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Fill What Is Empty;
Scratch Where It Itches"</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>iamDrukpa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03281492032617966091</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="15" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b4oyTdhcmh8/TC7bkBcW2tI/AAAAAAAAA80/BYRJM3AsJn8/S220/talis.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>377</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/OpenSpeeches" /><feedburner:info uri="openspeeches" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>OpenSpeeches</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAGQHw_fyp7ImA9WhRbGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-4031421235888627178</id><published>2012-02-10T02:34:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-02-11T18:35:21.247+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-11T18:35:21.247+06:00</app:edited><title>Where Riders' Bend &amp; Cobblers' Mend- Aggie Rider's Take: Part II</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
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Phuentsholing is an interesting town; looks beautiful and deceivingly big as we are winding down the mountains.  The town looks almost planned with its right angled streets.  It is the commercial hub of Bhutan; that is about it on Phuentsholing.  We head on to Sibsoo after lunch (or sort of lunch) via India.  I let Cool Rider ride my motorcycle as some of the stretches of roads in India were bad and not suitable for his Harley.  Thought it would be good for my Karma; a biker brother sacrificing a motorcycle for another – the mother of all sacrifices for a biker.  I drive the backup car with some of the other members who were having problems with their motorcycles.  The Lee Enfield motorcycle, a classic motorcycle by reputation is classic in its unreliability.
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Driving through India is interesting.  Not sure if I’d want to do that again.  People moving all over the place with little respect for traffic, almost daring someone to run them over with a motor vehicle.  Most of the time, I felt as if I was playing a game of chicken with the oncoming traffic; and the rest of the time, I was thankful that I did not hit anything.  There were animals all over the road; it is not unusual to find animals on the Bhutanese roads but at least our animals follow the traffic rules – slower traffic on the left; well, except for an occasional bull who decides to jump across the road.  The road was generally good with the exception of some stretches.  They have potholes the size of small huts.  But not a big deal for bikers, haha..  Along the way, more motorcycles start falling casualty to the Lee Enfield’s legendary reputation.  X-Rider’s motorcycle died out due to electrical problems.  Another passenger for the backup car.  We drive for about half hour and the stop by a Dhaba to get something to eat.  The food was delicious; Parathas, Aloo Bujiyas, Dal, Roti were all wonderful.  The last good food for the next few days.

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It is late when we get to Samtse (our night halt).  All arrangements had been made by our Samtse members.  Tents were up; we had food and drinks waiting for us.  About 100 meters from the camp, Gangjung Rider took a tumble on the road; a motorcycle assisted somersault that would have made on Olympic gymnast proud.  Welcome to Samtse, Gangjung!  The night went well.  Plenty of food and drinks for everyone.  Surprisingly, the night was cold.  Thought Samtse was warm.  Our Samtse members said, “Yeah it is but during the summer”.  A lot of good the cold did to some of the members caught out without sleeping bags.  Steel Rider, remember to bring you sleeping bag next time.  Hell, if I am giving you my sleeping bag – made my mother of all biker sacrifices, besides it is better you suffer than me.  Poor bastard!

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The morning was rather pleasant.  Cool but not cold with just enough warmth from the sun.  Breakfast tasted as usual – terrible.  We started riding to Sibsoo after breakfast.  Late again, I might add.  The ride to Sibsoo made up for everything.  The landscape with flowing Himalayan foothills made it one of the most memorable rides.  Small gentle slopes that went up and down almost made me feel as if we were riding on ocean waves.  Beautiful houses, beautiful land and the girls.  The girls were just beautiful.  Natural beauties, the kind you do not see in the cities anymore that reminded one of poems written by Byron almost without fail.  We stopped over at a shop with a beautiful shopkeeper; think almost everybody bought stuff that we do not need.  

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I must confess, riding in this beautiful landscape made me think of my dream girl.  Let me clarify that, my dream girl, it is one way – I dream of her, don’t think the feelings mutual.  Would she settle in a place like this, own some land, farm, and live happily after?  Probably not, er, absolutely not!  I am quite certain she is not into bikers.  I would probably need a college degree first.  Change of plans; invent time machine, go back in time and graduate high school, get a college degree – at this rate, it’s going to take me a several lifetimes.  Shit, shit – I need to snap out of it and concentrate on the road.  I am riding a motorcycle.  Just be glad, the weather’s warm and no snot icicle under the helmet today unlike our ride from Thimphu.  We reach Sibsoo eventually and then ride on to Tendu.  Tendu is one of those dismal places.  Did not like it at all and made me dislike it even more after my motorcycle fall.  I fell down twice in the same spot, can you believe it?  Stupid sand and gravel, somebody needs to sue the road contractors.  It was quiet on the way back.  Tired, hungry and hurt.  

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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WD-SPfe2sy8/TzQorXIp0oI/AAAAAAAAI24/6yI2E5YKGMs/s1600/DSC_0298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WD-SPfe2sy8/TzQorXIp0oI/AAAAAAAAI24/6yI2E5YKGMs/s400/DSC_0298.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

Getting back to Phuentsholing on the fourth day was almost like a breath of fresh air.  Warm bed, mediocre food and decent toilets.  We ride up to Thimphu the next day.  Late again, as usual.  Not a big deal until night fell and temperature started going below zero.  Cold, hungry and the damn ice on the roads made it difficult to ride.  Snot icicle, freezing fingers, sub-zero temperature – so what else is new.  Think Toxic Rider slipped on the ice.  Minor fall and no injury.  Phew!  We were freezing by the time we got over to the club house.  There was hot tea and food waiting for us.  In all, it was a good ride.  No injuries and lots of fun.  
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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-4031421235888627178?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/OlyZw0BVqC8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/4031421235888627178/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/02/where-rider-bend-cobblers-mend-aggie.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/4031421235888627178?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/4031421235888627178?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/OlyZw0BVqC8/where-rider-bend-cobblers-mend-aggie.html" title="Where Riders' Bend &amp; Cobblers' Mend- Aggie Rider's Take: Part II" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yEZrRVe8MiA/TzQk96EcrqI/AAAAAAAAI18/y4mv0y4klxY/s72-c/DSC_0018.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/02/where-rider-bend-cobblers-mend-aggie.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UCRH0-fCp7ImA9WhRbFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-5864858543498504060</id><published>2012-02-06T12:54:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-02-06T12:54:25.354+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-06T12:54:25.354+06:00</app:edited><title>UnForGotten: The Victim of a Stupid Act</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FhIXiQ96y9k/TW-IUZgoKwI/AAAAAAAABnA/Fl_Fk9aanNU/s1600/Jailed-Life.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FhIXiQ96y9k/TW-IUZgoKwI/AAAAAAAABnA/Fl_Fk9aanNU/s200/Jailed-Life.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579828347361831682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FuPwYGLZwvw/TW-IGAodx2I/AAAAAAAABms/avtA7oQVnsg/s1600/life-of-buddha-18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 234px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FuPwYGLZwvw/TW-IGAodx2I/AAAAAAAABms/avtA7oQVnsg/s400/life-of-buddha-18.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579828100165650274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Sonam Tshering,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

Though this letter is addressed to you, I’m certain that you will need someone to translate the contents. And I hope someone does translate what I’ve to say, not that its gonna bring a change of fortune to your current predicament but hopefully, a little window to let you know that there are people who care about your situation: people who are genuinely concerned. &lt;br /&gt;I have been following your story since it first broke in the dailies. The reason I’ve been following it has nothing to do with you per se, but as with all things in life, your name invariably became synonymous with the tobacco act. There were all kinds of arguments put forth. Some of the arguments were simple, “what was a monk doing with tobacco?” was one of the samples. I didn’t see a monk- I saw a young man who was plain unlucky and unfortunate, or perhaps that was what Karma had in store for you. Now that is a subject for another time, another day. Today I want to write to you to tell you that I heard the news, the verdict that sentences you to three years in prison. My first reaction was one of ‘shock’ followed by ‘sadness’ – now I’m thinking perhaps it is good. Good for the fact that you will, and I’m certain that you will do that – turn your imprisonment into a three-year meditation retreat. Meditate, read the scriptures, sing the mantras and forgive all of us that contributed in some way, shape or form in putting you there.

&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are being imprisoned for our projected sense of self-righteousness. It started a couple of years back in Bumthang, where some elders of the villages, in their religious zeal, driven or misguided, suggested banning smoking, as Bumthang, they said,  was a sacred place. It sounds right as all lofty suggestions do when first heard. So it was with the officials that brought back that suggestion to Thimphu and in time, managed to ban the ‘sale’ of tobacco in the country. That was a couple of years ago. Time went by and nothing changed. People still smoked and chewed and sniffed tobacco. Like you, a lot of people were also caught, bringing in tobacco from available ‘sources’ – while some were caught, most managed to sneak in the bad-goods. Whether they were for self-consumption or to make a quick buck I don’t know. What I know is that honest folks forced to make a meager living became criminals; those indulging in the habit felt guilty. But human desires are hard to ban, so the practice continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then as suddenly, they decided to revamp the ban on sales and a few months back, our representatives got their heads together and decided that the sale ban was not enough – that it had to be taken to the next level. Hence the birth of the ‘act’ that gives the government legitimate powers to arrest and imprison people if they are selling or consuming tobacco products without proper purchase ‘receipts’.  You had, in their enacted law, broken a sacrosanct rule that has consequences, which was meted out to you today. You are the first convicted tobacco felon and the time you will serve in prison is supposed to be a warning to the rest of us, whether we are sophisticated or not. 

&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In due course, you’ll see far more Sonams like yourself, and far less of the educated and privileged lot, coming to the gallows. You will probably find inmates smoking, chewing, sniffing tobacco long with other contraband. You will probably feel confused, lost and demoralized. That might be your first reaction. You will probably become cynical and feel victimized. All of that is justified. But as the days roll by and you become one with the prison cell, the bunk and the yard, believe me, you will probably smile, perhaps even laugh, at the stupidity of it all. This is where you will see what fools the clever naked emperors really are. You will probably feel disgust at first, and then gradual piety – at their ignorance rather than the one they claimed you could not hide or seek leniency under.

&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imprisonment is a funny word. It sounds like you are jailed, which you are, but really, you are a human being first, born naked and free and then a monk. Experiences are what makes us and takes us to shape us to what we eventually become. The Buddha did not gain enlightenment in one day. Your so called imprisonment is an embarrassment to us all. The reason why I say imprisonment and jailed are funny words is because you will probably find more freedom and liberation within those so called walls of confinement than you ever realized. I’d humbly urge you to see this as an opportunity to immerse yourself in the practice of the Dharma. See it as a retreat and live it in the newness of now. Everything is here. Forget the law. Forget the imprisonment. Forget the judge. Forget the jury. Forget the act. Forget the baba. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just dissolve yourself in the practice of the dharma and when you do come out of your tsam, forgive us all. But do enjoy yourself in the process – have a hearty laugh and know this is how we re-create samsara upon samsara in our ironic twist to get closer to what we perceive to be our righteous paradise and the transformation of sinners into god’s own children. This tobacco act is nothing but just that – an act, for what you will do in that jail can be far more powerful. You will live and know how fragile human cleverness really is, no matter how ingeniously they wrap it and drape it with.

&lt;br /&gt;I wish you a “Happy Retreat” and Hope That You’ll Keep the Faith. &lt;br /&gt;Jurmi Chhowing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-5864858543498504060?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/ex0z0GTrmRg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/5864858543498504060/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/02/unforgotten-victim-of-stupid-act.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/5864858543498504060?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/5864858543498504060?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/ex0z0GTrmRg/unforgotten-victim-of-stupid-act.html" title="UnForGotten: The Victim of a Stupid Act" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FhIXiQ96y9k/TW-IUZgoKwI/AAAAAAAABnA/Fl_Fk9aanNU/s72-c/Jailed-Life.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/02/unforgotten-victim-of-stupid-act.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcNSH07cSp7ImA9WhRbEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-417299965189711179</id><published>2012-02-03T11:14:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-02-03T11:14:59.309+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-03T11:14:59.309+06:00</app:edited><title>There Are Those Still In Jail... Languishing</title><content type="html">&lt;b&gt;Average Dorji Has a Dilemma
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KksskfRbKSc/Tytr49hOKJI/AAAAAAAAIzs/cNCj_CBVEXw/s1600/bhutan10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="295" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KksskfRbKSc/Tytr49hOKJI/AAAAAAAAIzs/cNCj_CBVEXw/s400/bhutan10.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

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&lt;/b&gt;I hope everyone slept well yesterday. Sleep is important, it is that one activity where there is no activity physically as the body tries resting and the mind goes wrestling. And invariably, gets caught up in that inception called dreams, together with nightmarish screams.

And when you do get up from a particularly disturbing dream, the morning relief is such that a cup of coffee tastes like manna from heaven. Everything is subjective, be as it may, the objectivity has to be maintained. But even the most well intentioned motives and plans can go awry, simply because life itself is complicated and when it is framed with rules and regulations, things can get pretty cramped and metaphorical - conjectures leading to confusions that confounds everyone until you get ready to jump into that pond to catch the moon, or conversely, focus so hard on that middle finger that you miss all that heavenly glory.


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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rCrQFghUqKA/Tyts_IxDiYI/AAAAAAAAI0c/sLUeryXWRzs/s1600/bhutan7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="295" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rCrQFghUqKA/Tyts_IxDiYI/AAAAAAAAI0c/sLUeryXWRzs/s400/bhutan7.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

The act of the tobacco show displayed certain glaring disparities in the crime versus punishment ratio. People came out to support the monk, and now, the driver too and why not? Empathy is a precious human touch and where there are displays of such care and concern, we should take pride. But knee-jerk reactions of the like that bombards the news channels sounds bad. Let’s be patient. Our belief in the system and in our leaders should not falter, and looking at how Average Dorji has been reacting, signs are good. He believes in the system. He believes in the ruling Government. He believes in the Opposition. And he believes in the Courts. Again he sympathizes with the Government and he sympathizes with the Monk and the Opposition. 
He also agrees that taxation is good. But he is, at the end of the day, Average Dorji and he is confused. Hearsay about the Government not being able to function and implications amounting to dissolution of the Government and the like troubles him (though we all know what we know of such things being just little terror-demonstrations). All Average Dorji wants to know is this: Why can’t those wise old magi of the land settle the bill and just pay up, say, divide it, share it and make it a 50-50 affair?

&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aIG7Jq8hySY/TytsW0dSPRI/AAAAAAAAI0E/SzCpwnkMi7M/s1600/bhutan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="295" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aIG7Jq8hySY/TytsW0dSPRI/AAAAAAAAI0E/SzCpwnkMi7M/s400/bhutan.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

Because there is not much Average Dorji can take; not no more. He has got headaches, heartaches, backaches etc. He cannot figure out what is going on and neither will he ever. But one thing is certain, Average Joe is proud of his government, is proud of his opposition party, is proud of the MTR tour, and is proud of his fellow Ignorant Dhendups. All he wants is peace, progress and prosperity, not just of the material variety, but one in harmony with the soulful sort that keeps him awake at nights glaring at the sky and wondering how did Louis Armstrong ever write such a simple song with such a profound message? And Average Dorji knows the answer too. It’s a wonderful world if you like that song. Now please join in the chorus, as Average Dorji needs that back up. He needs that back up because he is Average Dorji and not Mt. Everest and really, the legal world is a nightmare for him. He thought “Locus Standi” was a “Locust” that could do “Stand Ups”. And that “By Law” was the ultimate catch word when rooting to be that last kid in the bunch throwing the old “Khoppi”. 

