Earth Mother teach me of my kin,
Of Hawk, and Dove, and flower,
Of blinding sunlight, shady knoll,
Desert wind and morning showers.
Teach me every language of
The creatures that sing to me,
That I may count the cadence of
Infinite lessons in harmony.
Teach me how to honor
The Sacred Spaces of all,
Gently melding with the whole,
Answering the whippoorwills call.
Steamy tropics to glacial ice,
To thundering oceans tides,
In every grain of desert sands,
Your beauty forever abides.
Oh, Mother of every kingdom,
Let me claim my family’s love,
From the whales of deepest oceans,
To the winged-ones high above.
Expand my limited vision
Until I can truly know
The missions of my Relations
And the blessings they bestow.
—  Making Family from Earth Medicine (ancestors ways of harmony for many moons)

The Collapse of the Silver Bridge

On the night of December 15th, 1967 many lives were taken too soon. During the relentless traffic of rush hour the Silver Bridge, that ran over the Ohio River connnecting Point Pleasant, West Virginia and Gallipolis, Ohio, collapsed. The collapse took the lives of 46 people, two of which were never found. The suspension bridge was carrying more weight than it was designed for, and succumbed when a defective eyebar failed. The bridge had stood for 39 years and a memorial bridge was put in its place two years later. The tragic loss of life that day had become am important part in Point Pleasant’s history and brought an end to the strange happenings occurring in the town at the time. Due to his disappearance the tragedy was blamed on the Mothman, some saying he caused the collapse, some saying he was trying to warn us of it.

anonymous asked:

Re roads: Good points. However, isn't the river road itself atypical of that in that connects the Rock and Riverrun, then follows the Red Fork? The former is fitting for a number of reasons, but wouldn't it be more apt if at Riverrun it instead turned south-east to join the gold road near KL? Wouldn't Daeron II (Dornish integration, had Summerhall connnected to the Boneway) and Egg (lords on side) have seen the benefit of Highgarden-Storm's End? Did Pycelle big-note Tywin's road contributions?

To me, the significant thing about the River Road is that it dead-ends at Lord Harroway’s Town and doesn’t continue on to Maidenpool, whereas the Rosby Road (connecting through King’s Landing) does, which weakens connections between Riverrun and its more eastern vassals and strengthens the connections between those vassals and the capitol.

nonplena  asked:

"memories of sorrow"

“Have you read this? Alexander Hamilton had a torrid affair and he wrote it down right here!”

Yes, he most certainly did. All 95 pages.

To be anonymously delivered the Reynolds Pamphlet was like someone had punched their fist through her chest, grabbing her heart and yanking it back out. To see Alexander’s words – her Alexander, the bright young soldier so eager to build his new nation, her Alexander, to loving and happy to be a father, so addicted to his work but never ending in his affections – words on that first paper, confessing the most horrid thing she had never thought she would ever read.

“The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds, for purposes of improper speculation. My real crime is an amorous connnection with his wife, for a considerable time, with his knowing consent.”


“I had frequent meetings with her, most of them in my own house” – in their house?! THEIR HOUSE?! – “Mrs Hamilton, with our children, being absent on a visit to her father.”

The emotions toiling through her, ripping and shredding at her very being, tearing the fabric of her small comfortable homelife apart, were almost too much to bear.

How could he?

Eliza read the Pamphlet, in the privacy of the master bedroom, fingers practically tearing at the papers, tears welling into her eyes, rage and sorrow and betrayal pressing against her ribcage.

How could he?

Her first instinct, as any woman would, was to blame the other woman. This jezebel, this Maria Reynolds, how dare she come into a married man? Who did she think she was? How could her husband be so crooked as to allow the affair and then blackmail Alexander to keep his mouth shut?

How could he?

The children– Oh God, the children, what was she going to tell the children? They so looked up to Alexander, Philip especially, his mind was so much like his father’s, every time she looked at Philip she saw her husband.

How could he?

As her mind whirled out of her control, Eliza lost her rage against Maria Reynolds. Alexander had confessed that she was ten years younger than he. She was no more than a child, and James Reynolds sounded vicious. She wondered… Did Maria really have a say in all of this?

How DARE he?!

In the end, Eliza was a mess. The Reynolds Pamphlet lay scattered on the floor in disarray. The curtains were drawn tight, keeping her in semi darkness, her hair a mess from tearing at her, her eyes bloodshot from crying, face pale and drawn from her grief. 

In the end, she felt her sorrow turn to rage and betrayal. She had given everything to Alexander, her thoughts, her life, her heart and he had taken it all and thrown it away the first moment he saw a young pretty face in distress. Alexander was to blame, as much as his Pamphlet tried to paint him as the victim. Alexander knew what he was getting into. He was a grown man, who had made bad decisions, and now with this confession of his, he would surely get his due.

