I had a physically relaxed morning - lots of brain-energy used, though! Sorting stuff for the Jumble Trail, Liz's carers' folder and admin for her, etc. In the afternoon, Mike & I cycled into Fairford to deliver some Jumble Trail forms, and other errands. I took the long way back, to pick some blackberries and enjoy the ride.

Blind beggar. Physically deformed people are the pitiful beggars, who are really in need. This older man didn`t have even eyeballs, but only bare, deep pits. I saw many who had lost legs because of polio.

 

"The Muslim gives alms for merit and most beggars believe that they are helping you on your way to Heaven by allowing you to give them."

 

- Bangladesh at a Glance, 1990

©2011 Susan Ogden-All Rights Reserved Images Thruthelookingglass

  

My flickr friends are scattered across the continents and are as dear and special to me as any physically close friends i have......I am blessed to have been chosen by you....

thank you for your gift of friendship! ((HUGS))

   

As an instructor in a computer center, Kavitha helps several students master in computers. Watching her in the middle of her work, as she switches back and forth between different computer screens, everything looks good. But look at her closely! She is not walking normally. And watch her go back home. She rides the three-wheeler bike.

 

Life has been a tough journey for this 24-year-old Kavitha. While she was still a little child, she was stricken with polio, which affected her legs. Her father considered her “an unwanted asset.” Life was miserable indeed, but Kavitha had no other option.

 

"It all started in 2005. He started torturing me for money both physically and mentally. He used to strike me with wooden sticks, punch me and kick me. I did not go to the police station because there was every chance my husband would find out about it."

In Bhubaneswar, a 45-year-old Indian housewife, wishing to remain anonymous, suffered beatings at the hands of her businessman husband who relentlessly demanded more dowry money after their marriage for the entirety of a decade. She concealed the bruises on her battered body and remained silent, in fear of her husband, the collective opinion of her family and neighbors, and in mistrust of the police.

In September, she was informed about a new ATM-type of machine, stationed in an accessible part of her city, that allowed women to anonymously report crimes. This news prompted her to take the the first step toward freedom. At the machine-booth, she recorded her testimony through a built-in microphone, detailing the years of violence she’s survived. Within days, her abusive husband was arrested and charged with dowry torture and harassment. This woman is only one of a small, but growing number of women in the eastern city of Bhubaneswar who are shattering the negative stigma associated with crimes such as domestic violence, dowry abuse and rape by using the Instant Complaint Logging Internet Kiosk (iClik). The iClik is the brainchild of Joydeep Nayak, head of Odisha police's human rights unit, who came up with the idea after the high-profile gang rape and murder of the 23-year-old woman aboard a Delhi bus in December 2012. “In India you will hardly find a woman going to the police station. If you have to empower the women (to report crimes), then iClik is a solution," he stated.

Domestic violence in India is a complex issue. As with its impacts, some causes of violence are easy to see, others are deeply rooted in our social and cultural environment forcing victims to keep silent about their experiences, considered even as a normal part of their life. Fewer than 9% of women victims who have survived violent abuse seek aid. With the advent and, hopefully, the widespread usage and implementation of the iClik, more women will stand up.

The woman who endured a decade of beatings now works as a social worker at a local charity. ”For women like me, who cannot go to the police station, for fear of further trouble and social ostracism, iClik is a great relief. I have told many women and girls to use the machine."

Via Humans Of India

These pictures from Gansu province were taken during a nine-day trip in May 2015. Gansu is a province at the geographical heart of China. Its capital, Lanzhou, is pretty close to the center of the country as can be from what I can tell by looking at maps.

 

Gansu, though, is most certainly considered west China by the Chinese. Physically, the province reminds me of a small dumbbell sitting on an angle. There’s a southern (southeastern) section that is slightly large and has a high elevation (often between 2,000-3,000 meters) with a higher concentration of Muslims and Tibetans than most other areas of China. When you get closer to Xiahe, where Labrang Monastery is located, road signs are both in Tibetan and Mandarin. The LP 2011 had listed three places of interest in southern Gansu: Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, Labrang Monstery in Xiahe (listed as one of the 30 “Must Dos” in China), and Langmusi down on the Sichuan border. I had originally intended to visit all three places, but ended up dropping Langmusi – the Alpine village – and spending an extra day out west.

 

So all told in the south, I spent a few overcast hours in Hezuo at Milarepa Palace (as quirky as I recall LP saying it is, but also something I could have done without) before spending two nights at the Overseas Tibetan Hotel about 100 meters outside the eastern gate of Labrang Monastery in Xiahe. Xiahe was mesmerizing to me. It reminded me a little of some western US towns: one wide, main street that runs the length of town and most of the buildings are two- or three-story establishments.

 

Xiahe is around 3,300 meters in elevation, so altitude sickness is mentioned a few times, though I never experienced any type of nausea. I have nothing but good things to say about the hotel (not extravagant, but nice and comfortable beds), the owner (Lohsang Amso – a good man – who can also arrange bike rental, local and regional travel, etc.) and the good folks a few doors down at the Snowy Mountain Cafe – which seems to only be open in the evening – but where you can eat yak…which I did. One night, I had Nepalese yak curry (Nepalese chicken curry the other night). Other than that, I was amazed at how close (and countless) the stars in the night sky seemed to be, but given the altitude and lack of surface light, it wasn’t unexpected…just amazing.

 

Having spent the previous day on a morning flight from Chengdu to Lanzhou (one provincial capital to another), an hour bus ride from Lanzhou Airport downtown, another 45 minute taxi ride across town (through horrendous traffic), a 4 hour bus ride from Lanzhou down to southern Gansu that ended in Hezuo, an hour or two at Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, then finally another 1-2 hour bus from Hezuo to Xiahe, I finally found myself plopping down on my bed at the Overseas Tibetan…sometime in early evening.

 

Though things didn’t go exactly as planned, they were close enough and I really had no complaints. My biggest surprise was the number of mosques I saw en route to Xiahe. (I hadn’t realized that the Muslim population in this particular region was quite so large.)

 

Upon waking the following morning – it was a Monday, I recall – I made the incredibly short walk to the Labrang Monastery. Labrang Monastery is a fascinating place. It was founded in 1709 by Ngagong Tsunde (first generation of the third in line behind the Dalai and Panchen Lamas). It is one of the six major monasteries of the Gelugpa (Yellow Hat sect) order of Tibetan Buddhism. Three of the other six are near Lhasa, one near Shigatse, and the other near Xining (Qinghai province).

 

This is the largest Tibetan Buddhist temple (if I remember reading correctly) outside Tibet. To walk the entire kora (circumference of the temple with prayer wheels) is over a 3 km endeavor, which I undertook on that Monday morning.

 

It was a pleasant walk, rife with photographic opportunities – people don’t mind having their pictures taken, though the Tibetan monks…not so much. They had to give their permission, and usually didn’t want to, which was fine by me. Around the back (north) side of the monastery, there’s an outer kora trail up the mountain that would give a nice view, but I was frankly too lazy to take it (and didn’t find it, anyway).

 

And the people. Photographing people here (monks or otherwise) is just…a treasure trove waiting to happen. Regarding the monks living here, there apparently used to be about four thousand, but limits have been set to around 1,800 now. (All I’ll say is, like most places in China, the Cultural Revolution was none too kind...)

 

After walking the kora, I hung out at Everest Cafe (Lohsang’s restaurant at the Overseas Tibetan) for a no frills breakfast, then spent the remainder of the morning with a tour of the interior of the temple and wandering around the grounds. The monastery has a few different temples, monastic colleges, living residences…it’s really quite a large compound.

 

The day had started sunny, but by sundown was turning pretty cloudy, so no great sunset shots to be had here, and it was getting a bit chilly in the evening at that altitude, so as soon as it was evident there wouldn’t be any more shooting, I went on over to Snowy Mountain for a relaxing dinner alone before retiring to my room for the night. Tuesday morning found me on another long travel day via bus, taxi, and train…to the opposite side of the province: western Gansu province, which was almost like another planet.

In today's beauty-conscious society, females have many alternatives to pick from when it reaches out to the methods of looking physically best. They can pick in the selection of procedures and products that assure enticing, yet oftentimes surface, appeal perks.

 

Yet you see, you don't actually should spend a bunch of money merely to have a smooth and remarkable skin. Availing different sort of procedures and appeal products to make your skin look healthier and younger is vey pricey, specifically if your budget plan is simply minimal. Why spend hundreds of dollars in standard appeal enhancement routine when you can indulge yourself with all-natural skin treatment procedures at the comfort of your residence?

 

Homemade skin treatment procedures as a different appeal routine

 

If you are just one of the gals which take pleasure in making use of all-natural combinations as a choice for pricey facial procedures and products, then homemade skin treatment is a best appeal alternative for you. Besides the reality that homemade skin procedures are low-cost as compared to the ones supplied at health facilities and hair salons, these addresses are additionally secure and easy to do. It is additionally in fact enjoyable doing this sort of appeal routine, specifically if you try it with pals. Homemade appeal addresses additionally save you a bunch of time as you no more should go the hair salon or health facility for skin treatment procedures.

 

Must-try homemade skin treatment recipes

 

So if you haven't tried any kind of homemade skin care procedure in the past, the adhering to are several of the extensively recognized all-natural skin treatment recipes that deserve taking a look at:.

 

1. Facial mask-- cucumber/honey/oatmeal.

 

For a must-try all-natural skin treatment moisturizer, one of the most preferred homemade treat is the facial cucumber/honey/oatmeal mask. Just what you need are the adhering to elements:.

 

\* One to two teaspoons of uncooked oatmeal.

\* One tablespoon of extra-virgin olive oil.

\* 1/4 mixed or mashed cucumber.

\* One tablespoon of organic honey.

 

You should combine all the elements together till a thick paste is formed. You can add added olive oil if you like a thinner texture. After combining all the elements, you can delicately apply the mask to your face, and wait for 10 to 15 minutes just before rinsing with lukewarm water.

 

2. Egg white lightening mask.

 

Now for an all-natural lightening skin care procedure, just what you should certainly try is the egg white mask. The adhering to are the elements you need for the mask.

 

o One tablespoon honey.

o One a little beaten egg white.

o Two tablespoon unflavored gelatin mix.

 

In this certain all-natural skin treatment mask, you have to softly beat the egg white till it comes to be frothy. Next is to combine the gelatin and honey together, then include in egg white. After combining all the elements together, you can then apply the mask on your face, and wait for 15 minutes just before rinsing with lukewarm water.

 

3. Banana yogurt all-natural skin treatment mask.

 

If you have a bunch of bananas in your cooking area, then try creating a banana yogurt mask for an all-natural skin care procedure. Below are the elements you need:.

 

o 1/2 mashed ripe banana.

o One tablespoon organic honey.

o One tablespoon wheatgerm.

o One tablespoon whole milk, simple yogurt.

 

As soon as you have all the elements, you should combine them entirely. Apply to the face, then wait for 10 to 15 minutes just before washing off with lukewarm water. catwalkfabulous.com

Shona Robison at Crown Primary in Inverness.

 

Next year’s Commonwealth Games offers a unique opportunity to inspire people across Scotland to be more physically active and create lasting legacy for the whole of Scotland.

 

Commonwealth Games Minister Shona Robison today visited Crown Primary School and the Inshes Adventure Playpark in Inverness, and Badaguish Outdoor Centre in Aviemore, to meet young people already benefiting from education and sporting opportunities resulting from the Games.

 

Ms Robison said,

 

“The Commonwealth Games in Glasgow next year offers a unique opportunity to inspire people across all of Scotland to become more physically active and create a lasting legacy for the whole of Scotland.

 

I’m delighted to be able to visit Inverness and Aviemore today, and meet with many of the young people and staff already benefiting from Legacy funding in the region. I look forward to visiting many more of these across Scotland over the next few months in the run up to the Games.”

 

The £10m Legacy Active Places Fund was launched in October 2012 by Ms Robison to enhance or increase opportunities for people to be more physically active.

 

Crown Primary School has an active sports culture that promotes health and wellbeing, it was awarded today the first Game on Scotland plaque, a recognition of its active engagement in the national education programme, which uses the Commonwealth Games to inspire pupils.

 

The Inshes Park was built following cash funding of £94,000 from the Scottish Government’s Legacy 2014 Active Places Fund and was developed with input from local youngsters.

 

The Speyside Trust who run the Badaguish Outdoor Centre was successful in its application for an award from the Legacy 2014 Active Places Fund. They will receive £50,375 towards a bike trail suitable for use of cycles for the disabled.

 

Photo names: Crown Primary Headteacher Elspeth Mackenzie with Shona Robison MSP.

 

Photo taken 25 November 2013

 

Credit:

Ewen Weatherspoon Photographer

Tel 01463 792824 Mob 07831 865542

ewen@ewphoto.co.uk www.ewphoto.co.uk

 

New York City is experimenting with physically-protected buffered bike lanes. This is the Grand Street lane. By shifting the parking lane from the right curb to the middle of the road and putting the bike lane where the parking lane was, the City has created low-cost physical separation between bikes and moving cars that can be created overnight with paint.

The simple process of offenselessly chanting and hearing the holy name of the Lord will gradually promote one very soon to the stage of emancipation. There are three stages in chanting the holy name of the Lord. The first stage is the offensive chanting of the holy name, and the second is the reflective stage of chanting the holy name. The third stage is the offenseless chanting of the holy name of the Lord. In the second stage only, the stage of reflection, between the offensive and offenseless stages, one automatically attains the stage of emancipation. And in the offenseless stage, one actually enters into the kingdom of God, although physically he may apparently be within the material world. To attain the offenseless stage, one must be on guard in the following manner.

When we speak of hearing and chanting, it means that not only should one chant and hear of the holy name of the Lord as Rāma, Kṛṣṇa (or systematically the sixteen names Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare/ Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare), but one should also read and hear the Bhagavad-gītā and Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam in the association of devotees.

(Srimad Bhagavatam—–2:2:30—–purport).

 

If one always chants the holy name of Kṛṣṇa, gradually one is freed from all reactions of sinful life, provided he chants offenselessly and does not commit more sinful activities on the strength of chanting the Hare Kṛṣṇa mantra. In this way one is purified, and his devotional service causes the arousal of his dormant love of God. If one simply chants the Hare Kṛṣṇa mantra and does not commit sinful activities and offenses, one’s life is purified, and thus one comes to the fifth stage of perfection, or engagement in the loving service of the Lord (premā pum-artho mahān).

(Sri Caitanya Caritamrta—–1:8:26—–purport).

 

Certainly the chanting of 300,000 holy names of the Lord is wonderful. No ordinary person can chant so many names, nor should one artificially imitate Haridāsa Ṭhākura’s behavior. It is essential, however, that everyone fulfill a specific vow to chant the Hare Kṛṣṇa mantra. Therefore we have prescribed in our Society that all our students must chant at least sixteen rounds daily. Such chanting must be offenseless in order to be of high quality. Mechanical chanting is not as powerful as chanting of the holy name without offenses.

(Sri Caitanya Caritamrta—–1:10:43—–purport).

 

The whole process can be summarized as follows: The advanced devotee who chants the holy name of the Lord in a perfectly offenseless manner and is friendly to everyone can actually relish the transcendental taste of glorifying the Lord. And the result of such realization is reflected in the cessation of all material desires, etc., as mentioned above. The neophytes, due to their being in the lower stage of devotional service, are invariably envious, so much so that they invent their own ways and means of devotional regulations without following the ācāryas. As such, even if they make a show of constantly chanting the holy name of the Lord, they cannot relish the transcendental taste of the holy name. Therefore, the show of tears in the eyes, trembling, perspiration or unconsciousness, etc., is condemned. They can, however, get in touch with a pure devotee of the Lord and rectify their bad habits; otherwise they shall continue to be stonehearted and unfit for any treatment. A complete progressive march on the return path home, back to Godhead, will depend on the instructions of the revealed scriptures directed by a realized devotee.

(Srimad Bhagavatam—–2:3:24—–purport).

 

The advanced devotee who chants the holy name of the Lord in a perfectly offenseless manner and is friendly to everyone can actually relish the transcendental taste of glorifying the Lord. And the result of such realization is reflected in the cessation of all material desires, etc., as mentioned above. The neophytes, due to their being in the lower stage of devotional service, are invariably envious, so much so that they invent their own ways and means of devotional regulations without following the ācāryas. As such, even if they make a show of constantly chanting the holy name of the Lord, they cannot relish the transcendental taste of the holy name. Therefore, the show of tears in the eyes, trembling, perspiration or unconsciousness, etc., is condemned. They can, however, get in touch with a pure devotee of the Lord and rectify their bad habits; otherwise they shall continue to be stonehearted and unfit for any treatment.

(Srimad Bhagavatam—–2:3:24—–purport).

 

In this age, the worship of the śālagrāma-śilā is not as important as the chanting of the holy name of the Lord. That is the injunction of the śāstra: harer nāma harer nāma harer nāmaiva kevalaṁ/ kalau nāsty eva nāsty eva nāsty eva gatir anyathā (CC.1:17:21). Śrīla Jīva Gosvāmī’s opinion is that by chanting the holy name offenselessly one becomes completely perfect. Nevertheless, just to purify the situation of the mind, worship of the Deity in the temple is also necessary. Therefore when one is advanced in spiritual consciousness or is perfectly situated on a spiritual platform, he may take to the worship of the śālagrāma-śilā.

(Sri Caitanya Caritamrta—–1:13:86—–purport).

 

To emphasize something to an ordinary person, one may repeat it three times, just as one might say, “You must do this! You must do this! You must do this!” Thus the Bṛhan-nāradīya Purāṇa repeatedly emphasizes the chanting of the holy name so that people may take it seriously and thus free themselves from the clutches of māyā. It is our practical experience in the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement all over the world that many millions of people are factually coming to the spiritual stage of life simply by chanting the Hare Kṛṣṇa mahā-mantra regularly, according to the prescribed principles. Therefore our request to all our students is that they daily chant at least sixteen rounds of this harer nāma mahā-mantra offenselessly, following the regulative principles. Thus their success will be assured without a doubt.

