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Happy 4th of July (Independence Day) to all.  While today, most will be celebrating the holiday with food, festivities and fire crackers, I found a little short story to remind us all of the brave ones that gave us our Independence. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, and hope that everyone has a safe and enjoyable holiday.


Legends and Short Stories to Share on Independence Day – 4th of July

A Gunpowder Story

By John Esten Cooke

In the autumn of 1777, the English decided to attack Fort Henry, at Wheeling, in northwestern Virginia. This was an important border fort named in honor of Patrick Henry, and around which had grown up a small village of about twenty-five log houses.

A band of Indians, under the leadership of one Simon Girty, was supplied by the English with muskets and ammunition, and sent against the fort. This Girty was a white man, who, when a boy, had been captured by Indians, and brought up by them. He had joined their tribes and was a ferocious and bloodthirsty leader of savage bands.

When the settlers at Wheeling heard that Simon Girty and his Indians were advancing on the town, they left their homes and hastened into the fort. Scarcely had they done so when the savages made their appearance.

The defenders of the fort knew that a desperate fight must now take place, and there seemed little probability that they would be able to hold out against their assailants. They had only forty two fighting men, including old men and boys, while the Indian force numbered about five hundred.

What was worse they had but a small amount of gunpowder. A keg containing the main supply had been left by accident in one of the village houses. This misfortune, as you will soon see, brought about the brave action of a young girl.

After several encounters with the savages, which took place in the village, the defenders withdrew to the fort. Then a number of Indians advanced with loud yells, firing as they came. The fire was returned by the defenders, each of whom had picked out his man and taken deadly aim. Most of the attacking party were killed, and the whole body of Indians fell back into the near-by woods, and there awaited a more favorable opportunity to renew hostilities.

The men in the fort now discovered, to their great dismay, that their gunpowder was nearly gone. What was to be done? Unless they could get another supply, they would not be able to hold the fort, and they and their women and children would either be massacred or carried into captivity.

Colonel Shepherd, who was in command, explained to the settlers exactly how matters stood. He also told them of the forgotten keg of powder which was in a house standing about sixty yards from the gate of the fort.

It was plain to all that if any man should attempt to procure the keg, he would almost surely be shot by the lurking Indians. In spite of this, three or four young men volunteered to go on the dangerous mission.

Colonel Shepherd replied that he could not spare three or four strong men, as there were already too few for the defense. Only one man should make the attempt and they might decide who was to go. This caused a dispute.

Just then a young girl stepped forward and said that SHE was ready to go. Her name was Elizabeth Zane, and she had just returned from a boarding school in Philadelphia. This made her brave offer all the more remarkable, since she had not been bred up to the fearless life of the border.

At first the men would not hear of her running such a risk. She was told that it meant certain death. But she urged that they could not spare a man from the defense, and that the loss of one girl would not be an important matter. So after some discussion the settlers agreed that she should go for the powder.

The house, as has already been stated, stood about sixty yards from the fort, and Elizabeth hoped to run thither and bring back the powder in a few minutes. The gate was opened, and she passed through, running like a deer.

A few straggling Indians were dodging about the log houses of the town – they saw the fleeing girl, but for some reason they did not fire upon her. They may have supposed that she was returning to her home to rescue her clothes. Possibly they thought it a waste of good ammunition to fire at a woman, when they were so sure of taking the fort before long. So they looked on quietly while, with flying skirts, Elizabeth ran across the open, and entered the house.

She found the keg of powder, which was not large. She lifted it with both arms, and, holding the precious burden close to her breast, she darted out of the house and ran in the direction of the fort.

When the Indians saw what she was carrying they uttered fierce yells and fired. The bullets fell like hail about her, but not one so much as touched her garments. With the keg hugged to her bosom, she ran on, and reached the fort in safety. The gate closed upon her just as the bullets of the Indians buried themselves in its thick panels.

The rescued gunpowder enabled the little garrison to hold out until help arrived from the other settlements near Wheeling. And Girty, seeing that there were no further hopes of taking Fort Henry, withdrew his band.

Thus, a weak but brave girl was the means of saving strong men with their wives and children. It was a heroic act, and Americans should never forget to honor the name of Elizabeth Zane.






may your day be filled with joy



There was one great master, a Buddhist master, Nagarjuna. A thief came to him. The thief had fallen in love with the master because he had never seen such a beautiful person, such infinite grace. The thief asked Nagarjuna, “Is there some possibility of my growth also? But one thing I must make clear to you: I am a thief. And another thing: I cannot leave it, so please don’t make it a condition. I will do whatsoever you say, but I cannot stop being a thief. That I have tried many times–it never works, so I have left the whole sport. I have accepted my destiny, that I am going to be a thief and remain a thief, so don’t talk about it. From the very beginning let it be clear.”
Nagarjuna said, “Why are you afraid? Who is going to talk about your being a thief?”

The thief said, “But whenever I go to a monk, to a religious priest, or to a religious saint, they always say, ‘First stop stealing.'”
Nagarjuna laughed and said, “Then you must have gone to thieves; otherwise, why? Why should they be concerned? I am not concerned!”

