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February 14, 2019 § Leave a comment
Over the past few years, I've enjoyed following the trajectory of the cross-generational music partnership, Liturgical Folk. They're the unexpected artistic pairing of a retired Anglican priest who writes remarkable religious poems and a young songwriter who composes unique folk songs. If you missed it a while back, I wrote about them for The Dallas Morning News.
This past week, I published a follow-up story about their latest albums and the success of their project overall for Christianity Today. As it turns out, Liturgical Folk is part of a broader trend within the Anglican community right now — revitalizing music in the church with liturgy, poetry, and personal response.
I hope you'll check it out if you're interested! And if you like, you can listen to their music here.
Meditation on a zz plant
September 20, 2018 § 1 Comment
For the past few years, I've accumulated a variety of potted plants. Sea green aloe vera. Flat-leafed jade. Spindly fire sticks. Some were gifts from friends; others, clippings from the cacti in our backyard; and still others, splurges bought at Home Depot and the local nursery when my soul was hungry for something green.
I am fairly good at tending them — so far, I've only killed one, and that from overwatering. Lately, though, I've realized that almost every single one of them needs repotting. They've outgrown their old pots, heavy leaves drooping over the lips onto my windowsill, long stems jutting up, up toward the window and the sky. Some of them are three times the sizes of the pots they call home.
It's high time for repotting.
It is still hot in Texas in September. Sweating, I haul a large pot from the tangled mass of unused pots in our backyard, along with a bag of fresh dirt and rocks to line the bottom. First up: my zz plant, also known as a Zamioculcas Zamiifolia. It lives in a tiny, round, grey clay pot, five thick stalks covered in glossy flat leaves. Sturdy. Healthy. An easy first go.
Easy, I think, until I attempt to remove it. The plant won't budge, and soon I know why. When I finally manage to pry the zz plant from its pot, I realize the whole bottom half of the pot is thick with fat roots wound tightly around each other in a massive ball. Finally freed, the roots hang down a bit too much like ropy worms than I would like, the roots nearly as long as the plant is tall. There was hardly any dirt in that pot at all, I realize. Mostly, it was just roots growing steadily in closed darkness.
A longing stirs in me as I stare at the zz plant held in my hand, white roots dangling above its new pot half-filled with fresh dirt. I feel my own limitations, the constraint of my own tight space pressing against my metaphorical thick ball of roots. How many of you, like me, need a new pot? Space to spread our roots, to sink deeply in rich soil, to stretch ourselves toward the sun? How many of us are cramped deep in dark spaces?
Like the zz plant, we grow substantially, faithfully within our limitations. Like the zz plant, when we're set in our big, new pots, we will be ready, ready to prosper, flourish, ready to thrive. In the meantime, we grow quietly.
I set the roots of the zz plant deep within its new pot, giving them room to lengthen, to widen. I imagine the plant is happy because it can suddenly breathe deeply again after its many years of constraint. I wonder what it is like to have space to be fully what it was meant to be. I set the zz plant in a prominent spot in my room, a green reminder of what's to come.
A prayer for artists
September 18, 2017 § 3 Comments
Lord, have mercy on the artists.
Have mercy on the ballet dancer who's memorized the steps for her upcoming audition so perfectly she dreams the movements in her sleep, her toes pointing and flexing beneath the sheets. She arrives early to the audition, her tired pink leg warmers drooping along her calves, her worn point shoes tied at the ribbons and slung over one arm, her eyes shining with the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time she will get a part in the dance.
Have mercy on the painter who wakes early every Saturday morning to catch the golden light at the dawn of day. She arranges her paint brushes, canvas, and easel at the edge of the water, listens as the birds begin to chatter, watches as the sunlight first touches the lake. During the week, she works as a waitress, balancing trays of ice water and fried fish with a strong arm that now holds her palette, but when people ask her what she does she lays claim to her true nature and in the face of their skepticism (How do you make a living painting landscapes?), she answers boldly, I am an artist. It is a labor of love.
Have mercy on the pianist who's taken private lessons in the living room of an elderly lady with shock white hair since she was three years old. She volunteers at her church now, playing old hymns that still tingle her nerves, her fingers flying across the chipped black and white keys. She dreams of one day playing on a Steinway at Carnegie Hall. And why not? Her parents always told her she could do anything. And it isn't out of vanity or ambition that she practices arpeggios and scales day after day, but because she loves the clear and complex sound of the chords as they progress gracefully. She only wants an audience for her music, an audience who appreciates the great composers like Beethoven and Shostakovich. She wants to perform well, for the music to transport those who listen.
Have mercy on the actress who cannot decide whether she should stay in her small hometown where she teaches acting at the local high school and performs starring roles in the community theater or move to Los Angeles where she might attend audition after audition and never receive a single callback in ten years. She fell in love with theater when she was thirteen years old because the theater kids were weirdos too, and she thinks she has real talent, thinks she might actually be somebody someday. Her motivations are mixed: she loves theater, enjoys it for what it is, but she also wants to be rich and famous, a true Hollywood star. She doesn't move because she's afraid of this monstrous ambition hidden deep within her, and yet, she probably is talented and hard working enough to catch the eye of any producer.
Have mercy on the writer who wakes every day before the sun, brews strong black coffee, lights several candles and a stick of sweet incense before sitting hunched at her laptop, stringing word after word, spinning stories out of smoky air. On her good days, her imagination carts her off to magical lands where she meets strange and interesting characters who come to life on her computer screen. But on her bad days, she is full of fear, a fear that keeps her from that other land, a fear that says, Nothing you create is worth anything. It is all the vanity in Ecclesiastes, words dispersing like fine blown dust.
Lord, send your grace upon these your people. In their failures, in their ambitions, in their needs, remind them that You love them. Remind them that You are pleased whether they do anything or not. Remind them that the tasks set before them are worthy. Remind them that You bear their disappointments with them, that they are not alone. Remind them that they have something to offer. Remind them that they are, simply, children of God.
Another year, some thoughts
August 14, 2017 § Leave a comment
Well, here I am.
Another year.
Finally, another blog post.
Last week, I turned 26, and a birthday seems as good a reason as any to sidle back to this small (and lately, neglected) corner of the Internet to set down a few of the thoughts bouncing around in my head. After all, what's the point in having a blog if you don't use it as an excuse to formulate some of those fleeting ideas that strike you on the drive to work, in the shower late at night, over a beer with a friend, during an overpriced yoga class when you should be focussing but, let's face it, can't.
So, here I am.
Last year, I wrote about turning 25. This year, instead of writing about turning 26 (really, it was uneventful in a good way), I'll share some of the things I've been thinking about lately. These ideas have helped me navigate some unfamiliar territories — a new job, the usual relationship drama, my own inner neurosis that have plagued me forever and probably always will (don't lie, you know you have them, too!).
Maybe these ideas will help you, too. Or maybe not. Maybe they're kind of interesting. Or maybe you'd rather read something that's definitely interesting, like that time a few months ago when I got lost in the Himalayas in the dark. Either way, here's to another year of trying to make it through this weird, confusing, often difficult, but definitely beautiful, world.
on choices
A friend once told me that all of life is simply a series of decisions. While I suppose that's rather reductive, I think he's onto something. In a given day, we're required to make a number of decisions, from slightly inconsequential decisions about where to eat lunch to more important decisions about who to date, where to work, and what to believe. Decisions are mandatory, and learning how to make a decision well is a surprisingly useful skill.
But if you're like me, choices can be paralyzing. Not necessarily whether to eat that second piece of cheesecake (the answer is always, yes, definitely eat it), but whether to live here or there, whether to take this job or that job, whether to befriend this person or that person. What makes these decisions so challenging is not that one choice is the boring but morally correct choice and the other the exciting but morally wrong choice — that's a different scenario. Rather, both choices offer potentially good outcomes, and choosing one over the other necessarily cuts off a potentially good thing from happening.
In other words, as another friend pointed out, we can expect an element of sorrow in every choice we make, because making a choice by necessity requires losing out on something good.
Why is knowing this helpful? By accepting disappointment and sorrow as a given in every decision we make, we're empowered to act. We can enjoy the fruit of our decisions while simultaneously realizing that something is lost — and that's sad. It's not how it's meant to be, even if it is that way on this side of heaven.
on going slow
I spent the summer working in a bookstore, and you wouldn't believe the number of titles piling up on our shelves that are all about slowing down in an age of distraction, in an age of busyness (or maybe you would believe it; busyness is rather endemic in America, after all). All of these books offer something valuable — tips and tricks for leading a less hectic, more meaningful life. But I would like to take the idea of slowing down a bit further.
Often, we find ourselves in situations we don't like. Maybe it's a relational situation. Maybe it's a difficult job. Maybe it's being fed up with the same old miserable problems day after day. Often, our response to challenging situations like these is to violently end them by lashing out, quitting, or simply shutting down. Sometimes, of course, this needs to happen. But other times, a more prudent, slower response is better.