Do not laugh at Average Joe, for he takes you at your word, and believes that everything that happens in his country happens for the betterment of all Average Dorjis and Sophisticated Seldons. When the government went “Tax” he went “Glad”. When the “Courts” said “Wrong” he said, “Clap”. When the Opposition said “No” he went “Yo!” When the Monk was jailed he went “Bail”. And now he suffers from insomnia because he gets the feeling it was somehow all his fault. Now that Average Dorji suffers, shouldn’t there be a conscientious buffer so that Average Joe and we can all peacefully nap and supper? 
Now where is that cuppa crappy instant coffee?
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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-417299965189711179?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/b60s8OL-oeE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/417299965189711179/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/02/there-are-those-still-in-jail.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/417299965189711179?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/417299965189711179?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/b60s8OL-oeE/there-are-those-still-in-jail.html" title="There Are Those Still In Jail... Languishing" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KksskfRbKSc/Tytr49hOKJI/AAAAAAAAIzs/cNCj_CBVEXw/s72-c/bhutan10.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/02/there-are-those-still-in-jail.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cDSHg_eyp7ImA9WhRbEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-2107273860793388094</id><published>2012-02-03T10:57:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-02-03T10:57:59.643+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-03T10:57:59.643+06:00</app:edited><title>Just In Case You Forgotten; I Haven't!</title><content type="html">&lt;b&gt;Banning the Ban

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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rl_Yhf_YN5E/TytoiUSM-gI/AAAAAAAAIys/Xef-Dy82EHk/s1600/Sonam-Tsering-640x480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rl_Yhf_YN5E/TytoiUSM-gI/AAAAAAAAIys/Xef-Dy82EHk/s400/Sonam-Tsering-640x480.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ddcOaRx8yik/TytoqK_1v6I/AAAAAAAAIy4/FP1H0Am0L3k/s1600/The%2BJournalist%2BCover%2B13-3-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="293" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ddcOaRx8yik/TytoqK_1v6I/AAAAAAAAIy4/FP1H0Am0L3k/s400/The%2BJournalist%2BCover%2B13-3-11.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;/b&gt;It’s easy. Just ask parents and teachers. And if you happen to be one yourself, then it makes it easier still to know what works, and pressingly, more of what does not work when dealing with your kids at home or the kids in your class. The forbidden fruit, through its very nature, catapults the opposite reaction to the desired one. And that was just an apple. Now replay the scenario in your head by replacing the passé apple with a groovy looking open hooded pimped up BMW convertible with the silver key in the ignition and the gold gilded logoed keychain dangling – in essence inviting and enticing you.
There would not be a moment’s hesitation. And to have all that in a town or a garden where the only inhabitants are you and your mate! Who comes up with these cunning ingenuities and the follies therein!  In this day and age, for that matter any era or century of your liking and choosing have had their share of bans and fines, laws and penalties. Why, one of the Ten Commandments of Moses is “Thou Shall Not Commit Adultery.” Now keeping in mind the gravity of that ban and its consequences, of basically being excommunicated from god and all his powers and favors – that’s a fearsome spectacle and a line you do not want to even attempt to cross. But people broke the ban anyways. And that’s because the urge to do what you are not supposed to do or allowed to do is as humane as a human can be humane.

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If for want of an apple the mates at Eden were ready to face the wrath of the Holy One, what are man’s laws? Accepted that not all, matter of fact, the majority of the world functions because there are written and hard wired rules and regulations in place, either premeditated and passed as laws or naturally in-built. Right and wrong, even with all its shady gray areas, is something we know instinctively and if we did not, we learn from the experience and never repeat it again, ever.
Having said that, when a law is passed with premeditation and judgment, such as the ban/illegality/forbidden case of the cigarette, really, is that the best you can come up with? Who, in all their sanity, walks around with receipts in their pockets? And this is coming from a Bhutanese, a species naturally allergic to anything resembling authority. We do not even count the change, or ask for a receipt no matter what we buy – from potatoes to SUVs. And if that is the case of the reality of things, well, a rabbit can’t help but be a rabbit, the kangaroo can’t help but hop around. We are what we are with all our frailties but please, for the sake of basic sanity; let’s not pretend that cigarettes are the bawdiest consumables lying around. All of a sudden everyone is feeling the pinch and the punch. 

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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j31LBN5Yb2o/TytpNAwI8AI/AAAAAAAAIzc/cuSEA-sWZa0/s1600/bhutan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="295" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j31LBN5Yb2o/TytpNAwI8AI/AAAAAAAAIzc/cuSEA-sWZa0/s400/bhutan.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

I’m smoking as I write. The cigarette I “purchased” came from a “vendor” who does not, and probably cannot fathom, why anyone would need a receipt for a cigarette. Now re-imagine another scenario: the powers that be decide to do the same with liquor and of course, the traditional doma. And that you may drink as much as you would like and chew as much doma as you would like provided you can produce the receipts for the same. It will complicate matters of actual importance and further blur the clarity with which things should be seen. There are many good laws in the country; sadly, none of them are enforced save the cigarette. We do not need bans that further depreciate the state of affairs. Forget the receipts, just tax the bloody thing and tax it with a sledge hammer. The single pack I bought cost me a hundred bucks. The MRP is somewhere at Rs 39. 

You see, I’d rather pay the government then indulge in black marketing, but then, you leave me with no choice and what’s more, you make me feel like a criminal. Fortunately, I use my powers of imagination and tell myself it’s just another economic transaction borne of necessity. Don’t ban because you can; if nothing, man is equipped with an infinite array of imagination.
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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-2107273860793388094?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/NAzqjiXqwQc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/2107273860793388094/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/02/just-in-case-you-forgotten-i-havent.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/2107273860793388094?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/2107273860793388094?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/NAzqjiXqwQc/just-in-case-you-forgotten-i-havent.html" title="Just In Case You Forgotten; I Haven't!" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rl_Yhf_YN5E/TytoiUSM-gI/AAAAAAAAIys/Xef-Dy82EHk/s72-c/Sonam-Tsering-640x480.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/02/just-in-case-you-forgotten-i-havent.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUDSHc5eSp7ImA9WhRUGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-8103142534968012275</id><published>2012-01-30T16:00:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T16:11:19.921+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-30T16:11:19.921+06:00</app:edited><title>When I Was Young</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lHWENe_UmyE/TyZp-DqOLEI/AAAAAAAAIyM/nhAsfDpTZ0M/s1600/301331_2473281320598_1509364009_32612988_1378579281_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="325" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lHWENe_UmyE/TyZp-DqOLEI/AAAAAAAAIyM/nhAsfDpTZ0M/s400/301331_2473281320598_1509364009_32612988_1378579281_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

When I was young I used to listen to the radio and thought the blue skies reflected the oceans. The old transistor used to sit on the ledge of the tractor-like weaving loom. The rhythmic sound of my mother’s weaving sounds used to provide the canvas from which echoed those old Bollywood classics, still audible in black and white.
When I was young the world looked so huge and intriguing- that it was both round and flat was confusing. The Tata and Ashok Leyland trucks plying the Phuentsholing-Thimphu road used to mesmerize me. I’d sit in the compound of the Phuentsholing Department of Wireless colony and watch those fascinating machines trudging up the twists and turns in what was known as the “Saat Gumti” (Seven Turns).  The helicopters were to die for. And the fighter jet planes just left us dumbfounded and (I’m not gonna mention the trains in Hashimara; they were “The Ultimate Treat!”).
When I was young I was happy and the world seemed a happy place. All the kids in my neighborhood were happy as were the kids in my school. We were happy because we were young and money did not carry a price tag on it and neither was it laden with morality or class. 

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When I was young it seemed everyone had the same things; nothing less, nothing more and the world outdoors was our playground and everything in it became toys we played with.
When I was young my king was my hero and I wanted to be like him and walk like him and talk like him and play basketball and archery like him.

When I was young Bruce Lee was kicking ass and everyone wanted to do the chop-chops along with the “Nunchuku” and the “Meow”. Then we heard of Pele and Muhammad Ali and Maradona and Superman, together with Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”, Mithun Chakraborty’s “Disco Dancer” and of course, Amitabh Bachchan’s “I’m the perpetual angry young man” movies. It was a phased of epic confusions. I had a tough time figuring out who I really wanted to be: and everything about them was real. Superman could really fly. Pele and Maradona could score goals without kicking a ball. Michael Jackson was a Moon-Walker and Mithun Chakraborty was the one and only Disco Dancer. And Amitabh Bachchan started fighting all kinds of injustice single handedly and could do no wrong. Every time he died I cried. Then came Iron Mike Tyson and I wanted to box.

\Those were tough days. Discovering the magic of the movies made me envious of “Gate Keepers”- with that powerful “Torch Light” and the license to walk in and out of cinema halls at will! 
But then I also wanted to become the “Truck Driver” who lived in a house on wheels that was mobile.
Then one day I saw the spinning “Globe” in my father’s office and I wanted to travel the world. Then the old radio played again and I heard a woman tell a story in a beautiful voice. It made me wanna become a “Radio Story Teller”. 
When boarding school came, I wrote letters to kill the boredom and decided that that was what I wanted to do- become a “Letter Writer”.

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When college came, everything changed. I became a “Dharma Bum” with a passion for Bob Dylan and the Folk-Rock-Blues. With that I discovered “Drugs” and I wanted to become “Jim Morrison”. 
I guess I became a bit of everything.

Now that I’m older, I realize I was so much younger and happier then. I’m older and sadder then that now. In the end, when I was young, we didn’t have much of anything but neither did we feel the lack of it for there existed nothing to make comparisons.

Everyone seemed younger and happier when I was young and that has not changed. Many have passed on and crossed over, but the memories linger and they linger with a sweetness that comes from knowing what I now know. That life is ephemeral; it’s really a rainbow and really, who does not smile at a rainbow or for that matter, an Atsara in a Tsechu?


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When I was young, the world was fresh. Now that time and gravitas keeps sagging the chin, I guess the challenge is to keep refreshing that look of wonder and bewilderment. In conclusion, if there be such a thing, when I was young I had a wonderful father. Now that I’m a father, I’d like my son to be just like that- be young and enjoy that youthfulness as my father let me; the discovery and the curiosity. For though it killed the cat, don’t forget that satisfaction brought him back! 

Now if you see, let them be, for the prodigal child always returns. 
&lt;b&gt;Five Things I Learnt In Life:
&lt;/b&gt;1) There’s Always More To Learn
2) Quote But Live Upon Them
3) Whatever You Do;  Do It With All Your Heart and All Your Gut
4) The Present Is Now- That’s Why It’s Called a Gift  
5) Growing Old Is Natural; Growing Up Is Optional
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-8103142534968012275?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/r_wbcX2t9HY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/8103142534968012275/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/when-i-was-young-i-used-to-listen-to.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8103142534968012275?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8103142534968012275?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/r_wbcX2t9HY/when-i-was-young-i-used-to-listen-to.html" title="When I Was Young" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lHWENe_UmyE/TyZp-DqOLEI/AAAAAAAAIyM/nhAsfDpTZ0M/s72-c/301331_2473281320598_1509364009_32612988_1378579281_n.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/when-i-was-young-i-used-to-listen-to.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUECQXc5fip7ImA9WhRUGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-3202151247034736568</id><published>2012-01-30T14:54:00.003+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T14:54:20.926+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-30T14:54:20.926+06:00</app:edited><title>Pardon The Kids Campaign</title><content type="html">THIS IS AN AD AGAINST THE DEPORTATION OF CHILDREN BY THE DUTCH GOVT. AGAINST KIDS 18 AND UNDER. MIPHAM WAS ONE OF THE KIDS SOLICITING YOUR SUPPORT AGAINST THAT DEPORTATION. HELP KINDERPA:RDON PARDON THE KIDS.... VISIT KINDERPARDON.NL AND SIGN IN YOUR PETITION. MAKE A DIFFERENCE... SAVE A LIFE... WATCH THE VIDE AT


