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My new book was released June 11th by Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing in ebook and in print. The reviews are have been rolling in and I am humbled. I am so glad it is being met with such a warm reception. Thank you so much.
Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences Is the story about a young woman who meets a young, rising black opera star post-symphony at an elegant reception held in one of the symphony benefactors mansions in San Francisco.
A greeting, a touch, a shared breath. Their worlds collide and ignite in an erotic explosion of volcanic proportions that neither could resist. How about a bit of a blurb and a tasty teaser?
Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜ レo√乇 ¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*° ♥
THAT night…
Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences Is the story about a young woman who meets a young, rising black opera star post-symphony at an elegant reception held in one of the symphony benefactors mansions in San Francisco.
A greeting, a touch, a shared breath. Their worlds collide and ignite in an erotic explosion of volcanic proportions that neither could resist. How about a bit of a blurb and a tasty teaser?
Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜ レo√乇 ¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*° ♥
Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences by Muffy Wilson @SexyMuffyWilson Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing |
THAT night…
SHE wore a flowing, form fitted white spaghetti strapped
gown that cascaded in tumbled silken folds to her abdomen and revealed her
breath in the soft rise of her alabaster breasts. Her eyes reflected an emerald
depth with gold flecks that edged to hazel and were framed by neat, arched
brows that narrowed to her temples where her heartbeat announced the rhythm of
her life. Her only adornment was a starkly white gardenia nestled in the curves
of her auburn. The heavy floral fragrance of the corsage announced her arrival
as she glided elegantly to her aisle and settled, like a dove, into her center
seat. She was alone…but not for long.
Would she regret her indulgence?
HE was a towering, self-assured giant of a black man, chest
broad and arms outstretched in opulent black leather. His intense black eyes locked
irresistibly onto her and declared his hunger. The opera house erupted with his
full bass-baritone harmony. His musical seduction began, and his hypnotic gaze
was met by her eager response as she answered his desire with a blush.
But, was his desire enough?
THEY spent an insatiable night together in Room 457 of
the Historic Whitcomb Hotel locked in a magnetic embrace riding moonbeams of
passion and ribbons of desire that wove them irretrievably together in ways that
only the future would disclose—a future neither of them ever anticipated. Would
the secrets of the past, of that one night, prove too much to bear as the future
unfolds the truth and the depths of her desperate need?
Would the life and death struggle she faced overshadow
the seeds of love planted a decade earlier?
The orchestra warmed up in a
disconnected, faltering collection of notes, strings and horns as the wealthy
patrons filed into the theatre and were settled. She wore a flowing yet form
fitted white spaghetti strapped gown with a backline to the small of her back
above the well-rounded cheeks of her ass. The cascading neckline tumbled in
silken folds to her abdomen which revealed her breath in the soft rise of her
alabaster breasts.
She was of medium height with an
envious rubenesque shape most men admired: long, shapely legs nipped tightly at
the ankle tapering to narrow, small demi-feet elegantly adorned in satin heeled
slippers with scarlet, well-pedicured peek-a-boo toes, full breasted bosom with
pert erect nipples stretched against the fabric of her gown, round hips that
accentuated a narrow waist and a lovely pleasing back that joined all her
sumptuous qualities. Her eyes reflected an emerald depth with gold flecks that
edged to hazel and were framed by neat, arched brows that narrowed to her
temples where her heartbeat announced the rhythm of her life. Her rounded
cheekbones accentuated the graceful curve of her jaw line as it narrowed to a
slightly dimpled chin below heart-shaped ruby lips. Her only adornment was a
starkly white gardenia nestled in the curves of her auburn curls that caressed
the pale white opaque flesh of her face. The heavy floral fragrance of the
corsage announced her arrival. She glided elegantly to her aisle and settled,
like a dove, into her center seat. She was alone.
The house lights dimmed yet she
glowed, demurely, in the white gown as if she were unmistakably the main
She stared as he walked onstage:
a towering, self-assured giant of a black man, arms outstretched in black
opulent leather to embrace the audience, she felt to embrace her. His piercing
gaze locked irresistibly onto her, in all her radiant purity. His intense black
eyes seemed to declare his hunger.
The opera house erupted with his
full bass-baritone harmony. He sang, it seemed to Jordan, to no one but her as
she smiled quite involuntarily. Each throaty, reverberating note he released
strummed every nerve to her very foundation.
His musical seduction began, and would surely end she thought, with her
in his outstretched arms.
Her petulant feminine petals
nestled in the protective mound where her thighs joined. They slowly filled
with her eager response and unfolded the protection of the essential pearl of
her existence as she answered his desire with a blush.
She sat through the entire
performance tethered to his gaze. The magnetism she could not resist overtook
her fully and her responses were involuntary yet welcome. She felt his gaze
through her gown caress her, push her, tease her and excite her with every deep
vibrato he released into the hall.
She was, therefore, completely
surprised when the lights raised and the fluid embrace of his voice was
gradually replaced by the swelling bustle of movement from the exiting
audience. She looked to her left and right, then up to the stage beautifully
shrouded by long red opulent velvet curtains separating her from the object of
the gathered passion in her belly.
Her reverie broken, she returned
to the moment at hand. As she rose, the romantic trance invoked by his voice
broke, the hold eased, and dropped shard by shard from her body so that she
could move. She gathered her wits, shook off the spell and seemed to float in
the afterglow with the others to the atrium. She exited the main entrance to the
broad threshold above the street below.
She took a few steps outside and
shocked by the damp San Francisco night, drew her wrap ever tighter to her
heaving breast, her nipples still erect from the seduction of the opera star.
She paused a moment, enjoyed the remains of her trance, and proceeded down the
steps to hail a cab.
The after symphony reception was
held at the home of one of San Francisco's most prominent elite, a huge
supporter and member of the Symphony Board of Directors, Drake Morrison. Drake
and his wife Amelia were friends of Jordan's parents who were absent because of
a holiday in the Orient. Jordan's parents were regular supporters of the
Symphony and met the Morrisons frequently during intermission on most opening
nights for a glass of champagne. She had been invited as a distraction from her
solitude to join them on opening night at the reception in their home. She
agreed to attend eagerly as she often attended the symphony with her Mother
when her Father was unable.
She felt her low-belly tighten;
her heart pounded and her palms tingled with perspiration in anticipation. The
main opera lead and cast always came to the receptions. The non-profit
organization relied upon their attendance to boost donations so she knew she
would see him here and she wondered if he would even recognize her or if the
reverie of connection had been hers alone.
When he entered with his
entourage, he towered over everyone with his black elegance. He was beautiful,
a stunning black onyx statue carved to magnificent perfection. When she saw
him, only feet away, she staggered slightly as he turned to her with an
outstretched hand in greeting, eyes locked in a magnetic embrace. She lost her
breath and her heart in one moment as she touched his fingertips with hers.
He clasped her hand with the both
of his and pulled her close to his body with a knowing smile curled on the
curve of his chiseled jaw line. She felt his heat, was hypnotized by his aroma.
She knew then that he remembered her in the audience; he had sung to her, he
had sent his words in musical notes on foils to surround her, lift and seduce
The moment was suspended when he
was directed to further introductions. He bowed ever so slightly with his
departure and barely whispered, a
bientot, mem'selle, his breath searing her neckline. She weakened in his presence and felt ill-balanced on a
passionate precipice as he moved away. Their arms outstretched unwilling to be
parted, her hand slid from his as their fingertips relinquished an electric
"A bientot, mem'selle," he had said. She hung on every word with
rapt expectation for their next meeting as he moved into the crowd of admirers.
She watched as he worked the
room, seducing male and female alike with his charisma and brilliance. He was a
master in the simple ministration of his charm. He spoke with confidence,
smiled at nonsensical nervous banter and made everyone most relaxed in his
presence with an effortless touch.
The night edged on and she
resigned she was like all the others, seduced by the sheer presence of the man.
She sought out the Morrisons and bid them a grateful goodnight. She went into
the library where her wrap was hung. A manly black hand extended and took it
from her grip and as she spun, he curled her into his embrace as well as the shawl.
room key at the Hotel Whitcomb. The town car service I called to
take you there is waiting outside. Room 457. Have I presumed too much?" as he
pressed himself to her body and the key card into her hand. The low melodious
tone of his voice melted any thought of resistance.
"I, ah…No, you have not presumed beyond expectation." She
kept her voice low in spite of their momentary privacy. "The Morrisons are long
time friends of my parents who don't yet consider me a grown woman." She smiled
into his down-turned eyes and smelled his heat. "I thank you for your
He ran his fingertips from the wrap on her shoulder down the
inside of her arm to the soft swell of her breast and lingered. His fingers
caressed her naked flesh under her arm above the cut on the satin of her gown.
Her knees buckled under the weight of her desire and he
caught her as she fell into his full embrace.
"Oh, God," she breathlessly gasped and looked up into his
dark eyes. "Do all women respond to you like this?"
"You are not all women."
© Muffy
passionate, timeless.... Muffy Wilson makes the reader feel as though he/she is
in the room with all the characters. This lovingly written story of love,
family and healing is so well told, you will find it hard to put down. Your
heart will long for more and you wants to continue reading. Reading it out-loud
with my partner makes it more real than reading in silence. It is a story of
love, sacrifice and transcendence - enough to mend a broken heart. I highly
recommend this book.
This is an erotica
like no erotica I've ever read before. The book is written with lots of
metaphorically sensuous language, which is in itself an erotic experience. The
love story of Jordan and Mason, their two separate families and the price of
coming together, gave this erotica another unusual twist. There's heat,
passion, love and strong family commitment. Enjoy!
~ Hawk
This book is a
wonderful characterization of love between strangers, a timeless romantic
expression that brings all lovers to the same destiny. This is the story of struggle,
the telling of a long kept secret, the humbling sublimation of asking for help,
the private struggles of a man torn by love and pained by loss. It is the story
of how children can knit broken lives together with love and the ancient,
precocious innocence that only children possess. It is the story of growth,
love, passion and submission.
It is a story of the struggle between love and acceptance with a poetic elegance similar to that of Jane Austen. And I loved it from the dedication to the final page.
Muffy Wilson's
eloquent prose in her newest book, Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences, is a
milestone in romance novels. She weaves a unique plot that will keep your
interest page after page. Jordan is the mother of a daughter, Lily, who is in
very ill. When her former lover brings a new dimension to the story, you will
plead with the author to reconcile their love. I kept asking the author as I
read, will Lily's innocence bring Jordan and her lover back to the love they
once enjoyed? You will find how Lily, both with her illness and innocence can
spark the flames to refuel the passion of love from the past. Muffy's
descriptions and imagery goes beyond the realm of prose to poetry. The dialogue
is outstandingly believable. When I read scenes of interaction in her book, I
felt I was in the room with the characters.
You will love this story and the
amazing talent of Muffy Wilson.
I give 5 Stars to Moonbeams of Unintended
Muffy asked me to
give this book a critical reading pre-release, and I was pleased to find it is
a book with a full plot and a range of realistic characters. Romantic, yes;
sexy, yes; but so much more. A book you can get your teeth into.
~ Jacqueline
This story takes
the reader on a pleasurable cruise of a renewed romance brought to the reader
from the past of two characters. I fell in love with from the beginning to the
end of this book. Muffy Wilson as the captain brings us passion and hopes for
renewed love through the descriptions she intricately blends, savoring our
palettes with delicacies we never forget. We are catered to hopes for a cure
for Jordan's daughter and what it might mean to her long lost lover.
Complications seem insurmountable, but with each turn of the page, a new
horizon is seen, bringing a mood for hope and continued passion between the
main character, Jordan, her daughter, Lily, and the man from her past, who will
steal your heart with his compassion, love, and understanding. I was blind by
the interracial relationship, observing the man who is more than an ordinary
man. He gives us hope for Jordan and Lily. Muffy guides us through treacherous
obstacles, only to restore our wishes for her sacred love and survival of her
daughter and the resolution of a love affair from the past that is renewed with
each page I turned. I full-hearted give Moonbeams and Unintended Consequences
Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing Buy Link |
author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born
in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was
the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. She
adored her older brothers, following them everywhere and was surrounded by
love, stimulation, and pets. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the
U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. The family
lived in most points between Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years
in Europe and came of age in France.
Returning from France with her
family, Muffy finished high
school in Northern California and attended the University of
California, Davis, and majored
Business Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce
work ethic, and retired at 39 from IBM as a Mid-West Regional Director in the
Real Estate and Construction Division. She and her husband moved to a small
Island in northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and
resort business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the
water in SW Florida. Muffy
pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life,
indulges her private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual
literotica ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion.
| Website | Blog | Twitter | Email | Facebook | FB
Fan Page |
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| Secret Cravings Publishing |
| Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing |
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| XinXii | Kobo Books | iTunes Books | Barnes and Noble |
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| Secret Cravings Publishing |
| Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing |
Cravings Publishing, Oysters & Chocolate, Decadent Publishing, Ravenous Romance,
Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing


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April 11, 1942
April 11, 1942
Ft. Lewis, Washington
Dear Folksies,
Please forgive me for not having written much sooner, but we have really been kept BUSY!!
Yesterday morning we awoke to the startling announcement that we were moving right away over to the "Officers' Training School." We moved and since then have had every minute taken until this afternoon. This school is the only one of its kind in the country — it's different from Carlisle Barracks School as the latter is only for Medical Officers, whereas this one is for all officers and we get the same training the regular officers get. In fact, it may interest you to know that as of January, 1942 Medical Units are no longer non-combatant units — we will carry arms. The reason is apparently that at times the enemy may get around the flanks and surround us, separating us from the infantry, etc. — either that or the infantry may retreat faster than we do, etc. At any rate, we are going to get five weeks of full training with most of our hours accounted for — this is, of course, if we don't get transferred before the five weeks are over. If we get through this course, we get regular diplomas — similar to West Point stuff. The Colonel was lucky to get us in this school because apparently we are the only Medical Unit that has had this training.
Yesterday we got settled in barracks here at the school and then after lunch we were moved to another barracks where we have a little more room. At present there are 24 of us in one large room. The majors have a separate room at the end of ours and Mattie and Reilly have a small room together downstairs.
Rules are that we get up at 6 A.M. and to bed at 11 P.M. Week-ends, beginning at 1 P.M. on Saturday are free – i.e. if we don't have to stay in because of 3 so-called "skins", that is, demerits for various things such as clothes wrong, hands in pockets, not saluting, etc., etc. —–being treated just like boarding –school students but it's good for us. All ranks have to do the same thing and as long as we are in the school all ranks are considered the same —- we're all one bunch of friends which is really swell.
Oh, Yes, we all had to get Army haircuts also. We look somewhat different but really pretty good and really neater than we have before with our hair rather long.
Loads of love,
Note: In case I should tell you anything secretive at any time, which I probably won't, we are told to tell you all that if you give information, direct or indirect, you are subject to court martial and death also!!!


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Today is the first official day of Amnesty International's 2008 Global Write-a-thon! Over the next week and a half, thousands of people around the world will be writing letters on behalf of prisoners of conscience, human rights defenders, and other individuals at risk. Because so many people around the world are participating, authorities will receive a tidal wave of letters appealing for the human rights of these individuals, and they will find it hard to ignore.
There has already been a huge amount of interest in the US. Over 6,800 people have registered on the AIUSA website, pledging to write over 185,000 letters, and there has been support from different blogs, as well as on Facebook. There are even resources available in Spanish.
If you have any doubts as to whether or not your participation can really make a difference, all you have to do is check out this letter from Sami al-Hajj, a former Guantánamo Bay detainee who was featured in the 2007 Write-a-thon, or read about some of the other successful cases.
Just because the Write-a-thon starts today doesn't mean it's too late! All you need is a pen, paper, stamps, and the desire to change someone's life.