Lately, I've been reading Jesus' parables (and an excellent book about them: Tell It Slant by Eugene Peterson). Jesus' parable of the fig tree struck me in particular. The fig tree isn't growing or producing fruit, and it's owner wants to cut it down in anger and despondency. Instead, however, he decides to give it one more year, puts a bit of manure on it, and waits. Adding the manure is banal. It's a bit gross. It requires patience to see what happens. But that little bit of manure may make all the difference in a tree that's barren and a tree that's ripe with fat, sweet figs.
In the same way, making small adjustments to disagreeable situations and waiting with patience to see what happens is often wiser than shutting something down. Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe the same problems will bother you next year. Or maybe, just maybe, that little adjustment was all you needed.
Maybe, you need to go slow.
other stories
If you got this far, maybe you're interested in some of the other things I've written lately. I frequently write for The Well, a nonprofit in Oak Cliff that helps those who struggle with mental illness. Here are several of my latest pieces, including one on how pets help the mentally ill and another on the importance of community for the mentally ill.
On the way back
April 4, 2017 § 9 Comments
Just when you think it's over, the mountains try to kill you again.
Emma and I are ecstatic to make it to base camp at last. But could it be possible that we're just as thrilled to return to Kathmandu, a city that, three weeks ago, felt foreign and frightening, but now feels safe and civilized? I'll admit it: being at this high altitude, sleeping at almost 17,000 feet, makes me paranoid. We have barely felt it, and yet, seeing an Iranian woman lying unconscious beside me as I eat my dinner of fried noodles, watching as a helicopter arrives to fly her down to Kathmandu — I'm glad to be going down the mountains, too.
Going down should be easy, right? But isn't it funny that we walk for so long to reach a certain destination, only to turn right around and make the same journey back? Everybody talks about the way there; hardly anyone attends to the return home.
Like every other day on this trek, each day we hike back to Lukla, where we will catch a flight to Kathmandu, brings another challenge.
In Pheriche, the elderly Nepali woman who gives us a room in her tea house asks if we would like a fire. Oh, yes, we say. It's freezing.
But the woman doesn't seem to know how to light her stove, and we spend the evening with the rusted thing rumbling ominously in the center of the room, spouting billowy clouds of kerosene-clogged smoke into our blood-shot eyes. We open the windows so we won't asphyxiate and eat our dinners of fried potatoes and pizza and hot tea taking turns sticking our heads outside.
The hike from Pheriche to Namche Bazaar begins pleasantly, with clear blue skies and the towering form of Ama Dablam looking over us. Most of the Sherpas view these mountains not as inanimate piles of rocks, but as spiritual beings, as goddesses to be honored. This whole trip, it's felt as if Ama Dablam has been watching over us, her arms open wide in welcome, in love.
But the hike soon becomes grueling. We walk this day what we did in two days on the way up. By the time we reach Tengboche, where we see a monk clad in rust red robes painting Om Mani Padme Hum in clean white on a gray boulder, our legs are heavy with fatigue, our stomachs rumbling with hunger. And we are only halfway there.
My knee begins to hurt. Our packs seem twice as heavy as they did on the way up. As we contour around the mountains, a thick fog fills the valley, shrouding everything but the few feet of path in front of us. We know there is a sheer drop on our left, but we can't see it. Rounding every corner feels like walking off the edge of the world.
An owl hoots. A monal, a turquoise and emerald green pheasant which is the national bird of Nepal, waddles across the path and disappears into the woods. Several lone cows lumber down the trail, the metal bells around their necks clanking. Porters laden with toilet paper, beer, tin pans, bars of Snickers, all stacked in bamboo baskets on their backs and strapped around their heads with cotton strips, appear silently through the wall of fog, not looking up from the ground even to acknowledge us. How much farther, we ask? Did we really come this far at all?
Many times during the trek, I have prayed silently to see something, some glimpse of God, some vision of His face in the mountains. After all, isn't this the place to see it?
In this trek through the mist, the sun momentarily slits through the clouds high above us, and there, where only blue sky should be, are the towering snow peaks of the Himalayas, floating as if baseless in a murky sky. This, I think, is what we see of God. A brief, majestic glimpse that's fleeting and sudden and only visible if you lift your tired head from the dirt trail.
Less than a minute later, the mountains are hidden once more. After eight hours of hiking, we reach Namche.
There are some things the mountains do to you, and other things you do to yourself.
In Namche, we count our money. We have been pinching pennies ever since leaving Namche the first time, when none of the ATMs in that cobbled stone town worked for us.
Once again, none of the ATMs spew money, and we realize we barely have enough to get back to Lukla, and only enough to stay in Lukla one night. In other words: not enough if our flight to Kathmandu is delayed, which is a real possibility.
We want more than anything to go out to the Irish pub down the street for a beer, but we can't afford it. I vaguely wonder what it would be like to beg for rupees from strangers, good-willing trekkers from foreign countries, Nepalis with little cash to spare. We kick ourselves for not being more careful. We console ourselves by saying, really, we were. We say a prayer before curling into our sleeping bags, worried.
I think about the birds of the air and the flowers of the field. I think of manna raining down from heaven. I think of the five loaves of bread, stretched miraculously to feed five thousand. We've been shown our pure state: vulnerability. Now: will we be shown provision from above?
Our host in Namche tells us the walk to Lukla will take six hours. Okay, we say. This is our last hike. We can do that.
I think about the Buddhist monks we heard chanting low and earthly to a clanking wooden rattle in the red monastery in Tengboche several days ago. I could use some of their wisdom right now.
"I need to be more like a Zen Buddhist today," I tell Emma. "I need to live in the moment, to enjoy this final hike, instead of simply wanting to get it over with. I need to accept what comes, to take both the good and the bad of life equally, instead of worrying so much about this money situation."
Actually, I am fairly Zen for the first half of the day, when we hike down the steep slope from Namche, cross wobbly suspension bridge after wobbly suspension bridge over the frothy mint green water of the Duhd Kosi. I am especially Zen during lunch, when we enjoy the best dhal bhat — lentil soup with cilantro, curried vegetables picked straight from the garden, white rice, and chapati — for lunch at a blue-painted tea house.
But in the afternoon, as we turn corner after corner, climbing higher and higher up endless stone steps to the mountainside village of Lukla, when it seems like the trail will never end and my backpack is crushing my spine and my legs feel like heavy weights I must heave out from under me — then, Emma and I ask each other, "Where the hell is this place?" I just want to get this over with.
So much for six hours. We hike for over eight. A group of trekkers from India tells us it's been over 12 miles since we left Namche — all up and down steep inclines and clambering over large boulders and gravelly slopes. We walk the last few feet straight uphill to the crumbling arch that marks the entrance to Lukla, and have only enough energy to smile wearily, shake our heads, and say, "we did it."
And just like that, we wake early on a Wednesday morning to muesli and hot milk served by a Nepali woman in the dark downstairs of her tea house. She goes upstairs to wake her son who is supposed to walk us to the airport in Lukla and help us buy our plane tickets back to Kathmandu. There is some confusion, and Emma and I think the plane leaves at 6, when really it doesn't leave until 7 — if at all. The weather is precarious in the Himalayas, and these tiny propeller planes land by sight.
The Nepali woman climbs the rickety stairs to wake her son. We hear her berating him in Nepalese. I don't know what she's saying, but I can imagine. Sometimes, cultural barriers are thin.
The son leads us down the empty, cobbled streets of Lukla. Soon, the streets are not so empty. Other trekkers step out of lodges, backpacks slung on their shoulders and battered trekking poles clutched in their hands. They snap last minute photos with their porters and guides. They walk wearily up the mountain toward the airport on the side of the cliff.
When Emma and I were planning this trek last fall, the thing that scared me more than anything else was the flight out of Lukla. If you google "the most dangerous airports in the world", the Tenzing-Hillary Airport in Lukla is always at the top of the list. There have been a number of plane crashes at the airport over the last few decades, most notably in 2008, when a Yeti Airlines plane crashed upon landing, killing all 18 passengers and crew. Only the captain survived. There is a chipped and faded white stupa in Lukla honoring the victims, which we passed on our way back from base camp.
Back in Dallas, the thought of flying out of this airport terrified me. Even knowing flights flew safely in and out every day did not help. Even hearing about friends of friends who entered and exited the mountains through Lukla did not help. It was my biggest fear about the trip. I even had nightmares about it, waking in the middle of the night with one thought: I cannot fly out of Lukla.
Now, after completing the trek, after surviving the harrowing ten hour bus ride to Shivalaya, after managing by ourselves in the mountains for three weeks, flying out of Lukla seems easy. I am not nervous at all.
All flights are delayed because of the weather. A thick cloud bank fills the steep valley at the end of the runway, shrouding the airport from sight. Emma and I buy our tickets and go through security. There are two lines: one for men and one for women. The men's line is a string of trekkers that fills the room. The women's line is mostly the two of us. For every ten male trekkers, there is maybe one female. This makes Emma and me feel good.
The security lady at the front of the women's line asks us, "do you have any knives or scissors?"
"No," we say, and ever-trusting, she ushers us through.
