"But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words." 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 (KJV)

In the previous study of verse 13 we already saw that the people were concerned about the bodies of their loved one who had already died (gone to sleep), and how that would affect them concerning the Rapture of the Church.  I will not be discussing the theories of whether their is a rapture or not.  These verses and others make it quite apparent to me.  Verses 14 - 18 are verses of encouragement, and assurance to those who had the question concerning those loved ones who had already went to be with the Lord.  They will not miss out on anything.

The Rapture of the Church is also called "The blessed hope" and you will find that term used by Paul in the pastoral epistle written to Titus chapter two verse thirteen.  The church of Thessalonica needed these words.  The idea that the rapture was not taught until recently is frivolous, because it  was taught by Paul in His writings, as we can see.  In these verses alone is evidence of Paul's teaching of the rapture, or "catching away".

Verse fourteen reminds us of what we believe concerning the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  If we believe this, then surely we can believe that when Jesus comes again, for His Church, then we can believe that He will bring with Him the souls of those who have gone to be with Him.  He will bring back their souls to be rejoined to their resurrected bodies.  This seems to be clear evidence to me that there is no "soul sleep" as well.

We need not concern ourselves with the bodies of our dead/sleeping loved ones.  When Jesus returns for His Church they will be raised bodily from the graves, and return with Him into glory.

Our next study will deal with those who are still living at the time of the rapture of the Church.

Are you ready for the rapture?  It could happen any time of any day, at any moment.

Walk With God Today.

-Tim A. Blankenship

lightning crashes, a new mother cries
her placenta falls to the floor
the angel opens her eyes
the confusion sets in
before the doctor can even close the door

lightning crashes, an old mother dies
her intentions fall to the floor
the angel closes her eyes
the confusion that was hers
belongs now, to the baby down the hall

oh now feel it comin' back again
like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind
forces pullin' from the center of the earth again
i can feel it.

lightning crashes, a new mother cries
this moment she's been waiting for
the angel opens her eyes
pale blue colored iris, presents the circle
and puts the glory out to hide, hide

Small Jeans are an epidemic. I ordered a pair of Ecko jeans off their website cause they were $29.99, plus you can never have too many pairs of jeans... actually you can never have too many shirts, pairs of shoes, or hats. Anyways, these jeans were advertised as "baggy", but were far from it. In fact, I have "slim" jeans that fit about the same... not really happy about that purchase.

I did find some $39.99 Dunks that match nothing, yet I'm happy ‘cause I got new shoes!

I saw that new Russell Crowe/Leonardo DiCaprio joint Body of Lies... pretty good movie besides all of the white people with dark tans playing Middle Easterners. The acting was executed well, the action wasn't over the top or extremely fantastic, and the plot twists weren't poorly executed or just plain stupid like in Heroes.

Aside: Essentially nobody has died as of the episode four of the second season. Only the bumby periphery characters that nobody cares about have remained dead. This weeks episode will introduce the father of Peter, Nathan and now (in a really, really, really, really lame plot twist) Sylar's father--a man believed to be dead and has never actually been seen. Seriously, this show has gotten really, really bad. But it's a problem with the entertainment industry in America. In relation to TV, Japanese anime can be easy comparison as most of the TV series’ have a formulaic structure and are written with a definite end game. The one anime that I can think of for breaking that mold, due to extreme popularity, was the Dragonball franchise,. Dragonball was lame, and for Dragonball Z was great up until the ending of the Frieza saga when Dragonball Z and later GT were bastardized for money. It is the root of all evil and Dragonball and Heroes have been ruined for the sake of popularity and the dollar. Still, just like with Dragonball continuities I will still watch Heroes simply because I have invested so much into it.

Back to the main thought... Body of Lies was hot and well worth the time/money.

Anyone anything about anything knows the previews are an essential part of the whole movie going experience. Well the ones that preceded BOL were far from promising. Every preview looked like a remake or straight jackin' of a movie that has already been made. Gosh, I wish I remembered specifics, but I tried to block out that terrible crock of garbage. That display of terribleness is almost as bad as CBS ripping of USA's show Psych. In a new show called The Mentalist, a detective uses enhanced deduction and inference to solve cases. The only real difference is one plays himself off as a psychic and is funny and the other is just mentally superior and serious. Lame.

Oh more randomness... I took the biggest L Friday in between my 10 and 11 o'clock classes. There was no "Caution Wet Floor" (Piso Mojado for the Spanish speakers), and I completely wiped out. One of them Home Alone, straight horizontal falls. I lost—badly. Luckily nobody saw it... but it was so funny I had to tell somebody, and why not share it with you beautiful people!

I have found two new random websites. Margaret and Helen are two old ladies who are extremely politically incorrect, but say the things that most people believe. I also stumbled upon Stumble Upon. How it works is the site asks a few questions about what you are interested in and then provides you with random websites you would never find without having this toolbar service. You can use it when you like and its pretty fun. I like it and you should too! (FYI: Both are hyperlinked and in the “Link” Category in the sidebar).

Finally, here's a yahoo article that discusses what happens when we die. I won't explain ‘cause I want to keep it under 600 words…676. No more damn asides!

Salute

I think it's important to consider the purposes of a funeral and, like the reality of death, I think this is something a lot of people never really think about because it's just supposed to be obvious. But maybe considering the real purpose behind all of the ritual helps make them more effective in achieving that purpose. Certainly, it's a chance to say goodbye, particularly, I think, when the death is sudden. At Papaw's funeral, all I really wanted was a few minutes alone with him. Just five minutes to look down at him and whisper my love for him, my gratitude for his love and the things that he taught me about life, and to tell him that I'll miss him, and think of him and tell my children about him. Unfortunately, one of the other purposes of a funeral is to share our grief with others, which means it's difficult to be alone with the dead. Everyone wants to comfort us, even when we don't want to be comforted. Everyone wants to know what you think of how he looks, even when you think his lips were never that color. Everyone wants to put an arm around you, even when you just want to stand and imagine his arms around you instead.

