for Marjorie Rose Bushey https://www.tributes.com/obituary/show/Marjorie-Rose-Bushey-102335419#services https://www.tributes.com/obituary/get_ics/102335419?service=3130637&tr= Funeral Service April 01, 2015 3:00 PM Cortlandt Funeral Home 97 Broadway Verplanck, NY 10596 (914) 737-1110 Get Directions Cortlandt Funeral Home, 97 Broadway, Verplanck, NY 10596 Funeral Service for Marjorie Rose Bushey https://www.tributes.com/obituary/show/Marjorie-Rose-Bushey-102335419#services https://www.tributes.com/obituary/get_ics/102335419?service=3130638&tr= Burial Wednesday April 01 2015 St. Patrick's Cemetery Verplanck, NY 10596 Get Directions St. Patrick's Cemetery, Verplanck, NY 10596 Burial for Marjorie Rose Bushey https://www.tributes.com/obituary/show/Marjorie-Rose-Bushey-102335419#services https://www.tributes.com/obituary/get_ics/102335419?service=3130639&tr= Create An Online Memorial For Marjorie Rose Bushey The beautiful and interactive Eternal Tribute tells Marjorie's life story the way it deserves to be told in words, pictures and video. 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Tributes.com is the online source for current local and national obituary news and a supportive community where friends and family can come together during times of loss and grieving to honor the memories of their loved ones with lasting personal tributes. © 2022 Tributes, Inc. All rights reserved. Terms of Use | Privacy Policy | Site Map About About Us Media Center Advertise with Us Join our Media Network Visit Legacy.com Partners Funeral Home Partners Television & Radio Partners Business Partners Customer Service FAQ Contact Us Latest Obituaries Pet Tributes Funeral Homes Find a Funeral Home Become a Partner Partner Information Funeral Home Central | negative |
The entirety of my life, I have been surrounded by animals. I was born into a family of a mother, father, and two labradors. They were basically like my separate parents: Duke and Daisy, my constant furry protectors.
Over the years the "menagerie" at my parent's house built up to include horses, chickens, a goat, cats, and even some deer, moose, and elk (my mother rehabilitates wildlife). My love for animals was nurtured by this and never waned, so when I was about to move out I was pretty depressed about not being able to take my giant black labrador Tidus with me. I began thinking perhaps I should get a small dog, and thus began my epic search for the "perfect" tiny fluff... and that brought me to Sushi.
Sushi is five years old and weighs four pounds. She's a purebred Pomeranian and the absolute four legged love of my life. Her mannerisms are adorable and strange and she brings me infinite smiles. | positive |
In an interview with Yahoo Esports’ own Travis Gafford, Yiliang “Doublelift” Peng revealed that, due to frustrations with Riot Games’ Dynamic Queue system, he and Søren “Bjergsen” Bjerg would be practicing purely on the Tournament Realm. As a result, they won’t be able to stream and will lose a huge part of their pay – up to 80-90%, according to Doublelift.
“I want to stream a lot, Søren wants to stream a lot,” says Doublelift. “But we can’t stream on NA TR [Tournament Realm]. By practicing on there, we’re basically going to take a cut of 80%, so it kind of sucks. But honestly, we were never pros to begin with for the money. It’s just really inconvenient that we’d have to do that for the practice.”
Doublelift went more in depth on his reasonings for switching over to Tournament Realm practice, so check out the full interview below.
(Riot Games) | positive |
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How do you use Vibrating Bullets - User Guide - EroticFeel More than a sex shop #feeltheerotic Purchase and Shipment - 100% DISCREET FREE Shipment from €60 (Standard delivery €4.95) 19 069 409 Ireland España France Deutschland Italia United Kingdom Portugal Belgique Österreich Ireland USA México Chile Colombia Perú Panamá Ecuador Australia New Zealand Worldwide Toys Vibrators Dildos Butt Plugs Balls Men Accessories and Other Erotic Games Suckers Sets Fashion Lingerie Costumes Sleepwear Accessories Essentials Condoms Lubricants Intimate Hygiene FeeltheErotic Romantic Candles Cosmetics Skincare Erotic Baths Sets Stimulants and Enhancers Erotic Massages BDSM Bondage Sets Restraints Cuffs Fetish Clothing BDSM Floggers BDSM Accessories Brands Blog {{qtyCart}} Sex Shop Online Blog How do you use bullet vibrators? How do you use bullet vibrators? EroticFeel 12/3/2021 Bulletvibrators Sometimes the bullet searches for you, and sometimes you search for the bullet. If you’ve already experienced its pleasures, you’ll know just what we mean. In short, vibrating bullets are small vibrators that are shaped like projectiles — hence the name. They offer countless advantages and using them, as we'e about to explain, is extremely simple. What's more, they provide the perfect example of how size doesn't matter when it comes to pleasure. And we repeat: size does not matter — neither a bigger vibrator nor a colossal penis, by the mere fact of being 'large', will provide more sexual satisfaction. For women, the most sensitive parts are the clitoris and the first third of the vagina. Among men, it's the the glans penis, the perineum and the P-spot (located next to the prostate and best stimulated with a prostate massager). Well, the P-spot aside, vibrating bullets are the perfect tool for stimulating the most erogenous zones of one's anatomy to the point of delirium. Much has changed since the first sex toys were designed — those large, unwieldy, phallus-shaped dildos. Computers also once took up a whole room, and mobile phones were shaped like bricks and weighed as much as a carton of milk. Listen up because everything you need to know is in this article. “Give us a clue!”, we hear you say, “are they for women, for men, for solo and partner play? ”. Well, let us explain — you’ll be very pleasantly surprised! What is a vibrating bullet used for? It's a sex toy, and, indeed, one of the most popular ones; its only function is to give you pleasure. Some can be inserted into the vagina (such as the new Drift with warming function by Lora DiCarlo, the Ambi by Lovense or the Romp Beat) and others are designed for external massage only (such as the Sweet Vibrations Bullet by Bijoux Indiscrets or Tango X by We-Vibe). Nevertheless, they all deliver precise stimulation to the major erogenous zones. Bullet vibrators can serve to increase arousal during foreplay, to provide the perfect side dish during intercourse, or as the perfect finale to the sensual festivities! By following the right path and stopping at the right spots, orgasm will follow in a matter of minutes. Stretch this pleasurable journey out for as long as you'd like the pleasure to last. If you need a step-by-step guide on how to use it so you can experience all the heavenly joys it has to offer, then read on. We'll explain how to go about seeing the stars without ever leaving the comfort of your own bed. By the way, and before we forget, vibrating bullets are good for almost anything — but not for anal penetration. Any anal toy must have a safety stopper and bullet vibrators do not. Take it from us — It’s not much fun to have to cut short your sexy session so a trainee doctor in your local accident and emergency hospital can remove a toy that’s got lost in your bowel. What advantages are there to using them? Bullet vibrators don’t usually measure more than 10 centimetres (around 4 inches). Equipped with powerful motors, they are able to vibrate just as intensely as the largest vibrators on the market. Indeed, most of them allow you to adjust the intensity to tailor your stimulation, and they are the most discreet sex toys available. More advantages? Of course! You can carry it with you everywhere; put it in your pocket, handbag or make-up bag — it hardly takes up any space. They can be used alone or as a couple and their shape and size makes them ideal for stimulating a range of different erogenous zones. Want more benefits? There are vibrating bullets of many types: bigger ones, smaller ones; rechargeable, waterproof and remote-controlled ones — even ones that work with apps so that your lover can bring you to orgasm from the other side of the world! How do vibrating bullets work? Vibrating bullets are incredibly user-friendly. Of course, we recommend reading the instructions when you receive yours because the way each ones is operated may vary slightly. Nevertheless, they all feature a power button which, in many cases, also serves to increase or decrease the intensity of the vibrations. Others also provide a + and - button to cycle through different patterns and speeds. Just turn it on, apply a little water-based lubricant to enhance the sensations and facilitate glide. Let its tip run along your body, stopping at your favourite spots. You can't get lost, no matter how many turns you make, you will eventually reach your destination. Battery-powered or rechargeable Although most of the vibrating bullets you'll find at EroticFeel are rechargeable and include their own charging cable, some are battery operated, such as the Bijoux Indiscrets vibrating bullet, the Fifty Shades of Grey vibrating bullet, and most of the Rocks-Off bullets. Both rechargeable and battery-powered devices have their own loyal followers. The good news is that neither the intensity of the vibration nor the pleasure you feel is affected by the kind you choose. For remote use Yes, some bullets can also be operated with a remote control or with an app on your mobile phone. Cutting-edge tech has been incorporated into adult toys to enhance your pleasure and to strengthen your long-distance relationships. No more video calls that are supposed to be sexy but just end up being embarrassing. With the Ambi bullet from Lovense, for example, your partner will be able to stimulate you from two feet or 2000 miles away. Now there are no frontiers! How about spicing up your sex life with the Lyla 2 bullet from LELO? Lie back and surrender control. You’ll be taken to ecstasy without touching yourself. For solo or couple play Everything is more fun with a vibrating bullet in the middle. We believe that you can use any sex toy with a partner — even those that are specially designed for men or for women. This is especially true when it comes to bullet vibrators. Use it to awaken your partner's desire and stimulate each of their erogenous zones. Let it stimulate the nipples, clitoris, testicles, perineum, vaginal lips — anywhere you can think of. You can both enjoy an amazing erotic adventure with the desire and your bullet vibrator as your only guides. How to use a vibrating bullet — step by step If you're a man, they are perfect for directly stimulating the testicles or the perineum (where a multitude of nerve endings are located). Want a tip? Combine manual stimulation of the glans penis with stimulation of the testicles and perineum with the tip of the bullet vibrator — the climax will be both intense and completely unstoppable! And what about her? There are few more effective toys for female masturbation. All the vibrating bullets that you'll find in EroticFeel's online sex shop boast different intensities and even varying vibration patterns. Start with a gentle one and caress your earlobes, working your way down your neck and nipples. Don’t rush; eating a sandwich in front of your computer in fifteen minutes for lunch is one thing, but not even having time to enjoy yourself before reaching orgasm is something else entirely. Now slowly work your way down over your belly to the inside of your thighs. Do you feel the tingling, your blood rushing, your mind clouding? Perfect. It’s now time to move up to her vaginal lips, to roam around them and make circles around the clitoris. Your desire will tell you when to gently rest the fine tip of the vibrating bullet on your clit and let the whole universe come to a stand-still. Last items Oral sex positions: which are the best? EroticFeel9/15/2022 20 curiosities (some amazing) you should know about the anus Sara Martínez8/25/2022 Male erogenous zones: how to stimulate each of them? EroticFeel8/11/2022 How to squirt: the definitive guide EroticFeel7/28/2022 Types of female orgasms EroticFeel7/14/2022 SYSTEM_GEOWEB_TITLE We have detected that you are browsing from a different location to the one that corresponds to this website. Please let us know which site you would like to visit. Change Version No, thanks. I want to continue to EroticFeel Ireland Conditions Who are we? Legal Notice Privacy Policy Cookies Policy Terms and Conditions Purchase guide Shipping conditions Warranty and Returns Payment Methods Discreet Purchases and Shipments Contact with us Copyright © 2022 eCommProjects Internet S.L. We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue using this portal, we’ll assume you agree with that.Read the cookies Policy I accept | negative |
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Lions offensive lineman Laken Tomlinson goes through drills during the Lions' rookie minicamp on May 8 in Allen Park. (Photo: Kirthmon F. Dozier DFP)
It shouldn't come as a surprise that an aspiring neurosurgeon is intelligent but, so far, Detroit Lions rookie left guard Laken Tomlinson is getting praise for his brain power.
"No question his smarts," right guard Larry Warford said. "He doesn't make a lot of mental mistakes, which my last two years I've seen that a little bit, guys messing things up in their head because it's hard to learn.
"A lot of people don't understand how complicated offensive-line play is as far as mentally. And he's come in, he hasn't made many mental mistakes at all. And he's a hard worker, you know?"
Tomlinson had a great reputation as a competitor at Duke, where he never missed a practice or a game on the field while earning degrees in evolutionary anthropology and psychology in the classroom.
But there is a bit of a surprise, or hint of promise, when it comes to Tomlinson. Warford, who had a Pro Bowl-caliber rookie season in 2013, thinks Tomlinson is ahead of where he was as at the same point in his rookie season.
"Probably," Warford said with a laugh. "I was a mess. Yeah, he probably is. I was a mess when I came here. I didn't know what was going on. I was like, 'God, I don't know what to do anymore. Why am I here?'
"He's taking everything in stride and he's doing great mentally, physically. He's the complete package."
Contact Carlos Monarrez: cmonarrez@freepress.com. Follow him on Twitter @cmonarrez.
Check out our new Lions Xtra app on Apple and Android! | positive |
Gym & Swim - Custom Commercial & Residential Pools | Master Pools Guild Become a MPG Member Find your MPG Member Menu 8130 New LaGrange Rd., Louisville, Kentucky 40222 502-426-1326 Visit website Get in touch Home » Gym & Swim New pools Pool maintenance Pool renovations Gym & Swim Since 1965 Gym & Swim has been the leader in “Design & Build” construction and recreational products. Servicing Kentucky and Southern Indiana, this family-owned business offers quality products, services, award-winning pools, spas, perimeter structures, and water features for both residential and commercial applications. Meeting the needs of your lifestyle, property site, and budget are important to Gym & Swim. We want your project to be unique, exciting, and an enjoyable experience. Gym & Swim has received over 600 regional, national and international design awards from ASPS-NPSI, Master Pool Guild, Sundance Spas, AQUA Choice Awards, Chrysalis Awards, AQUA Magazine and Pool & Spa News Industry Choice. Gym & Swim was inducted into the Aqua Hall of fame in 2003. Our craftsmanship and awards received speak for themselves. Visit Gym & Swim Contact Gym & Swim Complete the the contact form below and one of the team at Gym & Swim will get back to you as soon as possible. Your Name * Your Phone Number * Your Email * Your Town/Location Member Name Member Email Address Message MPG members in Kentucky Outdoor living solutions from Master Pools Guild Worldwide network of over 100 pool builders Bringing together a global group of elite pool design and construction companies Building the world’s finest pools for over 50 years We represent the best pool building talent internationally Always at the cutting edge of swimming pool technologies We continually advance our methods and equipment to stay at the forefront All our members are experienced master pool builders Each member is individually selected based on their skills and craftsmanship Contact Us mpg@masterpoolsguild.com Privacy Policy Members Area This site is protected by reCAPTCHA. The Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. Master Pools Guild 713 N. Courthouse Road Suite 201 Richmond VA 23236 Top Menu Home Find your MPG member MPG membership Resource Center Galleries Supported Organizations About MPG News Contact MPG Find your MPG member Australia Canada Costa Rica Dominican Republic Guatemala India Qatar United Arab Emirates United Kingdom United States MPG membership Awards Become a member Events Our selection process Why become a MPG member? Why choose an MPG member? Resource Center Guides Galleries Residential Swimming Pools Commercial Swimming Pools Supported Organizations Step Into Swim The Water Project About MPG Brand history Code of ethics Our vision By clicking "Accept All Cookies", you agree to the storing of cookies on your device to enhance site navigation, analyse site usage, assist in our marketing efforts, and for personalised advertising. More Information Accept All Cookies | negative |
A monitor displays Equifax Inc. signage on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange on Friday. (Michael Nagle/Bloomberg News)
A week after Equifax disclosed it suffered a massive data breach that may have compromised sensitive information belonging to 143 million people, the credit reporting agency's chief information officer, David Webb, and chief security officer, Susan Mauldin, are retiring, effective immediately, the company said in a statement Friday evening.
The sudden departures come as Equifax has been the target of intense criticism over the lapses in security that led to the hack and the way the company has handled the aftermath.
Richard F. Smith, Equifax's chief executive, apologized for the breach in an op-ed published by USA Today earlier this week. “This is the most humbling moment in our 118-year history,” he said. But his promises to make changes at the company were not enough for many alarmed lawmakers on Capitol Hill.
At least two congressional hearings on the Equifax breach have been announced. The first scheduled panel will take place on Oct. 3, when Smith is expected to testify. A bipartisan group of 36 senators have asked the Justice Department and the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission to investigate reports Equifax executives sold stock after learning about the breach but before it was made public. The Federal Trade Commission took the unusual step of announcing it is conducting a probe into the Equifax breach.
A major frustration for consumers who've sought to protect themselves from the Equifax data breach has been having to pay for freezing and unfreezing their credit, as a precaution against fraud. On Friday, Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) and a dozen other Democrats introduced a bill that would ban credit reporting bureaus such as Equifax, Experian and TransUnion from charging consumers for the service.
Equifax said in its statement the company would offer free security freezes through Nov. 21.
But that is unlikely to satisfy the demands of some elected officials.
Senate Minority Leader Charles E. Schumer (D-N.Y.) said on Thursday the company's chief executive and board of directors should step down unless they take five steps to correct their mishandling: notify affected consumers; provide free credit monitoring to them for at least 10 years, offer to freeze their credit for up to 10 years; remove forced arbitration clauses from their terms of use; and comply with fines or new standards that come out of investigations.
“It’s only right that the CEO and board step down if they can’t reach this modicum of corporate decency by next week,” he said. | positive |
Privacy Policy, Legal & Compliance - Uncharted Legal Consulting Skip to content Home Founding Lawyer Real Estate & Property Construction Condominium Corporate & Commercial Property “Blawg” Get in Touch Search for: Home Founding Lawyer Real Estate & Property Construction Condominium Corporate & Commercial Property “Blawg” Get in Touch Search for: Privacy Policy & Compliance Privacy PolicyTerms of UseCopyrightWebsite Images Privacy Policy Uncharted Legal respects the importance of privacy and the sensitivity of personal information. The firm is committed to the responsible collection, use and disclosure of your personal information, and takes this responsibility very seriously. As an organization engaged in commercial activities, Uncharted Legal must comply with the federal Personal Information Protection and Electronic Documents Act, also known as PIPEDA. 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(Intermediate) Front Kicks (Advanced) Front Kicks (Beginner) Front Kicks (Intermediate) Hamstring Pushouts (Advanced) Hamstring Pushouts (Beginner) Hamstring Pushouts (Intermediate) Lat Wrist Stretch (Advanced) Lat Wrist Stretch (Beginner) Lat Wrist Stretch (Intermediate) Mini Windshield Wipers exercise (Advanced) Mini Windshield Wipers exercise (Beginner) Mini Windshield Wipers exercise (Intermediate) Obstacle Course Sequence Prone Flutter into Supine Scissor Kicks (Beginner) Prone Flutters into Supine Scissor Kicks (Advanced) Push Swing Pull Side Plank (Advanced) Push Swing Pull Side Plank (Beginner) Push Swing Pull Side Plank (Intermediate) Reaching Forward Lunge (Advanced) Reaching Forward Lunge (Beginner) Reaching Shuffle Lunge exercise (Advanced) Reaching Shuffle Lunge exercise (Beginner) Reaching Shuffle Lunge exercise (Intermediate) Rowing Single Leg Deadlift (Advanced) Rowing Single Leg Deadlift (Beginner) Rowing Single Leg Deadlift (Intermediate) Seated Leg Twist (Advanced) 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exercise (Beginner) The Hip Twister exercise (Intermediate) THE MOUNTAIN CLIMBER EXERCISE The Run Down exercise (Advanced) The Run Down exercise (Beginner) The Run Down exercise (Intermediate) Throwing Lunge (Advanced) Throwing Lunge (Beginner) Throwing Lunge (Intermediate) Travelling Push Up (Advanced) Travelling Push Up (Beginner) Travelling Push Up (Intermediate) Turkish Get Up (Advanced) Turkish Get Up (Beginner) Turkish Get Up (Intermediate) V Drill exercise (Advanced) V Drill exercise (Beginner) V Drill exercise (Intermediate) Windmill exercise (Advanced) Windmill exercise (Beginner) Windmill exercise (Intermediate) Wrestling Shuffle (Advanced) Wrestling Shuffle (Beginner) Wrestling Shuffle (Intermediate) Zen Swings into Downward Dog and Upward Dog (Advanced) Zen Swings into Downward Dog and Upward Dog (Beginner) Health care Health Care Management Course and advice Healthy Eating Healthy Eating – Your Future is Now How to Change a Habit for Healthy Eating How to Get into the 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You Won’t Be Successful Unless You Are Happy Inspiration DNA PART – 3 About Growing Veggies About Phishing Affiliate In Web Hosting Affordable Internet Advertising All About Trojans Backyard Birds Best Origins For Hospitality Occupation Listings Choosing What Your E-zine Is About Decent Guys Use Online Dating Defending Plants Developing Net Dating Relationships Diversification Is Important Do You Need Product or Subscribers E-zine Shortcomings Eleventh Hour Vacation Themes Fitness For Tennis Garden Friends Get Innovative Getting Acquainted With An Online Date Good Questions For Online Dating Good SEO Can Be Cheap Gratis Website Promotion Honesty Truly Is The Most Honorable Policy How To Boost Your Affiliate Commissions How To Prevent Spyware If You Are Sick Of Spam Kart Racing For Novices Kids Birthday Parties Theme Ideas Natural Medicine Net Dating Safety Online Dating May Be Hard Relish Life Alter Your View Rolling Out E-zine Content SEO Friendly Pages Some Different Internet Dating Activities Stress Stress Management Subscriber Base for Affiliate Marketers Success and Self Improvement Successful Online Dating For Men Tennis Tips The Good Of Putting Out Your E-zine The Perks Of Travel And Hospitality Occupations The Three Most Effective E-zine Formats Time For A Road Trip Utilizing Google Adwords Why Put Out An E-zine Why You Ought To Invest Wild Flower Frenzy Youngsters Birthday Parties Tips Inspiration DNA PART – 4 10 Things You Need for a Better Personality 3 Most Essential Ingredients You Need for Personal Development 5 Parental Self-Improvement Tips 5 Qualities You Should Imbibe Within Yourself to Be a Better Person 5 Tips to Build an Impressive Personality 5 Tips to Make You a More Patient Person 5 Ways to Boost Your Mood 7 Tips to Manage Your Time A Few Aspects of Personal Development that You Cannot Ignore About Improving Yourself for Your Teenage Children’s Development Benefits of Positive Thinking Blog Your Way to Personal Development Building Self-Confidence—What Must You Do? 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Law of Attraction and Wealth – The Correlation Learn Public Speaking to Become a Natural Speaker Learn to be the Speaker with a Magnetic Personality Learn to Make Friends Live for Today, Leave a Legacy for Tomorrow Living an Inspired Life and Inspiring Others Money Management for those Reeling in Debts Money Management For those who are Debt Free Networking and Building Your Business Principles to Follow to Live an Inspired Life Strategic Plan to Identify the Right Business Opportunity Striking the Balance between Our Physicality and Our Spirituality Team Building – Putting up an Effective Working Team The Essential Components of Eating Right The Incorporation of Law of Attraction in Wealth Creation The Internet – Growth and Impact The Internet – Understanding the Big Picture The Sources to Identify New Business Opportunities Tips to Effective Team Building Tips to Position Yourself as an Expert in Your Niche Understanding Leverage and Using it in Business Visions – The Importance of Having Them Why is it Essential to Believe in Yourself? 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He makes people love him due to sincerity and genuine interest in helping others. He is a dynamic speaker, Executive and Corporate Coach and Consultant for variuos business and medium size porporates. Dr Gupta is medically qualified consultant and is keen to give health advice to people so that they can be empowered for making right decisions. Top Category HEALTH HEALTH AND FITNESS VIDEOS (A) HEALTH AND FITNESS VIDEOS (B) HEALTH AND FITNESS VIDEOS (C) YOGA VIDEOS B PART YOGA VIDEOS C PART Follow us Proudly powered by WordPress | Theme: Quill by aThemes | negative |
Those reports — 31 ministry inspection logs in 29 months — offer a window into a frightening environment at Castleview Wychwood Towers, from feces-stained furniture and broken bedside bells to complaints about residents crying in vain to go to the bathroom. In addition to a staff member being convicted of sexual assault in 2012, allegations and complaints of abuse have continued.
The city-run nursing home where an elderly resident was killed over the weekend has a documented history of abuse, untrained staff and unsanitary living conditions.
The Star examined all the inspection reports for the 10 nursing homes run by the city. Of those, Castleview had the most inspections — 22 in 2011 alone — and appeared to have the most severe complaints.
Residents were having breakfast Saturday morning, in Castleview’s dining room with staff present, said a source who has knowledge of the incident but is not authorized to comment. Francisco DaSilva, 87, and Francesco Greco, 81, then returned to the room they shared.
Castleview, on Christie St. near Dupont St., also ranks third in Toronto for the highest total of inspection reports since 2010.
It’s not clear what happened next, but police found DaSilva dead in his room after 8:45 a.m., suffering “obvious injuries to the head,” according to police. A post-mortem examination was to be done Monday morning, said homicide’s Det. Ted Lioumanis.
Greco was charged with second-degree murder. His bail hearing was delayed until Tuesday amid efforts to find a translator, Lioumanis said. He remains in custody.
The detective said Greco’s state of mind and possible mental illness are currently the subject of investigation.
Castleview has 456 beds on seven floors, split between two wings. The most recent inspection, carried out in May and June, revealed a litany of problems for which the Ministry of Health and Long-Term Care ordered immediate action.
The home’s administrator, Nancy Lew, did not respond to the Star’s request for comment.
In the most recent report, inspectors found furnishings and bell strings, used to call for assistance, covered in feces. They personally intervened during unsafe feeding procedures. There were unsecured stairwells and exterior doors.
The Star has previously investigated incidents at the home.
In 2011, 71-year-old resident Danae Chambers, who suffered from severe dementia, was raped in her bed by 47-year-old staff member Leonid Kozlov, who pleaded guilty to sexual assault and was sentenced to 12 months in jail.
In that case, as with many of the inspection reports posted on the ministry’s website for the public, there are few details provided about the incidents listed, and it’s not always clear what is alleged to have happened.
An inspection earlier in 2011 found that allegations in two cases — that staff had abused residents — were not reported to the director of care, as required. It’s not known what the allegations were about, or what, if anything, was done about them.
Another 2011 inspection revealed that systems in place to prevent residents with dementia from wandering were not working properly, and the building was not sufficiently secured.
In March and April, a ministry inspector reported two registered nurses at the home spoke to a resident in a “demeaning manner” and made “inappropriate comments of a sexual nature.” On a different day, the report says, staff watched as the same nurses took cellphone pictures of the naked resident as a “strategy to shame the resident and convince the resident to dress.”
One of those nurses was seen again making “inappropriate comments” to the resident “in an attempt to shame the resident, while the resident was in distress waiting for the ambulance for transfer to the hospital.”
According to the report, staff didn’t report details of the incident to the administrator for 14 days, “due to worries about personal and professional repercussions.” The director of care wasn’t notified about the photos for 29 days — and was never told about the inappropriate comments.
That same report noted that in 2012, nearly two-thirds of frontline staff had not been trained on residents’ rights and mandatory reporting.
Half of all staff hadn’t received training on mental health issues, despite a description on the city’s website saying the home has “achieved a respected and high level of knowledge and effectiveness in dementia care.”
In an email, Marsha Nicholson, director of resident care and service for the city, said Castleview’s case complexity is higher than the divisional average. She added that Castleview, ranked with the nine other facilities, is in the “mid-range” of the average number of complaints over a three-year period.
Privately run homes have also experienced serious problems. Earlier this year, Joycelyn Dickson, 72, was beaten to death at the Wexford Residence and another resident was severely injured. Resident Peter Roy Brooks was charged with second-degree murder and aggravated assault.
Miranda Ferrier, president of the Ontario Personal Support Workers Association, said the situation at Castleview is not an anomaly but does appear to be worse than others.
“Every long-term care facility is short-staffed. Every single long-term care facility, there is neglect of patients, there is abuse,” she said.
However, Ferrier said people in her organization who gathered over the weekend were surprised to see Castleview had 22 incident reports in one year. Four or five would be the norm.
“It is so concerning,” she said. “Something like this … doesn’t just happen.” | positive |
AUSTIN -- The face of Texas' border surge is undergoing a makeover, as the security push has helped the state Department of Public Safety hire more Hispanic officers recently.
Over the past 18 months, more than 40 percent of the 450 participants in DPS' grueling six-month trooper academies identified themselves as Hispanic. A Dallas Morning News analysis shows that it's the highest such percentage DPS has seen over the last decade -- and maybe ever.
Many police agencies are seeing a similar increase as they try to match the state's booming Hispanic population. But for DPS, the shift comes at a critical time.
The agency's border operations have been under scrutiny, particularly from Democrats critical of the $800 million that Republican leaders budgeted for the overall security boost. The department has also faced questions lately about racial profiling involving traffic stops.
DPS officials stressed that their top priority remains to recruit the best trooper candidates - regardless of race, gender or any other demographic characteristic.
But top DPS brass pointed to several ways - directly or indirectly - that the border surge might be shaping the recent spike in Hispanic troopers: Pay incentives that came as part of the border package. A bigger presence in heavily Hispanic South Texas. A larger recruiting budget.
Agency officials said the benefits of a more diverse force are obvious.
"It's Police 101," said Robert "Duke" Bodisch, DPS' deputy director of homeland security and services. "You want diversity within your force so you can go out into different communities and be able to relate and have people be able to relate back to you." | positive |
A Canadian-led investigation has opened a new chapter in antimatter research.
In a study published today in Nature, the ALPHA Collaboration reports the first detailed observation of spectral lines from an antimatter atom.
"Spectral lines are like fingerprints," says lead author Michael Hayden, a Simon Fraser University (SFU) physics professor. "Every element has its own unique pattern."
There is one (possible) exception: matter and antimatter are believed to be mirror images of one another, and so the spectral lines of antimatter atoms should be precisely the same as those of their normal atom counterparts. Whether or not this is true is unknown. Until now, scientists have only had glimpses of antimatter spectral lines, and comparisons with normal matter spectral lines have been coarse.
The ALPHA Collaboration studies antihydrogen, the antimatter counterpart of the ordinary hydrogen atom. Their experimental results show a particular set of spectral lines in antihydrogen match those in hydrogen very well. The team plans to zoom in much closer to check if subtle discrepancies exist between the two atoms on a yet finer scale.
Conducted at the CERN laboratory in Geneva, the research involves irradiating antihydrogen atoms with microwaves, similar to those used to communicate with satellites. When this is done, the anti-atoms reveal their identity by emitting or absorbing energy at very specific frequencies. That pattern, or spectrum, of frequencies corresponds to the "fingerprint" described by Hayden.
"One of the challenges we face is that matter and antimatter annihilate when they come into contact with one another," says Justine Munich, an SFU physics PhD candidate. "We have to keep them apart. We can't just put our anti-atoms into an ordinary container. They have to be trapped or held inside a special magnetic bottle."
"By studying the properties of anti-atoms we hope to learn more about the universe in which we live," says Hayden. "We can make antimatter in the lab, but it doesn't seem to exist naturally except in miniscule quantities. Why is this? We simply don't know. But perhaps antihydrogen can give us some clues."
###
About the ALPHA Collaboration:
ALPHA is a collaboration of about 50 physicists from 17 institutions in Canada, Brazil, Denmark, Israel, Japan, Sweden, the United Kingdom and the USA. ALPHA-Canada comprises about 40 per cent of the ALPHA Collaboration. It currently consists of ten senior scientists, four postdoctoral researchers and five graduate students from five Canadian institutions. Twenty-three out of 54 co-authors in the reported work are presently or formerly with ALPHA-Canada: Michael Hayden, Justine Munich (Simon Fraser University), Nathan Evetts, Andrea Gutierrez, Walter Hardy, Taka Momose (University of British Columbia), Andrew Evans, Tim Friesen, Chukman So, Robert Thompson (University of Calgary), Melissa Mathers, James Thompson, Scott Menary (York University), Andrea Capra, Robert Collister, Joseph McKenna, Mario Michan, Makoto Fujiwara, David Gill, Leonid Kurchaninov, Konstantin Olchanski, Art Olin, Simone Stracka (TRIUMF).
ABOUT SIMON FRASER UNIVERSITY:
As Canada's engaged university, SFU is defined by its dynamic integration of innovative education, cutting-edge research and far-reaching community engagement. SFU was founded more than 50 years ago with a mission to be a different kind of university–to bring an interdisciplinary approach to learning, embrace bold initiatives, and engage with communities near and far. Today, SFU is Canada's leading comprehensive research university and is ranked one of the top universities in the world. With campuses in British Columbia's three largest cities – Vancouver, Burnaby and Surrey – SFU has eight faculties, delivers almost 150 programs to over 35,000 students, and boasts more than 145,000 alumni in 130 countries around the world.
Simon Fraser University: Engaging Students. Engaging Research. Engaging Communities.
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http://www.sfu.ca/university-communications/media-releases/2017/canadian-led-study-akin-to-antimatter-forensics.html | positive |
Libsyn Directory view_module Topics search search close Search Punk Rock, Home Birth, and Indian Corn: Shelley Buffalo Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest Release Date: 12/04/2019 Home Is Not a Safe Place: Irene Maun Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest Irene Maun is originally from the Marshall Islands, a Pacific island nation struggling with the legacy of U.S. nuclear testing and facing the devastation of climate change. She now lives in Dubuque, Iowa, where she is nurturing the health and resilience of a growing Midwest Marshallese community. info_outline Journey into the New: Dominique Serrand Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest Dominique Serrand was born and raised in Paris. While studying at the Jacques Lecoq School for international theatre, Dominique forged a special bond with classmates from Minneapolis, Minnesota. Together they founded Theatre de la Jeune Lune, or Theatre of the Young Moon. The young drama company moved to Minneapolis in 1981 and closed in 2008. Later that year, Dominique and a few of his partners from Jeune Lune formed The Moving Company, which continues to produce new work in the Twin Cities. info_outline Conversations with America: Abdirizak Abdi Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest At age six, Abdirizak Abdi fled civil war in his native Somalia. He lived in a refugee camp in neighboring Kenya, then in the capital city of Nairobi, and as a teenager moved to the United States. Today, he is the principal of Humboldt High School in St. Paul Minnesota, one of the first Somali-American school leaders in the country. info_outline I Reached for Books: Hem Rizal Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest Hem Rizal was born in Bhutan and migrated to Nepal with his family when he was just a year old. He grew up in the Gold Hap Refugee Camp in Nepal and later settled with his family in Seattle. Hem is a graduate of the University of Washington and taught briefly in the Des Moines Public Schools with AmeriCorps before joining the Teach for America program for four years on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. He is presently an M.A. candidate in public policy at the Harvard Kennedy School. info_outline Always in the Gray Areas: John-Paul Chaisson-Cardenas Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest All his life, Guatemalan-American John-Paul Chaisson-Cardenas has lived in the gray areas between worlds. This has made him skillful at building bridges between white Midwesterners and immigrants in the Heartland, a calling that has been both risky and rewarding. info_outline America Looks Like Scotland!: Zoe Bouras Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest Zoe Bouras is a Communications and Development AmeriCorps VISTA with the Immigration Project in Bloomington, Illinois. She emigrated with her mother from northern England to rural Illinois when she was eight years old, and has called Arthur, Illinois, home since then. Zoe began her path to American citizenship just last year. She hopes to be naturalized in 2021. info_outline Stick to Your Roots: Pavel Polanco-Safadit Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest As a kid in the Dominican Republic, Pavel Polanco-Safadit pounded away for hours perfecting his technique as a classical pianist. This passion led him to the U.S., and eventually to the Midwest, where he has rediscovered his Latin Jazz roots and the Indiana roots of American Jazz. info_outline America Has Its Own Ghosts: Kao Kalia Yang Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest Kao Kalia Yang is an author, public speaker, and teacher. She was born in the Ban Vinai Refugee Camp in Thailand and settled with her family in St. Paul, Minnesota, when she was six years old. Kalia has an MFA from Columbia University and has taught in K-12 schools in a variety of communities, as well as at many colleges and universities. For more information about her writing, teaching, and availability for public speaking, visit her homepage: https://kaokaliayang.com/. info_outline The Gospel of Seed and Soil: Liz Garst Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest Liz Garst grew up in Coon Rapids, Iowa, in a family of agricultural pioneers. She shares childhood memories from Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev’s visit to their farm and how the family legacy inspired her own career in international agriculture. After jobs with the Peace Corps and the World Bank, she came home in the 1980s, at the height of the Farm Crisis. Now she helps manage the family land as Whiterock Conservancy, where she promotes outdoor recreation and sustainable agriculture. info_outline Flip the Sky: Bob Leonard Mid-Americana: Stories from a Changing Midwest Bob Leonard is News Director for KNIA/KRLS, where he also hosts the podcast In Depth. He also writes for The New York Times, Salon, and many other national newspapers and magazines. As a professor of anthropology at the University of New Mexico, Bob supervised archeological research with the Navajo and Zuni nations. After the birth of his first child, Bob supplemented his faculty salary by driving a cab in Albuquerque. His experiences as a cab driver inspired his first book, Yellow Cab. info_outline More Episodes Shelley Buffalo is a visual artist and Food Sovereignty Coordinator for the Meskwaki Settlement near Tama, Iowa. Shelley was born near the Settlement, and much of her extended family still lives in Tama County. But her own journey has led her away and back more than a dozen times. For Shelley, sources of hope can come from anywhere, like her lifelong identification with punk rock, but the Meskwaki Settlement most recently called her back with its food sovereignty initiative, which restores ancestral foods, like corn and squash, and the traditional recipes that go with them. Shelley hopes to reverse the influence of government commodities on indigenous diets and to revive the stories of resilience that guide the Meskwaki lifeway. We talked about Shelley’s experience of racism in rural Iowa, how her birth experience in a hospital compared with her second birth experience at home, and why her work with food sovereignty may mean more to future generations than to her own. Learn more about the Meskwaki Food Sovereignty Initiative at the official website for the Meskwaki Nation and on Facebook. Libsyn Directory - Liberated Syndication TOPICS Arts Business Comedy Education Health & Fitness Kids & Family Music Religion & Spirituality Society & Culture History Technology TV & Film Fiction True Crime Government Leisure News Science Sports | negative |
Sample Page - 2calendar.com Skip to content 2calendar.com Main Menu Sample Page Menu Toggle Sample Page This is an example page. It’s different from a blog post because it will stay in one place and will show up in your site navigation (in most themes). Most people start with an About page that introduces them to potential site visitors. It might say something like this: Hi there! I’m a bike messenger by day, aspiring actor by night, and this is my website. I live in Los Angeles, have a great dog named Jack, and I like piña coladas. (And gettin’ caught in the rain.) …or something like this: The XYZ Doohickey Company was founded in 1971, and has been providing quality doohickeys to the public ever since. Located in Gotham City, XYZ employs over 2,000 people and does all kinds of awesome things for the Gotham community. As a new WordPress user, you should go to your dashboard to delete this page and create new pages for your content. Have fun! Copyright © 2022 2calendar.com | Powered by Astra WordPress Theme | negative |
SEN 2713 - The National Free Flight Society The National Free Flight Society Committed to the preservation and promotion of free flight model aviation. Menu Home About the NFFS What is Free Flight? Types of Free Flight Model Airplanes About the NFFS History of the NFFS Donations & the NFFS Foundation NFFS Contacts NFFS Web Site Privacy Policy Join, Learn, Fly Join the NFFS, Renew Your Membership, Change of Address Beginners Corner Science Olympiad Science Olympiad Students Science Olympiad Coaches Science Olympiad Mentors Science Olympiad Events Science Olympiad Resources Connections Academy NFFSU NFFS Scholarship Information Flying & Competition Free Flight Calendar Maps and Directions to Flying Sites Contest Results NATS News Indoor Flying Juniors Nostalgia One-Design Gas Event One-Design Rubber Event Free Flight Competition Rules National Cup America’s Cup FAI World Cup US FF Team Community Online Forum The Free Flight Community Free Flight Clubs Club Newsletters NFFS Hall of Fame Memorials Communications Change of Address NFFS Contacts Bylaws Library Technical Library & Archive Complete Symposium Contents Models of the Year Video Clip Art Archive Store Shop Cart Checkout My Account Download the eDigest / Sympo / INAV NFFS Plans Catalog Used Free Flight Books Shop Help Log In My Account Login Register SEN 2713 Posted on 03/16/2020 by nffs-admin USA Team Selection Program ANNOUNCMENT from the CIAM Workshop Envy USA Team Selection Program Recently we got questions from 2 people asking about the USA Team Selection program. These were people that had not been part of the program before but were motivated by attending the 2019 World Champs at Lost Hills. All the people already involve in the program had got a copy of the program by email and “know” that are a number of ways of qualifying to participate in the Team Selection “Finals”. They also “know” that these are at Lost Hills in October. The program is usually on both the AMA and NFFS websites, I could not find it on the AMA but here is on the NFFS site 2020 FF Team Selection Program Also there is a Team Selection Committee member for each AMA district and you can find them here on the AMA web site, so that would be a “local” person to contact if you had questions. Team Selection Committee Members The person at the AMA who looks after the Team Selection programs is Colleen Pierce in the AMA Competitions dept. The next World Champs will be in 2021 in France, that is a good site, in a very nice part of the country run by a very experienced team. So if you are not signed up and want to take part, get going as time is getting close. Even if you think you are maybe “not ready”, taking part is a learning process to get you ready for next time, it is a great contest and by taking part you support the program in general. URGENT ANNOUNCMENT from the CIAM! The CIAM ( the modelling part of the FAI) has a email news service that you can sign up for and many of you probably do that. But here is an announcement from them that was sent out today. Considering the current situation with the Coronavirus (COVID-19) outbreak and in order to protect the health and safety of the entire CIAM community, we regret to announce that all CIAM sanctioned events are suspended as of tomorrow, for 30 days i.e. from Monday, 16 March 2020 until Monday, 20 April 2020. CIAM Bureau will continue to monitor the situation on a daily basis and will evaluate the options for the continuation or not of the scheduled events after the suspension period. We will issue a new announcement in due time. We did the same for our Plenary Meeting. Public health and safety are our top priorities for the moment. We know and we understand that some of the events which are going to be suspended may be postponed for a future date but some will be cancelled. For the events which will be cancelled due to this outbreak, CIAM Bureau decided to allow the organizers to use the sanction fees paid for this year, for events for the next year. World Cup coordinators will be in touch with you when the situation allows for it. This announcement refers more for the 2nd Category Events (World Cups or Open International). For World or Continental Championships, CIAM Bureau is in direct contact with the organizers and FAI Secretariat. The organizers will keep you posted accordingly. Be responsible and follow the instruction from your local Health Authorities. STAY HOME and why not, build your models. On behalf of CIAM Bureau Antonis Papadopoulos CIAM President Workshop Envy In line with the “stay home and build” message from the CIAM president a number people have already got started in the workshop and posted pictures on FB. There are workshops big and small, tidy and like mine, untidy but one stood out to me. In the FB F1B group there is a Turkish F1B flyer who lives in Germany near Munich, he posted nice 3D CAD views of his new F1B project. This included a 1800mm wing that he was going to mold. It turns out that is close to Technical University that has a “Maker Space” with CNC Mill big enough to machine the wing mold, that he can use. Main downside is the space has to be shared with some of the giants of German industry like BMW. But still it lets him compete with the factories. Facebook Print YouTube Post navigation Recent Posts SEN 3027 SEN 3026 SEN 3025 SEN 3024 SEN 3023 Archives September 2022 August 2022 July 2022 June 2022 May 2022 April 2022 March 2022 February 2022 January 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 June 2021 May 2021 April 2021 March 2021 February 2021 January 2021 December 2020 November 2020 October 2020 September 2020 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 December 2018 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 My Account Log in Entries feed Comments feed WordPress.org Contact Info General Email Address info@freeflight.org Join Our Mailing List First Name Last Name Email Address © 2016 All Rights Reserved • Website development by FlagstaffConnection.com Follow us on TikTok Follow us on Instagram Follow us on Facebook Subscribe to our RSS Feed Call us Email us | negative |
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A Spanish nurse who contracted Ebola in Madrid this week told health authorities at least three times she had a fever before she was finally placed in quarantine, it emerged Wednesday, despite having helped treat a patient who later died of the virus.
The nurse, named by the media as Teresa Romero Ramos, is the first person to have caught the Ebola virus outside of Africa in the current outbreak.
Romero Ramos first called a specialized service dedicated to occupational risk at Carlos III hospital in Madrid on Sept. 30 and complained of a slight fever and fatigue, a government official said, but was advised to visit her local clinic. She called again a few days later,the Guardian reports, but nothing was done.
When Romero Ramos called for a third time on Monday, she was finally transported to a hospital by paramedics who did not wear protective gear. Despite warning staff that she had contracted Ebola, she remained in a bed in the emergency room separated from other patients only by curtains.
“It would have been better if she had entered the hospital on the 30th,” Fernando Simón, emergencies coordinator for the Health Ministry, acknowledged to the press this week.
Some have criticized Spanish authorities for not providing sufficient training in Ebola protocols, and nurses complained that there had been no simulations of Ebola treatment by the time two infected missionaries arrived from west Africa.
The Spanish prime minister Mariano Rajoy said Wednesday morning that the Spanish healthcare system was “one of the best in the world,” and asked that “health professionals, who have a proven reputation, be left to do their work.”
[The Guardian]
Contact us at editors@time.com. | positive |
biac:scanners [Brain Imaging & Analysis Center] skip to content Brain Imaging & Analysis Center User Tools Log In Site Tools Search Tools Show pageOld revisionsBacklinks Recent ChangesMedia ManagerSitemap Log In > Recent Changes Media Manager Sitemap You are here: biac » biac » scanners biac:scanners Media Manager Namespaces Choose namespace [root] biac analysis backup betr cluster connect_to_golgi courses display_graphics experimentalcontrol matlab methods_journal_club pipeline pulsesequences subjects troubleshoot troubleticket wireless cabeza chen diaz dichter egger huettel jvs mirecc nirl song wang wiki Media Files Media Files Upload Search Files in biac:display_graphics Thumbnails Rows Name Date Apply connectmethod.gif 447×383 2014/08/04 16:03 5.3 KB hostcommand.gif 374×296 2014/08/04 16:03 4.9 KB loginid.gif 374×296 2014/08/04 16:03 3.3 KB nameofsession.gif 447×383 2014/08/04 16:03 3.1 KB serverrunning.gif 194×48 2014/08/04 16:03 931 B shutdownserver.gif 203×188 2014/08/04 16:03 2.1 KB unixhost.gif 374×296 2014/08/04 16:03 3.2 KB xconfigsecuritytab.gif 398×367 2014/08/04 16:03 5.2 KB File View History biac:display_graphics:loginid.gif Date: 2014/08/04 16:03 Filename: loginid.gif Format: GIF Size: 3KB Width: 374 Height: 296 References for: setting_up_a_dummy_x-win32_session biac/scanners.txt · Last modified: 2021/01/12 20:26 by jel76 Page Tools Show page Old revisions Backlinks Back to top Except where otherwise noted, content on this wiki is licensed under the following license: CC Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International | negative |
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Andros Townsend provides a familiar story for young players at big clubs.
It has been hard for the Tottenham winger to make his mark at White Hart Lane so has been loaned out on several occasions to give his career a platform for take-off.
Townsend, 21, now finds himself out on loan at Queens Park Rangers where he will be hoping to make his mark and leave an impression in the Premier League.
In this series and in the next few weeks, we will be looking at a few Combos which are great double acts in British football and those which could work in the future.
Our new Vauxhall campaign recognises the value of a great partnership on the pitch in our Combo series.
We'd love you, our readers, to get involved and tell us what you think of players: whether they are world class or how they fare against their opponents.
This week we're looking at one of England's best prospects: Andros Townsend
Andros Townsend is just 21 - but is already onto his TENTH club.
England under-21 international Townsend joined Tottenham at the age of nine, the Essex boy is a product of the club's academy and yet has been loaned out from White Hart Lane to give him valuable first team experience elsewhere.
Townsend has made a handful of appearances for Tottenham but has also been loaned to Yeovil, Leyton Orient, Milton Keynes Dons, Ipswich Town, Watford, Millwall, Leeds, Birmingham and has now gone to Queens Park Rangers.
Winger Townsend has had varying degrees of success through the divisions but is now being given a chance in the Premier League.
It will be a huge test for Townsend as he is being pitched straight into a desperate battle against relegation for Rangers.
But it is a chance to link up again with his former boss from Tottenham, Harry Redknapp, who knows him from their days together at White Hart Lane and clearly believes he can help QPR's cause.
Townsend is naturally left footed, he often plays from the right so he can cut inside and cause problems with his stronger foot.
It is a bold move from QPR but it will be interesting to see whether Townsend can sink or swim in the Premier League. A relegation battle will probably be the ultimate acid test.
But either way, Townsend will be hoping a loan spell, QPR and Redknapp will be the perfect Combo to get his career really moving in the top flight.
We would welcome your comments, views and which players would make a good Combo.
Get in touch via Twitter @johncrossmirror or @mirrorfootball
Congratulations to last week's competition winner, Edward Keep from Nottingham, who receives a football goodie bag. | positive |
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The windows of the Colorado Democratic Party headquarters at 777 North Santa Fe Drive were smashed around 2:20 am this morning. As
, 24-year-old Maurice Schwenkler was arrested for the crime. Apparently, an officer just happened to be driving by when he spotted two males whacking away at the windows with hammers. The suspects tried to flee on their bikes, but the cop nabbed Schwenkler, who was wearing a hooded sweatshirt over his head and a shirt covering his face while making smashy-smashy with his buddy.
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Apparently the eleven broken windows had posters promoting Obama's heathcare reform. Democratic State Party Chair Pat Waak also noted that an anti-Obamacare poster was glued to an outside wall, presumably at the time the window vandalism took place. The obvious diagnosis is that this is a clear case of conservative town-hall fury run amok. Only, in his mug shot, Schewenkler looks more Sonic Youth than Reagan-youth. Plus, it turns out that someone bearing his exact name -- a fairly rare one, to say the least -- was once an employee of a progressive political action committee based in Colorado.
What the...?
According to campaign finance records, someone named "Maurice Schewenkler" was paid $500 on November 6, 2008, by a group called the Colorado Citizens' Coalition. Judging by the contributors, this 527 political organization falls on the liberal side of the spectrum. How liberal? Contributors include Tim Gill ($12,500), the AFL-CIO ($25,000), NARAL ($12,500) and Pat Stryker ($75,000). The documents list Schewenkler's duty as "electioneering" and his purpose as "communication."
In addition, his address is listed as a house at 10th and Lipan streets, which is just blocks away from the state Democratic headquarters. The house at 1065 Lipan is the former location of the Derailer Bicycle Collective, a radical, free bike fix-it shop profiled by Westword back in 2006. In December of that year, Derailer moved to its current location at 411 Lipan. City tax records report that the owner of the house is a woman who also happens to be a well-known progressive activist/artist in Denver. How progressive? She's been an organizer for anti-nuclear weapons groups and was once the U.S coordinator for the group Potters for Peace; one of her most attention-getting art works was 34,000 miniature clay bombs and submarines fashioned to represent the U.S. nuclear arsenal.
The artist in question hasn't returned Westword's call as of yet, so we'll just leave her name out of it at the present time. (Also, her answering machine listed four womens' names, but no Maurice.)
But it seems pretty clear that, for this story, we all ought to hold off on the right-wing-anger-to-heath-reform vandalism narrative for now. | positive |
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D Day, the beginning of the end of the War
ATTENTION! THE SPECIAL HAS BEEN SHIFTED TO 8:00GMT. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE
"D-Day: the 70th anniversary of the Allied landings in Normandy"
From 08:00 GMT on June the 6th till 08:00 GMT on June the 9th
Complete the following tasks:
Achievement 1 - destroy 70/35/24 enemy aircraft.
Achievement 2 - destroy 70/70/70 enemy tanks in tank battles.
Achievement 3 - In 70 battles - achieve at least 50% activity.
Reward: 100,000 for all achievements (total possible 300,000 )
Reward on completion of all achievements: collectible premium aircraft Boston Mk.I.
Achievements can be performed in any order, at the same time, any day.
The Morning of the 6th of June, 1944
Thousands of Allied troops began landing on the beaches of Normandy in northern France at the start of a major offensive against the Germans. Thousands of paratroops and glider-borne troops were also dropped behind enemy lines and the Allies were already several miles inland.
The landings were preceded by air attacks along the French coast. About 1,300 RAF planes were involved in the first wave of assaults, then 1,000 American bombers took up the attack dropping bombs on targets in northern France.
“Dawn revealed the astonishing sight of serried ranks of ships heaving over the horizon and passing in wave after wave, packed to capacity with soldiers and weaponry”
The assault began shortly after midnight under the command of General Bernard Montgomery.
Timing of the Normandy landings was crucial. They were originally scheduled to take place in May - then postponed until June and put off again at the last minute for 24 hours by bad weather.
Upwards of 4,000 ships and several thousand smaller craft crossed the Channel to the northern coast of France.
The Normandy landings were the beginning of “Operation Overlord” - or the invasion of German-occupied Europe. Originally planned to take place on the 1st of May 1944, the operation was postponed a month to allow time to gather more troops and equipment. The timing was important to allow for the right weather, a full moon, and proper tidal conditions. To keep the destination of the landings secret, a deception plan Operation Fortitude was mounted which led the Germans to believe the main target was the Pas de Calais, much farther east.
When the landings finally began there were only 14 of the 58 German divisions in France facing the Allies. While there was stiff resistance at other beaches, Omaha was the only one where the success of the Allied mission was in serious doubt. The invasion of Normandy was the largest amphibious assault ever launched. It involved five army divisions in the initial assault and over 7,000 ships. In addition there were 11,000 aircraft. By the 11th of June the Allies had secured the Cotentin Peninsula beyond Cherbourg but progress continued slowly as the Germans put up fierce resistance. The end of the Normandy campaign came with the destruction of the German 7th Army in the Falaise pocket in August.
Although the Allies had reached the German frontier by September they decided to re-group during the winter, because of the failure of Market-Garden and the setback in the battle of the Bulge, and the invasion of Germany only began in January 1945.
King George VI broadcast a message the previous night warning of the "supreme test" the Allies faced and he called on the nation to pray for the liberation of Europe.
The British Prime Minister Winston Churchill told MPs that Operation Neptune - the codename for the Normandy landings - was proceeding "in a thoroughly satisfactory manner". He said the landing of airborne troops was "on a scale far larger than anything there has been so far in the world" and had taken place with extremely little loss.
Enemy reports said the landings took place between the port of Le Havre and the naval base at Cherbourg.
The Allied naval commander, Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay, said the landings had taken the Germans completely by surprise. There were no enemy reconnaissance planes out and the opposition of coastal batteries was much less than expected. He added: "There was a slight loss in ships but so slight that it did not affect putting armies ashore.
"We have got all the first wave of men through the defended beach zone and set for the land battle."
A statement broadcast from Berlin at midday said the German troops were "nowhere taken by surprise". It said many parachute units were wiped out on landing or taken prisoner.
Hits were also scored on battleships and on landing craft from the "guns of the Atlantic Wall" - the German defensive positions.
President Franklin D Roosevelt told a news conference the invasion did not mean the war was over. He said: "You don't just walk to Berlin, and the sooner this country realises that the better."
The War Thunder Team | positive |
Steve McClaren discussed players at Newcastle and transfer target Charlie Austin on BBC Radio Newcastle
Newcastle United head coach Steve McClaren has told managing director Lee Charnley they must keep Moussa Sissoko.
In a wide-ranging phone-in with BBC Newcastle, McClaren also revealed Fabricio Coloccini "wants to stay" to captain the side.
Coloccini is linked with Crystal Palace and Sissoko is a reported target for Liverpool and Manchester City.
"We cannot lose Moussa, I know there's a lot of interest but he's under contract," said McClaren, 54.
"On my first day he walked into my office, a specimen of a man. An absolute presence and a great manner. Very professional and low maintenance.
"I've said to Lee Charnley, 'wow, we've got to keep this guy'. I want to build a team around him."
Midfielder Sissoko, 25, joined the Magpies from Toulouse in 2013, signing a six-and-a-half year deal, and was on the scoresheet as the Magpies defeated West Ham on the last day of last season to secure their top-flight status.
Coloccini, 33, has spent seven years with the Magpies- with four of them as captain - but the Magpies boss reckons he has been "distracted" by links with a move to join former boss Alan Pardew at Selhurst Park.
"He wants to stay here so I am delighted," added the former England manager. "Do I need to change the captain? Why do I need to unsettle everything - he carries on."
Taking calls from Newcastle's suburbs to North Carolina, McClaren added that the club have not made any bid for Queens Park Rangers striker Charlie Austin.
Steve McClaren took calls from Newcastle fans for an hour on BBC Radio Newcastle
'Owner wants background role'
McClaren's appointment in June arrived after Newcastle had endured a wretched end to the season - with their victory over the Hammers their only win in the last 11 games of the campaign.
The chaotic spell at the club saw owner Mike Ashley give a rare television interview, answering criticism from fans by stating he would not sell the club until it won a trophy or qualified for the Champions League.
"Making his statement before the West Ham game, I think it was a breath of fresh air and shows the ambition," added McClaren, who was sacked by Derby in May.
"He took over the club in a financial mess, it's now stable, so stable in fact that we've spent nearly £40m this summer, which shows his ambition and what we want the club to do.
"I've had numerous owners or chief executives and in Germany I had some who were in the press more than I was. I'm of a mind that one message should come out of the club - the manager's.
"At the present moment our relationship is transparent and the owner wants to be in the background - so be it. As long as the owner backs the club, fantastic."
'Top eight - that's a hard task'
Newcastle's players trained in front of around 14,000 fans in an open session on Tuesday and despite just two wins from seven pre-season games, McClaren was praiseworthy of his players's attitudes ahead of their opener at home to Southampton.
Media playback is not supported on this device Aleksandar Mitrovic aims to be one of Europe's best strikers
The club - without a trophy since the 1969 Fairs Cup - have acquired attacking midfielder Georginio Wijnaldum, defender Chancel Mbemba and striker Aleksandar Mitrovic in a bid to improve their squad.
McClaren also reckons they have worked "tirelessly" on improving a defence that was the second-worst in the Premier League last season.
Upon his appointment, the former England coach stated Newcastle "should be winning cups and finishing in the top eight" and though he told BBC Radio Newcastle listeners that he would take cup competitions seriously, he added a top eight finish is "a hard task".
"To win a league you have to win 38 games, to win a cup, six or seven very good games and you can be there," said McClaren, who won the League Cup with Middlesbrough in 2004.
"Winning one was the highlight of my career - an unbelievable feeling. We want that." | positive |
AEW Rampage 2022 07 08 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] - Demonoid User log in User registration Registrations are open Click here to register Email: forgotten email? Password: lost pass? Resend activation email Home Torrents Top torrents Upload a torrent FAQ Forums Chat Get VPN Now for FREE! Get VPN Now for FREE! Get VPN Now for FREE! Get VPN Now for FREE! Get VPN Now for FREE! Get VPN Now for FREE! Get VPN Now for FREE! Get VPN Now for FREE! Protect your privacy! Use a VPN When Downloading Torrents Your IP Address is . Location is . Your Internet Provider is tracking your torrent activity! Hide your IP ADDRESS with a VPN! We strongly recommend using Trust.Zone VPN to anonymize your torrenting! Black Friday Deal! -80% off for Demonoid users Also, while you are using Trc5957a7ust.ada460fZone VPN you get No Ads on Demonoid site Get ada460fVPN Nada460fow! JavaScript must be enabled in order to use all of the site's features. Please enable JavaScript in your browser and refresh the page. Details for AEW Rampage 2022 07 08 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] Created by mich00 3 months ago 0 0 TV : Sports : HD 1080p / 1080i : English AEW Rampage 8th July 2022 [ibb.co] Title: AEW.Rampage.2022.07.08.TNT.1080p.WEB.h264-HEEL Released: 2022.07.08 Source: WEB - TNT Resolution: 1920 x 1080 @ 59.940 FPS Video: H.264 @ 4809 kbps Size: 1.99 GB Runtime: 51mn 54sec English: AC-3 @ 384 kbps Spanish: AC-3 @ 192 kbps Enjoy while it lasts. Untouched/remuxed web stream. [ibb.co] Show Demonoid some love with BitCoin: 1DNoidyJgB159bLJT5hDnCkZ4uQrhkfBVk How to get BitCoins? Peers: 61 seeders, 5 leechers, 685 total - Updated: 1835 hours 7 minutes 38 seconds ago Size: 1.99 GB Sponsored links Related torrents Torrents you may also like: AEW Rampage 2022 04 08 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] AEW Rampage 2022 08 05 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] AEW Rampage 2022 08 12 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] AEW Rampage 2022 08 19 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] AEW Rampage 2022 08 26 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] AEW Rampage 2022 01 07 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] AEW Rampage 2022 07 01 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] AEW Rampage 2022 07 15 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] AEW Rampage 2022 07 22 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] AEW Rampage 2022 07 29 TNT 1080p WEB h264-HEEL [TJET] by mich00 [ TV : Sports ] Download this torrent Download torrent anonymously Download torrent file Download as magnet link Extra information Tracker: udp://tracker.opentrackr.org:1337/announce Torrent hash: F690ADB8 37BFC41C 8D07666B 2A62FD96 134D94F9 Files described inside the torrent: 1 [ Click here to show the full list ] Comments No comments posted yet Disclaimer: None of the files shown here are actually hosted or transmitted by this server. The links are provided solely by this site's users. The site moderation is also a service provided by the site's users. The administrator of this site (demonoid.is) cannot be held responsible for what its users post, or any other actions of its users. You may not use this site to distribute or download any material when you do not have the legal rights to do so. It is your own responsibility to adhere to these terms. By using this site you indicate your agreement to our terms and conditions Link to us | Contact us | API | Feeds/RSS | DMCA This site and the Demonoid logo are Copyright © Demonoid. All rights reserved. Show Demonoid some love with 1DNoidyJgB159bLJT5hDnCkZ4uQrhkfBVk | negative |
Male privilege is, when I say I’m not interested in a story about a male character, my male friends tell me to “get over it” and call it “trivial”.
(Cis) male privilege is getting to think the erasure of a gender in some fiction is a “trivial” issue, because you’ve never had to deal with it.
Male privilege is those same ‘friends’ saying “what if I say I’m not interested in female characters” as a rhetoric, because they have no idea how it is different since they’ve never had to think about it.
Male privilege is being able to find no one who agreed with me on this issue, or took my feelings seriously, because none of them saw a problem with men being the stars of literally all fiction. | positive |
Kiz: Wes Welker is a grown man. If he’s paying the price for this violent game at age 55, it will not be my brain damage or my problem. So maybe it’s none of my business. But if Welker were my younger brother, I would feel compelled to say: “Hey, Little Buddy, I need you more than you need a Super Bowl ring. I know you play for the love of the game. But for the love of your family, it’s time to retire.”
Hooch: The problem is … Wes Welker is just too tough. On third-and-7, his toughness in the slot is the solution. But when it comes to the idea of retiring prematurely, I fear his toughness will be a problem, and it will get in the way of his decision-making. This was a little guy, even in high school. He went undrafted out of Texas Tech. And he bounced around the NFL before finally blossoming. He’s a self-made superstar. His whole MO is toughness, defying the odds, standing up to adversity, be it a cornerback or a concussion.
Kiz: OK, so there’s no reason for Welker to listen to somebody like me, an ink-stained wretch who has never played the game. But when longtime NFL player Joel Dreessen was asked for an opinion, here’s the heartfelt advice he said he would offer his former Broncos teammate: “Oh, man. This is such a conflicting question. You only get one brain. I’ve got dodgy knees, but doctors can always put artificial ones in there. You can’t have a brain replacement.”
Hooch: It would be weird for me or anyone to say: “Hey, Wes, keep risking this, because it’s not necessarily guaranteed you’ll live a terrifying adult life after football.” But if Welker spent an hour with the family of Dave Duerson — the Super Bowl-winning cornerback who committed suicide, and his note said it was brain trauma — maybe Wes would call it a career.
Kiz: Know what? I’m not sure a single NFL player in Welker’s shoes would voluntarily walk away now, with a solid chance to win the Super Bowl. Dreessen told me that rather than quit, he would gather his family and ask for one more year of football, with the promise this season would absolutely be his final season. Sounds like a deal with the devil. But I get it. So, go ahead, Mr. Welker. Play in 2014. Then be done. And should you suffer one more concussion … somebody smarter than you had better make you retire.
Hooch: And that’s the thing. With Welker, I hate to say, but it’s not “if” he’ll get another concussion, it’s “when.” If he keeps on playing, he’s bound to get one. So, hopefully, if he plays just one more season, Welker will elude the devil that is this sport before it’s too late. But, man, I hope that if he does win the Super Bowl this season — his ultimate goal — that years later he’ll actually be able to remember it. | positive |
Quilty Habit: Argyled Quilt Along and Kit Giveaway! Pages Home About Portfolio Classes & Lectures Community Monday, February 25, 2013 Argyled Quilt Along and Kit Giveaway! I'm thrilled to share my new springy quilt, "Argyled," with you today! For those of you who are here for the first time, my name is Jess and I am a relatively obsessive quilter. Give me a free day on the weekend and a pile of fabric and (hopefully) there will be some moderny goodness in the end. So, you can imagine my response when Nicole of 1 Choice 4 Quilting asked me to design a quilt for the shop's newly restarted online club... ...allons-y! ("let's go" in French) (especially if you're a massive Doctor Who geek like me) Sadly, it's really hard to see the quilting on the backing (look below for more pics), but I'm in love with these prints! IN LOVE. This quilt was inspired by the beautiful argyle sweaters everyone and their mom wears during the winter. I kept seeing them everywhere and I actually really need to get one myself! They keep you snuggly and warm, and so will this quilt :) It's a pretty large nearly- square lap size (I will update this with the measurements - forgive me, it's being washed again after the photoshoot), and you have the option of quilting in an "argyle" pattern, which I will explain/instruct. They DO say the quilting makes the quilt, after all! This quilt offers you a unique, simple layout that is layer cake friendly and showcases every print in the beauteous new Kate Spain line, Honey Honey (I can't get enough). Plus, if you've been stuck in the snow lately (like Kate herself) you'll appreciate the springy pop this brings to your living room :) It was a complete joy to make and I hope you enjoy making one too! I had a vision to break up the diamonds with strips to make it more of a modern finish. I'm so glad I did! Plus, the lace and orange prints are just to die for... Whenever there's a finished quilt around here, there's a rousing photoshoot. I enlisted my favorite assistant, my 16-year-old sister, Marisa, to help. ********************************************************************************** ----QAL Info and Giveaway---- The quilt along will go on throughout March (though it is a quick quilt and it could be put together in a few days!). I have diagrams and plenty of pictures to share with you! The schedule is as follows: March 6: Cutting and piecing the diamonds March 13: Cutting and piecing the strips, finishing the quilt top March 20: Quilting March 27: Post a picture of your quilt to the flickr group for a prize! Nicole has the kits listed in her shop at the discounted price of $89.99 (20% off and free shipping!). Order your kit now, to make sure you get it by the 6th! She is generously giving away 1 Argyled Quilt Kit on her blog! Leave a comment here for one chance, and if you are an old or new follower of Quilty Habit, you get a second chance (just leave a separate comment). Head over to Nicole's post for 8 MORE chances to win! Winner will be announced by 4 pm on March 1 (closes at 12 noon). All crinkly from the wash :) I can't thank Nicole enough for all of her support of my quilting and ideas - and I'm lucky enough that we live very near each other and can sew/fabric obsess in person! Be sure to stop by her fantastic shop and see all the beautiful fabrics she has in (besides Honey Honey, I'm drooling over Comma). So, what are you waiting for? Let's QAL! (Linking up to: Fabric Tuesday @ Quilt Story, Link a Finish Friday @ Richard & Tanya Quilts, Let's Get Acquainted Monday Link Up) Posted by Jessica at 1:00 AM Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest 86 comments: Swedish Scrapper February 25, 2013 at 1:35 AM I have also started to really love argyle, and bought my first pair of argyle socks this winter (I am 43 years old-ha!). looks like a fab quilt and I will quilt along if I can muster it! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Jess @ Elven Garden Quilts February 25, 2013 at 1:55 AM Awesome jess! I don't think I'll have time to join you, but I love it! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Jess @ Elven Garden Quilts February 25, 2013 at 1:56 AM Oh, and I'm a follower of course :o) ReplyDelete Replies Reply Amy's Crafty Shenanigans February 25, 2013 at 2:05 AM Great argyle!! I wear argyle most mornings with my socks so I love it!! Great giveaway! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Amy's Crafty Shenanigans February 25, 2013 at 2:29 AM Yay I am a follower :) ReplyDelete Replies Reply Unknown February 25, 2013 at 3:47 AM Great quilt there Jess and I love the colours. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Cheryl February 25, 2013 at 8:38 AM Great looking quilt, I love the pattern ReplyDelete Replies Reply Cheryl February 25, 2013 at 8:38 AM I follow your wonderful blog ReplyDelete Replies Reply Lynn M February 25, 2013 at 10:57 AM thank you for the chance! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Lynn M February 25, 2013 at 10:58 AM i'm a follower ReplyDelete Replies Reply Anonymous February 25, 2013 at 11:37 AM HAPPY TO FOLLOW YOU VIA BLOG LOVIN'! msstitcher1948@yahoo.com ReplyDelete Replies Reply Anonymous February 25, 2013 at 11:38 AM HI! Such a neat pattern>quilt! Thanks so for sharing! msstitcher1948@yahoo.com ReplyDelete Replies Reply KT February 25, 2013 at 11:47 AM That is an awesome looking quilt! Hope I can make one just as beautiful! ReplyDelete Replies Reply KT February 25, 2013 at 11:51 AM and I am a new follower :) ReplyDelete Replies Reply Laura February 25, 2013 at 12:08 PM This is such a beautiful quilt! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Laura February 25, 2013 at 12:08 PM I'm a follower! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Rebeckah Austin February 25, 2013 at 1:33 PM Looks like fun! Check out my Tardis quilt :) https://www.etsy.com/listing/107598438/tardis-quilt ReplyDelete Replies Reply Rebeckah Austin February 25, 2013 at 1:33 PM I am an old follower. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Mike Pearson February 25, 2013 at 2:25 PM I love 1 choice 4 quilting!!!! Love the argyle :) ReplyDelete Replies Reply Reb Thack February 25, 2013 at 2:45 PM What a happy quilt! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Reb Thack February 25, 2013 at 2:45 PM I follow your wonderful blog via email ReplyDelete Replies Reply Gill February 25, 2013 at 2:48 PM What a great quilt! Count me in please! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Gill February 25, 2013 at 2:49 PM I'm a happy follower! ReplyDelete Replies Reply JoyceLM February 25, 2013 at 2:58 PM Love your quilt - thanks. ReplyDelete Replies Reply JoyceLM February 25, 2013 at 2:58 PM I'm already a follower. Thanks again. ReplyDelete Replies Reply ✾Jamie Lee Cooley✾ February 25, 2013 at 3:11 PM This design is awesome! It looks complicated yet I think pretty easy to piece. Love it! I am jealous you live nearby so you can check out Nicole's stock in person! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Beth February 25, 2013 at 5:14 PM I could get very excited about this quilt. Different fabric would make it perfect for a lot of different people. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Beth February 25, 2013 at 5:14 PM I'm a follower, and glad to be one. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Jan Baker February 25, 2013 at 8:45 PM I am hooked on the modern quilts. This is a great pattern. 3bakergirls@gmail.com ReplyDelete Replies Reply Pamela February 25, 2013 at 8:50 PM I love your pattern, especially in the kate Spain print. It's just joyful! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Sarah February 25, 2013 at 11:53 PM Looks amazing, I think I'll have to add it to the to-do pile! ReplyDelete Replies Sarah February 25, 2013 at 11:53 PM I'm a follower :) Delete Replies Reply Reply Farm Quilter February 26, 2013 at 5:05 AM Fun quilt!! I like how bright and cheery it is! I may have to make another quilt! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Farm Quilter February 26, 2013 at 5:06 AM I am a seasoned follower of your blog :) ReplyDelete Replies Reply Debbie B Sam February 26, 2013 at 5:43 AM Oh....I'm jumping and following now from Nicole's blog :) I can't wait! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Lisa Marie February 26, 2013 at 6:17 AM This quilt is beautiful! Definitely looks like a pop of spring. ReplyDelete Replies Reply DeborahGun February 26, 2013 at 8:38 AM Beautiful fabric, and a lovely quilt design - thanks! ReplyDelete Replies Reply DeborahGun February 26, 2013 at 8:38 AM I am a new follower of your blog! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Erutis February 26, 2013 at 9:40 AM new follower to your blog! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Erutis February 26, 2013 at 9:41 AM I really love the colors in this quilt! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Christine S February 26, 2013 at 11:22 AM Great quilt and giveaway! Glad to find another lovely blog, I'm following you now :) ReplyDelete Replies Reply robin February 26, 2013 at 12:25 PM I already follow your blog! Thanks for the chance at a great giveaway! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Margaret February 26, 2013 at 1:04 PM Lovely quilt. Thanks for the chance to win ReplyDelete Replies Reply Margaret February 26, 2013 at 1:04 PM I follow you through blog loving ReplyDelete Replies Unknown March 1, 2013 at 11:15 PM Hi Margaret, You are the winner!! Please contact either Jessica or Nicole by Saturday at 4pm. Congrats!! Delete Replies Reply Reply Beth February 26, 2013 at 1:25 PM Great quilt that you designed. Came over from Better off thread! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Hilachas February 26, 2013 at 2:48 PM Congratulations, Jess, on being asked to post your tutorial for that lovely quilt. Of course you know that I'm a long-time follower. Thanks for the opportunity to win the giveaway. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Marla's Crafts February 26, 2013 at 4:39 PM Congradulations for being asked to do this quilt. It is lovely. Thanks for the opportunity to win the kit. What fun. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Shannon February 26, 2013 at 6:09 PM How exciting for you!! WOW!! IT sure is a great looking quilt. I am looking forward to making this quilt. You and your sister are so funny!! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Shannon February 26, 2013 at 6:09 PM I have been a follower for a while!! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Tammy February 26, 2013 at 6:38 PM Beautiful quilt . Thanks for the chance to enter your giveaway. conn_and_vans_mom(at)yahoo(dot)com ReplyDelete Replies Reply Sallie February 26, 2013 at 6:38 PM Thanks for the giveaway! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Michele T February 26, 2013 at 6:39 PM I am a new follower!! Love this quilt the colours are amazing!! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Michele T February 26, 2013 at 6:39 PM Thanks for the chance to win your giveaway!! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Tammy February 26, 2013 at 6:39 PM Brand new follower here...conn_and_vans_mom(at)yahoo(dot)com ReplyDelete Replies Reply JustPam February 26, 2013 at 7:06 PM very nice quilt. I love that you used Kate Spain's fabric for this. Makes this quilt doubly nice! ReplyDelete Replies Reply JustPam February 26, 2013 at 7:06 PM I am a new follower of yours! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Unknown February 26, 2013 at 7:25 PM This is a great pattern. Do this is the surprise you were waiting to reveal:) ReplyDelete Replies Reply Anonymous February 26, 2013 at 10:15 PM I love Argyle! I am now an email follower. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Anonymous February 27, 2013 at 2:14 AM care with all of these gifts the genuine with her pet high gear school day or sorority friends, her pets, or any other memories captured over the old age. Choosing owl gifts for your girlfriend will be easygoing External & the spirit of unloose Wheeling but now you can protect all your passengers. talent ideas for her: If she likes to Take than an obvious selection would be to discover a new novel from her darling the Bikini Top, Safari Top & Sunlighter. My website; owl kitchen decor ReplyDelete Replies Reply Mary on Lake Pulaski February 27, 2013 at 8:22 AM Your design is a great way to show off some great prints! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Deb February 27, 2013 at 2:48 PM This is so fun. Love your quilt. I'd love to be included in the draw. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Mom2mykids February 27, 2013 at 5:58 PM I follow your blog and would LOVE to be included in the drawing! Woot! (Not that I ever win anything, but hey, the anticipation is always fun!) ReplyDelete Replies Reply KatieQ February 27, 2013 at 10:06 PM It's a great quilt! I can't wait for the quilt along to start. ReplyDelete Replies Reply KatieQ February 27, 2013 at 10:06 PM I'm a follower. ReplyDelete Replies Reply MoeWest February 27, 2013 at 11:08 PM I love your quilt design. I like the way you broke up the diamond strips. ReplyDelete Replies Reply MoeWest February 27, 2013 at 11:09 PM I'm a follower ;-) ReplyDelete Replies Reply OhioLori February 28, 2013 at 12:41 AM Loooove this Quilt!!! Honey Honey is Gorgeous fabric line, runs way close second to my love of Marmalade line! lol Would love to make this Quilt!! ReplyDelete Replies Reply OhioLori February 28, 2013 at 12:41 AM I'm a new Follower of your blog now too...thru GFC. :) Thanks for chance to win your Drawing! :) ReplyDelete Replies Reply Paula Lemos February 28, 2013 at 4:11 PM Your quilt is beautiful and this collection is really tempting! Thank you for the chance! ap_lemos at yahoo dot com ReplyDelete Replies Reply Paula Lemos February 28, 2013 at 4:12 PM I'm a new follower of your blog ap_lemos at yahoo dot com ReplyDelete Replies Reply Cecilia February 28, 2013 at 8:09 PM I love this quilt. It will make a great quilt for kids. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Cecilia February 28, 2013 at 8:10 PM I'm a new follower. :-) ReplyDelete Replies Reply Nikita February 28, 2013 at 10:04 PM Love honey honey! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Nikita February 28, 2013 at 10:05 PM I am also a follower ReplyDelete Replies Reply Jo C. February 28, 2013 at 10:09 PM What a cheerful quilt! Thanks for the chance to win. ReplyDelete Replies Reply barbara woods February 28, 2013 at 10:24 PM Beautiful quilt ReplyDelete Replies Reply Jocelyn February 28, 2013 at 11:58 PM Great quilt! Thanks for the giveaway! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Unknown March 1, 2013 at 1:32 AM Awesome! I'm a follower. Glad I saw your giveaway before it was too late. :) ReplyDelete Replies Reply Unknown March 1, 2013 at 1:33 AM I think it would make a wonderful quilt to give away to someone in need. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Rosa March 1, 2013 at 9:54 AM It`s fabulous.Love your design and fabrics choice.Thanks for the chance.I do follow! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Deb@asimplelifequilts March 1, 2013 at 11:46 AM So adorable! Thanks for the giveaway chance! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Deb@asimplelifequilts March 1, 2013 at 11:46 AM I'm a follower too! ReplyDelete Replies Reply Treadleworks March 4, 2013 at 4:29 PM I love your colors and fabric in this wonderful quilt! Such a neat idea to pick up the argyle pattern! Isn't it great to be able to make quilts out of lots of different items such as sock patterns, tile patterns, and almost any other pattern there is! Thanks for the giveaway! ReplyDelete Replies Reply junacreationsuk.blogspot.co.uk March 18, 2013 at 11:45 AM Oh my word that is gorgeous, when I first saw it I thought it was a little quilt, but it really is beautiful... and has just made my list of things to make. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Unknown January 30, 2015 at 10:38 PM Whenever she’s out in the neighbourhood or on the red carpet, ted baker outlet the former Destiny’s Child is always dressed to impress. To mimic this Beyonce fashion evolution (every stiletto-clad step of the way), I found a blazer from Cotton On for Dh99, high-heeled shoes from cheap ted baker dresses Steve Madden for Dh245 (was Dh329) in the closest colour I could find, black shorts from Tati for Dh20 (was Dh66), white top from Berskha for Dh30 and Just Cavali sunglasses from Polaristed baker dresses sale (Mercato) at 50 per cent off the price for Dh650. ReplyDelete Replies Reply Add comment Load more... Let's start a conversation! I love comments and I'd be happy to reply to all who have an email address accessible. Thanks for commenting! Newer Post Older Post Home Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom) LinkWithin Welcome! Jessica Hi! Welcome to my corner of the internet since 2010. Quite simply, I love to quilt. Take a look around and then you - yes, you - go sew something today! 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Actors That Should Star in Dramas Together
endless possibilities
JAPANESE:
KOREAN
TAIWANESE
There are tons of hot actors and actresses in Asia. When they team up together for dramas they really give us some quality scenes together. They make us love the drama and their story so much that we often end up wishing we had a story similar to theirs. However, how is this achieved? The answer is: this can only be achieved with actors who fit together perfectly. Some actors have a natural chemistry together and some... do not. I believe that if particular actors are chosen to play the lead roles in a drama they are definitely chosen for a reason. We, as viewers can never view these actors the way the director does or the way the person in-charge of casting does. So what do we do in situations like these? Come up with our own dream cast, of course! :DHow many times have we ever thought the lead pair of a drama was perfect? Lots of times, right?Likewise, haven't we also thought that a particular pair just didn't... work?So, I was wondering about who would look good with who and that's when I realized, it's a list of. Still, I narrowed down my dream cast wishlist down to 5 for each: Japanese, Korean and Taiwanese. Let's get started!Wouldn't they look smokin' hot? Both are among my favorite Japanese actors and I can only wish they would ever do a romantic drama together. ;-)They are both good actors. I've always wanted to see Yamapi in a role like a typical Kdrama hero and Haruka as the girl-next-door. Would make a drama worth watching, right? (Please Japanese writers, if you're reading this then give us a romantic drama to cherish for a LONG time) :DEver since watching Kame in Tatta Hitotsu no Koi , I've been his fan. He does the role of bad boy in love really, really well. I think Emi is a pretty good actress who would be able to have chemistry with Kazuya. Or so I imagine. ^_^Not just for the sake of Hana Yori Dango fans, but they really do look cute together. I always have HYD moments to go back to and watch of them together but I do want them in a drama again if it's possible. They should end up together this time though. <3Is there any girl who doesn't love Mukai Osamu? I'd take him with any actress in the world but since I get to choose here, I go for Aragaki Yui. Why? Because she plays her role well. Plus I kept thinking about how nice they look together here. ^_^Maybe because these two are my favorite Korean actors, I'd want them to star together. But they did a commercial together so I can pretty much they'd definitely look good. I don't have any doubts on that. :DThey have also done a commercial together so I know how freaking adorable they look together. A few fans also linked them up together after this ad first came out. I can't imagine what would happen if they were to star opposite each other! :DThe real-life couple would definitely be a hit on-screen. I love them both and would love it if their agencies hurried up and made a drama just for them. That would be cool. ;-)I think Yoo In Na deserves more leading roles after Queen In Hyun's Man . I just think Lee Dong Wook's ultra-hotness combined with the ever-gorgeous Yoo In Na is bound to be explosive. I'd like to see them working at trying to beat what chemistry she had with her QIHM's co-star. ^_^I have been a huge fan of both actors. Naturally, I'd be thrilled if they are ever cast in a drama together. In my view, they would be simply perfect. :)Jiro is hot and Ivy is likable. That alone is enough for me to want them in a drama. Actually, Jiro looks great with any actress so Ivy would work as well. :)I like Berlin and Barbie. I just think they would be able to create chemistry with each other because that's what they always achieve with whoever they are paired with. How cool!Aw, come on! Aren't they both so good? I really do hope this pairing can come true. They will rock. I'm sure about that. :DI have no clue who I want to see Mike with. Honestly, he has chemistry with every female co-star he ever has so I'm okay with him opposite anyone. Since I get to choose I opt for Ady An. ;)I adore both Vic & Ariel to the ends of the world. They are both wonderful and if I EVER found that they're going to be in a drama together, I don't know what I'll do. I'll be ecstatic. LOL. :D | positive |
LAST BUT NOT LEAST: the "CouteauBleu interlude," Interlude 10, has finally been updated and polished into its final form. You won't lose much if you skip the reread (no major plot changes) but I do believe it's stronger than it was, thanks to Couteau's help.
