"hey there all you thirsy ones,
come and drink lifes water free,
yes come drink you thirsty ones,
Gods something something see"
The refreshing water Jehovah provides me is all I need.
i love water, the healing soothing properties of sitting in a serene spot in the woods by the riverbank, does me the ruddy world of good.. who else here loves water and has a particular spot where they just enjoy unwinding and chilling out?
can you describe this special to you, place?.
who here has spent also many hours in reflexive meditation just watching the way that water moves and swirls along, perhaps eddies over the estuary mudflats, those tiny tubular rollers, or seen the way that ripples interact with one another?.
"hey there all you thirsy ones,
come and drink lifes water free,
yes come drink you thirsty ones,
Gods something something see"
The refreshing water Jehovah provides me is all I need.
i love water, the healing soothing properties of sitting in a serene spot in the woods by the riverbank, does me the ruddy world of good.. who else here loves water and has a particular spot where they just enjoy unwinding and chilling out?
can you describe this special to you, place?.
who here has spent also many hours in reflexive meditation just watching the way that water moves and swirls along, perhaps eddies over the estuary mudflats, those tiny tubular rollers, or seen the way that ripples interact with one another?.
I loved sitting on China beach on Vancouver Island British Columbia watching the Pacific tide ebbing in to the Juan de Fuca Strait, on the other side of which, the Olympic mountain range in Washington towers over. No people for miles upon miles. Just the sounds of the water and rainforest behind me. Ahhhhh. Now my only relationship with water is watching the Gorgon occasionally and painfully rear his dirty and waterlogged head out of the once most polluted bodies of water in North AmericaI like to call Hamilton Harbour. I am moving back to British Columbia ASAP. Hamilton blows.
to my friends who do not post here,.
"along with the missionaries, these now literate witnesses rejoice.
because they can now use their ability to read and write to honor jehovah.".
Hrmm. One of the most cryptic peices of work I have ever read. I wish I spoke Navajo.
does anybody know the stats for child molestation in the usa as to race and sex?
who commits molestation more often statistically in the usa?
what is their gender and race?
The U.S. Department of Justice reported four million child molesters reside in this country. | |
Almost half of all sex offenders are under 18. | |
Ten years ago we had twenty-two rehabilitation programs for juvenile sex offenders - we now have 755. | |
New York rape arrests of thirteen year old males increased 200% between 1986 and 1988. | |
57% of child molesters were molested themselves as children. | |
A typical molester will abuse between 30 to 60 children before they are arrested - as many as 380 during their lifetime. | |
29% of all rapes occurred when the victim was less than eleven years old, another 32% occurred between the ages of 11 and 17. |
This was taken from a website updated last year...
.
....due out in june of 2011. this is what it will boil down to in another nine years imo.
.
Thats funny -- I'd like to see a doctored field service slip
i've got a little project going and need a reasonable pic of ted jaracz, preferably full face.
some decent pics of some of the more outspoken apostates with websites, such as kent, randy are needed too...
I knew MikeMusto was the paparazzi commando that leaned his head over my fence and snapped my picture last week! Friends, run for your lives! The Bad Seed has reared his ugly head, or should I say, The Bad Seed's head is an ugly rear!
Mike will be hearing from my lawyer shortly, and I do not appreciate this flagrant misuse of my picture on the internet.
Edited by - the_bad_Seed on 11 July 2002 17:15:56
yesterday, i was thinking about amazing's very insightful elder series.
today, i read dungbeetle's thoughtful post on culpability.
this led me to write about the elder situation from somewhat of a different perspective.
Co-incidentally, just last week, I started referring to the Elders as Wholesalers.
this was a bi-fold leaflet given out at the uk district conventions (and only available at the dc).
i guess the throw-away size stuff is handier to ... well, throw away).
edited by - simon on 11 july 2002 16:41:33.
What a load of poo
I am. I think. I will.
My hands . . . My spirit . . . My sky . . . My forest . . . This earth of mine . . . .
What must I say besides? These are the words. This is the answer.
I stand here on the summit of the mountain. I lift my head and I spread my arms. This, my body and spirit, this is the end of the quest. I wished to know the meaning of things. I am the meaning. I wished to find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and the sanction.
It is my eyes which see, and the sight of my eyes grants beauty to the earth. It is my ears which hear, and the hearing of my ears gives its song to the world. It is my mind which thinks, and the judgment of my mind is the only searchlight that can find the truth. It is my will which chooses, and the choice of my will is the only edict I must respect.
Many words have been granted me, and some are wise, and some are false, but only three are holy: "I will it!"
Whatever road I take, the guiding star is within me; the guiding star and the loadstone which point the way. They point in but one direction. They point to me.
I know not if this earth on which I stand is the core of the universe or if it is but a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know not and I care not. For I know what happiness is possible to me on earth. And my happiness needs no higher aim to vindicate it. My happiness is not the means to any end. It is the end. It is its own goal. It is its own purpose.
Neither am I the means to any end others may wish to accomplish. I am not a tool for their use. I am not a servant of their needs. I am not a bandage for their wounds. I am not a sacrifice on their altars.
I am a man. This miracle of me is mine to own and keep, and mine to guard, and mine to use, and mine to kneel before!
I do not surrender my treasures, nor do I share them. The fortune of my spirit is not to be blown into coins of brass and flung to the winds as alms for the poor of the spirit. I guard my treasures: my thought, my will, my freedom. And the greatest of these is freedom.
I owe nothing to my brothers, nor do I gather debts from them. I ask none to live for me, nor do I live for any others. I covet no man's soul, nor is my soul theirs to covet.
I am neither foe nor friend to my brothers, but such as each of them shall deserve of me. And to earn my love, my brothers must do more than to have been born. I do not grant my love without reason, nor to any chance passer-by who may wish to claim it. I honor men with my love. But honor is a thing to be earned.
I shall choose friends among men, but neither slaves nor masters. And I shall choose only such as please me, and them I shall love and respect, but neither command nor obey. And we shall join our hands when we wish, or walk alone when we so desire. For in the temple of his spirit, each man is alone. Let each man keep his temple untouched and undefiled. Then let him join hands with others if he wishes, but only beyond his holy threshold.
For the word "We" must never be spoken, save by one's choice and as a second thought. This word must never be placed first within man's soul, else it becomes a monster, the root of all the evils on earth, the root of man's torture by men, and an unspeakable lie.
The word "We" is as lime poured over men, which sets and hardens to stone, and crushes all beneath it, and that which is white and that which is black are lost equally in the grey of it. It is the word by which the depraved steal the virtue of the good, by which the weak steal the might of the strong, by which the fools steal the wisdom of the sages.
What is my joy if all hands, even the unclean, can reach into it? What is my wisdom, if even the fools can dictate to me? What is my freedom, if all creatures, even the botched and impotent, are my masters? What is my life, if I am but to bow, to agree, and to obey?
But I am done with this creed of corruption.
I am done with the monster of "We," the word of serfdom, of plunder, of misery, falsehood and shame.
And now I see the face of god, and I raise this god over the earth, this god whom men have sought since men came into being, this god who will grant them joy and peace and pride.
This god, this one word:
"I."
Taken from Ayn Rands "Anthem", Chapter Eleven.
I was watching the space channel last night,they said North America rises 6 inch`s on a full moonI wish I could only say the same for myself...