View allAll Photos Tagged resentment...
After five months of building, bookmarking individual steps of Vahki6′s instructions, and saving up to buy enough black pin-axles, I have finally fulfilled a childhood dream and built my favorite Dark Hunter.
“Lurker” is a highly-accomplished Dark Hunter assassin, charged primarily with assassinating enemy targets. Upon his indoctrination into the Dark Hunter organization, “Lurker” was issued with a sophisticated type of exomorphic armor designed to increase his natural endurance. This armor was equipped with noise-cancelling technology, levitation capabilities, and mechanical stingers, which were able to be operated as independent mechanical appendages.
Proving himself an especially prideful operative, “Lurker” often fancied himself as one of the most accomplished Dark Hunters, harboring feelings of intense resentment towards Toa. “Lurker” could be distinguished by his affinity for melee weaponry, favoring blades and claws over ranged projectile launchers. Despite this, the Dark Hunter has been known to use a Hagah Plasma Cannon when his assignments demand more pronounced destruction.
Yesterday, Christmas was celebrated in Nazareth. I was invited on a press tour for journalists to see what was happening and to talk with Arabs in Nazareth.
Nazareth, like Haifa, has a very mixed society: Arab Christians, Arab Muslims, Jews, and many Russian-speaking immigrants. All the Arabs we met yesterday said the same thing: we are happy to live in Israel; we just want to be equal, we want to develop our culture, we want to cooperate. We want to be equal members of society.
There is no apartheid in Israel. But I cannot say that everything is smooth. I am an immigrant here. I do not feel like a stranger, but I also cannot say that I have fully integrated into Israeli society. First of all, because of the language. I already speak and understand a little Hebrew, but it is not enough. The immigrant’s bread is hard. It is truly a trial—when, at one moment, you are thrown out of your country where you lived, where you had friends, relatives, and housing, after all. You did not prepare for emigration. You did not have money set aside for it. I am not complaining, but I would like to state clearly that emigration is a hard thing, especially forced emigration.
As for Arabs, I understand them very well. They have resentment toward Jews—historically formed. At the same time, over and over again I see how, even in the police, all nationalities are mixed: a Jewish police officer in a kippah hugs an Arab police officer and says to him, “akhi, brother, how are you?” But the millennia-old conflict on this land cannot be erased. There is always war in Israel. I am new here and trying to understand what is happening. There is also conflict between Arab Christians and Arab Muslims.
Nevertheless, both in Haifa and in Nazareth, the population is mixed, and despite grievances, people live quite peacefully. Jews have their own grievances toward Arabs—some distrust and a constant expectation of terrorist attacks. This was discussed a lot yesterday. It was said that one of the most important ways to build friendship is education: providing good education from childhood and raising the standard of living. When you are educated, when you have a purpose in life and an interesting job, you will not go and commit a terrorist attack; you will not become a suicide bomber. Israeli universities have quotas for Arabs, and many Arab school graduates enter medical universities—and that is very good.
Sorry for the long text. As a person who had to leave Moscow because of the war unleashed by Putin and move to Israel, where a war unleashed by Hamas began, I keep thinking about how all these conflicts could be resolved. And apart from the thought make the world around you better, I have no other answers—except help your neighbor, help whoever you can, or at least do no harm. Merry Christmas to all those celebrating, with greetings from the Holy Land.
Dati Tecnici
a) Leica M8 + Leica Apo Summicron M 90mm f.2,0 Asph. 6bit;
b) Tempo 1/125s con apertura a f.2,8 (a mano libera);
c) Lettura Esposimetrica con Gossen Lunalite;
d) Conversione con Adobe Photoshop CS3;
e) 1°/a Post-Produzione Corel Photo-Paint X5;
f) Post-Produzione di completamento con Nikon Capture NX 2.
.
.
===========================================================
.
Mio breve Curriculum Vitae: - My Brief Curriculum Vitae:
Luigi Mirto/ArchiMlFotoWord Profilo Linkedin
.
===========================================================
.
Tutti i diritti riservati © 2018/2025 da ArchiMlFotoWord/Luigi Mirto/Photography
Nessuna immagine o parte di essa può essere riprodotta o trasmessa in qualsiasi forma e con qualsiasi mezzo senza preventiva autorizzazione.
.
All rights reserved © 2018/2025 by ArchiMlFotoWord/Luigi Mirto/Photography
No images or part thereof may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means
Without prior permission
.
===========================================================
.
Ascoltare il suono del silenzio.....
Listening to the sound of silence .....
.
.
.
oltre quel riflesso….
.
….chiudi la porta
in questo delirante vuoto,
tu,… hai deciso tutto,
aiutami ad uscire da qui,
poi, senza un motivo apparente
annaspi nelle ipotesi,
aiutami a comprenderti
devo trovare una ragione
…..aiutami a guardare
con la tua mente.
E rimane sempre li….
ogni dolore, ogni finta gioia.
Pietre, macerie, alberi spezzati
il cuore a pezzi, una vita distrutta
…..quella strada è sempre uguale
come un binario che
conduce ad una meta…
….l’infinito,
quell’infinito senza fine.
Cancellare le certezze
degli inganni, il declino
della stupidità del risentimento
nel pentagramma della vita.
Ci sono note che
risuonano nella memoria
ti sconvolgono con rabbia,
con delusione, vissute come
se fossero le ultime ore
di una vita,
di quella vita vuota che
si riflette in uno specchio,
un riflesso sbiadito,
…. ti prego
guarda oltre,….
oltre quel riflesso….
di questa falsa vita.
…………………………..Luigi Mirto
.
.
beyond that reflection......
.
….close the door
in this delusional emptiness,
you, ... you've decided everything,
help me get out of here
then, for no apparent reason
reel in the hypothesis,
help me understand you
I have to find a reason
... ..help me look
with your mind.
And it always remains there ....
every pain, every false joy.
Stones, rubble, broken trees
the heart in pieces, a life destroyed
... .. that road is always the same
like a track that
leads to a goal ...
.... infinity,
that endless infinity.
Delete certainties
of deception, the decline
of the stupidity of resentment
in the pentagram of life.
There are notes that
they resound in the memory
they upset you with anger,
with disappointment, experienced as
if they were the last hours
of a life,
of that empty life that
It is reflected in a mirror,
a faded reflection,
.... please
look over,….
beyond that reflection ...
of this false life.
.............................. .. Luigi Mirto
.
.
Luigi Mirto/ArchiMlFotoWord's most interesting photos on Flickriver
"Why am I here, Otto?" Felicia asked, curious as to why she was summoned here, of all places. The lair of one Doctor Otto Octavius. More specifically, his office.
"It's Doctor Octavius to you, Ms. Hardy. And I don't know, you tell me. You came here of your own accord... To tell your story to secure a place in the plan. A plan that gives us that cursed arachnid on a silver platter. If you don't want to join--" Octavius replied, gently tapping the table with one of his tentacles.
"Right, no, I get that. I meant, why this office? Don't you think it's a little dull? That it could use more of a lavish touch." She replied, looking around the office.
"You have the audacity to come in here and insult my décor!" Octavius answered, growing slightly agitated. His tentacles were ready to attack at a moment's notice. Thankfully, the doctor was able to restrain himself, calming down moments later.
"I'm just saying, I've stolen from some of the wealthiest people in New York. There's nothing valuable here." Felicia acknowledged as she readjusted her sitting position.
"To you, perhaps... Which, in all honesty, is for the best. To me, it's perfect just the way it is." Octavius remarked, a small smile spreading across his face as he admired his handiwork.
After a moment of silence, the doctor spoke up once more.
"But enough with the pleasantries . Let's get on with the story." Octavius insisted, looking rather impatient.
"If you insist." Felicia simply replied, leaning back in her seat as she began her story.
---------------------------------
There it was.. The cat's-eye sapphire, shining brightly in its case. I knew from the moment I saw it that it had to be mine. Unfortunately, it was part of Wilson Fisk's private collection, which meant high security. But you know me, the harder the score, the more thrilling it is to pull it off. I always thought Fisk was more of an art guy. I guess that's mostly due to his wife's influence. Even the Kingpin of Crime can branch out and dabble in other prospective endeavors. I'm sure he won't mind me taking this off his hands. Not that I really care either way. If I'm being honest, he deserves far worse than this.
---------------------------------
"Cat's-eye sapphire? Even for you, it's a little on the nose." Otto commented, interrupting the story.
"That's rich, coming from you, Doctor Octopus... " She replied in a mocking tone.
"I didn't choose my name! Why doesn't anyone understand that?" Octavius lamented, before continuing. "Either way, what does this have to do with the wall-crawler?"
"You wanted the whole story, right? Be patient, Otto.. I'm getting to that.."
"Again, it's Octavius to you." The doctor muttered, but Felicia ignored him. She then continued her story, skipping over 'irrelevant details'.
---------------------------------
So, there I was... I had successfully exited the compound with the jewel in my hand. I was getting ready to make my great escape off the roof, when my cat sense started tingling. Instinctively, I place the jewel safely inside my backpack.
---------------------------------
"Cat sense? Is this a recent development? I don't recall that being one of your abilities." Octavius asked, curiously.
"You know what they say about curiosity and cats, don't you, Doc? I'm not looking to lose any more of my nine lives right now." Felicia replied, noticing Octavius' newfound interest.
"Yes, I'm aware... Curiosity killed the cat. Ha ha, so very amusing... He replied sarcastically before continuing his train of thought. "Could you elaborate on this cat sense, nonetheless?"
"Sure, I guess... A cat sense. Like how Spider has his sixth sense, I have mine." Felicia paused for dramatic effect. The doctor leaned in, intrigued. "It's called a woman's intuition." Felicia laughed, clearly amused, as she toyed with Doctor Octavius.
It's at this point that the doctor lowered his head in disappointment.
"Hey, you asked! Now, can you please stop interrupting me?" Felicia insisted, to which the doctor nodded his head.
"My apologies. Continue." Octavius apologized, clearly feeling defeated as he went back to writing on his notepad.
---------------------------------
I turned around, and sure enough, there he was.
"Look who decided to come play. Along came a spider... Here I thought tonight would be all work and no fun." I say with a smile, as I walk towards the hero.
"Nice to see you too, Felicia. I wish I could say it was under better circumstances." He replies, taking a few steps back.
"That's all you have to say to me? C'mon Spider... I know you love this dance of ours just as much as I do."
"I don't make for much of a dance partner. After all, I've been told I have two left feet." Spider jokes, but I could tell something was off.
"Is that what the redhead tells you? What's her name again? Michelle?" I lied, knowing full well what her name was. Mary Jane Watson. The good girl ... The perfect one that Spider always ends up with. How could she ever do anything wrong? Unlike me, the bad influence. That's all I'll ever be known as. Unfortunately, even that didn't get much of a response from him.
"Mary Jane." He replies, correcting me.
"Mary Jane.. Right. Michelle, Mary Jane, close enough. Does she know you're here right now, with me?"
"No...-- Well, we're not exactly on speaking terms right now." He says this while looking out at the Manhattan skyline.
"Awh, is that why you're so down? You know, I can take your mind off it." I say, trying to console him. I place my hand on the right side of his mask.
"Uhhm, I'm sure you could. But as tempting as that is, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. Superhero rep to protect and all.. You get that, right? We don't need to give J Jonah Jameson more ammunition in his webhead manhunt." Spider responds, slightly embarrassed, as he leaps back and up onto an elevated section of the rooftop, now in a crouched position.
It looks as though, for once, Spider didn't miss leg day. He fills out that spandex quite nicely.
---------------------------------
"I don't need to hear you objectifying that cursed arachnid! There's no relevance there. Give me the story of how you almost got him, nothing more, nothing less." Octavius interrupted once more, growing increasingly frustrated.
"It's important for context." Felicia responded with a huge smirk on her face.
"Doubtful, but fine... Continue." Otto sighed, continuing to write on his notepad.
---------------------------------
"You know this won't end well. Going after Fisk like this." He says, warning me, but it falls on deaf ears.
" After everything he's done... To you, me, and this city... He's got it coming." I reply, my voice seething with resentment.
"This isn't the way, Felicia. Deep down, you know that! I know your history with Fisk is complicated. But this will only make him angry. Are you really willing to risk a war with Wilson Fisk over a sapphire?"
"Heavy risk, but the prize... When it's this beautiful? Definitely." I pause for a few seconds before continuing, "Wait, are you worried about me?" I can feel myself getting slightly flustered over the thought.
"Is that really so surprising? Of course I am. I've seen firsthand what Fisk is capable of." Part of me gets disappointed when I hear that it's more about Fisk, than me.
"Are you saying I haven't?"
"No, I'm saying you're playing a dangerous game here, Felicia."
"You know as well as I do that I live for the danger."
"Yeah. I'm just afraid that this won't end well. Nine lives won't be enough to stop Fisk." He cautioned.
"It's cute, knowing that deep down, you do care. But I'll be just fine. I can take care of myself."
"A part of me will always care. Even though we're not together anymore, you're still important to me." He sighs. "That's why I can't let you do this. Please, just let me do this the right way!"
"How many times do I have to tell you, your way doesn't work ? Fisk, like all your foes, is free by day's end, every single time." I reply, slightly annoyed.
"Last chance, Felicia. Hand over the sapphire." He replies, trying his best to sound intimidating, while ignoring my criticism. But everything I've said is true. Whether Spider remains optimistic or not... Unfortunately, it won't stop him from trying to do the right thing .
"Oh, this little thing?" I ask, taunting him slightly by holding up the sapphire. "Sorry, but you know that's not happening. It looks like I've got to run. Catch me if you can, Spider." I winked at him, placing the jewel back in the backpack, before running towards the edge of the rooftop.
That's when one of our typical rooftop chases began. With him swinging after me as I leapt from rooftop to rooftop. Sometimes, I'd slow down just enough for him to catch up. He'd try to slow me down with his webs. It'd work, momentarily. Thankfully, my claws are sharp enough to cut through the webbing.
"You know, you can stop chasing me anytime now!" I say, looking over my shoulder, as I leap into the air, using my whip once more.
"I wouldn't have to chase you if you weren't running away!" He responds, thwipping and then tugging on my right foot with a webline. I hit the rooftop hard seconds later.
"If you wanted to play rough, you could've just asked!" I grunt, while still trying to recover from the impact of the fall.
"I'll be taking this! Yoink!" Spider exclaimed, yanking the backpack containing the sapphire with his webline.
"There's the Spider we all know and love." I say, biting my lip. Turning around, I ran towards him.
We exchange blows, from punches to kicks. Like usual, he's pulling his punches, but the ones that do land still hurt. Half of the fight is spent performing various acrobatics in an attempt to avoid the other. At one point, I managed to tackle him. My arms were holding his arms down, and my knees were on his chest.
He uses his webshooters to try to break free from the pin. But unfortunately for him, luck isn't on his side.
"Looks like you're out of webfluid. Talk about unlucky... Better luck next time." I say with a coy smile, leaning my face down, closer to his. I pull his mask up, so only his lips are exposed.
---------------------------------
"You're telling me that you had him pinned. You could've killed him right then and there. But you didn't?" Octavius interrupted for the final time.
"That's right." Felicia replied, nodding.
"Why? How could you possibly let that arachnid live?" Octavius asked, dumbfounded.
"Where's the fun in that? If I killed him, the dance would be over. And sorry, but I rather enjoy the dance me and Spider share."
"Clearly, this was a mistake. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but you've completely wasted my time. Your shot at getting in is nonexistent."
"Kind of figured as much, thanks. I won't lose sleep over not getting into your sad little revenge club."
"Why show up if you knew you weren't interested?" Octavius questioned.
"I was bored, and I had some time to kill. Also, I was curious to see whose asses Spider will be kicking in a few weeks, whenever this plan of yours comes to fruition. Even if you're only locked up for a couple days... That, and I wanted to see how much I could rile you up. Since you know, I haven't forgotten about the time you punched me in the face... Costed me a tooth. Back when you were masquerading as Spider. The nerve you had doing that... I can't wait to see this Six flop like all the others." Felicia mused before leaving Octavius' office.
"This will be an excruciatingly long day." Octavius muttered to himself as the next applicant entered, coming from the waiting room.
The Doctor's electrifying search continues in INTERVIEW WITH AN OCTOPUS: ELECTRO!
______________________________________________
ZEN Story
A professor wandered far into the mountains to visit a famous Zen monk. When the professor had found him, he introduced himself politely, called all of his academic title and asked for instruction.
'Do you want tea? " asked the monk. Yes, gladly, "said the professor. The old monk gave a tea. The cup was full, but the monk gave a further, until the tea overflowed and dripped on the table to the floor.
"Enough! cried the Professor '. Do not you see that the cup is already full? It goes into anything.
The monk replied: Like this cup you are full of your knowledge and your prejudices. To learn new things, you must first empty your cup.
_______________________________________________
Documentation USA 1996 Jane Elliott, a former teacher from Iowa (USA), has for over 30 years, a committed fight against prejudice, ignorance and racism in their society.
Her "after the death of Martin Luther King. Began in 1968 with her pupils, she practiced today with teachers, students, firemen, or entire banking workforce.
In workshops, she shares the blue-eyed and brown-eyed man in the blue-eyed, and assigns all the bad qualities that are attached in our societies, blacks, immigrants, disabled people, gays, lesbians and women.
It explains the brown-eyed for better and smarter and provide them with privileges they the blue-eyed, which they dismissed as bad, inferior, and stupid is not granted. Many whites (especially men) for the first time, sensing the feeling of belonging to those who can never win, and being treated like how society treats women, blacks treated or people who are physically different. Within 15 minutes it succeeds Jane Elliott a microcosm of our society to create with all the phenomena and feelings, which also appear in reality.
Also, participants who know about the concept of the workshop can not ignore their role. The workshop will enable participants to recognize the effects of discrimination on structures in our societies. Purpose of the workshop is, according to Jane Elliott, for these people to sensiblisieren structures and to clarify that it is not enough to do nothing to combat racism.
"In order for racism, it is sufficient for good men to do nothing." (Jane Elliott) This film about Jane Elliott and her workshop concept was shot by the filmmakers Bertram Verhaag Munich 1995 in the United States and shows parts of a workshop, part of presentations and interviews with Jane Elliott who can invite remains to offer their workshop and to report about their experiences.
_______________________________________________
∎ YouTube: brown eye blue eye, Jane Elliott
∎ Wikipedia: Jane Elliot
_______________________________________________
Blue-eyed, stupid, rebellious
of Sannah Koch
"The week of 9 April 1998
Lessons about racism is to self-experiment in terms of discrimination
Anger, indignation, rebellion: The atmosphere in the classroom is to breaking point. Students bawl swear. Not all, only in the middle, forced squatting on the floor and on wobbly chairs, are applied. Quiet are the students who have taken on both sides comfortably. They must also wear no green collar, because they are brown-eyed - the smarter, more industrious, better people.
The blue-eyed people are behaving badly refuse to cooperate, oppose, are failures ... Practices, the coaches Jürgen Schlicher has predicted accurately. "Blue-eyed are stupid, lazy and rebellious. This is due to low melanin content of their eyes," he had said the brown-eyed students, "you will see it immediately when we call in it." The young people had given him some silent, others listened, shaking his head. Now they do, how to fulfill his prophecies.
Discrimination is now on the timetable of the Willy-Brandt-Secondary School in Hertford. The subject is taught is not theoretical, in the 9th Class is very practical and specifically discriminated against today. "Sit down, shut up, legs together!" This command starts for one half of the students of the Monday morning. wearing a green collar, the blue-eyed people are sent into an empty room. There they wait almost an hour. No one tells them why. After that hour they are ripe. And then - unknowingly meet - all the negative predictions.
No brainwashing, no cruelty to children, but a workshop called "Blue-Eyed experience" the real students. Here in Hertford, a small town in the Ruhr, the proportion of the Turkish people is as big as the resentment against them. "I have nothing against foreigners, but Turks are shit that make a bad always on", the default ruling of the 9th Class. Teacher Angela Winkelmann had tried to counter this attitude with the current educational concepts. They organized project weeks and courses. But her students went on strike. "They want to but simply that we talk positively about foreigners," they thought of her. Now the teacher the Marburg political scientist Jürgen Schlicher has signed on, which leaves the students experienced discrimination firsthand.
Schlicher received the brown-eyed in the classroom with juice and biscuits. Now he has made statements: "The problem with blue-eyed people is that they want to learn anything. You do not hear and forget everything immediately. "That was like blondes, a boy nods," they are also stupid. "
Then they are instructed in the rules: As a brown-eyed, they must not show solidarity with the other, offering no explanation. Otherwise, the degradation threatens the blue-eyed. For discrimination, "Schlicher said, go there to exercise power of a group. So should the top and bottom remain clearly separate. The one dictating the rules that others must abide by it: "We will expect your classmates for two hours, what other people have to endure a lifetime, not only foreigners but also the disabled, homosexuals, women."