Unable to be alone with Papaw I said goodbye to him in my hotel room bathroom, painted with a startling checkerboard of green and white diamonds, and with extremely bad lighting. I locked myself in there while my husband and brother watched TV the night before the funeral, sat on the toilet and wept as silently as I could, whispering all the things I wish I had said to him the last time I saw him. I told him again and again that I love him, and how much I appreciated his presence in my life. I told him I would try hard to live my life as he did: with a strong work ethic, and with appreciation and gratitude for what I have, and less whining about what I want, and with a deep generosity for those who have less than I. I whispered that we'll all take care of Mamaw and each other. But mostly, I just found myself whispering, "I love you. Thank you," on an endless loop while I swallowed my sobs so that no one would come to check on me and I could just be alone with him.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful for the comfort of family. Sharing each other's grief is another vital purpose of funerals. I found that I wasn't really able to grieve until I was with family, and that my grandfather's death was not real until I sat with my family without Papaw being there. At the funeral, my dad embraced my brother and me, and the three of us held each other while we cried, and my grief - more intense than I had expected - was validated by my brother's shaking shoulders and the tears on my dad's cheeks. Later, my brother grabbed my mom and sobbed on her shoulder while she whispered comforting things to him as she did when were children. When the opening bars of the first song were sung, I grabbed my cousin's hand in the pew behind me and gripped it through the entire song, taking strength and comfort from sharing our pain together as we had shared being the only granddaughters. These are the moments that are most vivid in my memory and which continue to provide solace. These are the people who are the family that Papaw was a part of and helped to build, and these are the people who understand not that I've lost my grandfather, but that I've lost this specific person we all knew as Papaw.

Calling hours was a blur of unfamiliar faces who all seemed to know me, mostly because they saw the resemblance between me and my mom. But besides being able to pick me out of a crowd based on how I look, these people that I couldn't even remember ever having met knew about me, about my life. My grandparents evidently talked about me to everyone they ever met, and not just in the passing way that I assumed they did, but apparently frequently enough for these people to remember where I had gone to college, what I studied there, where I was living now, what my general profession was, when I had gotten married, even that I had spent a semester in Wales four years ago. Either everyone in southern Kentucky has one hell of a memory or my grandparents talked about me so often that these people couldn't possibly forget these details of my life. I had no idea that I came up in conversation so much and with so many people. I didn't know how proud my grandfather was of me. It made me wonder: do we ever know how much someone loves us?

In the days before the funeral I kept hearing my grandfather's voice. It was never distinct and I was never able to make out what he was saying, but I heard it numerous times over those few days. Logically, rationally, I know that I probably was just hearing one of the many people at the funeral home talking in the background, or my uncle on the other side of the house, or someone with the same local Corbin, Kentucky accent in the breakfast room at the hotel. But the human mind is not always rational, and I was certain I heard Papaw talking. The first couple of times I jerked my head around, startled, looking for him. After I'd heard it a few times, I stopped looking, and just continued my conversation with whomever I was talking to. The night before the funeral, as my husband and I shared a few precious moments alone together while my brother talked to his girlfriend on the phone in the bathroom, I confided to him that I kept hearing Papaw's voice. He nodded, and said, "Yeah, you'll have that. I kept seeing my grandfather's face today."

After the funeral, I really felt as though a weight had been lifted and, for the first time, came to understand the phrase "laid to rest." Always before I had thought of it merely as a polite euphemism for "we buried him." I had never considered that it could hold a literal connotation. But the funeral truly did feel like we were laying Papaw to rest. That night, after dinner, I told my husband that I hadn't heard Papaw's voice that day. I haven't heard it since. I don't believe in an afterlife, or a god, or spirits. But I do believe there is something spiritual within all of us, something that lingers when we die, not corporeally or even in some mystical spiritual world, but within the hearts and minds of those who knew and loved us. It's whatever lies within those people when they think of us: their memories, emotions, thoughts, and even less definable associations that rise up when they think of us. And while those things remain with them when we die, there still needs to be a laying to rest of some of that, something to make our deaths real to them, to make our death a part of that nebulous spiritual material within them.

My grandfather is buried in a beautiful cemetery. It spreads out over hills, and is surrounded by mountains. Everywhere I looked I saw family names of people I'd never met. I've never seen so many flowers at a cemetery before. Nearly all the graves had flowers. Silk flowers, but very nice silk flower arrangements. Most had one arrangement on top of the headstone with two smaller arrangements on either side. People take care of their dead in those parts. It was peaceful and had a nice view of the mountains, and the day he was buried was a glorious fall day with sunshine and a cool breeze. It was a fitting final resting place both for him and for his spirit within me.

Before going to this funeral I had told my husband to donate my body to science. I realize I will probably end up only as a source of laughter for a bunch of stuck-up med students, but if my shriveled up body can help even one person learn one thing then it's worth it in the end. But now I don't know if it would be fair or satisfactory for my loved ones to simply ship me off to some medical school somewhere. Would they get any relief from that? Would they ever have the feeling of having laid me to rest, or would I linger with them? I mentioned this to my husband, and he admitted that he never really liked the idea but would do it if that's what I wanted. Maybe I should just be cremated and have my ashes spread in a convenient pretty spot.

Certainly, I'll need to have music at my funeral. I don't know how many songs were sung at my grandfather's funeral but every one of them made me cry. They were like a beautiful homage to my grandfather, despite knowing that they have been sung in Baptist churches and at funerals for years. On this day, they were for him. There were about ten different singers who sang in various groupings for different songs. I had never heard any of them before, and all were hymns, but they touched me deeply. The singers were either kin or close friends of the family, and all were obviously singing their love and their loss of this man. I have seen some of the most astounding works of art in the world, heard some magnificent music, and read incredible writing, but few things have been as painfully beautiful with such simplicity and genuineness as these Baptist hymns sung a cappella with a Bluegrass feel. These friends and family members were truly honoring my grandfather. I remember some of the words to only one of the songs: "I Just Stopped By On My Way Home."

