To understand ourselves it is important to understand our ancestors, and a part of them, and their heritage, lives on in us today. To the world the American Indians seemed like a forgotten people when the English colonists first arrived and began to occupy their lands. I want to give special thanks to my cousin, Mary Hilliard, for her assistance and encouragement in researching and preparing this book. Wherever possible I have tried to find at least two sources for the genealogical data, but this has not always been possible. I have also found Franklin Elewatum Bearce's history, Who Our Forefathers Really Were, A True Narrative of Our White and Indian Ancestors, to be very helpful. It is certainly possible that such a record may contain errors, but it is also very fortunate that we have access to this record as it presents firsthand knowledge of some of the individuals discussed in this book.
8 Newcomba€? Cpt. Sometime before the colonial period, the Iroquoian tribes began moving from the southern plains eastward across the Mississippi River and then northeasterly between the Appalachians and the Ohio River Valley, into the Great Lakes region, then through New York and down the St. Though they were neighbors and had similar skin color, these two groups of Indians were as dissimilar as the French and the Germans in Europe. Federations, as well as the individual tribes, were fluid organizations to the extent that the sachem was supported as long as he had the strength to maintain his position. Belonging to a federation meant that an annual tribute had to be sent to support the great sachem and his household, warriors had to be sent if he called for a given number to go to war, and strictest obedience and fidelity was demanded. Some of these federations had as many as thirty member tribes supporting their Great Sachem, although many of these tribes would be counted by more than one sachem, as any tribe that was forced to pay tribute was considered as part of that Great Sachem's federation. Any member of the society who dishonored himself, in anyway, was no longer worthy of the respect of his people. When viewing the typical Indians of America, one would describe them as having a dark brown skin. They wore relatively little clothing, especially in summer, although the women were usually somewhat more modest than the men.
The English resented the fact that the Indians wouldn't convert to Christianity as soon as the missionaries came among them.
The various tribes of New England spoke basically the same language and could understand each other well. There are many words used commonly in our language today that were learned from these New England Indians: Squaw, wigwam, wampum, pow-wow, moccasin, papoose, etc.
Today there is little doubt that prior to Columbus's voyage, the Norsemen sailed to the coast of North America early in the eleventh century. We do not have a record of all of the European contact and influence on the Indians in the early years of exploration because the greatest exposure came from the early European fishermen and trappers who kept no records of their adventures, as opposed to the explorers. In 1524, Giovanni da Verrazano wrote the first known description of a continuous voyage up the eastern coast of North America.
As the fur trade became increasingly more important to Europeans, they relied heavily on the Indians to do the trapping for them.
Another problem with which the Indians had to contend was the White man's diseases for which they had no tolerance nor immunity. In the spring of 1606, Gorges sent Assacumet and Manida, as guides on a ship with Captain Henry Chalons, to New England to search for a site for a settlement.
In 1614, Captain John Smith, who had already been involved in the colony at James Town, Virginia, was again commissioned to take two ships to New England in search of gold, whales or anything else of value. Dermer wanted to trade with the local Indians of the Wampanoag Federation and asked Squanto if he would guide them and be their interpreter. Derner was given safe passage through Wampanoag land by Massasoit and soon returned to his ship. When the Pilgrims left England in the Mayflower, their stated intent was to establish a settlement on the mouth of the Hudson River, at the site of present day New York City.
The Pilgrims returned to the Mayflower and, after many days of exploration, found a more suitable location. On March 16, 1621 the Pilgrims were surprised by a tall Indian who walked boldly into the plantation crying out, "Welcome!
The Pilgrims gestured for Massasoit to join them in their fort but, he in turn, gestured for them to come to him. When the amenities were ended, the English brought out a treaty they had prepared in advance, which specified that the Wampanoags would be allies to the English in the event of war with any other peoples and that they would not harm one-another; and that when any Indians came to visit the plantation they would leave their weapons behind.
After the ceremonies were ended, Governor Carver escorted Massasoit to the edge of the settlement and waited there for the safe return of Winslow.
Part of Massasoit's willingness to make an alliance with the English must be credited to his weakened condition after suffering from the recent epidemics which left his followers at about half of the strength of his enemies, the Narragansetts.
In June of 1621, about three months after the signing of the treaty, a young boy from the Colony was lost in the woods.
When the English could not find the boy, Governor William Bradford, (who replaced John Carver, who died in April) sent to Massasoit for help in locating the boy.
That summer Governor Bradford sent Edward Winslow and Stephen Hopkins, with Squanto, to Pokanoket (Massasoit's own tribe, on the peninsula where Bristol, R.I.
From this trip of Winslow's, we learn more about the daily life of the Indians in this area. Massasoit urged his guests to stay longer but they insisted they must return to Plymouth before the Sabbath.
Less than a month following this visit, Massasoit sent Hobomock, a high ranking member of the Wampanoag Council, to Plymouth to act as his ambassador and to aid the Pilgrims in whatever way they needed. Hobomock and Squanto were surprised at what they heard, and quietly withdrew from the camp to Squanto's wigwam but were captured there before they could get to Plymouth. Although the Narragansetts and Wampanoags were historical enemies and continually feuding over land, they did not usually put hostages of high rank to death.
Normally, treason was punishable by death and Massasoit would certainly have been justified in executing Corbitant for his part in the plot against him but, for some reason, Massasoit complete forgave him.
Their first harvest was not a large one but the Pilgrims were.happy to have anything at all.
During the winter, a rivalry developed between Squanto and Hobomock, the two Indians who now lived continually at Plymouth. According to the treaty he had signed with Plymouth, they were to turn over to him any Indians guilty of offense. In June and July, three ships arrived at Plymouth with occupants who expected to be taken in and cared for. In the winter of 1622-23, Governor William Bradford made trips to the various Indian tribes around Cape Cod to buy food to keep the Pilgrims from starvation. Next, Standish went to Cummaquid (Barnstable, MA.) where Iyanough was Sachem of the Mattachee Tribe. Thinking that Massasoit was dead, they went instead to Pocasset, where they sought Corbitant who, they were sure, would succeed Massasoit as the next Great Sachem.
Winslow describes their arrival, where the Indians had gathered so closely that it took some effort to get through the crowd to the Great Sachem. Since the Pow-wow's medicine had not produced any results, Winslow asked permission to try to help the ailing Sachem. Their second Thanksgiving was combined with the wedding celebration of Governor Bradford and Alice Southworth. Because of Massasoit's honored position, more was recorded of him than of other Indians of his time.
Massasoit most likely became Sachem of the Pokanokets, and Great Sachem of the Wampanoags, between 1605-1615. The second son of Massasoit was Pometacomet, (alias Pometacom, Metacom, Metacomet, Metacomo or Philip.) Philip was born in 1640, at least 16 years younger than Alexander. The third son, Sunconewhew, was sent by his Father to learn the white man's ways and to attend school at Harvard.
When his two oldest sons were old enough to marry, Massasoit made the arrangements for them to marry the two daughters of the highly regarded Corbitant, Sachem of the Pocasset tribe. The tribes of Cape Cod, Martha's Vineyard, Nantucket, as well as some of the Nipmuck tribes of central Massachusetts, looked to him for Military defense and leadership. Following the plagues of 1617, which reduced his nation so drastically and left his greatest enemy, the Narragansetts of Rhode Island, so unaffected, Massasoit was in a weakened position. In 1632, following a battle with the Narragansetts in which he regained the Island of Aquidneck, Massasoit changed his name to Ousamequin (Yellow feather) sometimes spelled Wassamegon, Oosamequen, Ussamequen.
In 1637, the English waged an unprovoked war of extermination against the Pequot Federation of Connecticut, which shocked both the Wampanoags and the Narragansetts so much that both Nations wanted to avoid hostilities with the feared English.
After hearing of the death of his good friend, Edward Winslow in 1655, Massasoit realized that his generation was passing away. As Massasoit's health began to decline, he turned more and more of the responsibilities over to Alexander who was a very capable leader and who was already leading the warriors on expedition against some of their enemies.
Massasoit was succeeded, as Great Sachem, by his son Alexander, assisted by his brother, Philip. The younger generation saw, in Alexander, a strong, new leader who could see the danger of catering to the English.
Both Philip and Weetamoo were very vocal in their condemnation of the English and word of their accusations soon reached Plymouth. Together, Philip and Canonchet reasoned that it would take a great deal of preparation for such a war.
Based on stylistic comparisons such as striations inside body contours and the presentation of horns in twisted perspective, several Paleolithic art experts, including the first curator of the Chauvet Cave, Jean Clottes, have accredited the Portuguese friezes to the early Solutrean of about 20,000 years ago3. In Portugal, the government did the opposite a€“ plunging ahead with a project destined to destroy the nationa€™s oldest cultural heritage by completing a 300-million-dollar dam whose reservoir will flood a valley packed with dozens of art sites spread over at least 17 kilometers.
Yet construction continues - even on holidays - and the water is about to rise another hundred meters.
A male ibex with his head shown in two positions, as if he were turning to watch the female behind him. As we drove up to a sentry box perched on the lip of a road into the vast, unnatural gashing of mountains at Foz CA?a, it was hard to tell if the young guard blocking us in a crisp red and gray uniform represented a well-heeled security service or an elite military unit - but it was plain that bluff and sweet talk wouldn't get us far. The next time the car eased over the knuckles of a road crisscrossed by up-ended strata, past empty huts built just of stacked slabs, and jostled between overhanging and plunging cliffs until an avalanche of tailings from an old quarry almost blocked the path. Here was one of the places of grandeur where our ancestors had first grasped visions and then concretized them by hewing - and sometimes painting - images into rock panels.
As I pushed forward and the river grew shallower, turtles became so numerous that their stacks toppled like circus acts from the brinks of submerged cliffs. As a draftsman, I could feel empathy for the beast flowing into the hands that had etched her. This first frieze stood at a fitting point, practically where the reservoir yielded to the original rapids and long pools of the virgin river.
Far away across the moonscape of rutted ramps, knots of men stood before tunnels as fleets of dump trucks, made so tiny by distance that they only gave away their magnitude by over-sized wheels, eased to the brink of platforms, and added avalanches to tailings.
Above us, the titanium-white cleanliness of the cement plant's towers stood in bold contrast to the devastation, like a phalanx of gigantic chess-rooks bunched for the kill. According to press articles, the dam-builders had recognized him as the true discoverer of Portugal's first reported Paleolithic engravings, at nearby Mazouco, even though the doctoral student's mentor, Professor Vitor Oliviera Jorge, had stolen his thunder.7 They had given Rebanda a job as their obligatory salvage archaeologist when the new doctor somehow couldn't get a position on a faculty. In return, all he'd had to do was wait till their concrete curtain had gone up and its reservoir had risen into a sea so voluminous and costly that its drainage would have been unthinkable. My goateed interlocutor smirked as he told me I could try looking for the doctor at the complex built for the previous dam, 15A kilometers downstream.
But I'd hit pay dirt: the fact that I might hear Rebanda's mea culpa was more than Ia€™d hoped for.
Sebastian elected to wait outside and embarked on Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth as I knocked at the locked door.
Still, I complimented her on her English, sympathized with them for having to put up with this hierarchical bother, and kept spinning innocuous questions, while she kept waiting for me to go. When Rebanda's secretary came out again, to see if she could get either me a€“ or her boss - to give up as the wait grew embarrassingly long, I asked her what the round silos with tipped roofs on the hills had been used for. But the next time, after they had gotten used to my rounds, I stepped inside and admired a sequence of two eight-foot-tall maps full of pins. Something was wrong: in addition to the constellations of pins extending for 17 kilometers upstream from the construction site, there were dozens downstream, along the reservoir behind the dam just outside!
Finally, so many hours had passed, and she'd informed the doctor so many times that I was still hanging around, that I was forced by the sheer need for new scenery to vary my route, and drifted through empty rooms. The only thing the reports agreed on was that Rebanda had somehow discovered the flooded portion of Canada do Inferno by the previous autumn22 a€“ asking the EDP to lower the Pocinho reservoir by just 3 meters in November 1994 so he could study the engravings.23 a€?They told me it was too expensive,a€? Rebanda had told the New York Times. So who had shot these photographs, which looked like they had been taken when the sites were dry vegetated hillsides instead of among the muck and bare banks below a fallen waterline? I realized that the photos of the dry sites might have been taken before the Pocinho Dam, which had flooded them, had even been completed a€“ over 12 years before! UNESCO had suggested Clottes, who, in an uncanny convergence of good and bad karma, was taken on a whirlwind tour of the tip of the iceberg at Canada do Inferno, then immediately whisked to a press conference in Vila Nova do Foz CA?a on Dec 16th, 199428 a€“ just two days before the discovery of the Chauvet Cave that catapulted him, as its first interpreter and protector, from the summit of the French archaeological establishment to world fame. But Clottesa€™ judgement was mixed, confirming that the art could be dated on stylistic grounds to the early Solutrean or even late Gravettian of twenty to twenty-four thousand years ago while suggesting that flooding the valley might be the best way of protecting it, since Portugal was ill-equipped to protect such widely dispersed panels from vandals!29 a€?There is no easy solution,a€? he told a reporter. What the press forgot to emphasize with quite as much fervor was the fact that Clottes had prefaced his Solomonic verdict by saying, a€?Whatever happens, the engravings must be preserved and not be damaged.a€? Clottes might have felt that he could safely pass the buck because no art conservationist could honestly guarantee the engravingsa€™ fate once they were subjected to currents carrying abrasives, burial under the petrifying alluvia that accumulates behind dams,33 and the worlda€™s most destructive solvent a€“ water, which would dissolve pigments and destabilize rock that had proven its resistance to aerial conditions over tens of millennia. While chatting up the gaunt fellow traveller at the construction site, Ia€™d pretended to make small talk by asking engineering questions, including one about the depth of the sediment that had accumulated behind the Pocinho dam.
The irony of it was that Clottesa€™ efforts to be honest without irritating his hosts had been the spark that the French diplomats had dreaded.
Despite the fact that the great prehistoriana€™s reputation would remain largely intact, and with good reason, in much of the rest of the world,34 the Portuguese intelligentsia began to shun him. A€ propos of CA?a, two Portuguese rock art researchers, who couldna€™t stomach Clottes after his press conference, ironically echoed him by telling me, confidentially, that flooding the engravings could still be a blessing since it would save them from graffiti and those boogeymen of archaeologistsa€™ dreams, prowling collectors.
My guess is that he was so beleaguered by advisers that he was just trying to get out of an awkward situation as quickly, judiciously and diplomatically as possible. I mentioned to Rebanda that I had just attended the lecture on Chauvet, that I even had a videotape of it right there in my camera.
So it's true, I thought, drowning the site was Rebanda's solution to the problem of ownership of photographic rights. But then, what about Rebanda's self-serving talk of photo credits, not to mention the engravings already submerged by the dam at the doorstep a€“ and his belief that the engravings were doomed to be flooded? Strangely enough, I could again see it being both ways, since the roots of tragedy are self-deception and entwined motives. He must have realized that I was rooting for him to pull himself out of his tailspin, because suddenly he decided.
Upon leaving, Sebastian asked to check out the Pocinho dam, so I drove round an interchange into an empty parking lot with planters. As the sun slanted over the plateau into the wilderness of the CA?a valley, I decided to sneak into a side-valley to the north of our campsite that Rebanda's map had cluttered with pins. Then, after breaching a wall of rushes, we broke to the reservoir's edge - and were met by a horned skull stuck on a stake. Suddenly, I remembered what Rebanda had said about the engravings' association with witchcraft.
