Tomorrow, I'll be putting together a video on my experiment on constructing a wood-chip burning cookstove. Check it out at my other blog, Survive magazine, on blogger! Click here...
http://survive-magazine.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
The Inexorable Pull
It was planned ages ago. It was written after that. Time is telling the tale. Time is marching on. But the end is in sight. The end is inevitable. What has been written is irrevocable, indelible. And it HAS been written.
Look around. See the signs. They are clear, for the few. To the blind all is dark. Just as time marches on, so do the blind, stumbling toward the precipice, lemming-like in their hurry. So much jostling, so much pushing, and all toward ruin, destruction.
As one snatched from the fire, am I, are the few. I wish it could be different, but no... Only a fraction will live, a tiny portion of the whole, just as it was written, long ago.
We have to live as secret rescuers, yanking those passing by on their way to the cliff out of the crowd. In secret, yes, but boldly moving, always moving. Always asking for the next opportunity to save, like our namesake. Always laying down our lives, always striving against the tide, inevitable though it may be.
I ask myself, I ask you, have you taken every opportunity? Have you given till it actually hurt, till the blood spilled? Not yet, no. But there is still time, all is not lost.
Simple. Keep it simple. No need, nor want, for monuments or temples. We are the monuments. We are the temples. Stone is not holy, stone is not living, nor made in the image.
The shapes, the colors, the smells, the textures - all made in the image, and sacred. But not all. Only the chosen, the elected, from before time began. And after time ends, all will bow the knee, and all proclaim holy.
The evil is rising, at a compounding rate, exponentially greater, faster, harder, uglier. But it matters not. It has been written, long ago. It will surely come, and surely go.
Stand fast.
Look around. See the signs. They are clear, for the few. To the blind all is dark. Just as time marches on, so do the blind, stumbling toward the precipice, lemming-like in their hurry. So much jostling, so much pushing, and all toward ruin, destruction.
As one snatched from the fire, am I, are the few. I wish it could be different, but no... Only a fraction will live, a tiny portion of the whole, just as it was written, long ago.
We have to live as secret rescuers, yanking those passing by on their way to the cliff out of the crowd. In secret, yes, but boldly moving, always moving. Always asking for the next opportunity to save, like our namesake. Always laying down our lives, always striving against the tide, inevitable though it may be.
I ask myself, I ask you, have you taken every opportunity? Have you given till it actually hurt, till the blood spilled? Not yet, no. But there is still time, all is not lost.
Simple. Keep it simple. No need, nor want, for monuments or temples. We are the monuments. We are the temples. Stone is not holy, stone is not living, nor made in the image.
The shapes, the colors, the smells, the textures - all made in the image, and sacred. But not all. Only the chosen, the elected, from before time began. And after time ends, all will bow the knee, and all proclaim holy.
The evil is rising, at a compounding rate, exponentially greater, faster, harder, uglier. But it matters not. It has been written, long ago. It will surely come, and surely go.
Stand fast.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
In From The Wilderness...
I'm back. A wilderness it is becoming, more and more, as it was in days of yore. I speak of the wonderful island from which I've recently returned, Tuesday, that is.
We had a grand time of it, my brothers, father and I, as well as several blasts from the past - friends of the family. The barley pop was flowing, to most if not all. Cards were played in abundance. Testosterone was hanging thickly in the air, punctuated by a thin veil of estrogen - mostly in the cookhouse. The lake was lovely, with it's breakers crashing on the shoreline, in every way looking like it could be nothing other than an arm of the some northern ocean, just lacking the salt. The almost constant breeze was whispering through the branches and needles of the pines, cedars, and spruces, carrying along the rich scent of conifers wherever it went. The earthy scent of birch and aspen leaves, freshly fallen on the fertile soils, was like a perfume to my senses in the depths of the forests.
My various companions and I spent hours stalking through the woods, leaves softly crunching under foot, as we sought the elusive avian denizens of the boreal forests there - the ruffed grouse, and woodcock. Both of these birds were to be found in abundance, a product of the wide variety and quantities of foodstuffs in those fertile forests.
The wildlife of ages past seem to be showing up in greater abundance in the region. There have been reported sitings of cougar/puma/mountain lions, wolves, coyotes, bears, and moose on Drummond Island, right outside the doors of the cabin where we stayed! My brother told of an incident where another party of gents were in the cabin, doing the usual sorts of things done there, i.e. card playing, etc., when a black bear shoved his burly front paw through a glass window of the cookhouse, nabbed a gallon can of goodies, crushing it, and left with a mouthful of their food, and perhaps a tail-full of lead - not long ago.