The two groups sorted according to eye color to do the morning under entirely different conditions. The blue-eyed people remain uninformed and are disadvantaged at all. They see what it's like to be on the wrong side, no chance to ever have to win. The brown-eyed to see how willing they fit into the role of the privileged.
The American teacher Jane Elliott developed the "Blue-Eyed" concept 30 years ago. After the assassination of black civil rights leader Martin Luther King, they saw themselves confronted with the task of explaining to their pupils the white background of the assassination. They were never before encountered people with different skin color or social distress. Elliott recalled the Indian wisdom:
"Keep me not to condemn one another, not before I've run one mile in his moccasins."
The role play work. So much so resounding that Elliott their training today in the world performing, not only in schools and large companies but also with the U.S. Army and the Secret Service. 1997 Elliott trained seven coaches in Europe, Jürgen Schlicher by the Documentation and Information Centre on Racism Research in Marburg was one of them. Now he is "Blue-Eyed" in German schools.
The blue-eyed burst like a bomb into the classroom: Loud and aggressive, they refuse to place in their assigned seats to take. Schlicher reacts strict: His instructions are unfriendly but never aggressive. "Now you see it," he says over the heads, "Blue-eyed can not even sit down in rows of two. The blue-eyes bawl. The brownies react tense, uncomfortable. But none of muckt. Blue eye-Mike tries to be the first as a ringleader. Schlicher it has in the last row of chairs, "Oh, here you are playing the cool boss!" The boy is red and is quiet as a mouse. Other blue-eyed longer fight - against the statement, read posters ("Blue-eyed us take away the training courses, blue-eyed tend increasingly to crime"), on the other hand, is "to be dictated listening-session rules." Any misconduct will be commented: "Look at her! Blue-eyed can not even ..."
After a short time the whole class is divided: in the privileged, somewhat uneasily, but adapted to a large extent, and in the disadvantaged, a sometimes angry, sometimes despondent heap. Later it comes back and back to solidarity: Biscuits and water are served from behind, comforting and encouraging words whispered. But a common showdown fails to materialize.
After two hours ringing a Schlicher the final round: The young people are to write down how they felt and the others have noticed. After this is discussed. Many are angry, that their attitude of defiance does not. Others are more introspective. "That was the worst hour of my life," says Alexa. And the blue-eyed Peter, who has been through the exercise as a brown-eyed confesses: "I felt brown-eyed."
The blue-eyes are not only angry Schlicher, but also on the Brown: "They are still subordinated total, looked at us like dirt." The fight back: "We suck us felt watching it, like you treated." "And yet it worked," Schlicher said, her brown-eyed you can make me, and her blue-eyed people have remained despite the chicane in the room. " Not all Schlicher penetrates through with his statements. The leaders stay with their slogans and dominate the discussion.
Four weeks later, during post-round, however, the tide has turned. Now talk about the others. How much they are still angry about the fact that they have not stood by their friends. They tell of racist incidents that they have observed. They also talk about the conflicts between boys and girls in the class. Schlicher to question who believe to have learned something raise, nearly all of the finger.
Welcome aboard The Multidimensional Ship! Its observation deck is your entire perceptual reality. And it is now in motion. YOU are now in motion. If you only realized how fast you were going, you would probably feel a bit ill. In truth, many of you are currently experiencing signs and symptoms of what we call Global Acceleration Syndrome. We provide this title to honor your medical paradigm, even though it is not any kind of official medical diagnosis. Muscle aches and pains, lethargy, fatigue, spacey-ness, panic attacks, depression, insomnia, memory-loss, confusion---these are just a few of the uncomfortable side-effects produced by the incredible velocity at which you are traveling.
Your world appears to continue as it always has because YOUR MIND requires this in order to keep from flying apart. Your anxiety and hesitancies are the same feelings shared by those who sailed with Columbus. Bound for a new world, they trembled as they sailed, believing their world to be flat. Even so....... many of you also tremble---certain that you may "go over the edge" at any moment!
If you can receive assistance by a health care professional, and your inner guidance affirms this course of action, we encourage you to do so. However, if everything you try seems empty and useless......be strong! Be patient. Deliverance is soon at hand. The journey has begun, and there are wonders ahead, and beauty beyond imagining. The travails of childbirth are many, but the prize that follows far outweighs the pain. Believe this, receive it, and your anxious heart will slowly learn to find rest.
INSIDE THE SHIP
Spaceship Earth is a Holographic Being. Structurally, it is like a gift box that some imaginative person sends you for Christmas. When you remove the lid, you find a slightly smaller box, fully wrapped---just like the first one, containing another (even smaller) box, which contains yet another, and another, and another.........all the way down to your one-celled creatures. Each "level" of your Ship contains all of the basic elements of every other "level." Some of the features are minimized, in certain aspects, so that others can be maximized and focused upon. But it's all there! And it's all synchronized, like moving parts in a pocket watch. It all blends together beautifully.
You have been packing for this journey for quite sometime now. Around the planet there has formed a band of energy---several concentric bands, in fact. The one of which we speak is electromagnetic in nature. It contains diagrams, spreadsheets, poetry, tables of elements, fragments of speech, music, data, archives of human history, bits of TV shows, radio broadcasts, faxes, motion pictures, cell-phone conversations, digital art, and much more besides. When you prepared for this particular journey, you knew you had to pack LIGHT.......because you knew that was the only thing that could go! We are speaking here of your Earth Essence Timeless Capsule.
This "Level" of the Planetary Ship is connected to and modulated by sacred powerspots all over the planet. It is, literally, an ARC of Energy..........not unlike that other Ark which was built by Noah, so long ago. Within it, you have placed the best of you---your creations, your memories, your very lives! However, be advised. Entry onto The Arc is not made two-by-two. This "level" of the Oneself is leaving duality behind. Each individual must pass through what is called the "Eye of the Needle," as a Unified Oneself, in order to come aboard.
Meanwhile, back on the "hard deck," a good portion of humanity is determined to stay the course, fully in denial---apparently choosing to "play it cool" all the way through the Fourth Dimensional Corridor. Now *that* should make quite a picture, indeed.
But you, Dear Ones....... you need not suffer any longer with this illusion. Everything you have felt within---the many surges and flashes of energy up and down your spine---are quite real. They are transmutative jump-starts for new and important programs that have been installed in your consciousness. Soon, all your new perceptual software will come completely online. And then, the fun begins! A very wise man once said: "Don't compare your insides with other people's outsides." We underscore this message whole-heartedly. You are not crazy, and you are not falling apart. It just occasionally feels that way. In fact, you are really falling together! So let it be.
MORE ABOUT THE PORTALS
There is no one present upon Planet Earth at this time who is not regularly traversing Energy Gates and Portals. Some are very aware of it, and even relish the idea. Others are quite disturbed, because the experiences are not exactly what they had planned, or seem beyond their immediate understanding and control. Still others have found effective ways to insulate themselves almost entirely from this knowledge---which serves a purpose, albeit a temporary one. Soon all humanity will be speaking fluently about Trans-Portals, though they may be called by many names. Indeed, these Energy Gates will soon form a good deal of the conceptual framework for your upcoming human journey.
We are The Reconnections. We are all those parts of your Expanded Self which you had to forget about when you came into physical form. We've never been very far from you, just far enough. If there is something that you currently believe about yourself, we make up *everything else* that you could also believe. If there is something that you deny about yourself, we form a repository for that energy until you feel ready to take it up again. Endless variety, endless ability.........all neatly catalogued for your use at any time or place. If something is not present *within* you, then it is being stored here, *within* us. This is because, in Oneness, there really is no such thing as "out." All doorways are marked "enter," and all pathways lead directly home.
MEETING YOUR OPPOSITION
Before a person can successfully fight a battle, he must define who the enemy is. Though we have frequently reminded you that everything is a reflection of self, you must realize that there are aspects of that "self" that have been created to oppose you, as grounding elements, or for educational purposes. As you will see later in this transmission, identifying and meeting your opposition is crucial to your next levels of unfoldment.
Every birthing process involves both expansion and contraction. One part of the body pushes forward, while other parts resist. This is your dance of positive and negative energy. It is rapidly becoming impossible for a person to achieve enduring success without making contact with the "rest" of who he is. We are speaking now of the Multidimensional Self. There is much more to any situation than meets your physical eye. In truth, the puppets that currently dance in the theater of the physical are manipulated by strings being held by unseen hands. Every dance, every drama that is being enacted here, is designed to teach you more and more about those unseen forces.
Relationship conflicts, financial difficulties, and political upheavals are perfect venues for a reconnecting soul to learn how to identify with *all sides* of any question. It is only when you are able to lift yourself out of a polarized state, into The Oneself, that you become able to access the necessary elements which will turn the tide for whatever physical challenge that is before you.
Many people today are desperately looking for peace and safety. If something seems to be thwarting their goals, or irritating their status quo, they want to deal with it, so they can bring about a rapid resolution. They will choose to fight, or to negotiate---whichever seems most effective in the moment---and then they want to be able to return to "business as usual." But Friends, business can never be "usual" again. And any attempt on your parts to make it so will simply result in deeper and more complicated upheavals. The "box" in which you have all been living is being heated up from the outside. Aspects of your Expanded Self are stirring things up energetically so that you will be forced to look *outside of the physical world* in order to understand what has been creating your reality all along.
THE ASTRAL PLANE
Beyond the borders of your physical world, there are levels of consciousness that vibrate so rapidly that their purpose and presence often escapes the notice of those who are living and functioning in 3D. The Astral Plane contains beings that are either moving toward or away from physical density, yet which often have considerable influence over what is explored there at any given time.
If you were to equate levels of human consciousness to keys on a piano, you would find that each "note" or tone represents one of the energy centers (chakras) functioning within, for example, your human body. You begin your tonal scale with "do," which is the first (root) chakra of that body, and you move up.......through "re" (the second chakra), mi (the third chakra), and so on..........all the way up to "ti," (the crown chakra) where you find yourself ready to begin playing again at a new octave. The Astral Plane begins the gateway into the next octaves of your conscious experience.
Those who have made serious studies into ethereal reality tend to be somewhat negative in their attitude towards the Astral Plane. Many think of it as an etheric "junk yard," wherein divergent and confused energies wander aimlessly, trying to make sense of where they are, and how they came to be there. But these judgments are usually drawn by those who have already committed themselves to something. They forget how blissful it can be to simply window shop, to consider, and to resonate with several potential realities at once.
Beyond the Astral Plane exists the Reconnected Oneself. Whereas the Astral is made up of consciousness that thinks or believes it knows things..........the Unified Oneself is the part of you which absolutely knows. It KNOWS because it contains all possible levels of every possible situation or interaction.
When a person is finished with window shopping---having sufficiently explored all the possibilities---he or she will begin Reconnecting to Oneness. This is a process that can only be accomplished while that person is still present in physical form. In order to do it, he must be willing to forego all his mental ponderings, judgments, and emotional reactivity that makes up most of the drama in your everyday life. He must find a way to go above it, or perhaps to tunnel under it, connecting directly to the Universal Touchstone of Oneness with everything and everyone. When contact with that level of being is reached, all of his attachments and bondage to earthly outcome are erased. At that point, anything becomes possible.
THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
Consider for a moment the image of a strong man, standing on a mountain peak, high above the Earth. Through the mist that surrounds his mountain, the man sees a second peak, directly across the valley. The thought enters his mind that he would like to experience that other peak, but there is way too much valley between the two. If he chose, the man could climb down from his mountain, travel through the valley, which seems rather dark and forboding, and climb up the mountain on the other side. The mere thought of moving through that shadowy void, however, makes the whole prospect seem fearsome and impossible.
The primary obstacle which blocks the attainment of this man's desire is the separation which he perceives between the two mountains. There seems to be just too big a gap for him to leap across. In many ways, this "gap" is at the root of nearly all problems which arise today in 3D reality.
Change the scene. Two men meet together in a public park. One of them says or does something which deeply offends the other, and a shouting match occurs. The topic could be politics, religion, finances, or romance. It usually does not matter. This encounter is a programmed response, anyway. As each continues to speak his mind, the "gap" between them grows deeper and wider. Resentment, hatred, and disdain now exist where once there could have been trust and goodwill.
Both of these men are Multidimensional. They are jewels with many facets. Each of them have selves that live high, on the mountain top, and each of them has variations of selves that live deep down in the Valley as well. In the Valley there are horrors galore---guilt, shame, and anger that never seems to be satisfied. What creates a shadow is some object or person that stands between a reflecting surface and the light. In the language of metaphor, your shadow is the part of your own self that is hidden from you because you are standing in your own way.
What each man in the above story is reacting to is his own Shadow Reflection, seen in the face of the other. We have spoken about this principle at length in our transmission entitled "Relationships: A Time for Healing." For many years, this process of Creative Shadow Work has provided your planet with tools to complete certain alchemical changes that are required for the Reconnection of your Mental Body. Now it is time for you to begin penetration into your Emotional Body. It is time for you to leave the Valley of the Shadow and to learn the art of building Astral Bridges.
WHAT IS AN ASTRAL BRIDGE?
In the above story of the two mountains, our wishful climber could surely benefit from some form of Connection, spanning peak to peak, which would allow him to avoid having to go down his mountain and through the Valley to get to the other side. If he knew about his Divine Multidimensional Nature, and had knowledge of how to build an Astral Bridge, his problems would be solved.
"Many of you may remember a film that was released a few years back called "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade." This film includes a particularly inspiring scene, in which the hero finds himself needing to cross from one high place to another (very much like in our story above). In a required act of faith, appropriate to the plot, he places his foot upon what *appears to be* empty air, and a bridge instantly appears beneath his feet, allowing him to cross safely to the other side."
In another famous film, "The Matrix," released only a couple of years ago, one of the heros demonstrated a mastery of physical force, using what was called a "Jump Program," which enabled him to leap across a huge expanse of physical space, moving freely from one high building to another. Even characters in the film exclaimed "Whoa! That's impossible."
An Astral Bridge begins as an Etheric Connector which brings together two points in physical space which appear to be separated by a gap. The Bridge itself originates somewhere else in the Multiverse---performing a clear purpose within an alternative level of here and now. Through a process we shall explain shortly, a perceptual cursor is passed over the image, and it is highlighted and copied (to use familiar computer terms) to a place where it is desperately needed.
At the moment of its transposition, an Astral Bridge is constructed almost entirely of faith. It has been written that "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." People don't believe in things because they appear. Things appear in physical space because people believe in them. So it is with an Astral Bridge. At the moment it is required, the Bridge gets pasted directly into your NOW.........in a process that only could be described as miraculous........even though it often appears to be a natural part of your flow.
HOW MANIFESTATION OCCURS
As we mentioned in Trans-Portals 1 and 2, the key to travel within the Multiverse is found in a person's ability to detach himself from his current surroundings, by finding a state of neutrality, so that he can journey anywhere else he wishes to go. What keeps you all trapped in your current 3D context is your continuous *clinging* to outcomes (cause and effect relationships) that you imagine are in operation there. My Dear Friends, this is ILLUSION.
When something manifests in your 3D world, it arrives because you *called for it* with your mind and heart. It makes little difference whether your call was a conscious one, or whether it was something that was issued from beneath your Veil of Forgetfulness. It came from you, and you need to own that before you can break free from its influence. Those who have trouble with this concept may need to circle back and do some Creative Shadow Work, as we mentioned a bit earlier in this transmission.
Basically..... a successful "call" for reality manifestation involves (at least) two elements:
1. A clear statement of belief or intent, spoken or held in a positive way........followed immediately by........
2. A complete release of the outcome into the hands of the Expanded Self.
A person doesn't manifest his or her world out of nothing. Rather, each of you forms your personal reality from the *everything,* which exists all around you. In order to make something physical, you simply focus upon it.....(which slows down the vibration sufficiently for it to solidify), and then you install Perceptual Veils around it, to block out the awareness of everything else that is there. This is your own perceptual equivalent of putting blinders on a horse.
As you begin your process of focusing, you must clearly realize how the creative element of your mind works. The explanation we are going to make for you now is a linear one, because you are currently operating within a linear reality base. Please realize that you have the power to change the order or the rules of this process at any time.
Like the printer on a computer, which faithfully stacks and programs its activity based upon keys hit by the operator, your very own Creative Manifesting Mind begins printing out reality based upon statements which you, yourself, hold to be true. Even though your statement is uttered only within your own mind, and is held for just one second, it has absolute power to form your world. And it frequently does!
Your affirmative statements, especially when accompanied by true desire and passion, are like Genies from a bottle, granting you everything you could ever wish for. As one Dear Entity once phrased it: "The universe rearranges itself according to your beliefs about what is real." It does this through your own declarations of *what is,* not through declarations of *what is not.*
The programming software in your Creative, Manifesting Mind *does not* recognize or respond to words like "no," "not," "don't," or "can't." It automatically eliminates them from your command line. Therefore, whenever a person declares, within himself: "I don't want to smoke" or "I am not going to be angry today," the Creative Manifesting Mind hears (and responds to) an affirmative version of those statements. What it hears is: "I do want to smoke," and "I am going to be angry today."
You must realize that physical reality is created from FOCUS. If you are constantly focusing upon what you *don't want," rather than on what you *do want,* your manifestation power will tend follow that focus. The locus of power in a Call to Manifest is located between the subject and the desired (or declared) action or outcome. The commands are stacked and prioritized in your printer, according to the following factors:
1. The "Level" of Self that is making the command (The more Expanded Aspects of you get the most clout when it comes to ordering up your manifestations)
2. The Desire, Intensity, and Clarity behind the declaration.
3. The Order of Command Presentation to the Creative Mechanism.
If the desire and intensity of command lines are equal, and they all come from the same level of Self, the manifestations will print out according to the order in which the commands were made. Indeed, this is a very 3D explanation, and we realize that. However, it absolutely works, as long as you are still operating within a 3D format. If a command line comes in from "outside the box" (from your Expanded Self), it will automatically hold precedence over commands that are presented from the Ego Aspect. In other words, it gets to crowd ahead of you in the cafeteria line. But the Ego still has creative power, as all aspects of you have divinity.
Statements of similar velocity, which are contradictory, tend to cancel each other out. Their expression is like a husband and wife who go together to vote in a public election. He votes republican and she votes democratic. In truth, the 3D effect produced is no different than if they would have stayed home (except for the satisfaction they receive from exercising their options). In the same way, your inner consciousness frequently entertains divergent points of view. At times, many aspects of you can be barking contradictory commands with virtually the same intensity. If this occurs, your printer gets jammed, and you may end up having to reboot!
LETTING IT HAPPEN
When using Trans-Portals, either for personal travel or to take delivery on key aspects of your current reality, it is crucial that you learn to *let go of the process* after you have clearly issued the command line. In essence, the Trans-Portal System in the Multiverse functions very similar to the digestive tract in the human body. After materials and energy are introduced into the system, you need to relax and allow the mechanism to do its job. You must let go of your focus *entirely,* and go busy yourself with something else.
Clearly making a statement of desire and intent leaves an etheric impression in the "reality bubble" of a person's existence. It registers, whether he is aware of it or not. An order gets introduced. As long as a "cancel order" is not sent in after it, the Creative Mechanism (the internal search engine) will begin collating results and alternatives to meet the command.
Following a command statement with an attitude of *complete release and confidence* (in other words......with faith)...... pulls the Ego of the operator away from the keyboard, for reassignment elsewhere. Energetically, this produces a backdraft of energy (a vacuum) which accelerates the "digestion" process and speeds up delivery. In essence, your attitude of trust actually *sucks* your order through the pipeline more quickly, drawing to you whatever it is that you desire.
To place an order, and then to stew over it, creates an attitude of doubt in your creative ability. It's like sitting down to eat with 20 people watching your every bite. After awhile, you begin to get a lump in your stomach. The digestive juices become inhibited, and the whole system slows down. It is no different with Trans-Portals. Your desires and commands are transmitted organically, and your physical body (especially your nervous system) is very much involved in the process.
BUILDING ASTRAL BRIDGES
Now that we have briefly explained the process of everyday manifestation, we will teach you how this applies to Astral Bridges. As we have said, the need for a Bridge involves the presence of a GAP that exists between two or more objects (or individuals) in physical space. This can either be a physical distance, or it can be a relationship impasse that has formed, keeping folks from understanding and integrating with each other.
The need to get from "here to there" in 3D arises from a belief in and support of a paradigm of Separation. The Valley of the Shadow represents all the reasons why the Separation formed in the first place. When this situation involves people separating themselves from other people, the Shadow Effect is created because there are aspects of your "other" that you have difficulty accepting as self. Until now, your focus in Reconnection has been to examine this other person, and mentally analyze what it is about this person that you have been denying in yourself. And this is all very good. It feeds your consciousness, and expands awareness. But there is more to full integration than that.