We sit in the crowded lobby until an hour later, when the sun burns off the clouds in the valley and four tiny propeller planes land one after another. We are shooed out onto the narrow runway and into the first plane that lands. A stewardess hands us balls of cotton and a hard malt candy each, and then, we are off!
For a moment, my heart thumps bright red with fear and I clutch Emma's arm. Then, we are rolling down the hill and only seconds later lifting off above a sheer drop. What scared me for months is over in a few wild heartbeats. Now, we soar above the clouds and one more time I see the snowy peaks of the Gaurishankur Mountain Range out the window. As we fly over, I think: we walked all this way.
Kathmandu is jarring. The mountains, for as difficult as they are, were peaceful. Life in them is getting up, freezing, eating bowls and bowls of soup and rice and lentils, hiking, hiking some more, thinking you will never stop hiking, staring in amazement at a mountain and realizing there's more mountain above that's folded in billowy grey clouds. It's falling asleep, hard, and not waking until morning.
But Kathmandu, this city is a bustle of dogs snarling and car horns honking and construction workers clanking away outside. It's a shower, yes, though not as hot as we'd like. It is heavy ceramic pots of fresh brewed coffee and creamy, sugary masala tea. It is a quiet, flowered garden. It is dodging motorcycles and taxi cab drivers trying to sell you a ride, your shoes muddy from the streets that are muck after a heavy rain.
Emma and I move into a popular hostel in Thamel, the city's tourist district, and suddenly, we are surrounded by young, hip travelers from all over the world, eating veggie burgers and smoking cigarettes and reading Siddhartha on the roof in the sun. Justin Timberlake plays over the speakers. There is good, strong WiFi and a restaurant that serves Western food.
It seems too soon. I'm not ready to be friendly. I'm not ready to swap stories about lives lived on separate continents with adventurous strangers who travel the world. I escape down the street into a Tibetan and Nepali Buddhist bookstore, and flip through tomes about this foreign religion in a momentary quiet solace.
I wish I were going home. I wish Kathmandu weren't so busy. I wish I didn't have to act like a normal person just yet. I wish I could see the mountains once more.
After going and going and going every day, my body doesn't know how to be still. I am sore and still scraping the dirt off my skin. I am a rush of emotions that hits me all at once, so tangled up I can't discern one from another.
We go out for pizza at a ritzy Italian restaurant, Fire and Ice, popular amongst trekkers who've just returned, and I think about the porters carrying huge loads of beer and tents and chairs up the mountains to base camp. So many of them travel through the night.
In the morning, I go out for coffee at a trendy spot down the road and read the Kathmandu Post in English. On the way back, I see a beggar dragging two useless legs in the dirt behind him. He sticks up his hand, reaching out gnarled fingers to me, unable to fully lift his head to meet my eyes. I don't know what to do, so I keep on walking.
Ascent to Lukla
March 29, 2017 § 4 Comments
In the morning, we wake in the Hotel Yellow-Top, a tea house owned by a 26-year-old climbing Sherpa who summitted Everest last year and will walk to base camp to prepare for another summit in just five days. He carries around his 13-month son, laughing and rocking the boy and coaxing him to place his palms together and tell us, "Namaste." The little boy is shy, though, and he hides his face in his father's down jacket, the father only too glad to hold his son a moment longer before he leaves for the ascent.
We ask our host how long it will take to walk from his lodge in Bupsa to our day's destination, Lukla. He looks at us, thinks about it.
"Seven hours for you," he says.
We don't ask how long it would take him; we know it's much shorter.
The path takes us up and down a forest of red and pink and white rhododendrons blooming in clusters as big as both my fists. Above us, the mountains are cloudy and dark. Emma and I see a Nepali man hanging from a towering, twisting tree over an open cliff, chopping away with a dull machete at leafy green branches which glide to the forest floor. We see a white-faced monkey swing from another tall conifer, seeming to fly from limb to limb until his small grey body disappears in the thick foliage.
We stop for Sherpa stew and hot ginger tea and, yes, a can of Pringles at a lodge owned by a friend of the climbing Sherpa. In the golden sun, with the hot stew and hot tea to warm our hands and bellies, we are content.
The trouble begins in the late afternoon, when we reach the last ascent to Lukla. It is a series of stone stairs cut straight into the side of the mountain, described in my Lonely Planet guide book as "brutal steps!" The sun has already begun to set, and the mountains are a haze of blues and greys. We stop to snap photos. We readjust our packs. We dream of the hot shower and Internet connection and pizza that awaits us several hundred meters above.
We are so close to Lukla, that larger village in the Himalayas where most trekkers headed to Everest Base Camp begin their trek by flying into the shortest runway in the world. But we are not close enough to outwalk the sun, and when the last of the light begins to fall, we dig through our packs to find our torches.
What a difference hiking in the dark makes. The forest, only moments before awash in soft blue light, is suddenly sinister. We climb, and climb, and climb, nothing but the light from our torches upon the slick stone steps. I am hemmed in by darkness. I am one small person on the side of a mountain high above the rest of the world. Our German trekking companion is a formless shape before me, Emma I only sense at my back.
It begins to sleet. A crack of thunder roils across the black sky. Faint lights from shanties on the mountain appear on our right and left. People move about inside. I smell incense and curry cooking and hear the murmurs of men and women within, but they seem far away from me in the night.
We reach a fork in the path, and do not know which way to go. What at first felt like an adventure suddenly is pure terror. My mind flickers back to a news story I wrote several years ago about a hiker who died when he slipped on rocks much drier and less steep and more visible that the ones I'm on now.
We knock on the side of a nearby hut, asking for directions from a Nepali man who does not seem to understand English. Another crack of thunder and lightning splits the sky. A dog — shaggy and grey and more like a wolf than I would like — darts across the path before us.
"We need to get out of here," says Emma, and I totally agree. I'm aware that we are exposed on a mountain during a storm — holding metal trekking poles in both hands.
The Nepali man finally gives us directions, and we continue up. My breath fogs the cold air before me. White flecks of snow pelt my eyes. I am aware of my friends, though I cannot see them. When I turn to check on Emma, my torch falls upon the red eyes of another dog. My heart is pounding and with every step I am alternating between the Jesus prayer and the Psalms; "you hem me in, behind and before."
When Emma and I were back in our warm, luxurious hotel in Kathmandu, we commented to each other about trekking during Lent. "It's a very penitential thing to do," said Emma, and I agreed.
Now, hiking up the muddy slope, I wonder if we are witnessing a glimpse of the reality of Lent, which is really the reality of this world now: walking through the the cold and the wet, with others before us and others behind, so close we can see their breathe but so far that really, we are alone. I have a sense of the deep, mysterious shadow that Christ walked in and we walk in, and it fills me with fear and also an understanding that perhaps on this stony mountain, vulnerable and frightened as we are, we glimpse something true about the nature of the world.
Finally, we reach Lukla. But Lukla is a labyrinth of stony alleyways where Nepali families live behind flapping curtains embroidered with the geometric Tibetan knot. Where do we go for shelter? Where is our hot shower, our pizza, our Internet?
We come across a group of men building some kind of stone wall in the rain. I ask them, "Do you know where we can find a lodge?" And one of the men, dressed in flip flops and a puffy jacket over nothing but thin rags, not only points the way, but leaves his task to lead us through the narrow alleys, up and down slick steps, past dogs and coughing children eating dinner on damp front porches until we reach the warmth of the Alpine Lodge.
There, at last, are beds with thick blankets and a hot shower and down the street — a pub! We order pizzas and burgers and fries and beer and inhale it all while disappearing into our phones where, for the first time all week, we have Internet.
I have never been happier to be warm and safe and sheltered. I am glad our penitential walk — at least this part of it — like all penitential journeys, has come to an end. I fall asleep in a cocoon of down, a hot water bottle warming my feet.
Mortality of the knees
March 19, 2017 § 1 Comment
I was prepared for many dangers, mishaps, illnesses, mistakes. In my pack is Diamox for the altitude, antibiotics for infections, Tylenol for headaches, Imodium for — well, you name it, I've got it. But I was not prepared for this.
On the fourth day, we leave the hovel owned by the old Nepali couple and ascend the mountain in the snow. We have slept intermittently the night before, but we are glad to be hiking, glad to have the white wall of the Gaurishankur Mountain Range towering brilliantly against the blue sky to our left.
A Nepali sheep dog tags along with us as we climb through the ankle deep snow. He is friendly, and we name him Norgay after the Sherpa who first climbed Everest with Sir Edmund Hillary.
The snow is deeper the farther we climb, and soon, we leave Norgay behind to ascend a steep ridge in knee deep snow toward the Lamajura Pass at around 12,000 feet. We come across deserted lodges, silent on the mountainside. Occasionally, a helicopter from the nearby airport of Lukla soars overheard. Otherwise, it is quiet but for our labored breathing and the click clank of our trekking poles against the stone.