By the way, I know I don't really deserve it, since the updates have been super spotty, but if you have the time to leave a comment or a review, I'd particularly appreciate it this month. If you model me as feeling pretty much exactly like [the tone of this chapter], you won't be far off. As always, your words are a treasure (including the negative ones, so long as they're constructive), and they keep me going.
I'm on vacation for the next eight days, though, so there's a chance I'll actually manage to squeeze in one or two updates before December 31st. Next chapter is Marco, followed by Rachel.
Hello, everyone. Sorry it's been so long between updates—work at CFAR has continued to be time-consuming, and in addition I've started an ambitious group house, published a set of 30 rationality essays on the new LessWrong, started official work on my kids' rationality bootcamp thanks to a grant from CEA, and generally been running around in need of a Time Turner, a clone, and a Time Turner for the clone.
Chapter Text
Chapter 31: Jake
‹I—what—Jake?›
I felt the ripple of shock pass through her, the scrambling confusion like slipping on ice.
‹Jake—is that you?›
‹Yes,› I answered.
Her disorientation deepened as she reached for her muscles, her eyes, and found the way blocked, her body still and unresponsive. I said nothing, an odd reluctance tugging at the back of my mind, an unsympathetic unwillingness to help as she struggled to put together the pieces.
‹Wha—where am—what’s going—what?›
‹You’re a morph, Cassie.›
I watched as the words produced a rush of understanding, followed—as always—by a spike of sickly fear.
Here it comes.
‹Am I—›
‹Yes,› I said bluntly.
I was being callous, cruel—noticed myself being cruel, and yet had no energy to spare to walk it back. Inside our shared head, the copy of Cassie withered, buckling beneath the weight of the revelation. I felt her despair as it welled up, thick and sticky and black—watched the frantic tumble of her thoughts as she searched desperately for words that she would allow herself to hear, to think, to say.
But on my end—
Only impatience.
Not the kind of impatience that motivates you to speed things along. Not the kind that makes you want to help. The kind that’s made up mostly of judgment, of annoyance—of waiting for the other person to screw up, to justify the contempt you’re already feeling. We’d been here fifty-four times before, the two of us, and the cut scene—
The cut scene just wasn’t doing anything for me anymore.
‹My parents—›
‹We don’t know,› I said, cutting her off again. ‹Supposedly in Washington. But they were dropped off by Visser Three, as bait, and we don’t know what shape they’re in, and we can’t afford to go get them out.›
She flinched—shrank—curled inward on herself like a kicked puppy, and even through my exhaustion I felt myself responding, felt a flicker of sympathy and remorse—
Oh, please.
The voice was Marco’s—Marco at his coldest, Marco as I imagined him when I thought about the future, about what he would be like if this went on for another year, the last shreds of humanity burned away, leaving only a skeleton of iron resolve.
It was there to protect me, that voice. To remind me that it made no difference, in the end. That whether I helped or not, comforted her or not—whether she recovered from the blows I was giving her or just collapsed entirely—that either way, this version of Cassie had less than an hour to live. Then I would shove her back, like I always did—back down into oblivion, into nothingness, into un-being.
I had done it before, after all. Fifty-four times, since that first night after Ventura. And after fifty-four times—it would have horrified me, if someone had told me six months ago, but after fifty-four times—
There was a part of me that was curious.
That wanted to see.
How she would react.
To see if anything would be different, if I said nothing. If I wasn’t kind. Wanted to see how she would make sense of it—how she would fit it into her eternal, unchanging impression of me.
I wouldn’t have done it just from curiosity. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. But I was so very, very tired, and with every morph she seemed less and less like a real person, and in the end, it was just—easier—not to care. I hated myself for it, but it was a token, halfhearted hatred, too thin to use as fuel.
‹Was it bad?› she asked quietly.
I could feel her rallying, under the surface—twisting out from under the pain, looking for something else to latch onto, something to distract herself.
‹It was quick,› I said. ‹There was a mission—to the Yeerk pool. And—›
I imagined explaining it all over again, as I had so many times before—the god, the meteor, the Bug fighter, the broadcast—
‹—there was a fire. You went back to try to save some of the people in the cages. And then the Yeerks blew everything up.›
She was firming up, as the words sank in. Recovering. Straightening. Hardening. A ray of quiet pride cut through the despair, bright and golden, and her shock began to melt as a low glow of warmth and concern kindled underneath.
‹Is everyone else—›
I broke in, cutting her off. ‹Cassie, I need to ask you something.›
The shift was instantaneous, frictionless, total. It was too fast for words, but if there had been words—
Jake is hurting, some part of her had decided. Must be hurting, or I wouldn’t be so short, so brusque, so cold.
I was hurting, the copy of Cassie thought, and that meant she had a job to do.
‹What’s up, buttercup?› she asked, her tone a deliberate balance between casual and concerned.
And just like that, we were back on script. Back to the Cassie of yesteryear, the Cassie who never grew, never changed. A Cassie who’d never made it to the mesa, who hadn’t lived long enough to choke on the ashes of Ventura, who didn’t remember slaughtering a bear just because she couldn’t keep it all inside any longer. A Cassie who honestly thought she might be a terrible person because once in a while she only did the right thing reluctantly.
(In the back of my head, Marco’s laughter echoed, dark and empty and cold as deep space.)
I could still see her fear and hurt, writhing beneath the surface like a live electrical wire, but they were under control now. Deprioritized. Set aside, along with her confusion and disorientation. The mere fact of it set my teeth on edge, started a slow boil in my blood, and it took a long moment for me to understand why—
That was how she’d gotten herself killed in the first place.
Not by being generically stupid, but by actively not thinking. By retreating from reality, running backwards from a thorny, confusing, impossible situation until she found something simple and straightforward—something unambiguously good, according to her own private moral code. By dodging the hard question, and replacing it with something clear and actionable, even at the cost of her own life—
I hated it. Hated her, in that moment—for abandoning us, for deserting, for cheating and tagging out while we still needed her. For leaving us to deal with the real problems, while she went off and satisfied some selfish need to feel good about herself, for putting herself first—
You mean like when a certain fearless leader charged straight ahead into the Yeerk pool and got himself killed?
‹…Jake?›
‹There’s a meeting,› I said abruptly. ‹In about four hours. Out in the desert. President Tyagi, and Telor, they’re planning to make a deal—›
‹Who?›
I felt a surge of hot anger, drowned it in a wave of ice. ‹The next highest Yeerk under Visser Three,› I lied, reaching for the simplest possible explanation. ‹They’re maybe interested in—in mutinying, and there’s a decent chance we might be able to strike a deal—›
I faltered, unable to get my thoughts into an order that the copy of Cassie would understand. Essak and Marco’s dad, Temrash and Ax, the kid David and his dead father, the missions Tobias had been running to Tyagi and Paul Evans and Thàn Suoros, the Andalite Chancellor’s threat and the President’s plan to turn the war cold again—at the cost of humanity’s independence—and our half-dozen half-baked ideas on how to assassinate Visser Three—
Hell, this version of Cassie didn’t even know about the Chee.
‹There are a lot of moving parts,› I said. ‹Point is, we have a shot at peace—›
—Cassie’s heart swelled with emotion, and I felt a corresponding wash of disdain, followed by an echo of self-recrimination that managed to be just a little bit too small—
‹—real, actual peace, but only if the Yeerks don’t betray Tyagi, and Tyagi doesn’t betray the Yeerks, and the Andalites listen to reason, and Visser Three isn’t somehow in the loop and ready to take us all down. And even with all of that, it at least means setting up a voluntary infestation program, and might eventually mean going to war with the Andalites instead.›
‹Wh—I mean, I don’t—›
I sighed and said it all again with different words, filling in more of the background as I held back my rising—and utterly unfair—irritation.
Why are you even going through the motions here? my imaginary Marco asked. It’s not like it’s going to change anything.
Shut up, I whispered—as if there really was a Marco there, as if I wasn’t just talking to myself. I didn’t know why I was doing this—didn’t have the energy it took to justify myself, not even to myself. I’d been acting on instinct, following a sense that I just needed to hear—
—something—
‹I don’t understand,› Cassie said finally, once I had finished explaining. ‹What is it you—I mean, what were you wanting to ask?›
If it had been the real Cassie—or any real human, for that matter—I might have hesitated, tried to put things in a good light, to find words that wouldn’t make me look stupid or silly or naïve. But in this case—
Fuck it.
‹We’re thinking of betraying everybody before they can betray us first,› I said. ‹I was—curious, I guess—what you thought of that.›
There was a stunned and hollow silence, as if the words had been a slap.
‹Why?› she asked slowly, her felt sense a dark swirl of confusion and dismay.
‹Uh. Since it looks pretty much impossible that nobody’s going to try to pull something sneaky—›
‹No,› she said, cutting me off, and in the ripple of her emotions I read her real question—not why betrayal but rather why are you asking ME?
‹Oh,› I said. ‹Uh. Well.›
There was another long silence.
‹Is this—a thing you do?› she asked, her voice excruciatingly, infuriatingly gentle. ‹Do you—um—wake me up for this sort of thing? Like, a lot?›
‹No,› I said, holding myself back from gritting our teeth. ‹This is the first time, actually.›
‹Well,› she continued, still soft. ‹Um. Don’t you already—I mean, don’t you know what I’d say?›
And then, still in words, still every bit as audible though not actually directed at me—
Does he just need to hear somebody say it?
‹You don’t understand,› I said. ‹That’s not—you don’t know how bad it’s gotten—›
‹Then why are you asking me?› she shot back—still gently, but with a hint of rebuke in her tone, a tiny glint of steel. ‹What if I say no? Will that make any difference?›
It was a good question.
It was also one I didn’t know how to answer.
‹No,› she said, after the longest silence yet. ‹No, Jake. You can’t just—that’s not how you—how we—›
She broke off, unable to find the right words, the thought continuing in a jumble of impulses and images that churned beneath the surface.
That’s not what we stand for, I imagined her saying, as I ran the feelings through my little black box. If we don’t even give them a chance—if we teach them that all they can expect from us is treachery and betrayal—
‹We can’t afford to be the idealists here, Cassie,› I bit out. ‹The Visser blew up Ventura. The whole county. Half a million people, dead. And now the Andalites are threatening to blow up the whole planet—›
‹But isn’t this about stopping that?› she said. ‹Didn’t you say the Yeerks are the only ones who might be able to stop it?›
‹Unless we take out Visser Three—›
‹Without their help?›
‹We can’t trust them to help, he’s their boss, he could be behind the whole thing—›
‹But the President—›
‹She’s not—›
‹—you said this is the very first peace talk—›
‹You don’t—›
‹—do we really want to be the reason it doesn’t work—›
‹Enough!› I snapped, and then—
—reflexively, before I could stop myself, before I could even think about what I was doing—
—I made her be quiet. Used the Yeerkish morph interface to pinch off the flow of thoughts and words and slam down a wall of silence.
Her raw shock echoed through the link between us, surprise so great that there wasn’t even room for outrage. I felt a surge of shame so thick that it was like my stomach was trying to turn itself inside out—
I crushed it. There was no time for shame. No time for guilt. No time for anything but answers.
‹You don’t understand,› I repeated, as I loosened my grip on her mind. ‹I didn’t—you don’t—it’s not just—›
I sputtered to a halt. I didn’t have the words. Didn’t have the words to make her see, to convey the magnitude of the situation—the astronomical stakes, the paralyzing uncertainty, the confusing, conflicting tangle of constraints. I could see in her thoughts that I had explained it wrong, all wrong—that she still believed the answer was simple, was obvious. That she didn’t—
—that she couldn’t—
—understand the true and terrible cost of failure. That it was too big for her to grasp, this girl who had never really seen war. That she was retreating from it, falling back on Sunday school certainty.
‹I think I do understand, Jake,› she said quietly. ‹I think I get it every bit as much as you do, and you just don’t want to hear what I have to say.›
‹You haven’t seen it, Cassie,› I ground out, even as the Marco in my head whispered that it was hopeless, that I was wasting my time, that there was no point in trying to convey what couldn’t be conveyed. ‹The people screaming in their cages—›
Uh, wait a second. You don’t actually remember that, either, Jake—
‹—the dust blotting out the sun, the blood that still sticks to your hands even after you demorph. You haven’t been there when it’s kill or be killed—›
‹That’s what morals are for, Jake,› she cut in. ‹They’re there because it’s easy to talk yourself into it. Because it’s easy to lose perspective, to make excuses, to do things that—things that can’t—that lead to everything falling apart. That’s why we have rules of engagement, and war crime tribunals, and Geneva conventions—›
‹They killed my parents, Cassie. My parents, and my grandparents, and my aunt and uncle, and everybody we went to school with—›
‹I watched them take my mother and father,› she countered. ‹But that’s the point. You can’t be like them, Jake. You can’t just look and think, oh, it’d sure be convenient if we screwed them over just this once, like it’s just this one time and then you can pretend it never happened, like there aren’t any consequences—›
‹Cassie—›
‹No, Jake! Look at what you just did to me! You just—you just Controlled me, Jake! What does that say about—I mean, what could possibly justify—›
She broke off again, some internal censor kicking in as she noticed herself ramping up, burning hotter than her personal set of rules said that she was allowed to burn.
‹It’s not about what you do, once, Jake,› she said, her voice suddenly quiet and razor-edged. ‹It’s about what kind of person you are—what kind of person you let yourself be. You can’t just—you don’t get to say well, this one’s okay, because reasons. If you do that, you’re deciding that that’s the kind of person you are. That that’s the kind of war you want to fight—the kind of war where there can’t be any peace treaty, because—because—because—›
She broke off again, all heat and pressure with no outlet—so much pressure that even through the layer of my control our fists were clenched and trembling. ‹Is that really the sort of call you want to make, Jake?› she asked. ‹Is that really the sort of call you’re qualified to make?›
I said nothing, the sick, oily tension of my uncertainty mingling with the fire of her conviction until my vision started to swim and I thought I might throw up. I could hear the truth in her words, in a distant, muffled sort of way—the way they would have sounded to me six months ago, clear and obvious and sensible, the lines bright and sharp.
But at the same time—
We had three weeks.
We had three weeks, and only the slimmest of chances, and Cassie—
—this Cassie—
—she just didn’t understand.
Couldn’t understand.
And she never, ever would.
‹Jake?› she asked, as the silence stretched on.
I still didn’t answer. I could feel myself tearing in two. The Jake that I was—the Jake that I wanted to be—and the Jake that I needed to be. The one who could actually do what it took to win.
Like bringing Cassie back from the dead just to abuse her? asked Marco, who seemed to have switched sides. I mean, as long as she’s not going to remember it—
‹Jake, say something.›
I looked down at my hands—forced Cassie’s eyes to look down at Cassie’s hands—smooth and slender and dark, with thick calluses from handling shovels and cages and clippers and rope.
I’d held those hands, twice. Once on the night Elfangor died, and once in the lifetime before that—shyly, in the dark of a movie theater, where Rachel and Marco wouldn’t be able to see.
I’d worn those hands fifty-five times, now.
But I’d only ever held them twice.
‹Jake—›
‹I’m sorry, Cassie,› I whispered, as I focused my mind. ‹For—for all of it. I’m sorry, and—›
I swallowed.
You owe her that much.
‹Jake, wait—›
‹—goodbye.›
* * *
The men are walking. They are fifty feet apart, for dispersal. Their walk is slow, for they are dead weary, as you can tell even when looking at them from behind. Every line and sag of their bodies speaks their inhuman exhaustion.
‹Almost there,› Marco whispered.
‹Roger,› I replied.
On their shoulders and backs they carry heavy steel tripods, machine-gun barrels, leaden boxes of ammunition. Their feet seem to sink into the ground from the overload they are bearing. They don’t slouch. It is the terrible deliberation of each step that spells out their appalling tiredness.
‹Any word from Tobias?› I asked.
‹Not since we went out of range. Checked messages just a minute ago; ship hasn’t moved.›
‹Time?›
‹Six fifty-seven.›
Their faces are black and unshaven. They are young men, but the grime and whiskers and exhaustion make them look middle-aged. In their eyes as they pass is not hatred, not excitement, not despair, not the tonic of their victory—there is just the simple expression of being here, as though they had been doing this forever, and nothing else.
It was a quote I had read in sixth grade, doing research on World War II for Mrs. Nease’s social studies class. I’d gone back to find it, on one of our foraging missions into some nameless suburb—had given up my chance to shower and gone to the library instead, crawling through the internet until I dug it up again. I’d flipped the librarian a stolen quarter to print it out, only to realize—when she handed it to me—that I had already memorized it, the words settling into my soul like they’d always belonged there, like a part of me had been carved out to make room for them.
‹Ax here. Car on the horizon, over.›
‹You sure?› Marco asked. ‹I don’t—ah, wait, never mind, they’re gearing up.›
For four days and nights they have fought hard, eaten little, washed none, and slept hardly at all. Their nights have been violent with attack, fright, butchery, and their days sleepless and miserable with the crash of artillery.
I shifted in place, fluttering my wings for balance as my legs slipped on the vast ivory surface beneath me. ‹Kodep,› I said, keeping the band of thought-speak narrow. ‹Can you see them?›
Bzzzzzz.
The ivory plane vibrated once in response, nearly sending me into the air in a panic as the dragonfly’s instincts kicked in, screaming for me to take wing and escape.
‹Are the rest of your people in position?›
Bzzzzzz.
The line moves on, but it never ends. They are just guys from Broadway and Main Street, but you wouldn’t remember them. They are too far away now. They are too tired. Their world can never be known to you, but if you could see them just once, just for an instant, you would know that no matter how hard people work back home they are not keeping pace with these infantrymen in Tunisia.
‹How much time left?› I asked, switching back to Marco and Ax.
‹Marco here. Maybe a minute? They’re in a big SUV, coming in offroad, over.›
‹Tyagi and co?›
‹Chill,› Marco said. ‹Not moving, not tense, not surprised. Bet they’ve been tracking that car for the past ten miles.›
Meanwhile, the Yeerks have probably been scanning every square inch of this whole desert for the past ten hours.
They had no ships nearby, except for the one parked five miles over the horizon—Tobias had been tracking their movements on Thàn’s Marauder’s Map for the past three hours. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be watching from space, through the cold, cloudless morning sky.
Telor and Tyagi had set the rendezvous point just outside of Copper City, in an empty and featureless patch of nowhere about forty miles away from the base. There’d been no safe way to check out the site in advance, but Google Maps had shown nothing but dust, shrubs, and the occasional mound of shattered rock. It was as exposed as you could get, with no cover or shelter of any kind—whoever fired the first shot would be the winner.
Dammit, Cassie.
I shifted again, my double set of gossamer wings tense, trying to make sense of the madhouse mosaic of the dragonfly’s vision. I could see blues, browns, and drab, dry greens; the colossal outlines of humans and vehicles nearby; a multifaceted shimmering haze that was how the dragonfly perceived Kodep’s hologram.
No, Erek had said, when I called him at five that morning. There’s nothing we can do about another asteroid. Is—uh—is this a hypothetical question?
‹They’ve stopped,› Marco reported. ‹Getting out now. Looks like four of them, one staying in the car.›
I could see them, sort of—three dark, organic shapes splitting off from a larger black polygon, the image reflected ten thousand times from ten thousand slightly different angles. It wasn’t the sort of thing the dragonfly’s vision was built for, though—they were too far, too large, and too slow-moving for a system optimized for catching flies in midflight.
‹Ax?› I asked.
‹One moment, Prince Jake.›
There was a pause, and then the dragonfly’s vision shimmered and faded, a double-doubled and over-overlapped picture gradually cohering on top of it—the view from Ax’s four Andalite eyes. I could see bits and pieces of his blue-furred body, and Marco’s gorilla morph standing next to the image of his father, and—further out—the President’s entourage, backed by a single tank and a widely spaced line of uniformed men and women.
‹Can you see and hear, Prince Jake?›
‹Yeah,› I said, as the three human figures approached to within half a dozen yards and stopped, their hands held out and open. ‹Thanks.›
“President Tyagi,” said the figure in the center, her words echoing strangely as I heard them both through Ax’s ears and through the antennae of the dragonfly.
The multilayered image shifted as Ax swiveled one eye toward the President, who stood with her hands clasped behind her back, three steps in front of an arc of Secret Service agents.
“Greetings,” said the President, her tone clipped, polite, and precise. “We thank you for agreeing to this meeting, and for the trust inherent in your physical presence. How may I address you?”
“I am Dragar six-three-two of Telor,” said the woman. “‘Dragar’ is an appropriate shortening.”
“And your human host, Dragar?”
The briefest of pauses. “Her name is Elaine Gallagher.”
“Is she a willing host, Dragar?”
A longer pause, and tenser.
“No, President Tyagi, she is not.”
President Tyagi gestured, and Ax’s eye swiveled further as one of the uniformed soldiers stepped forward, his hands empty, his expression resolute.
“This is Corporal Kelly Autry,” the President said. “He has volunteered to become your host, and to travel with you back to your ship, as a gesture of goodwill and an official representative of the human species. In exchange, we request the release of Elaine Gallagher, who we would like to send home.” She paused, and her glance flickered to the other two Controllers. “My apologies to the rest of you,” she continued, her tone softer. “But we must start somewhere.”
There was another pause, this time one of naked shock—even through the disorienting cross-eyed haze of Ax’s secondhand vision, I could see the dropped jaws, the raised eyebrows, the incredulous sidelong looks.
‹Did you know about this?› Marco asked.
‹No.›
“Corporal Autry is carrying no weapons, surveillance devices, or other clandestine technology,” the President continued. “He is in good health, and has not been ill in the past six months. He is fit, intelligent, and possessed of several skills we suspect the Telor coalescion will find useful. We would like—”
She broke off again.
“—we would appreciate seeing him returned to us, in three months’ time, so that we may learn from his experience. We would offer you a replacement host at that time, if such were still necessary. But we recognize that you may not be prepared to make such a promise, or authorized to do so, and so we do not require it.”
The silence continued, the three Controllers exchanging wordless glances as the rest of us held our breaths.
‹Ax—› I began.
‹We are not sure, Prince Jake. We suspect that Dragar’s answer will be yes. It is a compelling offer. But if Telor is executing a conservative strategy—›
“I accept,” Dragar said, the words cutting through the tense stillness. “On behalf of Telor, and as a commensurate gesture of goodwill.”
‹A plague?› Marco wondered silently. ‹Some kind of biological warfare?›
I didn’t answer.
President Tyagi nodded, waving the corporal forward. “Does Elaine Gallagher require restraint?” she asked, as both Dragar and the corporal knelt together in the dust. “Or perhaps medical attention?”
Dragar was silent for a moment, as if conversing with its host. “She will not require restraint,” the alien said finally. “She will likely benefit from therapeutic assistance, but is otherwise in good health.”
The President nodded, and without another word Dragar reached out, pulling the corporal’s head close until their ears were pressed together. There was yet another long pause, and then the corporal winced, and then—
With sudden, shocking force, Elaine Gallagher shoved the soldier away from her, hard enough that both of them went sprawling in the dirt. The soldiers and Secret Service agents stiffened—
“Hold,” said President Tyagi, her voice calm.
They held.
Scrambling backwards on all fours, Elaine Gallagher let out a long, wordless shriek that tapered off into a series of staccato sobs, her entire body shaking as she gasped for breath. Rolling over onto her side, she made as if to rise to her feet before her trembling, unsteady limbs collapsed beneath her—tried again a second time and collapsed a second time—
‹Jesus,› Marco whispered.
—until finally, on her third try, she managed to stand, her eyes squeezed shut, her body swaying as if she might faint at any second. A few steps away, Corporal Autry had also stood and was watching impassively, his body still and controlled, his expression flat and empty.
“Elaine?” President Tyagi asked, her voice still calm but with an extra layer of gentleness.
The woman didn’t respond, a thick, heavy keening still tearing its way out of her throat. She seemed to be holding herself together through sheer force of will, her fists clenched and shaking, the muscles and sinew in her neck standing out in sharp relief.
“Elaine—can you hear me?”
Nothing.
‹Jake? Should we—should we do something?›
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, unable to close my eyes to Ax’s projection, my mind frozen in sudden horror as a memory forced its way to the surface, a night of confusion and anger and a dome of soft, white light—
Tom.
My brother.
I’d left my brother like that for hours.
For hours, on the night that Ax became a Controller—left him alone in limbo, trapped inside of Erek’s force field while I dealt with the others. While I did my duty, attended to the things that mattered.
“Elaine—”
Had Tom screamed like that? Had he sagged like that? Collapsed—fainted, maybe—the walls of Erek’s prison holding him upright—
“Certo. Whitener.”
I tried to claw my way out from under the memory as two Secret Service agents stepped forward, tried to regain my composure as they took Elaine Gallagher gently by the elbows—as she screamed and thrashed and tried to run, only to stumble and fall—as they grabbed her more firmly under each arm, pushed her into the back of one of the waiting cars where the sound of her sobbing became muffled and distant.
That’s what I’m afraid of, Cassie had said. Weeks ago—weeks that felt like years. Not a morph, but the real Cassie, just before she’d given me my first and only kiss.
That’s what I’m afraid of. Not that we’ll wake up one day and realize that we’ve crossed all the lines, but that we’ll look back and we won’t even see any lines—that we won’t know what all the fuss was about in the first place, because every choice we made was justified.
I felt queasy even inside the dragonfly morph, some echo of human sensation mapping itself onto the insect’s tiny body. I could see that I wasn’t alone, as Ax’s stalk eyes swept across the circle—could see the twisted expressions, the averted eyes—
“Shall we begin again?”
The voice was eerily familiar, somehow instantly recognizable as the same entity that had previously spoken with Elaine Gallagher’s mouth. I shifted on Kodep’s shoulder as Ax’s main eyes refocused on the former soldier, one stalk remaining on Tyagi while the other continued its constant scan.
“Certainly, Dragar,” said the President, her own voice exactly as it had been. “Forgive me for being direct, but we are all exposed and events proceed without us. The United States has two proposals for you. The first is the return of Essak nine-seven-four, late of Aftran, together with Peter Levy, who wishes to continue as Essak’s host. In exchange, we request an open, secure, and reliable line of communication with the Telor coalescion.”
The former soldier’s gaze flickered toward me—toward Ax, really—before returning to the President. “And what about Temrash?” Dragar asked.
‹Small steps first,› Ax said, his thought-speak carrying with it a sense of broadness, a raised voice that everyone present could hear. ‹Let humans and Yeerks prove themselves capable of meeting one another before we attempt to close the rift between Yeerk and Andalite. For now, it is enough that Temrash and I share one mind and one purpose.›
Dragar pursed its new lips, furrowed its new brow, and spoke again. “The line of communication must be three-way,” it declared, with Corporal Kelly Autry’s voice. “Telor will agree to discussion with the human race, provided that we may also have access to Temrash.”
‹Prince Jake?› Ax asked privately.
‹Agree.›
‹Agreed,› Ax echoed aloud.
“Agreed,” said President Tyagi.
“Agreed,” said Dragar.
The view shifted again as Ax turned his eyes toward the shape of Marco’s father. That shape moved forward, the ivory plate beneath my dragonfly body vibrating with each step it took.
‹Last chance to bail, Fearless Leader,› Marco whispered.
I said nothing.
Through Ax’s eyes, I watched as Mr. Levy stopped in front of the trio of Controllers, holding still while they scanned him with a number of different devices. To the dragonfly’s eyes, it looked as if the giant figures were wielding a set of enormous rayguns, the beams scattering across the shimmer of Kodep’s hologram, creating wild, kaleidoscopic auroras. I felt a desire to hold my breath, though the dragonfly had no lungs to let me—if the Chee technology wasn’t able to stand up to the inspection—
“You are Essak of Aftran?” Dragar asked.
Once again, there was a peculiar echo as I heard the same sounds through both my own senses and Ax’s mental projection.
“Yes,” said Kodep, speaking in Mr. Levy’s voice.
“From the southern reaches of Madra?”
“Northern,” Kodep said, and from the outside I watched as he shaped his hologram into a wry, sad smile. “You do not trust me, Dragar?”
“Would you, Essak?” Dragar asked.
“No, I suppose not.”
The two other Controllers finished their scan and stepped back, each giving a quick nod.
‹It seems Erek was correct in his appraisal of Yeerk scanning technology,› said probably-Ax.
‹First hurdle,› answered probably-Marco.
I felt my own tension loosen, but not by much—
“From mud and water,” said Dragar, followed by an expectant pause.
“The glow of life,” answered Kodep.
“On the backs of the khala mats—”
“—rode the seeds of Rukh, until their arrival in the home of the Gedd.”
“The memory of flight—”
“—a lie of Baros, for which insult did Odric scatter them across the salt plain.”
“We departed Gara in an armada of three, and made our first rendezvous—”
“—eleven cycles later, with Khyne, Pet, under Visser Eleven, in a nebula on the edge of the Grasskan Nightfall.”
I listened as Ax—as Temrash, really—fed the Chee answers, as the android echoed them with robotic efficiency, projecting Mr. Levy’s voice a mere tenth of a second behind the stream of thought-speak. I felt the urge to let out a sigh of relief, and rustled the dragonfly’s wings instead—
That could have gone very differently.
“Well,” Dragar said, after maybe the ninth exchange. “If you are a spy of the Visser, we are in any case already doomed.” Stepping aside, the Controller gestured at the black SUV, and Kodep moved forward, climbing into the back. There was a terrifying cascade of vibrations underneath me as the android settled into an empty seat, followed by a sharp change in pressure as the door shut, and then the world was dark.
“The car will return for us once Essak is safe,” Dragar explained, as the SUV started up and began to back away. “And in the meantime—your second proposal?”
“We have become aware of a threat to the Earth’s population,” the President said. “A specific threat, from the Andalite war council. It’s in the best interests of both Yeerk and human to avert it, and we are unable to do anything about it without Yeerk intervention. In exchange…help, we are…pared to offer—”
‹Marco here,› said Marco, as the distance increased and the clarity of Ax’s vision began to break down. ‹You’re headed right for where Tobias said the ship was waiting. Good luck, buddy. Try not to die, o—›
The thought cut off abruptly as the SUV passed out of range.
‹You too,› I whispered. Uselessly, but it still felt important to say it.
Now comes the hard part.
It was all fast—too fast, like running through the woods in the dark, waiting for a root or branch to trip you up, knock you out. We’d gone around in circles for the better part of three hours, that morning—demorphing and remorphing under cover, shivering in the desert cold, each of us alone in our hiding space, unable to see or hear the others except inside our own heads.
We’d been searching for a plan—any plan—that seemed like it might be able to stretch to cover all of the possibilities. There were strategies that made sense if Telor was planning to betray Tyagi right away, and ones that made sense if Telor was planning to string us along first, and ones that made sense if Tyagi was planning to throw us under the bus, and ones that made sense if everybody was actually being honest, and ones that made sense if Visser Three was waiting to ambush us all—
(Those mostly consisted of don’t be there.)
—but each one of them required rolling the dice on something, committing some kind of resource in an irreversible way. And without knowing which thing was most likely to go wrong, it was impossible to be sure which risk was the right risk to take. The sane thing to do would’ve been to disengage, to pull back and wait for more information, but with the looming pressure of the Andalite threat, we no longer had the luxury of being able to wait and see—
In the end, we’d failed to settle on anything at all. There had been no agreement, no clear consensus, no unity of purpose. There hadn’t been any anger, either—no pointless bickering or stupid misunderstandings. Just exhaustion, and demoralization, and frustration, and fear, none of which did anything to stop the clock from ticking forward.
And by the time the sun had started to brighten the horizon—
Well. It’s not like it made all that much difference whether I died today, or three weeks from now. One way or another, we had to do something, and we were well past the point where we could pretend like every plan was going to make sense, and every mission was going to be safe.
The men are walking. They are fifty feet apart, for dispersal. Their walk is slow, for they are dead weary, as you can tell even when looking at them from behind…
We rode in silence for maybe ten minutes, my mind going in circles, alternating between trying not to think about what would happen next and thinking of a hundred reasons why this was stupid, why it wouldn’t work, how I was going to get myself killed and everyone else with me—
The shuddering vibrations of the car slowed, then slowed, then slowed again—stopped, the door opening to let in the bright, unfiltered light of the morning sun. I fluttered my wings for balance as Kodep swung its legs out of the car—
Bzzzzzz. Bzzz-bzzz. Bzzzzzz.
Whatever dragonflies have instead of adrenaline, I was suddenly feeling a lot of it—that was the signal for Yeerk betrayal.
‹Here?› I asked, in private thought-speak.
Bzzzzzz-bzzzzzz.
‹Back at the rendezvous?›
Bzzzzzz.
‹Are we still go?›
Bzzzzzz.
A sudden clarity, as of marbles rolling down tracks, or LEGO blocks clicking into place. Kodep thought we could still get inside the Bug fighter, which meant that the Yeerks hadn’t cottoned on to our deception. And Kodep hadn’t given the sign that meant Visser Three, so—
‹They tried to take Tyagi?›
Bzzzzzz.
It had been one of the possibilities we’d considered, when we first tried working out how the rendezvous might go. If Telor believed in the Andalite threat, but didn’t think that the Yeerks could stop it—or didn’t think the Earth was worth the resources it would take to save, which amounted to the same thing—
According to Ax, human technology could make a big difference on the other warfronts, many of which were on non-industrialized planets, against an Andalite military that was stretched far too thin. Missiles, fighter jets, guns, computers—even things like chemical plants, metal refineries, manufacturing robots, hydroponic farms. There was a lot you could steal, if you had three weeks to do it and a fleet of Bug fighters and you didn’t much care about the consequences.
And Controller-Tyagi would be a big first step, even if the rest of the human race figured it out immediately. She had earplugs, but the Yeerks didn’t know that, and so—
‹What about Tobias? Any of the other ships moving yet?›
Bzzzzzz-bzzzzzz.
Which meant that our Bug fighter was meant to be the first line of offense.
Why only one? a distant part of me wondered. Are they—was that all they could spare, without catching Visser Three’s attention?
The light around me dimmed suddenly, and I pushed the thought aside, the air growing cooler as Kodep crossed the holographic boundary and entered into the Bug fighter’s hold. There was a loud clang as the door slammed shut, sending shivers down my antennae.
‹We’re in?› I asked.
Bzzzzzz, Kodep confirmed. And then—
Bzz-bzz-bzz.
Plan A.
Launching off of Kodep’s shoulder, I turned my nose downward and dropped straight toward the floor, already focusing on my human form as I landed beside the android’s steely three-toed claw. I felt a deeper, lower thrum as the Bug fighter powered up, the combined vibrations of engines and air resistance.
‹How much time do we have?› I asked, my body shooting upward in slow motion as the ten thousand windows of my vision began to blur and blend together. Through Kodep’s hologram, I could make out the form of two Hork-Bajir Controllers sitting on the other side of the narrow space, though I couldn’t quite tell where they were looking, or whether they were carrying weapons.
Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzz.
That was cutting it close. We’d only have about a minute, once I was done demorphing…
‹What happened at the rendezvous?› I asked, as soon as my human hearing started to return.
“Not sure,” came Kodep’s voice—its normal voice, not its mimicry of Marco’s father. The field surrounding us would keep the sound from leaking out, just as the hologram was hiding my rapidly transforming body. “Beam weapon, possibly from space. Wide dispersal. One flash, and everybody was unconscious, Controllers included.”
Crap. ‹Are we not afraid that’s Visser Three?›
“There was a signal first. From Dragar, to orbit. Plus, Erek says Tobias says the Visser’s ship is still on Mars.”
Which didn’t exactly rule out his involvement. But it did at least buy us some breathing room, since there was no way he could get here from the other side of the solar system fast enough to make a difference.
“You guys okay?” I asked, as my proboscis melted away and reformed into human mouth parts.
“No damage to the Chee on site.”
“And this didn’t trip your violence prevention protocols?”
“No physical damage, no clear mortal threat.”
Like the cages in the Yeerk pool.
Straightening, I rolled my shoulders, feeling an itchy tingle as my wings folded down against my back and dissolved into skin and fabric. I was already sweating under my shirt, my heart pounding, adrenaline burning through my veins as I considered what I was about to do. I was in my own real, fragile body—without even the protection of morph armor, since there was no time for a second transformation.
The men are walking…
“Ready?” I asked.
“Ready,” Kodep confirmed.
In a kinder universe, I would have had a moment to gather my courage, but—
Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, passing through the holographic boundary separating me from the two Hork-Bajir Controllers.
The reaction was instantaneous. “Rhapakat chi!” shouted one of them, as they both surged to their feet. “Mit ghotal humanimorph—”
“Peace!” I said, throwing up my hands. “I come in peace, no danger—”
It made no difference. The first Hork-Bajir lunged straight at me, arm blades flashing, while the second unlimbered a Dracon beam—
Time stopped.
A static charge filled the air, like the feeling on a hilltop during a lightning storm, every hair on my arms standing straight up. Beside me, Kodep stood naked and exposed, his true steel-and-ivory body visible as he poured all of his energy into maintaining the force field that had filled the tiny cabin. The two Hork-Bajir were frozen in place, one with its finger half an inch from a Dracon beam trigger, the other balanced impossibly on tiptoe, its knifelike arm blades pointed straight at my throat.
“What’s going—”
There was the sound of shoes on metal, and a human Controller came into view around the corner, weapon already in hand—
That’s three.
“Hey,” I shouted. “Hey! Pilot! If I come around the corner, are you going to shoot me?”
“Stay back!” came the shaky, panicked reply.
I stepped forward, past the statue of the human Controller, and stuck my hand around the corner, pulling it back an instant later—
A flash of red, too dim to cut through the metal of the hull but hot enough to pucker the skin of my nose and lips as I flinched backwards—
I smiled.
There was a strangled yelp, and then nothing.
That’s four.
“Can you hold all of them?” I asked.
“Yes,” Kodep answered, projecting a note of strain into its simulated voice.
“Did they get a message out to the mothership?”
“No.”
“And the autopilot?”
“No idea.”
I took in another breath—had it really only been like thirty seconds?—and stepped forward, blue fur already spreading like a stain across the skin of my arms. I wanted to shout, or laugh, or cry, or something—something to acknowledge the sheer thrill of what had just happened, the dice coming up seven, the pure dumb luck of an utterly undeserved victory. To celebrate the fact that I was alive, and free, instead of dead or shot or captured—that, as utterly insane as the idea had been, it had worked.
But instead, I just slid the seat back, making room for the Andalite body that was busy emerging from my smallish teenage frame. Beside me, the human pilot was frozen in place, his face tight with tension, his eyes darting back and forth, his hand still pointing a Dracon beam back into the hold.
It’s not about what you do, once, Jake, the copy of Cassie had said. It’s about what kind of person you are—what kind of person you let yourself be.
And she had been right.
What can we do to help? Erek had asked, when I called him that morning. When it became clear that we had no better options and no one else to ask for help—that even if the Visser had swayed them over to his side, we could at least trust them not to kill us, or put us in a situation where we were likely to be killed by someone else.
That depends, I’d answered. If we were to promise—to swear—to commit one hundred percent that no matter what, we wouldn’t use a Bug fighter for violence, even if it meant the difference between life and death—
Would you believe us?
* * *
“All right,” I said. “Let’s wake her up.”
We were cloaked and invisible, parked in a shallow depression between two anonymous hills in the middle of the Somali desert, a latitude and longitude pulled at random off of the internet. There were fifteen of us on board, crowded into the cramped metal hold—Kodep and I had left the Bug fighter’s crew back in California alongside Dragar and the other unconscious Controllers, and had scooped up Marco, Ax, Tyagi, a couple of Secret Service agents, and a couple of other Chee as a swarm of helicopters thundered toward us from Edwards Air Force Base. We’d grabbed the rest of the Animorphs on our way out—after Ax and Kodep swept the ship, disabling half a dozen secret transmitters and tracking devices, including two worn by the President—and were now as undetectable as we could possibly be, with only Serenity capable of tracking us.
‹Though I’m still confused by what this Thàn guy is saying,› Ax had grumbled. ‹If I’m understanding the theory right, it shouldn’t be possible to locate and triangulate with a single detector like that. Two maybe, but not one.›
We’d asked Kodep and Erek to revive Marco and Ax immediately, to discuss our options—most importantly, whether to bring Tyagi with us, or leave her in the desert, or something else. In the end, we’d decided to bring her along, since Edwards was no longer even remotely secret from the Yeerks, and since we’d needed to talk to her about what to do next.
“Roger,” said Erek, leaning over her unconscious form and stretching out a holographic hand.
Humanity had a hyperdrive, now—a trustworthy one, that was neither damaged from a crash nor a “gift” from Visser Three. That meant that we were no longer dependent on the Yeerks for protection, if we wanted to try for a MAD deterrent and we could manage to get the message through to the Andalites without their help.
(Though it would take some rules lawyering on what we’d meant by “Bug fighter” when we made our promise to the Chee, if we pulled out the hyperdrive and strapped it to a rock. Also, there was basically zero chance that Ax would actually let us go through with it, if the issue came up for real, though we could in theory get the coordinates out of the Elfangor morph.)
The Bug fighter also meant that we were mobile in general—Ax had checked its fuel reserves, and they were sufficient for something like two hundred trips around the world, in-atmosphere, or ten or fifteen loops around the solar system. That, plus the edge that Serenity gave us—
—provided we didn’t have to blow up Serenity ourselves to stop the government from tracking us, as Marco had pointed out—
—meant that it might actually be possible for us to take Visser Three by surprise, and either capture or kill him. Though the window on that opportunity was shrinking, depending on whether Telor would try to cover up the missing fighter or simply tell him about it.
Whichever way we ended up going, though, it was time to bring the President into the conversation.
There was a hum as Erek placed a finger against her temple, and then a brief flash of white light, and then—
“Huh.”
Another hum, another flash.
“Is she—”
“No, she’s breathing—look.”
“What’s going—”
“Quiet,” I said, cutting through the rising babble. “Wait.”
A third hum-and-flash, and still no reaction.
“Erek?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, unless—”
“What?”
“When I went to revive her the first time. A few seconds ago—right when I sent the charge.”
“What?”
“Her Z-space interlink. It failed.”
There was a moment of open, abject horror as the words slowly sunk in.
“Her Z-space…?”
“Interlink.”
“Oh, God,” Marco whispered. “Oh, shit.”
“Wh—”
“She was in morph?”
“Oh, jeez, morph armor—”
“The time limit—”
“Erek, why didn’t you say something—”
“What? Me? You guys are in and out of morph all the time, nobody told me to give you status updates—”
“Look, it’s not that bad, right? If she was in morph armor, then she’s lost a couple of weeks, at most—”
“Erek. Can you do the thing you did with Jake? Burn off the control tissue, wake her back up?”
“Hang on,” Erek said. “Hang on. Let me see if I can get a clear scan of which tissue it is. Last time, it had been dying for days, the decay made it easier…”
Trailing off, the android bent over the unmoving body, projecting a focused frown onto his face as he put one hand on either side of her head. “Yes,” he said, after a long pause. “I found a frequency that causes the tissue to respond. I can target it just like I did last time.” He looked up. “Do you want me to?”
They all turned to look at me, and some tiny, tired part of me threw up a bitter flag of resentment. “Yes,” I said, keeping my voice level, trying to inject confidence and authority into my tone. “Go for it.”
I turned to look at the two Secret Service agents lying next to her, still unconscious. “By the way, they aren’t about to pass the time limit, are they?”
“No,” Kodep said, speaking up from the back of the room. “They haven’t had the glow at any point.”
There was another hum, followed by a sound so faint I could almost convince myself I was imagining it—a sort of squelching, sizzling, crackling sound.
I wanted to throw up.
“Tobias,” I said, turning away again. “She acquired her armor the day you gave her the morphing power? Right there with you and—what’s it—Paul?”
Tobias’s brow furrowed. “I don’t—I’m—I can’t remember. Maybe? I know he acquired her right then, but I’m not sure about the other way around—”
“What if it’s not her?” Rachel cut in.
Another hush fell over the room, the only sound the hum-and-crackle of Erek’s continued laser surgery.
“You mean, like—like Nickerson or somebody?” asked Tom.
I felt a cold tingle in my fingers and toes.
“Why not?” said Marco, the tiniest hint of laughter creeping into his voice, the hollow amusement of despair. “I mean, she’s already got Paul Evans doing it, right? And if you think Telor might double-cross you—”
Crap.
It made sense.
It made perfect sense.
It was obvious, in fact.
And we just—
—hadn’t thought of it.
Every line and sag of their bodies speaks their inhuman exhaustion…
What else had we missed?
“Ax,” I said. “Get us into space, now.”
‹Direction, Prince Jake?›
“Doesn’t matter. Away from everyone and everything.”
‹Roger.›
There was a new hum beneath the sound of Erek’s work, and a slight sensation of acceleration, and then we were falling upward, the desert shrinking away below.
Serenity can track us.
We’d been thinking they would be careful, if we had the President on board—that they would communicate first, rather than launching a direct attack. But if she was just a duplicate—if they sent the other Bug fighter after us—
“Erek,” I said, my voice cracking.
Why’s your voice cracking, Fearless Leader? It’s just one dead person. Not like it’s a big deal or anything.
“—how much longer?”
“Maybe thirty seconds,” he said. “Then I’ll try waking her up again.”
“Will she even know?” Tobias asked. “I mean, Jake—Jake didn’t—”
“She’ll know,” Garrett said quietly. “She was awake, wasn’t she? Turned on, or whatever. She wouldn’t trust a negotiation like that to somebody just pretending to be her, she’d want to be the one actually driving. She’ll remember.”
I turned to stare at the still form lying on the deck—at the rise and fall of her chest, the tiny movements of the blood beneath her skin that said she was alive, that she wasn’t just a corpse lying there.
That’s really Tyagi in there.
Whoever else it had been—whether it had been the real Tyagi in morph armor, or Sergeant Nickerson, or some other volunteer—
They were Najida Tyagi, now. Now, and forever.
What if—
“Ready,” Erek said, cutting across my thought.
Another hum, another flash of light, this time followed by a fraction of a gasp—the barest beginnings of an emotional reaction, cut short by iron control.
“Where am I?” asked the voice of the President of the United States of America.
There was a long silence as everyone turned to me. As everyone waited for me to answer.
“You’re on a Bug fighter, Madam President,” I said, as she sat up and took in her surroundings. “Do you know what a Bug fighter is?”
Her eyes narrowed, thinning by less than the thickness of a hair. “Yes. Of course. What happened? I was in the middle of a negotiation, and then—”
“The negotiation failed,” I said quietly. “Dragar sent a signal, and some kind of beam weapon knocked everyone unconscious. We suspect they were planning to kidnap you, maybe all of the others too—”
“We had contingency plans in place for—”
She broke off, and the eyes narrowed another thousandth of a degree.
If they had contingency plans in place, why weren’t there a hundred missiles flying at the Bug fighter the second things went south? They had Thàn—they knew where it was just as well as we did—
“We did, too,” I said, shoving the distracting thought aside. “Madam President, I’m very, very sorry to be rude, in a few minutes I’ll be happy to drop you off anywhere you want—provided it’s safe for us—but first, I have to ask. Are you a morph?”
“What?”
“Are—are you the original Najida Tyagi? Or—are you—were you—someone else?”
This time, the eyes widened, the skin lightening from coffee to caramel as the blood drained away from her face. “What time is it?” she breathed.
“Eight thirteen A.M.,” I said. “Pacific.”
“Foster,” she murmured. “Oh, Foster, you idiot—”
Not Nickerson, then.
I felt a knot of tension in my chest try to loosen itself, felt another part of me move to object—
As soon as I saw it was a kid I didn’t know, I felt better, Cassie had said. Like it would have been worse if it were a friend of mine, like this kid’s life didn’t matter because I didn’t know his name.
One life.
We’d traded one human life, for one Bug fighter.
Well, one Bug fighter plus the enmity of the entire US government—
Shut up, Marco.
I turned to look out through the Bug fighter’s viewscreen, at the curve of the horizon shrinking away as we rose higher and higher, the blue sky fading into black.
Just the simple expression of being here, as though they had been doing this forever, and nothing else—
I let out a breath.
It was the same question it had always been. The same mission, the same goal. The fact that we were on a Bug fighter instead of in morph made no difference. The fact that we’d kidnapped a presidential decoy made no difference. The fact that somebody named Foster had died—that Cassie had died—that so many people had died—
It made no difference. We had a job to do, and we had three weeks left to do it.
“Jake?” Rachel asked, her tone laced with caution.
“We’re going to drop her off someplace safe,” I said, the words sounding as if they were coming from someone else’s mouth, hollow and tinny and fragile next to the commanding voice of President Tyagi. “We’re going to drop her off, and then—”
I broke off, looking around at the faces filling the narrow space—Animorphs, Chee, humans and Andalites. I weighed my words—what could be said, what was safe—ran them through my little black box to see how they would land.
They have fought hard, eaten little, washed none, and slept hardly at all. Their nights have been violent with attack, fright, butchery, and their days sleepless and miserable with the crash of artillery.
It felt like years since we’d all been in the same place at the same time.
All of us, except—
“And then we’re going to find Visser Three.” | positive |
Microsoft has purchased Equivio, an eDiscovery/compliance vendor with a specialization in text analysis, for an undisclosed amount.
Microsoft officials announced the acquisition of the Israeli company -- its first acquisition of 2015 using more of its offshore cash -- on January 20.
Update: The Wall Street Journal reported back in October last year that Microsoft planned to buy Equivio for $200 million.
Update No. 2: A Microsoft spokesperson said the $200 million estimate was inflated and incorrect, but declined to provide a different figure.
"We are making this acquisition to help our customers tackle the legal and compliance challenges inherent in managing large quantities of email and documents," said Microsoft Corporate Vice President Rajesh Jha in a blog post.
Equivio's main product is Zoom, a "court-approved machine learning platform" for the legal industry.
Microsoft is touting Equivio's machine-learning prowess as one of the reasons behind the acquisition. Microsoft's contention is machine learning will make sifting through emails and documents for relevant information that pertains to legal or compliance matters a faster and easier process.
Microsoft plans to use Equivio's machine-learning technology to improve Office 365's existing eDiscovery and information governance capabilities "in the months ahead," officials said.
Equivio's technology enables users "to explore large, unstructured sets of data and quickly find what is relevant," using text analytics for multi-dimensional analysis, the Softies said.
"The technology has achieved broad acceptance in the legal community as a valuable eDiscovery tool. Equivio customers include U.S. federal agencies and hundreds of law firms, corporations and other organizations," today's blog post said. | positive |
There’s a sense of urgency for coach Lorenzo Romar to forge a collective identity with a UW men’s basketball team that features nine newcomers.
“Start the clock!”
With a simple command from Lorenzo Romar, the morning workout began inside an auxiliary gym at Alaska Airlines Arena. The red digits on the far wall read 90:00 and begin to tick away.
Players scurried into position on the floor in what felt like a race against time.
UW men’s basketball key dates Oct. 5 Start of practice. Nov. 13 Season opener vs. Texas in Shanghai Nov. 25-27 Battle 4 Atlantis tournament in the Bahamas Note: Rest of the schedule has not been finalized.
This was the third workout for the University of Washington men’s basketball team.
Less than 100 days remain before the start of training camp. In the past, summer brought solace for Romar and was a time to reflect on the previous season’s missteps and shortcomings.
Not this year.
Not with nine newcomers staring at him and a chorus of critics growing louder and asking if the man who resurrected UW basketball a decade ago can do it twice.
Win, and he’s the hero of Montlake once again. Lose, and he may not return to complete a 10-year contract extension that expires in 2020 and pays him $1.7 million per year.
But if time has run out on Romar’s tenure at UW, you wouldn’t know it if you saw him at last Monday’s practice.
At times he was playful, teasing and engaging.
Other times his voice bounced off the walls. He was fiery and bombastic when he stopped a drill and launched into a verbal tirade.
“This jogging stuff is not going to fly!” Romar yelled. “If you are a fast guy and you’re jogging or you are a slow guy and jogging, you’ll be on the bench. Just let me know.
“You run! Sprint to where you’re going! … If you are a real baller, you are always in shape in May, June, July or August. It doesn’t matter. We got to get that right before we do anything else!”
It was one of the first times Romar verbally tore into his new team. When he was done, new assistant Will Conroy, a former Romar standout during UW’s heyday, led an applause as players shouted: “Yes coach!”
Entering his 20th season as a head coach – three at Pepperdine, three at Saint Louis and 13 at Washington – the 56-year-old Romar is working harder than ever.
With an incoming class that includes seven freshmen, his communicative skills and patience will be tested like never before.
Romar likens the challenge to his times as an assistant on the U.S. men’s basketball teams.
“Everybody wants to earn playing time,” he said.
“You have their undivided attention. They’re just eager to make it work and eager to do whatever you ask of them. It has that type of feel.”
Starting over
In many ways, the Huskies hit the reset button.
And maybe a fresh start is what they needed after last season’s 16-15 finish preceded a 17-15 season in 2013-14 and an 18-16 mark in 2012-13.
They are four years from their last NCAA tournament appearance, and their star point guard Nigel Williams-Goss, who led an exodus of players, transferred to cross-state rival Gonzaga. Before departing, he delivered a stinging blow and questioned the direction of the program.
Fifth-year senior Andrew Andrews, one of just three returners, acknowledged the Huskies have a long climb from last season’s 11th place finish in the Pac-12 race.
“We’re not so much different than other teams in Washington history,” Andrews said. “This team has kind of reverted back to the teams of old with length and versatility.”
The Huskies spent most of Monday’s practice learning a familiar play from their old motion attack that will be the staple of their offense.
They’ve scrapped the high-post offense, which averaged 72 points the past two seasons, and opted to install a free-flowing offense from the Brandon Roy and Nate Robinson years that averaged 86 points during the 2004-05 season.
Romar also trashed the read-and-react defense and zone defense the Huskies employed the past two years and recycled their trademark pressure man-to-man defense, which is sure to delight UW diehards.
“We have more athleticism,” he said.
“We have more length. We have more interchangeable parts. We have more guys that can contain the basketball.”
After about an hour of instruction and individual drills, the Huskies split into two teams for the summer’s first team scrimmage.
Andrews and freshman Dejounte Murray paired in the backcourt with sophomore Donaven Dorsey at the wing and newcomers Noah Dickerson and Malik Dime on the front line.
The other squad included five freshmen: guards David Crisp, Matisse Thybulle, Dominic Green and forwards Marquese Chriss and Devenir Duruisseau.
“Take great shots,” Conroy says to Green, a gifted shooter from Renton’s Hazen High with NBA three-point range.
“Not good shots. Great shots.”
Mistakes are made and Romar and assistant Raphael Chillious jump in to correct the players.
Andrews, who is making the switch from shooting guard to point guard, is mostly silent. Later he said: “I want the young guys to hear it from coach first, then I’ll help them out.”
Murray, perhaps the prize of the 2015 recruiting class who was ranked sixth nationally by Scout.com, darts around a defender into the lane. The rail-thin offensive dynamo from Rainier Beach High is unable to finish a layup over Duruisseau, but his uncanny ability to get to the rim serves him well in Washington’s attack offense.
Dickerson and Dime work well in tandem in the post. However, Dime, a 6-9 junior from Senegal, tires late in the workout perhaps because he’s observing Ramadan, the month-long Muslim holiday in which observers abstain from eating or drinking from sunrise to sunset.
Defensive highlights are almost nonexistent with the exception of Thybulle, who Romar described as the most athletic player on the team. In one sequence, the former Eastside Catholic High standout blocked a shot on the baseline before poking the ball away for a steal that led to a fast-break layup.
Crisp finished the possession with a long pass to Chriss who flushed a dunk in traffic, which prompted Romar to enthusiastically commend the big man for running the floor.
“In July no one is guarding anybody the way that we’re going to guard when the season starts,” the UW coach said. “Right now there are many more offensive rebounds than there are defensive rebounds because guys aren’t blocking out as much.”
Hungry newcomers
Romar has never coached a team this young, but believes it’s possible to win big with freshmen.
Duke captured the national title last season with a freshmen-laden squad. Kentucky also did it in 2012 and to a lesser extent Arizona and UCLA have recently dominated the Pac-12 with talented freshmen.
Still, those Division I powerhouses are winning with one-and-done phenoms who become NBA draft lottery picks. Meanwhile, Romar has stocked the incoming class with six four-star recruits (Murray, Chriss, Thybulle, Dickerson, Green and Crisp) according to Scout.com and it remains to be seen if they’re able to resuscitate a program that’s fallen into mediocrity.
Romar often uses the word hungry to describe the newcomers and perhaps separate them from recent UW teams.
“All of those guys are so invested in what we’re doing,” he said. “It’s just refreshing.”
Romar’s immediate task is learning as much as he can about them, while they learn from him.
The Huskies start the season Nov. 13 in China for a historic opener against Texas before traveling to the Bahamas for a nonconference tournament that could pit them against cross-state rival Gonzaga.
The search for chemistry will be a constant theme for this group. How quickly they mesh will largely determine their success.
“Every team is different,” Romar said. “Sometimes when you have some pieces that are in place in terms of personality and skill set, then your chemistry and the magic can happen quicker than some other situations.
“True chemistry comes when everybody trusts one another. … Right now we don’t have that yet because our guys are still learning the system. The first thing we need to do is learn the system. Believe in it and believe in one another.” | positive |
BY: Follow @MaryLouByrd12
A Second Amendment group and a New York state senator are opposing legislation that would prohibit those on the federal terrorist watch list from obtaining or renewing a license to carry firearms in the state.
The bills, introduced by state Sen. Jeffery Klein (D.) and Assemblyman Thomas Abinanti (D.), prohibit "persons named on the consolidated terror watch list from obtaining or renewing a license to carry, possess, repair and dispose of firearms," according to a joint statement by state Sen. Robert Ortt (R.) and the Second Amendment group Shooters Committee on Political Education.
"Any legislation or proposal attempting to tie the federal no-fly list to state firearm licenses will be impractical, ineffective, and most importantly, unconstitutional," the statement said.
Ortt, a combat veteran, said he is committed to preventing terrorists from acquiring firearms and protecting Americans. However, Ortt said the terror watch lists are "widely known to be secretive and inaccurate." Such "notable suspected terrorists" as Ted Kennedy, Cat Stevens, and a former president of Bolivia have been inconvenienced because their names appeared on a watch list.
"Citizens have no notice and limited recourse if they are improperly placed on the list," Ortt said.
According to SCOPE, the terrorist watch list and its derivatives do not meet any reasonable standard for the "deprivation of an individual’s rights." They said it is a clear violation of the Fifth Amendment’s guarantee "of due process before depriving one of ‘life, liberty or property.’ "
"When a citizen's fundamental constitutionally-guaranteed right to keep and bear arms can be infringed on mere suspicion, and inclusion on a secret government list, then none of our civil liberties are safe," SCOPE president Stephen J. Aldstadt said.
In a phone interview, Abinanti said his bill was a simple measure to ensure that terrorists are not able to acquire firearms.
"We’ve got to take reasonable steps, take guns out of the hands of those people who will hurt us. This is homeland security," Abinanti said. "We have to stat to target the people who want to target us."
Abinanti said there will be an appeals process available for individuals who are erroneously placed on the no-fly list.
"If the FBI puts out a list saying these are the people on our terror watch list who we are watching and shouldn’t fly, what other list do we use?"Abinanti said.
Klein said in an email statement the legislation he introduced is a matter of common sense.
"It is simply common sense to prohibit people who are suspected terrorists from purchasing or owning a gun," Klein said. "The fear that innocent people and legal gun owners are going to have their weapons confiscated is pure nonsense — current law already provides for due process requirements where firearm licenses have been revoked."
"Suspected terrorists should not be allowed to freely access firearms, and that is exactly what my ‘Deny Firearms to Dangerous Terrorists Act’ would aim to stop," Klein said. | positive |
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Author - Suzanne Kelman SUZANNE KELMAN International Best-Selling Author & Awarding-Winning Screenwriter & Playwright Submit Download Your Free Book Thank you! Books on Amazon My Latest Release A View Across the Rooftops All Books Social Feed Contact Suzanne … Download Your Free Book Thank you! Books on Amazon My Latest Release A View Across the Rooftops All Books Social Feed Contact Suzanne SUZANNE KELMAN International Best-Selling Author & Awarding-Winning Screenwriter & Playwright Submit Download Your Free Book Thank you! Books on Amazon My Latest Release A View Across the Rooftops All Books Social Feed Contact Suzanne … Download Your Free Book Thank you! Books on Amazon My Latest Release A View Across the Rooftops All Books Social Feed Contact Suzanne Download Your Free Book Thank you! Books on Amazon My Latest Release A View Across the Rooftops All Books Social Feed Contact Suzanne Powered By Download Your Free Journal Sign up for my newsletter to receive free books, giveaways & book deals Download Your Free Readers Journal TODAY DOWNLOAD My Books on Amazon ALL AVAILABLE ON AMAZON - https://amzn.to/3ug4E2O My Latest Release Garden of Secrets: A heartbreaking WW2 historical novel about an unforgettable wartime secret. 1940, England: ‘I promise we will find each other again. I will leave you a message,’ she said, ‘here, in our secret garden.’ But outside the garden walls a war was raging, and it was only a matter of time before they would have to risk everything for love… Now, England: When Laura moves to Norfolk to restore a beautiful garden in the grounds of a stately home, she sees it as an opportunity for a new start, after her heart was broken by the man she thought she would spend eternity with. But the garden has secrets within its walls. And when she finds a box buried under the weeping willow tree, she is spellbound by its contents – a key and a cryptic note. Laura doesn’t yet realise it but, clutched in her hand, she has the first fragment of a love story. A story about a seemingly quiet, beautiful land girl and the man she fell in love with. About a wartime secret that stretched across Europe and has remained hidden until now. And about a love story that two people made the ultimate sacrifice for, which will change Laura’s own life forever. All she has to do is follow the path… A heart-breaking, unforgettable and powerful story about love, wartime secrets, and betrayal. Perfect for fans of Rhys Bowen’s The Victory Garden and Kristin Hannah’s The Nightingale. Readers are loving Garden of Secrets: ‘Wow this book is stunning. I was absolutely hooked. I felt the terror and the fear jumping off the pages… the ending – just wow.’ NetGalley reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘I was truly swept away… Spellbinding!… Powerful and captivating from the first page to the last, and it deserves more stars than can be rated. I could not put it down and missed a lot of sleep!… Even after finishing the story, I have not stopped thinking about it… Totally awe-inspiring story… Loved, loved, loved.’ Musician's Poet ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘An unforgettable love story!… Spectacular… I’m still thinking about Nick and Annie days later… Nail-biting tension… What a beautiful historical fiction romance.’ Goodreads reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘Powerful… Will stay with me… I loved thisand found myself racing through the pages… excellent … Oh wow!… Stopped me in my tracks, it was so moving, powerful and evocative. 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Professor Josef Heldhas never recovered from the loss of his beloved wife – and has no intention of ever letting anyone new into his quiet, safe world. It is a world where the clock ticks steadily in his mathematics classroom, where every equation has a solution. Every day he walks the same route home, past his neighbour Mrs Epstein’s, to a home inhabited only by him and a cat he refuses to even name. But then the Nazis come for the Jews – and Mrs Epstein is killed. And Josef, in an impulsive act of courage, offers his student Michael Bluma place to hide. Michael is everything Josef is not: spontaneous, poetic, and unafraid to love. Even though his passionate relationship with a Dutch girl called Elke strictly is forbidden by the Nazis – for he is Jewish, and she is not. Desperate to give Michael and Elke’s love a chance to survive, Josef gives Michael refuge in his attic: an act of bravery and resistance that will change both of their lives. But as the dark days of war continue, with danger and betrayal at every turn, no-one can be trusted, and no one is safe. If Michael is going to get back to the woman he loves, it is down to Josef – to find the hero inside himself, and do whatever it takes to keep Michael alive. A heartbreakingly beautiful story about love, trust, and courage against the odds, perfect for fans of The Tattooist of Auschwitz,Lilac Girls, andThe Nightingale. Buy It Here Readers are loving A View Across the Rooftops: ‘Oh my goodness... Hauntingly beautiful… Incredibly powerful… I cried, I grieved and I hoped… I was left both heartbroken and satisfied.’ Robin Loves Reading ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘Heart-wrenching… It is an emotional journey of heartache and love that will leave you in tears. One of the finest books I have ever read.’ NetGalley Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘I’ve read many books on WW2… but I’ve never read one like this before. Mesmerising, emotional and beautifully written.’ NetGalley Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘The rollercoaster of emotions I went through while reading this book is amazing… For an author to make me literally cry… The story is just incredible.’ Goodreads Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘If I could give this book more than 5 stars, I would. From the first moment I started reading the story, I could not stop. I was captured… Made me feel like I was right there.’ Goodreads Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘Oh my Goodness! What a wonderful book! There is so much love, hope, and fear as well. This is a book I will put back to read again, I enjoyed it so much. It is a book you can't put down.’ Goodreads Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘It brought me to tears… impossible for me to put it down. One of my best reads of 2019.’ Goodreads Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘Took me on a rollercoaster of emotions – happiness, sadness, anger. This story made me cryand the writing style is amazing. An amazing book.’ NetGalley Reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘A beautifully written story of love, courage, self-sacrifice and determination… Such an emotional story and so different to others that I have read in this subject… [A] big fat 5 stars from me.’ Goodreads reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ All My Books The Rejected Writers' Book Club Southlea Bay Series https://amzn.to/2XReKbv Rejected Writers Take The Stage Southlea Bay Series https://amzn.to/2MqkwtE The Rejected Writers Christmas Wedding Southlea Bay Series https://amzn.to/2WU3Lbz The Rejected Writers' Bookclub GERMAN EDITION https://amzn.to/2YtQjQz A View Across the Rooftops ENGLISH EDITION https://amzn.to/2Kb30XB A View Across the Rooftops PORTAGUESE EDITION https://bit.ly/2PoMXIC A View Across the Rooftops ITALIAN EDITION https://amzn.to/3IgfTLI A View Across the Rooftops HUNGARIAN EDITION COMING SOON! A View Across the Rooftops CZECH EDITION April 30th, 2021 A View Across the Rooftops RUSSIAN EDITION Out Now! 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Phillip Gavriel 18K & Sterling Silver Polished Italian Cable Bangle with Cuff Button Clasp - Melancon Jewelers Skip to Main Content (337) 893-1900 Hours & Directions Appointment A full line jewelry store Wish List Login Search Bridal Engagement Rings Wedding Bands Signature Bridal Collection Designers Phillip Gavriel Rhythm of Love Citizen Livingstone Jewelry Loveables Melancon Jewelers Twogether Signature Jewelry Collection Jewelry Bangle Bracelet Cuff Links Earrings Necklace Pendant Ring Watch Custom Designs Diamonds Diamond Guide Diamond Search About About Us History Testimonials Services Jewelry Repair Watch Repair Pearl & Bead Restringing Appraisals Engraving Custom Design Gold Buying Financing Jewelry Insurance Corporate Gifts Laser Repairs Education Diamond Education Gemstone Guide Jewelry Care Gifts Maintenance Metal Types Pearl Facts Repairs Resizing Ring Styles Setting Types Styles Tips & Tricks Shop Now Contact Contact Us Schedule an Appointment Our Location Home Catalog Phillip Gavriel 18K & Sterling Silver Polished Italian Cable Bangle with Cuff Button Clasp Phillip Gavriel 18K & Sterling Silver Polished Italian Cable Bangle with Cuff Button Clasp # SILF3190 Phillip Gavriel 18K & Sterling Silver Polished Italian Cable Bangle with Cuff Button Clasp # SILF3190 Sub Collection: Italian Cable Clasp Type: Cuff Button Dimension: - Finish: Polished Total Diamond Ctw: 0.03ct. $1,119.63 Contact us for pricing and availability. Add to Wish List Create another Wish List × Give your a name and set your privacy level. Name Privacy Private Shared Public Cancel Create Wish List Contact Appointment Share Drop a Hint Product Details Name 18K & Sterling Silver Polished Italian Cable Bangle with Cuff Button Clasp Stock Number SILF3190 Department Fashion Type Bangle Collection Italian Cable Collection Materials Gold, Sterling Silver Ask a Question If you enter anything in this field your submission will be treated as spam Name Email Address Phone Number What can we help you with? Inquire This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. Literally born into the world of jewelry, Phillip Gabriel Maroof the designer behind Phillip Gavriel founded his collection after studying in Florence, Italy. The beauty and history of the Renaissance intensified his already developing design sensibility and became the catalyst in launching his passion. Every piece of jewelry in the collection tells a story and comes from the heart. The collections are inspired by an important part of Phillip himself, whether it be a place he has travelled to, or simply something beautiful he experienced. Crafted in gold, sterling silver and precious gemstones, Phillip Gavriel jewelry is not only rich in intrinsic value but it is also rich in heritage. Recommended For You Our Benefits There are many great reasons to do business with Melancon Jewelers. Please email us for information about our special offers and unique customer service benefits. We are more than happy to help you find the perfect piece within our extensive quality selections to celebrate all your special occasions, holidays and milestones. Send Close Share this page with your friends or loved ones. Your Name Your Email To Email Message Send This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. Drop a Hint Close Don't leave them guessing! Send that special someone a hint. To Email Message Send This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. Print Close Loading... Close Print AWARD WINNING DESIGN Numerous awards have been won through the years to include winning three times the coveted Louisiana’s Overall Custom Jewelry Designer of the year. Owner Richard Melancon was awarded 1994 and 2000 Louisiana’s Jeweler of the Year with Melancon Jewelers Inc. being the 1996 Louisiana’s Jewelry Store of the Year. See our Design Gallery here... CONTACT (337) 893-1900 2423 Veterans Memorial Dr. Abbeville, LA 70510 Hours & Directions COLLECTIONS Phillip Gavriel Rhythm of Love Citizen Livingstone Jewelry Loveables Melancon Jewelers Twogether CUSTOMER SERVICES Jewelry Repair Watch Repair Pearl & Bead Restringing Appraisals Engraving Custom Design Gold Buying Financing Jewelry Insurance Corporate Gifts Laser Repairs Copyright © 2022 Melancon Jewelers Terms and Conditions Privacy Policy Jewelry Website Design by Thinkspace | negative |
Textiles & Rugs — Tagged "Type: Draught Excluder" — Mayflower Furniture Skip to content £10 OFF YOUR FIRST ORDER - USE CODE: ZE70RF06YAQW £10 OFF YOUR FIRST ORDER - USE CODE: ZE70RF06YAQW Menu Cancel INFO LINKS Contact Us Delivery Options Refunds & Returns Klarna Paypal Gift Card NHS Discount FREE UK DELIVERY* find out more > find out more > View cart Furniture Chairs Chairs Armchairs Occasional Chairs Dining Chairs Desk Chairs Benches Stools Footstools Tables Tables Dining Tables Dining Sets Coffee Tables Console Tables Side Tables Dressing Tables Desks Beds Beds Bed Frames Single Bed Frames Children's Beds Mattresses Sofabeds Storage Storage Shelf Units Sideboards TV Cabinets Cabinets Drinks Cabinets Bedroom Storage Bedroom Storage Wardrobes Sliding Wardrobes Bedroom Sets Bedroom Other Bathroom Bathroom Alaska Grey Collection Alaska White Collection Sofas Sofas Sofas Sofabeds Accessories Fireplace Fireplace Buckets Log Storage Match Holders Companion Sets Firescreens Home Accessories Home Accessories Candle Holders Lanterns Finishing Touches Kitchen Textiles Textiles Rugs Cushions Bedding Throws Wall Decor Wall Decor Plaques Mirrors Wall Art Flowers & Plants Flowers & Plants Artificial Plants Vases Planters Clocks Clocks Clocks Wall Mounted Clocks Lighting Ceiling Lights Wall Lights Floor Lamps Table Lamps Text Light Bulbs Outdoor Seating Dining Accessories Parasols Other Clearance Christmas Weekly Deals eGift Cards Login Login Close Furniture Furniture Chairs Chairs Armchairs Occasional Chairs Dining Chairs Desk Chairs Benches Stools Footstools Tables Tables Dining Tables Dining Sets Coffee Tables Console Tables Side Tables Dressing Tables Desks Beds Beds Bed Frames Single Bed Frames Children's Beds Mattresses Sofabeds Storage Storage Shelf Units Sideboards TV Cabinets Cabinets Drinks Cabinets Bedroom Storage Bedroom Storage Wardrobes Sliding Wardrobes Bedroom Sets Bedroom Other Bathroom Bathroom Alaska Grey Collection Alaska White Collection Sofas Sofas Sofas Sofabeds Accessories Accessories Fireplace Fireplace Buckets Log Storage Match Holders Companion Sets Firescreens Home Accessories Home Accessories Candle Holders Lanterns Finishing Touches Kitchen Textiles Textiles Rugs Cushions Bedding Throws Wall Decor Wall Decor Plaques Mirrors Wall Art Flowers & Plants Flowers & Plants Artificial Plants Vases Planters Clocks Clocks Clocks Wall Mounted Clocks Lighting Lighting Ceiling Lights Wall Lights Floor Lamps Table Lamps Text Light Bulbs Outdoor Outdoor Seating Dining Accessories Parasols Other Clearance Christmas Weekly Deals eGift Cards Home Textiles & Rugs Draught Excluder Textiles & Rugs Filters Type - Draught Excluder Remove filter Colour Grey Style Abstract Classic Type Cushion Door Stops Draught Excluder Rug Seat Pad Throw INFO LINKS Contact Us Delivery Options Refunds & Returns Klarna Paypal Gift Card NHS Discount Filters (1) Sort by Sort by Featured Best selling Alphabetically, A-Z Alphabetically, Z-A Price, low to high Price, high to low Date, old to new Date, new to old Show 24 36 48 View as Type - Draught Excluder Remove filter Sale Bees Double Sided Draught Excluder £39.00 | / With its simple bee design, this lovely draught excluder is perfect for adding a touch of charm and personality to a room. Details W200 x D9... View full details £39.00 | / Sale Add to cart Sale Bluetits Draught Excluder £39.00 | / With its lovely bluetits design, this delightful draught excluder is perfect for adding a touch of charm and personality to a room. Details ... View full details £39.00 | / Sale Add to cart Sort by Featured Best selling Alphabetically, A-Z Alphabetically, Z-A Price, low to high Price, high to low Date, old to new Date, new to old You recently viewed Clear recently viewed INFO LINKS Contact Us Delivery Options Refunds & Returns Klarna Paypal Gift Card NHS Discount LOWEST PRICE At Mayflower Furniture we are constantly reviewing our prices to make sure that we're the most competitive on the market. Find Out More > JOIN OUR NEWSLETTER By subscribing you agree to our Terms & Conditions and Privacy & Cookies Policy. Email address Sign up Terms of Service Privacy Policy Copyright © 2022 Mayflower Furniture. American Express Apple Pay Diners Club Discover Google Pay Maestro Mastercard PayPal Shop Pay Visa Added to your cart: ** total_quantity ** | ** unit_price ** / ** unit_measure ** (-) Cart subtotal View cart () Checkout Item is added to cart | negative |
Nationally, two out of every three births resulting from unintended pregnancies, approximately 1.1 million births, were paid for by public insurance programs in 2008, according to a new Guttmacher report by Adam Sonfield and Kathryn Kost. Public expenditures on these births—including costs of prenatal care, labor and delivery, postpartum care and one year of care for the infant—totaled $12.5 billion in 2008. These births accounted for 53% of all publicly funded births that year.
"Our report demonstrates the continuing importance of Medicaid and other public health insurance programs in helping U.S. women and families afford the expense of pregnancy and childbirth," says Adam Sonfield, co-author of the new report. "It also shows that, in addition to the health, social and economic consequences of unintended pregnancies for women and families, federal and state governments incur significant costs as a result of these pregnancies."
The report also puts into context the significant savings that result from averting unintended pregnancies and subsequent births through publicly supported family planning services. Earlier Guttmacher Institute research found that current public investments in family planning services helped avert $12.7 billion in gross costs related to unintended pregnancies in 2010. In the absence of that investment, the annual public costs of births from unintended pregnancy would double, to more than $25 billion.
Among the report's key findings:
Nationally, 65% of the 1.7 million births resulting from unintended pregnancies in 2008 were paid for by public insurance programs (Medicaid, the Children's Health Insurance Program and the Indian Health Service), compared with 48% of all births and 36% of births resulting from intended pregnancies.