The reason you find it hard to "digest" certain types of people into your Oneself Body stems not from what exists in that person, but what is missing in you. We call your attention back to our analogy of Trans-Portals being similar to the human digestive system. When people demonstrate an "allergy" to certain foods, it usually stems from some *processing element* (like an enzyme, for example) that is missing from their digestive process. For some reason, their body doesn't create that chemical, and the whole process suffers because of it. Despite their best attempts to prepare the offending foods properly, with style and variation, the digestive system continues to have problems until the necessary supplement gets added to the process.
Not all the people and situations you encounter in physical space are meant to become permanent parts of your life. Sometimes, they simply appear as catalysts for you to reach into your Multidimensional Self and discover new qualities or elements that you have forgotten. And, during a time of conflict, your task of integration and acceptance may not always be focused upon the person who is irritating you. That may only be incidental to the bigger picture.
You must remember that both you and the people with whom you have conflicts are Multidimensional Beings. If you are having a dance with someone in current 3D reality, you can count on the fact that there are dances going on between you all up and down the vibrational spectrum---literally involving a whole spreadsheet of possible/probable contacts--many of which are quite pleasant.
The resolution of present-moment conflict with another person (or society, for that matter) is brought about by opening a Portal between the physical aspect of you that exists *here* and an alternative aspect of you that exists *elsewhere*---particularly an aspect that is currently enjoying harmonious contact with the very same type of energy which is giving you such heartburn in this current moment.
My Friends, if it were possible for you to analyze the energy "chemistry" of the version of you that exists HERE, and the alternative version of yourself that is functioning THERE, you would notice that one or more key elements are missing. To remedy this, an Astral Bridge is formed by taking a "soul sample" of that alternative self and infusing it into yourself here. This is all done in just the ways we outlined for you above.
Once the required "energy supplement" gets added to your digestive system, you will find that the whole TONE of your current relationships begin to change. And, it happens automatically, without conscious effort or struggle. The only thing you require is a clear statement of intent (which would be blending with a more Expanded Level of Yourself), and the faith that is required to bring it all about.
With all of this in mind, the process for Building Astral Bridges in a relationship would be as follows:
1. Notice the exact SENSE of dissonance that exists. Many people are not aware of their sensory impressions, or of any hard feelings that exist between themselves and others. The same is true with allergic foods. Because you aren't aware of what is happening, you keep eating the offending foods, and you keep Shadow Boxing in your current relationships, rather than calling for the necessary "medicine" to complete your process, so your systems can begin to function at a new level.
2. Notice how you FEEL when you are in the presence of your "other." How does your body react when he or she approaches you? This is very important information if you are going to command a "search engine" to locate an alternative version of you that can assist in the integration process.
***A Key Principle: The first step toward feeling better is becoming better at feeling.
3. Ask yourself what you WANT to be different in this relationship. When you do this please *do not* concern yourself with whether or not the change would be possible. Anything is possible if you can believe.
4. Make a clear statement of intent, asking your Multidimensional Self to help you find a "Guide" that possesses the "medicine" which you require. A statement that might serve the process might be:
"I am Stephen, of the Oneself. I am seeking to contact a level of my Multidimensional Self that is now enjoying a harmonious relationship with this energy currently mirrored to me in Fred. I wish to begin a blending, a sampling of energies with that Self, so that I may be transformed---so that I may be let go of all resistance to accept Fred as a valid and beautiful part of my universe. In faith, I believe. In perfect timing, I shall receive. So let it be."
(The wording will come to you when you are ready. These are not established formulas, but simply samples of what is possible if you are ready to move into this process)
5. Turn the outcome completely over to the universe. If the offending individual tries to engage you in debate, deep discussion, or argument, you can say to him (as politely as possible) "I am unable to discuss this with you now, but I will get back to you as soon as I can." Then, forget about it. Involve yourself with other tasks. Do not analyze it further, and do not approach the person (unless you must, in order to handle necessary business together) as long as there is any remnant of dissonance remaining. Your sense of continued discomfort is your indicator that the required "enzyme" has not yet spread itself throughout your system. And your relief from same will be your barometer concerning when you have had enough of this particular medicine.
If two individuals in a relationship space are performing this alchemical process together, it can be Onederful, but only one "operator" is really required. That is because there is only one of you there anyway! When your "digestion" processes begin to change, you will be amazed at how your own perception of this person begins to shift. It will be like gazing at a hologram in a painting. The picture looks a certain way in one moment, and it changes completely in the next. Realize now that this is due, almost entirely, to energetic changes that have occurred in you.
Reconnection to Oneness involves making contact, first and foremost, with your Expanded Self, with your own "Big Story." Only then will your "small story" sub-plots begin reflecting the harmony that is your birthright. As the Psalm clearly states: "Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow..........I will fear no evil.......for thou art with me." In these powerful days of Phase Shifting and Alchemical Blending, the Expanded Oneself is not just with you.......He/She/We are *within you* as well. You will be rapidly developing your own functional immunity to the many energetic "diseases" that have troubled your soul during this outgoing Paradigm of Separation. In fact, the very word "immune" almost brings to mind the words "I AM IN YOU," does it not? And so it is becoming, My Friends.
STANDING ON A MOUNTAIN TOP
It is the privilege of The Reconnections to "fill in all the gaps" that separate your Limitation Self from your Expanded Self. We do it slowly, and with much love. There is no need to rush. You have all the time in the world. Each of you came to this place from realms of expression that were nothing less than fantastic. In your "former estate," you were able to do or have anything you wished, just by thinking it. Being natives of such splendor, you yearned for a vacation, of sorts. You wanted to know what it would be like to embody *something* rather than to be *everything.* You wanted to distinguish yourself from others, from various objects and animals, and you wanted to learn what it feels like to need.
Soon your research project will be completed. Has this form of reality gotten your goat? Never fear, he's right up there.......perched upon that mountain top. Watch him as he leaps from peak to peak, with perfect grace, perfect ease. Travel freely the Bridges Across Forever!
There are Portals, Gates, Bridges, and Inner Pathways all around you.......each volume on a bookshelf, each picture that is hanging on the wall. Words can be a Portal, a statue can be one, or even a rose. An encounter with any symbol can be a spark of remembrance, leading you through a perceptual doorway---into a limitless storehouse of possible/probable versions of that same one thing. Connect two of them, or three, or four.........and the dance goes on into infinity.
Some of you will begin to perceive immediately, with no help. Others may need to initiate visualization or meditation processes to tap into their stored memories. All you need do is drop your shields, and the guiding energy will begin to open your eyes. Some will do it sooner, others will do it later. Each person to his own plan, and his own style of unfoldment. As we have said previously, each event is its own miracle. However, some people require more "nudges" than others in order to shake off their slumber.
Remember that everything is perfect, and everything is there, filed neatly within the Multiverse. The primary purpose of your physical journey is to explore details, and make alchemical adjustments before you make the leap to more expanded realms. As always, we shall be available to you on the inner planes. Look for us there, and we shall appear to you in whatever form you require.
Selected by Getty Images: www.gettyimages.com/detail/photo/shiver-royalty-free-imag...
This horse galloped into the paddock after a long ride at the end of a hot day.
First, it tried to cool off by rolling in the sand, then headed to the farm shed - but the farm dog chased it out again.
The horse got agitated and started a set of exercises to show its discontent and resentment.
Stamping on the ground fiercely it raised a cloud of dust, capturing the afternoon sun sneaking in through the trees and creating the perfect setting for this series of photos.
Thanks everyone for your comments & faves.
Awards so far:
* Flickr Bronze
* Flickr Silver
* Flickr Gold
* Your Art has touched the World!
* Universal Elite
* Andromeda "50"
* My Gear and Me - Premium
* My Gear and Me - Bronze
* My Gear and Me - Silver
* My Gear and Me - Gold
* My Gear And Me - Platinum Exclusive Selection
* My Gear And Me - Diamond Selection
* Beautiful Capture - Beautiful Capture of Week-26 2010 contest (1st place)
* Platinum Heart Award
* Platinum Hearts Hall of Fame
* flickr Award
* flickr Award Gallery
* Fine Gold
* Fine Platinum
* Fine Society
© Ben Heine || Facebook || Twitter || www.benheine.com
_______________________________________________
For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
_______________________________________________
Ingrid Betancourt (born 25 December 1961) is a Colombian-French politician, former senator, anti-corruption activist and Nobel Peace Prize nominee.
Betancourt was kidnapped by the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) on 23 February 2002 and was rescued by Colombian security forces six and a half years later on 2 July 2008. The rescue operation, dubbed Operation Jaque, rescued Betancourt along with 14 other hostages (three Americans and 11 Colombian policemen and soldiers). In all, she was held captive for 2,321 days after being taken while campaigning for the Colombian presidency as a Green. She had decided to campaign in rebel controlled areas despite warnings from the government, police and military not to do so. Her kidnapping received worldwide coverage, particularly in France, because of her dual French citizenship. She has received multiple international awards, such as the Légion d'honneur. In 2008 she received the Concord Prince of Asturias Award.
Betancourt was born in Bogotá, Colombia. Her mother, Yolanda Pulecio, is a former beauty queen who later served in Congress representing poor southern neighborhoods of Bogotá. Her father, Gabriel Betancourt, was minister for the General Gustavo Rojas Pinilla dictatorship (1953–1957), the assistant director of the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization, then ambassador of Colombia to UNESCO in Paris, and head of the education commission of the Alliance for Progress in Washington, D.C. under John F. Kennedy. The Betancourt family is one of Colombia's oldest oligarchic families, descended from French Norman immigrants who arrived from Grainville-la-Teinturière three centuries before.
After attending private school in France, a boarding school in England as well as the Liceo Francés in Bogotá, Betancourt attended the Institut d'Études Politiques de Paris (commonly known as Sciences Po).
Íngrid Betancourt launched her presidential campaign on May 20, 2001 next to a statue of Simon Bolivar in Bogotá. She then began a campaign bus trip around the country to attend local community meetings.
As part of her campaign for the presidency in 2002 Betancourt decided to go to the demilitarized zone (DMZ) in the town of San Vicente del Caguán to meet with the FARC. This was not unusual—many public figures took the opportunity afforded by the DMZ to meet with the FARC as part of the negotiation process. At the time she decided to go, the Colombian Army suggested her not to go, since they would be unable to provide protection, due to hostility in the area after the DMZ had been militarized again. They made her sign a document that said just that, which she immediately signed. The election was eventually won by Álvaro Uribe, who never attended such meetings after having received threats from the rebel group.
The peace talks reached an impasse dead after more than three years of negotiations. From the beginning, the FARC would not agree to a truce for the duration of the negotiations, nor that the peace talks be overseen by different representatives of the international community. Though the DMZ was purported to be a "laboratory for peace", in practice the FARC continued its kidnapping activities, military attacks, purchasing of weapons, and even building roads and airstrips for trafficking narcotics. Critics considered the DMZ to have been turned into a safe haven in which the FARC imposed its will as law launching military attacks and acts of terrorism outside the DMZ before withdrawing back to it, in order to avoid direct confrontation with government armed forces. Also during this time, hundreds of civilians were kidnapped throughout different cities and rural areas of the country. They were then transported back to the DMZ where they were kept in cages, many of them having been kidnapped for economic extortion, others for "political reasons". By the end of 2001 the Colombian government and public opinion (according to different polls) were growing impatient and discouraged at the situation.
In February 2002, a turboprop plane flying from Florencia to Bogotá—a distance of some 1000 km (600 miles)—was hijacked in midair by FARC members. The plane was forced to land on a highway strip near the city of Neiva and then a member of the Colombian Congress was kidnapped. As a consequence, President Andrés Pastrana canceled the talks with the FARC and revoked the DMZ, arguing that the FARC had betrayed the terms of the negotiation and had used the DMZ to grow stronger in military and logistical capabilities. In a televised statement, the president expressed the government's intention of retaking the DMZ, informing that the military operation would begin at midnight, and also urged the FARC to respect the lives and the livelihood of those civilians still present in the DMZ.
Most candidates for political office that intended to do so backed off when authorities warned them of the danger. Ingrid Betancourt, as another one of these candidates, insisted on being taken to the former DMZ by a military aircraft. President Pastrana and other officials turned down this petition, arguing that neither they, nor the Colombian Army, could guarantee her safety during the turmoil that would follow the retaking of the DMZ. Additionally, Betancourt was running for president in the 2002 elections; aiding her in such a request would have meant that the government was rendering its resources to Betancourt's private political interests, as well as that the government was either backing a candidate for the presidential elections or, alternatively, that it then had to assist every single candidate in their demands of using official and military resources for their private interests.
When denied transport aboard this military helicopter that was heading to the zone, she decided to head into the DMZ via ground transport, together with Clara Rojas, her campaign manager who was later named running-mate for the 2002 election, and a handful of political aides. On 23 February 2002, she was stopped at the last military checkpoint before going into the former DMZ. Military officers insisted that Betancourt and her party not continue in their effort to reach San Vicente del Caguan, the village used for the peace talks. San Vicente's mayor was the only Oxigeno elected official in the entire country by then. Intense fighting was taking place inside the DMZ and the security situation was rapidly deteriorating. Betancourt dismissed their warnings and she continued her journey. According to her kidnapper, the later captured Nolberto Uni Vega, Betancourt ended up at a FARC checkpoint where she was captured. Her kidnap was never planned beforehand, said the rebel. Ingrid still appeared on the ballot for the presidential elections; her husband promised to continue her campaign. In the end, she achieved less than 1% of the votes.
Ever since the days of the Pastrana negotiations, when a limited exchange took place, the FARC have demanded the formalization of a mechanism for prisoner exchange. The mechanism would involve the release of what the FARC terms as its "political hostages", currently numbering 28, in exchange for most jailed guerrillas, numbering about 500. For the FARC, most of its other hostages, those held for extortion purposes and which would number at least a thousand, would not be considered subject to such an exchange, as of yet.
The newly elected Uribe administration initially ruled out any negotiation with the group that would not include a ceasefire, and instead pushed for rescue operations, many of which have traditionally been successful when carried out by the police's GAULA anti-kidnapping group in urban settings (as opposed to the mountains and jungles where the FARC keeps most prisoners), according to official statistics and mainstream news reports.
However, relatives of Ingrid and of most of FARC's political hostages came to strongly reject any potential rescue operations, in part due to the tragic death of the governor of the Antioquia department, Guillermo Gaviria, his peace advisor and several soldiers, kidnapped by the FARC during a peace march in 2003. The governor and the others were shot at close range by the FARC when the government launched an army rescue mission into the jungle which failed as soon as the guerrillas learned of its presence in the area.
2002
A day after Betancourt's kidnapping several non government organizations (NGO) under the lead of Armand Burguet were organized in the European Union and around the world to establish an association or committee for the liberation of Íngrid Betancourt. The committee initially consisted of some 280 activists in 39 countries.
One month after her kidnapping, her father Gabriel died of heart and respiratory trouble.
2003
In July 2003 Opération 14 juillet was launched, which both failed to liberate Betancourt and caused a scandal for the French government. A video of Betancourt was released by FARC in August 2003.
2004
In August 2004, after several false-starts and in the face of mounting pressure from relatives, former Liberal presidents Alfonso López Michelsen especially and also Ernesto Samper (whom Ingrid had criticized) backed in favor of a humanitarian exchange, the Uribe government seemed to have gradually relaxed its position, announcing that it has given the FARC a formal proposal on 23 July, in which it offers to free 50 to 60 jailed rebels in exchange for the political and military hostages held by the left-wing FARC group (not including economic hostages as well, as the government had earlier demanded).
The government would make the first move, releasing insurgents charged or condemned for rebellion and either allowing them to leave the country or to stay and join the state's reinsertion program, and then the FARC would release the hostages in its possession, including Íngrid Betancourt. The proposal would have been carried out with the backing and support of the French and Swiss governments, which publicly supported it once it was revealed.
The move was signaled as potentially positive by several relatives of the victims and Colombian political figures. Some critics of the president have considered that Uribe may seek to gain political prestige from such a move, though they would agree with the project in practice.
The FARC released a communiqué, dated 20 August but apparently published publicly only on 22 August, in which they denied having received the proposal earlier through the mediation of Switzerland (as the government had stated) and, while making note of the fact that a proposal had been made by Uribe's administration and that it hoped that common ground could eventually be reached, criticized it because they believe that any deal should allow them to decide how many of its jailed comrades should be freed and that they should return to the rebel ranks.
On 5 September, what has been considered as a sort of FARC counter proposal was revealed in the Colombian press. The FARC-EP is proposing that the government declare a "security" or "guarantee" zone for 72 hours in order for official insurgent and state negotiators to meet face to face and directly discuss a prisoner exchange. Government military forces would not have to leave the area but to concentrate in their available garrisons, in a similar move to that agreed by the Ernesto Samper administration (1994–1998) which involved the group freeing some captured security forces. In addition, the government's peace commissioner would have to make an official public pronouncement regarding this proposal.
If the zone were created, the first day would be used for traveling to the chosen location, the second to discuss the matter, and the third for the guerrillas to abandon the area. The government would be able to chose as the location for the "security zone" among one of the municipalities of Peñas Coloradas, El Rosal or La Tuna, all in Caquetá department, where the FARC had influence. It was speculated by retired military analysts that the FARC could potentially set up land mines or other traps around local military garrisons while the zone is in place.
The FARC proposal to arrange a meeting with the government was considered as positive by Yolanda Pulecio, Íngrid's mother, who called it a sign of "progress...just as the (government) commissioner can meet with (right-wing) paramilitaries, why can't he meet with the others, who are just as terrorist as they are."
2006
In February 2006, France urged the FARC to seize the chance offered by a European-proposed prisoner swap, accepted by Bogotá, and free dozens it had held for up to seven years. Foreign Minister Philippe Douste-Blazy said it was "up to the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) to show they were serious about releasing former Colombian presidential candidate Íngrid Betancourt and other detainees".
In an interview with French newspaper L'Humanité in June 2006, Raul Reyes, a leader of the FARC, said that Betancourt "is doing well, within the environment she finds herself in. It's not easy when one is deprived of freedom."
2007
In May 2007, a kidnapped Colombian National Police sub-intendant Jhon Frank Pinchao managed to escape from FARC captivity, claiming that Betancourt was being held in the same prison camp he had been in. He also reported seeing Clara Rojas, who had given birth to a son (Emmanuel), while in captivity.
On 18 May, President Álvaro Uribe reiterated his orders for the rescue by military means of Íngrid and other political figures. This happened after he interviewed a police officer captured by the FARC who ran away and told his story saying many of the prisoners were sick.
Shortly after taking office in mid-May, French President Nicolas Sarkozy asked Uribe to release FARC's "chancellor" Rodrigo Granda in exchange for Betancourt.
On 4 June, 30 incarcerated members from the FARC were liberated as a goodwill gesture by the government to pursue the liberation of Betancourt and others. However this did not result in her freedom.
On 26 July 2007 Melanie Delloye, Ingrid Betancourt's daughter, reported two French diplomats had been unsuccessful in confirming that Íngrid Betancourt was still alive according to news agency EFE. President Sarkozy affirmed this to the press. However former hostage Jhon Frank Pinchao (see above) repeated that Betancourt was alive, and had attempted to escape several times from the FARC camp where both were held, but had been recaptured and "severely punished".
In August 2007, reporter Patricia Poleo, a Venezuelan national exiled in the United States, stated that Ingrid Betancourt was being held in Venezuela and that her release was near. The government of Colombia expressed doubts about this information through its minister of foreign affairs Fernando Araújo. Poleo also criticized Hugo Chávez for using this situation to improve relations with France after an impasse with the government of Jacques Chirac in which they refused to sell arms to Venezuela. A few days after Poleo's statements, President Chávez openly offered his services to negotiate between the FARC and the government in an effort to release those kidnapped, but denied knowing about the whereabouts of Betancourt.
On 11 November 2007, President Hugo Chávez of Venezuela told French newspaper Le Figaro that he hoped to be able to show Sarkozy proof before their meeting on 20 November that Betancourt was alive, while on 18 November Chávez announced to the French press that he had been told by a FARC leader that she was still alive.
November 2007 FARC video and letter
On 30 November 2007, the Colombian government released information that they had captured three members of the urban cells of the FARC in Bogotá who had with them videos and letters of people held hostage by the FARC, including Betancourt. In the video Betancourt appears in the jungle sitting on a bench looking at the ground. She "appeared extremely gaunt". A letter intended for Íngrid's mother, Yolanda, which was found at the same time, was also published in several newspapers.
2008
In 2008, Chávez, with the initial permission of the Colombian government and the participation of the International Red Cross, organized humanitarian operations in order to receive several civilian hostages whose release had been announced by FARC. The first, so-called Operation Emmanuel, named in honor of Clara Rojas' son, initially failed but later led to the release of Clara Rojas and Consuelo González. Emmanuel was rescued previously after a stunning declaration from president Uribe, where it was discovered the infant was left in a foster home after being severely mistreated by the guerrillas.