When we reach the pass, dark swirling snow clouds swarm the sky and a harsh sharp wind blasts against us. The pass is a V between two mountains, nothing but two dead trees with scraggly limbs strung with tattered prayer flags slapping madly in the wild wind. It is frigid. Later, my friend Emma will call it apocalyptic. We cross the pass and we all say it is the most intense thing we have ever done. We think we have completed the hard part, but now we must descend the mountain, and this is when my knees begin to pound.
Four hours later, we are still hiking, now through thick, squishy slush. I am delirious from lack of sleep. I move so slow, placing one labored foot on the stone after another. A Nepali family comes skipping down the mountain in nothing but tennis shoes calling out, "Namaste!" before running past a crumbling mani wall. When we finally reach the town of Junbesi, I collapse into the first lodge we find.
The little four year old daughter of our host wants to play with Emma and me. She climbs up onto the seat beside us and points at our blonde hair and pats our puffy jackets, but all I can do is smile at her rosy cheeks and sad cough and sip my tea in exhaustion.
The next day, the hike should be easy, and it is a short, beautiful hike toward the first view of Everest. She seems so small to me, but really, it's amazing that we can still see her behind several other large mountain ranges. When the clouds clear and she appears, the Nepali man who serves us hot lemon tea points to her and we all cheer. We stay there and drink tea and eat Snickers and marvel: we have now seen Everest, the tallest mountain in the world.
It should be an easy hike to our next tea house in the small village of Ringmu, but an intense throbbing begins in my knees and I must descend slowly, leaning heavily onto my trekking poles as I go. When we reach the lodge, I peel back my wool leggings and gasp: my knees are swollen, red, and sore. The left knee feels as if it will shoot out to the side whenever I walk on it. Of course, our host gives us a room upstairs.
I spend the night drifting in and out of fitfull dreams, wondering, praying that my knees will heal in the morning. How isolated I feel, several days walk from the nearest pharmacy. How guilty I know I will feel if we cannot go on tomorrow or the next day because of my knees.
In the morning, I am moderately relieved. The knees are less swollen, and we make the decision: with bandages wrapping my knees tight and menthol patches to keep them cool, we will go on, slowly.
As Emma wraps my knees with the bandages from hers and our German friend Niels' first aid kits, I tell her about my dreams in the night. I tell her that now, I am 25 and healthy, and I have reason to hope my knees will heal tomorrow or the next day. I am also a Westerner, so if my knees do not heal tomorrow or the next day, someone will come for me, I can return to the U.S. and get the advanced medical treatment I need.
But what about the time, years from now, when my knees do not heal tomorrow or the next day? What about my Nepali host downstairs who relies on her knees for her work, and does not have advanced medical treatment to heal them should they be injured tomorrow or the next day? There is always a limit to our physical prowess; we in the West simply extend it the best we can. I think about Jesus who said, now you walk where you wish, but a day will come when others will lead you, and maybe where you do not want to go.
"My knees are making me face my own mortality!" I laugh. "That's so morbid!"
"It is morbid!" Emma agrees.
That day, we walk to the town of Nunthala, where Niels runs ahead to order us vegetable chow mein, beer, and Snickers at a yellow and blue painted lodge on the side of a cliff. The next day, my knees are less swollen. Two days later, I buy knee braces at a pharmacy in Lukla, wonder if I need them at all, and we walk on.


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Product Comparison: Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300 vs Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
General Specifications
Lumix DMC-FZ300
About the Product
Capture special moments with incredible detail. The Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300 digital camera uses a 12MP Digital Live MOS sensor and captures photos and video in 4K. It features a 24x zoom with constant f/2.8 aperture that gets you closer to the action, and a 3" 1040K free angle LCD touchscreen that makes it easy to take pictures from any angle.
The perfect 4K technology enabled point and shoot camera for travelers, featuring a super long 20-1200mm (60X) lens. The LUMIX DC VARIO lens features a super bright F2.8-5.9 aperture range that is optically stabilized with Panasonic's Power O.I.S. technology. Now you can use the high-resolution power of 4K video technology to create printable photos with 4K PHOTO's blistering 30 frames per second burst feature. Post Focus and Focus Stacking allow for changing the photos depth of field or focus points after you take the picture. Enjoy travel ready technologies like USB charging and WiFi connectivity to your mobile device.
Key Specs
Sensor Resolution
Sensor Type
Optical Zoom
24 x
60 x
Image Stabilization
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
Size & Weight
3.6 in.
3.7 in.
5.2 in.
5.1 in.
4.6 in.
4.7 in.
1.52 lbs.
1.36 lbs.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
What customers say about "Size & Weight"
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
- Sturdy substantial quality, while still being light enough in weight. Happy with this purchase.
- Really nice weight and feel. It sure looks like a big improvement over the prior generation Lumix FZ200.
- It has a good size and weight without being cumbersome.
- The camera has an excellent grip, it feels good in the hands. Easy to use.
- Very good camera build, feels more solid than the excellent FZ200
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80 4K 60X Zoom Camera
- It is light weight and very well made. I have an upcoming trip to Europe and cant wait to use it there.
- My first impression was that this camera is a bit bulkier than I expected. It is basically the same size as a DSLR, while many bridge cameras are smaller. The handgrip is good and it feels good and balanced when held.
- Although slightly larger than the other cameras, I like the size and ease of handling.
- The LUMIX is the same size as my Fujifilm, just with a wider lens.
- Until now, we are not using this camera due to its bulky size. Hope Lumix can make a camera as small as canon's.
Min. Focal Length
4.5 mm.
3.58 mm.
Max. Focal Length
108 mm.
215 mm.
ISO Settings
100 - 6400
Auto, 80-3200 (Extended Mode: 80-6400)
Digital Zoom
4 x
4 x
Burst Mode
Low Light/High Sensitivity
Image File Format(s)
Face Detection
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
What customers say about "Imaging"
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
- The ability to shoot shutter priority, aperture priority, full manual, or full auto (with consistently good results in auto)
- Image quality is excellent in good light, shows good dynamic range and lots of detail.
- Good quality macro images possible.
- Photo qualities overall are excellent in daylight/no flash photos, low-light photos without flash is just fair, & flash photography indoors or outdoors with this camera is really quite good.
- 4K photo qualities in daylight with this camera is rather good. Video qualities overall with all of the video options is very good with this camera and there is a tripod mounting bracket if it's needed.
- I was dissatisfied with the quality of the images I was able to capture, regardless of the amount of light present. I understand that this may be an issue related to the sensor size and/or my lack of skill re recording images
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80 4K 60X Zoom Camera
- The closeup pictures are very clear and so are the closeup zoomed pictures. We have friends who are professionals on this field and they are very impressed with the quality of pictures and videos of this camera.
- This si a great camera with a great zoom lens.
- Good pic quality. Easy to use. Flash does not pop up on own.
- I wanted to upgrade the 20x optical/4x digital zoom provided by my old Canon SX20. After extensive research of 50x+ zoom camera, the Lumix FZ80 came out tops.
- It doesn't have min shtr speed and It is very important in low light condition
Display Type
Touch Screen
Screen Size
3 in.
3 in.
Screen Resolution
1040000 dots
1040000 dots
Vari-angle Display
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
What customers say about "Display"
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
- Tilt and swivel touch-screen monitor is very nice feature.
- The best features were the beautiful bright sharp EVF, the fast accurate focus and the touch screen was a WOW.
- The touch focus on the LCD screen is also a great feature.
- Outstanding. I love the articulating touch screen and zoom.
- The touch screen on the FZ-300 is a nice touch in theory, but in practice it was really unnecessary.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80 4K 60X Zoom Camera
- The remote app for iphone works nicely as well. And the touch screen is very useful.
- The viewfinder is a lot more comfortable in taking pictures than the screen at the back of the camera which is prone the washing out in bright light.
- Love this camera! I got tired of trying to take pictures in bright light and not being able to see what I was shooting on LCD screens.
- Would've if the screen had swivel/tilt, but this was not a surprise to me. I can live with that.
- I do wish it had an articulating screen, remote shutter socket, larger buffer, but you can't have everything at this price.
Water Resistant
Shock Resistant
Panorama Mode
Shooting Modes
AUTO, Program Auto, Aperture Priority, P, M, SCN, A, S, Clear Portrait, Silky Skin, Cool Night Sky, Shutter Priority, Whitebalance, ISO, Exposure, Flash Exposure, Monochrome, Clear Sports Shot
Intelligent Auto Mode, Intelligent Auto Plus Mode, Program AE Mode, Aperture-Priority AE Mode, Shutter-Priority AE Mode, Manual Exposure Mode, Creative Video Mode, Custom Mode, Scene Guide Mode, Creative Control Mode
White Balance Modes
Auto, Daylight, Shade, Cloudy, Incandescent, White Set 1, 2, 3, 4, Color Temperature
Auto, Color Temperature, Daylight, Flash, Incandescent, Shade, White Set 1, White Set 2, White Set 3, White Set 4
Shutter Speeds
60" - 1/4000
4" - 1/2000
What customers say about "Features"
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
- Camera has weather sealing and can be used in inclement weather. Not waterproof!
- Great zoom range. From 25 to 600.
