View allAll Photos Tagged Unexplainable
Split Rock Lighthouse enshrouded in the mist from a storm that had just rolled in off of Lake Superior.
After a storm on Nov. 28, 1905 had damaged 29 ships, Congress authorized $70,000 to build a lighthouse and fog signal at Split Rock. The light station was completed in 1910.
The light was taken out of service in 1969 when modern navigation methods made it obsolete, but the 1,000 watt 3rd-order bivalve Fresnel lens beacon is lit once a year on November 10th to commemorate the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
I have made the beacon lighting ceremony the last two years, and I plan on going every year for as long as I can still make it. Yes, it's cold on the North Shore in November, but if you have a love of history, beauty, and a need for a sense of something unexplainable, the trip is well worth it!
Learn More about the history of the Split Rock light.
Another take on this scene seemingly lifted straight out of the old west. According to an old USGS topo map these ramshackle log cabin structures are in a place named Beals, but I've otherwise been unable to find any information whatsoever about this spot other than that name. So perhaps it was just a lonely ranch or maybe it is a ghost town with a hidden past. It is fun to imagine that perhaps Kid Curry passed this way to rendezvous with Butch and Sundance at Hole-in-the-Wall or maybe Ike Gravelle rode through on his way to blow up the NP's Yellowstone River bridge near Livingston or....you fill in your own wild west tale.
But even if it doesn't look like it at times, it's very much the 21st century as Montana Rail Link's 844 Logan Local is seen at about MP 5.4 on MRL's 6th Sub (Harrison Branch) rolling north (timetable east) through a classic western high plains landscape. They are dropping downgrade toward Antelope Creek which they'll follow back through a canyon that cuts through the London Hills on their return toward the 5th Sub (former NP passenger main) at Sappington. Leading the eight loaded covered hoppers are two classic EMD GP35s, MRL 403 and 401 blt. Dec 1964 as DRGW 3039 and Jan. 1964 as DTI 353 respectively.
Serving only one customer, this branch sees service once a week at most to reach the tiny country elevator at the end of the line. I can't verify the veracity of this claim, but I've been told by railroaders that the only reason this anachronism survives is that the owner of the Harrison Elevator Co. is an old friend of MRL's owner, billionaire industrialist Dennis Washington. If true it would certainly help to explain the otherwise unexplainable!
This branch itself was originally built to Harrison by a Northern Pacific subsidiary in 1889 and extended a year later another 10 miles or so to Norris. Additionally at Harrison another branch forked 7 miles west to a small mining area at Pony. This branch was cut back by the NP during WWII and the outer 10 miles of the main stem to Norris succumbed under BN in 1975 leaving what was left to pass to MRL in 1987.
As for the railroad itself, countless articles have been written about the MRL over the past 35 years of its existence and if you care to learn more download this great series courtesy of Trains Magazine:
www.trains.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/TRN-MRL.pdf
Madison County, Montana
Tueaday September 6, 2022
The ache is unbearable,the tears don't seem healing. I hoped again, loved again, only to have you taken away. This is unexplainable, lonely, isolating. No one can understand what you meant to us, what we hoped for and pictured for your life. You were like a seed that was planted and then washed away too soon.You never had the chance to grow and blossom. I felt you inside, you were there, you were growing. We lost you so quickly and now we just ache. We will always ache for you. To hold you, smell you, play with you, feed you, rock you, see you smile and giggle. You will always be our child, never to be forgotten. Though the world passes by so quickly, you will be a part of us forever.
Central Library, Edinburgh (Scotland)
_______________________________
Zenit 122 | Agfa 200 Vista Plus | Helios 44M-6 MC 58mm f/2
_________________________
I'm particularly fond of this photo, because it reminds me of a special moment.
One day, while I was running down the stairs of the Central Library of Edinburgh to come back home, after a whole afternoon spent studying, I remained pleasantly surprised by the beautiful late afternoon light that penetrated the building. That radiator was sparkling and I had to immortalize that precious moment. It left me unexplainably happy and calm.
After the recent unexplainable disappearance of the Tuxedo named Kitty (joewilcox.com/2021/09/18/kitty-is-missing/), I have started shooting new photos of some of the neighborhood furballs. We take them for granted, seeing some of them so regularly. Daniel Tiger is good example—three, four times a week at least.
joewilcox.com/2017/05/29/the-cats-of-university-heights-o...
The ruined Romanesque church of Lanleff is often called “The Temple of Lanleff”.
The wildest theories have been formed about this pink sandstone structure, for human mind has always been attracted by the wondrous and (apparently) unexplainable. Conspiracy theories often appeal to the less educated, because they do not know.
Thus, the unusual circular shape prompted such unlikely attributions as a Roman or Gaulish temple, a Merovingian baptistry or a Templar church (hence the name “Temple”, even though the presence of Knights Templar in this particular area was never documented in any way).
More down-to-Earth, it is, in fact, a Romanesque church from the 1100s, maybe slightly older, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary. From related writings, we know it was built after 1061, but before 1148, when it was donated to the abbey of Léhon (and was therefore fully built, or almost).
Designed in homage to the Holy Sepulcher church in Jerusalem (like the Sainte–Croix abbey church in Quimperlé), it is a magnificent and very atmospheric ruin, even though it has nothing to do with UFOs. ;o))
72/365 - Dubstep Dance
1/250th f5.6 ISO100
18-125mm 3.5-5.6
1x Nissin Di622 @ 1/3 power from camera right and high, shot through white umbrella
Triggered by PW Plus2s
Something different for you to ponder over. Want you guys to have a guess about it, what it is, how ect, Then after I will post up the set up and a little how to guide for you. Hope to do a few more like this in the future, have a few modification and tweaks to make it look really special.
Prints Available on all photos - Visit website for prices and details - www.laurence-ce.com
with proliferation of selfies, we get good supply of mirror selfies, shadow selfies, shoes selfies, feet selfies, selfie selfies, not to forget dick pics,
but we have regretful lack of palm selfies, and that is unexplainable and sorry state of affairs
which I am determined to rectify
PS: I've been to a palm reader/fortune teller woman some 5 years ago, I was so rooting for her, wishing her to do well and tell me my future, be a proper fortune teller
she was rubbish
I know is crooked but there is beauty as well.
There is no definition of beauty, but when you can see someone's spirit coming through, something unexplainable, that's beautiful to me.
Liv Tyler
Have a wonderful weekend!
"Chasing time and unexplainable silence"......Michael Kenna
iso 100
focal length 21mm
aperture f/9.f
exposure 361sec. (6.01min.)
Hitech IRND 10 + 6 stop nd filters
Lightroom 4
Nik's Silver Efex Pro 2
You can also follow me on www.stark-magazine.com/member/1richterpolilli3
Split Rock Lighthouse, Lake Superior North Shore, Minnesota. I had Split Rock Lighthouse State Park all to myself that day!