1)                 
My life has been blessed in so many ways,
with family and friends day after day.
But I can't stay here, soon I'll be gone,
I just stopped by on my way home.
 
(Chorus)
I just stopped by on my way home,
I just stopped by on my way home.
I'm just passing through,
I'm just passing through.
I can't stay here long,
I can't stay very long, 
for I must go meet my Jesus 
around God's throne.
I just stopped by on my way home
 
2)
My heart is set on that heavenly shore
My mind is stayed on Jesus my Lord.
Well it seems I can hear the heavenly song.
I just stopped by on my way home.

This song gave me the most comfort, perhaps because I like the idea that our entire lives are equated with a quick visit with neighbors or friends on our way home. Visits like that are always pleasant, peaceful, and without worry. As a Southern boy Papaw loved to go visiting. It's comforting to think of his whole life as a visit, with all who knew him as the lucky people who were on his route home that day. Maybe it's a little simplistic and childish, but maybe that's what we need when faced with death. Besides that, the people who sang this, all Baptists themselves, seemed to really be sending him to Heaven with their voices. It was as though - with their belief, and my grandfather's belief - he was able to say these final words to us through their voices, while they simultaneously raised their voices to send him to God. It all sounds so silly when I read what I've written, but there's no explaining the human heart.

The first-person voice of this song got me to thinking about how I'd like to be able to say something to my family and friends at my funeral, maybe write my own eulogy in addition to whatever anyone else has to say. Would it be considered morbid or just pragmatic to write my own eulogy and then update it periodically throughout my life (since, obviously, the things I want to say about myself, and the people I want to say them to, will change as I age)? On the other hand, can I say it any better than Warren Zevon?

Sometimes when you're doing simple things
around the house
Maybe you'll think of me and smile

You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on
your blouse
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Hold me in your thoughts, take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view
When the winter comes, keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you

Engine driver's headed north to Pleasant Stream
Keep me in your heart for awhile

These wheels keep turning but they're running out
of steam
Keep me in your heart for awhile

The reason I mention the 'zone of danger' is because it is a legal principle that allows a family member to recover money when their loved one suffers a horrific accident, provided you are within a 'zone of danger' to observe the terror and horror of the accident and the injuries that flow from that trauma. 

If you get hurt while bike riding, the driver of the car, bus or truck that hit you might be totally at fault for causing your accident. While it may also be true that you were in a dangerous area of roadway, that legal principle of being in a 'zone of danger' would not apply to you. Instead, you may seek compensation for your injuries for the negligence of the driver who hit you. 

However, the 'zone of danger' rule applies to someone who is with you, within sight of you; within touching distance of you who witnessed the tragedy. This legal concept allows that family member to recover money for the emotional horror and psychological injuries they may endure as a result of watching their loved one become terribly mangled and permanently injured.

WHAT IS 'FEAR OF IMPENDING DOOM'?

That is another legal concept that lawyers use to show that someone who was in an accident was able to know, in minutes, seconds or moments before the impending accident that the impact was inevitable. It is that moment in time when your life flashes before you and you want to say everything you never had a chance to say to your loved ones; when you know you may not survive; when you realize that your time has come and you may not be going home. 

Another name for 'Fear of impending doom' is known as 'pre-impact terror'. These concepts are firmly entrenched in the personal injury area of law in New York. When there has been a serious accident or even a death from an accident, the facts may support a claim for 'pre-impact terror'. What do I mean?

When an ambulance attendant arrives on the accident scene and talks with your loved one, the bicyclist who now is crushed under the wheels of a truck, and they are crying, in pain, or gasping for breath with terror-stricken eyes, those factual observations allow a personal injury lawyer in New York to fairly claim that the victim had conscious pain and suffering, and knew that their life was about to end. The victim who blurts out in gasps to the ambulance attendant "He blew through that red light...I couldn't stop..." will allow an attorney to claim the victim had a fear of impending doom prior to the accident. 

Both of these legal concepts allow a victim and their family to properly claim compensation for pain and the suffering they suffered at the hands of a negligent driver.

I adopted Omaha in February of 2003, and Afer in January of 2004. Neither were young nor healthy, but I found I couldn't let that stop me. Omaha was about 13 years old and morbidly obese with severe arthritis and hip injuries. Afer was about 16 years old and had a severe heart murmur and bloody diarrhea, kidney disease, and anemia. We had glorious times. We played, we cuddled (though Afer always maintained a proper distance), we indulged in treats and sunbeams...

We've had a few scares with Afer - fluid buildup in her chest in 2006 and a vestibular episode in 2007. Both times, she surprised the vets and I with her rapid recovery. When she got ill this September, I worried, but became convinced she would rally once again. However, it wasn't to be. She got ill again and a trip to the vet showed new fluid buildup in her chest. They were able to drain the fluids and change her medications, but only three days later it was back.

I didn't know if I'd have the strength to let her go. I was sorely tempted to as ask the vet to drain it again, increase the medications, buy us more time. Afer was smarter than I, as always. Despite her labored breathing, she purred and head-butted and looked up at me with those amazing green eyes, and I just knew she was thinking "I'll stay with you, if I must, but I really am anxious to start this new journey. I'm ready to be free."

I wept while I petted her that last time, her fur soggy with my tears, but in the end a calm came over me. When she left, it wasn't as though she was gone forever, but almost as though she'd left me to go somewhere else. Like she was staying with friends. She left in a baby blue blanket decorated with bunnies, and she looked proud and happy and brave.

I cry as I write this, and I wish my little girl's time with me wasn't over, but I know she felt her journey here was complete, While there's a huge hole in my heart and I ache and frequently burst into sobs...
I'd rather experience this pain knowing I had the great honor of sharing my home with this incredible being for a short time, than never to had the joy she brought.

Fly free, precious angel.