- EVF is larger and improved over FZ200 and can view scenes and info better.
- Can set the focus point while viewing through EVF, focus area, extra functions buttons.
- Can easily add filters, including Polarizers, ND filters and super closeup filters.
- Will only film for 30 min straight.
- SD card is mounted with the battery so with a tripod the plate has to come off to change one or the other.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80 4K 60X Zoom Camera
- The camera has so many settings that I read a professional photographer uses it in addition to his other cameras.
- I bought this so I did not have to bring extra heavy lens on a vacation. This was a great choice. It has a lot of features but the zoom is GREAT !
- The camera works fantastically in iA, which is the auto mode. I mainly use Aperture but was impressed with the auto settings.
- It performed very well in high range zoom and in both video and picture taking modes. It's ability to focus in real time during video mode is pretty good and I tested it during a snow storm just to make it a little harder on the camera.
- The software provided for video replay is on a free-trial basis , and then must be purchased ($80+). Perhaps there is a free shareware option, but it is unfortunate that free software is not included for video, like it is for photos.
PictBridge Enabled
NFC Enabled
Integrated GPS
Mini HDMI, AV Output (NTSC), USB (AV/USB Multi)
Micro HDMI, USB (USB 2.0), Micro USB
Number Of Memory Card Slots
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80
What customers say about "Connectivity"
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
- Wifi allows easy transfer of images. And camera control through app.
- I liked a lot the Wifi functionality and the zoom, also the 4K video is great!
- I also connected my iPhone to this camera via Wifi. It is easy to do and frankly using the remote control is an AMAZING experience.
- One of the many cool features is it emits a wifi signal that you can connect with your phone and take pictures using your phone.
- I wish the camera had GPS, but it can connect to your phone to get the GPS.
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ80 4K 60X Zoom Camera
- The HDMI output is nice to connect to big screen. But if you have a wi-fi capable TV, you don't need wires to see the pictures or video.
- Proprietary USB connector: while most cameras allow USB connection by providing a mini-usb port, Panasonic decided to go with something else and so you're stuck with their cables.
- It doesn't have Wi-Fi connectivity, like some of the more expensive cameras, which I was aware of and really don't need. So if that's something you want, take that into consideration.
- One thing the camera does NOT have is wifi access.. I easily solved that with a EYE FI Mobi SD card..
- I do wish it had the wifi capabilities like some newer models but this is a great option for beginners like me!
AC Adapter Compatible
Battery Model
Lithium-Ion Battery Pack, 7.2 VDC, 1200 mAh
Rechargeable Lithium-Ion Battery Pack, 7.2 VDC, 895 mAh
Number of Batteries
Warranty / Certifications
Manufacturer Warranty
1 year(s)
1 year(s)
Other Information
299.99 $
Popular Comparisons
Panasonic Lumix DMC-LX100 4K Point and Shoot Cameravs
Sony Cyber-shot DSC-RX100 IV Digital Still Camera
Nikon COOLPIX B700 Digital Cameravs
Sony Cybershot DSC-HX400V Digital Camera
Nikon COOLPIX B700 Digital Cameravs
Nikon COOLPIX P900 Digital Camera
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ1000 4K Point and Shoot Cameravs
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ300
Panasonic Lumix DMC-G7 4K Mirrorless Cameravs
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ1000 4K Point and Shoot Camera
Canon PowerShot G3 X Cameravs
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ1000 4K Point and Shoot Camera
Nikon COOLPIX B700 Digital Cameravs
Canon PowerShot SX60 Digital Camera
Nikon COOLPIX P610 Digital Cameravs
Canon PowerShot SX60 Digital Camera
Sony Cyber-shot RX10 III (DSC-RX10M3) Cameravs
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ2500 4K Point and Shoot Camera
Fujifilm FinePix S1 Digital Cameravs
Canon PowerShot SX60 Digital Camera
Nikon COOLPIX P900 Digital Cameravs
Canon PowerShot SX60 Digital Camera
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ1000 4K Point and Shoot Cameravs
Canon PowerShot SX60 Digital Camera
Sony Cyber-shot RX10 III (DSC-RX10M3) Cameravs
Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ1000 4K Point and Shoot Camera

subset: commoncrawl


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text:
Ap·pli·ca·ble (adj): relevant or appropriate.
Sometimes I feel like a helpless city with no defenses, being bombarded by a society which senses no responsibility for viciously attacking in the pursuit of gaining its will.
It doesn't matter what the issue is–every advocacy group is obsessed with its own form of tunnel vision, and contends that if you do not agree with them in every principle, that somehow or another you are suffering from a phobia against their cause.
No one is stopping to ask an important question: what principle is really applicable to the ongoing sanity and peaceful coexistence of human beings?
Let me explain.
I have lots of foibles. I suppose some people would even consider them sins. I am fat, bald, somewhat lazy and silly. There are individuals who would take any one of those and isolate me off in a box for direct FedEx shipment to hell. I have no malice toward them. I do not wish that they, too, would experience a fiery end. I just think their cause is overwrought and is trumped by a greater good which is often ignored in the pursuit of these pundits proving their point.
I just believe that the only applicable statement for those dwelling on Earth and confined by mortality is "no one is better than anyone else."
- So on the issue of abortion, I have empathy for both mother and child, so I grant freedom for choice and discovery of restraint.
- How about racial issues? Since no one is better than anyone else, having God color you in with a different hue doesn't seem very important.
- Homosexuality? Since I probably will not be joining you in your bedroom, I would rather appreciate your company in the fellowship hall.
Life is not nearly as complicated as angry pollsters and protesting advocates try to make it out to be. I cannot judge you because if I were judged by the same standard, I would be weighed in the balances and found wanting.
Therefore what is applicable becomes that which is relevant. And what is relevant is that I have no control over your happiness–only the ability to hurt you and take away your joy.
So I shall not.
"No one is better than anyone else. "
That is applicable.
Everything else is merely conversational, aggravating bullshit.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix


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2021 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 Review, Specs, Release Date – It is not necessarily exaggerating if we state that 2021 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 will change (or it is best to say blow away) all sporty vehicles in years to come, being aware of all changes and improvements the maker is planning about this car. But first, let's point out to on inferior final results soon after competition Camaro check driving a vehicle in Nurburgring this past year especially on Daytona 500 when one more race automobile, Ford Fusion, beat it and proved all falls and disorders of Camaro. But, will not worry; Chevy will not be that unusual maker that they have not well prepared the much better automobile, under the very well liked name – ZL that obtained the most effective in just one.
That LZ1 version, unveiled as a new sporty race car, features a 6.2-liter V8 engine, coupled with seven-rate auto transmission and Brembo brakes to generate 650 horsepower of durability. The rate is accomplished with the form of the car; too, as the vehicle is created to satisfy sleek shape and lightweight due to the components. Once this automobile is introduced, next question of newspaper writers was: "When the 2021 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 is arranged to get released"?
Now you ask, indeed predicted as you may know that Z28 edition of Chevrolet sporty auto was very well liked ever since the first model has become introduced in 1967. Straight back to that period, Z28 had been a sign or rate, power, and shows, as well as an alternative to Trans-Am types, extremely preferred during that time. Even manufacturer firmly refused also the opportunity of existing 2021 Chevrolet Camaro Z28; you can find possibilities they were incorrect. This product is really about the manufacturer outlines, although not under that title, no less than not for now.
Probably the most eye-catching on 2021 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 will apparently be its engine. As is the company stated, this new version ought to have 5.5-liter V8 petroleum engine (or more significant than that) with 750 hp. We also assume that it will probably be put together with lightweight aluminum prohibit, double overhead camshafts and direct (and harbor) fuel injection. When you discovered, this is the identical engine that new Ferrari 458, while the maker is planning to include one more double exhaust for further potential, as new Ferrari 488 has.
2021 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 Release Date And Price
If you are not persuaded in 2021 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 eat brain that it variation was just about the most marketing types in 70's, so Chevrolet is not going to get rid of a possibility to back that reputation again. Since the few fact, this engine is arranged to be utilized on all Camaros and Corvettes along with on some Cadillac designs made in GM.


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Boats and Motors. Westarm-Species.
West Arm is blessed with an abundance of weedbeds where muskie, northern pike, small mouth bass and large mouth bass, walley, perch and pan fish thrive. As a guest we will supply you with everything you need for successful fishing. We keep you abreast of exactly where the fish are biting in these many miles of unpopulated waters.
And before you venture out we will give you a detailed map and review your tackle to be sure you know what works best in our WestArm habitat. we do not sell Fishing Licenses anymore, but you can do that easily online or we tell you where to buy them nearby. For more information, please refer to licenses and regulations.
Whether you are an experienced angler or a beginner, we cover every fishing need right here at the Lodge. We pack your boat with tackle, bait, ice, and cooking sup-plies. When you return, our screened-in fishing facility stands ready at the water's edge. And should you land that trophy lunker, we'll wrap, freeze and box it for the trip home.
|Northern Pike
|Small Mouth Bass
|Large Mouth Bass


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Do you want to delete all occurrences of the recurring appointment "No School - student holiday and virtual workday for PWCS Staff - Presidential Primary", or just this one?