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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-3202151247034736568?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/ceM-Qi6Aa2c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/3202151247034736568/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/pardon-kids-campaign.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/3202151247034736568?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/3202151247034736568?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/ceM-Qi6Aa2c/pardon-kids-campaign.html" title="Pardon The Kids Campaign" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/iBwiQrQl-Lk/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/pardon-kids-campaign.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYMRX87fip7ImA9WhRUFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-440856362346671270</id><published>2012-01-24T21:49:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T21:49:44.106+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-24T21:49:44.106+06:00</app:edited><title>Writing Can Be Prayerful</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/14473732@N00/6740568631/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7144/6740568631_d96dc3c5a9_m.jpg" alt="Famara cliffs • riscos de Famara" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/14473732@N00/6740568631/"&gt;jesuscm (on/off for a time)&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;-Janina Gomes&lt;br /&gt;
The information explosion and popularity of debates and talks in electronic media has perhaps reduced the art of writing to just another has-been activity. And yet, the more information we are exposed to, the more we are prone to introspection and reflection which find sensitive expression in writing. We mull over things, integrate the lessons we have learnt from them, see the context in which they happened and finally use them to form a framework within which we operate. Writing then becomes a kind of prayer, in which we come to understand ourselves better, learning, in the process, to change our attitudes and look for a deeper reality. Writing, as prayer, helps us know more about ourselves and progress on the spiritual path; its a prayer that reaches outwards in ever-growing concentric circles, becoming a way of relating our reality to God and to those around us. &lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/94214577@N00/6751544595/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7004/6751544595_a66237854c_m.jpg" alt="snow" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/94214577@N00/6751544595/"&gt;Barry Yanowitz&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator zemanta-action-dragged" style=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/97235261@N00/6748734681/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float: right; clear: right; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7168/6748734681_cd59e8373b_m.jpg" alt="Long-tailed Shrike" style="font-size: 0.8em; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; float: right; clear: right; width: 0px; "&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/97235261@N00/6748734681/"&gt;Koshyk&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/49208119@N07/6748341093/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7026/6748341093_4c94fdb405_m.jpg" alt="_DSC1137" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/49208119@N07/6748341093/"&gt;flemming. d5100&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/34726560@N00/6741000209/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7162/6741000209_cc361cd7b9_m.jpg" alt="Dramatic sunset" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/34726560@N00/6741000209/"&gt;Steve-h&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/95572727@N00/6747213473/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7006/6747213473_6b4a582ce8_m.jpg" alt="Mountain and Meadow" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/95572727@N00/6747213473/"&gt;Stuck in Customs&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/34726560@N00/6747809415/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7031/6747809415_0d60014baa_m.jpg" alt="Sun, glorious sun!" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/34726560@N00/6747809415/"&gt;Steve-h&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:0403_Prayers_Colors_Kathmandu_Bodnath_2006_Luca_Galuzzi.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5f/0403_Prayers_Colors_Kathmandu_Bodnath_2006_Luca_Galuzzi.jpg/300px-0403_Prayers_Colors_Kathmandu_Bodnath_2006_Luca_Galuzzi.jpg" alt="The colorful roof of Bodnath Temple in Kathman..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="200"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:0403_Prayers_Colors_Kathmandu_Bodnath_2006_Luca_Galuzzi.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Christian_Martyrs_Last_Prayer.jpg"&amp;gt;Wikipedia&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Prayer_flag_col.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/09/Prayer_flag_col.jpg/300px-Prayer_flag_col.jpg" alt="English: Prayer flag above the monastery (Gomp..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="450"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Prayer_flag_col.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Many seekers maintain a personal diary in which they sort themselves out by recording their daily experiences. The pace of life gathers momentum when these personal reflections lead us forward on the path to divine realization. When we write, the writing turns into a dialogue with God.&lt;br /&gt;
All writing is expression of life. Great literature, poetry, art and science are not ends in themselves. When they continue to make a social impact, it is because they have touched a deeper chord in our existence.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Francis Thompson's poem The Hound of Heaven begins thus: "I fled him down the nights and down the days. I fled him down the arches of the years. I fled him down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The poet seems to be wrestling with God. He transmits the experience of struggle and deeper longings of the heart to readers through verse.&lt;br /&gt;
One could argue that every human activity is prayer. But, in writing, we are plumbing the depths of human existence and at some point, whilst doing so, we inevitably meet with God. Writing can help make the mundane and the sacred meet. In writing we interpret our own experiences, dreams, successes and failings and by so doing we create a common language and a common ground, where sharing becomes possible.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/23614453@N00/3277689332" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3339/3277689332_4afde1239e_m.jpg" alt="Prayer flags on Renjo La" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/23614453@N00/3277689332"&gt;Oliphant&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Christian_Martyrs_Last_Prayer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/c4/The_Christian_Martyrs_Last_Prayer.jpg/300px-The_Christian_Martyrs_Last_Prayer.jpg" alt="The Christian Martyrs' Last Prayer" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="182"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a some="" of="" those="" writers="" who="" reject="" the="" notion="" god="" often="" unconsciously="" express="" a="" longing="" for="" an="" unknown="" reality="" in="" their="" lives.="" whether="" they="" deify="" ideology="" or="" try="" to="" equate="" secular="" with="" god,="" inner="" drive="" find="" everlasting="" is="" still="" omnipresent.="" seeker="" would="" most="" likely="" reserve="" special="" time="" prayer="" that="" could="" take="" any="" one="" following="" forms:="" ritual,="" talking="" satsang,="" eucharist="" listening="" discourse.="" but="" when="" we="" write,="" can="" go="" farther="" and="" create="" worldwide="" network="" prayer.="" like="" spiders="" web="" connects="" centre="" periphery,="" also="" become="" part="" universal="" connected="" there="" have="" been="" instances="" combined="" prayers="" several="" people="" helped="" generate="" positive,="" healing="" energy.="" good="" writing="" propels="" thought="" action.="" faith="" as="" tiny="" mustard="" seed="" move="" mountains.="" similarly,="" heartfelt="" expression="" waves="" sound="" waves,="" piercing="" ether="" spreading="" vibrations="" peace="" love.="" then="" be="" way="" loving="" all="" creation.="" it="" source="" solace="" support="" difficult="" times.="" keep="" flame="" hope="" burning.="" rewrite="" recreate="" us,="" world="" human="" solidarity="" love="" overcomes="" temptation="" hate="" violate,="" divide="" destruct.="" &lt;div="" class="zemanta-related"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;h6 class="zemanta-related-title" style="font-size:1em;margin:1em 0 0 0;"&gt;&lt;a some="" of="" those="" writers="" who="" reject="" the="" notion="" god="" often="" unconsciously="" express="" a="" longing="" for="" an="" unknown="" reality="" in="" their="" lives.="" whether="" they="" deify="" ideology="" or="" try="" to="" equate="" secular="" with="" god,="" inner="" drive="" find="" everlasting="" is="" still="" omnipresent.="" seeker="" would="" most="" likely="" reserve="" special="" time="" prayer="" that="" could="" take="" any="" one="" following="" forms:="" ritual,="" talking="" satsang,="" eucharist="" listening="" discourse.="" but="" when="" we="" write,="" can="" go="" farther="" and="" create="" worldwide="" network="" prayer.="" like="" spiders="" web="" connects="" centre="" periphery,="" also="" become="" part="" universal="" connected="" there="" have="" been="" instances="" combined="" prayers="" several="" people="" helped="" generate="" positive,="" healing="" energy.="" good="" writing="" propels="" thought="" action.="" faith="" as="" tiny="" mustard="" seed="" move="" mountains.="" similarly,="" heartfelt="" expression="" waves="" sound="" waves,="" piercing="" ether="" spreading="" vibrations="" peace="" love.="" then="" be="" way="" loving="" all="" creation.="" it="" source="" solace="" support="" difficult="" times.="" keep="" flame="" hope="" burning.="" rewrite="" recreate="" us,="" world="" human="" solidarity="" love="" overcomes="" temptation="" hate="" violate,="" divide="" destruct.="" &lt;div="" class="zemanta-related"&gt;Related articles&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;ul class="zemanta-article-ul"&gt;&lt;li class="zemanta-article-ul-li"&gt;&lt;a href="http://mikromission.wordpress.com/2011/11/16/prayer-on-the-bridge/"&gt;Prayer on the Bridge&lt;/a&gt; (mikromission.wordpress.com)&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class="zemanta-article-ul-li"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.usatoday.com/life/movies/movieawards/oscars/story/2012-01-24/2012-academy-award-nominations/52765400/1"&gt;Silent 'Artist,' Scorsese's 'Hugo' lead Oscar nominations - USA TODAY&lt;/a&gt; (usatoday.com)&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt;PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_c.png?x-id=3044b10c-84f5-4f0e-8e51-15377bcaeaec" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-440856362346671270?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/5hL0NO4SdrI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/440856362346671270/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/writing-can-be-prayerful.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/440856362346671270?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/440856362346671270?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/5hL0NO4SdrI/writing-can-be-prayerful.html" title="Writing Can Be Prayerful" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7144/6740568631_d96dc3c5a9_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/writing-can-be-prayerful.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk4NRHY4fSp7ImA9WhRUFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-3694428735179871325</id><published>2012-01-24T20:22:00.001+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T20:23:15.835+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-24T20:23:15.835+06:00</app:edited><title>TATHANG: THE RIGHT ANGLE</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xOHnj7K0Kr0/Tx683SxI1sI/AAAAAAAAId8/3E6N6hglTpk/s1600/tathang%2Bjpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="283" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xOHnj7K0Kr0/Tx683SxI1sI/AAAAAAAAId8/3E6N6hglTpk/s400/tathang%2Bjpg.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;(a Turtle Tree Creations Concept)- TATHANG: THE RIGHT ANGLE PRESENTS A CHARITY PHOTO XHIBITION... COMING&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt; SOON TO THRILL YOUR CHILLS... AND WARM YOUR INNER CON=NUMB+DRUMS....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
***THERE ARE NO BAD PHOTOGRAPHS...JUST BAD PHOTOGRAPHERS... AND IN BHUTAN BOTH ARE ANNU;LED.. 'COS; THERE AIN'T NO SUCH THING AS A BAD PHOTO IN THIS KINGDOM. HAVING SAID THAT... THE FEEL IS THE KEEL THAT LEADS TO THE HUMB;LING KNEEL... AND EVENTUALLY THE BILL THAT WILL HELP PAY FOR SOME THRILL... SO CHIP IN... GWET STARTLED.. TITILLATING YOUR SENSES...!&lt;br /&gt;
PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;/b&gt;                    &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.daylife.com/image/05VU6Tb2f47vF?utm_source=zemanta&amp;amp;utm_medium=p&amp;amp;utm_content=05VU6Tb2f47vF&amp;amp;utm_campaign=z1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://cache.daylife.com/imageserve/05VU6Tb2f47vF/150x100.jpg" alt="PUNAKHA, BHUTAN - OCTOBER 13:  A pigeon on the..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="150" height="100"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 150px; "&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.daylife.com/source/Getty_Images"&gt;Getty Images&lt;/a&gt; via &lt;a href="http://www.daylife.com"&gt;@daylife&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5581313278" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5149/5581313278_ea7e905e86_m.jpg" alt="Bhutan 8" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5581313278"&gt;warwick_carter&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5581313940" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5270/5581313940_3462eba3c4_m.jpg" alt="Bhutan 6" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5581313940"&gt;warwick_carter&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:LED_DISP.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a1/LED_DISP.JPG/300px-LED_DISP.JPG" alt="Old Calculator LED Display" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="90"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:LED_DISP.JPG"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_LED.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/40/Blue_LED.jpg/300px-Blue_LED.jpg" alt="English: Illuminated Blue LED Photography by A..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="300"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_LED.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Virgin_America_A320_cabin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/fb/Virgin_America_A320_cabin.jpg/300px-Virgin_America_A320_cabin.jpg" alt="Cabin of a Virgin America A320" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="225"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Virgin_America_A320_cabin.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5581315132" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5030/5581315132_27484fb9af_m.jpg" alt="Bhutan 3" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5581315132"&gt;warwick_carter&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5580727451" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5131/5580727451_100225409f_m.jpg" alt="Bhutan 5" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5580727451"&gt;warwick_carter&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5581307648" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5061/5581307648_c24ab8af20_m.jpg" alt="Bhutan 21" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/20944194@N06/5581307648"&gt;warwick_carter&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:LED_traffic_light_on_red.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3a/LED_traffic_light_on_red.jpg/300px-LED_traffic_light_on_red.jpg" alt="A close up view of a traffic light illuminatin..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="225"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:LED_traffic_light_on_red.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_c.png?x-id=92c28623-452a-47c6-b5e7-c92be3ac4e4c" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
*** GAKLERING SOON IN A FRAME NEAR YOU ;D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-3694428735179871325?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/6szx3_-tZ9w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/3694428735179871325/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/tathang-right-angle.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/3694428735179871325?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/3694428735179871325?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/6szx3_-tZ9w/tathang-right-angle.html" title="TATHANG: THE RIGHT ANGLE" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xOHnj7K0Kr0/Tx683SxI1sI/AAAAAAAAId8/3E6N6hglTpk/s72-c/tathang%2Bjpg.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/tathang-right-angle.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08HQnw4eip7ImA9WhRUFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-2917319834847448185</id><published>2012-01-24T19:30:00.001+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T19:30:33.232+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-24T19:30:33.232+06:00</app:edited><title>Burma in 2012: A Political Report Card</title><content type="html">-Emma Varvaloucas&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O1-UjfacAJg/Tx6tyGgDsGI/AAAAAAAAIdA/U66VhHVNnh8/s1600/Burma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="206" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O1-UjfacAJg/Tx6tyGgDsGI/AAAAAAAAIdA/U66VhHVNnh8/s400/Burma.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
This guest blog post is from Deborah Weinberg, who is currently traveling in Burma (Myanmar). The post originated as an email to the author's friends and was forwarded to Tricycle—it is being published with her permission. In it, she tells us of Burma's new year political report card: A fresh wind of freedom is in the air, she says. Burma recently gained political attention when U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton visited the country in late November, ending a fifty-year estrangement between the U.S. and Burma. Despite this and though the government has been promising to continue reforms, Weinberg writes, "The generals are still holding the cards."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mingalaba and Happy New Year! Our ten days in Burma was an exhilarating mix of walking the streets and neighborhoods of Yangon, seeing old friends and meeting remarkable new people. It was an opportunity to see for ourselves what was happening on the “inside,” as the activists on the Thai border say, and to see for ourselves evidence of meaningful change. The Burmese report card is a hopeful one. However, in the same  breath things could teeter and plunge back into darkness in a Rangoon second, but that seems unlikely.  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-luYIMkrtvpQ/Tx6wt_LU4vI/AAAAAAAAIdM/qUbEqs-Dwoc/s1600/3.a-Aung%252BSan%252BSuu%252BKyi%252BAung%252BSan%252BSuu%252BKyi%252BAddresses%252BE59MVSPeuhrl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="279" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-luYIMkrtvpQ/Tx6wt_LU4vI/AAAAAAAAIdM/qUbEqs-Dwoc/s400/3.a-Aung%252BSan%252BSuu%252BKyi%252BAung%252BSan%252BSuu%252BKyi%252BAddresses%252BE59MVSPeuhrl.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
We saw scenes that could not have happened six months ago. Images of Daw Aung San Suu Kyi and her father General Aung San are now displayed in all parts of the city without fear. They are plastered on the covers of every paper and journal sold at stalls on every corner in the city. The image of Hillary Clinton smiling broadly with Daw Suu, embracing like sisters, is displayed publicly and fearlessly. In past years, even hanging a photo of Aung San Suu Kyi in your shop could put you in prison for a lengthy stay. Even the mention of her name was not allowed by the military regime.  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhHUncAWEDc/Tx6xM4T5jnI/AAAAAAAAIdY/iDlGulaBd68/s1600/4a.-1st-tiem-with-her-son-170x95.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="95" width="170" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhHUncAWEDc/Tx6xM4T5jnI/AAAAAAAAIdY/iDlGulaBd68/s400/4a.-1st-tiem-with-her-son-170x95.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ueZMmtGw5EA/Tx6xS294lnI/AAAAAAAAIdk/hmdOq9byq8Y/s1600/2-ASSK-170x103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="103" width="170" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ueZMmtGw5EA/Tx6xS294lnI/AAAAAAAAIdk/hmdOq9byq8Y/s400/2-ASSK-170x103.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The busy teashops are the political barometer in Burma and now show much evidence of change. Before people would sit for hours drinking their green tea, nibbling on the snacks offered: spicy noodles, tea-leaf salads and crisp samosas, but their political discontent was only whispered for fear of arrest. The teashops were the places for receiving smuggled news from the free world, the latest report of the newest political prisoner and the voice of the struggle for democracy. News, gossip and jokes mocking the military junta and their misdeeds would swiftly pass from one tea sipper to the next, from shop to shop and block to block until the entire city eventually heard the unfiltered truth. The real news never made the press, only propaganda.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, there is an undeniably positive and vibrant wind blowing in the hearts and minds of the people. We had numerous conversations on the street regarding the recent pro-democratic changes. People can now actually utter that word—“democracy”— without fear of imprisonment. We shared animated discussions with our poet friend, Aung. As we sat and drank tea he said that if the secret police were watching him now he would not be the least bit worried. "How can you arrest 55 million people?" he asks with a big grin on his face. I asked him if I could now email him news reports regarding Burma, democracy, and the freedom struggles from around the world without fear of reprisal and he laughed loudly saying that we could send him anything we wanted. Censorship of the Internet now seems to be a dead issue whereas before it was monitored severely. Really quite remarkable since only a year ago, BBC, Voice of America, Democratic Voice of Burma and all sites critical of the regime were dangerously off limits to Burmese citizens. Is this the beginning of the end of fear? It seems for the locals that there is no going back. We were told that if the changes were rolled back the reactions could be highly volatile and would generate a great deal of bad press which is the last thing the new administration wants. There is a strong mixture of hope and caution in the wind.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We are all now watching how the dramatic events in Burma impact the minority ethnic communities, refugees and political dissidents who have suffered so much abuse at the hands of the government. The promised release of political prisoners on January 4th  disappointed  all of us who are lovers of the Burmese people. Only a few prisoners—no more than 30—instead of the more than one thousand still suffering in the prisons were released. Strong pressure is on the government to release more in the coming weeks and months, but the generals are still holding the cards. We’ll find out in the coming months if the progress is real and a genuine road to freedom.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-45nHCC6l7ag/Tx6skh6QBXI/AAAAAAAAIco/2uCVhfOoNpk/s1600/BurmaTemple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="272" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-45nHCC6l7ag/Tx6skh6QBXI/AAAAAAAAIco/2uCVhfOoNpk/s400/BurmaTemple.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