Being obstinate (or perhaps because of the prehistoric setting), I started whittling stone, knapping a microlithic surgeon's kit, and then bent single-mindedly to my task - failing till I was disgusted with myself and worried for my victim (which I had bizarrely associated with Rebanda).
This time there were two guards behind an overhanging military fence crested by barbed wire. The guard who beckoned us in was rearing a guard-dog puppy, which scampered around, tumbling over ledges and using its chin to lever itself over steps. Our guide was a decent young man who couldn't help feeling uneasy blocking access to these bold masterpieces at the source of all our arts. Still, these guards were actually tame as the locals poured down to catch a glimpse of the animals through the fence. After he'd hastened to take up his time-clock again, I wandered if there might not be even more testimonials of man's attraction to this classical Eden with its islets and fords in the flowery river, and browsed through a plowed orchard, along a contour which I judged would have been the valley floor half a million years ago. We knew the next dawn would be our last, so we broke camp in blue light to explore the teeming side-valley beyond the first auroch. Not Portugal's - OURS - because this art is so old, despite its elegance, that we share the blood and genius of those distant ancestors who awoke to the universe, whether our cavalcade of ancestors migrated around the Old World or came across the Bering Straits 14,000 years ago.
Footnotes have been added to the internet version of the article to provide historical perspective and more detail about sources than the versions that were published & distributed in 1995.
1 The three discoverers of the Chauvet Cave were Eliette Brunel Deschamps, Christian Hillaire, and Jean-Marie Chauvet.
2 The IPPAR announced the existence of the valleya€™s engravings on November 19, 1994 but a video was made of them in 1993. 10 Bahn 1995 for a re-capitulation of the same accusations against the IPPAR & Rebanda.
33 Bednarik & Jaffe have been the most outspoken spokesmen about delusions concerning the protective qualities of reservoirs a€“ which not only inundate art panels with water but deep alluvial deposits that make their later recovery dangerous and impractical. 34 Interestingly, a few years after this appeal was written, Clottes came under fierce attack and even ridicule by many representatives of the French intelligentsia, including some of the countrya€™s most prominent prehistorians, after he and David Lewis-Williams published a€?The Shamans of Prehistory: Trance and magic in the painted cavesa€? in 1996. As soon as their results indicating that the art might be only 3,000 to 6,500 years old (if not even younger) were announced a€“ which actually made the engravings even more astonishing, potentially rewriting the history of rock art or even making Portugal the last bastion of the Paleolithic tradition a€“ the most important Portuguese right-wing weekly screamed that the direct-dating results proved that stylistic daters like Clottes had perpetrated a a€?FRAUDa€? (O Independente, 7 July 1995).
It should also be noted that the individuals who participated in the debate were often somewhat unwittingly drawn into playing secondary or tertiary roles in a struggle between the Portuguese Ministry of Culture and Ministry of Industry. 40 In November 1995 - six months after this call-toa€“arms was published and circulated to Prehistoric Art Emergencya€™s volunteers (who Ia€™m glad to report included a young actor, Yann Montelle, who went on to earn a doctorate in prehistory) - a book edited by Jorge called a€?Dossier CA?aa€? appeared with 20 contributions by him or his wife. 44 After writing this article in May 1995, it occurred to me that I might have missed one of the main reasons for eliminating Rebanda from Portugala€™s archaeological milieu a€“ the fact that he was so effective at finding rock art that drew international attention, first to Mazouco, then to CA?a.
49 When I wrote the article, I assumed that the two young men were Rebandaa€™s subordinates and referred to them as a€?draftsmena€?.
50 After initially denigrating both the art and the idea of extracting it, the EDP later adopted the idea as one of its three strategies for overcoming opposition to the dam project.
Maya Angelou wrote a poem to celebrate AARPa€™s (American Association of Retired People) 50th anniversary.
I cana€™t say I love to cook the way some gourmet cooks relish a whole day or weekend spent in the kitchen. I love kitchens, kitchen gadgets, electrical appliances, full refrigerators, cooking pots and pretty dishes. In the spring of 2006 we bought an RV, emptied the house, put it up for sale and hit the road.
I plan to talk about our RV lifestyle and the places wea€™ve seen in this blog on a regular basis.
Each challenge card has a different way of setting up the cars and trucks so each game is a new challenge. In February of 2003, we asked Buell's daughter, Janice Elliott Bennett, if she would interview her father for us. He knew very well that a bomb was being built; however, he said the authorities never really told them anything and if you did know anything, you weren't supposed to tell.
A week before the bomb was dropped, Dad said they called them all in and said Congress was hassling them about all the money they were spending. When I asked him how he felt after Hiroshima, he said "I was never happy over it and I'm not happy now.
When I got big enough (I was about three and Buell was about 17) he took me with him to Culberson, North Carolina in a wagon to ship out goods and pick up supplies for our store.
Buell was a man with limited formal education but you inquired how he did as well as he did.
I am sort of hitch hiking on Richard Purvis's idea that someone should write up the migration to California from Georgia. I remember about the only mean thing Buell did to me - - he came home for a visit and stayed the summer of 1926 (Dale was 7).
I know Buell was out here in 1927, since I've heard the story over and over of him taking my folks and my one-year old sister, Myrtle, on the Cyclone Racer in Long Beach and scaring everyone to death. We came back to California in 1935 and Buell was here during many of those years until the war. I know this is pretty rambling but Buell was a rambler and didn't stay in one place too long except for Oak Ridge.. Monteen immediately recalled that one day, out of the blue, Buell gave her a new watch; a very nice one and it had Roman Numerals as well.
Max fondly remembers as a very young boy being taken out for rides in the oilfields in Daddy's stripped-down flivver with Buell, Tascal and Uncle Bob Chapman - - all bachelors then. Ruth said Buell seemed very tall, always friendly and had wonderful, curly eyelashes and blue eyes. A small flurry of speculation on the rock's whereabouts among a variety of old timers in this area brought up two or three possibilities with the most votes going for the Carneros Rocks out by Belridge. Our story for this Buck family begins with the marriage of Davida€™s parents, Thomas Buck and Elizabeth Scott, on 4 May 1738 in Glastonbury, Connecticut [see Glastonbury Vital Records by Barbour, available on the Internet.] The record of this marriage does not provide any additional information about the ancestry of Thomas Buck, but it does tell us that Elizabeth was the daughter of Thomas Scott. We know that these were the parents of our David Buck as his daughter, Elizabeth Buck Garlick (who we will frequently refer to as a€?EBGa€?) left a record in 1841 (in Nauvoo, Illinois) and again in 1872 (in Salt Lake City in the Endowment House). Following their wedding in 1738, Thomas and Elizabeth Buck completely disappear from the local records. Fortunately their grand-daughter, Elizabeth Buck Garlick (EBG), lived long enough to be listed in the 1880 US Federal census for Springville, Utah. The birth-dates are unknown for several of these children, but since there was such a large gap between Thomas, Jr. There was also a John Buck and a Joseph Buck who were closely associated with this family in Bedford County, but we have no document that establishes their relationship to the rest of this family.
With all of the above as foundation for our story we will now present the documented history for our David Buck, Sr.
The very first item we can find for our Bucks in Bedford County is in the 1775 tax list where a Thomas Buck was listed as paying 7 pounds, 6, as a resident of Colerain Township in Bedford Co., PA.
In the next yeara€™s tax recorda€”1776, we again find Thomas Buck, along with Jonathan Buck listed in Colerain Township of Bedford County. We have no tax records for 1777 & 1778, but in 1779 there was no Thomas Buck in Colerain Township. In 1780 we still find David Buck and John Buck paying taxes in Colerain Twp., and Davida€™s brother, Thomas Buck, Jr.
The 6th Company, 1st Battalion of the PA militia was formed from the men of Providence Township in 1781, with George Enslow as Captain.
We do not know any details about Davida€™s military service but we do know there were many British inspired Indian-attacks within the county where settlers were killed and their homes burned. By 1784 both David and Jonathan were located in Providence Township in Bedford Co., PA, and their brother Thomas was still in Hopewell, just a few miles north of Providence. In 1789 Jonathan Buck sold his land in Providence Township and moved to the western side of the County, and from there (in 1793) he moved to Tennessee.
Note that most of the purchases above naming Thomas Buck were surely for the Captain Thomas Buck of Hopewell Twp., the brother of our David, Sr. David Buck, land deeded to him by Benjamin Ferguson and Zilah, his wife, for 45 pounds, that tract of land called Oxford Situate on the waters of Brush Creek also running by the land of Thomas Buck, Esq.
Thomas Buck and wife Margaret, sold to George Myers, land in Providence Twp being rented by William Conners for $2,400., on Brush Creek joining John Allisona€™s survey and running by David Bucka€™s property. This is a very interesting entry as we know that the Captain, Thomas Buck (brother of our David Sr.) was the man who was married to Mrs. Before we continue with the Buck family, we need to take a sideways step to briefly discuss the Cashman family, as that brings in the wife of David Buck, Sr. This family lived for many years in Berks County, PA, and then in York Co., PA, before moving to Washington County, Maryland in 1777. We should mention here that by this time the old Germanic family name had seen a number of changes that show up in many of the documents. Martina€™s oldest daughter, Catherine grew up in Pennsylvania and moved with her parents to Maryland when she was about 25 years old. David returned to his farm in Bedford County, PA with a new wife and four little step-children. While we are talking about close family members showing up in the temple records, there is one more that we should discuss at this point. The 1800 federal census is also a bit bewildering (but then census records are not known for their accuracy). This entry make sense if there was only one Bumgardner boy still living in Davida€™s home and if he was between the ages of 10-16a€”which would be about right. In 1808 there was another tax list which shows David with 247 acres in Providence Twp, with 1 horse and 2 cows. His oldest son, Thomas, was already married and had been out of the house for about seven years before his father died. We dona€™t know how long Catherine Cashman Buck lived after the death of her husband but it appears she was still alive during the 1820 census as discussed above. The oldest child of our David Buck and Catherine Cashman (after her Bumgardner children) was Thomas Buck.
Very nearby lived the family of Michael Blue, who had a daughter, Elizabeth Blue, born 30 March 1788, in Providence Twp, making her just about two years older than Thomas. Shortly after the birth of their youngest child the family moved to Van Buren, Pulaski Co., Indiana, where they were living in the 1860 census, and where Thomas died on 27 Feb. A number of local residents joined the Church at that same time which resulted in a backlash of hard feelings and persecution ensued, inducing many of them to sell their homes and move to Nauvoo, Illinois where the a€?Saintsa€? were gathering. With the other Saints, the Garlicks were forced to evacuate Nauvoo in 1846 and make their way across the state of Iowa to Council Bluffs.
We are not sure when Susannah was born, but her fathera€™s will makes it clear that she was younger than Elizabeth (who was born in 1795a€”according to her own record) and older than Mary, who was born in 1800 (as found in several census records). 50 years old (making him about 12-13 years younger than Susannah, and his wife, a€?Susana€? was five years younger than Solomona€”born about 1815.
Whether Susannah died young, or married and changed her last name, is unknown to us at this time. With a large gap between the first two children there could, and probably were, other children unknown to us at this time. In the 1870 census we do find David Jr.a€™s daughter, Catherine Buck living in Providence with her Aunt Mary Buck (both of her parents had died prior to that year). After the birth of this last child the family moved to Columbus, Franklin Co., Ohio where we find them in the 1880 censusa€”except for their son, George, who would have been 13 in that census but does not appear with the family at that time.
This Jonathan Buck remained close to his extended family and traveled back and forth between Pennsylvania and Ohio on various occasions. Note that this particular record does not say that Sarah was the daughter of Mary, but we learn that later on. In the Ancestral File (LDS FHC) Mary has been sealed numerous times to a man by the name of Amos Jones. In the 1860 census, we find Saraha€™s mother, Mary Buck, living with her son-in-law and his two little girlsa€”Marya€™s grand-daughters. Within the next decade (per the 1870 census) Jacob Foore had remarried and begun an additional family, so Mary moved into a home of her own and also took in her niece, Catherine Buck, with her little daughter, Amanda, who we have discussed above. This concludes the presentation of the documented life of David Buck, Sr., his wife, Catherine Cashman, and their family. Aunt Mary Buck is well, Catharine too, neather one of them lives with me now since last spring. Yours truly, write to me again and tell me all the news and I will give you all the news then. It is with pleasure that I drop you a few lines to inform you we are all well at the present time and hope and trust these few lines may find you the same. I must tell you where we live, we live near Gapsvill and I thought I would write a few lines to you all.
Times is very dull here now all though there is plenty of everything but fruit, there is none at tale, only what is shipped here. I can't tell how Aunt or Catharine is gitting along for I have not had a letter from either one for five months or more, I can't tell why it is as I have written to both of them and got no answer. One of my boys married a girl here and they have gone to keeping house here, so if my letter does not come to hand in time he can lift it and remail. I am boarding, I don't keep house anymore and I received your picture and I thought I had thanked you for it in my letter long ago, if not I am very much obliged to you for it. I did not see Dasey Garlick when I was East, she was away from home the day I went to see her and I had so many places t go I did not get around again.
I seen Telitha (Catharine) Garlick two but only to speak to her as met her on the road one day she is married to Wesley Clark, one of Elias Clark's boys. It appears that there is going to be plenty work to do this summer, lots of large buildings to go up this summer.
Temple there was completed, an Endowment House was erected in which sacred ordinances could be performed. The a€?Joseph Garlica€? listed as a€?heira€? and proxy for the males above, was EBGa€™s son.
Abigail Jones 2nd cousin {Daughter of Capt.
Thomas Buck nephew {EBGa€™s brother, Thomas, md.
David Buck nephew {EBGa€™s brother, David, Jr. John Buck cousin {Son Thomas Buck & ELiz. I went to a workshop at Omega Institute, Rhinebeck, New York, and I had a few early morning hours dancing seemingly alone in the moonlight, which will stay with me.
It was 4:00 am on that other morning, and I had slept soundly and felt rested and excited about the learning that was occurring in me, but I also felt completely alone. This is the day I have set aside to explore my close surroundings before I head out on my Maui adventure activities for the next seven days. As I allow the disappointment to get as big and painful as it needs too, something happens that has happened many times in my life during difficult experiences.
During a recent trip to Maui, I rediscovered that beautiful child in the eyes of the aging woman Ia€™ve become.
For many years, I searched to be a better person, to become wiser, and to learn how to live a full and productive life, and to be admired. Patience has been my work this year and Ia€™ve learned much about the difference between tolerance and patience.
The voting was heavy and because most of us know each other in some way, our politics are often known.
As Zacha€™s son-in-law returned to the inside of the voting precinct to witness the casting of Zacha€™s vote, he said two simple words: Thank you. Later heading home, fatigue turned to laughter and memory recorded these shared emotional experiences of inspiration. The written word has often been the way spiritual messages have been received during my Life. The human survival instinct supports us in seeing what is there that needs to change or is threatening to us. Sometimes an old message said in a simple direct way can change the Life of the one who truly hears it. Since that time, I have written of the learning that came from my choice and consequently his choices. As I was leaving the workshop, a young woman came up to me and asked me to share what meditation had meant in my life. My deepest longing is to love and be loved and yet fear can hold me back by expecting perfection. Michael Singer wrote a book called The Untethered Soul, and it speaks of the way to let the personality desires play out while the Seer of what is transpiring watches without judging or clinging to an outcome. It has been some seventy-two hours since I began this essay and then stopped writing because I realized I was living in a huge story and could not write authentically from that place. It has been seven years since this small community called to me and embraced me within its furry mountains and quiet streams. During the last few weeks, I have begun to feel that my time here in this small community is limited.