The thief was very happy. He said, “Then it is okay. It seems that now I can become a disciple. You are the right master.”

Nagarjuna accepted him and said, “Now you can go and do whatsoever you like. Only one condition has to be followed: be aware! Go, break into houses, enter, take things, steal; do whatsoever you like, that is of no concern to me, I am not a thief–but do it with full awareness.”

The thief couldn’t understand that he was falling into the trap. He said, “Then everything is okay. I will try.” After three weeks he came back and said, “You are tricky–because if I become aware, I cannot steal. If I steal, awareness disappears. I am in a fix.”

Nagarjuna said, “No more talk about your being a thief and stealing. I am not concerned; I am not a thief. Now, you decide! If you want awareness, then you decide. If you don’t want it, then too you decide.”

The man said, “But now it is difficult. I have tasted it a little, and it is so beautiful–I will leave anything, whatsoever you say. Just the other night for the first time I was able to enter the palace of the king. I opened the treasure. I could have become the richest man in the world–but you were following me and I had to be aware. When I became aware, diamonds looked just like stones, ordinary stones. When I lost awareness, the treasure was there. And I waited and did this many times. I would become aware and I became like a buddha, and I could not even touch it because the whole thing looked foolish, stupid–just stones, what am I doing? Losing myself over stones? But then I would lose awareness; they would become again beautiful, the whole illusion. But finally I decided that they were not worth it.”

story source: the thief
picture source: meditation_zen_moon.jpg
related zendictive story: the rumor mill
may your day be filled with awareness
There once was a bandit who lived in the foothills of the Himalaya Mountains in India. From the rocky crags and deep forests that cloaked the mountainous slopes he would prey upon hapless travelers, stealing their money or killing them if they resisted.
When a rich merchant wandered up the wooded path near his lair, the bandit leapt from behind a boulder brandishing his sword. “Your money or your life,” he yelled in his meanest, most intimidating voice.

The merchant fell to the ground shaking in fear. “Don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me!” he quaked. The bandit closed in menacingly. “Here. Take my money. Take it all,” pleaded the merchant, fumbling with his coin purse.

“Your parcels too,” demanded the bandit.

“Yes. Of course. Take them too,” said the merchant. “Just let me live.”

“Then be gone,” ordered the bandit, kicking the man in rear end and sending him scurrying back down the path.

It was all too easy to rob a man like the merchant. But not everyone was so easy.

One time when the bandit was lying in wait, a lone cloaked traveler came wandering down out of the mountains. As usual the bandit sprang his ambush, shouting “Get on the ground! You’re money or your life!”

But his victim didn’t drop face down in the dirt as most of them did. Instead, he threw back his cloak to reveal a soldier’s armor. “I’ll kill you before I give you my money,” said the soldier as he drew his sword.

“We’ll see,” countered the bandit as he leapt forward.

Their swords clanged as they thrust and parried, their clashing blows sending echoes bouncing off the canyon walls.

The soldier was brave, but he was no match for the well-armed, highly skilled bandit. And soon the soldier was lying face down dead in the dirt. The bandit took the soldier’s money, his sword, and armor. Then he hid the body since he didn’t want the army out looking for him.

So it went for the bandit as he robbed or killed his victims one after another. He continued this money-or-your-life pattern, year after year, day after day.

Until one day a pandit (a Hindu religious scholar) came walking up the path.

The bandit thought twice about robbing the pandit since he was a holy man. But the fact was that the area was now well known for his banditry and it was no longer frequently traveled. The bandit never knew how long it might be before another victim came his way. So that meant he considered everyone equally as a target.

As the holy pandit approached, the bandit sprang from his hiding place and knocked the pandit to the ground, holding him there with the sword pointed at his throat.

“Give me all your money,” demanded the bandit.

“I have no money,” said the pandit.

“I’ve heard that before,” said the bandit, searching his victim.

When it turned out to be true that the old man had no money, the bandit said, “Since you have no money, I will hold you for ransom and your friends will pay.”

“I will not let them pay,” said the pandit.

“Then I will kill you,” yelled the bandit, pressing the sword tip to the pandit’s throat.

But rather than tremble with fear, the pandit laughed.

“You think death is funny?”

“No,” said the pandit. “It’s funny that you think you can get what you want with a sword.”

“I can,” said the bandit. “I control your life in this moment.”

“Yes you do,” said the pandit. “But you don’t control my experience.”

The bandit paused in thought. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“You do indeed control my life. If you press your sword into me, then I will die. But you do not control my choice to be happy. Only I control that. In this moment I choose to be happy. Whether you bring me life or death is your choice. My choice is how I feel in this moment.”

The bandit stood speechless as his unarmed victim’s words pierced his heart. In all his years it had never occurred to him that external circumstances need not determine the choices in life.

For several moments the two men stood in silence. Then as the dust around them began to settle, the bandit dropped his sword. And with an open hand he helped the pandit up from the ground.

“No one has ever spoken to me that way before,” said the bandit. It had never occurred to him before that there was another way to find happiness or personal power than by controlling people or events.