*Daytime in the Shwedagon Pagoda (Burma) by Randy Getty, a friend of Weinberg's who also travels to Burma annually. For other photos from Burma and his travels in Asia, visit http://www.rgetty.com/.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iFhIjfrgkD0/Tx6tdI5iheI/AAAAAAAAIc0/ZNYp6nJAd6M/s1600/HillaryBurma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="299" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iFhIjfrgkD0/Tx6tdI5iheI/AAAAAAAAIc0/ZNYp6nJAd6M/s400/HillaryBurma.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;**From www.guardian.co.uk. Hillary Clinton and Aung San Suu Kyi.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8dJCQYYyfog/Tx6yPGrrtBI/AAAAAAAAIdw/AyYFmUrfC5k/s1600/Suu.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="353" width="288" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8dJCQYYyfog/Tx6yPGrrtBI/AAAAAAAAIdw/AyYFmUrfC5k/s400/Suu.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-2917319834847448185?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/ZvdAnLwkczY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/2917319834847448185/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/burma-in-2012-political-report-card.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/2917319834847448185?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/2917319834847448185?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/ZvdAnLwkczY/burma-in-2012-political-report-card.html" title="Burma in 2012: A Political Report Card" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O1-UjfacAJg/Tx6tyGgDsGI/AAAAAAAAIdA/U66VhHVNnh8/s72-c/Burma.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/burma-in-2012-political-report-card.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEGSHcyeyp7ImA9WhRUE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-441029054329101581</id><published>2012-01-23T21:33:00.001+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T21:47:09.993+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-23T21:47:09.993+06:00</app:edited><title>HappyLosers &amp; RhineStone CowBoys</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fRzqTTc2-QY/Tx2Ay9QrvRI/AAAAAAAAIcQ/ol4gFSe0PlA/s1600/rhinestone-cowboy-jennifer-demeglio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="286" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fRzqTTc2-QY/Tx2Ay9QrvRI/AAAAAAAAIcQ/ol4gFSe0PlA/s400/rhinestone-cowboy-jennifer-demeglio.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Kenny%2BRogers" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://userserve-ak.last.fm/serve/126/468480.jpg" alt="Kenny Rogers" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Cover of &lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Kenny%2BRogers"&gt;Kenny Rogers&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10438873@N04/3214957105" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3322/3214957105_d666d29d05_m.jpg" alt="Oprah celebrating at Obama State Ball" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="240" height="180"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 240px; "&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10438873@N04/3214957105"&gt;Talk Radio News Service&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Justine_henin_hardenne_medibank_international_2006_02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a1/Justine_henin_hardenne_medibank_international_2006_02.jpg/300px-Justine_henin_hardenne_medibank_international_2006_02.jpg" alt="Justine Henin won two Grand Slam titles to fin..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="220"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Justine_henin_hardenne_medibank_international_2006_02.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I dunno where that Rhinestone Cowboy header came from but it just sprang- literally from the keyboards and jumped onto the screen!&lt;br /&gt;
I know- it’s my ever-white Kenny Rogers and that Blonde Busty what’s her name??? Jolly Dolly Golly Hangover Pardon subconsciountiously inconsequential attachment from days of hormonal yonder… Spent day lodged in clothes that might give even the crossworded hyena a definite indigestion- the perils and joys of the non-existence of Central Heating. &lt;br /&gt;
Watching the Auzzie Open Down Under and wondering at the obnoxiousness and the sheer audacity of the Sun in going below leaving us at the Tropic of Cancer pretty much as if in a boat called the Freezelatic Tittilatic. Spot Justine Henin doing an interview and man I miss that li’l Lioness Belgian and her glorious backhands. She seems happy… looks happy… that makes me happy! Saw Oprah on NDTV 24/7 doing the literal fest in Rajasthan, the land of colorful-coil-turbans and beautiful garments; esp. the women’s’ wear and the women wearing them. What a woman! She should clone a gazillion Oprah's with the same Genes… not gonna happen but you get the drift. R.E.S.P.E.C.T thy name is O.P.R.A.H and women thy name is O&amp;gt;P&amp;gt;R&amp;gt;A&amp;gt;H. May you live as you do… now and forever more… inspiring billions…. God bless ya.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Whatelse? saw The Last of the Mohicans. Daniel Day-Lewis at that age could have OWNED everything… as he still does with films such as “There Will Be Blood”. What Dedication! What Craft!  Such Art! Boy this man is smart with a big big HEART.&lt;br /&gt;
And Madeleine Stowe has gotta be one of the most graceful… dignified… beautiful… ageless women ever to grace the Silver Screen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Mohicansposter.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/dd/Mohicansposter.jpg" alt="The Last of the Mohicans (1992 film)" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="289" height="431"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 289px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Mohicansposter.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/there_will_be_blood" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content8.flixster.com/movie/10/88/49/10884912_ori.jpg" alt="There Will Be Blood" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="510" height="755"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 510px; "&gt;There Will Be Blood (Image via RottenTomatoes.com)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Madeleine_Stowe_-_New_Hampshire_2008.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a0/Madeleine_Stowe_-_New_Hampshire_2008.jpg/300px-Madeleine_Stowe_-_New_Hampshire_2008.jpg" alt="Madeleine Stowe, New Hampshire 2008 - Photo by..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="199"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Madeleine_Stowe_-_New_Hampshire_2008.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rottentomatoes.com/celebrity/wes_studi" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://content7.flixster.com/photo/77/28/26/7728269_gal.jpg" alt="Wes Studi" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="350" height="462"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 350px; "&gt;Wes Studi (Image via RottenTomatoes.com)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Madeleine_Stowe.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/99/Madeleine_Stowe.jpg/300px-Madeleine_Stowe.jpg" alt="Madeleine Stowe" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="410"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Madeleine_Stowe.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;What else? The cold’s been well balanced by the generous sunshine during the days: clear blue skies and snow-capped mountains… I’ve never seen the horizons and silhouettes of Thimphu's mountains as snow-laden as they been this abundant winter. Indeed the day today was such a warm wintry day we couldn’t resist going on a motorcycle ride… rode with a couple of hommies nowhere in particular and everywhere in general…. But now that its dusk and the Sun’s gone; foggedaboudid!&lt;br /&gt;
Gotta shack up back in my rutty shack in Semtokha… Love the roughness and the edginess and ofcourse- the ubiquitous cold… (Just do the Dump) before hitting the nightly hump is the one regulation all my mates and I follow: (try taking a crap at minus 4-7 midnight outdoors with the wind-chill factor included). Checked the mandatory Gmails and found a note that elates me: the ex-wife says my son is doing an act in a commercial to raise awareness… advocacy… and protest against the deportation of kids in Holland back to their native lands where they have nothing but nothing; some bitter memories they do not wanna recall, at best and at worst, a life of uncertainty… which, as a kid…. Has to hurt. Recently he’d done an ad for a clothing line called SALTY DOG and I was mighty proud as any parent would be… but this little information really does make me smile. Keep on keeping son is all I can think about and really; words are mere letters to the feeling in the gut that knows what I know and feel about him and I hope and pray and am sure… he does and will do too… though young in age (he’s 10), he knows… just as instinctively as any creature in the wilderness does… about the unbreakable bond. My prayers swoosh toward him and the kids in question who could be deported 'cos now the government’s cutting down on the budget and they don’t wanna have step-kids.&lt;br /&gt;
Some things in life never change and one of them is INJUSTICE. But for every action there is an opposite and enlightened reaction and that is to STAND UP, like the Marley song, and that is to FIGHT such institutionalized behavior that disposes of some at the comfort of others.&lt;br /&gt;
Whatelse? Yup… got a message from a mate wishing me a HAPPY NEW YEAR… now before you lose your marbles; know that in Bhutan there are umpteen new years. We call them LOSERS. And tomorrow is one more NEW YEAR going by the local shamanistic bred into Buddhism bred into animism that is bred into lunar astrology and bingo! Its HAPPY NEW YEAR! :D so happy New Year… sounds much better and might I add; tongue firmly in side-cheek. HAPPY LOSER!!!&lt;br /&gt;
This marks the 4th time we have had NEW YEARS since the MAYANs went, “Oh Fug Yourself: What apocalypse? Our calendar can’t handle too many numbers hence we are starting a new one”- and this is where White People take the cake: remember Y2K? I thought that was something like the FBI, the CIA, NASA… y’know…Yankees and their love for… what you call them? Abbreviations? Well… whaddayaknow… the same folks went nuts went Mr Cameroon said Pandora was a movie and the Nabi a figment of his very fertile imagination.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Gesus!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And meanwhile I’ve tuned out of the Tobacco Act… they went back to the way it used to be: the spin doctor tells us. What he didn’t and what we all know is that there are folks still imprisoned because the majority of those monkees thought they could lay out our Destinies for Us. So here’s a prediction- those 40+odd innocents will walk free before the ballot boxes open in 2013; so I’m thinking it will be circa- fall-winter-2012…  Some things never change: one of them is politicians.&lt;br /&gt;
It’s like what the Pacino character tells the young Reeves lawyer in “The Devil’s Advocate” – “Vanity – my favorite sin” with that BIG PACINO GRIN &amp;amp; TWINKLING EYES! Ciao and Happy Loser!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!                              p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator zemanta-action-dragged" style=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Tropicofcancer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float: right; clear: right; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3c/Tropicofcancer.jpg/300px-Tropicofcancer.jpg" alt="Tropic of Cancer sign in Western Sahara" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="190"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; float: right; clear: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Tropicofcancer.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_c.png?x-id=5ca0934d-9cb3-4f46-8ee7-527825c06007" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-441029054329101581?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/FuXB0kB8Cyg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/441029054329101581/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/happylosers-rhinestone-cowboys.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/441029054329101581?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/441029054329101581?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/FuXB0kB8Cyg/happylosers-rhinestone-cowboys.html" title="HappyLosers &amp; 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text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_6DhglC1NN4/TxVxnhXhvjI/AAAAAAAAIQU/CH7RkkFcUVk/s1600/Mipham%2BModellin%2BBaseBall%2BJack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="130" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_6DhglC1NN4/TxVxnhXhvjI/AAAAAAAAIQU/CH7RkkFcUVk/s400/Mipham%2BModellin%2BBaseBall%2BJack.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XWQvmC9N-xU/TxVxfWvWudI/AAAAAAAAIQI/z9OTfVm4SDY/s1600/Mipham%2BModellin%2BJackets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="65" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XWQvmC9N-xU/TxVxfWvWudI/AAAAAAAAIQI/z9OTfVm4SDY/s400/Mipham%2BModellin%2BJackets.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f6FBQHwoPKA/TxVzxtuiO5I/AAAAAAAAIQg/XmKY4iN-sy8/s1600/Gal1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; 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text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9ZjCA7ioPx8/TxV0HOSdNlI/AAAAAAAAIRE/8GXy6CcpYa0/s1600/Gal3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="288" width="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9ZjCA7ioPx8/TxV0HOSdNlI/AAAAAAAAIRE/8GXy6CcpYa0/s400/Gal3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--vl_Q4rn6Hk/TxV0Thg4pCI/AAAAAAAAIRQ/ulThwLkuV24/s1600/Heren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="130" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--vl_Q4rn6Hk/TxV0Thg4pCI/AAAAAAAAIRQ/ulThwLkuV24/s400/Heren.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/wehkampnl"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-8595837457663098716?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/5iA_bW_Av_c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/8595837457663098716/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/mipham-models-salty-dog.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8595837457663098716?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8595837457663098716?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/5iA_bW_Av_c/mipham-models-salty-dog.html" title="Mipham Models Salty Dog" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_6DhglC1NN4/TxVxnhXhvjI/AAAAAAAAIQU/CH7RkkFcUVk/s72-c/Mipham%2BModellin%2BBaseBall%2BJack.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/mipham-models-salty-dog.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IMSXs4fip7ImA9WhRUEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-2382609045662645432</id><published>2012-01-22T02:25:00.003+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T03:33:08.536+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-22T03:33:08.536+06:00</app:edited><title>Tarmac Calls ( Hit The Road J...)</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mGPesGoBLHw/TxsiDBt7BjI/AAAAAAAAIbA/VGRm33Fc4pQ/s1600/IndiaTrain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="205" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mGPesGoBLHw/TxsiDBt7BjI/AAAAAAAAIbA/VGRm33Fc4pQ/s400/IndiaTrain.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BsVb92V3Vxk/TxsiQoXxk7I/AAAAAAAAIbM/n_y9z8Bl1pk/s1600/HsTAdventure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="331" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BsVb92V3Vxk/TxsiQoXxk7I/AAAAAAAAIbM/n_y9z8Bl1pk/s400/HsTAdventure.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Its six minutes to midnight. I got out of Mojo Park. Before you jump to presumptions, its a rock &amp;amp; roll platform located at the basement (how apt) in this swanky new escalated mall called Sheare Square which I had going on awhile as The Shearer Sq. till a quick wit quipped "Shitty Square?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The band was nice... as nice as bands can be and for a pack of youngsters from neighboring Kurseong in Northeast India, they did some rollicking Pinkus Floydus numbers. So here I am, back where I feel the coziest under the circumstances of having to type into a laptop minus a battery and minus 4-7 degrees below Celsius depending on your insulation. I see that my little private confessions of a heartfelt mind on the twists and turns of one man's romance is a boredom to another man's philandering ways. Or did a couple of female species read about what I feel and straight away tabbed the button that says "Bore"!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I dunno and I couldn't careless... for one must write what is right and that piece gave me peace; a commodity in rare form and sparsely populated wherever you happen to be in any time and any place. Let's rewind a bit over here and go through the nuts and bolts: I've not blogged proper in more than four months- due to reasons as varied and as inconsequential as the conversations over the goddamn weather, that's freezing all the prolonged ends of my limbs and as deeply shallow and casually nappy as the honorable MPs housing the chairs in Parliament. I haven't taken a J.O.B with any of the media firms due to my moralistic, existential and other assorted hang ups. I've a thing with the S.Y.S.T.E.M... you see... I thought I'd do a paper; a sort of weekly interbred of The Onion and the Columbia Review Journal and bring some of the laughter so inherent in the Bhutanese to the papers; man they are getting so bloody serious. But the authorizing agency chucks that proposition of mine back to me with demands such as five-eared-professionals, a well decked financial plan that makes mandatory that you be rich; that you have a swell account in the balance... and I've never quite understood the need for banks. Besides that, there were other wants in my proposition such as a pyramid of workers with experience none possess in the medium.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sGoFmCkhMmY/Txscz5eTrLI/AAAAAAAAIZs/qzTGrL-8KHk/s1600/shake-the-system.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sGoFmCkhMmY/Txscz5eTrLI/AAAAAAAAIZs/qzTGrL-8KHk/s400/shake-the-system.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Going by their diktats, I did a quick math and figured there would be two papers running legitimately on those regulations.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So as we speak, my dream of providing an Atsara's Right View challenging conventionalities of seeing the nature and order of things remains just that- a clownish affair with just me and the Atsara laughing. You could call it a laughing matter, washed down with a chuckle, a giggle or whatever-else tickles your funny bones.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Here's another idea that's got me gripped: I been asking "can one mix money and morality?" Those with the cash say its a competitive dash; and those without say the world's gotten brash with that rash. the ones in between are all into hash... Looks like a stalemate gridlocked since money made man civilized.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HVT4JISXxxI/Txsd-xr3gXI/AAAAAAAAIao/byXlNs-e2VI/s1600/DourThing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HVT4JISXxxI/Txsd-xr3gXI/AAAAAAAAIao/byXlNs-e2VI/s400/DourThing.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Now that none of my ideas seem feasible, I been asking the next obvious question. Is it me or is it me? Turns out it is me and has always been me. If I played the conventional guy, the rumor mills will go "He's changed. He's become a nice guy." The price one pays is heavy for being who we are... I doubly admire the 9-5 dudes... I wonder how they do it day in and day out. The answers have been less adorable than the image in my mind. "No choice" "Duty calls" "The Kids" "The family" and so on do the rounds. Then came my next query: "But in the end, what does it entail?" "What does it all boil and trickle down to?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Nobody has answered that. They tell you, "Do what makes you happy or do what you wanna do." very encouraging coming from folks who have obviously sacrificed a lot... to what end is unique to every individual...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D1CpbPHzPL0/TxsdLxXa2wI/AAAAAAAAIZ4/ggHWaoPidOk/s1600/the_road_poster02%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="271" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D1CpbPHzPL0/TxsdLxXa2wI/AAAAAAAAIZ4/ggHWaoPidOk/s400/the_road_poster02%2B%25281%2529.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sGi51c6EDTg/TxsdWfu93zI/AAAAAAAAIaE/XbOLkMo7g_U/s1600/book-of-eli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="376" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sGi51c6EDTg/TxsdWfu93zI/AAAAAAAAIaE/XbOLkMo7g_U/s400/book-of-eli.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gh7g-vG2SQk/TxsdnQxhbNI/AAAAAAAAIaQ/4IbQFuaYjfU/s1600/alexander_supertramp_by_viktor_vektor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gh7g-vG2SQk/TxsdnQxhbNI/AAAAAAAAIaQ/4IbQFuaYjfU/s400/alexander_supertramp_by_viktor_vektor.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
But if that be the case, I'm hitting the road. I'm hitting the road 'cos the road beckons and I hear the call. That call that tells me "What else are you gonna do in a soiled go-around of skeptical wheel-borrowing?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If life is a journey, the road must be walked. If the beauty of life is in its uncertainties; one must tred the path. If that be the scenario, one must walk into it expecting nothing. When you have got nothing, you've got nothing to lose; and if you've got nothing to lose, the smallest gain is still a bargain you din't foresee. Now hit the road Jack... And don't you come back no more....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xtCf4DgIjfQ/Txsu4D-4muI/AAAAAAAAIbk/QoZPVvduEjQ/s1600/Join%2Bthe%2BJourney.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="338" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xtCf4DgIjfQ/Txsu4D-4muI/AAAAAAAAIbk/QoZPVvduEjQ/s400/Join%2Bthe%2BJourney.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Journey Well My Friends…..Journey Well!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;I love this saying and find it offers me great hope. I am not needing to end up any given place at the end of the day….I just need to keep moving.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I love the saying because it is a long-term vision. This is not just about a new years resolution or even a theme for my 20′s or 30′s or even now in my 40′s….&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is about life….as long as I have breath, my commitment is to journey…..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I have learned the importance of mile markers on my journey. I am being very intentional in this coming year to know their location and be able to look forward to the rest areas.&lt;br /&gt;