There were 2.0 million publicly funded births in 2008; of those, 1.1 million, or 53%, resulted from unintended pregnancies; by comparison, 1.7 million out of 4.2 million births nationwide—39%—resulted from unintended pregnancies.
In 15 jurisdictions, at least 70% of births resulting from unintended pregnancies were paid for by public programs. Mississippi was the state with the highest proportion (83%). All but three of those 15 jurisdictions are in the South (as categorized by the U.S. Census Bureau), a region with high levels of poverty.
Of the $12.5 billion in government expenditures on births resulting from unintended pregnancies in 2008, $7.3 billion were federal expenditures and $5.2 billion were state expenditures.
In seven states, public costs related to births from unintended pregnancies exceeded half a billion dollars. California ($1.5 billion) and Texas ($1.3 billion) spent the most.
The role of public health insurance programs in paying for U.S. births is likely to expand further as the Affordable Care Act's major expansion to Medicaid eligibility begins in 2014.
"Reducing the $12.5 billion in public costs for births resulting from unintended pregnancies requires substantial new public investments in family planning services and comprehensive sex education," says Sonfield. "The Affordable Care Act is a big step in the right direction, with its expansions of public and private insurance coverage and the requirement that most private health plans cover the full range of contraceptive methods and services without out-of-pocket costs."
But the report's authors warn that chronic underinvestment and ideological attacks on the programs and providers that make publicly supported family planning services accessible to millions of women have been counterproductive. For instance, appropriations for the Title X national family planning program are 67% lower today than they were in FY 1980, adjusted for inflation. Shortsighted cuts to highly successful family planning programs may actually end up increasing public expenditures, the report concludes.
Full report:
"Public Costs from Unintended Pregnancies and the Role of Public Insurance Programs in Paying for Pregnancy and Infant Care: Estimates for 2008," by Adam Sonfield and Kathryn Kost
For more information:
Data Center: Create a map or table (Public Expenditures on Births, under Services and Financing)
Video: Publicly Supported Family Planning Services Are Essential
Video: The Benefits of Contraceptive Use in the United States
Fact sheet: Facts on Unintended Pregnancy in the United States
Fact sheet: Facts on Publicly Funded Contraceptive Services in the United States
Fact sheet: State Facts About Title X and Family Planning
Fact sheet: State Facts About Unintended Pregnancy
Analysis: Besieged Family Planning Network Plays Pivotal Role
Analysis: Documenting the Social and Economic Benefits of Family Planning
Research: The Health Benefits of Services Provided at Family Planning Centers
Research: Contraceptive Needs and Services, 2010
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Cacame Against Fate
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The scraps of the Somma army melted away into the vast forest. King Cacame Awemedinade, called the Immortal Onslaught by both enemies and subjects alike, briefly considered ordering his men to pursue them. He briefly considered pursuing them himself. But even beaten, the elves were crafty and tenacious. There was no point in risking his men to pick off stragglers. Even if a dozen elves were slain, the loss of one of his dwarves would not be worth it.The Somma were doomed. What had once been a mighty kingdom now lay in ashes. A dozen scattered settlements was all that was left of them. Most of these were insignificant hamlets, little more than huts shaped out of the trees.Cacames vengeance was nearing its zenith. The utter destruction of the people who had taken his wife from him, who had devoured her body all because she had been born into a village conquered by dwarves.He peered out into the flames which licked the roots of the tree city. In the three sweeps since he had been woken from his fugue by the so-called gods, he had expanded the borders of Dobar Odkish nearly three-fold. Much of it had been won in wars against the humans and goblins who had dared to encroach upon his territory. Once hed regained what had been lost, however, he turned his eyes on his true foe.In those first assaults, his vigor had seemed infinite. With each elf slain, it waned and waned. He knew his destiny was to be the last elf. But the satisfaction he sought was so far missing. Perhaps it merely would not come until the stroke he watched the next-to-last elf choke out his final breath.He could see the face of that elf in his mind and it was the face of Amoya Themarifa, the elv who had murdered Cacames wife. Of course, Amoya was long dead at the hands of another and nothing would bring him back.My liege, a dwarf said, breaking his kings reverie. Cacame looked down at the dwarf, who knelt in the muck of gory mud. His cuirass was dented and shattered in places. A gash was opened over his left eye, though the blood had ceased to pour from it.Speak, Cacame said to him. He was Duke Okir Eshonerir, the leader of the vanguard. He had been one of the first dwarves to enter combat against the Somma forces. In this hundred sweeps Cacame had been sleeping, the dukes family had become a powerful one in the kingdom.The flames, lord, Okir said, rising from his knee. Shall we have them doused?Cacame turned back to stare at them once again. The flames. This land was technically part of the Kingdom of Dobar Odkish now. The lumber would be useful to craftsmen. The animals that called it home a plentiful source of food for his people. The herbs turned into medicines.But his people already had lumber, food, and medicines aplenty. What need had he of a few more scraps of forest?Let it burn, Cacame said before turning and walking back toward his command tent.Were it not for his sweeps living among the dwarves, beneath the earth in the cavernous fortress of Gamildodók, Cacame may never have felt the quivering of the earth below him. It was slight, almost gentle. Like a light breeze upon his cheek.He shifted to the side just as the great serpent burst from the ground beneath him. Shouts of alarm went up from every soldier near enough to see it. Its dagger-filled mouth had missed Cacames leg by a few bare spans, but still the force of its exit from the earth had sent him tumbling to the ground.It let out a sound that sounded akin to a frogs croak, albeit one deep and reverberating, and lunged for him. Cacame rolled to his right, unfortunately away from the warhammer that had been lost in the wyrms narrowly-avoided first strike. Its snout smashed into the dirt a split second after Cacame had rolled aside.It turned to him and was about to strike again when a silver flash crashed into its side. The creature let out a quivering shriek, the spiked fin which circled its head and ran down its back flaring in anger. Run, my lord! Okir shouted as the beast whipped its sinuous neck around and bashed the duke aside.A squad of dwarves quickly replaced him, circling the beast and lunging at it with spears. The beast thrashed back and forth for a moment, snapping at them. But at each strike, the well-trained target would jump deftly back, even in heavy mail, while his comrades took the opportunity to thrust. The beast was not stupid, however. It quickly realized it could not win this fight. With astounding speed, it retreated back into the tunnel from which it had emerged.Cacame walked over and looked down into the darkness. Straining, he could hear the scrape of the creatures scales through the tunnel.Shall we pursue? one of the dwarves asked.The tunnel was just wide enough for the dwarves to head down it single-file. His men were experienced in fighting in cramped tunnels, having often dealt with great beasts that lived in natural underground caverns. But this was no ordinary animal or singular monstrosity.It was a finscale, one of the so-called chosen beasts of Íle. In the time when Cacame had been young, they were mostly myths... occasional marauding monsters in the densest forests. Cunning ambush predators which had ravaged settlements of goblin, elf, and dwarf alike. Now the Somma venerated them as embodiments of Íle.No, Cacame said, as one of the dwarves recovered his warhammer. Let it go. He squeezed the metal haft of his weapon. Its just an animal. No need to lose lives hunting it.The dwarves saluted him and immediately broke away to return to whatever it was they had been doing. Cacame resumed his walk back to his command tent. As he walked, he passed a priest swathed in white, kneeling beside a dying soldier. The crimson on the soldiers lips was a stark contrast to the pale flesh. His eyes were wide and blank, but his chest spasmed, sending little flecks of blood splashing from his mouth.The priest had a wide, deep hood so that his face could not be seen. All souls go to Vucar. We are born under Vucars grace. We fight for his glory.Cacame couldnt help but snort, though it was too soft for the priest to hear. The cult of Vucar had been a minor one when Cacame first came to power, but its influence had grown over the sweeps while the other gods were increasingly marginalized. Many of the rituals and chants the priests used were the same as once used for a god named Nethgön, a foreign god of death and blight.We join him in death, the priest continued to the dying dwarf. Your soul will be consumed by him if you were unworthy, returned to glory if you served him properly. The dwarfs sporadic breathing had ceased. The priest spread a pinch of rust over the dwarfs face and shut his eyes, then stood and shuffled over to the next of the dying.As Cacame walked away, thoughts of his encounter with the two gods beneath the mountain entered unbidden. When he had been young, before his wife had been slain and devoured, Cacame had once worshiped Íle as many of his subjects now worshiped Vucar. He had even stood inside Íles sacred grove. But never had he felt the divine awesomeness that he felt when facing those two gods, one of light, one of dark. Optierus and Galvetrus.They had called the other gods false. Vucar, Íle, Nethgön... Just demons, those two gods said. Cacame shook his head to drive the thoughts out of his mind. Even if they were demons, they were the ones receiving the worship, while none had ever heard of those two.Cacames command tent was a spartan affair. It had been set up in a clearing about a half-league behind the battlefield; far enough away so he wouldnt be in danger from the flames, but close enough that he could give orders should it be required. He sat cross-legged upon the mat inside and pulled the flaps shut, casting the interior into gloom. Only the dimmest of brown light leaked through the canvas.Since hed awoken from his century-long fugue, Cacame achieved little sleep. A few hours every few strokes was all he could manage. While did not feel the exhaustion he should, neither did he ever feel rested. Though he had been fighting all stroke, he did not feel sleepy. He was physically tired, but knew he would find no slumber.Often, he would think of his lost Nemo. The way he would run his hands through her thick, black hair. The twinkle in her eyes, greener than the freshest spring leaves. The way her thin-lipped smile caused her button nose to turn even more upward.His thoughts of her this night were only fleeting, driven out by the distant chants of the priests as they performed last rites on the dead and dying.Deep in the night, the only sounds that broke the darkness were the occasional calls from the sentries at the changing of the watch. The priests must have found all the dead, as normally they would work straight through until dawn. Dwarves saw perfectly in the darkness, much better than they saw in the light. Cacames dark vision was strong thanks to his decades underground, though he still needed some light to see.Unlike human armies, Cacames forces could march whenever they pleased. But unlike him, his dwarves needed rest, especially after a hard battle. Sweeps earlier he may have begrudged them the rest in his quest for vengeance. But hed allowed that flame to blaze into an inferno which quickly guttered out. Now he was content to let it smolder.As Cacame sat, the soft drone of wetas slowly filled the air. Occasionally, a croak from a chough penetrated the harmony. It seemed Cacame had not heard one of the sentry calls in quite some time.Something rustled outside his tent. Cacame shifted slightly; his sentries were sharp-eyed. Nothing dangerous could sneak into the camp undetected. Not the most skulking kobold or stealthiest predator. Then someone took the edge of the tent flap and opened it up.The bright light that filled the tent momentarily blinded Cacame. He raised a hand to shield his eyes. It had not seemed to him that the sun should have risen already. His men were to have risen before daybreak regardless.Before he could reprimand the soldier for having waited so long to awake him, Cacame realized it was not a dwarf at all. The figure, cloaked in shadows because of the heavy backlight, was too tall, too slender.Cacame lunged for his warhammer, but the intruder merely laughed and let the flap fall back into place, casting the interior into darkness again. Cacame snatched up his weapon and leapt to his feet.When he threw the tent flap aside, it was still night and no source of light was visible, though spots still danced in his vision. He blinked his eyes heavily and looked around. There, several strides off, stood the figure. It was taller than Cacame and more slender as well, with a long cloak pulled over its body.Intruders! Cacame shouted, his voice piercing the night like the crack of a whip. Raise the alarm!He expected an immediate response from his dwarves, the sounds of soldiers rising from their sleep and grabbing weapons, voices echoing his own, transmitting his cry around the camp. Instead there was nothing but silence still. Intruders! Rise, raise the alarm! he cried out again.The only sound answering him was a laugh from the intruder. It was not a mocking sound, but merely mirthful and lilting; feminine. Cacame rushed toward the intruder, who merely turned and bounded off, almost like some sort of fey creature.Cacame continued to pursue, though he knew he might be walking into some sort of trap. Intruders! Cacame repeated. Rise, raise the alarm! Then, to the fleeing figure, Stop!They were heading toward the forest, Cacame realized, as the fading embers of the fires still filled the air with a haunting glow. No, it was not merely embers. The entire forest was consumed in an inferno.To enter the forest would be utter madness. Yet the figure rushed for it. It would not have been the first time someone fled Cacame for another doom, but the laughs of the pursued were louder even that the crackle of flame.About ten strides from the wall of flame, Cacame ceased his chase. The figure ran a few steps further, then spun, the flames licking the edges of her cloak. Who are you? Cacame asked in between heavy breaths. How did the smoke not affect her breathing, he wondered.The figure reached up and slowly removed the hood from her head. In the light of the flame, Cacame could make out features clearly. Slender ears, long blond hair, sharp features, pale blue eyes, a mouth turned up in a slight smirk.Amoya! Cacame screamed. The elv who had killed and devoured his wife. The elv who was supposed to be dead, over a century before. Cacame had dug up her grave with his own hands, had seen the corpse crumble to dust in the waters of Íle stream.Amoya! Cacame shrieked, lunging forward as the elv laughed again and leapt backward into the flames. Cacame nearly dove in after her, but strong hands grasped him and pulled him to a stop.Cacame spun wildly, brutally swinging his hammer at whoever dared hamper his pursuit. A sickening crack splintered the air and a dwarven voice cried out in surprised pain. Another hand grabbed him and Cacame smashed at it, but it was replaced with two more and each of them was replaced by three when he dashed them.Amoya! Cacame cried out as he was pulled down by the strong hands and pinned to the ground. Amoya! He let the last syllable extend into an animalistic howl.King Cacame! Duke Okirs stern voice cut through his rage. The red glow of the ablaze forest vanished, while the crackle of flames and hum of the weta ceased suddenly, to be replaced with the pained moans of the injured and panicked cries of dwarves hurrying to ready themselves for combat.What... Cacame muttered. His left hand ached. He tried to relax it, but it was locked like a claw around his war hammer. He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. He finally released his grip on the weapon.The dwarves who were pinning him down were each champions, the veterans of many campaigns, relaxed their holds, though not completely. Several lay sprawled on the ground with various wounds. A doctor was already scampering forward to attend to them.Are you well, majesty? Okir asked stiffly.Cacame sat up. Amoya... he muttered.Yes, Okir answered. You were saying the name before you nearly rushed into the forest.Pursue her Cacame said. Bring her in to me alive! The champions who still restrained him did not move. That is an order!At his severe command, they freed him and, along with other soldiers who had arrived, quickly paired off and dashed into the night forest. Cacame retrieved his warhammer and stood. Finding his legs strangely weak, he planted the butt of his weapon into the ground and leaned on it like a staff.Why didnt anyone answer my alarm? Cacame said to Okir.The duke furrowed his brow. We did, your majesty. As soon as you began your call, it was echoed through the camp. I myself was rushing toward your tent when I saw you running this way. I followed until you stopped and started shouting... that name.Cacame turned slowly to look at the forest. There was no fire. There were not even embers left. They had all burned themselves out. There were only blackened husks of trees, the ashes on the ground kicked into the air by the pursuing soldiers.Did you see her? Cacame asked the duke, his voice low and gruff.No, your majesty. I saw no one. Nor did anyone else.Cacame shook his head. Some sort of waking dream? What watch is it? he asked.Half seventh, the duke said. Two hours until dawn.In an hour, put out the call for the search parties to return, Cacame said flatly. If anyone is found, inform me immediately. Otherwise, wake me once everyone is ready to leave.Okir raised his right fist to the center of his chest and bowed forward slightly. Yes, your majesty.Cacame walked by himself back toward his tent. As he did he looked up into the empty sky. A dream or a vision? he muttered. Have one of you returned Amoya to torment me for failing to chose you?A sudden chill wind swept over him.Cacame was awoken by Duke Okir himself; it was a literal awakening, a rare thing. Cacames sleep had been deep and empty. As always, he was left weary and stiff. The rays of the morning sun did little to help him. If anything, it seemed to sap the warmth away.Amoya had not been found. Several of the scout teams had not returned. None of the others reported any sort of disturbance. If the missing had been killed by the elves, the ambushes had been well planned.The army marched at dawn. Originally, they had expected a three-stroke march to the next elven settlement, Arimarali. Cacame had altered those plans. Now, they were cutting directly through the forest, a route which would put them in much more danger.The dwarves can handle it, Cacame said.Duke Okir nodded sternly. Of course they can, he agreed. But should they? Were not used to marching through trees, your majesty. Ever since we began this campaign, weve been traveling through open land. You yourself advised it.Weve fought in the forest dozens of times.Once again, the duke nodded. His bushy eyebrows, gray with only the barest hints of his once-red hair, furrowed together so they were touching. Yes, lord, fought. Rarely marched, except for a few leagues. And those times it was the last few leagues before we reached the field of battle. High alert for a few leagues is doable. High alert for an entire stroke is difficult, draining. Well either lose men to ambushes along the way or have an army that is fatigued once we arrive. Either way, we suffer.Will the army refuse my orders? Cacame asked.No, your majesty, Okir said with a firm shake of his head. Neither will I. Were not stupid. While you ruled, the kingdom won great victories. While you slumbered, our borders shrank. Now that youve awoken again, weve reconquered the lands we lost and several duchies beyond. If you say we march through Minafe, we do. I just want to remind you of the risks before we chase down your vengeance.Cacame couldnt help but smirk. This entire war has been my vengeance.No, Duke Okir answered flatly, it hasnt. Not until Amoya showed up.So you do believe shes alive? That she was here?I dont put much stock in belief, my lord. I leave that for the priests.There was a reason Cacame had put Duke Okir in charge of the vanguard. Most nobles were craven, sniveling fools, more eager to fill their vaults with knick-knacks crafted from their favorite materials than lead an army. Even among those who had a heart for the front had raised Cacame to a virtual god himself. Images of him were engraved on cavern walls across the kingdom and more than one supplicant had come before him almost worshipfully.Okir was one of the very few who could be counted on to do something beside simply accede to Cacames wishes. But he also knew that no matter what, he was not the final authority on any matter. We march through the forest. Whatever consequences we face, so be it.With a curt nod, Okir said, Very well, your majesty. That had been the end of it.By the time the army called its midstroke halt, two watches into the march, nearly a hundred dwarves had been lost to ambushes. Only twenty elves had been killed in return. They hadnt even reached the densest part yet, but the thick trees were perfect for ambushes. Plus, three different finscales had attacked the army. All three had been slain, but not before they killed multitudes of dwarves.The last one had attacked right before Cacame called a halt to the march. An hour to rest, he told Duke Okir. Have the sentries take three twenty-minute shifts. The butchers should get to work on that finscale. Well dine on it outside the walls of Arimarali.One of the few luxuries Cacame allowed himself was food. The normal army rations were good enough for the soldiers, but their king ate from a well-stocked larder of salted meats, eggs, fruits, and vegetables. After marching for so many hours, his stomach gnawed at him with hunger. He ate quickly, but deliberately, savoring the tastes and chewing thoroughly, but moving between bites with haste.He finished just as Duke Okir entered his tent with a series of reports. In addition to the lost troops, a dozen wagons had been destroyed and twenty-three chalcos had been killed or ran off. At least some of the chalcos had been butchered for their meat, though the dwarves wouldnt appreciate it. Morale overall was still high in the camp, though the soldiers were on edge because of the ambushes.After delivering the reports, Okir stood waiting. Did you even have time to eat and rest? Cacame asked him. Okir shook his head.I can eat from chalcoback, he explained. Unless you wish to use it for yourself.Once again, Cacame shook his head. You need it more than I do. In a sense, this was true. Though Okir, in his early 70s, was still a century younger than Cacame, he was middle-aged for a dwarf, while Cacame was immortal unless killed. Cacame had never taken to riding the huge, subterranean beetles favored by the dwarves as mounts and beasts of burden.In truth, he missed his wyvern, which had escaped during his fugue.So it is, my lord, Okir said sternly. We are ready to march at your pleasure.Then we march, Cacame said, rising from the ground and emerging from his tent behind Okir. The Duke signaled to the hornsdwarf, who blew a blast. Almost immediately, dwarves who had been sitting and talking hopped to their feet and began quickly and efficiently preparing for departure.It was only a few minutes before they were moving. Cacame walked silently along in the center of the column, safe from any attempted ambushes. Scouts ranged ahead of the army, seeking out ambushes and other dangers. The trees were still thick and the elves masters of stealth in the wood.Cacame kept his eyes coolly on the canopy, but he could tell his men were beginning to get on edge. Several had their eyes flicking back and forth nervously and at the merest flex of a branch under the weight of an asio, their hands went to their weapons.Over the course of an hour, the ordered columns gradually broke down as the trees became thicker and the overgrowth more difficult to maneuver through. The trailblazers did their best to hack and cut a clear path, but frequently trees were packed so tightly a single dwarf could not squeeze through, much less three or four shoulder-to-shoulder.A cry of pain jolted everyone to attention and weapons were drawn, including Cacames. But it was no enemy. Instead a dwarf had been bitten by a swaying naja. The serpent possessed a deadly venom and, though the dwarf had been wearing sturdy leather travel armor, its fangs had pierced his boot and flesh.The head of the snake had been removed, but it was too late for the soldier. He had fallen to the ground immediately after screaming, his muscles seizing and his face pulling into a rictus grin. His eyes darted back and forth to his fellows, who tried their best to comfort him as he struggled for breath.A priest was called and Cacame resumed marching before one could arrive. The dwarf would be gone before the rear of the army would reach this point. His body would be wrapped in a shroud and placed in a wagon with the rest of the deceased, until he could be returned to his home and properly memorialized.Soon after, another soldier was bitten by a naja. Then reports reached Cacame that five others had been struck down. Twelve snakes had struck but failed to pierce their victims armor. The order was given to watch both the ground and the trees. Dwarves were paired, one set to watch above, one below. The snake attacks ceased.Thirty minutes later, a dwarfess opened her mouth to shout a warning when an arrow down the throat silenced her. Another arrow landed a few joints away from Cacame, who dropped down into a battle crouch. Tall as he was, he made an easy target for the Somma snipers to pick out.Crossbows! Cacame ordered, pointing into the trees with his hammerhead. Almost immediately, the Somma began releasing war cries, ululations which sounded like the angry shrieks of birds and snarls of lizards. His own dwarves answered with brave cries of their own as they raised shields to ward off arrows or aimed crossbows.The flickering shadows and light of the canopy cast confusing images, even for Cacame. He watched as bolts flew skyward, only to skewer groups of leaves or swaying branches instead of the sniping elves.The elven arrows continued to rain down around him, cutting into his dwarves but always missing him. How many were there in the trees above? Dozens? Hundreds? A cacophony was being raised all about him, so he could not tell how much of the army was being hit.Follow my aim! he shouted, hoping his voice would carry over the whooping shouts of the ambushers. He pointed at an elf and said, There! Fire!A dozen bolts streamed right where he pointed, perforating the elf, who tumbled to the ground. Cacame found his next target and repeated the order with similar results. He did this thrice more, but despite the success, it was far too slow. Far more dwarves were sent to the grave than elves.When it seemed the defenders would be overwhelmed by the ambush, it suddenly ceased. The rustle of leaves, snap of twigs, and creak of branches followed the elves as they retreated from their attack. Cacame was about to order his dwarves to pursue, when he saw one figure lingering behind in the trees.When the figure let out a laugh that cut through the cries of the dying and the barked orders of commanders, Cacame knew. Amoya! he shouted. He aimed his hammer at the elv and shouted. Fire! Bolts darted through the air, directly at Amoya. The elv swayed back and forth, almost as if she were part of the trees. The bolts missed her completely.Amoya leapt backward through the trees, her mouth twisted in a smirk like a laceration. Cacames finger followed her and he ran after, giving the order to fire again and again. Bolts continued to fly through the air but miss the mark. The cackles continued to echo through the air, louder even than the twangs of the crossbow strings.Cacame grabbed a long hanging branch and leapt up, pulling himself into the trees. He hadnt climbed in the trees like this since he was a child. His feet, in thick, heavy dwarven boots, slipped and shifted. Amoya grinned at him wider and called out, Returning to your roots? she asked.Before he could leap after, a strong hand grabbed his foot and yanked. Cacame tumbled from the trees and landed flat on his back, the breath being knocked out of him. Despite having to gasp for air, Cacame sat up, clutching his warhammer. Eyes burning with fury, he pushed himself to his feet to chase after Amoya. But his nemesis was already gone.Instead, Cacame turned to find whoever had stopped his pursuit. He saw a cadre of champions, heavily armed and armored, led by Duke Okir. Who laid their hands on me? Cacame wheezed. Who stopped me?Duke Okir crossed his arms and said, You were chasing no one, my lord.It was Amoya! Cacame tried to shout, but only managed to get halfway through the name.No one saw her, my lord. They say they were shooting at nothing. He waved his hand at the ground behind him, where several dwarves lay with bolts sticking from them. The bolts were hitting our own troops.Cacame finally sucked in a breath and shouted, They couldnt see her! He shook his head and his voice dropped. They couldnt see any of the ambushers until I spotted for them.So it is, my lord, Duke Okir said. But you chasing her into the trees would be pointless. We cannot risk losing you.I would never Cacame began, before biting his tongue. He relaxed his hand, which once again ached from having squeezed his warhammer too tightly. We will stop for thirty minutes to tend to the wounded. Then we march again.Duke Okir bowed and said, As you order, my lord, then turned to his champions to give further orders. Cacame walked off without listening to them.By the time they reached Arimarali, over five hundred dwarves had been lost due to the ambushes. That was nearly a tenth of the size of the army. The soldiers were tired, hungry, and miserable. It was nearing nightfall and though the dwarves would have preferred to fight in the darkness, they were in no condition to do so.The elven tree village was ringed by a tall thicket of brambles. In some ways, this was even more impenetrable than the stone walls surrounding Gamildodók, because it could not be easily climbed with a ladder or rope. Instead, his soldiers would have to either scale the trees and attempt to navigate the treacherous branches or burn the entire wall down.They made camp roughly half a league from the city itself. As had become tradition at this point, the woodcutters went to work on the trees around the perimeter camp, felling them in order to prevent any ambushes. For the most part, the trees were left where they lay. If Cacame had been ready to settle into a siege, he may have ordered them to use the logs to set up a defensive wall. With his plans for an assault and the fatigue of his dwarves, that was out of the question.Instead, his weary soldiers merely stood guard over the logging operation for about two hours as the sky darkened as the sun vanished in the north. The thwack of axes into tree trunks filled the air with a constant drumming. Every few minutes, the loud crash of a falling tree would overpower everything.Cacame sat in his tent. Eventually, the sounds died out as the last of the trees were brought down. There would be three watches of rest, enough time for every dwarf to get a full eight hour of sleep, along with time for meals. Once the twelve hours were up, they would ready themselves for battle.Even though he was physically exhausted, Cacame once again found sleep eluded him. Even his normal semi-meditation was restless. He could not manage to get comfortable, no matter how he shifted. After an hour of such difficulty, he stood and walked out of his tent.Several dim cooking fires flickered around the camp, but the section Cacame walked through was relatively unlit. He could hear the loud snores of several of his soldiers in nearby tents. They deserved their sleep, most certainly.Cacame walked deeper toward the center of the camp, where the trees were thickest. Despite the destruction he often had wrought upon trees as well as their association with elves Cacame found he did not hate them. Some primal part of him, he supposed, was still comforted by them, though he also felt no sorrow when they were cut down or burned.Some of his soldiers had camped among them as well. He walked silently between tents and past campfires. If any noticed him, they said nothing. Finally, he reached an area where the trees were too thick to properly camp.Looking up into the blackness of the sky, he considered the battle that would rage tomorrow. His soldiers would fire flaming bolts into the bramble wall, aiming to set it ablaze. The defenders would struggle to put them out, but would fail. The walls would go up in a blaze and, eventually, a segment would be breached by his army.The breach would be flooded with attackers. The elves would make a defense, for a while, taking down as many dwarves as possible while minimizing their own casualties. But while the elves were skilled ambushers, in the heat of proper war, their prowess was limited. They still wielded wooden arms and armor that, while tempered with druidic magic, was still of less quality than dwarven steel.It would eventually turn into a one-sided slaughter. Arimarali was a village of over ten-thousand, hundreds of them refugees. Many of them would be hemmed in by the fires and perish. Others would be run down by the dwarven army. A few would manage to escape and flee into the forest, to the next settlement on Cacames march of conquest.Over half the Somma lands had been conquered by now. They were the last great elven nation. During his slumber, Ethonarena had finally fallen. The remnants of his nation of birth had been absorbed into the Somma. Far to the east, the Jörða had been destroyed by goblins. In the north, stories claimed the Belwrid had been decimated in a war with the mysterious dranomyr, then had their lands overrun by gibberlings.Soon, the Somma would enter the annals of history along with the others. Once they did... Cacame knew not. The majority of his waking life had been consumed with the destruction of all elves. Once their kingdoms had been ground into dust, perhaps he would dedicate time to hunting down every last survivor. Though it would be difficult for a king to spend so much time away from the throne.Returning to your roots? a voice asked.Cacame did not turn to face Amoya, instead continuing to stare up at the empty night sky. You asked that before. What do you mean by it?Not going to try to kill me now, I suppose? she asked. She was behind him. For a moment, he considered wheeling on her, grabbing her, throwing her down to the ground, and wringing the life from her with his bare hands. You know you wont catch me.Cacame smiled. Youre right, he said. Youre simply a figment of my imagination regardless. How can I crush the throat of a phantasm?How do you know Im not actually a ghost? she asked. Her voice was high and soft. Unlike what he had imagined it.If you are, you haunt the wrong person, he said. It wasnt I who killed you.For my people, maybe? she offered. Im haunting you in the name of all those you slaughtered in exchange for me. I am here to curse you with madness.The sky was utterly empty. Maybe, if he looked hard enough at the horizon to the south, he could discern a blot darker than the rest of the night sky. An anti-sun of sorts. There were stories told by some that a body hung in that area, a disc of fuligin that moved in opposition to the orb of the sun.If thats so, Cacame said, youve failed. I reject you as a spook of any sort. If I cant kill you, what do you matter to me? You are intangible. A nothingness. You mean nothing to me now.She laughed again. It stung his ears. For someone who means nothing, you sure did make an effort to get to me earlier. For a minute, she was silent. Dont you wonder how I returned?No, Cacame said. Its meaningless to me.All this death and destruction youve caused, the elv explained, has driven the Somma to panic. They feed more and more to Íle. He grows in power with every sacrifice they offer him. Now, even though my body is gone, he can bring me back.An ephemeral shade, Cacame said. Not much of a return. Why did he bother? Still angry over the loss of his grove?Her laughter cut him again. The grove you burned was neither his only one nor his most sacred. It was merely a tributary. Íle himself protects Patiama. Even you would be powerless against him. You cant win, Cacame. No matter how hard you try, youll never defeat Íle. Hes too powerful. The entirety of your army could be thrown against him and they would fail. Each dwarf he devoured would simply fuel his power. What will you do about that Cacame?Cacame shrugged. What do I care about the god? Hes done nothing except to disappoint me. If he is a cause of elvish death, then we are on the same side.Oh, but you see Cacame... Suddenly a rather solid hand laid itself on his shoulder. Íle did bring me back whole. He whirled and grabbed at Amoyas wrist, but she slipped deftly away, taking two quick steps back which put her out of his reach. Oh! Now youre interested? Her eyes were wide, colorless in the darkness. Its true. Im not just a ghost. Im solid and whole, brought back by Íle not to torment you, but to lead you to your death. Youll chase me into his grove. You and your armies will be devoured by him.Cacame wished he had a weapon at hand, but he did not. If he was fast enough, he could grab her... Why tell me this? he asked, lowering into a dwarven battle stance, one designed for fast lunges.Because I know youll chase me no matter what. A razor smile slashed across her face. You cant help yourself, Monípalóthi. In fact A snapping twig caught Cacames attention and he briefly turned his head to see several dwarves approaching. Your majesty, we heard voices! the dwarf at the front said.Cacame spun back, but predictably Amoya was gone once again. Cacame looked down at the ground and shook his head. It was nothing, he said softly. Merely talking to myself.But your majesty, the dwarf continued. We clearly heard multiple voices. The strange one was definitely not that of a dwarf.Cacames eyes went wide.It was a mere two hours from dawn when the final dwarves were awoken and began to prepare for battle. Cacame sat with Duke Okir and discussed the battle plan as weapon and armor were readied. The plan was a simple one; surround the city and fire flaming crossbow bolts into the bramble wall until it caught fire. Pick off any elves who attempted to extinguish it, then charge in once a breach had been secured.The supposed confirmation of Amoyas appearance was a minor concern to the duke. One elv cannot change the course of the battle, he said, his voice the even keel it always was. She was not proclaimed a great warrior, nor an inspiring leader. I dont see how she can turn the tide of the battle, even if Íle does keep bringing her back to life.Okir was correct, of course. Amoya wasnt likely to be a problem in the battle. Regardless, Cacame was on edge. When the dwarves were ready to march, he stood at their head. It was a half hour to the city walls, then another half hour was spent surrounding it. They had only a half hour before sunrise, but the flames would render the advantage of darkness moot regardless.Sharp-eyed spotters scanned the trees over the walls, but there was no sign of any defender. Cacame watched as well, keen to see Amoya and reveal her in the flesh to the others. He gave the order and spots of flame leapt into existence as dwarves lit their kindling. Soon, hundreds of crossbow bolts with flaming heads were at the ready.Fire, he ordered. A signal horn erupted from the dwarven lines, followed nearly immediately by the harmonious twang of crossbows firing. Streaks of fire arched from the lines and crashed into the bramble walls. There was hesitation as they waited for defenders to arrive and douse the flames. But still none showed themselves.The archers had finished reloading, so Cacame gave the order for the next volley. Once again, they were nearly simultaneous. They crashed into the brambles. Already a few patches had caught. The next volley brought even more. But still no defenders appeared in the tree branches overhanging the walls.Cacame did not order another volley. Instead he sat and waited as the fires spread, quickly illuminating the forest in flickering orange and red. Acrid smoke rose into the air. Reports came from around the city that the bramble wall was nearly completely engulfed.A dwarf to his left muttered to a compatriot, If theyd build real walls, wed never take them as fast. Thank Vucar for elven stupidity. The two shared a chuckle.Finally, Cacame gave the order to enter the city itself. Teams of dwarves wrapped in heavy cloth and leather strode forward. The archers provided them cover, though the defenders continued to be absent. When they reached the walls, they hacked at them with axes, easily knocking huge holes in the charred plants. Within minutes, they had breached the village. Cacames armies swarmed inside, their king among them.Still, the defense did not manifest. Amidst the swirling smoke and flickering flames, the village was empty. Cacame smashed his way into a building which had been grown on the ground. Inside were plates of half-eaten food. Belongings were strewn about, though very little of value remained. Threadbare clothes, worn tools, and things too heavy to carry were all that was left.He emerged from the building to find Duke Okir waiting for him. It seems theyve abandoned the place, my lord, he said.Cacame shook his head. Impossible, he said, having to shout to be heard over the thundering of boots as the dwarves continued to pour in through the breaches. The Somma have never abandoned a fight like this! And Amoya said I was being drawn into a fight!The dukes eyes went wide with sudden understanding. King Cacame, you should leave the city immediately. This is a trap meant for you Almost immediately, the sound of a shrill pipe cut through the air. Cacame, the duke, and hundreds of other dwarves looked up into the trees. Amoya sat on a branch, playing a long flute. The notes carried even above the crackling of the fire. For a few moments, no one was sure what to do.Then a dwarf shouted out in surprised pain. Others followed shortly after. Hundreds of swaying najas had emerged from the shin-high grass and were striking at the legs of the soldiers. Amazingly, they all seemed to bite at the vulnerable joints in the armor. Weapons quickly flashed down and boots stomped upon the heads and backs of the snakes, but they darted back and forth, avoiding many of the attacks.Cacames arm whipped up and he shouted, Shoot her! Shoot her now! Most of the archers had remained outside the walls, as the weapons were extremely poor for close-quarters fighting. A few, however, had ventured inside and took aim, loosing bolts at Amoya. Most flew awry in the choking smoke, but one struck her in the shoulder, interrupting her playing. Her arms flailed and barely grabbed hold of a branch, keeping her seated in the tree.Again! Cacame ordered as he looked around for an ingress into the trees limbs. More bolts fired, but Amoya returned to her playing, this time a slower, lower melody. Just as Cacame spotted a pathway up into the branches, the ground began to rumble. He spared only a look as several finscales burst from the ground, throwing massed soldiers who couldnt avoid it into each other.Combined with the swaying naja, the troops were being thrown into a rout. Cacame sprinted for the path up to the treetop to confront Amoya, but a finscale burst from the ground in front of him before he reached her. He swung his hammer in a wide arc, catching the beast in the side of the head. The creature let out a shriek of pain, lashing its muscular tail at him. He leapt over it and rolled forward, toward the tree.Moments before grabbing onto the lowest hanging limb, a sharp pain coursed through Cacames leg. He swung his hammer down without thinking, smashing the head of the swaying naja which had just bit him. For a moment, he actually thought his leg had caught fire as well, so great was the pain.He glanced up into the tree just in time to see another bolt strike Amoya in the chest. This time, she was sent tumbling out of its branches, only a few spans away from Cacame. His eyes went wide and for a moment, all the pain was forgotten. She lay on the ground in a heap, unmoving, half the flute clutched in her hand.He raised his warhammer and took a step toward her, but the pain in his leg suddenly returned and it gave out from under him. He fell to the ground, cursing. The venom of a swaying naja was less toxic to elves than dwarves, but it still left his leg nearly useless. He gritted his teeth and planted the butt of his warhammer into the ground and used it to prop himself back up.Amoyas body was only a few steps away and he took an agonizingly slow and difficult one toward her. Then a finscale, perhaps the one that had attacked him just moments before, slammed into him with its death throes. He was sent tumbling to the ground once again, the heavy body of the wyrm landing on top of him and crushing the wind from his lungs.He tried to throw the creature off him, but the venom was spreading to the rest of his body, paralyzing his muscles and making him unable to remove it. Amoya was only a few spans away! He wondered if this was it. Would he died ignobly beneath the body of an already dead finscale? Was he to be deprived of his vengeance against Amoya yet again? He imagined the poetry being written about this moment, the two of them dying only a few spans apart.The fire in his chest seemed to overcome that of the venom. With a mighty heave, he shoved the body of the finscale off. He sat up and looked around, spotting his warhammer within reach. He grabbed it and rolled over, then pushed himself back to his feet. His knees quivered, but kept him upright Amoyas body was gone. He spun, wondering if he had perhaps lost track of it when he was knocked over. But no, there was still no sign of her. He let out a scream and spun to find something to kill. A group of speardwarves had cornered a finscale only a few strides away and were tentatively thrusting at it. Cacame charged it, shoving them out of the way. The wyrm did not have time to react before Cacames warhammer crashed into its skull, splitting it open. It thrashed about, but Cacame was pulled to safety by one of the soldiers.Then a wave of dizziness overtook him and he collapsed to the ground. The dwarves let out cries of concern and he rolled onto his back, staring up at the canopy. The flames had spread to the city itself. The trees were burning. The crackling of flames mixed with the wails of the dying and clashes with the few remaining finscales.Fiery ash fell like rain from the dawn sky.The priest of Vucar prayed over his body, murmuring words to the god that Cacame could not understand. His flesh felt as if the fires had reached him. He could not be sure they had not.Someone tried to pour water into his mouth. He tried to swallow it. He was so deliriously thirsty. His throat would not open.A ball of light and a ball of darkness hung at opposites in his vision. They whispered sweet promises to him if only hed take up their cause. Theyd heal him of the venom, help him find Amoya, and strike her down permanently.Several times he laughed, though it was choked and no sound came out.The priest stood over him, praying some more, lips moving in a familiar pattern. He morphed into a hooded giant holding a huge, ornate pick. Its face was a flame. The demon grasped at Cacame. The king placed his hands on the demons arm and fought weakly against it.Duke Okir appeared over him and grasped his arms and pulled them away from the demon, who reached into Cacames chest and wrapped its claws around his heart. Cacame let out a gasp of air. The world flashed blinding white and then went utterly dark.Cacame opened his eyes, his breath heavy. He was wrapped in blankets and sweating. He was in something moving, though it was completely dark. He sat up and a voice said, King Cacame!Light, Cacame said, his voice dry and raspy. Someone thrust a mug into his hands and he drank it, expecting water. Instead it was a bitter concoction and he nearly choked on it. After a moment, the revulsion passed and sudden he felt quenched.A lantern was lit, revealing a pair of squinting dwarves. One dwarfess in doctors attire, the other the priest of Vucar. They were in a wagon, Cacame realized, one that was moving judging by the gentle bumping. Cacame was naked beneath the thick blankets, but still he was sweltering.Water, he said with a more familiar tenor. The doctor quickly handed him a second mug, which he took a tentative sip of. It proved to be water, so he slowly drank it. It was lukewarm and did little to cool him.Its well to see you awake, my king, the priest said, not meeting his kings eyes. Vucar be praised! I knew you would survive thanks to his boons.The doctor feigned no such optimism. It was very close, your majesty, she said, her voice serious and lacking the bombastry of the priest. The swaying najas venom is horrible. There were several moments when you paused breathing and your heart grew weak.Where are we? he asked.On the return march to Gamildodók, the doctor answered.Is Duke Okir with us? Cacame wondered, drawing an affirmative from both doctor and priest. Retrieve him. Neither moved until Cacame leveled a glare at the priest. The robe-swaddled dwarf leapt to his feet and dashed from the wagon.The doctor produced more water for Cacame, who slowly drank it. He could tell his stomach was empty, even though he felt no pangs of hunger. In the pale lantern light, his flesh seemed ruddy and flushed. He couldnt tell if it was a trick of the light or not.Three strokes, your majesty, the doctor told him. Frankly considering Ive never seen anyone live more than a few hours after being bitten by a swaying naja, much less survive it altogether I consider your survival something of a miracle. Perhaps Vucar has blessed you.Cacame thought that unlikely, but said nothing of the matter. Duke Okir climbed into the wagon soon after and knelt at the bedside of his king. King Cacame, I am overjoyed to see you have recovered. There was no hint of emotion in Okirs stern voice. Cacame turned his gaze to the doctor, who quickly fled the wagon.Why are we returning to Gamildodók? Cacame asked.The dukes eyebrows shot up. You seemed to be on your deathbed, your majesty, the Duke said. I thought it prudent to Order the army to march to Patiama, Cacame said.Okir lowered his head and wound up staring at where Cacames knees were. His wide eyes nearly bulged from his head. King Cacame, I do not think that is a wise decision. The army was decimated in the ambush at Arimarili. More importantly, you are in no condition to Look at me, Okir, Cacame said. The duke stiffened and hesitated a moment, then quickly swung his eyes up to Cacames. The color quickly drained from the Dukes face. You are not to lecture me on matters of my own health. Is the army too weak to handle an assault on Patiama?It could be done, my king, the duke said, his cheeks quivering. The losses would be immense. Our numbers have been halved since we initially set out a spread ago. Attacking Patiama? I suspect we would cut our numbers in half again. My suggestion is we continue returning to Gamildodók, allow the army to recuperate, recruit and train new soldiers, and set out in a half-sweep. We could take the city with minimal losses.I did not ask for your suggestion. The army will win the battle if we attack.Yes, my king, the duke said.For a moment, Cacame sat silent. Then he said, Did you find the body?The body, my king?Amoyas, Cacame said, his voice quiet.Okir shook his head. No, my king. We did not. Witnesses saw her fall from the trees. An archer named Pimmi claimed to have made the killing shot. Several others confirmed her account. But the body was not to be found. We suspect a finscale grabbed it in the confusion.No, Cacame said. She was not dead. Or at least did not stay so. Give the order to march on Patiama. Take the quickest route over open land we can.For several seconds, Duke Okir merely stared at Cacame. Then he bowed his head and said, It shall be so, my king.Patiama was not a noted Somma city. It was on few maps, no major trade routes passed through it, the Somma king did not reside there. It was on a lake, yet the lake was small and no major rivers fed to it; certainly none large enough to support boats. Yet, when the Odkish army arrived, they found it swarming with defenders. The briar wall was high and reinforced with dense, green vines. The dwarves set up camp a league away.It had taken nearly a pass to reach, during which Cacame spent much of his time resting in a wagon. He was still somewhat weak from the snakes venom, though well enough that he could have marched if he wished it. Still, he knew that pushing himself would be pointless. Doing that would only weaken him further, leaving him a liability during the coming battle.He may yet still be one, he mused. But he was as strong as he possibly could be without delaying for passes or strokes longer. Any wait would be devastating.Duke Okir had fought him on this, after allowing several strokes for his king to think over their strategy. What risks do we take by waiting? The Somma are broken; their lands cannot possibly provide them enough resources to mount a counter attack. In half a sweeps time, we can return and crush them with a full army.Cacame did not have an answer. Not one that would make sense to the duke. They must be destroyed now, he said, simply. We court doom by letting Patiama stand.Your highness, we court doom by attacking, the duke said, red-faced. He had not been alive before Cacames fugue. Since his waking, the duke had been one of the few counselors Cacame had listened to. Often deferred to. Now he was being outright dismissed. The Pake dextral, the Kam discward... Even the Belwrid orbward. Any of them might attack us after we weaken ourselves with this assault. Would we be able to stand against them?Cacame bristled at the usage of the new terms for map directions. It took him a brief moment to process them to east, south, and north. The Pake are barbarians, clinging to the barren cliffs that dwarves dont dare touch. The Kam are even worse, nothing more than a violent horde. A squad of our champions could hold them back. And the Belwrid? There havent been any sightings of dranomyr this far south, ever.But what if youre wrong? Okir dared to say.Then we deal with the consequences, the king answered sternly. There is a chance I might be wrong about another kingdom attacking us. I am right about the need to attack Patiama now, however. If we do not strike them now, we shall never destroy the elves. The risk must be taken.Looking into his eyes, Cacame could tell the duke was unconvinced. But Cacame could see the reflection of his own eyes in the dukes and they were filled with the old fire that brooked no dissent. The duke nodded his head and said, Very well. We will attack. Let what consequences come as they may. We will destroy them here and secure our victory over them.The two said very little to each other the rest of the journey. Cacame allowed the duke to organize the strategy for the assault. As with other battles, the dwarven approach was to be quite simple. Surround the city, burn down the walls, wait for a gap and press the assault. The number of defenders would mean more casualties.There was some talk of tunneling beneath the city. A good team of miners could penetrate the city in a week. A preparatory hole was dug, but once they penetrated a few spans down, the hole began to flood with water. The ground was too marshy to dig into. Besides, it seemed likely the elves were employing finscales which would detect the digging and attack the miners.As the sun set, the dwarves began to march toward the citys walls.Okirs worries, if anything, had been too generous. The elven defenders protected the city with a fervor they had never before shown. After three strokes, the walls had yet to be breached and nearly five-hundred dwarves had been slain by elven archers. Cacame wished for siege engines, but catapults and ballistae were ill-suited to forests.Eventually, an all-out assault was ordered. Duke Okir grimly concurred it was the sole way to proceed. The dwarves donned their sturdiest armor, hefted their heaviest shields, and bore their sharpest axes and advanced on the wall. Arrows rained down upon them, finding a weak point often enough that the lines were no longer orderly by the time the dwarves reached the walls.Of course, Cacame was among them, though he was protected on all sides by the finest Odkish champions. Numerous elven defenders took shots at him, but none hit. An axe wasnt his familiar weapon, but he took a small one and hacked at the wall furiously.The defenders continued their bombardment as his dwarves chopped their way through the walls. Arrows were the least worry now; stones heavy enough to crush even a dwarven skull were being dropped, boiling water was dumped upon them. The stones were the more dangerous; every dwarf had experienced a forge-burn from time to time.A nearby cheer alerted Cacame to a successful breach. He turned and ran to join his soldiers in expanding the hole. Within a few minutes, it was wide enough for a dozen dwarves to rush in shoulder-to-shoulder. Cacame dropped the axe and unslung his warhammer, doing his utmost to keep from shoving past the dwarves in his bloodlust.Once he finally entered the city itself, he found the entire place in chaos. Evidently this breach had not been the first, as dwarves were swarming from all directions. The elves, however, continued to mount a defense. Numerous archers remained in the trees, firing down at the dwarves below, though more had descended to join the battle on the ground.Cacame moved to the fore of the fighting. A pair of elves approached him, the enchanted wood of their swords nearly as dangerous as dwarven steel. They thrust and cut at him, but he avoided with sharp, small dodges. One made too daring a stab and Cacame swung his war hammer in a short, compact arc and crushed the elfs head. The other slashed at his chest, only for the weapon to be turned away by Cacames mithril armor. A swift strike caved in the elfs breast plate, while a second sent him sprawling to the ground.Cacame fought deeper into the city, knowing Amoya was inside somewhere. A small cadre of nine champions moved with him and they engaged even more elves. In close-quarters combat such as this, the dwarves were by far the superior combatants. Five score of elves were slain for only a single champions death. Cacame was lathered in sweat and breathed heavily, but his eyes were wide with fire.As they neared the center of the city, they found a group of a dozen elves blocking their path. Crush them! Cacame ordered, leading the charge. The elves remained steady and even strode forward to meet the assault.Cacame used the momentum of his charge to lay a devastating blow on the first elf he reached. Except instead of collapsing to the ground, the elf remained standing and merely staggered to the side. Cacame braced his feet and swung a second time, but the elf, barely showing the effect of the surely-shattered ribcage, dodge back.The swing of the cudgel caught Cacame completely by surprise. So too was he shocked as it sent him reeling backward. He looked down at his chest in mild shock; the elf had managed to dent his mithril armor. There was a dwarven howl of pain; his champions were learning the same lesson he just had.His opponent advanced on him, raising the heavy club above his head. Before he could, one of the champions removed the elfs head from his shoulders. Cacame wheeled around and swung his hammer over the head of the dwarf who had just killed his attacker. The hammer connected solidly with an elfs head, crushing it with a spray of blood.Cacame started to step away toward the next foe, but something grabbed him. He looked down to see a constricting serpent wrapping itself around his leg. It had emerged from the shattered breastplate of the beheaded elf.Before he could smash the snake with his hammer, it wrenched suddenly, yanking him off balance. Though he did not fall, the moment spent recovering gave one of the still-standing elves the opening to attack him with a spear. Much of its momentum was absorbed by his armor, but it still lightly pierced his side.Cacame swung his war hammer with all his strength, shattering the elfs arms. A sharp pain shot through his leg and he fell to one knee. The snake had bitten him. He grabbed it around the neck and yanked, pulling the fangs from his flesh. The snake hissed at him, but he tossed it several spans away, where one of his dwarves chopped its head off.Cacame whirled to look for more foes, but found none. He looked down where the corpses of the elves should have been. Instead, he saw empty clothes and the bodies of snakes. Four of his champions lay on the ground with them. Three were clearly dead, the fourth bleeding profusely from wounds.My king, one of the remaining champions said, you are injured!Blood flowed freely from the puncture wounds on his leg, while the broken haft of the spear still stuck from his ribs. With a grimace, Cacame pulled the spear free. The wound was shallow, but it still stung. More concerning was the bite on his leg.The snake had not appeared to be a swaying naja, nor any other venomous serpent Cacame recognized. He stooped down and grabbed a cloak left by one of the elves. With one of the champions swords, he cut a large strip from the garment, then wound it around his leg in a poor, makeshift bandage.It quickly soaked red, but Cacame pushed forward. He spared one glance back at the snake bodies. A wave of disgust swam through him, followed by sudden insight like a flash. That had been Íles doing. The demon transformed them into beasts, giving them strength in life and twisting their spirits into those snakes in death.Demon, Cacame wondered. From where had come that thought?But another group of elves stood in his way. He pushed the thought away.The fighting had been raging inside the city for well over three hours now. Amoya had yet to be spotted. Cacame and his soldiers fought through several more groups of the ensocrelled elves. Each time, they transformed into vicious, muscular snakes upon death. Cacames group was reduced to three dwarves, each of them bearing injuries.Cacame himself was fatigued, the wound on his leg still trickling blood. Despite that, he felt flushed and hot. Almost feverish, though he knew it was not from any poison the snakes might possess. It was a vigorous insomnia that kept him from rest. He wanted to lay down and sleep, but he wanted to press on and find his foe even more.Eventually, they found no further resistance from the elves. The sounds of battle were distant and sporadic. His bloodied forces began rallying at his location. No reports of Amoyas presence were given. Cacame was ready to sound the withdrawal from the city, to a safe distance to watch it burn.Then a runner arrived bearing news. The elves had not yet been routed, but were gathering at the lake, defending an old copse of trees. From within the trees came the eerie whistle of a flute.The remnants of his army were ordered toward the grove. There, Cacame found Duke Okir, sporting a heavy gash across his forehead. The dukes beard and hair were stained red, his face was ashen. Yet when he saw Cacame, his eyes went wide. My king, Okir cried out, you are wounded!Cacame waved his hand at Okir and said, I am fine. Where are the hold outs? But the fear in Okirs eyes was like nothing Cacame had ever witnessed from his marshal before. He dropped his voice. I cannot rest now. You know who leads the defenders of this grove.Okir nodded, unblinking. Yes, my king. These are the last elves in the city, we believe. This grove is especially thick with trees. We have tried to burn it, but they are too green and wet. They do not catch.Casualties?Of our initial assault force of four thousand, we are down to a force of just over twelve hundred.How many are in the grove?A few hundred, at most.This was it, then. I shall lead the first assault. Cacame could tell the duke wished to protest, but he did not. The king strode toward the front of the gathered soldiers, watching the line of trees warily. No elves appeared to be lurking there, waiting to pick him off with a bow.Our foe cowers in their grove, Cacame said, loudly enough that the soldiers nearest could hear him. A murmur passed through the remnants of the army, carrying the message to the rest. Follow me in there to kill them.There was no cheer. The dwarves were too exhausted and had seen too much death for there to be good humor. Some raised their weapons, others banged their shields, many of them murmured prayers to Vucar. The majority simply stood silently.Cacame turned. He raised his hammer above his head. He wanted to give the order to charge. Instead a soft hum escaped from his lips. Then it grew quickly into a roar. He was running into the forest, hammer held over his head, cheeks hot and wet.The dwarves finally let out their own ragged cry and the thudding of boots caused the ground itself to rumble as they charged into the grove. Yet over it all came the piercing wail of the flute. It carried no melody that Cacame could decipher, yet it seemed to stab into his very being. It was the antithesis of music.To his surprise they found no defenders within the grove for the first hundred strides. Then two hundred, then three. Yet the music was still strong. His dwarves still charged confidently behind him.Finally, they burst into a small clearing. The charge came to a halt almost immediately.A gallows had been grown above an inlet of the lake. The bodies of countless elves hung from it, their throats slit. Dozens still stood on the platform, awaiting their fate. At the center was Amoya, playing her discordant flute.Cacame could only watch as an elv finished tying ropes around her ankles. She walked to the edge of the gallows, slit her wrists then her throat, and toppled forward. The rope snapped taut and her body jerked from side to side, slamming into the corpses of others who had sacrificed themselves. Her blood drained into the water, which had turned a murky red.The body spun, its face briefly visible to Cacame. Long, black hair. Eyes of the deepest green. Thin lips; a small, slightly upturned nose.Amoya! Cacame roared. The elves on the platform turned to state blankly at him. Their eyes were tired. Amoyas playing briefly ceased. Her eyes were wide and wild as she stared down at Cacame. Another young elf, this one barely older than a child, slit his own throat and pitched forward. The note of the rope pulling tight rekindled the flute at Amoyas lips.Cacame surged forward, aiming to rush up the stairs and slaughter Amoya where she stood. He would crush her body again and again until Íles power had been exhausted.Before he could reach the first stair, the waters of the inlet began to churn. The bloody waters splashed out of the inlet onto the land, soaking the ground in crimson. The flute ceased its wail.He rises, Amoyas voice cut through the air.From the water rose the head of a serpent that was larger even than Cacame himself. It was larger than any dragon Cacame had ever seen, its jaws seemed enough to swallow Cacame whole and have space left over. A row of four eyes lined each side of its massive head, looking in many different directions at once. Its body was at least twenty strides long; lithe and sinewy, seemingly too thin to hold up its massive head.The serpent turned to the massed dwarven army and opened its maw, revealing rows of jagged teeth and, more disturbingly, another, smaller mouth on a fleshy bulb where its tongue should have been. The roar it let out shook Cacames whole body.It lunged for the army. Some of the dwarves stood resolute against it. Most turned and fled at the horrific beast. Those who remained raised their weapons. Crossbow bolts flew, but bounced harmlessly off its scales. Sword, spear, and axe were likewise impotent against it, many simply failing to penetrate. Those which did produced only scratches.The beast snapped up several dwarves in its jaws and crushed others beneath its coils. But those who fled had not been spared. Between the trees, Cacame could see similar serpentine beasts, smaller but no less fearsome looking, attacking the routed dwarves.Cacame glanced up at Amoya, whose face was twisted in a wretched grin, arms spread wide as if to embrace the carnage. He turned away and raised his hammer over his head. Rally! he shouted as loud as he could. Rally and defend yourselves! Stand tall!The dwarves furthest from him could not hear, but those closest picked up his cry. The blast of a horn split the air. Cacame did not waste time seeing if his rally cry was successful past those nearest. Instead, he turned to the great monster which had risen from the lake and was even now crushing several dwarves in its coils.Íle! Cacame screamed, for it could be nothing else but the god which was wreaking havoc upon the dwarven lines. It actually turned to him.Cacame swung his warhammer at the beast, but its coils twisted away with frightening agility and his hammer landed in the marshy ground with a wet squelch. He wrenched it free, then dove to the side just as Íles jaws snapped where he had been.The god and the king stood immobile for a moment, facing each other. Four of its eyes were focused squarely on Cacame. Suddenly, its tail flicked out, smashing into the small squad of dwarves who were attempting to flank it. Those few who werent sent flying were quickly wrapped up in its coils.The great maw opened and the smaller mouth inside pressed gently forward. This mouth was far more humanoid. It twisted into a grin filled with small, razor-sharp teeth.Elf king, it said, its voice like the screech of wind through a narrow cavern. You served me once. Bow your head and serve me again and I shall spare you.Cacame launched himself at Íle, swinging his hammer in a wide arc. The head jerked back, the hammer narrowly missing. Cacame fell into a battle crouch, then sprung up, swinging again. The god twisted away again, then lunged forward as Cacame rolled into the backswing. Cacame narrowly got to his feet as the creatures body slammed down right where he had been.His heart was racing and his head felt light. There was warmth on his calf. The wound had reopened and was bleeding profusely again. Cacame turned and ran toward the gallows, which were now empty of any living elves. He could feel Íle right on his heels as he ascended the stairs two at a time. He wished he could remove his armor. The weight was too much and it was useless against the huge god.As he reached the top of the stairs, he dove to the side and rolled. His gamble worked, Íle snapped its jaws right where Cacame had been standing a moment before. Its crushed through the wood of the gallows effortlessly.Cacame turned and leapt forward, swinging his hammer down at the gods head. The creature pulled back and Cacame missed. He landed at the very edge of the ruined platform and very nearly toppled forward. The god struck again, but Cacame fell forward at the very last moment, pitching off the side of the gallows. He flailed for something to grab, but his fingertips only brushed the very edges of the gods scales.The water met him like a blow, forcing all the air from his lungs. His armor quickly weighed him down, causing him to sink rapidly. The water was murky with the blood of the sacrificed elves and mud churned by Íle rising. Cacame could see nothing, but he continued to sink for several seconds. His lungs burned for air.He wanted to gasp, to suck in something, even if it was the water. Some insane part of his mind told him that would at least quench the burning ache. For a moment, he strove to swim, waving his arms through the water like lead. He ceased sinking and briefly believed his efforts were working, until the pressure on his legs registered and he realized he was standing upon the bottom of the lake.If he did not remove his armor, he knew he would drown in only a few moments. He groped for the buckles around his waist and shoulders. He found one and struggled to pull it free. It caught halfway undone and he could not manage to loosen it further, so after a few seconds he moved onto the next strap. This one came loose easier. With two undone, he yanked and pulled at the armor and it slid up across his chest and finally over his shoulders and he threw it off.The pain in his chest seemed about ready to burst. He knew he could not spend time removing his greaves. His fingers brushed against the familiar haft of his war hammer, which had sunk beside him. The weapon would weigh him as well, though without it he stood no chance against the demon waiting for him above. He wrapped his fingers around it and kicked off the bottom as hard as he could.He was surprised to find his head cresting the waters surface after only a single kick of his legs. The inlet had been shallower than he had guessed from the duration of his sinking. He gasped and opened his eyes into the harsh sun above. He could momentarily see nothing but its blinding light. He sucked in air, the burning in his lungs refusing to depart. He wanted to cry out, to scream in anguish.But then his head began to clear and the light seemed to dim. He lowered his head and looked back to the shore, where Íle was wreaking havoc among the remnants of the Odkish army. There seemed to be about a hundred dwarves left, standing in a ragged line, a mish-mash of weaponry pointed weakly out at the demonic serpent.Íle lashed out at them and the dwarves dove and leapt away, keeping the beasts attention but doing little to injure it. Cacame swam a few strides to the edge of the shore and weakly laid his hammer upon it. The shore was not a gradual climb, but rather a sudden, steep shelf. Cacame wondered if this meant the inlet was not natural. His fingertips brushed against the stone and found it rough and scarred. Poor stonework, if it had been artificial.Cacame smiled at his own thoughts, though not at their absurdity. With a heave, he pulled himself from the water. Íle had not turned back to look upon him. Whether the creature was too distracted by the dwarves or simply no longer feared the king, Cacame was unsure. He lifted his hammer.His first few steps were weak and shaky. The next few came with purpose, but were slow. Then he started to run. As he neared, he raised the hammer over his shoulder and let out a cry. Íle turned its ponderous head at the last moment, just as Cacames war hammer crashed into its skull.The beast thrashed, knocking Cacame back to the ground. The coils of its huge body wrapped around him. He was pinned in place.He struggled to move his arms or legs, but he could not. Íle was too strong. It had Cacame at its mercy. The elf king felt his eyes flickering, hard to keep open. He had tried so hard to win this victory.The beast let out a roar, bringing its massive maw close to Cacame. Were the dwarves feebly attacking it? Cacame was too tired to look. The jaws opened, revealing the smaller mouth inside it. That mouth began to speak, but Cacame could not hear it. There was simply the sound of howling wind in his ears.This was the end, then. His epithet was put to lie. Amoya walked alive, while Cacame died. His army routed. Would Dobar Odkish come to ruin? Surely Duke Okir would lead it well, should he survive the battle. The Somma wouldnt be able to muster a counter offensive for decades, at least. There was time for them to rebuild.Even if this god Cacame had once worshiped stood against them, his kingdom would survive. This beast would have but a small satisfaction. Eventually, someone would kill this vile creature. The false god would fall. Though it would kill him. Cacame would die at its hands.This demon? This insignificant thing? That was to be what killed Cacame Awemedinade, called Monípalóthi by foe and friend alike? He had slain dragons before. Hed fought a demon to a draw in the underworld, but this degenerate thing which lived on the scraps of faith and sacrifice of the even more depraved elves would become known as the thing that ended King Cacame?His grip, which had been going slack on his war hammer, tightened. His eyes opened and focused on the monster before him.A blinding light lanced from the sky, striking the beast in the head. Its coils slackened as it let out a roar which reverberated through Cacames skull. The king was falling again, but this time only a few spans, and he landed on his knees in the marshy ground. He shook his head and raised it, his vision still blurry.Íle violently shook its head back and forth, though there appeared to be no physical damage done to it. Cacame raised his war hammer over his shoulder once more. This time, he did not cry out. He could not muster the energy. He swung the hammer.Its head crackled with tendrils of darkness that seemed more complete than that of the deepest caverns. The hammer slammed into Íles skull. This time, the beasts head was crushed in a splatter of black gore and blood.The beast began thrashing violently in its death throes. Cacame fell backward, barely bracing himself with his arms. The things body flailed around, coils slamming into trees and cracking their trunks. The gallows were smashed into splinters, the few hanging corpses left sent splashing into a watery grave below.Finally, Íle fell immobile. For a few brief seconds, there was silence. Then ragged, frantic cheers erupted. Cacame let his head fall wearily. He looked over at his war hammer, its head covered in black ichor. A brief feeling of accomplishment surged through him, like that of a child being praised by his parents.Cacames face twisted in disgust and he threw the hammer aside. He looked up at the sky, at the burning orb. Then he collapsed back and closed his eyes.Moments after Íle had died, its body began to writhe. The skin split and from within burst hordes of gibberlings. They fell upon the body and those of the deceased and began to gorge themselves. Nearly a hundred had emerged, but the survivors of the Battle of Patiama made short work of them. A few dwarves were injured by the creatures, but none fatally. The creatures seemed confused and starving, more concerned with eating than protecting themselves.Duke Okir had survived the battle, though he had been maimed in the fighting. When Íle first arose from the lake, Okir tried to stand his ground, but turned and fled after only a few moments of bravery. Then Cacames rallying cry came and the horn sounded and his heart returned. He slew three of the lesser serpents himself and aided in the killing of four others before the eighth got hold of him and bit off his right leg beneath the knee. As it went to take the left, the duke jammed his sword into the eye of the beast, killing it.From his position on the ground, the duke shouted orders until he fainted from the blood loss. Once his calls ceased, three separate dwarves rushed to him. They tourniquetted his injury and bandaged it and he only lost a little bit more to gangrene.King Cacames body had been discovered and hurried away from the battlefield. The priests of Vucar could detect no life in him and so read his last rites. Halfway through he opened his eyes and ordered them away. The priests declared it a miracle of Vucar, proof that their god was superior to the fallen one of the elves.Cacame refused to again touch the war hammer that had slain Íle. Witnesses described the sudden flash of light and explosion of darkness that had helped finish the demon. It was less than a pass before this story twisted; first it was Vucars aid, next the god himself appeared to lift Cacame and guide his strike. When the king would not take it, the priests claimed it as a holy relic.Those who had truly seen it knew that Vucar had not appeared. They began to whisper, if one god could die, what of the others? | positive |
jewellery quarter | OUT IN BRUM OUT IN BRUM Find out where to eat, drink, party, and be entertained in Birmingham UK… Skip to content About Blog With the Kids What’s where? What’s where? An Overview The Jewellery Quarter The Bullring / Spiceal Street Eastside Gay Village / Hurst St Great Western Arcade The Mailbox My Favourites Review A to Z Contact Us Reciprocity Promise Tag Archives: jewellery quarter Lasan Restaurant Posted on November 11, 2016 by outinbrum A few weeks back, to celebrate my parents’ ruby wedding anniversary (that’s 40 years!) we took them to Lasan restaurant. Run by Birmingham restaurateur Aktar Islam and his business partner Jabba Khan, the eatery has picked up many awards over … Continue reading → Posted in Area: Jewellery Quarter, Birmingham Restaurant, birmingham restaurant review, birmingham review, Cuisine: Indian, Price: Get your dad to pay - above average, Price: My eyes are watering - expensive, Venue type: Restaurant | Tagged Birmingham Indian, Birmingham Restaurant, jewellery quarter, out in brum, restaurant review, where to eat in birmingham, where to eat in brum, Where To Go In Birmingham, where to go in brum | Leave a comment Stirlings Bar for Sunday Lunch Posted on December 14, 2012 by outinbrum Eighteen months ago we struggled to find a single place in Birmingham where we could get Sunday Lunch. There was basically the Mal Maison and The Hyatt, and that was about it. Now, everyone is in on the game including Stirlings … Continue reading → Posted in Area: Jewellery Quarter, Cuisine: English, Cuisine: Modern Mixed, Price: Average, Venue type: Bar, Venue type: Cafe, Venue type: Cocktail Bar, Venue type: Entertainment, Venue type: Pub, Venue type: Restaurant, Venue type: Wine Bar | Tagged birmingham review, jewellery quarter, restaurant review, sunday lunch birmingham | Leave a comment Search for: Email Address: Follow OIB on Wordpress Follow OutInBrum on Twitter My Tweets Recent Posts Birmingham Pride 2021 In A Box 3 – “Chernobyl – Hidden Depths” Tropea Heat-at-Home Restaurant Meal Kits 670 Grams – Lockdown Heat at Home Archives October 2021 February 2021 January 2021 November 2020 October 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 January 2019 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 Categories Area: Arcadian Area: Bearwood Area: Boldmere Area: Brindley Place Area: Broad Street Area: Central Shopping Area: China Town Area: City Centre Area: Colmore Business District Area: Digbeth Area: East Side Area: Edgbaston Area: Erdington Area: Grand Central Area: Great Western Arcade Area: Hagley Road Area: Harborne Area: Hurst Street / The Gay Village / South Side Area: Jewellery Quarter Area: Kings Heath Area: Moseley Area: Out of Birmingham Area: Selly Oak Area: Summer Row Area: Sutton Coldfield Area: The Bullring Area: The Cube Area: The Mailbox Areas in Birmingham Article Birmingham Restaurant birmingham restaurant review birmingham review Cuisine: Argentinian Cuisine: Brazilian Cuisine: Caribbean Cuisine: Chinese Cuisine: English Cuisine: Fine Dining Cuisine: Fish Cuisine: French Cuisine: Indian Cuisine: Italian Cuisine: Japanese Cuisine: Korean Cuisine: Middle Eastern Cuisine: Modern Mixed Cuisine: Pizza Cuisine: Polish Cuisine: South East Asian Cuisine: Spanish Cuisine: Steakhouse Cuisine: Street Food Cuisine: Tapas Cuisine: Thai Cuisine: US Southern Soul Food Cuisine: Vietnamese My Favourite Places Price: Average Price: Cheap as Chips – Inexpensive Price: Get your dad to pay – above average Price: My eyes are watering – expensive restaurant review Special Event Uncategorized Venue type: Bar Venue type: Cafe Venue type: Cocktail Bar Venue type: Entertainment Venue type: Gourmet Shop Venue type: Home Supper Club Venue type: Pub Venue type: Restaurant Venue type: Theatre Venue type: Wine Bar Meta Register Log in Entries feed Comments feed WordPress.com OUT IN BRUM Blog at WordPress.com. Follow Following OUT IN BRUM Join 96 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. OUT IN BRUM Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email (Required) Name (Required) Website | negative |
Rupert Murdoch's company is taking steps to manage the fallout from the phone-hacking affair, but could it be too late?
For an organisation that prides itself on an omnipotent sense of its readers and viewers' hopes and fears, News Corporation's response to the phone-hacking crisis has been remarkable for being so behind the tide.
Rebekah Brooks's resignation should have been accepted when she first apparently offered it, a week ago, instead of making the theatrical and ultimately futile gesture of sacrificing the News of the World.
James and Rupert Murdoch should have accepted the invitation to appear before MPs of the culture, media and sport select committee when it was first issued, instead of waiting to be threatened with a spell in the Tower of London after a dressing down by Speaker John Bercow at the bar of the House of Commons (the torture!).
Even now, with Saturday's apologia in the UK press, it is focused on its problems in Britain when bigger storm clouds are gathering in the US.
Les Hinton, the chief executive of Murdoch-owned Dow Jones, which houses the Wall Street Journal, who was executive chairman of News International when the News of the World was hacking the phones of anyone who found themselves within sniffing distance of a minor news story, faces scrutiny. Hinton's role in the settlements handed out to civil litigants such as Gordon Taylor, the former Professional Footballers' Association chief executive, whose silence over the potential crimes perpetrated against him was secured with a cheque for £700,000, is now being questioned.
Even more seriously, if Hinton is shown to have known about corrupt payments to London police officers, that would be a felony in the US under the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act.
Worst of all for News Corp, the FBI has launched an investigation into accusations that NoW journalists asked a former New York police officer for the phone records of relatives of 9/11 victims. If that toxic allegation is shown to have been true, one thing is certain: Fox News is finished. The emotional supercharge of 9/11 in the US is many times greater than Milly Dowler in the UK – and look what happened here. In the US, even Republicans would join the clamour for News Corp to be stripped of the 27 federal licences it holds under the banner of the Fox Broadcasting Company network.
News Corp's US interests are significantly more valuable than its British and Australian operations; if the US business started to crumble, that would surely lead to the break-up of the company. It seems the corporation has belatedly woken up to the seriousness of the situation it faces. It has appointed Edelman, a global communications company that specialises in crisis management, to manage the volcanic-sized fallout on both sides of the Atlantic.
But is it all too late? The credibility of so many senior executives in News Corp is shot. James Murdoch's bid to lead the company after his father is surely in ruins. Rupert Murdoch may reputedly regard Rebekah Brooks as the "daughter he never had", but one of the four daughters he does have, Elisabeth, the smart one who made a soaraway success of her production company Shine, reportedly said the former NI chief executive had "fucked the company" – a report she has since denied.
With UK parliamentary hearings due next week, the hawks circling in the US, and Rupert Murdoch appearing to have lost his legendary sure footing and looking the sum of his 80 years, the prospects for News Corp are looking grim. It must now be a serious prospect that the Murdoch brand has become so toxic that the company will have to be cleansed of the name that made it. The appointment of Tom Mockridge to run NI is the start of that process: expect to hear soon that Chase Carey will step up to the top spot at the global corporation.
One thing is clear: there is much more to come. Commentators have compared the crisis to Watergate; Carl Bernstein, the former Washington Post reporter whose revelations helped depose a US president, says it is evident to him the events of the past week "are the beginning, not the end, of the seismic event". | positive |
BOYS LACROSSE: Riverview, Saint Stephen's win Staff Report View Comments View Comments RIVERVIEW 8, BERKELEY PREP 6 Game at: Ram Bowl, Riverview High, Sarasota Top players: Riverview, Evan Goff (2 goals, 1 assist), Clark Flessner (2 goals), Rhys McRobb (1 goal, 16 of 17 on faceoffs). Records: Riverview 10-5, Tampa Berkeley Prep 5-12. Up next: Riverview vs. Tampa Catholic, Thursday, 7 p.m. Of note: Rams erased 5-2 halftime deficit and shut out the Buccaneers in the fourth quarter. Goff and Flessner each netted a goal in the final 12 minutes. SAINT STEPHEN’S 10, MANATEE 1 Game at: Hawkins Stadium, Bradenton Top players: Saint Stephen’s, Connor Rice (2 goals), Caden Milburn (2 goals), Sampson Yang (2 goals). Records: Saint Stephen’s 11-6. Up next: Saint Stephen’s at Fort Myers Bishop Verot, Thursday, 5 p.m. Of note: Nine of the Falcons’ goals drew assists. TAMPA JESUIT 12, CARDINAL MOONEY 6 Game at: Corral Stadium, Jesuit High, Tampa Top players: Mooney, Eric Martin (2 goals), Christian Laureano (2 goals), Caleb Ward (1 goal). Records: Mooney 15-2, Jesuit 15-2. Next game: Mooney vs. Gainesville Buchholz, Friday, 7 p.m. (Senior Night) View Comments View Comments Careers Staff Directory Accessibility Site Map Legals Public notice certification Our Ethical Principles Terms of Service Privacy Policy Your California Privacy Rights / Privacy Policy Do Not Sell My Info / Cookie Policy Contact Us Support Local Business Advertise Your Business Advertising Terms and Conditions Buy and Sell Licensing & Reprints Public Notices Help Center Subscriber Guide My Account Give Feedback Submit Community News Subscribe Today Newsletters Facebook Twitter Instagram eNewspaper Archives Jobs Cars Homes Classifieds Reviewed.com 10Best Reach Local USA TODAY Sports+ © 2022 www.heraldtribune.com. 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UBS Wealth Management is not a believer in bitcoin becoming a legitimate currency even as the launch of futures lead some investors to believe the cryptocurrency will become a more stable market.
"The bubble to end all bubbles continues. Cryptocurrencies only have value if accepted as currencies. However, they cannot be used for the most important transaction in an economy, and cryptocurrency supply can only rise and never fall (making them a poor store of value)," global chief economist Paul Donovan wrote in a post Monday. "To date, using cryptocurrencies requires (effectively) a simultaneous asset sale and purchase of goods or services."
The economist said in an October report that bitcoin's extreme price volatility detracted from its ability to be a "store of value," which is an essential feature of being a currency.
"A twenty-fold increase in bitcoin prices in just two years, and an absence of any fundamental economic backing, cryptocurrency prices are almost certainly a bubble," he wrote in that report. | positive |
Red Bull and Renault's relationship will continue into 2016 - but their names won't sit alongside each other anymore
Red Bull have finally resolved their F1 future by confirming a deal to run TAG Heuer-branded engines in 2016 after realigning their relationship with Renault.
After one of the biggest U-turns in recent F1 history, Red Bull will continue to be supplied by Renault next season but the V6 power unit will not carry the French manufacturer's name.
Instead, long-time McLaren sponsor TAG Heuer has bought the naming rights to the engine, with next season's car to be christened the Red Bull Racing-TAG Heuer RB12.
It emerged last month that the Swiss watchmaker was switching its F1 sponsorship allegiances from McLaren to Red Bull in 2016 after a 30-year association. McLaren ran TAG Group-badged Porsche engines in 1983-87, although luxury watchmaker TAG Heuer is now majority owned by a separate company.
Speaking at the season-ending Abu Dhabi GP, team boss Christian Horner remarked "I don't think Ron Dennis will be too happy" in reference to Red Bull's engine deal.
"TAG Heuer and Red Bull are two transcendent brands which have both a passion for racing and a drive to do things differently, and this unique collaboration is further evidence of that," said Horner in a statement on Friday.
TAG Heuer has switched from McLaren to Red Bull after 30 years
"TAG Heuer has been an icon in the world of Formula 1 for many years and we're delighted that they've chosen to continue their association with the sport by teaming up with us. Our shared values of innovation and a desire to stand out from the crowd make this one of the most exciting partnerships in F1.
"We are also pleased to see Renault confirm its long-term commitment to F1 and would like to thank them for their contribution to the team since 2007. Their technical partnership with Ilmor gives us confidence, and we look forward to the 2016 season."
The long-awaited confirmation of Red Bull's engine deal comes 12 hours after Renault announced their own decision to stay in F1 after agreeing a takeover of the Lotus team.
The continuation of Red Bull's relationship with Renault, albeit on heavily revised terms, had been anticipated for several weeks, with suggestions that Horner's squad would pursue a different development path to that of the works Renault team in 2016 with the help of Mario Illien of Ilmor Engineering at their Milton Keynes base.
Horner's reference to Ilmor working in a "technical partnership" with Renault would appear to point to Illien taking on a more official capacity at the French manufacturer's Viry-Chatillon engine base. Renault have said that more information on their 2016 plans will be released in January.
The Red Bull team principal confirmed to Sky F1 in Abu Dhabi that their engine deal was for one year only.
Underling how the relationship between Red Bull and Renault will change, Infinity's title sponsorship of the team will end a year early.
'Red Bull and Renault have reached a mutual and amicable agreement that will see the French car manufacturer continue to supply the team with engines for the 2016 Formula One season, and this new agreement does not cover any marketing activity for the Renault-Nissan Alliance,' the former champions said in a statement.
Red Bull finished fourth in this year's Constructors' Championship
After a public war of words during the past two seasons over power unit performance, Red Bull moved to terminate the partnership that won four consecutive championships during the V8-era a year early.
However, the team were unable to find a replacement supplier, with Mercedes rejecting their approach, McLaren reportedly blocking Honda from powering Red Bull and Ferrari only offering year-old units.
It is understood those 2015 specification Scuderia units will be run by Red Bull's sister squad Toro Rosso next year, although no deal has yet been announced.
Having made several threats to quit F1 if his main team could not access a 'competitive' engine, Red Bull owner Dietrich Mateschitz remained publicly adamant as recently as November that his team's deal with Renault had been cancelled, but the refusal of other manufacturers to bail them out prompted the reconciliation talks with the French car firm.
