Chapter19:TRANSFORMATIONS. Tibet, Lamplight Unto a Darkened World

Chapter 19

Transformations

“The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes within the soul of people when they realize their relationship, their oneness, with the universe and all its powers; and when they realize at the center of the universe dwells the Great Spirit, and that this center is really everywhere, it is within each of us.”

-Black Elk, American Indian Chief, from“Black Elk Speaks.”

Scrub pines had given way to scrub. As Tom walked out of the village of Upper Pissang, he realized that the mountain environment had changed yet again - to wide open spaces. Gone were the remnants of the confer forest. The straggly mixture of fir trees that skirted the denser forests below, were totally gone; given over to low lying woody shrubs. Wind, snow, ice, and the higher altitudes didn’t permit plants to grow too tall. He hadn’t noticed the change the day before; being so tired from his long hike into the upper reaches of Pissang, and spending the remainder of his day in the village. As he surveyed his new view on the world, his goat trail led him through a rough and hilly field; a field that sloped steeply left, and literally dropped off into space - as he approached the edge of the tiny plateau. A farmer labored with an old, but sturdy, plow horse - and a hand-guided plow. The farmer struggled a few feet, hit a rock with the plow, stopped and remove it, then continued on to the next rock. The field was covered with small bumps that barely hid a multitude of buried rocks. Tom shook his head in amazement, that the man even attempted to cultivate the field. He waved to the man, and the man smiled back. He was tired, but apparently undeterred. While he worked very hard to bring the soil under cultivation, he didn’t fight against it. He evidently understood the huge chore ahead of him, but continued on nonetheless. A giant patchwork of gray and green fields spread out across the undulating mountain base below Tom. Each was outlined by short walls of piled stones or scrub plants. The poorly producing fields angled down the gently sloping mountainside, towards the riverbed that Tom had been following; but it was now far below - nearly out of site. From where he stood, the narrow trail led up and along the side of Pissang peak. Surveying the mountains opposite the peak, on the other side of the riverbed, Tom was rewarded with a clear view of the Annapurna mountain range. With the tree cover totally gone, and him rising ever higher on Pissang Peak, his view of the snowcapped Annapurna mountains only improved as he hiked on, and ever up. He hiked on and on, methodically - at a steady and even pace.

All his life Tom had looked at calendar pictures of snowcapped mountains, and panoramic views of whole mountain ranges. They were always beautiful pictures, but surreal in their clarity and pristine luminescence. While intellectually he understood that they existed, they never really seemed tangible and real to him. They were too perfect, too untouched, too naturally wild, too unreal in their undeveloped state. After all, who could even imagine millions of acres of undeveloped natural beauty? A place where you could turn 360 degrees, viewing a full circle over and over, spinning like a top in slow motion; and see nothing but untouched wilderness? A place where the hand of man fell lightly, and was only evident in cairns of stacked stones. It was then that Tom realized that he had always lived under the distorted shadow of modern civilization. As he walked and turned, almost dizzy from his continual rotation, he felt the natural world subsume him; and it felt good. Man was gone. All of his inventions, constructions, destructions, and distractions of spirit were gone. Tom was alone, very alone; but he no longer feared it.......he fell in love with it. He was no longer lonely, he was alone - by choice. By informed choice, by desired choice, by strength of will; and by the pulling force of something stronger than him.

“This is how Teddy Roosevelt must have felt when he traveled the wild areas of the United States; and why he felt compelled to preserve them as National Parks,” Tom spoke aloud.

“But even then, he wasn’t alone. He traveled with a party of hunters, trappers, and adventurists. And, even still, they were within a few miles of civilization. There was also the hint of opportunism there - lumber interests, mining interests, and wild game hunting. Something to be gained, something to be won, something to be conquered; and something to subvert, in man’s continual effort to preserve his fragile image of presumed superiority over all. Funny, I don’t even feel that way anymore,” Tom observed, amazed.

“I don’t want to build a house here, nor do I want to take home turquoise or gold. I’m just content to ‘be.’ To walk along, as fast or as slow as I want. To look up, or to look down. To rest, or to struggle further up this silly mountain. I don’t even really care about food - other than to keep my body functioning. I feel, I feel.....alive! Life, live, love, lift, fly! I feel, finally, like an eagle in flight!”