(Sri Caitanya Caritamrta—–1:17:23—–purport).

 

The Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, Second Canto, Third Chapter, verse 24, also states that if a person does not cry or exhibit bodily changes after chanting the holy name of God without offense, it is to be understood that he is hardhearted and that therefore his heart does not change even after he chants the holy name of God, Hare Kṛṣṇa. These bodily changes can take place due to ecstasy when we offenselessly chant the holy names of God: Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare/ Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare.

(Srimad Bhagavatam—–3:15:25—–purport).

 

When one is free from all ten of these offenses in chanting the holy name of God, he develops the ecstatic bodily features called pulakāśru. Pulaka means “symptoms of happiness,” and aśru means “tears in the eyes.” The symptoms of happiness and tears in the eyes must appear in a person who has chanted the holy name offenselessly. Here in this verse it is stated that those who have actually developed the symptoms of happiness and tears in the eyes by chanting the glories of the Lord are eligible to enter the kingdom of God. In the Caitanya-caritāmṛta it is said that if one does not develop these symptoms while chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa, it is to be understood that he is still offensive. Caitanya-caritāmṛta suggests a nice remedy in this connection. There it is said in verse 31, Chapter Eight, of Ādi-līlā, that if anyone takes shelter of Lord Caitanya and just chants the holy name of the Lord, Hare Kṛṣṇa, he becomes freed from all offenses.

(Srimad Bhagavatam—–3:15:25—–purport).

 

In the Padma Purāṇa also it is stated, “The chanting of the Hare Kṛṣṇa mantra is present only on the lips of a person who has for many births worshiped Vāsudeva.” It is further said in the Padma Purāṇa, “There is no difference between the holy name of the Lord and the Lord Himself. As such, the holy name is as perfect as the Lord Himself in fullness, purity and eternity. The holy name is not a material sound vibration, nor has it any material contamination.” The holy name cannot, therefore, be chanted offenselessly by one who has failed to purify his senses. In other words, materialistic senses cannot properly chant the holy names of the Hare Kṛṣṇa mahā-mantra. But by adopting this chanting process, one is given a chance to actually purify himself, so that he may very soon chant offenselessly.

(Nectar of Devotion).

 

The chanting of the holy names of Kṛṣṇa is so sublime that if one chants the Hare Kṛṣṇa mahā-mantra offenselessly, carefully avoiding the ten offenses, he can certainly be gradually elevated to the point of understanding that there is no difference between the holy name of the Lord and the Lord Himself. One who has reached such an understanding should be very much respected by neophyte devotees. One should know for certain that without chanting the holy name of the Lord offenselessly, one cannot be a proper candidate for advancement in Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

(Nectar of Instruction).

 

It is not advisable in this Age of Kali to leave one’s family suddenly, for people are not trained as proper brahmacārīs and gṛhasthas. Therefore Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu advised the brāhmaṇa not to be too eager to give up family life. It would be better to remain with his family and try to become purified by chanting the Hare Kṛṣṇa mahā-mantra regularly under the direction of a spiritual master. This is the instruction of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu. If this principle is followed by everyone, there is no need to accept sannyāsa. In the next verse Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu advises everyone to become an ideal householder by offenselessly chanting the Hare Kṛṣṇa mantra and teaching the same principle to everyone he meets.

(Sri Caitanya Caritamrta—–2:7:127—–purport).

 

A person born in a family of the low caste which is accustomed to eat dogs is so positioned due to his past sinful activities, but by chanting or hearing once in pureness, or in an offenseless manner, he is immediately relieved of the sinful reaction. Not only is he relieved of the sinful reaction, but he immediately achieves the result of all purificatory processes. Taking birth in the family of a brāhmaṇa is certainly due to pious activities in one’s past life. But still a child who is born in a family of a brāhmaṇa depends for his further reformation upon initiation into acceptance of a sacred thread and many other reformatory processes. But a person who chants the holy name of the Lord, even if born in a family of caṇḍālas, dog-eaters, does not need reformation. Simply by chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa, he immediately becomes purified and becomes as good as the most learned brāhmaṇa.

(Srimad Bhagavatam—–3:33:6—–purport).

==Arkham Forest: The Blackest Night==

 

Black dress shoes trudged across frozen dirt; the uneven scraping of an unresisting body followed closely behind, as man dragged corpse down the woodland path. The man was babbling; desperate to end the unbreakable tension between himself and his victim. Every now and then, he would cast his head back, guiltily examining the green-costumed corpse. There had been better dressed bodies, he acknowledged; the average funeral came to mind, although he had no intention of granting his victim that luxury. Not out of malice; truthfully, the man did not know his victim; not in any meaningful capacity. But, rather, he hoped that he could hide the body somewhere remote, to conceal the unfortunate result of a combination of drinking, driving and fruitless people pleasing. The man was no stranger to death; he’d lost people, he’d killed people. But he had never lingered. He’d never had to. Until tonight.

 

“Ah. Ah fuck, you’re heavy. What am I saying? If anything, you should be the one complaining. Being dead and all. Jeez… Granted, being dead and all, you can’t complain. Not to say you shouldn’t, if you were able to. I meant only in the sense that you actually, physically, can’t. Morally, you’ve every right to. I did kill you. Accidentally, mind; it was an accident. Not that you care; if you could care. Intent doesn’t really matter to the victim. Hah, look at me, being all legal. As I’m… dragging your body. Yep. That is what I’m doing. I’m never drawing straws again. Never drink driving either. You can hold me to that, if you’d like.”

 

He cast his head back again, smiling, as though anticipating a response from his charge’s cold, blood-kissed lips. Nothing. Of course not. Why would he expect anything else? ‘C’mon, Drury.’ The man chided himself internally. ‘The dead don’t speak.’ Still, he pushed as he pulled; in the vain hope the body might answer back.

 

“So, what did they call you? When you were not-dead? Costume’s bug-themed; nice. You’ve my seal of approval, anyways. Grasshopper? We've a Grasshopper, grouchy bastard, he is. Lightning Bug? Nah, not while the mob holds the patent. Firefly? Were you a Firefly? Gar’s never mentioned you. But I suppose if he knew you existed, I’d wager you’d have died a lot sooner.”

 

He swallowed. Coming to a stop, he dropped the pair of stiffened ankles, then carried the body in his arms across to a large, snow-covered stone. With a peculiar tenderness, he propped the body up against the boulder. Leaning upright against the stone, eyes closed and mouth agape, it almost looked like it was sleeping. Almost. The man shook the contents of his water bottle, took a hearty gulp, then took a rest beside the body, shoulder to shoulder with the man he’d killed.

 

“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “You know today started out so well? Les Mis, finally. Haven’t seen it in, what, twenty, twenty-five years? Mum bought us tickets to see it in London, way way back. Consolation for what happened with- long story. It involved my brother, my dad, and some very nasty people. But yeah, round two. With my other special lady. That sounded weird, sorry. Hah. ‘Sorry.’ Like that helps. But honestly, things were finally starting to turn around! I’d been having a rough time of it, we all had. I’d pulled a job, couple of weeks back; well, I supervised. Not well enough. Things went wrong, people got killed, we… lost someone. Monty, poor kid, took a bullet to the dome, now he’s hooked up to a bed in Gotham General. But at least he has a chance, not like you.”

 

The man shook his head, violently, as though he might wrest the thoughts free from his mind and leave him without burden or guilt. “Ah, can’t stay here all day,” he decided, wiping his nose, and arising with renewed purpose. “Miranda’ll be worried sick. Miranda- she's-”

 

He paused, smiling softly. “She's everything. It’s early days, I know, but of that I’m certain. Do you have someone like that? Did you?” he asked, as he again took ahold of the corpse’s striped ankles. “Look, I know you can’t hear me. I know it doesn’t matter. But I am really, truly, sorry this happened to you.”

 

He trudged the rest of the way in silence.

 

~-~

 

Gar and Miranda leaned against the dented hood of the Mothmobile, waiting silently. Drury seldom left them alone, and with good reason; he had always been the most personable of the trio. “You have a light?” Miranda asked at last, fishing into her purse in search of a cigarette. Gar looked back blankly, then after a moment, retrieved his prized lighter.

 

“Thanks,” Miranda said, dabbing the end of her unlit cigarette into the flame, then taking a drag. By her count, this was the longest it had just been the two of them, and so far, it had been the most words they had ever exchanged one-on-one.

 

“Don’t mention it,” Gar muttered. Appreciatively, Miranda passed Gar a second cigarette, which he lit after a prolonged pause spent staring into the sparks of his lighter. Gar spent the next minute watching the amber embers of the cigarette glow; an addiction far more crippling than nicotine ever was.

 

After a lengthy sigh, Miranda pulled the blonde beehive off her head, then scratched the orange buzz cut beneath. “God, that’s good, does that theatre even know what air-con is?” she asked as cold air cooled her scalp.

 

Again, Gar stared.

 

“What?” Miranda asked, cigarette in one hand, wig in the other.

 

“Nothing. It’s a good wig,” Gar mumbled.

 

“I can get you their number,” Miranda offered.

 

“I’ve been making do without, but thanks.”

 

Miranda shrugged, propping the wig up on the bug-shaped hood ornament behind them. The silence returned, but it didn’t last long; Gar had begun to hum a tune very familiar to her.

 

“Thought you hated Les Mis,” Miranda said.

 

“It’s a three-hour show,” Gar defended himself, a little too hastily. “Some of it seeped in. We don’t choose our earworms.”

 

“You do so like musicals, you liar,” Miranda smirked, not buying his excuse.

 

“Don’t know what you mean,” Gar inhaled smoke.

 

Miranda scoffed. “God, how does Drury believe your bullshit?” she teased.

 

“Same reason he believes yours, I expect.”

 

Miranda’s cheeks turned red. They turned away from one another, Gar the victor. Or so he thought; Miranda was singing now. Subconsciously, he joined her in song; they were good, for a pair of supercriminals teetering on the edges of sobriety. As the song crescendoed, his voice got louder, belting out the final note. It took him a moment for him to realise that Miranda had stopped one minute ago. Perhaps even longer. Realising what he’d done, he locked eyes with her, and Miranda guffawed.

 

“Do you hear the people sing, singing a song of angry men…” she began again, mimicking Gar’s clearly not improvised choreography.

 

“Pipe- pipe down, would you? Yes, you got me. I’ve a background in stage and sets, I collabed with Andrew Lloyd-Webber, got Basil Karlo onto Phantom of the Opera, so yes, I like the occasional musical. What I don’t like is Drury’s standing ovation of one after every song… Javert jumps into the Seine and he’s blowing kisses.”

 

“I think it’s sweet.”

 

“Sure, like a puppy tearing up pillows; it’s cute the first time, but it’ll get old fast. You wait. Has he shown you The Room yet?”

 

“What room? The cave?” Miranda’s brow furrowed.

 

Gar struggled to contain his laugh. “Holy shit. He must really like you; I’ve never seen him show that much restraint. There’s hope for him yet. Maybe you can fix him.”

 

Miranda lowered her cigarette, smiling. “What’s there to fix?”

 

==The Arkham Auditorium: Now==

 

Gar paced back and forth, intermittently ordering Billings to ‘shut up’ and ‘stop crying’ as he drafted a plan of attack aloud. Drury’s departure had hit him the hardest; he had become used to him running off to save the day, but this felt different. It felt like a suicide run, and the longer they stood around deliberating, the less chance they had of getting him back. Part of him, a part he was choosing to ignore, feared that chance had passed some time ago; that they would never get him back, not fully. “I don’t know how much of a head start Dru has, so we need to go now,” he instructed the others, swallowing his fear.

 

“We’d never make it in time,” Ten said dejectedly, sitting on the edge of one of the hundred auditorium chairs. He was tying a sling around Chuck’s arm, using some of the fabric from his kite harness.

 

“We can try.” Gar snapped back. Ten raised his synthetic palms up in defeat, not enough energy left to debate him. “Rig and I will fly on ahead, see if we can cut him off,” Gar continued. Joey didn’t hear his name called; his head was hidden behind the large velvet curtains at the room’s edge, distracted by the commotion outside.

 

“Needham, you’ll carry Billings.”

 

“Can do,” Needham obliged. “But someone else will need to circle back to the Pen and grab Crane,” he added. “Pike left him blubbing on the cell floor. I doubt he can go far in his current condition.”

 

Fiasco's head turned at the mention of Crane's name. Freeing Drury from the Dreamscape had been their priority when he’d last encountered Crane, but he still had unfinished business with The Scarecrow. He said nothing to the others, but he quietly reached under his chair and gripped the stock of his shotgun.

 

“Get a grip, Lynns,” Gaige interrupted. “Joker didn’t bring Walker here just to kill him.”

 

“No, he brought him here to break him. His spirit’s already been crushed. I’m not letting him take his mind too, do you understand that?”

 

“Piss your pants at your own leisure, son,” Gaige slung his speargun over his shoulder. “I won’t let you get the rest of us wet.”

 

“What does that even mean?” Gar spluttered incredulously.

 

“I think- Unfortunately, I think it’s self-explanatory, Gar,” Chuck reluctantly vouched for Gaige’s choice of metaphor.

 

“Hey, not to interrupt whatever... this is” Joey called out, finally poking his head out from behind the velvet parting. “But I thought you said we beat Zoom.”

 

His sling complete, Chuck removed Ten’s arm from his own and stepped forward, craning his neck to get a closer look. “We did,” he stammered. “I mean, I assumed Flash-”

 

“It’s not Zoom,” Billings said flatly, his present pain dulled by the resignation that the worst was still to come.

 

“Pardon me, Pistorius, did I say you could speak?” Gaige cocked his head to one side; the visor of his mask steaming up.

 

“Save it,” Needham shot his palm up to silence him. “What’d you say?”

 

“It’s not Zoom,” Billings repeated, somehow even more monotonously.

 

“He’s yellow and quick. He’s not Gorilla Grodd,” Gaige scoffed. Needham repeated the gesture, again failing to adequately stifle Gaige’s grunts of dissent.

 

“It’s Thawne.”

 

“The Reverse-Flash?” Joey asked; his question met with a solemn nod. Although grateful to receive immediate clarification, his confusion remained ongoing. “But I thought he was dead?”

 

“Sure. And so were Carson, Cobb and The King of Cats,” Gar rattled off a non-exhaustive list of previously departed foes.

 

“Fair,” Joey admitted, scratching his arm bashfully. “That is a fair point”

 

“Fucking- I thought Zoom was the Reverse-Flash,” Gaige spoke.

 

“No, Zoom’s a Reverse-Flash but Thawne is The Reverse-Flash,” Chuck said.

 

"What?”

 

“Right, Professor Zoom,” Joey chimed in.

 

“What?”

 

“Thawne. His title is Reverse-Flash but his villain name is Professor Zoom. Zoom’s just Zoom.”

 

“He has two names? Was he that ashamed of his birth name?” Ten, less familiar with the supervillains operating outside of Gotham, asked Needham.

 

“I would be,” he answered bluntly.

 

“It’s pretentious, that’s all,” Gar muttered, clearly annoyed that this was what the conversation had shifted to.

 

“Let me get this straight, these two guys hate The Flash, dress in inverted onesies and shit lightning, and you’re telling me the only- the only -difference between the two of them is that one of them has a PhD?” Gaige growled.

 

“No, uh, Zoom had a PhD, he just didn’t brag about it.”

 

“In WHAT? Machiavellian BULLSHIT? I know it sure as shit wasn’t English Literature!”

 

Chuck and Joey exchanged glances, as though telepathically deciding who should break the news. Chuck drew the short straw. “Criminology.”

 

“If I don’t get the Bloodiest Mary and six pounds of shrimp in the next minute, someone’s going out the window,” Gaige pledged.

 

“It doesn't matter what he's called,” Gar muttered. “It doesn’t change the fact that none of us can even land a hit on him.”

 

Chuck paused, contemplating Gar's words, then under his breath, he said “Maybe we won't have to.”

 

Needham stiffened. Already on edge (certainly irritated), he overheard the quiet, almost imperceptible scrapings of cloth against carpet and a nervous gulp from behind; Billings’. He spun around; his arm fully extended, his ring and middle fingers rested on the release pad for his webs. Then he relaxed his arm.

 

“Batgirl?” he squinted.

 

The others turned around: Cassandra was standing in the doorway, not quite upright. Her mask, fully enclosed and therefore theoretically masking her expressions, was damp, particularly around the stitched eyeholes. Needham took a couple of steps forward, looking at her questioningly.

 

“Basil…” she spoke, in a quiet, half-muffled voice.

 

That was the only word she was able to produce, and for The Misfits, it was explanation enough. Clayface had taken his leave; departed, presumably, via stage left. Then, without warning, Cass fell into Needham’s arms. After a moment of inaction, extended by the uncomfortable knowledge that five pairs of eyes and two pairs of hands were awaiting his reaction, he placed a fatherly arm over her back.

 

Joey frowned, privately taking a mental tally of everyone in the room and coming up one short.

 

“Hey, did anyone see where Len went?”

 

~-~

 

Jonathan Crane remained sprawled on the floor, limbs outstretched, in the same position that Bridget Pike had left him in. He had since abandoned any further attempts to recover his wheelchair, although it had taken some time before he had fully admitted defeat. At his most desperate, he had even screeched for Billings’ assistance. While he hadn’t expected him to answer, and indeed, the thought of Spellbinder finding him lying on the ground, as feeble as a pensioner who had slipped in the shower, repulsed him, his absence still stung.

 

Isolation was not a foreign feeling to him; much of Crane’s childhood was spent locked within a greenhouse, his only company his great-grandmother's birds; wretched beasts searching for an easy meal.