After a storm on Nov. 28, 1905 had damaged 29 ships, Congress authorized $70,000 to build a lighthouse and fog signal at Split Rock. The light station was completed in 1910.
The light was taken out of service in 1969 when modern navigation methods made it obsolete, but the 1,000 watt 3rd-order bivalve Fresnel lens beacon is lit once a year on November 10th to commemorate the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
I have made the beacon lighting ceremony the last two years, and I plan on going every year for as long as I can still make it. Yes, it's cold on the North Shore in November, but if you have a love of history, beauty, and a need for a sense of something unexplainable, the trip is well worth it!
Learn More about the history of the Split Rock light.
For Monochrome Monday here's a little vignette seemingly straight out of the old west. According to an old USGS topo map these ramshackle log cabin structures are in a place named Beals. But I can find no information about this spot other than that name. So perhaps it was just a lonely ranch or maybe it is a ghost town with a hidden past. It's fun to imagine that perhaps Kid Curry passed this way to rendezvous with Butch and Sundance at Hole-in-the-Wall or maybe Ike Gravelle rode through on his way to blow up the NP's Yellowstone River bridge near Livingston or....you fill in your own wild west tale.
But even if it doesn't look like it at times, it's very much the 21st century as Montana Rail Link's 844 Logan Local is seen at about MP 5.4 on MRL's 6th Sub (Harrison Branch) rolling north (timetable east) through a classic western high plains landscape. They are dropping downgrade toward Antelope Creek which they'll follow back through a canyon that cuts through the London Hills on their return toward the 5th Sub (former NP passenger main) at Sappington. Leading the eight loaded covered hoppers are two classic EMD GP35s, MRL 403 and 401 blt. Dec 1964 as DRGW 3039 and Jan. 1964 as DTI 353 respectively.
Serving only one customer, this branch sees service once a week at most to reach the tiny country elevator at the end of the line. I can't verify the veracity of this claim, but I've been told by railroaders that the only reason this anachronism survives is that the owner of the Harrison Elevator Co. is an old friend of MRL's owner, billionaire industrialist Dennis Washington. If true it would certainly help to explain the otherwise unexplainable!
This branch itself was originally built to Harrison by a Northern Pacific subsidiary in 1889 and extended a year later another 10 miles or so to Norris. Additionally at Harrison another branch forked 7 miles west to a small mining area at Pony. This branch was cut back by the NP during WWII and the outer 10 miles of the main stem to Norris succumbed under BN in 1975 leaving what was left to pass to MRL in 1987.
As for the railroad itself, countless articles have been written about the MRL over the past 35 years of its existence and if you care to learn more download this great series courtesy of Trains Magazine:
www.trains.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/TRN-MRL.pdf
Madison County, Montana
Tueaday September 6, 2022
i know it needs to be written.
i no longer "feel" God.
... that heavily emotional version of him.
i know he exist. i have not lost faith.
i just do not need the emotional side to believing and knowing he is there.
i remember when i used to doubt and feel so distant from him when i wasn't experiencing that "on fire for God" sensation.
the thing is.... in my opinion....
you don't need that all the time.
in fact, it is in the times in which you are not being driven by emotions that you truly have strength when you still have faith.
i have found that God is still evident and still working in my life even in the midst of this state of relationship we have.
i love him still, and i need him still, but it is beyond emotions...
it is far beyond them.
i read his word daily in my constant search for truth and direction. i read about his son and the miracles he preformed. i read about the disciples and how they constantly struggled with understanding and trusting. and it reminds me of myself in my own walk with Jesus. yet, he never gave up on them, or turned his back upon them.
i thank God for who he has brought into my life... and even who he has taken out of it. i am discovering a love beyond anything i've even known or anyone i've ever loved. it reaches below and deep within something i have only just begun to understand.
to me... if nothing else... love is proof that God exist. because there is nothing more unexplainable, yet so evident. you cannot see or hear or taste or touch love... but you know it is there. even when you do not feel it... because love is a choice and a way of life. and it changes people.
following Jesus is a choice and a way of life. and it changes people.
Jesus is love.
song: Opus 23 by Dustin O'Halloran
m.youtube.com/watch?list=PL4E39F51D35B926FF¶ms=OA... : Unexplainable feelings
We are all on this planet together. We are all connected.
Although I signed up for Flickr a number of months ago, I didn't really begin actively participating in anything around here until I began the 365 group on January 1, 2007. I went from about 2,000 views to 40,000 views in less than 68 days ( today being my 69th).
Anyway, I just wanted to thank you all for your kind words, your honesty, your strength, your help, your suggestions, your creative talents, your knowledge and most importantly, your Flickr friendship. I hope I can return the same to you and I am always here if anyone needs me. Generally speaking I am a pretty level headed woman, but the past couple of weeks have been a real test to my patience and I should be back to my "typical" self soon enough. Your comments always brighten up my day and believe me, my days could always use some brightening.
All of your comments and marked star faves have even gotten some of my photos into the ever bizarre and unexplainable land of Explore.
I also wanted to apologize for not having the time to respond to as many of you as I would like. I have always made it a point to try and respond to any comments I receive and I have been slacking off. Further, I haven't really had the time to check out many of the photo streams that I really want to.
Please forgive and understand and just know that if I have you marked as a contact, I think very highly of you and if I have you marked as family, then well, you are one of the lucky chosen few.
Happy weekend to you all.
xoxoxo
Jennifer
“This highway leads to the shadowy tip of reality: you're on a through route to the land of the different, the bizarre, the unexplainable...Go as far as you like on this road. Its limits are only those of mind itself. Ladies and Gentlemen, you're entering the wondrous dimension of imagination. . .
Next stop The Twilight Zone. ― Rod Serling
Roses are tricky business. They seem to grab you and demand your attention, beautiful, alluring, the curves, the colors. Thankfully they come and they go soon enough. I was trying to come up with a good slide with red and it seemed that everything I was working on was not going right. I started really pushing the sliders and when I added the Wavy Filter this "stuck guy" came out of the red, that was me!!! I like graphic images but this is a tough sell for me. I got it all ready to go and then decided it was too over the top even for me and the old self-doubt crept in!!!!!!! So if roses are tricky - Art is trickier!!!!!! A contact friend liked it and I was reminded it's not how many but who you please!
Happy Red Day
you're the night, Lilah
a little girl lost in the woods
you're a folktale
the unexplainable
you're a bedtime story
the one that keeps the curtains closed
I hope you're waiting for me
cause I can't make it on my own
I can't make it on my own
Morphine " The Night "
The ruined Romanesque church of Lanleff is often called “The Temple of Lanleff”.