Then Tom stopped and sat down on a low rock wall that was covered with mani stones; shaking from the experience. It shook him, throughout his entire being. They were wonderful feelings of living ecstasy. If he had been a fundamentalist Christian, he would’ve said that he’d experienced God’s presence. If he had been a crack head, he would have said that his out of body, mental release from this reality, allowed him to experience an altered state that touched the force of life. If he had been a sexual, physically tactile, overcharged person, he would’ve called it multiple and continuous orgasms. He was experiencing a rush of emotions and feelings that threatened to overwhelm him into unconsciousness. It wasn’t that the feelings weren't welcome, desirable, or not pleasurable. They were so much so, that they forced a horrible realization that he’d lived his entire life blinded to them. He’d been held back from truly experiencing real life by the very civilization that propounded to protect, save, and to nurture life. He had been betrayed. And not only had him been betrayed, everyone around him was too. Those who were comfortable in lives similar to his former life of chains, were the sick ones. He was, after all his worries and self doubts about his life and his being, one of the few that not only had it ‘right,’ but persisted until he had truly experienced it. Many people believed that they would have the same kind of release, the same kind of freedom of spirit, once they achieved material wealth and were rich enough to do as they pleased. But Tom had learned early in life that money and power came with many strings; strings that ironically prohibited the very freedom they promised.

“We’re already rich,” thought Tom as he looked around him, and the carved slate tablets shifted under his weight. “We’re throwing away Eden, then trying to control a new Eden by building it ourselves. We’ve never left the Garden of Eden, we’ve forsaken it; and have been violating it. It’s right under our noses, and yet we can’t seem to see it, to believe it, or to accept it.”

‘Is this everything? This can’t be enough! This isn’t heaven on earth. Its just dirt, plants, unpredictable weather, and harsh living conditions.’

“That's what people would say, if I tried to tell them. They wouldn’t believe that heaven, and real life, was that simple; that attainable, and that immediate. We’ve been told for generations that something better exists - raised to be perpetually unsatisfied with what is. To not accept what is, in favor of what could be. To never be satisfied with simplicity,” he realized, aloud.

“The basic internal questioning of humans hasn’t been assuaged; rather, it’s been purposely exacerbated by playing on fears,” he charged.

“We tell ourselves: ‘It must be more complicated,’ or, ‘It has to be more sophisticated.’ We’ve been convinced that: ‘I will only feel better through the acceptance of my inferiority, the acceptance of our inadequacy; and through the understanding of my undeserved status.’”

“These are the self doubts that had been be sown in the fertile soil of nascent human self-discovery. Humanity’s true self determinism, and real independence from tyrannical rulers, has been purposely frustrated throughout time - and we’ve allowed it! No, we embrace it out of a fear of being alone, or failing at being self sufficient. Thus resulting in an eagerness to leave it to others to lead, and to guide us along their path,” he concluded.

“I guess that’s always been my problem; well, my dilemma. I’ve never felt that I, or anyone else, was undeserving, flawed, or inadequate. That alone infuriates controlling people, and confuses unsure ones.

’If Thomas is right, then I can’t control people like I thought,’ one group says.

While the other one worries: ’If Thomas is right, then I’m a failure, because I’m not brave enough to do the same.’”

Now, Thomas saw that his life long ‘problem,’ had been his saving virtue. He lived a good life - the best that he could, under his given circumstances. That was enough for him, and always had been - once he had accepted, in his childhood, that other’s opinions were too capricious and self serving to be taken seriously.

“That’s their opinion....pity them,” was his philosophy.

It was the one thing, he now realized, that had eventually brought him to his present state. He’d taken his blows in life, yet he still hung onto one precept through it all: “No one is better than anyone else, no matter what they say, do, or look like.”

“Why do men keep trying to recreate Eden, according to their own specifications?” he wondered.

“Because if they can create it, they think they can therefore control it; and subsequently, their happiness. They think! How can people ever learn to accept that we’re supposed to be the guardians of Eden, when we’re destroying it; and we allow other people to pervert it? Environmentalism isn’t just a nice thing to do, it’s the real mission of our species. Those who would dissuade us from this privilege, aren’t acting for real progress of life - they are hastening its destruction. Therefore, they need to be stopped! “

Startling realizations, and seemingly random thoughts, ran circles in Tom’s mind. He wasn’t sure if the lower oxygen level was getting to him, or if his disturbing thoughts were manifesting themselves in physical shudders. Either way, his body was reacting; and his mind tried to blank out further disturbing thoughts.