With their place on the grid having been in jeopardy for so long, Red Bull have yet to officially confirm their driver line-up for 2016 - although Horner has indicated on several occasions Daniel Ricciardo and Daniil Kvyat will remain in place. | positive |
González and Vita perform a bare-bones stunner - Charleston City Paper Be the first to know. Our local reporters are on the ground covering the news that matters most to Charleston and the area. Receive their stories each day by signing up for our free daily newsletter, which delivers the latest local news directly to your inbox every morning. Subscribe Success! You're on the list. Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again. Processing… Stay cool. Support City Paper. City Paper has been bringing the best news, food, arts, music and event coverage to the Holy City since 1997. Support our continued efforts to highlight the best of Charleston with a one-time donation or become a member of the City Paper Club. Become a member Make a donation Close Search for: Search CUISINE Food+Drink Dish Dining Guide SWIG Bar Guide HOPS My Dream Dinner NEWS COVID-19 news Blotter Digital edition Statehouse Report Mystery Photo News tips OPINION Editorials Columns Letters Ariail Stegelin Send us a letter CULTURE Arts Music Film Digs Piccolo+Spoleto 2022 CP Music Awards CALENDAR What to do this week What’s happening today INSIDER’S GUIDE Get tickets Classified Membership Become a member Membership benefits Manage your membership Donate Donate to CP Nonprofit donation Newsletters Best of Charleston BOC22— Attractions BOC22— Culture BOC22— Drinking BOC22— Eating BOC22— Health BOC22— Politics BOC22— Recreation BOC22— Services BOC22— Shops About us Send us your thoughts Where to find the City Paper Advertising News tips Contact us Facebook Page Twitter Username Instagram Close Skip to content Charleston City Paper Open Search Search for: Search Menu Posted inJazz, Blues, & Roots Music, Spoleto 2011 González and Vita perform a bare-bones stunner by Stratton Lawrence June 4, 2011 Share this: Twice during their performance, Micaela Vita told the audience how emotional it was for her and Willy González to be playing in Charleston. It was the Argentinian duo’s very first show in the United States, a journey that almost didn’t come to fruition, after González, a bassist, experienced unexpected trouble getting through customs. If they follow up their stunning Spoleto performance with a North American tour, they’ll be hard-pressed to find a venue that rivals the ambiance of the Cistern. Although clouds moved slowly over the live oak trees, the air at ground-level was balmy and still — fitting conditions considering that tangos and sambas are supposed to make you sweat. When González and Vita took the stage just after 9 p.m., the bassist immediately established an ethereal mood by drawing sounds from his instrument through percussive taps along the hollow, wooden body. With his six-string acoustic bass broken in — it’s a giant beast of an instrument — González commenced with his equally percussive fret play. Vita wasted no time joining him, moving about the stage with sultry, expressive body motions that matched each stanza of her singing. The duo’s set-up is simple. González switched between an acoustic and electric six-string bass, while Vita varied between the bombo legüero and cajón peruano drums. Vita is a true musician’s vocalist, using her body to raise and diminish the emotional response during a particular song. Although her microphone might have benefited from a touch more reverb at times, her control from three inches to a foot away from the mic was superb. However, when singing directly into it for entire verses, her voice occasionally cut dryly above the mix. Meanwhile, González’s mastery of the bass created a sense of constant improvisation, despite his flawless echoing of Vita’s vocal lines and each song’s intricate, synchronized changes. This is, in fact, jazz. Although the rhythms the pair plays find their roots in sambas and tangos, these interpretations stretch traditional boundaries. If González found a groove, he was likely only to hold it for 30 seconds or less before moving on to the next bit of mind-boggling neck work. Vita pointed out several times that their Argentinian style draws its roots from Peru, including her cajón, or box drum. In their third tune, a child’s song described as “a love story between two bugs,” González demonstrated an uncanny ability to simultaneously play intricate bass parts while blowing a pan flute melody. One song drew from the hybrid Afro-Peruvian style, while others invoked festival moods in the tradition of Carnival. Vita drew hearty (unintentional) laughs when she explained that one song was about “a man’s relationship with his instrument,” then specified, “musical instrument.” The song included lyrics about the Peruvian stringed-instrument, the charango, accompanied by “coca con chicha” (coca leaves and homemade corn beer). Many of the pair’s songs drew from folklore traditions, from “el campo” (the country) of Argentina and Peru. Love and relationships were a constant theme, including the set-closing “El Avenido,” about a man at Carnival who, in attempting to get himself alone with the girl he’s courting, offers wine to her watchful aunt. Willy González is quite arguably among the world’s greats on the bass. He attacks the instrument like both a classical guitar and a drum, not afraid to use the deepest low notes of his bottom string. Micaela Vita matches his creativity, slinking across the stage and finding just-the-right syncopation for vocal lines amidst González’s frantic notations. If you put González in a blues band with a 1-4-5 progression, chances are the song would quickly change time signature and key. He’s not a traditional bass player, but his mastery of the instrument and creation of a unique style is sure to inspire any bassist who hears him, from a stand-up jazz guy to a driving rock ‘n’ roller. Sitting amidst the surreal atmosphere of the Cistern on a Friday night, it felt like something historic was happening. González and Vita didn’t draw the crowd that other Cistern shows can; in fact, chairs extended only halfway to the back of the courtyard. But those lucky enough to be present (and a few peeking through the gates) bore witness to an offering of pure emotion and musical energy that crosses language barriers. Even the trees leaning over the stage seemed conscious of the music’s power and appeared grateful to be hearing it. Tagged: Micaela Vita, Spoleto Review, The Cistern, Willy González Recent WEEK IN REVIEW: S.C. students are testing poorly in history, algebra, biology September 24, 2022 Brack: Culture wars are front and center again in S.C. politics September 24, 2022 Audit shows state drug abuse agency has work to do September 23, 2022 Mermaids and Mateys take over Folly Beach this weekend September 23, 2022 Where to find live music in Charleston Friday and Saturday September 23, 2022 Top Stories The Lucky Luchador to open after a year of anticipation Mermaids and Mateys take over Folly Beach this weekend Is Lindsey Graham gay? 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Have you ever failed to notice a friend's radical new haircut? Or missed a road sign showing a change in the speed limit?
This failure to notice what should be very apparent is something we unconsciously experience every day as our brains filter the barrage of visual information which we are flooded with. And apparently it has a name; it is called change blindness.
Scientists at Queen Mary, University of London, have invented a unique spot-the-difference-style computer game in order to study it.
They simply have to press the button and tell us exactly when they spot the change Milan Verma, Queen Mary, University of London
Milan Verma, a scientist at Queen Mary, explains: "It's the phenomenon where seemingly striking or obvious changes are not noticed." He and his colleagues are asking volunteers to play the game - which involves looking at a screen as it flashes between two images of the same scene.
"It flicks between a pre-change version and a post-change version of the scene," Dr Verma explains. "The volunteers simply have to press the button and tell us exactly when they spot the change."
Trying out the game at Dr Verma's office, my initial reaction was self-satisfaction; I spotted the difference in the first scene - a picture of a butterfly with orange stripes on its wings - almost immediately.
In the pre-change scene the colourful insect had two stripes - one on each wing, and on the post-change, there was just one. Easy. Next?
But I was quickly reminded that I am just as "change blind" as the next person. As an image of an iceberg scene with five penguins on it flashed in front of me, I stared blankly, unable to see a difference.
"I'll let you off - there is a lot going on in this image," Dr Verma reassured me. "But it's quite a big change."
He had to give me a clue - directing me to the area of the image where the change occurred - before I realised that a whole chunk of iceberg was missing in the post-change image.
That represented one of the fundamental factors about change blindness; a whole chunk of iceberg might seem like an easier thing to spot than the stripe on a butterfly wing, but it is not as obvious to the human brain.
"The butterfly image is easy because the changed scene violates our expectations," explains Dr Verma. "We expect butterflies to be symmetrical - to have two identically marked wings - so one that isn't really stands out to us."
It's the first time ever artificial intelligence has been used to generate experimental stimuli to test human perception Professor Peter McOwan , Queen Mary, University of London
Neuroscientists, as well as developers of artificial intelligence, have been interested in this facet of human perception for many years. In fact, the Queen Mary team incorporate their biological findings into the design of robots - studying the basis of human vision and perception in order to artificially recreate it.
And Dr Verma says this might be the first truly unbiased scientific study of change blindness.
"Previously, scientists have studied this by manually manipulating pictures," he said.
"So they'd use... image manipulation software, make a deliberate change and then ask viewers: 'Can you see the change, yes or no?'."
This, he says, is cheating. If a human scientist makes a change to a picture, they are making a very human decision about what and where that change is - choosing to remove the bird from the corner of the park view, or to change the colour of the sofa in a living room scene.
"So they're making some subjective judgement about how noticeable they think the change is."
Artificial intelligence
In this study, Dr Verma and his colleague and supervisor, Professor Peter McOwan, created an algorithm that meant the computer "decided" how to change the image.
Professor McOwan told BBC News: "This is, as far as I'm aware, the first time ever that artificial intelligence [AI] technology has been used to generate experimental stimuli to test human perception.
"It brings together two interesting fields of study- AI and human visual intelligence."
Dr Verma and Professor McOwen designed software that underlies the game's ability to make a change to each image.
Dr Verma describes this as a "genetic algorithm". It essentially tells the computer to change the images in a process akin to evolution.
"It's like a process of survival of the fittest," explained Dr Verma. "Darwin suggested that a fit individual is one that can best survive in its surroundings - like a moth that can camouflage with the bark of a tree."
But in this case "fitness" is determined by the smallest difference between the pre- and post-change scenes, in terms of how attention-grabbing they are.
The computer uses information about human attention and perception to generate two pictures that a person will view in exactly the same way; two images that are equally attention-grabbing. This means the scientists get an accurate measure of how noticeable the change is and there is no "human bias" of the results.
The research is beginning to reveal where in a scene people direct their attention as well as what kinds of changes are more noticeable.
"It all boils down to contrast," he says. "So colour or orientation contrast; luminance contrast in terms of light and dark things that pop out.
"And it's what's easy to spot in terms of our viewing attention behaviour.
"So when we walk into a room, our eyes are attracted to a particular region and because we're attending to that region, if there was a change made there, we would perhaps notice it more quickly."
The scientists have published their findings and described their unique approach in the journal Vision.
Their test has also revealed some more specific points about what types of contrast are more obvious to us. We are more likely, for example, to spot that an object has been removed from a scene than if it has changed colour.
Attention-grabbing
The team has already had interest from companies that want to apply the findings to the design of safety notices and advertising displays - to grab our attention.
And there is potential for these results to be used in more clandestine ways. Just like a magician might use misdirection, police or security services might take advantage of things that make people look.
"You can use these attention-grabbing principles to, for example, direct someone's attention to a particular spot and that could be a spot where there is a camera," explains Dr Verma. "So you could take a photograph - a frontal image - that could be useful for police or security services."
Image caption Brands and adverts aim to stand out and grab our attention
As well as applying these findings to the development of intelligent robots, Professor McOwan is more informally interested in the role of change blindness in magic.
"There has some interest recently at looking at how magicians misdirect people [with these attention-grabbing methods]," he says. "They have a role in the 'now you see it now you don't' tricks."
There are also more lucrative roles for these findings - in advertising or website design.
And Dr Verma points out that they have already been applied by the emergency services.
"You might notice that they are starting to use different kinds of beacons and lights and different, very strange-sounding sirens," he says.
"This is because the classic siren sound has been so over-used by the media that it just doesn't stand out to us in the same way any more."
So apparently, we all have an excuse for not noticing a friend's new look. It's a fundamental part of our perception - we are simply too focused on looking them in the eye and on what they have to say to notice something so superficial.
At least, from now on, that will be my excuse.
Hear more from the researchers on Science in Action on the BBC World Service on Friday 11 June. | positive |
Sound – Trance-Scripts Skip to content Trance-Scripts Menu Home About Contact Twitter Facebook Google+ GitHub WordPress.com Tag: Sound Mellow Is the Man Who Knows What He’s Been Missing My therapist’s office is a short walk away from the house on Shady. A figure in large, loosely-fitted clothing serenades me as I walk, singing “Dress You Up” from a street corner as I crest a hill. Another figure sings to me from a bus stop. The neighborhood has a bit of an edge, always has, air charged with noise. Birds, motorcycles, cars cruising up and down First and Second Streets. Construction work over by the ballpark up the hill. But what was before a desolate field is now a park. “This park can be a place to perform the Work,” thinks the Time Traveler. Birdsong relaxes him as he sits at a table gazing toward the house on Shady. Walking the bend of the park, he reads a plaque about the 1778 Salem Waterworks, part of the park’s past. A waxing ¾ moon appears in the sky above the dome of the most notorious of the city’s landmarks, the one referred to by locals as the “Phallus Palace.” 5:55 turns up again as I rise from one of the park’s benches and continue on my way. Same numbers, same time of day, two days in a row. And there in the sky, the moon, near full. What of it? What of the tape on the telephone pole flapping in the wind? Or wind chimes in a neighbor’s yard, sounding like gamelans? Or wind in the trees? The air is cold, my walk brief. I communicate with loved ones as best I can, sending and receiving valentines and giving thanks. Yet come evening I’m alone again in my flat, listening to Love’s “Alone Again Or,” cooking dinner for one. Spaghetti and meatballs. Wishing it were otherwise. “Yeah, I heard a funny thing,” sings Arthur Lee to flamenco swells, nervous violins. Up on the stereo afterwards rumbles Richard & Linda Thompson’s “I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight.” “I wanna be dancing and rolling on the floor,” thinks the Traveler, “I want it to be me and you.” Temperature rises, food cooks as I dance to Ananda Shankar’s cover of the Rolling Stones song, “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” It’s that time of my life, I guess, when all of these feel right: Shuggie Otis’s “Strawberry Letter 23,” Link Wray & The Wraymen’s “Rumble,” Suicide’s “Dream Baby Dream.” Nico climbs atop the stack, bums me out with “These Days,” until Arthur Lee returns to remind me of how good it feels to always see your face. Songs replace songs as posts replace posts, but the music never changes, and I never quite learn the words I sing. Author trancescriptsPosted on September 11, 2022 September 11, 2022 Categories UncategorizedTags Ananda Shankar, Angel Numbers, Arthur Lee, History, Link Wray, Listening, Loneliness, Love, Madonna, music, Nico, Repetition, Richard & Linda Thompson, Sadness, Short Story, Shuggie Otis, Song Lyrics, Songs, Sound, The House on Shady Blvd, The Past, Time Travel, WalkingLeave a comment on Mellow Is the Man Who Knows What He’s Been Missing Notes from Another Past Hiro Kone’s “Mundus patet” hisses out from floor speakers into the space of my living room as I sit and pack books for my journey. The plan is to leave early tomorrow morning, drive conjunct with Winter Solstice. “Others are awake, living wild magical lives,” thinks the Traveler. “Let us get with them.” I walk the path of a time tunnel, listening intently, sight reduced amid the day’s cool air as I head to the beach. ‘Tis a somber tale, if all one hears is squawking — so listen. Laughter, wheels of strollers rolling on boardwalks, children conversing with caregivers, waves crashing along the shore. I gather shells along my approach and then toss them gently into the ocean. A makeshift offering. One does what one can. Shorebirds pass; seagulls dive down and collect. Other beachgoers share the beach with us, wandering solitary or in pairs. I close my eyes and meditate, awakening myself at a set interval with a timer. Languages confront me with occasional meaning — terms like “Moses,” “nope,” and “Sunken Meadow.” My eyes fall upon Pringles potato chips, left behind in the upstairs bedroom in the wake of Frankie’s visit. “Eat, Eat, Eat!” I hear her saying. She brings such joy, such willful, day-shaping energy. Yet here I lie, feeling crumpled and broken, sleepless and alone atop a bed of crumbs. “Until summer, I’ll be running from one thing to the next, barely able to feel my face,” thinks the Traveler. Struggling to cheer up out of this self-administered genre/affect/mood. Struggling to awaken. Until it’s not really a struggle after all. One awakens all the time: birds fly by, light shines through. And there are companions! playgrounds! friends of the forest! an immeasurable capacity to forgive. Author trancescriptsPosted on July 2, 2022 July 2, 2022 Categories UncategorizedTags Beaches, Hiro Kone, Meditation, Memory, music, Parenthood, Parenting, Recovery, Sadness, Seagulls, Solstice, Sound, The Past, travel, Winter, Winter SolsticeLeave a comment on Notes from Another Past Tuesday March 2, 2021 Wiggle wiggle goes the free one. Announcer requests round of applause, audience delivers. Trumpet plays the difference. Not tellin’ ya — just saying. The voice of the night speaks by sampling many stations. Let us begin to plot our garden, heartened by the sight of daffodils. Plant rosemary and basil. Add rue and hyssop. Author trancescriptsPosted on September 2, 2021 Categories UncategorizedTags Gardening, music, SoundLeave a comment on Tuesday March 2, 2021 Monday October 5, 2020 Toward evening I retire to the yard and sit beside a fire. The fire brightens as the sky darkens. Crickets and cicadas trade rhythms. Beside them ride the sonic traces of cars along the nearby autobahn. From the sky above comes and goes the sound of a helicopter. Sarah and I burn dry branches of rosemary. As night falls, I pull my chair closer to the fire and admire its warmth. The heat relaxes me. Afterwards I sit beside Frankie as she plays at her music table in the living room, awake a bit past her bedtime. Author trancescriptsPosted on April 19, 2021 Categories UncategorizedTags Fatherhood, Home, Homeownership, Life Writing, Parenthood, Parenting, Relaxation, SoundLeave a comment on Monday October 5, 2020 Wednesday January 22, 2020 Arrived home from work, I go for a short walk around my neighborhood and stare up at trees full of red-chested robins. More than a dozen robins at varying heights above my head. They talk: I listen. Rustles of leaves and feathers, cheery tweets, blissful songs. Beatitudes performed for me, or at least tolerant of my listening. Performed first by the birds and then afterwards electronically, by a car that pulls up beside a park, bass sounds reverberating outward even with the car’s windows rolled up. That’s what I like, something suburbs often lack: neighborhoods with music (especially when the latter is of a spontaneous or locally improvised sort). When I return home, I sit and hold her, marveling and rejoicing, struck with a sense of beatitude as I behold my daughter. One day I wish to read Windblown World: The Journals of Jack Kerouac 1947-1954. “I promise I shall never give up, and that I’ll die yelling and laughing,” Kerouac wrote in an entry in the book from 1949. “And that until then I’ll rush around this world I insist is holy and pull at everyone’s lapel and make them confess to me and to all.” Always and forever I’m filled with the awareness of countless books unread. From Kerouac to Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov to Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe. Author trancescriptsPosted on January 31, 2020 January 31, 2020 Categories UncategorizedTags Birds, Books, Fatherhood, Jack Kerouac, music, Parenting, Sound, WalkingLeave a comment on Wednesday January 22, 2020 Tuesday November 26, 2019 We’re ready for a new one. Little one on the way. I feel like leaning back and releasing wild exclamations, loud laughter, cries of animation and joy. Birds fill the air with song. After a walk through our neighborhood, Sarah and I sit at the counter at our favorite fried chicken joint, dining on breasts and sides. The owner recommends that we play music to entice the little one to rotate. I start thinking song possibilities: Yo La Tengo’s “Big Day Coming,” Fairport Convention’s “Come All Ye,” Apollo 100’s “Joy.” Perhaps, as Maria Montessori might say, those sounds are too loud, “displeasing to the ear of one who has known the pleasure of silence, and has discovered the world of delicate sounds” (121). Perhaps we should try at a variety of volumes a variety of timbres and tones. Author trancescriptsPosted on December 3, 2019 Categories UncategorizedTags Fatherhood, Food, music, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Sound, WalkingLeave a comment on Tuesday November 26, 2019 Sunday November 24, 2019 Crows and helicopters fly overhead on a sunny but chilly afternoon. Squirrels scramble along branches of trees, pausing, waving their tails in greeting. I sit with them for a while, the neighborhood’s lawnmowers and leafblowers heard in the distance. Afterwards I join Sarah for a walk, the two of us visiting a colleague along the way. We talk again about names and the weeks ahead, pausing now and then beside piles of leaves. Author trancescriptsPosted on December 1, 2019 Categories UncategorizedTags Animals, Autumn, Birds, Sound, WalkingLeave a comment on Sunday November 24, 2019 Thursday October 24, 2019 Birdsong midafternoon rich, dense, populated by conversation among many beings. We arrive as sounds, resonances, sense-data in worlds populated by all the others, the traveling companions, fellow players in what Nathaniel Mackey calls the Mystic Horn Society. We sit close to one another, each with a head buried in a book, reading, breathing, being. We shake, we stretch, in our own way, on our own time: birds, squirrels, humans. Mackey’s project is to operate language as an “eroding witness” while still living in a universe of sound, language used to allow sound once again to be heard. On an evening prior to discussing his poems for the first time with students, I catch a performance by Chick Corea in a chapel. Mackey himself is set to perform with the Our True Day Begun Soon Come Qu’ahttet early next week. Somewhere in the midst of these doings, I find my way to Larry Coryell’s Spaces (1970), on which Chick Corea played electric piano. In all honesty, not a great record. A hummingbird speeds past the window as I listen. Afterwards I turn to Return to Forever’s “Crystal Silence.” What I really like, though, are tracks that lead elsewhere like “Spain.” My dad listened to a lot of “smooth jazz” on his car stereo when I was a kid. At the time, my feelings about the genre were mixed at best. Often I would beg him to change the station. Sometimes I changed it myself, with or without his permission. Author trancescriptsPosted on October 31, 2019 Categories UncategorizedTags Chick Corea, music, Nathaniel Mackey, nature, Poetry, Smooth Jazz, SoundLeave a comment on Thursday October 24, 2019 Monday September 30, 2019 Several factors converge: a remediation team to treat mold in our basement, the sound of a lawnmower, a Hearts of Space recording, Ariel Kalma’s Osmose. Sounds are everywhere in quick succession. The air vents, the refrigerator; somewhere in the distance, a clock. Sarah’s pen moves across a page as she grades. I sit at points during the experience, feeling what Hearts of Space co-founder Anna Turner, using the on-air pseudonym Annamystyq, called “wind sung sounds.” These sounds, she said, “are heard, experienced, on the skin delicately,” like the peeling of a potato, but “with exquisite softness.” This wind, she adds, brings healing, reminding us that we are “starflower beings,” conversing with those close to us. Beside me sits a purple flower, a Sweet William. Sarah prepares mashed potatoes for dinner with friends. I spend a few more moments wandering about in Osmose, contemplating the shape of the whole. Before I know it, I’m elsewhere. Author trancescriptsPosted on October 7, 2019 Categories UncategorizedTags Ariel Kalma, Hearts of Space, music, Perception, SoundLeave a comment on Monday September 30, 2019 Wednesday March 20, 2019 “Space is the Place” plays at a low volume, at the back (as opposed to front and center) of my thoughts, though in fact it’s one of the most bracing performances I’ve ever heard, while I reflect on my mixed feelings toward my discipline’s fondness for jargon. Don’t get me wrong: I like it when my colleagues gather and talk texts. But I prefer birds whistling from treetops. Along with assists from the other elements of human and nonhuman nature, the evening orchestra performs its polyphonic improvisation — with me there to observe and to listen in surround sound in the hollow of a glade. Through these acts we teach each other. As we pull together, we expand each other’s capacity to sympathize and finally to love. I am describing an effort to bring about a fundamental change in “reality” itself, which is to say, in ideology. Author trancescriptsPosted on March 29, 2019 Categories UncategorizedTags Jazz, Listening, music, nature, Sound, Space is the Place, Sun RaLeave a comment on Wednesday March 20, 2019 Posts navigation Page 1 Page 2 Next page Search for: Search Archives Archives Select Month September 2022 (6) August 2022 (16) July 2022 (5) June 2022 (12) May 2022 (20) April 2022 (19) March 2022 (12) February 2022 (20) January 2022 (28) December 2021 (35) November 2021 (22) October 2021 (21) September 2021 (12) August 2021 (11) July 2021 (21) June 2021 (23) May 2021 (16) April 2021 (15) March 2021 (3) February 2021 (5) January 2021 (13) December 2020 (34) November 2020 (10) April 2020 (24) March 2020 (25) February 2020 (25) January 2020 (11) December 2019 (15) November 2019 (28) October 2019 (28) September 2019 (30) August 2019 (30) July 2019 (26) June 2019 (31) May 2019 (24) April 2019 (18) March 2019 (25) February 2019 (28) January 2019 (24) December 2018 (27) November 2018 (14) October 2018 (8) September 2018 (10) August 2018 (4) July 2018 (4) June 2018 (16) May 2018 (30) April 2018 (29) March 2018 (32) February 2018 (28) January 2018 (32) December 2017 (23) November 2017 (30) October 2017 (31) September 2017 (30) August 2017 (32) July 2017 (5) Subscribe to Blog via Email Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. 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Missy Elliott asks what is the difference between a hit and a classic About Hip-HopVibe.com Contact Hip-HopVibe.com DMCA/Copyright HOME Privacy Policy Connect with us Hip Hop Vibe Hip Hop Vibe Home News Articles Album Preview Reviews On The Rise On The Rise Video of the Week Audio Mixtapes Video Missy Elliott gets dragged by Nicki Minaj fans for asking what is the difference between a hit and a classic, resulting in a major Twitter debate Share Tweet Home » Hip Hop News » Missy Elliott gets dragged by Nicki Minaj fans for asking what is the difference between a hit and a classic, resulting in a major Twitter debate Nicki Minaj brings out Fivio Foreign and BIA, for “We Go Up” and “Whole Lotta Money” performances, at Rolling Loud [VIDEO] Yung Bleu explains how nervous he was, while shooting “Love In The Way” video, with Nicki Minaj Megan Thee Stallion cameo could not help “She Hulk,” as it becomes the first Marvel show to not land on any Nielsen top 10 lists Nicki Minaj has JT recite her Nicki diss track to her [VIDEO] Hip Hop News Missy Elliott gets dragged by Nicki Minaj fans for asking what is the difference between a hit and a classic, resulting in a major Twitter debate By HHV Editor Published on August 24, 2022 Share Tweet Missy Elliott asks what is the difference between a hit and a classic Missy Elliott had a major influence on the game, in the 1990s. During that era, Missy actually put together a lot of Aaliyah’s biggest hits. In addition, Missy Elliott provided background vocals for a lot of Aaliyah’s music. At the same time, Missy Elliott launched her own solo career. Missy Elliott was one of the first artists to rap and sing. To explain, Missy Elliott was one of the first artists to be able to sing well and rap well. As a result, Missy Elliott often did both on her songs. When Nicki Minaj debuted, she paid homage to Missy Elliott for inspiring her to do the same. Missy Elliott earned her position as one of the game’s icons. Meanwhile, Nicki Minaj is also a legend in the game. Nicki Minaj has enjoyed twelve years on top of the rap game and that does not happen by accident. In addition, Nicki has had the kinds of success in pop music that no rapper has ever had. This week, Nicki Minaj made history as the second female rapper to debut at number one on Billboard Hot 100, with “Super Freaky Gurl.” On Twitter, Missy Elliott posed the question about what makes a song a hit, vs. a classic. After that, Nicki fans came for her on Twitter, leading to Missy trending on Twitter. Missy Elliott asks what is the difference between a hit and a classic Share this: Twitter Facebook Like this: Like Loading... Related Continue Reading You may also like... Nicki Minaj brings out Fivio Foreign and BIA, for “We Go Up” and “Whole Lotta Money” performances, at Rolling Loud [VIDEO] Yung Bleu explains how nervous he was, while shooting “Love In The Way” video, with Nicki Minaj Megan Thee Stallion cameo could not help “She Hulk,” as it becomes the first Marvel show to not land on any Nielsen top 10 lists Nicki Minaj has JT recite her Nicki diss track to her [VIDEO] Related Topics:featured, missy elliott, nicki minaj, super freaky gurl HHV Editor More in Hip Hop News Hip Hop News Malika Andrews trends on Twitter after argument with Stephen A. Smith over Ime Udoka situation By HHV Editor September 24, 2022 Malika Andrews argues with Stephen A Smith over Ime Udoka Malika Andrews, in two years, has... 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Mustang Roush Suspension Kit - GT 4.6 | (05-10) 401296 Search Search Home Wishlist Contact Us FREE SHIPPING Over $99* Track My Order Cart - Cart items - 0.00 Account & Orders Login/Register Search Search Search Search Shop All 1979-1993 Ford Mustang 1994-2004 Ford Mustang 2005-2009 Ford Mustang 2010-2014 Ford Mustang 2015-2022 Ford Mustang 1993-1995 Ford Lightning 1999-2004 Ford Lightning Articles Apparel Select Your Vehicle Shop All 1979-1993 Mustang 1994-2004 Mustang 2005-2009 Mustang 2010-2014 Mustang 2015-2022 Mustang 1993-1995 Lightning 1999-2004 Lightning Articles Apparel Accessories Apparel Shop Supplies Car Care Tools Air & Fuel Air Filters Mass Air Meters Air Inlet Elbows Nitrous Kits Carburetors Supercharger Kits Cold Air Kits Throttle & Cruise Control Cables Fuel System Throttle Body Intake Manifolds Turbo Kit Parts Brakes 5 Lug Conversions Caliper Brackets ABS Sensors Complete Brake Kits Booster/Master Cylinder Cooling Kits Brake Caliper Hoses Dust Shields Brake Calipers Line Locks Brake Fluid Manual Brake Conv. 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Details 2005-2010 Mustang Roush Suspension Kit - GT by Roush Details | Reviews Details | Reviews Enhance the performance, cornering, & handling of your 2005-2010 Mustang with this complete Roush suspension kit! Got a question? Click here to ask an expert! Item #RSH-401296 MPN# 401296 Everyday Low Price: $1,430.99 Ships from Supplier! Ships in 30-60 business days This item is not eligible for discounts or coupon codes. This item is returnable. Details Free Shipping over $99 Add to Cart 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 Add to Wishlist Not Available for APO or Air shipping. Description Benefits Increased Handling Characteristics Maintains Ride Quality Lowers Ride Height Features Handles Over 1g Lateral On Skid Pad Improved Stiffness And Stability Specifically Tuned Components What's in the Box (1) Front Stabilizer Bar (1) Rear Stabilizer Bar (2) Front Coil Springs (2) Rear Coil Springs (2) Front Struts (2) Rear Shocks 2005-2010 Mustang Roush Performance Suspension Kit Improve exterior appearance by lowering the ride height of your 2005-2010 S197 Mustang with this complete handling suspension kit from Roush! This suspension package has been carefully designed to work as an integrated system for your vehicle providing superior handling without sacrificing the ride quality. The kit includes springs, jounce bumpers, dampeners, and anti-roll bars. Utilizing the same suspension components from the 2005-2010 Roush 427R and Stage 2 Mustangs, you can buy this kit confidently knowing this kit was specifically tailored for your Mustang GT! Superior Design This kit was extensively engineered and tested by performance engineers at Roush to provide optimum suspension performance for your Mustang. Roush spent many hours developing these suspension parts and testing them at the race track, skidpad, quick lane changes, and on a wide variety of different road surfaces to provide the best combination of ride quality and handling. A tool that Roush used in the development of this kit was the DIVAS Data Acquisition System, which is the same system that was used by Ford engineers for collecting and analyzing vehicle dynamics. Rather than simply providing the best quality suspension parts available, Roush takes its development a step further by finely tuning its suspension offerings to the specific application as part of the whole system. The benefit of this design is that Roush suspension parts work together smoothly with the other dynamic aspects of your Mustang. Product Note Installation of an adjustable panhard bar is recommended to center the rear end of your Mustang after lowering. Application Fits 2005-2010 Mustang GT w/ 4.6 V8 ROUSH® Limited Warranty - Click Here Vehicle Fitment Ford Mustang - 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010 Sub Models: GT Ratings & Reviews California Residents: WARNING: Cancer and Reproductive Harm- www.P65Warnings.ca.gov {{ for (var i=0; i < SC.page.products.length; i++) { }} {{ var p = SC.page.products[i]; }} {{= p.title.substring(0, 125) }} #{{= p.id }} {{= p.c_custom_4 }} {{ } }} {{ } }} ]]> About This Brand Roush - The Art of Performance Engineering ROUSH Performance is the first specialty-vehicle company to combine race-proven technologies with advanced automotive engineering. The result, a unique mix of street car and race car...Is a ROUSH car. Or more specifically, a ROUSH Mustang or F-150 pickup with styling, performance, and handling characteristics derived from the racetrack and modified for street legal usage. The vehicles and components produced by ROUSH Performance are imprinted with Jack Roush's vision, passion for performance, and commitment to excellence. He personally approves the design, engineering, fit, finish and overall performance of each package, ensuring that his personal standards are met prior to production and product release. Many of these products are designed by the same engineering group that has helped Roush Racing become the winningest Ford racing team in history. 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When you’re not chosen, it can shake your sense of purpose or belonging. It’s gonna hurt, but take a lesson from the worst snare drummer I’ve ever seen.
Listen to audio version or read below
Getting cut – it’s a feeling that stings even for those with thick skin. Trying out for a sports team, applying for school, interviewing for a job, taking an audition – these all have a lot in common. The process requires you to put yourself out there, make yourself vulnerable, and expose yourself to judgement, all in hopes of winning a spot. We’ve all been there, myself many times, and it can be stressful, right?
But being on the other side of the arena can also be tough. It wasn’t until I had to cut someone for the first time did I realize how much goes into deciding who makes the team, gets admitted, or wins the job. You quantify what you can to stay objective and minimize some of the struggle, but at some point the process requires you to use your instinct and gut reaction. Meanwhile, you can’t help but feel empathy for the other person’s inner turmoil – sweaty palms, eagerness to present themselves well, forced smile to seem comfortable, but not too comfortable because they’re trying to figure out how to demonstrate they’re “a team player.” Ugh, terrible. You’re a considerate person, and considerate people don’t want others to feel bad.
But hey, guess what – everyone gets cut at some point. If you’re not getting cut or failing somewhere along the way, this means you’re not reaching high enough. In fact, getting cut is something to celebrate – it’s a sign that you’ve moved outside your comfort zone, which is necessary for growth and development. Failing is just one of the many steps along the way to your next success.
So what do you do when you get cut? Was it all for nothing? Author William Feather wrote, “Success seems to be largely hanging on after others have let go.” That may be the case, but what you do while you’re “hanging on” also plays a large part in your success the next time opportunity presents itself.
As a teacher, seeing what people do in the face of failure fascinates me. This is especially pertinent when working to teach students and employees to become independent learners.
This is the story of me cutting the worst snare drummer I’ve ever seen.
–
Flashback
When I lived in Chicago, I spent my weekends teaching an indoor winter percussion group called Green Thunder Percussion. This group started in the smallest WGI competitive division, A Class, and over the years, grew into Open Class, and eventually World Class, now known as Cavaliers Indoor Percussion.
We started the group as an educational program sponsored by The Cavaliers Drum and Bugle Corps with the intention of developing local Chicagoland talent. Our mission was to add value to the percussion community by providing world-class level instruction and percussion pedagogy for students. This would ultimately help prepare them for auditions at the performance level of the main drum corps. Some students didn’t have percussion instructors at their schools, while others did and just wanted more teaching and learning time. Things we all had in common were a love for music, and hunger for getting better at drumming and percussion.
Chop Sessions
One initiative we used to help students prepare for audition weekend included “Chop Sessions” in the weeks preceding. Afternoon drum sessions were hosted as educational camps which allowed students to feel more comfortable around the instructors, get feedback on how to improve, as well help acclimate staff and members on how to best work together.
Now as teachers, we work with many different kinds of students. Some arrive ready to learn, others need to be motivated. Some are naturally talented, others have to rely on their diligence to make up for their lack thereof. At one particular chop session, I remember meeting a student who was immediately distinctive because of how attentive, focused, and polite he was – exactly the kind of student we were looking for. The only thing was, he was the worst snare drummer I’d ever seen.
For this blogpost, let’s call him Tom. Early high school. Posture – scared. Sticks – both slicing out. Hands – totally jacked. Feet – complete disaster and in a different time zone. The list went on. But at the same time, the kid was just so darn nice.
Now I’ve always been more than happy to work with any student, especially if they demonstrate the right attitude and desire to learn. There are students who come to you with no musical background, formal or informal experience. In fact, starting a total beginner and taking them from zero to 60 is one of the most gratifying perks that comes with teaching.
On the flip side, teaching students who have some experience, but have also developed undesirable habits, can actually be more difficult. Your goal then becomes helping them create new habits, some of which are proximally close to the undesirable habits. Having them discriminate between correct and incorrect is just one aspect, further complicated by them being human, and wanting to do what’s comfortable. If they’re not constantly self-monitoring and making an active effort to change the habit, then most likely, the undesired habit will continue to be reinforced.
How am I going to fix Tom?
Cut
To make matters more difficult, Tom came back for multiple chop session weekends. He’s attentive, focused, polite – AND committed?! Each time, I offered feedback, he nodded, and you could see him working to change those habits he had ingrained over hours of practice. But these things don’t happen overnight. Creating the dexterity and precision necessary to play music beautifully comes from many hours of correct repetitions. He was still, to put it lightly, awful. I distinctly remember thinking in an endearing way, “Wow, this poor guy is THE worst snare drummer I’ve ever seen.”
Finally, audition weekend came and Tom dutifully showed up. It wasn’t really close, and although he had done all the right things, he just needed more time to adjust his technique, figure out some coordination issues, and get stronger as a player. We finished ranking all the auditionees over the weekend, and there was just one last thing to do before officially welcoming the new members.
I remember the dread of having to call in the students who didn’t make the callback, and having to break the news to them that they’d been cut. The sea of disappointment plastered on a classroom full of student faces is what some might describe as “the worst.” I explained how many talented players had shown up for the audition, and because there were a limited number of spots, we unfortunately would not be able to accept everyone. I then made the teaching turn where I spin the positive: thank them for their effort, invite them to stay connected to the group and return to audition next year. While I was encouraging the students to keep working and stay motivated, Tom was standing at the back of the room with a smile on his face and nodding the entire time. He’s optimistic too?!
Because I could tell most of the younger students still felt a little poo-poo, I made a last-ditch offer that they could send me a video of themselves playing, and that I’d watch them and offer some feedback in preparation for next year (this was pre-fatherhood when I had the luxury of this thing called Time). I made one last hurrah, and encouraged by the student smiles, decided it would be a good closing point and called the meeting to an end.
As the students and parents fanned out, Tom approached me and thanked me for a great weekend. You could tell he felt the sting of being cut, but was still positive about the whole experience, and he even told me he would send a video. I said, “Great, let’s do it, I’m happy to help however I can.” He smiled, we shook hands and parted ways.
Getting Better
A few weeks later, I received an email from Tom. Included was a YouTube link to the video he promised he’d send. While writing this blog post, I was actually able to find the original email (name and address edited):
I was mildly surprised and sent him a short list of some broad concepts – sound quality, stroke, timing. But what really surprised me was the following week, when I received another email and video. I sent back another list of feedback. As more videos came, I saw the improvement in Tom’s playing. The hours he spent shedding in the basement to form new habits and get stronger were paying off. The playing got better, and the comments became more specific. All in all, Tom sent me videos for an entire year, all the way until the next audition. Here’s a note I sent him one week before the following year’s audition:
Although I’d been helping Tom with video feedback, my good friend, Billy, was the snare tech who would ultimately set the snare line. The audition took place over the weekend from Friday-Sunday.
So, what happened, you ask?
When the dust cleared, I’m happy to say Tom won a snare spot for the season.
Have you ever seen someone do something and thought, “I want to do THAT.”
Say goodbye to the days where you wondered what you should be practicing, and welcome the confidence of knowing you are setting yourself up for success.
Epilogue
In the end, the worst snare drummer I’ve ever seen became one of the most tremendous students I’ve had the pleasure of teaching. He went on to march with the indoor group, become the center snare, march DCI, and also become center snare at a Top 12 drum corps. He’s now double majoring in music education and performance, and a success story I often share with my current students.
By no means was the video feedback the sole source of Tom’s success. He had many great teachers, friends, and parents helping him along the way. It was also because of his personal qualities that helped him find success. 5 takeaways from Tom you can keep in mind if you get cut:
Perseverance. Simple. Tom didn’t give up, and neither should you. Even if you’re terrible, just don’t give up. Check out Angela Lee Duckworth’s TED talk on Grit. Work ethic. Change doesn’t happen overnight. Big accomplishments come from many small steps over time. If you want the payoff, you gotta put in the time. Attitude. Stay positive, stay motivated. Make videos. Keep a journal. Find a friend or teacher for external accountability. Figure out what motivates you and do that. Try choosing one strategy this week, and add it to your daily work flow. Focus. Identify what you want, and focus on it by committing it to writing. At any moment, you should be able to ask yourself, “Is what I’m doing right now moving me closer to my goal?” It’s easy to get distracted when you lose focus on your goal. Feedback. Get feedback from people you trust. Benefit from their experience. Get an outside perspective so you can target and validate how you’re spending your time.
–
Thanks for Reading!
Hopefully you found some new information or reinforced what you already knew. How have you handled getting cut? How do you encourage people who get cut? I invite you to leave a note in the comment section below and share your thoughts!
If you enjoyed the post or know someone who might find it helpful, please share on your social media.
You can also send me a direct message via the contact page or find me on your social media platform of your choice. Let me know if you found this post helpful, any additional questions you might have, or just ask me how my day’s going – I appreciate it 🙂 Sub/follow to find out as more content comes out.
Most importantly, if you get cut, don’t give up – keep going!
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Huei-Yuan Pan is a Los Angeles based musician via Chicago, originally from Houston. His drum corps experience includes performing with the Phantom Regiment Drum and Bugle Corps (Snare, 2001) and The Cavaliers Drum and Bugle Corps (Snare, 2002-2003; Front Ensemble, 2004). From 2008-2011, Huei served as Director and Arranger for Green Thunder Percussion, and in 2012-2013, Percussion Caption Head with Regiment. He is currently the Director of the Jumpstart Young Musicians Program at The Colburn School in downtown Los Angeles. For more on Huei, click here.
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unifor – Politicorp. Politicorp. Where the World meets You Menu Facebook Twitter Instagram WordPress About International Affairs Government Economy Energy Agriculture Culture Search Search for: Menu Search Politicorp. Facebook Twitter Instagram WordPress Close Search for: Facebook Twitter Instagram WordPress About International Affairs Government Economy Energy Agriculture Culture Tag: unifor by Peter Bury 22 Dec 2021 Number of comments0 Economy Government Working for Workers: Ontario PCs Kick the Tires on a New Dawn of Labour Relations As wide as Conservatives have tried to extend their ‘big blue tent’ over the years, organized labour has very rarelyContinue Reading Subscribe to Blog via Email Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Email Address: Subscribe Join 245 other followers Translate Authors Peter Bury Canadian Oil and Gas is Necessary for Economic Recovery, here and abroad Working for Workers: Ontario PCs Kick the Tires on a New Dawn of Labour Relations Alberta’s New Mayors to be at Odds with Industry and Province Half a billion dollars later, and nothing to show for it Underperforming leaders leave Journalists to hijack Centre Stage Facebook Twitter Instagram WordPress Blog at WordPress.com. Follow Following Politicorp. Join 245 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Politicorp. Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar | negative |
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High performance Mail Transfer Agent (MTA) | MailerQ Installation guide Features Pricing Documentation Blog Jobs Login Function MQ_continue MailerQ has a non-blocking nature, and uses callbacks to pass control to a plugin. It is then up to the plugin to interact with the event loop, and pass control back to MailerQ when it is ready with its task. Passing back control can be done in three different ways: Tell MailerQ to run the next plugin (the normal way of returning control) Tell MailerQ to skip all other plugins Tell MailerQ to call the first plugin again The MQ_continue() function can be used for the first of the above options to hand control back to MailerQ. If you call MQ_continue(), MailerQ will call the next plugin in line, or continues with its original algorithm if no other plugins are available. /** * Finish plugin processing * * @param connection the connection that may move on to the next plugin */ void MQ_continue(MQ_Connection *connection); See also MQ_complete() and MQ_retry() for the other ways of handing back control. Function mq_smtp_out_data() If your plugin contains this function, it will be called as soon as the SMTP connection enters the data state, giving you the chance to manipulate the message body before it is sent. Normally, the full MIME messages that are going to be sent by MailerQ are stored in the JSON objects that are loaded from RabbitMQ. When a SMTP connection has been set up, the MIME is extracted from the JSON and sent over the SMTP connection. But you may write a plugin that does this in a different way. If you want to write a plugin to generate the MIME in a different fashion, you can do so by implementing the mq_smtp_out_data() function. This function is called by MailerQ after the SMTP connection has been set up, to load the actual MIME message. This method is designed to run asynchronously. You should not execute any blocking calls from within this function, if you do you will disturb other active connections resulting in timeouts. #include <mailerq.h> | negative |
WASHINGTON, DC - OCTOBER 06: Nerlens Noel #4 of the Philadelphia 76ers looks to pass during the first half against the Washington Wizards at Verizon Center on October 6, 2015 in Washington, DC. NOTE TO USER: User expressly acknowledges and agrees that, by downloading and or using this photograph, User is consenting to the terms and conditions of the Getty Images License Agreement. (Photo by Rob Carr/Getty Images)
The contemporary NBA is full of rebuilding teams, but none have taken that approach to the extremes of the Philadelphia 76ers. Whereas the likes of the Orlando Magic have attempted to build a long-term core and assess the resullts simultaneously, the Sixers and general manager Sam Hinkie have allowed their process to play out on the league's version of the geologic time scale. The franchise has now spent three offseasons collecting young players, highly rated rookies, and future considerations. Yet the Sixers figure to suit up just two or three players in 2015-16 who project as potential fixtures, and the two most exciting ones are big men who might not be able to play with each other. The progress has been minimal.
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That's not to say there will be nothing to like at the Wells Fargo Center this season. Second-year center Nerlens Noel had a very promising rookie season after sitting out all of 2013-14 and could develop into an elite defender. If Noel and No. 3 overall pick Jahlil Okafor prove a decent fit inside, then the Sixers could also have a go-to scorer on the block to provide structure to what has been the league's least efficient offense for the past two seasons. And although celebrating the team's effort is a backhanded compliment given the results, head coach Brett Brown has ensured that Philadelphia's players approach games with a commitment out of step with the fact that Hinkie is likely to trade most of them the minute an offer involving a second-round pick reaches his desk.
Story continues
But let's be honest — even those most excited about the Sixers' future aren't that excited to watch them for 82 games. This team is better suited to imagination than reality, to the point where Hinkie's greatest supporters point to the expected 2016-17 arrival of Croatian forward Dario Saric (the No. 12 pick in 2015) and the likelihood of holding two very high picks next June (theirs and the Los Angeles Lakers' top-three-protected selection) as essential portions. By this rationale, Okafor and Noel, two players with a single season of professional play between them, are the givens. Put more perimeter talent around them and the whole team will presumably thrive.
The complicating factor for the Sixers is that most rebuilding processes encounter major hiccups, something that most teams figure out easily enough. The difference, of course, is that those teams often commit just one or two seasons to walking down dead-end streets instead of the eventual half-decade required to suss out merely the early potential of this project. As the Sixers have already learned from the second foot surgery (and questionably effective rehab) needed by 2014 first-round pick Joel Embiid, these plans can go awry very quickly. Who knows what else will befall them as Saric and other players join the club?
For the next six months, though, the focus will be on a few key questions:
• How good is Okafor?
• Can he and Noel play together?
• Will any other players prove valuable enough to keep or trade?
• Are the Lakers going to have a top-three pick?
• How will the draft lottery shake out?
Other issues can be important, but they are ultimately secondary to the goals of the franchise. The real season starts as soon as the final buzzer sounds on April 13.
2014-15 season in 140 characters or less:
Did the summer help at all?
We'll tell you in three years. That's only partially a joke.
The offseason started very well on draft night, when Okafor fell to the Sixers at No. 3. Ohio State point guard D'Angelo Russell would have been a more natural fit with Noel if he hadn't been taken by the Lakers, but Philadelphia desperately needed a go-to scorer. For all his apparent limitations as a defender and shooter, Okafor projects as a potentially elite low-block scorer. The Sixers don't have anyone comparable at any position and should provide him with plenty of touches. He's absolutely one of the top candidates for Rookie of the Year.
The second round was a little less exciting, although not bad. Bowling Green forward Richaun Holmes (No. 37) projects as an active role player to make plays around the basket, while North Carolina wing J.P. Tokoto (No. 58) should spend a fair amount of time in the D-League.
Two other second-round draft-and-stash picks were shipped to the Sacramento Kings on July 1, when Hinkie engineered one of his customarily opportunistic moves for second-year shooter Sauce Castillo Nik Stauskas, veteran forward Carl Landry, and veteran big man Jason Thompson (later dealt to the Golden State Warriors) as his trade partners attempted to clear cap space. Landry will get minutes at power forward, but the deal was done to obtain Stauskas, 2014's No. 8 pick. He will be given every opportunity to contribute after a terrible rookie season with the Kings.
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Sitting out free agency yet again, the Sixers got some terrible news on July 11 when it was revealed that Embiid would need a second surgery to repair his right foot and will miss the 2015-16 season. It's not clear if Embiid broke the bone again or simply had a setback related to the original injury, but there have been reports that he did not take his rehab process seriously. (It's telling that he did not have the surgery until mid-August.) It's not clear that Embiid will ever play in the NBA, let alone for the Sixers.
Elsewhere, Philly added several low-cost players on non-guaranteed salaries to fill out the roster. We will not discuss them here because they are means to an end for a franchise with other things on its mind.
To recap, the Sixers added a potential go-to guy, traded for a great outside shooter who could be a bust anyway, and lost their highest-potential player maybe forever. We promise that it seemed a lot more boring and predictable than that description suggests.
Adam Silver congratulates Jahlil Okafor on his successful lounge act. (Elsa/Getty Images)
Go-to offseason acquisition:
Duh, it's Okafor. The one-and-done center joins the Sixers after averaging 17.3 points per game on 66.4 percent shooting for the Duke Blue Devils. Those numbers alone should excite a franchise that entered the offseason with one player (wing Robert Covington, a pleasant surprise) who averaged double figures and played more than 30 games. Okafor struggled in the preseason and can't be expected to play like a star right off the bat, but he has scoring talents that no one else on this roster can match. There will be growing pains related to his questionable free-throw shooting and especially his defense, but Okafor has the chance to become an essential part of the team's plans.
Glaring weakness:
This team is bad enough that we could list any number of weaknesses in this section. However, the Sixers clearly are not judging themselves by those standards and must be assessed on different terms.
So let's dig a little deeper into something that's already been mentioned — the rebuilding process's lack of tangible progress. After three offseasons on this path, the Sixers remain an idea more than a real basketball team worth supporting. Buying into their viability requires a great amount of optimism over players yet to wear NBA uniforms and draft considerations that haven't even been assigned official years and lottery odds. While Noel looks very good and Okafor is an exciting prospect, the latter is mostly an unknown and the duo appear to play the same position. The outlook is hazy at best.
Contributor with something to prove:
The deal for Stauskas represented a can't-lose value proposition for Hinkie, who gave up very little for someone who had been a top-10 pick just one year earlier. Still, the deal may have only looked as good as it did due to Philadelphia's paucity of perimeter talent and the context of Sacramento's questionable pursuit of ill-fitting veterans. Stauskas was terrible in 2014-15, shooting 36.5 percent from the field and 32.2 percent from beyond the arc in 15.4 minutes per game with a 7.5 PER. The Sixers love to shoot 3-pointers — their 26.3 attempts per game ranked sixth in the NBA, although they were also 29th in percentage made — so Stauskas has the chance to become a foundational piece if he finds the form that made him Big Ten Player of the Year. If he doesn't, he'll be remembered as the bust with a delightful nickname.
Potential breakout stud:
Even the staunchest Sixers skeptics must admit that Noel had a very successful rookie season. Noel served as the linchpin of a defense that surprisingly ranked 12th in points allowed per 100 possessions. Although his offensive stats could stand to improve (46.2 percent is not a good mark from the field for someone who sticks around the basket), defensive stars are becoming increasingly valuable players in this league. If Noel and Okafor prove a good fit and do not create offensive spacing issues — early returns have been pretty good — then the Sixers have their first piece of a potential contender.
Best-case scenario:
Noel plays well enough to win some Most Improved Player votes. Okafor fits well with him and scores in the manner this team needs. Covington continues to look like a very good piece, and Stauskas develops into one in a new environment. Embiid takes his recovery seriously and looks able to contribute next season. The Sixers lose enough games to win the lottery or just get lucky instead, and the Lakers pick falls outside of the top three but stays in the top five.
If everything falls apart:
Noel and Okafor occupies too many of the same spots on the floor and harm each other's development, Stauskas sees no improvement, Embiid stays a lost cause, and poor lottery luck drives the Lakers into the top three and the Sixers out of the top five.
Kelly Dwyer's notoriously unreliable crystal ball:
18-64, 15th in the East and last in the NBA.
Read all of Ball Don't Lie's 2015-16 NBA Season Previews:
EASTERN CONFERENCE
Atlanta Hawks • Boston Celtics • Brooklyn Nets • Charlotte Hornets • Chicago Bulls • Cleveland Cavaliers • Detroit Pistons • Indiana Pacers • Miami Heat • Milwaukee Bucks • New York Knicks • Orlando Magic • Philadelphia 76ers • Toronto Raptors • Washington Wizards
WESTERN CONFERENCE
Dallas Mavericks • Denver Nuggets • Golden State Warriors • Houston Rockets • Los Angeles Clippers • Los Angeles Lakers • Memphis Grizzlies • Minnesota Timberwolves • New Orleans Pelicans • Oklahoma City Thunder • Phoenix Suns • Portland Trail Blazers • Sacramento Kings • San Antonio Spurs • Utah Jazz
- - - - - - -
Eric Freeman is a writer for Ball Don't Lie on Yahoo Sports. Have a tip? Email him at efreeman_ysports@yahoo.com or follow him on Twitter! | positive |
Scientists validate Nigerian food plants for cancer treatment Skip to main content Search Search This Blog Tee-II Pages Home Business Money Health Politics Sports Career Bizarre More… Share Get link Facebook Twitter Pinterest Email Other Apps Labels Cancer health International News June 18, 2015 Scientists validate Nigerian food plants for cancer treatment A very recent study on anti-cancer and free radical scavenging activity of some Nigerian food plants shows that regular intake of local spices and vegetables such as bitter leaf (Vernonia amygdalina), Gongronema latifolium (utazi in Ibo, arokeke in Yoruba), West African Black Pepper or Ashanti pepper (Piper guineense, uziza in Igbo and ata iyere in Yoruba), sesame (Sesamum indicum), and Cowhage also called Velvet bean (agbala or agbaloko in Ibo and werepe in Yoruba) could provide the elusive cure for cancers. The study was published in February 25, 2015 edition of the International Journal of Cancer Research. The researchers include: Emeka Eze Joshua Iweala, Fang-Fang Liu, Rong-Rong Cheng, Yan Li, Conrad Asotie Omonhinmin and Ying-Jun Zhang. The authors wrote: “This study was designed to screen different extracts of 15 commonly consumed Nigerian food plants for anti-cancer and free radical scavenging activities. Leaves, seeds or fruits of the plants were each successively extracted with n-hexane, dichloromethane, ethanol and water. “The cytotoxic activity of each of the extracts was tested against human myeloid leukemia (HL-60), human hepatocellular carcinoma (SMMC-7721), human lung carcinoma (A-549), human breast adenocarcinoma (MCF-7) and colon cancer (SW480) cell lines using Cisplatin as standard. “The free radical scavenging activities of the extracts against 1,1-diphenyl-2-picrylhydrazyl (DPPH) were also determined. The dichloromethane extract of Vernonia amygdalina leaves (VA-D) showed the strongest cytotoxic activity against all the cancer cell lines with IC50 range of 5.85-8.84 μg mL-1. The dichloromethane extract of Gongronema latifolium leaves (GL-D) showed the highest activity against A-549 and MCF-7 with IC50 of 9.57 and 6.51 μg mL-1, respectively, while Piper guineense leaves (PG-D) exhibited the highest activity against HL-60 with IC50 of 3.62 μg mL-1. “The other extracts were inactive against the cancer cell lines. The ethanolic extract of Sesamum indicum leaves (SI-E) and Mucuna pruriens seeds (MP-E) showed the highest free radical scavenging activity with SC50 of 6.8 and 7.3×10-2 mg mL-1, respectively. “Other extracts of some of the food plant samples showed varying free radical scavenging activities. The results from this study suggest that some of the food plants screened may possess anti-cancer and antioxidant properties.” The researchers concluded: “In conclusion, the dichloromethane extract of Vernonia amygdalina leaves (VA-D) showed the strongest cytotoxic activity against all the cancer cell lines while that of Gongronema latifolium leaves (GL-D) showed the highest activity against A-549 and MCF-7. Also the dichloromethane extract of Piper guineense leaves (PG-D) exhibited the highest activity against HL-60. The ethanolic extract of Sesamum indicum leaves (SI-E) and Mucuna pruriens seeds (MP-E) showed the highest free radical scavenging activity with SC50 against DPPH. This study reveals that several plant foods that are commonly consumed in Nigeria could have anti-cancer potential, which could provide a plausible explanation for the apparently and comparatively lower incidence of cancer.” Another study on Nigerian foodstuffs with prostate cancer chemo-preventive polyphenols published in Infectious Agent Cancer by Sunday Eneojo Atawodi, found: “Dietary polyphenols are antioxidants that can scavenge biological free radicals, and chemo-prevent diseases with biological oxidation as their main etiological factor. In this paper, we review our laboratory data vis-ὰ-vis available literature on prostate cancer chemo-preventive substances in Nigerian foodstuffs. “Dacryodes edulis fruit (local pear), Moringa oleifera and Syzygium aromaticum (Nutmeg) contained prostate active polyphenols like ellagic acid, gallate, methylgallate, catechol, kaempferol quercetin and their derivatives. Also Canarium schweinfurthii (Bush candle tree) oil contained ten phenolic compounds and lignans, namely; catechol, p-hydroxybenzaldehyde, dihydroxyphenylacetic acid, tyrosol, p-hydroxybenzoic acid, dihydroxybenzoic acid, vanillic acid, phloretic acid, pinoresinol, secoisolariciresinol. “In addition, tomatoes (Lycopersicon esculentum Mill) which contains the powerful antioxidant and anti-prostate cancer agent, lycopene; cabbage (Brassica oleracea) containing indole-3-carbinol; citrus fruits containing pectin; Soursop (Annona muricata) containing annonaceous acetogenins; soya beans (Glycine max) containing isoflavones; chilli pepper (Capsicum annuum) containing capsaicin, and green tea (Camellia sinensis) containing (-) epigallocatechin gallate (EGCG), (-) epicatechin, (-) epicatechin-3-gallate and (-) epigallocatechin -3-gallate which are widely reported to posses prostate cancer chemo-preventive compounds are also grown in Nigeria and other African countries. Thus, the high incidence of prostate cancer among males of African extraction can be dramatically reduced, and the age of onset drastically increased, if the population at risk consumes the right kinds of foods in the right proportion, beginning early in life, especially as prostate cancer has a latency period of about 50 years.” Credit: Chukwuma Muanya/the Guardian Share Get link Facebook Twitter Pinterest Email Other Apps Labels: Cancer health International News Comments Post a Comment Be sociable, share your opinion! Post a Comment :) Powered by Blogger Theme images by mskowronek Pageviews Favourite Blogs Mama Loves Food! Chicken Parmesan (Parmigiana) - Chicken Parmesan (pollo alla parmigiana, parm, parma, or parmi) is a classic dinner dish that originates in Italy but is enjoyed worldwide! Growing up in... Visa and Immigration Info US Embassy resumes No-Interview 'Dropbox' Visa Renewal in Nigeria - *The United States Embassy in Nigeria has lifted the restriction on no-interview visa renewal popularly called dropbox for Nigerians renewing their visas... Living Life Vaccinated people who catch Covid have super immunity and more effective antibodies - *By Emily Craig* Fully-vaccinated people who catch Covid end up with 'super immunity', scientists have claimed. Oregon Health and Science University ex... Nigeria Gists Containing possible Coronavirus outbreak in Nigeria - [image: Coronavirus] *With a death toll already in excess of 100 people and confirmed cases of infection in their thousands, the world faces a formidable pu... | negative |
Lenovo is considering building a modern ThinkPad laptop using some vintage design elements. Chief Design Officer David Hill unveiled the concept last month, and while the company hasn’t committed to actually building a Retro ThinkPad, Lenovo is running a series of surveys to solicit feedback.
The third survey just went live, asking users what kind of hardware they’d like the laptop to have under the hood.
Preliminary results from earlier surveys show that most respondents want a laptop with a 14.1 inch display, a 7-row keyboard, and some sort of illuminated keyboard — but people seem to be pretty evenly split on whether they’d prefer backlit keys or a “ThinkLight” that shines down on the keyboard from above (which works better on keyboards with narrow gaps between the keys).
Among other things, the latest survey asks users whether they’d like a system with a powerful quad-core 47W processor or a more energy-efficient dual-core 15W chip, integrated or discrete graphics, support for up to 16GB of RAM or up to 32GB, and whether they’d prefer a hard drive, solid state drive, or some combination of the two.
In addition to the new survey 3, surveys 1 and 2 are still open if you want to submit your ideas. At least one more survey is coming next week.
thanks Aaron! | positive |
The Benefits Of An Holistic View Of Investment Advice • Wingate Financial Planning Skip to content Benefit Solutions Aspire Client Portal +44 (0) 1883 332261 enquiries@wingatefp.com Our Services Care Fees Planning Financial Planning Trustee Investment About Us About Wingate Our People Our Approach Corporate & Social Responsibility Professional Excellence Awards & Accreditations Case Studies Opinions & Insights Latest News White Papers Funding For Later Life Care Plan Introduction to Planning your Retirement Menu Our Services Care Fees Planning Financial Planning Trustee Investment About Us About Wingate Our People Our Approach Corporate & Social Responsibility Professional Excellence Awards & Accreditations Case Studies Opinions & Insights Latest News White Papers Funding For Later Life Care Plan Introduction to Planning your Retirement Search Close Contact Us Home » Uncategorized » The benefits of an holistic view of investment advice The benefits of an holistic view of investment advice NOTE: This post is more than 12 months old, and the information contained within may no longer be accurate. Alistair Cunningham The widest view will lead to the best outcomes (Photo: Flickr/mariusz kluzniak) Being a Financial Planner starts with building a long term financial plan to assist with the attainment of an individual’s lifetime goals. Investment management is an important part of our role, as is tax planning. We strongly believe that one the best investment outcomes cannot be achieved without an holistic view. This is why it puzzles me that many full time Investment Managers have been very slow to highlight to their clients the significant changes to dividends that are occurring in April of this year. Specifically, all dividends will cease to be treated as tax paid for basic rate tax payers, and instead will be subject to an additional 7.5% income tax charge, in addition to the Corporation Tax they have paid at source. There will be a £5,000 allowance for all individuals, but for most people receiving a dividend from their investments will see their net return reduced by 7.5%. Wingate Financial Planning employs a “total return” approach to investments as we already are aware that most individuals do not use their capital gains tax allowances and these changes will mean that our investment strategy has further validation. Our clients enjoy a return that on a risk adjusted basis will be expected to be greater than it would be from their investment manager due to the tax planning that we undertake. What is surprising is that almost universally these changes are not being communicated by the same investment managers, the worse of these, working at private banks and or “Wealth Managers” spend their efforts bamboozling their clients with investment jargon, and unfavourable pages of data, but have not communicated this significant change that will reduce prospective returns. If you are concerned about anything above please do not hesitate to get in contact and we will be able to explain how Wingate can take a more holistic view of your finances, covering a raft of areas including tax planning and mitigating changes to legislation such as these on your investment plans. Other Articles Matthew Bond Financial Planning, 07 Sep 2022 How your pension can help leave a legacy Read Post Ian Warrilow Financial Planning, 02 Sep 2022 Beware: Capital Gains Tax on Divorce Read Post Share This Article Facebook Twitter LinkedIn WhatsApp Email Are you ready to make informed decisions about your money? 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The dusty village of Melela Mlandizi stands 45 kilometres outside of regional hub Morogoro, Tanzania. Far from city infrastructure, its 200 inhabitants would be forgotten but for the installation of a solar power system, harnessing the hot sun that beats down overhead. It is what lights their homes off the grid.
Instead of using dangerous kerosene to light their homes, residents use solar energy, usually in the form of three light bulbs.
“Before we were using kerosene lamps, but now we get electricity. And actually mostly for students, now they can study even in the night nicely, and also for moms who have kids, and babies, it helps them. Because before it was not easy,” says Idd Ally Kapazi, a 23-year-old solar energy technician.
“A baby cries and it's dark, and sometimes you don’t have kerosene. And here where we live is very far from where you can get kerosene. So solar is perfect,” he says.
Kapazi has been installing solar lighting systems for the past two years in villages around the area. Customers use Devergy, a solar startup created by Italian engineers in Tanzania.
Users pay 12,000 Tanzanian shillings (6 euros) a month for their electricity. The poorest homes have a few lightbulbs, while others run appliances via solar. People who cannot pay per month pay 4,000 shillings a week, and those who struggle pay per day.
It takes three to five hours to charge the solar battery in the sun for the whole night.
LA Bagnetto
Many people are proud to be Devergy customers, including businessman, farmer and Melela Mlandizi resident Seliman Maji Melalila, meter number 690747.
“At first this solar programme was so great, it managed to improve lot of people’s lives, but recently it has being a bit of a challenge, since not everyone has access to the power and we just don’t know why,” he says.
Lately, there have been some issues with their electricity source.
“Before, we were using the power to watch television, and we bought a special television for solar power. But now, you watch it for an hour, and then it stops. It’s a connectivity problem,” he adds.
LA Bagnetto
Devergy’s head of country operations for Tanzania, Gian Luca Cescon, told RFI that the solar battery needs to be changed for customers in Melela Mlandizi.
“It’s like a cell phone battery,” he says. “You use it and recharge it, but occasionally, you need to replace it.”
The problem, he says, is that the batteries have been sitting at the Port of Dar es Salaam for the past 3 months, waiting for clearance.
“We need to do better for our customers, but we’re waiting for the batteries,” he says.
Devergy already supplies electricity to 800 customers, including the residents of Melela Mlandizi, and has expanded by licensing Devergy grids to third parties in Ghana, where they power two villages.
LA Bagnetto
Back in Melela Mlandizi, we come across Mama Ermina Mwenda, making food for the eight people in her family—her husband, child and her in-laws with their children.
She says she is very happy to have solar, especially because it has made the village safer, but for her family, it is still difficult for them to pay for the service.
“The challenge I have noticed so far is, if you don’t have enough money to put in the voucher, you can’t have electricity,” she says. Her family buys vouchers daily via their mobile phone.
It has made the town a lot safer at night, says Mwenda. Although her other neighbours have solar-run appliances, she says the three light bulbs are enough for her.
“With our standard of living, our poverty, I can’t want more. It’s enough for me. As long as I have bulbs, I have light, it’s ok.”
Devergy put Melela Mlandizi on the map, according to Mwanda. She says that the government saw the changes that were made in the village, and they have installed electricity poles.
“It has motivated the government. The poles are there, but the electricity has not been put in yet,” says Mwanda, but notes that she would never switch from solar to Tanesco, Tanzania Electric Supply Company Limited. | positive |
Time and again networks who have failed to launch a superhero television series have had their sorry, leaden efforts compared to the likes of the U.K.’s Misfits, with its crackling energy and liberating abuse of the word "cunt." So it was inevitable that someone would eventually say, “Hey, let’s just remake that.” That someone, according to Vulture, is Gossip Girl producer Josh Schwartz, who has reportedly finalized a deal to collaborate with the show’s creator Howard Overman to scrub it of British slang and give it the properly drawn-out vowel sounds that will appeal to American audiences, then shop it to networks later this year.
Of course, Americans have already warmed to Misfits in its pure, original form: The show became one of Hulu’s most-streamed series when it debuted this summer, which is why we’re even talking about a U.S. adaptation in the first place. For many, that success would seem to negate the need for any remake, as even Overman himself has expressed misgivings about moving the series—which focuses on a group of smart-assed teen miscreants sentenced to community service, who suddenly gain superpowers following a freak storm—saying that it’s an inherently British spin on American genre clichés, many of which seem like they could find their way back in during translation. Still, both Overman and executive producer Murray Ferguson have also said they believe it can be done so long as they keep in mind the cultural differences—which is a philosophy that’s worked out for, oh, maybe 5 percent of all U.S. remakes of U.K. shows? | positive |
Davide Petrucci: Charlton loan move for midfielder
Charlton Athletic have signed Manchester United midfielder Davide Petrucci on loan for the remainder of the season.
The 22-year-old has yet to make a senior appearance for United but his temporary switch to The Valley should enable him to gain further first-team experience.
He made four appearances and scored one goal during a two-month loan spell at Peterborough United last term and he also spent time on loan at Royal Antwerp earlier this season.
Petrucci trained with the Charlton squad on Thursday morning and could now feature in Saturday’s Sky Bet Championship game at Derby County.
The Italian’s time with United has been hampered by a series of injuries, but he has impressed at U21 level and has captained the club’s development squad. | positive |
Jes Staley describes challenge as ‘wholly manageable’ and less costly than other problems the bank has encountered
The chief executive of Barclays has said he sees no reason to shift British jobs to Europe as a result of Brexit and described the restructuring required as straightforward compared with other challenges faced by the bank.
Jes Staley said Brexit would be “a wholly manageable challenge” and “significantly less costly” than other problems the bank had encountered.
Preparing for Brexit, Staley said, was not as complex as setting up a US holding company, as required by the US authorities last year, or preparing to ring-fence Barclays’ high street bank from its risky investment banking arm by 2019.
Shareholders should get a bigger say on executive pay, says IoD Read more
His remarks contrast with those of rivals such as Deutsche Bank which has warned 4,000 roles could go from London, while US bank JP Morgan is preparing to move up to 1,000 bankers out of the City to Dublin, Frankfurt and Luxembourg.
Goldman Sachs, despite continuing to build a new headquarters in London, has said it will need more people in Madrid, Milan, Paris and other cities in the EU.
Speaking at Barclays’ annual shareholder meeting in London, Staley said retaining the single market for financial services that currently exists within the EU remained the best option for the UK and EU economy.
He said the bank was prepared for any outcome, and that the bank had “multiple choices” on how it would continue to serve its customers and clients, regardless of the final deal.
He added: “I have to say that compared to the complexity of standing up our US intermediate holding company, as we did on 1 July last year, let alone establishing a ringfenced bank in the UK from scratch, as we are currently doing, any of the options we might need to pursue are by comparison straightforward, and significantly less costly.”
Staley continued: “Finally, we do not currently see a need in our options to shift British jobs or significant operations elsewhere. If we require a buildup of capability in another European Union jurisdiction as part of our plans then we can do so, and we will.”
Barclays has previously suggested its Dublin office could become more important after Brexit and it is thought that the bank will hire more staff in Ireland.
At the meeting shareholders raised questions about an investigation into Staley’s attempts to unmask a whistleblower and one investor called on the American banker to resign.
Another asked what he had intended to do if had been successful in his attempts to uncover the identity of the individual who made allegations about the previous conduct of Tim Main, who worked with Staley at JP Morgan and who Staley recruited to Barclays in a senior role last June.
Staley made two attempts to discover the identity of the individual making the allegations and began the meeting by apologising to shareholders for his actions, which he now says were a mistake.
Both the Financial Conduct Authority and the Bank of England’s Prudential Regulation Authority are investigating the matter. Barclays has formally reprimanded Staley and insisted that there will be a significant reduction in his bonus, which was £1.4m last year.
John McFarlane, the Barclays chairman, repeatedly defended the chief executive who he hired in 2015 after forcing out previous chief executive Antony Jenkins.
McFarlane said Staley did not need to go. “I don’t believe that was the just action for what actually happened,” the chairman said.
On the second occasion that Staley tried to discover the whistleblower’s identity, McFarlane said “he thought he had a green light. He went through the light and it actually it was red.
“The action for going through red light wrongly is you don’t lose your licence.”
McFarlane told the shareholder concerned about Staley’s intentions if he had found the whistleblower: “All he wanted to do and stop them sending the letters.”
Shareholders have being advised to abstain from the annual vote to re-elect Staley to the board by ISS, an influential adviser to major investors. | positive |
Quick, without looking it up: who has the most assists in Major League Soccer this season? Kaka? Nope. Sebastian Giovinco? Shockingly, no. The answer to the question isn’t even a designated player.
On Wednesday night, Ethan Finlay of the Columbus Crew picked up his 11th assist of the year. That gives him two more than anyone else in MLS. And it’s more than just a hot start. Over the last season and a half, Finlay has 16 goals and 18 assists in 49 matches.
At 24, Finlay has broken out as one of the most dangerous players in MLS, but he hasn’t necessarily gotten noticed as a result. Columbus’ match Sunday against Chicago will be the first time this season that they’ve been featured on ESPN or Fox’s national broadcasts. When fans made their picks for the MLS All-Star Game, no one from the Crew was in the XI. That’s a shame, because Finlay and the Crew are exciting to watch.
This was Finlay’s assist on Wednesday night. I said he “picked it up,” but that doesn’t quite do justice to his effort here. After his pass to Wil Trapp, he makes a 40-yard run down the right wing to be there for the next pass, then covers another 40 yards with two touches of the ball. He slows down to let his teammates get into the box, then puts in a perfect cross for Kamara.
His assist was a superlative example of the genre, but this is what Finlay does. He flies down the right wing and sends in crosses. Above, note how Finlay is already on the run before Tchani even gets his head up. Finlay sees space and knows he needs to be in it.
Kei Kamara leads the league in goals with 13, and Finlay has assisted on six of those. It’s in Columbus’ nature that Kamara’s return wasn’t as high-profile as other offseason signings, but he was exactly what they needed.
In 2014, the Crew lacked a true center forward, and its midfielders had to pick up the goal-scoring slack. Finlay scored 11 to lead the team. That’s a respectable total for someone who plays his position. But consider that Kamara has already eclipsed that mark. The addition of Kamara has made goals like this more rare in 2015, with Finlay providing more assists instead. But the ability is clearly still there.
Whether he is scoring or assisting, it’s the intelligence of Finlay’s runs that makes him a threat. Above, he is already playing off Kemar Lawrence’s back shoulder before the pass to Kamara is played, and thinking that extra step ahead is the difference in this goal.
Continued play like this is generally accompanied by certain questions. Will he make a move to Europe? When will the national team take notice? I can’t answer the first question. But one national team already has taken notice of Finlay: the Canadian one.
Finlay was born and raised in the U.S., but his dad is a Canadian citizen. For FIFA eligibility, what matters is whether his father was born in Canada. Given that Canada claims he is not eligible for the team currently, it’s likely that he never will be. Finlay would have to live continuously for five years in Canada to gain eligibility now.
If you watched Canada at the Gold Cup, you know that they could use a player like Finlay. It’s no wonder they reached out to him. But I think Finlay has shown enough to deserve a look from the U.S. as well. He would be a valuable addition to a USMNT right flank that has been a bit of a mess of late.
Despite some of his rhetoric, Jurgen Klinsmann has shown a willingness to reward those who perform in MLS with call-ups to the national team. Since the World Cup, we’ve seen names like Lee Nguyen and Perry Kitchen make appearances on USMNT squads. But Finlay was never a part of the U.S. youth system, and hasn’t yet gotten attention from the senior team.
If he keeps playing like this, he shouldn’t have to wait much longer to receive that attention. | positive |
Renewables provided nearly 60 per cent of Scotland’s electricity consumption last year, according to new official figures from the UK government.
This means the 2015 target for 50 per cent of electricity generation to come from renewable sources has been met and exceeded.
It also shows renewables have now become the biggest electricity generator, ahead of nuclear at nearly 35 per cent and fossil fuels at 22 per cent.
• READ MORE: Donald Trump’s letters to Alex Salmond revealed via FOI
The figures, from the Department of Business, Energy and Industrial Strategy, show energy from the likes of hydro, wind and solar has risen by 14 per cent in the past year.
The sector is now the single largest contributor to electricity generation north of the border, providing a record 42 per cent of total output.
Scotland continued to be a net exporter of electricity, exporting 29 per cent of all electricity generation in 2015.
Power generated here made up approximately 26 per cent of the total UK renewable output in 2015.
While gas dominated the generation mix in England and Northern Ireland, in Scotland renewables had the largest share at 42 per cent – double the proportion in the other UK nations. In Wales coal had the largest share at 33 per cent.
• READ MORE: Study highlights global power of Scottish renewables
Scotland aims to deliver the equivalent of 100 per cent of its electricity consumption from renewable sources by 2020.
The latest figures were welcomed by Scottish leaders and industry bosses, but they hit out at Westminster’s stance on renewables.
Business and energy minister Paul Wheelhouse said: “Despite damaging policy changes from the UK government, which we continue to seek to have reviewed, we will continue to harness – and bolster – Scotland’s renewables potential, both in generation and infrastructure.”
Jenny Hogan, director of policy at industry body Scottish Renewables, added: “Scotland is exporting a record proportion of its electricity generation to the rest of the UK – in large part thanks to the growth of renewables.