The rock in the creek feels cold against my warm skin in contrast to bike riding on this hot day. When he turns, his familiar face and eyes are beaming toward me as he explains that he is looking for the rock we used in meditation the last time we visited the creek. His love for me is visible in the steady gaze of his eyes, and it both comforts and frightens me. It is late evening and Mark Nepoa€™s words speak to me; his writings have been an inspiration in many ways during the past few months. At first, the feeling is a bit overwhelming and tears flow as I remember Nepoa€™s request to include looking at the lighted candle as part of my meditation.
It is spring again; forty-eight years have past and yet my memories of a small toddler are as vivid as every. It is good to remember the joy of him running across the yard, small frog in hand and joy in his face, panting as he recalls how challenging it was for him to catch it.
He made the team, got a new girlfriend, went off to college, had much success, and oh so many friends. May the light in the eyes of our children remind us of the light that is possible in our own. Mark Nepo is my author of choice the last few days, and his writing speaks to me in the silence of my being and I am changed by what I hear.
Those who have poor vision, those who have less than average senses of taste and smell, those who have physical difficulties, those who have hearing challenges, what do they have in common?
My friend has learned to angle his head in a certain way that tells me he is listening carefully sometimes cupping his ear with his hand. Recently Ia€™ve been seeing growing older as a limitation; an ache here, a gray hair there, a bit of fatigue at the end of the day, a need for a short rest more often, a wrinkle on the back of my hand, a need for glasses more often. As the mother, the blind childa€™s face filled with wonder inspires me to see more clearly through her blindness. As the cherry blossom, I stand in the glow of the sun knowing that I add beauty and wonder to the earth and to its inhabitants. Mark Nepo in his book, The Awakening, asked the questions: How am I different from others and how am I the same. In this silence, the wisdom of Lamotta€™s quote is known somewhere deep in the part of me that I share with all others. Each of us experiences death of our physical body, each of us grows physically from birth to death, each of us is capable of thought, each of us experiences the pain of physical life and the joys. I believe deep in our core of being, we are each a small piece of the Universe, and we have manifested into this unique physical form equipped with the tools and a gift we need to create our healing part of the collective. As I began to ride the bike, it seemed a bit big for my frame and often my back hurt after riding a long distance, so I chose to buy a new girla€™s bike.
Two days ago, a new friend suggested he would like to go biking with my group, but his bike needed repairing.
On the ride back to the trailhead, my friend and I rode together; I shared that the bike had belonged to my son and he was the first to ride it besides me. A limiting beliefa€”just as it soundsa€”is having a thought about the past, present, or future that keeps you from seeing what is true in the moment you are living right now. This natural symbol of equality of day (light) and night (dark) is a reminder that light and dark are different not better or worse.
Equality is a slippery word in our culture and the term is often used to compare one thing, one thought, one person, and one event to another. This search for meaning has brought me to this autumnal point, and to a knowing that equality is expressed within through an attitude of a€?non-judgmenta€? about what we can see, smell, hear, taste, and touch through our five senses.
Recently in a difficult discussion with a male friend about equality between genders, I suggested that our older generation seems to have more difficulty with this deeper feeling of equality since our culture has encouraged stories about superiority vs. This experience has supported me in looking closely within me to see where I discover feelings of inequality as a part of my physical existence.
Observation of the equality of light and dark during this Fall Equinox reminds me that deep equality means no judgment or comparisons are needed. During the past few weeks, Ia€™ve spent time at the Wintergreen Nature Foundation as a volunteer.
One particular Saturday, a call came that a baby rabbit had been very still in the garden for a long time and appeared injured. A few days later, I was the human contemplating the impermanence in nature and wondering what to do.
Recently I met my daughter and her family to fulfill her wish to visit the two homes where she had been a baby. As I approached the door, I remembered my husband carrying me across the threshold; I remembered bringing my son and daughter home to the loving arms of an extended family that had arrived to celebrate their coming into Life.
Unbelievably, the man and woman that had bought the house from us still lived there, and it felt wonderful that they had continued to add their love of the house to ours.
Neighbors dropped in yesterday and provided me with fun, friendship, and an unexpected sacred moment.
It was a balmy late spring day and the hydrangeas were in full bloom and served as a backdrop as we drank smoothies, ate rice chips and salsa, and enjoyed a glass of wine on my screened porch. We shared how important it is to avoid fearful story-telling about what is happening and to simply deal with what is happening right now in the present moment. My friend is out of town and some part of me is pleased by the freedom that gives to me and I have an authentic knowing that he is doing what enriches his life. As I sit typing this, I realize that my day is my own creation and whether or not I act from a place of fear is all up to me. From some people the question triggers a feeling of annoyance within me, and I sometimes give them an answer like, a€?nothing special just the usual things or therea€™s always plenty to do.a€? It is more avoidance of responding from annoyance than an answer. As I examined my feelings during these different experiences, I discovered the part of me that wants to be what the other person perceives me to be, a busy, active, interesting person.
It is a reminder that I am not here to fulfill anyone elsea€™s expectations; I am here to find meaning and purpose for my own life.
This morning I awaken to the gentle sound of rain, and I snuggle down into the nighta€™s accumulated warmth under my blankets.
Again no thoughts come, just an incredible presence and knowing that in each moment there is beauty and nurturing for the soul for the taking.
If unused muscles and bones create a message to the brain that their dysfunction is normal until the imbalance creates pain, is that also true of emotional dysfunction? The physical discomfort is in my second energy center, which I understand to be the energy center of creativity and belonging, and it is sending me a message.
A few days ago, Eckhart Tollea€™s book, called The New Earth, was mentioned in a conversation with a friend, and I had a knowing that I wanted to reread it. In that moment, I began to look at my choices during the past few months and the intentions behind them. Tolle goes on to say that if you can neither enjoy or bring acceptance to what you doa€”stop. In that moment, I chose to look into his clear blue eyes and said, a€?Hi.a€? He didna€™t look at me, but his eyes were alive with the joy and pure light of the incredible sun that rose through the window of the elevator. In gratitude, I left the elevator carrying the gift of pure light that had come to me from the sun through a young man that reflected it. Answer: A This great city that is being constructed is, at this moment, in far outer space in God's dwelling place, which is called heaven. Answer: A Yes, the majestic holy city will come down to this earth to become the capital of the earth made new. A A What refreshing, thrilling promises does God make to the people who enter His new kingdom? Answer: A After His resurrection, Jesus proved to His desciples that He was flesh and bones by having them feel Him and by eating food.
Answer: A Not even in its wildest dreams can the heart of man begin to comprehend the marvels of God's eternal kingdom. If the city were to be crowded and each saved person given only 100 square feet of ground space, there would be room for 39 billion people in the city, which is many times the present population of the world. We do not have a specific Bible answer to this question, but many choose to believe that infants will be saved on the basis of Matthew 2:16-18. 7.A A What refreshing, thrilling promises does God make to the people who enter His new kingdom? At first I was very skeptical of this record as it was a family tradition passed down for many generations.
She was very fond of her Grandmother, Freelove, knew all about her and stated on several occasions that Freelove's Mother was Sarah Mauwee, daughter of Joseph Mauwee, Sachem of Choosetown, and not Tabitha Rubbards (Roberts). Massasoit was the Sachem of this tribe, as well as being the Great Sachem over the entire Wampanoag Federation, which consisted of over 30 tribes in central and southeastern Massachusetts, Cape Cod, Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket.
Welcome, Englishmen!" It was a cold and windy day, yet this Indian, who introduced himself as Samoset, Sachem of a tribe in Monhegan Island, Maine, wore only moccasins and a fringed loin skin.
Not only were frescoes of rhinos, horses and lions over 30,000 years old found in a cave in the Ardeche on Dec.
Although theya€™re probably right, ita€™s worth noting that these same specialists used similar criteria to ascribe the animals of Chauvet to the same period - until carbon 14 results pushed their age back over 10,000 years, shattering the notion that prehistoric art had evolved linearly, like technologies.
In France, the Ministry of Culture placed its new treasure under the most draconian protection, despite the fact that the country already has the lion's share of Paleolithic art. Standing right in front of some of the most spectacular engravings, the Secretary of State for Culture dismissed them as being nothing more than a€?childrena€™s doodlesa€? a€“ whereupon the students from Foz CA?aa€™s high school turned the official into a laughing-stock by presenting him with a schist slab covered with their own scribblings4. It's now or never, the author of the following article decided in April 1995, as he set out to evaluate the engravings, find out the truth, and propose solutions.
My 13-year old son and I had flown to Porto in Portugal and driven far up the Douro valley into the northeastern mountains, prepared to maneuver around obstructions whether by negotiation or hiking through the back door. Still, here was our first encounter with the powers that be, so I took this opportunity to probe, and get a first step up the hierarchical ladder.
So I explained how Sebastian and I had come so far to see the Paleolithic glories that Portugal would be displaying with pride, spoke of credentials, and placed us (and our pen) in his hands. Still, we had our bearings, and drove off into the late afternoon to penetrate the heart of the forbidden zone. We were getting closer, very close now, and could spy loops of a trail among the folds of a distant ridge. And here too was the arena where one of the greatest feuds between discoverers and custodians of the past had exploded since the conflict between Othniel Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope over the fossils of extinct giants in Sioux territory during Custer's battles. With swifts swirling in up-drafts around our heads, we scrambled and picked our way among sheer precipices and ledges.
Its tight horseshoe of cliffs and rubble made the perfect hiding place for our car and tent from the gray guards roaming the surrounding crests with binoculars. Sebastian snuggled tighter into his sleeping bag, so I set out to reconnoiter alone, systematically working quadrants and contours between our quarry at Fariseu and Piscos brook. Somewhere among the jumble of a thousand rock faces would be an ancient image - perhaps masked by lichen or so faint one had to trace its parts before seeing it whole.
The numbed waters suddenly spangled upstream with glitter and so many flowery white tresses of water plants that the currents looked like sudsy pastures. After all the noisy demonstrations against the dam in Lisbon, how were they to know how much clout a nosy prehistorian might have?
Whatever was going to happen to him afterwards in the backwater of Portuguese archaeology had surely been inconsequential, since experience proved that nobody made much fuss over sites that were out-of-sight and out-of-mind - especially with archaeologists beholding to dam-builders and political appointees for access and records.
According to the insinuations, he could have continued his documentation right up to the headwaters as his masters worked their way upstream step by step. I sensed that this crowd felt their doctor deserved to be the one to tell fellow archaeologists that they might as well ask to visit Atlantis. Sure enough, there was the 12 year-old Pocinho dam sweeping the valley with a clean curtain.14 But the silos of this former construction site's cement plant were speckled with rust, the ranks of its offices and dormitories were deserted and almost every window was broken. Fortunately, Sebastian was becoming ever more engrossed in Verne's book, spelunking towards the planet's core, so I began to gravitate down halls for exercise and companionship, coming to the door of the room where the secretary was braiding the blind's cord while two laconic draftsmen labored over tracings of horses, ibexes and aurochs. It has been insinuated that Rebanda probably discovered Rock 1 at Canada do Inferno as early as November 1991.18 In Dec.
So, quixotically, he had proposed building a dry-dock around the outcropping, and, failing that, underwater exploration.
If so, the power utility may have known of incredibly rich sites years before the first blueprint for the new dam! Clottes was the worlda€™s reigning prehistorian a€“ the man who had risen to the pinnacle of the French archaeological establishment and held the only keys to the holy grail of art caves - the unbelievably strong and ancient Grotte Chauvet.
After inspecting the 15% of the art that remained above water at the site in the rising dama€™s shadow, because the EDP had hardly felt it necessary to lower the water for the visit of the foreigner sent by the now antagonistic IPPAR, Clottes stepped before a highly polarized press corps.
The dam-builders and their government backers felt vindicated while much of Portuguese public was crestfallen or furious. The dam had become a poisonous political issue in a national election with the President and his fellow Socialists attacking the center-right Prime Minister for its willingness to sacrifice both the nationa€™s patrimony and vineyards to a flaky building scheme. As if the owners of villas built around the new lake would really allow it to be drained 100 meters to its bottom - where almost all of the known panels would soon be drowned a€“ once every decade! Suddenly, the Portuguese public felt that the dam-builders were not only destroying the nationa€™s most ancient claim to world grandeur and civilization, but that they were in league with a man who would never have been so cavalier with Paleolithic masterpieces in his own country! When I later asked Portuguese archaeologists if they were going to attend an up-coming conference organized by Clottes, they recoiled.
First, because Clottesa€™ retinue of hosts, diplomats and reporters was rushing him and putting him in a bind a€“ even if his stature, pride, and role as UNESCOa€™s expert on rock art had led him into it. They even echoed his faith in getting dam operators to regularly empty the vast lake a€“ despite the glaring evidence of the EDPa€™s behavior at CA?a itself. No sooner had Clottes triggered a public outcry, than he began to explain away his tepid defense of the CA?aa€™s importance by saying that he had not been shown enough art to form a true idea of the valleya€™s richness.35 But the truth is, he was shown Rebandaa€™s trove of drawings from submerged sections and sites upstream36 and could have been more demanding. After all it was a lot of money, the government was inflexible, the controversy had become a campaign issue a€“ which meant that his advice would seem like foreign meddling - and the elections were still far off. When, in fact, the long-term rights for the cave in France would belong to its Ministry of Culture a€“ which was already attacking its discoverer, Chauvet, for the pittance hea€™d received for his pictures. But I could hardly hold my tongue: why on earth had he invited people from this caste of academics back into his life - and the valley - when at least one of them had apparently abused him?
The picture was compelling: SimAµes and her husband angelically insisting that the world must be told, while the hireling screamed demonically over the fire, accusing university archaeologists of trying to hog the credit yet again. If Rebanda had known SimAµes and Jaffe were going to paint him into a corner, wouldn't he have raced for the exit?
Both Rebanda and SimAµes de Abreu could have been traitors and saviors at once, and as long as I was with this archaeologist, I felt bound to encourage the savior in him. It must have seemed like an insult to him after all his efforts, so with an anarchic gesture, he announced, what the hell, he'd photocopy their fax when it came, so we could enter a second. Huge black derricks hulked atop the dam beside a row of gate-lifting pistons that looked like Big Berthas.
We bagged the warning or omen, caught and released a giant water beetle - the kind that injects deliquescing enzymes into living frogs, then sucks out their juice - and worked our way along what was actually the upper tier of a disappearing cliff. When art panels are located in the CA?aa€™s side valleys, they are apparently concentrated on northern slopes.


I was a willing guide as we skewered corn kernels on hooks, lashed lines around a log and threw the lethal leashes into the dark. They were a hundred yards apart, making perpetual rounds as they kept time clocks happy by cranking them every few paces with keys chained to the fence. It was probably his first job after military service, but he was intelligent enough to realize that hea€™d been hired as a pawn in a vast conspiracy to keep Portugal's greatest cultural wonders out of sight and out of mind, till they could be obliterated.
One, because any plan to remove the friezes not only meant assigning a value to them, but keeping the controversy alive. The mountainous dirt road forked, meandered and even skirted an imposing castle,51 but several classes of children were making the long dusty pilgrimage on foot while carloads of adults in their Sunday best made the excursion to see the only engravings to have escaped the censors - either because the site at Penascosa was so far from Lima Montiero's spyglass or because the valley was gentler here and had always been farmed. I hadn't passed the first olive tree when I happened upon a well-knapped hand-axe, and then another!
On-line commentary entitled a€?Some corrections about the CA?a petroglyphsa€? in TRACCE no. While Chauveta€™s name was given to the cave itself, the names of his co-discoverers were given to two of its large chambers.
Mila SimAµes de Abreu and Ludwig Jaffe were the founders of the APAAR (AssociaA§ao Portuguesa de Arte e Arqueologia Rupestre), which has been a member of IFRAO (International Federation of Rock Art Organisations) since Sept.