Delete this occurrence.
Delete this series.
School Board Representatives for this School
Warning! This web page may contain links to one of more websites outside the PWCS network, which are not PWCS venues and may not reflect the views or opinions of PWCS. PWCS does not control the content of such websites and does not sponsor or endorse any messages, products, or services contained on such websites.
Website by SchoolMessenger Presence. © 2020 Intrado Corporation. All rights reserved.


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I come back to view any comments every week. I don't see anything that I need to respond to. I said what needed to be said. It seems no one agrees. That's fine.
I come back to view any comments every week. I don't see anything that I need to respond to. I said what needed to be said. It seems no one agrees. That's fine.
There is something I would invite you to do though, if you feel it might be illuminating. I would be interested in your view of the nature of foreseeing, as opposed to its content. Revelation and Daniel and the many other sources of foresight all intend the user to regard their prophesies as accurate, in other words foreseen, as opposed to predictive based on current knowledge. Is that a fair assessment? I can think of exceptions like Jonah but in general I think the visionary's declarations are intended as graphic snapshots of future events rather than warnings of possibility.
What distinguishes a foreseer with truthful visions from a storyteller making up a fiction? Is foresight open to everyone or can only a fraction of people do it? What distinguishes the one group from the other?
As for your observation that "no one agrees" I think that's unfair. You are clearly writing from a position of expert knowledge to what can only be a random selection of passers-by. Nothing any of us might say could carry weight in such a circumstance.
Nullius in verba ☎|||||||||||
Who has a spare two minutes to play in this month's FG Trivia game!
The watch of your vision has become reasonable today.
England's troubles will increase until the bishops open Joanna Southcott's box.
It's normal. You must provoke. You must insult the belief of all monotheists. You must make fun of the belief of all monotheists.
From the upper tier of the Leppings Lane End of the Hillsborough Stadium, I watched the events of that day unfold with horror.
When the flowers want to oxygen and nutrition, or you're a wedding or party planner, I will help you too much.
Write that word in the blood
Do you wonder at your gifts of interpretation , dedication and faith but ever ask
yourself , why is it only me that has this understanding ?
If not , why ?
And what has your therapist got to say ?
And has Mrs Trellis of Wales yet contacted you ?
I know from correspondence she is very worried about you and would like your
address so that she can send you some of her famous raspberry scones .
Just out of interest, I am rather keen for your End of Times . I cannot stand the
prospect of a mini ice age and the stress of moving to north Africa .A quick plague and
a Tsunami to clear up the mess is preferable .
But instead you have told us that details are irrelevant to you . Key info no less .
A continued downward spiral is inevitable and given that you are in Colorado in the first
place , that is an awful punishment .
Has anything good ever been seen or found in Colorado , save future President Trey Gowdy ?
Rhetorical . Do not answer .
You will only start lying again !!!!!!!!
Amazing that you assume that me of all people would not just laugh at your hopeless attempt to wriggle .
But I am not laughing .
Just worried on your behalf .
I would call you a b***oon but our sour moderators tend to only read literally and would accuse me of some heinous infraction . Balloon . Naturally
Better a tailor than suiting yourself .
I have no use for a suit, or a tailor.
"Learn from the mistakes of others---you can never live long enough to make them all yourself."
- Anon
Assumed .
Not a gentleman I fear .
A bounder perhaps .


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When you spend a good majority of your week working out (and writing about working out), you build up quite the appetite. But even as fitness editors and writers, the staff of Men's Fitness isn't above double-fisting energy drinks or swiping a donut from the communal office snack table.
Okay, so we're not perfect. But we do know that one of the best ways to fight the bad munchies is with supremely healthy munchies (and not-exactly-the-best-but-better-for-you snacks).
Read more here


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Hi John,
The other side of your question is why would someone enter into a contract to buy something that has not yet been produced? In business, why does anyone buy or sell anything? In anticipation of a profit or to limit losses.
In the case of futures, it gets even weirder in that very few contracts actually end up with an actual purchase, delivery or sale of the actual commodity. The seller of the contract does not need to have possession of the commodity and the buyer may have no intention of taking possession of the commodity. A futures contract is an agreement to deliver a specific quantity of a commodity at a future date at a set price.
A producer growing soybeans today might have a 4 month lead-time from planting to harvest. If a farmer is planting soybeans today and currently selling for $10 a bushel there is a very high risk that the price will change by the time to harvest. A soybean farmer can protect his position by offering a futures contract on that harvest. So if the price of soybeans goes down, he must sell his product at the prevailing price but will recoup the difference on the futures contract by buying back his contracts for less than what he sold them for. If the price of soybeans is higher he will make a higher profit than anticipated on the soybeans but must buy back the futures contract at a higher price.
It is one thing for a producer to do this to protect themselves. It is yet another thing to speculate on the price of some commodity in the future. You might be better off going to Vegas… and a lot more fun.
Hi John,
As John Essigman pointed out above, commodities producers often "hedge" their production proceeds by purchasing futures contracts. As you imply, they often lock in the price of their crops via futures contracts. Thus, if the market price of their crop falls they still command the contract price.
To answer your question, I think two things often happen with commodities producers. First, the producers are not entirely sure how much they'll produce in a given time frame. It's therefore likely that they sell more than they expect to produce just to be conservative. A "better safe than sorry" approach.
Secondly, many large commodities producers are very active in the futures markets as previously described. British Petroleum, Chevron, and other oil companies have massive commodities trading operations. I think as they become more engaged in the futures markets, their confidence grows, and they are more likely to speculate on the price of their own crops. Thus the first trade may be a traditional hedge, while the excess constitutes a speculative bet.
Hope this helps.


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Weight Loss Special at Back in Motion Physical Therapy & Spine Center
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Detox Your Body with Glycoprotein Complex
The right supplements can have a big impact on your overall health. When you are trying to feel better by losing weight, you need the right nutrition. Our glycoprotein complex is a natural way to improve your health and get you back to the activities you enjoy. You will lose weight and feel better throughout the process.
The Benefits of Our Weight Loss Special
We understand that losing weight is hard, and this is why we have designed this six-week program to get our clients on the path to recovery. During the six weeks, you will get access to free ice chips and shape lotion. You can talk to us about your progress and how you are feeling from taking the supplements and moving forward in your life. Through a homeopathic and anti-inflammatory diet, you will be able to take back your health and lose weight at the same time.
How Detox and Cleansing Helps Your Body
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DAN...... the great pioneer #4
Question of circumcision—Scutlii, or Scythian, is Hebrew for wanderers, or those living in temporary dwellings — Were considered Heraclidae by the Greeks—Scythian account, and date of their first appearance as a nation—Place and date of their appearance, according to historians—Their character—The Saka, or Sakai, and Gimiri, or Beth-Kumri of Media— Scythian nation on the North of the Black Sea—King Saulios—Gruph and Ch'ruv — Language — Scythian gods are Syro-Phoenician— Goths, Roman name for Scythians—Arsareth—Saeasuni and Saxon.
Although the subject- is still, like the previous chapter, "The Danai, or Dan in the Black Sea," let us now more especially examine his connection with the Scythians, or Sakai, for at the close of the previous chapter, we had heard, through the Bombay inscriptions, of Dan, who had been living amoug the "'people of Saka" (evidently in Media and Armenia), "unloosing" to cross over to Gothland (the North coast of the Black Sea), when Cyrus came against them. And to the " towns of Jason/' in Media and Armenia, we had traced step by step as the Danai of Greece, and Heraclidae or traders, the Colchians, who observed circumcision, the relatives of the Lacedaemonians, who showed the cognizance of Dan, the acknowledged literal " brethren " of the Jews. We have also seen that Armenia and Media were the countries to which the Tribes of Israel were deported by the kings of Assyria, and it is North of the Black Sea that in Herodotus' time we find the greater part of the Scythian nation located, and it is there also that we find many of the rivers impressed with the name of Dan, the Don or Tanais, the Dan-apris, Dan-astris, and Dan-ube.
Who, then, were the Scythians, these new friends and companions whom the enterprising Danai have met with in Asia? It would occupy a separate pamphlet of considerable dimensions to adduce all that might be said of the Scythians, as including, if not mainly composed of, the exiled and "escaped" of Israel. Some years ago I printed a small paper, "Our Scythian Ancestors Identified with Israel" but the sixteen pages which compose it, might be expanded to sixty with evidence of the first importance which has subsequently cropped up. I will therefore only touch upon a few of the leading points.
And, first, I think the question may be repeated by some readers, "If the Scythians were Israel, why is there no record of circumcision being observed among them, as stated of the Colchiansl " To this I reply, the Colchians were free emigrants at a comparatively early date, when everything was fresh among the Israelites; whereas Israel's deportation took place between five and six centuries later, as a punishment, not for keeping live law and the covenant, but for breaking them, and for going after other gods, and copying the rites of other nations.