“However, future progress is hugely uncertain, with large-scale onshore wind, solar and hydro power all locked out of government schemes to support investment in new electricity generation capacity.” | positive |
Facebook recently rolled out an update for Android devices that's supposed to speed things up for users. If that update delivered on its promise, then you've got the company's trip to Africa to thank -- that's how Facebook's engineers got a taste of how slow the app can be on low-end phones with developing nations' internet speeds. One of the social network's engineers, Alex Sourov, detailed in a blog post how they bought several low-end Android phones in Africa to test out their app, which didn't only crash repeatedly, but also loaded really slowly. Even worse, they ended up consuming a month's worth of data plan within 40 just minutes trying to use the app. It became apparent that they needed to give their Android app an overhaul if the social network wants to reach even more people around the globe -- so they did. | positive |
Rock music and TV: Strange bedfellows | Hack's Back Pages Menu Home Mix Tapes LIVE! Mix California Mix Summer Mix Labor Day Mix About Contact Search for: Summer Mix California Mix LIVE! Mix Hack’s Mix Tapes Contact Me Labor Day Mix Skip to content Hack's Back Pages Ruminations on Musical Milestones, 1955-1990 Music & Television Rock music and TV: Strange bedfellows Posted on July 24, 2020 by brucehhackett For decades, and still true today in some ways, rock music and television have had what Keith Richards describes as “a very weird, unnatural marriage.” The Beatles’ debut on “Ed Sullivan” From its inception, rock and roll was rebellious, brazen and controversial. Television, on the other hand, was mostly bland, familiar and non-threatening. They had very little in common. Just as Hollywood and the movie industry ignored, mocked and dismissed rock and roll for many years, television also showed it little respect, at least at first. Almost everyone in positions of power in TV — the network executives, the program producers and writers, the censors in the “Standards and Practices” department, the established stars and show hosts — all showed a very obvious disdain for rock and roll throughout the ’50s and much of the ’60s. With only a few exceptions, it would take TV well into the ’70s before they recognized the growing appeal and marketability of rock, and even longer to acknowledge its artistic merits. Clark interviews Brian and Carl Wilson and Mike Love If anyone deserves credit for being a pioneer in bringing rock and roll to the small screen, it would have to be the late Dick Clark, “America’s Oldest Teenager” and host of the hugely popular, long-running “American Bandstand.” Its roots were in Philadelphia, where a radio DJ named Bob Horn played records while local teens danced on camera, interspersed with Jim Morrison and Dick Clark size each other up short music films. In 1956, Clark took over as host and, later, as producer and owner of the franchise. It became nationally syndicated with a TV audience of more than 20 million, airing live on weekday afternoons, with teen dancers rating the records, and recording artists lip-synching to the recorded versions of their hits. “American Bandstand” moved operations to LA in 1964, where six shows were pre-taped every six weeks and broadcast in most markets on Saturdays, in color beginning in 1967. The show evolved as tastes changed, from pioneer rockers (Buddy Holly and Bo Diddley) to California rock (The Beach Boys and Jan and Dean), from hard rock (The Doors) to soul (Stevie Wonder), disco (Gloria Gaynor) to hip-hop (Run-DMC). Against all odds, on a fleeting medium like television, it lasted for 35 years, its final show airing in 1987. The legendary Ed Sullivan, that curmudgeonly but savvy impresario who ruled Sunday nights for 23 years (1948-1971) with “The Ed Sullivan Show,” gets a nod for bringing Elvis’s 1st appearance on “Ed Sullivan” high-profile rock singers to mainstream audiences before anyone else, beginning with Elvis Presley in 1956. Granted, he was rather patronizing, and insisted on limiting footage of “Elvis the Pelvis” to above-the-waist shots only. But in the segregated late 1950s, he also was bold enough to defy the status quo by showcasing both known and unknown black artists like Bo Diddley, Jackie Wilson and Fats Domino. Sullivan welcomes The Supremes Over the years, the list of rock groups who appeared on Sullivan’s show was fairly broad, from Buddy Holly to The Doors, from The Beach Boys to Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, from The Bee Gees to Ike and Tina Turner, from Creedence Clearwater Revival to Janis Joplin. All these acts performed live, with no lip-sync’ing, as was customary ON TV at that time. And, of course, Sullivan is best known for being almost exclusively responsible for introducing America to The Beatles by featuring them on his show on three successive shows in February 1964, thereby opening the floodgates known as “The British Invasion” of English rock artists and forever changing the face of popular music and pop culture. By the mid-’60s, pop/rock started showing up on a number of other traditional variety programs. Musical variety platforms like ABC’s “Hollywood Palace” (1964-1970) gave airtime to some of the tamer bands like The Hollies, Herman’s Hermits, The Lovin’ Spoonful and the top Motown acts (Supremes, Temptations, Marvin Gaye, Four Tops, Stevie Wonder). Even so, The Rolling Stones’ American TV debut in June 1964 came on “Hollywood Palace” (as did the debut of The Jackson 5 in October 1969). Conservative entertainers like Red Skelton and Dean Martin didn’t like rock music, but saw the wisdom in “giving the kids what they want” and The Kinks on “Red Skelton” reluctantly included a few of the more “vanilla” acts on their eponymous variety shows on CBS — The Dave Clark Five, Jan and Dean, Johnny Rivers, Manfred Mann, Dionne Warwick. The hosts, in their introductions of some bands, couldn’t resist making condescending remarks about their long hair and amplified sounds: The Kinks, The Stones, The Animals (1965); The Four Seasons, The Fifth Dimension (1967); Iron Butterfly and Three Dog Night (1968-1969). For a year or two, the prime-time TV lineup included shows for the teen market exclusively devoted to pop/rock artists. ABC’s “Shindig” (1964-1966) and NBC’s “Hullabaloo” (1965-1966) managed to bring more than 150 different artists to TV audiences: Sam Cooke, The Who, Sonny & Cher, The Righteous Brothers, James Brown, The Yardbirds. “Hullabaloo” used safe guest hosts like Petula Clark, Paul Anka and Sammy Davis Jr. to make the program more palatable to parents who sometimes watched with their teenagers. “Shindig” featured dancers called The Shin-Diggers (including notables like Teri Garr) and a house band called The ShinDogs, comprised of future-star session musicians who were members of the “Wrecking Crew” — Glen Campbell, Billy Preston, Larry Knechtel and Leon Russell. “Shindig” taped some episodes from London, with Beatles manager Brian Epstein as the emcee. Neither show lasted long; “Hullabaloo” gave up its Monday night time slot in 1966 to a rock and roll comedy, fashioned after The Beatles’ film “A Hard Day’s Night,” about a madcap pop group called The Monkees. “Upbeat” host Don Webster with Monkees Davy Jones and Mickey Dolenz And there were other locally based rock/pop programs that eventually were syndicated. “Where the Action Is,” another Dick Clark production filmed on the beaches of Southern California, enjoyed a brief arc of popularity in afternoon TV, with Paul Revere and the Raiders as the house band. The syndicated show “Upbeat,” born as “The Big Five” on WEWS in Cleveland, lasted seven years (1964-1971). At first it focused on regional talent like The James Gang, Mitch Ryder, The O’Jays and The Raspberries, but eventually featured some of the biggest names in counterculture rock — The Jefferson Airplane, Otis Redding on “Upbeat” Steppenwolf, Love, Pink Floyd, even Lou Reed and The Velvet Underground. The show also had the dubious distinction of airing Otis Redding’s final performance in December 1967 before he died in a plane crash the next day. British TV had its own unique relationship with rock music. “Top of the Pops” was a mainstay on the BBC from 1964 until 2006, an amazing 42-year run unmatched in Bowie on “Top of the Pops” television history. Each show offered performances by bands with that week’s top charting singles, concluding with the week’s #1 single. Famously, the debut show included both the Beatles and the Stones. “The Old Grey Whistle Test,” which ran on BBC2 from 1971 to 1988, prided itself on avoiding chart-topping artists in favor of edgier, lesser known bands — Bob Marley and the Wailers, The New York Dolls, Judas Priest, Meat Loaf, Lynyrd Skynyrd. Tommy Smothers helps The Who destroy their instruments By 1968, as revolution filled the air around the world and down the street, two TV shows attracted attention with hosts clearly sympathetic to the rock music world: “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour” and “Late Night With Dick Cavett.” CBS didn’t like Tommy Smothers or his leftist politics and soon cancelled the show (“CBS smothers Brothers,” read the headline), but ABC Jimi Hendrix chats with Dick Cavett gave Cavett a lot of leeway as he tried to compete with Johnny Carson’s “The Tonight Show.” Carson, Merv Griffin and other talk shows very rarely booked rock groups at that time, but Cavett not only gave rock bands a place on TV to perform but also a forum to sit and chat about edgy topics like politics and drug use. Artists like Jimi Hendrix, John Lennon and Yoko Ono, Crosby Stills and Nash, Joni Mitchell, Grace Slick, David Bowie, George Harrison and Paul Simon all sat for articulate, meaningful interviews in addition to their musical performances. When the Seventies arrived, so did several rock and soul music showcases that lasted for a decade or more, and they offered an important difference: Lip sync’ing was abolished in favor of live performances. Rock audiences had complained about the antiseptic nature of rock music on Sixties TV, where it was obvious the bands’ electric guitars Denny Dias and Donald Fagen of Steely Dan on “Midnight Special” weren’t even plugged in and the vocalists weren’t singing into the microphones. Three late night programs gave a much-needed shot of credibility to television’s treatment of rock music. “In Concert” (1972-1975), “The Midnight Special” (1972-1981) and “Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert” (1973-1981) all aired in late-night weekend time slots, hosted by personalities that knew about and appreciated rock music. These shows featured many excellent performances by major rock and pop artists such as Genesis, Steely Dan, Blondie, Elton John, Rod Stewart, The Doobie Brothers, Aerosmith, Kiss, The Cars, Electric Light Orchestra, Fleetwood Mac and Peter Frampton. The Stylistics on “Soul Train” And then there was “Soul Train,” the syndicated ratings behemoth that focused on soul and rhythm-and-blues while dabbling in funk, disco, jazz, gospel and hip-hop as well. Born in Chicago in 1970, it found immediate success there and the first few syndicated markets it tried (Detroit, Cleveland, Atlanta, Philadelphia) and then relocated its operations to LA in 1972, with nationwide syndication that lasted until 2006. The show, dubbed “the hippest trip in America,” was a highly influential sounding board for many dozens of urban artists, from The Stylistics to Bill Withers, from Barry White to The Ohio Players, from Gloria Gaynor to The Commodores. The Philly instrumental band MFSB, with The Three Degrees on vocals, had a huge #1 hit in 1974 with the “TSOP (The Sound of Philadelphia),” which served as the theme song for “Soul Train” for three years. Devo on “SNL” The debut of “Saturday Night Live” in 1975 brought more edgy, under-the-radar acts to network TV, including such mavericks as Randy Newman, Gil Scott-Heron, Leon Redbone, Frank Zappa, Dr. John, The Talking Heads, Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, Devo and The Grateful Dead. Another inroad came with live sports coverage, including “Monday Night Football,” where ever-younger producers started using brief snippets of rock songs when they took breaks for commercials. The paradigm really shifted dramatically in the early 1980s as cable television spread from the rural valleys to the suburbs to the nation’s largest cities, challenging broadcast TV norms. A cornucopia of “Narrowcast” channels offered entire networks devoted to cooking, or Congress, or fishing, or Christianity…or rock music. Music TeleVision, soon known far and wide as MTV, rocked everyone’s boat, rewriting the rules and pumping new life into everything from filmmaking and choreography to fashion and hair styling. Oh, and incidentally, music. Rock music fans suddenly had their own channel, a place they could go 24 hours a day to listen to — and watch — rock bands playing rock music. When MTV went on the air in August 1981 with the symbolic song “Video Killed the Radio Star” by The Buggles, there weren’t many music videos out there, so the ones that Peter Gabriel’s award-winning “Sledgehammer” video existed — a strange brew of Rod Stewart, Pat Benatar, Men at Work, REO Speedwagon, Andrew Gold, Devo — were aired ad nauseum. But it didn’t take long for artists and record companies to grasp the new dynamic, and within months, most major pop single releases were accompanied by down-and-dirty music videos of the band performing its hit in various locations. Within a year or two, the budgets exploded and the videos involved serious directors (David Fincher, among others), outrageous concepts and huge casts of dancers and extras. Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” video Michael Jackson’s iconic 13-minute video for “Thriller” brought MTV’s largest audience ever. Keith Richards amended his earlier assessment: “Since the beginning of time, rock and roll and TV have never really hit it off. But suddenly it’s like they’ve gotten married and can’t leave each other alone.” Interestingly, by 1992, MTV chose to phase out music videos in exchange for more profitable, non-music programming, alienating their music-loving viewers. “They don’t play music videos anymore,” whined rocker Sammy Hagar. “How dare they still call themselves MTV!” Cynics said the acronym now stood for Money TeleVision, and they had a point. These days, rock music has infiltrated TV in multiple ways. Rock songs play almost continually in the background of drama shows like “Grey’s Anatomy” and “Scandal”; rock bands appear regularly on every talk show from Jimmy Fallon to Jimmy Kimmel; rock anthems by The Who are used as theme music for the “CSI” franchise; even most commercials use rock tunes to sell their products. In recent years, the business models of both television and pop/rock music have been battered and shattered to such a degree that it almost makes this essay seem quaint. But it’s fascinating to note that TV and rock music, once like oil and water, are now pretty much inseparable. Did your living room have one of these in the ’60s? Share this: Facebook Email Print More Twitter Like this: Like Loading... Related Post navigation Discovering things and giving them wings Shall I tell you about my life? 5 comments introgroove · July 24, 2020 Dick Cavett was/is much more hip than his personae suggested. LikeLike Reply newepicauthor · July 25, 2020 Hugh Hefner featured a lot of music on Playboy After Dark. LikeLike Reply brucehhackett · July 25, 2020 Very true. Sorry I neglected to include that show. First time I ever heard Deep Purple. LikeLike Reply Dennis · July 27, 2020 There was a Monday-Friday, syndicated dance show in the mid-60’s called “The Lloyd Thaxton Show” – it was out of L.A. – kind of a poor man’s “American Bandstand” LikeLike Reply brucehhackett · July 27, 2020 Can’t say I remember that one, but surely there were other local/syndicated shows like “Upbeat” based in other cities than Cleveland and L.A….. LikeLike Reply Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here... Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email (required) (Address never made public) Name (required) Website You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change ) Cancel Connecting to %s Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. 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We haven’t heard that much from STAR TREK BEYOND scribe Doug Jung, who teamed up with co-writer Simon Pegg for the final version of the script at the beginning of 2015 (after Bob Orci and the other writers were let go from the project).
Today, however, a new interview with the Writer’s Bone podcast gave Jung the forum to talk a bit about his career to date, and of course, his involvement with BEYOND. While the entire interview lasts almost forty minutes, the Star Trek discussions starts at about 24:00.
In addition to talking about the now-well-known short lead time that he and Pegg had to take BEYOND from script to screen, Jung also gave his perspective about taking on such a well-known property:
I was hesitant to take [the job] because, I mean, you’d have to be kind of an idiot to not see that opportunity – but it’s a little intimidating. There’s just a huge amount of information and so many years and layers that go into [the Star Trek] canon.
Once he and Simon Pegg began their work, it wasn’t just another job — their shared history with Trek had an impact.
There were definitely times when we were sitting there together and we would both be like, “All right, this is just weird. We need to think of a really good Spock line.” Or whatever – A really good Bones quip. We’d have some cool idea, but think, “Did they do that once in some Next Generation episode? Is that what’s coming to us? Is that where we’re getting it?” It was stuff like that that came up.
Not only did they do their own research when needed, they also welcomed feedback from other Trek experts during the writing process:
[We had] so many people who were such fans of Star Trek, who knew it so well; [we were able] to lean on those people a little bit. We had this guy who did all the alien dialect, and in the script where there was something about Vulcan theology, and I got it wrong… He sent me an email saying “In the Original Series, we did establish that Spock…” And I literally was like, “That’s great!” How fantastic is it that? We would take that from anywhere we could get it.
Jung also spoke at length about the writing partnership, and how Pegg’s familiarity with the material added to their efforts.
What I liked about [Simon’s] point of view is that he is an actor in the new reboot franchise, and he could kind of take a different point of view on it at certain times. That was really cool, because we would be doing scenes where there was heavy back-and-forth dialogue, and he could sometimes say, “You know, I don’t think he’d say that.” He knew the characters and the actors really well, so he would even sometimes tailor things to certain actors, as Simon knew what their strengths were.
Lastly, he also talked about the pair’s work to try to build the characters of the Enterprise crew in this new outing:
One of the other things were trying to determine while we were doing it, was what are all the inter-dynamics between these characters? I remember we were talking one day… “Have Chekov and Sulu ever had a conversation on-screen?” We went through the other two movies and they actually, literally, never had a conversation on-screen. So just because he was there, he knows all that how it sort of went down and we were able to go, “Oh, there’s an opportunity.” Something where we can maybe build certain relationships that haven’t been explored before.
STAR TREK BEYOND hits theaters this July. | positive |
Huawei y ZTE declaradas como amenaza de seguridad nacional por la FCC de Estados Unidos Huawei y ZTE declaradas como amenaza de seguridad nacional por la FCC de Estados Unidos FCC acusa estrecha relación con el Partido Comunista Chino, su aparato militar y la colaboración con los servicios de inteligencia del país. Pisapapeles 5 Comentarios Embebido de WordPress Embebido HTML Copia y pega esta URL en tu sitio WordPress para embeberlo <blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="6Ez6hLW6YE"><a href="https://pisapapeles.net/huawei-y-zte-declaradas-como-amenaza-de-seguridad-nacional-por-la-fcc-de-estados-unidos/">Huawei y ZTE declaradas como amenaza de seguridad nacional por la FCC de Estados Unidos</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://pisapapeles.net/huawei-y-zte-declaradas-como-amenaza-de-seguridad-nacional-por-la-fcc-de-estados-unidos/embed/#?secret=6Ez6hLW6YE" width="600" height="400" title="“Huawei y ZTE declaradas como amenaza de seguridad nacional por la FCC de Estados Unidos” — Pisapapeles" data-secret="6Ez6hLW6YE" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(c,l){"use strict";var e=!1,o=!1;if(l.querySelector)if(c.addEventListener)e=!0;if(c.wp=c.wp||{},c.wp.receiveEmbedMessage);else if(c.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if(!t);else if(!(t.secret||t.message||t.value));else if(/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret));else{for(var r,s,a,i=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),n=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=0;o<n.length;o++)n[o].style.display="none";for(o=0;o<i.length;o++)if(r=i[o],e.source!==r.contentWindow);else{if(r.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message){if(1e3<(s=parseInt(t.value,10)))s=1e3;else if(~~s<200)s=200;r.height=s}if("link"===t.message)if(s=l.createElement("a"),a=l.createElement("a"),s.href=r.getAttribute("src"),a.href=t.value,a.host===s.host)if(l.activeElement===r)c.top.location.href=t.value}}},e)c.addEventListener("message",c.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",t,!1),c.addEventListener("load",t,!1);function t(){if(o);else{o=!0;for(var e,t,r,s=-1!==navigator.appVersion.indexOf("MSIE 10"),a=!!navigator.userAgent.match(/Trident.*rv:11\./),i=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),n=0;n<i.length;n++){if(!(r=(t=i[n]).getAttribute("data-secret")))r=Math.random().toString(36).substr(2,10),t.src+="#?secret="+r,t.setAttribute("data-secret",r);if(s||a)(e=t.cloneNode(!0)).removeAttribute("security"),t.parentNode.replaceChild(e,t);t.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:r},"*")}}}}(window,document); </script> Copia y pega este código en tu sitio para embeberlo | negative |
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英文版《寿命是自己一点一滴努力来的》 | 万物如是网_改变命运 欢迎光临！ 登录 欢迎投稿 万物如是网_改变命运 登录 首页 邪淫必戒 孝敬父母 素食放生 行善积德 因果实录 如是微视 关于我们 搜索热点 100部佛教电影 李杲老师 山西小院 一封信 首页如是知识英文版《寿命是自己一点一滴努力来的》 15 登录收藏 http://www.xuefogm.com/11985.html 复制链接 复制链接 英文版《寿命是自己一点一滴努力来的》 如是 633 文章 29 评论 2021年4月2日17:38:48如是知识评论2,65715315658字阅读1052分11秒 My Life is Extended Little by Little through my Efforts Written By Ms. Chen Translated by Guo-xiang About the Author Ms. Chen, now 62 years of age (translator's note: as of 2001), was born in Taipei, Taiwan in 1939. Because her bone marrow cannot generate blood cells, she was pronounced by her doctor to be a hopeless baby. She would need blood transfusion for life. Her dad had her little body disposed of at a garbage site, but her maternal grandmother refused to let her go and retrieved her body. She and her mom held her ice cold body for weeks, and she somehow survived. At the age of six, her belly began to grow like a pregnant woman, and she had to undergo a major surgery. Again and again, her doctors said that she wouldn’t live long and advised her family to give up instead of dragging the whole family to bankruptcy. She beats the odds; she was 62 years old when this book was first published in 2001. She has advanced degrees, a beautiful family with five successful children, and a great career (including the position of the former Presiding Judge in Taiwan). Preface by the Author This booklet is published thanks to the help of many friends. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have any financial means to expend nearly a million dollars (Taiwan currency) on the publication of a book because my monthly donations have reached the full capacity of my income. Therefore. This booklet was the fruit of collective work. In the past three months, my friends and I had to resort to manual image printing in the hope to pass my survival stories to those who are combating the same battle. My special thanks go to Lu Bang Company for its donation of a state-of-the-art printer. With this printer, we are able to print nearly 8 thousand copies. (Translator’s note: The booklet has been reprinted 8 times by the time of translation in 2021). All of us worked until three of four in the morning before we dragged our tired feet home. This booklet is not of much value. Therefore, try and see if it is worth reading. If it is not, feel free to pass it to a friend or trash it. This booklet is only useful to those who believe it; to those who don’t, it is scrap paper. For some, it may be hard to believe in Virgin Mary giving birth to Jesus, the holiness of Buddhist scriptures, or illiterate people writing a book in the Quran; the mundane judgement can’t apply to such; it is the same with this booklet. Many thanks to you for taking time away from your busy schedule and reading this booklet. You may have many skeptical thoughts; if so, feel free to skip it because you don’t need to bother yourself. No matter how skeptical you might be, you can never find answers. Even I myself can’t find answers. I only know what happened to me, but I don’t know why. What is most important is whether a principle can bring you happiness, help you meet one challenge after another, and change your bad fate. It is just like taking medication; what is important is whether it can cure your ailments; you don’t need to care whether the medication factory is in decent shape. Likewise, whether this booklet can be of help to you is way more important than the study of the author’s background or the truthfulness of the content. This world is full of people who gossip; this booklet will also face pros and cons. However, real gold fears no fire. We humbly accept and welcome any criticism and suggestions. Many thanks to you. May this booklet bring you a bright future and a new happy life. Humbly yours, Ms. Chen PS: This booklet was composed during my hospitalization. Done in a rush, it is bound to have errors. Gratitude goes to any reader for proofreading corrections. Send your mail to Ms. Chen, 407 Tai Zhong, PO Box 119, Eastern Ocean University My Life is Extended Little by Little Through my Efforts If I want to survive, I have to listen to my doctors and have a thorough understanding of thalassemia. So, I brought lots of periodicals on the disease and read the articles again and again. To my surprise, the periodicals cover a lot of sad news of many young patients’ death. I was heartbroken at the news because they were too young to die. I often think, “Aren’t they also my kids?” I often cry for them, until tears wet my skirt. I am also a patient of the disease. From my very birth, I was pronounced by my Japanese doctor to be dead. Nonetheless, my mom carried me on her back and went all over the province in search of miracles or a panacea for my terminal illness. There is an old saying, “Life and death is not only in the hands of humans but also in the hands of Heaven.” Another saying goes, “There is always a way out”, “When one door is closed, another door opens.” My mom strongly believed “deities will come to the rescue when humans are stuck in despair.” For all this, I struggled and survived. I have never heard of thalassemia. Only recently when my anemia deteriorated so badly and so quickly as to causing festering necrosis in my legs that I was diagnosed with the disease and I began to have some understanding. As a matter of fact, I have been living on transfusion and removal of blood iron, which has been leaving my family at the brink of bankruptcy, but I had never known the culprit was thalassemia. Recently, I happened to come in contact with an expert of the disease; he told me, “Your case is mild. It’s no big deal.” I was very thankful to hear that and I felt at ease 100 percent. But then I thought that I had lived such an arduous and miserable life even with such a mild case; what about those with serious cases? Wasn’t that too cruel? Wasn’t that too pitiful? During my elementary school, grade school, and college, I always had to have someone accompany me in class and on the commute. I was not eligible to attend PE class; I was not allowed to go out by myself. It was all because I may faint anytime and lose consciousness. Every time I awoke in the ER, my doctors were certain that I wouldn’t live long; I myself was clear that I did not have tomorrow or future. For this, every time I had the fortune to escape a narrow death, I would vow again and again: if I could live to be married and have a career, I would donate all my wealth and my time to establish a philanthropy center to help those who have the same disease. Surprisingly, I really got married; I really had a career; I also really founded a decent-size philanthropy center, Because I am a patient of moderate thalassemia which is one notch away from a serious case, I am always sad to hear of young patients passing away so prematurely; I couldn’t sleep or eat well. I am thus determined to do what I can to help; I decide to write my stories of combating the disease for the past 62 years for the benefit of those young patients and anyone who may need such help, in the hope that they can each live to be a hundred years old and out of the shadow of death. I know I am still living in the danger of thalassemia and I must have the constant care of a nurse and I am a 100% patient of anemia with no cure; nonetheless, I am living day after day, and it is not an easy venture. This journey has its survival lessons filled with tears and blood. Such ought to have some reference value. Maybe people read about patients of serious cases from publications and assume that no other patients of such disease need attention and that mild cases are no big deals. As a matter of fact, there is no big difference between serious cases and moderate cases; only patients themselves can tell. In particular, my grandma, my parents, and my whole family have lived in fear day and night for the past 62 years. How can it be dismissed as a mild case? It is nothing less than a grave disaster! It takes one to know one. I offer this booklet with my hard-earned well-being throughout 62 years to all the suffering patients. Many people have asked me, who has stayed at hospitals like home and who has gone in and out of hospitals like a kitchen: “Is a terminally ill patient bound to die? Is one’s life span predetermined?” My answers are always no. When I was little, I heard my mom say that even if one was terminally ill, he wouldn’t die as long as he was not a virtue-less person. One’s life span is determined by oneself. How long one wants to live is one's own business, with nothing to do with illness. Nonetheless, to lengthen one’s life span, efforts must be made to earn it; a tug war must be upheld with Death King; no pain, no gain. My growth was too slow and too pathetic. My grandma was pitiful of my pathetic look which did not match my age, so she would hold me in her arms every night, until my college graduation. She left me behind and departed at the age of 92. On her deathbed, she exhorted, “Don’t be a virtue-less person. Don’t do anything merciless, and you won’t get stuck in a dead end.” Once, General Anqi Liu was at a golf course and he commented on the way of Minister Dawei Yu. He mentioned the three things Minister Yu would never do: Unfriendly things Merciless things Inhumane things I was very touched and I have held them up as my motto. I am determined to keep my motto till my old age and my death. Someone giving a Dharma talk once asked me the following questions: How do we gain our longevity? How do we earn it? How does someone with thalassemia keep up the tug war with Death King? Let me talk about my mom first. In the midst of the powerful air raid bombings of the Second World War, she carried me on her back and went to famous temples in the deep mountains with the hope to run across reclusive Dharma masters who might save her precious dying daughter. Once, she was trying to take shelter from American bombings and she scurried to a dilapidated temple. The master there asked her in surprise why she was risking the bombings and running around with her baby. My mom cried and said, “My baby is terminally ill. She is dying!” The master brought us inside the temple and told my mom patiently, “No one’s life span is determined by Heaven; rather, it is built little by little through efforts. Also, everyone’s body is one’s perfect medication factory and can make all sorts of medication to treat all of one’s ailments. Therefore, everyone’s body has the miraculous potential to treat one’s ailments. The master also said, “If one is not a virtue-less person, he won’t be on a dead end even if he is terminally ill. We live in the sentient world, and we must be compassionate, not only to humans, but to anything else. We can’t hurt them, not even a drop of water, a piece of paper, or a penny. We must be compassionate and cherish them.” At the age of 11, I was very ill for a whole year. My grandma and my mom said to me seriously, “You are big enough to earn your own life span. Never do anything that may shorten your life or reduce your fortune. No matter whether it is a person or a tiny animal, you must cherish him and love him like your own kid. When You give others a chance to live to be a hundred, then they will give you a chance to live to be a hundred. If you want to live long, you can’t do anything that will shorten it. Also, everything has its life span of use; you must try to lengthen its life rather than shorten its life or cause its end. Lengthening others’ life is lengthening your life. Also you must remember this: when fortunes are not depleted, one will surely not die early.” Today, I have surprisingly lived to be 62. This can’t be the result of medicine or science only. Maybe what has impacted my life is my grandma and mom’s words. From my birth up until now, I have never harmed an ant, a mosquito, a bug, or a cockroach; neither have I snipped a flower, grass or a twig. In 1975, I was in a coma for 11 months due to delayed transfusion; I was in a vegetative state. Nonetheless, I miraculously came to again. At the time, a renowned dharma master promised my mom firmly, “This child radiates kindness; she is full of compassion. She will definitely come to.” You see, what determines our life and death is not a terminal sickness; rather, it is whether we have a beautiful heart, a compassionate heart. Do you believe this? A beautiful heart will surely have a beautiful life. These are the words to my patient friends from the bottom of my heart. Why not practice them? I pray that you live to be a hundred, have a good family with children, and have a good career. Wishing you a Hundred Years of Age as Well From the very first day of my birth, my doctor gave me a death sentence. He said to my mom who was living a miserable life in the midst of wars, “This baby is definitely bound to die because she suffers from extreme lack of blood cells and oxygen.” I was my mom’s first daughter. It was the time of the Second World War. On her way of fleeing from mishaps, she was starving herself to save my fragile life and she brought me to this world. However, the doctor was so cruel and gave me the death sentence on my first day. I clung on my mom's back on the way to all places in the hope of finding a remedy, Chinese herbs or panacea. By the time I was four, five years old, I still couldn’t speak; when I was nine, I still couldn't add one, two, three. The doctor said, “This kid’s brain lacks blood cells and oxygen. She will live to be eleven at most, and then she will deteriorate. She surely can’t survive. It is useless to bring her up. You may as well put her out of misery now and forget about it.” However, my grandma and my mom insisted on living or dying together with me, the short-lived devil. They told the doctors and nurses that they wouldn’t be able to live on if I died. From my birth up till now, I have constantly passed out from serious anemia, as constant as daily meals. ER expenses are high; particularly, transfusions are costly. Sometimes, we had to plead our relatives for a loan; sometimes we pleaded blood brokers to have mercy. During transfusion, I would be allergic, tremble, or have a spasm until fainting, as a result of body rejection. Therefore, I often had to break an transfusion into several IV drip sessions, never really replenishing fully at once. Without a doubt, I have constantly fainted day after day; I have never had the heart to think of another day’s life. Surprisingly, I survived the 11-year-old death sentence, and then the 18-year-old threshold. Now, I am 62 years old. In recent years, again I have often been in a coma from sudden fainting. My family is terrified. Luckily, each time I was rushed to ER by Good Samaritans. After numerous tests, they found that I lacked blood cells and oxygen to an extreme extent, and my red cells were seriously problematic; I needed constant transfusion to keep this fragile life alive. It all finally dawned on me why I had taken more blood than food ever since my birth, and I finally learned that there is such a thing as thalassemia. Now I am really much at ease. Before I knew this truth, I had spent 62 years getting injections and transfusions and removing blood iron. All was done by my whole family fumbling and stumbling along without any help because we had never heard of thalassemia. A doctor asked me in surprise ,”How did you survive such a long, arduous journey?” I burst into tears and said, “My grandma, my mom, as well as my whole family, we lived a miserable life and paid a hefty price to keep me alive. It’s very sorrowful and very exhausting!” Today, when I read the periodicals on thalassemia at the hospital, I was so sad. I was crying all the way home. When I got home, I couldn’t help crying out loud. I stayed in my room by myself and cried until dawn; I couldn’t go to bed. All my five kids were scared. They wouldn’t step away from me. I was just wondering why the patients mentioned in the periodicals died before they turned of age, or had a family, or had a career; why did they die one after another? Why? I was born during the Second World War, a time when medical supplies and daily necessities were scarce; it was the most difficult time for Taiwan. Nearly all life-saving medication, nutrition, and transfusion blood were impossible to get. We could do nothing but resort to the black market; everything was priced like robbery, which was a huge burden for us struggling in the midst of American air raid bombings. Still, we always relied on ourselves, until this day; we have never accepted any government subsidies; each drop of blood transfusion was paid for with our own money; my parents and my whole family cut down on food for the savings. Because medication and transfusion blood were scarce and because we were very financially tight, I was rarely able to get timely transfusion when I needed it, and I was never able to fully replenish the needed blood; oftentimes, we would have no more money after getting only 70 or 80 percent of the needed amount. Nonetheless, I miraculously survived, and I have lived to be 62, safe and sound. In contrast, why did these innocent young patients live such a short life? After all, they were born to this abundant society, with all the supplies from the government, with no shortage of anything; maybe there is something else, apart from transfusion and iron removal, that is beyond the reach of medicine and science. I sincerely hope to know more of these patients. I really hope to help them; I hope to help them to live on, have their kids; I hope everyone can live to be a hundred. Even though I am working in laws and I am charged with imports and exports of international companies, I am still a terminal ill person without tomorrow. I obey my parents’ command to never handle any prosecution cases to avoid an early death. In particular, in my 62 years of life and death, my grandma and my mom time and again resorted to many religions and prayed for the survival of my fragile life. For this, they time and again urged me not to forget the miraculous power of religions; they urged me to study hard scriptures of each religion so as to serve the religions and save lives as a payback. Now, I often help local religious groups preach Quran, Hebrew Old Testament, Greek New Testament, Sanskrit,Tibetan Buddhism, esoteric Buddhism, and exoteric Buddhism. I also teach some rare languages during my free time such as World Language. (I took lessons from teachers and studied the languages hard.) During this long time of hardships, my grandma and my mom attested the saving power of deities and the blessings. They firmly believed that each religion has its magic, no matter what religion; they treated all religions equally. Because each religion has saved me, I owe my life to each of them. I sincerely hope to pass the peaceful blessings from religions to my patient friends; I want to bring them good fortunes, good careers and good health; I want to help them step out of the shadow of darkness, out of the grip of death; I want them to embrace brightness. The scriptures teach us, “Heaven won’t take your life unless you really don’t want to live.” “Everyone’s life span is in his own hands, with nothing to do with an illness!” In 1975, I delayed blood transfusion because of urgent business; it led to lack of blood cells and oxygen and then lasting coma; I became vegetative. My mom went to all sorts of places to pray; she touched the heart of a renowned Buddhist master who came to visit my dying body. Unexpectedly, the master promised my mom, “ This child is very kind. She will definitely come to. She definitely will not die!” My mom told the master, “My child has never hurt any living beings ever since her birth, not even an ant, a cockroach, or a mouse. She cares for a small animal the same way she cares for her own kids.” 11 months later, I finally miraculously awoke. I have survived then died; I have died and then survived. I can’t count how many times I have gone between life and then death. Living, I don’t know when I may die; dead, I somehow survive again and again. Maybe, this is a living testimony of life after death. A Beautiful Heart Will Live a Beautiful Life - Your life span is in your own hand. I was born with thalassemia (a deadly blood disease categorized by inability to produce red blood cells). My doctor said that it would break out in a hundred days and I would die within three years. At the time of my birth (1939, Taiwan), medicine was backward; it was just very hard to keep my little body alive. Also, the doctors said that I would live to be eight or eleven years at most; it was pointless to struggle to stay alive. When I reached the age for the first grade, I was an idiotic retard. The school reluctantly admitted me after my family pleaded again and again; however, the school insisted that a family member accompany me at all times, both in class and on the commute. At the time, Taiwan just won independence, and the government took over schools nation-wide. We still did not have Chinese teachers, so Japanese teachers were asked to remain. My maternal grandmother and my mom asked the Japanese teacher, “Is our child worth bringing up? Will she have a miserable life?” The Japanese teacher said, “We Japanese value calligraphy, tea ceremony, Bushido, and meditation. The core of all this is our unshakable faith, which is “A beautiful heart will surely live a beautiful life.” Later, when I turned 11, I was gravely ill and I stopped breathing. Then I awoke; miraculously and I gained intelligence. My grandmother and my mom saw that I could comprehend their words, so they told me the Japanese teacher’s unshakable faith; they exhorted that I must keep a beautiful heart. “What’s a beautiful heart?” I asked them. “A beautiful heart is a biological mom’s heart. For example, if you are a teacher, you must treat each student as your own child; you must be a real mother to each student, more of a mother than their biological mothers. Think how the student’s biological mother treats him/her, you must love the student from your heart in the exact way, not any less. This way, your heart is a beautiful heart. Otherwise, it is a despicable heart of a lesser person,” replied Grandma. “What if the ants in our kitchen eat our sugar?” I asked again. “This is simple. Think about it. Aren’t these ants your kids? Aren’t you their mom? If the answers are yes, the. How does a mom love her kids? Do you need to ask?” Grandma replied again. I nodded, even though I did not fully understand it. Still, I made a promise: I will be Mom to all the sentient beings my whole life. I kept my promise; I fulfilled my promise. Now I am 62 years old. Many people are surprised about this. During the 62 years, I was still sick with no way of getting better, but I am still alive; I have advanced degrees and a good career, a beautiful family and sweet children. I am living a very full, peaceful, happy life. My motto is what my grandma and my mom transmitted from the Japanese teacher, “A person with a beautiful heart will surely have a beautiful life, including a beautiful degree, a beautiful career, a beautiful marriage, and beautiful children.” I attested this philosophy in the past 62 years. When we can’t change our health, we can change our hearts and make our hearts more and more beautiful, and then we can change our fate and destiny. Therefore, even if we have a terminal illness, we don’t need to drive ourselves to despair. What really determines our life or death is whether we have a beautiful heart. Even with the worst illness, we must never give up. Striving to make our hearts beautiful is much more worthwhile than waiting to die a worthless death. Don’t you think so? A Few Words from the Bottom of my Heart The Bible says, “Believers get the believers; skeptics get the skeptics. Buddhism Scriptures say, “Reap what you sow.” The Quran says, “You believe what you believe; I believe what I believe. I believe this: you won’t believe what I believe. You must believe this: I won’t believe what you believe.” Believing others is hard, and hoping others to believe you is even harder. Whether this booklet is worth believing depends on whether you want to get the “believers” or “skeptics”. Thank you! This Kind of People Have This Kind of Disease Because my illness was so serious, my grandma and my mom could do nothing but walk far and beyond to find Buddhist masters retreating in deep mountains. The master said, “Dear benefactors, only this kind of people get this kind of children. If the child is not born to such people, he won’t get this kind is disease. Let bygones be bygones; let today start anew. Why don’t you ask yourself questions. Why are you such people and get such children? Why are you such people and torture your own children with such a disease?” When my grandma and my mom got home, they told my dad everything. My grandma wouldn’t want to see me die, so she bluntly reprimanded my dad, “Are you such a person? Why do you want to be such a person?” My dad had no clue, since he did not know what “such a person” meant. My mom asked my dad to take time and reflect. After all, it was my life still on the line; anything that might save me was worth trying, wasn’t it? My dad reflected for ten whole days. He apologized and apologized. Finally, he got the idea. He began to take the first step from his printing firm. I heard from my grandma that he stopped drinking and frequenting brothels; he canceled all printing orders of pornographic materials; he switched to printing textbooks. My mom said that my dad’s income took a nosedive from that, and his circle of friends became much smaller, to the extent of counting them on one hand. Compared to the friends’ hustling and bustling in front of our house in the old days, it became a totally different world. However, to save my life, my dad transformed into a completely different person at all costs. He said he did not regret it a bit. The master said, “When you are no longer that kind of people, you won’t get that kind of disease, and you won’t have that kind of children.” My illness was still the illness. Nonetheless, it was different. Take, for instance, a traffic accident. If it was bound to happen, it would happen; however, the consequences would be totally different between being hit by a truck trailer of a bike. Even though two people may both have thalassemia, their cases are not the same, in the same way no two faces or two fingerprints are the same. Each disease varies from person to person. There is a saying in medicine, “There have never been two patients with the exact same illness, not even between parents and children.” Now, I have survived, even though I am terminally ill. Therefore, our diseases are just an illusive appearance; what really matters is our hearts. Certain hearts make certain people; certain people get certain children and certain diseases. This is the nature of Buddhism. Blessings Come from Actions, not from Prayers Many people pray for fortunes, careers, and longevity. However, such things can not come from prayers. Many pray for children, wealth, and fame; neither can any come from prayers. This is all produces; you can only get them by sweat and tears and hard work on your heart farm; you must water them, fertilize them, ridding pests, and weeding. I was born with the generic anemia. The master retreating in the deep mountain told my grandma and my mom, “Do you really want this kid to live? Waste no time and cultivate your heart farm; this way you can quickly grow the life missing from this child.” Life span is a produce; children are produces; they are all crops in our hearts. Fortunes are produces; good doctors and medicines are produces. Only when you sow can you reap. No sowing, no reaping. We are destined to be self sufficient farmers, relying on ourselves, working on our heart crops every day; no one can help us. After all, you must sow seeds; otherwise, you can pray until you die and it is still useless. Words and Actions If there is a distance between your words and your actions, it means there is a distance between you and success and happiness; the latter distance equals the former distance; this is rarely off, with no exceptions. Gratitude Some people live happily their whole life while some others can barely find enough to eat and they are afflicted with hardships and disasters and endless illnesses. Scriptures say, “A grateful heart will get everything; an ungrateful heart will get nothing.” In the past twenty years, I have traveled all over the province and given timely help to those in need. This costs almost all our savings and over 90% of our business profits every year; until this day, my whole family still try to stretch every dollar in order to help more people. We have visited many families in great need. We have found that the poorer someone is, the less grateful. The more you give, the more they crave. They even feel they deserve it. Such people are discouraging. The most pathetic people are such ungrateful people, unrighteous virtue-less people. Many people have come to the consensus that those who need compassion the most turn out to be the least deserving. This is called virtue-less people taking the bleak road and getting stuck in dead ends. No religion hopes to get benefactors' acknowledgement, gratitude, or payback; however, to someone who does not acknowledge a favor, is ungrateful, and does not return a favor, all salvation work goes down a drain because such people are forever those tragic people who don’t know how to turn their life around. We can only rescue people from a crisis, educate poor people how to break away from poverty grip, and how to stand on their own feet to break through. All this must be able to open these people’s hearts, and develop a heart that is grateful, appreciative and reciprocal. After all, Nature has a golden rule: Only when someone is grateful can he get the happiness he wishes for; someone who does acknowledge a favor, appreciate a favor and return a favor will have nothing left and will never get anything. People can be categorized into four classes: They are grateful even when there is nothing to be grateful for. They are grateful when there is something to be grateful for. They are not grateful when there is nothing to be grateful for. They are not grateful even when there is something to be grateful for. In other words, some people are grateful when there seems to be nothing to be grateful for. Such people won’t die even in a death situation; they will live even in a no-life situation. Such are the first class of people.; they are practitioners. He can see Heaven when no one else can; he can be safe and blessed even when no one else is safe and blessed. Those who are grateful when there is something to be grateful for are commoners; still, there are not many. They are the second class. Such people will live only in a life situation; they won’t die only in a no-death situation. Those who don’t feel grateful when there is nothing to be grateful will surely die in a no-life situation; they will surely die in a death situation. There won’t be any miracles. These are the third class of people. Those who are ungrateful even when there is something to be grateful for are the most lowly class. They are the same as animals, no better than a dog. Such people can’t live even in life situations, and they will die even in no-death situations. I don’t know which class you belong to. However, Heaven is not discriminatory. Your class decides your level, your rank, your illness and your life; there is no mistake. All people want advanced degrees, but advanced degrees don’t guarantee happiness or health. Even if you have money or prestige, it does not mean you are happy or healthy. What Heaven guarantees is only one thing: only when you are grateful, appreciative, and reciprocal can you get what you want; if you are ungrateful and nonreciprocating, you will have nothing left and you will get nothing. Love, Heaven, and Light Where there is love, there is Heaven, and there is light. Where there is Heaven, there is no Satan, no darkness, no death. Therefore, someone with no love lives a life full of darkness; in the darkness lurks grave danger, Satan, and death. Do you want light? Hurry up and light the lamp in your heart; light it with love. This way, you won’t live in the shadow of failures and death; you will be be able to transform grief into joy and step up to success. Kindness and Attractiveness Scriptures say, “What really makes a person is not his calculation but his kindness.” Kindness means a compassionate heart. A compassionate person cares about whether all the sentient beings in the life-and-death wheel of six ranks can live happily and free from pain without caring for one’s own joy or sorrow, life or death.” I don’t know about big philosophical ideas; I only followed my dharma master and learned from him how to treat others and how to conduct my daily tasks. I respect my master’s kindness, gentleness, and compassion very much, as well as his generosity, tolerance, and forgiveness. Many people came to worship my master and asked for his wisdom; my master time and again transmitted the golden rules. Year after year, he never got tired of such. My master told me this: just as what the scriptures tell us, what really makes a person is his kindness; only kindness can be attractive. I etch my master’s lessons in my mind; I feel I have benefited from such lessons and I should share such unique lessons with everyone so that the muddleheaded folks won’t run around seeking answers from fortune tellers like headless flies. Our society is full of such people, with no wealth, no status, no fame, no benefits, no careers, no family, and no friends. These people have no kindness, so they are not attractive. They don’t have the attractive power like a magnet, they can’t attract anything, and they can’t attract anything close to them. For example, if one is not attractive, he can’t attract the other person, so he can’t get anyone to marry. How can he raise a family? Another case is having a business. If he is not attractive enough, he can not have employees or clients; he then can’t have money or business. How can he start a business? Look around at people, businesses, and objects. Anyone who has successful business must be a focal magnet, a principal figure of great attraction; such a person will definitely have everything and lack nothing; if he really wants something, he will get one thing after another due to his attraction. I have a friend who was married for years but no children. He saw many pregnancy doctors, all to no avail. He came to see me, and he looked very sad. I said, “Only compassion can be attractive. Attraction has energy and can attract kids to you. Otherwise, nothing will work.” For real, he changed; he changed completely. The following year, he had a bay boy; the next year, he had a baby girl. The boy grew up and went to Jian High School, and girl went to Northern Girls’ High School. They are both very smart, I have another friend who runs a store but he has no business. I said, “You don’t have attraction. How do you attract customers? Only kindness can be attractive and can attract customers.” In the past thirty years, I have saved many businesses from bankruptcy and many families from falling apart. I find the bottom line is the lack of kindness. As long as they have kindness, they will be attractive and they can attract. This is the key to revival. My master exhorted again and again: You must have compassion and regard all sentient beings equally with compassionate eyes and a compassionate heart. The equal treatment means no discrimination. Only this way can you have everything and lack nothing. How much kindness do you have? Do you have the attraction to attract beautiful people, beautiful things and beautiful objects around you? What do you See in the Other Person? “What you see in the other person, so is that person.” If you see the deities in a temple as pieces of wood, then they are wood. If you see them as images of deities, then the images are deities. If you see your children as jewels, they will turn out to be jewels in your heart. If you see your children as trash, then they will turn out to be trash in your eyes. It is all because whatever you see in your children, so will they turn out to be. I go in and out of hospitals day after day. Many patients look at their diseases pessimistically, and their diseases turn out to be pessimistic. In contrast, some patients are tough and look at their diseases as no big deals; as a result, it is no big deal, and they recover soon. The terminal diseases are not terminal themselves; they turn out to be terminal mainly because the patients themselves look at the diseases as terminal diseases; so they turn out to be. Therefore, terminal diseases turn out to be such from our own perception. Many people say they children don’t behave. I tell them that their children misbehave because they always look at them as such; then they become such; if you look at your children as behaving, then they will behave. A preacher did a field investigation in Bei-gang Ma Zu Temple. He wanted to see if the local believers worshiped deities or wood. He studied and studied, and he found the figures on the tables were nothing but pieces of wood. When one sees others as wood, then they are just wood. Whenever I go see doctors, I see them as the best and they can cure me and I will recover; I never alter my “seeing” a bit. As a result, I survive one crisis after another; a major illness changes to a mild case, and mild case changes into nothing, and I have a speedy recovery. Whenever you have mishaps, you should check your eyes. What you are seeing is the source of fortunes or misfortunes. Jesus’ Holy Spirit The Bible teaches us, “Don’t look down upon others. Don’t belittle the weak and small. You never know upon whom Jesus’ spirit is. Don’t bully the poor. Don’t disrespect little animals. In the eyes of Jesus, maybe you are no more valuable than the others who are worthless in your eyes; maybe you are even more worthless than them. These are the lessons I got from the German priest, from whom I learned Latin for years. Whoever has the spirit of Jesus on him is the most blessed, and he is the one who can bless us. “I Want to Die. It Pleases me. Leave me Alone.” In 1950, I just got back on my feet after a major illness. My school gave me exceptional green light for me to move to the fifth grade. At the time, the political situation In Mid Taiwan was tumultuous; everyone was on the edge, afraid they might be entangled in a political conflict; if they were labeled a political category, they would be condemned with no hope of light. Therefore, everyone minded their own business, and no one dared to care about others’ business. This was called the clean remaining clean and the stained remaining stained. One day after school, a family member was walking me home. Suddenly, four big male students walked towards us and they were playing with a dormant grenade; they were grabbing it between themselves, tossing it in the air, passing it to one another, completely ignoring passersby. My family member was afraid I might be knocked down and have big trouble, so he yelled at them to stop. To our dismay, they were annoyed and purposely tossed the grenade towards me. Because I had been very sick and still very weak, some pedestrians took pity on me and picked up the grenade, but they did not reprimand the boys. The boys did not care and kept playing the grenade like a toy, snatching it from each other. I felt the grenade was dangerous. I was worried that it might explode; then what? I asked my family member to follow me and talk to the boys; I insisted that they turn in the grenade to a police station. My family member kept telling me not to intervene, but I felt I should; what was there to fear? Eventually, the boys got more and more impatient. They stood there and posed like big shots with their hands on their waists, “I want to die. It pleases me. What does it have to do with you?” My family member worried that they might hit me, so he dragged me away in a hurry. The next day, I read in the newspaper, “Three Mischievous Youngsters Playing with a Dormant Grenade: Three Dead and One Seriously Injured”. I cried. As a matter of fact, such dormant grenades were everywhere, some American ones, some Japanese ones, and some National Militants’. We went through the Second World War; the American army combated the Japanese army, leaving our beautiful homeland with scars all over the place. Because the wars lasted a long time, anyone could pick up various sizes of bullets and dormant explosives if they stopped and bent over. We girls did not dare to touch such bloody killing weapons, but some brave boys we knew copied each other. They played with their life and died. I couldn’t help remember the audacious big boy,”I want to die. It pleases me. What does it have to do with you?” This world is full of such people, so some often advises me, “If he pleases, if he wants to die, then let him!” However, “he” isn’t also your beloved? Doesn’t saving “him” also save you? No Permitting, No Taking One summer, my kids had the assignments of collecting the specimen of plants and insects; it was required. My husband and I had to take three days off and take the kids to Ken Ding Park. We went to register at the park rangers’ office; we told the kids to explain themselves to the rangers the kinds of plant specimen and insect specimen they needed to collect; without their permission, we were not to touch anything, take anything, pick anything, select anything, or catch anything. The kids were obedient, but they felt other parents did not have so many rules and they wondered why our family was so strict. We told them that it was “no permitting, no taking”; with anything not in our possession, we were not to look, listen, move, touch or take without the owners’ permission. Otherwise, it was theft and robbery. It would be a stain the whole life, and it reduce our fortunes and life. We walked along the tree-lined path, enjoying the beautiful nature views, picking up the abandoned plant leaves left by other visitors; we also looked for dead insects in the grass. My husband and I are both devoutly religious people, and firmly opposed harming grass or a tree or animals, big or small. We required our kids never to harm any living flowers or grass unless we absolutely had no choice; after all, they would die once they were picked or snapped; they would leave their moms and die, and no one could appreciate their beauty anymore, wouldn’t this be too cruel and too selfish? In particular, an insect has a home, parents, and kids as well as siblings. When it is accidentally captured, it will have no chance to live and no chance to reunite with its family. How pitiful this is! Put ourselves in their shoes; it is a sentient being with flesh and bones just like us. Isn’t it a person? We collect specimens just for temporary fun, but it is a life-and-death matter to these insect brothers and sisters. Don’t you think so? The plant specimens our kids needed to collect were required assignments. When we really couldn’t pick up any from the ground, we asked Grandpa Tree for a few leaves. We taught our kids to kneel before Grandpa Tree and flip coins to see if Grandpa permitted. I always respectfully introduced myself to Grandpa on behalf of our kids; I also introduced my kids, and I patiently explained to Grandpa what we needed and what we would do with them. When leaving,we returned to the park rangers’ office and showed them all we picked and collected for their inspection; we asked for their permission and carefully packed them up in our backpacks. These years, our kids are more and more thoughtful, and their protests to our requests are less and less. They know the far-reaching significance of the precept of “No permitting, no taking”. Now they reflect on their own words and acts anytime anywhere; without the owners’ permission, they would never touch or move anything, let alone take anything. Without the owners’ permission, they would not dare to look, eavesdrop, or inquire. Our kids know the boundaries, and they know about respecting others. Many of our relatives and friends find it amazing that our family has been so auspicious, lucky, and happy in the scores of years. I tell them repeatedly that you won’t be offended if you don’t offend others. Even bacteria and any sort of diseases can’t enter your body and harm your body without your permission. Just for this, your principle of no taking unless permitted is worthwhile. I often travel all over places on business to crack down on crime; my family and friends all worry about my fragile health combating thalassemia. My supervisor and my employees couldn’t rest at ease about the safety of a fragile, stumbling woman going around to unfamiliar, remote, backward places. However, I reassure them that for someone who strictly follows the principle of no taking unless permitted, others won’t take anything from her unless permitted; she wouldn’t have sudden incidents or disasters. From the beginning to my retirement, everyone respected me no matter where I was; they all took good care of of, regarding small tasks or big tasks. With my disease, I would have long been vegetative if my disease broke out at a time or place far away from ER. From my childhood until now as a 63-year-old senior, the breakout had never happened at a remote place far away from ER or at a place where it would be impossible for anyone to spot me, even though the breakouts have happened constantly for numerous times. My life is extended little by little through “no permitting, no taking.” My master said, “For someone who does not take anything unless permitted, no one can take his/her life.” I have been teaching this to my kids and my students, but the biggest benefactor is me myself. I hope each of you will not take anything unless permitted from now on; I hope all of you will become a righteous person. This way, no more hardships, no more disasters, no more illness will be inflicted upon you without your permission. No Hatred of Each Other When I was little, there was a neighbor on the second floor to our right, whose family believed in Catholicity generation and after generation. We all considered them as “rare species”, and we would stare at them with curious eyes. My dad was an extreme advocate of traditional rituals; he held very negative views of such people who wouldn’t commemorate the ancestors. He was dismissive of them, and he would never interact with them. Because I was diagnosed with a rare, terminal disease shortly after birth, my mom resorted to western medicine, eastern medicine, temples, immortals, and so on, all to no avail. My grandma said, “”Why don’t we let the strange neighbor take a look?” That strange neighbor socialized with foreigners every day; maybe they knew some foreign exotic remedies.” So my mom went over. How she hoped that the foreign religion could give her a foreign miracle and power and save her dying baby. My mom went upstairs; the old neighbor aunt was very sincere and caring. There were two foreigners; they were a priest and a preacher. My mom told them why she was there. The priest kindly and patiently said, “Every baby is the most precious gift from God; every baby is worth cherishing; we must be appreciative and grateful.” My mom nodded; she couldn’t hold back here tears. The priest said again,”Without hatred, a baby is free from hatred, no matter what kind of baby it is; only hatred begets hatred.” What the priest meant was that hatred during pregnancy begot hatred; without hatred, one wouldn’t beget a pitiable baby. Whether such a baby was a blessing or a curse all depended on one’s heart, not on a disease. At the time after my first brother’s birth, my dad’s whole business was taken over fraudulently by his so-called-brother partner. My mom was crying every day helplessly. It so happened that she got pregnant with me just at this time of the extreme scarcity. The priest told my mom,”Judgments are made by God; so are punishments. Humans don’t judge each other; nor do humans hate each other.” My mom understood somewhat. She returned home and told my grandma everything. Unexpectedly, my grandma believed everything. From then on, my grandma and mom no longer hated anything or anyone; instead, they became grateful of God for the blessings and such a gift of a precious baby to them two ordinary women, they began to understand how to treasure this godsend blessing; for real. They were grateful to God. No matter what kind of baby you are pregnant with, it is a bountiful gift from God. We are only humans; we don’t understand God’s intentions and kindness. What we can do is nothing but acknowledge the gift, appreciate it, and pay back; we must respectfully accept this blessing. My mom changed from being full of hatred to being full of gratitude. According to my grandma, this single mind change made my mom much more cheerful and much healthier. As for me the dying baby, my conditions improved completely. My mom used to hate that man who robbed my dad of his business; she used to hate herself for begetting me the shameful sick baby. But what good was there from hatred? After all, only Heaven can judge humans’ right or wrong, debts or credits; only Heaven can judge bad guys and punish them. Why not leave such business to Heaven? Even when you get a very pathetic baby, only Heaven knows that kind of jewel the baby is, why the baby was born, and what will become of the baby in the future? Isn’t it so? Where there is no hatred, there won’t be any hatred in the end. Many serious and terminal illnesses have only one cause: hatred. When the hatred is gone, so will the illness. The most difficult thing in this world is the indissoluble hatred. Because of the indissoluble hatred, there are incurable illnesses. For a long time, I used to hate the fact that I was a lifelong disabled person with thalassemia; I wondered why I couldn’t live a normal life like a normal person. As for my mom, how could she not hate the fact that she got such a baby, who tortured her like hell? Luckily, my hatred transformed, so did my mom’s hatred. This was a heart transcendence, and it enabled us to survive the terrifying ups and downs of life and death without succumbing to them. Many people are unfortunate enough to have terminal illness. There must have been lasting unspeakable hatred. Why not exercise great wisdom and wipe away the hatred? Harboring the hatred will leave the illness rooted; is it worth dying from withholding hatred? I thank God, who gives me incurable thalassemia; to this, I owe my hard-earned achievements; to this, I owe my good fortune to really know God, bathe in the splendid blessings from God; I am filled with incredible joy, tranquility, peace, harmony, and happiness. I thank God. For real, my whole family thank God. In closing, let me give you a word of advice: “Death only goes where there is hatred. Someone without hatred is forever in a disinfected room no matter where.” Every night before going to bed, my grandma and my mom taught me to pray:”My dear God, may your name be heard far and beyond. May your Kingdom come to us. May your wish come true in our world just like in Heaven. Please bless us with the spirit that nourishes our precious bodies. Please protect us from imminent death. Please forgive us forgive our sins and seek no punishments thereafter in the same way we apply your teachings and forgive others and stay hatred free from now on. Please protect us from temptations; please protect us from falling victim to schemes and sin. Please save us from cold-hearted killings of each other and revenges. Thank you God. Amen!” Do Nobody Wrong For a research presentation ceremony, my third daughter searched her wardrobe for her formal outfit; it was her formal attire for such ceremonies. She looked and looked; finally, she found it, but it had several holes and was useless. “Damn Mice! Why skip all the rest and just chew my outfit? Damn mice! Damn mice!” My daughter couldn’t help herself and repeated again and again. She couldn’t put aside her grudges. I said, “My sweetheart, did you see with your own eyes that was the mice? If you didn’t, we shouldn’t do wrong to mice.” My daughter was stunned. I said again, “Even a mouse has the dignity that we can’t humiliate. Unless we have solid evidence, we don’t have the right to press charges. Scriptures tell us to follow eight right ways; such are the basics we need to follow. We shouldn’t chew up someone just because he/she is smaller than us or have no voice of their own!” My daughter seemed to agree. She said, “Mom, I am wrong. I apologize to the mice,” After this incident, all our kids understood my values and desires; they all knew what was the proper thing to say. After all, not all things are true if you don’t see them with your own eyes. How can we press charges merely on the basis of our imaginations when we are not at the scene? We held hands and pledged to follow the eight right ways: we won’t bully them merely because they are weaker and smaller; we won’t press charges merely because they don’t have a voice. This is the mouth virtue and bottom line as a human. Cancer Cancer is not a disease; nor is it a matter of bacteria. It is a nothing but a misbehaving cell in your body. A misbehaving cell comes from a misbehaving person, so cancer is a matter of one’s traits and personalities. My third sister-in-law was very arrogant; she was the daughter of the richest man in the local area; she was very rough. I said, “Sister-in-law, if you keep being so rough, you will develop breast cancer. Why not change?” She wouldn’t listen to me. Three years ago, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and she passed away in less than three years. No Bullying of Those Less Fortunate During my elementary school days, there was a classmate who couldn’t walk due to polio. We all wanted to take care of her and help her. There were some male classes, and they often made fun of us girls. It made us mad, but we couldn’t do anything. One of the boys was from a rich family, and his parents enjoyed prestige; he had his own study and several private tutors, so his academic scores were high and enviable. Every time he went to the bathroom, he would pass our classroom and run across the classmate with polio who would be crawling on her hands. He was very contemptuous of her and he would make disrespectful jokes, laughing at her as an awkward, stupid crocodile. Sometimes, st the spur of the moment, he would step his expensive leather shoes on her shriveled feet, causing her excruciating pain; she couldn't struggle his fee off; it was very cruel. However, no one could do anything about it because his father bribed almost all the teachers at the school; no one dared to say anything. This classmate eventually couldn’t put up with the male classmate’s insults and bullying anymore; she took her own life taking mice poison. The male classmate’s family was very wealthy; he completed elementary school, high school, and then an ideal college; later on, he obtained a doctorate degree abroad and then took over his family business. He became a prestigious man in business. All his wishes were granted. Of course, he became president or our high school alumni club. One year, he was driving his expensive car on the highway when a drunk driver drove a big sand-grinding truck across the median and hit his car head on. The hood of his car was mangled and both his feet were stuck in the driver seat and his lower body was covered in blood. When the police tried everything to open his car door and the mangled metal in front of his driver’s seat, he had lost consciousness. After a long time, he came to, but his legs had to be amputated and he was stitched and sewed up in his head to amend the deformation; however, he became half vegetative and permanently dazed. When he uttered words, no one understood him. Just like this, his bright life came to a stop. Because he was the general president of the alumni club, lots of us classmates went to visit him, we all felt sorry for him. For us girl classmates, we all had flashbacks of him bullying that girl in our class, acting so arrogant and domineering, being so awe-inspiring and full of himself. We couldn’t help shivering; where was that guy now? We good friends walked out of the hospital hand in hand; tears were running down our faces, not for him but for that disrespected classmate. Did she also come to visit him? It took more than thirty years for gods to show the answer to us immature girls. One year, I was asked by a friend to teach at a well known all-girl high school in the eastern part of Taiwan. The new principal wanted to change the school’s image as the bride school and hunted top college admission tutors as teachers for the graduating class. I was hired as the teacher of one class. One of my students was very exceptional, with high IQ, ans she was considered as good in our school. My teaching philosophy was every student could be educated to be first class as long as we wholeheartedly taught them; therefore, I grouped some smart students to act as teachers’ assistants in charge of tutoring slow students. Then, this exceptional student got mad. She came to my office and disdainfully protested, “Teacher, theses students should be left alone. I don’t know how their parents brought them to this world. They are just useless scrap metals. If one wants to have a child, he should have a decent child; otherwise, don’t bear a child. I just can’t understand what their parents were thinking of.” I told her that we shouldn’t sound so sure and we shouldn’t hurt those weaker than us or bully those less fortunate, but she would have none of these. I could do nothing but let go. Twenty years later, a young couple came to my office. I did not know the man, but the woman looked a little familiar. “Teacher, it’s me, OOO”. I paused a minute and then remembered. “You were the golden student at the all-girl high school?” She nodded. She had graduated from a top American university and she was the wife of a famous international businessman. “What can I do for you?” I asked. She began to cry, very heartbroken. She said, “Teacher, I only have one daughter, but I don’t know why she has Chondrosis and her whole body is like jelly. Now she can’t move and she can’t smile. She is going to lie in bed like that all her life till old age and death!” I was sad to hear this, but what could I do? Every word she had said when she protested in my office was ringing in my ears now. I cried helplessly. Was this the real answer to her words at the time? The question was this: why does it have to have answers? Without any answers, then people can’t grow up? I saw the answer, but it was not the answer I wanted. She was like my daughter, and her daughter was my precious granddaughter. For this precious granddaughter, I feel my student’s sufferings. I don’t know if this was payback for me not adamantly correcting her at the time. No Expensive Food; No Expensive Clothes When I was at a social gathering, oftentimes some people would ask me out of curiosity, “Why not try this?” I would smile and say nothing. Our principles of life are to regulate ourselves rather than to reprimand others. My reasoning was simple: such things were too expensive and valuable. I don’t have many fortunes or a long life, so I don’t deserve it and I don’t dare try it. I only eat foods that a frugal person eats. If the foods on a table were luxuries for rich people or typical expensive restaurant foods, I dared not touch or eat. I knew clearly that someone like me did not have such an abundance fortune. It was the same with clothing. If it was too expensive, I would never buy it or wear it. And I would never touch any gaudy clothes. I only wore what poor people could afford or the hand-me-downs from rich people. I felt it was my duty and it fit my life, a beggar’s life. I only had a few clothes. Every time I went out, it was a rotation of those same clothes. Many people laughed at me behind my back and said that I did not know how to dress myself and I was a bumpkin. I was afraid of reducing my fortunes and life span, so I would rather look outdated than breaking a precept. Scriptures say, “If you eat up all the foods you deserve this life, you will be a beggar roaming in the streets next life. If you wear all the clothes you deserve this life, you will become a bird or a beast with no clothes next life.” I keep this to my heart, not spearing to forget it. I don’t have many fortunes or a long life. If I did not cherish my fortunes and life at all times, I believe I would have long been dead and reduced to being an animal in the six-rank wheel of karma. This world is full of people who compete to look good, to show off, or to covet fame and profits. For someone like me without tomorrow, I can only keep backing off; I can only remain a humble, ordinary person accepting my fate; I can only steady my steps and stay on the simple, humble track. I was born timid; it was already a huge blessing that I did not starve to death. Many of my acquaintances were surprised and wondered why someone like me with good income led such a frugal life; wasn’t it too hard on oneself? Wasn’t it a mental torment? If I hadn’t done all this, could I have lived this long? There is a saying, “Extraordinary people live an extraordinary life, have extraordinary illness, and get into extraordinary trouble.” I am a terminally ill patient with no cure. I must try my best to simplify my life. This way, my illness will become simpler and simpler; it won’t go back and forth, up and down, leaving doctors at the end of their wits. If so, then I won’t have to worry about tomorrow, right? Right Treatment of Heaven, Others, Parents, and Teachers From my childhood to adulthood, I often faint in the street and Good Samaritans will rush me to ER. Each time, my doctors are very quiet for a long time because they are amazed that I am still alive with such a terminal disease. They ask me, “Why are you able to live this long?” I smile bitterly and don’t know what to say. On my very first day in this world, I was a terminally ill patient. My bones don’t generate blood cells, and there is no cure. At the time, Taiwan was under the rule of Japan; all the doctors and nurses were Japanese. My parents pleaded to them to save my pathetic life. The doctor said, “With this kind of disease, she will live to be three at most. Even if she could live to be three, she would never survive beyond eleven years of age!” I was my parents’ first daughter. My dad would always remain foolishly quiet, but my grandma and my mom would cry and hold me tightly, which put the doctors in a bind. Of course, my grandma and my mom would never accept the doctors’ prognosis, “You may as well give up.” Everyone had their own troubles and no one could care about others’ life or death. However, my mom’s love for me touched some doctors and together they carried on the impossible task. Now I am 62 years old. I have seriously contemplated, “Why can I live this long with such a terminal illness? Once, I decided to drown myself in Bi Tang River. After all, I was living a sad and miserable life. I thought that ending my life would end everything. By the roadside of Xindian, there was a fortune teller with sunglasses. He waved to me and called out, “Miss, do you really want to die? Let me tell you. Don’t do it. You won’t die even if you jump into the river again and again because your ancestors have virtues. You have lots of virtues, too!” I never believed such fortune tellers. I did not look back, went straight to the bridge, closed my eyes, and jumped. Strangely, I really couldn’t die; I was rescued in no time. What are ancestors’ virtues? What is virtue? The fortune teller said, “Your parents are very filial. Your mom is particularly good to her parents in law. It is praiseworthy. You have also built lots of virtues and there are heavenly soldiers and guards protecting you.” He told me to show him my palm. He stood a bamboo stick on my palm and then said, “Your deeds are more praiseworthy than those of your mom’s. You have been saving others. But you had a terminal illness from early on, and there is no cure. Nonetheless, don’t lose heart. You will definitely live a normal life like anyone else. You will live happily and enjoy a long life.” Just as what the fortune teller said, I had never talked back to my parents or teachers my whole life, and I had never done anything that my parents or teachers disapproved of. As a daughter, I never mistreated my parents; as a student, I never mistreated my teachers. I never did anything that angers Heaven; I never did anything that breaks the law. I did not break Heaven’s law or our society law. These past years, I have often wondered what exactly keeps me alive; was it injections, medication, transfusion, or iron removal? Or is it my heart? Or is it my ancestors’ virtues? Or is it my own virtues accumulated little by little day in and day out? My dear readers, can you help me find the answers? My patient friends have died one after another. Didn’t they also get injections, transfusions, and iron removal every day? If there is anything different between us, maybe it includes the following trivia: No talking back to my parents and teachers. No conducts that disappoint my parents and teachers. No mistreating my parents and teachers. Acting the way a daughter should act and acting the way a student should act. No conducts that angers Heaven. No disobeying Heaven. No pretentious deeds and no false talks. No taking advantage of others, and no causing loss of anyone to me. No killing and no bargaining. No hurtful words and no hurtful conducts. I think this is all. It Can Remove All Sufferings, Without a Doubt. The Buddhist Heart Sutra says, “It can remove all sufferings, without a doubt.” My master exhorted, “In your interactions with others, you must be honest. Only this way can you achieve things and you won’t be disappointed, and your hard work won’t turn out to be fruitless. The Heart Sutra reminded us in particular that the only thing that can remove all our sufferings is truthfulness, which means being absolutely truthful about anything anywhere, with no trace of pretension.” From my childhood to my adulthood, I always mean my words. I never pretend or lie. I have often paid a high price for telling the truth; however, every time, it has turned out to be good and misfortunes have turned out to be fortunes. Filial Piety When my master was still in this world, he would always come to my hospital bed and accompany me whenever I was seriously ill or dying; he would never walk away. Because thalassemia patients all lack red blood cells and proficient function of spleen, the treatments often ran into unexpected difficulties and left doctors in lots of challenges. Many times, my doctors wanted to try a new treatments and they would ask my master’s “Do you think the new treatment and the new medicine will work? Will it be effective?” My master would answer without hesitation, “It will definitely work. It will definitely be effective.” My master would also say, “This little granddaughter of mine is filial to her grandma, to us Buddhist teachers, to her parents and to all elders. Everyone who knows her is moved by her. Her filiality will get her the best results; her obedience will get her the effectiveness. This is the Law of Heaven.” When I was at the temple in the mountain, my Dharma brothers there would be concerned about me and ask the master, “Our little Dharma sister is so fragile, and she is terminally ill. Will she really be able to marry? Will she live a happy life?” My master would say firmly, “She will surely marry. She will surely live a happy life.” My master told the Dharma brothers, “Filial piety can elevate nine lowly fates and dissolve a hundred obstacles. Your little sister is very filial, so filiality will bring her joy and obedience will bring her success in everything. Her future family will be full of joyous laughter day and night and be blessed with all successes.” I am thankful to my master for the golden words of blessings to me such a immature granddaughter. Just as what my master predicted, I got everything. Even though my filial piety was far from enough, my family life in the past thirty something years has been happy and full thanks to my master’s deep love and constant encouragement; we are joyful every day and we achieve everything we want anytime anywhere. Where there is filial piety, there is laughter. obedience gets success. In my quiet time, I ask myself, “Are you filial? Do you really dare not to be filial?” My master said, “Filial Piety is for one’s own benefit rather than for one’s parents’ benefit. Lack of filial piety hurts and harms oneself rather than one’s parents.” Notes Does your medicine work when you are sick? If you are filial, it will. Is it easy for you to undergo all sorts of operations or treatments when you are hospitalized or in ER? Filiality to your parents will surely have an easy time. You may cry when being hospitalized; do you cry or smile when leaving? Only when you are filial can your whole family smile upon leaving a hospital. Obedience Gets Obedience Many doctors told me firmly, “Little sister, you will not live beyond 18 years of age because of your illness”; therefore, I was afraid that I would not be able to finish my high school before I died with great regrets. They say that the age of 18 was a big threshold of body growth; however, I don’t have the ability to grow as a patient of thalassemia. As a result, it was certain that I would not be able to jump through the hoops but wait for death with tears. When I was about to graduate from my high school, I knew my life was coming to the end. However, I was not ready for it and wouldn’t take it. I had never done bad things or hurt anyone. I was obedient from early on, getting my medication and injections and doing my homework dutifully; I really did not do wrongs. Why did I have the death sentence? From my fifth grade all the way to my high school graduation year, I had been attending the best schools in Taiwan; I was in the smart classes, I had been in the top three ranking in my classes, and I had won certificates of honor each year. No wonder that even my trenchers each felt it unfair for me, “A student like her who follows the rules and has excellent grades and great morals will definitely serve our country and benefit people. Why doesn’t Heaven give her a chance to Live?” My schoolwork load was heavy. Oftentimes, I was preparing for all sorts of tests and practice tests late into night. Oftentimes, I looked out of the window and stared st the moon; I felt like I was looking at my mom and I would weep. I so wanted to ask the stars and the moon, “Why do I have to die this year? Why am I able to attend such good schools and earn such good grades? What is the point of all this to me a dying person? Does someone like me need to study so hard?” The temple nearby started its morning prayer session around three in the morning. I often walked over to the main praying hall, found myself kneeling on the prayer cushion, holding my hands together for praying, lowering my head, and listening to the masters chanting Buddhist prayers and the rhythms of wooden fish beats. Every time, my skirt on the prayer cushion would be wet from my tears at the end of the morning session. How could I hold back my tears when I thought that my birthday would be my last day? I prayed to Buddha and Bodhisattvas that I could live until graduation and then go to an ideal college; then I would spend my summer vacation visiting famous mountains and temples in search of enlightened Buddhist masters so that I could know my karmic affinities. Also, I would end my life there; I believed that when I died in a temple, I would be picked up by Buddha and Bodhisattvas and I would never fall into Hell. The master at the temple comforted me, “Little sister, you are an obedient kid. Obedient people attract obedient deities. Don’t worry. Buddha and Bodhisattvas will listen to you and your wishes will come true.” I was worried about my schoolwork and my life, so I asked my teacher whether someone like me with numbered days to live needed to study so hard and whether I would continue. My teacher said, “Even if you are to die tomorrow, you must finish today’s homework, with nothing left undone. No matter how long someone lives, he or she must carry one the school work or work every day until the last second. This is one’s duty.” When I graduated, I got admissions from three colleges; however, I was dying; what was the point of me wasting our school’s guaranteed admission slots? I only wanted to hurry to a mountain and find a peaceful place that would ensure my peaceful death. In particular, it should be a temple where there would be people burning incense, paying respect, reading scriptures and reciting the name of Buddha every day; this way, I would not become a lonely ghost. According to our local beliefs, an unmarried woman can not die; if she dies single, her sufferings in the netherworld will be extreme. I finished all the tests; I packed a small bag and went by myself to an isolated mountain; this way I might run across extraordinary hermits. I walked on the trail in the morning and afternoon; it was really hard to walk further, but nothing showed up. I ducked into some dense woods to take a break. To my surprise, there stood a magnificent temple, with strange yellow words on the walls. I thought, “Since I am here, I may just as well make myself at home.” I may as well barge in and ask them to put me up for the night. It was getting dark anyway; how could a frail woman like me find strength to go any further? All the practitioners there at the big temple were male, and the abbot was not a local; nor was he a Han nationality, and his mandarin was not fluent. When I was brought to him, I was frightened and I couldn’t help trembling. He asked me why a little girl like me wandered into the deep mountain by myself at night? I explained to him and I respectfully kowtowed three times to him, silently kneeling there and praying for his pity and compassion. I showed him all my transcripts, honor certificates and my teachers’ recommendations to show him that I was not a bad girl. You may laugh at my immaturity, the reason for me to bring all this with me was that I wanted to burn all of it and bring it to Heaven with me when I died. Besides, I also brought my favorite toys and dolls. The master looked surprised. I said that I had been lonely all my life and I was afraid that would be all alone again in the netherworld. These toys and dolls had become part of me, so they would go with me to Heaven, my eternal home; we would hold each other tightly and never separate. The abbot was a big man and he couldn’t understand the heart of a little girl. He listened attentively to all my explanations of toys and dolls, but he still did not seem to understand and his face showed no expression; his coldness was a little intimidating, but his eyes were very kind. He nodded and said, “My child, your face shows so much kindness. You won’t die so young. You are an obedient child. Obedience gets obedience. As long as you want to live, your body will be obedient and let you live a good life. As a matter of fact, a good child like you will not be abandoned by deities. Make yourself at home here. As for your toys and dolls, your dharma brother will get you a small quiet room as their home.” In closing, the master added, “Be obedient!” I nodded. From that night on, my toys and my dolls and I, i.e. my small family, all stayed there and it became our safe haven. I went to college and worked, helping my dharma brothers with some Buddhist ceremonies, chores, or cleaning. Everyone was fond of me, their little dharma sister, and they extended their fondness to my toys and dolls. My master was over forty years my senior; he was like my grandpa. My dharma brothers were little my young uncles. It was a big, warm family, My personality was very timid, and I had autism. From morning till night, I always followed my principle: obedience anytime and anywhere, obeying anyone without complaints or regrets. Year after year, I finally graduated, and I passed the national test and started working full time. During this time, I would spend all my free time being with my master, like a bird attached to its nest and a wanderer returning home. 18 years passed before I knew it. One night, my master called me to his room and told me to kneel. He spoke to me slowly, as if he was leaving me his last words. I saw his eyes swollen and bloodshot, and I couldn’t help crying myself. He said, “Women generally don’t get to be designated to carry on the torch of a Buddhist school. However, you are very obedient, not only to my requests, but also to the deities’ requests. As a result, your personality and morals have been cultivated to perfection. You have earned enough to be my disciple and my heir. The most valuable dharma jewel of my whole life to you is obedience. You are a very obedient good child. When you take the place of my heir, all your disciples and worshippers will obey you; even Buddha, Bodhisattvas, and all deities will obey you. Obedience gets obedience. In the future, you will have an easy time and a happy life because you will have obedient children and grandchildren, obedient bosses and colleagues, obedient students and disciples, obedient ships and planes, obedient body…” I nodded and nodded, and I thanked my master for the blessing. My master underwent nirvana. I left the temple. I still have not gone back to be his heir because I only wanted to be a common, obedient small potato. For a woman, nothing is more important than the happiness of her family, including her parents, her husband and her children. I believed that my home and my kitchen were the best temple for my cultivation. Time flies. Now I am 62 years old. All these years, deities have obeyed me and my health has obeyed me, thus enabling me to survive one day after another. All this is the blessings from my master. I am very content because my marriage, my family, and my children are all having it easy; my life is so complete, happy, quiet, peaceful, and auspicious. As for the role of my master’s heir, I respectfully requested the senior dharma brother to carry the torch while I was on call to serve. After all, the heir of a left-home Buddhist should go to a left-home monk; this is the law of Heaven as well as our ancestors’ law. I have always believed that the truthful inheritance of my master should not be confined to the temple in the mountain; rather it should be with the main street folks. For years, I had waited on my master and observed his words and acts every day; I can say that my master was not only a left-home monk but he also had flesh, tears, emotions, and righteousness. He looked at every being in the six-rank wheel of life and death as his own kinship. I came to his bosom before I was 18 years old; he nurtured me like a baby in the cradle; he doted one me. He was dearer to me than my grandpa; he was more loving than my parents. I can vow that my master was not someone merely devoted to his own cultivation. Therefore, I decided to leave the temple and spread dharma; only this way could I stand by the side of all the struggling sentient beings. What my mastered wished for was for me to live a normal life; he wanted to see me getting married and raise a family. I would leave home life and become a nun if thalassemia prevented me from getting married. I will be obedient, but I won’t blindly return to the temple in the mountain. What I know was only scratching the surface of Buddhism; if I stayed there at the temple, I would definitely become a permanent sinner in Buddhism, and I was be shameful. Therefore, I chose to be obedient in the real sense and spread my master’s legacy among the folks; I will work hard my whole life to push my master’s teachings, love, light, and warmth to everyone in every corner of the world. I used to practice quite a few esoteric methods to treat my illness, and I used to read the scriptures and rituals of Shamanism as well as Tibetan and Mongolian Buddhist scriptures. However, the most valuable, unforgettable teachings from my master were only two words: be obedient. Many people who are not obedient themselves want others to be obedient to them. This is barking up the wrong tree. Many people took disobedient planes, trains, buses, other vehicles; unfortunately, they died. Many people’s bodies were disobedient and their limbs were disobedient; they ended up in hospitals. Their bodies were disobedient