In an on-line commentary, Jaffe denounced what he perceived as a continuation of the scandal under new management: a€?In December 1994 IPPAR passed the responsibility for the rock art in the Coa valley to Mario Varela Gomes and Antonio Martinho Baptista. Their critics often subscribe to the doctrine that modern ethnographic evidence cannot be used to interpret ancient cultures.
Although Bednarik was one of the earliest crusaders for CA?a - calling for the EDP to stop building the dam in Nov.
The leftist press and Portuguese archaeological milieu reacted with just as much reflection, ignoring both Bednarika€™s qualifiers and his pioneering role in organizing the world campaign to fight for the whole valleya€™s salvation (see Dossier CA?a p. Of the 66 contributions written by individuals, not one is by Nelson Rebanda, whose ghost a€“ to anyone interested in intellectual property a€“ haunts every line.
After the CA?a scandal served its purpose as an electoral issue that helped the Socialists to win power, the new government kept its campaign promise by protecting the CA?a Valley but used the goodwill engendered by the decision to blunt criticism while flooding other huge assemblages of rock art. 3; Catherine Vincent, writing in Le Monde on March 11, 1995, goes into much more detail about one particular vineyard, Ervamoira, that would have been lost, along with its exceptional Port wine.
The first was to prove that the engravings were not Paleolithic a€“ an effort that entrapped researchers who wanted to apply experimental direct-dating techniques.
Our goal was to see the country in no big hurry and hopefully, meet some interesting people along the way.
No features yet on him but, if you'd like to see the big salmon he caught in Alaska, go here. Join in the conversation by commenting on posts or sending me a email at margot.peck at gmail dot com.
I love the smell of bread baking, homemade soup on the back burner, and a fruit pie cooling by the window. I find that if I have something I cana€™t quite figure out, if I sit down for a bit and focus on my knitting, the other side of my brain seems to come up with a solution. We loved camping so much that we figured out a way to pack all our camping gear, tent, sleeping bags, cooking utensils and so forth in a duffle bag.
Somehow it wasna€™t quite so easy to get down on the ground and get into that sleeping bag. We didna€™t think anyone could call themselves real campers unless they were down on the cold ground. This was like a separate state, with its own airplanes, its own factories, and its thousands of secrets. Following are our questions she used as a guide for the interview, with Buell's answers and Janice's comments. I, (Janice), remember Grandma Elliott telling me that he would rather fish than go to school. Other than fishing, he liked and had ducks which happily played in a small stream near the house, both of which still exist today. Pearl (his sister) Hill was going to Knoxville on a buying trip for her dry goods store and Dad went along for the ride. At that time, K-25 was the largest steam electric-plant building in the world under one roof. He had no idea as to the extent of the knowledge of other employees because nobody talked about what they were doing. I found a humongous trash pile back between the two stores where I found lots of bottle caps and other beauties and a perfectly good sardine can complete with key. Whoever they were, they were so broke and destitute when they arrived that they had to put up a tent or shanty to live in. He told me I could go back with him and I dreamed and planned on the trip as long as he stayed. He lied about his age and said he was 18 in order to get a job at an oil refinery in Ventura. I believe he and Minnie were living on Warren Street in Oildale when Janice was born and we were living across the street from the Poteete's on McCord. When he worked for an oil company while living in Taft, he sometimes pulled a small trailer out in the wilds there where he could camp and hunt certain birds, and that's where he saw the rock.
Those rocks happen to be on a large ranch belonging to friends of our neighbors, and some old photos of that place were brought out by the neighbors showing some holes or caves that a person could easily walk into. Just maybe a DOLOP huntsman will stumble on to it someday, or else Buell is teasing everybody this time!
James Buell Elliott, age 99, of Blairsville, GA passed away Saturday, December 18, 2004 in Blairsville. 1787 a€“ Thomas Buck applied for 400 acres including an improvement (house or barn) on the south side of Raystown Branch of the Juniata River on both sides of Brush Creek, adjoining Alisona€™s Survey, in Providence. 1789 a€“ Thomas Buck applied for 100 acres on the southeast side of Warrior Ridge, adjoining a survey of James Hunter on the north and by a survey of Barnard Dougherty esq. And since the times have got so hard in the West I am glad I did not go, but I will come and see you all yet if all goes right but I can't say when.
John Buck told me I could write a piece in his letter and I am very thankful to write with him as we have not your address.
I would have answered before now but was still thinking of being closer to you before this time but am about fixing to move back again to the old home place in Pennsylvania. I have had work all winter in a wholesale house where it is heated with gas, as warm as wood care. It was so incredible that I tried to write about it, because it was the perfect topic for an essay. My room was a dorm room about seven-feet square, and I shared a bath with several men and women in similar rooms.
I welcomed their company and the aloneness that I felt seemed to lift with the sound and movements of our Moon Dance. Life was hidden in the shadows and difficult to see, but it had completely surrounded me as I danced.
It is a dark starless night, the rain slashes against the window, the winds howl with 50 miles an hour gusts. It is morning, a light rain continues, the winds are not as strong and yet the bamboo grove sways and sweeps the ground. The week continued to have some misadventures and some spectacular adventures and the courageous and joyous parts of me lived them fully.
So as this year ends, the compassionate patience I feel for myself fills my heart and it is soft with love; a love that has always been close at hand and seemingly just out of my reach. The voters are old friends, new friends, community workers, casual acquaintances, and families coming together to express their preferences through voting. As the voting lines formed for this election, we stood together only as neighborsa€”rich and not so rich, young and not so young, extraverted and not so extraverted, highly educated and not so highly educated, multi-raced, blue voters and red votersa€”without malice or ill intent. She was adorable in her winter hat pulled down over her ears; it brought attention to her laughing eyes. He looked concerned and said to me, My father-in-law is out in my truck; he is 85 and hea€™s had a medical procedure today and wea€™ve been with the doctors.
It was an unforgettable moment; we hugged and thanked each other for making it possible for Zach to vote. Since saying a€?yesa€? is the first rule of improv, the message didna€™t seem new at first. The need for control is strong so supporting someone elsea€™s ideas or interests each moment seems difficult at times.
This one has certainly changed the content of my last two days, and the intention to expand the experiment is exciting and feels like a spiritual loving act. As I sat on my deck looking out over the city, the leaves of fall were turning the world into bright hues of red, orange, and brown. I felt reluctant, but I had had some physical limitations during the last year that had been difficult to accept and meditation had really supported my healing. Mostly it happens when a small activity of the day seems more difficult than I judge it should be.
Without being sure of outcomes or things unseen, this is my opportunity to act without attachment and with the joy of what I will learn from the experiences my actions create.
It was a time of change from working long hours to going inward to discover what was left to uncover within me. The withdrawal I needed and the healing it has brought to me has completed this phase of my life. The need for expansion comes from an internal voice that says explore, experiment, and do not become complacent. When the time and move is right, something within my spirit will say, a€?Get crackin.a€? The patience to wait for that insight has come as a part of the growth Ia€™ve found in this small blue house on top of a hill surrounded by mountains. He agreed to run away for a day to escape the heat and discomfort brought on by a loss of electrical power in our homes even though his electricity had returned. This evening he invites me to light a candle, to close my eyes, to reopen my eyes, and to see each thing before me. I stood in wonder at this amazing child so full of life and uninhibited yearning to have a good time and accomplish what he set out to do.
He wanted to have the biggest paper route and he wanted to make the most sales at his part-time job. Academics didna€™t seem to be his focus, but he seemed to relish his relationships and became the life of the party and the favorite student to his teachers. Now his spirit of aliveness lives in me and the memory of his voice reminds me that Life in this physical realm is short and that what we create here lives forever within those we have truly touched. Today in the quietness that is The Wintergreen Nature Foundation on some Wednesday mornings, my clarity about what I was to learn came. His voice stills my mind, brings me to the present, and opens my heart to listen not to the words but to the message his words point too. What Ia€™ve noticed is that they look more closely, eat more slowly, move more deliberately, and listen intently to others.
A young blind childa€™s face radiates the sun in his eyes as he turns his face up to feel the warmth. So today, Ia€™m altering my thoughts about limitations and seeing opportunities everywhere.
I am sometimes impatient, but Ia€™m learning to accommodate his need for being on my right side to hear more clearly.
Then he issued an invitation to sit in silence with eyes closed and contemplate these questions.
We are here together at this time, in this place, and in this specific body to understand that the essence of all Life exists in each of us humans and in all living matter.
If we examined each Life, it would not be what happens to us that would be different for pain and joy comes to everyone; it would be how we respond to what happens to us that has created our unique experience of our individual Life. Another woman loses a child and creates a charity in its name and supports the lives of many children. To live well is to choose to grow into what we are most capable of being and be grateful for the uniqueness of the Life. I am a personality in a physical body with the power of logic and thought as is everyone else. Two years ago it was refurbished with new tires, new horns on the handlebars, and had been given a good checkup so it could be used for riding with my new bike group. Without hesitation, I offered the unused bike in the garage, and I felt my heart open to the possibility that the bike would finally be used. Perhaps you awaken from a long nighta€™s sleep and have the thought that you are tired; but are you really tired or just not quite alert as yet? They were planted by the property owner in the early 1900s and seem to be a symbol of welcome outside the front door of an ancient majestic medieval stone castle. To quote Wikipedia: a€¦the Sun is at one of two opposite points on the celestial sphere where the celestial equator and ecliptic intersect. Who could argue that day and night have distinct powers to aid in the Life upon planet Earth? In my youth the expression, a€?all men are created equal,a€? stirred many thoughts of disbelief in my mind: Does that include women, does that mean skill level, does that mean talent, does that mean appearance, does that meana€¦on and on? It is a deeper understanding that the Universal energy dynamic of which we are a part is without judgment. If there is a value judgment placed by me on what I see, it is sure to mean that I do not see myself as equala€”it could be a feeling of doing better or of a feeling of doing less, of being stronger or of being weaker, in control or not in control.
To honor what each contributes with no value judgment added supports my intention to appreciate all that a€?isa€? because it a€?is.a€? If Ia€™m walking on eggshells, stomping heavily through a room, or withdrawing my love in a reaction to another to gain acceptance or power, it will be my challenge to ask why I do not feel equal in this moment without demanding an immediate answer. It is summer and the calls to rescue injured or troubled animals and people come in quite often. The caller stated that hawks were circling and it wouldna€™t be long before the rabbit could not be saved. What happens are visions of past experiences, people, and places that are pictures in the minda€™s album.
They had added gardens, doors, patios, waterfalls, fireplace, and fisha€”just to mention a few of their creations. It is challenging to accurately describe a sacred moment and the power it contains, so Ia€™ll start slowly from the beginning. I can feel within me the need to know who is the night raider and how can I change what is happening in order to have my world be as I choose it to be. For some reason, I have doubt about whether that person is capable of caring about me just as I am in this moment. The birds are chirping in the trees, the squirrels are trying to get into the bird feeders, the breeze is moving the leaves, the raindrops are collecting on the deck, and the mountains stand observing it all. There is no thinking only comfort and presence; it is as if I am one with my feelings and it feels like what I believe peace to be. Ia€™ve felt that my body is trying to tell me something so each morning Ia€™ve asked the question: a€?What do I need to know that I do not want to know?a€? Without requiring an answer, Ia€™ve continued to just be open to learning. As I began, I felt I was reading it for the friend to support him in his relationship with someone he loves; but as I began to read, I knew the booka€™s message would bring me the understanding of what I needed to know that I was resisting unconsciously. My intention is to have compassion for the part of me that feels I need all the answers to lifea€™s questions now. I dona€™t know what it is I am not aware of in this moment, but I am fully aware that I am enjoying the quietness of it. The elevator door opened and a middle-aged woman entered pushing a teenage boy in a wheelchair. He wasna€™t concerned that it was crowded or that too many obstacles were in the way of what he wanted. We have degenerated much in stature, intellect, and vitality since Adam, but all of this will be restored (Acts 3:20, 21). And the Scriptures also teach that people in God's new kingdom will know each other, just as people recognize each other on the earth today. This same Jesus of flesh and bones ascended to His Father and will come again to the earth. A A I have decided to accept Jesus' offer to live with Him forever in His heavenly kingdom. The Bible says in Revelation 21:12 that the new Jerusalem--the holy city of God--has 12 gates, and at the gates are 12 angels.
Many statisticians believe that if all the people who have ever lived were saved, there would be plenty of room for them in the city.
There the Bible tells of wicked king Herod slaying all the male babies in Bethlehem who were two years old or younger. Although the holy city is now in God's dwelling place, He is going to move it to this earth.
She obtained her copy of Zerviah Newcomb's Chronical from Zerviah's original diary, in the hands of Josiah 3rd himself. 18th1, but Europea€™s biggest open-air gallery of Paleolithic animals was reported just a month earlier in the CA?a Valley of northeastern Portugal2. Regardless of how old the CA?aa€™s art turns out to be, it is unique in its richness above ground and astonishing in its illustrations of movement - with animals tossing their heads with the same stop-action dynamism found at Chauvet and only millennia later in photography and Futurist painting. The Chauvet Cavea€™s prehistoric bestiary was proudly splashed across magazines around the world. Soon, the guard turned into a regular lad, wrote down the chief engineer's name and pointed beyond the ramp-laced moonscape - into the wilderness. In this walled garden, the conflicting passions of archaeologists had exploded around a campfire, set a president and prime minister against each other, and cowed the emissaries of UNESCO.
Lizards skidded into fissures, a rusty blade wedged in a nook beside a sliver of cliff garden spoke of an emigrant who had never returned, but the walls seemed barren. Over and over again, the scene seemed set, the rock stretched, but its lines were just fractals.
I yanked myself up to a platform less than a step wide and a ten-foot long cow - an auroch!
By holding the animal's form and movement vividly in mind, the maker had poured himself into its body and experienced a power beyond abstraction, beyond even tool-making, to thrill to the new power of passing through the looking-glass into another being.
A stream, running pure as its springs over crisp cresses between alternating bull rushes and crags, almost made it to the river unaltered, but met it just below the threshold and sank into an estuary. We had arrived at Pandemonium and would try to insinuate ourselves into an audience with the Chief Engineer himself. Only one was so spotless and redolent of perks, though, with its rolled lawn incongruous in the desert, that we knew right where to head among forking roads. I was hardly surprised when these well-fed pros passed the buck to the only gaunt and partially toothless fellow traveler among them. So they decided to play it safe by dumping me on their pet nemesis, the organizationa€™s own archaeological a€?hirelinga€?, Dr. He could have added to his hoard of exclusive photos and measurements, imposed interpretations, and generally lorded it over his peers - for who could have naysayed him with his treasures locked a hundred meters deep in so many great watery safes?10 And to think that all the dam-builders' pet archaeologist and his accommodating superiors at the Portuguese Institute for Architectural and Archaeological Heritage (IPPAR)11 in Lisbon - to whom Rebanda had reported his discoveries at least twice12 - had had to do to pull off this economically patriotic (not to say mutually beneficial) stunt was keep their mouths shut! After having suffered at the hands of his mentor, Professor Jorge, why had Rebanda put himself at the mercy of two similar academics and representatives of an international body to boot - Mila SimAµes de Abreu and her archaeologist husband, Ludwig Jaffe, who represented the International Federation of Rock Art Organizations (IFRAO)? At least such nuisances would keep him from getting up to more mischief by turning up new discoveries. But, finally, a secretary answered my summons and let me into a vestibule empty except for a display of postcard-sized photographs of some of the engravings, and a cartoon caricaturing the scandal - which I reckoned had been knowingly posted to co-opt criticism. I couldn't quite make out the man's features through the crack, but it was obvious he was gushing recriminations - and no wonder: the entire archaeological profession had ganged up on the pariah. We all knew I had crossed a threshold, but, after all, I had paid my dues, and in any case, I padded off to the foyer again. Yet they'd prattled to the press that they had found the art a year ago, and then more like two years ago, and now, word had it, a€?onlya€? three years ago25 - when it was always somehow too late to stop the process leading up to construction, which had only started in September a€™94.26 The gall! Instantly, I whipped out paper and scribbled the fastest copy of the main map that my hand could draw. After SimAµes de Abreu and Jaffe had unleashed the scandal by revealing the conspiracy to flood Europea€™s richest assemblage of open-air Paleolithic art, the IPPAR and Portuguese Ministry of Culture had scrambled to get their own expert witness a€“ and, in a further twist, had asked UNESCO to recommend an expert to challenge the power companya€™s growing efforts to prove the art wasna€™t Paleolithic but recent27 a€“ in which case, the EDP seemed to think that the public would drop the subject as being the relatively recent work of peasants drawing their cows. For all their heightened sensitivity to having CA?aa€™s fate evaluated by a foreigner, the Portuguese press viewed Clottes as a referee and expected a verdict. Then, as fate would have it, Clottes was back in the headlines within the week, announcing drastic measures to protect Francea€™s new crown jewel, Chauvet.