The wonder is, not that the Israelites should have relinquished circumcision, but that any portion of them, as the Colchians, should have retained it, for St. Peter speaks of it as "a yoke which neither we nor our fathers were able to bear" (Acts xv. 10), and during the forty years in the wilderness, under Moses, it was wholly neglected (Josh. v. 2—9).
Mr. H. P. Smith ("Ancient History of the East," p. 472) and Professor Rawlinson ("Herodotus," note on the Scythians) concur in stating that Scyth is not a real ethnic name, but a title given to all nomads, or wandering pastoral tribes.
Now in Hebrew alone does this word mean wanderers, and it is connected with one of their most important feasts, the only one, apparently, which is to be retained after the restoration of all things— viz., the Feast of Tabernacles, or Scoth or Scot (booths), which was instituted to commemorate Israel's wanderings in the wilderness (see Lev. xxiii. 40—43; Zech. xiv. 16; Gen. xxxiii. 17). In Hebrew, the dwellers in booths are Scuthi, or Scoti, or as we should say, a "Succothites."
Now the Greeks adopted the word, possibly imported by the Danites, and spoke of the Skuthai, which, through the Latin, we call "Scythian." But the Greeks can assign no meaning to the word, but say that these Skuthai were descended from a certain Skuthees, who was a mythical son of Heracles and a half serpent mother (Herod, iv. 8). Here, then, Greek legend assigns a connection between the Scythians and the Heraclidae, or Danai, and traces of the serpent are again apparent. There seems somewhat also of a correspondence in the legends of the Scythians and the Lacedaemonians. The Scythians say that their ancestor was Targetaus, a son of Jupiter by the daughter of a river (Herod, iv. 5), while the Lacedaemonians say that Lacedaemo was the son of Jupiter and Mount Taygetus,or Taygeta* (See appendix, "What the Scythians said to Herodotus.")
* As "Scythian" "Scuthi,'''' or "Skuthai" merely means "dwellers in booths"— i.e.. nomads—the name, though Hebrew, does not necessarily determine the ethnic affinities of those to whom it was applied, except when accompanied by other evidence. Herodotus often distinguishes between the Scythians proper, and Tribes living among them having Scythian habits, but who were not Scythian by tradition or language. He speaks of the Scythian nation as "very learned," but of certain tribes as dreadful barbarians. Strabo likewise quotes several authors who speak of the excellent laws and habits of the Sakai, a tribe of Scythians who are called "a righteous race." The name Saka is a better guide, even though the Persians applied Sakai to all Scythians, and Gumri, or Gimiri (p. 26), is still more remarkable. But however great the medley, the blood of Abraham, and the effect of the discipline in the wilderness, and general training of Israel, would soon show up when in contact with mere vagrant vagabond tribes. "The laws, customs, and manners of the Scythians," says Epiphanius, "were received by the other nations as the standardst of policy, civility, and polite learning."
Their legendary date of their first appearance under a king in the wilderness (Herod, iv. 5—7), 1,000 years before Darius' expedition (500 B.C.), corresponds with the date of Israel under Moses in the wilderness.
The date assigned by historians to their first appearance on the Araxes in Media as a despicable people (Diod. ii. 3) accords with the date of Israel's deportation to those regions by the kings of Assyria.
For their rapid growth and expansion, their excellent laws, their learning, and abhorrence of swine, see Diodorus, Herodotus, Strabo, AEschylus, Epiphanius, &c.
"The Persians," says Herodotus, vii. 64, "call all the Scythians Sakai." Strabo, xi., viii. 4, mentions "the Sakai got possession of the most fertile tract of Armenia, which was called after their own name Saccassena." Pliny, vi. 16, mentions that the Sakai were the most distinguished Scythians, and that those who settled in Armenia were called Saccassani. Ephorus quotes Choerilus, who calls the Sakai of Asia "a colony of nomads, a righteous race."
In a short chapter, iv., of a small pamphlet, "Are We Israelites?" by the Rev. Bourchier Wrey Savile, M.A., these Sakai are traced by the aid of Sir H. Rawlinson's own interpretations of the Assyrian inscriptions, to the Ten Tribes of Israel, including the people of Samaria, Beth Kumri, who were carried away by Tiglath-Pileser and SargonB.c. circ. 721.
Sir H. Rawlinson, in his brother's edition of "Herodotus," seems to consider Scyth and Sacan identical in meaning as Nomades. Scyth, we have seen, does in the Hebrew mean "wanderers;" but in the Achoemenian inscriptions, Saka, which Sir Henry calls Aryan, and which he says is replaced by "Gimiri in the Babylonian transcripts of the Persian and Scythic columns," * refers, I would suggest, either to the worship of God under the title, still extant among the Jews, of Saka, the most pure, or else it is one of their own names, Tsaki, Isaacites or Beth-Isaac, House of Isaac (see Amos vii. 9, 16).
Further, as regards the history of the Scythians on the Black Sea,
[* This Gimiri, of the Babylonian transcripts, says Sir H. Rawlinson, "else-where always means the Tribes" and is "the Semitic equivalent of the Aryan name of Saka (SoKai)." ... "The Sacse (Sakai) or Scythians, first appears in the Cuneiform inscriptions about 684 B.C." Now Cyrus's father was "of the Royal Tribe of Pasar-gadoe," of the family of Achoemenes, and his mother was daughter of the Median King Astyages (said to have been the Ahasuerus of Scripture). Cyrus, collecting some of the Tribes called Persian, including his own, and aided by a portion of the Medes, overthrew Astyages, and subsequently, with Medes and Persians, advanced against Babylon circ. 560 B.C. Now in Isaiah xiii. 3, 17, it is the Lord's "sanctified ones" who, together with the Medes, advance against Babylon under Cyrus, the Lord's "Shepherd" (Isaiah xliv. 28), and "Anointed" (Isaiah xlv. 1). (See inscriptions regarding the Beth Khumri captives from Samaria, "Records of the Past." v. pp. 28, 41). If this Cyrus (for Xenophon gives a different account) was afterwards killed in an expedition against the Scythians, he was probably endeavouring to coerce all the Tribes into obedience, and to consolidate a new Israelitish empire under a despotism, which would have checked their development (see pp. 21 and 22).]
Herodotus, iv. 76, mentions a king Saulios, living on the Dan-apris (Dnieper). He was father to Idan-Thyrsus, the king who made the irruption against the Medes, and held Asia and the Holy Land for twenty-nine years, penetrating to Egypt. This took place about 630 B.C.—i.e., some eighty or ninety years after the captivity, but nearly 600 years later than Dan's first settlement in the Black Sea: and it reads uncommonly like a wild dash of some of the Tribes—an Israelitish crusade to recover their inheritance.
Herodotus also records (iv. 76) that the Scythians "studiously avoid the use of foreign customs." Now Israel's sin in the Holy Land was too great a fondness for foreign customs, but we may reasonably suppose that the sufferings they had endured and their banishment had brought them somewhat to a sense of their sin, even though they might have been unable to recover the truth; Ezekiel's vision was by the river of Chebar, about 590 B.C., and 2 Esdras xiii. 40—42, ascribes as a reason for the Ten Tribes moving away from Media,* that they desired to serve God in their own way.
Now it is somewhat remarkable that Herodotus should thus record the jealousy of the Scythians in religious matters (iv. 79, 80). One of their kings named Scylas had in the city of Borysthenes, which was outside his dominions, a large and magnificent mansion: round it were placed sphinxes and gryphons of white marble (note that the Greek .... is the Hebrew chr'uv, or as we say cherub.) Scylas was very desirous of being initiated into the mysteries of Bacchus, but he was afraid of any of his people seeing him. He used, therefore, to go there in private and assume the Greek dress. On the occasion of his initiation, "just as he was about to commence the sacred rites, a very great prodigy occurred......the god hurled a bolt and his palace was entirely burnt down."**
Herodotus has also left us two or three specimens of the Scythian language—viz., iv. 27, he says spou means the eye, which may be from the Hebrew root tspeh, to watch, to look around: English spy : but the most remarkable one is the following:—In iv. 52 he describes "a bitter fountain," which discharges itself into the Hypanis and taints the water: " The name of the fountain is," he
* Probably the more zealously religious portion of them, and if, as conjectured, Arsaretk, where they moved to, be the city or country of the river Sereth which flows into the Danube, this would account for the character of the people, the "Dacae called Poltstae" who were there in Josephus' time, and whose strict manners of life he compares to that of the sect of Essenes among the Jews (Antiq. xviii. i. 5): "And I do verily believe are the same with those which Strabo calleth Plistae, and were the stock of the Abii " (a Scythian Tribe whom Arrian calls "the justest people in the world ").—Ortellius Thesaurus, Dacia et Moesia. The Latin Daci would be Greek Dakai, but (see p. 10, Hebrew, convertible into Z, S, D, or T) the D here used may be the Hebrew, tz, and Dakai may therefore be corrupted from Tzaki, or Sakai.