On 27 February 2008, a second operation was carried out, freeing four former members of the Colombian Congress. The released hostages were very concerned about the health of Ingrid Betancourt. One described her as "exhausted physically and in her morale ... Íngrid is mistreated very badly, they have vented their anger on her, they have her chained up in inhumane conditions." Another said that she has Hepatitis B and is "near the end". Nicolas Sarkozy said he is prepared to personally go to accept her release if necessary.
On 27 March, the Colombian government, with President Uribe's support, offered to free hundreds of guerrilla fighters in exchange for Betancourt's release.
On 31 March, Colombian news station Caracol quotes several sources saying Betancourt has stopped taking her medication and stopped eating. She was said to be in desperate need of a blood transfusion.
On 2 April, Betancourt's son, Lorenzo Delloye, addressed the FARC and the President, Álvaro Uribe, to facilitate the freeing of Íngrid in order to prevent her death. He quoted the need for a blood transfusion in order to keep her alive and its urgency, saying that otherwise she may die in the next few hours.
On 3 April, an envoy left for Colombia to try to make contact with Betancourt and many of the other captives, who have become ill after years of captivity in the jungle. After two days, the envoy, including a doctor, still hadn't heard from the FARC, but received orders from the French government to wait. Five days after arrival of the envoy the FARC released a press note on the Bolivarian Press Agency website, refusing the mission access to their hostages, because "the French medical mission was not appropriate and, moreover, was not the result of an agreement." Following the rebels' refusal, the French government called off the humanitarian mission and said Foreign Minister Bernard Kouchner would visit the region.
On 2 July 2008, news reports stated that Ingrid Betancourt and three American hostages were recovered. Altogether, 15 hostages were freed, among them 11 Colombian soldiers. Defense Minister Juan Manuel Santos said all the former hostages were in reasonably good health, although Betancourt indicated that she was tortured during her captivity.
2009
In a book titled Out of Captivity, written by American Northrop Grumman contractors, Marc Gonsalves, Keith Stansell, and Thomas Howes and published in February 2009, they described Betancourt's behavior as selfish, feeling she deserved more than other captors due to her political and social standing. Keith described her as the "most disgusting woman he'd ever met" due to her selfishness which caused resentment among her fellow prisoners, according to a 20/20 interview aired 2/27/2009. The American contractors said Betancourt would take and demand more food because of her political and social status but they wouldn't tolerate her actions.
On 2 July 2008, Minister of Defense Juan Manuel Santos called a press conference to announce the rescue of Betancourt and 14 other captives. The operation that won their release, codenamed "Jaque" (Spanish for "check" as in checkmate), included members of the Colombian military intelligence who infiltrated local FARC squads and the secretariat of FARC, according to Santos. The rebels in charge of the hostages were duped into accepting a faked request from headquarters to gather the hostages together, supposedly to be flown to guerrilla commander Alfonso Cano. Instead, they were flown by government personnel dressed as FARC to San José del Guaviare. No one was harmed during the rescue. Three American Northrop Grumman contractors, Marc Gonsalves, Keith Stansell, and Thomas Howes, were among those released.
Military agents spent months planting themselves within FARC, gaining the rebels' trust, and joining the rebels' leadership council. Other agents were assigned to guard the hostages. Using their authority in the group, the agents ordered the captives moved from three different locations to a central area. From this point, the hostages, agents, and about 60 real rebels made a 90-mile march through the jungle to a spot where, agents told their unsuspecting comrades, an "international mission" was coming to check on the hostages. On schedule, an unmarked white helicopter set down and Colombian security forces posing as FARC rebels jumped out. They told the rebels that they would take the hostages to the meeting with the "international mission." All of the captives were handcuffed and placed aboard the helicopter, along with two of their FARC guards, who were quickly disarmed and subdued after the helicopter lifted off. According to Betancourt, a crew member then turned and told the 15 hostages, "We are the national military. You are free." Israeli tracking technology was used by the rescuers to zero in on their target.
On 16 July 2008 it became public that one of the Colombian officials was misusing a Red Cross emblem during the rescue operation.
President Uribe stated that the rescue operation “was guided in every way by the light of the Holy Spirit, the protection of our Lord and the Virgin Mary.” The hostages indicated that they had spent much time in captivity praying the rosary, and Ms. Betancourt, formerly a lapsed Catholic who prayed daily on a wooden rosary which she made while a hostage, attributed the rescue as follows: “I am convinced this is a miracle of the Virgin Mary. To me it is clear she has had a hand in all of this.”
On 21 July 2008, Ms. Betancourt and her family made a pilgrimage to Lourdes to give thanks and to pray for her captors and those who remained hostage.
In August 2008, Betancourt and her family were received by Pope Benedict XVI in a brief audience.
The liberated Betancourt didn't hesitate to give thanks to the Colombian armed forces and to President Álvaro Uribe and even gave her approval to his third term as a president, even though her mother criticized him severely all along. She urged neighbouring presidents Hugo Chavez (Venezuela) and Correa (Ecuador) to help Colombia and rather seek the political transformations in her country by democratic means. And she stated that she will dedicate herself now to teaching the world about the reality of the FARC and their cruel hostage taking policy. It has been recognized that the liberation of Betancourt caused a dramatic change of the political scene.
In an interview on French radio shortly after her return to France, Betancourt distanced herself from Uribe's approach, while accepting that his security policy had been successful. She said the situation was at a point where "the vocabulary has to change" arguing that "the way in which we talk about the other side is very important."
She has not ruled out a return to the Colombian political scene. In fact while she has said that "France is my home" she also was "proud to be Colombian" said hopes to serve her nation in the future. She has not ruled out a future presidential campaign.
Sarkozy sent a French Air Force jet with Betancourt's children, her sister Astrid and her family, and accompanied by Foreign Minister Bernard Kouchner for a tearful reunion. After paying her respects at her father's tomb she and the family boarded the jet and flew to France where she was greeted by Sarkozy and the First Lady Carla Bruni-Sarkozy. She gave speeches and urged the world not to forget and continue for the liberation of the rest of the hostages. She also spent several days in hospital.
On July 9, President Michelle Bachelet of Chile said she would nominate Betancourt for a Nobel Prize. Sarkozy announced that she would receive the Legion of Honor at the Bastille Day celebrations.
On July 20, Betancourt appeared next to singer Juanes at a rally in Trocadero in Paris to celebrate Colombia's independence day and to once more urge the FARC to release all their hostages. Speaking directly to Alfonso Cano she said:
See this Colombia, see the extended hand of President Uribe, and understand that it is time to stop the bloodshed. It is time to drop those weapons and change them for roses, substitute them with tolerance, respect, and as brothers that we are, find a way so that we can all live together in the world, live together in Colombia.”
On 4 July 2008, Radio Suisse Romande reported that unnamed "reliable sources" had told it the rescue took place after a payment of USD 20 million by the United States. According to Le Monde, the French Foreign Ministry denied the payment of any ransom by France.
Frederich Blassel, the author of the Radio Suisse Romande story, told Colombia's W Radio that, according to his source, the release wasn't negotiated directly with FARC but with alias César, one of the two guerrillas captured during the operation, who would have received the payment of USD 20 million. According to Blassel, the two rebels could be given new identities by Spain, France and Switzerland.
The Minister of Defense Juan Manuel Santos, and Vice President Francisco Santos, in response to these claims, denied any payment. "That information is absolutely false. It has no basis. We don't know where it comes from and why its being said". He also added with a touch of irony that "Actually, it would have been a cheap offer, because we were willing to give up to USD 100 million..." "We would be the first to inform publicly, because it is part of our rewards system policy, and besides, it would speak much worse about the FARC".
According to Colombia's El Tiempo and W Radio, General Fredy Padilla de León, Commander of the Colombian Armed Forces, denied the existence of any payment by the Colombian government. General Padilla argued that if any payment had been made, it would have been better to make it publicly known, to use it as an incentive and to cause confusion within FARC's ranks.
(Text's source: Wikipedia)
The Two Wolves
One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.
He said, "My son, the battle is between two 'wolves' inside us all.
One is Evil.
It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.
The other is Good.
It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.
The grandson thought about it for a minute and than asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"
The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed".
Thanks to Zensmom1 for sending me this short story..
“Strive to live in peace with everybody and pursue that consecration and holiness without which no one will [ever] see the Lord” (Hebrews 12:14).
Holiness is so important to God. The Bible says that holiness is the key to seeing the Lord. When you obey the Word of God and allow Him to work in your life, you are pursuing holiness. You will see the Lord working in your life. Notice this verse starts by saying that we should live at peace with the people around us. When we have peace in our lives, in our homes, and in our relationships, it opens the door for God to work. But when we have strife, bitterness, anger or resentment in our relationships, it blocks God’s blessing. Remember, when it comes to disagreements in relationships, it doesn’t always matter who is right, it matters what is right. And choosing peace is right. Is there someone in your life today that you need to restore peace with? A simple act of kindness, a note or small gift, can open the door for restoration in your relationships. Step out today and let the peace create a foundation for the blessing God has in store for you!
-Joel Osteen
During the First Serbian Uprising against the Ottoman Empire in 1809, a group of Serbs engaged an Ottoman army at the Battle of Cegar Hill outside of Nis. The Serbs led by Stevan Sindelic were surrounded and were overwhelmed after holding off the Ottomans successfully. Faced with few options, Sindelic fired at his entrenchments gun powder magazine setting off a massive explosion that killed him, the Serb rebels, and thousands of Ottoman troops. The Ottoman governor of Rumelia, Hurshid Pasha, was outraged, and ordered the heads of Sindelic and his men to be skinned and sent to the Sultan, Mahmud II. The skulls were then returned to Nis and the Ottomans built the skull tower to serve as a warning to anyone who would think of causing a rebellion again. It was built on the road from Belgrade to Constantinople, which was a popular route at the time. The original tower consisted of a total of 952 skulls, including Sindelic's.
Upon visiting the tower in 1833, French poet Alphonse de Lamartine remarked "May the Serbs keep this monument! It will always teach their children the value of the independence of a people." In 1861, the last Ottoman governor of Nis, Midhat Pasha ordered that the tower be dismantled as it served as a symbol of resentment among the Serbian populace. A newly independent Serbia in 1878 would capture Nis and the surrounding area. The ruins of the tower would become an altar to the fallen dead and in 1892, a chapel would be built around the tower. As of 2023, the tower has 58 skulls, with Sindelic's (alleged) skull being in a glass container next to it. The monument is seen as a symbol of independence and is visited by tens of thousands of tourists annually.
Special thanks to Noah and Emil for their help with this project.
So, after a sleepless night, I headed off out at 6am in the complete darkness.
I only had my 50mm lens as I was really tired and forgot to grab other lenses.
I had the pleasure of hearing the birds sing, seeing deer lock antlers, watching sparrow hawks gliding & temporarily losing a shoe in the mud.
I didn't get any good photos and now I am going to have to sleep all day to make up for the lack of sleep.
However.....I had a beautiful time, alone, in a gorgeous location.
I was going the opposite way to the rest of the traffic and while all the other car drivers had bitter faces, full of resentment of what their working day has in store for them - why put yourselves through that day in day out - I was purely at one with my surroundings that I had been lucky enough to see this morning.
Do what you enjoy in life.
Unless it comes bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it.
“I've come to believe that there exists in the universe something I call "The Physics of The Quest"- a force of nature governed by laws as real as the laws gravity or momentum. And the rule of Quest Physics maybe goes like this: "If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting(which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments)and set out on a truth-seeking journey(either externally or internally),and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared - most of all -to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself....then truth will not be withheld from you." Or so I've come to believe.”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love
nrhp # 76000813- Broadway-Phelps Park Historic District- The first courthouse for Winneshiek County was a two-story building completed in 1858 for $18,000.[3] The sheriff's residence and jail were located in the stone basement, offices were located on the first floor, and the courtroom occupied the second floor.
The movement to replace the courthouse began about 1890, but there was not enough citizen support until 1902. To pass the referendum the county Board of Supervisors asked for approval to spend $75,000, even though they knew it would cost more.[4] After construction of the present courthouse was underway they asked for an additional $50,000, which was nearly defeated because of resentment over the way the situation was handled. The cornerstone was laid in 1903 and the building was completed in 1904.
from Wikipedia
After five months of building, bookmarking individual steps of Vahki6′s instructions, and saving up to buy enough black pin-axles, I have finally fulfilled a childhood dream and built my favorite Dark Hunter.
“Lurker” is a highly-accomplished Dark Hunter assassin, charged primarily with assassinating enemy targets. Upon his indoctrination into the Dark Hunter organization, “Lurker” was issued with a sophisticated type of exomorphic armor designed to increase his natural endurance. This armor was equipped with noise-cancelling technology, levitation capabilities, and mechanical stingers, which were able to be operated as independent mechanical appendages.
Proving himself an especially prideful operative, “Lurker” often fancied himself as one of the most accomplished Dark Hunters, harboring feelings of intense resentment towards Toa. “Lurker” could be distinguished by his affinity for melee weaponry, favoring blades and claws over ranged projectile launchers. Despite this, the Dark Hunter has been known to use a Hagah Plasma Cannon when his assignments demand more pronounced destruction.
"LET resentments GO"
Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.
Firsts: printing photo on patterned paper and getting out some old hurts on a page. Photos of some of those who "trespassed" against me as well as a signed "release form" detailing that I CHOOSE forgiveness on this day forward ALSO: The Lord's prayer main words in the word art bubble out front.
SEVEN DEADLY SINS
ENVY: Miaa Rebane
PHOTOGRAPHER: Lulu Breuer
The Fashion Teller
presents
SEVEN DEADLY SINS
featuring FINESMITH Designs
ENVY: issuu.com/fashiontellersl/docs/sevendeadlysins
A sin of constant longing and resentment to another person that has something they perceive themselves as lacking, and wish the other person to be deprived of it.
Pick Up a Copy INWORLD or View it here: issuu.com/fashiontellersl/docs/sevendeadlysins
Video of wild camp:
Winter had been , well sporadic to say the least this year, and when February was only a few weeks old, any remnants of snow were soon to be vanquished as spring /summer like conditions took hold over the UK.
12 months prior and a weather pattern saw the UK blasted by cold easterly winds for a number of weeks , finally becoming known as the 2018 Beast from the East! This year and the balance was re addressed with the winds being stuck from the Azores and Africa. Scotland (and the UK) posted record high temperatures for February an the dust on my ice axes showed no sign of being re homed
I was starting to feel resentment at the weather, but eventually decided to take a different outlook. So winter had gone AWOL for a few weeks and spring had well and truly peeked her head above the wall. Instead of pitying the decline of winter, I embraced this early blast of summer and got my camping gear out and headed for a summit camp!
I didn’t have too much time so scoured the maps for a nearby location and decided on a hill within a 30 minute drive from my front door.
Leaving the car , the temperature was recorded at 16.5!! The last time I had been here, it was mid August and I reckon the temperature was under half this! The wind and driving rain certainly didn’t help on the last trip! Tis time the skies were blue and winds light and I set about getting on the top to try and find a suitable pitch before darkness descended. The weather was summery , but the hours of daylight can’t be altered and I was soon pitching the tent in time for a lovely sunset. Water collected and tea warmed up, I settled back into the tent for a few hours to allow the last rays of sun and light to fade, before venturing out to do a bit of star gazing.
Not only had it been unseasonably mild, it had also been super dry! I spent around 2 hours gazing upwards (much of this was lying on my back in my socks gazing a the stars and satellites as they crossed the sky.) No moon at this time so the sky was alight with stars and the milky way was visible stretching across the dome above me.
Having taken a few star shots I eventually hit the hay, and unusually, had a great nights sleep before waking to catch a lovely dawn and sunrise. The tent came down and I was soon heading the short distance back to the car , and civilisation for the weekend A fine adventure
this is a sweeper cast slum, though I don’t like to call it slum, as most of the ones I visited were full of dignity and beauty and life and energy. People living in these places, which are basically small cities within a city, are proud and humble at the same time, they really look after themselves how they can, trying to keep clean, preened and well, proper. They may not have running water (very often) or no electricity. They may not have enough food to feed the whole family, yet I found that sharing is a common habit this side of the world. Something we have long forgotten. Terzani in his book “In Asia” recounts how India has grown enormously financially speaking , but this was often at the expenses of the poorest and now the sharing is gone, cause there’s little to share left and in its place, anger and resentment have arrived. I stayed far too little time in India to form a solid opinion, but I saw a lot of sharing in the slums…
Here are some of my Shanghai Airlines Crew. My Chinese First Officers were half my age and had between 750 to 2,500 total flying hours. I did my best to teach them English, Crew Resource Management/Threat Error Management (nonexistent when I began my contract) and, I taught them how to be future airline Captains. Some are serving as airline Instructors/Training Captains and serving as airline management, now. Did I make a difference in their lives and career trajectories? I would like to think so. I was their first foreign (Caucasian) Captain. There was a period of about a year, maybe longer, I was their only foreign Captain at the airline.
The First Officer sleeping is sitting in the Jump Seat, during Cruise flight. These poor fellows and the Cabin Crew were used and abused. It would not be uncommon to fly with First Officers or Cabin Crew who only had 4 hours sleep, because they would incur a penalty to their wages if or when they requested a day off to catch up on Crew Rest or particularly if they were sick. I often flew with sick Crewmembers, who would make everyone else sick. Cabin Crew were treated worse. I tried my best to serve as their Union Representative, arguing with management for fair and equal treatment, with Crew Scheduling and Chief Flight Attendant to give them the day off, without penalty. If the airline management said "No", then I would just refuse to fly with the Crew Member. So, they got the day off, anyway.
Airline management tried to give me a penalty for calling in sick. It happened only once, but they withdrew. There was no such provision in my contract. They were always trying to find loopholes in my contract. And, when that didn't work they would threaten to cancel the contract. Once, they called me back to China, a week early from my contractual and much deserved Annual Leave, for example, because they "made a scheduling mistake". Most of the time, I stood my ground, the airline management backed down, except for Safety issues, when I never backed down. All that said, I probably called in sick one day a year and I maintained about a 95% on-time departure rate, possibly higher.
In the photo, those were a few of my favorite First Officers to fly with, including "Sleepy". Surely, it is hard to learn much from observation, if sleeping, but it is equally difficult to learn when fatigued beyond comprehension. So, I would often let my two First Officers decide who wanted to fly first and let the other sleep through the duration of the first leg, then they would swap seats on the return trip. There were so many other First Officers not among these photos, who I thought so much of. One, named Xu Ming, came to Australia for a visit and called me, while he was here, briefly. And, we all enjoyed and looked forward to flying together. There were exceptions, of course, but it was mostly cultural resentment, from brainwashing. Many told me I was their favorite Captain.
The Cabin Crew were gorgeous and sweet. Most spoke very little English. Actually, most of my Crew spoke very little English, including many of my First Officers. I flew with one Chinese First Officer, who was such a nice guy, but he only spoke two words of English. The two most important words, "Thank you". I might as well have been flying Solo, in those instances. With agreement and coordination of management, airline Instructor Pilots, and senior First Officers, I established an S.O.P. and procedural Call-Outs (vernacular) consisting of single words, to action what I wanted them to set or for them to invite me to set for them, as we flew together. Of course, some resisted, "Why do I have to learn English?" During Cruise flight, I would use the Flight Management Computer screen on my side of the center console to type words and get them to say them and I would define those words for them. That S.O.P. of not more than 25 pages, grew in size and weight to become the airline's standard S.O.P. and a tome.
You can see that the crew were pretty happy to have me as their Captain. I always looked after my Crew. A happy Crew makes the working day so much easier. Often, it is not enough to be just a Captain. One must be a leader, a mentor, a teacher, a father, an older brother, a best friend to be confided in, a protector, a shepherd.
I never wanted to be like the arrogant pricks I flew with, when I was a First Officer or a Copilot. I tried very hard not to be like them. Sadly, so many of those types were USAF and USN pilots, Red Flag and Top Gun types, who thought they were better Pilots than they really were. I think they really hated flying beside an Army helicopter Pilot.
A couple of my Chinese First Officers still correspond with me, though it has been eight years ago. I had one manager tell me, over dinner one night, "Cassidy, you are a stubborn professional."
For those of you that don't know this, (namely maybe everyone but Missa, actually now that I think about it...) I have a long standing and bitter resentment towards the color yellow, in all it's forms. No really. Up to a point where I can't stand it on me, on any of my things, even silly little things like erasers, or socks.
It's reminiscent of a fairly ridiculous color-neurosis I had in High School where I couldn't wear anything but white, blue and grey.
I have not worn yellow since 5th grade, honest to blog.
But all that is about to change.