And as if anyone could even find new art during the two weeks a lake might be emptied (every hundred years) while everything was coated with algae and grime! Opposition editorialists had a field day with Clottesa€™ apparent hypocrisy and dismissiveness towards Portugal - and demonstrators flooded the streets. Two, because people are often driven to produce their greatest work and worst mistakes by similar drives. Rebanda was even fooling himself on this score, I thought - after all, the Foz CA?a photographs would probably end up belonging to Portugala€™s own ministry or even the EDP.
Scientists - like lawyers - ply an adversarial trade, but the chance to put Portugal into the archaeological heavens a€“ and to boost their own reputations with it - had given many researchers more ulterior motives than usual. Personally, I couldn't see anybody bedding down for the night and traipsing out the next morning with people who had announced that they were going to expose him. In essence, my heart a€“ if not my mind - had taken his side for the moment; he was the underdog, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I was concerned that he might even attempt suicide. If I didn't mind coming back at 9 the next morning, he apologized, the approval should be there. But basically the dam was a streamlined machine without much need for local intervention or maintenance. My unequivocal certification of their global importance only made him uneasier, as he didn't know whether to feel flattered or upset. We peered into a dovecot, a squat white tower lined inside with empty compartments like a city after a plague.
Suddenly, a deeply hammered auroch on the rock stood out boldly as a road sign - alerting us to an entire herd. The geology, erosion, & silica skins protecting engravings all seem similar on both slopes, so I theorize that this positioning is not simply a taphonomic illusion created by the disappearance of engravings on the southern slopes. I wasn't expecting anything when I ambled down at dawn, but there it was: a big mound under the bank! From what I could tell, even his draftsmen had decided to take the day off 49, once they realized the coast was clear. By God, I thought, if the flooders don't save them, I hope the townspeople storm the valley!
If the guards hadn't been under strict orders not to sell admissions, they'd have made a killing; but then any financial association with the art is anathema to the dammers: the next thing they knew, they'd have a revolt on their hands! And like the first guard, when he realized that I had somehow gotten authorization despite my evident opposition to the reservoir, he let out his pent-up indignation - for we were insiders. As we passed the threshold between the deadened depths and virgin current with its billowing water-foliage, we had to skirt and climb over a sheer wall blocking the side-valleya€™s entrance. The intertwined couple, spanning the length of a single real horse, was still necking in Eden after twenty millennia. Rock Art and the CA?a Valley Archaeological Park: A case study in the preservation of Portugal's prehistoric parietal heritage. Although it is true that one must be extremely circumspect about doing so, such evidence often opens new perspectives that have more in common with the subsistence systems of ancient cultures than does our own, and the two authors showed considerable originality and courage in exploring it. 1994 - most Portuguese archaeologists with access to the CA?a sites now shun him as thoroughly as they do Clottes and Rebanda.
539, for a resolution, written in defense of CA?a, by Bednarik, in a book filled with vitriole against him).
These retractions confirmed that some of ZilhA?oa€™s criticisms of the direct dating attempts were well founded, but dona€™t necessarily reflect on other matters raised in his disputes with Bednarik and Jaffe.
In the English sections, Jorge generously credits numerous associates and generations of Portuguese prehistorians by full name, while studiously avoiding any mention of Rebanda except where it is unavoidable, and then only with his last name between brackets. The second was to make casts of panels for a museum a€“ which may have damaged some panels. Ia€™m indulging myself in the pursuits I love: reading, travel, cooking, knitting, observing and visiting people, movies and music, playing games and so on. My daughter, Candice, lives in Oregon with her husband, Mark, and our two beautiful and brilliant granddaughters who we call Q and Lou. The first thing I did was paint it white and sew red and white checked curtains for the window. Most people pinch up their face and squint their eyes as if their brain cana€™t quite compartmentalize what theya€™ve just heard. We were flying home from a trip in California and it was over the airport at a layover in Phoenix.
Buell was a well-loved first cousin of Lowery's & Opla's kids, back in the Taft and early-Bakersfield days. From its inception in 1942 to its conclusion in 1946, one of the greatest technological achievements known to man took place, both in Los Alamos and Oak Ridge, requiring the manpower of thousands and thousands of people. Following Janice's notes, are anecdotes by Buell's brother, Dale Elliott, and by Buell's nephew, Richard Purvis. Year around he drove two mules and a wagon to Culberson, North Carolina every other week because that was the nearest railhead for selling and getting supplies for his Dad's store and for any other items they needed.
He went into the AEC (Atomic Energy Commission) employment office in Knoxville and turned in an application. He said something about starting with methyl chloride and then going on to ammonia before working with freon.
The day finally came and he started for Culberson on foot with his 25 cents to look for the circus. They only had $10 and were able to buy a milk cow for $9 and they bought a rope with the remaining $1 to tie the cow and lead her around to graze.
Mom was always aggravated by the age mixup because it made her seem two years older than she was since he was her younger brother. We lived in Georgia until 1935 and I know that Buell lived in Georgia during that period because I remember him visiting us and teasing me.
Minnie was very sick after Janice's birth and she came to stay with us for about a month so that mom could take care of her and the baby while Buell worked. Another clear memory was the day that Buell motorcycled from Bakersfield to their house in Taft.
Tac and Buell would always give her five cents if she would let them lift her by her hair - - which she thought was worth it! Nothing was free standing but we thought these might be the same body of rocks that he had visited.
The reason is that the man that was to buy my farm, backed out and I had made sale on the 27th day of March and sold everything to come and then after that man backed out I was to sell to another man and his wife died just two days before the time was for us to start and that knocked me all wrong all that I had and the balance of the company before I could rent again.
My wife has been sick nearly ever since we have been in Ohio and is not sadis ficte [sic satisfied] to go any farther west and she now has the agure [ague] and two of my children has got it and I have concluded to take them where the Agure seldom comes any more, that is in Pennsylvania where they was born. The themometer was at one time 14 degrees below zero, that was perty cold, but they have had two feet of snow on the level back at our old home place this winter. Under each tree and beneath each bush, there seemed to be an aurora of light that painted a distorted picture of each bush upon the ground below. I turned to head back to the dorm, a little wet, a little cold, and covered with the glow of Moon Dancing with my Shadows. 50 mile an hour gusts of wind in Virginia would encourage me to hunker down for protection. The disappointment is strong and yet I can take a small step toward the bathroom and get dressed. As I compared the pictures of me as a child and me as a grown woman, I finally could see my own beauty and it made me laugh with joy. As the New Year begins, my heart is open and I look forward to the experiences I will create. As a poll worker, the day was long, warm inside, cold outside, enjoyable, inspiring, and at times emotional. He is immobile at the moment and concerned because he has never missed an election since he began to vote. Sometimes it is before an experience and during the experience the words start ringing in my ears. As we began to practice creating scenes, it was immediately clear that it was easier for me to say a€?yes, buta€? and it was equally clear that doing so blocked the scene from expanding.
Acceptance of a€?what isa€? can be challenging and this simple idea of energetically saying, a€?yes, anda€? has given me clarity about my own negative or judgmental views as Ia€™ve gone through my day. The experiment itself has supported me in living more fully in the present, which is, of course, the only place we can live fully. My heart seemed to stop breathing, my throat was tightly constricted, and the top of my head felt as if it would fly into the trees so great was the pressure.
His choices were courageous; his experiences were dramatic examples of how to live and not to live for those who watched his progress. It could be loading bikes on a rack, spilling milk in my new car, lateness of a friend, hot when I want it to be cool, or appreciation not shown. The deep longing for companionship thwarted by my fear of losing independence is simple but complex within my thoughts about what to allow and what not to allow into my world.
Ia€™ve been living at least for the past few day in a story of my own making about what others want me to do, how they want me to live, or what they need from me. Recently a friend was talking about his experiences and how excited he was about his hopes and dreams for the future; I recognized them as both different and similar to my own.
It has been amazing and comfortable and productive in a different way than accomplishing projects. Last night as I looked around during a concert on the mountain, I saw the same people I see almost daily. It isna€™t dissatisfaction with what is; its more a wonderment of what other experiences and growth are possible for me. There is a joyful feeling of contentment as the warm air circles close in and sweat runs down my back. Joy has not always come to me with ease, as my human need to protect myself and those I love is well practiced and vigilant at times. He talks about a concept in a book we are sharing and wonders if hea€™s got it right; if he has understood it.
He encourages me to ask myself how the things Ia€™m seeing are different and how they are the same and listen to my heart speak. It is orange and ita€™s light is a lacy hue; two triangles extending from ita€™s center one reaches toward me and the other away from me. What an awesome experience to see the love of a husband and a father reflected in the toothless grin of a new life. Memories of his birth and death have supported me in finding this place where I intend to live with compassion for others and myself and with a love of Life every day and every minute. I cannot change it, but I can surrender to a€?what isa€? in each moment in order to respond from the healthiest part of me rather than to fearfully react. This habit has triggered in me a new perspective about what I see as limitation and opportunity. Today that message is to consider every limitation as an opportunity and to be opened to what is most important to learn in each moment.
The woman in a wheel chair demonstrates patience as she waits to enter through a revolving door.
I now move slowly enough in the morning to watch a cardinal land on the bird-feeder, my glasses magnify the beauty of the gifts that fill my home, my aches encourage me to stretch and care for my body and to find the wisdom to rest when rest is needed. My nose will tell me of ita€™s fragrance, my touch will tell me of its softness, but only through my mothera€™s tone and voice will I know what that fragrance and softness belongs too.
As I carefully describe what Ia€™m seeing, my gift to this unseeing child supports me being present enough to fully see it myself; and this level of awareness is the childa€™s gift to me. As the child, as the mother, or as the cherry blossom, my purpose is simply to live my best life and to grow. The manifestation of that essential Life we have brought into being takes many physical forms; all different, all unique. All of these things have resulted in my becoming the a€?soul in a bodya€? that I see in my mirror this morning.
If in this Life, we do not become conscious of the power of the collective Life of the Universe, we will be given another chance.
To make that possible, I pulled it out, pumped up the tires, admired ita€™s beauty, and my heart felt lighter. As we remounted and rode on, the bike was a€?just another bikea€? racing to the song of the fall breeze.
Perhaps you look in the mirror and think that you are getting older and no longer beautiful; yes you are getting older, but aging has ita€™s own beauty.
The ability to bring awareness to the harsh, dramatic, judgmental, and repetitive sounds within our minds contains the freedom we think is not open to us. These points of intersection are called equinoctial points: classically, the vernal point and the autumnal point. So to carry the a€?Pointa€? into an individual Life, who could argue that pleasant (light) experiences are better or worse than difficult (dark) experiences since every experience has the potential for learning by the being that experiences it. Like the similar times of day and night in this season, we are connected by individual and collective purposes with an equal opportunity to live our best lives. As I was hearing the story, it occurred to me that we saved the rabbit or deprived the hawk of its meal. It is a beautiful spot and it was early evening as the light played its songs upon the angles of the rocks and crevices as we watched. Today if someone walks along the same path we took, there will be no hint of what occurred between the snake and the frog. Going back there did not necessarily appeal to me either since my relationship to my former husband and her Dad had become faded memories of love and pain. As often happens with this friend, the discussion turned to nature and bird songs in particular.
It was quickly replaced with a look of acceptance of what was now occurring as she described her coming treatment.
Ia€™m grateful for the awareness of this part of me that continues to need challenging if I am to be at peace with what is in this moment. How do I challenge the part of me that judges his actions and wants him to be different so that I can be happy?
That feels nurturing and I can feel my heart open as I consider the possibility that life is an illusion created by my thoughts, and I can choose which thoughts I will give my energy too. For others, I just say something like, a€?planning a quiet day.a€? That answer feels authentic and supportive of the way I want to live my life. For sure, I am an active person with a wide variety of interests, but sometimes I enjoy a€?Beinga€? in my home. Today I have set an intention to answer the question, what are you doing today, with authenticity no matter who is asking. As the morning unfolds, the feeling of hunger comes and without questioning it, I stretch, arise, and move to my robe.
Without thinking, there is a deep knowing that I am not a separate entity seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, and smelling this moment, but an integral part of it and without my energy and presence it would be different. She said that I was flexible in my hips and so compensated there for the lack of flexibility in the last vertebra of my back.
I begin to remember the times in my life when I have felt emotional pain and have chosen to override it with thinking. Also this week, Ia€™ve felt the need to remain quiet while reflecting with more stillness than is my normal pattern.
This morning I read Tollea€™s words I needed to hear: If you are not in the state of either acceptance, enjoyment, or enthusiasm, look closely and you will find that you are creating suffering for yourself and others. I will ask for guidance to accept what is happening in the moment without adding drama and fearful thoughts or intelligent explanations. I felt impatient with the loss of time and the people that swirled around in the garage seemingly in my way.
He seemed challenged both mentally and physically, and my reaction was to look away so that his mom would not feel I was staring at the young boy. He wasna€™t complaining internally, he wasna€™t judging others; he was without fear and was gazing in awe at the light. This freedom gives you a diversity of approaches to various topics to think about and discuss (to eat the meat and throw away the bones) to further your spiritual growth and walk in the faith.
Just wait until you grasp the amazing facts about this gigantic city that can travel through space.
People will no longer be burdened with the worries and the cares that drive them to distraction.
There will be no cigarette butts, tobacco juice, drunkards, taverns, alcoholic beverages, brothels, lewd pictures, or any other wickedness or impurity of any kind.
The righteous will be given bodies just like the body of Christ and will be real people with flesh and bones throughout eternity. The Old Testament foretold this tragic, cruel incident, and God told the mothers to stop crying because their children would one day be restored to them.
Sin and sinners will be destroyed with fire, and the earth will be made new and given to the righteous in all of its Edenic glory and beauty.
Satan well knows that when men and women fully understand the Bible truth regarding the home of the saved, his power over them is broken, because they will begin making plans to enter that kingdom.
While the paintings in the French cave, which became known as the Grotte Chauvet, often have engraved contours, the Portuguese menagerie may also have been painted, but, being outdoors, their pigments have usually weathered away.
As shadows welled from the valley, we turned from the scarps and trundled downwards into the cleavage, till the road turned into a path to the water through a profusion of poppies. Finally, I discerned a flock ambling down through dry brush, then a shirt flashed a white dot, and we converged within hailing distance on opposite banks. Even ideal panels on either side of a fig tree bulging titanically from a small cave were barren. A stand of poplar trees crackled like Chinese New Year with small birds, abundant as leaves.