 

Oh, how those birds had terrified him. Cawing through the night. Pecking at his skin. That was when his worst scars were the shallow bite marks of starved crows. That was when fear was his familiar; his drive, his to understand, to control, to master. Now, fear was unobtainable; he could not feel it, he could not instil it. After all his years of study, all that he had given to fear, he was rendered immobile. Felled chasing the terrors he could once induce with a simple sack mask and a loaded pistol.

 

Further down the hallway, spats clacked against concrete. Not Billings then; these were steady, focused footsteps, not the lumbering of that one-legged drunk. The figure rounded the corner, and Crane raised his head up, as far as was possible in his condition, to meet his gaze. His lips met, forming a tired, resigned smile. “I had a suspicion it would be you, Mr Fiasco,” he nodded, his voice cracking slightly. “My angel of death, clad in black and yellow like caution tape. You should know that I had abandoned all hope of release. I dared not pray for death, you see, else The Lord hear my cries and deny me out of spite.”

 

Fiasco said nothing; the yellow colour of his striped slacks was dulled; dirtied by two months spent in a prison cell. His hair had grown out, no longer the crisp flattop he would trim daily. Despite the reputation of his bar, Fiasco was known to pride himself on cleanliness, tidiness and proper hygiene. Denying him that was just of the many reasons Crane suspected he carried a grudge. More pressing, of course, were the aforementioned months in captivity.

 

“If you came here for my feeble yowling, for desperate begging and salty tears to stave off my demise, I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I fear not the hangman’s rope, nor the executioner’s axe. The Batman saw to that,” Crane monologued. “No, if I cared for anything, anything at all, it was my reputation, but it died here, on this floor, alongside the final vestige of my self-respect. All I pray for now is the chance to join it.”

 

“Do it. Let them think it was for Gotham. Why, let them think it was for Butchinsky and they will hail you a hero.”

 

Fiasco looked down, unimpressed. The gun hung loosely from his hand, the barrel practically touching the ground.

 

“Well?” Crane barked, his anticipation turned to impatience. “Don’t dawdle, it does us both a disservice. What delays your judgement? Sadism? Doubt? Fear? Do you fear me, little man, is that it? What little harm I can do to you now is dwarfed by what has been done to me. Finish it.”

 

“Do you know what it is, to be forgotten? Your achievements downplayed, your legacy ignored? Would you deny me even this?” Crane tore the burlap off, exposing his scarred face. His stretched skin was pale and sallow. Yellowed teeth jutted out at unnatural angles. He had a single, bloodshot eye; his other eye socket an empty, scabbed-over pit. Metal pins were all that kept his skull from cracking open.

 

“DO IT, YOU MISERABLE WRETCH; CAST ME INTO OBLIVION!”

 

Fiasco exhaled, and then he knelt beside Crane, keeping his shotgun just out of reach. “Too easy,” he rasped. “Too fuckin’ easy.”

 

“I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to erase you.”

 

==Arkham North: Courtyard==

 

Simon winced. He had been wincing, on and off, for the last five minutes. Since Thawne had tenderized his face and repositioned his ribs. With the threat of further injury temporarily postponed, Simon’s gashes started to close, as flesh met flesh and knitted the skin back together. Bruises sank into his skin, deflating like balloons, their colour draining. Gums tightened around loosened teeth, drawing them back into place. The blood stayed; dried out like scabs. So, this was what it was like to speed heal... Simon had always thought it’d be painless. His error; he could feel the pull of his skin stretching, he could feel his bones moving beneath the surface like whales beneath the waves.

 

At least it was quick.

 

The Polka Dot Man stood before him, wringing his hands, taking note of his newly found allies. Since Krill had reclaimed his belt, Thawne had stayed in place, unmoving, but pulsing angrily. Streaks of red lightning sizzled across his suit, his teeth were bared, and his face was scrunched into a snarl like a caged tiger. “Look, mate, you’re outnumbered,” Krill boasted, sticking his hand through a portal, retrieving a warm can of beer then twisting the pull-ring up. “We’ve got- Who have we got? Oh, Plug Boy. Nice. The Flash. Sick. Oh, we’ve got both target demographics of Euphoria, fancy that,” he gestured with his free hand, chugging his beverage.

 

Sharpe and Kitten both nodded, looked at each other, then frowned.

 

No longer able to restrain himself, Thawne rushed forward. Still slurping his beer, Krill brought up a defensive bubble around himself; Thawne maneuvered out of the way at the last second, skidding against the ground.

 

“I’m getting to you,” Krill wagged his finger, foam dripping down his chin. With a final gulp (and a shake of the can to confirm it was empty), Krill placed the can against his forehead and punched it, compressing it into a flat circle and depositing it through the same portal he had summoned earlier. “Right, where was I?” he asked, wiping his hands on his thighs.

 

“Krill,” Thawne glowered. “A fitting name for a man of your standing. You’re insignificant. A microscopic gnat swimming through the multiverse. One of a million, billion little pests with mismatched eyes and pockmarked skin aimlessly floating towards an early grave. I would have preferred to let you be consumed by the Speedforce, swallowed into obscurity. But I am not so stubborn that I cannot see the opportunities afforded by your expulsion. It simply means I get to kill you myself.”

 

“You’ll have to catch me first,” Krill flashed a toothy grin. He raised the bubble, and Thawne took the bait, sprinting forwards. Krill chucked a cluster of dot-shaped explosives to slow him down, then dove through an amber portal. Thawne threw his forearm in front of his face, missing the worst of the shrapnel. Krill reappeared in front of the Asylum’s entrance, this time waving a red cloak like a matador.

 

“I tire of this,” Thawne warned, this time not rising to Krill’s taunts.

 

“Well, you’re getting to be that age...” Krill remarked, tossing the cloak away. “Spend your youth sprinting and arthritis becomes a serious concern.”

 

This time, Thawne rose to Krill’s taunts.

 

Whenever Thawne got too close, Krill would leap through a portal with the rehearsed athleticism of a circus acrobat jumping through flaming hoops. Thawne cracked his own fist against his jaw, with a punch meant for Krill. This pattern repeated, as each rage-filled punch was sent into a portal and thrown right back at him. As Thawne sped after him, The Polka Dot Man played hopscotch, jumping from dot to dot to evade the Professor’s sprint. Switching to offense, Krill sent a dozen different dots Thawne’s way; razor-tipped buzzsaws, exploding homing missiles; dots that froze and dots that burned. For every one Thawne missed, another found its mark.

 

“You just don’t get it, do you, mate? So long as I have this belt, I’m practically invincible! No, I’m not, I’m what’s-his-face; the brainy ballsack with the portal predilection. ‘Cept I’ve got the smarts and the wormholes, and you’ve got the victim complex and a head like the Shaggy Man’s scrotum.”

 

“Eugene Levy?” Blake suggested.

 

“Don’t think it’s that, but I appreciate the assist.”

 

~-~

 

Axel and Kitten saw their chance, and stampeded towards their brother, at last embracing in a hug born of relieved disbelief. As they broke apart, Axel playfully tapped his brother’s pec with the back of his hand. “So, you’re fast now?”

 

“I guess so,” Simon confirmed.

 

“You do realise this means I get to hate you more now, yeah? Like, it’s my civic duty. As a Trickster. As a Rogue. As a recreational delinquent. Like, I’m morally obligated to,” he beamed.

 

“Axel!” Kitten chided him.

 

Simon nodded, smiling. “I reckon I can live with that.”

 

“Simon, that was incredible!” Wally appeared behind him, slapping him on the back supportively. “You’re a natural! That was one hell of a gambit; how’d you even know how to access the Speedforce?”

 

“That wasn’t you?” Simon asked.

 

“What?” Wally asked, still smiling, but a confused look in his eyes.

 

“There was a voice, it told me the coordinates… I thought that was you.”

 

Wally frowned. “Simon, I didn’t say anything,” he revealed.

 

“Then who did?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Never mind,” Wally deflected, mulling over what to say, and how best to say it. “When a speedster dies, their souls return to the Speedforce, while their speed is reabsorbed, held until it can be passed down to the next generation. They have been... known to speak from beyond the grave, to guide novice speedsters- I think, maybe, hopefully, that’s what happened to you.”

 

“Why do you say hopefully?”

 

“A headache for another time,” Wally smiled. “Now, run, Simon, run.”

 

Simon saluted, then sped off; his siblings running behind him. Wally’s eyes followed him, watching as Simon’s speed trail faded from view.

 

“Hey,” Dick dropped down from a nearby tree, first greeting Wally with a handshake, then bringing him into a hug. “You gave your superspeed to Killer Moth’s kid?”

 

Wally shrugged. “You gave your pixie boots to Batman’s.”

 

“Fair point,” Dick conceded. “C’mon, slowcoach,” he teased, racing into the fray.

 

Wally smirked, then ran after him.

 

“Night school!” Paul Booker clicked his fingers. “That’s where I know ya from.” Rocks formed beneath his feet, then he followed closely behind.

 

~-~

 

Krill was running low on dots; while waiting for the rest of his nanotech to return, he slipped a stick of gum into his mouth. Left open, Thawne seized his opportunity. He grabbed Krill by a bunched-up piece of fabric around his chest and hoisted him up above his head. Krill, kept chewing; a pink bubble blew out of his mouth, quickly expanding to exceed the size of his head.

 

“Your last meal?” Thawne asked, his grip tightening.

 

“Oors,” Krill answered, his voice muffled by bubblegum. The bubble burst, encasing Thawne’s head in a pink, plastic coating.

 

“Yours,” Krill repeated. Thawne dropped him; the bubble clung to his skin, wrapping around his nose and mouth, slowly suffocating him. Thawne thrashed about on the ground, clawing at his face in a desperate attempt to peel the plastic off his face. Battling his lack of circulation (and Krill’s foot in his side), he vibrated his body, phasing free of the pink prison.

 

Krill’s lip curled. “Ah.”

 

Thawne grabbed his ankle, then flung him across the battlefield. His surroundings a blur, and his head just as fuzzy, Krill twisted his dial; a blue portal opened and deposited a king-sized mattress. He slammed against it, then slid onto the ground; bruised, but far preferrable to the rocks he was on course to strike.

 

As Thawne advanced, intent on neutralising the so-called, self-titled, most powerful man on the planet, Simon struck him like a missile, tackling him. Thawne recovered fast; a backhand knocked Simon away. Simon felt a molar shoot out his gum and impale the lining of his cheek. He loosened the tooth with his tongue, then spat it into his palm, pocketing it. He determined to remind himself to set a dentist appointment when this was all over. Presently, he was reminded that Thawne remained on the warpath. As Simon rushed to keep up, Thawne stopped completely, then stuck his foot out; Simon tripped, his chin taking the brunt of the impact. Thawne looked at Krill, limping away, and at Simon, then smiled. Simon crawled forwards, but Thawne stepped on his hand. “Slowing down? I expect so. Your little power-up was only ever a temporary boon.”

 

Simon phased his hand free; Thawne stumbled forward. Simon swung his other fist up, but Thawne caught it, headbutting Simon back into the ground.

 

“There is no getting rid of me, Simon,” Thawne sneered. “I’m the pebble in your shoe, digging deeper into your sole with each fresh step you take. And no matter how many times you shake your boot, you can never, never, pry me loose.”

 

Simon staggered up; Thawne was right about one thing; his speed was diminishing; he was slowing down with every step. But so long as the Speedforce was pumping through his veins, he was going to fight. A sweeping kick knocked Thawne off-balance; a series of body-blows kept him that way. Thawne stumbled, then peered back; the others were on their way, fists raised, weapons pointed, he would have to postpone this reunion, unless-

 

“You need a time out,” he stated, catching Simon’s fist. Time slowed, the battle froze, the world around them blurred, like staring through a frosted window. As Simon reckoned with the change in perspective, The Professor clamped his hand against his skull, forcing his head against the ground. “I’d say we have just enough time for a quick history lesson. Let’s see if you’ve done your homework.”

 

“Let me go-!”

 

“Time...” Thawne smiled. “Time is such a fickle thing; the smallest shift, the slightest alteration, and the natural flow of events is forever changed. You tread on a butterfly; you move a chair slightly; you nudge a blade two inches to the right…”

 

Simon’s eyes widened at Thawne’s insinuation. “I- I don’t understand, I stopped Chronos.”

 

“Yes, you did. And while you stood atop his body, relishing your victory a tad too long, you met him.”

 

“Dad.”

 

“Mhm. Him, fresh faced, butterflies in his stomach; you, dressed not dissimilarly to the Lightning Bug he had come to know from afar. In your time, I’m sure you know, the Misfits disbanded after poor Monty Sharpe took a bullet through the little brains he had rattling around his skull. But, say, Drury Walker found a replacement; a well-spoken, polite young man, with a familial connection he couldn’t quite place?”

 

“But Lightning Bug died. He always died. It’s the only reason I even have this costume.”

 

“Yes, yes, the Red Hood took care of that in your time too,” Thawne conceded. “But not as quickly… No, your Hood killed the Bug over lowly assault charges, not the total decimation of an apartment block. Funny, one chance encounter and the death toll that should not have been had risen to the hundreds.”

 

“As for Chronos? The time remnant gunned down by your flame-broiled father? Chronos died on The Blackest Night. Did you never wonder where he went? I’ll tell you. The ring sought out his closest ally; in proximity not intimacy; a sick, vulnerable man, held in Arkham over a string of holiday crimes… Imagine, how he felt, when a rotting Lantern tore through his cell, wearing the visage of an old acquaintance. Oh, I’m sure his fragile mind was stretched even further than thought possible. The things he might be driven to do… The people he might hurt…”

 

“No- that wasn’t me- I didn’t-” Simon stuttered, bile rising from his stomach.

 

“You trod on the butterfly. You moved the chair. And a few years on, scared of what mere B-Listers and C-Listers might do, did do, City Hall expanded their purview. They threw half the city into Arkham. And your stepmother died stopping them. Cause and effect. You were messy, Simon, and mess breeds mess.”

 

“You’re lying,” Simon choked.

 

“Maybe. I probably am,” Thawne admitted, leaning in closer, whispering with a broad smile on his face. “But you are never going to know.”

 

And with that final twist of the knife, Thawne zoomed off. Time returned to its proper place. Simon lay still, contemplating Thawne’s words, trying his hardest to disprove them, until he was jolted back to the present by Axel’s hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you alright?” he asked, helping his brother up.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Are you OK? Did he hurt you?”

 

“N-No, I don’t think so,” Simon answered. “Thanks.”

 

~-~

 

Krill had recovered from his tumble, and was back on the defensive, slinging dots the size of manholes Thawne’s way. Beside him, Montgomery Sharpe offered unprompted, and unwanted, critiques.

 

“Oh, wow. More dots. You ever think about opening a portal into space and just sucking him away?” he asked, providing cover fire with his dragon staff.

 

“Oi, am I getting lip from the used tampon?” Krill asked.

 

Sharpe folded his arms defiantly. “Well, you’re not getting head,” he pledged.

 

Thawne caught one of the dots and launched it at the pair. The duo ducked out of the way; Krill selfishly bringing up a protective bubble for him and him alone. The dot struck a nearby oak, and the enormous tree crashed down between them, separating him from Sharpe. Sharpe crawled away, finding refuge beneath the purple cape of Doctor Polaris. The doctor looked down at him inquisitively.

 

“You’re holding back,” he stated. “Why?”

 

“What?” Sharpe snapped, looking over his shoulder to confirm that no one had overheard the doctor’s accusation.

 

“You pull your punches, you strike from a distance… Why? Why do you cower when you are emboldened by luck? From what I can discern you have the one true advantage here.”

 

“Because luck is relative, pal. It’s the slightest distinction between dead and near dead. Just ‘cause I’ve taken hits that should've killed me doesn’t mean I walked ‘em off.”

 

Violet eyes gleamed beneath Polaris’ blood-crusted mask. “Yes, I see it now. You’ve been kissed by metal.”

 

“Kissed? Try screwed. Hard.” Sharpe peeled back his mask, then tapped the white mark in the centre of his sweaty forehead. “I was straight skull-fucked, dude.”

 

Polaris’ eyes narrowed, then raised his gloved fist. “Move your hand away,” he instructed Sharpe. “You wouldn’t want to lose a finger when it exits.”

 

“When what does? What are you-?”

 

“Ammunition.”

 

~-~

 

With Krill firmly established as their greasy golden goose, the remaining able combatants had changed tactics, now doing everything in their power to keep him and his belt insulated from Thawne’s wrath. The problem, of course, was keeping up with them. While Simon still had enough of Flash’s speed left to pose a challenge to him, the others relied on gadgets and gizmos alone to delay Thawne’s vengeance. Lisa’s ribbons and Selina’s whip proved advantageous in tripping him up, whereas Blake’s Catarangs posed as much threat to him as Multi Man’s sporks. Although Big Sir's enormous heart was in the right place, by the time he lumbered towards Thawne, The Professor had already sped to the other edge of the island. Meanwhile, one hand down, Lord Manga remained more interested in peddling cheap merchandise.

 

“Polka Dot!” Wally panted, slightly regretting surrendering his speed as he struggled to keep up with Krill, now mounted on a saucer dot. “You can’t kill him!”

 

“Sod that!” Krill protested.

 

“I’m serious, this isn’t the usual hero spiel; The Speedforce needs a vessel, a speedster to serve as its tether.”

 

“I don’t give a fuck.”

 

“You will when it rips open and sends us all into the abyss!”

 

Krill paused. “Does it need all of him?”

 

~-~

 

One of Bridget’s gauntlets pinged urgently; she checked the display, frowning. She was running low; there was scarcely enough fuel left in her rig to toast a marshmallow.

 

“Hey, kid!” a voice bellowed from behind her. Mick Rory jogged alongside her, then tossed her an extra fuel cell from his belt.