The wildest theories have been formed about this pink sandstone structure, for human mind has always been attracted by the wondrous and (apparently) unexplainable. Conspiracy theories often appeal to the less educated, because they do not know.
Thus, the unusual circular shape prompted such unlikely attributions as a Roman or Gaulish temple, a Merovingian baptistry or a Templar church (hence the name “Temple”, even though the presence of Knights Templar in this particular area was never documented in any way).
More down-to-Earth, it is, in fact, a Romanesque church from the 1100s, maybe slightly older, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary. From related writings, we know it was built after 1061, but before 1148, when it was donated to the abbey of Léhon (and was therefore fully built, or almost).
Designed in homage to the Holy Sepulcher church in Jerusalem (like the Sainte–Croix abbey church in Quimperlé), it is a magnificent and very atmospheric ruin, even though it has nothing to do with UFOs. ;o))
Walking in the morning I ran into these two old chairs lying in the water of the lake for some unexplainable reason.
Minsk, Belarus
The ruined Romanesque church of Lanleff is often called “The Temple of Lanleff”.
The wildest theories have been formed about this pink sandstone structure, for human mind has always been attracted by the wondrous and (apparently) unexplainable. Conspiracy theories often appeal to the less educated, because they do not know.
Thus, the unusual circular shape prompted such unlikely attributions as a Roman or Gaulish temple, a Merovingian baptistry or a Templar church (hence the name “Temple”, even though the presence of Knights Templar in this particular area was never documented in any way).
More down-to-Earth, it is, in fact, a Romanesque church from the 1100s, maybe slightly older, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary. From related writings, we know it was built after 1061, but before 1148, when it was donated to the abbey of Léhon (and was therefore fully built, or almost).
Designed in homage to the Holy Sepulcher church in Jerusalem (like the Sainte–Croix abbey church in Quimperlé), it is a magnificent and very atmospheric ruin, even though it has nothing to do with UFOs. ;o))
...minding mines.
You may have noticed - but lately, I’ve been real lowkey. So much has happened - unbelievable & unexplainable occurrences really. Life incidences that can completely derail a whole masterplan, but you know me...I can’t ever stop the mission. To help me realign, I’ve acquired a property in Catalina Island - not far from shore. Within this space, I can give my deepest thoughts to the ocean, reorganize my life, plan, EXECUTE & spend every moment with my growing sonshine.
No distractions. It’s time for completion & growth. 💫
⬊
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I know in reality its impossible to always have a big smile on your face, and deep down you can be dying inside because of so many reasons, whether its a hurt through someone's thoughtless comment, a betrayal from a trusted/loved one, or the knowledge of an illness (your own or a family member)..... but to know that we have One Who knows everything we're going through, and that He is there by our side EVERY second of EVERY day, means the world to me, and I can only pray that you too will know the peace that God can bring to your life....
Once you know that peace, you will have an unexplainable joy even in the trials.
I hope every one of you today will be able to find something to smile about :)
I snapped this (not so joyful looking) little House Sparrow on Christmas Day, and yes, the one day it wasn't raining.... something more to be joyful about, eh? LOL
Hope you all have a great Tuesday, and thank you so much for the views, comments and faves :)
oh dear.... it's been pointed out that I've made a spelling mistake in the quote, hopefully you'll all ignore it and just enjoy the picture :) :)
337 | 365
all mimsy.
"Twas bryllyg, and ye slythy toves
Did gyre and gymble in ye wabe:
All mimsy were ye borogoves;
And ye mome raths outgrabe." - Lewis Carroll
listen while viewing: www.youtube.com/watch?v=4KbQOV9AsxQ
[Another experimental shot from the Oregon Flickr Meetup I attended. The title felt appropriate for multiple reasons, not the least of which would be the fact that Lissy is a *huge* Alice in Wonderland fan. This image also felt strange and unexplainable to me, hence the linkage to the lovely nonsense poem by Ms. Carroll.
Praise be to Gail & Lissy for modeling for me, and for Stephen Criscolo, whom I *believe* was the lighter of ye smoke bombs? Maybe I'm wrong. But I'm gonna say thanks anyway. Thanks!
...is the highest form of flattery, as we've been told. And so here is my belated attempt at Tim's whiplash-inducing-unexplainably-popular-but-mysteriously-addictive technique known as the "Heyer Reduction." Check out the other imitators here and here.
Besides trying out a new technique, this image also serves two other purposes:
1. A nice break from my unending stream of pictures from Venice, and
2. A remembrance for the victims of 9/11, in light of OBL's demise/"reduction."
In the distant future, society barely holds on. Global atmospheric density has undergone a sudden and unexplainable change, turning toxic to majority of human beings. While some lifeforms have found ways to adapt and evolve to the changing planet, human life on the surface is all but non-existent. Any surviving fragments of humanity have resorted to living within closed ecological outposts or self-sustained bunker complexes.
Few are willing to risk the long-term health implications of regularly venturing to the surface. As an alternative, pockets of survivors have begun deploying Proxies; homebrewed robotic soldiers built and operated by a small number of technologically savvy specialists. A Proxy serves as their pilot’s avatar in the outside world, being contracted for jobs ranging from mundane scavenging expeditions, construction operations, or military presence patrols.
Each pilot is responsible for their own Proxy, and as they embody their drones on a regular basis, it isn’t uncommon to develop a personal attachment to their bot. Many take to decorating and dressing their robotic doppelgangers as they would themselves.
--------------------------------------
With all the scenes I was making recently, it suddenly sparked my creative drive again. I had also read this short story about a robot in the post apocalypse that believed it was human, so that also played a part in the inspiration.
I know the drone theme of minifigs isn't anything new here, but this is just a new IP I might be playing around with. Think of a mix between Avatar, The Division, Anthem, and throw in the Simulacra from Titanfall 2 for the aesthetic inspiration for the robots.
I guess its also one of the few scenes I've tried to keep pseudo-purist. The only real modding I did was add some fabric bits to the robots and add some stickers from other pieces.
I probably put way too much editing work into this pic than I really needed to, I guess just to flex my photoshop skills. I'll probably post some explored views of the scene. I spent a week on it and you can only really see half the details in this shot.
If you fave, please comment as well
Spiritually concerned people at a Medicine Buddha Havan ceremoni in Northern India, praying for good health for a group of ill people.
Again the results after, where amazing and unexplainable..
Part 4
October 9, 19__ Saturday Late afternoon
The tapping was coming from the other side of the wall, an infrequent tapping that seemed to be low, about my waist level. It moved off and I followed it to the other end, where a door stood. The tapping stopped. Get a grip girl I said, it cannot be much of anything. It was then that the knob started to turn, quite slowly on its own, then began to shake. I stood back, the door opened, and as a long shadowy figure emerged, I did let out a scream, a full bodied, totally girlish wail that caused the figure to jump back with a startled yelp!