It was a good thing we had his name, Lima Monteiro, because the Securitas guard on this side meant business.
Our compact car slid in among Mercedes and I stepped into glare, drawing cool stares from fleshy faces.
My interlocutor explained that the Chief Engineer was powerless to help me, so he couldn't be bothered to give me an audience. Of course, the stories went, the honorable witnesses had refused to become accomplices and had immediately denounced the whole plot a€“ writing open letters to the Portuguese President, Vice President and Director of IPPAR - with carbon copies for the press.13 If only his employers had known that Rebanda was so naive!
She announced that it was no use disturbing the doctor, who I could see through a jarred door talking to someone over the phone with peevish vehemence. Finally, I suggested that she didn't need to keep me company while I waited for the good doctor to get off the phone. That's strange, I thought as I wandered off again, mulling over a mental photograph of the site distribution. And here were others, even closer to the construction site, at "RA?go de Vide", which had been submerged by the same old dam! Still, she caught me; whereupon I went on elaborating it, asking questions, and then padded back to the foyer again to continue my vigil. After all, the archaeologists and reporters had allowed the Tagus petrogylphs to be drowned with hardly a whimper.
Not only did the contrast with his actions in Portugal now smack of a double standard, but there was a piquant irony. With stakes this high, both parties unleashed their opinion-making machines, making hash of Clottesa€™ carefully weighed words as quickly as theya€™d vilified Rebanda. Clottesa€™ words may have been earnest, but with stakes this high and politicized they were about as reasonable as Pontius Pilatea€™s attempts to keep the peace.
I prefer to think the latter, and that his only mistake was thinking that people on both sides were lucid and reflective enough to interpret his verdict correctly. In Rebanda's place, I'd have calmed down and let the traitors fall to sleep, but then I'd have snuck away - trekking fast through the dark, picking myself up when I fell, but getting out - bloody knees and all - and calling that alarm first!
Furthermore, I had no doubt - whatever pacts he'd struck - that he would make up for them if only approached constructively.
After we'd faxed it, I was sorry to see him having to still recall and refax, as he nudged the request repeatedly through the unyielding bureaucracy.
Sebastian and I scrambled and tacked among the carious cliffs, till there was nothing left but rock overhanging the water itself.
But a huge horse, leaning over the depths, was both more graceful and cryptic, for someone had wedged a rusty horseshoe into a crack between its hooves. No sooner had I chipped the thin device and steadily shoved each curve straight, than the hook slipped smoothly free. Only Rebanda's long-suffering secretary had to keep her post and occupied herself by taking up the relay of calling and faxing.
These red and gray devices were not only customized to match the guards' uniforms, but showed off the latest in high-tech materials and molding. As we wound our way down towards the reservoir among towering red cliffs, he took quiet pride in pointing out the hidden elements of scattered engravings. But then Piscos Brook ran between trees, pastures and cane-groves, with cliffs full of shelters and stone panels at each bend. La Pintura, The Official Newsletter of the American Rock Art Research Association (Member of IFRAO) Volume 21, Number 3, Winter. In the same book, which Jorge compiled to record the campaign he was spear-heading to save CA?a a€“ a laudatory effort, if there ever was one, that made Jorge synonymous with yet another of Rebandaa€™s finds - Bednarik is repeatedly dismissed as a a€?charlatana€? (pp.
Jaffe accused the trio, who had taken over responsibility for the archaeological resources of the valley, of endangering art panels and refusing to allow qualified foreign researchers or even Dr. Whatever the case may be, the problem of rock art conservation is still as far from resolution in Portugal as it is in most other places in the world. My husband and I sold our house, put stuff in storage, bought an RV, and set off to travel North America. As I went off to college and into adulthood a library card has always been a prized possession.A  Ia€™ve lived in lots of places in my life and can count 12 different libraries where I was an avid patron.
Herea€™s something else the non-knitter may find it hard to believe: I honestly think I listen better when Ia€™m knitting. Wea€™d been talking about camping and our retirement and the possibility of getting a pop-up tent camper. He lives with his daughter Janice and her husband Norm Bennett in the town of Hiawassee, Georgia. Buell, who oversaw the work of some 450 people, has told us in the following section, a little of what it was like to work in his particular arena. I guess his application impressed them enough so that he was immediately driven to Oak Ridge for an interview. Finally, we moved to Tullahoma, TN in 1955 where he worked for Arnold Engineering Development Center on the Arnold Air Force Base. His main meal is in the middle of the day (way too early for us again!) which I prepare using the crock pot most of the time.
The wagon was loaded with egg crates, sacks of grain, cow hides, and other produce for a country store. He caught up with the circus about a mile out of town all lined up ready to march into town. They were loading their baggage into a wagon which was waiting between our house and the spring.
Buck a visit now, so must bring these few lines to a close by asking you to please write soon as this reaches you. My feet picked up speed, my fear lessened, and I began to explore the light that broke the shadows.
The lake lay in stillness and hovering above it was a wall of mist, kind of stringy, but not transparent; and above all that, hung the moon spreading its final visible glow before dawn arrived with the sunrise. Outside the window, the lily pond beyond the deck is beautiful, the deck is wet and shiny, and the door slightly open lets in a pure and sweet freshness. I can take a small step toward my car and drive the dirt road to the main road; and if the wind is too strong, I can return to this rugged North shore bamboo farm and make the best of it. As I gazed at the photo of the beautiful child holding the doll, I remembered that feeling of love; my heart was soft and full. The beauty had nothing to do with the physical features displayed in the photos; it was the radiance that traveled from my heart through my eyes and took in the world around them. Let me tell you why inspiring and emotional experiences were my companions on this day in small-town America.
We kissed each other, hugged each other, waved to each other, talked with each other, supported each other, and laughed and yes cried with each other. I focused on these positives as we supported him in whatever healing was possible, and eventually, supported him as his alcohol-damaged body died. As she led us in meditation, I felt the deep pain of powerlessness again, and again I invited it to get as big as it could. When Ia€™m in that centered place what happens outside me is like a movie and I can watch my personality, the actor, think and plan and wish without attachment. It is all a a€?Storya€? from the part of me that loves stories and the justification they give for me to be less than open and less than loving.
As we parted, I heard myself say to him, looks like youa€™re on it and Ia€™m just standing beside it.
It has been exciting, it has been challenging, it has been peaceful, it has been stimulating; and mostly, it has been healing. Ia€™ve come to look forward to their presence and the feeling of security and safety they trigger within me. Change for many is difficult, but for me the newness of change is invigorating and stimulating. Expansion now calls and the excitement of just what that will entail lifts my energy and makes me want to sing. In my view as I watch the water run over the rocks, he stands with his back to me looking into the creek. His open heart is almost always constant even when he is confused or slightly annoyed with his surrounding world.
As we danced I asked him, a€?What was the best thing about today?a€? And, without waiting for his answer, I laughed and said, a€?Everything.a€? He laughed out loud with complete delight and agreed. I listen to his expressed doubt and somewhat confused words, and have a knowing that he understands it perfectly. We are many flames from the same candle, and yet, just one light; apart we are a flicker but together we make a luminous Life. The memory fills my heart and I see a vision of him in a jaunty Easter hat and sports jacket toddling up the small hill in front of my house; two steps forward and one step back and finally falling and rolling to the bottom only to rise again and begin again with laughter and determination.
In those magical days, he marveled at the beauties of the life of which he found himself a part be they giant mountains, rock music, or the smallest of butterflies. In time he began to drink alcohol to lessen the pain of the world not always being as he wanted.


It is my full responsibility to live with presence and courage and to grow into the person I am called to be.
This act of responsible choice and the intent behind it becomes the vehicle of my creation and the consequence it brings.
It has been a life-long habit to observe closely human behavior and sometimes to judge or to give value to what I see; that is changing. They are aware that the opportunity to connect must be given their full attention and they have learned how to do that. The man whose taste and smell is not so acute takes two bites before he makes his choice of what to eat. The veins and wrinkles on the back of my hand remind me that Ia€™m dehydrated and need to drink more water today. I hear from her there are five petals close together in almost a circle; and where the petals attach in the middle of the cherry blossom, it is a deeper shade of pink that grows almost to white at the petalsa€™ edges.
This delicate flower filled with color and shadow created by the warm and nurturing sun comes alive in my being and is energetically past to this curious and loving child.
My heart called me to the computer to put down my feelings, and I became distracted by email for a moment.
Each of us makes choices that create our life day-to-day, hour-to-hour, moment-to-moment, and those choices add up to a Life unlike any other. The experiences were the same; the creation process of what remained in each of them became very different. If I stood in a long line of people, those who know me would recognize me even though we all have two eyes, two arms, two legs, one nose, and one mouth.
For this Life, in this place, I have a knowing that the Life I have created has supported the Lives of others and me. The answer for me is in what I choose to give my attention and time too; with a conscious intention to live my life fully not someone elsea€™s, just mine. He had bought the bike as transportation when he lost his drivera€™s license because of a drunk driving charge.
Later we loaded the bike into his SUV, and I felt as feathery light as the evening air rushing across my skin. No memories flooded me for I was in the moment, and this moment was another level of healing I had not expected.
You see a friend walking and think she really wants to walk alone; but in reality when you join her on the walk she is welcoming and the walk enriches you both. In each moment, we can step back from a belief and ask one simple question: Does this thought or belief serve to expand my Life or limit my life? Since being human with the power of our minds to create stories around our experiences, it is often easier to live in an imaginary story of what happened and how we should react than to see that how we respond to an experience in this moment creates the suffering or not. Growing and aging brought new a€?judgmentsa€? about equality and how to discover what equality really meansa€”not to others, but to me. It is not always easy to carry that deep sense of equality into our relationships for we are indeed spiritual beings in physical human forms with old patterns of reactions and judgments. The rejoicing of anothera€™s strength or my own cannot diminish or inflate my feelings about either if I am without judgment of that persona€™s or my own value as a result. It was peaceful and awe inspiring to see the effects the water has played and still plays upon the landscape as it all shifts and changes imperceptibly.
But there we were in front of a house that I had come to as a bride, altered it with the support of my dad and husband to accommodate our familya€”a house in which I had brought my children, and where I laughed and cried and planned the perfect future. I thought of a day when the world was perfect because we were exhausted together and happy. The small trees that we had planted cast some shade now, and the flowers his wife had planted added color all around them.
My friend had started them from her plants, and her husband had traveled along with her to deliver them to me and to share a few moments of time. So she and I pulled out my IPad to compare what we were hearing in my yard with the Audubon recorded bird-songs. I looked at her husband and there I saw a deep pain quickly replaced with an expression of deep love for this woman with which he has shared many years. Only then can I make a responsible choice to support the life I want with the consequences that come from making choices within the presence of acceptance. This is not a new conflict; the difference is that I am aware of the thoughts and feelings within this dynamic that create circumstances I do not wish to occur. I alone am responsible for the experiences I create and it is those experiences that enrich my life if I choose.
Of course, routine chores like making a bed, fixing food, doing dishes, caring for my home are always needed, but this question seems to be about something more. Ia€™m reading, Ia€™m writing, Ia€™m thinking, Ia€™m dreaming, Ia€™m questioning, Ia€™m answering, but more than anything else Ia€™m simply being here now doing this and it nurtures my life. Sometimes I will be playing golf or tennis, rushing around running a project, working to beautify my yard; but sometimes Ia€™ll simply be choosing to a€?Bea€? and for me that will be enough. The rain is, the fruit is, the wood is, the carpet is, the chair is, the joy garden is, Jon Kabat-Zinn is, the peace is, and I am.
She said that when some part of the body is not used, the brain notices and will see the lack of movement as a€?normal.a€? She said the unused area becomes more and more unbalanced and eventually creates pain in the body. Ia€™ve told myself that life is difficult sometimes and have moved on without giving the pain its due course and attention. As I sit with that question and just relax into the moment, I feel certain that if I remain open the question will be answered; not by the intellect, but by something deeper inside me that guides my life if I choose to listen. The light from the sun had entered his eyes and body completely and radiated outward toward anyone who chose to look.
The difference will be that the heavenly body will not be subject to death, decay, or deterioration. So the Bible is simply saying in 1 Corinthians 15:50 that no one can enter God's kingdom unless conversion first takes place and flesh becomes spirit. This is why he works so hard to becloud the issue and spread falsehood regarding that heavenly home.
Bearce's Great-aunt, Mary Caroline, lived with Josiah III and Freelove Canfield Bearce for several years, listened to their ancestral stories, and made her own personal copy of Zerviah's diary supplement.
Lawrence to what is now known as Lake Champlain where his party killed several Mohawks in a show of European strength and musketry. All that remains, where jagged outcroppings of schist jut from brushy slopes - exposing terminal facets perfect for murals - are hauntingly sinuous outlines of deer, horses, ibexes, and wild cattle called aurochs. The first flurry of press articles had mentioned that many of the engravings were already submerged by the cofferdam holding the river back for the more monstrous wall rising downstream from it.
I sent greetings and the shepherd expostulated and gestured animatedly upstream towards towering slabs. For me, all of mankind's later accomplishments, all our later experience of good and evil only become possible after such art. The irrelevant exchange had sparked sympathy as we both waited - and waited, in similar irrelevance to someone too consumed to give us heed. I would have to go to Lisbon, and no, it wouldn't do any good for him to fax; he didn't have an iota of authority. Despite all the insinuations about Rebanda and IPPAR, they were actually the first to try blocking the philistines with the clout of an institution as important as UNESCO. About thirty years before, Francea€™s equivalent to the EDP had taken the entire Ardeche Gorge, where the Chauvet Cave had just been found, from its entrance at Sauze to a rainbow-huge, natural arch - Vallon Pont da€™Arc, next to Chauvet - by eminent domain, to build a dam. These conscientious people know that theya€™re barely tolerated by the forces of Mammon - scraping crumbs from the tables of vast enterprises armed with dynamite and bulldozers - and make compacts all the time with them, telling themselves, for instance, that the alluvial strata that cement plants exploit are always too tumbled to contain intact Acheulian hearths. If only he'd announced the discovery, co-opted his employers, and splashed masterpieces across magazine covers while the art's existence was still fresh, he might have won honor, fame, a very small fortune (and maybe even kept his job). Within weeks, local academics had begun signing their names to Rebandaa€™s discoveries, tracings, and interpretations while forgetting to cite him.
I'd have been the one to announce the existence of the largest gathering of open-air Paleolithic engravings in Europe to the world. Slate slabs, thoughtfully laid into a wall as steps, led down through a canopy of fig trees into a cavernous wallow between cliffs. I woke Sebastian in time to see the beast lumber over the bank and glide away, and then it was high time we checked out our other line at the doctor's office. Noon passed as we still waited together like an old couple, talking about the doctor's misery, Australian rock art, translations; whatever. The guards stiffened as Sebastian and I had the gumption to breach a forbidden zone and stride blithely forward. There were so many warblers piping and whistling, there must have been a dozen species with overlapping territories. Botha€? - Baptista and Gomes a€“ a€?were closely involved in the rationale to submerge the rock art (to 'protect it from vandals'); in fact, on 8 November Baptista spoke of how sedimentation behind dams should protect rock arta€? - my italics. After our departure, Bednarik and three other researchers (Alan Watchman from Canada, plus Fred Phillips and Ronald Dorn from the USA), who believed that they had found ways to date rock art directly, studied some of the CA?aa€™s engravings during separate visits. 1995 that was led by Mounir Bouchenaki, the IPPAR formed a scientific committee consisting of Antonio BeltrA?n, Emmanuel Anati and Jean Clottes, who came back for a second round.