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Quick Links
- General Laws Conversion Table (2023) [PDF]
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- Preface to the Florida Statutes (2023) [PDF]
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- Index to Special and Local Laws (1971-2023) [PDF]
- Index to Special and Local Laws (1845-1970) [PDF]
- Statute Search Tips
2012 Florida Statutes
Funding; financial and attendance reporting.
Except as provided in subsection (4), a student may not be reported for funding purposes as more than one full-time equivalent student.
A child may reenroll only once in a prekindergarten program under this section. A child who reenrolls in a prekindergarten program under this subsection may not subsequently withdraw from the program and reenroll, unless the child is granted a good cause exemption under this subsection. The Office of Early Learning shall establish criteria specifying whether a good cause exists for a child to withdraw from a program under paragraph (a), whether a child has substantially completed a program under paragraph (b), and whether an extreme hardship exists which is beyond the child's or parent's control under paragraph (b).
I, (Name of Parent) , swear (or affirm) that my child, (Name of Student) , attended the Voluntary Prekindergarten Education Program on the days listed above and certify that I continue to choose (Name of Provider or School) to deliver the program for my child and direct that program funds be paid to the provider or school for my child.
(Signature of Parent)
The uniform attendance policy shall be used only for funding purposes and does not prohibit a private prekindergarten provider or public school from adopting and enforcing its attendance policy under paragraphs (a) and (c).