“Maybe it’s a combination of both,” he wondered.

Regardless, he persisted; and not only kept moving, but grew stronger and more emboldened as he continued on his lone hike through the windswept mountains. He thought India would be his catharsis, and he’d nearly given up when he met blank walls, dead ends, and uncomprehending stares while there. But somehow, the mountain winds had called out to him. They’d pulled him to a world nearly forgotten by time and man, and showed him reality - with brutal, and undeniable, clarity.

He hiked alongside a long narrow wall of stones, that was piled high with hundreds of Mani stones. Each flat stone contained many lines of prayers and blessings, carved by patient hands, into the slate-like rock.

“Pilgrims must’ve been traveling through here for ages,” thought Tom, as he picked up stone after stone, admiring their simplistic beauty and elegantly executed inscriptions.

In another time of his life, he would have thought about taking one of them home.....owning one. Now however, ownership of anything was far from his mind. They owned him, and he didn’t care. It was if he could feel the prayers being said, over and over, spoken through the winds passage over the stones. The whistling and whipping noises of the wind transmuted into a voice. He heard blessings and prayers that didn’t praise others, nor exalt anything or anyone. He heard blessings that verbalized how he felt about life. Prayers to the earth, the sky, the wind, fire, and the waters. Expressing much more that a simplistic prehistoric awe of the elements, the blessings were said to confirm the harmony of individual human lives within themselves, with each other, and with the elements of the world.......as part of the world’s biosphere, and life system.

“Prayers and blessings that reaffirm our connection to, not disassociation from, nature. Human nature, the earth’s nature, God’s creation if you will,” he confirmed aloud.

None of it was incompatible with a belief in God.

“It’s an affirmation of our bond to him, and his creations.”

Tom felt like one of God’s creations, a part of a complex symphony of creations - not the arrogant and self-possessed notion of supremacy over everything else he created; but rather, an important part of it that had been failing in its tasks.

“We’ve truly lost our way, us humans,” Tom lamented aloud.

“What are we to do?” he yelled, unabashedly, into the winds - as frustration and hopelessness threatened to overtake him.

The answer came back, as quick as the question had gone out.

“Live! Show how, through truly living. Say no more, do! Be! That’s enough. Be content....be serene....”

The words he heard weren’t so much spoken, as felt. The winds whipped around his body, and caressed his internal hurts with their strong ministrations. Tom allowed his body, and being, to be enveloped in their grip. He now fully trusted nature with his life; then, he realized that he never should’ve fought that natural urge - because he truly was part of nature, no matter how disconnected he had felt before. Acceptance, now, was easy. Regret, however, was a possible threat. Then he spoke aloud, to himself, in order to forestall any distress.

“You can only do your best, and then let go. I’ve done my best, with what I knew at the time; now, its time to let go of the past, and to grow anew along the right path. I am where I am. That isn’t where I want to be, but its o.k.. It’s a good start,” he encouraged himself.

“Am I starting ’over’ now?” he asked himself, and the wind.

“No, I think not. I’m finally awakening to what I’ve been walking through all my life; as if I lived in a lifelong dream. There aren’t any more distractions, and thinly veiled deceptions; either mine to myself, or other’s over me. Now, I’m strong enough to endure whatever I have to face. Let my past hurts fly with the winds.....”

And the winds cleansed him of his pains. He had finally let go, in a safe place - all alone. He let go of all the manmade pains that had threatened to kill him before; and he was truly free.

Tom continued on walking, in a dream state, across the ridge of the mountain pass that he had somehow stumbled upon. The path widened and rounded off to a cliff. The slate stones underfoot slipped, as he progressed upwards to the large three tiered stupa located at its highest point. It was roughly square, comprised of tons of stacked slate, with white washed mud stucco sides. It was an ancient structure, yet fairly well preserved. Groups of gray stones showed through, everywhere over the exterior surface; and each of the three roofs were stacked high with mani stones. Atop the structure was an impossibly placed bunch of long straight sticks, with faded prayer flags attached to their tops. Tom had seen many cathedrals, temples, and monuments in his travels; but this simply placed and rustic structure was the most impressive. At first he couldn’t understand why, because it was so humble. Then, he realized that it wasn’t a structure to human vanity; but rather, an extension of the mountaintop. A tribute to the forces of nature - one of which was the persistence of the human spirit.