A couple of links, first, to pieces you've probably already read but that I've just been enjoying, both courtesy the Howling Fantods "IJ Theses" page.  One is this excellent examination of DFW's first draft by Steven Moore, a friend of his during his Illinois years.  What it really does is makes me want to see the first draft for myself, but Moore's notes are nevertheless immensely interesting.

The other is Chris Hager's undergraduate thesis on IJ, which is embarrassing, given the general quality of my undergrad papers.  I found especially interesting the section on the structure of IJ (it's the section that starts with the quote about the difference between art and drugs).  Hager posits that the book forms a parabola, a la Gravity's Rainbow, with the book swooping down into narrative and then slowly coming back up to take us out of the book.  Furthermore, the brutal broomstick-impaling of Lucien Antitoi at the book's (more or less exact) halfway point bisects the parabola.

The Antitoi murder is a remarkable piece of writing in a number of ways.  It certainly does appear to be a kind of exceptional passage in the book, both in its position and in its execution.  We get to the Antitoi Entertainment shop by following Gately on one of his joyrides in Pat Montesian's Aventura (which is very black, very fast, and very sleek, and seems a direct allusion to the Imipolex G Schwarzgerät — "black device" — in GR).  What's remarkable here is how we leave Gately, midsentence, post-semicolon: "and one piece of the debris Gately's raised and set spinning behind him, a thick flattened M.F. cup, caught by a sudden gust as it falls, twirling, is caught at some aerodyne's angle and blown spinning all the way to the storefront of one 'Antitoi Entertainment'..."  And suddenly we're learning about the Antitoi brothers.  That's a cinematic segue rather unlike anything else in the book, and a very unusual move by this narrator, if the book can be said to have one consistent narrator.

So the wheelchair assassins come for the tape of Infinite Jest which the Antitois have unwittingly stumbled upon, and Lucien is impaled.  (We learn via footnote that "To hear the squeak" is "the very darkest of contemporary Canada's euphemisms for sudden and violent de-mapping," thanks to the squeaks of the assassins' wheelchairs.  Incidentally, just a couple of pages later, we get the awful story of James I. and his father trying to fix a squeak in a bed, the father keeling over in his own vomit, perhaps dead — the parabola has started its ascent.)  And but so after the horrible murder takes place — and it is horrible — we are told that Lucien "sees snow on the round hills of his native Gaspé, pretty curls of smoke from chimneys, his mother's linen apron..."  And that when he finally dies, impaled, he "sheds his body's suit" and escapes, whole, and soars north, toward home.

Remarkable.  The pole at the center of this book is death and a rather startling, unexpected declaration of rebirth.  It is awful and disgusting and horribly symbolic (impaled on a broomstick, like the O.N.A.N. of the book, created by an obsession with cleanliness), and then, suddenly, beautiful, lovely, sincere.  Lucien is an innocent, very like Mario, and DFW seems to have nothing but affection for both of these characters.  (There's a telling passage on p. 517 in which Mario's sympathetic view of Charles Tavis is contrasted with Hal's view, which tends to focus on Tavis's effect on him, Hal.)  In the escape of Lucien from his agonizing death, there's this sense of the undoing of the horror of Gravity's Rainbow: no longer strapped into a horrible body-suit plunging toward death, but "shed" of it, hurtling home, out of death.  It's an escape, or an attempted escape, from the irony and stricture and coldness of metafiction, through metafiction.  There's something remarkable, too, in the way Lucien's spirit is "catapulted," like the trash of the U.S., and in the way it "sound[s] a bell-clear and nearly maternal alarmed call-to-arms in all the world's well-known tongues."  I am not sure I know what this means, I am not sure why the call is "nearly maternal."  Gorgeous phrase, though.

In a lot of ways, this is as much of an ending and beginning as the book has.  For, although it's a bifurcated parabola, the book must also be annular, a ring, a circle.  The book dances around its center — what happens to Hal, what happens to Gately.  Those two are the head and heart, respectively, of the work.  (I'm noticing on this reading just how many of the footnotes occur in Hal's sections.  It's disproportionate, let's put it that way.  Can't stop thinking, that Hal.)

I stepped outside my body

and nearly fell

right between body and soul

right between the clock ticks

tick, fall!  Tick!

and each ordered time

moved the next electron

moved the next atom

holding together.

I'm reminded of the source

and the floating

if they weren't held.

I'd be lifeless dispersion.

an archaic mixture

waiting for a command.

12 Oct 08

dlb

In his landmark book The Denial of death, author and anthropologist Ernest Becker argues that aall of our anxieties and fears are rooted in our dread of death. Although Becker was not a Christ-follower, his scholarly study could serve as a commentary on Hebrews 2, which tells us that in our natural state we are subject to the fear of death throughout life(v.15).

We all know something about fear. And certainly the men and women we meet in the Bible were subject to fear, ranging from a mere tremor of anxiety all the way to terrifying panic, even in the face of death. Our Lord has experienced death and conquered it!

The author of Hebrews tells us that Jesus " was made a little lower than the angels,...that  He, by the grace of God, might taste death for everyone"(2:9). Through His death Christ has defeated "him who had the power of death, that is, the devil," granting us our "release" from the "fear of death"(vv.14-15).

Are you victimized by your fears? Recall the wonderful dread-dispelling promise of Scripture: "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, yes I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand"(Isa 41:10).---Vernon Grounds.

When I fear my faith will fail, Christ will hold me fast; When the tempter would prevail, He will hold me fast---Habershon.

Bliptv:

[blip.tv ?posts_id=1344468&dest=-1]

youtube:

This video was made as Hubbard made two presentations on September 24, 2008 during the third annual UNITED Conference at Northern Michigan University in Marquette, Michigan.

This video is about infamous comments about Native American Tribal Sovereignty made by President George W. Bush on August 6, 2004 at the UNITY conference in Washington D.C.

President Bush was asked the tribal sovereignty question by Mark Trahant, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer Editorial Page Editor, a member of the Shoshone-Bannock Tribe in Idaho and former president of the Native American Journalists Association.