 

“Thanks,” she said, catching it. Affixing it to her gauntlet, she then dove back into the fray. With her in the air and Rory on the ground, the two fired their weapons at Thawne, temporarily holding him at bay with a wall of amber flame. Next, one of the Intensive Treatment building’s windows blasted open, shards of stained glass peppering the grounds below. Thawne looked up, teeth gritted. ‘So, the last of Walker’s Misfits had arrived.’ Lynns and Rigger led the charge, firebombing the grounds from above. Dots like umbrellas formed above the Misfit’s allies, protecting them from the deluge of napalm. Surrounded by fire, Thawne turned to run, only to be struck by a sudden darkness.

 

Smoke bombs.

 

Easily dispensed with, Thawne smirked. He spun his arms to waft away the smoke, and was rewarded by a kick to the face by a young woman in black. Dick moved in to cover Cass, throwing his batons at Thawne.

 

“The assassins’ daughter and the acrobats’ son,” Thawne drawled, catching the batons then throwing them back at superspeed. “According to The Database, you two were the very best of Batman’s line of proteges.”

 

“But his best,” Thawne started. “-isn’t good enough.”

 

Cassandra dodged. Dodged the blows of a speedster. She read his body language; he telegraphed his moves, even at superspeed, he couldn’t help it. And she adjusted accordingly. For a while she evaded his blows and when he left an opening, a fraction of a second between punches, she hit back.

 

If it had been anyone else, it would have been logical to assume that The Database was wrong. That centuries on, the truth had been warped. Distorted. That the records had been exaggerated. Not with Cassandra Cain. She really was that good.

 

Thawne messaged his cheek. “Hn. You are fast.”

 

Cassandra gestured to his side. Puzzled, Thawne turned to see a trio of Batarangs dug into his arm. “What?”

 

“Fast enough,” she taunted him.

 

Thawne snarled, as his arm slumped down, immobilised. Enraged, he grabbed her cape, throwing her back. Cassandra caught herself with the grace of a ballerina, but by then Thawne had moved on. He dodged fiery swings of Joey’s sword. He danced past Gar’s hot flames and Ten’s heavy punches. He caught Gaige’s spear and snapped it in two, and he did it all with one arm. That manic look in Gar’s eyes had resurfaced, his hand trembled, his fingers fondled the trigger of his flamethrower with unnerving ardour. Then a hand rested on his shoulder.

 

Joey looked back at Gar sympathetically then, gently lowering the barrel of his flamethrower to the ground, mouthed the words ‘It’s OK.’

 

“It won’t work,” Gar said quietly. “Can’t work.”

 

“It’s a good plan,” Joey assured him. “Have faith.”

 

He shot Ten a thumbs up he didn’t see.

 

~-~

 

“UMM. HOLY SHIT GIRLIE,” Kitten rushed forward, leaping into Cassandra’s unprepared arms, and lifting her legs off the ground. “YOU ARE SERVING SO MUCH FUCKING CUNT RIGHT NOW. LIKE, WOW, OH MY GOD, QUEEN, YOU ARE SUCH A BAD BITCH, Y'KNOW? YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT, BESTIE?”

 

“I know,” Cassandra replied, resisting suffocation.

 

“That’s Kitten?” Selina asked Bridget.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Kitten Walker?”

 

“Do you know many other Kittens?”

 

“Is that a joke?”

 

“Why would it be?” Bridget asked humourlessly.

 

Selina decided not to answer that. “She’s crasser than I expected,” she evaded, folding her arms.

 

“I’ll be honest,” Bridget admitted. “I kidnapped her and I didn’t even think she knew most of those words.”

 

~-~

 

A stone grazed Thawne’s forehead. He turned to the source and relaxed instantly. “Which one are you again? Kite-Man?” he asked.

 

Chuck edged forwards; his visor was cracked, one arm was suspended in a garish yellow sling and the other was clutching a second stone defensively. “Hell. Yeah.”

 

Thawne smiled, he could feel movement in his shoulder again. “Oh, don’t make me laugh,” he said, laughing. “You’re useless with two arms.”

 

“Mhm. Yeah,” Chuck nodded, dropping his stone. “He’s not.”

 

A red blur blasted through the flames, throwing Thawne off his feet. His eyes scanned the battlefield, searching for the source. “Now he comes,” he murmured, a barely audible tremble to his words.

 

“Your fight is with me, Thawne,” a voice rumbled like thunder, its owner’s red silhouette submerged by smoke and fire.

 

“It was with you,” Thawne replied, beady, red eyes narrowing. “I’ve outgrown you.”

 

Over a dozen onlookers stayed silent, a sense of shared reverence washing over them as The Flash stepped forward. Thawne’s Flash.

 

“Barry?” Wally questioned.

 

“We both know that’s a lie,” The Flash said, each loathful word a knife in Thawne’s chest. As he walked towards him, slowly but purposefully, each golden footstep sounded like a bullet fired through Thawne’s back. “You have no identity without me. You don’t exist without me. You’re a husk, Thawne. That, is why you run. That, is why you flit from time to time, bouncing across the timestream like a yoyo. Why you won’t stay in the past. Why you can’t stay in the future. Because you are loathed. Despised. Hated by all. Just look around, Thawne, you’ve raised an army against you, an army born centuries before you ever will be. In trying to chase my legacy, all you’ve gained is hate a hundred-fold.”

 

“And that’s a Flash Fact.”

 

“Hard truths, Flash?” Thawne rolled his eyes. “Please. Look at all that I have accomplished in a day; look at the bloody piles of broken bones and crushed spirits I have reduced these pathetic amateurs to in your absence. Look at your protégé, sapped and useless.”

 

Thawne chuckled. “You always were late. Late for mommy. Late for Iris. Does she see me when she closes her eyes? See me, like you do? Hm? I am the monster under your bed, Flash. I was always the monster under your bed. The creak in your closet. The shadow in the dark. Perhaps I am nothing, but I am all that I need to be, to hurt you. Whether it’s thirty years in the past, or four hundred in the future, I will always win. I wonder, will you still believe every second is a gift once I’ve finished painting Arkham Island in the blood of these inferiors?”

 

Thawne blinked twice, his smile fading. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

 

“Thawne, enough,” The Flash commanded, but his authority was lost the moment Thawne caught on. The overly dramatic dialogue... the slight mischaracterisation... the stilted delivery as though reading from a script...

 

“Yes, enough,” he sped forward. “Enough games. Enough tricks. Let’s part the curtain and finish this as we are,” he hissed, ramming his vibrating hand through The Flash’s chest. The Flash didn’t fight back. No blood was drawn, no death-gasp was uttered. His image glitched, fizzled, then faded entirely.

 

The Black Spider stared Thawne down, as he fastened his web cartridges. Groggily carried on Needham’s back, Delbert Billings spluttered weak apologies. “Didn’t want to- didn't mean to- they made me-”

 

“Say another word and I will remove what remains of your leg and I will beat you to death with it.”

 

Billings stopped pleading after that.

 

Chuck swung his fist out; Thawne caught it, then kneed him in the gut.

 

“Did you really think that would work?” Thawne asked, slightly amused by Brown’s audacity; both in enlisting Billings and in his attempt to initiate one-handed fisticuffs.

 

“It didn’t have to,” Chuck said breathlessly. “-just needed to distract you.”

 

Thawne turned. Krill was squatting on a dot-shaped podium, hovering above a sparkling portal. Krill waved, then stuck up his middle finger.

 

“I won’t go quietly.”

 

“We figured,” Chuck replied.

 

“But you will go.”

 

A web caught Thawne’s foot, tripping him up. Recovering his footing, Thawne sent a cyclone that knocked Krill off his perch; he caught himself with a trampoline-like dot, safely bouncing him onto the ground. More dots flew, slicing through flesh.

 

“Stabilise the portal!” Chuck ordered Krill, before Thawne backhanded him. Dick threw his batons at Thawne, their electrified charges knocking him back, but only temporarily.

 

Something else halted Thawne’s approach, something small and metal weighing him down.

 

“I have apprehended the brigand, M’lord!” L-Ron chirped excitedly, spindly arms wrapped around Thawne’s calve.

 

“Get. Off.”

 

Thawne’s hand rammed into L-Ron’s head; sparks spat at the Professor’s hand as he dug inside the robot’s metal skull for the contents within. His fist retracted, pulling with it frayed wires and broken circuitry. L-Ron droned a line of ones and zeroes none present could understand, then hit the ground with the grace of a downed printer. Thawne shook his hand loose of the circuitry wrapped around it, then kicked the metal body aside.

 

“L-RON!”

 

Lord Manga rushed forwards, cape flapping in the wind, golden armour dripping in the heat as he hurried through the flames, until at last, he was cradling the little robot in his arms. “Pity, M’Lord,” L-Ron bleeped. “I had hoped I would make it to the next quarter. I had anticipated we would finally escape the dreaded red-ed-ed-ded-ded.”

 

Thawne scoffed. “I can’t believe they ever made serving droids so crude.”

 

“That was no serving droid,” a metallic voice sizzled like steam. “His name was L-Ron. And he was MINE.”

 

Manga’s true vaporous form shot out from his armour’s wrist, then forced its way down Thawne’s throat; he gagged, spluttered, then pink smoke sifted through his nostrils. That discombobulation left him wide open. Rock formed around Thawne’s ankles; a whip wrapped around his right arm; ribbons his left; Krill twisted the dial and his portal drew closer, drawing grass and stones into The Speedforce as it approached. Thawne broke those bonds; then came the webs. The gum. The snot. Closer, the portal moved. Thawne phased free of those too; then lightning hit his chest, flames shot forth, blue energy stung him. A spork pierced his cheek. Catarangs and Batarangs forced him back. Krill strained, his feet dug in, the dial twisted, and the portal moved closer, inch by inch. Thawne could outrun any portal, he’d proven that already; they needed him restrained, bound long enough for the Speedforce to snare him. No small feat.

 

“Look at you,” Thawne snarled. “You are not the resistance. You are not freedom fighters. You’re dregs, bleeding for a world that never gave you a second glance. I’ll let you in on a secret; it doesn’t change! You’re fighting for a future that mocks and shuns you!”

 

“That suits us just fine, pal,” a voice called out. “We’re Misfits.”

 

A bullet tore through Thawne’s jaw. Bone shrapnel filled his mouth, blood dripped through his chin, and the bullet returned to Polaris’ palm. Sharpe put a damp hand over his forehead, plugging the freshly carved exit wound. Thawne spewed blood and bone fragments, screeching unintelligible curses that would not be invented for centuries to come.

 

“It’s still not enough…” Gar grimaced.

 

Chuck shook his head. “It has to be.”

 

A wet nose nuzzled the cheek of Otis Flannegan. Flannegan patted the loyal rodent on the head, then he looked down at his wound. At least a dozen separate splinters were circling his vital organs, a deep channel was running through his gut. “Eh,” he grunted, wiping the freshest layer of dirt off his overalls. “Why not?”

 

“Abner!”

 

“Who-?” Krill turned to see Flannegan limping towards him, his splintered staff used as a cane to propel him forwards.

 

“This counts as mine!” he belted.

 

“Does it fuck,” Krill muttered.

 

Flannegan tackled Thawne back into the portal’s path; Thawne’s fists pounded against his back, desperate to shake him loose. Eventually, a yellow hand punched through Flannegan’s spine and came back red. Flannegan fell; Thawne panted. Then he realised it was all too late. Flannegan had bought Krill the time needed to force the portal forwards; the ground beneath Thawne’s feet was weightless, cloud-like. Already, lightning formed across his body like reins, pulling him back. He made a final desperate lunge forwards, but he was a fraction too slow. The portal closed on Thawne’s wrist; a severed hand flopped pathetically onto the cold grass. And that was that.

 

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Her family and friends told her to leave him, but she just loved him too much.

 

Different kinds of abuse in a relationship is sadly very common. Many women [and men] suffer from physical, emotional, mental, and verbal abuse brought about by their partners. Sadly enough, many people choose NOT to leave their abusive partners because of a variety of reasons. Some people find comfort in their partners, some claim to be ‘in-love’ with their partners despite their abusive behavior, and some people have no one else to rely on.

 

But for this girl, being in an abusive relationship shouldn’t be called a relationship at all. According to her, she loved her boyfriend more than anything else—to the point that she allowed him to abuse her.

   

But Facebook user Jade Davis finally decided to cut ties after her boyfriend broke her nose one night. along with her pictures, she shares her story on Facebook—and it is totally heart-breaking!

   

(emotinally AND physically in this picture)

sorry this isn't the best,i took these and edited these from my ipod. but the flower represents how people appear on the outside an I represent how people can really feel on the inside. idk just trying out layering

click to ask me for advice, ask me something random,

or to just tell me somethinn(: -> www.formspring.me/betsyburke

   

One of the most physically beautiful public school buildings in the City of Chicago. Through no fault of its own, this early-20th century school ended up in the middle of Robert Taylor Homes in the 1960's. Now, with the demolition of those buildings and the housing meltdown have stalled commercial and residential development of the vacant land, its future as a school is uncertain.

It is no secret that most women work harder. They care for their children. They cook for their families. They run errands. They work one, two or three jobs.

 

But Congolese women work physically harder. They carry heavy food stuff from the fields over long distances. They carry gallons of water over long distances. They carry infants while doing other jobs.

 

They work outside the home from sunrise to sunset. Then they work at home.

 

www.endingextremepoverty.org/2009/10/congolese-women-do-i...

LINDSEY, CHARLES, newspaperman, author, and office holder; b. 7 Feb. 1820 in Strubby, England, third son of Charles Lindsey and Susannah —; m. 22 Jan. 1852, in Toronto, Janet Mackenzie (d. 1906), daughter of William Lyon Mackenzie*, and they had four sons and three daughters; d. there 12 April 1908.

 

Charles Lindsey was educated at a grammar school in Lincoln, England, at some sacrifice to the modest circumstances of his parents. Scholastically precocious and physically delicate, he early decided to make his way as a journalist. After an apprenticeship with a press in Lincoln, at the age of 22 he immigrated to Upper Canada “in search of some occupation as a writer.” By submitting letters to the editor and columns with a reform bias, he was able to join the staff of a newspaper at Port Hope. There his talent was spotted by the publisher of the Toronto Examiner, James Lesslie*, who in 1846 hired him as editor.

 

Lesslie hoped that Lindsey’s ability, idealism, and commitment to radical reform politics would win back for the Examiner the primacy among reform newspapers it had recently lost to George Brown*’s Globe. Indeed, Lindsey attempted to carve a niche for his journal as the conscience of the reform party. Inclined to free trade if not annexation, democratic verging on republican, and voluntary to the point of anti-Catholicism, the Examiner targeted moderation among its allies as often as the conservatism of its enemies. Its criticism became more pointed when the reform ministry of Robert Baldwin* and Louis-Hippolyte La Fontaine* took power in 1848.

 

By 1849 Lindsey was himself politically active. Together with such like-minded radicals as Peter Perry*, Malcolm Cameron*, John Rolph*, and Charles Clarke, he met at the Toronto law offices of William McDougall to discuss issues of the day. From these meetings emerged the Clear Grit faction of the reform party, which took the Baldwin–La Fontaine ministry to task for its “aristocratic” approach to politics and subservience to French Canadian interests. Warning Clarke in 1850 that “we shall get no real reforms from the French,” Lindsey was particularly upset over delays in the secularization of the clergy reserves in Upper Canada, and he made this issue the subject of a book in 1851. In order to provide an unalloyed voice for the Clear Grits, he had participated in 1850 in establishing the radical North American, along with McDougall, whom he had joined three years earlier in the short-lived Canada Farmer. These activities collectively paid off in 1851. Francis Hincks*, who had replaced Baldwin as leader of the reformers in Upper Canada, desperately needed the support of a reform journal after the disillusioned Brown withdrew the backing of the Globe. Hincks consequently accepted the price of the North American’s support: Clear Grit representation in cabinet. He therefore invited Cameron and Rolph to join the reconstructed cabinet – an arrangement Lindsey helped to facilitate.

 

Whether this shift in the Clear Grit position represented a real attempt to purify the reform government or a simple lust for power, Lindsey defended the move over the hesitation of Lesslie. The consequent ambiguity of Lindsey’s position at the Examiner and his ambition for a more independent situation coincided with Hincks’s requirement for a newspaper dedicated to upholding the ministry. The North American remained too obviously the creature of McDougall and the Clear Grit faction. When Toronto businessman James Beaty* agreed to publish the pro-ministerial Leader in 1852, Lindsey accepted the post of editor. The realization that the government led by Hincks and Augustin-Norbert Morin* was, if anything, even more dependent upon and conciliatory toward the French Canadian majority in Lower Canada than the one it had replaced sent many Grits back into opposition, now under the increasing direction of Brown. Lindsey stayed on to defend pragmatism of a sort he had previously condemned, primarily because it facilitated, he believed, the implementation of an effective program of economic development. For much the same reason the Leader championed the coalition engineered with the Conservatives in 1854 [see Sir Allan Napier MacNab*].

 

Although clearly drifting with opportunity, Lindsey clung to the view that the coalition was fundamentally liberal in orientation. He defended a succession of Liberal-Conservative ministries from the extremism of Brown’s Grits on the left and such Tory die-hards as John Hillyard Cameron* on the right, and in the process won for the Leader a position within the province second only to that of the Globe. Still, Lindsey remained uncomfortable with Liberal-Conservative dependence on French Canadians, especially when they pressed the claims of Roman Catholicism. As a consequence, his loyalty was ambiguous and never automatic. John A. Macdonald*, co-premier from 1856, did his best to attend to Lindsey’s sensibilities, praising his editorials, suggesting subjects to examine or avoid, and providing such scoops as advance notice in 1858 of Queen Victoria’s selection of Ottawa as the capital of Canada. Moreover, Lindsey received occasional perquisites: in 1855 he was appointed an honorary commissioner to the universal exposition in Paris and in 1859 he undertook a tour through the American Midwest at the behest of the government in order to compose a pamphlet to correct promotional exaggerations of that region then circulating to the detriment of Canada. Nevertheless, even on so important an issue as confederation he remained an indifferent ally, accepting it only after criticizing the coalition with Brown in 1864, the centralizing tendencies of the Quebec resolutions, and the prematurity of union.