I am learning that for me to stay focused on the journey, I need to have specific goals to meet which also give me reason to celebrate. I am learning I look for places to stop and rest along the way. I am guarding against setting my goals to be about a destination…I don’t want to be a certain weight (even though I really kind of do), I am celebrating if I have established routines that will promote daily healthy living.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I am sure I will write more about my mile markers, rest areas and celebrations. I want to end by inviting you to establish your mile markers, rest area’s and celebration points on your journey. It makes the journey quite fun and definitely worth living….&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B0yTgLs3H8A/TxseT6a96DI/AAAAAAAAIa0/pcV5S-JJYAQ/s1600/journey-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B0yTgLs3H8A/TxseT6a96DI/AAAAAAAAIa0/pcV5S-JJYAQ/s400/journey-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_c.png?x-id=a91c3f36-7df7-4088-b556-b98ea430b682" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-37DHWPKz8Bc/TxsincmpYSI/AAAAAAAAIbY/zqRxASac1O4/s1600/ToxicRider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-37DHWPKz8Bc/TxsincmpYSI/AAAAAAAAIbY/zqRxASac1O4/s400/ToxicRider.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-2382609045662645432?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/ehlwisS8DPA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/2382609045662645432/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/tarmac-calls-hit-road-j.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/2382609045662645432?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/2382609045662645432?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/ehlwisS8DPA/tarmac-calls-hit-road-j.html" title="Tarmac Calls ( Hit The Road J...)" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mGPesGoBLHw/TxsiDBt7BjI/AAAAAAAAIbA/VGRm33Fc4pQ/s72-c/IndiaTrain.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/tarmac-calls-hit-road-j.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEBR3w9eyp7ImA9WhRUEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-5286429420216676967</id><published>2012-01-21T18:57:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T18:57:36.263+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-21T18:57:36.263+06:00</app:edited><title>When Scorpions Merge &amp; Become Butterflies</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/49703021@N00/6729761041/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7168/6729761041_4f94d50100_m.jpg" alt="[C] Café" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right;"&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/49703021@N00/6729761041/"&gt;anieto2k&lt;/a&gt; via Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Xvxi1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/64/Xvxi1.jpg/300px-Xvxi1.jpg" alt="Butterfly and Chinese wisteria flowers" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="387"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Xvxi1.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Cairo%2C_Gizeh%2C_Sphinx_and_Pyramid_of_Khufu%2C_Egypt%2C_Oct_2004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a5/Cairo%2C_Gizeh%2C_Sphinx_and_Pyramid_of_Khufu%2C_Egypt%2C_Oct_2004.jpg/300px-Cairo%2C_Gizeh%2C_Sphinx_and_Pyramid_of_Khufu%2C_Egypt%2C_Oct_2004.jpg" alt="The Great Sphinx of Giza in front of the Great..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="200"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Cairo%2C_Gizeh%2C_Sphinx_and_Pyramid_of_Khufu%2C_Egypt%2C_Oct_2004.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZvhhmjCUMHU/Txqnt0P_KnI/AAAAAAAAIXE/6mj83tgdEJI/s1600/rodriguez-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZvhhmjCUMHU/Txqnt0P_KnI/AAAAAAAAIXE/6mj83tgdEJI/s400/rodriguez-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j6CS73VL8m8/TxqoFs9ZbPI/AAAAAAAAIXQ/oW9Gp1e9ldw/s1600/rodriguez-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j6CS73VL8m8/TxqoFs9ZbPI/AAAAAAAAIXQ/oW9Gp1e9ldw/s400/rodriguez-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I'm back in my shack... an attic actually, run by an amoral landlord with an amoral tenant- somethings are just meant to be. Destiny, pre-destiny and the company of such premonitions do take root in faceless nobodies that meet somehow and just as a rainbow, disappears into the vast edgless skies...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes. I'm back in my shack of an attic and mesmerized, nay, bewildered, by the speed of time and how it passes. It seems, like all past tense things tend to seem, just like yesterday that a struggling scorpion, beset by the cold winter chill, went about an accepted routine life and on such a night as yesterday, stopped by a tavern for the cold was turning him into one of Jack London's characters set in the Yukon and all he'd wanted was a lift to his shack. He did have an automobile... somewhat as weathered and battered as he himself was... but had to be garaged as his vital signs required replacements.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hence he stopped by the tavern... and it was called the Twilight Tavern- a curious name now that he recalls suggesting it to one of the many owners that have passed the torch on to more optimistic beings of entrepreneurial callings.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-br8gwbliJ4k/TxqoYv3e6nI/AAAAAAAAIXc/Ut4vamDZJ-c/s1600/butterfly%2Bscorpion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" width="299" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-br8gwbliJ4k/TxqoYv3e6nI/AAAAAAAAIXc/Ut4vamDZJ-c/s400/butterfly%2Bscorpion.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E16QbBpXxQ0/TxqooWX_rnI/AAAAAAAAIXo/BtEZvyTi4KY/s1600/ButterScorpion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E16QbBpXxQ0/TxqooWX_rnI/AAAAAAAAIXo/BtEZvyTi4KY/s400/ButterScorpion.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
That's where he saw the other scorpion, although in truth he'd sighted her earlier... albeit in a crowded bistro called Benez. But that fleeting memory aside, here he actually sighted her... and perhaps she sighted him too. Though referred to as a scorpion, she was more of a butterfly... one of those magical creatures that actually live life in a literally metamorphical manner... they change and they adapt... And they E.V.O.L.V.E... Now if you anagram that... You get L.O.V.E!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;The First Stage: The Egg: &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;A butterfly starts life as a very small, round, oval or cylindrical egg.  The coolest thing about butterfly eggs, is that if you look close enough you can actually see the tiny caterpillar growing inside of it. Some butterfly eggs may be round, some oval and some may be ribbed while others may have other features. The egg shape depends on the type of butterfly that laid the egg, nutrition stacked reminding you of all the lovely summers gone by.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;The Second Stage: The Larva (Caterpillar): &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;When the egg finally hatches, most of you would expect for a butterfly to emerge, right?  Well, not exactly.  In the butterfly’s life cycle, there are four stages and this is only the second stage.  Butterfly larvae are actually what we call caterpillars. Caterpillars do not stay in this stage for very long and mostly, in this stage all they do is hang around camouflaged eating green leaves... more summer memries!   &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;The Third Stage: Pupa (Chrysalis): &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;The pupa stage is one of the coolest stages of a butterfly’s life.  As soon as a caterpillar is done growing and they have reached their full length/weight, they form themselves into a pupa, also known as a chrysalis.  From the outside of the pupa, it looks as if the caterpillar may just be resting, but the inside is where all of the action is.  Inside of the pupa, the caterpillar is rapidly changing. Within the chrysalis the old body parts of the caterpillar are undergoing a remarkable transformation called ‘metamorphosis,’ to become the beautiful parts that make up the butterfly that will emerge. Tissue, limbs and organs of a caterpillar have all been changed by the time the pupa is finished, and is now ready for the final stage. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;The Fourth Stage: The Butterfly! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;Finally, when the caterpillar has done all of its forming and changing inside the pupa, if you are lucky, you will get to see an adult butterfly emerge.  When the butterfly first emerges from the chrysalis, both of the wings are going to be soft and folded against its body. This is because the butterfly had to fit all its new parts inside of the pupa.  As soon as the butterfly has rested after coming out of the chrysalis, it will pump blood into the wings in order to get them working and flapping – then they get to fly.  Usually within a three or four-hour period, the butterfly will master flying and will search for a mate. And when its over, it begins anew. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nv_0fUlyHSA/Txqw6NBfgtI/AAAAAAAAIZg/maY9SBvnl8U/s1600/caterpillar-chrysalis-adult.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="195" width="130" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nv_0fUlyHSA/Txqw6NBfgtI/AAAAAAAAIZg/maY9SBvnl8U/s400/caterpillar-chrysalis-adult.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Some sights in life just make you smile: a rainbow... an Atsara, and of course, a butterfly. But this butterfly had more than the butter and the flight and the light in her design. She was that rare scorpion who'd managed to become the majestic eagle... the Metamorphosing Butterfly arising from the Sphinx every time she was pulled down. In that tavern, in that cold chill... swayed this warm being attracting eyes as easily as a bright bulb does those mysterious moths.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-et3aOmHhh9Q/Txqo92paYNI/AAAAAAAAIX0/TmAMPQUptTk/s1600/rodriguez-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-et3aOmHhh9Q/Txqo92paYNI/AAAAAAAAIX0/TmAMPQUptTk/s400/rodriguez-3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The two scorpions locked eyes, and something predestined happened: they liked each other. People say if love is blind why'd you need sight... but the flip-side to that coin is that there are people with sight but no vision...I guess its one of those things one cannot explain... so you go with that natural flow... and lemme tell you; such a flow comes alight with a lot of glow, which again explains why I'm writing what i'm writing. The timing is perfect. The setting is a mirror-reflection... the only hitch here is that I'm reminiscing, and when one being does that, its also because he is grateful and sad, alone and lonely, yet alive enough to recall the times he had... for in the end what are we but stories?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zaFKFqsq42A/TxqpQgX4ytI/AAAAAAAAIYA/6PcnCzVpTYE/s1600/rodriguez-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zaFKFqsq42A/TxqpQgX4ytI/AAAAAAAAIYA/6PcnCzVpTYE/s400/rodriguez-5.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NrrYHWbr5QA/Txqpb1SWFZI/AAAAAAAAIYM/GUj8xGPzl0g/s1600/rodriguez-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NrrYHWbr5QA/Txqpb1SWFZI/AAAAAAAAIYM/GUj8xGPzl0g/s400/rodriguez-6.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uuLe214nup4/TxqpuL5KnMI/AAAAAAAAIYY/A6J-9X27XXA/s1600/rodriguez-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uuLe214nup4/TxqpuL5KnMI/AAAAAAAAIYY/A6J-9X27XXA/s400/rodriguez-7.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
This story lives in him as much as the poison at the end of its tail. The most beautiful stories are those that are yet to be completed... Once upon a time may sound like an apt beginning but really, once upon a time comes bang in the middle of a story that hath begun lifetimes ago...&lt;br /&gt;
And "they lived happily ever after" is another misguided misnomer, for the future is yet to be ascertained, the past hath begun like a dream you enter into, never knowing the plot and the cast and the twist and the turns till you wake up either exhilarated or totally gobsmacked!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The two scorpions made a home in that shack of an attic and turned it into a garden of butterflies; They enjoyed the most banal of subjects and watched the most cliched of shows- whether that was broadcast on cable TV or in the pajama and drama surrounding the inhabitants of the capital city of a country that was a kingdom located in the cold beautiful balm of the great Himalayas. Here was another paradox- she came from the New Land, and he was a native of the Old Kingdom. She came of the desert and he was bred in the mountains. She came of a country that could be a continent unto itself and he was a citizen of one of the smallest unknown kingdoms in the world.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JS9yN91lUTo/Txqp-4cEB8I/AAAAAAAAIYk/XBYiU3zpbEo/s1600/rodriguez-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="262" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JS9yN91lUTo/Txqp-4cEB8I/AAAAAAAAIYk/XBYiU3zpbEo/s400/rodriguez-9.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2h7nM1SED38/TxqqNuxHFoI/AAAAAAAAIYw/3zk17yANVv8/s1600/rodriguez-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="298" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2h7nM1SED38/TxqqNuxHFoI/AAAAAAAAIYw/3zk17yANVv8/s400/rodriguez-10.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
But time and tide comes a knocking and all things that are, wither or burn away... not necessarily to end things but rather incongruously, to start things anew. And as we speak, one scorpion makes plans to hit the road with a hope, no matter how fleeting, that the other will always be happy and content, and forever bonded and loved in his heart; as she must do and feel and think and act upon three continents, two oceans and dozens of time zones away.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UqE2R6apG5U/TxqqxF4lFpI/AAAAAAAAIZI/2UryU8bBO6o/s1600/Scorpio2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="306" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UqE2R6apG5U/TxqqxF4lFpI/AAAAAAAAIZI/2UryU8bBO6o/s400/Scorpio2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
If physical matter was an obstacle, this expression would never have found its voice... and its that mystical bond of a love begun long ago, of a bond made eons past, that when all is said and done, they will always be able to smile and wish upon a star, that each is happy wherever the other is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p6j_1MQ0PgI/TxqrMrAcIYI/AAAAAAAAIZU/hIWyioKO41Q/s1600/soulmates.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="322" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p6j_1MQ0PgI/TxqrMrAcIYI/AAAAAAAAIZU/hIWyioKO41Q/s400/soulmates.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Thus continueth the tale of the two scorpions- tho' one manifests more like a butterfly, and the other, as the gentle hurricane behind its beautifully patterned wings. Such is Karmic Love, and therein lies the Yin and the Yang... And if this tale began long long ago; we might yet still have a tale to tell... about this Mariposa... This Papillon! XoXo&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yGaT3WIZ-rI/TxqqkG82iLI/AAAAAAAAIY8/5u95h6Ca7Q8/s1600/scorpionedLove.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="275" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yGaT3WIZ-rI/TxqqkG82iLI/AAAAAAAAIY8/5u95h6Ca7Q8/s400/scorpionedLove.png"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!                        &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_c.png?x-id=7e5d5616-ce3f-46a8-bfd6-a15899642ac3" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-5286429420216676967?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/08QRktokx8g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/5286429420216676967/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/when-scorpions-merge-become-butterflies.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/5286429420216676967?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/5286429420216676967?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/08QRktokx8g/when-scorpions-merge-become-butterflies.html" title="When Scorpions Merge &amp; Become Butterflies" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm8.static.flickr.com/7168/6729761041_4f94d50100_t.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/when-scorpions-merge-become-butterflies.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0ANRng-eyp7ImA9WhRUEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-7038741783334041618</id><published>2012-01-21T12:58:00.002+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T13:09:57.653+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-21T13:09:57.653+06:00</app:edited><title>When Butterflies Melt</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.daylife.com/image/04hy1jwesdgrm?utm_source=zemanta&amp;amp;utm_medium=p&amp;amp;utm_content=04hy1jwesdgrm&amp;amp;utm_campaign=z1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://cache.daylife.com/imageserve/04hy1jwesdgrm/150x100.jpg" alt="NEW YORK, NY - JUNE 10:  A girl stands before ..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="150" height="100"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 150px; "&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.daylife.com/source/Getty_Images"&gt;Getty Images&lt;/a&gt; via &lt;a href="http://www.daylife.com"&gt;@daylife&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.daylife.com/image/0e8A2WF0Si6Pn?utm_source=zemanta&amp;amp;utm_medium=p&amp;amp;utm_content=0e8A2WF0Si6Pn&amp;amp;utm_campaign=z1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://cache.daylife.com/imageserve/0e8A2WF0Si6Pn/150x100.jpg" alt="NEW YORK, NY - JUNE 10: Children play at the R..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="150" height="100"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 150px; "&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.daylife.com/source/Getty_Images"&gt;Getty Images&lt;/a&gt; via &lt;a href="http://www.daylife.com"&gt;@daylife&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Confucius_Lao-tzu_and_Buddhist_Arhat_by_Ding_Yunpeng.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/51/Confucius_Lao-tzu_and_Buddhist_Arhat_by_Ding_Yunpeng.jpg/300px-Confucius_Lao-tzu_and_Buddhist_Arhat_by_Ding_Yunpeng.jpg" alt="English: Confucius Lao-tzu and Buddhist Arhat ..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="645"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; "&gt;Image via &lt;a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Confucius_Lao-tzu_and_Buddhist_Arhat_by_Ding_Yunpeng.jpg"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Its another routine flash in the pan as I exit with a head full of suffocated memories from the dark dungeons of the subconscious mind... and that obligatory sleep. What were those dreams? Were they even dreams? Am I awake this moment? Who was it? What was it? Lao Tzu had the same conundrum some thousands of years ago, so I know its not an ordinary dilemma. "Was it a butterfly dreaming it was me or was it me dreaming I was a butterfly?" He asked and pondered.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-slfl07ZB0qU/TxphJRHZlrI/AAAAAAAAIWg/O6ZCpz_aR_8/s1600/Paper_Butterfly_Wings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-slfl07ZB0qU/TxphJRHZlrI/AAAAAAAAIWg/O6ZCpz_aR_8/s400/Paper_Butterfly_Wings.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
The good old sage simply worded what has been the state of things, as it were. I've been thinking, who really cares and what really is the point? Whether it was a shitfly hovering over a fresh dump or a fresh hot dump steaming and thinking vice versa what really doth it matter? Another day of gravitas will keep me grounded no matter how levitational I feel. Another day of wagging tongues and gossiping gupshup will keep my ears titillated no matter how detached I dain to be. Another day of money and the mullah and god and the allah will keep me material no matter how immaterial I hope to be. Another day of revolt and revolution; suckers and sychophanths will keep me righteous no matter how deranged I've become.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And that's that. A walnut can't pretend to be a rose, and I'm no walnut either. What feels right must be left; the ego must stay and be dealt with. The country must be detached, together with conventional wisdom that binds and ties you to family and the like... to dissolve into the ocean of suffering and death like eons and eons of souls that were sold out to that fear and paid the ultimate price- of living a negotiated life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jRcxZq54MGc/TxphUhvpjsI/AAAAAAAAIWs/IiD-rQvW1Fo/s1600/MaskedAnonymous.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="285" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jRcxZq54MGc/TxphUhvpjsI/AAAAAAAAIWs/IiD-rQvW1Fo/s400/MaskedAnonymous.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Call everything by their true names and should you not know their names, ask them. Should they be out of earshot, give them a wave... but know not knowing their names is not a crime. A rose by any other name is still a rose but knowing that fact, you possibly could not call it an ass.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Buddhas still walk among us... just as contended beggars still lie drunk asleep at the doors of the miserable rich men. Everything is fvckin relative... and should that be the case, question everything your gut is not content with. Nobody has a monopoly on love, theft or life... the interpretations are open. Its in the way we go about our insanity that makes us sane... for in the end, as this bard said, "We are all trying to kill time in some way or another, but when all is said and done, time ends up killing us."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lZdNCG7E-rU/Txpht-8bFCI/AAAAAAAAIW4/Axz6IVf8iPw/s1600/killing-time-david-poxon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="333" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lZdNCG7E-rU/Txpht-8bFCI/AAAAAAAAIW4/Axz6IVf8iPw/s400/killing-time-david-poxon.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Now go ahead and wake up and for this day, for just this moment in time, like another comedian accentuated, "Be a Man! Do the Right Thing"... Whatever That Is...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!              &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_c.png?x-id=d0dcaf5c-5e05-40eb-8efa-6590ff44516a" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-7038741783334041618?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/eULS6lRRLm8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/7038741783334041618/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/when-butterflies-melt.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/7038741783334041618?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/7038741783334041618?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/eULS6lRRLm8/when-butterflies-melt.html" title="When Butterflies Melt" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-slfl07ZB0qU/TxphJRHZlrI/AAAAAAAAIWg/O6ZCpz_aR_8/s72-c/Paper_Butterfly_Wings.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/when-butterflies-melt.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEIMRnwzeCp7ImA9WhRUEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-4322337331419514643</id><published>2012-01-20T21:16:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T21:16:27.280+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-20T21:16:27.280+06:00</app:edited><title>A Mustard Muses</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NednOtxwfxw/TxmFE2Ld8AI/AAAAAAAAIWU/WQvoRM3s4Ac/s1600/TTBoD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="259" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NednOtxwfxw/TxmFE2Ld8AI/AAAAAAAAIWU/WQvoRM3s4Ac/s400/TTBoD.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