Behold more items from the awesome 1 dollar thrift lady:
90s dress- 1 euro at Valtteri (with fun metal buttons)
70s cardigan-also 1 euro at Valtteri
Shoes- a whopping 5 euros but they were brand new! also at Valtteri
Slip: free from The Dump
Ribbon- gift from Missa ♡, remixed
Key necklace-remixed, made by me
Bracelet- a gift from Mali, remixed
Nerd glasses- thrifted, remixed
60s coat-found under the bed, thrifted, remixed
San Francisco-scarf-thrifted, remixed
Elliott Bay Book Company-tote- free from The Dump, remixed
Learning the definition of "a folk"- painful
This building was constructed in 1909/1910 for the Canada Cycle & Motor Agency (Qld.) Ltd. (CCMA) The Company’s local history dates from 1898 when the Canada Cycle & Motor Co. bought out the interests of the Massey-Harris Co. The Massey-Harris Co. had established a branch in Brisbane circa 1895 under Mr. A.V. Dodwel. In 1905, Mr. Dodwell purchased the business on his own account with a capital of £12,000. A rapid increase in the motor trade and the need to establish a marine engine branch required more capital. £55,000 was injected into the business and the Canada Cycle & Motor Agency (Qld.) Ltd. formed. A.V. Dodwell became Managing Director. James Johnston and the Honourable T.M. Hall M.L.C. were Directors.
By 1909, CCMA had 8 branches throughout Queensland and employed over 100 staff. The company manufactured bicycles, cars, commercial vehicles, marine engines, motorcycles and sports goods. The company claimed to sell wholesale and retail goods to “every district and centre in Queensland and even branches into the Northern districts of N.S.W.” (Barton, 1910, p. 303).
The Company purchased the City site at the corner of Creek and Adelaide Streets on 3 November 1909 and the same day mortgaged it for £3,000. The Jubilee History of Queensland of 1909 described the new building:
…each floor having a frontage of 74 feet to Creek Street and 132 feet to Adelaide Street. This building will be fitted up with everything necessary in connection with the motor and bicycle business and will be second to none in Australia.
Continuing prosperity led the CMMA to extend its premises in 1925. Architect Richard Gailey, junior, designed the addition of the upper stories.
In 1934, the CCMA sold its building to the Queensland Primary Producers Co-Operative Association Ltd. Established in 1923, under a state government Act of Parliament, the association was known locally as ‘Primaries’. It operated as a business and conducted cattle and wool sales and sold agricultural products (stockfeed, fertilizers, chemical dips, poison) from its various branches throughout Queensland. It is from these owners that the name ‘Primac House’ is derived. ‘Primaries’ leased the building to the National Agricultural and Industrial Association of Queensland in 1935.
The next year, ‘Primac House’ returned to use as a place associated with the Brisbane automotive community. Used car dealers Eagers Retail (Pty. Ltd.) leased the building from 1936. In 1937, the Vacum Oil Company also leased office space in the building. In 1946, the Brisbane Automotive Service Co. Motor Accessories operated from the building.
During World War II, ‘Primac House’ was requisitioned by the Australian Army, the Commonwealth Government and the US Army. ‘Primac House’ was the Australian Army’s Transport Command headquarters and its Manpower and Canteen Services office. The second floor contained the offices of the Brisbane War Road Transport Pool’s General Cartage Division, the Women's Land Army, the Women's Auxiliary Central Bureau plus His Majesty’s Australian Navy (HMAS) victualling yard administration. The third floor had the offices of the Commonwealth’s Deputy Director of Manpower for the Department of Labour and National Service. The fifth floor held offices of the Commonwealth War Damage Commission.
On the fifth (top) floor was the main US Army Postal Exchange (PX) Canteen for Brisbane. Here, US servicemen could obtain liquor, cigarettes, chocolate bars, candy, soda pop and other items supplied direct from the USA. Many of these luxury items were heavily rationed throughout Australia and so were largely unobtainable for both Australian service personnel and civilians in Brisbane. The PX’s footpath was often the scene of bartering over US cigarettes between US and Australian troops.
Local resentment grew over the perceived favourable treatment meted out to ‘the Yanks’ by taxis or shops; American brazenness with Australian women; and Americans flaunting their access to luxuries. Anti-American feeling culminated in riots in Brisbane City of 26-27 November 1942. The 26 November was US Thanksgiving Day and celebrations were to be held at the US Army PX in ‘Primac House’.
At 6.45 pm, a dispute between two US military policemen (MPs) and two Australian soldiers with their US mate resulted in the MPs being chased back towards the Adelaide Street doorway of ‘Primac House’ by a group of angry Australian soldiers. The two MPs were rescued by MPs guarding the PX, who beat the Australians with batons. This incited more Australians to besiege the Adelaide and Creek Street doorways of ‘Primac House’. By 7.15 pm, about 100 soldiers were yelling abuse at the 814th MP Company personnel. The MPs called their South Brisbane Town Hall headquarters for reinforcements.
The crowd grew to 2,000 troops and civilians (one estimate is 4,000 rioters). Some men collected bricks, rocks and sticks to throw at the MPs. Other rioters tore street signs from the road and began to smash the ground-floor windows of ‘Primac House’. The intention was to get upstairs to the PX that represented American privilege and arrogance to many rioters. At 8 pm, two MPs arrived in a Dodge weapons carrier from South Brisbane. As the two MPs pushed through the crowd, an Australian soldier challenged one MP and grabbed his shotgun’s barrel. The MP discharged 27 shotgun pellets into the crowd. Private Ed Webster later died while six soldiers and one civilian were wounded. The rioters, some from Webster’s veteran 2/9th Infantry Battalion, severely beat 11 MPs. Another eight soldiers were taken to hospital with baton injuries. On 27 November, groups of Australians ranged Brisbane City and assaulted 21 Americans. The PX temporarily closed. The ‘Primac House’ ground floor windows were boarded-up. More Australian military police and armed troops on picket duty were brought into the City and the assaults stopped the next day. The PX was transferred from ‘Primac House’ in July 1943.
Source: Brisbane City Council Heritage Register.
i'm still very confused on what it means to actually forgive someone. i'm trying so hard on forgiving you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you and a few more people.... even those of you who haven't even apologized... those of you who, quite frankly, aren't even sorry. you've given me so many scars. the wounds refuse to heal. in fact, they still hurt.
there are times when i think i've completely forgiven you, in particular, for messing with my mind, all of your abuse, the cheating, the lies... it's been almost five years... i tell myself i should be over it and that i've forgiven you 100%. but then when i start to feel any sort of resentment towards you, i become confused and wonder if i really have.
so can someone please answer me this question.... are you still forgiving someone if you aren't over what they've done to you?
i guess that's all for today... i feel uncomfortable and vulnerable and i've said too much.
Body and snow courtesy of: Dimager Stock.
Face courtesy of: Andromidus Stock.
Textures by me.
Final processing by me and nameless
ESPAÑOL:
Hace tanto que olvide si pienso en lo que siento
o siento lo que pienso ,y en lo que no va a durar
Fugaz. Perecedero.
Puede que lo intente ocultar: ni siento ni padezco
frío sin consuelo, sensación que debo borrar
cambiar.
Los glaciales helados almacenan pecados
y sueños que quedaron atrás,
una pequeña edad de hielo es un mal verdadero
sabiendo que ya llega el final de esta relación glacial.
Por miedo me negué a vencer
se impuso la tristeza tu reacción opuesta
fue un evento accidental, no hay resentimiento.
Un calentamiento global fundirá el recelo,
ocasión para dialogar : pactar.
Los amantes helados almacenan pecados
secretos que conviene contar.
Una pequeña edad de hielo es un mal pasajero
sabiendo que la hoguera no arderá
en este invierno polar ...
Y si es estar por estar mejor lo dejamos ya ,
después de tanto desden habrá que reconocer,
que el sol no va a calentar tu indiferencia,
la nieve de tu corazón.
ENGLISH:
There is long time since I forgot
if I think what I feel
or I feel what I think,
in what will not last long
transient, perishable.
I may try to hide it
that I neither suffer or feel
a cold comfort
a feeling that I must delete, change.
The glacial ices
Store sins and dreams they been left behind
A little ice age seems so real
when you know that the end is near:
in this glacial relationship.
I refused to surrender for fear
a imposed sadness
while your opposite reaction
was an accidental event.
There is not resentment
but a global warming
that will melt the suspicion
and an opportunity to talk.
We are iced lovers storing sins
secrets that we should shout out loud.
A little ice age seems so real
knowing that my bonfire
will not burn eternally
in this endless polar winter.
And if all this it’s remain for remain
I better leave you now.
After all we have to recognize
that the sun will not warm
the indifference: your snow’s heart.
nrhp # 76000813- Broadway-Phelps Park Historic District- The first courthouse for Winneshiek County was a two-story building completed in 1858 for $18,000.[3] The sheriff's residence and jail were located in the stone basement, offices were located on the first floor, and the courtroom occupied the second floor.
The movement to replace the courthouse began about 1890, but there was not enough citizen support until 1902. To pass the referendum the county Board of Supervisors asked for approval to spend $75,000, even though they knew it would cost more.[4] After construction of the present courthouse was underway they asked for an additional $50,000, which was nearly defeated because of resentment over the way the situation was handled. The cornerstone was laid in 1903 and the building was completed in 1904.
from Wikipedia
====Arkham City====
I'm still getting used to the prosthetics Mr Wayne gave me. While I can touch again, I've lost my sight once more. Blind in a world of monsters. What I can't see I can hear- crazed laughter, high pitched screams, it's horrible. I think I heard the flapping of wings and the low pitched screech of the Devil himself. I don't know what happened to Chuck, or to the other people. All I can do for them now is pray that they're all ok. But in the meantime I need somewhere to stay. Somewhere to hide and get my bearings. It's been years, but this street feels familiar, if I can just- Yes! If I'm right, there's a church nearby. Hopefully I can find others there. The mad dash through the streets is a long one. A sense of dread hangs over me. It must be God's work that saved me, and brought me to sanctuary. At last. The candles smell as sweet as I remembered. A fire rises, filling the room with warmth as I settle in a nearby pew. I'm not alone. There are people like me, even here. The priest delivers his sermon and I listen intently.
Priest- -I am pleased to see so many new faces among you all. Though this world is dark my children, I assure you, so long as you stay here, remain true to yourselves and believe in the Lord's work, you will be safe from His wrath. And safe from those animals. I think perhaps, it is time for a Hymn. Turn to page-
*And the service continued. Despite everything, I know that together- these people and I, will survive. An hour later, I make my way to the reverend. To talk. To confess*
Ten- Father, I just wanted to thank you, for continuing His work, even in a place such as Arkham
Priest- Think nothing of it my child. In this world of Sinners it is my sworn duty to protect those who may be threatened by the animals and non believers outside these doors
Ten- I'm just overjoyed to see a volunteer, someone who came here in spite of the risks to themselves.
Priest- A volunteer, yes. My followers and I had to see this place for ourselves. It is no place to live. Please, sit. What's your name son?
Ten- It... depends. I was born as Philip Reardon, but after my accident-
*I gesture to my goggles. I don't know what it is, but I feel comfortable sitting next to this man, more comfortable than I've been in a long time. His presence is soothing. Reassuring*
Ten- They call me Ten now. The Ten-Eyed Man
Priest- I see. I want you to know child, that your injuries are not something to be ashamed of. You should be proud, these scars show dedication! Loyalty! Are you not proud?
Ten- *sighs* If only. I damaged my eyes in war, that I can live with, it happens. My hands... I lost my hands because I was weak.
Priest- Philip Reardon you said? You were in Blackgate Prison, were you not?
Ten- I was, Father. You see, I wasn't blinded in Iraq, not completely. It was not until I was caught between the Batman and a couple of would-be robbers that I lost my sight completely... I blamed him for what happened, I'm ashamed to admit.
Priest- Batman.
*There's a sense of disapproval in his voice. Of resentment perhaps*
Priest- You know, criminals aren't the only people trapped here. Dozens of the City's homeless were trapped here also, all because housing is too difficult for the almighty United States government. Where was the Batman then?
*He sighs*
Priest- Now, your hands, the work of a Harry Simms no? He never did receive justice did he? Did you ever think about if you had-
*I shake my head*
Ten- No, I was wounded, near dead, I could not, and even if I *were* able to, an eye for an eye...
Priest- - makes the whole world blind. You have spirit Ten-Eyed one, and I have a mission. Will you help me in my crusade?
...
Ten- Apologies father, but I never asked. What's your name?
Priest- It's Joseph, child. Joseph Blackfire.
I have no jealousy or resentment about the reality of our marriage and the roles we now play. I accept that I am a submissive effeminate sissy boi and that my wife is a whore for BIG BLACK COCK
"The more you become a connoisseur of gratitude, the less you are a victim of resentment, depression, and despair.
Gratitude will act as an elixir that will gradually dissolve the hard shell of your ego -- your need to possess and control --
and transform you into a generous being.
The sense of gratitude produces true spiritual alchemy, makes us magnanimous -- large souled."
Sam Keen
I'm listening to relaxing Latin music now so posting three relaxing photos.
Thanks for visiting, enjoy your day,
Dear Newbie Photographer,
Here you stand, filled with trepidation and eagerness. Ready to embark on this incredible journey.
And what an adventure it will be, with amazing successes and painful losses. A cornucopia of growth, perseverance, tears, laughter and of course, the everlasting pursuit of art.
Take these thoughts with you on your journey nascent traveler, and always remember, you are worthy and deserving of everything good life has to offer.
Within us, we all carry fear. We fear the unknown, we fear failure, we fear the opinions of others.
We also carry within us creativity, tenacity, ambition, vision, and infinite potential.
What is Fear? Fear is Anger, Jealousy, Competiveness, Resentment, Vengeance and Insecurity.
What is Bravery? Bravery is Imagination, Innovation, Persistence, Originality, Inspiration and Kindness.
When in doubt, choose bravery.
Stay compassionate and positive.
Let tenacity be your compass.
Turn to your intrinsic motivation to carry you through failures, and gratitude to keep you humble in your victories.
Put your work out there like no one is watching.
Rejection is a temporary dissapointment. Wondering 'what if' is a permanent regret.
Master Technique. Give your vision and taste the gift of a conscious method.
It might become overwhelming and intimidating, don’t let that stop you, push. Build up your tenacity stamina.
Become a specialist in your niche and don't appiligize. You don't need to be all things to all people.
Being an expert in your field is more valuable than being a jack of all trades.
Good business sense is just as important as talent and technique.
Don't compare yourself to others. There is no winning there. Art is subjective and so is comparison.
Never settle into stagnation. Discover your voice, your style, and then keep growing.
Be careful not to let your ego become greater than your talent.
When you have mastered your craft, give to others. Give genuinely, openly and without anticipation of repayment.
Be brave newbie photographer. You are embarking on an incredible journey. I leave you with this last thought.
Success happens the moment the power of your dreams becomes greater than the power of your fears.
XX -Katie Andelman
Wat Arun Ratchawararam Ratchawaramahawihan or Wat Arun ("Temple of Dawn") is a Buddhist temple (wat) in Bangkok Yai district of Bangkok, Thailand, on the Thonburi west bank of the Chao Phraya River. The temple derives its name from the Hindu god Aruṇa, often personified as the radiations of the rising sun. Wat Arun is among the best known of Thailand's landmarks. The first light of the morning reflects off the surface of the temple with pearly iridescence. Although the temple had existed since at least the seventeenth century, its distinctive prang (spire) was built in the early nineteenth century during the reigns of Rama II and Rama III.
A Buddhist temple had existed at the site of Wat Arun since the time of the Ayutthaya Kingdom. It was then known as Wat Makok, after the village of Bang Makok in which it was built. (Makok is the Thai name for the Spondias pinnata plant.) According to the historian Prince Damrong Rajanubhab, the temple was shown in French maps during the reign of Narai (1656–88). The temple was renamed Wat Chaeng by Taksin (1767–82) when he established his new capital of Thonburi near the temple, following the fall of Ayutthaya. It is believed that Taksin vowed to restore the temple after passing it at dawn. The temple enshrined the Emerald Buddha image before it was transferred to Wat Phra Kaew on the river's eastern bank in 1784. The temple was on the grounds of the royal palace during Taksin's reign, before his successor, Rama I (1782–1809), moved the palace to the other side of the river. It was abandoned until the reign of Rama II (1809–24), who had the temple restored and had begun plans to raise the main pagoda to 70 m. The work on the pagoda commenced during the reign of Rama III (1824–51). The main prang was completed in 1851, after nine years of continued construction.
The temple underwent major restorations during the reign of Chulalongkorn (Rama V, 1868–1910) and in 1980, prior to the bicentenary celebration of Bangkok's foundation. The most extensive restoration work on the prang was undertaken from 2013 to 2017, during which a substantial number of broken tiles were replaced and lime plaster was used to re-finish many of the surfaces (replacing the cement used during earlier restorations). As the work neared its end in 2017, photographs of the results drew some criticism for the temple's new appearance, which seemed white-washed compared to its previous state. The Fine Arts Department defended the work, stating that it was carefully done to reflect the temple's original appearance.
The main feature of Wat Arun is its central prang, which is encrusted with colourful porcelain. This is interpreted as a stupa-like pagoda encrusted with coloured faience. The height is reported by different sources as between 66.8 m (219 ft) and 86 m (282 ft). The corners are surrounded by four smaller satellite prang. The prang are decorated by shells of Mauritia mauritiana and bits of porcelain, which had previously been used as ballast by boats coming to Bangkok from China.
The central prang is topped with a seven-pronged trident, referred to by many sources as the "Trident of Shiva". Around the base of the prang are various figures of ancient Chinese soldiers and animals. Over the second terrace are four statues of the Hindu god Indra riding on Erawan. In Buddhist iconography, the central prang is considered to have three symbolic levels—base for Traiphum indicating all realms of existence, middle for Tavatimsa, the Tusita Heaven where all desires are gratified, and the top denoting Devaphum indicating six heavens within seven realms of happiness. At the riverside are six pavilions (sala) in the Chinese style. The pavilions are made of green granite and contain landing bridges.
Next to the prang is the Ordination Hall with a Niramitr Buddha image supposedly designed by Rama II. The front entrance of the Ordination Hall has a roof with a central spire, decorated in coloured ceramic and stuccowork sheathed in coloured china. Inside, there is a grand altar with a red, grey and white marble decoration. There are two demons, or temple guardian figures, in front. The murals were created during the reign of Rama V.
The central prang symbolises Mount Meru of the Hindu cosmology. The satellite prang are devoted to the wind god, Phra Phai. The demons (yaksha) at the entranceway to the ubosot are from the Ramakien. The white figure is named Sahassa Deja and the green one is known as Thotsakan, the Demon Rāvana from Ramayana.
Wat Arun can be accessed through the Chao Phraya River, and ferries travel across the river towards the Maharaj pier. For foreigners, the temple charges an entrance fee of 100 baht (as of January 2021). During Kathina, the king travels to Wat Arun in a procession of royal barges to present new robes to the monks there.
Bangkok, officially known in Thai as Krung Thep Maha Nakhon and colloquially as Krung Thep, is the capital and most populous city of Thailand. The city occupies 1,568.7 square kilometres (605.7 sq mi) in the Chao Phraya River delta in central Thailand and has an estimated population of 10.539 million as of 2020, 15.3 percent of the country's population. Over 14 million people (22.2 percent) lived within the surrounding Bangkok Metropolitan Region at the 2010 census, making Bangkok an extreme primate city, dwarfing Thailand's other urban centres in both size and importance to the national economy.
Bangkok traces its roots to a small trading post during the Ayutthaya Kingdom in the 15th century, which eventually grew and became the site of two capital cities, Thonburi in 1768 and Rattanakosin in 1782. Bangkok was at the heart of the modernization of Siam, later renamed Thailand, during the late-19th century, as the country faced pressures from the West. The city was at the centre of Thailand's political struggles throughout the 20th century, as the country abolished absolute monarchy, adopted constitutional rule, and underwent numerous coups and several uprisings. The city, incorporated as a special administrative area under the Bangkok Metropolitan Administration in 1972, grew rapidly during the 1960s through the 1980s and now exerts a significant impact on Thailand's politics, economy, education, media and modern society.
The Asian investment boom in the 1980s and 1990s led many multinational corporations to locate their regional headquarters in Bangkok. The city is now a regional force in finance and business. It is an international hub for transport and health care, and has emerged as a centre for the arts, fashion, and entertainment. The city is known for its street life and cultural landmarks, as well as its red-light districts. The Grand Palace and Buddhist temples including Wat Arun and Wat Pho stand in contrast with other tourist attractions such as the nightlife scenes of Khaosan Road and Patpong. Bangkok is among the world's top tourist destinations, and has been named the world's most visited city consistently in several international rankings.
Bangkok's rapid growth coupled with little urban planning has resulted in a haphazard cityscape and inadequate infrastructure. Despite an extensive expressway network, an inadequate road network and substantial private car usage have led to chronic and crippling traffic congestion, which caused severe air pollution in the 1990s. The city has since turned to public transport in an attempt to solve the problem, operating eight urban rail lines and building other public transit, but congestion still remains a prevalent issue. The city faces long-term environmental threats such as sea level rise due to climate change.