 

Not entirely happy with the direction of public affairs and struck by a series of illnesses, he resigned his editorship in 1867, and accepted a sinecure as registrar of deeds for Toronto. The duties of this position were light, and he continued to write, free from the inhibitions of party. Indeed, he became disenchanted with both traditional parties – the Liberals and the Conservatives – which seemed incapable of rising to the challenges of the young nation. Writing in the Mail, the Monetary Times, and the Canadian Monthly and National Review, he pressed in the 1870s and early 1880s for honesty in government, freer trade with the United States, and the separation of church and state.

 

Given such opinions, it is not surprising that Lindsey was attracted to the Canada First movement and its éminence grise, Goldwin Smith (after whom he named a son). In 1874 he became a member of Canada First’s political arm, the Canadian National Association, a charter-member of its club, the National in Toronto, and editor of the movement’s voice, the Nation, which folded in 1876. Unfortunately, his tie to this withering force seems to have marked the end of Lindsey’s effective political influence. He was now labelled a grand old man of Canadian journalism – a sure sign of irrelevance.

 

Lindsey was best known in his last years as an author rather than a journalist. In 1862, using his father-in-law’s papers, he had published a biography of W. L. Mackenzie, making a case for the personal integrity of the rebel of 1837–38 and, more controversially and despite his own espousal of moderation, for the long-term benefit of the rebellion, as the means to reform and responsible government. Subsequent historians reacted to this work, and it was often quoted in the debate over John Charles Dent*’s critical handling of Mackenzie in The story of the Upper Canadian rebellion (1885). More in keeping with Lindsey’s own political principles were his entry on Sir John A. Macdonald in Dent’s Canadian portrait gallery (1880) and his attack on ultramontanism entitled Rome in Canada (1877). In recognition of these efforts, he was invited to be an inaugural member of the Royal Society of Canada in 1882. Thereafter he became less active. His responsibilities as registrar were limited to the western division of Toronto in 1890, but he did not retire until the age of 86 in 1906. He died at the home of his son George Goldwin Smith two years later, following a short illness. An Anglican, he was buried beside the Mackenzie family plot in the Necropolis.

 

Moderate in most things not touching French Canadians and Catholics, Lindsey had a career that was an odd mixture of inconsistency and adherence to principle. He was never firmly attached to party or person, and this factor, combined with a delicate constitution, may explain his failure to follow such editors as Brown and McDougall into politics. Although office secured their reputations, Lindsey’s faded according to the ephemeral nature of journalism. Today he is remembered, if at all, as the biographer of his father-in-law. This limited remembrance is unfortunate, for it distorts and depreciates the varied and significant nature of his contribution.

  

Spiritual/physical definition;

Isometree…

Equality of measure. preserving distances,

proportional change in size of a part or parts as it grows and evolves both physically and spiritually.

 

"Why my friend,

asked one day,

Why?

Why did they do this to children?

 

She was a stolen child,

from the stolen generation,

stolen as she was deemed,

far too white,

amounts all that dark skin of family,

stolen from her birth family.

Her father,

Like most stolen children,

during those early days,

Was a Scotsman,

Border Reiver family most likely,

Newly arrived settler,

convict or free settler,

against the law,

to marry a native,

even if they bore their child.

Could go to prison,

if they owned up,

being the father,

I was told.

 

Why my friend,

asked one day,

Why?

Why did they do this to children?

 

How could I tell my friend,

this was never done,

for the colour of her skin,

this was never,

a black and white revenge,

or about her family heritage,

or the title of savage,

this was never an act,

of prejudice.

 

This was done,

out of rage,

anger,

jealously,

“How dare my friends 'child self' have such a free spirit and soul?”

“How dare my friends 'child self' not be domesticated like them?”

“How dare my friends 'child self' spirit not be in bondage as theirs still are?”

“How dare my friends 'child self' be free of fear and guilt?”

 

It was the oppressor’s imagined duty,

to enslave my friends 'child self',

“Domesticate it!”

“Imprison it's free will!”

“Imprison it's spirit and soul!”

“Subordinate it's beauty!”

just as it had been done to them,

far too many generations back,

back deeper than imagined,

ancestral trauma unimaginable.

.

How could I tell my friend,

About all the,

hidden truths,

suppressed knowledge,

secrets bind tighter,

than physical chains,

all internalised now,

patterns set in stoned hearts,

numbed minds,

frozen souls,

paralysed spirits.

  

How can I tell my friend,

This is why,

Why they did this,

Did this to the children then,

But still doing it today,

Hidden under other titles,

names and acts,

even by herself,

even by myself,

internalized patterns now,

owned and polished,

as precious gems.

 

How can I tell my friend,

the battle is now within,

camouflaged as heritage,

needing to be freed,

freeing our own,

own spirits and souls,

our own free wills set into flight,

freeing our own bound capacities,

defrosting our own frozen potentials,

from the oppressors hands,

now our own egos

hidden within.

 

How can I tell my friend?

  

National Sorry Day Australia 2009

3x images in this superimposing image...first one is of the isolation cells out the back of the main prison wings...that window if you can call it that is all the light the poor souls had while locked away in such heinous places. Small rooms, not much bigger than a average toilet. White lime covered walls and floors...no furniture. Second superimposed image is the viewing hole in the solid studded Jarrah door. the third superimposing image is of clouds and blue sky and a dead burnt branch of a young Jarrah tree from Karragullen bush black.

  

Added to each image in this album are their inspired stories to this emerging family HISHERTREE.

 

Each image has a word title that would have been spelt in English with "try" at the end like ancestry, carpentry, or infantry. I have added "tree" to replace the "try" and then taken their dictionary meanings that are only ever describing the outside physical world and married some spiritual elements.

 

The human beings body lives in the outside world of the physical but their inner self lives in the realm of spirit.

   

These pictures from Gansu province were taken during a nine-day trip in May 2015. Gansu is a province at the geographical heart of China. Its capital, Lanzhou, is pretty close to the center of the country as can be from what I can tell by looking at maps.

 

Gansu, though, is most certainly considered west China by the Chinese. Physically, the province reminds me of a small dumbbell sitting on an angle. There’s a southern (southeastern) section that is slightly large and has a high elevation (often between 2,000-3,000 meters) with a higher concentration of Muslims and Tibetans than most other areas of China. When you get closer to Xiahe, where Labrang Monastery is located, road signs are both in Tibetan and Mandarin. The LP 2011 had listed three places of interest in southern Gansu: Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, Labrang Monstery in Xiahe (listed as one of the 30 “Must Dos” in China), and Langmusi down on the Sichuan border. I had originally intended to visit all three places, but ended up dropping Langmusi – the Alpine village – and spending an extra day out west.

 

So all told in the south, I spent a few overcast hours in Hezuo at Milarepa Palace (as quirky as I recall LP saying it is, but also something I could have done without) before spending two nights at the Overseas Tibetan Hotel about 100 meters outside the eastern gate of Labrang Monastery in Xiahe. Xiahe was mesmerizing to me. It reminded me a little of some western US towns: one wide, main street that runs the length of town and most of the buildings are two- or three-story establishments.

 

Xiahe is around 3,300 meters in elevation, so altitude sickness is mentioned a few times, though I never experienced any type of nausea. I have nothing but good things to say about the hotel (not extravagant, but nice and comfortable beds), the owner (Lohsang Amso – a good man – who can also arrange bike rental, local and regional travel, etc.) and the good folks a few doors down at the Snowy Mountain Cafe – which seems to only be open in the evening – but where you can eat yak…which I did. One night, I had Nepalese yak curry (Nepalese chicken curry the other night). Other than that, I was amazed at how close (and countless) the stars in the night sky seemed to be, but given the altitude and lack of surface light, it wasn’t unexpected…just amazing.

 

Having spent the previous day on a morning flight from Chengdu to Lanzhou (one provincial capital to another), an hour bus ride from Lanzhou Airport downtown, another 45 minute taxi ride across town (through horrendous traffic), a 4 hour bus ride from Lanzhou down to southern Gansu that ended in Hezuo, an hour or two at Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, then finally another 1-2 hour bus from Hezuo to Xiahe, I finally found myself plopping down on my bed at the Overseas Tibetan…sometime in early evening.

 

Though things didn’t go exactly as planned, they were close enough and I really had no complaints. My biggest surprise was the number of mosques I saw en route to Xiahe. (I hadn’t realized that the Muslim population in this particular region was quite so large.)

 

Upon waking the following morning – it was a Monday, I recall – I made the incredibly short walk to the Labrang Monastery. Labrang Monastery is a fascinating place. It was founded in 1709 by Ngagong Tsunde (first generation of the third in line behind the Dalai and Panchen Lamas). It is one of the six major monasteries of the Gelugpa (Yellow Hat sect) order of Tibetan Buddhism. Three of the other six are near Lhasa, one near Shigatse, and the other near Xining (Qinghai province).

 

This is the largest Tibetan Buddhist temple (if I remember reading correctly) outside Tibet. To walk the entire kora (circumference of the temple with prayer wheels) is over a 3 km endeavor, which I undertook on that Monday morning.

 

It was a pleasant walk, rife with photographic opportunities – people don’t mind having their pictures taken, though the Tibetan monks…not so much. They had to give their permission, and usually didn’t want to, which was fine by me. Around the back (north) side of the monastery, there’s an outer kora trail up the mountain that would give a nice view, but I was frankly too lazy to take it (and didn’t find it, anyway).

 

And the people. Photographing people here (monks or otherwise) is just…a treasure trove waiting to happen. Regarding the monks living here, there apparently used to be about four thousand, but limits have been set to around 1,800 now. (All I’ll say is, like most places in China, the Cultural Revolution was none too kind...)

 

After walking the kora, I hung out at Everest Cafe (Lohsang’s restaurant at the Overseas Tibetan) for a no frills breakfast, then spent the remainder of the morning with a tour of the interior of the temple and wandering around the grounds. The monastery has a few different temples, monastic colleges, living residences…it’s really quite a large compound.

 

The day had started sunny, but by sundown was turning pretty cloudy, so no great sunset shots to be had here, and it was getting a bit chilly in the evening at that altitude, so as soon as it was evident there wouldn’t be any more shooting, I went on over to Snowy Mountain for a relaxing dinner alone before retiring to my room for the night. Tuesday morning found me on another long travel day via bus, taxi, and train…to the opposite side of the province: western Gansu province, which was almost like another planet.

Rehabilitation Centre For Mentally Handicapped , Rehabilitation Centre Drug Addiction, Rehabilitation Centres, Institutions For Aged,Home Nursing Services, Institutions For Physically Challenged, Stroke Rehabilitation Centres, rehabilitation centre in Bangalore, rehabilitation centres in Bangalore, rehabilitation center in Bangalore, rehabilitation centers in Bangalore, rehabilitation centre, rehabilitation centres, rehabilitation center, rehabilitation centers, rehabilitation centres in bangalore, rehabilitation services, india. Alcohol Rehabilitation Centres ,

We Provide Good Facility with Food Accommodation 247 Nursing care, medical, doctor, hygienic, Good Air , Garden ,Neat & Clean, old age home for movable person & bedridden, disabled people too ,

Call : Mobile 9448244695 / 9242429994 , Land 080-65655555 ( Please Save & Pass this numbers to All. It may help some one )

kncashramas@gmail.com

Complete Health Care Centre

Click on both the Link below

 

www.kncarogyadhama.com /

  

www.kncarogyadham.com/

 

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In downtown East Liverpool, Ohio, on May 14th, 2020, the former First National Auto Bank (built 1963; physically located within the federally-designated East Liverpool Downtown Historic District but labeled a "noncontributing property") on the north side of East 4th Street west of Washington Street.

 

-----------------------

 

Getty Thesaurus of Geographic Names terms:

• Columbiana (county) (1002295)

• East Liverpool (2079372)

 

Art & Architecture Thesaurus terms:

• abandoned buildings (300008055)

• banks (buildings) (300005214)

• circular (shape) (300263827)

• drive-in banks (300005218)

• gray (color) (300130811)

• historic districts (300000737)

• light blue (300129405)

• Mid-Century Modernist (300343610)

• panels (surface elements) (300069079)

• urban blight (300163405)

 

Wikidata items:

• 14 May 2020 (Q57396742)

• 1960s in architecture (Q11185676)

• 1963 in architecture (Q2812335)

• Appalachian Ohio (Q14234625)

• East Liverpool Downtown Historic District (Q5328850)

• May 14 (Q2561)

• May 2020 (Q55019753)

• noncontributing property (Q76320672)

• overcast (Q1055865)

• round building (Q42898444)

• Rust Belt (Q781973)

• Seven Ranges (Q7457387)

• vacant building (Q56056305)

• Youngstown-Warren, OH-PA Combined Statistical Area (Q111264150)

 

Transportation Research Thesaurus terms:

• Brick pavements (92975)

 

Library of Congress Subject Headings:

• Bank buildings—Ohio (sh2015001459)

rehabilitation centers in Bangalore, rehabilitation centre, rehabilitation centres, rehabilitation center, rehabilitation centers, rehabilitation centres in bangalore, rehabilitation services, india. Alcohol Rehabilitation Centres , Rehabilitation Centre For Mentally Handicapped , Rehabilitation Centre Drug Addiction, Rehabilitation Centres, Institutions For Aged,Home Nursing Services, Institutions For Physically Challenged, Stroke Rehabilitation Centres, rehabilitation centre in Bangalore, rehabilitation centres in Bangalore, rehabilitation center in Bangalore,

We Provide Good Facility with Food Accommodation 247 Nursing care, medical, doctor, hygienic, Good Air , Garden ,Neat & Clean, old age home for movable person & bedridden, disabled people too ,

Call : Mobile 9448244695 / 9242429994 , Land 080-65655555 ( Please Save & Pass this numbers to All. It may help some one )

kncashramas@gmail.com

Complete Health Care Centre

Click on both the Link below

 

www.kncarogyadhama.com /

  

www.kncarogyadham.com/

 

Please save forward this email to all it may help some one

 

Physically challenged is not a sin or curse..it is a kind of inner deficiency..it is necessary to take steps to overcome such deficiency and create awareness

The South Jersey Field of Dreams is a place where physically and mentally disabled children and adults can play and participate in that Great American Pastime, baseball. The city of Absecon has generously donated a new baseball field at their Dr. Jonathan Pitney Recreation Park for this Field of Dreams. With the support of our generous sponsors, we have been working hard to turn this into a place where any child or adult, regardless of their physical abilities, can play ball. We have accomplished so much in a short time, but there is still much more to do.

 

The infield has been constructed with a special surface compatible to walkers and wheelchairs, and the dugouts and the parking and drop-off areas are handicapped accessible. We have a long list of improvements that still need to be made, so we are reaching out to you for help.

 

We love telling people about the SJ Field of Dreams! If your group would like to hear more, please give us a call at 609-641-1706. We’ll be happy to share our vision with you.

 

We’ve met so many wonderful people who are now supporting this effort and we know you’ll soon be joining us to help turn the SJ Field of Dreams into a baseball park we can all be proud of.

 

The Field of Dreams needs donated funds and volunteers to help make this dream a reality. We depend on the generous support of our community and local businesses and organizations to help ensure that all disabled youths and adults can experience the simple joy of playing baseball. If you are unable to make a donation or volunteer, but still want to be a part of it, come out, fill the stands, and cheer on your favorite team!

Physically in Oxford.

 

Uploaded with PhotoQueue

Rehabilitation Centre For Mentally Handicapped , Rehabilitation Centre Drug Addiction, Rehabilitation Centres, Institutions For Aged,Home Nursing Services, Institutions For Physically Challenged, Stroke Rehabilitation Centres, rehabilitation centre in Bangalore, rehabilitation centres in Bangalore, rehabilitation center in Bangalore, rehabilitation centers in Bangalore, rehabilitation centre, rehabilitation centres, rehabilitation center, rehabilitation centers, rehabilitation centres in bangalore, rehabilitation services, india. Alcohol Rehabilitation Centres ,

We Provide Good Facility with Food Accommodation 247 Nursing care, medical, doctor, hygienic, Good Air , Garden ,Neat & Clean, old age home for movable person & bedridden, disabled people too ,

Call : Mobile 9448244695 / 9242429994 , Land 080-65655555 ( Please Save & Pass this numbers to All. It may help some one )

kncashramas@gmail.com

Complete Health Care Centre

Click on both the Link below

 

www.kncarogyadhama.com /

  

www.kncarogyadham.com/

 

Please save forward this email to all it may help some one

 

New York City is experimenting with physically-protected buffered bike lanes. This is the Grand Street lane. By shifting the parking lane from the right curb to the middle of the road and putting the bike lane where the parking lane was, the City has created low-cost physical separation between bikes and moving cars that can be created overnight with paint.

After 31 days of emotionally and physically exhausting training in the Kentucky heat, 5th Regiment Basic Camp (CIET) Alpha and Bravo Company Cadets graduate July 29 at Fort Knox, Ky. The Armed Forces Bank Award is presented to Cdt. Erik V. Detherage, California State University Sacramento, for best demonstrating respect for other cultures and people by effectively utilizing the training scenarios to gain a better understanding of cross-cultural competencies as they relate to a complex environment. .Photo by Lora Sparks

Physically, the An-124 is similar to the American Lockheed C-5 Galaxy, but is slightly larger. An-124s have been used to carry locomotives, yachts, aircraft fuselages, and a variety of other oversized cargoes. The An-124 is able to kneel to allow easier front loading. Up to 150 tonnes of cargo can be carried in a military An-124: it can also carry 88 passengers in an upper deck behind the cockpit.

These pictures from Gansu province were taken during a nine-day trip in May 2015. Gansu is a province at the geographical heart of China. Its capital, Lanzhou, is pretty close to the center of the country as can be from what I can tell by looking at maps.