I dunno how I came to be. All I know is I'm here and I'm haunted by the then and the there; the if's and the but's... and the usual SOS packages. On my right bar there's this app called Zemanta and it says it needs about 140 letters to do its magic... looks like I've yet to reach that magical mark 'cos I'm glancing there and ain't nothing happening.
Its a fvcked up world if you ask me... magic or magi its still an uneven steven world filled by those with morals without the money and those with money minus the moral.

And the question is; is one better than the other? Personally I'm done with morals and ethics, just as I'm done with that bloody necessity called the M.O.N.E.Y... which monkee in a suit invented that shit? All its ever done is bring more harm than warmth to the human race that already comes begotten with suffering, attachment, desire, aversion and the like in singing "We are the Champions' followed by a pulsating rendition of the same Queenie's "We will rock you".

&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vbzmwoqhy44/TxmCLG_O6YI/AAAAAAAAIVw/LZYWh5I_bGY/s1600/2009_ILYW_M-J.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="286" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vbzmwoqhy44/TxmCLG_O6YI/AAAAAAAAIVw/LZYWh5I_bGY/s400/2009_ILYW_M-J.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

Here are a few lessons I've mugged up the existential way: Money and Morals don't mix. Its either one or the other- take your pick. Life's a bitch and the sooner you embrace that the easier it gets. Attachments are gone come along whether you like it or not, together with umpteen viruses. My solution has been embrace the pain and the hurt; for that probably;y is your karma, and get on with whatever it is that your gut is telling you to do all along, together with conventional fears whispering in your ears "No! No! No!" Third: Wherever you go; there your are... together with all your hang ups and miscalls. The sooner you recognize these hangers on the better equipped you'll become.

&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LOG10fkijQ4/TxmCdeKIlnI/AAAAAAAAIV8/ejZNouw4fWA/s1600/fuck_it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LOG10fkijQ4/TxmCdeKIlnI/AAAAAAAAIV8/ejZNouw4fWA/s400/fuck_it.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qAxoLyirE-Q/TxmCBreXzCI/AAAAAAAAIVk/_JyHxGTcMy0/s1600/agnostic%2Bsplash%2Bcopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="267" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qAxoLyirE-Q/TxmCBreXzCI/AAAAAAAAIVk/_JyHxGTcMy0/s400/agnostic%2Bsplash%2Bcopy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

Fourth: Love is a four letter word as is Hope. Kill these longings. Cut off those cords. Your bread can't be buttered both sides; just as you can't have the cake and eat it too. Make your move- make your choice and be prepared to pay the consequences. If its good put on a smile and spread the love. If its bad lap it all up and get on with life. If you do the crime; you gotta do the time too... and Crime's twin brother is Punishment... just as War and Peace are also alter-egos... of essentially the same thing... the same person and the actions thereof.

Be prepared to die anytime anyplace and know this in your gut and in your scheme of things, keep this thought constant... for the more you dwell on death; the purer your life becomes, and know that we are all dying... constantly... momenta to moment.... all things composite must decay and go...

Never regret a bloody thing: you did what you were supposed to at any given time; and that is your karma. Don't run from your karma.. its fruitless... pointless...

And have the Heart to take that Leap of Faith... Listen to Your Gut... Its Seldom Wrong!

&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rOJX5-xCdGg/TxmDjbzAReI/AAAAAAAAIWI/rsV-ZzV-ugk/s1600/moneymorals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" width="305" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rOJX5-xCdGg/TxmDjbzAReI/AAAAAAAAIWI/rsV-ZzV-ugk/s400/moneymorals.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;


PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-4322337331419514643?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/FmwvNb7Jcbw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/4322337331419514643/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/mustard-muses.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/4322337331419514643?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/4322337331419514643?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/FmwvNb7Jcbw/mustard-muses.html" title="A Mustard Muses" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NednOtxwfxw/TxmFE2Ld8AI/AAAAAAAAIWU/WQvoRM3s4Ac/s72-c/TTBoD.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/mustard-muses.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUACRnc4eCp7ImA9WhRUEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-3555339090781295756</id><published>2012-01-20T17:09:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T17:09:27.930+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-20T17:09:27.930+06:00</app:edited><title>Some Of The Good Doc's Prescriptions...</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-3555339090781295756?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/7UDNOm8BfYI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/3555339090781295756/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/some-of-good-docs-prescriptions.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/3555339090781295756?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/3555339090781295756?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/7UDNOm8BfYI/some-of-good-docs-prescriptions.html" title="Some Of The Good Doc's Prescriptions..." /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xGRwMQcgXYM/TxlJoXSgYJI/AAAAAAAAISk/6jqVfhFrz4s/s72-c/HsTAcid.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/some-of-good-docs-prescriptions.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYBRX0zfCp7ImA9WhRUEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-3993802217479421871</id><published>2012-01-20T16:59:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T16:59:14.384+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-20T16:59:14.384+06:00</app:edited><title>43 Years of ... Easy Rider (1969)</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b24M9Wkv6Uw/TxlHTHCHqTI/AAAAAAAAIRc/zOoRe8BxG8I/s1600/Easy_Rider_lg1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="270" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b24M9Wkv6Uw/TxlHTHCHqTI/AAAAAAAAIRc/zOoRe8BxG8I/s400/Easy_Rider_lg1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;


For me, this is one of the best films ever.
Jim Gourley has very kindly done some clips of the movie here. 
What follows is a tribute to this great movie, presented as a short essay, followed by a "click"-able index of each stage of the film, and last but not least the guided tour itself presented as individual pages describing each major scene using stills taken from the film.

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A Short Essay

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Although much intellectual critique has been directed at this film, for me, quite simply, Easy Rider is inspiring, beautiful, disturbing, humorous, provocative, thoughtful ... something I liked to get lost in.
Throughout much of the beginning we are entranced in a world of dreamy scenes, as the two heroes Wyatt and Billy, (Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper), cruise it down the road to 60's rock'n'roll hits.
   
* Hopper

As we travel with them we encounter all manner of people ranging from actors, farmers, young families, and young people. The mood turns scary when a turn of events unfolds with the murder of a new found friend and passanger about half way along the film. The scenes that follow this event reveal much of the underlying social tension. 
I now believe that at least seven distinct themes occur in the film... (I've watched the film quite a few times.)

• The Definitive Youth Odyssey of the 1960's 
• A Search for Oneself 
• An Inquiry into Morals, and Values 
• Sex, Drugs, and Rock'n'Roll 
• Male bonding 
• The Meaning of Life; in particular God, Spirituality, and Death 
• The Hippie Ideal 
• The Clash of Society's values with those of our riders 

The motorcycle is a focal point in each case.
Each "theme" could constitute a complete interpretation of the film, like a point of view. These are just seven I've come with having reflected on it. Have a surf through these pages and see what YOU think. Or even better, watch the film, then surf through these pages, then you can really compare.

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Music in Easy Rider

I've compiled a little list of the music in Easy Rider, taken from the rolling credits at the end, here it is ...
• SteppenWolf, "The Pusher", Hoyt Axton 
• SteppenWolf, "Born to be Wild", Mars Bornfire 
• The Byrds, "I Wasn't Born to Follow", Gerry Goffin &amp; Carole King 
• The Band, "The Weight", Jaime Robbie Robertson 
• The Holy Modal Rounders, "If You Want to be a Bird", Antonia Duren 
• Fraternity of Man, "Don't Bogart Me", lead vocals by Larry Wagner 
• The Jimi Hendrix Experience, "If Six Was Nine", Jimi Hendrix 
• Little Eva, "Let's Turkey Trot", Gerry Goffin &amp; Jack Keller 
• The Electric Prunes, "Kyrie Eleison", David Axelrod 
• The Electric Flag an American Music Band, "Flash, Bam, Pow", Mike Bloomfield 
• Roger McGuinn, "It's Alright Ma, (I'm Only Bleeding.)", Bob Dylan 
• Roger McGuinn, "Ballad of Easy Rider", Roger McGuinn 

About the Walkthrough

I've split the film into eleven parts, (sixteen now that I've added background RealAudio) to make it easier for me. (Otherwise I wouldn't know where to start.) You can click on each of these headings to jump straight to the relevant bit of the film. From the story pages, you can navigate back and forth using the signpost icons. Don't forget to visit my friend's Easy Rider sites; you can do this from the Links page.

• Insights from People Contributing to EZrider 
• Books on Easy Rider 
1. Introduction 
2. The Farmer and his Family 
3. The Hitchhiker I 
4. The Hitchhiker II 
5. Hippie Commune I 
6. Hippie Commune II 
7. Hippie Commune III 
8. Parading Without a License I 
9. Parading Without a License II 
10. Free at Last 
11. George Smokes a Joint 
12. The Redneck Cafe 
13. Attack in the Night 
14. The House of Blue Lights 
15. Mardi Gras 
16. The Trip 
17. End of the Film 
18. Links on Easy Rider  

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Happy Riding!
PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-3993802217479421871?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/Y3B-vhVfrNA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/3993802217479421871/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/43-years-of-easy-rider-1969.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/3993802217479421871?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/3993802217479421871?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/Y3B-vhVfrNA/43-years-of-easy-rider-1969.html" title="43 Years of ... Easy Rider (1969)" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b24M9Wkv6Uw/TxlHTHCHqTI/AAAAAAAAIRc/zOoRe8BxG8I/s72-c/Easy_Rider_lg1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/43-years-of-easy-rider-1969.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8GSX8yfip7ImA9WhRUEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-1315107288375530051</id><published>2012-01-17T19:18:00.001+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T11:33:48.196+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-23T11:33:48.196+06:00</app:edited><title>Salty Dog Clothing Line- Kids Wear</title><content type="html">https://www.facebook.com/wehkampnl  &lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_6DhglC1NN4/TxVxnhXhvjI/AAAAAAAAIQU/CH7RkkFcUVk/s1600/Mipham%2BModellin%2BBaseBall%2BJack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="130" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_6DhglC1NN4/TxVxnhXhvjI/AAAAAAAAIQU/CH7RkkFcUVk/s400/Mipham%2BModellin%2BBaseBall%2BJack.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XWQvmC9N-xU/TxVxfWvWudI/AAAAAAAAIQI/z9OTfVm4SDY/s1600/Mipham%2BModellin%2BJackets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="65" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XWQvmC9N-xU/TxVxfWvWudI/AAAAAAAAIQI/z9OTfVm4SDY/s400/Mipham%2BModellin%2BJackets.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f6FBQHwoPKA/TxVzxtuiO5I/AAAAAAAAIQg/XmKY4iN-sy8/s1600/Gal1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="288" width="192" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f6FBQHwoPKA/TxVzxtuiO5I/AAAAAAAAIQg/XmKY4iN-sy8/s400/Gal1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6lh6XwsjvHA/TxVz42iyBPI/AAAAAAAAIQs/_awz5qn6ESI/s1600/Dames.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="130" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6lh6XwsjvHA/TxVz42iyBPI/AAAAAAAAIQs/_awz5qn6ESI/s400/Dames.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4QItJ6tM2jo/TxV0A-9KvDI/AAAAAAAAIQ4/A27_uxDnKSw/s1600/Gal2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="288" width="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4QItJ6tM2jo/TxV0A-9KvDI/AAAAAAAAIQ4/A27_uxDnKSw/s400/Gal2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9ZjCA7ioPx8/TxV0HOSdNlI/AAAAAAAAIRE/8GXy6CcpYa0/s1600/Gal3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="288" width="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9ZjCA7ioPx8/TxV0HOSdNlI/AAAAAAAAIRE/8GXy6CcpYa0/s400/Gal3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--vl_Q4rn6Hk/TxV0Thg4pCI/AAAAAAAAIRQ/ulThwLkuV24/s1600/Heren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="130" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--vl_Q4rn6Hk/TxV0Thg4pCI/AAAAAAAAIRQ/ulThwLkuV24/s400/Heren.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/wehkampnl"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-1315107288375530051?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/PjLjmRxLL5I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/1315107288375530051/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/salty-dog-clothing-line-kids-wear.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/1315107288375530051?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/1315107288375530051?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/PjLjmRxLL5I/salty-dog-clothing-line-kids-wear.html" title="Salty Dog Clothing Line- Kids Wear" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_6DhglC1NN4/TxVxnhXhvjI/AAAAAAAAIQU/CH7RkkFcUVk/s72-c/Mipham%2BModellin%2BBaseBall%2BJack.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/salty-dog-clothing-line-kids-wear.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4HQHgzeCp7ImA9WhRVF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-8843496316349699234</id><published>2012-01-16T17:38:00.001+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T17:38:51.680+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-16T17:38:51.680+06:00</app:edited><title>The 13th Ride: Aggie Rider's Final Cut</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
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Brr...It’s cold; it’s freezing cold.  It is 6:00am.  I am still debating whether I should participate in this motorcycle ride to Sibsoo.  I am at the clubhouse by 7:00 am. The motorcycle ride is scheduled to start at 7:30 am.  Pale Rider, our club president, has been waiting for the past half-hour along with X-Rider.  I am the first member to show up.  Shit! Shit!it is going to start like all our past rides – LATE.  Think all our riders need to get watches and rename our club to “Never on time Dragon”.The members start showing up eventually; we hear all the excuses in book.  “All right, gather around” says Pale Rider.  We get the usual pep talk and then somebody notices Bap Rider, our Sergeant-at-Arms, is missing.  We are already an hour late and decide to start the ride sans Bap Rider.We are late but the sun is going to be out and that is good; that is really good.  The temperature should be bearable now.