Since that first kitchen Ia€™ve had a galley kitchen, a big country kitchen and a u-shaped cooka€™s dream kitchen. When it came time to retire and downsize our belongings, what to do with all the books was the hardest part for me. Back in my business days I often wished I could have been able to knit during some of those long meetings. At almost the same time we looked at each other and said: a€?Why dona€™t we just sell the house, get an RV and then we can go camping all the time?
With all the interesting happenings of Buell's life one can see that he can be looked upon as being a library of stories of historical value and pertinent interests to the Poteete's and related clan members. In winter time he would wrap hot stones in blankets to keep his feet warm (at least on the trip over).
The railroad company, in a gesture of good will, offered free tickets to key employees to go West where they would be more likely to find employment. I think the huge migration of the Georgians out here is a tremendous story and should be researched while there are still people like Buell around.
I believe it was Dale who said it would take Buell about five minutes to start his car because of all the hidden valves and switches. Little Carol, for years pondered about the truthfulness of Buell's and Tac's warning of not to let a Snapping Turtle get hold of a toe because it would not let go until February! 1843, David Garlick also passed away at the age of 63 and was buried in the old Pioneer Cemetery on the SE corner of that city. Corn up here, the folks that has corn is just pulling the ears off leaving the foder so that stops the work from off the farms hands so there is no work to do. William is clerking in a grocery store and drives a delivery wagon for the store part of his time.
Maybe you can mind old Peter Weaverling that used to live east of my father, it is one of his boys she married, sister to Daisy Garlick. But from what I had written, the reader would most certainly understand the essence of my experience. This time when movement caught my senses, I saw on the side of the Main Hall at Omega two shadows. As I glanced up, I noticed that the stars were vanishing from the sky and the moon had moved toward the lake so I let my feet dance after it. If I could remember to challenge my fearful thoughts, Moon Dancing would always be possible. Doubts about whether I should be here alone nag me and breathing deeply doesna€™t seem to help. Many times Ia€™ve experienced that feeling over the years: when I married my new husband, when each of my children were borne, when a bond of female friendship was revealed to me, when I gave unconditional love to an amazing yet flawed man, when I held my grandsons the first time, when I witnessed my son-in-lawa€™s tears at a grave site, and so many moments in nature. Many times the circumstances of life and my thoughts about them hid my beauty from me, and I could not believe others even when they shared their love and compassion for me. May I remember to look deeply into my own eyes to find love and then freely give it away to others. She literally danced to the voting booth and then out; waving and glowing as she left the precinct.
The voice in my head was still, the polling precinct was quiet, and the room filled with the light of choice I had been witnessing all day.
Of course, there are times when I have to say no to someone, and what Ia€™ve found is that even that is easier when I say yes to what is transpiring in the moment and then expand the conversation or activity to make my point or acknowledge someone elsea€™s need. But inside me deeper than even I imagined was a sense of sadness and powerlessness to change the drinking habits of my 37-year-old son.
When I could bare it no longer, it vanished and was replaced with a deep stillness of peace. My overall intention for my life is to love well, and of late, that seems more difficult than it has for the recent past years.
It protects me and not in a way that is creative; it prevents me from living each moment as it is with an intention to hear the quiet voice that wisely guides my Life. Then from deep inside me came that still small voice, that is not the Phyllis I know; I recognized the voice as me and not me.
It is a song of healing and caring for this person I am and the growing Being that awaits me with my next choice and adventure. It does not; so I reach my hand toward it and it appears as if the light is resting upon my hand. All these objects, all those Ia€™ve loved, and all those who have loved me are part of this one light. I may need to remain silent.A I may need to speak aloud about something that is bothering me about whata€™s happening.
It is with gratitude that I accept all the parts of mea€”the difficult and the pleasanta€”and quietly surrender to the learning that my experience offers in this moment, and the next, and the next. Now more often I observe not to give value but to learn and to appreciate the insight that observing brings to me about me. As my hair grows and the gray is more visible, Ia€™m reminded of what a long and remarkably healthy life I have and the freedom that brings. From the middle of the deep pink rise varying lengths of stamens with small orangey-pink, round fluffy dots at each of their tips. My heart aches with gratitude for this small being whose blindness first filled me with sadness; but now has added a measure of being alive that could not have been possible without what I once considered to be her handicap.
There in the emails I read: We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be. They may remark that I look like someone else, but if they truly know me, they know that I am like no one else.
When it came off the moving van five years ago, it went into the corner of the garage, because I was still not ready to let go of the memory of the healing I thought it would bring to my son. It sat and sat, and I would see it with a flood of emotions triggered by the healing and loss it represented.
We stopped again to sit by the river; all I felt was deep gratitude for all the extraordinary experiences of this Life lived fully. Perhaps the thought is that living alone is not as enriching as living as a couple, but the amount of freedom that comes with living alone is amazing. It takes a deep intention to look inside us and see those patterns, take a second look, and remind ourselves they are imaginary stories we have created to feel okay in this particular incarnation and perhaps others. Since the evolutionary process of physical a€?survival of the fittest,a€? has taught me to judge whether or not I am safe when with another, this approach to Life is challenging and yet interesting and exciting to me. Only the man, the boy, my friend and I will really know the changes created within us from these experiences. We took smiling pictures with a camera to add to our real photo albums of course, and we spoke of the skill and time that each family had given to this beautiful modest home. As I watched them drive away, I knew this strong, courageous couple was focusing their attention on accepting and living Life fully in each moment, and I was grateful that they were part of mine!
Simultaneously, I feel a€?less thana€? because Ia€™m choosing not to do something a€?importanta€? and a€?more thana€? because I feel at some level the other person isna€™t capable of understanding that need.
Sliding my feet along the carpet, the harder surface of my wood floor is recognized at the doorway.
She continues my therapy and she comments that my pelvic area begins to move a little, but I cana€™t seem to feel it. Have I, therefore, sent a message to my intellect to override this pain and continue to function. I will not seek the answer in my mind, but I will relax into the present and observe what comes to me.
It has felt really good and freeing, but Ia€™ve also had this voice in my head that says, a€?Whata€™s wrong with you?a€? I watched the thought come and go and remained quiet, peaceful, and still.
I will look at my activities one by one to see if there is a second agenda lurking in the shadow of my fearful ego. As the elevator door opened, I said to his Mom that I believed he was enjoying the sunshine. The information in this Study Guide will thrill your soul and give you hope for the future.
Every color of the rainbow will be represented, so at a distance the city will no doubt appear to be resting upon a rainbow. The teaching that the saved in heaven will be ghosts who float on mist clouds and do nothing but play harps has no foundation in the Scriptures. This means, of course, that you will begin to live as Christ lived and will overcome all sin. And so, forgive me, but in comparison to these ancient windows, cathedrals seem to have anti-climatic and overwrought power. Except for the absence now of bigger species, this was how Solutreans had experienced the world - with whistling, mooing, barking, roaring and trumpeting not just on the Serengeti, but to the frozen north! So much will go unrecorded because of all this fuss.a€? a€“ So, Rebanda is resigned to the inevitability of the flooding, I thought. If the dam had been built, a dozen known art caves would have been flooded or affected by rising water tables. So rather than condemn Clottes, perhaps the Portuguese should simply admit his diplomacy opened the debate, even if one might wish that hea€™d been a crusader. From Chauveta€™s pinnacle, its gatekeeper was probably right to dismiss the scratchings, which I too thought could have been the kneading of bears, but the contrast between the levels of encouragement was striking.
Although they granted him the discovery of Hella€™s Canyon (in footnotes), other sites that Rebanda had already noted were soon claimed by competitors as Rebanda was effectively silenced. And Vitor and his wife, Susanaa€? - was it my imagination or did her name stick in his craw? Their stingy hypocrisy and philistinism revolted me: they wouldn't spend a penny on protecting such discoveries, but they'd drown the world up to its headwaters to keep driving Mercedes. Goldfinches sparked into the air, a crested hoopoo flashed orange and black, and the shaggy canes were a tumult of avian chatter. Jaffe was also the IFRAO representative of the SocietA  Cooperativa Archaeologica, Le Orme della€™Uomo, Italy (Bednarik 1994). But not before signing controversial non-disclosure agreements with the EDP, which was hoping that their techniques would yield dates so recent that they could be used to ridicule stylistic daters who had identified the engravings as Paleolithic (Baptista & Fernandes 2007, p. We wouldna€™t have to worry about the house and yard.a€? And right there the decision was made. I suspect they recognized his innate mechanical ability and put him to work sizing up mechanical problems and then fixing them.
I thought so much of him that if he had told me to jump off a high bridge I would have done it. Someone with wagon and mules was going to take them to Culberson where they would board the train for the long, hot journey to Bakersfield. A bunch of us boys would go out to the river with our rifles and shoot everything that moved. During the remainder of the week there, I edited the essay several times and eventually it morphed into a short surreal poem. As I gazed out into the darkness, I had the urge to take a walk, but felt frightened that I would be walking in an unfamiliar place in that darkness, and it might not be wise. As I entered the garden, it was a cascade of silence punctuated with the crunching sounds of my footsteps upon the path. I remembered one of my favorite childhood poems, a€?I Have A Little Shadow That Goes In and Out With Me.a€? I remembered how much I loved giving it to my grandchildren!
I hummed a€?Que Sa Ra Sa Ra, what ever will be will be,a€? all the way back to the dorm and into the shower. The curious part of me whispers, a€?go out and take a few photos.a€? So dressed in my robe and slippers with camera in tow, my hands slide back the door, and I venture out. As I said a€?yes, anda€? to what she had to say, the profound lesson came that what she was saying would be an amazing way to not only do improv, it would change a life from a negative focus to a positive one. Over the years, my daughter and I, had pleaded, threatened, and prayed for him to give up drinking. He was free and it was spring one year and four months after his first healthy choice in a very long time.
The last few years have been filled with the joy of living and remembering his life and what it brought to mine. Do this, dona€™t do that, go here, stay there, love this, mistrust that; the mind chatter is overwhelming in these moments.
So when discontent of the kind Ia€™ve been experiencing of late is present within me, it puzzles me as to what Ia€™m to learn this time. One of me is the movie my personality creates with thinking, assessing, resisting, and this me was the Seer who watches in loving amazement at times.
There was a time in the past when this need would cause me to question a€?who I am,a€? and a€?why am I like this;a€? now it feels warm with acceptance like the return of an absent and beloved friend. This slow to respond, slow to move, slow to show emotion man has a great capacity for deep joy that I admire.
He wanted to hear his music uninterrupted and spit on his sister when she came into his room to chat. These moments of choice step-by-step and consequence-by-consequence truly become the Life I experience. This year as I focus on creating more humility through patience, the experiences that I a€?m creating through what Ia€™ve viewed up to now as limitations are supporting me in doing just that. Her words say that the stamens are the pollen-bearing male part of this delicate precious flower.
She never considered herself handicapped, and her acceptance has brought me bravery and added awareness that life is created by the choice to live with a€?what isa€? with courage.
This quote by Anne Lamott brought me back to my intention to explore Nepoa€™s original questions. Another man loses his job and decides to create a different way of living and becomes a role model for others.
We are a soul having a physical experience that has the opportunity to contribute to the healing of all living beings. In the peaceful stillness, I closed my eyes and let the gurgle of the racing river wash through me as the sun shared its warmth. Perhaps your belief is that your children should behave differently, but then you see them blossom into their own lives that are very different from what you imagined.
If the answer is limits, look at it and let it go for it does not serve your Life or anyonea€™s. With closer observation of the direction of the winds and of the angles of the sun, it becomes clear that the one that seems to be leaning-in has twisted, has transformed, and has become deeply rooted thereby protecting the other from the elements.
Our patterned reaction may not be the healthiest response in this moment, and if it is not, it may be wise to make a different choice. It was clear to me that as a male, he had automatically assumed that the woman in his relationship had to have been weaker or less assertive for inequality to exist. Later a call came that a skunk, which appeared to have a broken leg, was outside the restaurant by the golf course. Life is by definition impermanent and the cultivation of acceptance has been my yearlong intention since Winter Solstice of last year. I remembered a summer of disruption as Dad added the addition and my son walked in the foundation ditches and later put nails into the exposed electrical outlets. In that moment of presence, their togetherness seemed all that truly mattered, and I was touched by their love for each other.
No one knows in Life what will come next, living in this present moment is where we find our power. Ia€™ve watched the French Open and seen the victory there as a moment in time that is relevant only to the lives involved.
She says thata€™s okay because the movement is subtle, but necessary to maintain the health of the back and ultimately the nerve in that area. I will trust the Universal force to support me in my learning and relax into the pain, feel it deeply in the moment; I will no longer resist the discomfort, but welcome it in with whatever message it brings. Ia€™ve read, baked cookies, watched the birds out my window, slept late, meditated, done yoga, watched old movies, and just stayed in my home with just me. If I find one, I will look to see what I can learn from that situation in the present moment. What a waste of my day!a€? These thoughts were still in my head as I entered the glass elevator with a few others on the top deck of the parking garage. He has been interviewed by FOX television, has appeared on the broadcast and cover of Prophecy in the News and has been interviewed by several radio stations across the United States and Canada.
Jesus did not die on the cross to provide any such trivial and foolish future for those who accept His love and nobly follow His way of life.
God's plan is to restore to man what Adam lost: the glories of a perfect life on a perfect planet. Intermittent splashes smacked echoes off the walls, a frog croaked and some beast keened a cry we had never heard.
When I asked if they could intercede on our behalf, she said one had to apply in person, in Lisbon, and have connections.
In fact, paw prints indicated that we had missed cornering another feral dog or fox in its lair.
Surgically, it was a nightmare: I'd have to pry its head out, keep its neck extended, wedge open its powerful beak and finally thrust the treble barbs down its throat, so as to carefully extract their burr, without snagging them again! Finally, they agreed that one of them would walk parallel to us, down the fence-line, to let us in the distant gate. At our feet, frogs skipped like pebbles and painted turtles rowed earnestly in tangled water blossoms - all for the taking.
Unless you and I and all of us together add our voices to those of the Portuguese citizenry trekking down for a last look, and reclaim what is OURS! The story of the denunciation is from Bednarik (1994) and Simons in the New York Times (1994). We discovered we werena€™t the only ones who had the idea of selling our house and traveling in an RV. He can just about fix anything mechanical -- but all this new digital stuff has him baffled. Once I shot a quail and was a little worried to walk down the street with it since they were not in season.
It seemed bettera€”it captured the light of my mooda€”but somehow did not convey the importance of that few hours of Moon Dancing with my Shadows. Now and then something would move in the silence and take my attention away from the shapes and forms of the plants that lined the walkway. Now absorbed in the beauty of the ocean, focused on the view in the camera, and not feeling my feet, my body tumbles down on the lower deck, my camera flies off into the grass about one foot from the lily pond.
As more new-generation voters came to exercise their right to choose along with others that had been voting for a long time, it reminded me of how precious this right is to Americans. As he voted, we prepared to go outside to collect a€?Zacha€™sa€? vote from the truck, being careful to follow procedures that would allow his ballet to be cast privately. What I have never written about is how difficult and how painful it was to be the Mother of a dying son, and what Life was like for me when I could no longer touch his physical presence.
No longer do I pretend that losing a sona€™s physical presence is easy, no longer do I need to be that strongest person in the room, no longer do I hide that losing him changed my own life in ways I could not have imagined. I smiled with the recognition that it is the Seer that I can trust and I let the Story of discontent go. The need for change calls to be embraced with wonder and welcoming; it is part of the personality that has formed my human experience for as long as I can remember. I try again; I want to catch the light and hold it, but the flame of the candle cannot be held, it must shine wherever it will or it disappears.