Lightheaded, and relieved of his burdens, Tom continued hiking along the trails without thought of destination or progress. Thus relieved of the unconscious drive for senseless achievement, he made tremendous progress the rest of the day. It was if he floated along the trails, and let them guide him. Totally letting go had been scary to Tom initially; but it was beginning to become second nature. It wasn’t winter, so he didn’t worry about shelter or a place to spend the night. He wouldn’t freeze to death if he had to sleep alongside the trail. Freed from that only worry, Tom progressed as life took him. By late afternoon, almost dark, he came upon the most surprising thing. A fairly new guesthouse that looked more like a Swiss Chalet than a Tibetan home. The wind at the high altitude, however, was fierce. And, he had to go inside to get relief from its constant barrage. A young man in his early twenties ran the guesthouse - seemingly alone.

“What is this place?”

“A guesthouse. Do you want to spend the night?”

“Why yes, but the place seems awfully new compared to anything else I’ve seen; and it’s a great location! I’m glad to find you, don’t get me wrong. It’s just a big surprise.”

“I just run the place. Would you like food?” he replied, curtly.

“Why yes, thank you,” Tom answered, and was left alone to his thoughts.

Someone else, in a kitchen somewhere, made the food. When the young man brought it out to Tom, he sat it down, and promptly sat down himself. Offering little information, he wanted as much as he could get; and asked Tom all manner of questions about the United States. Tom hardly had time to eat his food, for all of the questions. Even though he didn’t mind, he was puzzled by the incongruency of the place and the guy. He was a pleasant and handsome young Tibetan, with wonderful manners.....and a burning desire. A burning desire to know all he could find out about the United States. The look of wonder and awe in the guys eyes worried Thomas; because he could only hear the good things that were said about the States, not the cautions Tom added.

“Are you a movie star?” he asked Tom seriously.

“No,” laughed Tom. “Do you get many of those around here?”

“Yes. They are so rich, they can do anything. I want to be a movie star!”

“Well I suppose they look and act like they can. And, I imagine they are almost as handsome as me,” Tom joked.

“But contrary to popular belief, the streets of the United States aren’t covered in gold.”

“I am not stupid, I know that. But New York is a wonderful place. Someday I will live there. I want to live there now! To get away from this desolate place.”

Choking on his food, Tom had to clear his throat before responding.

“Look out that window,” he said to the guy. “No, let’s go outside and look.”

Tom led the young man outside, to the open windswept area with tables. He pointed to the mountains.

“What is that?” Tom asked.

“That is Annapurna II and Annapurna IV. They are mountains.”

“Yeah, they’re mountains alright. In fact, they’re some of the most beautiful mountains in the world. All around us are tremendous mountains that speak to us. Do you hear their voices in the winds?”

“Yes, I have done that since a child. What of it? You sound more Tibetan than some Tibetans I know! Who cares? What does it matter what the mountains say, when you are stuck alone in them forever?”

“Well, I’d say that you are in one of, if not the, most beautiful places in the world. Your room and board are paid for, you have no financial or personal worries; and you get to be part of the world in a way that few ever get to be. Even your movie stars can only come here for a little while; and like you said, they have all the money they would ever need. Why would people who ‘have it all’ spend months to come here, if it wasn’t special? They can go to New York on a daily flight, for not much money or effort. Yet they come here. Think about it. You’re richer than the movie stars!”

“But, New York......it is so incredible! I’ve seen pictures. I’ve seen movies.”

“Yeah, you’ve seen stylized images of one of the harshest places on the planet. You wouldn’t be living on Park Avenue, or buying clothes on 5th Avenue; you’d be serving up greasy food in a noisy dinner in the Bronx. Now that isn’t horrible, but it ain’t heaven - you have that here. You can’t imagine the pain you’d feel in that environment.”

“Really? Why?”

“Look down there, o.k.?”

"O.k.”

“Your place here is called Valley View Lodge. What do you see?”

“A beautiful valley.”

“And, beautiful mountains, and nothing made by man - except your lodge here, which is nice, but doesn’t really fit, eh?”

“So?”

“In New York, you only see things made by man. All of nature, except for the tiny bit that survives in the parks, and lives on the rooftops, has been paved over and replaced by man made things.”