The history of Bangkok, the capital of Thailand, dates at least to the early 15th century, when it was under the rule of Ayutthaya. Due to its strategic location near the mouth of the Chao Phraya River, the town gradually increased in importance, and after the fall of Ayutthaya King Taksin established his new capital of Thonburi there, on the river's west bank. King Phutthayotfa Chulalok, who succeeded Taksin, moved the capital to the eastern bank in 1782, to which the city dates its foundation under its current Thai name, "Krung Thep Maha Nakhon". Bangkok has since undergone tremendous changes, growing rapidly, especially in the second half of the 20th century, to become the primate city of Thailand. It was the centre of Siam's modernization in the late 19th century, subjected to Allied bombing during the Second World War, and has long been the modern nation's central political stage, with numerous uprisings and coups d'état having taken place on its streets throughout the years.
It is not known exactly when the area which is now Bangkok was first settled. It probably originated as a small farming and trading community, situated in a meander of the Chao Phraya River within the mandala of Ayutthaya's influence. The town had become an important customs outpost by as early as the 15th century; the title of its customs official is given as Nai Phra Khanon Thonburi (Thai: นายพระขนอนทณบุรี) in a document from the reign of Ayutthayan king Chao Sam Phraya (1424–1448). The name also appears in the 1805 revised code of laws known as the Law of Three Seals.
At the time, the Chao Phraya flowed through what are now the Bangkok Noi and Bangkok Yai canals, forming a large loop in which lay the town. In the reign of King Chairacha (either in 1538 or 1542), a waterway was excavated, bypassing the loop and shortening the route for ships sailing up to Ayutthaya. The flow of the river has since changed to follow the new waterway, dividing the town and making the western part an island. This geographical feature may have given the town the name Bang Ko (บางเกาะ), meaning 'island village', which later became Bangkok (บางกอก, pronounced in Thai as [bāːŋ kɔ̀ːk]). Another theory regarding the origin of the name speculates that it is shortened from Bang Makok (บางมะกอก), makok being the name of Spondias pinnata, a plant bearing olive-like fruit. This is supported by the fact that Wat Arun, a historic temple in the area, used to be named Wat Makok. Specific mention of the town was first made in the royal chronicles from the reign of King Maha Chakkraphat (1548–1568), giving its name as Thonburi Si Mahasamut (ธนบุรีศรีมหาสมุทร). Bangkok was probably a colloquial name, albeit one widely adopted by foreign visitors.
The importance of Bangkok/Thonburi increased with the amount of Ayutthaya's maritime trade. Dutch records noted that ships passing through Bangkok were required to declare their goods and number of passengers, as well as pay customs duties. Ships' cannons would be confiscated and held there before they were allowed to proceed upriver to Ayutthaya. An early English language account is that of Adam Denton, who arrived aboard the Globe, an East India Company merchantman bearing a letter from King James I, which arrived in "the Road of Syam" (Pak Nam) on 15 August 1612, where the port officer of Bangkok attended to the ship. Denton's account mentions that he and his companions journeyed "up the river some twenty miles to a town called Bancope, where we were well received, and further 100 miles to the city...."
Ayutthaya's maritime trade was at its height during the reign of King Narai (1656–1688). Recognition of the city's strategic location guarding the water passage to Ayutthaya lead to expansion of the military presence there. A fort of Western design was constructed on the east side of the river around 1685–1687 under the supervision of French engineer de la Mare, probably replacing an earlier structure, while plans to rebuild the fort on the west bank were also made. De la Mare had arrived with the French embassy of Chevalier de Chaumont, and remained in Siam along with Chevalier de Forbin, who had been appointed governor of Bangkok. The Bangkok garrison under Forbin consisted of Siamese, Portuguese, and French reportedly totalling about one thousand men.
French control over the city was further consolidated when the French General Desfarges, who had arrived with the second French embassy in 1687, secured the king's permission to board troops there. This, however, lead to resentment among Siamese nobles, led by Phetracha, ultimately resulting in the Siamese revolution of 1688, in which King Narai was overthrown and 40,000 Siamese troops besieged Bangkok's eastern fort for four months before an agreement was reached and the French were allowed to withdraw. The revolution resulted in Siam's ties with the West being virtually severed, steering its trade towards China and Japan. The eastern fort was subsequently demolished on Phetracha's orders.
Ayutthaya was razed by the Burmese in 1767. In the following months, multiple factions competed for control of the kingdom's lands. Of these, Phraya Tak, governor of Tak and a general fighting in Ayutthaya's defence prior to its fall, emerged as the strongest. After succeeding in reclaiming the cities of Ayutthaya and Bangkok, Phraya Tak declared himself king (popularly known as King Taksin) in 1768 and established Thonburi as his capital. Reasons given for this change include the totality of Ayutthaya's destruction and Thonburi's strategic location. Being a fortified town with a sizeable population meant that not much would need to be reconstructed. The existence of an old Chinese trading settlement on the eastern bank allowed Taksin to use his Chinese connections to import rice and revive trade.
King Taksin had the city area extended northwards to border the Bangkok Noi Canal. A moat was dug to protect the city's western border, on which new city walls and fortifications were built. Moats and walls were also constructed on the eastern bank, encircling the city together with the canals on the western side. The king's palace (Thonburi Palace) was built within the old city walls, including the temples of Wat Chaeng (Wat Arun) and Wat Thai Talat (Wat Molilokkayaram) within the palace grounds. Outlying orchards were re-landscaped for rice farming.
Much of Taksin's reign was spent in military campaigns to consolidate the Thonburi Kingdom's hold over Siamese lands. His kingdom, however, would last only until 1782 when a coup was mounted against him, and the general Chao Phraya Chakri established himself as king, later to be known as Phutthayotfa Chulalok or Rama I.
Rama I re-established the capital on the more strategic east bank of the river, relocating the Chinese already settled there to the area between Wat Sam Pluem and Wat Sampheng (which developed into Bangkok's Chinatown). Fortifications were rebuilt, and another series of moats was created, encircling the city in an area known as Rattanakosin Island.
The erection of the city pillar on 21 April 1782 is regarded as the formal date of the city's establishment. (The year would later mark the start of the Rattanakosin Era after calendar reforms by King Rama V in 1888.) Rama I named the new city Krung Rattanakosin In Ayothaya (กรุงรัตนโกสินทร์อินท์อโยธยา). This was later modified by King Nangklao to be: Krungthepmahanakhon Bowonrattanakosin Mahintha-ayutthaya. While settlements on both banks were commonly called Bangkok, both the Burney Treaty of 1826 and the Roberts Treaty of 1833 refer to the capital as the City of Sia-Yut'hia. King Mongkut (Rama IV) would later give the city its full ceremonial name:
Rama I modelled his city after the former capital of Ayutthaya, with the Grand Palace, Front Palace and royal temples by the river, next to the royal field (now Sanam Luang). Continuing outwards were the royal court of justice, royal stables and military prison. Government offices were located within the Grand Palace, while residences of nobles were concentrated south of the palace walls. Settlements spread outwards from the city centre.
The new capital is referred to in Thai sources as Rattanakosin, a name shared by the Siamese kingdom of this historical period. The name Krung Thep and Krung Thep Maha Nakhon, both shortened forms of the full ceremonial name, began to be used near the end of the 19th century. Foreigners, however, continued to refer to the city by the name Bangkok, which has seen continued use until this day.
Most of Rama I's reign was also marked by continued military campaigns, though the Burmese threat gradually declined afterwards. His successors consistently saw to the renovation of old temples, palaces, and monuments in the city. New canals were also built, gradually expanding the fledgling city as areas available for agriculture increased and new transport networks were created.
At the time of the city's foundation, most of the population lived by the river or the canals, often in floating houses on the water. Waterways served as the main method of transportation, and farming communities depended on them for irrigation. Outside the city walls, settlements sprawled along both river banks. Forced settlers, mostly captives of war, also formed several ethnic communities outside the city walls.
Large numbers of Chinese immigrants continued to settle in Bangkok, especially during the early 19th century. Such was their prominence that Europeans visiting in the 1820s estimated that they formed over half of the city population. The Chinese excelled in trade, and led the development of a market economy. The Chinese settlement at Sampheng had become a bustling market by 1835.
By the mid-19th century, the West had become an increasingly powerful presence. Missionaries, envoys and merchants began re-visiting Bangkok and Siam, bringing with them both modern innovations and the threat of colonialism. King Mongkut (Rama IV, reigned 1851–1868) was open to Western ideas and knowledge, but was also forced to acknowledge their powers, with the signing of the Bowring Treaty in 1855. During his reign, industrialization began taking place in Bangkok, which saw the introduction of the steam engine, modern shipbuilding and the printing press. Influenced by the Western community, Charoen Krung Road, the city's first paved street, was constructed in 1862–1864. This was followed by Bamrung Mueang, Fueang Nakhon, Trong (now Rama IV) and Si Lom Roads. Land transport would later surpass the canals in importance, shifting people's homes from floating dwellings toward permanent buildings. The limits of the city proper were also expanded during his reign, extending to the Phadung Krung Kasem Canal, dug in 1851.
King Mongkut's son Chulalongkorn (r. 1868–1910) was set upon modernizing the country. He engaged in wide-ranging reforms, abolishing slavery, corvée (unfree labour) and the feudal system, and creating a centralized bureaucracy and a professional army. The Western concept of nationhood was adopted, and national borders demarcated against British and French territories. Disputes with the French resulted in the Paknam Incident in 1893, when the French sent gunboats up the Chao Phraya to blockade Bangkok, resulting in Siam's concession of territory to France.
With Chulalongkorn's reforms, governance of the capital and the surrounding areas, established as Monthon Krung Thep Phra Mahanakhon (มณฑลกรุงเทพพระมหานคร), came under the Ministry of Urban Affairs (Nakhonban). During his reign many more canals and roads were built, expanding the urban reaches of the capital. Infrastructure was developed, with the introduction of railway and telegraph services between Bangkok and Samut Prakan and then expanding countrywide. Electricity was introduced, first to palaces and government offices, then to serve electric trams in the capital and later the general public. The King's fascination with the West was reflected in the royal adoption of Western dress and fashions, but most noticeably in architecture. He commissioned the construction of the neoclassical Ananta Samakhom Throne Hall at the new Dusit Palace, which was linked to the historic city centre by the grand Ratchadamnoen Avenue, inspired by the Champs-Élysées in Paris. Examples of Western influence in architecture became visible throughout the city.
By 1900, rural market zones in Bangkok began developing into residential districts. Rama VI (1910–1925) continued his predecessor's program of the development of public works by establishing Chulalongkorn University in 1916, and commissioned a system of locks to control waterway levels surrounding the developing city, he also provided the city's first and largest recreational area, Lumphini Park. The Memorial Bridge was constructed in 1932 to connect Thonburi to Bangkok, which was believed to promote economic growth and modernization in a period when infrastructure was developing considerably. Bangkok became the centre stage for power struggles between the military and political elite as the country abolished absolute monarchy in 1932. It was subject to Japanese occupation and Allied bombing during World War II. With the war over in 1945, British and Indian troops landed in September, and during their brief occupation of the city disarmed the Japanese troops. A significant event following the return of the young king, Ananda Mahidol, to Thailand, intended to defuse post-war tensions lingering between Bangkok's ethnic Chinese and Thai people, was his visit to Bangkok's Chinatown Sam Peng Lane (ซอยสำเพ็ง), on 3 June 1946.
As a result of pro-Western bloc treaties Bangkok rapidly grew in the post-war period as a result of United States developmental aid and government-sponsored investment. Infrastructure, including the Don Mueang International Airport and highways, was built and expanded. Bangkok's role as an American military R&R destination launched its tourism industry as well as sex trade. Disproportionate urban development led to increasing income inequalities and unprecedented migration from rural areas into Bangkok; its population surged from 1.8 to 3 million in the 1960s. Following the United States' withdrawal from Vietnam, Japanese businesses took over as leaders in investment, and the expansion of export-oriented manufacturing led to growth of the financial market in Bangkok. Rapid growth of the city continued through the 1980s and early 1990s, until it was stalled by the 1997 Asian financial crisis. By then, many public and social issues had emerged, among them the strain on infrastructure reflected in the city's notorious traffic jams. Bangkok's role as the nation's political stage continues to be seen in strings of popular protests, from the student uprisings in 1973 and 1976, anti-military demonstrations in 1992, and successive anti-government protests by the "Yellow Shirt" and "Red Shirt" movements from 2008 on.
Administratively, eastern Bangkok and Thonburi had been established as separate provinces in 1915. (The province east of the river was named Phra Nakhon (พระนคร.) A series of decrees in 1971–1972 resulted in the merger of these provinces and its local administrations, forming the current city of Bangkok which is officially known in Thai as Krung Thep Maha Nakhon. The Bangkok Metropolitan Administration (BMA) was created in 1975 to govern the city, and its governor has been elected since 1985.
Wayne tower, an immensely impressive and brilliantly lit assembly of solid brick and stunning glass panels, lies reliably atop its tech department. The company would be nothing without its outstanding technological advancements
And nothing without the man that hides away beneath the piles upon piles of wires and computer screens which fill the basements of the tower. Nothing without Lucius fox. Fox’s latest assignment surrounds the art of robotics. Wayne tech has been developing a new series of hospital bots based on an old scrapped line of military bots from the late 80s. Lucius with nothing but passion for his work, works late into night with next to no resentment whatsoever. After what feels like minutes but must surely be coming on hours, Lucius puts down his rusty spanner, lifts his half full coffee cup up from the the stained filing cabinet and after throwing his old and battered trench coat over his tired shoulders heads over to the doorway that leads up into the main building. Keys ready in his hand, Lucius reaches the doorway and before he can even bring down the shutters, spies a faint shadow flying from one end of the room to the other. He prepares to call out but after seeing two more shadows follow the first and knowing he’d stand no chance in a fight,
he decides to instead alert security and phone Bruce
———————————————————
Wayne manor
Bruce, on the telephone receiving a call from Lucius:
Bruce: Thanks Lucius—-yeah they’ve just come through now—-thanks again—-hehe yeah you too—-I will—-see you round Lucius
He puts down the phone and walks over to the fax machine and after plucking one or two sheets of a4 sent by Lucius, he once again makes his way down to the cave where he takes a seat before the suitably named bat-computer
Alfred hands Bruce a mug of tea and sits beside him, carefully analysing the faxes from Lucius
Alfred: fingerprints?
Bruce: from Lucius. Just got off the phone from him. It’s about the stolen blue prints from Wayne tech.
Alfred: they can’t have been professionals to make a school boy error like that surely....but why would petty thieves steal blue prints
Bruce: theres no doubt about them being professionals. They just didn’t count on one thing. Lucius
Alfred: that’s understandable. He hasn’t changed one bit you know
Bruce places the finger prints in the
computers scanner
Bruce: that should only take a minute.
Alfred: enough time for a game of chess I should think
Bruce: And....they’re done. Maybe later Alfred. You’d only beat me
Alfred: Oh I’m aware. What are the results then?
Bruce: right so....we’ve got a Frankie Goldstein on here. Former member of Romans’ mob, till he moved to metropolis, known for selling information ...let’s try facial recognition...
Alfred: I’m sorry facial what?
Bruce: something Lucius has developed. Allows us to hack into the countries security system and find whoever we’re looking for.
Alfred: are you sure it’s ethical?
Bruce: no but I’m sure it’s not. Nonetheless...it works. So let’s see...we’ll try just The state first...hang on a minute...
Alfred: Something of interest?
Bruce: more than that. These pictures. There are four men. Three of which, I assume are the culprits. They appear to be exchanging conversation and a briefcase of what is presumably cash. Lots of it judging by the size but what I’m interested in is the fourth man. Recognise him at all?
Alfred: Oh my! Is that?
Bruce: lex Luthor. Indeed it is. Hiring spies to get an idea of what Wayne techs got in the works no doubt.
Alfred: that’s suspicious to say the least
Bruce: I’m more bothered about the men he’s hired to do it. He’s clearly worried about it going public
Alfred: if he’s so worried about image, what made him hire such a spooky lot to
Do his dirty work
Bruce: I’m assuming he’s no stranger to criminal activity. Hiring this sort is likely a force of habit I imagine. That and the fact that me you and Lucius are the only people who know about this new facial recognition.
Alfred: I mourn what this world has become master Bruce. Know that
Some History of Brisbane.
The first European settlement in Queensland was a small convict colony which was established at Redcliffe, now a northern beach suburb, in 1824. The settlement was soon moved in 1825 to a better location on the Brisbane River in what is now the CBD of Brisbane. John Oxley suggested this change of location and that the town be known as Brisbane after Sir Thomas Brisbane, Governor of NSW who visited this settlement in 1826. Prior to this the settlement was known as the Moreton Bay. By 1831 Moreton Bay had 1,241 people, but 86% were convicts, and almost all the rest were guards and administrators. One of the founding free men to settle in Brisbane was Andrew Petrie, a government clerk, who arrived in the settlement in 1837. His son later became the first mayor of Brisbane.
In 1842 (six years after the settlement of SA) Moreton Bay penal settlement was closed and the area opened to free settlers. Half the convicts at Moreton Bay were Irish Catholics which influenced the development of the settlement thereafter as many stayed on. By 1846 Moreton Bay had a population of 4,000 people, considerably less than that of Burra at the time which had over 5,000 people! In 1848 the first immigrants direct from Britain arrived, as did some Chinese. In 1849 three ship loads of Presbyterians arrived in Brisbane, the first ship being the Fortitude- hence the naming of Fortitude Valley. The colony was still far from self-sufficient in terms of food production. In the mid-1850s German immigrants also started to arrive in the settlement. The only buildings still standing built by convict labour are the Old Windmill in Wickham Park and the Commissariat Store which is now a museum.
During the late 1840s a few grand houses were built in Brisbane like Newstead House at Hamilton and the city began to take shape. All the central streets were named after members of Queen Victoria’s family- Adelaide, Alice, Ann, Charlotte, Elizabeth, Margaret, Mary for the streets parallel to Queen Street, and Albert, Edward, George and William for the streets perpendicular to Queen Street. In 1859 the population had grown sufficiently, to about 30,000 people, for Queensland to be proclaimed a separate colony from NSW with Brisbane (about 6,000 people) as the capital city. It was now a self-governing independent colony. Old Government House was built shortly after this in 1862 followed by numerous colonial government buildings. The French Empire style Parliament House opposite the old Botanical Gardens was erected in 1865 to a design by Charles Tiffin. It had perfect symmetry a mansard roof and an arcaded loggia. It is still one of the most distinctive buildings in Brisbane. Nearby the pastoralists and wealthy built the Queensland Club in Alice Street in 1882 with classical columns but with Italianate style bay windows. The location near parliament house is much like the situation of the Adelaide Club on North Terrace almost adjacent to the SA parliament. The wealthy and pastoralists in both states had immeasurable influence over early colonial politics. One of the other finest colonial buildings of Brisbane is the Old Customs House with the circular copper domed roof on the edge of the Brisbane River. It was erected in 1888.
Although Brisbane grew quickly through the following decades it was not incorporated as a city until 1902. Part of the reason for the relatively slow of growth of Brisbane, compared to Adelaide, Melbourne, Perth and Sydney was that it was not the focal point of the state railway network. Queensland always had other major regional centres. The railway from Brisbane reached out to southern Queensland only- Ipswich in 1864, Toowoomba in 1867, and Charleville in 1888. There was no early push to have a railway link between the coastal cities. They were not linked by a railway until 1927 when road transport had already taken over the transport of livestock and freight. The coastal railway to Cairns was always for passenger traffic as much as for freight traffic.
Unlike the other Australian state capitals, Brisbane City Council governs most of the metropolitan area of Brisbane. In 1925 over twenty shires and municipalities were amalgamated into the City of Brisbane. It was at this time that the landmark Brisbane City Hall was built in Art Deco style. It opened in 1930. During World War Two, Brisbane had a distinctive history as Prime Minister John Curtin had the “Brisbane Line” as a controversial defense plan, whereby if there was a land invasion of Australia by the Japanese, the northern half of the country would be surrendered at a line just north of Brisbane! Brisbane also became the headquarters for the American campaign in the South Pacific with General Douglas MacArthur based there at times. In 1942 a violent clash erupted between American and Australian service personnel in Brisbane. Between 2,000 and 5,000 men were involved in the riots which spread over two days. One soldier was killed and eight injured by gun fire as well as hundreds injured with black eyes, swollen faces, broken noses etc. On the second night 21 Americans were injured with 11 of them having to be hospitalised. This was The Battle of Brisbane. Around 1 million American troops passed through Queensland between December 1941 (just after the bombing of Pearl Harbour) and the end of 1945. They were here to spearhead attacks to take back the Philippines and to prevent the Japanese from taking New Guinea. Black American soldiers were especially unpopular in Brisbane as their landing contravened the “White Australia Policy” of those times. In response to this policy General Douglas MacArthur announced his support for the Australian government’s insistence that no more Black American troops be sent to Brisbane after 1942. The Black American units in Australia were later sent to New Guinea and New Caledonia. Black American troops in New Guinea were not allowed to visit Australia for rest and recreation leave although white American troops were, mainly to Mackay. Resentment between American and Australian troops in Brisbane had to be contained and suppressed. Riots between troops also occurred in Townsville during the War. Today Brisbane is a fast growing city that has far outstripped Adelaide in terms of population, growth and infrastructure.