Bush answered the question but that answer was so bizarre it caused journalists to laugh:
“Tribal sovereignty means that. It’s sovereign," President Bush said. "You’ve been given sovereignty and you’re viewed as a sovereign entity.”

The conference involved about 7,500 journalists of color from the Native American Journalists Association, the National Association of Black Journalists, the National Association of Hispanic Journalists and the Asian-American Journalists Association.

Hubbard said it’s funny, scary and sad that President George W. Bush doesn’t understand the important issue of Native American tribal sovereignty.

The Turtle Island Project thanks Democracy Now for the use of their video of President Bush’s remarks on tribal sovereignty.
Democracy Now
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Related Links:

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White Buffalo Calf Woman Society, Inc. (WBCWS)
PO Box 227
Mission, S.D.
57555

For more info on the WBCWS:

Javier H. Alegree
Public Relations Specialist
Media and Education

(605) 856-2317
(605) 856-2494 (fax)
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Official website of the Rosebud Sioux Tribe - Sicangu Lakota

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Northern Michigan University (NMU)

NMU on Wikipedia
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NMU Center for Native American Studies:

Center for Native American Studies

Northern Michigan University

112F Whitman Hall

Marquette, MI

49855

(906) 227-1397
(906) 227-1396 (fax)
e-mail:
nasa@nmu.edu

April Lindala, Director
Center for Native American Studies

(906) 227-1397
(906) 227-1396 (fax)
---

Grace Chaillier

NMU Adjunct Assistant Professor

Sicangu Lakota band of the Rosebud Sioux

112G Whitman Hall

(906) 227-1390
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Great quotes about American Indian women by nations:
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Uniting Neighbors in the Experience of Diversity (UNITED):
Northern Michigan University
September 21-23, 2008
Other UNITED links:
http://webb.nmu.edu/UNITED/SiteSections/2008Schedule.shtml
http://webb.nmu.edu/Webb/PDFs/UNITED/UNITED_2008.pdf
http://webb.nmu.edu/UNITED/SiteSections/GD989.shtml

UNITED Organizers:

Dr. Judith Puncochar

NMU Professor

906-227-1366
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Turtle Island Project

Munising, Michigan

Turtle island Project Co-founders:

Rev. Dr. Lynn Hubbard

Rev. Dr. George Cairns
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Turtle Island TV (blipTV)

Turtle Island TV (youtube)

Turtle Island (myspace)

email the non-profit Turtle Island Project:

TurtleIslandProject@charter.net
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Anishinaabe News:

NMU Native American student-run newspaper

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Democracy Now:
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More from Democracy Now on President Bush comments on Native American Tribal Sovereignty:

"Tribal sovereignty means that; it's sovereign. I mean, you're a — you've been given sovereignty, and you're viewed as a sovereign entity. And therefore the relationship between the federal government and tribes is one between sovereign entities." — President Bush, Washington, D.C., Aug. 6, 2004

Asked about Indian tribal sovereignty issues, President Bush so fully flubbed his response that journalists in the room began laughing at him.

Watch following video first minute - then - got to 27 minutes into the 1 hour video - you’ll see Jesse Jackson joking about comment - and then interview with the reporter who asked bush the question

Video & Audio - several formats (do right click “save as”):
http://www.archive.org/details/dn2004-0810_vid
President Bush youtube video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5xVRXLgLxw
Stories:
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/186171_bushtribes13.html
http://politicalhumor.about.com/od/bushvideos/v/bushismtribal.htm
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White House Press Release: What Bush meant to say if he’d stuck to his script:
http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2004/08/20040806-1.html
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Book “Pagans in the Promised Land” by Steven T. Newcomb (2008):

http://www.indiancountrytoday.com/archive/28405454.html
http://www.indiancountrytoday.com/archive/28407494.html
http://www.indypendent.org/2008/04/25/discoverer-delusions
http://www.wiccanweb.ca/modules.php?op=modload&name=News&file=article&sid=19853
http://www.kumeyaay.com/2008/01/johnson-v-mintosh-the-christian-right-of-colonization

http://www.target.com/gp/detail.html/602-1027866-8825436?asin=1555916422&afid=yahoosspplp_bmvd&lnm=1555916422|Pagans_in_the_Promised_Land:_Decoding_the_Doctrine_of_Christian_Discovery_:_Books&ref=tgt_adv_XSNG1060

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?r=1&ISBN=9781555916428&ourl=Pagans-in-the-Promised-Land%2FNewcomb

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Lakota Sioux & Rosebud Reservation:
http://www.rosebudsiouxtribe-nsn.gov/history.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosebud_Indian_Reservation
http://www.tradecorridor.com/rosebud/spirit.htm
http://www.sicangufund.org/rosebud/index.html
http://www.travelsd.com/ourhistory/sioux/tribes/rosebud.asp
http://pie.midco.net/lmrose/sicangu.htm
http://www.tolweb.org/treehouses/?treehouse_id=4571
http://www.nps.gov/archive/jeff/LewisClark2/TheJourney/NativeAmericans/LakotaSioux.htm
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Native American Religious Freedom Act (1978):
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Indian_Religious_Freedom_Act
http://www.nps.gov/history/local-law/FHPL_IndianRelFreAct.pdf
http://www.answers.com/topic/american-indian-religious-freedom-act
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During its first year - Aug. 2007 to Aug. 2008 - the non-profit Turtle Island Project held free concerts, free conferences, and many other events including fundraisers for the Northern Michigan University EarthKeeper Student Team in Marquette, MI and for the White Buffalo Calf Woman Society in Mission, SD.

During its first year - Aug. 2007 to Aug. 2008 - the non-profit Turtle Island Project held free concerts, free conferences, and many other events including fundraisers for the Northern Michigan University EarthKeeper Student Team in Marquette, MI and for the White Buffalo Calf Woman Society in Mission, SD.