“That sounds cool. This place is so boring!”

“I give up! I try to tell you that a few of us work our lives to find a place like this, and only get to experience it for a short period of time; and you want to run away from it.....into one of Dante’s spiritual hells. Do you know how hard life is there for those people? They are great people there; but most will never travel outside of the city, much less the state. They don’t know what they’re missing, but would come here in droves if they did. Maybe if they visited you, you could hear from them directly?“

“Only rich people come here.“

“I’m not rich, I just decided to come. Its only costing me a couple of thousand dollars for this trip due to exchange rates. Do you realize that I could barely get by for a week in New York City for that amount of money? Here, I spend months traveling on that kind of money; and you could live three years on it. Does that seem better to you?”

“No, but I could make money there - everyone does.”

“And, they spend it even quicker than they make it. It’s a trap to avoid, or to escape. Not one to run into. Can you imagine this mountain covered with one and a half million people? What would it be like then?

About that many people live in Manhattan alone - in a smaller space than this area around you.”

“Really?” he asked incredulously.

“Have you been to Kathmandu?”

“Yes, and I didn’t like it. Too much tension.”

“Multiply that tension by twenty times, and you’ll be close to the feeling in New York. Tell you what, I’ll send you email. Do you get email?”

“Yes, in Kathmandu.”

"O.k., we’ll keep in touch; and maybe we can get someone to sponsor you to go to the United States for school - then you can experience it, and come back home.”

“I won’t ever come back.”

“Whatever, just give me your email address and we’ll keep in touch.”

“I will. But you’ll never keep in touch. No one ever does.”

“I’ll try. But I bet you that they don’t because they like you. They don’t want you to get messed up by getting in over your head; then, getting really hurt. I’m not trying to shoot down your dreams, but its only fair to say that what you perceive to be real, isn‘t. This is real. That’s the biggest shell game in the world.”

"O.k.,” he responded dejectedly.

"O.k., nothing. Sometimes it’s hard to see just how lucky we are, because we’re so busy looking somewhere else - assuming its better. Try to be happy with what you have. It really is wonderful. Find a nice girl, settle down, have some kids. Live life.”

“You sound like my father.”

“Sorry, but we don’t do it to stop you from growing; we do it to keep you living. Sometimes talking and advice isn’t enough, and we have to check out things for ourselves. So go check things out. But I caution you, there are some things that once lost, are never returned. And your innocence will be the price you pay for your inquisitiveness. Believe me, I’ve paid that price; and it isn’t cheap. Then, it’s hard not to become cynical and give into a whole pile of crap you don’t even want to have to struggle with. It can result in years of unnecessary pain for you, and for those around you.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Think of it this way. If I was to tell you that I’m going to walk off that cliff over there because I see a road, I hope you’d stop me, and say: ‘it’s not what it seems, its the sun in your eyes. It’s a deception that will only do you harm.’ That's what people are trying to say to you. Believe me, there are much worse things that feeling a little bit bored; and you don’t ever want to know them.”

The young guy left Tom‘s table abruptly, thinking seriously about what he had told him. Tom felt better, but also felt sad that on his day of deliverance he also had to see someone throw it away. Suddenly, all of the emotions sank in, and he felt exhausted. He walked past the open hearth in the common room, and just made it into his bed before he collapsed. The next morning he woke up with the sun, ate a quick breakfast, and was back on the trails. He intuitively knew that he needed to keep to himself a while longer. He didn’t want any further distractions. The thought of the young man wasting years, and suffering so much, hit him hard. The thought that the American Delusion could derail people here was discouraging; and only increased his sense of group responsibility for its blatant misrepresentations.

His hiking took him even further off the main roads of travel, as he strongly desired to remain in the remote areas of extreme northern Nepal and he always took the higher and less traveled paths. He knew with assurance that this area was the closest thing to old Tibet that he was likely to ever see. Life in the remote areas proceeded as it had throughout many thousands of years. The very remoteness of the area had protected it from corrupting external influences. Influences that only served to deter Tibetans from their daily practices. Practices that insured a steady path of positive self improvement, and greater deeds of compassion. Tom hoped that the culture could remain that way; while still inspiring others like himself. That would require, he knew, a stronger sense of grounding on their part than those who visited - so that they could resist, instead of submit.