When routine bites hard
and ambitions are low.
And resentment rides high
but emotions won't grow.
And we're changing our ways
taking different roads.
Love, love will tear us apart again.
Love, love will tear us apart again.
Why is the bedroom so cold
turned away on your side?
Is my timing that flawed
our respect run so dry?
Yet there's still this appeal
that we've kept through our lives.
Love, love will tear us apart again.
Love, love will tear us apart again.
Do you cry out in your sleep,
all my failings expose?
Gets a taste in my mouth
as desperation takes hold.
Why is it something so good
just can't function no more?
Love, love will tear us apart again.
Love, love will tear us apart again.
Love, love will tear us apart again...
LINK to video - The Likely Lads S1 E03 Cold Feet - www.youtube.com/watch?v=leG9SMaivyI&list=PLiZCl6XIGf-...
LINK to video - James Bolam Denies the Rumors After Rodney Bewes’ Death - www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rXbf6dRYag
James Bolam - James Christopher Bolam (born 16 June 1935) is an English actor. He is best known for his roles as Terry Collier in The Likely Lads and its sequel Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?, Jack Ford in When the Boat Comes In, Roy Figgis in Only When I Laugh, Trevor Chaplin in The Beiderbecke Trilogy, Arthur Gilder in Born and Bred, Jack Halford in New Tricks and the title character of Grandpa in the CBeebies programme Grandpa in My Pocket. He also played the serial killer Harold Shipman in the ITV drama Shipman and portrayed Harold Wilson in the BBC documentary The Plot Against Harold Wilson. For When the Boat Comes In, Bolam was twice nominated for the British Academy Television Award for Best Actor in 1977 and 1978 and in 1995 he was nominated for the Laurence Olivier Award for Best Actor for Glengarry Glen Ross at The Donmar Warehouse.
1960s & 1970s - Bolam's first professional engagement was at the Royal Court Theatre as an understudy to Ronnie Barker in Chekhov's "Platonov". He first appeared on screens in the early 1960s, initially in television shows such as Z-Cars and the Northern social realist films A Kind of Loving and The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (both 1962), in the latter film as the best friend of the title character (played by Tom Courtenay). It was The Likely Lads, with Bolam as Terry Collier and Rodney Bewes as Bob Ferris, which made Bolam a star during its 1964 to 1966 run and he adapted the scripts for a BBC Radio version soon afterwards. He appeared with John Thaw in the Granada serial, Inheritance in 1967. Before the sequel, Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?, began its run, Bolam appeared in films such as Half a Sixpence (1967), Otley (1969), and O Lucky Man! (1973). The revived series, chronicling the further adventures of Bob and Terry, lasted for two series broadcast in 1973 and 1974 and a 45-minute 1974 Christmas Eve special. In 1975, Bolam appeared alongside the original cast in a further BBC Radio series adapted from the 1973 TV series and in 1976 there was a reunion in a feature film spin-off from the series, simply entitled The Likely Lads. Bolam's co-star Rodney Bewes stated in 2005 that the two actors had not spoken since the film had been made, a period of over thirty years. The rift, according to Bewes, developed through his indiscreetly telling a journalist that when Bolam's wife revealed she was pregnant, Bolam was so startled that the car he was driving mounted a pavement and almost crashed into a lamp post. Bolam denied there was a rift between the two men when Bewes died in November 2017, claiming that they "didn't talk for 40 years because of their busy schedules rather than resentment". In 1976, Bolam returned to straight drama; he played Jack Ford in the BBC Television series When the Boat Comes In, which ran until 1981.
James Bolam
Born: 16-Jun-1938
Birthplace: Sunderland, Tyne-and-Wear, England
Occupation: Actor
Nationality: England
Executive summary: The Likely Lads
Wife: Susan Jameson (one daughter)
High School: Bede Grammar School, Sunderland
TELEVISION
New Tricks Jack Halford (2003-)
Born and Bred Dr. Arthur Gilder (2002-04)
Second Thoughts Bill Macgregor (1991-94)
Only When I Laugh Roy Figgis (1979-82)
When the Boat Comes In Jack Ford (1976-81)
Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? Terry Collier (1973-74)
The Likely Lads Terry Collier (1964-66)
FILMOGRAPHY AS ACTOR
To Kill a King (15-May-2003)
It Was an Accident (27-Oct-2000)
The End of the Affair (2-Dec-1999) · Mr. Savage
The Island on Bird Street (23-Oct-1997)
Stella Does Tricks (9-Nov-1996)
Clockwork Mice (23-Jun-1995)
The Plague Dogs (21-Oct-1982) [VOICE]
As You Like It (17-Dec-1978)
The Likely Lads (1976)
In Celebration (17-Mar-1975)
O Lucky Man! (20-Jun-1973)
Straight on Till Morning (9-Jul-1972)
Crucible of Terror (1971)
Otley (Oct-1968)
Half a Sixpence (20-Feb-1967)
Murder Most Foul (Mar-1964) · Bill Hanson
The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (8-Oct-1962) · Mike
A Kind of Loving (12-Apr-1962) · Jeff
The Kitchen (1-Nov-1961)
© Ben Heine || Facebook || Twitter || www.benheine.com
_______________________________________________
This is a traditional watercolor painting I made in April 2009
_______________________________________________
For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
_______________________________________________
Obama Works to Repair America's Image in the World
Smiles and handshakes are a start, but Obama's real challenge will be to show results
By Thomas Omestad
The few "Yankee Go Home" signs that greet him abroad seem almost an afterthought, and when he enters a room of world leaders, he is the most sought-after man for a photo op and a handshake. Such is the star power that has swirled around Barack Obama on his initial foreign travels as the U.S. president.
This comes as little surprise, yet it will present a challenge of sorts for the president. Obama's relative youth and vigor, his calls for reaching out to adversaries and friends overseas, his breaks from past policy, and his triumphant personal story as the nation's first African-American president all seem to make the 47-year-old leader the best single antidote to anti-Americanism in years, maybe decades. White House officials say Obama's appeal extends beyond just the leaders of the world. "What has happened is that anti-Americanism isn't cool anymore," says top Obama adviser David Axelrod.
But this initial repositioning of the American leadership brand onto more popular terrain internationally will be the easier part of Obama's task. For all the sense of fresh starts and of goodwill, the seeds of perhaps inevitable disappointments are present as well. Visiting the Czech Republic in April, Obama got a friendly warning from Vaclav Havel, the once dissident playwright and former president who led his country's Velvet Revolution. Havel cautioned that the accumulation of exaggerated expectations could turn against the new American leader. "People may end up thinking that he has betrayed them, that he has raised their hopes too far," Havel said. A smiling Obama is said to have replied that he is aware of the danger.
Image repair
Still, Obama has deftly gone about trying to reset the global image of America. The guiding impulse seems to be to start reviving U.S. standing in the world quickly in the hope that policy gains will accrue later. He has ordered the future closure of the U.S. prison at Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, barred torture of terrorist suspects, and made public the Bush administration's internal memos authorizing harsh interrogation methods. He has put Washington back at the center of efforts to curb climate change and eliminate nuclear weapons over the long run. He has moved to repair relations with Moscow, and he has modestly eased the U.S. travel ban and embargo on Cuba. In the Mideast, Obama has set plans to withdraw U.S. troops from Iraq, relaunched U.S. mediation for Mideast peace, and approved talking directly with Syria and Iran.
In a sense, though, this has all been a warm-up. In the months ahead, he faces the challenge of both overcoming opposition to U.S. policies and netting meaningful results. He has inherited resentments that linger from the Bush years, grounded in an image of a go-it-alone superpower that too often brushed aside the opinions of others, resorted to military means, and neglected global problems like climate change and arms control. Further, Obama now represents a nation whose highflying style of capitalism is blamed for a financial and economic crisis that is impoverishing millions and halting gains in prosperity around the globe. "Obama has great personal popularity, but changing the image of the United States in some of the ways it's been unpopular may well be a long process," says Andrew Kohut, president of the Pew Research Center.
Opinion polls in recent years show most nations on balance viewing U.S. power negatively—and often by wide margins. Marco Vicenzino, director of the Global Strategy Project, a Washington-based nonprofit group, says, "Things are so low with the U.S. status overseas, there's nowhere to go but up." Nonetheless, he predicts, "you'll see Obama's star power begin to wane over time."
Although Obama is the new leading man on the global political stage, the stage itself is changing in ways that have diminished the margin of American pre-eminence. The economic downturn seems to be hastening the rise of newer powers like China, India, and Brazil. Beijing has questioned the wisdom of sticking so firmly with the U.S. dollar for its overseas investments. Russia has re-emerged as a demanding foreign-policy player. European allies have grown comfortable saying no to the Americans, as they did with U.S. calls for significantly more counterrecession spending and more soldiers to fight Taliban insurgents in Afghanistan. Latin America has become more standoffish toward Washington as U.S. influence has declined. North Korea and Iran appear inclined to press their nuclear defiance, regardless of who lives in the White House.
Obama acknowledges a new era in which American clout needs to be wielded differently. The venue for that sentiment made it more telling—the economic crisis summit in London of the Group of 20 leading economies rather than the cozier, old-style Group of 7 or 8 world powers. "If there's just Roosevelt and Churchill sitting in a room with a brandy, that's an easier negotiation," Obama said. "But that's not the world we live in, and it shouldn't be the world that we live in."
A tone of humility has so far infused Obama's foreign-policy posture. His early themes—unveiled from Canada and France to Turkey and Mexico—have been partnership and engagement, rediscovered. To the dismay of conservative critics, he has conceded moments of American "arrogance." While touting America's diversity and warning against "insidious" anti-Americanism, he has also cited the country's "darker periods," including slavery and the onslaught against American Indian tribes. He has sounded notes of regret about Wall Street's excesses. In Mexico City, he admitted that American consumption of illicit drugs and sales of guns to traffickers are integral to the tragedy of Mexico's drug killings. At the Summit of the Americas in Trinidad and Tobago, he talked about his racial heritage to leaders from a region where persistent racial inequities are wedded to poverty. He told Latin leaders he wanted to do more listening than talking. And he strode across a room to shake hands with Hugo Chávez, the leftist Venezuelan leader renowned for his anti-U.S. diatribes.
"No-drama Obama."
Domestic critics fault some of Obama's overtures, most pointedly his seemingly amicable encounter with Chávez, as naive and assert that he is undermining American authority abroad. But the president defends infusing diplomacy with his "no-drama Obama" governing style. He used a visit to Turkey as an opportunity to extend his outreach to the broader Muslim world. He argued that the U.S. relationship with the world's Muslims "cannot and will not be based upon opposition to terrorism," a complaint voiced bitterly in recent years. Instead, he said, it would be based on "mutual interest and mutual respect." But Obama, a Christian, went further, drawing on personal connections to Islam—a father of Muslim heritage and years as a child spent in a heavily Muslim nation, Indonesia. He was introduced to the Turkish Parliament with his full name, Barack Hussein Obama.
Turkey, a U.S. ally that is majority Muslim, has itself been swept up in the recent wave of anti-Americanism. The country remains both proud of its secular democracy and touchy over how it operates in practice, and Obama won good reviews there for threading his way through those sensitivities. Last year, a mere 12 percent of Turks regarded the United States favorably. But optimism about improved ties to a United States led by Obama has grown in Turkey and generally elsewhere. "He's showing people he understands their problems, their perspectives," says Leslie Gelb, president emeritus of the Council on Foreign Relations and author of Power Rules: How Common Sense Can Rescue American Foreign Policy. "The first step, properly, is to clear the air," says Gelb. "He has dissipated a lot of the anti-Americanism in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East."
To much of an intrigued global audience, Obama has shown a flair for refreshing candor—to the point of making some of his counterparts look a bit stodgy and faded. But it will take time for the results of his drive to reinvent America's image to become clear. That is when Obama's openness will be judged back home.
------------
--> This article appeared on www.usnews.com
My name is James Brendan Corrigan, and I’ve been dead for half of my life. In 1940, I was following a fresh lead on the notorious New York mobster Gat Benson. As a dedicated detective and an even more dedicated husband, I was determined to find and punish the man who took the one thing I loved most away from me. Predictably lured into a trap by Benson and his men, I was beaten to near death before I was thrown into a river, where I would drown, and to never be seen again. Filled with rage, I sank into the freezing cold water, begging anyone who would listen for a second chance. No one answered. I was dead. Darkness had already consumed everything. Until, suddenly, a mysterious presence appeared, offering me a deal to avenge my wife’s death, so long as I followed its orders. I agreed and was transformed into a spirit of vengeance. Since then, I’ve used my omnipotence and eternal wrath to seek justice for the innocent, and instill punishment to those who deserve it. I am vengeance. I am The Spectre.
======================================================================
July 7th, 1953. 11:17 am.
I arrive at the precinct for an interrogation session with the recently arrested Paul Reinman, the small-time criminal villain Yellow Wasp. He was apprehended by my JSA teammate Blue Beetle, who informed me personally of Reinman’s actions. I walk into the interrogation room with utter disgust, but I suppress my frustration. I can not abuse my power. I must retain my duty as a cop to entrust the system to punish the scum of this world. Even if he deserves to suffer in Hell for eternity.
“How we doin’ today Mr. Reinman?”, I ask sarcastically as I take a seat in front of him.
“'You my lawyer?” he asks impulsively.
“No. No, I am not”, I respond. “I’m detective Jim Corrigan, and I have a few questions to ask you”.
Disappointed, the suspect rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with”.
My resentment begins to manifest. “Do you know what you did, Mr. Reinman?”.
The suspect seems annoyed at my question like I’m his insistent mother who’s given him the same lecture five times already. It infuriates me.
“You know what, let me make it easier and answer that for you. Besides the countless other murders and prison escapes in the past, earlier this morning you decided to rob a convenience store as your Yellow Wasp persona. You succeed without any casualties until an unlucky woman gets in your way. An unlucky, pregnant woman. Then, without hesitation, you shoot her in her chest with your insect-styled firearm, killing her and her unborn child. Do you know what that means, Mr. Rein--”.
“Alright, piggy I get it. I’m going to jail. Bla bla bla”, he interrupts. “Just bang me up a bit and send me off. I’ll just be back in town next week and--”
I swing at the man’s jaw, sending him flying into the wall behind him. The old brick cracks on impact. The power goes out, leaving the man vulnerable in the pitch-black darkness.
A deep and sinister voice escapes gritted teeth. “Paul Reinman”, the voice bellows. “You have slain the innocent without consequence for far too long. It is time you face punishment for your crimes”.
The man screams for help as he is levitated off the ground and pinned against the wall. He is slowly approached by a plane figure draped in a green cloak. Staring into the figure’s bright green eyes, he notices skulls in the center of its pupils. It horrifies him. The chain from the suspect’s handcuffs suddenly extends in length and wraps around his neck. Reinman gurgles for air, only to be dropped at the last second before he drew his last breath.
“You will be judged”, the voice warns the Yellow Wasp, now sobbing helplessly on the floor in a fetal position.
I close the door behind me in relief. What happened in there? Why am I so...emotional? I could’ve killed him but...doesn’t he deserve it? No. That’s for the system to decide. I must maintain control. I must--
The increased volume of a newscast on a nearby radio interrupts my thoughts.
“This is Joan Mason reporting live from NYC on an apparent robbery-in-progress by the supervillain Psycho Pirate. The Justice Society members The Flash, Wind Dragon, and El Dorado are already on the scene but have yet to apprehend the villain...”
======================================================================
Jay Garrick bolts to the side of the front doorway of the bank. Peering inside, to his surprise, seeing civilians filling crates, sacks, whatever can hold paper money, with cash. In the center of the building stands Psycho-Pirate atop a table, presenting some sort of speech to the helpless civilians around him.
“Thank you all! It’s quite generous of all of you to aid in my robbery. Truly, it means a lot.”
Then almost instantly, the civilians become more aggressive with their duties. They begin to grab dollar bills by the handful, unbothered by them being completely crumpled.
“Careful now!”, the Psycho-Pirate warns. “Our men in arms are losing their patience”. He gestures to the guards, who are pointing their pistols at the civilians. Their hands and arms shake, making their fingers a tad more trigger happy every time.
“He’s making them his slaves!”, Flash thought to himself, growing more frustrated by the minute.
Flash looks around the room at the civilian’s faces, each stuck with a forced smile on top of a terrified expression.
He zips back to his original cover spot, his teammates El Dorado and Wind Dragon awaiting his return.
“Dorado, Wind Dragon, thanks for backing me up today”, Jay Garrick says.
“Por supuesto Flash! Which pendejo are we up against today?”, Fernando Escandon asks as his voice juggles between an American and a Spanish accent.
Toshio Eto nods in agreement as he maneuvers a miniature leaf through his fingers without touching either of them.
“Charles Halstead, the Psycho-Pirate. He wears some magical mask to control people’s minds...or something”, answers Jay. “20 hostages, 5 armed. Boys, we need that mask off of him. We’re putting him away for good this time”.
“Unfortunately it won’t be that simple”, I say, startling the heroes with my low, eerie voice.
“Spectre! Long time no see! You here to help us pummel Psycho-Pirate?”, Jay hollers at his friend.
“Hello, Jay. I have been distant from the team for some time. I apologize.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it, Jim”, he responds, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.
My gaze shifts to individuals I have never met before. Jay notices my confusion and introduces them as El Dorado, who seems to be unsettled by my appearance. Wind Dragon, who is calm, but has one hand on the handle of his sheathed katana.
“I look forward to working with you both”, I say, easing the tension between the three of us. “Halstead wears an ancient, supernatural weapon called Medusa’s Mask, bestowing him the power to project emotions onto others and feed on them simultaneously.”
“Damn vampire…”, Jay mumbles to himself, resentful of what he saw moments ago. “He’s got some balls doin’ this in broad daylight”.
“I assure you, Flash, he will not escape this time. Spectre, you have mystical connections, no?”, Toshio inquires. “Perhaps you can counter his spell in some way?”.
“As a paranormal being, I am immune to any psychic influence. Therefore, the mask itself has no effect on me. However, the mask can still detect any threats towards its wearer, physical or not. If it senses my presence, it may put the hostages in more harm” I respond.
“Can you provide us protection from his seduction while we remove the mask?, Toshio persistently asks, gesturing to his teammates.
“Mi amigo”, Fernando Interrupts, whispering, “my English is still a little rough. What does...se-dukt-shun mean?”.
Toshio glares at his superfriend. “It is another word for ‘attraction’”, he responds.
“Ah...gracias. I understand now”, Fernando proudly inquires.
Suddenly, the Spectre casts his arm out from under his cloak, placing a psychic block on each of the heroes’ souls and minds. They feel awkward at first but adjust to the temporary alteration.
Jay, who had just finished a silent, but intense brainstorming session with himself, finally announces, “Alright boys, here’s the plan...”
======================================================================
Once the debriefing was finalized, the three heroes infiltrated the bank. Despite being required to maintain distance from Psycho Pirate outside, I am still able to watch the events unfold through my teammates' eyes. Each responsible for a specific task instructed by the Flash, who quickly disarms each armed individual in the building. He is aggressive but gentle at the same time, leaving each person unharmed but detained. Out of the corners of his eyes, he notices several casualties lifeless on the polished tiled floors. It angers Jay Garrick, but it is only another reason to run faster.
Wind Dragon leaps through the entrance of the bank making precise maneuvers with his sword, unleashing gusts of wind with each swipe. Each guest is directed at a container of cash, launching the bills into the air. Bending the air around the money, he directs the thousands of bills into the vault where they belong.
Simultaneously, El Dorado is teleporting civilians out of the building to my location, where I begin to psychically purge each one's minds from the influence of Medusa’s mask. The civilians wallow in fear as they slowly recover from the emotional torment. The process is traumatizing for the civilians, but it must be done. This man constantly causes distress for the innocent, and the system constantly fails to punish him. It frustrates me.
A sudden flash of light appears out of thin air, revealing El Dorado. “Everyone’s out!”, Fernando calls to me as he gently lays another civilian on the ground. We regroup with Flash and Wind Dragon in the bank, where Psycho-Pirate is nowhere to be seen.
“I’ll find him”, Jay says before immediately darting out to search for him. While the others aid civilians, I float up through the ceiling and into the bright sky to watch as a red blur cuts through the vast city. There are moments when it stops, but only for a second. Presumably to aid someone unrelated in our endeavor. After all, this is New York City. Not nearly as bad as Gotham, but it’s no Metropolis. Suddenly, I lose track of Jay and teleport myself to his most recent location. I am able to find him thanks to the common sight of men picking up their hats and newspapers twirling in the air. My final clue was skid marks leading into an alley, where I found Jay clutching Psycho Pirate by the collar.