 

Gansu, though, is most certainly considered west China by the Chinese. Physically, the province reminds me of a small dumbbell sitting on an angle. There’s a southern (southeastern) section that is slightly large and has a high elevation (often between 2,000-3,000 meters) with a higher concentration of Muslims and Tibetans than most other areas of China. When you get closer to Xiahe, where Labrang Monastery is located, road signs are both in Tibetan and Mandarin. The LP 2011 had listed three places of interest in southern Gansu: Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, Labrang Monstery in Xiahe (listed as one of the 30 “Must Dos” in China), and Langmusi down on the Sichuan border. I had originally intended to visit all three places, but ended up dropping Langmusi – the Alpine village – and spending an extra day out west.

 

So all told in the south, I spent a few overcast hours in Hezuo at Milarepa Palace (as quirky as I recall LP saying it is, but also something I could have done without) before spending two nights at the Overseas Tibetan Hotel about 100 meters outside the eastern gate of Labrang Monastery in Xiahe. Xiahe was mesmerizing to me. It reminded me a little of some western US towns: one wide, main street that runs the length of town and most of the buildings are two- or three-story establishments.

 

Xiahe is around 3,300 meters in elevation, so altitude sickness is mentioned a few times, though I never experienced any type of nausea. I have nothing but good things to say about the hotel (not extravagant, but nice and comfortable beds), the owner (Lohsang Amso – a good man – who can also arrange bike rental, local and regional travel, etc.) and the good folks a few doors down at the Snowy Mountain Cafe – which seems to only be open in the evening – but where you can eat yak…which I did. One night, I had Nepalese yak curry (Nepalese chicken curry the other night). Other than that, I was amazed at how close (and countless) the stars in the night sky seemed to be, but given the altitude and lack of surface light, it wasn’t unexpected…just amazing.

 

Having spent the previous day on a morning flight from Chengdu to Lanzhou (one provincial capital to another), an hour bus ride from Lanzhou Airport downtown, another 45 minute taxi ride across town (through horrendous traffic), a 4 hour bus ride from Lanzhou down to southern Gansu that ended in Hezuo, an hour or two at Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, then finally another 1-2 hour bus from Hezuo to Xiahe, I finally found myself plopping down on my bed at the Overseas Tibetan…sometime in early evening.

 

Though things didn’t go exactly as planned, they were close enough and I really had no complaints. My biggest surprise was the number of mosques I saw en route to Xiahe. (I hadn’t realized that the Muslim population in this particular region was quite so large.)

 

Upon waking the following morning – it was a Monday, I recall – I made the incredibly short walk to the Labrang Monastery. Labrang Monastery is a fascinating place. It was founded in 1709 by Ngagong Tsunde (first generation of the third in line behind the Dalai and Panchen Lamas). It is one of the six major monasteries of the Gelugpa (Yellow Hat sect) order of Tibetan Buddhism. Three of the other six are near Lhasa, one near Shigatse, and the other near Xining (Qinghai province).

 

This is the largest Tibetan Buddhist temple (if I remember reading correctly) outside Tibet. To walk the entire kora (circumference of the temple with prayer wheels) is over a 3 km endeavor, which I undertook on that Monday morning.

 

It was a pleasant walk, rife with photographic opportunities – people don’t mind having their pictures taken, though the Tibetan monks…not so much. They had to give their permission, and usually didn’t want to, which was fine by me. Around the back (north) side of the monastery, there’s an outer kora trail up the mountain that would give a nice view, but I was frankly too lazy to take it (and didn’t find it, anyway).

 

And the people. Photographing people here (monks or otherwise) is just…a treasure trove waiting to happen. Regarding the monks living here, there apparently used to be about four thousand, but limits have been set to around 1,800 now. (All I’ll say is, like most places in China, the Cultural Revolution was none too kind...)

 

After walking the kora, I hung out at Everest Cafe (Lohsang’s restaurant at the Overseas Tibetan) for a no frills breakfast, then spent the remainder of the morning with a tour of the interior of the temple and wandering around the grounds. The monastery has a few different temples, monastic colleges, living residences…it’s really quite a large compound.

 

The day had started sunny, but by sundown was turning pretty cloudy, so no great sunset shots to be had here, and it was getting a bit chilly in the evening at that altitude, so as soon as it was evident there wouldn’t be any more shooting, I went on over to Snowy Mountain for a relaxing dinner alone before retiring to my room for the night. Tuesday morning found me on another long travel day via bus, taxi, and train…to the opposite side of the province: western Gansu province, which was almost like another planet.

"No" is now a physically impossible answer.

These pictures from Gansu province were taken during a nine-day trip in May 2015. Gansu is a province at the geographical heart of China. Its capital, Lanzhou, is pretty close to the center of the country as can be from what I can tell by looking at maps.

 

Gansu, though, is most certainly considered west China by the Chinese. Physically, the province reminds me of a small dumbbell sitting on an angle. There’s a southern (southeastern) section that is slightly large and has a high elevation (often between 2,000-3,000 meters) with a higher concentration of Muslims and Tibetans than most other areas of China. When you get closer to Xiahe, where Labrang Monastery is located, road signs are both in Tibetan and Mandarin. The LP 2011 had listed three places of interest in southern Gansu: Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, Labrang Monstery in Xiahe (listed as one of the 30 “Must Dos” in China), and Langmusi down on the Sichuan border. I had originally intended to visit all three places, but ended up dropping Langmusi – the Alpine village – and spending an extra day out west.

 

So all told in the south, I spent a few overcast hours in Hezuo at Milarepa Palace (as quirky as I recall LP saying it is, but also something I could have done without) before spending two nights at the Overseas Tibetan Hotel about 100 meters outside the eastern gate of Labrang Monastery in Xiahe. Xiahe was mesmerizing to me. It reminded me a little of some western US towns: one wide, main street that runs the length of town and most of the buildings are two- or three-story establishments.

 

Xiahe is around 3,300 meters in elevation, so altitude sickness is mentioned a few times, though I never experienced any type of nausea. I have nothing but good things to say about the hotel (not extravagant, but nice and comfortable beds), the owner (Lohsang Amso – a good man – who can also arrange bike rental, local and regional travel, etc.) and the good folks a few doors down at the Snowy Mountain Cafe – which seems to only be open in the evening – but where you can eat yak…which I did. One night, I had Nepalese yak curry (Nepalese chicken curry the other night). Other than that, I was amazed at how close (and countless) the stars in the night sky seemed to be, but given the altitude and lack of surface light, it wasn’t unexpected…just amazing.

 

Having spent the previous day on a morning flight from Chengdu to Lanzhou (one provincial capital to another), an hour bus ride from Lanzhou Airport downtown, another 45 minute taxi ride across town (through horrendous traffic), a 4 hour bus ride from Lanzhou down to southern Gansu that ended in Hezuo, an hour or two at Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, then finally another 1-2 hour bus from Hezuo to Xiahe, I finally found myself plopping down on my bed at the Overseas Tibetan…sometime in early evening.

 

Though things didn’t go exactly as planned, they were close enough and I really had no complaints. My biggest surprise was the number of mosques I saw en route to Xiahe. (I hadn’t realized that the Muslim population in this particular region was quite so large.)

 

Upon waking the following morning – it was a Monday, I recall – I made the incredibly short walk to the Labrang Monastery. Labrang Monastery is a fascinating place. It was founded in 1709 by Ngagong Tsunde (first generation of the third in line behind the Dalai and Panchen Lamas). It is one of the six major monasteries of the Gelugpa (Yellow Hat sect) order of Tibetan Buddhism. Three of the other six are near Lhasa, one near Shigatse, and the other near Xining (Qinghai province).

 

This is the largest Tibetan Buddhist temple (if I remember reading correctly) outside Tibet. To walk the entire kora (circumference of the temple with prayer wheels) is over a 3 km endeavor, which I undertook on that Monday morning.

 

It was a pleasant walk, rife with photographic opportunities – people don’t mind having their pictures taken, though the Tibetan monks…not so much. They had to give their permission, and usually didn’t want to, which was fine by me. Around the back (north) side of the monastery, there’s an outer kora trail up the mountain that would give a nice view, but I was frankly too lazy to take it (and didn’t find it, anyway).

 

And the people. Photographing people here (monks or otherwise) is just…a treasure trove waiting to happen. Regarding the monks living here, there apparently used to be about four thousand, but limits have been set to around 1,800 now. (All I’ll say is, like most places in China, the Cultural Revolution was none too kind...)

 

After walking the kora, I hung out at Everest Cafe (Lohsang’s restaurant at the Overseas Tibetan) for a no frills breakfast, then spent the remainder of the morning with a tour of the interior of the temple and wandering around the grounds. The monastery has a few different temples, monastic colleges, living residences…it’s really quite a large compound.

 

The day had started sunny, but by sundown was turning pretty cloudy, so no great sunset shots to be had here, and it was getting a bit chilly in the evening at that altitude, so as soon as it was evident there wouldn’t be any more shooting, I went on over to Snowy Mountain for a relaxing dinner alone before retiring to my room for the night. Tuesday morning found me on another long travel day via bus, taxi, and train…to the opposite side of the province: western Gansu province, which was almost like another planet.

I am here just physically...

Pararescue trainees run from one physically challenging task to the next for over 20 hours during their extended training day (ETD) at the Pararescue indoctrination (PJ Indoc) training center at Medina Base. PJ indoc is the first hurdle of intense physical and mental training for Pararescue trainees. This course prepares them for the multitude of extreme pipeline training they must endure to become US Air Force Pararescue members. Seventy percent of trainees don't pass.

7/12/11

_

 

Memories are weird. You can't feel them physically, but you can definitely feel them emotionally. I've been thinking back a lot about this past year, and how I have grown and the people I've come in contact with.

 

Sometimes thinking about all the good times makes me really sad, but that is where I got my inspiration for this photo (that and my friend Anna who did something kind of similar to this www.flickr.com/phot​os/hopetotheend/5691869071​/. Even though they are just memories of a good time, you will always have them. You can try and get rid of them, even forget the memory, but it is still a part of you. Memories and experiences of what we have done shape us to be who we are today. I'm glad I will always have my memories, even the bad ones. Without them, I wouldn't be right where I am today.

 

"Regret nothing because at one point it is exactly what you wanted"

_

 

ENDLESS MEMORIES on Sarap Buhay www.sarapbuhay.com/​2011/06/endless-memories-k​may-ph...

 

These pictures from Gansu province were taken during a nine-day trip in May 2015. Gansu is a province at the geographical heart of China. Its capital, Lanzhou, is pretty close to the center of the country as can be from what I can tell by looking at maps.

 

Gansu, though, is most certainly considered west China by the Chinese. Physically, the province reminds me of a small dumbbell sitting on an angle. There’s a southern (southeastern) section that is slightly large and has a high elevation (often between 2,000-3,000 meters) with a higher concentration of Muslims and Tibetans than most other areas of China. When you get closer to Xiahe, where Labrang Monastery is located, road signs are both in Tibetan and Mandarin. The LP 2011 had listed three places of interest in southern Gansu: Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, Labrang Monstery in Xiahe (listed as one of the 30 “Must Dos” in China), and Langmusi down on the Sichuan border. I had originally intended to visit all three places, but ended up dropping Langmusi – the Alpine village – and spending an extra day out west.

 

So all told in the south, I spent a few overcast hours in Hezuo at Milarepa Palace (as quirky as I recall LP saying it is, but also something I could have done without) before spending two nights at the Overseas Tibetan Hotel about 100 meters outside the eastern gate of Labrang Monastery in Xiahe. Xiahe was mesmerizing to me. It reminded me a little of some western US towns: one wide, main street that runs the length of town and most of the buildings are two- or three-story establishments.

 

Xiahe is around 3,300 meters in elevation, so altitude sickness is mentioned a few times, though I never experienced any type of nausea. I have nothing but good things to say about the hotel (not extravagant, but nice and comfortable beds), the owner (Lohsang Amso – a good man – who can also arrange bike rental, local and regional travel, etc.) and the good folks a few doors down at the Snowy Mountain Cafe – which seems to only be open in the evening – but where you can eat yak…which I did. One night, I had Nepalese yak curry (Nepalese chicken curry the other night). Other than that, I was amazed at how close (and countless) the stars in the night sky seemed to be, but given the altitude and lack of surface light, it wasn’t unexpected…just amazing.

 

Having spent the previous day on a morning flight from Chengdu to Lanzhou (one provincial capital to another), an hour bus ride from Lanzhou Airport downtown, another 45 minute taxi ride across town (through horrendous traffic), a 4 hour bus ride from Lanzhou down to southern Gansu that ended in Hezuo, an hour or two at Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, then finally another 1-2 hour bus from Hezuo to Xiahe, I finally found myself plopping down on my bed at the Overseas Tibetan…sometime in early evening.

 

Though things didn’t go exactly as planned, they were close enough and I really had no complaints. My biggest surprise was the number of mosques I saw en route to Xiahe. (I hadn’t realized that the Muslim population in this particular region was quite so large.)

 

Upon waking the following morning – it was a Monday, I recall – I made the incredibly short walk to the Labrang Monastery. Labrang Monastery is a fascinating place. It was founded in 1709 by Ngagong Tsunde (first generation of the third in line behind the Dalai and Panchen Lamas). It is one of the six major monasteries of the Gelugpa (Yellow Hat sect) order of Tibetan Buddhism. Three of the other six are near Lhasa, one near Shigatse, and the other near Xining (Qinghai province).

 

This is the largest Tibetan Buddhist temple (if I remember reading correctly) outside Tibet. To walk the entire kora (circumference of the temple with prayer wheels) is over a 3 km endeavor, which I undertook on that Monday morning.

 

It was a pleasant walk, rife with photographic opportunities – people don’t mind having their pictures taken, though the Tibetan monks…not so much. They had to give their permission, and usually didn’t want to, which was fine by me. Around the back (north) side of the monastery, there’s an outer kora trail up the mountain that would give a nice view, but I was frankly too lazy to take it (and didn’t find it, anyway).

 

And the people. Photographing people here (monks or otherwise) is just…a treasure trove waiting to happen. Regarding the monks living here, there apparently used to be about four thousand, but limits have been set to around 1,800 now. (All I’ll say is, like most places in China, the Cultural Revolution was none too kind...)

 

After walking the kora, I hung out at Everest Cafe (Lohsang’s restaurant at the Overseas Tibetan) for a no frills breakfast, then spent the remainder of the morning with a tour of the interior of the temple and wandering around the grounds. The monastery has a few different temples, monastic colleges, living residences…it’s really quite a large compound.

 

The day had started sunny, but by sundown was turning pretty cloudy, so no great sunset shots to be had here, and it was getting a bit chilly in the evening at that altitude, so as soon as it was evident there wouldn’t be any more shooting, I went on over to Snowy Mountain for a relaxing dinner alone before retiring to my room for the night. Tuesday morning found me on another long travel day via bus, taxi, and train…to the opposite side of the province: western Gansu province, which was almost like another planet.

Interstate 26 (I-26) is a nominally east–west (but physically more northwest-southeast) main route of the Interstate Highway System in the Southeastern United States. I-26 runs from the junction of U.S. Route 11W and U.S. Route 23 in Kingsport, Tennessee, generally southeastward to U.S. Route 17 in Charleston, South Carolina. The portion from Mars Hill, North Carolina, east (compass south) to Interstate 240 in Asheville, North Carolina, has signs indicating FUTURE I-26 because the highway does not yet meet all of the Interstate Highway standards. A short realignment as an improvement in the expressway was also planned in Asheville, but has been postponed indefinitely due to North Carolina's budget shortfalls.

 

Northwards from Kingsport, US-23 continues north to Portsmouth, Ohio, as the Corridor B of the Appalachian Development Highway System, and beyond to Columbus, as the Corridor C. In conjunction with the Columbus-Toledo, Ohio corridor formed by Interstate 75, U.S. 23, and State Route 15, I-26 forms part of a mostly high-speed four-or-more-lane highway from the Great Lakes to the Atlantic Coast at Charleston, South Carolina. There are no plans for further official Interstate 26 extensions into Virginia, Kentucky, or beyond.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interstate_26

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Text_of_Creative_Commons_...

These pictures from Gansu province were taken during a nine-day trip in May 2015. Gansu is a province at the geographical heart of China. Its capital, Lanzhou, is pretty close to the center of the country as can be from what I can tell by looking at maps.

 

Gansu, though, is most certainly considered west China by the Chinese. Physically, the province reminds me of a small dumbbell sitting on an angle. There’s a southern (southeastern) section that is slightly large and has a high elevation (often between 2,000-3,000 meters) with a higher concentration of Muslims and Tibetans than most other areas of China. When you get closer to Xiahe, where Labrang Monastery is located, road signs are both in Tibetan and Mandarin. The LP 2011 had listed three places of interest in southern Gansu: Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, Labrang Monstery in Xiahe (listed as one of the 30 “Must Dos” in China), and Langmusi down on the Sichuan border. I had originally intended to visit all three places, but ended up dropping Langmusi – the Alpine village – and spending an extra day out west.

 

So all told in the south, I spent a few overcast hours in Hezuo at Milarepa Palace (as quirky as I recall LP saying it is, but also something I could have done without) before spending two nights at the Overseas Tibetan Hotel about 100 meters outside the eastern gate of Labrang Monastery in Xiahe. Xiahe was mesmerizing to me. It reminded me a little of some western US towns: one wide, main street that runs the length of town and most of the buildings are two- or three-story establishments.

 

Xiahe is around 3,300 meters in elevation, so altitude sickness is mentioned a few times, though I never experienced any type of nausea. I have nothing but good things to say about the hotel (not extravagant, but nice and comfortable beds), the owner (Lohsang Amso – a good man – who can also arrange bike rental, local and regional travel, etc.) and the good folks a few doors down at the Snowy Mountain Cafe – which seems to only be open in the evening – but where you can eat yak…which I did. One night, I had Nepalese yak curry (Nepalese chicken curry the other night). Other than that, I was amazed at how close (and countless) the stars in the night sky seemed to be, but given the altitude and lack of surface light, it wasn’t unexpected…just amazing.