to the doctors and their limbs were disobedient, too; therefore, no treatments or medication worked. Moreover, many people got disobedient employees, disobedient partners, disobedient clients, even disobedient wife and children; nothing was good; everything was bad. They lived a miserable life their whole life. My master said, “Obedience gets obedience. Disobedience gets disobedience.” If you want a long life, a good career, good health, a happy family, good children, and success, the only key is this: “You must be obedient yourself.” What do you think? Hands Clean Enough for Incense and A Mouth Clean Enough for Prayers When I was little, my belly somehow began to grow. It grew and grew, just like a pregnant woman. The Japanese doctor insisted on an operation to remove the tumor. Some other doctors said that this growing lump might be the liver swelling or spleen swelling. My dad was captured by the ruling Japanese government and put behind bars for his anti-Japanese activities. Only my grandma and my mom were home supporting the family. Could this operation be done? Could such a little child survive such a big operation? My grandma and my mom went all around to plead deities for messages and blessings. Later on, I had the operation because the doctor said, “With the operation, she may die or she may live; without the operation, she will surely die.” My grandma and my mom finally faced it. It was becoming urgent, and they had no other choice. Shortly after my birth, I had an extreme shortage of blood and oxygen. Therefore, I have been sick. My doctor told my grandma and my mom, “Such a frail child is bound to die prematurely. Despite struggles, she won’t grow to adulthood. Even if she grows to adulthood, she will be nothing but a useless medication pot.” My grandma, my mom, and my dad persisted in long term vegetarian diets, took refuge with Buddhism, burnt incense and prayed every day. When I was attending the fourth grade, I somehow became bedridden for the whole year, completely lethargic. My grandma and my mom helped me get off bed every day; they taught me how to kowtow, how to gather myself and hold incense, and how to read scriptures and s. However, I constantly developed high fever and talked nonsense, and I was not able to command my hands. My grandma and my mom took turns and watched over me by the bed. My grandma had a habit of murmuring short scriptures along with some short mantras to pray for deities’ blessings for me. Maybe the high fever damaged my brains. I was a disappointment to my teachers; I still couldn’t do the basics of one, two, three. My grandma comforted my mom, “It is good enough for this kid to be alive. Leave everything else to chances.” My grandma believed that as long as I could keep my hands clean for incense and my mouth clean for prayers, my life will be peaceful. It did not matter whether I knew anything else or not. Every day, I lay in bed quietly, listening to my grandma explaining slowly about the incense-holding hands and a prayer-saying mouth; I didn't quite understand. My grandma said, “Incense-holding hands must be clean. They must be clean from stealing; killing; hurting of any sentient beings; snapping of flowers; grass, and trees; hitting of another person; slamming of a table; or bad deeds that put your parents to shame.” She then said, “A prayer-saying mouth must be clean; it must be clean from dirty words and false words, angry words and swear words, pot-stirring words, and cheating words; it must be honest and truthful. “ I listened to her every day. I absorbed words and sentences in my groggy state again and again, until my grandpa passed at the age of 92. Her exhortations of these golden rules have been ringing in my ears for all these years. Because I was too frail, my grandma always shared the bed with me at home until my college graduation. Every night, she was worried that I might stop breathing suddenly in the middle of the night, so she always held me tightly. On her deathbed, my grandma told my mom, “This child will definitely live on because she has clean hands worthy of holding incense and a clean mouth worthy of saying prayers.” As a matter of fact, my illness did not get better. I still have to take transfusions, medications, and injections. When I was moving from my second year to the third year at high school, my body development was stalled due to lack of blood and oxygen; I was sick the whole year. When I was thirty six years old, I was in a coma due to delayed transfusion; I was vegetative. When I was forty four, I had relentless high fever for the whole year for no reason; I couldn’t get out of bed for ten months. Between the age of fifty four and fifty eight, I had one surgery after another and stayed in hospitals like home. At the age of sixty one, the deficiency of blood and oxygen caused serious festering and putrescence in the lower limbs; I had surgeries after surgeries. I was treated at the hospital for sixteen months and I just got back home today, but I still cannot walk. This is my thalassemia “transcript”. My doctors say, “Is such a body worth keeping alive?” No one believes that I can live to this age, hanging by a thread, despite the cycles of life and death; that I can have a career and raise a family. My grandma said, “Everyone is ordained with assignments and a mission. Also, everyone was born for a reason, and no one can replace him or her. So, one must courageously live on no matter what.” Many people ask me the key to surviving to the age of 62, and I say, “Nothing but clean hands worthy of holding incense and a clean mouth worthy of saying prayers.” Do you believe this? For real, there is no other magic but this! New Year A new year should have a new face. Scriptures say, “A Buddhist heart will have a Buddhist face.” This is to say that whatever heart you have, you will have that kind of face; you will encounter that kind of things and that kind of fate.” The American President Abraham Lincoln said, “It’s your face, and you must be responsible.” For sure, your fortunes and misfortunes, richness and poverty, success and failure, or adversity and prosperity are all products of your own making; you must also be responsible for them. You should make an effort to grow a new face in a new year. It should be a round face of joy rather than a bitter cucumber face with frowns; it should be a face of happiness, good luck, and kindness. This way,you change yourself, including health, wealth, fame, and status as well as the world around you. Why We Should Wear Buddhist Beads The original meaning of Buddhist beads is no killing. When we wear them, they remind us not to kill any sentient beings, including humans, animals, and plants; rather, we should do everything we can to protect them, and let them live on peacefully. Someone was originally supposed to have a long life span, but he killed so many little lives; he shortened their life, so deities noted down the time taken away from the little lives and removed the equal amount of time from his life, shortening his life accordingly. Someone originally had a short life, but he not only appreciated the life of little animals and plants but also took good care of them; he lengthened their life span. Deities noted down exactly all the life span he helped to lengthen and gave it to him, lengthening his life accordingly. People do not die from terminal illnesses; they die because their life span is used up. Some people did not get any terminal illness, but they still died from car accidents, plane crashes or other accidents. People should make efforts to expand their life, and the best way is never to kill lives but release lives. When you don’t kill, King of Death won’t kill you. When you release lives, King of Death will release you and let you live on. I am a terminally ill patient with thalasemia; my doctor gave a death sentence at my birth. My bones can’t produce blood, so I had to get transfusions before I turned one year old in order to stay alive. My grandma and my mom combed the whole country in search of good doctors and remedies for my treatment. Nothing works; until this day, I am still relying on nothing but transfusions. My grandma and my mom told me again and again that I should never hurt any sentient beings, that I should do my best to protect them and let them live on peacefully; this is life for life. They had me wear Buddhist beads to remind me never to break the no-killing precept. From early on, I have been constantly unconscious and the doctors would always warn my mom, “This child does not have a future. It’s useless to raise her and bring her up. Why bother spending so much money on her? You’d better give up so you won’t drag down the whole family,” Against all odds, I survived, even though it was difficult and sorrowful. Many people ask me, “What helps you to live on till today? “ I answer, “Buddhist beads, the vow of no killing and lifelong precepts” I hope you will wear Buddhist beads and keep the precept of no killing. This is your vow to yourself. If you can do this, you will definitely increase your fortunes and life, have a good career and a good family, have plenty of children and grandchildren; you will live to be a hundred years old. Thank you! Notes on the Meaning of Killing Taking the life of sentient beings, both animals and plants Taking the livelihood of someone Causing desperate circumstances, resulting in the dead end of a person or an animal; for example, stuffing ants’ nest or bargaining to the extent of causing others to bleed through the nose and lose the ability to support their families Causing someone suicide either through hurtful language or acts Robbing someone’s business through unethical means Embezzling relief funds and depriving those in grave need of their relief Reciting the Name of Buddha I had never believed that reciting the name of Buddha was of any use. When I was little, my grandma would recite Buddha’s name for my sake, so did my mom. However, I always felt it was foolish old people’s superstition; what was the use of it? I still had to get transfusions and remove iron from my blood; their prayers did nothing. Therefore, when they recited, they asked me to recite along with them; I was obedient and would follow them but in my heart I thought it was useless. After all, repeating the same word all day long was so simple; if it could really cure my illness, wouldn’t it be too simple? This July and August, my thalassemia caused serious festering in the lower limbs and eventual necrosis. After getting diagnosis at three hospitals, they all told us I had to be amputated. Because I believed that “my body is from my parents and I dared not harming it”, I asked the doctors to allow me to go home and ask my parents for their permission. They said, “If they don’t give you permission, then you will skip the surgery?” To my surprise, my parents were open-minded; they believed that my lower limbs were in such a bad shape that there was nothing else but let the doctors do the surgery. I was scheduled to have the surgery at 7:00 the next morning. I thought that I would have no more feet the next day; how could I make the adjustment? I asked my family to wheel me downstairs and get some sunlight because I would be bedridden for twenty-five days after the surgery. We got to the sunlit spot; I watched people coming and going; everyone had feet. How distressed I was. The more I looked, the more self pity I felt. I decided to go back to my ward. Just then, someone threw away a tape; it was a tape of Buddhist prayers for his family to send off their dying beloved family member; the family member had passed, so he was throwing the tape away. I picked up the tape. I remembered how my grandma murmured prayers in my ears all the time; now she had passed; I couldn’t help sighing for myself. I would be amputated the next morning; I wanted to remember my grandma, and I missed her, who loved me dearly like her life. I put the tape in a recorder and started to recite Buddha’s name along with it, feeling as if my grandma was right beside me. Just like this, I recited Buddha’s name helplessly again and again. Thinking of my grandma and thinking that I would have no more feet the next day, how helpless and frustrated I was! Later that night, several doctors came to inspect my festered wounds. They studied the spots to cut and the details of cleaning rotten flesh; a doctor in residence wrapped my feet with several layers of bandages; they said that this way the feet wouldn’t be stained by cleaning disinfectant solution. Early the next morning, I was wheeled into the operation room at a little past six. They hung up my feet to clean them, again and again until my ski was almost peeling off. After the brushing and cleaning, all of them quietly waited for the surgeon, anesthesiologist, and other assistants. By this time, I was so terrified that I was beside myself; dazed and with tears in my eyes, I saw my hanging feet just like a slaughtered animal on a slaughterhouse rack or meat store rack. I couldn’t help weeping. I thought, I had never hurt anyone or any sentient beings; what did I do to deserve this miserable situation? Finally, the surgeon came, along with five assistants. He unwrapped the bandage on my feet; all of a sudden, he let out a cry and it woke me up from my stupor. It was the surgeon’s voice, “Can these be rotten feet? How come they look fine?” A crowd came up, saying this and that, “They were obviously rotten. How come they are not anymore?” Surprising as it was, the surgeon decided to wheel me out of the operation room intact. Afterwards, the surgeon and many other doctors in my case had many meetings and inspected my feet again and again; they reached the consensus that I did not need a survey anymore. So, they notified me the following day that I could check out. Now I still don’t have mobility and I still can’t walk by myself because the internal festering in the muscles prevented new growth due to extreme deficiencies of blood and oxygen from thalassemia. Nonetheless, the exterior wounds have healed completely. I really can’t figure out, perhaps no one can, where the completely rotten wounds went? Did my prayers create miracles? If prayers by such a “modern person” who had never prayed before could be so effective, then the prayers by my grandma and my mom who were devout a thousand percent more their whole life must undoubtedly be effective. I think, this must be one of the main reasons why I am still alive. Have you recited the name of Buddha? Is it really this useful? Is this scientific? Is this medically sound? I have no clue. I have no idea. I have asked my religious masters, but I still can’t figure it out and I can’t find answers. I hear some Buddhist practitioners say, “Prayers from the bottom of your heart will be answered. This is no surprise.” Some friends say, “This Is called subconscious praying and subconscious practicing. Surely you can move Heaven and turn hopelessness into miracles.” However, such reasons seem to be too sophisticated. For me, I did nothing but follow the tape. Notes The surgery I mention above is based on my memory of the process. If there is anything that is not in line with medical knowledge, it is beyond me. Maybe every doctor has his/her own methods of treatments, and every patient’s case varies from person to person. Therefore there is “no one size fits all.” I recited the name of Buddha for the sake of reciting, without any thoughts. I did not know what use praying had. I recited without a goal in mind. I recited all the way without anything in my mind. Becoming a Human and Becoming a Buddha Recently many readers and philanthropists came to visit me. They were very friendly and they encouraged me to cultivate and recite the name of Buddha. It puts me to shame because I have never cultivated and I have never thought of becoming a Buddha, so I have never recited the name of Buddha. Some very kind monk masters also told me that as long as I make an effort and cultivate, I will become a very beautiful woman next life and enjoy bountiful wealth and status; if I am lucky enough, perhaps I will be reborn a man. I reply, "Thank you, master, but I'm very content in this life, and I don't crave for anything else. Next life I still want to be a woman and play the same role. In particular, I still want to be the apple of the eye for my grandma and I still want to be my parents’ daughter, I want to be the lifelong partner of my significant other, and I want to be mom to my five kids. For real, I'm very content this life because I feel I'm so fortunate and so happy every minute. " At this my master shook his head; he felt I didn't have aspirations and I was beyond salvation. There's an old saying, "Whether it is a bell or a tripod, mountains or woods, everything has its nature; we must let it be. " Maybe I can only be a human and not a Buddha. I remember before my master departed, he used to ask me, "What do you want to be? " "I want to be a human. If possible, I want to be a true human. "I answered without any hesitation. From Part 23 to 32 of Chapter 18, the Bible reads, "Anywhere there is a true human, God will not destroy this place; also for the sake of this true human, God will protect this place and bless all the people with peace, tranquility, fulfillment and happiness.” I firmly promised my master, "I will devote my whole life to becoming a true human in the eyes of God, and Taiwan will be saved. God is the one of real words, true words, no false words; God will never lie. If I can keep my promise, God will keep his promise and protect Taiwan, protecting it from war destruction. This way, all the people in Taiwan will be happy. " At this, my master patted me on my head and said, "My little nun! Try your best! It is harder to become a human than to become a Buddha! " Releasing Life and Helping Others Out Because our cases are often assigned by Japanese clients, German clients, or American clients, we have to maintain a high standard; therefore, the international department of my firm bought a very expensive state-of-the-art CAD machine, and we paid a high insurance premium for it. One day, we found our new automatic computer CAD machine missing; to clear everybody of the suspicion, the colleagues all proposed to report the case to the police so that we could catch the thief and get back the machine before it could be disposed of. However, I wouldn't want one of my colleagues to be put in prison and carry the stigma for life; I believed my colleague’s reputation was more important than the expensive CAD machine. I did not have the heart to call the police, and we did not seek insurance compensation. I had some hunch of who might be the greedy people. In particular, here was a Vietnamese Refugee that I took in; he fled from Vietnam to Taiwan, he had no family, he was homeless, and he was very sick. I got him a passable dorm and a job that could sustain him, but it seemed he was not satisfied. His life improved and his needs grew; it is true that desires never end. The machine was missing and this Vietnamese colleague resigned. How could this be a coincidence? When others came to ask for the reference of this colleague, I wouldn't allow my personnel staff to say anything bad about him; I wanted to give him a chance, a chance to transform himself. My whole life, I don't hurt anybody, and I don't want to betray my colleagues. About a month later, a competitor in the same field was introduced to me by a friend because a man was trying to sell them an expensive automatic computer CAD machine but they didn't know how to use it and they didn't know if the price was right. This competitor said that very few people were so extravagant to use such an expensive machine, but he knew that I had imported one. Listening to this competitor, I knew all along; I knew the person trying to sell the machine must be in a very tight financial position. I really didn't have the heart to take his livelihood away, and I had no heart to defame him; I really didn't have the heart to do any of that. So I told the competitor, "This is a good price; it's worth it. If there's anything you don't know about how to use it, you can come to us and I will send people over to help you. Please buy this machine. " Later on, this competitor really took my advice and bought the machine, but nobody knew how to use it; neither did the seller. I sent people over to help out, and I brought them a lot of very important parts of the machine; these parts were the core of the machine; I had secretly locked them up in a safe; without these parts, the whole machine was nothing but a pile of useless scrap metal. I said, "I imported this machine, but I have switched to another brand, so all these parts are no more useful to me. You can have them. " The competitor was very pleased; so was I because I wouldn't have to look at the parts that made me sad. The colleague that went along with me to the competitor told me when we got back to our firm, " It’s clear that the machine is just the one we lost, and the serial number is exactly the same. Why not call the police and catch the thief and get back what belongs to us? " I replied "Losing a machine is no big deal, but losing face is a lifelong big deal. you can buy a machine again, but what about your face and your morals? They cannot be repaired to old age or death. Don't expose that person. Don't cause anyone any stigma just for the sake of a few thousand dollars. Leave him a way out. Let him live on peacefully. " This Vietnamese colleague of mine now lives in America, and he is working for the Vietnamese refugees; he enjoys good social status and achievements; he has a happy family with good kids. He has come to me several times and asked for a chance to pay me back the money from stealing that machine. He said at the time he really had no other choice; he had no other way out, so he did that shameful thing. For me, the word stealing was from his mouth; how could I be so sure that he really stole it? I had never seen it with my own eyes, nor did I have any evidence; how could I ever convict him? Someone who committed an offense may admit committing an offense, but we could not use it as evidence for convictions, unless we could find solid evidence. For years, I tried to forget that person, and I really managed to forget that person. However, 20 years later, he came back to Taiwan with his whole family to see me. They worshiped me as Grace Deity; It embarrassed me and I didn't know what to do. I said, "You say you stole it, but I cannot say you stole it. If you really want to pay me back the money, please donate all of it to the Vietnamese refugees. " I told my colleagues that suspicion was just suspicion, and there was a big difference between suspicion and reality. I hope we won't judge our colleagues or convict them; as for what this person did, only he himself knows. Why not let him judge himself and convict himself? I sincerely told my Vietnamese colleague that I hoped he would become a proud man that could stand up straight no matter what he did before.There is a saying, "Let bygones be bygones. Let today start anew.” Don't hold onto the past. No one can avoid making a mistake, but we should not let a mistake become a lifelong burden. Let’s work together and forget who he was in the past; let him forget who he was in the past. When everything is transformed anew, we are all reborn. When we help others out, isn't that helping ourselves out, too? God always decides whether to forgive us depending on whether we forgive others. After all, everyone may have a time when they need others’ forgiveness. Don't you think so? A Skeleton in the Closet When I first founded my firm, it was located in front of the Taipei Trains Station. There were 21 of us; most of us had college degrees related to the business of my farm; everyone was very good academically and morally. In the first 10 months, we did not get any case. Things were hard, and we didn't know where the next day's food would come from. I thought of laying some of the people off to reduce the expenses, but everybody was so dutiful; how could I have the heart to lay them off? So I brought my family’s valuables to pawn stores, and everything that could be pawned was pawned. One day, I just got back to the firm from a business trip; The accountant woman said to me frantically “The drawer with our operation funds was prized open! All the money was taken." She also told me that she had got a locksmith to repair the lock and added another more advanced lock. I said, "Please get back that locksmith. " I asked the locksmith to remove all the locks; I wouldn't want any lock. The accountant woman was displeased; she asked, "Why do you want to remove the repaired lock and the new lock? " Because of this, the accountant woman resigned the next day; she said angrily that I was crazy. The next day, our operation funds were stolen again. My hands had been tied before; now my hands were tied even more. I had no choice but to go back to my mom and ask for a loan. The third day, the large sum of operation funds was stolen again. I was so heartbroken, and I almost cried. After all, we had run out of all the means. Because I had no one else to borrow money from, I had to painfully pawn my gold watch, which was our wedding memorabilia. On the 4th day, we only lost $10,000; nothing else was taken. On the 5th day, I opened the drawer and found all the operation fans intact; all was there. I didn't know why, but I burst into tears. In the past five days, my colleagues were disdainful of my foolishness; everyday somebody resigned. Just think about it. How could there be any future if your boss had no bottom line? When my mom learned the money from her was on display for a thief to take, she had been so mad at me that she wouldn't speak with me for a long time. My significant other and my children saw me pawn a lot of valuable things to get the money to be on display in the office for the thief to take, they had been very angry, too. Finally, the thief seamed to have taken enough and had never come back for more. Because I had lost such a large sum of operation funds, my firm bled a lot; and I could barely pay the employees. therefore, some colleagues resigned without saying bye. When my father-in-law learned about the theft and the difficulty of paying my employees, he called me over to have a talk, "Was it true that you put money out for the thief to take? " I nodded silently. "You are a wife, and you are a mom. How can you be so foolish? " I said, "I'm afraid that the other person had some unspeakable hardships and he couldn't share it. I'm worried that if I didn't try to help the person out, there might be a life-and-death tragedy; therefore, I put out more money for him to take; I hoped to help him out secretly. " My father-in-law took out a bag of big bills and gave it to me. He said, "This is your nature. Any talk is useless. Take this money to tide it over. “ About 10 years later, I received a money order in the amount of $350,000 with an unsigned note. The note says "Dear ma'am, here is the 300 $10,000 that was stolen from the office that year, with an extra $40,000 as interest. Please accept it. Thank you. " Another 10 years or so passed. My thalassemia broke out, and I was hospitalized in Taibei General Hospital for a few weeks. Then a woman in her 50s came to see me along with her three kids. She said, "Come. Greet Grandm,” she pointed to me and asked her kids to greet me. I could not remember who she was, not a bit. This unfamiliar lady sat by my bed and kept weeping without saying a word. Just like this she patiently kept me company and took good care of me until 6:30. Then she left. The next day, she came again and did the same thing. The third day, she came again. The fourth day, she came at the same time, but this time she said, "May I call you mom? Today is Mother's Day." She held a Happy Mother's Day card in both her hands and handed it to me respectfully. I asked, "Who on earth are you? " "I was the accountant woman in your office. My husband and I now live in America. I heard from my colleagues that you are sick. So my family took time off to come back here to visit you and take care of you. Can you tell me if you received the $350,000 that I sent 10 years ago? " It finally dawned on me; I understood now. I said, "I got that. Thank you for that. You sent an extra $40,000; I want to know who was the sender and I want to return it in person.” "There is no need for that; that is interest payment; otherwise, I cannot have a clear conscience. " She explained; she couldn't hold back her tears. " Let bygones be bygones, "I comforted her. "You are my mom of my rebirth; you are my real mom in this life. I must be good to you and pay you back. " From her crying and explaining, I learned the gist of what happened at the time: She had just graduated from a research institute and got hired at my firm. Unfortunately, she was dragged to a mountain by a cabdriver and raped. Her secret part was all torn; so was her skirt. She had just started working, with no savings, and her family was poor. She did not know what to do. Who could she turn to with such an unspeakable misfortune? Helplessly, she put it off day after day, until her wounds were festering and she was bleeding. Her life was in jeopardy, so she had to go the hospital. Very unfortunately, the cab driver had infectious disease, and she was infected. What was even more unfortunate was that she was pregnant. It never rains but pours. At the time, abortion was against the law, so no legal Gynecology Clinics would perform the abortion; people had to resort to underground clinics, but such clinics always charged an exorbitant price. For this she tried several times to take her own life, but even dying was not easy. She asked me, "Why did you remove all the locks and purposefully put out money for me to take? Why did you leave more and more money? " I couldn't say a word; I cried. For real, what could I say? A week later, she and her husband and their kids were going back to America. Both she and her husband have doctorate degrees, and both of them were working at their local academic institutions; they couldn't take too much time off. She knelt on her knees and held my hands, "Mom, please come to stay with us in America, okay? we all miss you, and we all need you. I owe you what I have today. " I shook my head, and I cried louder. I helped her up. For real, I cannot remember at all who she was. I found a good daughter and a good son-in-law as well as three grandchildren. Both she and her husband have doctoral degrees; isn’t the little pain at the time worthwhile? Notes Whether you believe this or not, please don't try to verify it for the sake of protecting the face of anyone involved. At the time when my operation funds were taken, I would walk in and out of my office with my head lowered. I was afraid that I might recognize the thief; I was afraid the thief may feel sad when looking at my face. At the peak, there were over 200 people at my firm; each group was running its own business; apart from a few leading managers, I didn't know many employees. Because of my thalassemia, I was often rushed to ER at hospitals; those who came to visit me are from all walks of life; therefore, there are many people that I can’t remember who they were, but I don't want to be rude and ask, "Who are you?" Think about it. The others remember you very well, but you forget who they are; is it fair to them? Blood-stained Bridal Dress In my family, our parents commands are like Emperor's decrees. We children can never disobey or question or protest. At the time, I was living by myself because of my work, in a small village in Taishan near Taibei County. I was not in a lot of contact with my parents; I even could not afford time to go visit my grandmother. One early morning, I got a call from my father. he told me he was marrying me off; he told me to get dressed quickly; he told me the groom's family would send a wedding car to my place and pick me up; he told me the bridal gown would be delivered by the car as well. I asked, "What about my job? " My father replied angrily, “ You are getting married. Why do you want to work anymore? " I asked again: "Who is the man?" My father was even more angry on the other end of the phone, reprimanding me loudly: "If I want you to marry, do I need you to agree? In this world, which parents don't want to their children to be happy? You have your parents making all the arrangements. It's really a great blessing for you. You have all the reasons to be happy. What else is there to worry about?" I sensed my father was really angry, and I did not dare to say anything anymore, so I accepted it obediently. After all, as a child, you should not make your parents angry or annoy them, let alone going against your parents. Still, I really wanted to know, "Which Prince Charming is marrying me? Is he fat or thin? Why does he want to marry me? Which department does he belong to? What does he do for a living? Who is he?" There was a basket of question marks in my mind. Of course, there was also a great fear of ignorance about the unknown future. My heart had always been worrisome. However, "I tell you to get married, and you get married" was, after all, my father's order; it was also the imperial decree of "violators will be killed without mercy". What else could I do? I was plunged into a wave of contemplation and I sat in front of the dressing table. Tears were dripping, and my face was wet. I was crying so much that I couldn't put on makeup! Then, the sound of horns and firecrackers from a long line of convoys awakened the tearful wandering soul from my daze. I opened my eyes suddenly. Ah! It was time for me to step out. I hurriedly put on the wedding dress sent by the man, put on gloves, earrings, bracelets, necklaces and other jewelry. I thought these outfits should be enough, so I closed my eyes and lowered my head, followed the man sent by the groom to the car; a few more firecrackers, and we took off. I was quiet, seemingly peaceful. However, the waves in my mind were surging. I really didn’t know where I was being married to. Was it far away? Our motorcade, six cars in a long line, headed towards the Zhongxing Bridge. This was the only way from Taipei County to Taipei City that year. We set off firecrackers along the way, and it was a very rejoicing procession. Soon, the car reached the head of Zhongxing Bridge. Suddenly, a large crowd of people blocked the entire road. The driver had to stop the car and walk to the front to check. The matchmaker kept yelling: "The bridal car cannot stop halfway!" But the front was jammed, and there was nothing to do! At this time, two or three people rushed to our car and kept beating the window of the car with their hands, pleading us urgently for help. "What's the matter?" "There is a car accident ahead, and there is a child lying in a pool of blood; his life is hanging by a thread!" I had my head lowered, my face was covered with a veil, and I was wearing a heavy white wedding gown. Still, how could I turn to the other way? The man next to me sat there without any reaction. Spontaneously, I pulled my feet in high heels up from the five-liter bucket, throwing the taboos out of the window; I jumped out of the car and rushed to the accident site. "Ah! What a poor kid!" It was a primary school student who was hit by a big car and he was bleeding. I immediately bent down and picked up the child. The wedding dress was dragged on the ground in a pool of blood, wet, sticky and heavy. I turned around, ran back and got into the car. I immediately asked the driver to reverse the car and take the child as quickly as possible to the hospital for emergency treatment. The man beside me still didn't react at all. When the child was all set, I was summoned by the traffic police to make a lot of notes. That auspicious day, with its good wishes and hopes, was down the drain. As the bride's wedding dress cannot be taken off or replaced once it is put on, I had to go to the man's house in the bloody dress. In fact, when the child woke up in the ER, my head had become sober as well. I knew that I was in trouble. I had violated the serious local taboo of marriage customs. I was destined to take the return trip. But it was a life or death matter. How could I turn a blind eye? Suppose the clock could be rewound and I could start again, I would still go all out to save him. Therefore, I am very aware that no matter what my future would be and no mater how miserable, these were the calamities that I was destined to encounter and I couldn’t escape; I would definitely do it again. When we got to the groom’s house, someone opened the car door, held a plate of oranges, and welcomed me out of the car. However, when I got out of the car, everyone screamed: "Why is she all covered in blood?" "Why did the white wedding dress become a blood coat?" I lowered my head and stood there awkwardly. The hem of the wedding dress was full of blood, making the flower girl afraid to hold it. All the men from the groom’s family ran into the house and left me outside. They seemed to have an urgent meeting. After a long time, someone yelled: "Let the bride in first, lest a crowd gathers and everyone loses face!" I was placed in a separate room upstairs; it did not seem to the bridal chamber. I sat on the bench, cold and all alone. The matchmaker said: "Wedding banquets, visits, visits to in-laws, etc. are all canceled. How can you go out anymore in this bloody wedding dress and bring shame to the family?" Late that night, I was still sitting there, cold and all alone. The more I cried, the more sad I became. But no one could save me from my destiny. The matchmaker said, "When all the guests are gone, we will get a car to take you back. We have decided not to keep you!" When I heard that, I immediately grabbed the matchmaker, knelt down and pleaded, but the matchmaker was completely indifferent:" Don’t you like to save people? Why don’t you save yourself now? Do you think that wearing a white wedding dress, you are the Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva in white? You are full of yourself!” I told the matchmaker if I was sent back, I would have no choice but to throw myself into the river. The matchmaker seemed to be taken aback, but she went out without saying a word. The night was getting later and later, but I still sat on the bench, all cold, without seeing the groom or any relatives. Gradually, I was tired from crying and couldn't help but leaned against the wall and fell into a groggy sleep groggy. In the daze, I vaguely visualized our family's dire economic situation because of my death. I knew that I would never die. If I died, our family would not survive. A woman can only marry once in her life and can only wear a wedding dress once. This is the ancestral family law passed down from generation to generation in our family, and now I have worn it, and I have no more chance. I finally brought up the greatest courage and told the matchmaker that I was willing to take the return trip as the groom’s family requested. I was also willing to return the money my father had taken. Soon, the window by the side of the road seemed to start to light up slightly. The man’s family was still quiet. But I was no longer struggling. I was willing to become a dancer in a ballroom or a waitress in a lounge. I did not care, as long as I could pay off the large debt owed by my parents as soon as possible. At this time, a man appeared. Could he be the bridegroom? He didn’t say anything, but only said to me gently: "Early in the morning, when the day breaks, we will move out. You’re covered in blood; you scared the whole family, so we have to leave this house!" I nodded. After all, it’s a woman’s destiny to marry a man and follow the man. Do I have another option? Just like that, I followed this man who I had never met and we quietly walked out of this house where I had sat on a cold bench all night; no one had said hello to me, and no one had paid any attention. Our new home was a small place that would barely house two people. That night, we completed the husband-and-wife ceremony on the spot. I was so grateful that the bridegroom did not reject me, and the bridegroom was full of praise to me for saving a life at the expense of my own interest. He said my compassion was really touching, and such rare acts would touch the hearts of Heaven and deities. He also said that with such a beautiful heart, I would surely have a beautiful life; he had 100% confidence. I had thought that I was at the end of the world. I didn't expect it to turn around like a miracle. I was so thankful for such a big turnaround! One year later, our first daughter was born. To register her birth according to law, we had to show our marriage certificate. He took out his ID card and also told me to take out my ID card. I suddenly realized something was wrong. How could his name be completely different from the one printed on the wedding invitation? It was not the name my dad told me back then! He laughed. He said: "Mom, you have no idea who you are marred to. You don't know anything at all!" I said, "Dad, how can I know your name?" I only know a woman’s traditional virtue of three obediences and four duties. Attending to this home wholeheartedly, how could a little woman like me think so much! He said: "On the day of your wedding, it was my cousin who was supposed to marry you. But, you were wearing a white wedding dress stained with blood. My cousin was terrified, and of course my cousin’s parents were terrified. So, that night, everyone agreed to return you immediately. But the matchmaker said that you would hang yourself and that was only one way, even though I firmly opposed their cruel decision. I repeatedly emphasized that the bride’s heart was kind and beautiful, and I also asked them: "Is it guilty to save people?” Anyway, I had tried my best to change their minds. Under the prerequisite of saving people first, a light went on in my head and I got an idea; I entered the bridal chamber and picked up the marriage deal. You didn’t know the bridegroom anyway; what difference does it make whoever you married? Otherwise, if you save someone’s life but you will not be able to live and you will lose your own precious life, is there justice in this world?" I listened. I was really angry and grateful at the same time. How could he do such a thing? I didn't say a word to him for several days, and he was so nervous that he apologized again and again. Two years later, he asked me to go to the cancer ward at the National Taiwan University to visit a patient who had been sick for many years. He seemed to be a relative of the same family. At first glance, he seemed a little familiar. My husband introduced me: "This is my cousin, the only child of my uncle and my aunt.” Turning around, he introduced me to the two elderly couple who were almost blind from shedding tears, "Please meet my uncle and my aunt.” In my heart, I felt that these two old people were so pitiable; they had only one child, but he had liver cancer, and it was in the final stage. Out of the ward, I asked: "Have I seen this person? I have seen him. Is he from this family?" My husband said, "This is the real bridegroom who were supposed to marry you back then, and those two old people would have been your parents-in-law back then!" I said, "Can I take time to help these two old people take care of this patient? ?Can I be a daughter to them and support them for the rest of their lives?" He nodded and said, "Only after a hundred years of cultivation can a man and a woman be reunited on the same boat; only after thousands of years of cultivation can they be reunited in the same bed. Although your affinity with my cousin was ruined by a blood-red wedding dress, the affinity was still precious even for one day. We need to be grateful to the well when drinking water, so I support your kindness and compassion. ” I thought: Will this person be cursed by a blood-red wedding dress? Was I really a hapless bride that day? Doesn’t the old saying go: marriage is predestined and no humans can change it” Why did the cousin want to marry me then refuse to keep me? For more than 30 years, our family has lived happily, with plenty of food and clothing, no worries about clothing, no worries about food, and I have five children. All of them are filial and obedient, and all strive for the top. They have graduated from first-class research institutes at home and abroad. I really don’t know why on earth a bride like this can’t be married, and why the man wanted to push me to despair so ruthlessly. Our family has never quibbled or argued. We all cherish everything, our fate and the blessings; we have been making our lifelong efforts to maintain the peace of our family, and make our home a pure land and paradise on earth. My husband and I have never been separated, holding each other’s hands forever in joy; in our simple ways, we spend our days peacefully. Both of us have a steady job and a very generous income; except for my thalassemia, our life is perfect. It can be seen that the blood-red wedding dress is a source of endless blessings. How could it be a curse? Almost all of my relatives and friends were not optimistic about me the bloody bride; everyone was afraid that it meant bad luck which would cause catastrophes or tragedies, but the facts proved that the worldly superstition that almost put me to death was completely wrong. At that time, my husband dared to marry me because I was covered in blood from trying to save a life. How can a compassionate heart like this lack blessings and cause trouble? Time is the best proof. My husband is right. Now, my children have grown up, and they are coming of age of marriage. The children said: "Mom, who can divorce a woman like you? If we were the groom, and you were bloody that day, the wedding dress was messy, in our minds, you would still be the most beautiful bride in the world because you have a beautiful heart! And the time you delayed for saving a life turned out to be the truly auspicious day blessed by God!" The reassurance of my children often makes me cry like a bitter rain that won’t stop! The question is: the one who actually married did not enter the bridal chamber, but the one who entered the bridal chamber was not the real bridegroom. Am I really married? Who did I marry? Notes A reader asks: "Why can't you cancel the wedding and return to your own home?" According to the local customs, when a daughter leaves home for marriage, it is the water that is poured out. Going back will bring down her natal family's entire life and cause her brothers and sisters to never stand up. As for my situation, it is worse than this; I was sold by my parents. My parents partnered with someone to open a large-scale printing factory to produce monthly calendars, newspapers, and magazines. However, due to bad luck, the clientele fell, and my parents couldn't support it. In the end, it was closed and auctioned off by the court. In order to survive the emergency, my parents had no choice but turned to the doomed money of loan sharks from the underground bank. When my parents had nothing, they fell into the hands of the underworld. Except me their daughter, they had nothing to sell for some money. It can be said that they had no other choice. For this marriage, my parents finally sold me for a large sum of money, and it also relieved the suffering of my parents and the whole family; they were saved from the underworld and the endless sufferings. I was not in a position to be divorced; if I were divorced, my parents would have to return the money. Wouldn’t my parents fall into miseries again? When a person dies, no one else in the family has to die. I am a terminally ill patient who might die at any time; why can't it be me myself? Why don’t I end it all? Because I was ignorant and impulsive, I stained a wedding dress in red to save someone, and I almost killed my parents again and caused them to fall into the underworld. Alas, the poor family has the sorrow of the poor family, which is beyond the comprehension of outsiders. (This debt, I paid it back ten years after my marriage. I didn’t expect the blood-red wedding dress to be so expensive.) This blood-stained wedding dress was in my 60th birthday celebration. With the blessings of the whole family, we dedicated it to Heaven and Mother Earth, and incinerated it on the spot. Back then, the rental bridal shop insisted on rejecting this wedding dress and asked me to pay for it. After two or three years of negotiations, I refused to give in, which almost brought the living expenses of my entire family on the verge of collapse. In fact, my life was already very tight back then, and even the money for my eldest daughter's milk powder was not available. It was a case of “It never rains but pours.” When a person has no luck, everything runs out of luck. Because part of the plot of this article involves personal privacy, it was deleted when the manuscript was proofread. Therefore, the context may be inconsistent, or even slightly out of touch with the real facts, and it cannot be completely consistent. Please pardon me. Single Mom At the end of September 1966, I was still raising money for traveling abroad and living expenses. Originally, the public funds provided by the West German government should be sufficient for international students. But my parents thought that I was too irresponsible to leave the burden of the family's life on their two elderly people. Therefore, I hoped I could save some money first before going to Frankfurt for further study. I was a little girl. Every penny earned from my full-time work or part-time work had been given to mom and dad without any money left for myself. I had never opened a salary bag by myself, nor had I taken it from the salary bag, not even half a penny, I handed the salary bag to Mom and Dad intact with both hands. Even today, when I have my own children, it is still the same. Because of the tragic family situation, too poor and too hard, and I did not have the heart to reach out to my parents for any assistance. I was a self-defeating person, even less able to make friends or socialize with colleagues, so how could anyone help me out or lend me money? How could there be any acquaintances who could generously donate money? Although I had not been living with my parents, I could still sense the sorrow of a poor family in their tears. To be honest, blood is thicker than water. As the eldest daughter, how could I leave my parents? How could I leave my younger brothers and sisters? So, I took the courage and went to beg an elder who had several children in his family. I was tutoring their children, especially the eldest, who was two years younger than me. I had started tutoring him when he was a third year high school student while I was in my freshman year. At that time, he had graduated from university and completed his military service, ready to go to the United States for graduate school. This family was very traditional, the father was very kind, they valued filial piety, and siblings were harmonious and respectful. It was a very educated scholarly family. During my time as a tutor, the two elderly people had regarded me as their own daughter, and loved and cared for me all the time. However, for me, a Buddhist disciple who was ordained, the wealth and splendor of the prestigious family seemed to be too detrimental. What's more, I suffered from autism. I always stayed away from people and dared not get too close. Therefore, I had never dared to accept their love. Common people are always common people; why bother trying to climb high? This time, urged by my parents, I was really desperate. Deep down in my heart, I looked forward to a miraculous adventure and a savior. But standing on the streets of Taipei, the feeling of isolation and helplessness is really "No predecessors and no followers. The universe is vast, but I cry in my tiny corners." I thought, if I didn't bite the bullet and ask them for a favor, who else could I turn to? Unexpectedly, the two elderly couple in this family gratified my request immediately. They immediately took a large sum of money and put it in my hands, and they kindly asked me: "Is this enough? If it's not enough, please don't hesitate to come back for more!" I counted it face-to-face, and I said: "Too much. I don’t need so much!" Because I must repay the loan, the loan couldn’t be too big. However, the two elderly people kept asking me to accept it. They said, "When you get the JD and come back, this small amount of money will be no big deal." That night, the two elderly couple mentioned very politely if I could be their daughter-in-law; for them, it would be a blessing for their ancestors. I told them that my parents would not allow me to marry someone from out of Taiwan because they were afraid that I would be taken back to the mainland and that I would not see them every day in the future. The two elders were very understanding after hearing this, and they didn't mention a word afterwards. The fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month was the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the moon was full. I was in a mess. I didn’t even have the pleasure of appreciating the moon, because in a few days I would set out to wander at the end of the world thousands of miles away. I had a heavy heart. On the 16th day of the eighth lunar month, the moon was rounder and brighter than the fifteenth. These two old people who were like mother and father to me, along with the children I taught, decided to have a going-away party for me. That enthusiasm made me appreciate their kindness, so I had to accept the invite. I had always been unable to take any alcohol. Especially since I took refuge with Buddhism at the age of eighteen, I had followed my master to take precepts, and I didn't even know what wine was. But these were the people who had always loved me very much, taken care of me, and helped me a lot this time. How could I push them away? Besides, we would be in separate land, at least for seven years. Could I really say no to half a drop of wine? I gently picked up the small wine glass and took a sip. It felt strange. At first, I felt dizzy, and soon I fell asleep. When I first woke up from a big dream, I found that I was lying in a beautiful new house, decorated like a bridal chamber, and my clothes were changed from the inside to the outside, and I had been changed completely and my outwear was still neatly dressed, with a pink bridal gown and a white wedding dress. I knew I had made a life mistake. The man said: With the support of my family, I had burned the incense and paid my respects to the ancestors before entering the bridal chamber. It was such a misstep that became an eternal hatred. In the confusion, I somehow became the eldest daughter-in-law of this family. I hated it! I really didn't expect this kind of decent and well-respected scholars to do this kind of thing! I didn't dare to tell my parents, but my body was very uncooperative and I was fatigued. Mom and Dad seemed to feel that something was wrong with me and asked me questions. The more they asked, the angrier they became. They simply ordered me to take the medicine for abortion. The man also sent someone over to propose to my parents; they thought that it was a done deal, so why not get married? But parents yelled at them as villains and inferior animals. Of course, it was out of the question. The man pleaded, "Don’t go to West Germany. Since we have burned incense, bowed to my ancestors, and entered the bridal chamber, why don’t we get married first and then go to the United States to study together?" I said, "My parents don’t allow that. Forget about it. I will never do things that upset my parents in my life. " I knew I got pregnant; I was a Buddhist disciple; I don't kill, so how cruel I would be to kill my fetus? And I couldn’t shamefully go to study in West Germany with my big belly. What's more, a female student wandering in a foreign country, how would she be able to raise her own child? After more than three months, my belly was too big to be missed. My parents decided to kick me out of the house, not allowing me to step into their home. My grandmother was also afraid that my neighbors would gossip, so she asked me to find a quiet place to avoid the limelight. When the stomach got flat, I could go back home. I wrote to West Germany to explain the circumstances to my adviser because I had no way to go over that year. I also asked the professor to give me guidance. My adviser said: "First give birth to the baby safely, and then come to West Germany to study next year." I was a woman. It was natural for me to love my baby. Of course, in the dilemma, I chose to stay in Taipei and let my baby come to the world safely. After all, my baby was in my belly. This precious baby was my only relative in this world, and of course, it was my whole life. When I was kicked out by my grandmother and parents, I wandered on the streets of Taipei in a dazed and helpless manner. I had never really left home. I really didn't know where to go. Someone told me that there was a home for unmarried mothers in Hualien, and there was also a home for unmarried mothers on Xinsheng South Road in Taipei City. However, this person said, in the home of unmarried mothers, you couldn’t take the baby you gave birth to. This was too embarrassing for me. Someone suggested that I go there to ask first, but I felt ashamed and I had a big belly How could I make a fool of myself showing up everywhere? I walked slowly, step by step, dragging my tired body like a lost soul and staring blankly. When the pedestrians and vehicles came and went, I tried to spot a face that might be a little familiar, so I stared and looked at them again, but by the time the night fell to pitch dark, I still hadn’t seen a single acquaintance or relative. I thought: Why not go back to the mountain to find Master for help? But there was a little baby in my belly, and I had no strength to walk the long and rugged mountain road, nor could I climb the cliffs. Besides, the Master’s place was a state-level solemn, sacred Buddhist place full of men. How could an unmarried girl who was pregnant show up inexplicably? If I showed up, how could Master still have the face to maintain his status in the Buddhist world? He was a well respected patriarch master of our time. How could I cause any shame to the master? I would rather live on the street and be a beggar than to seek refuge with the master and defile the master. Where on earth should I go? I didn't have a penny, and I didn't bring a piece of clothing, and it was very dark in December. There was a blast of cold wind, chilling to the bones. I was so hungry and so cold; particularly as a result of my deficiency of blood and oxygen, I was trembling. Who was willing to give me a bowl of hot porridge to fill my empty stomach? I was so worried that such a cold climate would freeze the little life in my belly to death! Seriously, I was so hungry and so cold! But where could I go? Staffing agency? No one would be interested in a pregnant woman. Should I beg from from house to house? No one was willing to help. Someone told me: There were many factories in Sanchong, and there was a shortage of female operators and cooking maids. I felt I should be able to give it a try. When I arrived at Luzhou, I looked at the poster on the wall of the park and asked for directions. Finally, after a few days, I found a job as a female worker sweeping the floor, pouring tea, and answering the phone. The pay was very low, but I was able to fill my stomach. The little baby inside was not hungry; it was enough. Of course, I needed money for blood transfusion and iron removal, and I needed to buy some nutritional supplements for the little baby in my belly so I could feel more at ease. During the Dragon Boat Festival in 1967, the baby in my belly was nine months old. There was a dragon boat race under the Zhongxing Bridge, which was crowded with people. At this time, even if I was wearing flat shoes, it was already difficult to move. The lumbar spine was so sore that it was difficult for me to even stand on my feet. My doctor told me that severe pernicious anemia was life-threatening during childbirth and it would require a large amount of blood transfusion, which was very expensive. He asked me: "There is no financial difficulty, right?" How could I have no problem? I almost had no food. "Just die with the little baby? Didn't Qu Yuan die when he dived? It's a coincidence that today is the Dragon Boat Festival. “If you become a water ghost, you don't have to worry about being hungry. You will be full just by eating rice dumplings, right?" I walked towards the crowds. In the middle of the bridge, there was a human wall of spectators. I pushed my way for an empty spot. When I went up there, I jumped down into the river. When I woke up, I was lying on the beach on the shore, and a lifeguard was giving me CPR. The policeman asked why I didn’t take care and why I was pushed into the water like that. I was very tired and sleepy, and I didn't even have the strength to speak. As soon as I closed my eyes, I fell asleep again, unconscious. Later, I was transferred to a nearby hospital for antenatal injections, cardiotonic injections and nutrition injections. I told the lifeguard that I did not have a penny. The lifeguard comforted me very kindly: "Miss, don't worry. You just have a good rest." I was lying on the hospital bed without any of my relatives and acquaintances. I quietly pondered: "When I was raped, it was sorrowful enough. Not only did the family refuse to comfort me and heal my pain, but they drove me out of the house and let me live on the streets regardless of my life and death. Wasn’t this be too unsympathetic? Too cruel? Is our society still a barbaric tribe?” Many people have been persuading me to abort. But I think if a person can kill her innocent and weak children with her own hands, is this society still humane? Is it still civilized? My master opposed abortion; he said: "Unless you and your baby die together, no one is allowed to deprive the baby in the womb of life no matter what." Shortly after I was raped, within a few days, I realized that my monthly period had not come on time. At that time, I only had to take a dose of Chinese medicine to abort the pregnancy, but I firmly believed that life was priceless, and the future of this child was still unknown. Maybe everything would be fine later and she might become someone who can contribute the country and society, and this child would have its own children, one generation after another. Think about it; if I gave up this child, I would be giving up more than just one tender life! I quit my work and cut all kinds of ties, just to keep this child, a tender life, and I was reduced to the countryside of Luzhou in Sanchong, where I worked as a lowly maid. I was constantly starving, until the full pregnancy of ten months. In this tragic cold time, apart from tears, the only comfort was the bright moon that hung high in the sky in the dark night, and a group of small stars around her. If this child was a woman, she would be like the moon in the future, and she would be a good mother, right? If there were many children, they would be like little stars! I had a severe anemia similar to blood cancer, and the doctor would do prenatal checkups. At that time, I was always worried that I would die due to dystocia, and I repeatedly doubted that the fetus was normal. I was really afraid that I might die, leaving the child in the world to be abused and bullied; if the child died, I would lose the courage and meaning to survive, so I chose to dive to end the lives and the sufferings of mother and baby in this world. Perhaps, in heaven, we would be very happy. Fortunately, the baby in my belly and I were rescued safely, and I didn't have a miscarriage due to the pregnancy mishap. During the days when I was recuperating, I began to understand that no one had the right to kill; our skin and flesh from our parents were not to be harmed by anyone. To be a woman, you must be stronger than a man in order to survive. On an afternoon in June of the lunar calendar in 1967, my child came to the world in my wailing and screaming. Fortunately, it was a girl; she was not big. Otherwise, I would have collapsed and died. For nearly five days, I had been tormented with the pain of being torn apart, wailing and screaming, disturbing the entire delivery room. I had tried to grab with both hands, but I couldn't grab anything. I had tossed and turned; all sorts of weird words, swear words and inexplicable words had all found their way out; even though I was crying and screaming until I was hoarse, there hadn’t been even a single comforting relative beside me, not a single sympathetic soul. The hospital asked me, "Will you pay for the delivery? Or..." I asked, "Or what?" I told the hospital frankly that I really couldn't pay. The hospital representative said: "Why not just leave the child to the hospital as payments? You can save a lot of burden as a a single mom." At that time, I had no money in my possession, so I had to accept the hospital's terms and hand the child to the hospital without objection. I only begged the hospital to bring me the child once a day for three days to let me touch the child's face. I had tried to commit suicide by jumping into the river. Both the mother and the fetus had suffered serious internal and external injuries. I was also suffering from terminal disease of thalassemia. The doctor had worried that I would die due to dystocia, and even worried that the fetus would die in my belly. I cried and cried from morning till night, almost crying until I was blind. If I had really died in childbirth, how would the child live? And if the child died, how would I live! How could I not bawl my eyes out? I couldn’t see the child; I could only touch her with my hands. The nurse warned, "Cry more, and you will be blind all life!" I was discharged from the hospital seven days later. I originally thought that without a big belly and no child, it would be okay to go abroad to study alone and restore my energy to what it was before all this. But I found that I missed my child day by day, and in less than a week, I was close to collapse. I went back to the factory and begged the boss to pay for my baby in order to redeem my baby. I told the boss that when I returned to my grandmother’s house, all the money paid on behalf of me would be paid back. I would take the baby back and show it to my grandmother. The little baby I gave birth to was so cute and adorable. When I went back to the hospital, the people there told me that the child had already been swapped by a mom of a stillbirth in the hospital, the birth certificate was issued, and the birth registration was filed with the authorities. My information had been destroyed in order to avoid disputes. It was like a thunderbolt on the spot; I started screaming frantically, and I fainted. From then on, I couldn't find any information about my child, I couldn't see my child. For eight years, every day after work or on holidays, I stood at the door of the triple rooftop theater, looking at the pedestrians coming and going. I desperately wanted to look at my child again, even for just one look. During the Mid-Autumn Festival in 1967, the man returned from the United States. He came to see me where I was working. He looked at me; I was haggard, thin and small, and he was very sorrowful. He said: "Teacher, I'm really sorry, I was wrong." "Teacher, I didn't intend to cause all this sufferings to you. Please forgive me!" He also cried. But what could I say? Could we go back and change the past? He repeatedly begged me to go to the United States with him. In this life, he would do his best to take care of me and make it up for me. He didn’t understand where I had been hiding for the whole year. Why did he rush back from the United States several times and couldn’t find out my whereabouts? He asked, "Where is our baby?" I couldn’t take it anymore. I burst into tears, and he dared not ask any more. I heard him sobbing. After a long silence, suddenly, he boldly took my hands and held them tightly; no matter how I tried to break away, he refused to let go. He begged: "Teacher, would you please agree to go with me to study in the United States?" I shook my head. "Teacher, I will patiently wait for you to change your mind. I will come back next year on the Mid-Autumn Festival!" At the end of June 1968, I was assigned to proctor the exam hall and I was not able to contact the outside world. As soon as the exam ended, we were released. The administrator told me that in the past few days, a gentleman in the United States had called me several times a day. Around the evening, the man called again from the United States: "Teacher, according to our custom, we must get married this year. Would you please agree to marry me?" Again I shook my head and said, "No." Because I had asked and asked, crying and crying, kneeling and kneeling, but my father still wouldn’t budge. A week later, the man told me on the phone that since he could not marry me, he had to marry a schoolmate. But in this life, he would always wait for me, and I was always welcome to live with him in the United States and have a family together. On the day of his wedding, I answered the phone; I felt dizzy; I fell to the ground and was sent to the ER. Everyone said that I was too tired to proctor the joint exams. But who knows, my heart was already broken. I slept for seven days before waking up. He was my student. When I tutored him with his homework, I had kept my distance and we had never talked to each other about anything other than homework. Had I unknowingly had my heart pierced by Jupiter’s love arrow then? His other half was a woman who went to the same school as he, and I encouraged him to marry her. She told me: "The father-in-law and the mother-in-law only admit that you are their first daughter-in-law; they insisted that no one would replace me ever. The elders wanted her to respect me as a big sister, and everyone in the house would respect me as the princess daughter-in-law of the household!" I cried loudly like the Yellow River bursting its banks, crying and crying. What should I do? In our family, no child is allowed to talk back to our parents since we were young, and we are not allowed to disobey our parents. As children, we can only be obedient, and we can only do what pleases the parents; we are absolutely obedient all the time, and never dare to have any ideas or opinions of our own. I knew that I could only choose a local man. As for people from out of Taiwan, it is impossible even if I cry to my death. But is it necessary to make a big fuss about the birthplace when getting married? As long as the character is of good quality and can be entrusted for a lifetime, isn't that enough? My parents wee very stubborn. For this reason, I don’t know how much happiness has been destroyed for the next generation? But my parents never regretted it:"This is what you get for being our child!" Parents are always right, so it must be the children who are wrong. "Do you really accept your fate like this?" "Of course, I do". At the age of sixty-two, I still dare not counter my parents, dare not disobey my parents; everything is subject to my parents’ permission because in this life my parents are bullied and humiliated all the time; it’s hard enough. As children, how can we bear to make it worse? Everything is better than merely making ourselves happy; it is better to make parents happy even if we are unhappy, and we are willing. This is our family tradition from generation to generation. Isn’t it just as good? In 1970, I obeyed my parents’ arrangement and married a man who I had never met. I gave birth to two boys and two girls. But I did not forget my first child, not even a minute. I couldn’t sleep, I could eat, and I couldn’t enjoy my family life. So I went to Sanchong every day to wait to see my child. My husband said:"Don't you have four more children now?Why do you still cry every day and miss her every day?" Only those who are mothers can experience the feeling of being a mother. No child can be replaced, each is different, and each has its own cuteness. I had never seen my eldest daughter. When I gave birth in the hospital, I cried and went blind, and I couldn't tell the child's true appearance. I could see it with both eyes now, but I didn't know where my little baby had been sold and resold. I yearned for her day after day, year after year, regardless of spring, summer, autumn, and winter; I stared at the pedestrians that came and went. Still, there was no hope. Everyone in the family advised me to forget the past and work hard for the future. Why didn’t I cherish what I had now? So, I began to devote all my energy to this home. I had neglected housework for too long, I also ignored the four children in the family for too long. Fourteen (after the baby’s birth) years later in 1981, because my master had been deceased for many years, in order to fulfill the Master’s compassionate wishes, I used my free time to voluntarily represent Master in Buddhist ceremonies to pray for peace and prosperity. For this reason, I was invited by local believers this year to accompany my Dharma brothers to the triple lecture. Buddhism values the appearance of a man, and women are not allowed to touch dharma instruments or perform rituals. All the Buddhists and monks at ceremonies, men and women, wear men's clothing and address each other as "brothers". Even women are not called "sisters", indicating that they have cultivated to the lofty state of manhood. Of course, I also follow Buddhism's tradition and dress like a man, not in women's clothing. When I was presiding at the dharma congregation, a middle school girl suddenly pulled her mother to me and pointed at me and said, "She is my mother! She is my mother!"The little girl’s mother was embarrassed and hurriedly covered her mouth to stop her screaming. The mother scolded her daughter and said:"The master is a man. How could it be your mother? Besides, the master is a monk; how could he give birth to you?" The little girl insisted repeatedly that she was not mistaken. She said:"I have seen it at my birth. She must be my mother!" During meditation in Tantric Buddhism, we must not be distracted; if we lose our concentration, our life will be in danger. Therefore, I had not been able to see clearly what this little sister looked like, or which high school she was attending, let alone hear anything clearly. What was she muttering? I vaguely noticed that this little girl was dragged away by her mother, and she was protesting. After that, I didn't see this little girl again, and I forgot about her. Fifteen years later, at the end of 1982, around October, the monks were invited by the local believers to once again go to Sanchong to perform a Buddhist prayer ceremony in order to pray for an auspicious environment and benevolent weather. Because a woman’s hands were relatively slender, they were soft and adept for Tantric hand-prints, and they were almost seamless. Therefore, my dharma brothers still wanted me to represent Master and preside at the altar. When I changed into the monk's robe of the Vajra Guru and put on the crown of five Buddhas, I looked like a majestic man. Suddenly, a high school girl brought her parents to me. She pointed at me and told her parents: "She is my mother! She is my mother! No mistake about it! " She seemed to be the same person as the little girl two years before. Her mother also reprimanded her for nonsense because the master was a male and a monk. But this high school girl ignored her parents' words and insisted that I was her mother. She cried and shouted:"Mom!Mom!I really am your daughter!"I was shocked and at a loss. How strange it was to encounter this strange sudden occurrence! The people around me were afraid that she would disturb the ceremony, so they firmly persuaded her to get out. Since I was completely preoccupied with Buddhist ceremonies, I couldn't get distracted, so I didn't meet or talk with this high school girl. Three months later, in January of 1983, this high school girl suddenly came to my house with a large bag and a small bag. She sneaked out from her home by herself. She said that she couldn't stand the Taoist priests' exorcism fairs. There was no way that she was insane. She just wanted to find her own mother, recognize each other and live together forever from now on. Now in our modern age of science, why did adults still believe the nonsense of those Taoist priests? I did not know what to tell her. I repeatedly advised her to go back to her parents’ home because she was still a young woman and couldn’t stay in other people’s homes at all. Besides, I still didn’t know how to give a reasonable explanation to my family! But she was very stubborn; she said:"You are my mother, and this is my mother's home. Why can't I come back to live in my own home? Why should I live in other people's homes?" Most people don't want any outsiders to break into their homes. In life, of course, no one is willing to do stupid things to raise other people’s children. For 16 years, I had become accustomed to this secure home. Today, a stranger came so abruptly. Our whole family was really rattled. I was really embarrassed. I thought of my master. When Master passed away, he gave me three tips. I remember Master once said that in 1981 I would see my daughter; in 1982 I would again see the eldest daughter; in 1983, my daughter would come home and reunite with me. But after 16 years, I had re-established a new family and had four more children. I really didn’t know how to give a reasonable explanation to my current family. How could I let them accept my eldest daughter without harming anyone else in the family, without destroying the happiness, perfection and harmony of this family. I thought: "It's been sixteen years. Is this girl really my long-lost eldest daughter?"I was so hesitant, and it was so hard to decide! I used to cry a lot for a long time; I cried until I was blind in both eyes. At the time of childbirth, I touched the child's face, but I never saw the child's appearance. How could I confirm it? Sure enough, I thought of Master again and thought of Master's prediction kit. I respectfully opened the kit in front of the Buddha: "The time is ripe to reunite with your daughter, and she is happy to be back in the arms of Mother."At the bottom, he had also written a small reminder:"Yellow uniform; student ID: OOOOOO."(Detailed notes) I asked:"Sweetheart, what is your name? What is your student ID?" This little girl told me that she was in the first grade of Jingmei's high school, and her student ID was OOOOOO. She opened her bag and took out her uniform and student ID. It was mind boggling; everything was exactly the same as what was written in Master's kit. I hugged her and held her tightly. I cried and I couldn't say a word. I closed my eyes and touched her face. I couldn't stop crying. In this way, my eldest daughter found me by herself. In the third year of high school, my eldest daughter chose to major in science, and her grades were very good. I saw the tips left by the master, but it said liberal arts major and it was clearly written as "National Chengchi University; OO Department", with the small print of the the student number. My eldest daughter saw my quizzical expression; she asked,"Mom, am I not the kid you used to know?" My maser’s predictions had never missed. My daughter asked me to have a DNA test, but I firmly rejected it. Why should I doubt my daughter? Jing Mei High School informed us parents one day that all students in the science group should be transferred to the liberal arts group as soon as possible because none had passed the college matriculation test. The eldest daughter still refused to change the group. As the school expected, she failed. She took the exam the next year and failed again. The school teacher/tutor discussed with me and hoped to persuade her to transfer to the liberal arts group, but she still refused. One day, she had an argument with the teacher in the mock test, and they were mad with each other. She was very discouraged. She was angry and she transferred to the liberal arts group, but the test date was near. Was there enough time? Because she was afraid that I would oppose her change of mind right before the exam, she worked hard. The college admission list was posted, and she was lucky enough to be admitted. I said:"According to the teacher's guide, yu should major in OOO?" She was very against it. For one thing, she hated language; secondly, the language was not popular. When electing a major, she went to a lot of cram schools to help her make computer predictions, but the conclusion was: "National Chengchi University; OO Department.” I said:"People refuse to give it up until the last minute. You should obey Master's arrangement!" She lay in my arms and cried and said:"Mom, I admit that I can't break away from your prediction. I'll take it according to Master’s prediction kit! When the semester started, she registered; her student ID was the one written down in the Master’s prediction kit. The eldest daughter has now returned from studying abroad and she has completed her doctorate study. Notes My master’s words in the prediction kit were encrypted codes for the high school my daughter was attending. When my eldest daughter met me for the first time, she was judged by her family members and the believers at the ceremony as being lunatic of the evil spirits because she adamantly pointed out that the master in menswear was her biological mother. She was forced by her family to go to a famous temple many times for the monks to ward off evil spirits and collect demons, but all was in vain. Although it had been more than two years since she saw me for the second time, she screamed again. His family members, relatives and friends all agreed that the old illness had relapsed, and she was sent to the Yaochi Golden Mother Temple again. The psychic master used his sword to drive away demons, but she still cried and called out for her mother every day. Seeing me for the third time, she was sixteen years old, in the first year of high school. But I had built a happy family, and I was enjoying the stability and harmony of the family. It was impossible for us to acknowledge each other. No matter how I persuaded and urged her, she refused to leave, so I had to let her stay. It had been more than 18 years to this day. The saying goes:"Mother and daughter's bond comes from nature."It is absolutely true. In the past eighteen years, the flesh and blood have joined the hearts, and the joy of family relationship has made me sweep away the darkness and step into sunlight. I had cried day and night for eight years, which had a huge impact on my health and the happiness of my family. Therefore, I had turned around abruptly, determined not to look for my missing daughter, and resolutely gave up , So the first time and the second time, I was indifferent. When I was watching the Dragon Boat Race that day, there were many fortune tellers on the side of the road. They all pointed to the fetus in my stomach and said straightforwardly:"Your parents or grandparents will be cursed to death within a hundred days.” I didn't want this child to kill my parents; I would rather be killed myself. Therefore, I was very nervous and I panicked; I chose to die with my baby in my belly. In fact, less than three months after this child was born, my beloved Tainan father died suddenly. It was the eighteenth day of the lunar calendar in 1967. Fortune-telling may be accurate, but it must not be intimidating and fearful. This is a moral character. Give hope to the desperate and don't kill. When my eldest daughter came back, I was forty-four years old. A Taoist leader said that she would kill me. Sure enough, since she stepped into my house, I started to have a high fever and remained ill for more than ten months. I couldn’t get out of bed, but I couldn’t find out the reason. I would rather be cursed to death than let my eldest daughter leave me again. The Taoist said that it was stupid of me to want my daughter so much at the expense of my life. I majored in German law, and I could speak German. If I went to the United States to study for a doctorate degree., it would be difficult because English was English and German was German. There was nothing in common. Although I could speak some English, I was not fluent enough, so I couldn’t go to the United States at all. When my father saw that I had a big belly, he realized that I hadn't aborted the baby. He was very angry. He punished me and ordered me to kneel on the ground and he hit me with a wooden stick. Because the baby was in my belly, it was less than four months old and couldn't stand the beating, I dodged and dodged, letting my father let out his anger. In order to save the fetus, I had to flee for my life without time to bring anything, and my grandmother did not dare to save me. After giving birth, I returned to Taipei from Sanchong in tears. My grandmother said that I must calm down and stay home, but I still missed my child. I could barely take even a mouthful of chicken soup. The master came to my sick bed to comfort me. He said,"Your little baby is in the garbage dump!” I cried even more bitterly when I heard it. How could anyone be such a villain and throw other people's baby into the dump? The master smiled and said,"Don't be nervous. In the future, as long as you are enthusiastic about public welfare and clean the road every morning and evening, remove the rubbish thrown by pedestrians along the way, and wait for the amount of rubbish you handle to accumulate enough to redeem your little baby, she will appear in front of you, safe and sound. But you must remember that your little baby’s horoscope is very heavy; at least it is worth a lot of garbage. Don’t be discouraged!” After I regained my energy. I started to return to work and adopted four roads; every day before and after work, morning and evening, I would clean up the rubbish. I yearned for my baby for eight years, but there was no news of her. Master was very worried. One day, he hurried down from the mountain early in the morning. While watching me cleaning carefully, he smiled and said: "With your cleaning speed and cleaning method, how can you make a difference in eight years? I think it will take another eight years at least!" This was a project of conscience, and I did not dare to be sloppy at all. Therefore, I had to take another eight years. My family was very discouraged after hearing this, so they repeatedly persuaded me to skip it. In fact, I did not have any hope of finding my daughter anymore. It was just that over the past eight years, I had developed the habit of cleaning and I couldn’t stop, so I still carefully cleaned the four main roads every morning and evening, rain or shine, without a break, until today. My little baby was hard to recognize after I was a volunteer road cleaner for so long. She was too big for me to hold. My eldest daughter cleaned the roads with me every morning and night from the day of our reunion; she was joined at the hip with me her mother every minute and every second, until she completed her graduate school and went abroad to study for a doctorate degree. Only then did she reluctantly leave me, and we were no more a mom-and-daughter team. My eldest daughter and I hold hands each year during the Dragon Boat Festival on May 5th of the lunar calendar and walk across the Zhongxing Bridge from Taipei to the Sanchong side. We take the meat dumplings, alkali rice dumplings, rice dumplings, and three animal offerings to the beach. The mother and daughter respectfully kneel down and kowtow three times to pay respect to Qu Yuan and the gods of river, for mercifully having let go of mother and daughter that day. This is a routine event every year. Even when my eldest daughter has her own family in the future, she must continue to worship and urge one generation after another to continue. At school, my daughter feared swimming lessons the most. When she saw the swimming pool full of water, she would shake and go into shock, foaming at the mouth. I took her to see many doctors, but they couldn't find out the cause and could not cure it. I was invited to the school by the physical education teacher every time, but I really couldn't solve it. Then I suddenly thought: Could it be that when I jumped into the Danshui River on the Zhongxing Bridge with her, I had frightened the fetus? What a terrible prenatal education. I told the school's physical education teacher about this speculation and asked him to request the school for special accommodation. In addition to men, there are gods in this world. Man has one thousand calculations, and Heaven has only one, which is also called Heaven calculation. Human calculation is never as good as Heaven calculation. Who Are you, My “Mom”? On Moon Cake Day In 1967, I had just spent my maternity month at home. I asked my grandma to allow me to go out and look for my missing daughter. I felt it was a day of family reunion and families would come out to enjoy the full moon. I stood at the entrance to Tian Tai Theater, where it was a spot of big gatherings of crowds. I watched people come and go. Then, in the distance, I spotted a group of unruly kids following an old woman; they were poking fun at her and throwing roadside pebbles at her. The old woman kept chasing away the kids with a bamboo stick. The old woman was walking towards me. I found her out of mind, talking to herself, screaming and yelling at times, bawling loudly sometimes. Her outfits were so worn out that they could barely cover her; she was stained black and smelled bad. Her stench was blown around by the autumn wind and all the passers-by covered their noses with handkerchiefs and they were hurrying away from her. Suddenly, the old woman came up to me and burst into tears, “My daughter! It has taken me so long to find you!” She threw herself and knelt. She tightly embraced my legs. She was afraid that I might run away; I almost lost balance, she looked hysteric, screaming now and yelling the way someone does when losing a beloved family member. By this time, more and more onlookers had gathered. I felt embarrassed, but my legs were locked by her and I could barely move. I said, “I don’t know you. Please let me go, ok?” But she just ignored that. She said, “My daughter! It has taken me so much to find you! Please don’t run away again. You must promise to go home with me today. Otherwise, I won’t let you go. We can both die here!” My feet were getting numb, but she wouldn’t let go of me. I thought, how could I reason with a lunatic woman? The onlooker crowd was getting bigger and bigger. Everyone was saying that I was too cruel; how could a daughter refuse to acknowledge her mom? How could I wear beautiful clothes but have the heart to leave my mom in rags? I saw it getting worse, so I agreed to the old woman. I asked her to let go of my feet so I could walk and go home with her. I walked side by side with her. Maybe she was afraid that I might run away, so she locked my hands in hers. Because she was holding my hands so tightly that it hurt, but I dared not let out a cry. Even though I almost threw up a couple of times on the way, I dared not let out a sound; I was afraid of hurting her because she was so pitiable. About an hour later, we came to a big dump in San Chong. Her home was an illegal tiny shed wrapped in rags on the garbage. There were no beds, no chairs, no comforters, nothing in it. It was full of all sorts of stench, dead dogs, dead cats, dead pigs; they stunk so much that it was hard to tolerate; it was stifling. The old woman, with her dirty hands that rummaged garbage, tenderly hugged me and embraced me. She was crying and laughing. Her heartbroken whimpering sent chills down my spine. It was hard to see she was lunatic to that miserable extent. I knew I couldn’t stimulate her anymore. I carefully obeyed her, dared not shun her even though I wanted to, dared not keep a distance even though I wanted to. “Come here. Let Mom give you a hug! I haven’t seen you for a long time! Let mom stroke you!” I thought it was a wonder that there were moms who missed their daughters so much as to lose their minds. How about me? Would I lose my mind if I couldn’t find my daughter? There is a saying, “We are all wanderers; we encounter each other without having known each other before.” In her excitement of stroking me all over, I realized that her heart had broken into pieces, and it could not stand another slight injury, even if it was an unintentional injury. For sure, she could no longer take the devastation of losing her precious daughter again. Therefore, unless I could turn a blind eye, I had to play the obligatory role of her precious daughter. I remembered my master’s kindness and his exhorting words of compassion and salvation, and I knew I had the obligation to this old woman. Therefore, I decided to be her daughter in her remaining years, do my best to comfort her and heal her broken heart. I let her have her way, hugging me and embracing me; I had no choice; I ran across her, and I willingly accepted her. That night, I didn’t leave until much later. I went out and ordered some noodles; I fed her. I told her that I had to go and bring my bedding and I would be back with her the following day. When I got back to my grandma’s home, I was smelling very bad. She thought I had fallen into a fertilizing pond of human wastes. I just nodded without saying anything. That night, I kept throwing up the whole night until dawn; I threw up so much that it was just yellowish water in the end. When I got to my office the next day, all my colleagues covered their noses and told me I smelled so bad that it was hard to take. I got a loan from my work, rented a small apartment during my break, bought some necessities, including a comforter, clothes, a washing basin, soap, etc. After work, I asked a Good Samaritan colleague to help me and drive over to San Chong Dump and bring the old lady to the apartment. However, when she saw me, she seemed to have never met me and she wouldn’t acknowledge me; she didn’t know me at all. I was taken aback. When I got back home and asked my friends, none knew why she had forgotten all the hugging and embracing and all the love just overnight. Later on, I went to stand at the entrance to the theatre again day after day to wait for my missing daughter. The old woman would pass me almost every day, but she would just look at me indifferently and then walk on. I thought the days were getting colder and couldn’t help worrying about her. However, a lunatic was a lunatic. What could I do? One day, I was standing at the theater entrance and the woman was walking over as usual. Suddenly, she sprinted over, hugged me tightly and began to cry hysterically. I had known what to do from the last experience, so I accompanied her back to the dump. That night, I again ordered some hot noodles, along with some ham and marinated boiled eggs; I fed her; then I was ready to leave. She said, “This time, you must come back. Don’t fool me again.” I nodded. When I got back to my grandma’s home, I again smelled like I had just crawled out of a stinky pond of wastes; it was so stinky that they had to cover their noses. My grandma couldn’t understand why I smelled so bad every time. The next day, I again asked my colleague to go with me to the dump. Just like the time before, the old lady didn’t know me at all. She wouldn’t change into the winter clothes I had brought; she was so stubborn. For the next few days, I would still stand at the theater entrance; again she would just look at me indifferently and then walk on. Wasn’t she afraid of the bitter autumn wind? One day, I was at the entrance as usual when she suddenly ran to me, hugged me and embraced me. I could do nothing but go back to the dump with her. She hugged me and embraced me, all loving and affectionate; her tears made my winter coat wet. Again, I ordered hot noodles along with ham and eggs; I fed her and then left. It was autumn and she was wearing thin clothes. How could I leave her? The dump was deserted; could she take it when the cold wind blew? When I got home, my grandma found me stinking again. She was mad, “”Don’t wear this coat again. Every time you wear it, you come back stinky.” It dawned on me. The daughter the old woman remembered must have worn a coat like mine; only in this coat was I like her daughter. Aha! I got it. But the coat got stained with feces each time; after washing, it would take a few days to air-dry in the sun. How could I get by without changing it? I learned the source of the problem. I was so happy because I could finally get her home. A week later, that colleague and I went to San Chong Dump. Since I was wearing the coat she remembered, she recognized me immediately. She was so happy to see me, hugging and crying uncontrollably. I melted and couldn’t help but cling to her bosom and comfort her again and again. Finally, she agreed to go home with me. I got her to the apartment I rented. I gave her a bath, changed her clothes, ordered food and fed her. That night, she stayed there. I watched over her the whole night until dawn. She was sleeping so soundly and contentedly. I couldn’t move my eyes away from her, and I couldn’t hold back my tears. Alas! There were such pitiable people in the world! That coat of mine was the only tool to save the old woman. Every time I washed it, I would iron it dry and keep it with me at all times in order to use it as a Déjà vu tool when going to see her. I hired a full-time nanny to take care of her. I told her tenderly again and again, “Mom, I have to go to work. I can’t be with you all day. But I will be back with you every two days.” She wouldn’t want anyone else but me, her daughter. She wanted me to bathe her, change her clothes, give her a massage, dress her wounds, and take her out for a walk. I thought I was her only daughter and her apple of the eye. Maybe she had lived at the dump too long and it was not sanitary; she had all kinds of illnesses and she had a very bad temper. Occasionally, she would act like a normal person, but most of the times, she couldn’t control herself. Often, I knelt and took her hard beatings, until she felt content. Every time after the beatings, she would scold me, “Don’t you dare to run away from your old mom and elope with men! Don’t you dare to leave me alone for a long time! How dare you! Do you dare to do it again?” I knew she could no longer take any provocation, so I took her beating and swearing; I let her air it all out, as long as she felt good. I thought, maybe she was full of anger; the sooner it all came out, the sooner she might regain her mind. How I longed for it! For real, it was no bid deal for me to take some physical pain. Every time she beat me or yelled at me, I just kept crying and apologizing again and again. Eventually, I found her smiling a little. She now seemed to know how to smile. These years, I was often black and blue from her beatings, but I was so relieved whenever I saw her getting better and better; I felt it was all worthwhile. From my childhood, I had always depended on transfusion. But I forgot to get it on time once, and the lack of oxygen left me in a vegetative state; I did not awake until eleven months later. At the time, all my family thought I was dying, with no hope of revival. During this time, the old woman lost the financial and daily support, and the nanny left after not hearing from me for a few months. When I awoke from the coma, I went back to the little apartment only to find it was rented by someone else, and there was no whereabouts of the old woman. I went to the dump three times but couldn’t find her, I also went to the local police station but there was no clue. It was no use even after I reported someone missing. I did not know who the old woman was or who her daughter was. Before, I had asked the local police and shelters to help find her family, but there had been no progress after so many years. I had asked her, “Mom, what’s your name? Where are you from? What’s Dad’s name? What does he do for a living? “ But I couldn’t get any answer. She had lost her mind and whatever she said did not make sense; it was useless. Luckily, where there is a will, there is a way. I finally found her in a remote dump in the suburb of Taipei. But the poor thing had fallen sick, very sick; she was thin and haggard and dying. From far away, she saw me and she was delighted. She struggled to get up, grabbing hold of me and hugging me and embracing me. She cried so bitterly and miserably that I was shivering with chills. It seemed that she had been suffering all these days. I clung to her bosom as usual and comforted her. Right away, I rented an apartment at the foot of a hill and brought her there to take care of her. I tried everything to get her treatments of both traditional Chinese doctors and Western doctors. She had no name, no ID, and no insurance. The high expenses of medical treatments and care services pushed me to the brink of bankruptcy several times. But I could no longer tell whether she was someone else’ mom or my own biological mom. For about five years, she was bedridden. She was paralyzed and could never get up. Plus, she had infections and high fever, resulting in several complications; none of the doctors knew how to treat her. I moved her from hospital to hospital and I did everything for a miracle, with the hope of finding a cure-it-all doctor. I took long term leaves and accompanied her by her bed all the time, taking good care of her. Still, I did not get my wish; nothing worked. In 1981, she collapsed in my arms, held my hands tightly, breathed her last breath, and left this world with all her attachment to me. I cried out to Heaven and Earth, with no answer. I could do nothing but give her a funeral with deep grief in the name of her biological daughter. I followed the local customs and observed the commemoration period for her. I set up a grave headstone with the inscription: “In Memory of my Nameless Sweet Mom”. I kept crying every day for one seven-day period after another for one hundred days. I cried so much that I lost noticeable weight. For real, I missed her so much and I often dreamed of her; it seemed she had become an indispensable part of my life. But all was too late. It was no good. We mom and daughter couldn’t be separated anymore. During the prayer ceremony, I asked the presiding Buddhist master, “Will she be able to tell I am not her biological daughter? Will she know she has no name? Will a lonely ghost return to her family?” Maybe once her soul was in Heaven, she would gain her mind and learn everything; she would no longer need me. Then was it still useful for me to commemorate her one 7-day period after another and year after after year? In my life, apart from my grandma, she was the one who had loved me the most. Her hugs and kisses and caresses taught me what a mom’s hand was like and what a mom’s heart was. In total, I took