It was me cousin Jesse! and we both stared at each other wondering what the bloody ‘ell was going on. Goood Lord! M’lad I said, you are a sight for sore eyes. Jesse snorted, what the bloody hell luv, don’t ever greet me like that again Cuz ! He smiled after a moment.
What were you doing in the basement? I inquired, sceptically. Serves you right for not knocking and coming in the front door like a normal being.
Jesse defensively responded. I was there, but saw a small shadowy figure moving from the garden along the wall of the house, disappearing into the outside caller door, which by the way, someone had left open! he added accusingly looking at me! I said nothing as he continued on.. I followed and found meself in old Jacobs work shop. He looked down at me, his eyes drilling into mine.. Than you stared tapping on the wall …
Wait a minute I defended meself , I was not tapping on the wall, you were! Wasn’t me either luv, said Jesse, must have been whatever creature came in from outside.
So where is said creature now I asked, and we both went inside the room, and finding the switch, lit up the cluttered space and searched around, fruitlessly. I muttered to meself, this sad place is definitely getting to me. So what is going on Jesse asked, overhearing me muttering? Let’s go upstairs and I will fill you in I said, leading him back up the door opening up on stairway into the kitchen.
At the stairs leading up, we both froze in step! Above the cellar stairway was the underside of the second floor stairway. As we listened, we could distinctly hear creaks as if something was slowly coming down. We listened until whatever it was reached the bottom landing. Let’s go Jesse said, pulling me by the arm..
We ran up the cellar stairs and through the kitchen, looking down the hallway leading to the still closed front door. There was nothing there. Jesse let go my arm, and ran down the hall, reaching the landing he looked upstairs, I was right behind him. Nothing was moving along the shadows on the stairwell! Jesse turned to face me. Then his eyes went wide, who the bloody hell is that he exclaimed, looking up over me head into the Mourning Parlour. I turned, there was a black shape in a dress standing in front of the space that France’s coffin occupied, just like a lady in mourning. Jesse went past me and turned on the lights, Oui, who are you then, he called out to it. I was right behind Jesse when he threw on the lights.
Now, I have always heard the term about a person receiving such a shock that their blood freezes in their veins from fright. And until that moment had thought it was nothing more than a spooky expression. But as my eyes and mind fully grasped what it was I saw standing there in front of the space where Frances Froes’s open casket had stood, I experienced that exact feeling wash over me in total dreadful disbelief.
For there, looking like some sad mourner, now stood the dress form with its faceless head looking away towards the far wall. And oh my sweet Lord , the damn thing was wearing the black dress that had gone missing from the closet!
I turned and ran up the stairs, a startled Jesse following along, asking a million unanswerable questions. I ran into the nursery, the dress form WAS gone, and in its place, facing us, sat one of the dolls, its black pupil less eyes staring up at us, the moulded grin on its plastic face seemingly smirking eerily at our disbelief.
For the second time I felt a hand placed on me shoulder in that room, and jumped, even though I knew this time it was me cousin Jesse. I turned to him, and he could see by the look in me eyes that something unexplainable had been going on. He saw it in my eyes. Unlike him and Me brother, I am not a prankster, and being fully aware of that fact, plus my reactions so far, Jesse knew that I had no better an idea about what he was witnessing than I did. Let us have it than luv he ordered! I sat him over on the couch and began to tell him everything. The words spilling out of me mouth as I, now that Jesse was finally here, was no longer alone. I let me self realize that something was definitely not right with the creepy old Froes House!
Jesse took it all in, and as I finished, he took my hand, holding it firm he said with all seriousness, We need to do a séance. A bloody what! I shouted in disbelief, You mean like with an Ouija board? Yes he admitted.
Blimey, your crackers mate, good luck finding anything like that in this house I said, or in the village for that matter. Look lad, I don’t think we need to be calling it over to us whatever it is! Me suggestion is that we leave well enough alone!
Look Cuz, Jesse answered with all earnest, his eyes drilling into mine with a deep conviction of purpose. I think we need to at least try and find out what is going on, whatever it is that appears to going on here, something is obviously trying to make contact, and I for one feel we need to know what it is that the bugger is trying to say to us!
He continued…
I need your help, because I don’t believe it can be accomplished with just one person, what needs doing should be done in a group, or at least a pair. As for a board, We can make one He said, and went into how it could be done. I listened on, realizing that I had never seen this side of Jesse. Even though I knew he liked to tell a good ghost story, I had never realized that he ( or anyone for that matter) would actually like to encounter a real ghost! Now by the time he was through with his explanations, He had me convince that it could be done, and that was the right thing to do.
We went back downstairs and into the kitchen to make us up a bit of supper. For now we put our plans aside, catching up on what was going on with each other, even though we had both been at me brother’s wedding only weeks before. But soon conversation turned and We began discussing the house and what we could remember of Frances, Mary, and old Joseph. Outside long shadows began their timeless climb towards the house, starting to swallow it up with the approaching nightfall.
When it was fully dark outside ( not even a moon tonight) We cleaned up and started our preparations for the adventure ahead.
Saturday Evening
The Séance……
The first thing we need is a planchette Jesse explained. A what I asked? A planchette is the pointy thing that people lay their hands on so the spirit can speak by moving it along. We need something that would work the same way. Something made up of earthly metals, silver gold or copper would work the best Jesse explained. I mentioned the silver chain that was in Adelaide’s jewel casket. Perfect he said, run up and get it, not without you lad! I said simply. We both went upstairs. The closet door leading to the attic was now standing, open wide, gaping.
As I picked up the necklace, Jesse spied the letter on the vanity and asked what it was? When I explained he picked it up and read it, studying the red crayon marks. he stated that it would be something we could use. He also suggested we open all the doors, including the attic, bedrooms and cellar, which we did, though I felt that if anything was going to visit, closed doors would not prevent it from coming.
‘We then went into Jacobs work area and found a small, solid copper washer, which Jesse strung onto the silver chain, then letting it dangle a bit, announced that it should work as a proper planchette!
Jesse than gently suggested that I should wear me dress, the one that somehow had been placed on the dress formed. Needless to say, I balked at the thought, but Jesse pleaded a bit until I agreed to put it on ( I never could say no to his puppy eyed looks, which when younger led me into all sorts of Jesse and Brother led mischief!). So I carefully took it off the dress form, and went into the loo. I checked it over, no marks or stains. So I then put it one, feeling a little bit queasy in the stomach as I did. But soon all such feelings soon passed. It was mine after all!
While I was gone, Jesse had moved the dress form to one side, setting it by the piano. Then he set up one of the low, small tables that Jacob had made with his own hands, one with the Celtic cross cut out in its centre. The table was placed exactly on the spot where France’s casket had been set.