What you will see below is something specifically written for one by one, but can easily be interpreted for any of those who have recently lost a loved one in the current military operations our country is taking part in.  Just as it's titled Eight Long Years the number is replaceable, for any amount of time is long enough.

Not for nothin', but Emily Dickinson wrote it best, "Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell"

Eight Long Years

Jason Gunn

It's been eight long years, and I wonder is there any change

I still feel much of the same heartache, struggle, and pain

It's hard to explain to people what it means and how I feel

You can't tell it to those who don't know, but it's real

We used to talk, laugh, joke through the years

Now those days seem to have faded away with the tears

I thought you'd be here forever, no one should leave that early

But now you live on in dreams and feelings I hold so dearly

Will never get to embrace you or talk to you again

Maybe God has a plan that we've already been placed in

Well he couldn't have planned for you to go out like that

Snuffed out by people of another God, one you never met

This has got me wondering why all the good guys die

Why families gotta suffer, and why mothers gotta cry

Why politicians gotta lie cause they don't wanna avenge this

Tell your people you love them, because it could be hit or miss

The boys were right, you can't say bye to what we had

You can only take this time to look back and be glad

Hold on to those thoughts and memories of the past

It's been eight long years, maybe this year will be better than the last.

After a time,

after a season,

Nanny was gone.

It was a soothing oil

we poured into our wounds

every drop,

every decent drop

and looked for more.
Before normal

could flood back in,

before warmth

was gone away

and clouds took us

We read more and she

spoke in each vowel,

each noun we laid bare

and took the time

to know her.

12 Oct 08.

dlb

Collection: Missing Them

By the time Lou and Kriska’s meeting ended, Jay-r and Cheska had been waiting for 30 minutes for this week’s sync. Ria went home early and Rachel did not show up as usual (she’s now in probation based on our recruiters) while Rox had was in a team meeting but wanted to follow if our session would last past 11pm. That’s 3R missing this week (make that four if you count Arvin an R) for our weekly discovery meeting.

Lou recounted what was talked about during their meeting and it sounded unpleasant for most of their officemates that are concerned. Kriska arrived after taking care of some things left in the office. Despite of a tiring week, we were looking forward to this time to know more things about ourselves and of God.

Topic: Made to last Forever [PDL Chap 4]

What makes people afraid of dying? Maybe because there is that fear of the uncertainty of what lies beyond the Grim Reaper’s door. Nobody has died and lived to tell about it so we would know…or has it? I remember a Nazarene carpenter 2,000 years ago who had such an experience and his story is still being told until today.

“Sure God would not have created such a being as man to exist only for a day! No, no, man was made for immortality.” - Abraham Lincoln

Having a right perspective of what lies ahead gives us the basis on how to live our lives at present. If we think our life ends at death then why not enjoy it as long as we can. Yet if life ends with a period then what value does life have. Are we just waiting all that we do by expecting to be discarded in the end? No, no.

We were created to last beyond this lifetime. The only thing we have to consider is where we would want to spend eternity (which Chuck Norris counted twice.). Life here on earth is just a moment to choose where would want to dwell forever. Our choice not only depends where we will go, it also shows how we live our lives no matter how short it is compared to what lies ahead.

WE WOULD ONLY LIVE ONCE.
WE WOULD ONLY DIE ONCE.
WE WOULD ONLY CHOOSE ONCE.
MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICE.

“For me to live is Christ, to die is gain”

Try to subtract “Christ” from the verse found in Philippians 1:21. What would the result be?

Answer: For me to live is to die…

Death is not the end. Life goes on. Choose life. Life that lasts forever and ever.

THE END…or is it?

I'm so glad I have one more week left, then I'm on holidays. Today was a shitty day. I had a team presentation on some research project gayness, which I took control of and delegated tasks so that we'd all have equal parts, blah blah, you know how it is. The way it was planned out was that I'd do the intro and then my results, anti-feminist bimbo does her results (how can you be anti-feminist as a woman? Is it even possible? Do you argue for yourself to have less rights? I don't get it..) and then quiet face does her results and the conclusion. Instead of having an extra talking bit, the bimbo puts it all together on powerpoint, because I hate doing that.

So we're all happy and its all good, but bimbo sends me the email with no presentation attachment. I think 'ahh it will be fine', and just rock up with my notes. I mean she only has to copy and paste, how hard can it be? I put heaps of effort in for once, because I can sometimes get flustered, so I knew at least my part would be awesome. Plus I'm a bit competitive with these things and I wanted to shine compared to bimbo and quiet face.

The bitch barred the fuck out of me! She cut my introduction in half and used my brilliant points for her own speech and mixed the results of all of ours to combine them into one result! She actually said half of my talk for me! What the fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.. Like before we started she goes, oh about the limitations, I just used yours for the whole results. And I thought she meant she just said in her speech, my limitations were the same as Luli's (because its the same assignment whatever), but what she meant was, she took my second half of the intro/results, chopped it up and used what she needed!

So, I'm not a fantastic public speaker in the first place because I get nervous and sidetracked, but when I saw my shit was all fucked up I panicked hard! I was a mess up there, goddamnit.. I needed my second half to tie shit together and make it work, without it I sounded like I was too off track, and she fucking took my arguments and said them herself. And all but completely ignored me and quiet face's results. Of course, she was cool under pressure and delivered her talk perfectly pausing only to shoot me a glance that said 'We're cool right? I'm using your shit here and you don't mind yeah?'.

I was fucking stunned. I wished I had simplified my points so that she couldn't understand them, but like an idiot I sent her the whole thing. And I just know she's gonna use all my stuff for the write up, probably in the exact same words, because she's a whore. And now I look like the stuttering fool, and she's all on the ball with her social research and FUCK! I'm so cut I actually have tears of frustration.. I HATE HER! I know now at least I could never be a politician, with their calmness under fire and public speechery and such. Probably for the best, you all know I'm no angel.