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"The Last Word on Learning Buddhism"
by William R. Stimson
I was at the Sunday morning service at the Ch'an Meditation Center. The speaker lectured on and on as we all sat cross-legged on cushions on the carpet. Individuals to the left of me and to the right moved now and then, rearranging their legs, making themselves comfortable. Because of my early Zen training, I sat all the while erect and still, without moving a single muscle — deep in a peaceful meditation. I wasn't inattentive to the talk but mainly paid close attention to my own mind. Suddenly, it began to stir.
For that one instant, it was as if I were simultaneously inside and outside time. From the spacious and unperturbed dimension of the meditation, I watched closely as a vast complex came forward to claim me. Because I had been sitting so still for almost an hour already, I was attentive enough to see myself begin to fall into an identification with it. From within the complex, I realized the speaker was really enjoying hearing himself talk and I felt concern he wasn't about to wind down anytime soon and ring the bell. At the same time, I began getting the first unpleasant sensations in my folded legs. From long experience, I knew they were going to start aching unbearably. All this was familiar stuff from my early years meditating and so I recognized the complex was "me." It was me as I existed in time — my conditioned self.
The arising of this "self" and the identification with it happened almost simultaneously — that's the conditioning. Being "me" was a habit I had. Had I not been in such an attentive state, I wouldn't have noticed I could equally well do without it.
But I did notice. That's all I did — nothing else. Immediately, I was free. Like the two wings of a bird, the noticing and the freedom operated in unison. The moment I saw I had begun to fall into an identification with "me," I was immediately free of "me."
I could see with such beautiful clarity that this "me" was not at all central to who or what I was. It was central, though, to the onset of the leg pain. To have let my consciousness be hijacked by it, I perceived in a flash, would have been tantamount to delivering my peaceful meditation into an agonizing bout of endurance. As it was, the pain was stopped dead in its tracks. It had dropped away of its own accord. I sat on for a long time after this, free of pain and immobile in peaceful meditation.
All this happened in the blink of an eye and, in that same blink, I realized it was happening. The realization was like the drop of a pebble in a pond. Ripples spread out in larger and larger circles. They vanished and the surface of the pond was still again. I sat a long time meditating in that stillness. Eventually the speaker did stop. It came as a surprise to me to hear the bell ring. It was as if no time had gone by at all.
I hardly gave the whole thing a second thought. The next morning I almost didn't write it down. It just chanced to spring to mind as I sat at my computer, as I do first thing every morning, and began typing.
Leg pain in sitting meditation is a mental attitude. The feeling "It's impossible. I can't bear it." is an ego feeling. When there is no "I", there is nothing to bear. In contrast, the more self-centered the sitting is, the more painful.
Only as these sentences started pouring down on the page, did it dawn on me: I had experienced the great Buddhist truth: "The source of suffering is the illusion of a separate self." It stunned me to have realized this myself — on my own. It wasn't some big earth-shattering realization of enlightenment; only a plain everyday observation of the obvious.
I became sensitive, after that experience, to the way the Sunday lectures kept presenting the Buddha's realizations from the outside. Not a single lecture ever gave a view of how it was to experience one of these truths for oneself. In fact, the possibility that this could happen was never entertained. All the lectures presented the Buddha's insights as if they were necessarily foreign to any experience we ourselves could possibly have. The lectures called upon us — not to experience these truths for ourselves, but to believe them and accept them as truth. In other words, the Buddha's great and timeless realizations had been turned into dogma and were being passed on to us as a belief system.
It seemed wrong to push the Buddha away from us like this and make him larger than life. If the historical Buddha had thought he was special and unlike anyone else, he wouldn't have gone around trying to share his realizations with others. Rather he must have immediately recognized that what he'd experienced of his own nature held true also for all sentient beings. Surely, he saw Buddhas everywhere. The idea was to touch them and spark it to start happening on the inside of those Buddhas like it had in him.
I began to see the Sunday lectures at the Ch'an Center twisted the kinds of simple and profound clarifications I was beginning to have into something cosmically grandiose and impossible for the ordinary mortal to achieve in this lifetime. I got the feeling I was at the wrong end of a long historical progression that had started out with plain insights that were real and immediate — the kind of realizations that could possibly occur, even if only partially, to some stupid jerk like me in a world like this — and transformed them into a package for the consumption of the masses. Similarly, the big polluted river that snakes its way like a mudflow through the coastal industrial city started out high in the distant mountains as a pristine stream. When things come into the crowded human world, this happens. They get corrupted.
We realize today what we've done to our rivers and oceans, skies and forests. There are concerted efforts afoot to clean back up what we've sullied. Why not do the same with the spiritual rivers that reach our shores as muddied with popularizations and misrepresentations as our actual rivers are with filth and poisons? If we are to find what is pristine and unpolluted in these traditions, we must go back upstream — back to what is pure, what is real. "How?" one might ask, "can we do this? We can't travel back in time!"
We can do it because the real river of Buddhism doesn't extend from the life of the historical Buddha 2,500 years ago forward to our time. That's only the river of institutions. That's a business of history and dogma, doctrine and national churches. The real river, like always — just like it did in the time of the Buddha himself, at the moment of his enlightenment — extends from the unknown that's deep within us to our realization and experience and then onward into the world in the form of our changed behavior, altered perceptions and different concerns. This is the living river. It is pristine and unsullied so long as we always draw from the source. The source is within us, not somewhere back in history.
The institutions of Buddhism have done a great service to us by bringing us, in as pure and unadulterated a form as possible, the actual fact of the Buddha's enlightenment, as well as a rich array of methods and techniques. We owe them so much!
Their failures are only the failures of institutions everywhere. Institutions survive and accomplish their mission to the extent they can further themselves. Over time they get corrupted so that this comes to be their main goal — to further themselves. The justification, of course, is that to the extent they do this, they further their mission — spread the dharma. What happens though is that, as they come increasingly into the world, they have to come, like the river, lower and lower. Repackaged again and again for more and more popular consumption, the dharma gets diluted into dogma. The great truths of enlightenment are reduced to popular religion. What is innate and unfolds from inside of us is pushed onto some great godlike figure of the past whose legacy is tightly held in the keep of the institution and its hierarchy in the form of a creed or orthodoxy that is sacrosanct. These institutions develop, in other words, "institutional egos" which take over and "unenlighten" them. This is what I was beginning to see in the Sunday morning lectures at my beloved Ch'an Meditation Center.
Increasingly I saw that the everyday and ordinary was more real to me than the intellectual ideology of the long Sunday morning lectures. Meditation was beginning to change my life in significant ways. For instance, I was simply walking down the street one day when I espied a bent-over little black woman directly in front of me. The sight of her labored walk suddenly overwhelmed me with a wave of something completely new and different — the likes of which I'd never felt before. "What is this?" I asked myself, curious and inquiring.
"Compassion," came the immediate answer, as if the Buddha himself had whispered it softly into my ear. I felt compassion at that moment burst forth full-blown, for the first time in my life. So pure, so different, so real it was! To live a life without this: what a sad loss!
The subsequent Sunday, the lecturer at the Ch'an Meditation Center went on and on about how we should "develop a mind of compassion." The lecture did not accord with my own experience. The entreaty to force a compassionate attitude, to impose it upon our experience — seemed phony to me now. I had seen for myself the real thing doesn't need to be imposed from outside. It arises spontaneously from within, in its own proper time.
Some months later, I was crossing town and came to a street corner. The brilliant sunlight blazed in reflection on an old white stone building illuminating it splendidly. "Thank you!" my heart cried out. "Oh, thank you so much!" I stood there mesmerized and overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude.
This rush of feeling stopped me in my tracks. "Who am I thanking?" I asked myself. It struck me odd and wonderful that I should be so grateful for a simple sunlit building and that this gratitude should touch me so deep. I knew immediately I was thanking life that it could be so beautiful, and that it would expose its splendor so openly to me. I felt grateful to the historical Buddha and his practice of meditation transmitted to me through so many generations of teachers, for giving me the capacity again to be moved deeply and purely by the simple everyday miracle of life on this planet. I felt grateful to the Ch'an Meditation Center for everything that had started happening to me since I began going there.
I was taken aback, though, on a subsequent Sunday at the Ch'an Center, when the lecturer droned on and on about "engendering a mind of gratitude." I sensed those seated around me were hanging on the speaker's every word. I suddenly realized I didn't belong in these lectures. The notion of trying to impose gratitude struck me as absurd and superficial. To consciously control our behavior we have to split in two. One part tries to make the other be something it's not. What can come from this? I thought of the episodes that were beginning to happen to me day in and day out. The difference between what was real and what was fake stood out so pronounced in my mind. Nothing forced or imposed could be as sweet or beautiful as that which arises spontaneously because it is intrinsic and its time has come.
Around this time I came down with the flu. One of the devotees at the meditation center phoned to ask where I'd been. I told her I was sick in bed and at pains to get a good night's rest. The next evening, after I had finally managed to doze off into a deep healing sleep, the phone rang. It was this woman. I tactfully informed her I had at long last managed to get to sleep and her call had woken me. She explained she worked at a restaurant until 11 pm and could only call me after she got off. The next night the same thing happened, and the next night too. Finally I asked bluntly, "Why do you keep calling and waking me up just when I get to sleep? I'm not going to get better if I can't sleep."
"Shi Fu teaches us it is part of the Buddhist practice to call people when they are sick," she lectured, to correct my erroneous view.
"That's not real Buddhism," I blurted without thinking, "When you're just blindly following what somebody tells you to do. You end up doing the opposite of what's right."
I didn't get the feeling my comment was well-received. Next time I ran across the woman, I could see she viewed me as some kind of renegade who dared to question the teaching of the master and the meditation center's "party line."
I attended the Sunday lectures more and more infrequently. Instead, Sunday mornings I started taking my meditation cushion over to the Hudson River and meditating outdoors beside the river, under the open sky. It was a wasteland in those days of wrecked piers and junk-strewn cobblestone. There was one little Ailanthus tree struggling up out of a heap of rubble. But its green branches against the sky beside the mighty river imparted a magic to the place for me. I could understand why Herman Hesse's Siddhartha sat for so long beside his river. One day as I was meditating there, I spotted out of the corner of my eye a figure running and dodging. "Is it some dangerous or deranged derelict?" I wondered; for I was in a very isolated area. There was no one around to call for help. Nevertheless, I didn't look up or move a muscle but continued with my meditation. A few moments later, with the movements of an agile youth running and jumping, the figure came closer and entered my field of vision.
It was a tarpaulin, a square of canvas such as constructions workers used to tie down over a pile of materials. It had gotten lose. The wind gave it life and sent it dancing across the pavement. Momentarily, the brisk gust died down and the tarpaulin collapsed on the ground like the empty thing it was. Then, the wind blew up again and the "ghost" scampered energetically off into the distance — looking every bit like a human figure on the run.
In the same way my mind made a person of that empty tarpaulin pushed around by the wind, I suddenly saw I created an illusory "myself" from having been blown this way and that through life by larger forces. I saw that the separate and independent self I'd always thought I had was just a fabrication of my own mind.
One of the next times I made it over to the Ch'an Meditation Center, the Sunday morning lecturer talked on and on about how we must "drop the self." Did he really imagine a realization of the illusory nature of the self could be grafted on to our experience by lecturing at us? It seemed so obvious to me it was an intrinsic and natural development that arose from the meditation practice. To each it arrives in its due time, when the requisite conditions are in place. And each person has the realization in his or her own unique way.
I work evenings and used to go out after work for pizza and beer to relax and get sleepy. As I meditated more and more, I didn't need beer to relax. Besides, I didn't want to wake up anymore with a headache in the morning and waste the little bit of precious time I had for writing. I also realized I was spending a lot of money I didn't need to spend — and I was getting fatter. One night I was about to go out as usual for the beer and pizza and changed my mind. Instead, I sliced up an apple and had it with peanut butter as I prepared a hot cup of chamomile tea. Then I nestled in bed with the tea reading an interesting book. I came upon some profound passage that catapulted me right to sleep and into the most interesting dream. Next morning, my writing was deeper, more rewarding. This whole thing happened spontaneously, again and again. In the end, I stopped going out for beer and pizza altogether. "How much richer," I marveled, "to stop drinking this way than to just do it because I was told to obey some outside 'precept'!" I began to feel the lectures on precepts at the Ch'an Center had gotten it backwards. My resolve not to drink didn't come from making a vow but arose spontaneously from within as part of the gradual and organic unfolding of my intrinsic nature. It seemed obvious to me the precepts presented a picture of those traits which arose like this of their own accord in a mind purifying itself. They were not rules to be followed but a depiction of what actually happened to one naturally as a result of meditation. Looked at this way, the vows to maintain these precepts took on new meaning for me. I saw them as promises not to betray my own true nature. Many a time I slipped up and many a time the vows came to my assistance. And so even the vows themselves came into play on their own. I never imposed them on myself as the lecturer instructed.
That which comes from within like this is its own reward. No mention is made of this in the lectures at the meditation center. Instead there is much talk of "building up merit." I don't need to think of "building up merit." I'm not interested in amassing a bank account for some future lifetime. Doing the right thing is scintillating and enlivening in its immediate and beautiful effect. The lectures instruct us that we should transfer our merit to others. I don't need to "transfer the merit" to other people. The moment I do something right, everyone around me benefits from the enhancement of life in me. Just by being real I do more good than I could ever possibly do by trying. That bent over little black woman on the street — she gave me to feel compassion. She didn't do it by a long lecture but just by being herself. I wonder how many other people she liberated. I doubt she'd ever heard the word "Buddhism." This is the way it works. This is the way it's real to me now. I stopped going to the Sunday lectures altogether.
I'm guessing it all started out right many hundreds of years ago and that the original Ch'an Buddhist teachers in ancient China didn't harangue their disciples about what they should do but instead gave them a beautiful picture of what happens in the enlightenment process. Instead of foisting upon them doctrinal objectives to be imposed on their behavior, I'm supposing these masters of old shared with their students a realization of the kinds of things which unfold naturally in them as they make their way along this path of inner development. As Ch'an Buddhism became acceptable to the intellectual establishment of those times and eventually to the power elite, money started pouring in for bigger and bigger temples and monastic centers. We can see the same happening in American today. And so we can supposed that, like it is doing today in America, in ancient China Ch'an Buddhism got off track somewhere along the way. What was real started getting turned into a church. What was wisdom became preaching.
I feel "taught Buddhism" sadly misses the essence and substitutes something fake for what is real. What everybody is sitting at the Ch'an Center Sunday mornings striving so hard to glean from the lectures are subtle and evanescent states of mind they themselves have certainly experienced on many occasions without even realizing it. They don't have to learn how to get enlightened. They only have to pause and grow still enough in meditation to notice what's already there inside them — that beautiful symphony drowned out by the din of noisy conditioned ways. The truth plays in their bones. It dances in their gut. It runs in their blood. Meditation brings them to the river where they are part of the same flow as everything around. Without words, it teaches. By drowning out what's lesser, which can't sustain itself in silence, it takes hold — until which point it bursts out like flowers in their path. Wherever they walk, it blooms and they gain that exquisite delight of being inside the miracle. When it happens it is so simple, so immediate, and so direct. It doesn't seem like a big thing! It's just rudimentary, basic, fundamental, ordinary. Above all, it's practical! It works: that day when I had the realization about suffering and self, my legs were understandably sore when I unfolded them at the end of the two-hour lecture and stood up, but while I was sitting I was not in pain.
Buddhism, in my experience, is a creative endeavor. It has to do with the discovery of reality. To discover reality I have to reinvent myself in such a way that I am true. Being true, I can see truth. Thus when my core is enlightened, even a little bit, my ego goes dancing in its wind, like the tarpaulin down by the river. The innate joy of this dance from the authentic beauty within is so powerful and so real, and so much more compelling than anything else the world has to offer, that my ego doesn't need outside incentive. It desires with its whole little deluded heart to make itself transparent in every way to that which occasionally shines through it. Like a stained glass window, it delights when the light blazes through, making its true colors show — because this is when it's most truly itself: when it lets the light through. It wants not itself, but that which comes through to do the magic. It vanishes before this with savor and with relish. Not because it was counter-conditioned by some imposed religious belief system, but because it has come to taste the delight of a sensuous abandon to the unconditioned, and the unconditional. Freedom is its own reward!
It seemed to me that to try to "learn" Buddhism in the way a student learns engineering or dentistry involves displacing the source of what is real onto the institution and its hierarchy. It's not my experience that Buddhism is primarily a matter of intellectual endeavor. My friend Nancy Joyce and I formed a Saturday meditation group — free and open to anybody. The Ch'an Center graciously allowed us the use of its second floor meditation hall and now schedules us in almost every Saturday. Over the years that our Saturday group has been in existence, I have witnessed a remarkable transformation in those who attend on a regular basis for the all-day sittings. Nancy says she can see the same transformation in me and I can definitely see it in her. I feel that in our own small but significant way we have played a role in the reclamation of Buddhism's purest stream — we who know nothing and are just ordinary people. Buddhism's highest power is when it becomes small and everyday and enters into the trickle of life.
For me, Buddhism is about my deepest and most innate nature. It isn't in the keep of the Ch'an Meditation Center or any other institution or belief system. The enlightened master doesn't have it. Buddha himself didn't have it. There's no place to go and get it because it's not some place else. It never left me. It's right inside what I am. I have only to go there deeply to find it. Meditation provides the conditions for it to emerge in the spontaneous and creative way that's most real.
The legalistic following of rules is too surfacy, too superficial — ultimately it's fake. A much more profoundly rooted code of behavior and action arises naturally from the direct realizations that come while seated quietly in deep stillness. This code refines itself progressively as the realization deepens with further meditative practice. Daily life increasingly comes into focus as a primary form of practice.
To sit in quiet meditation. To notice the most self-evident truths. To delight in the spontaneous change in everyday behavior. To live more and more of life out of truth because such living is so much more deeply rewarding and beneficial. This is a Buddhism that for me is real.
There is a joy in reading and studying and attending informative lectures. The language of Buddhism is a delight — a poetry that speaks the deepest truths about being. The heart's most profound currents are reflected in the texts and commentaries of the great and accomplished masters. None of this need have anything to do with indoctrination into a creed or climbing up through an institutional hierarchy.
Buddhism, for me, is not about climbing up and getting big but going down — opening progressively down to a deeper level of existence. Becoming small. If anything, it entails shedding belief systems, layer by layer, that have nothing whatsoever to do with reality.
On his deathbed, the Buddha summed it all up nicely. He didn't say anything about imposing rules and codes of behavior on oneself or buying into belief systems. He simply admonished his disciples to be true. His dying words: "Be a light unto yourselves." To my mind, after some 2,500 years, this is still the last word on learning Buddhism.
© William R. Stimson
Dr. William R. Stimson left academia and opted for a life of radical simplicity centering on meditation, martial arts, yoga, dream analysis and writing. He is the founder and former editor of the Dream Network Journal and led evening dream groups in Manhattan. For years he conducted the free all-day meditation group every Saturday at the Ch'an Meditation Center in Elmhurst, Queens. His writing on simple living, dreams, meditation and consciousness has appeared in numerous journals and magazines and can be found on his website www.my-hope.com/Bill. He has recently moved to Taiwan with his wife Shuyuan Wang and is devoting himself to writing.
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- William R. Stimson