To one side of the table we sat the letter, and Jesse laid down our makeshift planchette upon it. On the either side of the centre cross we laid out two bits of paper we found in the nursery. On one Jesse wrote a YES and on the other a NO. Jesse then darted upstairs and came back with the doll. I protested, the bloody thing creeped me to no end, but he insisted, and but he did not heed my protests, and sat the thing on a chair between us!
Lighting the candles on the fan, Jesse had me kneel on one side of the table, while he did the same on the other. We each held up one end of the chain, letting the silvery homemade planchette with its copper piece swing freely over the makeshift Ouija board. We need to form a bond he said, and I made to take up his free hand.
No Jesse said, and taking my hand had me grab one of the doll’s, while he took the other. Bollocks I protested, but he shot me a look that told me he was being deadly serious. All I could think of as I conceded the point, was that we must be making a rather weird setting, and hoped no one we knew walked in on use, than I thought, or anything else of that matter.
I had had enough of ghosts, or spirits and would rather end it right there. I than so much as told Jesse that, but he assured me that this was the best way to try and get at the bottom of it all, and the time was quite ripe.
I looked into Jesse’s face as it flickered in the candles light. He was really taking this seriously I remember thinking.
How do we start I asked ?
Ask it to come in he told me, invite it in.
I kinda gave him a look, but settled in, and looking towards the shadowy dress form, Began it…
‘Ello, are you there I asked, politely?
No Jesse whispered, Ask it to come in, it needs inviting. Look towards the staircase.
I did so, turning me head in that direction, watching the shadows dance up the bannister.
Please come down I said, we …. I stopped, for I distinctly heard one of the stairs creak. I shot Jesse a look, and I knew he had head it too, with eyes wide in excitement he nodded me on…
Don’t be fearing I said towards the stairs, we mean you no harm.
Everything was dead silent, except for when the wind could be heard picking up outside.
After a long minute of staring at the stairway, I felt an urge to say something, just to break the deadly silence.
Are we alone? I whispered.
I swear I felt something move through my hair, not quite like a bit of wind!
I think Jesse saw me flinch, for he also whispered Are we alone?
We were both now watching the makeshift planchette with its copper washer hovering over the Celtic cross in centre of the board, as each of us held an end up high.
Are you here then? Jesse asked again, yes or no , and as he spoke, he let go of the dolls hand and touched the YES and NO paper as he spoke each word, then taking the dolls hand up again, we waited in silence, as the candlelight played over the board.
The copper washer was now swaying gently over the centre of the table, something had moved it along!
Ello I said, have you come into the room?
Suddenly our makeshift Planchette swings slightly to the paper that YES was written on. We looked into each other’s eyes, it was then that I realized with Jesse had it had been a bit of male bravo, and he was quite shocked that his idea would work. I shot him a glance that basically said, we are in it neck deep now boyo……
What is your name Jesse stammered, I shoot him a look, whispering yes or no silly
Is your name Frances I ask
The Planchette Swings over the No paper, and I felt prickling shivers.. this was really happening, we ere in contact, like a movie, but this was real, no script, no way of knowing how it will all turn…
I continued curiously on…
Mary I inquired
Swings again NO
Than Jesse asked, Jacob ?
No movement
Frank, I asked gently?
Swings to No
I again asked, Jacob SR or JR?
This time it moved to NO
Mother Adelaide, is that you? I whispered into the darkness.
This time the Planchette swung decisively over NO
I look at Jesse, running out outta names here lad
Stephen, is that you Jesse asked
The Planchette hovered without moving.
So, you are not Stephen I asked?
The copper swung gently over the YES paper.
Joseph? Jesse suddenly asked, I started to say, but he isn’t dead, but was cut off as our Planchette started to swing like something was playing with it.
Joseph is that you I asked quietly?
The copper washer swung to the YES paper, then stopped dead centre as if something still had hold of it.
We just stared at one another for a second, speechless…..
thought you said Joseph was alive I challenged, Jesse shook his head yes he is! , a puzzled look on his face
Joseph, he asked, did you pass over
Our Planchette did not move.
I could see the childlike scrawled name on the letter that sat on the table: The name Joseph and the age of 9…
Joseph? I asked, are you 9 years old
The planchette swung over the yes paper, and I caught me breath, how could this be, a living man in his 80’s be the ghost of a nine-year-old?
I shot Jesse a look, and he shrugged his shoulders, then bending slightly over the table asked…
Joseph? Did you move the dress form here
Our Planchette made a small twist, but did not move in either direction
Joseph? I asked, do you like me dress ?
The copper washer of our planchette twitched over the YES paper.
Did you take me dress? I asked.
The Planchette stayed perfectly still.
Jesse asked the next question.
Joseph, are you alone here, he asked.
The Planchette stayed still,
Joseph, I asked using the type of sweet voice I use for children..
Are you alone here ?
Nothing moved, except the flickering shadows of the candlight.
I had started to ask a second question, when it the copper washer moved, quite briskly once again, over the yes paper
Then like a pendulum it sung over the NO paper than back over the YES Paper.
Jesse and I looked at each other.
I think its playing with us now, I whispered, and Jesse nodded in agreement.
Jesse looked around the room than asked,
Joseph,
Are we welcomed here?
The planchette moved ever so slightly, again in no particular direction.
Am I welcomed here I asked, and watched, the planchette as it moved, swinging to the YES
What about me, Jesse asked, smirking,
Nothing… then suddenly the chain was pulled so hard that we both lost it, and it went sailing off across the room on its own, falling with a clatter onto the hard wood floor ….a few seconds later we heard a door upstairs slam shut.
I think its over Jesse said,
Do ya think do then lad? ,I mocked a bit, then added.. apparently something here does not like Jesse I teased.
Jesse shrugged, after all missy, he said to me, it was your dress he coveted.
Shivering I I gave him a squinty look with my eyes, and asked.
What Next?
Call it a night Jesse said…
Let’s camp out on the living rooms couches he suggested, and leave some lights on he added.
Cautiously we went upstairs.
Nothing was amiss, except that the door to Joseph’s room was now closed. I made Jesse go inside with me as I gathered me nightgown, robe and things, and then went into the brothers room so Jesse could gather his toiletries and PJ’s.
Taking pillows and blankets We went downstairs and set up camp in the living room/library located off of the kitchen.
Took turns each changing in the small loo.
Jesse lit a small fire in the grate and we sat around for a while talking it all over, trying to make a bit sense over what had occurred that evening. I found a bottle of elderberry brandy and we opened it, drinking right from the bottle!
Wonder what would have happened if we’d had a proper Ouija board then? Jesse pondered.
Maybe nothing I offered, thinking of the old photo upstairs, it couldn’t have been Joseph, obviously enough, and I explained to him about the coloured photo in the attic.