“Spectre!”, Jay announces, “He tried to get a hold of me but little did we know we had you,” he proudly exclaims. “I tried to take the mask off but it won’t budge!”.
“Allow me”, I say, before entering Halstead’s subconscious. I dive deep, finding fragments of the mask’s previous hosts' memories. To witness the countless lives it is tormented through greed, lust, and pride, sins that are engraved in one's legacy forever. It's too much for me to bear, and I am forcibly removed from Halstead’s mind.
“What happened?”, Fernando asks as he and Toshio arrive.
“I...cannot remove the mask”, I answer, worrying them.
“Haha! Do you think this is coming off? The mask is forever bonded to me!”, Psycho-Pirate yells. “The mask told me so! Do you think this is over? I’ll be back again! I promise! I’ll be ba--”, a loud crack interrupts the villains venting.
“I’d watch my mouth if I were you, Chuck”, Jay warns. “Spectre, got any idea on what to do with this freak?”.
Over and over again, the villain's words replay in my head. The suffering of the Psycho Pirate’s victims torments me. It all begins to swell into an unstoppable pain in my body. “Charles Halstead.”
“Jim! Don’t!”, Jay calls out as he and the others launch towards me. I freeze them in place, their faces stuck in a concerned expression. They watch as, with one gesture of my hand, Charles Halstead is engulfed in a bright green fire. He screams in agony as the flames incinerate his flesh. I send Medusa’s Mask, untouched by the flames, through a small gateway to the Tower of Fate, where it will be locked away safely. Once I release my ex-teammates from their frozen state, Flash runs directly towards me, Dorado blasts a beam of light, and Wind Dragon sends a small tornado in my direction. All are useless while I am in my evasive form. Realizing what I’ve just done, I open a portal to my escape.
“Jim...don’t”, Jay begs.
“I’m sorry…”, I say before entering the portal. Transported to my apartment, the green cloak disappears as my detective uniform replaces it. I collapse onto my knees and begin to weep. I’ve just lost control, something I promised myself I’d never do. I’ve just broken everything I’ve ever stood for as a cop, and I can’t go back to the JSA either.
“What do I do now? God...what do I do?”, I ask myself again, and again until suddenly, He answers.
“James…”, a voice calls out. “James…”
My head swings up. “What’s...what’s happened to me? Why couldn’t I control it?”.
“It is time, James. Time to fully embrace the power I gifted you long ago.”
“‘Gifted?’ This isn’t a gift. It’s a curse. Why...why did you do this to me? Why couldn’t you just let me die?”.
“In order for my power to be used responsibly, I needed a host that could be a fair and impartial judge for evil. Only a human host such as you is capable of such a task”.
A few moments pass before I can truly comprehend the role I’ve been given. Finally, I realize, time and time again I’ve been disappointed in humanity’s consistently vile behavior. And each and every time I would entrust the flawed concept of justice, a concept which restricts vengeance and allows undeserved second chances. I followed it once as Jim Corrigan, but now, I am only vengeance. I am only...The Spectre.
Hore Abbey sits in a field on the west side of the Rock of Cashel. It was originally founded in by the Benedictine’s in 1266. Soon after in 1272 David McCarvill, the Archbishop of ‘The Rock’ expelled the Benedictine monks and set up a Cistercian order after he had a dream that they were about to kill him. He endowed the Abbey generously with land, mills and other buildings previously belonging to the town, which caused local resentment. The Abbey was the last of the 35 Cistercian monasteries founded in Ireland. Most of the abbey was built in the thirteenth century, however many changes were made to the buildings in the fifteenth century including the addition of the tower in the centre of the transept. ‘Hore’ is thought to derive from the word ‘iubhair’ for yew tree. It was Dissolved in 1540 after the Reformation and the property transferred to James Butler, 9th Earl of Ormond and later to Sir Henry Radcliffe.
The woods is where I ran. Over this, under that and up I clambered to escape the injury of home.
On a burning summers day, umbrage and anger sent me crashing through the warm, open house, determined as I was to flee from all this injurious order. I grabbed the essentials, crammed them into my kit bag and left the house with a discordant coda of spiteful words and a carefully slammed door. And then there I was. My life at the mercy of the soft summer zephyr that gently stirred the world. Dandelion wishes whirled in the air, birds sang their warbling songs and neighbours waved warm salutations. Against this onslaught of heat and warmth I stood stoic, a figure of determination incarnate. I set my feet to work and I was gone.
Across the pristine lawn, down the crooked driveway and out across the cul-de-sac. I headed with speed up the small hill, turning right at the top, a move that took me behind the fence that marked the end of my parents sightlines. On I marched through brambles and nettles, sticky willow and dock leaf all tramped and cast aside like the petty obstacles they were. I scattered gravel and woodchip as I scurried across the driveway of the old Stately home that overlooked my estate, their estate, and then I was on it. The start of my land, the entrance gate to my gloried fiefdom. An ancient world of dens and spires, swings and castles, heroes and vanquished villians where only I truly knew the routes.
I felt the anticipation of my freedom but I did not stop to savour it, in those days there was always later. Instead I burst a trail through the rhodedendrom that blanketed my kingdoms borders. Branches bent and flexed at my touch then snapped back into shape behind me forming a green wall of invisibility. On through the bluebells I ran, dodging roots and louping stumps with an instinctive gait. My young legs carried me to the clearing and there stood my citadel, the glorious oak whose mighty span choked the undergrowth and challenged the sky.
It was a tree of age and beauty. Its twisted knots of bark and spiralling branches carried the joy of a hundred childhood summers and the ghosts of a thousand tales. Remnants of abandoned treehouses hung from the natural plateau that scattered its towering heights. These fortresses of old could be accessed only by those who knew their way through the map of branches, and those people were few. The warped insignia of Graffitied initials gave lie to the truth that the adults always had been and us children would always be. Lost loves and first blooms thoughtfully and carelessly etched into the sap and grain and, in time, elevated higher than the lives they marked would ever climb.
Here it was I stopped running and started climbing. The cold, dictats of the world I had left could not, would not climb these turrets of emancipation. I was stocked with fruit, water and toys. All the essentials of life were with me and these roots, leaves and branches of this tree could be my world. Higher and higher I climb. 6 foot, 10 foot, 11 foot maybe even 12. Eye level to the gods I clambered and on that day I was as free as those deities.
My breath faltered and my legs demanded rest so I found a perch, my perch. I sat resting on the V of the fork of two of the higher branches. Their thick stems reached out into that immersive blue in dizzying fashion. If your heart was made of weaker will than mine, a look down or a glance out was enough to send you dropping like the leaves in an autumnal storm. Stout was my will and strong was my grip, I was here and here was home.
Time passed, clouds moved and birds sang. Still I sat. Winds blew and winds went, squirrels darted and cats chased. Still I sat. Somewhere in that glazed sky the sounds of a football game rattled and pulsed with the story of the match. Still I sat.
My heart slowed with time. My thoughts, which not so long before had rushed with a near physical force behind my young eyes, began to embrace more practical visions. My rations which on the outset of my escape had seemed like the first glorious meal of a new dawn now comprised of half an apple, a squashed banana and an empty carton of juice. My toys, the prospective troops and citizens of this new order had proved unskilled in the life of a tree dweller. Two ninjas had already spun to a leafy death, their final moments mercifully concealed beneath the lowest canopy of leaves. All I was left was a one armed Thundercat and a mistakenly procured Barbie doll. Adam and Eve they were not.
Dusk began to fall and with it came real discomfort, nagging, growing pain that racked my posterior. My fiefdom rustled with a cooling wind that muttered ill will and suspicion into my ear. I gazed to the south, to where the sun had been when I first made my break. Without the hazy glare I could see the house, their house. Just a small corner of the roof to be fair, but it was undeniably my corner of the roof.
I considered roofs for a second and gazed skywards, we had yet to have our daily quota of rain and the skies were beginning to grumble and burble with threats of untold aqueous deeds. The sight of home and the thought of rain caused my eyes to slowly mimic the clouds. Water crept into the corners, sliding gently along the rim of my eyelids before dropping gently from my face and through the leaves. If this was my home, who was to look after me. These branches would hold firm, but what more would they give?
My thoughts returned to the turmoil that must surely be swelling under that just visible corner of home. Why had nobody come looking? Where was I going to sleep? What was I to eat? How would I find warmth and a television? Were the ninjas dead and WHY had nobody come looking for me? I pondered the complexities as best as my age would allow. Thoughts of a bath and bed flashed before my eyes vying for supremacy with the vivid, vibrant life as a wood dwelling man that lay before me if I was brave enough.
I was not brave enough. As the sun started to dip its orange head below the tree line of the woods, the leaves and branches that had so recently been the avenues and lanes of my gloried estate started to lose their clarity. Opportunities for adventure became the lurking dens where unspeakable but all too imaginable horrors lurked. I imagined commanding these beastly nightmares with my arsenal of, as yet unspecified, weapons. I also imagined gazing up from the forest floor as those unsaid beasts swarmed from their lairs and onto their prey, namely me.
Pre-empting these inevitable physical attacks I set upon a familiar plan, escape. With swift movements I began to scuffle down the tree. Familiar branch after familiar branch passed me by as I headed for blessed, solid, horror free ground. I passed the old treehouses, once the sign of proud warriors past, now the indications of a hasty retreat from these night terrors. The initials of those who had long slipped from childhoods grasp now seemed like the wise signatures of those lucky few who survived the woods. All of that future was at threat, all of that play time and warm beds. My hands passed branch to branch even quicker with each thought.
Then I was down. Dropping the last few feet with my legs already primed to outrun the hordes of teeth, drool and spite that was not long to be kept at bay. Running with haste and fear, I stumbled over tree roots and smashed gracelessly through the rhododendron. Over the driveway I went, feet scuffing on the gravel chips, dust clouds spurting up under my tiny feet. The fence was on me and then past, across the cul-de-sac and onto the driveway where there in front of me was home, safety and an all too vivid defeat.
I slinked into the kitchen. Entering the back door like the good wee boy I was, mud slopped shoes taken off at the door, bag placed on the doormat. There I stood, a bedraggled warrior, silhouetted against the dusk sky. I stared into their world, the radio, the impenetrable newspapers, the bills and the books all cluttered on the tables. Most of all I stared at her. Who would speak first, who would utter words and would they be conciliatory or confrontational? Finally, I spoke.
‘I’m back’.
Brief and aggressive, even in defeat I challenged her authority, that spiteful trait that was to win me no favours in the coming teenage years was already forming in my mind. Then I waited, and waited, and stood some more.
‘I said I’m BACK’
‘That’s nice, dear. Been playing in the woods?’
‘I ran away!’
I said this with more than a slight indignant whine.
‘Did you?’
She said calmly, tossing tonights anaemic salad as she spoke.
‘Well, dinners not going to be ready for a wee while yet so go and get cleaned up’
‘But I ran away! I ran away from home! Didn’t you notice’
My defeated return smarted, the knowledge that my victorious departure had gone entirely unheeded was like a blow to the chest.
‘Gavin, you charged out of the house 2 hours ago to play, all I noticed is that you didn’t tidy your room. Now go and get cleaned up, tidy up some of that mess of yours and I’ll let you know when dinner is ready’
I stood, phased and frozen. My new world, my kingdom, my forceful escape was nothing: a second birth to me, a flash of time to them. The remnants of my rebellion stirred in my gut, my shoulders stretched to their awe spanning width and I spoke.
‘What’s for dinner?’
‘Mince and tatties’
‘Oh’
‘Now go get cleaned up’
‘OK’
With that my defeat was secured. I slunk upstairs, trying my best to be a portrayal of resentment while all the time feeling a comfortable relief. The corridors and doors of this house held enough mystery to me, but they were the mysteries I knew. Why did I have to clean my room? Why did I have to move the couch when I hovered? Why did I need to iron my clothes? All these ideas were unfathomable and unanswerable, yet still so warmly familiar. The warrior could wait for another day, I was hungry and I was home and no kingdoms call would drag me away.
I lay on my bedroom floor with no real intention of cleaning any mess. I just wanted to hear this house, to hear the sound of safety, to hear her voice. Somewhere down below, one of my sisters was getting a row. That controlled, at times hard voice was running logic loops around her childish arguments, and it sounded wonderful. She knew what to say, she knew what to do and she always would.
That I still believe. Even after all the mistakes, even after all those strained years, even after the gaps and distances that emerge from time to time when my world and hers collide. I still believe that she knows what to say and knows what to do. I still believe that in the worst of times I can run home and escape the night terrors once again.
Humour is the great thing, the saving thing. The minute it crops up, all our irritations and resentments slip away and a sunny spirit takes their place
~ Mark Twain
I read this on a fascinating blog called The art of manliness - another one of those sites that's worth dipping in to from time to time.
Detail of a vent at the Mont Blanc HQ in Milan's Maciachini Centre
.
Hore Abbey is a ruined Cistercian monastery near the Rock of Cashel, County Tipperary, Republic of Ireland.
'Hore' is thought to derive from 'iubhair' – yew tree. The former Benedictine abbey at Hore was given to the Cistercians by Archbishop David MacCearbhaill (in 1270), who later entered the monastery. He endowed the Abbey generously with land, mills and other benefices previously belonging to the town.
A story that is much cited by tour-guides is that he evicted the Benedictines after a dream that they were about to kill him. This is unlikely to be true and probably arises from the Archbishop's 'interference' with the commerce of the city of Cashel. His disfavour of the established orders in Cashel certainly caused local resentment. He was resented by some of the towns-people, being considered too much in favour of the Irish by the more Anglicised. This is evident in the objection by the thirty-eight local brewers to the levy of two flagons out of every brewing and in the murder of two monks who were visiting the town.
"Supernatural" is a 1933 American horror film directed by Victor Halperin. The film is about Roma Courtenay (Carole Lombard), who attends a staged seance but finds herself suddenly possessed by the spirit of an executed murderess, Ruth Rogen.
The film was the followup to Halperin's White Zombie and uses many members of the crew from that film in its production. Trouble grew on the set between Carole Lombard and the director as Lombard felt she was more suited for comedy films. The film was not as financially successful as White Zombie on its initial release.
Plot
Ruth Rogen (Vivienne Osborne) is on death row for murdering three of her former lovers. Her fourth lover, phony psychic Paul Bavian (Alan Dinehart), betrayed her to the police. Dr. Carl Houston (H.B. Warner) believes the evil spirit of an executed murderer goes abroad to commit more crimes after death, and gets permission to experiment on Rogen's body after she is executed.
Meanwhile, heiress Roma Courtney (Carole Lombard) is contacted by Bavian, who says her dead brother, John, wants to send her a message. When Bavian's landlady threatens to expose him, he murders her with a ring that has a poisoned needle. Roma and her fiancé, Grant Wilson (Randolph Scott), attend a seance performed by Bavian. Bavian tricks Roma into believing her brother was murdered by Hammond (William Farnum), manager of the Courtney estate. Roma and Grant leave the seance, and stumble into Dr. Houston's lab. Houston is pumping the dead body full of electricity. Rogen's eyes open, and fixate on Roma. The shocked couple leave.
In an attempt to prove Bavian a fraud, Grant schedules a second seance at Roma's home. Once more, Bavian uses tricks to convince Roma that Hammond is a murderer. This seance ends in confusion, and Bavian uses his ring to kill Hammond. At that moment, Rogen's spirit enters Roma's body. The possessed Roma agrees to leave with Bavian on her yacht. Grant and Dr. Houston, aided by John's ghost, realize Roma is possessed and rush to the yacht. They arrive just in time to prevent Rogen/Roma from strangling Bavian and Bavian from killing Roma. Exposed, Bavian hangs himself and Rogen's spirit departs. John's spirit subtly urges the two to marry.
Cast
Carole Lombard as Roma Courtney
Alan Dinehart as Paul Bavian
Vivienne Osborne as Ruth Rogen
Randolph Scott as Grant Wilson
H. B. Warner as Dr. Carl Houston
Beryl Mercer as Madam Gourjan
William Farnum as Nick "Nicky" Hammond
Willard Robertson as Prison Warden
George Burr Macannan as Max Schmitt
Lyman Williams as Ghost of John Courtney
Production
Supernatural reunited the Halperin brothers with their crew they had on White Zombie. This included screenwriter Garnett Weston and cinematographer Arthur Martinelli. They also had Oliver Lodge aboard as a technical director. Madge Bellamy wrote in her autobiography that the Halperin Brothers tried to get her from Paramount Studios for the lead role, but the studio insisted on signing Carole Lombard from Fox Studios. According to Bellamy, Lombard resented her role in the film as "her forte was comedy."[1] Lombard's resentment towards the film often led to arguments on the set with Halperin.[1] The 1933 Long Beach earthquake hit while filming which caused the cast and crew to run from the studio set shrieking in fright.[2]
Release
Supernatural premiered at the New York Paramount on April 21, 1933.[3] It's one week at the theater grossed $23,300.[3] The film played at smaller theaters and even as a second film in a double feature.[3] The film was not as strong of a financial success as Halperin's previous film White Zombie.[4] The film premiered in Australia in July 1933 and in the United Kingdom on February 10, 1934.
From contemporary reviews, The New York Herald gave the film a positive review stating that the film "doesn't make a bit of sense, but it does supply a lot of unwitting fun." Newsweek praised the film's script, pacing and direction The New York Times praised the acting of Lombard and Dinehart as well as that the film "succeeds in awakening no little interest in its spooky doings." The Film Daily noted the script which was "not developed in a manner that makes for good entertainment". Variety referred to it negatively as a film that dies within the first half-hour.
In retrospective Kim Newman described the film as a "a fascinating mix of the bizarre and the conventional, affords Carole Lombard one of her strangest roles". Newman added that Randolph Scott was miscast, stating that he "stands around in a tux as Roma's dull love interest" Newman also commented on Garnett Weston's script that was "an idea more impressive in concept than the execution" and that it contained "too many drawing-room chats between more interesting low-life material."
“This is a day of celebration!
Today, we are divorcing the past
and marrying the present.
Dance,
and you will find God
in every room.
Today, we are divorcing resentment
and marrying forgiveness.
Sing,
and God will find you
in every tune.
Today, we are divorcing indifference
and marrying love.
Drink, and play that tambourine
against your thighs.
We have so much celebrating to do!”
― Kamand Kojouri
Many of you know the story of my annual anniversary roses...
a rose for every year from my love... this year it was
my turn to give them to him!!!
My devotional from that day that he left us for his Heavenly Home:
April 11th: "THIS IS THE DAY THAT I HAVE MADE. Rejoice and be glad in it. Begin the day with open hands of faith, ready to receive all that I am pouring into this brief portion of your life. Be careful not to complain about anything, even the weather, since I am the Author of your circumstances. The best way to handle unwanted situations is to thank Me for them. This act of faith frees your from resentment and frees Me to work My ways into the situation, so that good emerges from it. To find Joy in this day, you must live within its boundaries. I knew what I was doing when I divided time into twenty-four-hour segments. I understand human frailty, and I know that you can bear the weight of only one day at a time. Do not worry about tomorrow or get stuck in the past. There is abundant Life in My Presence today.
This is the day the Lord hath made; let us rejoice
and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24
Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken
hold of it. But one thing I do; Forgetting what is behind
and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward
the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:13-14
From the devotional book, "Jesus Calling, Enjoying
Peace in His Presence, by Sarah Young.
Hore Abbey (also Hoare Abbey, sometimes known as St.Mary's) is a ruined Cistercian monastery near the Rock of Cashel, County Tipperary, Republic of Ireland.
'Hore' is thought to derive from 'iubhair' – yew tree. The former Benedictine abbey at Hore was given to the Cistercians by Archbishop David MacCearbhaill (in 1270), who later entered the monastery. He endowed the Abbey generously with land, mills and other benefices previously belonging to the town. A story that is much cited by tour-guides is that he evicted the Benedictines after a dream that they were about to kill him. This is unlikely to be true and probably arises from the Archbishop's 'interference' with the commerce of the city of Cashel. His disfavour of the established orders in Cashel certainly caused local resentment. He was resented by some of the towns-people, being considered too much in favour of the Irish by the more Anglicised. This is evident in the objection by the thirty-eight local brewers to the levy of two flagons out of every brewing and in the murder of two monks who were visiting the town.
Weekly Theme Challenge: Week 20: Abandoned.
Winner of the Group Competition.
115 Pictures in 2015: #98: Ancient
The setting sun provides a tinge of resentment. A wonderful day is coming to an end. I must accept that a coldness will soon sweep the landscape as it to seeps into my heart. However nature rarely disappoints. While all good things must come to an end. Nature’s finale show is not one to be missed. The landscape is briefly bathed in golden light and even the most mundane of objects emanate a singular beauty. Just when the show appears to be drawing to a close, the sky erupts into colour. Clouds reflect hues of pink, peach, orange and red. It is as if the clouds are signalling another great day is in the making… come back tomorrow.