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- Queen Ariad's customized plot deck marries her personality to new tactical options
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Sometimes we feel that we stuck (at least I had such feeling ;)) – maybe in the same job position, in the same surrounding. All the time going to same places, eating same food, doing same things and etc. And we don't realize when it becomes routine.
When we are traveling and stay in one place longer, we see how we start to adapt to surrounding, do things which locals do (even if in our country it wasn't common) and somehow it's starts to look like routine as well ;).
So what are the signs showing that you are staying in Indonesia too long?
And maybe it's time to consider moving somewhere else or at least changing something?
- You are driving motorbike like Indonesian: don't show anymore turns; start to drive when traffic-light still red; not wearing helmet (at least for the short distance); on your motorbike take big amount of stuff (or big ones) or at least on motorbike already sit with 3 people; driving with slippers and dressed fully (even if outside so hot); when you are passenger, you don't hold your hands in the back.
- When you meet a person in a street or in front of his home – you don't get out of motorbike, you just shout to that person what you want to say (usually even without turning off the engine).
- You are crossing a busy street using your right arm to "stop" the traffic and go through.
- You don't searching "clean" or "aesthetic" places to eat but eat in small street "warungs" where sanitary condition not the best.
- Start to eat almost the same food – "nasi", "sayur", "ayam", "tahu","tempe", "nasi goreng", "gado gado" and "soto". As well can't imagine food without "sambal".
- You wash your hands after finishing the meal instead of before.
- You have your own rice cooker.
- You sleep soundly through the first call of prayer at 4:30 am.
- Indonesians no more asks pictures with you (they recognize by your behavior, attitude that you are staying already in Indonesia longer).
- You start do things in Indonesian style (wearing sarong, eating with hands…)
- When you meet foreigners you start to speak with them in bahasa Indonesia, at least use some Indonesian words in English sentences or in your native language sentences.
- You start to use expression "yah" ("yes") almost in every sentence ("Makasih, yah?" – "Thank you, yah"?).
- You start to use question "apa" ("what"?) more often.
- Start to be late to the meetings at least 30 min.-1 hour.
- Even if it's looks that you are doing something, most of the time you do nothing.
- Start to be a bit lazy to travel, find new places for activities, eating.
- You start to smoke or if you are smoker, start to smoke more.
- When you have possibility – you move to a cheaper living place even if there condition a bit worse than in previous place.
- In Indonesia nothing surprise you anymore.
- Start to ask yourself maybe it's time to go home (or at least somewhere else).
After almost 2 years of staying in Indonesia, I already have almost half of these signs. So it seems I need to "work" on it harder and stay here longer.
And here is Tomas (from Belgium) thoughts how to know if you live in Indonesia for too long:
- at dinner, you automatically grab for a spoon first, then for a fork and you don't even think about a knife.
- upon hearing the words "sakitnya tuh di sini" ("feels hurt in here"), you pump your first against your chest.
- you think car taxis are for pussies and you prefer an "ojek" (motorbike taxi) or at the very least a "becak" (bicycle taxi).
- you feel deeply unnerved when you haven't had rice for a day.
- you hardly notice the "Hellooooo mister!", "Bule! Bule!" or "Mau ke mana?" ("Where to go?") anymore.
- a stop at "Indomaret" is an integral part of your evening routine.
- you think it's outrageous to pay more than a euro for a haircut.
- you sometimes involuntarily shout "Allah Ou Akbar" ("Allah the great") or "LURUS! LURUS!" ("straight, straight") in your sleep.
- you feel more natural in a squatting position than on a toilet seat (but you still use toilet paper, because there are limits to your adaptability).
- you think it's perfectly fine to eat noodles for breakfast.
- you wonder how the rest of the world survives without "Beng Beng". Or "Es jeruk". Or "Tempeh", "Pop Mie", "Roti bakar". Or…
- you can scoop up "sambal" with a spoon as if it were ice cream.
- it upsets you if the gasoline price rises.
- you don't count sheep when you can't sleep, you count geckos.
- you've stopped using the letters 'v' and 'f' altogether and have replaced them with a 'p'. You wonder how you'll ever order a "kopi" in Europe again without being ridiculed.
- you can only vaguely recall the taste of cheese and you don't even remember that there is such a thing as wine.
- you think it's perfectly fine to put cheese on top of milk shakes, pancakes and fruit salads.
- you know that the last two points are not contradictory.
- you think it's perfectly fine to drink from a plastic bag.
- you can easily distinguish between the different rings and tic-tocs from the passing street sellers and know perfectly well which ones sell "bakso", "siomay", ice cream or bread.
- upon seeing a white face, you have to refrain yourself from shouting "BULE!!" out loud.
- Which signs show you that you stay in Indonesia already too long?
- Do you think you could stay in Indonesia longer than only couple of months?
- If you lived abroad for a while, which signs there can show that you already staying in that country too long?
Interesting? Great! :) You might also like these:
Indonesian people lifestyle
How to do things in Indonesian style
First time in Indonesia