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We start our ride to Sibsoo.  Everything about motorcycling is going through my head.  I am thinking of all the clichés; Freedom, Rebels, One with the Machine.  It actually felt quite good imaging me, a rebel with tattoos wearing a half leather jacket taking it to the man.  Well, it felt quite good until around 10 minutes into the ride.  Fuck, fuck, fuck..a slight change; a rebel wearing winter gear with a running nose under the motorcycle helmet.  Forget taking it to the man, I need to wipe my nose.  Wish these motorcycles came along with heaters.  Bloody motorcycle designers, do I need to think of everything?

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Riding on the road felt pretty good.  Accelerating, slowing down, and taking the twists and turns felt exhilarating.  I was glad for the windy Bhutanese roads that prevented us from riding any faster.  The sub-zero wind would have frozen my testiclesinto popsicle sticks.  We stop to eat about 2 hours into the ride.  Like always, we stop over at the dirtiest and shadiest place we come across.  Hey, we are bikers now; it is expected.  Terrible food, drinks that could have removed the rust out of steel but we gulp it down somehow; again, hey our biker’s stomach is expected to handle it.Dirty shady place; Check.  Terrible food and drinks; Check.  The only thing missing; wild bikini clad women dancing on table tops.  

Another 4 hours and we are almost down south in Phuentsholing.  We remove our winter gear on one of our pit stops.  I am now in my half leather jacket.  Getting close to looking like a real biker.  All I need now is a tattoo of a naked woman on my left arm and the words “Ride Fast, Die Hard” on my other arm.  More twists and turns; more accelerating and slowing down.  Shortly after, we are in Phuentsholing.  Cool Rider, Steel Rider and Jigs Rider have been waiting over half a day.  “You guys are fucking late” they say, “but that is alright, we are Dragons and we are always late”.  We stop over at an even dirtier place and head on to Sibsoo... RIDE TO LOVE, LOVE TO RIDE!



PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-8843496316349699234?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/aW03Dey4ZKE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/8843496316349699234/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/13th-ride-aggie-riders-final-cut.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8843496316349699234?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8843496316349699234?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/aW03Dey4ZKE/13th-ride-aggie-riders-final-cut.html" title="The 13th Ride: Aggie Rider's Final Cut" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-96WErOiJCzU/TxQIWnrLSjI/AAAAAAAAIOw/jF4UdnPuXcc/s72-c/OnRoad.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/13th-ride-aggie-riders-final-cut.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYHSX45fCp7ImA9WhRVFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-4518976303598042487</id><published>2012-01-16T11:35:00.002+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T11:35:38.024+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-16T11:35:38.024+06:00</app:edited><title>Spacing Out</title><content type="html">***Handle invasion of privacy, let go of the desire to control and overcome grief.
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I am a loving mother and a busy professional with two grown-up children who are successful professionals, too. I have a peculiar problem of invasion of privacy. My daughter, who is 38, reads all the letters, emails and phone messages, diary jottings and any other communication I have with my friends. Both my children are single and live with me and my husband. I have no dark secrets, but I find this terribly annoying. Despite repeatedly telling her that this does not behoove a lady, she continues this disgusting habit. Do you think she is insecure about something? How do I deal with this? My husband cannot help in this as he, too, does the same — reads all communication I have with my friends! Please help. 
— Mahalakshmi, Tamil Nadu

This is strange behavior, but the root isn’t insecurity — it’s hostility. Your daughter is showing aggression against you. In so doing, she is siding with her father, so the problem is a tangled family matter. 

Families often end up doing strange things behind the walls of their house, because when no one from the outside is there for a reality check, all kinds of unsocial and antisocial behaviors flourish. To end this intrusion into your private life requires several things: Stand up for yourself and stop being the victim. Examine why you feel a need to let two people walk all over you. 

Stop making excuses. Your privacy is a right, not a suggestion that others can reject at will. Confront the power struggle that is going on inside your house. Your husband and daughter have seized all the power, making you the outsider. In a psychologically healthy household, your husband would recognize that you are his primary relationship, not his daughter. 

Put a time limit on change. If your daughter doesn’t stop within a week, tell her she must find a new place to live. Seek an outside ally to help you if you feel too weak or insecure to carry out the above-mentioned steps. Find someone with a strong, reliable moral sense. Stand back and see if you can find resources to bring normality back to three troubled relationships. 

My 30-year-old son is dating a girl with a poor reputation. She is known to have ‘flings’ with rich boys. I am shocked to learn that he is doing so just to have a ‘good time’. He said so himself. My pleadings to him to stop seeing her are falling on deaf ears. I am distraught. How can I ignore something that I know is not doing my son any good?
—Mary Patrick, Kolkata

Two psychological factors are at work here, and I’m sorry to say that neither works on your behalf. The first factor is that people are goaded to do things when someone else tells them not to, especially a parent. The second factor is over-mothering. 

Your son is 30. If he wants to take up jet skiing, attend burlesque shows, and collect poisonous snails, it’s entirely his business, not yours. Try to find a more appropriate outlet for your motherly concerns. Helping a poor child or working at a social charity would be a good step. Your good intentions are misplaced right now. 

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I am a happy person and love my family and friends. I have not harmed anyone as far as I know. Yet I have experienced great tragedies in life including losing a teenaged child to illness and another to the tsunami. Why is God being so unkind? I know you will say it is previous karma but I don’t buy that. 
—Vimala Sengupta, Pune 

If a divine messenger told you that it was past karma (not the answer I would give) or that God simply wanted to show disfavor, would you actually feel better? Your sense of being cursed is real. It’s a way of holding on to grief rather than moving on. You will be healed when the questioning stops, not when you get an answer.

Let me express my deep sympathy for your loss. I’m sure every reader feels the same. The grieving process isn’t simple or short. It does you no good to hear words like ‘move on.’ When grief is present, it dominates the mind and emotions. But it would help you to engage in the process if you are able to. Otherwise, grief gets stuck in the heart and becomes a wound. I would hate to see this happen to you. 

Get in touch with others who have lost family in the tsunami. Find a trusted confidante who has been through grief and knows that it can be healed. I realize that you feel isolated. This is not the road to healing. Only by letting other people in and confronting your pain can you find a way out. I hope these words have helped, or will help in the near future. 

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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-4518976303598042487?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/P66JVlQNXXU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/4518976303598042487/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/spacing-out.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/4518976303598042487?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/4518976303598042487?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/P66JVlQNXXU/spacing-out.html" title="Spacing Out" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B70afh1YC-w/TxO2L2eMzbI/AAAAAAAAIOM/CLMJXHbo0G4/s72-c/Live-Like-a-Fruit-Fly.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/spacing-out.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QNQX0-cCp7ImA9WhRVFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-704261658625721849</id><published>2012-01-16T10:37:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T10:49:50.358+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-16T10:49:50.358+06:00</app:edited><title>SIBSOO RIDE – The UnCut Version By Aggie Rider</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-brWkf58EP8M/TxOmsg3HpxI/AAAAAAAAIMs/797Z7BH2LWo/s1600/B-Road5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-brWkf58EP8M/TxOmsg3HpxI/AAAAAAAAIMs/797Z7BH2LWo/s400/B-Road5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

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Brr... It’s cold; it’s fucking cold.  It is 6:00 am and I am still debating whether I should participate in this motorcycle ride to Sibsoo.  I am at the clubhouse by 7:00 am and the motorcycle ride is scheduled to start at 7:30 am.  Pale Rider, our club president, has been waiting for the past half-hour along with X-Rider and I am the first member to show up.  Shit! Shit! it is going to start like all our past rides – LATE.  Think all our riders need to get watches.  The members start showing up eventually; and we hear all the excuses in book.  “All right, gather around” says Pale Rider.  We get the usual pep talk and then somebody notices, Bap Rider, our Sergeant-at-Arms, is missing.  We are already an hour late and decide to start the ride sans Bap Rider.  We are late but the sun is going to be out and that is good; that is really good.  The temperature should be bearable now.
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We start our ride to Sibsoo.  Everything about motorcycling is going through my head.  I am thinking of all the clichés; Freedom, Rebels, One with the Machine.  It actually felt quite good imaging me, a rebel with tattoos wearing a half leather jacket taking it to the man.  Well, it felt quite good until around 10 minutes into the ride.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.. a slight change; a rebel wearing winter gear with a running nose under the motorcycle helmet.  Forget taking it to the man, I need to wipe my nose.  Wish these motorcycles came along with heaters.  Bloody motorcycle designers, do I need to think of everything?

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Riding on the road felt pretty good.  Accelerating, slowing down, and taking the twists and turns felt exhilarating.  And thank you for the windy Bhutanese roads, it does not allow you to ride any faster; riding any faster would have frozen my testicles.  We stop to eat about 2 hours into the ride.  Like always, we stop over at the dirtiest and shadiest place we come across.  Hey, we are bikers now and it is expected.  Terrible food, terrible drinks but we gulp it down somehow; again, hey, our biker’s stomach is expected to handle it.  Dirty shady place; tick.  Terrible food and drinks; tick.  The only thing missing; wild bikini cladded women dancing on table tops.  

Another 4 hours and we are almost down south in Phuentsholing.  We remove our winter gear on one of our pit stops.  I am now in my half leather jacket.  Getting close to looking like a real biker.  All I need now is a tattoo of a naked woman on my left arm and the words “Ride Fast, Die Hard” on my other arm.  More twists and turns; more accelerating and slowing down; and before I know it we are in Phuentsholing.  Cool Rider, Steel Rider and Jigs Rider have been waiting over half a day.  We stop over at an even dirtier place and head on to Sibsoo... RIDE TO LOVE, LOVE TO RIDE.

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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u36bxG1cIq0/TxOpJ4aGzzI/AAAAAAAAIN0/M9p0whDwj9s/s1600/P1050434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u36bxG1cIq0/TxOpJ4aGzzI/AAAAAAAAIN0/M9p0whDwj9s/s400/P1050434.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;



PS: DEAR A RIDER- PLZ. DO CONTINUE! LOVED THE START-UP… NOW BRING IN THE REST AND KEEP WRITING! GRINNINGLY, TOXIC…
PPS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-704261658625721849?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/bScGhRtm9m4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/704261658625721849/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/sibsoo-ride-uncut-version-by-aggie.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/704261658625721849?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/704261658625721849?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/bScGhRtm9m4/sibsoo-ride-uncut-version-by-aggie.html" title="SIBSOO RIDE – The UnCut Version By Aggie Rider" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-brWkf58EP8M/TxOmsg3HpxI/AAAAAAAAIMs/797Z7BH2LWo/s72-c/B-Road5.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/sibsoo-ride-uncut-version-by-aggie.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUINRnw9cSp7ImA9WhRVFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-8304147378149066098</id><published>2012-01-14T13:53:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-14T13:53:17.269+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-14T13:53:17.269+06:00</app:edited><title>Its Money That Causes Poverty: a TZM NYear's Address...</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8kGozT5cpE/TxEz5D1r2ZI/AAAAAAAAIMU/Hw_vV-EgBko/s1600/WithoutMoneyWeBeAllRich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8kGozT5cpE/TxEz5D1r2ZI/AAAAAAAAIMU/Hw_vV-EgBko/s400/WithoutMoneyWeBeAllRich.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;



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Dear Mates Near and Afar:

In the wake of the old year turning into the new, we find ourselves with a
World unchanged. Or has it? The tremendous effort put out by individuals
Yourselves alike has had an impact and here is why!

Continued Financial crisis, Occupy &amp; entering the Mainstream media and
debates: 2011 was the year that opened the eyes to many, that the financial crisis was not a temporary event but an ongoing process that is not self-resolving but needs to be looked at thoroughly in order to be solved. Denial of crisis has been made impossible by many including the Occupy movement late 2011 by demanding change in the form of protest. Consequently a lot of discussion has been raised about the functioning of our social and economic systems, hence allowing us to put forward information about and arguments in favor of a Resource Based Economic Model.

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Various Chapters have reported priceless opportunities to appear and Comment on national/commercial television in their countries and to speak On behalf of The Zeitgeist Movement trying to communicate our shared “Train of thought”. Many chapters have had great success on the streets And hosting various events such as Zday’s, Media Festivals and of course Moving Forward screenings. While an immediate “skyrocketing” growth did Not occur, seeds for thought were planted amongst many individuals whom may at some point reach the conclusion as have you and i; that we are in serious shit and if we do not drastically change how we operate our society, we will be in even more.

&lt;b&gt;The Movement and Moving Forward:
&lt;/b&gt;
This past year has been tremendously turbulent on all levels of
participation. It can be said with certainty that a young organized
movement as ours has been put to the test in various ways such as:

- Inhibition of participation of individuals due to a lack of financial
resources

- Public mockery by various parties or media

- Organizational differences and consequential split with The Venus Project

- Various administrative, technical and organizational challenges



However, we are still here and more solid and determined than ever. Soon to be published in some form an overview of Chapters will show how far our message is spreading. And we should continue to spread this information and engage our community on all levels possible. Some things to look forward to this year:

- Regular/Monthly Updates (Audio&amp;Video) on what our worldwide chapters are doing and coverage of events &amp; media appearances

- TZM Blog interlinked with various global &amp; chapter sites in order to
spread news and announcements fast and effective

- More Global Campaigns executed by all or groups of Chapters

- More and bigger Global event days

- New people standing up to communicate the movement to the public on a
“Speakers” level (could be you?)

- Improved and additional guides for various target audiences
(Chapters, Newcomers etc)

- Further solidifying of our organization and daily operation as to have it
Operate in the background.

Hopefully we will get through to even more people and groups of people. We will have to do it together. Respectfully not everyone can participate with the same time and energy, but if we all do our part we are undeniable.
Being one of the few working on the Global Administration i can safely say that we are not 500.000 strong, its more than that. And if we assume the “Train of thought” to be the core reason of this movement’s
Existence, we are even bigger.

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Motion implies the movement of something in particular and in this specific
Case requires the participation of individuals like us communicating this “train of thought” to others in order to arrive at a desired Destination. Therefore i ask of yourselves a continuation of participation and of those of you that are new or not currently in a Chapter to join or start your local chapter and lend a hand if you are in the liberty to do so. I know I will keep doing my best to move this movement forward this year and hopefully many to come 

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provided a RBEM has not been adopted in the meantime ha.ha.ha) and i hope you will do the same. It is our world after
all, and natural or out of world threats on the side, we are the only
One’s that can change it.

&lt;b&gt;Gilbert Ismail
Global Chapters Administration (Team Head)
The Zeitgeist Movement
&lt;/b&gt;
~We can build an economy that does not destroy its natural support systems, a global community where the basic needs &lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
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of all the Earth’s people are satisfied, and a world that will allow us to think of ourselves as
civilized. This is entirely doable.

&lt;b&gt;-- Lester Brown~
&lt;/b&gt;
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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-8304147378149066098?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/hl_hGZN0o8Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/8304147378149066098/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/its-money-that-causes-poverty-tzm.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8304147378149066098?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8304147378149066098?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/hl_hGZN0o8Q/its-money-that-causes-poverty-tzm.html" title="Its Money That Causes Poverty: a TZM NYear's Address..." /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8kGozT5cpE/TxEz5D1r2ZI/AAAAAAAAIMU/Hw_vV-EgBko/s72-c/WithoutMoneyWeBeAllRich.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/its-money-that-causes-poverty-tzm.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQHSH87eip7ImA9WhRVE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-842761224189193885</id><published>2012-01-12T18:45:00.002+06:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T18:45:39.102+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-12T18:45:39.102+06:00</app:edited><title>Lesson From the Tiger</title><content type="html">By Maulana Wahiduddin Khan
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Jim Corbett, after whom a famous national park in India has been named, was an expert on the nature of tigers. He once wrote: “No tiger attacks a human being unless provoked.” People who live in jungle areas where tigers roam will confirm the truth of Jim Corbett’s words. There is usually no cause for concern when one comes face to face with a tiger. Unless it is provoked—or harbours deep-rooted suspicion of human beings—the beast will ignore one and continue on its way.

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And how does this suspicion form in some tigers? Tigers are by nature not ill-disposed towards human beings. Only very few of them can be called man-eaters, and even they were not born as such. They became man-eaters, not through any fault of their own, but through the folly of human beings. Usually it is inexperienced hunters who do the damage. They shoot at a beast, wounding but not killing it. A tiger injured in this manner becomes man’s enemy. Wherever it sees a human being, it attacks and kills. The same is true of most beasts of prey. They only attack man when they have already been wounded by him.

