tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77570242622895447352024-02-18T23:46:16.819-05:00Water's EdgePamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082147573406383934noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757024262289544735.post-18738690395820197952013-04-04T10:45:00.001-04:002013-04-04T10:46:56.224-04:00The TED Controversy <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm a little late in discussing this issue, but I was so moved and inspired by a post by Craig Weiler on his blog, The Weiler Psi, that I wanted to share it here. </span><a href="http://weilerpsiblog.wordpress.com/2013/04/02/the-loud-and-clear-message-that-the-ted-controversy-is-sending/"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://weilerpsiblog.wordpress.com/2013/04/02/the-loud-and-clear-message-that-the-ted-controversy-is-sending/</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> In a nutshell, TED, the organization whose slogan is "Ideas Worth Spreading," censored presentations given by Graham Hancock and Rupert Sheldrake and made accusations against them that were as untrue as they were dismissive and demeaning. When asked by Hancock and Sheldrake to support their accusations with evidence, TED essentially responded like a seventh grade bully. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The whole story can be found here, </span><br />
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<a href="http://blog.ted.com/2013/03/14/open-for-discussion-graham-hancock-and-rupert-sheldrake/comment-page-25/#comments"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://blog.ted.com/2013/03/14/open-for-discussion-graham-hancock-and-rupert-sheldrake/comment-page-25/#comments</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and here,</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.grahamhancock.com/forum/HancockG5-TED.php"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.grahamhancock.com/forum/HancockG5-TED.php</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> What's so inspiring about this whole thing is the public outcry not only against the censoring of good ideas, but against the patronizing attitude that intelligent people need to be protected against theories that run counter to the currently accepted dogmas of science. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Weiler's last paragraph sums up what's happening beautifully, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> "The wall that the skeptics have put up is like a shaky dam with a rapidly growing river behind it. They will hold sway for awhile, and it will look as though they are succeeding because so little gets past them, but it is an illusion. The broad network of people supporting an alternative view of the universe, backed by solid evidence, is still growing and getting increasingly aware of its power. Everything will be fine in Camp Skeptic until it isn’t. Once institutions realize that taking sides in the debate is harming them more than helping, then, change will come swiftly and the sciences will be fundamentally altered forever."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082147573406383934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757024262289544735.post-40076962298409788662012-05-23T14:21:00.002-04:002012-05-23T14:22:13.508-04:00Only Now and Again<div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span class="size12 TimesRoman12" style="color: #d3bd7e; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, serif;"><span style="color: black;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="177" data-width="284" height="177" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQyTxpxkYzksHzbFrSJ2cbKTLy7xb6ykCpW299sfXr9mYhLxMt8" style="height: 177px; width: 284px;" width="284" /></span></span></div><div align="left"><br />
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</div><div align="left"><span class="size12 TimesRoman12" style="color: #d3bd7e;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Only now and again a sadness fell upon me; and I started up from my dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.</span></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">and it seemed to me that it was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this perfect sweetness had blossomed in the</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">depth of my own heart.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Gitanjali, translated from orginal Bengali by Tagore</span></em></div><div align="left"><span class="size12 TimesRoman12" style="color: #d3bd7e; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div>Pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082147573406383934noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757024262289544735.post-2376800320862906332012-03-23T09:32:00.003-04:002012-03-24T17:35:45.815-04:00Nothing Hidden <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The Fibonacci sequence is a series of numbers in which each number in the series is a sum of the two preceding numbers. For example: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233 and so on. This sequence appears with astounding frequency in nature, and is the underlying pattern for everything from pinecones and ferns to the branching of tree limbs and the cresting of waves. It's hard to dispute the precision of numbers. To me, it seems impossible that such beautiful accuracy could have sprung at random from chaos. It's so much like synchronicity, pointing towards that commonality and connection between all things, all part of the hidden mechanics of a mysterious universe. Here's a wonderful video illustrating these principles. Enjoy!</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/03/23/nature-by-numbers-breatht_n_510307.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/03/23/nature-by-numbers-breatht_n_510307.html</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img height="450" id="il_fi" src="http://sites.cdnis.edu.hk/students/043050/files/2011/09/fibonacci1.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="600" /></span><br />