While we were there, one of the deer hunters was in his tree stand, over-looking a pile of apples, carrots, and sugar beets, watching a deer approach, when the deer spooked, due to the sound of another approaching animal - a bear. The bear ended up directly below the hunter, who's knees were shaking uncontrollably. The hunter succeeded in shooing the bear away in the end, but was looking out for a larger one that might have caused him more problems, like happened to someone from his city recently - momma-bear problems.
Anyway, we made it back safely, but miss being there greatly.
I will post some photos of our trip when my family sends them to me, for all to see and enjoy.
Ciao,
Panchito
We had a grand time of it, my brothers, father and I, as well as several blasts from the past - friends of the family. The barley pop was flowing, to most if not all. Cards were played in abundance. Testosterone was hanging thickly in the air, punctuated by a thin veil of estrogen - mostly in the cookhouse. The lake was lovely, with it's breakers crashing on the shoreline, in every way looking like it could be nothing other than an arm of the some northern ocean, just lacking the salt. The almost constant breeze was whispering through the branches and needles of the pines, cedars, and spruces, carrying along the rich scent of conifers wherever it went. The earthy scent of birch and aspen leaves, freshly fallen on the fertile soils, was like a perfume to my senses in the depths of the forests.
My various companions and I spent hours stalking through the woods, leaves softly crunching under foot, as we sought the elusive avian denizens of the boreal forests there - the ruffed grouse, and woodcock. Both of these birds were to be found in abundance, a product of the wide variety and quantities of foodstuffs in those fertile forests.
The wildlife of ages past seem to be showing up in greater abundance in the region. There have been reported sitings of cougar/puma/mountain lions, wolves, coyotes, bears, and moose on Drummond Island, right outside the doors of the cabin where we stayed! My brother told of an incident where another party of gents were in the cabin, doing the usual sorts of things done there, i.e. card playing, etc., when a black bear shoved his burly front paw through a glass window of the cookhouse, nabbed a gallon can of goodies, crushing it, and left with a mouthful of their food, and perhaps a tail-full of lead - not long ago.
While we were there, one of the deer hunters was in his tree stand, over-looking a pile of apples, carrots, and sugar beets, watching a deer approach, when the deer spooked, due to the sound of another approaching animal - a bear. The bear ended up directly below the hunter, who's knees were shaking uncontrollably. The hunter succeeded in shooing the bear away in the end, but was looking out for a larger one that might have caused him more problems, like happened to someone from his city recently - momma-bear problems.
Anyway, we made it back safely, but miss being there greatly.
I will post some photos of our trip when my family sends them to me, for all to see and enjoy.
Ciao,
Panchito
Thursday, October 7, 2010
New Post
Catchy name, no? I thought you'd like it.
Anyway, where was I? No where really. So today, or rather yesterday, since it's now past midnight, was/is my birthday! Happy birthday, me! Thanks. I'm getting older now, nearing the big 5 0. That, at one time, was REALLY old in my eyes. Now, not so much. I can still work a huge portion of the population under the table. My back is not what it used to be, my knees are in the same boat as well. My hair seems to be moving in a southerly direction, toward the back of my neck. My wife has me on alternative treatments, starting today. This must be some sort of "hinge" day, a pivotal moment in my life. Why did she wait till THIS day to get me on said "Program"? The answers to these, and many other questions are simply beyond me. I'll have to get back to you on that.
It's sleepy time. Good night.
Panchito
Anyway, where was I? No where really. So today, or rather yesterday, since it's now past midnight, was/is my birthday! Happy birthday, me! Thanks. I'm getting older now, nearing the big 5 0. That, at one time, was REALLY old in my eyes. Now, not so much. I can still work a huge portion of the population under the table. My back is not what it used to be, my knees are in the same boat as well. My hair seems to be moving in a southerly direction, toward the back of my neck. My wife has me on alternative treatments, starting today. This must be some sort of "hinge" day, a pivotal moment in my life. Why did she wait till THIS day to get me on said "Program"? The answers to these, and many other questions are simply beyond me. I'll have to get back to you on that.
It's sleepy time. Good night.
Panchito
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