care of her for fourteen years. It was a pity that I was in a vegetative state for eleven months in between, causing her to live at a dump again and fall terminally ill. Otherwise, she could have enjoyed a happy old age and lived much longer. Even though I didn’t know her age, she ought to be at least thirty years my senior judging by the fact that her daughter and I were of the similar age and that she looked that old. Many people had asked me who she was. I would firmly answer that she was my biological mom. But I knew nothing about who she was. During the ten years we were together, I was sure of one thing: she and I were connected by blood; she was my beloved mom and I was her long lost daughter who was not nice enough to her! Notes When I was writing this part, my tears were dripping onto the paper. I held back my sadness and finished it. I took care of the old woman for fourteen years, with the first period from year one until year nine and then the last period from year ten to year fourteen. Because her insanity often broke out, the neighbors were disturbed and they would call the police on us. But we did not know where she came from and she did not have ID; there was no way to send her to a public shelter; even a psychiatric hospital refused to admit her. I told my neighbors that she would only listen to me, her daughter. If I was not with her, she would have more breakouts and she would become a threat; no one would be able to control her and she couldn't control herself, either. She had a bad, quick temper. She hated everyone and she was terrified of everyone. I often thought that I was her daughter and she was in great pain, so she seemed to hold herself when she had a breakout in my presence. Still, even I found it hard to put up with her breakouts; what could I expect from strangers, hospital and shelter staff? Who could put up with her whacks and completely nonsense dirty words and acts? I heard that psychiatric hospital staff would routinely use electric shocks to subdue the lunatic patients. But she was my mom. How in the world could a daughter send her mom away to the cruel electric shocks at strangers’ hands? Mom and daughter had their hearts connected; wouldn’t the daughter also feel the pain when her mom got the shocks? For this, I had a lot of disputes with the neighbors and the community managers; I wouldn’t allow my mom to be taken away. If she were your mom, would you have the heart to send her away to a shelter or a hospital and leave her all by herself to be bullied by strangers and to be hit with electric shocks? She was my mom, period. Even though she did not know who she was, she was still my mom. She could lose her mind, but could I lose my mind? She didn’t know anything, but could I also be like that? The Bible teaches us, “We must be tolerant, faithful, hopeful, and patient.” True love never stops and never changes. In this world, there are three things that keep help us live without being destroyed by Heaven and Earth: faith, hope, and love, among which, love is the greatest. God has repeatedly told us, “We are blind if we don’t have love in our hearts or eyes. Even if the whole world is full of light, a blind person still sees darkness and will fumble in misery all life. For a stranger, this old woman might have been a despicable trash at a dump. Between me and her, we had love for each other, so all was complete. Love is a deity, not a human, so love won’t go lunatic even though a human may. Her love to her daughter was real and deep; it shook me to the core. She was my lifelong sweet mom, and she was the embodiment of St. Mary. For years, I cried over her death almost every night to dawn. Is Heaven Blind? I remember it was a very hot day in May or June of 1981. My kids wanted to go out and take a walk and I wanted to look for some new knitting books at the Japanese bookstore.We were passing Heng Yang Bank when an old man came up to us and wanted to tell my fortune. I shook my head and repeatedly signaled no with my hand. However, the old man looked so sullen and he seemed to have some secrets to share. My first daughter melted and pulled my hand, “Mom, please let him tell your fortune. Give him some business and let him make some money, ok? This old uncle looks so pitiable.” I had always disliked fortune telling and I had held no good opinions of such migrant fortune tellers in the streets. But the kindness of my children stopped me from turning the other way, so I followed my kids to the old man’s stand. The fortune teller looked at for quite a while; he then looked at my palm and each kid’s palm. He said, “There is no need to look further. I won’t charge anything. All is predestined and can’t be changed a bit by humans.” My kids wouldn’t want to be cheap and insisted that I pay him some money. I took three thousand dollars out of my purse and respectfully handed it to him, with both hands. But the old man was more stubborn than me, and he firmly refused to accept my money. Seeing the tug war, my kids were so anxious that they cried. At last, they all pleaded the old uncle that it was not the payment for his fortune telling but their gift to him. The old fortune teller finally took the money, patting the kids on the head while his eyes welled up; tears came down his cheeks. He murmured to himself, “Heaven is blind! Indeed, Heaven is blind!” My kids waved him goodbye; he waved back, but he couldn’t say a word and he looked so sad. Later, when we passed by the new park, we saw a large crowd of people watching at the gate. The children loved to join in the fun, so they rushed forward in one stride and squeezed through the wall of adults. Before long, my children ran back and dragged me in. I always think it's better not to go to places with a lot of people, but the children were pleading with me non stop, so I had to follow them to check what happened. It turned out that an old woman was kneeling on the ground and asked everyone for help. Her child was in a car accident and needed a huge sum of money for ER treatment at the National Taiwan University Hospital. My dear sons and daughters couldn’t turn the other way and they asked me to lend a helping hand. They told the woman: "No need to kneel anymore. My mother is here; she will definitely help you." They helped the old woman to her feet. Not only did I empty all the money I had with me that day, I also borrowed a huge sum of money from the client who had the glasses shop nearby. We accompanied the woman to the National Taiwan University Hospital to pay off the huge medical expenses. After all was done, the children were happy; they said: "Mom, thank you! We won't bother you anymore. Let's go home!" A month later, our house was suddenly full of ants everywhere; they were crawling everywhere. The team was crawling all the way to our house and covering every wall of our house. I was afraid of stepping on them, so I hurried to buy more than 20 small stools. I lined them up along the road, sprinkling sugar and other food all over. I sprinkled a little water to reward them for their hard work of marching all the way to my house. The children were so scared to see the ants densely covering the whole house; even the lady from my office was very scared. But the children were very obedient and dared not hurt them or disturb them. They knew "you are a guest" and how to treat guests. In this way, for about ten days, ants swarmed in and almost filled our home. Summer was really here. The children would all have summer vacation and stay at home. I was busy with work and I couldn’t spare time to spend the holidays with the children, so I had to get an office lady to help take care of the children, their homework and daily life. One day, I was at a meeting. The news was being broadcast on TV. It said that there was a big fire in the downtown area of Taipei, near Ren'ai Road. Since I was presiding over the meeting, there was no way to be distracted to hear exactly what was going on. It wasn't until about 4:30 in the afternoon that we ended the meeting and I went to the scene of the fire with my colleagues who loved to watch the excitement. On the way, I asked my colleague who was driving, "I am not in a hurry to go home. Let’s go and see where the fire broke out. Why did you head towards my house?" The colleague did not answer. Maybe it was not far from the fire scene, and we would be there soon. The colleague sitting next to me woke me up; maybe I was too tired and I fell asleep while the car was moving. I opened my eyes and suddenly screamed, "This is my house!!" Ignoring the flames, I tried to rush to the third floor, but the firefighters and police officers stopped me and caught me. "Where are my Children? Where are my Children?" Later, the firefighters sprayed water to open a small fire alley for me and urgently sent three men to accompany me to the third floor. The door of our house was so hot that it couldn't be touched, and it had expanded so much that it couldn't be opened. The firefighters slammed the door and kicked it down, and we cautiously stepped in. It was full of smoke, and I couldn't see anything. I shouted and called the children's names loudly, one by one, but there was no answer at all. At this time, I was numb in both feet and I was about to faint. I was really going out of my mind; I really couldn't hold up anymore. Suddenly, the firefighters stepped on a bunch of people. It turned out that my children were huddling together and they had fainted on the pile of old books on the floor while the office lady was lying at the other end. The firefighters, the police, and I worked together to carry the children and the office lady downstairs for first aid. Fortunately, the choking injury was not serious; that night, they all turned out to be fine. The firefighters said that the floor had been so hot that even the books had been scorched. If they had fallen on the floor directly after being frightened, these children should all have been burnt into corpses and it would have been impossible to survive. The firefighter said: "Your family must have good morals." The fire was extinguished; the buildings next door had been completely destroyed. No one survived. Our building, from the first floor, to the second floor and all the floors from fifth and above, was also completely destroyed. But somehow, the fire skipped our house on the third floor. The firefighter said: “This floor was full of smoke. Even if you wanted to spray water, you couldn’t see it clearly. The house has a third floor, but it seemed to have disappeared.” Therefore, this floor did not get sprayed on with a single drop of water. I think there were more than one hundred thousand precious books in my house. If they had sprayed water onto my house, I would have nothing today, and the thousands of ants who came to my house from afar would all have died. That would a big pity. The adjacent buildings on the left and right were all scorched in flames and the walls of my house and the angle steel bookshelves next to the walls were hot and melted. All the books were also charred and smoked, but they did not burn. The firefighter said: "This is a miracle. How could it be possible?" However, if these books had really caught fire and then burnt, would we still have our house? It was full of books. Paper should be the easiest to catch fire! Onlookers rushed to tell the reporter: "The third floor just disappeared in the thick smoke. In the thick smoke, people in white clothes could be seen sprinkling water in the air and putting the fire out.” Our neighbors on the third floor came over. They had three large steel tanks of gas. During the fire, the large steel tanks had melted into balls in the high heat. But why didn’t they explode? If they had exploded, our four children and the office lady would all have been blown up into pieces! I listened to all this; I had chills down my spine; I had cold sweat. It had been extremely dangerous! School started in September, and the kids wanted to buy piano lesson materials. We went to Hengyang Road together again. We were walking by the Bank of Communications when an old gentleman rushed out to us. He reached out and hugged the children tightly. He was very excited and surprised; he asked: "How come you are still alive? How come all of you are okay?'' He bluntly said that I was destined to have no children, not a single one. After this summer, all the children were expected to be burned up in the fire. He had found my children very kind; so he had thought Heaven was blind. After we left that day, he had even cried, so much that he had to go home and rest. He had been very heartbroken when he foresaw that my children would die. But he was helpless because “If Heaven wants to take someone away at three o’clock, who dares to keep that person in this world until 5?” He was very guilty and he apologized. I told the children that he should be called grandfather, not to mention that this old man had no relatives in Taiwan, so he should be regarded as their own grandfather! He loved you so much, and he was so affectionate. He loved you. Maybe because of his tears, you children have survived. That year, the oldest of my children still hadn’t graduated from elementary school, and the youngest hadn’t entered kindergarten. I had two daughters and two boys, four in total. It was worth pointing out that the piles of old books on the floor were what our children had hated the most. They often got in their way; it was really a hindrance. I had got the books to help an old book stand. The old bookseller was living a difficult life. He would pack up all the used books he could not sell; this old man would not want to throw them away, and no one wanted them. Every day, he had to bring them out in the morning and then take them in at the end of the day. This tired him out and it hurt his back. I had offered to buy them all from him to save him all the trouble. Miraculously, these books have just saved five lives for our family. There are always unexpected incidents in life, which cannot be reasonably explained. Perhaps this is what we call Heaven! So, human’s plans often fail again and again because people always forget that Heaven has a plan. In my life, along the way, I have deeply realized the insignificance of people. I think people must not be too conceited and not too full of themselves. Also, don’t be too arrogant. After all, people can’t see Heaven, and Heaven sees people clearly all the time. What significance do people have? Note In 1981, my eldest daughter had not been found yet, so there were only two boys and two girls. The then-eldest-daughter is now my second daughter. Bound feet When the doctor announced that I had to amputate my limbs, the first thought that flashed into my mind was that I was too sorry for my grandma who loved me so much. My grandmother was born in a large family in the Qing Dynasty. Her feel was bound in the shape of a matchbox-like three-inch golden lotus since she was a child. Her elderly always insisted, “As a girl, she must wrap her feet to be considered a good woman and a lady.” I was the only torch carrier of my grandmother; I was the only granddaughter in this generation. Therefore, in my grandmother’s mind, I must bind my two feet into the shape expected of a classic lady in accordance with the traditional rules and patriarchal family customs, so as to be worthy of the Chen family's status. I was suffering from a severe anemia similar to blood cancer. If I did not bind my feet, I would definitely violate the customs and wouldn’t survive. At that time, Japanese ruled Taiwan. The Japanese government strictly prohibited girls from binding their feet, and offenders were heavily punished. Grandma thought that wrapping her granddaughter's feet was her own business. So, against all odds, she prepared wrapping cloth and soaking potion for me, and tried her best to wrap my feet, it was tight. Because I had severe anemia, I needed to be taken to the hospital for blood transfusion on a regular basis. I had to go in and out of public places. Naturally, people who were curious soon discovered the ignorance of my grandmother's feet binding and filed a report with the police. Grandma was often summoned by the police to the police station, but she didn't give up. She wrapped my feet up again and again, which almost angered the police officer. They warned her that if she committed another offence, she would be punished as a recidivist and she would be subject to a heavy sentence. Grandma was so sad! Taiwan gained independence; Grandma was very happy. The Japanese finally left, and she was free to bind her beloved granddaughter's feet again. In 1945, I started to enter elementary school. I went to class every day. My feet were wrapped in a long foot wrap, and my toes were about to rot because of soaking in alum. The elementary school teacher saw that I couldn't move even an inch. He found it very strange that there were still people binding feet in this era. It was unthinkable. So he filed another lawsuit in the police station, accusing my grandmother of shamelessly torturing a sick and weak child. Grandma's wish evaporated again, and she was even more sad. After graduating from elementary school, I started junior high school. Grandma said: "You are almost an adult, so you can decide on your own. If you want to wrap it up, can others still have a say?" Just in the summer vacation of the second year of the school, Grandma wrapped a long white cloth around my feet again, soaking my feet in the same way and then squeezing my feet into a ball, to the extent that, except the big toes, the other toes were bent together, twisted and pressed under the soles of the feet; then she arched my feet and fixed them with ancient coins to stunt the growth. Grandma was very attentive and spared no efforts. After all, her granddaughter was the only hope in her life. She really hoped that I would become a lady of good life, and I would be able to enjoy all the glory and wealth in the future. She tried very hard. As long as it was something that would guarantee her granddaughter a happy life, she would work hard to the end. My feet were deformed day by day, and my grandmother felt very happy and very fulfilled. When my grandmother was very happy, I was also very happy, never minding all the excruciating pain from the binding. After the summer vacation, we started school again. The instructor and the whole class thought that I had broken or sprained my feet and could hardly stand up on my own. I would still sway even though my family helped me walk. Later, the instructor was troubled to see me a good student suffer like that, so he asked me to go to the infirmary and asked the school doctor for a detailed examination. The school doctor unwrapped the bandages on my feet and found that it was actually a foot cloth around my feet. He was angry and said loudly: "What age is this that there is still this kind of old fashioned practice!” From then on, my feet were unwrapped again. The police asked my grandmother to write down a vow that she would never do such stupid things again. I think Grandma was very disappointed and sad, and I was also very disappointed and sad. I told my instructor: "As long as I can make my grandmother happy, I am willing to take any suffering. Besides, it is not a bad thing to wrap my feet. One is willing to give it and the other is willing to take it. Why not?" I thought of how grandma loved me since childhood. Her love was as high as a mountain and as deep as a sea while raising me, nurturing me and saving me. Now I was a teenager, but I didn’t even have the ability to repay her and I was not able to let my grandmother wrap my feet up. Her biggest wish of creating small feet for me was all twists and turns and couldn't be realized smoothly. I felt so sorry for Grandma. I told my grandmother that I would be eighteen years old in a few years. By then, I would be an adult and have the ability to be independent, so that my grandmother could take care of my little feet the way she would like them to look. In my second and third year of high school, I had a lot of homework. I left home early and returned late every day. I had almost no time for my grandmother to wrap and soak my feet. The master in the mountains also warned me that girls with their feet bound could no longer climb the rugged mountain trail. I went to college and had military training classes; If I fell behind, I would have to drop out immediately. The instructor said, "Have you seen soldiers bind their feet?" I told my grandmother with shame that I would have to wait another four years to get my feet tied. I think my grandma was about to cry, and I dared not look up at her face and eyes for a long time. Ah! I was so embarrassed, guilty, and sad! Finally I graduated from college; my grandmother was very happy. I knew that Grandmother had looked forward eagerly a year after a year, and now she could finally fulfill her long-awaited wish. However, as soon as I stepped out of school, I had to prepare for and pass the national civil server examination. According to the job requirements, I had to train in Yangmingshan for a year. I would be away from home for about half a year. I asked my grandmother to wait for me for another six months. Grandma seemed to be disappointed again, staring at me blankly without any expression. I knew that I had to hold off my promise again. I felt so sorry for Grandma and I couldn't help crying. Soon, I enrolled. On the first day I checked in, I asked the officer: "Can I not live in the public dormitory? Can I go back to live with my grandmother? Can I wrap my feet?" The officer was very angry; he was bewildered; he gave me a lecture: "Of course not! What age is this, and you still want to have your feet bound. Think about it. Can a girl still go to work with her feet bound?" I cried. I was really sorry for Grandma. She only had such a small wish in her life. Why was it so difficult? I had no choice but to go back to my grandmother's house again, begging Grandmother face to face for forgiveness. I said: "In a few years, I will become the supervisor, and I can call the shots on my own!" I was promoted from rank to rank, and my grandmother waited year after year. However, no matter how high a position is, there is a boss on top, always: "There is always someone above and someone below". How could I ever be the big boss? In 1971, Grandma was 92 years old and she was near the end of her life. At the end, she was old and weak. She said, "Your feet must be wrapped up quickly. I am leaving soon." I instinctively felt that my grandmother's voice was hoarse, and she was choking; I could hardly hear her. I knew that I could wait no more, so I hurried to the office and asked the instructor for leave again. But even though I begged and pleaded and I burst into tears, the instructor said: "What era is this? Who still does such silly things!" I had to resign, for the sake of my grandmother; I had no other choice because Grandma couldn't wait any longer. I handed in my resignation as quickly as possible and handled the handover. Several large and small going-away parties were thrown. I looked like a walking corpse; in any case, all the officers and subordinates regretted that I was leaving to be with my grandma. However, it seemed too late. Grandma was exhausted and couldn't get up. She was really leaving within a few days. She had really waited too long. On her deathbed, my grandmother was moved to the hall. I knelt beside her and sheepishly covered my feet with a skirt. This was a habit. For many years, my grandmother mentioned, "Little girl, with these big feet, how can you present yourself to people?" I would kneel first, apologize to my grandmother, say sorry, and try to hide my feet in my skirt. But this time, Grandma could no longer say anything to tease me. She only motioned to me to turn my back to her. I lifted the skirt and turned around. When I was about to let down the skirt to cover my feet, I seemed to feel a hand on my ankle. Repeatedly, Grandma was struggling weakly, trying to touch my feet; only a slight touch and then there was no more movement. I sensed something had happened and I looked back. Alas! It turned out that Grandma had died. I cried my eyes out and I kept bawling, "Grandma! Grandma..." Time and time again, I cried and fainted and cried and fainted. Still I didn't hear my grandma affectionately respond to me as usual. I was so sad that I kept asking: "Grandma, are you angry with me?" I silently knelt down and confessed to my grandmother. I told my grandmother that I would do it by myself, binding my two little feet and then visiting her the grave to show her my feet and comfort her spirit in Heaven. I lowered my head with tears in my eyes. I thought: "In my whole life, I haven’t really lived up to my grandmother's affection and love, not even for only a pair of small feet. Why did I keep her hopeless of just a pair of small feet? How could I? I'm really unfilial!" No More Causing Mom to Shed Another Tear In my graduating year at the high school, I was too busy with the simulation test for admission to college. I really couldn't spare time to go to the hospital for blood transfusion. I always hoped that I could make it until after the test. On the day of the exam, I was pale, weak and groggy, and my eyes were blurred. Although I knew very well in my heart that my hemoglobin must have fallen below five and I would soon faint and become unconscious, I still made it to the end of the exam and vaguely heard the bell ringing. When the test result was released, I failed, and I got three F’s. When I went home, I handed my mother a report card with both hands. She did not say a word, and her eyes were filled with tears. I thought how my anemia and terminal illness had tortured my grandma and my mother for more than ten years. I almost cried and shed tears. How could I make my mother worry about my grades again? If I let my mother shed another tear in the future, how could I call myself a human being? I quickly knelt down and apologized, saying sorry to my mother again and again. I knelt on my knees, crying and vowing, "Mom, I will never let you shed another tear again!" I’m sixty-two years old and I have married and raised two boys and three girls. Since then, I have never made my mother cry again. Even my children have never made me cry because from the time they were born, they have never seen their mother make her mother sad or make her cry. I would rather suffer myself than cause sufferings to others throughout my life. I would rather cry my eyes out than causing others to shed even half a tear. Mom said: Other people’s tears are also her tears. I will not let the mothers of little bugs and worms shed tears, nor will the mothers of little butterflies, ants or birds shed tears; of course, I will not let the mothers of little mice or cockroaches shed tears. I still want to be their mother and love them more than their mothers. Eyes of Others’ Moms Use your own eyes to see others, and use others’ eyes to see yourself. Our own mothers always see us perfect and without any flaws and the others’ mothers always look at their kids with zero defects. Therefore, the dissatisfaction of life is mostly because our eyes are the eyes of our mothers. We can't see our own shortcomings, nor can we see the merits of others. Sooner or later, when we can look at others with their mothers’ eyes, there will be no frustration or resentment. Looking around, we will see all good people and good things. These are the gentle and kind eyes that can truly see the happiness and fulfillment of this world. Dad and Me As a result of their participation in the two-two-eight political movement, both my father and mother were sentenced to death. Then, they were caught up in White Horror Later, my father and mother disappeared without us knowing their whereabouts. All Taichung citizens mobilized tens of thousands of signatures and sent representatives to Nanjing to make a petition to Mr. Jiang Jingguo. Finally, my mother was released, but there was still no news at all of my father. After my mother came back home, she was very ill and couldn't get up. My grandmother taught me to cook things, wash this and that, when I was only fourteen years old. I just bravely supported this family. One late night, someone suddenly knocked on our door earnestly. I was so scared that I woke up all my brothers and sisters, just in case of accidents. I opened the door, and a man from the Taichung Detention Center came to tell me that someone had found my father's body in Taipei's Liuzhangli Cemetery and asked me to hurry there to check it out in the middle of the night; otherwise, it would be moved and I would never find it again. I was only fourteen years old, a little girl, and a terminally ill patient of thalassemia. How could I do all that? This man saw me crying, so he said, "I'll go with you!" It was almost dawn. We finally found my father's cold body, hired a car, and smuggled it back to Taichung. I found that my father's chest was still a little warm, so I ran to find an Uncle Chen, who was a famous doctor studying in Tokyo Imperial University. I knelt and begged him to try to save my father's life. Dad awoke. But the criminals who had been executed had no more residence record. My father had no choice but to hide under the table without seeing the sun. (Now my father’s case had been cleared, and my father can live a normal life like other people.) For the family of a political prisoner during this period, it could be said that there was nothing but bitterness. After my father came back, for the first few years, he didn't even know who I was. Because of the torture, his memory was completely lost. Especially, my father's resentment and frustration were very strong. Since I was fourteen, I had been waiting on my dad, who was delirious, and my mother, who was in bed all year round. I was beaten and scolded by my dad every day. I grew up strong day by day. The neighbors couldn't bear to watch me on kneels beaten and scolded like that. They wanted to help me out, but I refused because I was afraid that my father would be even angrier. The policeman from the district also called me over several times for questioning and he was very concerned, but I told them: "Please let Dad vent as much as he wants to. Dad will never be able to withstand any more blows." Relatives, friends, and neighbors, as well as my classmates, disagreed with me being beaten and scolded like this. They were afraid that I would be beaten internally or beaten to death. But what about my dad? Now, I am a 62-year-old old woman, but in those 50 long years, I had never dodged the beating and scolding of my dad, nor had I avoided it, not even a single time. I would never hurt my father because he was really pitiful enough. For the happiness of Taiwan compatriots, he had sacrificed so much. Many people who know me know that I have never offended my parents and have never done things that my parents disapprove of. I don’t neglect my parents, guarding them and protecting them. Even when I become the daughter-in-law of someone else’ family, I still go back to my natal house every day, during my break and during my time off, to take care of their daily life. I remember the year when I just graduated from university, my professor loved me very much, and his wife was the deputy chairman of the Taipei City Party Committee; they got me a very good job. The professor said: "A lot of people are fighting for this position. You will report on time tomorrow, you know?" I nodded. However, I had to go back home and let my parents know about it. I rushed home, feeling so happy. Nobody knew where my dad had gone. I told my mother that I would first go to the newspaper office to work and then come back to see my father after work. That night, when I got home, my father had fallen asleep because he was too tired. I watched my father sleeping so sweetly, soundly, and heartily. During this period, in order to hide himself from creditors, my father had hardly dared to come back home. He had always been wanted for bills and debt. He had been very restless. Maybe it had been a long time since he slept well. Today he could sleep so soundly. It was rare for him to catch some sleep! I sat on the side of the bed, quietly looking at my father, thinking about his bumpy life. Was it really worth it? I didn’t know why it was my father’s job to save Taiwan. Why was it our family's business? I waited until noon the next day, until Dad gradually woke up from the drowsiness. Of course, my report time had passed long before and my job was gone. My professor was very angry: "Why didn't you wake up Dad?" I shed tears with a look of guilt. Really, how could I have the heart to wake up Dad? Poor Dad hadn't slept like that for a long time. What if it was you? Note I still don’t understand why my father, who had been discarded as a corpse in Liuzhangli Cemetery, did not die? Why did my father, who had never believed in any religion, kept saying that Guanyin Bodhisattva let him die and turned him into a corpse then, after he was thrown out, let him live again. Do you believe that there really is Guanyin Bodhisattva in this world? My father said that he saw Guanyin Bodhisattva every day when he was in the death row. Threads in Mom’s Loving Hands I know that I am a terminally ill patient, and there is not much to hope for. However, I really can’t bear to leave my five children. I’m so worried. I can’t imagine that when I close my eyes, who will take care of them in this world? There is such a popular legend in ancient times, which folks chanted in privacy from generation to generation: "If children can wear clothes, scarves, and hats knitted or sewn by their biological mothers, their safety is far more guaranteed than by esotericism. Such an armored body protector is more beneficial. It can not only effectively eliminate various disasters, such as diseases, boat accidents, water, fires, etc., but also bring a variety of blessings; the children, generations of children and grandchildren will be safe and sound forever from now on. " I really hope that I can live with my children forever and stay with them day and night. As long as there is any opportunity, I must take care of them, and I must protect them so that they can be very safe for the rest of their lives. Therefore, I told the doctors and nurses that while I was still breathing, I would knit each of my children a sweater, a scarf, and a hat. They said, "You are so sick, and both hands are almost completely paralyzed to the point of no use. Can you really hold the needle? Can you really hold it?" I nodded confidently and asked them to make an exception and allow me to get up and sit up. Every day, with IV drip tubes attached to me, I knitted. The children took turns keeping me company and picking up the knitting needles for me that fell on the ground again and again. It seemed that my left and right hands had gradually become uncooperative. I stitched and stitched, patiently and slowly. The children couldn't bear to see me working so hard; they kept begging me not to labor like this. I told the children: "This ancient legend is true. It allows mothers to stay alive with you after they die." I kept working nonstop, crocheting and crocheting. Several times, I was overworked; I fainted and awoke; several times, I was in critical condition. The children cried and cried, and I said, "Don't worry, mom hasn't finished your sweaters yet!" This Spring Festival, my eldest daughter was back from Russia for our family reunion. Moscow was already minus 45 degrees Celsius. I hurriedly finished a thick scarf without sleep. I think everyone can do it when motivated. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know how long it would take me to finish the craft. Ten days later, my eldest daughter had to go back to school to continue her research. At the airport, many people were staring at the scarf around her neck. They were surprised. They wondered: "Why is this scarf so ugly? It's also wet. This lady looks like her hands and feet are so neat; how come the scarf is so messy? The wool threads are either stretched too loose or too tight, too thick at spots and then too thin at other spots. How come there is no knitting pattern?" My eldest daughter almost cried. I said, "I'm very sorry. Mom did not do a good job. Tell them that this is the work of your tearful mom who was critically ill. But Mom did her best!" I couldn't help crying. My eldest daughter came over and hugged me tightly, sobbing and unable to speak. True Terminal Illness If a person really wants to live, even if he is terminally ill, he will not die. If a person really doesn't want to live, even if it's only a bite by a mosquito, he will definitely die. Therefore, when a person really does not want to live, what he gets is a real terminal illness. When I was in college, a classmate was raped by a taxi driver in a secluded place. She was very sad and wanted to commit suicide all the time. Later, everyone talked her out it and comforted her, and she finally put herself together. But since then, she lived a life worse than death. Because everyone cared about her and loved her very much, whenever they saw her going out, they would rush to remind her: "Be careful! Don't be raped by bad guys again!" In a word, everyone was trying to be good to her. However, what kept ringing in the ears every day was the endless rape and then rape; the pain in her heart was getting greater and greater. I really don’t know how long it would take someone to heal a trauma. This kind of second-time, third-time and endless injury made her remain forever in the tragic memory of being raped; she was unable to live a normal life as a normal person. As a result, she couldn't stand their love; in the attempt to put it all behind her, she killed herself. Another classmate, while waiting for the bus on Roosevelt Road, was run over by a speeding heavy vehicle. She was sober after the first aid, but her pretty legs were amputated. She was in great pain and she was very self conscious, with no courage to survive. Fortunately, some friends kept reassuring and comforting her; finally she was able to face the reality, put on the prosthetic leg reluctantly, and went back to school. Every day, many people cared about her, loved her, and took care of her. Whenever she moved a little bit, many classmates came over, "You are an amputee. Be careful not to fall!" She wanted to walk around on the playground, then a lot of people came over to remind her: "You’re an amputee How can you go to the playground? It’s safer to stay in the classroom!" Every day, that was what she heard from everyone. They were afraid of her falling, fearing she might break a toe again. But who knows that this amputee was suffering from second time and third time injuries all day long? She was repeatedly amputated and amputated again and again; the repetitive reminder kept hurting her like a sharp blade piercing the heart. Her wounds and scars were repeatedly opened. She would never be able to live a normal life like a normal person, and she would always live at the mercy and charity of others. She really had more pain than the pain of amputation back then, which lasted only less than four hours, but now she had to be amputated every day, from time to time; all those who loved her went on to amputate her limbs unintentionally or unconsciously. Finally, she couldn't live on anymore, and she committed suicide. Everyone who knew her heart was happy for her because she didn't have to be amputated again every second. The car accident did not kill her; nor did the amputation. However, these people who loved her cruelly amputated her and then amputated her again, until she could not take it; they would let her go, until she died. Any terminal illness will not be a fatal terminal illness; only the special care for terminally ill patients and the unintentional injury caused by terminally ill patients is the real murderer and the real terminal illness. Now, let me talk about myself! I admit that the severe anemia I suffer from is indeed very serious. I faint and go into shock from time to time. But do I really need to live in the shadow of severe anemia every minute? Can’t I shake off the heavy burden of severe anemia for a few minutes, hours, or a while, in the hope that I can breathe easily and look like a normal person? Do I live a normal life? Is it necessary for me to think about my fatal terminal illness every minute and every second and constantly keep myself so terribly tense? Since I was eight months old, I had been like a canary in the palms of my grandmother's hands. I could not have any freedom, could not fly, and could not walk by herself. Even though I was at fourth, fifth grade at elementary school, my family monitored me around the clock. Why couldn’t they let me learn to take care of myself? Apart from going to school, I almost always stayed in my small room and played by myself quietly. I was not allowed to go outside, let alone play. Of course, my grandmother was worried about my life, but was my life really hanging by a thread? I had been isolated so long that I became very self conscious and autistic. After graduating from university, I still did not socialize with any classmates, nor with teachers or classmates. I barely knew I could speak. When the classmates were having fun and talking about things, I could only stand by myself awkwardly, looking at them from a distance. Honestly, I was so jealous. However, my teachers were afraid that I might get into trouble, so was my grandma. I was prohibited from all daily activities that ordinary students could do because I was a terminally ill patient with severe anemia. When I graduated from university, the dean of our department asked me to go to his office and told me some tips about how to interact with others. He said: "I know you are definitely not dumb, but why can't you speak? You have to bravely break out of your shell. Think of a way to force yourself to speak!” I nodded shamefully and couldn't help crying. I wanted to say thank-you to the dean of the department, but I couldn't say a word, I was trembling all over. "How can I possibly speak?" I thought. I took medicine and injections every day without having to say anything. Reading, writing, holding dolls, and playing with toys, none needed any talking. In the small room, like a dungeon where death row prisoners are held in solitary confinement, I was completely isolated from the outside world. I faced four walls every day, with no need to talk because the walls couldn't speak either. My family said: "Just stay in the room, so you won’t be in jeopardy!" Is it true that a person stays alive just to avoid being in jeopardy? I went to junior high school and often gazed at the sky in a lost manner. It was boring, rigid and formulaic. I was bored to death, but why should I live? Was it worth it? What will happen if I die?” I also asked my grandmother, my mother, and occasionally my Dad, but everyone had red tearful eyes, and they wouldn’t say anything. My family , especially grandma and mother, cared about me. I am alive and I am suffering because I am reminded every minute that I am a terminally ill patient with severe anemia; if I don't want to live, my grandmother and mother will die because of my death. This kind of pain would be greater a hundred times and thousands of times more than what I endured in my life. The reason why I have to live is precisely for my grandmother and mother. I would rather bear the cross by myself and carry it to death instead of letting my grandmother and my mother suffer such unnecessary suffering. They love me so much. How can I have the heart to drag them into Hell? How can I pay their love with sufferings? I once asked my grandmother and my mother: "Please all of you, don’t treat me as a severely, terminally anemic-ill patient all day long. Don’t do this. Please let me go, give me some free space and let me breathe, okay?" But no matter how I begged, my grandmother and my mother would not let me be. They said that they might lose me, so they must not take this risk. For 62 years, I have been obedient and live a life according to the way set by my family every day. Like a puppy raised in the family, I can only do whatever the owner wants, and I am not allowed to have my own thoughts and life. But I'm not a puppy; how can I live like a puppy? Severe anemia terminal disease is a big sign, pressed on my head every minute and every second, and I don't even have the right to say "no". Severe anemia and terminal illness may be really serious, but the really serious one is not this anemia terminal disease; rather, it was what happens under the sign of this anemia terminal disease: overreaction of relatives and family members who deprive the patient of the right to live a normal life like a normal person; the special attention given to patients non-stop every day. The result is that patients will never get out of the shadow of anemia and terminal illness and even lose the meaning and willingness to live on for this reason. Over the years, my relatives and family members have given me round-the-clock meticulous care for fear of my death. For a patient like me who is controlled by others, the love of my relatives and family members who have prevented me from getting out of their clutches, I have repeatedly thought about it and try to die in order to break away. To put it simply, these people who are afraid of my death have become the murderers who are forcing me to die, knowingly or unknowingly. When a person really does not want to live, he will definitely die. When a person really does not want to die, he will definitely live. No terminal illness can kill a person, unless the person really doesn't want to live. Therefore, many people who are terminally ill will not die; because of love, they may actually die because they do not want to live. This is a true terminal illness and has nothing to do with medicine. When a terminally ill patient is regarded as a terminally ill patient and must live a different life from a normal person, this person will inevitably become a truly terminally ill patient. The best treatment is to make the patient completely forget that he is a patient and let the patient live exactly like a normal person. Although I am unable to break off the shackles of tradition, I know that I will not die of severe thalassemia terminal disease, but I will be buried by the hands of those relatives and family who love me to pieces. My Wishes Life must not be too perfect; otherwise, it will be subject to heavenly disapproving and heavenly condemnation. Everyone must have defects, but the types and extents are different from person to person. In this case, no one has the right to hope to be like others: be born the same, look the same, or live the same. Since there is only one “me” in the world, the life given to me must also be unique. Every day, I am aware of my fate and take what I should have, and let Heaven dispense them one by one. Although it can be icy cold when the breakouts hit and although I don’t know whether they will hit me in the morning or in the evening, I never pray for their disappearance. I only ask Heaven to give me enough endurance to make sure that I can live and endure it all the time. Without red blood cells, my body cannot store or transport heat and nutrients. I often lose my body temperature and physical energy; I would feel like being trapped in an ice cellar, and my whole body would have spells of convulsions, which give me tremors, pain and suffering. My family loves me to pieces; but they could only watch me while I I rolled around, crying until I was hoarse, until I was cold to death; they felt helpless. I recover maybe after first aid, but it is always the magic of the gods, and it is by no means guaranteed that I would recover. Every time, I pray to be able to recover and recover soon. My family have suffered enough because of me, and I can’t cause them more sufferings. Seeking no Fame and Avoiding Showoffs The most important thing for a thalassemia patient is to live one day a time, just like a normal person; this way he/she can continue to live. Blood transfusion and iron removal is a routine; it is not complicated, but with any treatment process, no matter how simple, each step has endless danger lurking. The more formulaic, the more careless people may get, and the more dangerous. In our family, professional physicians and nurses are always there to help with these little things that others do not take seriously. My father was afraid that if I died, my grandmother and my mother would not be able to survive. Our family cares about everything, big or small, that can save my little life. Therefore, my grandmother repeatedly warned my parents that I must not become famous or show off, so as not to alert the ghosts and spirits who visit secretly and take me away in the middle of the night. From elementary school to middle school to university and even later, I’ve been on the same track. When I started working, I participated in various national examinations, and I was always successful, but my parents would not allow me to accept praise or show up in public. My grandmother lived to be ninety-two years old; then she left me her beloved granddaughter. But she left a lot of rules. My parents must be careful at all times: never let the ghosts and spirits discover that I am still alive in the world, so as not to incur unnecessary troubles; "Don't be famous, and don't show off". These are the creeds that I absolutely dare not take lightly. On any occasion, I am not in the limelight or famous; I hide on all occasions and I will always be unknown. I am an ordinary person who is not well-known. After all, things are real only when you are alive. When a person is dead, what difference does worldly glory make? I believe in grandma's simplicity. I follow every word of hers, with no less commitment than the wisest sayings of ancient sages. Although her words may sound very unscientific, but she and her words will always live in my heart. "Those who are exposed are not deep and will not live forever." Bushido The Japanese pay attention to Bushido. A true samurai will never compete with people who are below to him in ranking, and he will not attack his opponent from behind his back. For example, in chess, a person of a higher level will never compete with a person of a lower level, unless he lets the competitor have a head-start. I have not received a Japanese education, nor have I learned a single word of Japanese, but I admire Japanese Bushido. I will never argue, quarrel, or compete with people whose qualifications are below mine. Therefore, many people often see me being unreasonably humiliated and bullied while I never fight back or talk back. They are very surprised. I said: These people’s qualifications are lower than mine, their status is lower than mine, their blessings are thinner than mine, and their family background is worse than mine. How can I bring myself to their level and fight with them? Although I am not worthy of being a samurai, I follow the Bushido principle. Prenatal Screening The publications provided by the hospital read that the thalassemia Association is very enthusiastic about prenatal screening and pre-marriage health checks. They advocate abortion to destroy fetuses with thalassemia; they advocate that men and women with thalassemia not marry to avoid giving birth to a child with thalassemia. They believe that as long as they continue to push as such, the birth rate of such children will be drop close to zero in a few years. When I heard it, I was adamantly against it. This society needs all kinds of people to work together, including thalassemia patients. Everyone is born with special tasks and reasons and he cannot be replaced. Everyone has the right to survive, and he cannot be deprived or let others decide his life or death without his permission. The thalassemia fetus is not a heinous death row prisoner who commits a crime of arson or murders. Why should he be sentenced to death in the mother’s belly without being able to say a word for himself? Wouldn’t it be too unfair? Isn’t it overbearing and inhumane? Patients with thalassemia have no harm to society at all, except for regular monthly blood transfusions and daily iron removal. Besides, thalassemia patients are not contagious and do not have any disability. They can go to school and work exactly like normal people, contribute to the society, and serve the public. Why don’t such people have the right to be born? The Bible says: “Every person is a masterpiece of God, and every person is born with a special reason that he cannot be replaced, and has his sacred mission." God added: "No one has the right to kill, and no one has the right to decide life or death for others." I am a moderate thalassemia patient who would have been screened out. My mother insisted on not inducing abortion, so she worked so hard to save my life. I have been living on blood transfused from others since I was less than one year old. But I believe that my efforts over the past sixty-two years are, for the country and society, worthy of the blood infused into my body and also worthy of the expensive iron detoxification. I have a complete education and a very stable career. I have a happy family and five healthy children. Seriously, I am in no way inferior to any healthy people. I can’t understand why fetuses with thalassemia have no right to be born into the world? Why should they be executed in the mother’s belly? Don’t you think we would have died so innocently? Do you think you are too overbearing and inhumane? All of you are so cruel! Ghost Resurrection After my mother gave birth to me, because I suffered from moderate thalassemia, I had to have regular blood transfusions every month, and I had to take injections and medicines every day. My neighbors all pointed at me and said that my family must have done something evil to attract evil spirits and give birth to this kind of vampire daughter. Later, I was unable to develop normally due to ischemia and hypoxia, and my IQ was stalled and remained that of a newborn baby. When I was eleven years old, I still couldn’t say my name, couldn’t count one, two, or three, and I never uttered anything that made sense. My words came out all twisted and intermittent; few people could understand my words. The neighbors were more certain that our family was being punished by Heaven; otherwise, how could my mom give birth to such a mentally retarded child suffering from a rare disease? People were talking behind the back of my grandma and my mom; I was also their gossip subject every day. My mother was self conscious and she felt sad; my grandma was also self conscious, and of course she was sad, too. I was a clueless little devil and I did not know how much my mother and my grandmother were crying for me behind the doors. When I was eleven years old, for unknown reasons, I was suddenly infected with an unknown disease. I had a high fever throughout the year. My whole body collapsed. My mother and my grandmother carried me on their backs and went around asking sage for divination and visiting famous doctors. Yet, they all declared that there was nothing they could do, and I stopped breathing. My mother insisted that I would survive, and she refused to put me in a coffin for burial. She also held me tightly for twenty-four hours, trying to use her body temperature to warm up my cold body. Because of my mother's unwillingness to give me up and grandma's pleading for the love of Heaven and Earth, amid the chanting of Buddha day and night, I finally awoke again. Maybe this is the so-called miracle in religion! I survived again, and the happiest people were my mother and my grandmother, but I didn’t know who they were for a long time; my mother and my grandmother were also very surprised and they didn’t know who this child was anymore. Because I became someone else: no longer was I not at all mentally retarded with low IQ; I became very intelligent, and I was completely different from who I used to be before I died. My grandmother and my mother thought that the original me had died, and now I was another person, another soul who used my body. Our house was packed of neighbors. Everyone watched my change with excitement. Almost everyone agreed that I was alive because someone else borrowed my body to resurrect. They didn’t believe that our family had this kind of morality that can save and change the lives of children. After I recovered, I was able to start the fifth grade of elementary school without any difficulty. Originally, family members and teachers had thought that I was a blank sheet all the way from the first grade to the fourth grade. How could there be a way for me to cope with the difficult homework of the upper levels? However, human’s calculation is never as good as Heaven’s calculation. I began to earn the highest GPA since the school opened, all the way till the sixth grade. I won the Mayor’s Award, I was admitted to a top-notch school, and I won many championships from other prestigious schools. All my friends and relatives knew in their hearts that I was not a human being, and that I was possessed by a ghost; they were all a bit spooked around me. What's more, I had to have blood transfusions every month, which proved that my corpse really has no hematopoietic ability; it depended on drawing blood from living people to sustain life. I have read many, many books in my life, and it is easier for me to comprehend them than ordinary people, which some my teachers couldn’t figure out. Actually, it was puzzling. Why do I understand many things that I have never learned or touched? Like Japanese and Korean, I have never learned them, but I can read, write, and speak the languages. My native language is just as good. When I was writing Russian, the Russian professor asked me: "Are you Russian?" I shook my head; she also shook her head in amazement because she felt that my accent was that of an overseas Chinese who was born and raised in Moscow. When I visited my father in Tokyo once, I found that every street was very familiar. Similarly, when I visited Gwangju, South Korea for an official visit, I found that I was familiar with the surroundings. I chatted with some local elderly people easily, and they also thought I was a local. I thought, was I really a ghost or a zombie who borrowed a corpse to resurrect? This mystery will never be solved by the neighbors, and the doctor will never know, either; even my mother and my grandmother can't solve this mystery. I have asked many doctors whether they can help me figure out whether I am a real living person or a body possessed by a ghost. The doctor said: "Based on your condition and medical history, you should have died long ago. But why are you still alive in the human world?" If I am not a real living person, why do I have to eat every day? In the past, my neighbors, relatives and friends mocked our family’s evil for having me, a useless child. Now I have grown up and I have made academic and career achievements; they all said that I was not the child that our family should have, but someone else used my body to resurrect, and it had nothing to do with our family. I was so wronged! I grew up, I tried very hard and very painfully. Nonetheless, many people thought that my survival was nothing peculiar: since I was originally not a living person, how could I die? I was just an active body that a ghost had borrowed to resurrect. Physician's Eyes Because I often go in and out of the hospital to see a doctor, the more I interact with the doctors, the more we know each other. During the New Year, a doctor asked me: What makes a really good doctor? I said: "When a doctor can naturally see every patient as his close relatives, then he can be regarded as a true doctor. On the contrary, when a doctor sees every patient as just a patient, he is only a lowly third-rate doctor, even though he may be very skilled medically. Vampire It has been nearly 40 years since I graduated from university. Thinking of my ignorance, with that kind of truthfulness and straightforwardness when I first left school, I couldn't help but smile a slight smile. I was going to study in West Germany, but my parents couldn't pay the expensive deposit for going abroad. They wanted me to find a job first so I could save money to cover my urgent need. I resolutely accepted the position of a field journalist with a newspaper and went to Tainan County alone to be a reporter. On the side, I got a part time position as a national middle school teacher. This way, I would soon become a rich woman. When I got off the Xinying station, I was full of hope. However, things didn't work out as planned. My anemia broke out and it was very serious. I couldn’t get up for several days when lying in a hotel. I was unfamiliar with the place and I was really afraid of dying in an unknown place. But I did not want to write to my parents, afraid that they would be worried. So I picked up my alumni book, noted down the contact information of all the classmates living in Tainan County, and sent S. O. S. Almost all the classmates who I had expected came over. A basket of fruit and two or three greetings were their good gestures and that was all. I was left lying in the hotel to die alone. One day, an old woman came and asked me what my name was; she didn’t say anything else. She picked me up; the little boy and the little girl that came with her also helped carry my luggage. She said, " I will carry you back to our home to recuperate. Being away from home has challenges. You don't have to feel out of place. Just take me as your mother." This is the Tainan mother I miss all my life and the most respected Tainan grandmother in the hearts of my children. My classmate had visited the hotel before and then he left. When he got home, his mother scolded him for not being thoughtful. How could he leave his seriously ill classmate in the hotel all alone without a family member to take care of her? Just like this, I became the precious daughter of this family and the apple of the eye of the two genuinely kind old couple. Those days were the sweetest and warmest years in my life. One year, I suddenly received an obituary. I didn't expect my good Tainan father to leave me without saying goodbye. I hurriedly packed my bags and hurried back to Tainan for the funeral as quickly as possible. I slept on the straw mats in the mourning hall with my clueless classmate. We slept on both sides of the old man's coffin, for ten days until the funeral. I snuggled in the arms of the cold corpse every night, hugging and crying until dawn. How could he have left me without letting me see him for the last time?? "Dad, don’t you love me anymore, the apple of your eye?” While making the arrangements for geomantic Feng Shui for the burial ground, my clueless classmate seemed to have grown up overnight. He was busy going in and out, and he was no longer a muddle-headed Master Asher. The old saying goes: "A man takes charge outside and a woman takes charge inside.” I rarely ran out of the gate to meet people. I always kept my Tainan mother company and did some housework. There were all sorts of things to be done. I rarely had time to go outside for some fresh air. Once, my Tainan mother asked me to take tea to the front of the lobby to entertain guests. Just then, a geographer on a bicycle showed up to solicit business. He asked, "An old man has just passed away, right?" My classmate said, "Yes! " He asked again: "For you, the max is to graduate from the law school, and then the max is to become an ordinary civil server in the future, but it's a pity! What a pity! " My classmate asked, "What's the pity?" He said again: "Heaven was blind that you went to university because all of your brothers and sisters' books have been read by you, and none of them will have advanced degrees.” Later, my classmate’s younger siblings really didn’t go to college. They had little education, which made me sad. After all, they were my younger siblings, too! Then, the geographer saw me bring tea out and he was rattled. His face turned pale and he fell off his bicycle, shouting: "Vampire zombie! Vampire zombie! " My classmate told him: "Don't be afraid. That’s my classmate, a living person!" It took a long time for the guy to collect himself. He stammered and asked me to stretch out my hands to show him. He asked: "Are you really a living person? Not a vampire?" I nodded.. "Then how come the blood in your body is all other people’s blood? And how come your face and your hands are so cold and stiff?" I have to infuse a lot of blood on a regular basis. My blood will, of course, be the blood of others, but how could he have known this? It was a wonder. Did he have a psychic eye? He said: "Your ancestors have accumulated a lot of virtue, and you yourself are compassionate and kind. You have done a lot of good deeds. Otherwise, you would have been dead for a long time. Your facial features don't have the slightest trait for a long lifespan. How can you be alive? You should not be a living person, but a vampire zombie! " Later, I went back to my room, crying and thinking this person must be indeed quite accurate. Was I really not a living person but a living blood sucker? I was cold and stiff because of my ischemia and hypoxia, wasn’t it? It’s true that thalassemia relies on transfusion of other people’s blood to keep afloat, but blood transfusion is not blood sucking? Besides, I was also living exactly like normal people. I did not need to sleep in a coffin and I was not afraid of the daylight. In particular, at night I had to lie in bed and sleep like a normal person! Also, I still had to eat like a normal person! Life's encounters are always full of helplessness. How I want to live without the blood of others! How I hope that one day my bone marrow could also produce blood! But how could I have the power to decide? Ah! I turn out to be a living zombie who sucks blood. I am such a terrible female ghost! I remember a few years ago, a group of Taoist alchemy disciples specializing in Ma-Yi divinity followed me for a long time. At first, I wanted to call the police. Later, after some interaction, we got to know each other and became good friends. Out of curiosity, I asked them: "Why were you following me?" They said, "We just want to know whether you are a living person or a female vampire! According to the Ma-Yi calculation, you are no longer in the world. And your facial features also show that you have sucked a lot of other people's blood, so we considered you a living zombie! " I have really been wronged! I am obviously a living person. Why for decades have so many people, including psychics, geographers, fortune tellers, yin-yang eyes, temple abbots and so forth, insist on saying that I am a dead person and that I am a female vampire zombie? Wearing Mourning Clothes At the end of October 1990, my mother in Tainan suddenly suffered a heart attack, leaving me forever. Originally, my whole family had been looking forward to the Spring Festival that year so that my Tainan mother could come to Taipei to spend the New Year with us. I had also hoped that she could stay for a longer period of time and build closer relationships with her precious little grandchildren. My classmate had promised to go back to Kaohsiung to help me persuade her and he had also agreed to call us the next day. But what we got was the obituary of her sudden death early in the morning. Our whole family was crying, and I fainted on the floor, unconscious for a long time. On the same day, I asked someone to drive me back to Tainan for the funeral. Because my eye omentum peeled from crying and my legs felt like noodles, I couldn’t drive by myself. I kept thinking of the time when I was working in Tainan County; I was fortunate to have had such a good mother; otherwise, I would have died a long time ago. At the door of the house, my Tainan mother’s body was already lying on the straw mat in front of the hall. I crawled in and knelt there to tell her that her unfilial daughter had hurried back home. I took her cold hand and kissed her cold cheek. The more I thought about it, the more sad I became. “Mom, why wouldn't you let me see you the last time? Why didn’t you leave me a few words before departing? Was it really necessary to be in such a hurry?” My classmate told me, "Mom's funeral will be done soon. It is now in the scientific age. Without the traditional red tape, everything is simplified." I said, "Mom is yours, so you are in charge!" Less than three days later, my Tainan mother's funeral was all clear, the offering table was also burned, and all the mourning attires were thrown away. This is called clearing the spirit so that my younger siblings and their children can stay clear of trouble. I remember that when my grandparents passed away, the funeral was not so rushed. I asked folk experts and seniors who were knowledgeable about traditional funerals everywhere; they all opposed the modern funeral of my classmate. After all, the grace and love of our parents is as high as a mountain and as deep as the sea. How can the funeral be so perfunctory? I asked: " Will there be any bad effects?" These experts and seniors said: "After the parents pass away, they will be judged in the ten lobbies in the netherworld, which is very painful. Therefore, the children must "do seven" (mourning for seven days) on time to support her through the first trial. To accompany her through the lobby of Yama, you will have to mourn for seven or forty-nine days, then do it for a hundred days, and then for one year, two years, and three years. After all this, there will be three more lobbies left. Therefore, filial children are afraid that their parents will be exhausted at the last stretch, so they often mourn for three years or five years." I asked again: "Can I mourn less than seven days?” They replied, "Absolutely not, because the period from one lobby to the next is fixed. Just like pregnancy, even if the technology advances, it will still take ten months."" I asked again, "What about wearing mourning clothes?” They replied, “When a parent just passed away, before the completion of the trial, he/she cannot ascend to Heaven or become a Buddha, nor can he/she be reincarnated or go to hell. At this time, the parent is roaming, lonely, and helpless, not knowing where to go. Plus, he/she fears light, heat, Yang Qi, violent ghosts of the ruffians and hooligans; he/she is in danger almost at every step and there is nowhere to hide, nowhere to stay. Therefore, children should wear mourning clothes to shield the souls of parents, so that parents can use the clothes of their children as a shelter day and night. Wearing mourning clothes, a child is the guardian talisman for parents. It can protect the soul of parents from being bullied by violent ghosts when they go out. In the trials from one lobby to the next, they are not tortured for a confession. Think about the loneliness of the parents after their deaths. They might be tried and tortured in the underworld, helpless and lonely; they might be suffering thousands of tortures. As a child, if you can’t support your parents in the underworld, what is the good of your parents’ hard work in raising you?" I couldn't help bawling out. At that time, my Tainan mother ought not to know how to survive the long and bitter days of the Ten Lobby Trials. How could I let my beloved mother suffer this kind of terror in the underworld day and night, with no shelter or support, alone and helpless. Then I would be worse than an animal! My classmate was very science-minded and wouldn’t believe such unscientific things. However, if these things were absolutely true, the one who would suffer must be my mother in the underworld. Who would save my mother then? What's more, even if these unscientific things were just speculative imaginations, I would have nothing to lose! I would rather be fooled than take risks with my mother’s happiness! I started to follow the traditional rituals and observe mourning of 7-day periods for my Tainan mother. From the first seven, I decided to do it for a hundred days, then one year, two years, three years, and then five years. My children, at all three meals every day, brought food to the altar table first for grandma, in the same manner as when she was alive. After the three sticks of incense burnt up one-third, my whole family would eat. Every day, when the five children went to school or went out, they would greet their grandmother. When they had something delicious or birthday cake, they offered it to their grandmother first. Year after year until today, ten years later, my Tainan grandma is still the patriarch in our family, and still the "grandma" in my children's mind. I also followed the traditional rituals of wearing mourning clothes to pay filial piety for my Tainan mother. Some people say that only biological children need to pay such filial piety for three years. I am not her own. She had no obligation to support me, but she loved me as as her own, so I should keep filial piety for five years to repay her life-saving grace twice as much. For the past five years, I put on a filial dress made of linen every day for my Tainan mother. I never dared to take it off; I was afraid that my mother would get hurt. When I handled cases for others or go to work, I would ask the other party to forgive me for wearing mourning clothes. If the other party disagreed or cared too much, I would not take these cases. I think my mother was more important than money. How could I have the heart to see my mother have nowhere to live and suffer unnecessary suffering! For five years, I did not stop wearing mourning clothes for my Tainan mother. At first, many people pointed at me, thinking that I was insane, but later they stopped. I told the children, “Don’t let your grandma suffer in the underworld just for fear of others’ ridicules. As long as your grandma walks safely through the ten lobbies and has a protective umbrella in the underworld, we don’t need to think about anything, and we’re not afraid of anything.” I told the children’s teachers that it was our Tainan custom and we couldn’t give it up. The teachers understood. When my Tainan mother passed away, I was fifty-two years old, and I was fifty-seven at the end of the five-year filial piety mourning period. In my third year of keeping filial piety, I had an operation in a big hospital, and then one operation after another. It was a fatal terminal illness. I was declared out of danger at the age of fifty-eight. I had been categorically by many fortune tellers in various places in the province that I would not live to be fifty-six years old. A fortune teller who my friend worshiped was a proud disciple of Master Jigong. He did not hesitate to declare that if I could live past 56 years old, he was willing to tear down his business stand and go on a pilgrimage of one-bow-every-three-steps from Changhua, Taipei to my house. My cousin was the heir of Maoshan Tao. He boldly stated at the ancestral grave site that if I could live over 56 years old, he would cut off his head and let me play it as a football. A few years ago, my cousin threw up blood and died on the spot when he was contesting with someone. An elder of mine took my horoscope to a famous fortune teller in Taichung County; he asked if I could survive one major surgery after another. The fortune teller said: I can live until I am fifty-six years old at most, not any longer after that. There have been no less than 20 expert fortune tellers who all frankly declared that I would live to be fifty-six at most. But I am 62 years old this year. It can be seen that life expectancy is not predestined but can be extended little by little through one’s efforts. From the period of fifty-two years of age to fifty-seven, during which I was mourning, all of my illnesses were terminal illnesses with no hope of survival, but haven’t I survived them all? Could it be due to me mourning my Tainan mom? Or she took shelter in my mourning clothes and then saved my life? Heaven’s Laws and Destiny In the summer of 1990, my friend Mr. Yang married a second wife; they bought a house on Songshan Zhongpo South Road. Allegedly, this was his wife’s endowment. Mr. Yang had invited me several times to visit his new house because this was the first time he had his own nest in life, and he was very happy. I suffer from congenital severe anemia, my body does not have the ability to keep my body temperature and I faint at every turn, which others don’t know how to cope with. Therefore, I seldom go out for fear of causing trouble to my family or relatives and friends. Mr. Yang really hoped that I could be there and help him understand the energy of the new house. However, I am not a geomantic expert at all, and I don’t know much about Feng Shui. Even if I get to the scene and look again and again, how can I have any clue? So, I declined, thinking that it would be better for me not to go. Nonetheless, Mr. Yang brought a lot of his friends to my house and ‘kidnapped’ me. I had no choice but to honor their request; two family members came along with me to keep me company just in case. When I arrived at the door of the new house on Zhongpo South Road, I was out of breath and couldn't walk anymore. Mr. Yang was greeting us at the door. Everyone thought that that I did not need to rest at all and I could simply go inside! They did not know that I was too tired to move; all I wanted was to sit down and rest first. They helped me sit down on the sofa in Mr. Yang's living room. Suddenly, I felt cold all over and started to shake. It was strange; why was it so cloudy here? My teeth started chattering. Mr. Yang saw the situation; he hurried to find the electric heater, but I had gotten into shock. I was alone; it felt surreal, and I found myself in a strange dark place. I had never been here; there was not a single soul to ask; I was very scared. At this time, a faint voice came: "His Master Wenquxing (translator’s note: the deity in charge of learning and tests) is about to arrive. Everyone, be ready to come out to greet him." I thought: It’s a coincidence today; how come I am meeting Master Wenwuxing?” I had never seen what the gods in the sky look like. I was very curious, especially in this dark place where there was not a single soul. If there was really a Master Wenquxing, then I would be saved. I would like to join him and see the grace of Master Wenquxingjun. Time was crawling; the clock was ticking; it felt like a year. Sure enough, there was gradually voices, but I was so scared that I couldn't hear what they were saying. After a long, long time, a group of people appeared. I wanted to ask them what exactly this place was. So I stepped forward slowly. I was very careful because the current surrounding was too mysterious and too terrifying. It was difficult to distinguish between fortunes and misfortunes; it was hard to tell apart enemies and friends. At this time, a figure in the front saw me approaching and he walked towards me: "Hi! Your Master Wenquxing! Please pardon me. I did not see you!" I turned my head and looked over my shoulder, only to find no one else but me; there was no trace of Master Wenquxing but me alone; there was no Master Wenquxingjun. I said: "Sir, you made a mistake." The person shook his hand: "Yes, Your Master Wenquxingjun! We are expecting you!" I said, "But I'm just a very ordinary housewife. I am no Master Wenquxingjun." He said: "Your Master Wenquxingjun! You don't understand. Please sit down and let me explain to you slowly!" I didn't know why a lot of light just appeared all of a sudden; I found myself in a very solemn temple, with the man sitting in the middle and me sitting on his left side. There were many people sitting around, including high officials and small officials. literary officers and martial arts officers. "What in the world is this place?"I asked. "It's the netherworld!" he replied. "Am I dead?"I asked again. The other person nodded. I couldn't help crying loudly. I only came to visit his new house at the invitation of my friend, and I died without a cause. I was so wronged! I was so innocent! "Your Master Wenquxingjun! Please don't be sad. We just have something to discuss with you. Afterwards, I will send you back immediately; You will be here just for a few minutes!" He said that I had often passed out; my spirit and my three beams of light had often released those who they had captured, leaving them in a bind. He said they had orders to follow, and their operations were based on Heaven’s Laws and Destiny. He hoped that my compassion wouldn’t obstruct their business. When they saw my presence in this house, they thought I had come to poke my nose into their business; they had to take away scores of people from this house; it was a big case. I was puzzled. When did I do the things they were talking about? I was nobody but a housewife taking care of our household chores and my children and my parent-in-laws. How could I have that kind of power? But he said, “I can’t leak a secret. We are just asking you to leave this house as soon as possible and never come back here. Is it possible?” I said, “Of course. Didn’t you say this is a public affair?” He said, “Yes. Here is the official paperwork.” I looked at it and found that there was really official paperwork in the netherworld, clearly organized and itemized. All the names of those to be taken out were listed there. I saw the address: at XXX’s estate; event: passenger deaths from a plane crash, pedestrian and resident deaths from the plane crash; names included my friend’s whole family. I was very sad. I said, “Do all my friend’s family members have to die?” He said, “Yes. This is Heaven's Laws and their destiny. Our job is to take people away; we don’t make decisions.” I sensed that I could plead until my hair turned gray and it would still be useless; they were in charge of carrying out a decision instead of making a decision. I told them I did know who Master Wenquxing was, nor did I have any idea if I was Master Wenquxing they were looking for; I did not believe it myself. Still, I granted them their request and I would not show up there again. I asked, “Can I leave now?” There was no response. I heard voices trying to wake me up from my shock and I heard my family crying nervously. “Great. She’s awake now!” However, I had just woken up when I lost consciousness again. I found myself back in the apparition hall with those same people. I asked, “Can I ask Buddha and Bodhisattvas to save these people? Can you have mercy? Can you change the accident spot? This is downtown and hub of the city; the accident may impact lots of innocent people. Can you just change the spot? This person has several estates; can you have compassion and be flexible?” He did not answer. Out of worries, I burst into tears and told them categorically that I would be here to join my friend Mr. Yang’s family on the date of the accident so I would die with them; since I had no way to save them, I had no choice but to sacrifice my life. At this, they disappeared instantly. I woke up again; everyone was calling out, “She’s awake!” Soon, I went into a coma again. Those people appeared again,”Your Master Wenquxing, please don’t make such a request. Please don’t be stubborn. We in the netherworld are your subordinates and we can’t be accountable for such an offense. From now on, as long as you don’t interfere with our business, we won’t interfere with yours. It is all up to you if you want to read the scriptures and bow to Buddha. All in all, Master Wenquxing has the due dignity. This is all I can humbly say. Farewell.” Instantly, I woke up again. It felt like a long dream. There were two words left in my mind: Huang Dong. I couldn’t help wondering what they meant, name of a place, or a person, or a religion? I asked my friend Mr. Yang, but he didn’t know. I asked everyone present, but none had any idea. Then someone suggested that it might have something to do with the owner of the house (translator’s note: “Huang Dong” rhymes with “Fang Dong”, house owner. “ My friend immediately called his second wife; it was indeed connected with her: her father’s name is Huang Dong; he lived in Dong Shi, Yun Lin County. I told my friend that before she moved in here, they must read scriptures first, chant Buddha’s name and sprinkle holy water at every corner. My friend was an old man and he consented 100%, but his second wife was a modern “science person” and she objected adamantly. I had no choice but to tell them that many people might die in the house if they were not to read scriptures. Also, when they read scriptures, they should not disturb the neighbors and incur their curses; with any curse, nothing could be altered and saved. After this explanation, everyone in his family finally agreed. Everyone from Yi Xing Philanthropist Center came to help; unfortunately, some neighbors cursed us; they were Christians and disliked such foolish acts. In order to appease them, we apologized again and again. However, it was too late; none on the roster could be spared anymore. I cried and said, “The plane will crash around 8 a.am. on August 21; the casualties will total 18; the location will be the middle of a field.” Someone asked, “Why?” I replied, “The netherworld left me the two words of ‘Huang Dong’. At the time, I begged them with tears to change the spot and spare my friend Mr. Yang’s family. Their response was ‘Huang Dong’. My mind broke down the two words’ compositions and strokes and it also tied two words that had the same phonetic with Hunag Dong; then I pieced all together and figured it out.” Many said, “Let’s call the Air Force and notify them.” I shook my head, “We are nobody. We are not in the position to make such a call. Also, it is a national defense secret; we are in no way to interfere.” I had promised the netherworld that I would not intervene. All I was able to do was ask them to change the spot and spare innocent people; this way, I would be able to save my friend’s family. That was all I could do. Even Master Wenquxing was not able to do more. A little past 7, on August 21 of 1990, a military freight airplane crashed in the sugar cane field in Dong Shi, Yun Lin County; all 18 people on aboard died, including three major generals, eight colonels, and the pilot. The field was what my friend Mr. Yang’s second wife inherited. For sure, the spot was altered, but the eighteen army officers still died. I cried many days. But what could I do? What are Heaven’s Laws? What is Destiny? In that dream, those from the netherworld told me that everyone, both those in Heaven and those in the netherworld, respects Master Wenquxing, and no one will take Wenquxing’s words lightly. It was only that they were taking orders; they were not to make any mistakes when taking away someone for a trial. I felt ashamed at that. I realized that I was causing them a big inconvenience. What I could not put behind me was this: who in the world was giving such orders? Why was he so cruel? Wasn’t he a deity in Heaven? If I were really Master Wenquxing, I would definitely go up to Heaven and reason with this person. But what is Master Wenquxing? I have no idea. Notes For details of the plane crash, please search for headline news in the newspapers of August 22, 1990 (in Taiwan). When I was leaving the netherworld, I saw a couplet, which read: The soil is honored to bury the faithful sons; The river is speechless to cry over the heroic souls. Confucius avoided talking about mysterious energies and spirits. I feel that Yin-yang issues are speculations. I felt pitiful for the loss of the eighteen officers, but what can we do in this modern world of science? The field of the plane crash, at my request, has been turned into an air force memorial in memory of the officers. Yang’s whole family was able to survive thanks to their consciences and compassion. At the time, when they heard many people would die in the house, many of his friends earnestly tried to talk him into selling the house; the house was located at a good spot and it would sell for a high price soon after it was posted for sale. However, Mr. Yang would rather have his whole family crushed to death in the house than fleeing; he would not see others move in and die mysteriously in place of him. Also, he insisted on not moving out either, saying that a debt had to be paid by the debtor; if he moved, he might bring death to the new innocent neighbors. I was very touched to hear that and I firmly believed that his family would be spared. PS The author is definitely not Master Wenquxing and she does not know about him, either. According to the Chinese traditions, a deity in Heaven can’t be a female. The author doesn’t know how to tell fortunes; neither does she have Yin-Yang eyes; therefore, she does not have any power to resolve any issues. When the authors loses consciousness, she sometimes encounters spirits of those who passed away on the scenes. But those were coincidences, with slim chances, not to mention her ability to freely summon any spirit or go to the netherworld to meet anyone. The netherworld and our world are the same. There was a Taipei, GAO Xiong in the netherworld. The streets were full of people. It was hard to encounter an acquaintance; it would be like looking for a needle in the hay to try to find anyone. I hear that mediums and shamans can go to the netherworld and help people find a deceased family member, but I don’t have this kind of experience; I really don’t know if these people are frauds or not. All I want to say is that I have never met any living person in the netherworld. Living in Harmony Mr. Zhang was a general manager of the handful renowned construction companies in Taiwan. He managed the construction of several big buildings and made lots of money. He drove a world classic car that was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars; he looked grand. One day, he was driving home when his car just broke down right on the railroad crossing; he and his driver pushed hard but they couldn’t move it even an inch. To avoid a collision, all the store owners nearby were asked to help; they tried very hard and finally moved the car off the rails. Just then, a train was heard approaching fast towards them. What a narrow escape! About a week later, he was driving a new car and it also broke down on the railroad crossing, exactly on the same spot; they just couldn’t push it off. In the end, they again turned to the nearby merchants for help; together, they got it off the rails. Within a second, the train sped by. My. Zhang was so frightened that he broke out in cold sweat. A week later, he got an even better car. The same thing happened; the car broke down at the same spot and wouldn’t move. Again, they got the passersby and nearby merchants to help; together, they had a narrow escape. Mr. Zhang was scared because the railroad crossing was the only road he could take to go home. Therefore, he asked his high school classmate to bring him to my office. He was shaking when he told me what had happened; clearly, he was terrified. Even though I ran a firm of international law services, many board chairmen knew that I had severe anemia since birth and I would often go into coma. They felt that I frequented the netherworld and I was able to see the netherworld which was invisible to them. In particular, I stopped breathing at the age of 11 but then I awoke; I became vegetative at the age of 36 and lay in the morgue for 11 months. I met some people in the netherworld; we would greet each other. When I awoke, I would worry about these people whose souls were already in the netherworld. I would try my best to alert them and hope that they would escape death. Many board chairmen had helped me to contact such living dead people; and they were amazed at the accuracy of my predictions of death causes and dates. However, few had listened to such “nonsense”, so few had been saved. Mr. Zhang’s high school classmate was a client of mine, who knew I was a constant visitor of the netherworld. So, he brought his classmate over to find out what was wrong and why he had almost died on the railroad crossing several times. I took down Mr. Zhang’s birthday, address, and phone number. Next time when I passed out from anemia, I might go to the netherworld and find out if anyone had any grudges with Mr. Zhang. One month later, I asked my client to bring Mr. Zhang to my office. I told him that an old couple was angry with him because he had dug up their home and thrown away their bones like trash. I told the old couple’s address to Mr. Zhang. Right away, it dawned on Mr. Zhang; he said, “Wow! Got it.” It turned out that Mr. Zhang had built a jacuzzi on a construction site; when digging the foundation, three or four old graves were unearthed. Because they were so old and no one came to claim them, the bones were wrapped and disposed of by a waste management company. I said, “People in the netherworld have their opinions. We must live in harmony with them instead of angering them because they can see us clearly even though we can’t see them.” I hoped Mr. Zhang would reconcile with the old couple to avoid mutual animosity. However, Mr. Zhang burst into laughter, “ What are you talking about? This is a modern age. To be honest with you, I have emigrated to Texas, USA. I have a modern company of scientific instruments and I interact with the best American scientists. How can I believe such unscientific nonsense?” I knew there was no point of me saying anything else. Seven days later, my client told me that Mr. Zhang was returning to USA the next day. He asked me what message I had for Mr. Zhang. I said, “Since he doesn’t believe it, whatever I say will be pointless. Still, I insist on reconciliation between this world and the netherworld; instead of no hostility, the two worlds must coexist in harmony and peace.” I said, “The old couple were very angry. They decided to punish Mr. Zhang within a week, so he’d better first resolve the conflict before going back to USA. It won’t be good if something happens.” About 5 o’clock that afternoon, Mr. Zhang met me at East Zhongxiao Road. He was annoyed, “I’ll be in Texas, USA. Tell the old couple to travel overseas and settle it all with me there if they have guts.” I knew what I said was all groundless “nonsense”; what good was my advice to a scientific man enjoying the advanced American technology? The following day, Mr. Zhang went back to USA. My client said that Mr. Zhang was still laughing at my ignorance when leaving; he couldn’t understand it and wondered which landfill my advanced education had gone to. About four days after Mr. Zhang left, my client brought Mr. Zhang’s mother to my office; she was crying and she couldn’t say a word. My client was Board Chairman of a big computer company. He cried, too. Quite a while passed before he spoke while sobbing, “Mr. Zhang died in a car collision while on the highway back to Texas; his whole family was in the car.” I almost passed out at the news. How could it be so tragic? Mr. Zhang’s mother fell very sick after the accident; she was bedridden and she passed away about this spring festival. If you want to live to be a hundred years old, you must live peacefully and harmoniously with those in the netherworld. Don’t think you are very scientific. After all, there is another “unscientific” world apart from our scientific world. If you anger the other world, all your “science” won’t be scientific anymore. Notes The old couple hoped that Mr. Zhang would be crushed to death in a car collision; therefore, his car broke down on the crossing. However, I didn’t think it would make sense because his car was big and solid; it was a famous European car; if it collided with a train, it would cause the train to derail and many innocent passengers would die; it would be too cruel. What’s more, when Mr. Zhang’s car broke down on the crossing, he would immediately get out and run away, so the train would never hit him. That way, the innocent people would have died while he would be unscathed. Wouldn’t this break Heaven’s Laws? The old couple felt it reasonable and changed their plan to have him die from bleeding in a car collision on a highway. They said that they followed Mr. Zhang to USA and never left him. No Betrayal of your Ancestors to Ensure Longevity Part 1 Betrayal of one’s ancestors means that you don’t carry your family’s last name for no good reason and you don’t pay respect to your ancestors. The common cases include the local practice to marrying into a woman’s family. The woman’s parents don’t have sons; then their daughter marries a man into the family; they make arrangements that half of their children will carry the woman’s family name and the other half will carry the man’s last name. However, most men feel ashamed to be married into a woman’s family and they change their minds halfway; they refuse to honor the agreement of having half of their children carry the woman’s last name and they refuse to pay respect to the woman’s ancestors. A professor had three kids attending college in USA. During the summer, all of them came back to Taiwan. On the cab ride from Taiyuan Airport, they were caught in a bad highway accident and all died in the cab. The professor was heartbroken. He sent over a client of mine to consult me. He believed that he had never done any unethical things or any evil things. I am a patient of thalassemia and I often go into a coma, crossing over between this world and the netherworld. I told him that if I had a chance to know the cause, I would tell my client who would pass it to him. A month later, he himself came to my office. It happened that I was having a dizzy spell and I couldn’t hold myself standing up; the doctors were performing first aid. In my groggy state, I saw the back of the professor and his family having an argument. It turned out that he had issues with his last name. His last name was Liao, but that was not his original last name; it was Lai. He paternal grandpa married into his grandma’s family; they had agreed that the first son would carry the wife’s last name and the second son would carry the husband’s last name, so so forth; that was the common practice. However, they had only one son and no more. The husband’s parents insisted that the son should carry the husband’s last name and then the next son would carry the wife’s last name. Later on, they never had another son, so the wife’s last name had no one to carry on. The wife wouldn’t want to take it like that, so she took it to the court. However, the case lingered for many years, without a ruling. Scores of years later, that son had boys, who were the professor and his siblings. Still, no one in this generation carried their grandma’s last name. Now, he and his siblings also have sons and still no one carries their great grandma’s last name. Was this fair? According to the marriage agreement, both the husband and the wife were to have half their children carry their last names; now the husband has a lot of offspring while the wife has none; her ancestors were left cold and starving with no one to commemorate them. The first generation was the professor’s grandpa, who had agreed to let half of the children carry the grandma’s last name. The second generation is the professor’s father, who carries the grandpa’s last name. The third generation has the professor and his siblings, who all carry the grandpa’s last name. The fourth generation has the sons of the professor and his siblings’, who all carry the grandpa’s last name. As can be seen, the grandma’s family had no one carrying her last name. Think about it. How can the ancestors not hold grudges? The two families had a trial in the netherworld. Anyone who bullies others in this world will be punished in the netherworld. The professor’s ancestors lost the case and had to pay back what was owed to the grandma’s family. Nonetheless, people in this world have no idea of the conflicts between their ancestors, so their children are taken away one after another and no one knows why. I told the professor that if they had another child, he/she must carry the last name of Lai, the grandma’s last name; only this way could the child survive. He said that his brother had the same fate, seeing his children die one after another until almost all children were gone. So far, this case was still lingering; it had been so many generations removed, so how could they get their children to adopt the grandma’s last name? Do you know how many ancestors you have? If you are the thirtieth generation, then you have ancestors of 2 to the 30th power. How many people does that add up to? (about 1.7 billion). Therefore, everyone has more ancestors in the netherworld than in this world; when the two sides of one’s parents’ ancestors fight with each other, do you know how many people will be involved? Don’t take this lightly. Some of my friends died because of this and they had no idea of the cause. Heaven’s Tax for Security Only after you you pay Heaven’s tax can you be secure. Heaven’s tax means donation of 10% of your income to help those in need. Only after this can it really be your money and you can really use it for shopping, investments, and daily necessities; only after this can you enjoy real security and happiness. For example, before you buy a house, take a ship or a plane, or buy a car, you should not forget to pay what you owe to Heaven’s taxes; this is insurance for safety. If you owe such Heaven’s taxes, you will be punished; things will be unpredictable. Don’t take this lightly. In a word, only after you have donated 10,000 dollars should you buy a 100,000 dollar house. After you have donated 1,000 dollars, then you can spend 10,000 dollars. Such donations have no side effects and no sequel effects, either. Do you have pains? Did you miss your Heaven’s taxes? Do you want to mend the broken net? Mending the surface is paying a Heaven’s tax, so is mending the root. Part 2 After the second surgery at a hospital, my doctors recommended that I get out of bed and practice walking so that I wouldn’t become permanently disabled from muscle atrophy. My family wheeled me into the lobby on the first floor; I tried to inch forward with the aid of a walking cane. I was barely on my feet when all of a sudden a big guy ran towards me and knocked me down at full speed. Because I could barely move, I was not able to dodge; I was knocked down; I let out a loud scream and passed out. When I woke up, I found myself lying in bed. My family told me that I had been out for a few hours. They were relieved to see me awake. At my bedside, there stood a man in his sixties. I asked, “Who is he?” My family told me that it was he that had knocked me out; he was there to apologize and visit me. The man apologized to me again and again; he told me, “My last son is the only son left. He had a big accident and he is in ER. No one knows if he will be OK. I was beside myself and I was in a hurry; I didn’t see anyone in front of me at all.” I asked, “How many children did you have in all?” He said, “I had four boys. The first three all died one after another, at about 24 years of age. My first son had just started his apprenticeship as a sailor on a boat when he was drowned in the ocean a few months afterwards. My second son was a cop. He was shot by a bad guy while he was on duty. My third son was in the military when he died and no one knew the cause. Now I have only this son left. This is my last hope; he is the only one to carry the family torch.” I asked again, “What’s your name?” He said, “My last name is Heh.” Before I could hear out the words, I felt dizzy and the whole room began to turn upside down and everything in front of me kept circling. I couldn’t hold up and I passed out again. When I woke up, the doctors and nurses were performing ER on me. I was exhausted and I told them in a whisper that I was OK. Then I remembered that I had been asking that man his last name and he had said it was Heh. I said, “Sir, your ancestors just told me in my dream that your last name is not Heh; it should be Zheng. If you don’t change back to Zheng right away, your Zheng ancestors will take out all your children, one by by.” He thought I was still delirious and I was talking nonsense; he ignored me completely. He didn’t respond to me; then he said bye and left. About three days later, that man brought an old man in his eighties to see me. The old man was here to visit his grandson in the ER. I asked, “Uncle, your last name is also Heh?” He was mad and countered, “What other last name do I have if not Heh?” I said, “Spirits told me that your last name is Zheng!” The old man was very angry. He said, “Do I need a stranger like you to tell me my last name? I am in my eighties and you think I don’t know what my last name is?” I said, “It’s up to you whether you want to change your last name. It is a shame that your grandson will die a wrong death, and your son will have no offspring to carry the family’s name.” The old man saw how serious I was; eventually, he just sat there. He had asked the doctors and nurses that I was not a quack warlock. He began to believe me a little. Urged by his son and daughter-in-law, the old man decided to go back to his birthplace and check it out. He went back to his nursery and got his birth information; then, he applied for permission to to back to the mountain where his parents were from. He asked the authorities to investigate openly and secretly. Eventually, they found a few pages of incredible, shocking information which was left behind by the then-ruling Japanese government. His father was a Mr. Zheng; his father and mother were loggers in the mountain. When he was three, his father was crushed to death by a falling tree while felling a tree. His mother had no one to rely on; she married another logger and registered their marriage. This logger’s last name was Heh; he was his stepfather. This Mr. Heh had been a drug dealer. He had been on the run from police; so he had become a logger in the mountains. As a result, the last name of Heh was also fake. 