Then after that in my writing class this chick that I don't even really like was sitting next to me and we started workshopping her memoir piece. She wrote about her brother dying but it didn't become apparent that it was a true story until she started crying halfway through reading it. I didn't know what to do, she was like sobbing beside me, her tears were mussing up all the ink on her page. So I hugged her. I even rubbed her back a bit to sooth her coz she was all gaspy. What do you do? You can't just let them cry over their sibling in front of you and just look away because its awkward.

It was weird though, and I'm not quite sure if it was inappropriate, I mean we're not even cool with each other usually. I'm always rolling my eyes at her because she adds anecdotes to every thing she says in class, and thats my pet hate. Man, thats some rough shit to go through. It made me think of that question, if you were in a room of strangers and got news that someone close to you had died, would you walk out of the room or cry on the spot in front of them?

I'd like to think that I'd walk out, but in reality I'm a blubbering mess that cries at episodes of Buffy & Gilmore Girls. What would you do?

I am not looking forward to the initial encounters with... everyone.  Most of my wholesale accounts know about Silas, but random people I have met over the course of the summer are in for a very sad and unpleasant conversation.  They are going to be embarrassed and heartbroken, I'm going to feel bad about how bad they feel while I also try to repress and deny the Abyss so close.

If I can't help it or it's just time to release I will be unable to drive and so I will sit in the shadow of an underpass as the sunlight falls around me and I will cry, again, that my son isn't with me, still.

I must go forward, though.  I must not be broken.  I must make sure Lu stays whole and our families don't fragment on the slight, sharp edge of Silas' life.

There is no way for our lives to be as 'good' as they would have been if Silas had not died.  But we can try.  We can try to fill up our lives and the lives of those around us with as much 'good' as we can muster in order to attempt to make up for what Silas could have brought to this Universe.

Our friends and family are doing everything they can to refill our souls.  So many amazing people have stepped through these doors to be with us and stuff us full of food and friendship and quiet love.  I have spent more time with my brothers and parents than I have in years.  The outpouring of condolences in the form of arrangements of fruit that are edible, to pies made from apples, to trees planted in our son's name, to cold hard cash to help with the bills, it has all been overwhelming, appreciated and extremely unexpected, in a variety of ways.

Therefore, please forgive me when I say that I would trade all of it and so much more for my son to be alive.  That probably sounds somewhat callous but there it is.  The math in this Universe will never add up for us.  Silas alive and with us right here, right now is always better.

He could have been a car thief, but I promise you it would have been for a good reason.  He could have been a musician, even though you might not have liked his tunes. He could have been a pain in the ass teenager, a colicky baby and a grumpy old man and I would be a-ok with it all.

I would give anything to be lying awake right here tonight terrified that his tiny sniffles could be the onset of a bad cold or maybe even Lyme disease.  After all, we three would have spent the last week in the back yard watching Chumby chase squirrels and Bandha figure out the best ways out of the yard. There are ticks everywhere!

We have everything besides Silas, and Silas is all we want.  Ain't that just grand?

He would have been my best friend, someday.  The abrupt ending of his possibilities is almost impossible to comprehend.  Thinking about it sends my mind over a cliff.

So tomorrow when I'm at work, please don't be surprised if I don't break down in tears as I tell you about Silas Orion.  I have already cried for those moments.  I have already thrown my mind off of that particular cliff, a few times.

Every candle flame that I see reveals Silas to me, briefly, beautifully, untouchable, unknowable. I will forever search my dreams for him and I will try to fill my days with love and patience in his honor.  We can't make the math right, but we sure can fucking try every damn day.

Mt 5:10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

In the last meditation we said that this and the previous verse go together in that they are practical outworkings of the Christian faith. Verse 9 was about how we express our relationship with God by reaching out to others to bring them to the place where they can receive the same peace with God through Christ that we have received. This verse is about how those who do not want to know about that peace respond hostilely to us.

Nobody likes the thought of persecution yet it is a part of the Christian experience. Jesus told his disciples, “If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also.” (Jn 15;20). The apostle Paul taught, “everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” (2 Tim 3:12). Persecution is purposeful opposition and the reason for it is given in our verse today and the verse we've just quoted. We will be opposed because we live righteous and godly lives and that righteousness and godliness shows up the unrighteousness and ungodliness in the people of the world who have set their hearts against God. In the same way they rejected Jesus' goodness, so they will reject ours. However when we read the New Testament, we should also note that as much as there were times of persecution (Jn 4:1-, 5:17-, 6:12-, 8:1, 9:23, 12:1- etc) there were also times where, with the blessing of God, the church knew favour with the people and peace (Acts 2:47, 9:31).

Is it possible to win the favour of the people? Yes, it clearly is, by expressing God's love and power and goodness to bring blessing to the world. Nevertheless there will be those who, despite this, will rise up against God's people because that love and goodness shows them up for what they are. There will be those who are open to the enemy and will be used by him to make life uncomfortable for believers. However, the worst that they can do is kill God's people and in both the early church and today there are martyrs for the faith. Some people God does allow to walk through death – Stephen (Acts 6 & 7) was an example of this. Others the Lord delivers miraculously – Peter was an example of this (Acts 12) though tradition has it that he was eventually put to death for his faith, as did ten of the eleven remaining apostles – John being the exception, who died of old age in exile.

How should we view persecution? Well not as something we should bring upon ourselves by our insensitive and careless speaking or behaviour, for we should always seek to express the love and grace and humility of God. The apostles considered it something that should not hinder them (see their prayer in Acts 4:23 -30) and in fact they rejoiced that God trusted them to cope with it (Acts 5:41). Rather than be negative about it, Jesus instructed that we should be positive and pray for those who persecute us (Mt 5:44). Note, pray FOR not against. Paul added, “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.” (Rom 12;14) How powerful is that! Don't curse people the enemy uses, but seek God's blessing on them. Pray for them to come to know Christ. Ask God to bless them. That is the instruction of the New Testament.