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Pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082147573406383934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757024262289544735.post-58692115794037786862011-05-27T08:43:00.001-04:002012-05-23T14:37:13.199-04:00"Came In Close, I Heard a Voice"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwRelg58bIA2t44qEm1j0DFu9O2DcNbDFykX22OZv39gDEYMrikJYykZLTXf2u5620BtFLWIYklFJLs0m2omgmGViRzAorsjGeruj1CLFUClqz6UBo_6nEiqf-gIDmY7eejw1bfIN9ilI/s1600/owl17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwRelg58bIA2t44qEm1j0DFu9O2DcNbDFykX22OZv39gDEYMrikJYykZLTXf2u5620BtFLWIYklFJLs0m2omgmGViRzAorsjGeruj1CLFUClqz6UBo_6nEiqf-gIDmY7eejw1bfIN9ilI/s200/owl17.jpg" t8="true" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A couple of years ago, when my son was about three, I had a kid seat attached to the back of my bike so we could go on rides together in the evenings. We live in an area where owls can often be heard calling in the night, and despite their obvious proximity, I'd never actually seen one. After hearing one nearby for several evenings in a row, my son began to ask when we might spot one. I explained to him how owls hunt at night and are difficult to see; and how rare it is to get to see one. One warm evening just before dusk I was strapping him into the bike seat. He was particularly insistent that he'd get to see an owl and I just told him to keep his eyes open for one. Not five minutes into our ride a huge owl swooped down <em>right in front of us;</em> so close that if I'd known he was coming I could have reached out and touched his wing as he flew past. I would have been amazed enough to have seen one from a distance that night, given how my son was so adamant that we'd see one. But to have it dart within inches of us just blew me away. My son got to see his owl and I pedaled the rest of the way home lost in complete wonder. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Owls are regarded as highly symolic in many cultures and featured heavily in mythology around the world. Interestingly, they also seem relatively prominent in sync experiences and dreams. More amazing owl syncs and dreams can be found at Mike Clelland's blog, Hidden Experience: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><a href="http://hiddenexperience.blogspot.com/">http://hiddenexperience.blogspot.com/</a></span>Pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082147573406383934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757024262289544735.post-73606107697076575492011-05-25T11:51:00.005-04:002012-03-19T11:27:05.311-04:00The Breeze at Dawn<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Don't go back sleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">You must ask for what you really want.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Don't go back to sleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">People are going back and forth across the doorsill</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Where the two worlds touch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The door is round and open.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Don't go back to sleep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em> -Rumi, 13th century poet and Sufi mystic</em></span><br />
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<em>Photo by Michal Ostrowski</em>Pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082147573406383934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757024262289544735.post-44012125567220207972011-05-23T15:04:00.002-04:002011-05-23T15:04:16.824-04:00On Consciousness<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> William James, psychologist and philosopher, sums up the mystical nature of consciousness with this quote:</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"... our normal waking consciousness, rational consciousness as we call it, is but one special type of consciousness, whilst all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens, there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different.. We may go through life without suspecting their existence; but apply the requisite stimulus, and at a touch they are there in all their completeness, definite types of mentality which probably somewhere have their field of application and adaptation. No account of the universe in its totality can be final which leaves these other forms of consciousness quite disregarded. How to regard them is the question,-for they are so discontinuous with ordinary consciousness. Yet they may determine attitudes though they cannot furnish formulas, and open a region though they fail to give a map. At any rate, they forbid a premature closing of our accounts with reality. Looking back on my own experiences, they all converge toward a kind of insight to which I cannot help ascribing some metaphysical significance."