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This information from the world of nature holds deep significance for man. It shows that one should not think of anyone—not even the most savage people—as one’s enemy in advance. One will only be treated as an enemy if that is how one sees others. If one does not view them with animosity, they are more likely to be amicable in return.
The second lesson is that one should not take measures against anyone without sufficient preparation. If the measures that one takes are indecisive, they are sure to be counter-productive. The other party will only become further provoked, and tension between the two will deepen further.

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Everyone has certain needs and desires in this world, which they remain busy fulfilling. The secret of life is not to stand in a person’s way. If one does not make oneself a target for another’s vengeance, but lets everyone continue pursuing his own goal in life, then one is not going to find one’s own path blocked by others. One will find everyone so absorbed in minding their own business that they have no time to interfere with that of others.

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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-842761224189193885?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/19c35MUxXv4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/842761224189193885/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/lesson-from-tiger.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/842761224189193885?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/842761224189193885?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/19c35MUxXv4/lesson-from-tiger.html" title="Lesson From the Tiger" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EDpyYen-daQ/Tw7UlYQh1mI/AAAAAAAAII8/RqWNRWT2KcQ/s72-c/20183_maulana-wahiduddin-khan.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2012/01/lesson-from-tiger.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUFSHs9cSp7ImA9WhRWE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-8715899916967926738</id><published>2011-12-31T18:56:00.002+06:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T18:56:59.569+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-31T18:56:59.569+06:00</app:edited><title>The End Is The Beginning</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nmdeHVFQqMQ/Tv7_CpM9aDI/AAAAAAAAIFA/Ah8VVX4lYcU/s1600/brand_irony_nike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nmdeHVFQqMQ/Tv7_CpM9aDI/AAAAAAAAIFA/Ah8VVX4lYcU/s400/brand_irony_nike.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;


What is The Secret? 
What is Rhonda Byrne’s philosophy? 
What is the Law of Attraction?

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It’s defined many times, in many different ways, by many different people in the book. Here are a few of the more concise descriptions:
“Everything that’s coming into your life you are attracting into your life. And it’s attracted to you by virtue of the images you’re holding in your mind. It’s what you’re thinking. Whatever is going on in your mind you are attracting to you. Every thought if yours is a real thing – a force.”
“Thoughts become things!”
“Thoughts are magnetic, and thoughts have a frequency. As you think thoughts, they are sent out into the Universe, and they magnetically attract all like things that are on the same frequency. Everything sent out returns to the source – you.”

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Got it? If you think about something, that something will be attracted to your life. Whatever is in your life is there because you caused it to be there. All the good and bad things surrounding you – your friends or loneliness, your loving or abusive relationships, your success or failure, your health or illness, your life and death – all are there because you caused them to be there. This is the “Law of Attraction”.

And that’s it. The rest of the book is details. To be fair, these details are fairly important to The Secret itself. But the core of The Secret’s philosophy is described above, and the rest of the book is issues like: how to use The Secret more efficiently, how all the great minds of our time succeeded by knowing The Secret, how to use The Secret to lose weight, gain money and find love. There are glowing personal proofs by those who’ve benefited from The Secret, and that The Secret works because all of existence is connected at the quantum level.
Quantum relationships and “thought frequencies”.

Rhonda Byrne says much in The Secret about quantum relationships and “thought frequencies”. Indeed The Secret requires these things to work as Byrne describes. So let’s examine that aspect first. Here is “How The Secret works”, taken from key points Byrne claims in The Secret:

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Every thought that you have in your mind has a measurable frequency.
Your thoughts are “magnetic”: The “frequency” of one thought will “magnetically” attract things to you, those things will match the “frequency” of your original thought.

&lt;b&gt;When you think that thought, it’s instantly broadcast to the Universe.
&lt;/b&gt;

A sensible person might respond, okay, you’ve given a nice overview of how The Secret works, but what about the detail? How is your brain frequency sent to the Universe? Can this be measured? Why are thoughts “magnetic”? How does a thought – with little or no measurable mass, generate any kind of magnetic force?
The Secret and Rhonda Byrne answer these kinds of questions in two different ways:

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1) Quantum mechanics. Or perhaps that should be “quantum mechanics”, since Byrne makes a few claims about quantum states that are wrong:
This is a bad comparison: many people DO know how television works. And those who don’t can find out. Television technology is based on provable, testable, repeatable methods in physics and electronics, and can conclusively be demonstrated to work. The Secret is not based on such methods, and can not be conclusively demonstrated to work.
Your thoughts can affect quantum states.
No, thoughts do not affect quantum states.
The Secret uses an example of television: Most people don’t understand that it works, only that it does work. Therefore, we don’t need to know how The Secret works, only that it does.
Your brain “frequencies” communicate at a quantum level with the Universe.
No, there is no known way to communicate using a quantum state. Information can not be passed using quantum states.

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2) We don’t know how The Secret works, and don’t need to know.Trust on faith that it works.
More problems with The Secret and Rhonda Byrne’s philosophy
Now we know all about The Secret and how it works. It’s a poorly-designed philosophy, because it also has internal conflicts and inconsistencies, none of which are addressed properly or at all in the book. Here’s a list of several problems with The Secret:
What if one person’s desires conflict with another’s?Whose thoughts will “win”? Religion and politics are great examples showing one person’s good is another person’s evil.
What about accidents? The Secret holds that there are no accidents: anything that happens to us – good or bad – is something we brought upon ourselves because we were thinking about it. Look at the bigger picture, and this is just glorified predestination: If I use The Secret to make the world the way I want it, then I’m changing the fate of hundreds, thousands or millions of people. But what if those people are also using The Secret? There is an unavoidable conflict here.

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The Secret is a subjective reality. Indeed, several parts of the book describe this very clearly, from explicitly saying as much, to insisting that you should ignore problems in order to fix them.
The Secret recommends dangerous treatment of health issues. Why take medicine? 
According to Rhonda Byrne and The Secret, you don’t need it. We get quotes like this:

“In fact, parts of our body are literally replaced every day. Other parts take a few months, other parts a couple of years. But within a few years we each have a brand new physical body.”
Have these “experts” ever taken a biology course or opened a textbook? It seems not. A brand new physical body every couple years would be great. But it doesn’t explain away heart disease, cholesterol build-up, neuron loss and senility, cartilage growth, and plenty of other evidence that our bodies are not magically renewed every few years.
“The placebo effect is an example of the law of attraction in action. When a patient truly believes the tablet is a cure, he receives what he believes and is cured.”

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This is not the placebo effect. The placebo effect is not meant to illustrate a cure, but a lessening of often subjective symptoms, like a headache. The whole concept here is that you can “think” your way out of a disease by positive thinking and using The Secret. When I was younger, a childhood friend of mine died of complications of leukemia. He was constantly thinking and saying “I’m going to beat this”. He was (and still has been) the most optimistic, positively-thinking person I’ve ever known. If that kind of attitude doesn’t work to prevent disease, then according to The Secret, there’s another reason for his death: Someone else must have been using The Secret against him, and caused his death. Ridiculous. Disease attacks a body. We know how it works and have some methods to prevent it. Knowledge of modern medicine makes far more sense than thinking thoughts cause disease. One might as well start reverting to working with “humors” or voodoo or similar medical guesswork.

The Secret can’t be objectively tested, and due to the nature of the human brain can always be defended by “faith” or retrofitting. We’ve got an unprovable system established with no honest scientific foundation: There is no difference between The Secret and any other religion.

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Changing your attitude, perspective, thoughts and self-confidence doesn’t physically change the world around you. This is supposedly measurable and physical, but Rhonda Byrne in The Secret says nothing about detection or explanation. She only gives vague, non-specific quotes about quantum mechanics, and asks that even if we don’t understand something, we should just assume it works. A science book – a book describing reality – would not do this. And, unlike The Secret, it certainly wouldn’t have so many exclamation points. Thinking the world and your fate can be changed by thoughts alone is childish. Reality is not a subjective movie like “The Matrix“, or a game like “Mage: The Ascension“. We should leave this concept to the entertainment business.

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Many of the famous minds and personal stories quoted in The Secret were taken out of context or retrofitted to fit the core concepts of The Secret. Those that are supposedly personal proofs are given with no references, links to more detail, corroborating evidence, or by their nature can’t be proven. We’ve also got quotes from “ancient thinkers” like Buddha, Albert Einstein, Carl Jung and Henry Ford shuffled in with various modern-day New Age proponents. The Secret gives bios of all the New Age proponents quoted in the book, including website links for all those still alive. These are hardly unbiased reviews. The book gives no further information on any of the “ancient thinkers”.

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Does The Secret stand up to the most basic analysis?Take the basic claim of The Secret and apply Occam’s Razor: Your thoughts affect the world around you – if you’re always thinking about a certain thing, that thing will happen to you. What’s more likely:

1) If you’re constantly focused on one thing, you’re more likely to accomplish that thing.

2) Your focused thoughts are interacting with a Universal consciousness, and the Universe changes reality to suit your thoughts.

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Can The Secret be used by non-humans? According to how Rhonda Byrne describes The Secret, yes. Remember, The Secret is supposedly in action 100% of the time, whether or not we realize it, and since everything in the Universe is made up of the same energy, thought “frequencies” from one animal (like me), shouldn’t take any priority from another (like my neighbor’s dog). This creates more inconsistencies and paradoxes within The Secret’s philosophy.
What about dreams? Dreams are thoughts. When we sleep at night, how are these dreams affecting the world around us? Roughly one-fourth of my time is spent dreaming, thinking of some really goofy stuff, and these “frequencies” are supposedly broadcast to the Universe. How do my zany dreams affect my waking thoughts and The Secret? Why don’t I see evidence for them?

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What about mental illness? The Secret is supposedly in use all the time by all people, even if they don’t realize it. How then does this jibe with people diagnosed with obsessions, schizophrenia or dementia? Say a man is schizophrenic, and is convinced that the government is out to get him. This feeling consumes his every waking moment. Why then, is the government not to get him? The man is clearly using The Secret properly. This should have an effect, yet everyone who knows the man (as well as the government) would say the man needs counseling.

&lt;b&gt;Conclusion of the review of “The Secret”, by Rhonda Byrne

&lt;/b&gt;

The standard thing to do in a skeptical review of a book called “The Secret” would be to make a snooty, faux-witty connection between the title of the book and there being a lack of any actual secret. I’ll move away from that temptation and focus instead on the book’s success: The Secret, by Rhonda Byrne, is titled more for marketing purposes than any other reason.

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Sadly, there is some helpful information in The Secret: The placebo effect is known to work in certain situations. Positive thinking does improve recovery in certain types of illnesses. Thinking positively and loving everyone in the world is arguably a way to prevent conflict and increase the chances of world peace. But there is far too much pseudoscience and dangerous advice to take The Secret seriously.

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The Secret and Rhonda Byrne are successful because they promise a quick and easy fix to all problems anyone could possibly have. That this is done dishonestly is, at best, well-meaning ignorance. At worst, it’s a scam. Unfortunately, those scammed by this campaign won’t realize till it’s too late, or may never realize it. They may waste their money and their lives in blind acceptance of an unverifiable claim. Or they’ll retrofit past events as “proof of The Secret”, and ignore or rationalize away times when The Secret failed completely.
The biggest problems with The Secret and Rhonda Byrne are the many falsely-presented aspects required for it to work. At its core,The Secret is nothing more than a feel-good, scientifically illiterate description of another New Age religion.

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Happy 2012 Hunting!!

PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-8715899916967926738?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/BdBMtJ8wnO4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/8715899916967926738/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2011/12/end-is-beginning.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8715899916967926738?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/8715899916967926738?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/BdBMtJ8wnO4/end-is-beginning.html" title="The End Is The Beginning" /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nmdeHVFQqMQ/Tv7_CpM9aDI/AAAAAAAAIFA/Ah8VVX4lYcU/s72-c/brand_irony_nike.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2011/12/end-is-beginning.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4GRX48eip7ImA9WhRWEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750160237409004408.post-4318483219286211569</id><published>2011-12-30T12:52:00.000+06:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T12:52:04.072+06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-30T12:52:04.072+06:00</app:edited><title>Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse.....</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R40KDjl9QD0/Tv1Tt_V9iwI/AAAAAAAAIEE/ywBf4rvceIc/s1600/AS-IT-IS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="399" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R40KDjl9QD0/Tv1Tt_V9iwI/AAAAAAAAIEE/ywBf4rvceIc/s400/AS-IT-IS.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;

Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse.....

"Thank you for your sympathy and best wishes at this time. We live in a world of our own making, a world built by our own unique perceptions which we believe in fully, every year, every day, every hour and every moment of our lives. Even though in reality this life is fleeting and lasts no longer than the time it takes for a spark of fire to shoot out, it is experienced by some as dragging on interminably for aeons and aeons. Yet for others, although in reality the span of this world’s existence is infinite, their experience of it lasts no longer than the blink of an eye. 
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For some, this world is no bigger than a worm hole, yet they feel insignificant and isolated, lost in a vast and infinite void. Others perceive the world to be small—as small as an entire universe—and to them it feels uncomfortably confined and claustrophobic. Most of us, myself included, have been conditioned to live and die in a world created by our own perceptions, and continue to create conditions that will ensure we repeat this same game over and over again. Amongst myriad possible perceptions, Thinley Norbu Rinpoche is seen variously as an ordinary person, a father, a teacher and a perfect being—a diversity of perception that is the result of each perceiver’s individual merit, or lack of it. For people like me, whose limitations lead me to see him merely as my father, your condolences will be accepted as emotional support. For those of you with ‘superior qualities’—or who aspire to develop such qualities—and are able to see Thinley Norbu as a perfect being, this is yet another opportunity to shrug off impure perception and generate pure perception, so that eventually you will go beyond perception altogether. ‘Awareness’ is the quintessential teaching of the Buddha—from the awareness of cool air as you breath in and then out, to the profound awareness of natural perfection. 
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And with boundless compassion and courage, the sole purpose and activity of all the buddhas it is to ring the alarm bell that brings us to this awareness. With enough merit, the passing of this great being can be interpreted as the ringing of that alarm bell, and a timely reminder of all the teachings, from the simple truth of impermanence, all the way up to the realization of unobstructed compassion. In this way, as much as this deluded mind of ours appreciated and valued his appearance in this world, it should also appreciate and value his disappearance. Touching as it is to hear from those who are offering various prayers, recitations, butter lamps and many other wholesome activities at this time, allow me to remind myself and all those who are interested, that none of the practices we are currently engaging in are for him, but for ourselves. However brilliantly the moon appears in the sky, if the pond is muddy, the moon will not be reflected in its waters. In the same way, it is through the purification of defilements and accumulation of merit within our own minds that will enable us, in time, to perceive a reflection of the Buddha, fully intact and never to depart. So, rather than congratulating ourselves with the thought that we have accomplished all these practices during this special time, bear in mind that we should already have been doing them—and for that matter, we should continue doing them throughout this and all our future lives. 
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But to imagine that our practise is something like providing this great being with the ‘last rites’ is definitely not the best way to go. I have also been asked which specific practices should be done. Again, I will repeat that mindfulness, in other words ‘awareness’, is our practice. We are ignorant beings, and as such require constant reminders about the importance of making the effort to land in this awareness. Therefore all our guru’s activities—from when he yawns or coughs, to when he appears or disappears—are his way of reminding us to come back, again and again, to mindfulness. And as long as we are mindful and aware, no one practice is better than another. Written and dedicated to the enlightenment of all sentient beings in the presence of the rupakaya of Thinley Norbu." 
New York City 
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PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;I Been Haiku-Sing,
If there Be Such A Damn thing;
Frock The Romantics!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8750160237409004408-4318483219286211569?l=iamdrukpa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~4/314Ogx9E0pM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/feeds/4318483219286211569/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2011/12/dzongsar-jamyang-khyentse.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/4318483219286211569?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8750160237409004408/posts/default/4318483219286211569?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/OpenSpeeches/~3/314Ogx9E0pM/dzongsar-jamyang-khyentse.html" title="Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse....." /><author><name>Jurmi Chhowing</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/117361169310156887698</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7bZ-WGeGhDU/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAACXI/8iGty6LTE1M/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R40KDjl9QD0/Tv1Tt_V9iwI/AAAAAAAAIEE/ywBf4rvceIc/s72-c/AS-IT-IS.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://iamdrukpa.blogspot.com/2011/12/dzongsar-jamyang-khyentse.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