So you are saying=, that whatever it was, had a limited level of understanding when alive? Jesse asked..or dead he added somberly
If that’s what it was, most likely, and added to that a child’s naturally short attention span… and it all makes a bit of sense, do ya think. I asked.
But! Jesse asked, what about the mannequin, and how was it able to move it downstairs then?
And why the dress I added. I don’t know the answers to that, exceptin that we should probably stay close to one another until the others arrive tomorrow.
I told Jesse that I don’t think it means us any harm, at least me any way, I added, grinning up at my cousin, I noticed you never really received a response from any of your questions, just the ones I asked. Anyhow, I suggest we just leave things be and get through the weekend, then have nothing more to do with the house. Easy for you to say, Jesse answered, I have to help Dad with cleaning it up for when the Pastor comes to take ownership!
That right, I forgot the Church was willed the old place, maybe they will bring an exorcist along then?
Jesse just shot me a look, and I could see that the wheels of his mind were turning.
Let things be, I advised him, and You will probably have to watch your back then, wont ye Jess, I sure do not envy you that..
And with that said we both snuggled in, and I found myself pondering as I watched the flames dance , forming their grotesque shapes on the walls and ceiling….
What did it all mean.. ?
What was this 9 year old spirit haunting a house where all its inhabitants had lived well into adulthood? Why was it calling itself Joseph, a man in his late 80’s who was still alive? Who was the handicapped child in the Attic Picture, what was his story? We needed a key I thought, a Skelton key to unlock these mysteries.
And as it turned out later, there was a key, held in the form of Jesse’s dad!
End Of part 4
to be continued …..
Ps..
The dress form by the piano in the photo is the one that was actually in the house, and moved about by hands unseen!
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For some unexplainable reason, this photo (taken yesterday) reminds me of the song by the Not The Nine O'Clock News team -remember them- "Nice video, shame about the song". And if that reference stirs any memories -check out "I like trucking". Both videos are available on YouTube. I was so young back then!!!
Today Ani largely remains a forgotten ancient Armenian ghost town in modern day Turkey. Travelers, writers, and other adventurers through ages have described Ani with high regard. I think there is no better way to describe Ani but through the words of the people who have visited the site. Therefore below a selection of these heartwarming accounts.
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Baron Max von Thielmann (1872) in his book ‘Journey in the Caucasus, Persia, and Turkey In Asia’ describes seeing Ani and its marvelous architecture that at “some parts are as fresh-looking as if they were only completed yesterday.” He further describes the sensation of being at the site as follows:
“On reaching a gentle ridge extending between two hills some 200 feet in height (near Kara-Kala in the Five Verst Map), a panorama disclosed itself to our gaze, which for wild and desolate grandeur is perhaps unparalleled. Before us lay extended a rocky plain about five miles in length, and at its further extremity was a mighty city, surrounded by walls with towers, churches and palaces – a noble pile, but devoid of animation.
The associations aroused by this scene were enhanced a thousand-fold by the tranquility and desolation which prevailed; for in days gone by the capital of a mighty empire had stood on this very spot in full glory and magnificence; and so intense was the impression occasioned by this solitude amongst ruins, that, even later on at Babylon and at Palmyra, I did not experience so acute a sensation.”
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British army officer Major-General Charles Gordon in his letter describes an account of his visit to Ani in the year 1857:
“The third day of our tour we passed through Ani the ancient capital of Armenia. This city is completely deserted, and has splendid churches still standing in it. These churches are capitally built and preserved. Some coloured drawings on their walls are to be seen even now. I have obtained some views for you from this interesting place. The towers and walls are almost intact; but the most extraordinary thing about so large a place is the singular quietness.
I feel myself unable to describe this extraordinary place as it ought to be done.”
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Konstantin Paustovski a Russian Soviet writer, a Nobel prize nominee described Ani in 1923 with the following quotes:
“What is Ani like? There are things beyond description, no matter how hard you try.”
“On the other bank we saw basilicas, tiled Armenian domes and a complete absence of human beings. It was the ruins of the ancient Armenian capital, Ani – one of the real wonders of the world.”
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Foreign travelers are not the only once to have recorded Ani in such regard. Armenians who have visited the site of the ancient abandoned Armenian capital often had a hard time holding back their emotions. Basmadjian in 1903 describes the sites as follows:
“The traveler or the pilgrim, whether coming by horseback, by carriage, or even on foot, before arriving at this city in mourning, looks towards the site with a thousand thoughts. He is impatient; he strains to see it – even for just a moment – from afar, one doesn’t know if it is to feel an inner contentment or to satisfy the longings of many years. It is a powerful feeling, an unexplainable desire, that burns, that strains at the hearts of all Armenians and even those of foreign travellers.
And then your companions cry out “ANI!” It is as if a bomb had suddenly exploded, or an electrical current had crossed your body! You tremble; the regular flow of your breathing is altered; your heart pounds; your nerves soften; you are filled with emotions and your eyes begin to moisten with tears; you are no longer your own master; the tears that you initially held back you now allow to flow, to pour down your cheeks. You cry like a child, in front of these crumbling walls, these half destroyed buildings, these heaps of moss covered stones that awaken old and powerful memories in you.”
IF ANYTHING, PLEASE READ THIS ONE.
I’ve realized the cycle of my life and why I go through hard things. At first, I’m close to God and trialed and tempted yet still with him and happier than I‘ve ever been. Until, of course, temptation takes me away from that. Temptation usually being a guy of some sort. Once I’m ripped from him I feel the heaviness pour over me and then the depression sinks in. That type of hopelessness and numbness where I will sit down and not feel, think, or even say anything, I just lose myself in whatever I’m starring at. After what feels like five minutes I will realize three hours have passed. When I was in that state that’s where starving myself started because it wasn’t really a body image issue, it was the want to feel, to release. The pain that I inflicted on myself just to feel was ridiculous. I was so utterly lost.
Here’s something I’ve only told one person since it happened last weekend - I was at a service and I felt god’s spirit so strongly that I completely lost myself…but in him and these words were screaming inside my head. It was me saying that the feeling, love, spirit, and overwhelming passion he gave me were more and better than the feeling of being wanted, than that kiss that leads to so much more than just an innocent kiss, than that feeling of accomplishing my weight goals, it felt better than the relief when I thought suicide could take me from all this numb hurt. I realized he was the only reason to live because only through him did I actually, really, honestly feel alive.
“Therefore, I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; nor about the body, what you will put on. Life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing.” Luke 12:22
That’s just it, what are you living for right now? Love? Lust? Money? Or are you living one more day in hope that someone will do something to stop you from killing yourself tomorrow. To stop you from cutting yourself. To stop you from forcing yourself to throw up. For those who aren’t believers I’m sorry to throw this message at you but I’ve been a Christian my whole life and only now am I realizing that God is so much more. So so much more than anything we put ourselves through, he is stronger than it all.