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Many of the most salient disputes between China and its neighbors involve maritime issues. Moreover, as demonstrated by the current standoff between Beijing and Manila over Scarborough Shoal, China is often seen as assertive and uncompromising. Nevertheless, maritime talks held with Japan this week suggest that China can be more flexible in managing its maritime disputes than most outsiders believe.
China and Japan agreed to establish this high-level consultative mechanism on maritime affairs in December 2011 during Prime Minister Yoshihiko Noda's first trip to Beijing. These talks, which will be held twice a year, are designed to enhance crisis management by increasing communication among related government agencies in both countries. As a press release from China's Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) noted, the talks will serve a "platform" for increasing dialogue and communication, promoting cooperation, and managing disputes at sea.
Such a consultative mechanism is sorely needed. As the September 2010 crisis over the detention of a Chinese fishing captain near the Senkakus demonstrated, maritime disputes can escalate into a crisis. In addition to the dispute over the sovereignty of the Senkakus, China and Japan have other maritime conflicts: the demarcation of their Exclusive Economic Zones in the East China Sea, China's development of the Chunxiao natural gas field near the median line that Japan claims, fishing operations, and survey activities, among others.
The first round of talks was held at the departmental level, led by Yi Xianliang, Deputy Director of the MFA's Department of Boundary and Maritime Affairs, on the Chinese side. Importantly, the participants didn't just include diplomats but also representatives from key Chinese bureaucracies involved in maritime affairs and their counterparts from Japan, including the Ministry of National Defense (PLAN), Ministry of Public Security (the Coast Guard), Ministry of Transportation (the Maritime Safety Agency), Ministry of Agriculture (the Bureau of Fisheries Administration), the State Energy Administration, and the State Oceanic Administration (the Marine Surveillance Force).
Details of the talks weren't disclosed. The MFA press release simply noted that the two sides had exchanged views on maritime issues and cooperation, including the Senkaku Islands. Nevertheless, the creation of such a high-level mechanism on maritime affairs may represent a significant development in Chinese foreign policy for several reasons:
To start, the talks constitute the first comprehensive and institutionalized mechanism on maritime issues between China and Japan. Previous talks over a 1997 bilateral fisheries agreement or the 2008 agreementon gas exploration in the East China Sea were conducted on an ad hoc basis and included only those actors directly involved in the issue being negotiated. Given the potential for any one maritime dispute to escalate and create a crisis, these talks may help stabilize Chinese-Japanese relations.
The present standoff with the Philippines over Scarborough Shoal notwithstanding, these talks with Japan reflect a pattern of Chinese moves to manage its territorial and maritime disputes with its neighbors. Examples of such efforts include a July 2011 agreement with ASEAN over guiding principles for implementing the 2002 code of conduct declaration in the South China Sea, an October 2011 agreementwith Vietnam on basic principles for resolving maritime issues, and a January 2012 agreement with India for managing border incidents along their disputed frontier.
In addition, the talks suggest that China is strengthening interagency coordination in maritime affairs under the leadership of the MFA. A recent report from the International Crisis Group highlighted the lack of coordination among maritime actors as a source of Chinese assertiveness between 2009 and 2011 in the South China Sea. These talks bring together each of the "five dragons" of civil maritime law enforcement agencies that can influence China's relations with its neighbors at sea, and may help increase coordination among them. Moreover, by including the Defense Ministry, the talks may also strengthen coordination and communication between the MFA and the PLA.
Finally, the talks provide a model that might be used to address other maritime issues elsewhere, including in the Yellow Sea with South Korea and even perhaps in the South China Sea. Clashes between Chinese fishermen and South Korean authorities have reached a new peak in recent years, with almost 500 Chinese vessels having been fishing illegally in Korean waters. Likewise, despite a joint fishing agreement, the two sides haven't demarcated their maritime jurisdiction under the U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea.
To be sure, this new mechanism that China and Japan have created hasn't yet been put to the test. Still, it suggests that China can pursue more flexible and collaborative approaches in its maritime disputes with neighboring states – and that Beijing acknowledges the importance of such flexibility.


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Software Bisque company develops amazing astronomy software and other astronomy-related products. They are dedicated to produce products that educate and enhance their customers' endeavors in astronomy. Software Bisque has developed a range of software products for astronomy. TheSky series software is very popular. There is the TheSky Student edition. It is a software program that allows you to explore and actively develop an understanding of basic astronomy. For a more in-dept astronomy software there is TheSky Serious edition. This software program has a tightly integrated telescope control that enables you to hook up a GOTO telescope and observe or image. It shows the positions of the planets, comets, asteroids and satellites. It can also predict iridium flares and has many other wonderful features. TheSkyX Professional edition is Software Bisque's latest release. The Software Bisque TheSkyX Professional is a comprehensive and full-featured tool that helps you get the most out of your astronomy experiences. Another software product that Software Bisque has developed is the Seeker. It is a three dimensional simulation of the solar system. While you "space flight" you can explore the sun, planets, moons, comets, asteroids, interplanetary spacecraft and earth-orbiting satellites. Software Bisque has also designed and manufacture telescope mounts. The Paramount ME is a robotic telescope mount system. It improves tracking accuracy by employing telescope-modeling information during tracking. The algorithms used achieve to this unprecedented level of tracking – most advanced in the world. The other mount they offer is the Paramount MX. It is robotic telescope system mount that is suitable for both portable and permanent installations. The Paramount MX has Paramount ME-like homing tracking, slewing and pointing performance.
Software Bisque Pyramid Portable Pier for Paramount MX
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Navy Rome? Jason Aldean Reveals the Story Behind New Baby Girl's Name
Jason Aldean and wife Brittany are expecting a daughter, to be named Navy Rome Aldean, any day now, and the country superstar says her name was a bit of a compromise.
"Like with [one-year-old son] Memphis, we made a list of names that we liked, and we'd go back every once in a while, and names that had fallen off we'd take off the list," Aldean revealed during a celebration for his most recent No. 1 single, "Drowns the Whiskey."
When it came to Memphis, that was the name they both really liked. But Brittany still got to include one of her other favorites with his little sister.
"Britt wanted to name Memphis 'Roman' and I wasn't really feeling it," Aldean reveals. "So when it came time for Navy, she asked, 'Do you care if we give her the middle name Rome?' and I was like, 'Works for me.'"
Brittany Aldean Is No Pregnant Diva:
Aldean says that because they weren't naming their kids after family, he didn't care too much what the middle name was.
"I wanted them to have unique names — not weird, but unique," he says. "Having a name like Jason, it doesn't get much more common. I wanted them to have something a little cooler than that, but not like, crazy. I felt like both of their names were different. I don't know anybody else with those names."
And while Aldean did have a grandfather in the Navy, he admits that the names don't have a deep tie to his family history or anything. The singer also made it clear that the baby names list would be going into retirement.
"I have zero plans" to expand the family even more, he admits with a laugh. "To me, four healthy kids, I would feel blessed to have that. And Britt has been pregnant for two years so I don't think she's in any hurry to jump back into that, either."
See Pics of Jason and Brittany Aldean's Fairytale Mansion — It's for Sale:


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About OnePlus 3
OnePlus 3 came out in June of 2016 which shipped with Android 6.0.1 (Marshmallow). OnePlus 3 is packed with 5.5 inches and 8 GB of RAM with Qualcomm MSM8996 Snapdragon 820 chipset, Non-removable Li-Ion 3000 mAh battery, and 16MP Camera.
Android 10. Google's 10th version of Android update brings a lot of bells and whistles with a new overhaul on the security and permissions. Bliss ROM brings Android 10 support for the OnePlus 3. The developer of the Bliss ROM in OnePlus 3 is deepak jr
Features on Android 10
New features like native dark mode support, Call recording, Native Screen Recording, New System Gestures, Enhanced Core app permissions more security features native to Android 10.
Android 10 also offers In-call screening, Multi-camera API, 5G support, improved call quality, bubble feature, live caption, and more. With this upgrade which improves Battery Life, Focus Mode, etc
- Follow the instructions properly.
- For Custom ROM, a user has to install ADB Drivers – Windows | Mac.
- First, take the full backup then unlock the bootloader.
- After that, install the TWRP.
- Your device should be 80% charge while doing this process.
How to install Bliss ROM in OnePlus 3
Follow this guide to install the Bliss ROM in OnePlus 3.
If you are facing any issue while installing, then comment and ask your questions.
Source – XDA


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1.000 BAM (Convertible Mark) to JMD (JMD) | Cryptex Currency Converter
BAM to JMD chart
BAM currency pairs
Below are all the currency pairs available for conversion with the main currency of your choice. In the "Exchange rate" column, you can compare its value when exchanging in different currency pairs. To convert, select your option and follow the link in the "Conversion" column.
BAM - Convertible Mark
The Bosnia and Herzegovina united states common currency. Numerical designation in the international classifier ISO - 977, symbol - KM. Issued by the Bosnia and Herzegovina Central Bank.
More BAM information > JMD - Jamaican Dollar
The Jamaica state national currency. The official issuing center is the Jamaica Bank. In the country, it is customary to call the currencies JD or J$.


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What's included In addition to Web hosting, toll-free phone support, and industry specific content to get your new site on the Web fast, you get a free domain name for the first year, unlimited use of the SiteBuilder Editor, a complete business email system, unlimited links and images, and generous amounts of disk space and bandwidth. Unique features: table editor, form editor to build custom response forms, and tools to build password-protected Members Only secure pages areas (*available with the Express Plan), and a secure ecommerce shopping cart (**available with the Pro Plan).
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So this morning I was a guest-speaker in my 3-year-old son's daycare class, which is spending the week talking about jobs. Parents were invited to come in to talk about their job.
Let's start here: Which job am I describing? Sports columnist? Media-industry consultant? Sports blogger?
As you can imagine, I simplified it for the audience: I am a writer. I write stories. I write stories about sports. ("Can any of you name any sports?")
I really wanted to say: "I specialize in shallow punditry. Can you say 'sha-low pun-dih-tree?'"
But "write stories about sports" was about as complicated as I could make it.
I was looking for a gimmick to present to them. Should I bring my computer and show them how I research and type (and watch YouTube clips and Tweet and check my RSS reader?)
Instead, I had them help me write a story -- they picked the subject (themselves), where it took place (the local park), what they were doing (playing with every type of ball imaginable... they had fun yelling out different names of balls -- given the enthusiasm for soccer balls, MLS has a future yet!)
Finally, I picked one of the kids to provide me with a quote about how she thought the playing went. Frankly, it wasn't too far off from your standard sideline reporter's question for a coach -- or a coach's platitudinous answer. (When a 4-year-old offers a standard sports cliche, it's much cuter than when Bill Belichick does it.)
We put the components together and -- voila -- the class had produced their very own sports story. You might even call it a column. All it was missing was the commenters to say, "Come on! Here's why you're wrong!"
Everyone should have to go through the exercise of trying to simplify what they do for 3- and 4-year-olds.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
2 comments:
- bubba0077 said...
As a Ph.D. student, I have trouble explaining what I do to other adults, let alone little kids.
- Steve said...
Very cool, Dan. Sounds like you approached the situation perfectly with the kiddos!
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Too many times entrepreneurs and many dealers think they are businesspeople when what we really are is people who have a business. The business still runs us and demands a lot from us. Dealers really have to get back to working on their business and not in it. Probably one of the biggest challenges dealers face, is that the dealership runs them instead of them running the dealership.
How you view your business
How do you see your business? A businessperson sees business as an entity, a thing. It's not emotional, it is what it is. Businesspeople tend to view a business by its numbers. There is a number for everything that goes on at your dealership. Numbers can be tracked for technician efficiency, recovery rate, parts volume, transaction times, and closing ratio on wholegoods. Everything has a number associated with it that as a businessperson, once we know the number that we need, we can focus on managing to reach it.
People who are in business tend to not look at the numbers, but look at it softly and just hope to do better. They don't really measure anything but go off a gut emotion. You can't manage what you are not willing to measure. You simply can't manage for improvement without tracking hard numbers. If you are not willing to measure things, then you will be constantly in a state of chaos. You don't make money when you are in chaos.
How you view vendors
Business people look at vendors differently than people in business do. A lot of dealers who are people in business get frustrated and angry with their manufacturers because they "don't understand them". Dealers who are businesspeople get it. Businesspeople see vendors as businesspeople too, and understand that the main goal of business is market share. Vendors care for their dealers, but they care more about market share. It doesn't mean they don't want dealers to succeed and be profitable, but the one thing that drives them is market share. Business people understand that, and don't get upset.
Businesspeople are also not as loyal to a vendor as a person in business would be. People in business tend to be loyal to their vendors and expect them to be the same. When the manufacturer isn't loyal, and adds another dealer right down the road, the dealer who is a person in business is left disappointed.
If a businessperson has a vendor that is not doing what they need them to do, they are not loyal to that vendor. They will go find someone else that will do it for them.
How you view customers
Business people also understand that different customers have different values. If a customer that they have is not profitable, they are not interested in that customer. People in business believe that all customers have the same value and should be treated equally. They never look at what money each customer brings in.
Many dealers have customers that have been coming to their business for years but the dealer has never really made any money on them. They beat the dealer down on the price of their wholegoods. They always complain about the service. To people in business, they are still a customer.
A businessperson sees them as a customer, but a customer they don't want anymore. Business people are interested in taking top customers and moving them to the front of the line in all aspects of the dealership. Businesspeople have customers categorized as an A, B, or C customer.
An A customer is profitable, good to work with, appreciates what the dealer does for them, and can then pretty much get anything they want within reason. Their repairs should always get moved to the front of the line when they are working with a businessperson.
People in business treat everyone with the first in first out rule. They need to understand that every customer has a different value and they need to position themselves with the customers that hold the highest value.
Every business management software available has the ability to assign customers to a class. When they look a customer up and it shows an A, they know to give special treatment and move them to the front of the line. This practice should be understood internally, but not communicated with the customers on lower levels.
Don't get frustrated with the fact that you are a person in business. Once you change how you see your business, take what you see and work with it. It's a mental change you have to make. Once you do, business will be so much more enjoyable.