Her heart, shattered as it was, retreated into a cold and dark place. Her body toiok over a sense of calm and she got to her feet, heading to her desk to take out the box she had so lovingly held onto and taken care of, holding the many letters Alexander had written to her during their courtship, during his time as a soldier on the feild, even during her trip to her father’s estate with the children. 

She opened the box, read through the letters, remembered each little memory, every smile, every skip of the heart whenever she would see his handwriting awaiting to woo her. Carefully, she put the letters back, putting the lid back onto the box, before going over to the fireplace, the fire crackling away as if nothing were wrong.

She threw the box into the fire, watching it burn everything inside into cinders and ash, raising her aching eyes up at the portrait of Alexander himself, looking so handsome and proud, like he was untouchable.

“…I hope that you burn,” Eliza said coldly.

For me our unis don’t connnect with working class people. They don’t mix or mingle. My uni told students to not go to the two estates near it, so I was like how am I meant to get home you cheeky cunts. They have all these free lectures, a god one on neoliberalism, but they didn’t advertise it anywhere. I didn’t want to go because as a cleaner I’d be the only working class person there


Furries are people that like anthropomorphic animals, people that enjoy the art and usually have a character of their own but are well aware they’re human they just have a love for animals (in a nonsexual way, looking at you yiffers and furs that make comments about how you would totally take a knot. Don’t fucking do that. I swear on my mum.)

Therians and Otherkin are people that believe they are an animal (or in Otherkin case some other thing) in the wrong body, or they have an animal like mind, or they have a spiritual bond stronger than your parents damn marriage with an animal. (Idk about sexuality with Therians and otherkin though)

Therians is much deeper than furry.



What if Goku just meant he never gave a Senzu mouth-to-mouth??? He has a point there! Nobody did that before! So maybe? 

And Vegeta misunderstood thinking he meant kiss with marriage and mouth to mouth Senzu??? and Goku was like what’s the connnection??? That makes so much more sense!!!.

@kairi-yajuu @57fandom59 @ss4fan 

“N-no.. Look, it’s my job. I pour drinks, you pay for them. I didn’t..– i bought you one drink, it doesn’t make this,” He said, gesturing between the woman and he, “anything at all.” Was that harsh? It sounded harsh, but the truth was the truth. “I’m not your boyfriend, and I’d really appreciate it if you told your brothers to stop coming in to interrogate me.” After an attempted sidestep around her; one which failed, he sighed heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck, “I really have to get back…”

Being Competitive

So while this might seem a bit unrelated to Cambodia and my wild adventures here, I had a little realization today. While corresponding with a fellow Luce scholar, we were talking about our insecurities and personal perceptions of shortcomings. Now, I’m sitting here writing a personal statement, thinking about similar things, and a little bit of serendipity happened. 

I used to be a competitive person. That is an understatement. I was incredibly competitive. I had this rage and fuel inside of me that I would channel into sports, field days, debate, anything that would proclaim a victor. Growing up, I also had a lot of insecurities and felt that I was a disappointment. Being competitive was a way to prove that feeling wrong, even if just for a moment. If I could beat some physical exterior challenge, the internal things were nothing. 

The last time I competed for something was in February, two things actually, but I’ll just talk about one for now. While I don’t think of my Luce interview as a competition, it fit similar criteria. It was a roomful of people hoping to be a part of a limited opportunity. Through the interview process, I really saw that competitive side of people again that I used to see in myself. Some were bragging about their skills and research, others visibly schmoozing while some were just a bit drunk. It was strange to be there in a lot of ways– I didn’t see myself as that kind of person anymore. 

During one of many speeches, a member of the Luce Foundation said something along the lines of “Don’t take this as a competition. This is your chance you show up as yourself, and help us understand what that looks like. Be vulnerable, be humble, be honest”. I remember it was that comment that let me to some pretty honest and vulnerable moments with strangers in those two days. While I was “competing” for an opportunity, it wasn’t rage that fueled me anymore, it was human connection and empathy that became more important. I didn’t feel the need to compensate for who I was with winning, I just wanted to make myself happy and proud. 

Here, in Cambodia, it’s that same level of human connection I want to be present with constantly and hope to learn by pushing myself to get vulnerable. One of the most beautiful things is that moment where you connect with someone. You don’t need to have the same background or experiences, but you understand one piece of someone’s life just a bit better, and you’re better off for doing so. This is year is about getting to that place more easily, and letting myself open up to make that connection an everyday possibility, 

The way the whole-hearted live

They have the courage to be imperfect

They have the compassion to be kind to themselves first and then to others

They have connection as a result of authenticity – being able to let go of who they think they should be in order to be who they are

Finally, they fully embrace vulnerability – they believe that what makes them vulnerable makes them beautiful. They don’t talk about vulnerability being comfortable or excruciating, they just talked about it being necessary. They are willing to do something where there are no guarantees.