How many times have you gone to a funeral and wondered what’s there after you die? But we’re all too lost and afraid to think about it too long so we go on and live day to day. Why? Why live day to day when you can live FOR something and do something that will save lives, change lives, and give people a type of life that they need so desperately but are missing because we as Christians or even just people won’t stand up and say something?
I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to live for the day the numbers on the scale drop anymore. I’m not going to live for the day that I have the courage to jump off that roof. You’re not going to live for the next day he hits you. You don’t want to live for the next day they make you cry so hard you feel like you’re going to throw up.
“Also, I heard the voice of the Lord, saying: ‘Whom shall I send, And who will go for Us?’
Then I said, ‘Here am I! Send me.’” Isaiah 6:8
So many of us are just living to die. But I’ve found this place in God where I’m dying to live for him. I want it so bad because it’s life altering. It’s unexplainable. I’ve seen people healed, spines straightened right in front of me. I’ve said something over people that I had no way of knowing, only God through me.
I’m not going to live for that pain I let myself suffocate in. I will go. I will listen. I will do. Because in the end four years of high school mean nothing compared to eternity. What people have to say about you, means nothing compared to those broken hearts that need God. Will you live for him? Will you open your eyes to a blinding light out of that dark, numbness? Or will you watch yourself and everyone around you die in their pain and suffering?
Today is September 18, 2009.
Music touches and changes my life daily.
I'm reading a very interesting book right now called "This Is Your Brain On Music" by Daniel J. Levithin, in which he attempts to deconstruct the elements that make music move us the way it does. A difficult task, if it is possible at all. Music, like love, is a prime example of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. Tangible yet unexplainable, it is the mystery that makes it so delicious.
Who can explain why tonight at the Royal Wood concert I wept at his performance of a song he wrote for his brother's wedding, and an hour later I was rocking out to Rage Against The Machine? How can each of these artists have such wildly swaying pendulums of style and yet manage to touch something inside me I didn't even know was there?
Something different happens again when I play. During the day I often get an overwhelming urge to sit at the old piano which once belonged to my grandfather, or pick up my guitar and sing. I seldom play for people; playing music for me is like writing in my journal or confiding in an old friend.
Happiness today was a little turn at the piano, and pure joy at the Dublin Street United Church where a real master played. One solitary experience, one shared, both bliss.
About the only lights in this that I can explain are the moon, the light through the window and some landscaping lights. The rest is a mystery.
I will not make any political comments or statements. Will just say that ObamaCare killed medical healthcare. It was handicapped before and after it became even worse. Yes, everyone was forced to have an insurance that is pretty much useless and only covers PCP or CityMD. And yet we have terminally ill patients without proper care & seniors paying thousands for medications. Taxes went up, and after this election will probably move up again. I’m scared for future generations. What happened to American Dream ?!? Turns out USA & Soviet Union had hate / love relationship all those years because we are moving into the direction I came from. What do the kids who grew up with their parents who gave them everything know about socialism . . . I want Democracy more than any other person. I grew up below poverty level & have mother & grandparents on government assistance but there’s a difference between helping those in need & destroying, looting, disabling police & most of all destroying American Dream. My heart breaks. The pain I feel is really unexplainable.
Zion Canyon Scenic Drive, Zion National Park, Utah, USA
The road is off limits to cars, giving the park much needed peace and tranquility during tourist seasons.
I had a profound sense of calmness yet unexplainable heart pounding ecstasy at the same time when standing there in the cool shadows of the deep canyon surrounded by the tall mountains.
18.11.14
Sometimes we wonder nowhere, driven by something. Something unexplainable.
It pulls us forward.
We follow.
Another favorite from last summer's trip and a wider view of this scene seemingly lifted straight out of the old west. According to an old USGS topo map these ramshackle log cabin structures are in a place named Beals, but I've otherwise been unable to find any information whatsoever about this spot other than that name. So perhaps it was just a lonely ranch or maybe it is a ghost town with a hidden past. It is fun to imagine that perhaps Kid Curry passed this way to rendezvous with Butch and Sundance at Hole-in-the-Wall or maybe Ike Gravelle rode through on his way to blow up the NP's Yellowstone River bridge near Livingston or....you fill in your own wild west tale.
But even if it doesn't look like it at times, it's very much the 21st century as Montana Rail Link's 844 Logan Local is seen at about MP 5.4 on MRL's 6th Sub (Harrison Branch) rolling north (timetable east) through a classic western high plains landscape. They are dropping downgrade toward Antelope Creek which they'll follow back through a canyon that cuts through the London Hills on their return toward the 5th Sub (former NP passenger main) at Sappington. Leading the eight loaded covered hoppers are two classic EMD GP35s, MRL 403 and 401 blt. Dec 1964 as DRGW 3039 and Jan. 1964 as DTI 353 respectively.
Serving only one customer, this branch sees service once a week at most to reach the tiny country elevator at the end of the line. I can't verify the veracity of this claim, but I've been told by railroaders that the only reason this anachronism survives is that the owner of the Harrison Elevator Co. is an old friend of MRL's owner, billionaire industrialist Dennis Washington. If true it would certainly help to explain the otherwise unexplainable!
This branch itself was originally built to Harrison by a Northern Pacific subsidiary in 1889 and extended a year later another 10 miles or so to Norris. Additionally at Harrison another branch forked 7 miles west to a small mining area at Pony. This branch was cut back by the NP during WWII and the outer 10 miles of the main stem to Norris succumbed under BN in 1975 leaving what was left to pass to MRL in 1987.
As for the railroad itself, countless articles have been written about the MRL over the past 35 years of its existence and if you care to learn more download this great series courtesy of Trains Magazine:
www.trains.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/TRN-MRL.pdf
Madison County, Montana
Tueaday September 6, 2022
Name: Liam Hyacinth
Hometown: I mean, this one if I end up making the cut right?
Likes: Club Music, Good Times, the unexplainable mysteries of the universe, working out
Dislikes: When popcorn kernels get stuck in your teeth, the dark, thinking too hard
Why I should be picked for Sabrina's Star school: Right now I'm a pre-successful dancer but I'm hoping the school can make me the opposite of that you know? And Even though I don't know exactly what the headmaster is looking for I'm *sure* I could figure it out while dancing my way to the top along the way.
Faceclaim: Manny Jacinto, Park Jimin from BTS
is still here in the Okanagan.
We received snow over night and today is a beautiful day covering us in blue skies....
“You were born with wings, why prefer to crawl through life?”