 

Having spent the previous day on a morning flight from Chengdu to Lanzhou (one provincial capital to another), an hour bus ride from Lanzhou Airport downtown, another 45 minute taxi ride across town (through horrendous traffic), a 4 hour bus ride from Lanzhou down to southern Gansu that ended in Hezuo, an hour or two at Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, then finally another 1-2 hour bus from Hezuo to Xiahe, I finally found myself plopping down on my bed at the Overseas Tibetan…sometime in early evening.

 

Though things didn’t go exactly as planned, they were close enough and I really had no complaints. My biggest surprise was the number of mosques I saw en route to Xiahe. (I hadn’t realized that the Muslim population in this particular region was quite so large.)

 

Upon waking the following morning – it was a Monday, I recall – I made the incredibly short walk to the Labrang Monastery. Labrang Monastery is a fascinating place. It was founded in 1709 by Ngagong Tsunde (first generation of the third in line behind the Dalai and Panchen Lamas). It is one of the six major monasteries of the Gelugpa (Yellow Hat sect) order of Tibetan Buddhism. Three of the other six are near Lhasa, one near Shigatse, and the other near Xining (Qinghai province).

 

This is the largest Tibetan Buddhist temple (if I remember reading correctly) outside Tibet. To walk the entire kora (circumference of the temple with prayer wheels) is over a 3 km endeavor, which I undertook on that Monday morning.

 

It was a pleasant walk, rife with photographic opportunities – people don’t mind having their pictures taken, though the Tibetan monks…not so much. They had to give their permission, and usually didn’t want to, which was fine by me. Around the back (north) side of the monastery, there’s an outer kora trail up the mountain that would give a nice view, but I was frankly too lazy to take it (and didn’t find it, anyway).

 

And the people. Photographing people here (monks or otherwise) is just…a treasure trove waiting to happen. Regarding the monks living here, there apparently used to be about four thousand, but limits have been set to around 1,800 now. (All I’ll say is, like most places in China, the Cultural Revolution was none too kind...)

 

After walking the kora, I hung out at Everest Cafe (Lohsang’s restaurant at the Overseas Tibetan) for a no frills breakfast, then spent the remainder of the morning with a tour of the interior of the temple and wandering around the grounds. The monastery has a few different temples, monastic colleges, living residences…it’s really quite a large compound.

 

The day had started sunny, but by sundown was turning pretty cloudy, so no great sunset shots to be had here, and it was getting a bit chilly in the evening at that altitude, so as soon as it was evident there wouldn’t be any more shooting, I went on over to Snowy Mountain for a relaxing dinner alone before retiring to my room for the night. Tuesday morning found me on another long travel day via bus, taxi, and train…to the opposite side of the province: western Gansu province, which was almost like another planet.

A vintage gold plated square and compasses cufflinks possibly in their original case.

 

Masonic Thoughts:

 

“The well being of every nation, like that of every individual, is threefold – physical, moral and intellectual. Neither physically, morally, nor intellectually are a people ever stationary. Always, society either advances or retrogrades; and, as when one climbs a hill of ice, to advance demands continual effort and exertion, while to slide downward one needs but to halt.” Albert Pike

 

As we continue to work through this global pandemic and the feelings of isolation that accompany these trials, and as we see increased political and social unrest around the globe, we need to hold dear the pillars and teachings of Freemasonry that have for centuries guided good men through difficult and trying times.

 

The writers of our ritual as well as many Masonic scholars wanted to emphasize the ecumenical Brotherhood of Masons to unite us with our common belief in God and charity. What was purposefully avoided was political dogma or religious doctrine. We continue to be taught that those areas belong to each individual and that while differences between us will inevitably occur, it is the bonds of our shared beliefs that will carry us to a brighter future.

 

The Albert Pike quote above highlights the effort required to maintain forward, positive momentum. Pike goes on to instruct that happiness and prosperity consist in the advancement of all three, physical, moral, and intellectual, equally.

 

Our culture and society continues to progress in accumulated knowledge and overall levels of education. We are all more conscious of our health and wellness while at the same time basking in the creature comforts and technologies that make our physical relaxations easier and more profound than just a few years ago. Can we also make such claims about our morality?

 

We have been, at times, seduced by our own improvement. Our hurried advancement to progress, invent, and prosper has often been devoid of concern for the well being of our neighbours, our country, or our world.

 

Freemasonry instructs us to keep a balance. This balance is reiterated in each degree but at the root of each lesson remains the goodness of man and the duty to project that goodness to others. Charity, benevolence, virtue, ethics, compassion, honesty, empathy, and understanding are but the beginning of a Mason’s contribution to the moral betterment of society.

 

It is perhaps even more poignant for us to practice our moral lessons during times of anxiety, stress, hardship and isolation. Guided by a sense of faith, hope, and charity others may begin to see the positive changes that will steer us on a brighter course into the future.

 

A small group of dedicated Masons could be the change required to make our world and our communities safer, healthier, and beacons of humanity.

 

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world indeed, its the only thing that ever has.” Margaret Mead.

  

D. J. Boyd September 3, 2020

 

Square and Compasses - This symbolic stone was removed from above the entrance to the Lambton Mills Masonic Temple erected by Mimico Lodge on the north side of Dundas Street in 1882.

 

Masonic Square and Compasses.

 

The Square and Compasses (or, more correctly, a square and a set of compasses joined together) is the single most identifiable symbol of Freemasonry. Both the square and compasses are architect's tools and are used in Masonic ritual as emblems to teach symbolic lessons. Some Lodges and rituals explain these symbols as lessons in conduct: for example, Duncan's Masonic Monitor of 1866 explains them as: "The square, to square our actions; The compasses, to circumscribe and keep us within bounds with all mankind".

 

However, as Freemasonry is non-dogmatic, there is no general interpretation for these symbols (or any Masonic symbol) that is used by Freemasonry as a whole.

 

Square and Compasses:

 

Source: Mackey's Encyclopedia of Freemasonry

 

These two symbols have been so long and so universally combined — to teach us, as says an early instruction, "to square our actions and to keep them within due bounds," they are so seldom seen apart, but are so kept together, either as two Great Lights, or as a jewel worn once by the Master of the Lodge, now by the Past Master—that they have come at last to be recognized as the proper badge of a Master Mason, just as the Triple Tau is of a Royal Arch Mason or the Passion Cross of a Knight Templar.

 

So universally has this symbol been recognized, even by the profane world, as the peculiar characteristic of Freemasonry, that it has recently been made in the United States the subject of a legal decision. A manufacturer of flour having made, in 1873, an application to the Patent Office for permission to adopt the Square and Compasses as a trade-mark, the Commissioner of Patents, .J. M. Thatcher, refused the permission as the mark was a Masonic symbol.

 

If this emblem were something other than precisely what it is—either less known", less significant, or fully and universally understood—all this might readily be admitted. But, Considering its peculiar character and relation to the public, an anomalous question is presented. There can be no doubt that this device, so commonly worn and employed by Masons, has an established mystic significance, universally recognized as existing; whether comprehended by all or not, is not material to this issue. In view of the magnitude and extent of the Masonic organization, it is impossible to divest its symbols, or at least this particular symbol—perhaps the best known of all—of its ordinary signification, wherever displaced, either as an arbitrary character or otherwise.

 

It will be universally understood, or misunderstood, as having a Masonic significance; and, therefore, as a trade-mark, must constantly work deception. Nothing could be more mischievous than to create as a monopoly, and uphold by the poser of lacy anything so calculated. as applied to purposes of trade. to be misinterpreted, to mislead all classes, and to constantly foster suggestions of mystery in affairs of business (see Infringing upon Freemasonry, also Imitative Societies, and Clandestine).

In a religious work by John Davies, entitled Summa Totalis, or All in All and the Same Forever, printed in 1607, we find an allusion to the Square and Compasses by a profane in a really Masonic sense. The author, who proposes to describe mystically the form of the Deity, says in his dedication:

Yet I this forme of formelesse Deity,

Drewe by the Squire and Compasse of our Creed.

In Masonic symbolism the Square and Compasses refer to the Freemason's duty to the Craft and to himself; hence it is properly a symbol of brotherhood, and there significantly adopted as the badge or token of the Fraternity.

Berage, in his work on the higher Degrees, Les plus secrets Mystéres des Hauts Grades, or The Most Secret Mysteries of the High Grades, gives a new interpretation to the symbol. He says: "The Square and the Compasses represent the union of the Old and New Testaments. None of the high Degrees recognize this interpretation, although their symbolism of the two implements differs somewhat from that of Symbolic Freemasonry.

 

The Square is with them peculiarly appropriated to the lower Degrees, as founded on the Operative Art; while the Compasses, as an implement of higher character and uses, is attributed to the Decrees, which claim to have a more elevated and philosophical foundation. Thus they speak of the initiate, when he passes from the Blue Lodge to the Lodge of Perfection, as 'passing from the Square to the Compasses,' to indicate a progressive elevation in his studies. Yet even in the high Degrees, the square and compasses combined retain their primitive signification as a symbol of brotherhood and as a badge of the Order."

 

Square and Compass:

 

Source: The Builder October 1916

By Bro. B. C. Ward, Iowa

 

Worshipful Master and Brethren: Let us behold the glorious beauty that lies hidden beneath the symbolism of the Square and Compass; and first as to the Square. Geometry, the first and noblest of the sciences, is the basis on which the superstructure of Masonry has been erected. As you know, the word "Geometry" is derived from two Greek words which mean "to measure the earth," so that Geometry originated in measurement; and in those early days, when land first began to be measured, the Square, being a right angle, was the instrument used, so that in time the Square began to symbolize the Earth. And later it began to symbolize, Masonically, the earthly-in man, that is man's lower nature, and still later it began to symbolize man's duty in his earthly relations, or his moral obligations to his Fellowmen. The symbolism of the Square is as ancient as the Pyramids. The Egyptians used it in building the Pyramids. The base of every pyramid is a perfect square, and to the Egyptians the Square was their highest and most sacred emblem. Even the Chinese many, many centuries ago used the Square to represent Good, and Confucius in his writings speaks of the Square to represent a Just man.

 

As Masons we have adopted the 47th Problem of Euclid as the rule by which to determine or prove a perfect Square. Many of us remember with what interest we solved that problem in our school days. The Square has become our most significant Emblem. It rests upon the open Bible on this altar; it is one of the three great Lights; and it is the chief ornament of the Worshipful Master. There is a good reason why this distinction has been conferred upon the Square. There can be nothing truer than a perfect Square--a right angle. Hence the Square has become an emblem of Perfection.

 

Now a few words as to the Compass: Astronomy was the second great science promulgated among men. In the process of Man's evolution there came a time when he began to look up to the stars and wonder at the vaulted Heavens above him. When he began to study the stars, he found that the Square was not adapted to the measurement of the Heavens. He must have circular measure; he needed to draw a circle from a central point, and so the Compass was employed. By the use of the Compass man began to study the starry Heavens, and as the Square primarily symbolized the Earth, the Compass began to symbolize the Heavens, the celestial canopy, the study of which has led men to think of God, and adore Him as the Supreme Architect of the Universe. In later times the Compass began to symbolize the spiritual or higher nature of man, and it is a significant fact that the circumference of a circle, which is a line without end, has become an emblem of Eternity and symbolizes Divinity; so the Compass, and the circle drawn by the Compass, both point men Heavenward and Godward.

 

The Masonic teaching concerning the two points of the Compass is very interesting and instructive. The novitiate in Masonry, as he kneels at this altar, and asks for Light sees the Square, which symbolizes his lower nature, he may well note the position of the Compass. As he takes another step, and asks for more Light, the position of the Compass is changed somewhat, symbolizing that his spiritual nature can, in some measure, overcome his evil tendencies. As he takes another step in Masonry, and asks for further Light, and hears the significant words, "and God said let there be Light, and there was Light," he sees the Compass in new light; and for the first time he sees the meaning, thus unmistakably alluding to the sacred and eternal truth that as the Heavens are higher than the Earth, so the spiritual is higher than the material, and the spiritual in man must have its proper place, and should be above his lower nature, and dominate all his thoughts and actions. That eminent Philosopher, Edmund Burke, once said, "It is ordained that men of intemperate passions cannot be free. Their passions forge the chains which bind them, and make them slaves." Burke was right. Masonry, through the beautiful symbolism of the Compass, tells us how we can be free men, by permitting the spiritual within us to overcome our evil tendencies, and dominate all our thoughts and actions. Brethren, sometimes in the silent quiet hour, as we think of this conflict between our lower and higher natures, we sometimes say in the words of another, "Show me the way and let me bravely climb to where all conflicts with the flesh shall cease. Show me that way. Show me the way up to a higher plane where my body shall be servant of my Soul. Show me that way."

Brethren, if that prayer expresses desire of our hearts, let us take heed to the beautiful teachings of the Compass, which silently and persistently tells each one of us,

 

"You should not in the valley stay

While the great horizons stretch away

The very cliffs that wall you round

Are ladders up to higher ground.

And Heaven draws near as you ascend,

The Breeze invites, the Stars befriend.

All things are beckoning to the Best,

Then climb toward God and find sweet Rest.”

 

The secrets of Freemasonry are concerned with its traditional modes of recognition. It is not a secret society, since all members are free to acknowledge their membership and will do so in response to enquiries for respectable reasons. Its constitutions and rules are available to the public. There is no secret about any of its aims and principles. Like many other societies, it regards some of its internal affairs as private matters for its members. In history there have been times and places where promoting equality, freedom of thought or liberty of conscience was dangerous. Most importantly though is a question of perspective. Each aspect of the craft has a meaning. Freemasonry has been described as a system of morality, veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols. Such characteristics as virtue, honour and mercy, such virtues as temperance, fortitude, prudence and justice are empty clichés and hollow words unless presented within an ordered and closed framework. The lessons are not secret but the presentation is kept private to promote a clearer understanding in good time. It is also possible to view Masonic secrecy not as secrecy in and of itself, but rather as a symbol of privacy and discretion. By not revealing Masonic secrets, or acknowledging the many published exposures, freemasons demonstrate that they are men of discretion, worthy of confidences, and that they place a high value on their word and bond.

 

Masonic Square and Compasses.

 

The Square and Compasses (or, more correctly, a square and a set of compasses joined together) is the single most identifiable symbol of Freemasonry. Both the square and compasses are architect's tools and are used in Masonic ritual as emblems to teach symbolic lessons. Some Lodges and rituals explain these symbols as lessons in conduct: for example, Duncan's Masonic Monitor of 1866 explains them as: "The square, to square our actions; The compasses, to circumscribe and keep us within bounds with all mankind".

 

However, as Freemasonry is non-dogmatic, there is no general interpretation for these symbols (or any Masonic symbol) that is used by Freemasonry as a whole.

 

Square and Compasses:

 

Source: Mackey's Encyclopedia of Freemasonry

 

These two symbols have been so long and so universally combined — to teach us, as says an early instruction, "to square our actions and to keep them within due bounds," they are so seldom seen apart, but are so kept together, either as two Great Lights, or as a jewel worn once by the Master of the Lodge, now by the Past Master—that they have come at last to be recognized as the proper badge of a Master Mason, just as the Triple Tau is of a Royal Arch Mason or the Passion Cross of a Knight Templar.

 

So universally has this symbol been recognized, even by the profane world, as the peculiar characteristic of Freemasonry, that it has recently been made in the United States the subject of a legal decision. A manufacturer of flour having made, in 1873, an application to the Patent Office for permission to adopt the Square and Compasses as a trade-mark, the Commissioner of Patents, .J. M. Thatcher, refused the permission as the mark was a Masonic symbol.

 

If this emblem were something other than precisely what it is—either less known", less significant, or fully and universally understood—all this might readily be admitted. But, Considering its peculiar character and relation to the public, an anomalous question is presented. There can be no doubt that this device, so commonly worn and employed by Masons, has an established mystic significance, universally recognized as existing; whether comprehended by all or not, is not material to this issue. In view of the magnitude and extent of the Masonic organization, it is impossible to divest its symbols, or at least this particular symbol—perhaps the best known of all—of its ordinary signification, wherever displaced, either as an arbitrary character or otherwise.

 

It will be universally understood, or misunderstood, as having a Masonic significance; and, therefore, as a trade-mark, must constantly work deception. Nothing could be more mischievous than to create as a monopoly, and uphold by the poser of lacy anything so calculated. as applied to purposes of trade. to be misinterpreted, to mislead all classes, and to constantly foster suggestions of mystery in affairs of business (see Infringing upon Freemasonry, also Imitative Societies, and Clandestine).

In a religious work by John Davies, entitled Summa Totalis, or All in All and the Same Forever, printed in 1607, we find an allusion to the Square and Compasses by a profane in a really Masonic sense. The author, who proposes to describe mystically the form of the Deity, says in his dedication:

Yet I this forme of formelesse Deity,

Drewe by the Squire and Compasse of our Creed.

In Masonic symbolism the Square and Compasses refer to the Freemason's duty to the Craft and to himself; hence it is properly a symbol of brotherhood, and there significantly adopted as the badge or token of the Fraternity.

Berage, in his work on the higher Degrees, Les plus secrets Mystéres des Hauts Grades, or The Most Secret Mysteries of the High Grades, gives a new interpretation to the symbol. He says: "The Square and the Compasses represent the union of the Old and New Testaments. None of the high Degrees recognize this interpretation, although their symbolism of the two implements differs somewhat from that of Symbolic Freemasonry.