He spent all day hiking, steadily and without many breaks, until he reached Nagawal. He wandered around the village and was impressed by the fact that there were only a few places to stay, and that the village was alive with young families. It was a village that was adhering to the old ways, but had new families in place to perpetuate it. It was a little more commercial than Tom liked, but it was a decent compromise. He walked around, until he found a place where he felt comfortable staying. He didn’t want anything to interfere with his nascent evolution, so staying with a Tibetan family was what he needed to do to insure that. He knew he had to return to the main trekking path soon, and then he’d be back in the thick of things where he’d be sorely tested. He knew that he needed further strength in his new found realizations, before he had to defend them. And defend them, he knew he’d have to do. The ‘new world order’ of globalization brooked no exceptions, and strove to assimilate all that didn’t adhere to its code of values.....such as they were.

“How many nights will you stay with us?” the young father asked Tom politely, but with some caution.

Tom could tell that he wouldn’t accept just anyone into his home, but that made him feel even safer.

“Two nights, if you have the room available. I’ve just traveled from Upper Pissang, around Pissang peak, and through the back paths; and need to rest up before I face the main trail through Manang, Letdar, and Thorung pass.”

“That should not be so hard for you now, since we are so much higher in altitude. You will drop at least 600 meters, then rise to the pass - over a few days travel. You’ve taken the hardest path already.”

“Yes, the hardest climbing; but the best, people wise. It’s not the hiking I must prepare for, it’s the people.”

“You are very wise. Yes, I have room for you - as long as you like.”

“Thank you, how old is your son?”

“Three years. He is such a joy.”

“I can see that. Is it o.k. for me to give him some candies?”

“Yes, but give them to me, and I will give it to him later. I will tell him that it was your gift, but I want for him to not take gifts from people he does not know.”

“I understand, completely. In some villages I’ve hiked through, we were literally accosted by Nepali children. Nicely, but they were persistent in asking for candies. I guess us visiting hikers can look like Santa Claus to little kids. Wanting to be nice to the kids, can make them dependant upon passerby.”

“Just so; but in your case it is different, and I will explain it to my son.”

“Good! Now after I settle in my room, can you direct me to places in the town I should visit?”

“Yes, the view from the back of the village is very special. This is an area where great horses have been raised throughout times. Many warriors have come through here, and ended up staying to live - from the times of the Mongols, and the Khans. They liked the women, and the country, and so they stayed. That is where our people come from, the Gurung. The legendary Gorkha fighting forces came from this area. Much history here.”

“Is this area part of old Tibet? I heard that the King of Nepal was quite clever in establishing boundaries, before the Chinese tried to draw the lines after their invasion of Tibet.”

Blushing, the man replied diplomatically.

“You know much of our history already. Yes, the boundaries here have always been a little vague. The size of Nepal has changed many times over many thousands of years. Who is to say where something ends, and something begins? The Chinese have tired, though; setting up seventy-nine demarcation markers in the early 1960‘s......somewhere, I know not where. I must attend to my work now. We will see you at dinner.”

“Thank you. Thanks, for everything” Tom replied, sincerely.

“No worries.”

Tom stayed in Nagawel, and further consolidated his new depths of awareness; relatively alone. He was spoken to when he asked, and otherwise left alone to his thoughts and silent contemplation. He spent many hours on the roof of the stone building, sheltered from the continuous strong winds of the surrounding plains - captivated by the unobstructed view of Annapurna III. It was his best view yet. The huge mountain seemed to stand straight up from the ground, half covered in snow. Tom could see how the Mongols worshipped the ‘clear blue sky, ‘here - it felt an awful lot like heaven. The uninterrupted time for thought was exactly what Tom needed. When he left, he did so with regret.

“Maybe, someday, my children will visit you here,” he told the man upon his departure.

Tom hoped that that would truly happen; but he also knew it was probably beyond his control.

©Tibet

***************

©Tibet, Lamplight Unto a Darkened World…the American Delusion, a Parody of life ( L'illusion Américaine, une Parodie de Vie); is copyright protected, by author, Patrick Mahoney. Online Internet Reproduction/Propagation/Quotation Encouraged, with this citation. Any Printed reproduction, other than for personal reading, requires written permission by author, patrickm at http://patrickm.gather.com/ or patrick1000000000@yahoo.com




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