~Rumi
WARNING
May cause prolonged delusion, unexplainable peace of mind, changes in appetite, spontaneous crying, temporary insanity, hyper-romanticism, selective memory loss, irresistible urge to write quotes, compulsive buying,giggles
THIS IS THE LONGEST DESCRIPTION OF LIFE. But there’s a reason it’s long. An important one.
You know, have you ever trusted someone and have them screw you over so badly that you just wanted to punch them in the face? Then when you muster everything inside of you to forgive them they screw up again. But for some reason you don’t give up on them. You can’t because you see something in them, something with promise. God does the same, does he not?
This may be gruesome but it’s time someone was honest.
Try to take yourself to this place. In the body of a man, an honest, innocent man being persecuted for something you didn’t do. Not only that but you sit in the garden praying to your father simply wondering how and why and wishing you didn’t have to take all this onto your own shoulders. But you know you have to. You feel the guilt of a murders, the sick amusement of a rapist, the simple dirtiness of a liar. You feel every single lie, cheat, mistake and breaking pain all through out your body. It’s like when you do something wrong and you feel sick, sore, disgusted, angry…every emotion. The same feeling but with the emotions of billions of people all set upon your own heart. So much pressuring on top of you that you are not only sweating but sweating blood.
Then you’re arrested.
Now put yourself in the place of a man chained, unable to break free. Imagine the sound of whips slicing through the air. The same air that is whispering a parody of the unjust pain you are about to feel. The whip embraces your skin but not softly, or romantically. It does not truly ‘embrace’ but gashes your flesh. Your back arks as your entire body wants to escape. Again, and again you are hit. The motion making your hands cramp with tension as they grasp for anything, anything. The heat of blood warms your skin yet quickly the pain pulsating so deeply in your core seems to tune out the warmth with a blindingly painful numbness.
Over. And over. You gasp, trying to inhale. You gasp, trying to exhale. You’re empty in your fullness of rejection that you felt from your very own father. You beg to feel him. Beg to see him. Beg to hear him. But he has turned his eyes away from you, ashamed and disgusted by the sin covering your wounded and bleeding body. He does not know you anymore and it feels nobody else does either by the mask of dirt and blood that covers you completely.
The beating stops only for a second. Then you hear the dreaded sound of the whip breaking through the air, you wait for the blow but this time you feel glass shards clutching onto the little fragment of skin that’s left and tearing. Pulling. Breaking. You cry out in agonizing pain. But not loudly. Never loudly. Over and over. Again and again. These disgusting creatures are slowly killing you yet all you can feel for them is love because the strings of hate and strings of detest that are tied to your heart are too busy being played by all the sinners dancing through your veins. Not dancing. Stomping. Kicking.
You want to leave don’t you? You want to escape out of this nightmare and this body yet you cannot. Instead you are pulled around like a doll with your skin screaming and your nerves on a constant climax of stinging pain. They laugh. They smirk. They spit in your face. They shove a crown of thorns onto your head and you feel the thorns pierce through your skin. Deeper and deeper still. Bloods pours over your eyes but it’s still not over. You are forced to carry a wooden cross with a body that’s already stolen of all strength. Yet you don’t give in or fall, you stand. You stand and you carry it with the weight making your spine feel like it’s not even intact. Like it’s not even there. The rough texture burning against your open wounds. A scream resting in the deepness of your throat. The heaviness of the world’s mistakes making a home in your lungs. You fall. They taunt. You stand, they spit. Even with a man helping you carry the cross your strength falters.
Now, now you lay against the wood. They hold a long nail in their hands. The point breaks the skin on your palm and you inhale sharply as the nail pierces through. The pain. It is unbearable. Then the other hand. The positioning of the force the nails creates causes your shoulder blades to shift into places where they should not be.
Once your feet have been nailed you are to hang there. In front of many. A supposed ‘criminal’. All of this for an innocent man who did nothing, who did not belong on that cross. Barely recognizable with the blood and dirt and spit masking you. The sin of the world masking you.
Then you say something, something unexplainable. You turn your head to your Father and say “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” Luke 23:34. You have been beaten, you have been judged, you have been humiliated, you have been tortured and you have been crucified yet you ask for the forgiveness of the people that have wronged you in all of those ways.
Now that you have had an observation as to the pain Jesus went through you need to understand that this was no where near explaining the truth or the pain. Yet tell me, after reading that…would you be willing to take the place of that man?
“When you spread out your hands, I will hide My eyes from you; even though you make many prayers I will not hear. Your hands are full of blood. Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; put away the evil of your doings from before My eyes. Cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rebuke the oppressor, defend the fatherless, plead for the widow.” Isaiah 1:15-17
Because of the stripes Jesus took on his back, because of the pain and torture he suffered we can come with our backs clean. With our hearts cleaned. With our souls saved and forgiven.
Sometimes we sugar coat that. It’s time we tried to understand it for what it really is.
(I tagged Aleah because one) she is a brilliantly amazing and talented photographer. like words cannot express. and second, her descriptions are very encouraging in God and so beautiful. She is so so beautiful.)
The Scheffler Palace commonly known as the Haunted Mansion (Spökslottet), is a mansion located at Drottninggatan 116 in Stockholm, Sweden. The mansion, which was built in the 1690s by the merchant Hans Petter Scheffler, is the most famous, so called "haunted house" in Stockholm. Since the 1920s, the estate is owned by Stockholm University and mostly used for storage of art and to occasionally hold conferences.
There are many different ghostly stories about the house and its park.
Reports of ghost sights in and around the house have been told since the 18th century. Strange sounds, unexplainable music and singing have been heard, mirrors and windows have been broken.
It is said that a young couple was murdered and bricked-up in the wall in the basement of the house.
At least one grave has been found in the park by the house, and in 1907 the grave was dug up and the unknown skeleton was moved to a cemetery. But it is believed that more people are buried in the park.
The opera singer Gustaf Sandström once lived in a rented room in the house, where he in 1875 committed suicide.
It is said that one of the 18th century owners of the estate, Jacob von Balthazar Knigge, was in alliance with the Devil. When Knigge disappeared in 1796, witnesses claimed he had been taken away in a black carriage and that the coachman had horns and a tail.
The legend says that a priest once was called to the house to try to get rid of the ghosts there. However, the priest was so frightened that he ran away. Some versions of the story says he was tossed out through a window on the upper floor, although no other human was inside the building at the time.
My logic & brain are unexplainable. . . 95% of the time I have no idea where I’m going (on the street & in life probably too (some people argue with me & say I do have it together . . . ) but the road always brings me to the places I love. Really love this library (and especially empty mornings there) but that place was not something I googled or was searching for. Wrong stop & here I am .. . Go figure . . . Honestly wouldn’t spend that first autumn morning anywhere else. Maybe I love Long Island because that’s where we used to spend bbq weekends when I was a teenager. Maybe that’s the big part of it 💚