Without judgment of how things should be, we can simply shine and bask in each othera€™s light.
His physical body left us nine years ago, but for me his spirit is in the sound of the wind through the treetops and in the light of an early Easter morning sunrise. And as I chuckle at this thought that is now present, my perception of losing some short-term memory gives me ample time to remember the most important thing: what is the present moment offering me as an opportunity. My mother says, behind the flower the great sun, which I feel on my face, casts a dark surrounding edge that make the blossom even more vivid and creates a shadow of the stamens on the petal itself. The light shining in her sea foam green eyes reflects what she is seeing through my voice and her other senses. As a physical manifestation of a living Universe with unique skills, hopes, dreams, and personalities, how much healing we contribute is up to each of us for we have free will to choose what we will create. In the words of Lamott, I am truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who I was born to be.
The strength coming back into his body was coming too late for him to survive this incarnation, but he seemed to love his experiences on the bike. Because of their ages, that would be a very long time into the future, but it was the logic I used to hold on to this small symbol of my sona€™s longing for health and my own. I turned and sped away leaving him to his own period of learning since he had not ridden a bike for sometime. It was a beautiful river, a beautiful moment, a beautiful bike, another memory, and I loved and was honored to share it with this friend. Perhaps your belief is that you love to write, but that you are too old and unknown to get published; you go forward anyway and your book is published and it brings you great joy. Because they are almost 100 years old, their roots under the surrounding plants, rocks, and soil are entwined with and supportive of each other in ways that cannot be undone. Since I did not feel he was open to the idea that this assumption was in and of itself telling about his view of equality, I just said there are many kinds of strength and the subject was ended.
As this thought was taking up residence in my brain, I noticed a man and a small boy up ahead. She said, a€?He still makes me laugh.a€? He, in character, chuckled with pleasure at that thought. Ia€™ve dressed to go biking and yet I stayed in the drama unfolding at the French Open as if it had some significance in my own life.
Time to make the smoothie that has become a part of my mornings of late: cantaloupe, pineapple, blueberries, yogurt, strawberries, apples, and raspberries. It has been years since I fearfully resisted emotional pain and stiffened and numbed against it. For so long, I have worked to be conscious, to be authentic, to be present, and in that moment, the part of me that feels sorry for myself was active yet again. He is a well-known and popular commentator on the Feasts of the Lord and has produced a series of DVDa€™s on the Feasts that have gone around the world. Most people have no interest in such an ethereal existence and, therefore, have little or no desire to enter God's heavenly kingdom--often preferring it only because they fear hell.
Even the Chauvet Cave, which was unknown, might have been threatened by the changing water table! Unfortunately, Bednarik, who is one of the worlda€™s most encyclopedically informed, accomplished, and bold prehistorians, walked right into the trap. Jorgea€™s utter dismissal of Bednarik was clearly motivated by the lattera€™s implicit condemnation of the way that Jorge had appropriated Rebandaa€™s earlier discovery at Mazouco, instigating Rebandaa€™s secrecy that was one component of the CA?a a€?cover-upa€? (Bednarik 1994, p.
Garlick was then baptized for John and Jacob Bumgardner and the record calls him a a€?half nephewa€? of those two men. Yes I said a€?shadows.a€? Now a week later I am at home and awake in the early hours of morning and I know it is time to write. Out of that stillness a rabbit hopped, two deer walked slowly behind me, and the early birds of morning began to chirp. This week as I gazed at the two photos, the child and the woman, it dawned on me that the beauty of love has always been within me patiently waiting for me to rediscover it. With the wisdom that I was changing my own life not his, I decided to offer him my support for sobriety one more time. The silence of deep meditation, the practice to live in this moment, and the awareness that we are a part of something bigger than our physical being have supported me to accept and heal from the things I can not change. As we close our eyes and state our intentions for the week, I feel his love and send him mine. I am filled with love and gratitude for the ability to write my thoughts and feelings down in a way that enriches and expresses my experiences. Each day the intention to live in fear of losing a physical existence that is inevitable carries us away from the love that is the essence of the Life we all share.
When I took it to be restored with new tires, etc., the repairman remarked on how well it was made and how unworn it appeared.
Perhaps your belief is that your life experiences should have been different, but deep inside you know that it has been those experiences that have created you Life. This deep presence and seeing of their combined lives bring a growing appreciation of connectedness. By convention, equiluxes are the days where sunrise and sunset are closest to being exactly 12 hours apart.
His physical pain during the discussion expressed itself in a visible expressed pain in his chest as he talked about the need to live a more solitary Life to insure his freedom to be himself.
I have a deep knowing that no matter what my perception is in the moment, the Universe is a friendly supportive force within me that a€?does not take sides, but seeks only balance.a€? It is my intention to have compassion for what I hear and see and to learn the lesson of impermanence as I witness it in nature.
What mattered was the memory of love and support that flowed through the energy of the house into me and then to my daughtera€™s family. I began to think he was just bored as my friend and I turned to playing games on my IPad, so I asked if he would like to join us. Their smells mingle with the sounds of the rain and for a moment the blender whirl drowns out all other sounds. If only all people everywhere could learn the truth about God's holy city and new earth, millions would begin to understand His love and would turn to Him with all their hearts. Later, Bednarik spear-headed another campaign to save a Portuguese rock-art assemblage from inundation a€“ this time behind a dam in the Guadiana Valley - and noted that a€?None of this helps the rock art of the Guadiana, condemned to inundation under billions of tonnes of lake sediment as the reservoir silts up over the next 70 yearsa€? a€“ again, my italics. So he would unhitch the two mules, Old Will and Jack, so they could eat something while they were waiting.
He skipped down to the drummer and told him that he had just been hired to be the drum bearer. He was proud of having educated engineers working for him and asking him how to do various jobs.
I had forgotten this feeling of freedom that has moved my spirit since I was a child, the love of nighttime, and the magic of moonlight.
Since staying here on the deck doesna€™t seem to be an option, I pull myself up, retrieve my camera (bent but not broken), and shuffle back to my room and sit silently on the bed. He lay in the back seat of the truck, and as I stood on my knees in the front seat to get his ID papers, Zach asked, Can I vote? It had been a few years since we had seen him because he just never showed up to family gatherings. This time was different than before; this time I knew I could accept whatever choice he made, but he was my son and for myself I needed to offer him assistance one last time! The deep wound of loss affected many of my relationships and still I clung to the strength of knowing that I had done the a€?righta€? thing.
Without the wisdom and acceptance of or a€?surrendera€? to each moment as it is, I cannot choose an appropriate action with a conscious intent and honor my need to live authentically in this moment, and the next, and the next. Her voice falls upon my ears and her words become my thoughts, and I imagine with great specificity how the cherry blossom appears and admire its beauty. This cherry blossom is magnificent, and the glory of its connection to this growing child leaves me speechless and filled with awe for this blessed life. Perhaps your belief is that there is only one Path to God and that prevents you from appreciating all those who believe in a different God than yours.
Depending on where you stand, they are framed by the sky above, or the garden below, or by the giant stone arches of the porch.
There is evidence that we are still there as surely as we are here through our choices to give of ourselves.
He said, a€?No, Ia€™ll just walk up to the edge of the golf course.a€? His demeanor seemed unusual, but I dismissed it and returned to the game my friend and I were sharing. I glide to the coffee maker and the smell of coffee is strong enough to feel like I taste it already.
Do you think I'm such a fool as to invite the man who deprived me of the credit for my first discovery, to come see my greatest wonders if it wasn't because I needed all the allies I could get; if it wasn't because I even needed the universities to help save them. Ironically, the mandarin in Porto would come out smelling like roses for his campaign while the roles of several well-meaning prehistorians, if I may insist upon the word, were simplified so as to make them better scapegoats. They were well trained and would always come back when he whistled, and they never went far. Just when I could hardly believe the vision my courage had co-created with the moon, a flock of wild geese cut the mist of the lake as they winged their way across in perfect formation.
My body is tired, my mood is gray like the clouds above the ocean, and self-doubt seems to have taken me over. He had stopped answering his phone and his friends called me to say they thought he was dying.
Perhaps your thoughts are that your thoughts are true and you do not question further how best to live your Life with yourself or in relationship to others. The annoyance I felt in my body as I viewed his pain turned into compassion and acceptance for us both. The back legs and rear of the frog were already in the snakea€™s mouth and the froga€™s body was badly bloated as its eyes bulged, its front legs kicked, and it sought freedom from the snake. My choice to visit the past because I love my daughter created a rare opportunity to catch a glimpse of time passing in the present, and my gratitude for my daughter and our choices to share our Life sang within my heart; a reminder and then a another memory of time passing in the present!
I smile at the wonder of just being present without thinking something should be different than it is.
This need to understand everything that happens has been a recurring theme for as long as I can remember. First, because his dating system, which was based on determining the degree of micro-erosion undergone by a rock face, had been developed in Australia, where climate and geological conditions are different from Portugala€™s. One time, on a previous trip, a hog ran up and started getting Old Jack's nubbins and Jack bit a piece out of the hog's back. The family will receive friends at the funeral home 6-8, Monday, December 20.Cochran Funeral Home of Blairsville, Georgia in charge of arrangements. In that moment, under his white hair and beyond his aging body, there was the light of youth and his eyes held the same excitement I had witnessed in the young girl that morning.
The last five years had been a roller coaster ride of emotions for me as he was better and then not better over and over again. I could do this and I began a long path of self-healing without the courage to ask for support directly. Perhaps you have doubts about your own goodness and forget to look at the generosity that has been a major thread of your Life. Earlier that day, a dog had stumbled upon a horneta€™s nest and had been stung badly, and a staff member went looking for the nest to eliminate it so humans could walk the path without being stung. I felt the pain of the froga€™s struggle; I wanted to do something to make this stop, but what?
I relived a day when my small son gave my baby daughter a drink from a cup as she rested in her crib; she almost drowned. If I understand it then I can accept it, or more accurately change it; or so my Story goes.
Collins has authored five books documenting the migrations, kingdoms and locations of the biblical ten tribes of Israel after their exile from the Promised Land.
He further told them that Massasoit, the Great Sachem of the Wampanoags, was at Nemasket (a distance of about 15 miles) with many of his Counselors. I can still have that fresh bread smell, the soup on the back burner and a fruit pie cooling by the window.A Life is good. Then as if a powerful director had taken over the scene, a fish danced to the ice-like surface of the lake. Meditation had supported me in staying centered enough to love my daughter and her family, support my partnera€™s interests, hold a demanding job, and attempt to just enjoy and learn about my life. Perhaps your belief is that friends and family should be more open hearted and open minded and so you close your heart and mind to them. It is the most reoccurring event involving injury that comes to the attention of the Nature Foundation. They are delicious and colorful in contrast to the dark quiet of the room and the day outside my window.
Some of the events of Jesus Christa€™s life become more understandable when they are examined in light of the politics that prevailed between Rome and Parthia at that time, including a group of Parthian elitesa€”called the a€?Magia€? or a€?Wise Mena€?---that chose Parthiaa€™s emperors. I turned to find a circle of life rippling the water and the dancing fish no longer visible. Perhaps you have made what seems like a mistake and your belief is that you cannot be forgiven and that thought keeps you separate from someone you love. My thought was that the bees were there first and should be left alone to resettle into their lives. I chose only to stand and watch with sadness and curiosity as this unusual sighting in nature played out. I gaze at my joy garden that is bright with purple, pink, and white against a blue-gray sky.
He has also written many articles on a variety of biblical topics, prophecy related to the modern tribes of Israel and presented lectures to various audiences. This odd statement flies in the face of Bednarika€™s consistent defense of both the CA?aa€™s art and other assemblages, suggesting that it was a ploy to get the EDP to allow them to test their methods. Boom!" with the rest of the brass band playing and the supply wagons being pushed by the elephants. It had the slight chill of autumn, and I could imagine the burst of color that would soon fill the trees. On this glorious October day, I felt that I had done everything I could and my body sagged from the weight of wanting him to be different.
Perhaps the belief is that if you dona€™t act in a certain way, you will not gain acceptance; but someone once said, a€?if you do not always bring with you who you truly a€?area€™ others will fall in love with who you are a€?nota€? and how limiting will that be? It is hard to express all that I saw through the visual memory there in our first small house.
Even though both men concluded that their observations proved that the art was no older than the Neolithic, Bednarik did not repeat the notion, when announcing his results, that a relatively recent vintage diminished the arta€™s importance or the need to protect it a€“ quite the contrary.
Buell was elated and felt very important especially when they passed a gang of boys who had come for the same purpose he had, but hadn't had the guts to approach the boss and ask for a job. It took him some time to physically fill out the ballot, and it was my honor to wait for him.
Collins directed his research skills to a comparison of secular historical records with the historical accounts of the Bible. For me, Zacha€™s light infused the darkness around the truck and as I looked from my fellow poll workera€™s eyes to Zacha€™s son-in-lawa€™s eyes, they seemed to glow with something unexplainable. I could no longer watch so we turned away and continued our walk through this civilized and yet still wildly natural, tourist attraction. The author is a former Board member of the Association for Christian Development (ACD), Auburn, WA,A  and a member of the former National Epigraphic Society founded by Dr. In the pages, he quotes, William Stafford: What can anyone give you greater than now, starting here, right in this room, when you turn around? However, his books represent the analysis and judgments of the author, and do not claim to represent the views of either organization. In 1949 the family moved to Israel where he was raised and attended mostly Orthodox Jewish schools.
In 1970, Mordakhai wasA asked to join the faculty of Ambassador College to teach modern and Biblical Hebrew to both students and ministers on Sabbatical. He also joined the student body, graduated with a Theology Degree in 1975,A was sent into the field ministry, andA ordained an elder in 1977. He is the acknowledged founder of the modern study of Hebrew Word Pictures and was given an honorary Doctor of Divinity for Hebrew Word Pictures and his proven ministry. He hasA  been a Marriage and Relationship counselor for 17 years, and the author of numerous books and studies.Married for 28 years with 3 incredible children. Born in Haifa, Israel, Uri attended college in Buffalo, New York, where he graduated with a degree in education.
After moving to Phoenix, Arizona in 1977, he began what would become a life-long passion to explore and share with others the unique beauty of the Hebrew language.Over the past 25 years, Uri has spoken, taught, and lectured in both the private and public arenas. Through the programs offered by the Center, people from all backgrounds and religious denominations have been able to explore this intriguing and powerful information in an open, informal and non-critical environment.Research is a critical element in the work of the Center for Biblical Hebrew.
During the past ten years, Uri has devoted his energies to exploring ancient Hebrew traditions about the mysteries of the Hebrew letters and the powers attributed to them. The musical products of this project are now distributed internationally and many volunteer musicians are working on new translations. The Center for Biblical Hebrew has also created computer programs for translating the Hebrew letters to colors according to ancient traditions and offers many educational opportunity to those who are interested in Modern, Conversational or Biblical Hebrew.
Charles, 74 years young,A is a retired control systems engineer who brings a lifetime of experience in herbal medicine and how to eat BETTER THAN ORGANIC. He was raised in the garden and has a toxic free method of raising nutrient dense food which tastes and feeds us the way the creator intended to produce fat free, high energy Temples of YHVH.
Charles spent five years teaching herbal medicine and BETTER THAN ORGANIC gardening at madison College and has conducted seven natural health seminars. Charlie will be co-leading this hike where he will address some of the reasons behind the LNT, along with some practical applications.
Teaching Session speakers are not limited to spiritual topics, but may also offer special skills and learning, such asA animals, crafts, dance, health, nature and the ourdoors, etc.




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