**Though the Scythians objected to Bacchanalian orgies in the heathen sense, they appear to have been hard drinkers of "unmixed wine:" so that "pour out like a Scythian" was a saying among the Spartans when they wanted something stronger (Herod, vi. 84).
says, "in the Scythian language 'Exampceus,' but in the language of the Greeks, 'the sacred ways.' From this many writers have inferred that Exampaeus is Scythian for sacred ways, but Herodotus does not say so. Now I find that in Hebrew ha-sam-pe, would mean the bitter or medicinal outlet: from sam, meaning as a verb 'to smell' and, as a noun, 'drugs' 'poison' 'bitter,' and or, pi or peh, 'a well's mouth' 'outlet' or 'opening.'
Again, iv. 59, Herodotus gives a list of the deities of the Scythians. These have surprised many writers, but the following is the note of the Rev. J. W. Blakesley, B.D., in the Cambridge Bibliotheca classica edition of Herodotus:—
"These two reputed Scythian words seem to be unquestionably of the Indo- Germanic family of languages.....is a name by which a portion of the Peloponnesus was anciently called (AEschylus Sup. 260—269), and it is probably identical in etymology with the word [Greek is given], and originally an epithet of the earth considered as an object of worship (Greek phrase is guven, Suppl. 117—127). Artimpasa, if genuine, seems to be merely another form of Artemis with an affix. Etosyrus is most suspiciously like [Greek given] the Syrian dirge, or chant, of which the proper name was Linus. Thamimasadas. too, suggests the Tammuz of Ezek. viii. 14 in a Hellenic dress. So that all these names, with the exception of Tabiti—and perhaps that, too, may he the Tophet of 2 Kings xxiii. 10—seem to belong to an Achaean or Syro-Phamician language, and to all appearance are not genuine Scythian."
If it had occurred to Mr. Blakesley that the Scythians were Israelites who had come via Media, and that Danites had preceded them many centuries via Greece, he would have understood how these names would naturally bear an Indo-Germanic and Syro-Phoenician stamp, and a Greek dress, and still be Scythian.*
The Scythians were later known as Goths, or Gothi, possibly because the Getae, an important branch of the Scythian nation, were most in contact with the Romans, with whom, therefore, all Scythians were Gothi. Sailman, a Jewish writer in 1818, in "Researches in the East" quotes Ortellius, who "notes the kingdom of Arsareth (see 2 Esdras xiii. 45), where the Ten Tribes, retiring, took the name of Gauthei." John Wilson has pointed out that the country of the Getae was on the borders of the Danubian principalities, on the river Sereth, where is a town of the same name, which, in the Hebrew tongue, would be Ar-sereth. It is necessary to point out this identity of the Scythians and Goths, and
[* The same might be said of the recent paper by Professor Bugge of Christiana ("the highest living authority") on "The Origin of Norse Mythology" (see Academy, Nov. 29,1879, p. 396). He traces Norse mythology to "tales heard by the Vikings from Englishmen and Irishmen." And these tales are. he says, a mixture of "old Greek-Roman mythology," and "Jewish-Christian Bible legends." Dr. Baug also read a paper on "The Voluspa." If it had occurred to the Professor that the Danite Vikings had met the Irish Dannan, the Greek Danai, and English Saka in "Gothland on the Euxine," and perhaps before that in Media, he would have seen how they could have become possessed of Jewish-Christian and Greek-Roman tales, sharing them with, and not borrowing them from Englishmen or Irishmen.]
their connection with the Danai, for we have Gothland and the Danai in the Black Sea, and again we have Gotha and Gothland in the Baltic, and the Dannans, or Danes, again.
As apropos to the general subject, it may be observed, in concluding this chapter, that Ptolemy mentions a Scythian people sprung from the Sakai, named Saxones (Sharon Turner, "Anglo-Sax.," vol. i., p. 100). And Moore ("Pillar Stones of Scotland") observes:—
"That the Sacasuni of Armenia were of the same stock as the Saxons of England is deemed sufficiently evident by those who have most deeply studied the subject (see 'Origin and Progress of the Scythians or Goths,' by John Pinkerton, 1788; Sharon Turner's 'History of the Anglo-Saxons' and 'Les Scythes,' by F. G. Bergmann),"


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Recently remodeled 3 bedrooms townhouse in the heart of Boca Raton. New kitchen with granite counter tops. New guest bath. New floors, porcelain downstairs and Laminate in the bedrooms. Fairfield has a couple of pools, playgrounds and tennis courts. Walk to Town Center mall and Boca Center for great dining and shopping.
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I've been living in Springfield for 10 years now, I'm originally from Walkinstown but I'm well settled in Tallaght at this stage and I love the place I have to say.
It's a brilliant place to live, I'm in The Square nearly everyday, running around the place, and I use the gym across the road.
It's kind of like a little town within a town, it's a nice quiet area as well and the community around here is very good, lovely people.
The way the media describe Tallaght sometimes is nowhere near the truth, you have to judge that for yourself, and you really have to be here to understand that. It's a very multi cultural community as well and all the different nationalities get on, which is great.
Tallaght does have a bit of a stigma but I think that has died down a bit. I really love the place.
I'm the lead singer of a band called The Swing Cats and the rest of the guys in the band are Northsiders. They all used to come over to my house in Springfield to practice, in a backroom in the house I'd sound proofed, because Tallaght is easy for everyone to get to and I always claim it is the centre of the universe!
We would describe ourselves as a live Swing band with a difference, our set list is made up of the more uptempo hits from the swing dance era of the 1940's and 1950's.
Five years ago when we started The Swing Cats it was mainly to do weddings and corporate gigs and then three years ago we did our first headline show in the Button Factory.
We sold out that venue so we thought "lets do it again."
The following year we released our first album which ended up being album of the month on RTE Radio 1 which was huge for us and a great honour as well to get recognition like that off the national broadcaster.
I used to work in Guinness's but I quit in 2014 to really focus on the music and do it full time as a job.
I had turned 30 and had the house sorted and no kids so I thought I would give it a go.
It was a big move but thankfully it's starting to work out at last.
Last year I become good friends with another Springfield man called Al Porter.
I used to see him going into the local Centra in his slippers and hat and I'd be thinking "who is this fella and what is he up to here?!"
He'd be talking to all the old women and making them laugh, he's a serious character is Al!
We happened to bump into each other on the Anton Savage show on Today FM as he was doing a bit of comedy and we were the house band on the show.
He told us he was a very big fan of swing music, which I didn't know at the time, and he said he'd love to do a show with us.
We did a joint headline gig together at the Fringe Festival last year, we were both out front, him telling jokes and me doing a bit of singing. He's much better at singing than I am at telling jokes!
It went well and the Irish Times put it down as one of their theatrical highlights of the year, which none of us expected.
Following that we did The Late Late Show and a sold out show in Vicar Street.
Last month we switched on the Christmas lights on Grafton Street which was a massive honour as I'm a huge Christmas fan and to get to do that in front of 20,000 people was really special and something I'd love to do again.
This month we released our second album, it's called "Afterdark" and the response to it so far has been excellent.
Next year we do our biggest show ever, on May 20th we play in the National Concert Hall with a 25 piece orchestra, which is something we're all really looking forward to.
We play 70/80 weddings a year which helps us because every one we play we're winning over a new audience.
People that come to our gigs already like us and know about us but most of the people we play to at weddings have never heard of us and if a wedding crowd like you by God they'll let you know!
We're not on a record label, we look after ourselves, the goal is to make it to the 3 Arena eventually.
I'm firmly of the belief that you have to make things happen yourself.
It drives me mad when people say "I'm just waiting to see what happens."
You have to get off your ass and do it yourself, nobody is going to hand you anything in this life.
Nobody is going to knock on our door and offer us a record deal but we will keep working hard and doing everything we can to get where we want to be.


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Email Hannah Morters (MBACP)
An Integrative Psychotherapist and Life Coach working on the border between Essex and Suffolk. Offering daytime, evening and weekend appointments to individuals (aged 11+) and couples.
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In Scotland, there's been a long running debate about the best ways to boost our local economies.
At FSB, we believe part of the answer lies in making better decisions about how, and from whom, the public sector purchases goods and services. Our research has consistently shown the economic benefits of buying from small, local firms.
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So, if you spend money with a local smaller firm, more money will stay in your local neighbourhood and that should create more jobs and opportunities.
When it comes to local spending, however, more could be done by Scotland's councils. Our 32 local authorities spend over £6.1 billion a year procuring goods and services but the average Scottish council spent less than a fifth of their procurement budget (just 19.7%!) with smaller firms in their area in 2015/16.
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And it can be done. Manchester City Council, for example, currently spends 73.6% of its procurement budget with local firms and over half of that money is spent on SMEs. CLES argue that this results increases in more volunteering and community activities, apprenticeships, jobs and employment opportunities for 'hard to reach' individuals. So it's clear – more local spending can deliver more economic bang for our buck.
Amidst the ongoing political uncertainty, City Deals could give local economies the shot in the arm they need, but we need to squeeze every drop of value from their spending power. We have to make sure that local firms get their fair share.
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