 

The Square is with them peculiarly appropriated to the lower Degrees, as founded on the Operative Art; while the Compasses, as an implement of higher character and uses, is attributed to the Decrees, which claim to have a more elevated and philosophical foundation. Thus they speak of the initiate, when he passes from the Blue Lodge to the Lodge of Perfection, as 'passing from the Square to the Compasses,' to indicate a progressive elevation in his studies. Yet even in the high Degrees, the square and compasses combined retain their primitive signification as a symbol of brotherhood and as a badge of the Order."

 

Square and Compass:

 

Source: The Builder October 1916

By Bro. B. C. Ward, Iowa

 

Worshipful Master and Brethren: Let us behold the glorious beauty that lies hidden beneath the symbolism of the Square and Compass; and first as to the Square. Geometry, the first and noblest of the sciences, is the basis on which the superstructure of Masonry has been erected. As you know, the word "Geometry" is derived from two Greek words which mean "to measure the earth," so that Geometry originated in measurement; and in those early days, when land first began to be measured, the Square, being a right angle, was the instrument used, so that in time the Square began to symbolize the Earth. And later it began to symbolize, Masonically, the earthly-in man, that is man's lower nature, and still later it began to symbolize man's duty in his earthly relations, or his moral obligations to his Fellowmen. The symbolism of the Square is as ancient as the Pyramids. The Egyptians used it in building the Pyramids. The base of every pyramid is a perfect square, and to the Egyptians the Square was their highest and most sacred emblem. Even the Chinese many, many centuries ago used the Square to represent Good, and Confucius in his writings speaks of the Square to represent a Just man.

 

As Masons we have adopted the 47th Problem of Euclid as the rule by which to determine or prove a perfect Square. Many of us remember with what interest we solved that problem in our school days. The Square has become our most significant Emblem. It rests upon the open Bible on this altar; it is one of the three great Lights; and it is the chief ornament of the Worshipful Master. There is a good reason why this distinction has been conferred upon the Square. There can be nothing truer than a perfect Square--a right angle. Hence the Square has become an emblem of Perfection.

 

Now a few words as to the Compass: Astronomy was the second great science promulgated among men. In the process of Man's evolution there came a time when he began to look up to the stars and wonder at the vaulted Heavens above him. When he began to study the stars, he found that the Square was not adapted to the measurement of the Heavens. He must have circular measure; he needed to draw a circle from a central point, and so the Compass was employed. By the use of the Compass man began to study the starry Heavens, and as the Square primarily symbolized the Earth, the Compass began to symbolize the Heavens, the celestial canopy, the study of which has led men to think of God, and adore Him as the Supreme Architect of the Universe. In later times the Compass began to symbolize the spiritual or higher nature of man, and it is a significant fact that the circumference of a circle, which is a line without end, has become an emblem of Eternity and symbolizes Divinity; so the Compass, and the circle drawn by the Compass, both point men Heavenward and Godward.

 

The Masonic teaching concerning the two points of the Compass is very interesting and instructive. The novitiate in Masonry, as he kneels at this altar, and asks for Light sees the Square, which symbolizes his lower nature, he may well note the position of the Compass. As he takes another step, and asks for more Light, the position of the Compass is changed somewhat, symbolizing that his spiritual nature can, in some measure, overcome his evil tendencies. As he takes another step in Masonry, and asks for further Light, and hears the significant words, "and God said let there be Light, and there was Light," he sees the Compass in new light; and for the first time he sees the meaning, thus unmistakably alluding to the sacred and eternal truth that as the Heavens are higher than the Earth, so the spiritual is higher than the material, and the spiritual in man must have its proper place, and should be above his lower nature, and dominate all his thoughts and actions. That eminent Philosopher, Edmund Burke, once said, "It is ordained that men of intemperate passions cannot be free. Their passions forge the chains which bind them, and make them slaves." Burke was right. Masonry, through the beautiful symbolism of the Compass, tells us how we can be free men, by permitting the spiritual within us to overcome our evil tendencies, and dominate all our thoughts and actions. Brethren, sometimes in the silent quiet hour, as we think of this conflict between our lower and higher natures, we sometimes say in the words of another, "Show me the way and let me bravely climb to where all conflicts with the flesh shall cease. Show me that way. Show me the way up to a higher plane where my body shall be servant of my Soul. Show me that way."

Brethren, if that prayer expresses desire of our hearts, let us take heed to the beautiful teachings of the Compass, which silently and persistently tells each one of us,

 

"You should not in the valley stay

While the great horizons stretch away

The very cliffs that wall you round

Are ladders up to higher ground.

And Heaven draws near as you ascend,

The Breeze invites, the Stars befriend.

All things are beckoning to the Best,

Then climb toward God and find sweet Rest."

The Office of the Physically Impaired opened in 1968

to help students and others with physical disabilities.

In 1980, this office worked with the campus planning

office to issue tactual maps for the visually impaired.

Developed by a graduate student in geodetic science,

the three-dimensional maps offered large type; buildings,

streets and walkways in relief; and Braille symbols.

President Harold Enarson and his wife, Audrey,

advocated for those with disabilities and distributed

their official holiday greeting card in Braille one year.

We explored the woodneuk house and took some photos there yesterday. It was quite a physically challenging journey over a fence, through some vegetation, and up a very steep slope full of slippery plants and rocks.

 

From the write-up on api.sg, I realised that the Tyresall house had been razed to the ground by fires in 1905, and that the woodneuk house (blue-tiled roof) was commonly mistaken as the Tyresall.

 

"Woodneuk and Tyersall

 

Woodneuk is a nearby place next to Istana Tyersall which was the former Sultan favourite stopping place.

 

In his will (see below), "And I give and bequeath to my wife, Sultana Khadijah … the ground, house, furniture, and garden situated in the district of Tanglin in Singapore called “Woodneuk” … which is near by the Istana Tyersall."

 

Sultana Khadijah died in Woodneuk in 1904.

 

Today only the names of Tyersall Avenue and Tyersall Road remind us of the site that few knew was

 

once an Army Camp and the site of a grand palace.

 

Also people tend to confuse Woodneuk House as Istana Tyersall.

 

Istana Tyersall should have been razed to the ground after the fire of 1905. Left behind are only small tiles and bricks and no observable structure at the actual GPS position based on the map."

 

There's a mysterious figure in the right-most doorway!

 

Read more here

  

Interstate 26 (I-26) is a nominally east–west (but physically more northwest-southeast) main route of the Interstate Highway System in the Southeastern United States. I-26 runs from the junction of U.S. Route 11W and U.S. Route 23 in Kingsport, Tennessee, generally southeastward to U.S. Route 17 in Charleston, South Carolina. The portion from Mars Hill, North Carolina, east (compass south) to Interstate 240 in Asheville, North Carolina, has signs indicating FUTURE I-26 because the highway does not yet meet all of the Interstate Highway standards. A short realignment as an improvement in the expressway was also planned in Asheville, but has been postponed indefinitely due to North Carolina's budget shortfalls.

 

Northwards from Kingsport, US-23 continues north to Portsmouth, Ohio, as the Corridor B of the Appalachian Development Highway System, and beyond to Columbus, as the Corridor C. In conjunction with the Columbus-Toledo, Ohio corridor formed by Interstate 75, U.S. 23, and State Route 15, I-26 forms part of a mostly high-speed four-or-more-lane highway from the Great Lakes to the Atlantic Coast at Charleston, South Carolina. There are no plans for further official Interstate 26 extensions into Virginia, Kentucky, or beyond.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interstate_26

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Text_of_Creative_Commons_...

(St. Ignatius' Bean)

 

Named for the patron saint of spiritual retreats and exercises, this small tree supplies us with the emotionally and physically supportive St. Ignatius bean. In homeopathic form, this remedy treats a wide range of symptoms that can be caused by emotional turbulence. Loss of a loved one, trauma (even in the not so recent past), homesickness, broken hearts of all shapes and sizes, long, intense study periods, constant stress, in short any strong emotions that, if repressed can set off a wide array of symptoms in the body.

 

While it can help bring out suppressed emotions, Ignatia is also helpful in the pangs of grief or trauma - the sleeplessness, bellyaches, and waves of pain that can be the companion of turbulent emotions, and to prevent issues soon after - such as colds due to the strain on the immune system. Ignatia colds can start with a lump in the throat sensation and it’s spasmodic cough is set off by a tickle in the throat. If a fever takes over, an Ignatia type may be quite thirsty or itchy with chills. Some other symptoms may be a headache which feels as if a nail is being driven into the skull and the discomfort is made more intense by lying on the painful side. A sour taste in the mouth, hiccups, upper abdominal pain, nausea and vomiting which is somewhat relieved by eating are other Ignatia signs. Women can complain of uterine cramps during menstruation, constipation due to emotional stress and hemmorhoids.

 

On the emotional side, Ignatia works especially well with silent grief, though it also helps those at the other extreme-constant crying, fear, fright and anxiety. Ignatia types have a sensitive nervous system so it’s not surprising that their bodies react to emotional stress with twitchings, spasms, a lump in the throat feeling, nervous headaches or insomnia. Nervous debility caused fom loss, living in stressful situations, frustration and disappointment or long, intense periods of study can all be soothed by Ignatia.

 

If you find yourself constantly thinking about painful situations and you sigh deeply and often, this homeopathic remedy might be of help.

As all disappointed loves know, insomnia or nightmares may be your only choice– until Ignatia. Its symptoms tend to be erratic and spasmodic, they may tighten and release often as the body and mind try to restore balance. Its conditions usually feel better for eating and with warmth and worse with emotional disturbance, coffee and cold fresh air.

 

Whether natural to the individual or induced by emotions, the people who need Ignatia’s support the most are sensitive, idealistic, and sometimes secretive, whose moods may alternate frequently– tears turning to laughter and back again. They may internalize their feelings so well that only their sighs let you know what is beneath the surface. Over time they can become very defensive, touchy, suspicious, jealous and even rude.

These pictures from Gansu province were taken during a nine-day trip in May 2015. Gansu is a province at the geographical heart of China. Its capital, Lanzhou, is pretty close to the center of the country as can be from what I can tell by looking at maps.

 

Gansu, though, is most certainly considered west China by the Chinese. Physically, the province reminds me of a small dumbbell sitting on an angle. There’s a southern (southeastern) section that is slightly large and has a high elevation (often between 2,000-3,000 meters) with a higher concentration of Muslims and Tibetans than most other areas of China. When you get closer to Xiahe, where Labrang Monastery is located, road signs are both in Tibetan and Mandarin. The LP 2011 had listed three places of interest in southern Gansu: Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, Labrang Monstery in Xiahe (listed as one of the 30 “Must Dos” in China), and Langmusi down on the Sichuan border. I had originally intended to visit all three places, but ended up dropping Langmusi – the Alpine village – and spending an extra day out west.

 

So all told in the south, I spent a few overcast hours in Hezuo at Milarepa Palace (as quirky as I recall LP saying it is, but also something I could have done without) before spending two nights at the Overseas Tibetan Hotel about 100 meters outside the eastern gate of Labrang Monastery in Xiahe. Xiahe was mesmerizing to me. It reminded me a little of some western US towns: one wide, main street that runs the length of town and most of the buildings are two- or three-story establishments.

 

Xiahe is around 3,300 meters in elevation, so altitude sickness is mentioned a few times, though I never experienced any type of nausea. I have nothing but good things to say about the hotel (not extravagant, but nice and comfortable beds), the owner (Lohsang Amso – a good man – who can also arrange bike rental, local and regional travel, etc.) and the good folks a few doors down at the Snowy Mountain Cafe – which seems to only be open in the evening – but where you can eat yak…which I did. One night, I had Nepalese yak curry (Nepalese chicken curry the other night). Other than that, I was amazed at how close (and countless) the stars in the night sky seemed to be, but given the altitude and lack of surface light, it wasn’t unexpected…just amazing.

 

Having spent the previous day on a morning flight from Chengdu to Lanzhou (one provincial capital to another), an hour bus ride from Lanzhou Airport downtown, another 45 minute taxi ride across town (through horrendous traffic), a 4 hour bus ride from Lanzhou down to southern Gansu that ended in Hezuo, an hour or two at Milarepa Palace in Hezuo, then finally another 1-2 hour bus from Hezuo to Xiahe, I finally found myself plopping down on my bed at the Overseas Tibetan…sometime in early evening.

 

Though things didn’t go exactly as planned, they were close enough and I really had no complaints. My biggest surprise was the number of mosques I saw en route to Xiahe. (I hadn’t realized that the Muslim population in this particular region was quite so large.)

 

Upon waking the following morning – it was a Monday, I recall – I made the incredibly short walk to the Labrang Monastery. Labrang Monastery is a fascinating place. It was founded in 1709 by Ngagong Tsunde (first generation of the third in line behind the Dalai and Panchen Lamas). It is one of the six major monasteries of the Gelugpa (Yellow Hat sect) order of Tibetan Buddhism. Three of the other six are near Lhasa, one near Shigatse, and the other near Xining (Qinghai province).

 

This is the largest Tibetan Buddhist temple (if I remember reading correctly) outside Tibet. To walk the entire kora (circumference of the temple with prayer wheels) is over a 3 km endeavor, which I undertook on that Monday morning.

 

It was a pleasant walk, rife with photographic opportunities – people don’t mind having their pictures taken, though the Tibetan monks…not so much. They had to give their permission, and usually didn’t want to, which was fine by me. Around the back (north) side of the monastery, there’s an outer kora trail up the mountain that would give a nice view, but I was frankly too lazy to take it (and didn’t find it, anyway).

 

And the people. Photographing people here (monks or otherwise) is just…a treasure trove waiting to happen. Regarding the monks living here, there apparently used to be about four thousand, but limits have been set to around 1,800 now. (All I’ll say is, like most places in China, the Cultural Revolution was none too kind...)

 

After walking the kora, I hung out at Everest Cafe (Lohsang’s restaurant at the Overseas Tibetan) for a no frills breakfast, then spent the remainder of the morning with a tour of the interior of the temple and wandering around the grounds. The monastery has a few different temples, monastic colleges, living residences…it’s really quite a large compound.

 

The day had started sunny, but by sundown was turning pretty cloudy, so no great sunset shots to be had here, and it was getting a bit chilly in the evening at that altitude, so as soon as it was evident there wouldn’t be any more shooting, I went on over to Snowy Mountain for a relaxing dinner alone before retiring to my room for the night. Tuesday morning found me on another long travel day via bus, taxi, and train…to the opposite side of the province: western Gansu province, which was almost like another planet.

Physically disabled hunters, including disabled U.S. veterans participate in the 11th annual Bill Nesbit Physically Challenged Memorial Hunt hosted by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in Jennings Randolph Lake, WV, Nov. 15, 2016. (U.S. Army photo by Alfredo Barraza)

Documentation of 'Works From Faraway + Works From Home', a Residency-in-Your-Room project by Elizabeth Kezia Widjaja, Spring 2020. She writes:

 

Distance - both physically & mentally - has built a comfortable nest for my solitude. While I'm striving towards self reconciliation, what's happening in the recent weeks has brought into surface (...of the phone screen) the urgency of human connection. People scramble to the search bar, finding accounts and slide into dm(s). We now acknowledge 'social connection' more than anything, maybe by writing about it or making a podcast as it's becoming a prominent issue now. While I'm still confused about my lack of urge to seek these connections, I thought that it's the best time to give something to my friends. Rather than fulfilling my needs of human interaction, it is as if paying hommage and being grateful for the past relationships that I've had in my life.

 

So I asked my dear friends to send me a picture of objects that they would like to see up close, but couldn't because of the current situation. I myself am curious of what they are seeing and what they are doing, but couldn't as well (even before this, I couldn't because these people are all living in lands far far away from me!). I initially intend to reproduce the pictures by zooming in, but the concept kinda leans towards voyeurism. I thought I want to stay true to my friends' intentions in each of their photos, but it is impossible because my act of taking their pictures and modifying them is definitely an intervention towards their belongings.

 

The name of each file is the location of where my friends at when they took the original photo.

 

Credits of original photographs belong to:

Illinois, Chicago - Stanley Junus

Discovery Bay, Hong Kong - Shakira Burton

Duisburg, Germany - Michelle Espranita

Leeds, London - Farid Renais

Melbourne, Australia & Tangerang, Indonesia - Vanessa SP & Adeline Permata

Morewood Gardens, Pittsburgh - Elizabeth Kezia

MUH is the mathematical universe hypothesis that says all structures that exist mathematically also exist physically and furthermore in those worlds with self aware substructures they will thus consider themselves in a “real” world and different worlds with different initial conditions or potential equations are equally as “real” which enters the perceptual perplexities of platonic realism in regarding only the revelation of smaller parts of the fabric totality. What we see is only but an illusion, a three dimensional shadow of the continuous. Time for example can only be measured down to a plank where it thus becomes unobserved, undetermined, quantum chance. This mathematically perceived universe of MUH is a multiverse created of structure in which there are no “things” but only that which exists in structural relationships, a similar concept to the mathematical algorithm of “chaos theory” or the Buddhist conceptualization of “MU” or emptiness.

 

Origami is a means of discovering woven abstracted mathematics, which divide a square into finite polygonal arrangements that make it easy to represent mathematical theorem. This theorem is not represented in the final product but the composition composed of creases created and undone. These step by step procedures or algorithms play a crucial role in optimizing design in consideration of the economics of constraints which allows clarifying insight to the mosaic of mathematical mirrors. When these mirrors reflect the pathological entirety of the infinite within finite modules it appears as a fractal, that is the finite portion appears complete and yet can be combined to create the infinite. This is also called “minimal surface” or “Gaussian Curvature” where at any amount of distortion, that is at any and every point down to the minimalist point or degree, is an unbounded resemblance of the entirety that may support itself.

 

“Hyperseeing” is taking the consideration of the 2d by stepping back into the 3d and by stepping back from the 3d into 4d to encompass multiple views from a single view point, which allows for a more instantaneuous, and intuitive apprehension of the natural relationships to the fragments of perceivable realities. This elusive notion of visual stimuli retention offers insight to the enigmas and perplexities of perception.

Food for feeling great mentally and physically!