。 According to the file, Mr. Heh had been so addicted to drugs that he had not been able to have a child. When the old man was about 6 years old, Mr. Heh was caught and the old man’s biological mother was incriminated too; both were executed. This old man, becoming an orphan at the age of 6, lived a sad life. His son did not go to school that much because they were poor; he also lived a sad life, with constant ups and downs. I said, “If it is your last name, hurry up and take it up; if it is not your last name, hurry up and give it up. Only this way can your life take a turn for the better.” I was discharged 40 days later. During the time, I helped a miserable family with their revival, even though I was a disabled, almost useless person. I even saved a young man and got him to escape a narrow death. There is a saying “You save a life, and your credit is more than building a 7-story pagoda.” For me, as a patient of a terminal illness, can this credit save my own life? Before leaving the hospital, this family came over to say goodbye. The man who had knocked me out said to me with teary eyes, “If I had met you ten years earlier, I could have saved the other three sons.” Humans’ lives are ruled by Heaven’s Laws. What could I do? Part 3 Mr. Hu was Chief Secretary of a religious group. He was responsible and sincere; everyone respected him. He got married in 1979; they had a beautiful baby boy the following year. Because I was teaching a religion language in the group, he asked me to name his baby. I told him that I had serious anemia and I might die anytime; it might bring the baby bad luck. He said he wouldn’t mind; he would appreciate it as long as I tried my best. So I agreed. One day, I was getting up from the kitchen table after lunch when somehow I found the whole room swirling and I was sucked in it. My eyes became blurry. I lost consciousness and fell down. After a long time, I woke up. My family and my colleagues tried to talk me out of going to work that day. I thought that I might just as well take the time and get a good name for Mr. Hu’s baby; this way, I would be done with the favor request. When my colleague brought the baby’s horoscope, I got a big headache. My family was afraid that I couldn’t hold up; they helped me into my room; I lay down on my bed for a shuteye. When I woke up, I somehow felt something was wrong with the baby’s birth information, and I couldn’t tell what it was. I called Mr. Hu and asked, “My Hu, is your last name really Hu?” He said, “Yes, it is Hu.” “What about your father?” “His last name is Hu, too.” Then, a blurry figure appeared in my mind, coming and going, waving his hand and shaking his head; behind him was Wang’s ancestral temple. I said, “Mr. Hu, do you have anything to do with a Mr Wang?” Mr. Hu said categorically that he had nothing to do with a Mr. Wang. He sounded quite sure. I was puzzled; I said to him that I wouldn’t read the baby’s horoscope or name him because I had too many questions that couldn’t be answered. The next day, Mr. Hu and his wife came to my office and begged me to do them the favor. I said, “I visualized Mr. Wang’s ancestral temple, but your last name is Hu. I feel your last name must be a mistake because this baby is Wang family’s baby and needs to carry Wang’s family name. If he takes the Hu last name, he won’t survive; he will live to the age of three at most, no more than a thousand days.” I asked him to go back to his hometown and ask his parents. His parents were outraged and yelled at him for not be being filial; his mom even threatened to commit suicide, to show that she was a loyal wife who would never marry a second husband. Mr. Hu was frustrated and he came to see me in my office again. I said that such issues were not business deals and couldn’t be negotiated. I wrote down the time and date of the baby’s death and asked that he must complete the task of honoring his ancestors. About 900 days after the baby was born, he really died. Mr. Hu and his wife were so heartbroken that they kept crying for years and they lost weight. Mr. Hu’s mom felt guilty and told him behind the doors, “Your biological father’s last name was Wang. We had fallen in love from early on. I was pregnant with you, but I was not allowed to marry your father. Your grandparents forced me to marry the father you know of. So, you got the last name of Hu at birth.Your biological father had come over several times to ask for your custody, but I couldn’t let my husband know the secret; therefore, I was not able to help you acknowledge and honor your ancestors.” Mr. Hu insisted on not hurting his mom, so he said he would wait until she left the world. Whatever happened during the time when he was not acknowledging his ancestors, he took it all on himself in order to spare his parents any inconvenience. Mr. Hu never completed the task of acknowledging his ancestors, and his life never took a turn for the better. Right now, he is still struggling and his career is not good, either. His mom is in a vegetative state after an accidental fall; it has been ten years. Life is always full of endless helplessness. Even though one knows danger lurks ahead, he/she still has to press on. Addendum Booklet Preface This booklet contains addendum pieces and stories. In it, we tell a few short stories, which had been strictly forbidden during my employment for propagation on the assumption that they were about mysterious spirit cases. At the time, we were forbidden to say anything, or talk about anything, or acknowledge anything; it was claimed that such would confuse the public views and disturb people. Thirty years have passed. Time is different now. Our society is more open and more democratic; accordingly, such bans should be put behind us. Currently, cruel murder cases occur again and again, and it is very concerning. In order to make murderers understand “Even death can not really end it all” so that they can stop short on their track and turn their life around, we purposefully select a few previous cases that are thought provoking; we hope that all readers will inspire each other and learn that we are all connected as kinship with no difference; that we will care for each other sincerely at all times; that our society will transform violence into peace; that we will no longer fight each other to death; that we will no longer kill lives but release lives; that we will “stop slaughtering immediately and become a Buddha”. If so, then our society will be blessed, and we will all be blessed. Feel free to contact us: Ms. Chen, 407 Eastern University, PO Box 119, Tai Zhong City A Useless Person During my time off, I took a train from Tai Pei to Jiayi; I planned to connect at Jiayi to a train back to the countryside in Tai Nan. On the train, there were two robust young men talking with each other; they looked like new judges, proud and confident. Person A said, “I hear there was a useless person several scores of years ago who somehow passed the bar examination and then presided trials.” Person B said, “I know. How could this kind of person pass the bar test?” Person A said, “Maybe it was sheer luck!” Person B said, “I guess so.” Person A said, “You know how useless the person was? She was good for nothing.” Person B, “I heard of such things, but you can tell me more details.” Person A, “They told me that during trials, she would cry even before a defendant cried, and she would shed more tears than a defendant! She was really good for nothing. She was a shame to us all judges. I also heard that every time she pronounced a sentence, she would go out of her way and explain to a convict in great details the grounds for such a sentence and why a convict had to be incarcerated. Think about it. Does a judge have to look up at a convict for mercy? What was more despicable was that the judge would apologetically tell the convict that it was all she could do and that she could not help more due to the limited evidence available. A convict gets a sentence and that’s what serves him right; why should a judge apologize? Moreover, when a convict was sent to prison, she would show up for a send-off of the prisoner and comfort and encourage the prisoner. She would also vow to the prisoner that she would do everything she could to take care of the prisoner’s family during his/her incarceration so that the prisoner wouldn’t have worries. It is doubtful whether she could tell good from bad. Didn’t she know that all the convicts are bad people?” Person B, “I also heard that she used to give talks to prisoners, visit them, check on them, pass their family’s messages to them. Wouldn’t you say that she was a messenger for bad people? She had a habit of regularly calling the inmates’ families and ask them if they had any difficulties and if they needed any help. On visiting days, she would meet the inmates one by one and apologize to them again and again, “I’m so sorry to put you in prison.” You see, a judge brought herself down to that level and visited the inmates and apologized to them. What’s wrong with this world? Is this appropriate?” Person A, “There’s something more inappropriate. She kept in touch with the inmates’ families and she did all sorts of favors for the inmates; she also helped support the families of the executed inmates. When a convict was discharged, she went to pick them up; she brought red eggs and noodles to them to clear them of any bad luck. Our society doesn’t welcome “rehabilitated people”, which serves the convicts right. But she would pledge to be their reference and she would find opportunities for them. You see, a judge shamelessly mingled with the convicts as buddies; how could she deserve respect?” Person B, “Our professor said that a judge should act as a judge. I heard from her former colleagues that she did not even seem good enough to be a gofer.” Person A, “Such people are really pathetic and despicable. It was good that she was fired soon. Otherwise, she would have caused shame to all the judges.” I sat behind the two big shots. Every word they said sounded like a thunder and it made me very embarrassed. I was educated and I did not even know that a judge was an official; I had thought that a judge was a savior of hardships. Indeed, a “gofer” was only a gofer. What a shame! I was not a judge and I was not qualified to be a judge; I could only be a gofer. But in my whole life, I had never looked at a defendant as a defendant, nor had I looked at a convict as a convict. My master used to say, “If you can’t look at a defendant as your family member, then you can’t say you have “a clear conscience”. In our world, who can say that he/she will never commit an offence? Who is willing to commit an offence? The Catholic scriptures say, “Please protect me from getting into any irresistible temptations.” My master said, “If you are in the same situation as the other person, can you guarantee that you will not act the same way? Who has such confidence? Who has such power?” Indeed, even a judge can’t be so sure, let alone main street folks! I feel sentencing does not necessarily prevent crimes. Isn’t the death sentence severe? But the desperadoes are desperadoes. Only love is invincible. Can any judge now declare loudly “Anyone I have sentenced has never relapsed”? Many inmates go back in soon after being released. Even though I am only a gofer, I really want to tell you that over the past thirty years, none of the brothers and sisters that once fell out of grace have never made me ashamed of them since they entered the society again. Have you met the useless person? Do you think she is good for nothing?Do you also think that she is a loser, a bad apple because she had the nerve to tarnish the aura and glory over the prestigious position? Do you feel she is pathetic and despicable? The Bible says, “You are great because you are the smallest in the eyes of God and you are a servant to others.” The Buddhist scripture says, “If you want to be an elephant for Buddhas, you must first be servants to the all beings.” It also says, “If you forget your Bodhicitta and practice, it is all demon practice.” A judge’s heart is the heart of a biological mother. Serving a sentence is not being punished; it is fairness to the other party and it is also a fair answer for one’s conscience. Heaven Knows, Earth Knows, and you Know While I don’t Know About 30 years ago, I was assigned to work in Ji Long. I was from Tai Zhong and I had never been to the rainy alleys in Northern Taiwan. There, it would rain over 20 days every month and it wouldn’t stop; the overcast weather was not comfortable or cheerful. One day, I got a tip from a caller that there was a female corpse in the mountain on the borderline between the city and the county. Because I was on duty, I got a forensic expert and two assistants to go with me to the scene. When we drove to the foot of the mountain, we couldn’t see any more road. We had to get out and walk. I was from out of town and I was not familiar with Ji Long at all, not to mention that it was a secluded mountain; the path was slippery, and each step took efforts. It was almost dusk and we still couldn’t find our way out of the maze-like mountain path. The forensic doctor and the assistants shook their heads and said to me that it was useless to go further because we were really lost. We were all very worried. Just then, to our surprise, we saw a woman walking toward us, “Sir, Madam, where are you going? What are you looking for?” “We’re here for a case. We got a tip that a woman died in the mountain and the cause is unknown.” “I know where it is. I will take you there. Please follow me,” she said warmly and friendly. We stumbled along, switching back and forth; it took quite a while before we got there. The woman waved to us and left. We walked towards the woods and found a female corpse lying there under a tree. The rope around her neck was rotten. In the flashlight, her face looked frightening; it had rotten so badly that the face was almost just bones, with holes here and there. I asked my assistant to bring the flashlight closer so I could inspect the whole corpse. Then all of us let out a cry of surprise, “Isn’t this the same woman wearing the outwear who brought us here?” I had chills all over and I began to tremble nonstop; my feet were freezing. The forensic doctor and the assistants were terrified and blood had drained from their faces and their faces shriveled like small oranges. It was getting darker and darker. All four of us couldn’t wait to get out there right away. Luckily, we got back to the foot of the mountain soon; when we got into our car, we felt much better. Soon, we saw our office building; we said goodbye to each other and went to our respective offices. I got into my office and reported to my supervisor. Then I breathed deeply and began searching for files of missing people. I looked at each photo without saying a word. Many colleagues saw how I was not my old self and they knew that something in the mountain had scared the wits out of me. They were all experienced and they knew how things were. They asked me, “Didn’t you say that the corpse was rotten? You don’t have any idea how she looked; how can you identify her from photos?” They had thought that I was so foolish and ridiculous. I answered, “I saw her and we walked together for a long time, chatting and laughing, until we parted at the corpse spot. How could I not know? I believe that the person who showed us the way was the same person as the one lying under the tree.” They all laughed at this. Later on, they had to give me credits because I actually found the dead person’s photo, her name, and her address. Of course, we filed the case with the police because she did not hang herself; rather, she was strangled. I asked my colleague, “Do you really believe that once a person dies, he/she is really dead?” I became a Buddhist at the age of 18 and I took the precepts under the refuge of my master. I respect a dead person and the corpse the same way as I respect Buddha; I never look at a corpse as being dead. My master said, “Our hearts have endless thoughts; our spirits never perish even though our bodies do.” You Cherish our Affinity and I Respond with Bleeding from 7-Holes A rotten corpse washed ashore on the beach in Ba Dou Zi, Ji Long. It had been gnawed by fish to the bones and the face was impossible to identify. It had inflated so much like a inflation toy, all distorted. Many folks came to identify the body. Everyone said that it was rotten beyond recognition; no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t identify it. I asked the police to line up the folks in one file and then they were asked to approach it one by one for a closer look. After a long time, still no one claimed the body. Maybe the face had been deformed and the body’s stench was so bad that no one wanted to linger long. Just when I was at a loss, a cop came to me and said there was a middle-aged woman and her middle school daughter out there; they wanted to check on the body but they were nervous and did not know what to do. I said I would go meet them and bring them over; after all, a woman felt more comfortable around another woman. The middle-aged woman came over to the spot but still did not dare to move closer. I dared not force her, so I had to stand with her and her daughter and moved along with the line step by step. The daughter was moving closer when the spectators shouted, “How come the body is bleeding. The body is bleeding!” I looked; it was terrifying! That body was bleeding a pool of blood from his eyes, nostrils, ears, and mouth. Blood was dripping from his ears, mouth, ears, and nose. It was terrifying! I rushed the middle-aged woman over and asked her to take a close look. It must have connections with the daughter since it began bleeding at her sight. The middle-aged woman came closer, bent over, and then started bawling; the middle school girl collapsed in her mother’s arms and cried her eyes out. The middle-aged woman finally identified the denture in the body’s mouth. She kept murmuring to the body, but I could not make out a single word because the wind was blowing hard and the waves were high and she was sobbing. However, the body heard all her words and miraculously closed his wide open eyes slowly; he even shed one teardrop after another and his lips seemed to be shivering; it seemed that he had some last words to tell her. I was so terrified. Wasn’t the body dead? I came back to my office, still filled with fear. For real, I have too many questions: “Wasn’t he dead? He was rotten; why was he bleeding and crying like a living person?” The more I thought of it, the more fearful I felt. I asked some older colleagues, “After a person dies, is he/she really dead?” Nobody said anything; they just smiled. I felt so spooked. (This case turned out to be a fish monger being sucked away by violent waves; it was not a murder case. The middle-aged woman turned out to be the dead man’s wife, and the middle school girl was his youngest daughter.) For a believer, Anything is Possible. A charred body, it was all naked and shriveled and stiff. Clearly, it was a murder case; the body was burned with gasoline. The body was deformed and no one knew how to identify it. Our chief felt that women were more detail-oriented for a difficult case, so he sent me over to identify the body and investigate the cause of death. We posted news in the media and called on the readers to help with the identification. It was a clear day and “curiosity” was a universal nature, so there were a lot of onlookers. The forensic doctor and I were busy taking notes, inspecting the scene and mapping it. There were more and more onlookers, and they were getting closer to the body. I asked the police to keep them back so as not to destroy the scene. All of a sudden, the charred body flipped around and got up; immediately, it lunged forward, reached out and grabbed a young man at the front of the onlookers; then the body and the young man fell together. At this, I was stunned and scared out of my wits. I shouted hysterically again and again, “Hasn’t he been dead for a few days? Didn’t he die long ago?…” Then I passed out. When I woke up, I had been in the hospital with a high fever for more than a week. My nurse told me that I had been screaming for days, “Hasn’t he been dead for a few days? Didn’t he die long ago?” Ten days later, I regained my speech ability, but I could only speak slowly and I stammered and I couldn’t help shaking all over. I thought I would never come out of the terrifying shadow. My colleagues came to visit me one after another. They told me that when they finally pulled the young man out of the body’s lock, he had already died. The charred body’s hands were stiff and hard, like plaster; no one was able to prize them open. Eventually, they got an expert, who made extreme efforts and finally pulled out the young man; however, there was already no sign of life. This incident changed the opinions of the managers at our workplace that men and women were equal; from then on, they did not dare to send me over to investigate such terrifying bodies. After all, a woman is scared of even cockroaches; how can she handle such big scenes? After some open and secret investigations that went on for over a month, the case was cracked. What was inconceivable was that the culprit was the young man who was strangled by the charred body. For the past forty years, I have often thought, “Is a person really dead after death?” Still now, I shudder and have nightmares and I can’t help screaming, “Isn’t he dead? Didn’t he die long ago?” My doctors say that the shock was too much and I was over terrified. Alas! Who can solve the mystery? Who can calm my nerves? There has been no cure for me. Is there really such an expert doctor? My Mind is Still Here, thus I am Still Here. A friend of mine had an electronic parts factory in Xin Dian, and it was doing well. He decided to expand his business to mainland China. He called his parents in Gao Xiong and consulted them. They were very pleased with his expansion plan. He was going to take his wife and their three-year-old son to go see his parents at weekends and tell them the expansion details; he hoped that his parents would support him the best they could so that he would not run into trouble of tight operation funds. His parents were not super rich, but they had inherited a few estates. If they agreed to support him, he could ask for as much as he wanted. He came to see me for business. I said, “Don’t try to take advantage of your parents. Any bad thoughts will incur Heaven’s punishment.” He said that he was the only child; those estates were to be his sooner or later; there would be no difference between early handover or later handover. I seriously told him that heritage had poison and he shouldn’t expend it; otherwise, his ancestors would punish him. He angrily countered, “This is too dated. Too superstitious. Your schooling is being wasted.” I knew that more talk would just annoy him, so I zipped my lips. On Saturday, the three of them took off as planned. On Sunday, our business office was closed. On Monday, his parents came to see me from Taipei; they were crying. I couldn’t help crying when I heard the story. My friend had an accident on the highway. In the heavy fog, his car was sandwiched between two big vehicles; it was reduced to a mangled pile of scrap, and the husband and wife were crushed into steak on the spot. The old couple finally told me the whole story in between their sobbing. Then they asked me to go with them to claim their grandchild from the highway police because they really had no idea about the legal procedures. I was surprised, “The kid did not die? How can this be possible?” It turned out that when everyone was busy trying to rescue the injured on the pileup scene, a young woman with the name of OOO carried the 3-year-old kid and rushed to the young woman at the toll; she told the woman that she had urgent business to take care of and she would come back to get the kid once all was done. Finally, the accident scene was cleared; the dead and the injured were taken away. However, after a long time, still nobody came to claim the kid. Police were making announcements over the loudspeakers, yet the young mom did not show up. Then, it occurred to a cop that the young mom might be among the injured in the accident. For real, they found the name of the young mom on the list, not the list of the injured but the list of the dead. She had been pinched in the mangled front of a car, and her body had to be pulled out piece by piece. It was impossible to identify. The police collected all the IDs of the dead from the accident scene and asked the toll woman to identify the young mom from among all the ID photos. The pile of remnants had many cards as well as drivers’ licenses and IDs. The toll woman identified the photo on a credit card as the young mom with certainty. This way, the police located the family of the deceased couple and officially notified them to claim the bodies and get the crying kid as well as the remnants of the couple. The toll woman was puzzled, “How was that young mom able to carry the kid over to me? My toll booth was far away from the accident scene; how was she able to run over all the way? Her whole body was lodged in the mangled car front and had to be pinched out piece by piece. How was she able to escape alone unscathed and how come the kid did not even have a scratch? How in the world was the kid taken out of the car?” Not only did she fail to get a convincing explanation but also the highway patrol police and the the couple’s parents and I all had no clue. There was no trace on the accident scene. On the way back, the kid was crying and I wondered, “Is a person really dead after death?” My Cycle of Death, Birth, Death, and Birth This happened in 1945. It was shortly after Taiwan gained independence; I was 6 years old. There was a famous midwife in Tai Zhong. She was very skilled and experienced, so we all called her “Senior Midwife”. For sure, I was brought to this world by this midwife. At the time, my dad was an anti-Japanese, pro-Taiwan-independence activist, and he was on the top of the Japanese black list. Every time the Japanese couldn’t capture my dad, they would take my mom as hostage and torture here for my dad’s whereabouts. I was kicked to delivery in the Japanese prison of political inmates. The midwife came to save me and my mom when I was stuck half way. Therefore, she was my savior. Less than one year after my birth, I developed thalasemia and became retarded. She felt guilty and would say to my grandma and my mom, “I am so sorry to have delivered your child like this.” When I was 6, my belly began to grow just like a pregnant woman. My grandma and my mom asked the midwife to check me up and find out if there was a twin baby that was still not delivered. Because the midwife was very busy going from one house to another, she hardly had any time to sit down even over a cup of tea, let alone time to check me up. She asked my grandma and my mom to let me follow her so that she could check me up thoroughly whenever she had free time. Because the growing belly was dangerous, my grandma and my mom reluctantly agreed. The midwife seemed to have affinity with me, so she was affectionate to me. One late night, an old couple came to ask the midwife to hurry and help their daughter-in-law with a delivery. The midwife took my hand hurriedly, picked up her medical bag, and woke up the carriage man; right away, we took off. The midwife had told the old couple that she would meet them near the General Temple in Da Li Village. The road was not wide, but it was the only road between Tai Zhong and Wu Feng. We got to the meeting spot and the carriage man pulled us a little farther; then, there was no more path for the carriage. A little path was winding along disorganized, crowded sheds. The midwife held my hand firmly, and she was regretting having brought me along on this narrow path. Also, it was dark and there were no street lights. It was bumpy at some spots, and the carriage uncle had to carry me on his back. Finally, we got to a small, low, illegal ranch. A woman was lying in bed and moaning. The midwife right away opened her medical bag and took out a pile of medical instruments. She told me to wait outside and not come back in. The old couple gave me a lot of candy, but I was so sleepy because it was late at night. Soon, the auntie’s moaning stopped; instead, a baby’s cry came and it was so loud that I was almost woken up. I found it very annoying. The midwife said, “Congrats! It’s a boy. So cute!” The old couple were so happy. Then they were embarrassed to tell the old midwife, “We are very poor, and we don’t have money to pay you. Please pardon us.” The midwife said, “No worries. As long as the baby is fine and the mom is fine, everything is ok. It does not matter whether you have money or whether you pay me.” The midwife said that she would come back the next day and then the day after to bathe the baby. She turned around and asked the carriage uncle to go get the baby clothes, PJs, and the blanket from the carriage. She gave all to the old couple so that the baby could be warm. As the common practice, we went back there to bathe the baby three times; she also helped re-dress and stitch up the young mom’s wounds. In a word, the midwife did everything for the auntie, and the auntie was very grateful. When we were leaving, the auntie said to the old midwife, “Is this your daughter? She has a beautiful heart. She will have a good future: a good education, a good social status, good fortunes, and a long life.” The midwife patted me on the head and told me to bow to the auntie and say thanks. I was really capable of all that. I was a retard, a fool, and I had never known how to do all that before. But that day, I really knew how to bow and say thanks loudly. The midwife was so pleased. I guess that she must have secretly been laughing to herself; how could a child like me, who would be considered blessed if she could live to the end of the year, ever grow to have advanced education, a good social status and good fortunes? Early the following morning, the day was just breaking when a cop came to see the midwife, “We found an abandoned baby boy at the public cemetery. The baby is wrapped in a blanket, and it has the address of your delivery house.” The midwife was worried to hear that and called the carriage uncle to get ready right away. She asked, “Where’s the baby?” “At the police station,” the cop replied. She got to the police station as fast as she could. She picked up the baby boy, inspected him carefully and found him to be the same baby boy she had helped the cold couple’s daughter-in-law deliver. She placed the baby on my back and let me carry him. I was so happy. The cop gave me a back shawl and helped me wrap him better. Together, we went to look for the old couple; we wanted to ask them what happened and why they wanted to abandon their baby. We looked here and there, but we couldn’t find the cluster of little low sheds and we couldn’t find the old couple’s home. We asked the neighbors there, but nobody knew anything about it and they had never heard of them. The cop said, “We cover this area. Why haven’t we heard of them, either?” Then he added, “Maybe we should look where we found the baby in the cemetery.” The midwife said, “The place where I helped deliver the baby was a row of little ranch houses. It was a little community for folks. How could it be a cemetery?” The cop said “It doesn’t hurt to check it out, right?” The midwife said, “I don’t know their names or their last name.” The cop said, “What did the old couple call their daughter-in-law, do you remember?” The midwife thought hard and finally remembered her name. So, the cops checked the names on each headstone. As expected, they found the woman’s grave. From the information on the headstone, they found her husband’s name and address. The midwife and the cops went to visit the baby’s father. She said, “I helped your wife deliver this baby boy four days ago, with my own hands.” He looked puzzled and wouldn’t believe it. He said, “My wife died over 100 days ago. How can she still have a baby? Is she still alive? But I saw her buried with my own eyes. How can that be a mistake?” The midwife asked, “Was she pregnant when she died?” He said “Yes, about 7 months pregnant.” She said, “That sounds right. It was full pregnancy of ten months a few days ago. If you don’t believe us, can you have your wife’s coffin opened for an inspection and see if she has delivered the 7-month-old fetus?” He still looked reluctant, not willing to agree. The cop said, “We can issue a search warrant. We can still open it even if you don’t agree.” The man had to budge. The following day, the police station sent several cops over to the cemetery; some workers also came. They dug up the grave and opened the coffin. The woman lying there was exactly the woman who delivered the baby. Her fetus was not there, and her belly was flat. Beside her, there were still some medication and bandages and cotton swabs. Now the mystery was solved. The old midwife said, “Did I really enter the grave and help a dead person deliver a baby?” The husband seemed to have tears in his eyes. He said, “Can a dead person’s baby be alive? How do I know this baby boy is really my blood?” The midwife said, “Your parents are also deceased, aren’t they? Their graves are nearby, right? It was your parents that came to Tai Zhong and brought me over to help their daughter-in-law who was having trouble with the delivery.” He took us all over to see his parents’ grave. The cop had already arranged for a forensic doctor to be present and help verify if the baby boy was their blood. The forensic doctor said, “Dig up the grave. Open the coffin.” The doctor asked the midwife to draw a small syringe of blood from the baby on my back; he dripped the blood onto the man’s father’s bone and it was absorbed instantly. The doctor said solemnly to the husband, “This baby boy is absolutely your blood. There is no mistake.” When we got back, the midwife made out a birth certificate and she wanted to take it as well as the baby boy to his father. I cried because I so wanted to keep the little baby brother. She said, “His son is his son. How can we keep him?” We got to the baby’s father’s home. The old house had a bid lobby, with the ancestors’ tablets on display and big portraits on the wall. I was curious and I looked at each photo carefully. I told the midwife, “Look, they are the grandpa and grand ma who gave me candy. The auntie that had the baby is also on the wall. The photos look so much like them.” The husband looked on quietly while I was talking and pointing; he looked lost. When I saw all the photos and turned to him, I found that an adult could also cry and they would cry nonstop once they began. I returned the little brother to his father. I had carried him on my back for days, and I was so reluctant to let go of him. The old midwife saw me in tears and said to me, “Ask your mom to give you a little brother. Isn’t that better? Don’t cry anymore.” Later, I wold cry whenever I missed the little brother. My mom was afraid that my frail body with thalasemia would collapse, so she reluctantly gave me a little brother when I was in my critical time at the age of 18. Still, I kept missing the little brother I had carried on my back when I was 6, till now. The little baby boy now should be in his 50s. Where does the magic little brother live? Does he remember me his little sister, the first one in the world to carry him, hold him and love him? Notes I wrote this part with tears in my eyes, so it may be disorganized. Please pardon me. At the time, I had never carried a baby, whether a real baby or a boy. The auntie let me carry the little brother right after his birth; he was the first baby I had carried, and it was a real baby. How could I not miss him? I had autism; I can’t count how many dolls I have bought, cuddled, and carried from the age of 6 to 63, but the sweetest baby was the little brother I carried when I was 6. The auntie was the first in the whole world that believed I was to “have a beautiful heart, advanced education, prestige, and longevity.” At the time, I was merely a 6-year-old retard. Her words have had huge impact on my current achievements; at the time, even my parents did not expect much of me. Scriptures say that when you see someone being dead, you won’t get to see that person being alive. Only those who did not know that someone was already dead can he/she see that person alive. The old midwife, the carriage uncle, and I hadn’t known that the old couple and the auntie were already dead, so we were able to see them in the real situation of them trying to solve a crisis; it was absolutely no illusion. When you know it all, it all disappears. The sunlight and energy you accumulate is commensurate with the time you live in this world. When a person dies, a ghost in the grave can only live off the thus accumulated light and energy to extend his/her life in the netherworld. Therefore, once a grave is dug up and a coffin is opened, all the light and energy will be leaked, with nothing left. Then, that person’s life and ghost in the netherworld is at risk. A living person takes in positive energy and sunlight while a dead person takes in negative energy and sunlight. The duration a person lives and takes in the positive energy and sunlight equals the duration a dead person takes in negative energy and sunlight. A dead person is scared of positive energy and sunlight, so he/she is scared of a living person. When I was carrying the little brother, his body felt warm while the hands of the cold couple and the auntie were dead cold. As for me, my hands were dead cold, too. Several times when the auntie was in pain, she had held my hands tightly because she wouldn’t be hurt by a living person’s energy, but she had not dared to touch her own baby. When we went to bathe the baby boy, the neighbors came over to ask for some medication. The midwife patiently checked them up, gave them injections and medicine. She wondered if they were too poor to go to the hospital. Why didn’t they go see a doctor when they were so sick? Did they have any difficulties? Have you given much thought to what happens after a family member died in a car accident, from an illness or a tragedy? Do you really think that all is over after the burial or cremation? Who continues to treat them? Who takes care of them? An illness in this world remains an illness in the netherworld; an injury in this world remains an injury in the netherworld. Gunshot execution is a very cruel violence because the gunshot wound can’t be healed in the netherworld, leaving the ghost in misery. Before burial, the wounds should be first dressed, bandaged, and relieved. Don’t assume that a dead person is dead. Living Today but Dead Yesterday: Delayed Repentance Mr. Lai was on the death roll. When the crime occurred, he was a director of a construction site; he raped and murdered a woman who met him to pay down payments for a condo. He took all the large sum of money on her; it was an heinous crime. His interrogation notes at the police station was not to his advantage, but he admitted guilty to all charges. No matter what was on record, he didn’t care; nor did he plead innocence or defend himself. During the crime scene re-enactment, he would double check with the police if the details were all falling into places; he was afraid that the reenactment would not match the record. Maybe I am a weak soul scared of death; I always think that scare of death is in everyone’s nature. Who would take the death sentence without any struggles or self defense? I was bewildered. A death sentence can’t be sealed just after one trail. As the public defendant lawyers, we dug deep and found quite some evidence and eye witnesses to his advantage; all of which would prove that he was not the culprit. But it seemed that Mr Lai wouldn’t want to appeal again; he asked the prosecutors not to bother anymore. He also declined any good intentions of defenders. I kept wondering what was wrong with him; what made him so tired of living? I always treated a defendant as my family member, took good care of them, and felt close to them. Therefore, I couldn’t understand Mr. Lai’s lack of desire for life and I couldn’t forgive him for that. For real, was he really indifferent to death, like “a monk in meditation”? I was reluctant to let go, and I firmly believed that he had some secrets. Late at night, I followed the chief warden of the prison to his cell, woke him up, and brought him to the visitors’ room for a talk. At first, he kept silent. He simply held his head downcast and listened to me pouring my heart out. But he kept silent no matter what I said. Eventually, I couldn’t help crying, and I cried uncontrollably until I was almost choking. He was stunned, looking at me quizzically, “Please don’t cry for me. I am a prisoner on the death roll, and I don’t deserve your tears. My life is not even more worthy than an ant. Why are you so troubled about me?” Tears began to run down his face. He said, “OK. Let me tell you everything. 20 years ago, I was serving in the military in Gao Xiong. During our time off, a comrade and I went to have fun in Dabei Lake in Gao Xiong. About 4p.m. we saw two young women in fashionable outfits and they looked very pretty. We had evil thoughts; we kidnapped them to a secluded spot; there, we gang-raped them, killed them, and then left their bodies in a very hidden spot. We stripped their clothes and took all valuables. Then we calmly returned to our military station. Soon after that, our military unit was relocated, we went away far and beyond. I asked, “Don’t you have a disturbed conscience?” He said, “I do, but my friend doesn’t. After being discharged from the military, I went to talk with my friend about turning ourselves in, but he absolutely would not. For sure, I couldn’t turn myself in alone. For the past years, I have often bowed to the two young women up there, pleading for their forgiveness. For real, I repent deeply and I am prepared to face the legal punishment of life for life. I asked, “You must be married. I read in your file that you are married.” He said, “I got married right after I left the military. My wife is a good woman; we have a son and two daughters. My son is attending a state college, so is my first daughter. My second daughter is about to start her last high school year; she is attending an all-girl high school at the Provincial High, and it is very promising that she will be guaranteed admission into a national college after that. I said, “They tell me that you are wronged. I myself don’t understand it either. You have such a happy family and great children. Why don’t you want to live?” He said, “Twenty years ago when we killed the two young women in the Gao Xiong tourist area, I had deserved more than one death. At that time, I should have been punished with a death sentence by law, but I have been living a surreptitious, shameful life without the courage to face my conscience. Recently, the two daughters of my friend were raped and murdered. His first daughter was stalked by a bad guy when she fell behind her group on a graduation celebration trip; she died a tragic death. His second daughter was on her way home from her evening school when someone kidnapped her near their house; she was taken to a secluded spot, raped, and cut up; it was even more horrifying. I asked, “So you are beginning to be fearful?” He replied, “I think of my friend’s daughters, and then I think of my daughters. It may be my family’s turn next. How can I have the heart to cause my daughters to die innocently because of my crime? I know that a life should be paid for with a life, and I am prepared to pay. I only hope that the two young women won’t take away my daughters. I ma prepared to be executed for atonement. At this, tears were running down my face, and he was crying too. I asked the chief warden to take him back to his cell. I couldn’t stop crying by myself. I decided to grant him his wish and I asked my colleagues to investigate no more. After Mr. Lai was executed, his family instantly plunged into financial difficulties. Before the execution, I had told him, “Please rest in peace.” He died a peaceful, calm death. I had a meeting with my friends and made plans to help his wife start a little business and help his three kids until graduation. His youngest daughter went abroad for a doctorate degree. (Now all of them should be in their fifties.) Since all the three children were independent, I felt I had fulfilled my responsibilities and cut off any further contact. The three children couldn’t let go of their father’s death sentence and they couldn’t forgive me, harboring the indissoluble enmity. I accept their hatred and I never defend myself. One day, they will grow up to be more understanding. Everyone has trips and falls. We must pick ourselves up where we fall. We must courageously face it and we must not run away. (The name of Mr. Lai was a pseudonym. Everyone has dignity, which can’t be violated, not even someone on the death roll. His children are all hardworking, and they shouldn’t be hurt. Whether you know the real name or not, you don’t have the right to tell it to anyone.) Notes Before the execution, Mr. Lai had left three letters, one to his family, one to his friend in Gao Xiong, and the last to a colleague of his. His wife later told me that the friend in Gao Xiong still refused to turn himself in; one day he was at a karaoke when he was shot dead by a bullet during a brawl between two gangs. Lai had known that the murder was committed by a young colleague of his, who also took all the money from the victim. Mr. Lai’s wife told me that the colleague’s mom was a widow; his father had died in a car accident before he was born. The colleague’s father was the only son, so was the grandfather; the grandfather had died young, leaving his grandma all by herself. In all the three generations, there has been one male to carry the family name torch. Therefore, Mr. Law was willing to take the place of the colleague and turn himself in, with no regrets. The case in Gao Xiong was not covered by us, so we had no right for inquiry. Lai’s children once asked me, “Auntie, why did our father have to die?” I always told them, “Your dad wanted to save a young man’s life and die for him.” I can’t allow the glorious image of their father to be destroyed. I insist on maintaining the image of a great father in the eye of the three children and letting them continue their pride in their father, so they can stand up with no shame, in public or behind doors. Mr’s Lai’s case would have been hard to overturn due to the solid crime evidence at the time, so no one felt sure about it. Moreover, Mr. Lai himself did not want to live, so even a deity wouldn’t be able to save him. He wanted to kill two birds with one stone, saving his daughters by paying for his own crime and saving his colleague’s family name torch. It made sense, and his death was worthy with no regrets. His three children felt that I went out of my way to bring them up because I had made a mistake in their father’s sentencing; all I did was to ease my conscience. The Bible says, “My Lord! Please forgive them because they don’t know what they are doing.” Who Can Wake up First from a Dream? This happened long ago, so it should be OK to make it public. About 30 years ago, our country was under the rule of dictatorship and our top leader was upheld as a deity. We were forbidden to talk about any superstitious ghosts and spirits that couldn’t be verified; nor were we allowed to mention any geomatic Feng Shui or reincarnation. Everything had to be verified by science. I was sent to work in Ji Long. It was a robust seaport and there were people from different countries. Dancing halls, bars, and cafes were everywhere, so there were all kinds of public security offenses and crimes, and what not. I was the only one among my colleagues who was religious. In my daily life, I adhered to the precepts for every matter, big or small; I never dared to be careless. During a nap time, I had a dream: A young woman was standing in front of a house which looked like a dorm. I saw clearly the address behind her. She was crying bitterly and she kept gazing at me, with the look of asking me for a favor. Shortly afterwards, she let out a horrifying cry and her body exploded into pieces; it was frightening. I dream a lot and it is often a random, senseless dream; therefore, I usually don’t take my dreams serious and I put them out of my mind. However, after that day, I kept having the same dream and seeing the same scenes. I was so fed up and scared that I almost did not dare to take a nap alone in my office. Every time I closed my eyes, she would appear, the images getting clearer day by day. I told this to some older colleagues. They all told me not to worry about it. It was nothing. What was puzzling was this: how can anyone have the same dream at the same time of the day for seven, eight days in a row? Finally, I reported to my supervisor and asked if there was nothing special about it. After all, I was too young and inexperienced. My supervisor said, “Isn’t there an address in your dream? Why don’t you take a couple of your colleagues there and check it out. Maybe you will figure it all out. What’s the point of trying behind the closed doors?” He was very friendly to me and he trusted me, so he assigned this to me as a serious task. We followed the address and found the house in my dream. There was really that house, exactly like the one in my dream. Judging by this, the young woman in my dream must also be real; she must exist. Because the house looked like a public dorm, we had to have a search warrant per regulations. How could we have a search warrant since all we were going by was a series of dreams? We politely asked the owner and he told us it was not a public dorm; it was a residential house and there were no civil servers living there. We felt at ease. We showed him our IDs and told him politely why we were there; it was just a preliminary visit and we did not have enough records yet to proceed to the legal procedure; he could decline our visit if he wanted to. To our surprise, the owner of the house was very simple-minded and kind; he was willing to cooperate with us and help us. He also told us that he had just got the house from a Mr. Cui not long ago through a broker; the information about Mr. Cui could be found on the brokerage record. We contacted the broker and we were told that Mr. Cui had emigrated to USA long ago. I secretly consulted a colleague: Is it OK to search a house on the basis of some dreams? The good thing was that the house owner was helpful and cooperative. He showed us one room after another, but we didn’t see anything unusual, nothing. We were disappointed and went back to our office. We gave a detailed report to our supervisor. I said, “The house in my dreams really exists, at the same address and with the same appearance; there is no mistake at all. But why can’t we find the young woman I saw in my dream? Who is she? Where is she?” My supervisor said, “Take your time. When the time is right, everything will be clear. Maybe that young woman has some secrets and does not want to show up yet. What is certain is that she must have some wrongs that she wants us to correct for her. Don’t give up. Try harder. Keep it up.” But I didn’t know what to do next. It was embarrassing to admit that we still made no progress after trying for nearly half a month. I felt guilty towards my colleagues, and I wanted to forget about it because it was just a bunch of illusive dreams. My supervisor, on the contrary, encouraged me to keep trying; he never said a word of blame. The next day, I again asked the supervisor to send two male colleagues with me to the scene. I asked the owner whether there was a young woman living in the basement. The owner was surprised; there was no basement. He showed us the house title and layouts so we could see the whole structure print; there was no basement indeed. Again, I was disappointed and went back to my office; again I shamefully reported to my supervisor that we did not make any progress. He said, “Are you sure there is no basement? Are you sure no one lives there?” One of the colleagues had sort of an enlightenment and said, “We will take more people with us tomorrow. We will all think hard.” The following morning, more of us took off. We had two goals: To see if there is a basement To see if anyone lives in the basement When we got there, we asked the owner to show us the room one by one again. It was an old house, but the living-room was renovated very nicely, and the cement on the floor was new, too. A colleague said, “The cement floor is new. Why is this floor only renovated while the other floors are all worn out with no renovation at all?” We asked the owner to give us permission to bring workers the next day and open the cement floor; we felt there was something unusual about that floor. When we got back to the office, I reported all the details to my supervisor and asked him how to proceed. He made out an official search warrant and went to the scene with us. He said, “There must be some secret below the cement floor. It may be a basement or a skeleton in the closet.” That day, we followed the legal steps and opened the newly-laid cement floor; after digging 5 or 6 feet down, there appeared two big metal storage barrels, covered and sealed. We got the owner over for explanations; he said he knew nothing about it and he did not know what was in the barrels. We notified authorities for a collective opening and inspection, in case anything might be overlooked. The two barrels were opened. To everyone’s dismay, there were piles of flesh pieces, and they did not seem to have rotted. We had the forensic expert and his assistants piece the flesh bits in the shape of a person; it was complete, but the head was missing. We tried to arrest the suspect, but he had emigrated to USA. What could we do? The supervisor said, “There’s nothing we can do.” At this, we were really frustrated; not only were we unable to arrest the suspect but also we had no clue who the victim was. We were all stuck. Several months later, some drug dealers were caught at the Ji Long Customs and the leader was dispatched to us. At the jail, the drug dealer somehow was frightened to death whenever night fell and he would cry loudly and miserably. He would be shouting, “Help! Someone is killing me. Someone is killing me!” It was said that a head would appear at night and fly around, glaring at him, sticking its tongue sometimes, spitting, and cursing non-stop. The supervisor said, “Maybe he has something to do with the murder case. Take him to the freezer storage and show him the body; then take him to that house and pay attention to his reactions. Ask the house owner to see if the previous owner was this man.” When the man saw the body that was pieced together, he immediately knelt on his knees. Later when he was taken to the basement, he was so frightened that he began to talk nonsense, as if he were possessed. Heaven is always watching and Heaven never misses anything. The murder case was solved. The head was found, and it was the head of the young woman in my dream. She used to be the leading dancer in a ballroom. She was killed because she knew some drug dealing secrets. The whole case was finally wrapped up. The murderer was not only a drug dealer but also a murderer who cut up a body; he was just too cruel. He was executed after trials. The case was solved not though our efforts but through the victim appearing in my dreams. Scriptures say, “Any crime method, no matter how thoroughly it was executed, there must be some loopholes; therefore, don’t take a chance and break laws.” “Whatever you know, Heaven also knows, unless you yourself don’t know.” The account here may not match the public file 100%. It has to be so. Please pardon me. Fulfillment of the Way Earns the Respect of Ghosts and Deities A big fire broke out on Democracy Street in Tai Zhong. The houses were all engulfed in flames. A woman rushed out of the flames with a child in her arms; she put the child on the ground and then ran back into the fire. Within a few minutes, she ran out of the inferno with another child; she put down the child and then ran back into the fire. Again, within a few minutes, she ran out of the fire, with another child; she placed the child on the ground and turned around immediately. At the time, the fire was extremely ferocious; no matter who was close would absolutely die. People saw her running back into the fire and screamed, “Stop her! Stop her!” Instantly, two, three firefighters rushed to the front, stopped her, and held her from behind. “Bang!” her hands snapped off; the flesh and skin fell off her bones. “Bang!” the woman fell to the ground. The amazing thing occurred. The woman’s hair turned into ashes and all instantly fell to the ground.Her clothes also turned into ashes and fell off her, leaving her completely naked. The first-aid people rushed over. To everyone’s surprise, her flesh turned to pulps upon the first touch; it had been roasted by the fire, with no raw flesh of a living person. Many people cried. What a pitiable mom! She died while saving her children. The forensic doctor said, “Did you say she was stopped by all of you while running back into the fire?” A few firefighters said, “Yes, indeed.” The doctor said, “How could a roasted person still run? She had been roasted in the fire long ago!” Later when they were clearing the scene, they found one child had died. The onlookers and the firefighters all felt guilty, “Why did we stop her? She could have saved the last child. She was already roasted anyway, and it would make no difference if she ran into the fire a couple more times.” Then, someone asked out of curiosity, “She was dead the first time she ran out of the fire. Then the second time and third time she ran back into the fire, was she really dead? Was she really a dead person?” All the children she saved were pulled out of the inferno, but none had any burns. How in the world was she able to protect them? Her hair and clothes had all burned up into ashes; why did everything look fine before she fell? There were many questions; we could only ask Heaven. We are all very “scientific”; how could we find answers? This couldn’t be explained by science. Reality or Illusion, a Shadow Follows. At the culvert, someone smelled stench; it seemed there was a body rotting in it. At first, people thought it might be a dead cat or dog, but it was not very likely to be a cat because the locals had the tradition of hanging a dead cat on a tree and leaving a dead dog in running water. At the opening of the culvert, a pile of white tiny moving things were flowing out, lots of them. The onlookers said, “They are maggots!” A brave soul stuck his head into the culvert and immediately covered his nose and backed out; he kept throwing up. He said: There is a pile of bones; it was a human body. The bones have fallen apart and they are scattered by the water. The cops hurriedly cordoned off the scene to prevent the onlookers from destroying any evidence. The forensic doctor came. He put on his gloves and head covering. The culvert was a mess because it had not been in use for a long time. The doctor was a well respected Holmes; he was very experienced; he was our hope. However, in the face of the white bone pile, he was at a loss; he shook his head. He said, “It ought to be a man, middle-aged. I don’t know anything else.” He decided to take the body to a funeral home first and then go from there. This case got stuck, and all efforts stopped. Could it be a murder case? Or did he fall into water by accident? Being so rotten, could it remain a cold case forever? About eight months later (I was not very sure because it has been a long time.), an exhausted man came to the police station and asked the police to help him; he turned himself in. These past days, he was at the brink of collapsing. The police took some notes of his interrogation and then sent him over to our investigation department for more questions. He said, “I killed a good friend of mine about ten months ago. Before that, we had jointly bought a lottery ticket and won a large sum; we were supposed to split in half according to our agreement. But I was in need of lots of money at the time; I asked him to lend his half to me and I promised to return it to him once I turned things around. Nonetheless, he refused to do me the favor. As a matter of fact, he was a big boss and did not need the money at all. He was too merciless. So I invited him over with the pretext of a celebration; I made his drunk and then dragged him to the culvert, left him inside it, covered the openings with rocks so that water would rise and drown him and that his body wouldn’t be washed out. I asked, “With no loopholes, it can be said that even ghosts knew nothing about it. Why are you here to turn yourself in?” He replied, “If I don’t turn myself in, I will die without a burial ground.” I was surprised, “Why? Is it that serious?” He replied, “More than serious. It is inconceivable!” I asked, “What happened?” He said, “Let me tell you everything.” “The first half year after I killed him, no matter where I was, everyone saw another man following me, a party of two. For example, before boarding a train, I was by myself, but the the clerk at the ticket window asked me to buy two tickets; then the conductor also asked me to show the ticket for the person next to me. I was sitting there all by myself, but nobody would ever sit on the seat next to me. They saw it clearly; there was a quiet man of no words next to me. When I went to eat at a restaurant, the waiter said there were two of us. I took a cab and I was alone, but the driver said that there were two of us. I went home and my wife and my children said another person came in with me. I went to bed and another person lay beside me. How could my wife and children take it? Even when I took a shower, a strange person would stand in the bathroom. It turned my house upside down. My family members were all terrified. Everyone could see that person except me. Who was that person? I dragged my feet miserably for half a year, and then the person suddenly disappeared. But then I started to have illusions and I was not able to tell what was real and what was false. When I was waiting for a train on a platform, I would clearly see the train approaching; then I stepped onto the train only to find myself falling down to the rails. The railroad police helped me to my feet, but I wondered why I had clearly seen the train approaching and then the train was nowhere to be seen. Several times, I fell off to the rails as a result of illusion. I didn’t know how to tell if it was an illusion or reality. When I drove, I saw clearly a wide road and I drove only to plunge into a river. Sometimes, I clearly entered a shop only to find myself falling into a ditch. I no longer knew whether what I was seeing was real or false. I no longer knew what danger was lurking ahead when I stepped forward. Every time I sat down to eat, I saw maggots crawling in my bowls; how could I eat anything? But how could I survive if I didn’t eat? So, I am willing to turn myself in and accept legal punishments.” It all sounded inconceivable to me. Indeed, the Heaven net is vast and catches everything despite the net holes. Later, I took him to the scene for a simulation of the crime. I still don’t know who cracked the case of the murder. Was it the victim? But wasn’t he already dead? Wasn’t he rotten so badly with all the bones falling apart? Is a person really dead after death? Notes The suspect said: the victim told him in the dream that he would have to eat up all the maggots one by by. When the victim was following the suspect, everyone but the suspect could see him. Then, no one else but the suspect could see the maggots in his bowl. Friendship in Life and in Death A classmate of mine from college had liver caner and was hospitalized in Taiwan General Hospital. They said he had no more than three months to live. I went over to keep him company and take care of him. One day, I went to visit him after work because his family told me that he was getting worse. Maybe, one would feel worse and worse after being confined to a ward too long. I felt that he would feel better if I wheeled him out to the courtyard. When I was wheeling him out of his room, he told me in a serious tone, “The patient OOO at the OOO bed and the patient OOO at the OOO bed told me yesterday that they are coming to have a chat with me around 5 this afternoon. I am afraid that they can’t find me if we go down to the yard.” I said, “Don’t worry. I will leave a note with the nurse.” I left the bed number and his name with the nurse on duty and told her to pass the message in case we might come back late and she agreed. After about 40 minutes, my classmate kept asking to go back to his room. He was afraid that the visitors might not be able to find him. Finally, I wheeled him up. When we were passing the nurse station, the nurse told me to wheel him back to his room and then come to see her. I wheeled my classmate back to his room and then went to see the nurse. She had a look of terror and she whispered, “Miss, the two names you gave me and their bed numbers were all correct, but one of them died three years ago and the other died even earlier, five years ago.” I felt cold. What should I tell my classmate? I was thinking on my way back to his room. When I got back, I saw him chatting with two other friends joyfully. I did not want to interrupt them, so I said bye and left. I asked the nurse, “Do you people with modern science education believe that a person is really dead after death?” A doctor signaled me to the door and said, “Your classmate has no more than one month to live. You need to be prepared.” I replied, “Got it. Thanks.” I went back to his room, feeling sad. I had thought he might ask me what the doctor had told me, but he did not; instead, he asked, “Can you do me a favor?” I said “Certainly. What can I do for you?” Knowing that he had no more than 4 weeks left, I would do any favor he asked, no matter how difficult it might be. He said, “This afternoon when I was in the yard enjoying the flowers, I ran across a woman who was very sick and her family had spent all their money on her. Next month, her three children will need to register for classes, but she can no longer support them. She hopes that I can lend her some money and pass it to her children. Her address is OOO and her name is OOO. I noted down the address and the name. Early the next morning, I took about 100,000 dollars and went to look for the address and the woman’s three children. The neighbors said, “They moved away long ago.” I asked, “Do any of you know their new address?” The leader in the neighborhood kindly wrote down the address for me. I immediately went to the new address, “Excuse me, does Ms. OOO live here?” “That’s my mom. She passed away in Taiwan General Hospital 6 years ago. What can I do for you?” “A classmate of mine is hospitalized in Taiwan General Hospital, and he knows her. Yesterday afternoon, your mom asked my classmate for a loan and told him that her three children will register for classes next month. My classmate told me to send you the money right away. Are your names OOO, OOO and OOO?” “Yes. One is my sister, another is my brother. But all three of us graduated several years ago and we don’t need to register for classes any more. How could this be?” I said, “Maybe my classmate made a mistake. I am so sorry.” A day later, I went to see my classmate. He was worried and kept asking me if I had sent them the money. I said, “I went over early yesterday morning. I met the children and settled everything. Please don’t worry.” He said, “Can you do me another favor and go to the yard and tell this to the woman so she won’t be worried anymore?” I said, “I don’t know her and can not tell who she is. You can tell her when you see her.” I really felt that my classmate had little time left. Everyone he had many friends visiting him, but I could see none. I could tell it was his time. But what could I do except weeping behind his back? What could I say? The good thing was that people are still around three, five years after death. Will my classmate be really dead after death? Notes: Just as the doctors’ prognoses, my classmate passed away shortly after. I took his body to the cremation center and saw him cremated. He left behind 4 hundred million dollars with his wife and children in USA, and all he got was a marble jar of ashes and a small burial place. If what one needs is really this little, what is the point of doing so many wrong things and cutting one’s life short and dying so prematurely? He died such a sad, miserable death. A dying person seems to have visitors from the netherworld, who will guide the dying person on the final stretch in this world. This way, he/she won’t be lost on the way to Heaven. If those people were really dead, how could this be possible?” My classmate used to laugh at me and call me a scavenger and a beggar; he used to live a life of extravagance and luxury. I used to tell him that my master had me follow Buddhist precepts and eat what no one else would eat, wear what no one else would wear, save whoever no one else would save, and do whatever no one else would do. So, I have been wearing poor clothes all my life. As for my income, I believed that all the money, except for the daily necessity expenses, belonged to Heaven and Earth. I have never spent even a cent on myself. I have spent almost all the money on Buddha, deities, God, St. Mary, and all the suffering beings. I have never made plans for my own benefits. Lots of my college classmates had so much money but a short life. Because I am a Buddhist, their families often ask me to make the funeral arrangements. I told the children of that woman that they needed to let their mom know next time they moved. The children asked me, “My mom has been dead so long; how do I tell her?” I said, “Your mom is always in you heart; how can she be dead? You must let your mom know about graduation, careers, relationships, marriages, and such major events.” Her children asked again, “Where do we go to tell my mom?” I said, “At her grave.” I told them that a person is never dead; he/she is in another world. There is only a thin film between this world and the netherworld. So very far is very near. Don’t look at a person as being dead after death. Whether your naked eyes can see or not, the person is sure to be alive and will surely meet you sometime later. Maybe, you can talk with that person through the medium of a dying relative; then you will be surprised that there are dead people among us living people. A Hero in Life and a Sage after Death This happened long ago. My aunt’s husband was one of the several famous calligraphy artists, he was also good at meditation and alchemy. Still, he was old and he died. My aunt left his body at the funeral home, to be moved out for the memorial. Few cared about his body, and few cared about his widow’s life after his passing; they were all busy grabbing my uncle’s artwork, whether it was finished or half finished. My aunt cared about her husband, but those people did not care about him; they cared about his artwork. My aunt felt lonely, but when a tree falls, the monkeys on it disperse; no one cared about her anymore. There were many people who were busy with the memorial event; they used my uncle’s name and tried to pull strings everywhere. So, there were countless memorial groups, and the people who signed up for the memorial were countless. My aunt said that she didn’t have a say about the memorial even though it was her husband; what kind of world was this? The memorial committee finally decided on a date and notified my aunt to get his body to the memorial location without any delay. Before the memorial, my aunt got to the funeral home, asked the morticians to locate his body and thaw it. Strangely, they searched through all the bodies but couldn’t find his body. They looked for it all day but still couldn’t find it. We were anxious. The morticians tried to reassure us, “Don’t worry. In case we can’t find it, we will give you a body in the similar shape. His body might have been taken away by someone else by mistake.” Just then, a crowd of villagers came in. They had a memorial that afternoon and they had been looking for the body of their loved one since early morning, to no avail. The morticians said, “There’s a body in the corner. They say it is the body of a little-known hoodlum that was shot. We felt such a person was of no significance, so we just left it there.” The morticians all went to search for it and the villagers helped to identify the body. They looked all over the morgue but did find the body. The morticians said, “According to your account of the age and the look, it might have been confused with the National Representative OOO, whose body is at the memorial at OO hall. After the memorial, we will take you there for an identification check before the burial.” I had never been to a grand memorial; out of curiosity, I followed the villagers to OO hall to take a look and identify the body afterwards. After all, my uncle’s body was missing; I could incidentally check if it was his body. My aunt said, “It’s a good idea.” The hall was so grand. It was so pompous as to be dizzying; all the villagers had their jaws dropped. It was so super and extravagant. First, the president, then the vice president, then the ministers of the five ministries, then chiefs of all departments, national representatives, legislators, judges, representatives from all the counties… filed one after another. It was a huge congregation; all those who were supposed to be there were there. I thought: This person must be great. Finally, the farewell ceremony was over. All the big shots, high and low, left after paying their respect. One minute the hall was full and the next minute it was empty. The morticians came in to explain the situation to the family and then brought the villagers in to look closely at the body. For real, the morticians had made a mistake. The body that had received the memorial ceremony was the body for the villagers. When the workers wheeled the body that had been left in the corner, the family in the memorial hall let out a cry of surprise, “This body belongs to us!” The morticians told the villagers, “When we dispatch bodies, we are usually very careful. Because he was a National Representative, he ought to have the aura of dignity from correcting wrongs for the people. When we were cleaning this body, we found it respectable, but we found the other body was insignificant and we thought it must be the body of a hoodlum. Therefore, after some comparison, we decided to bring this body to the memorial hall. We didn’t know that was a mistake.” I was taken aback. There must be something great to a body that had received the high respect from civil and military officials. This couldn’t be a coincidence! The villagers said, “What a worthy death!” They told me about him. “He was a high ranking gang leader in a big city. Later, out of gang creed, he went to prison in place of his friend. He suffered a lot. Then he was set free upon completion of his sentence. During his prison time, he got to know a good friend, who taught him the principles of life; he transformed completely. This was indeed ‘let go of yesterday and start today anew’. He gave up all he had built from those years of hard work and came back to his hometown to live a simple life. Every day, he helped others till the land, grow crops, and harvest crops. He worked hard and earned money the right way. He was like a guardian to the villagers. Whenever a villager had any difficulties, he would never refuse to help if he could lend a hand. He would never see the villagers bullied or coerced. Because he used to be a high ranking gang leader, all the villagers lived and worked peacefully under his protective wings. About a month ago, an elementary school student was kidnapped, and the ransom was enormous. He put his life on the line and negotiated with the kidnappers; he made efforts to save the student. He took a briefcase of ransom money over and redeemed the student. But the kidnapper found the ransom to be counterfeit and they shot him. When he was breathing his last breath, we rushed him to Taipei, hoping that a big hospital could save him. But he died anyway. He was the guardian in the eyes of all the villagers. We bought a very good burial ground for him and we also plan to build a memorial temple for him. This time, villagers from several neighboring villages took a tour bus here; we are excited and grateful to him and we want to say goodbye to him.” I cried all the time, and the villagers were crying. I thought, “Is the person really dead? Can he be dead? Will he live in the hearts of the villagers forever? Do you really think that a person is really dead after death?” Notes If it was not the hand of Heaven, it was not common for the funeral home’s operation to make a mistake. It is true that the latter half of one’s life determines one’s life. Maybe the past was full of unspeakable things; but the man who radiated aura of dignity and righteousness at death and earned everyone’s respect was no doubt a great practitioner (of The Way). On his deathbed, he urged his gang brothers again and again not to revenge him. His wish was to clear all the grudges. Someone is still alive but seems dead; someone is dead but still lives. There is no coincidence in the world. Everything happens for a reason. That day’s grand memorial was what this person was worthy of. It was the highest honor for a gang brother. Heaven is Silent; Earth is Silent; yet Both Convey Thousands of Words. We got a tip that someone drowned himself in the ocean with his hands tied at the back. We couldn’t find any remnants or suicide notes, and there was no ID on the body. So, we decided to freeze the body and leave it in the funeral home temporally. About 4 days later, we got a registered letter. We opened it and found it was a suicide letter, from a construction contractor. He couldn’t take the commissioner’s extortion any longer; in despair, he chose to take his own life in the ocean. I thought this must be the man whose body was found in the ocean a few days before. I contacted the general manager of the construction company and the contractor’s wife to come and identify the body. The company had contracted the construction of the library and the science building for an all-girl high school; the construction was almost completed, with only the inspection to be conducted. The director of the high school blackmailed a huge sum of bribe to the contractor; the sum was greedily gigantic. If the library and the science building failed the inspection, they would have to be torn down and rebuilt. The inspection was subjective; so the director, with “the power of life and death”, was very powerful. The old saying goes, “If you want to incriminate someone, you can always find charges.” If the eye was fixed on finding faults, an inspection would fail. Therefore, as long as someone gave a price, no one dared not to pay, unless you didn’t want to live. The contractor had invested all his money in the construction of the library and the science building; if they were to be demolished, all would be going down the drain and the materials left would be a mere pile of useless trash. Furthermore, it would cost lots of money to pay workers to demolish the constructions. The worst part was that a contractor couldn’t get paid in case of a failed inspection and he would also be fined several times liquidated damages. Thus, what was the alternative but suicide? I was very sad to hear that. I was shocked at the power of a director at a public institution. I asked the director to meet me. He said that it was all business; as long as a contractor followed the blueprint , the construction would surely pass an inspection. As far as requesting a large sum of money from the contractor, he categorically denied and he insisted on face-to-face cross examination with the contractor. I said, “The contractor is dead. He left a suicide letter which explains all this.” He took the letter and read it again and again, very angry. Why did the contractor frame him like that? He must have been too strict and thus offended the contractor. I wrote down the notes of his statements, but there was nothing I could do about him. After all, the contractor had died; we had no evidence to verify the director’s statements. A month went by fast. It was time for the inspection of the library and the science building. The construction company knew the director wouldn’t let go of them, not to mention that they had reported his despicable deeds to authorities and thus had offended him. One night, a hurricane hit Taiwan. The whole island was at the mercy of the terrifying storm, and an earthquake of a great magnitude doubled the blow. My colleagues and I were stationed in the Hurricane Prevention Center, worried that some old buildings might collapse and harm people. I wondered if the new library and the science build could survive the storm. They really had no luck to encounter such a storm and earthquake before the inspection. It was after ten that night when we got a 911 call: someone at the all-girl high school was cut by a metal sheet blown off a roof; he was lying on the ground in critical condition. We called for an ambulance and got to the scene. There was a middle-aged man lying on the ground. It was completely dark; there seemed to be a power outage. We turned on the emergency light and took a close look, “How come the head was cut in two, with the brains all scattered?” The first-aid workers turned the man over and pieced the head together. I was taken aback, “How come it was the director?” The high school said that the director was walking around to check things out during the storm and see if doors and windows were secure when he got hit in the head by the metal sheet off the roof. The sheet was made of horseshoe iron, customized for roofs; it was very thin and sharp. The forensic doctor inspected the body and then had it taken to the funeral home. On the way, I kept thinking, “What a coincidence! Right before the inspection, here comes a big storm and an earthquake and the director’s head is cut in half by a metal sheet that came from nowhere!” I strongly believed that there was an invisible hand at work. How about you? Do you believe that the construction contractor was really dead after he was drowned in the ocean? Once someone dies, is his/her spirit, ghost really gone, too?” If it were really the case, then kind people would have no more offspring in this world. On the inspection day, the headmaster was very fair, and the experts and civil engineers from the Inspection Committee were present. The constructions passed inspection. In particular, the buildings stood the test of a hurricane and an earthquake, and it was proof that there were no cut-corners or mistakes. The wife of the contractor and the company’s general manager and other mangers were very thankful for us authorities upholding justice. I told them to be confident of our country’s laws. The case finally closed, for now. One day, a middle-aged woman asked to see me in my office. She said she was the wife of the director at the high school. I asked a colleague to go with me and meet her. It turned out that her family plunged into hardships right after the death of the director; they couldn’t even afford a funeral. She was crying bitterly. I asked, “Didn’t your husband leave behind any money?” She said, “No.” “What about his salary as the director?” She answered, “Maybe he lost it all to gambling.” I was sad to hear that. Wasn’t the director position well paying? How come he was that poor? I got three months’ advance payment of my salary on the spot and gave it to her for her husband’s funeral. She said, “I have three children to raise. I don’t know what to do.” As a matter of fact, my hands were tied. The pay of a civil server was not much; plus, I was always minding others’ business, donating here and there; I was almost living beyond my means. I said, “Let me ask our manager to find a job for you; it shouldn’t be a problem. Before you can find a job, I can help you with some money each month; Is this OK?” She kept crying; she couldn’t say a word. Later on, our manager got a job for her near the school, and the pay was enough to feed them; along with the public subsidies, she was able to raise the three children, even though it was hard. The three children were not easy to raise; they often fell sick, costing me a lot of money. In order to help the poor family, I wrote for some big newspapers and also translated world-famous classics; I would be writing until daybreak. That was all I could do. 20 years later, was the cursed family still living in misery? I moved away because of my work and lost touch with them. Nobody had high hopes of the three children. How good could a bad guy’s children be? Doesn’t the saying go, “An apple does not fall far from the tree”? I always believed, “Punishments should only go to the offender.” The dad was bad, but that was his fault only and he was cut to death by the metal sheet. It could be said that it served him right and he paid for his crime. My affection to the three children caused lots of gossips from the locals, but I had my own thoughts. I told those dissenters, “Shouldn’t we pay more attention to bad guy’s children and nurture them well? Doesn’t the saying go, “A black hen can lay a white egg”? One day, a client of mine wanted to have an office building; he asked me to go with him to sign the contract with the construction company. The client wanted the construction company to customize the building to his company’s preference, so we went to the construction site to check out the finished units. When we got to the guestroom of the construction company, they brought the site manager over to explain to us the layout of the buildings under construction so that my client could choose one. The manager came in. He kept looking at me; then he shouted, “Auntie! It’s you!” I was at a loss. I asked, “Who are you?” He said, “I am the son of the All-girl High School director. I am the first son; my name is OOO.” I remembered, “You’re so grown up!” He immediately called his mom and his siblings and told them to take a cab and come to the guestroom right away. Shortly afterwards, an old woman in her late 70s came in. I stared at her; she looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember. She fixed her eyes on me. All of a sudden, she knelt on her knees and bowed to me; she was crying, unable to say anything. This was all too sudden; I was taken aback and did not know what to do. I took a quick step over and pulled her up. She told me that none of her three children got on the wrong track. The first son was the manager at the construction site, the second son was an architect, and the third one was a banker. I remembered I used to take them to Yuan Shan Zoo, children’s amusement parks, and tours during vacations. Now they were all grownups, with good careers and good families. I was very relieved. She also told me that all the three children set up a longevity tablet for me and they had the daily habit of kneeling three times and bowing nine times; they would also burn incense for me to thank me and to pray for my health. I was embarrassed. How could I deserve all that? About a week later, the woman invited me over to her home at weekends. She called her children and grandchildren and in-laws all back home to kneel and thank me one by one. I asked them not to torture me like that because I really did not deserve it. But they insisted and would not stop no matter how I protested. In my life, I may have had compassion and helped some helpless poor families in my small ways from time to time, but I have never expected any gratitude; I have always forgot about it, leaving no trace. I always feel that I am only doing my duty and there is no need to stay in touch. I also wanted them to “Let bygones be bygones.” As far as “owing to me”; there is absolutely no need, for deities have bestowed all on me. Notes Heaven is silent and Earth is silent, yet both convey thousands of words. Heaven and Earth will not tolerate bad guys bullying good people; neither do Heaven and Earth turn a blind eye to good people’s sufferings. In-Laws in Life and After Death My Tainan mom was the mom of my college classmate. When I was an unknown journalist in Tainan, she loved me like her own daughter. In my mind, she was also my own mom, and her first daughter was also my own sister. My sister lived in a village near Bai River in Tainan. My brother-in-law liked hunting; he had three designer brand shotguns, made in West Germany, France and Britain. The six hunting dogs were outstanding. When I was working there, I would follow my classmate and go with our brother-in-law out of curiosity on his hunting trips for pheasants, rabbits, turtledoves, and sparrows. However, whenever I saw the game’s intestines pierced, I would be scared to tears at the horrifying death images. My sister’s mother-in-law was a devout Buddhist. She adamantly objected his hunting and would urge him earnestly, “Please stop the cruel killing game. You see, your little sister is scared to tears. Think about it. Just one shot and all the birds in a tree fall off to death.” I have never killed anything since my childhood and I don’t dare to look at blood. The birds on the ground either bled from head injuries or had their brains scattered, or their intestines pierced. I enjoyed seeing the heroic image of a hunting dog chasing game on the plains, but I would worry that the game would be caught by the dogs. My sister’s mother-in-law felt the same as I did. Therefore, that was the pain in her heart. As for my classmate, he was a senior manager at a security company. Because of business socializing, he would get drunk almost every day. My Tainan dad was a drinker, but his stomach lining broke from too much drinking when he was about 54. One day after a drinking party, he threw up a lot of blood on the way home and died. Therefore, my Tainan mom did not like my classmate’s social life. She was worried that the tragedy might repeat itself. But my classmate would “do what the Romans do when in Rome”; he had never broken away from the life of getting drunk every night. With whom could my Tainan mom talk about her worries and pain? Year after year it went on, and she could no longer take it. At midnight, my Tainan mom called my sister’s mother-in-law. The two commiserated and decided to leave home together and cut loose the disobedient sons; maybe they could change and break the addictions. My sister heard their conversation, but how could she say anything? When it was nearly 9 o’clock the next morning, my sister had just sent off the kids to school and her husband to work when she saw my Tainan mom coming to her home. My sister called “Mom. It’s so early. Where are you going?” My Tainan mom had a mysterious look and did not say anything. Instantly, my sister’s mother-in-law came out. The two held hands and left. My sister called out, “Where are you going? Come home for lunch later!” But the two of them just left in a hurry. At lunch time, my sister saw that her mother-in-law and her mom still hadn’t come back. They waited for the two until the food was getting cold. She began to worry if the two had lost their way, so she made a few calls to all the relatives and friends, but nobody knew their whereabouts. My sister had no choice but to call my classmate, “Mom came over early morning and left with my mother-in-law; they are still not back. Do you know where they went? I have called up all relatives and friends but nobody knows where they are. I’m very worried.” My classmate said, “Sister, Mom passed away at 4 a.m. this morning. I have been calling you but the line was always busy.” My sister burst into tears; she felt it all too strange. Hurriedly she hung up and went to her mother-in-law’s room; she took a close look and found her mother-in-law dead long before. The forensic doctor said, “The death time was after 8, shortly before 9.” Just like this, my Tainan mom and my sister’s mother-in-law really left home. My brother-in-law no longer hunted. He gave all the three shotguns to the police and the hunting dogs to his friends. As for my classmate, he was climbing up the position rungs further and further, and he drank more and more often, and he drank more and more. Indeed, “When in Rome, do what the Romans do.” What could he do? I just don’t know where my Tainan mom and my sister’s mother-in-law went. How did my Tainan mom take a ride from Gaoxiong to Bai River in Tainan? The ride would take as long as four hours and she would have to connect on the way. Acknowledgement This booklet is an account of how I strove for 62 years for survival despite the torments from thalassemia. The chance of a patient with such a disease living to adulthood is 0%. I am blessed; I died several times but somehow survived each time. My body development was stalled for the first 28 years. I once took deadly poison; it was a desperate gamble because life for me was harder than death. Now I am 62 and I won’t die prematurely any more. I have a family and a good career. I was in pregnancy danger due to lack of blood and oxygen, yet I had five children. They all graduated from national or internationals colleges. My whole family is religious; we live a life of peace, equanimity, and auspiciousness; it is a life our relatives and friends envy. I am thankful to deities. I am thankful to the two Buddhas in my heart: my grandma and my mom. I owe the publication of this booklet to all the colleagues at Yi Xing Philanthropist Center. In the past few months, everyone spent money, labor, and time on it; they worked hard until late nights and dawns. I am deeply indebted and don’t know how to pay them back. My special thanks go to Miss Qiaoling Hong, the typist. She does not know me, yet she wholeheartedly typed the whole manuscript. I will never forget such kindness. May this booklet bring you some enlightenment and light up your life. 继续阅读 历史上的今天 4月 2 2022戒色一年回首 【感恩有您·与爱同行】：世间所有的相遇都是久别后的重逢，愿你我今生缘聚于此，精进修行，让生命的过程更加精彩，人生的结局更加圆满！我们真诚恳请您能够花一分钟时间将文章分享到您的圈子，它将改变许多人的命运，拯救无数生命，积累无量功德！谨以本站功德利益全部回向给阅读、转发、分享本文的所有有缘网友，回向给十方法界一切众生！ 15 登录收藏 http://www.xuefogm.com/11985.html 复制链接 复制链接 如是知识 寿命是一点一滴努力来的 寿命是自己一点一滴努力来的全文 寿命是自己一点一滴努力来的在线阅读 寿命是自己一点一滴努力来的的作者 天堂與地獄 福報就是這麼流走的，這些損福報的行為，你知道嗎？ 穿衣暴露的女性，极其耗损福报, 不旺夫，这是真的！ 这是一种轻度的诅咒，很多人却把它用在了最亲的人身上…… 为什么善良的人一生痛苦、磨难很多？看完震惊了… 掌握此文精髓，让你的命运从此跳出算命师的八字推理中！ 大的横财与财富都是前世或今世自己修来的！ 真正的贫穷不是没钱，是没福报！（内附增福的三大方法！） 深度长文：广行财布施才是赚钱必经之道–改造贫穷为富有之法！ 谁在吸你的能量？千万要注意远离！ 本文来源于读者投稿或者网络，版权归原作者所有。 上一篇 寿命是自己一点一滴努力来的 下一篇 读者投稿：一次放生后，梦见龙王给我扔财宝 如是知识 寿命是自己一点一滴努力来的 （更多…） 04月02日2,671寿命是一点一滴努力来的 寿命是自己一点一滴努力来的在线阅读评论 如是知识 天堂與地獄 有一個人，很想知道天堂與地獄分别；终有機會可到天堂及地獄遊歷。 他终於找到其分别處。原來天堂眾生吃飯時用筷子很長，他們是相互夾菜给對方。 而地獄的却用很短筷子，各人只顧自己吃飯，互不瞅睬。 他明白了，... 09月06日1,513天堂与地狱 如是知识评论 如是知识 福報就是這麼流走的，這些損福報的行為，你知道嗎？ 1、為什麼我們福報不具足呢？ 第一、人的福報本來就是有限的，如果加上拼命享受，福報將越來越小。我們所擁有的一切，包括車子、房子、飲食、衣服，都來自福報的轉化。 福報是無形的，但物質是有形的，無形可以轉... 08月19日1,383世间福报 折损福报评论 如是知识 穿衣暴露的女性，极其耗损福报, 不旺夫，这是真的！ 一个女人命好不好，从衣服就可以看出来。人的举止、服装、语言、动作都会暴露一个人的品位，身份。像禅师说的，不需要开口，走几步就知道你的境界几分。伪装不得。 女性贪图清凉，衣服越穿越露，这样的女人，不会旺... 04月23日1,739修婚姻福报 折损福报评论 推荐文章 当你还在破戒的时候，人家北大毕业了 3,310 24 题记—–今日起戒掉手淫，不再看黄色网站，让身心恢复本初的美好与纯净。 3,726 28 我决定公开这段特殊经历，让劝人堕胎者哑口无言 3,514 31 人最大的教养，是原谅父母的不完美。 5,933 32 热评文章 脑场爱能量公益讲座-李杲老师（全集） 02/24 19 王凤仪老人《不怨人》文字版 10/11 9 写给渴望改变命运网友的一封信（必读） 10/17 9 我们不愿面对的事实：牛奶正将人类推向癌症深渊 07/11 8 发表评论 匿名网友 填写信息 确定 取消 热门文章 在家里看黄片、黄色录像、淫色内容严重坏家里的风水！06/30112,224 《准提咒》原文及注音03/2187,447 深度长文：关于婚外恋（婚外情）的一切的危害、戒除和解脱，给你一个究竟的答案02/2352,023 秦东魁老师传统文化公益讲座全集07/2248,859 切莫在佛像、佛经寺院等地犯下手淫邪淫，其后果严重程度你无法想象！03/2842,175 女人念这部经的福报太大了！02/0639,054 读者墙 推荐栏目 因果实录 孝敬父母 李杲脑场 素食放生 如是微视 改变命运 邪淫必戒 如是知识 社会观察 站长微信 联系站长 关注我们 网站声明 万物如是网是一个纯公益性质的网站，旨在让徘徊在命运十字路口的有缘人能够在学习传统文化的过程中认识命运的本质，从而坦然面对命运，积极改造命运，解开宿命论的枷锁，创造美好的人生。 万物如是网@2015-2022 站长地图 登录 注册 找回密码 记住我的登录信息 HP 注册信息通过邮箱发给您 输入用户名或电子邮件 HP 重置密码链接通过邮箱发送给您 目录 繁 联系我们 1029108626 QQ在线咨询 微信 本页二维码 | negative |
WASHINGTON — Steve Bannon isn’t out to promote a socially conservative agenda on homosexuality, say writers who worked for him at Breitbart — but he does have an interest in attacking LGBT-rights advocates as a way of attacking the left.
This makes him an uncertain player in fights over LGBT rights inside the White House.
Just last month, President Trump announced that he would preserve an Obama-era executive order that bars federal contractors from discriminating against LGBT people. Ivanka Trump, Jared Kushner, and Gary Cohn reportedly helped kill efforts to install religious freedom exemptions — the kind that social conservatives like Vice President Mike Pence have pursued in recent years. Bannon, an integral White House adviser and strategist, was absent from many of these stories.
If the reports are correct, Steve Bannon — a lead architect of White House policy — appears to have sat on the sidelines of this discussion.
And that’s just where he’d want to be, speculated Thomas Williams, Breitbart’s editor in Rome.
“I don't think [Bannon] has very strong views on the question at all … I mean gay rights broadly,” said Williams, one of the major social conservative voices on the site. “Probably pushed to it, he would probably say I think it's gone too far, but he never pushes it, he never vocalizes it — it's just not on the top 10 list of things that he cares about.”
Neither Bannon nor White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer responded to request for comment for this story.
“It's just not one of the issues where he's going to go to the mat,” Williams said. “Regardless of his personal inclination on the issue ... you have to pick your battles and it's just not worth it.”
Williams joined Breitbart when Bannon decided to expand operations to cover the Vatican in 2014. Even then, say people involved in those efforts, Bannon seemed more interested in amplifying conservative Catholic voices in the service of what he described as a “global tea party movement” than bolstering social conservatives fighting internally to maintain a hard line on homosexuality under Pope Francis.
“I’d say that Steve Bannon … [is] always looking internationally to people that he can work with where there is mutual common interest,” said Benjamin Harnwell, who introduced Bannon to a leading conservative cardinal and later organized a conference in the Vatican where Bannon laid out his global vision in June 2014. “He was interested in amplifying the voice of a leading conservative.”
“I don’t think he wants to wade into” infights within the Catholic church, Harnwell said.
Austin Ruse, a long-time Catholic conservative activist who heads the Center for Family and Human Rights, and who started writing for Breitbart in 2013, said he thinks Bannon would feel strongly about cases like "if a Catholic NGO was made to" violate their beliefs in the name of honoring gay rights. But the editorial line at Breitbart was to attack LGBT rights activists, but not weigh into fights over homosexuality itself.
“The thing about Breitbart and LGBT — and this was discussed — we don’t want to be mean to gays; we want to expose them when they’re being bullies,” said Ruse, who recently left the site to write a book.
This may not have been the most natural fit for Ruse, who has lamented that conservatives have stopped campaigning against sodomy as a social ill or alleging a connection between homosexuality and pedophilia. But unlike older social conservative media, Ruse told BuzzFeed News, Breitbart wasn’t so concerned with fighting over the morality of homosexuality or even necessarily bolstering efforts to reverse marriage equality after the Supreme Court’s 2015 ruling. Instead, it was taking aim at what the site dubbed the “Big Gay Hate Machine” and LGBT rights organizations the site believes is out to get Christians and silence free speech.
“The big mission at Breitbart is to change the liberal narrative,” Ruse said, not “going after gays per se.” | positive |