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Liam Neeson Says He's Not Racist After Admission of Shocking Revenge Fantasy
A day after a shocking story was published containing Liam Neeson's admission that decades ago he once spent "maybe a week" wandering the streets with a bludgeon hoping a (in his words) "'black b—d' would come out of a pub and have a go at" him so he "could kill him" as some kind of misplaced revenge for the rape of a loved one, Neeson emphatically told Good Morning America "I'm not a racist."
So the Cold Pursuit press tour is going well, in other words.
Watch Neeson's Good Morning America appearance here:
Neeson did make it clear this incident happened some 40 years ago, and that in light of it all he "did seek help" and went to see a priest.
I think he may want to seek additional help, this time from a trained professional publicist, who will surely advise him it is unwise to reveal such things on the record in a journalistic setting, particularly when promoting a movie about a man consumed with thoughts of violent revenge. Speaking of which, Cold Pursuit is in theaters Friday, should you want to wrestle with all this stuff while eating some Starbursts. Also: The movie's a comedy! Wrap your head around that one.
Gallery — The Best Action Movie Posters in Cinema History:


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First Strike (Kobo eBook)
Deep within the Pentagon, a covert, multi-billion arms-for-influence program was created. The objective was to protect the United States and its allies from terrorist acts by secretly enabling a hand-picked man to emerge as the most powerful leader in the Middle East. But the charismatic Tristan Nazir double-crosses America, twisting the program for his own violent ends to create ISIS. Now America is at great risk.
Elite operative Dewey Andreas is sent to Syria to retrieve details about the source of ISIS's funding but his cover is blown mid-operation and chaos erupts in the streets of Damascus. Trapped and outnumbered, Dewey manages to send proof of the awful truth—unknown at even the highest levels in the government—that ISIS's munitions were indeed provided by America itself.
This information arrives in time to for the U.S. to cut off a final arms shipment before it reaches ISIS. But the vicious Nazir, is far from finished. He launches a bold strike into the heart of America, sending a terrorist cell to take over a dorm at Columbia University, capturing hundreds of college students as hostages. For every hour that the shipment of weapons is withheld, the terrorists will publicly execute one student. The potential loss of life is intolerable. A frontal assault is impossible. Releasing the shipment is unthinkable. There is nowhere to turn…
In a situation with no solutions, there remains only one option—Dewey Andreas.


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New parents and parents-to-be are invited to meet other Imperial colleagues in a similar situation for informal networking and mutual support over tea/coffee.
HR will be present to answer any questions in relation to maternity and paternity leave.
For further information of network meeting dates and details of who to contact, please view the relevant campus link below:


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Contact Information
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Council Bluffs,, IA 51501
Phone: 712-328-1144
Map & Driving Directions
affirmations to uplift & help you through
each stage of the grieving process.
Be the first to share your favorite memory, photo or story of David. This memorial page is dedicated for family, friends and future generations to celebrate the life of their loved one.
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PARK CITY, Utah (AP) — Mary J. Blige is lending her support — and her voice — to a documentary showing at the Sundance Film Festival about sexual assault in the U.S. military.
Blige attended the Friday world premiere of "The Invisible War." Producer Amy Ziering says the multiple Grammy winner would write an original song for the film after the Sundance festival.
Blige's song, "Need Someone," plays over the closing credits of the film.
Written and directed by Kirby Dick, "The Invisible War" examines the trauma suffered by female and male victims of rape at the hands of their military colleagues and the difficulty they have in prosecuting their attackers.
Sen. Barbara Boxer of California, U.S. Rep. Jackie Speier, Lt. Gov. Gavin Newsom and U.S. Rep. Mike Turner of Ohio also attended the premiere.


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Horrible. Rain again. Found out yesterday my xray of last week shows I have a fractured kneecap from a fall more than a month ago. I'm supposed to stay off of it. OK, starting next week. On my way to review I Think I Ken, take my rental car back to the airport. (This is not Enterprise.) They've lost my records, can't give me a receipt or release the hold on my credit card. I make a stink. They do it, but I miss my train back into town from the airport. Finally at Market East I get a cabbie from Nairobi who insists on slowing down at the green lights even though he knows I'm in a hurry. I jump out and run the rest of the way to the National, refusing to pay him. At the National showroom the volunteer won't let me in. NO LATE SEATING ALLOWED. I tell her to tell @dance why they didn't get a review. Before I leave the building, someone grabs me and they take me in. Another reviewer tells me it got better since I arrived. Show's good. Jokes fly faster than you can catch them. Barbie tells Kira, the "Oriental" doll "You can't drive," and I laugh louder than anybody cause I just yelled that at the cabbie.
Go to St. George's for a Relache piece by Joe Kasinskas, a favorite composer of mine. It's last instead of first and we must sit through an excrutiating half hour of the Taylor/Madof Acoustic Trio — supposedly partly structured and partly improvised. But I'll be dadblamed if I could tell the difference. I had shingles on my forehead 15 years ago and their music reactivated it.
Go to Cabaret with Jack D. G Rich sings some songs and asks for a smoke machine. Deborah and Diane get Camels (the venue's sponsor — hey there were no kids there) and get down on their knees, puffing away. I lean over to Diane and say, "Boy, Deborah really will do anything for her job." Diane says "Yeah but that's her boyfriend." I say, "So, I guess she's not just blowin' smoke."


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Like professional baseball, the drug industry may need to slap asterisks next to some of its standout sales accomplishments.
Johnson & Johnson became the latest drugmaker to reach a costly agreement with the federal government over charges of improper marketing. The widely anticipated settlement, unveiled Monday, covers Natrecor, a drug for congestive heart failure, and antipsychotics Risperdal and Invega.
Under the deal with the Justice Department, Johnson & Johnson will pay $2.2 billion to resolve various allegations. Those involving Risperdal accounted for most of the money involved.
The company's Janssen Pharmaceuticals subsidiary also pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge related to the promotion of antipsychotic Risperdal for the management of dementia in elderly patients.
While paying up to settle the civil charges, the company continues to dispute them. "The settlement of the civil allegations is not an admission of any liability or wrongdoing, and the Company expressly denies the government's civil allegations," Johnson & Johnson said in statement.
"Risperdal was never approved by the [Food and Drug Administration] for the treatment of dementia," the government's criminal information notes. Yet about half of Risperdal prescribed a decade ago was for elderly patients suffering from dementia, rather than schizophrenia or bipolar disease, the government documents show. For years, the company deployed sales reps who called on doctors specializing in the care of elderly patients to play up the unapproved use of the drug for dementia.
Besides being unapproved for dementia treatment, the use of Risperdal also carried significant side effects, such as an increased risk for strokes and diabetes, which the company allegedly downplayed. Sales reached a $4.7 billion peak in 2007, when Risperdal was the company's best-selling drug.
Allegations and admissions about players' use of performance-enhancing drugs have marred the records compiled by some of baseball's stars. For the pharmaceutical industry, overactive marketing has juiced sales of drugs that might have languished in the minor leagues without them.
Federal penalties levied against drugmakers for alleged fraud surpassed those for defense contractors, according to a 2010 report.
No. 1 on the settlement list is GlaxoSmithKline, which agreed in 2012 to pay $3 billion and plead guilty to criminal charges related to antidepressants Paxil and Wellbutrin and the diabetes drug Avandia. Back in 2009, Pfizer ponied up $2.3 billion to settle allegations related mainly to the painkiller Bextra in the second biggest heato date.
The J&J deal was a long time in the making. The investigations stretch back nearly 10 years. A tentative agreement on the Risperdal charges was reached a while back, as the company has disclosed in its financial statements.
Why so long to get to this point? "This was a complex matter and we cooperated with the government since the separate investigations began over a decade ago," company spokesman Ernie Knewitz told Shots in an email. "It was always important to get this done right, and now we are looking forward to continuing to deliver innovative treatments to patients."
Copyright 2021 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.