You want a reward? Yours is the kingdom of heaven! Yes, when we suffer for Christ, he comes close and manifests his presence, manifests the presence of heaven, the rule of God from heaven, here on earth. This is both a now and then thing. It is ‘now' in that we will know the sovereign move of God in whatever way He decides to come in the present circumstances (e.g. “After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly.” Acts 4:31), and it is ‘then' in that there is a place reserved for us in eternity. The writer to the Hebrews tells us, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Heb 12:3).

How did Jesus endure the persecution of the Cross? Well, one way was to look beyond it to what would follow. Similarly for us, history shows us that often those who were being persecuted looked beyond what was happening to what they would receive at the end. In the meantime the apostle Paul coped by the knowledge of God saying to him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor 12:9). In the trial of persecution, the word and history testify to this truth, that whatever God puts before us, or allows to be put before us, His grace will be there for us to help us see it through. Until it happens we can't imagine it, but it WILL be there. Fear not, the Lord said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” (Heb 13:5).

When most of us tell stories they seem fairly centered around ourselves. Here and there the stories do involve others, but mostly they involve others purely as it pertains to ourselves. Keep in mind, these are very general statements and I do realize that. They're meant to be general because overall, this seems to be the way it is in American "culture".

Saturday I drug myself out of bed early in order to spend the morning walking for suicide prevention. After hopping a cab with my unruly puppy (I had woken up early, but certainly not early enough to take the bus) I arrived to greet my sister, Jen's family, and our friends. It was comforting to be there with them for a while, and having a purpose for a few hours. The tears stayed away until the closing ceremonies at which time we were all encouraged to hold hands during the last part of the speaker's words. Ironically I ended up on one side of Rachel holding hands with her. It was ironic (not in the true sense of the world obviously) due to the long standing grudge I'd held against her. Jen eventually thought it sort of funny and she would laugh it off. Odd how certain things tend to lose their importance after one single thing changes everything. I was glad to be there with her simply because, she cried a bit too. (P.S. The walk raised $40,000)

Today was spent entirely in the company of women. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday. When I first agreed to accompany my sister to the women's gathering at Daybreak a mental snapshot immediately clicked and it included quaintsy crafts and chatting. Incorrect on my part, I admit. It was so much more and precisely what I needed.

We started out with a talking circle. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that when they announced that this was the plan I had no clue what to expect. What I participated in was this:

Everyone sits in a circle, generally with men to the North and women to the South. The conductor of the circle will generally sit in the East. A token, such as a feather or a special talking stick, is passed clockwise around the circle. As each person receives the token, they may speak for as long as they wish, including addressing a topic brought up by another in the circle. When they have finished, they pass the token along. If someone does not wish to speak, they simply pass the token. The token may go around several times; when everyone has had the opportunity to speak as many times as they wish, the conductor ends the circle.

We didn't operate with a token today but it wasn't necessary. There is an understanding of how things go and that is followed by everyone:

1) Only one person speaks at a time - only the person holding the feather or talking stick may speak. Dialogues are not part of the circle, as they can become confrontational.

2) Introduce yourself - it is polite to introduce yourself in the first round. Use your spirit name, if you have one; otherwise, use your given name.

3) Speak from the heart - the speaker should address the circle from the heart, and may speak for as long as they need to, with respect for the time of others.

4) Listen with respect - all people except the speaker listen attentively and give support to the speaker. Listening with the heart allows you to hear the true intent beneath what the speaker is saying. Listen in the way you expect others to hear you.

5) What is said in the circle stays in the circle - never repeat anything that is said within the circle, unless you have the permission of the speaker.

And the elders speak first, as they did today. It started with smudging which is a cleansing/spiritual ritual. The overall point of today was to focus on and talk about caring for ourselves as women. Only, the way storytelling goes is such that the women didn't sit there and talk about x, y, and z on ways to care for the self. Stories included how families and tribes lived together and interacted; neighbors/cousins/friends loved so much as to add such a great chapter in someone's life that they would remember decades later in order to pass on to someone else.

I met a woman who is in the process of putting her and her son's life back together and is only nine days out of inpatient treatment. I met a woman that reminded me that where I'm at right now is maybe not the place that I want to continue being. Prior to applying to THS I actually sent a resume to the Seattle Indian Health Board. THS happened to call first and I accepted the job. A short time thereafter SIHB called me to ask if I could go in to interview and I told them that I had already accepted a job. I should have interviewed just for the heck of it, but I chose not to. I'm going to send them my resume again.

The issue of knowing loved ones that have committed suicide came up today when we were all talking and that's when I realized that I actually belong in circles like that. Up until I went back to Michigan for our pow-pow I always thought that I didn't really have a right to claim any part of Native American culture because, I don't look Indian...out of my three sisters I think I look it least of all. In Michigan though, plenty of my Aunts and Uncles were what my Grandmother would have joked, blue-eyed blond haired Indians. I still didn't really connect to it after that. Today I did. And things are sort of full circle.

Her death was a shock to the family although she had been in poor health for a number of years. As much as her passing was a blessing to her, it was a tremendous blow to her four children, 26 grandchildren, and a number of great-grandchildren. She was the foundation of her family.

The day of her death started as it normally did, until she began having chest pain. She told her daughter, her primary caregiver, that "something was wrong". She began to struggle and became combative as the discomfort intensified. One of her grandsons was summoned, and arrive quickly. As a police officer, he was trained to work under pressure and immediately began to perform CPR. He knew it wasn't working and she was slipping away. As she laid on the floor she said, "Tell everyone goodbye and that I love them." That being said, she crossed over.

What I found interesting about the recounting of the story was how calm and peaceful Aunt Dorothy became as the end quickly approached. You know what you know, when you know it. And she knew here time was up.

I hope that when my end nears, I too will be able to say "I love you", because that is all we have, and all we can take with us. A lifetime is summed up in those three words. It doesn't matter how much money you've accumulated; how many toys you have; the size of your house; your address; or what you drove. Only the love is real and that is the only thing we take with us.

Peace and blessings to all of you!

Namaste'