</span></blockquote><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> from <em>The Varieties</em> <em>of</em> <em>Religious Experience</em></span>Pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082147573406383934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757024262289544735.post-11105566330700936202011-05-19T13:50:00.001-04:002012-03-24T17:03:41.595-04:00"The platform of surrender" <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Synchronicity is an intensely personal experience. By linking the outer, material world with the inner workings of the mind, each occurrance has purpose and meaning that's seemingly customized for each individual. This is what grabs the attention, knowing beyond all doubt that something has just occurred that's well beyond the constraints of what we accept as possible. There's a lot of speculation out there as to whether or not the intent of the force behind these events is entirely benevolent. I can only speak from the perspective of my own experiences, but I believe that the purpose of these events has it's basis in goodness. The small, synchronistic incidents I began to notice several years ago left me perplexed and full of wonder. Gradually, these gave way to larger occurrances that have given me glimpses into something that I feel to my core is sacred in nature.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> One such instance happened a few years ago. I'd gotten into the habit of trying to project feelings of appreciation and gratitude, silently thanking whoever would listen for what I was experiencing in any given moment. Usually it was for some simple joy, like being with my family or laughing with my son. I always try to make a special effort to recognize and appreciate beautiful, fleeting moments as they happen, so I'd often think to myself, <em>"Thank you for the gift of time with each other."</em> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Fast forward several months. My husband, T, has a former employer, an exeptionally nice man, M, who he sees very infrequently. T came home one afternoon after seeing M. and handed me a small box, saying, "This is from M." I was surprised and asked what was the occasion.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6kum9TEKKj_BiE7wrNz0rmwAEWh3ZrJNu0wyMOUydtk-ws6v8BhyyWhMETSC6og5I4x12-odmaUIUi-x46UT4oZv4i24jKdwfZedJABbDvImF7pF9v6lng7W3co5UnSod7NsMyTzydxDQ/s1600/frame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6kum9TEKKj_BiE7wrNz0rmwAEWh3ZrJNu0wyMOUydtk-ws6v8BhyyWhMETSC6og5I4x12-odmaUIUi-x46UT4oZv4i24jKdwfZedJABbDvImF7pF9v6lng7W3co5UnSod7NsMyTzydxDQ/s320/frame.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> T shrugged and said, "He just said he and his wife were out and when they saw it they thought of you." I have to add here that I really don't know them well at all, having seen them both only a couple of times over many years; and really, there's nothing they could have seen that would bring me to mind. I even commented, "What could possibly have made them think of <em>me?" </em>Intrigued, I opened the box. Inside was a silver picture frame in the shape of an angel with an inscription around the border that stunned me as I read it. It says, <em>"The best thing to hold onto in life is each other."</em> For a moment, I didn't even know what to think. Here I was holding tangible evidence that I had obviously been heard. My silent prayer of gratitude, that I had never once spoken aloud, had literally been answered. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Even after all this time I can't think about it without feeling an enormous sense of reverence and awe. That picture frame, bought on an inexplicable whim by people I hardly know, is one of my most treasured possessions. To me it represents a bridge between the material and the ethereal, a connection between the mind and the extraordinary. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em>"There is no such thing as chance; and what seems to us merest accident springs from the deepest source of destiny." Friedrich Schiller</em></span>Pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082147573406383934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757024262289544735.post-56137560598761648382011-05-16T07:42:00.000-04:002011-05-16T07:42:54.957-04:00"Oh day and night, but this is wondrous strange!"<em> </em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">There's something just beneath the surface of what we consider reality. Something which connects us to each other and seeks to dissolve the so-called boundaries that lie between our conscious minds and the limitless mystery of the subconscious. Through dreams, synchronicity, visions, intuition and insight, this enigma hints at a greater meaning and purpose that exists just beyond the periphery of our common perception. Once experienced it's impossible to ignore. It urges us to profoundly change our understanding of ourselves and the world. It's a voice calling out to us, arresting our attention, insisting only that we take the time to notice<em> </em>and listen with open minds and hearts.</span>Pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082147573406383934noreply@blogger.com1