“I want to become your student,” he said.

In that moment the bandit chose a new path. One in which he began to control his life experiences from the inside instead of the outside.

Story by Matthew Joyce


food for thought

to take from another… is an action to fill a void in oneself without feeling nor caring what the other may think or feel, there-fore not caring about ones-self.

have a peaceful day

Geronimo ~ by Chris Cade

It is said that all beings are interconnected, and that we only need to tune into the silence within ourselves to truly understand this. Not all of us believe this, however, and Geronimo was one of those people.

In his youth he had been a troublemaker as the result of being controlled by his parents and teachers, and he felt generally misunderstood. Perhaps this was because his rather large ego sent mixed messages into the world through a combination of hurting some while helping others.

For example, Geronimo took particular enjoyment in frying ants on the sidewalk with a magnifying glass, perhaps because as a child he had recurring dreams about them overtaking him while he slept. He dreamt of them biting him thousands of times while he slept, and he could remember so vividly when he awoke within his dreams the feeling of wanting to die. His dreams felt real, so real that he wasn’t ever quite sure that they were dreams until he awoke from them. The worst dreams were when he awoke, yet found himself to still be asleep having that nightmare.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that killing ants in his waking life felt justified. It was an eye for an eye, and from his perspective nobody was going blind. They were just stupid ants with no soul, no essense, no reason to be. To Geronimo, ants were a nuisance creature that should have never existed in the first place.

This destructive, abusive behavior was in stark contrast to his attitude towards people. He loved people, especially helping them succeed beyond their wildest dreams. A particular passion of his was to help groups of people that were being unjustly baised against in society, and he felt it was his duty to help right those wrongs. His ego led him to believe that he was these peoples’ savior, and that without his leadership and support they might never see justification. He never saw the irony…

Over time, Geronimo was successful in helping some of those wronged groups find their rights. So much so that he became a threat to the government in this third world country, and he was eventually framed for a murder he didn’t commit. Found guilty by an innocent jury that knew nothing of the corruption and deceit presented to them, Geronimo was sentenced to life in prison. Even worse, the first ten years of his sentence were to be served in solitary confinement.

Solitary confinement is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it’s a blessing to not have to deal with the ins and outs of the prison social structure. He didn’t have to worry about other inmates trying to take advantage of his newness, and he didn’t have to be concerned about whether or not the guards would beat him as was often the case. However, in exchange for the physical protections he had to give up some things people might consider far more precious.

His space was much smaller than what other inmates had, he had no bed, and there was only a small hole in the ground that served as a toilet. He slept on stone every night, but that wasn’t the worst part. In solitary confinement, there is no light. None. For ten years Geronimo spent his time in pitch black, and even worse, his food and water was sparse. Sometimes he wouldn’t be brought food for days, and his body had become weak, weary, and emaciated.

It was during this time in solitary confinement when Geronimo experienced the most excrutiating torment of his entire life. One night, while sleeping, he was overrun with ants exactly like his recurring dreams from years prior. The ants bit him fiercely, leaving welts all over his body, and when he awoke to them crawling all over he jumped up and started killing them.

Geronimo stomped and stomped. He flung them off of him, and he jumped up and down. He continued this until he felt no more ants on him and the room fell silent again. “Stupid insects,” he thought again to himself. “They know nothing.” And with that, he went back to sleep.

The next day, Geronimo was in for a big surprise. From a small opening in the darkness emerged a meal. An entire piece of stale bread, and a half cup of water. It was more than he had eaten in the last four days, so he was grateful. He lifted the bread to his mouth, took a bite, then set it down to enjoy a sip of water. When he went for his second bite, something incomprehensible had happened.

The bread was gone.

It had vanished into the mouths of the ants which were, yet again, also biting Geronimo unmercilessly. It was almost as though they knew he was the one who killed their ancestors from decades before and they were back for revenge. Night after night, the ants came back and the cycle repeated. Geronimo would stomp and jump, flick and fling, until all the ants left him alone. This continued for weeks, and Geronimo was genuinely concerned he might die from adverse reactions to all the bites.

Eventually, Geronimo gave up. He realized he couldn’t win this battle and accepted his fate. After eight years in solitary confinement, he was ready to die. When the ants came, Geronimo no longer had the will to fight them. He allowed their bites and stings to continue without resistance, and he counted the days until his death.

If the ants didn’t kill him the starvation would. He hadn’t eaten in over a week now, and he could feel the life slowly and progressively leaving his body. After a few more days, something miraculous happened — the ants no longer came to bite him. It was as if they had made their point, as though they had understood that there was no purpose to their own resistance of Geronimo, and thus there was peace in the cell for the first time in months. The ants knew that an eye for an eye makes the world blind, and they sensed that Geronimo finally understood this as well.

Now going on almost two weeks without food, Geronimo was coming to his last breaths. He wouldn’t have made it this long were it not for the water that was brought to him every other day. It was almost as though the guards wanted him to die of starvation. Maybe they did. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Either way, Geronimo was getting the short end of the stick. Then something miracoulous happened.

A little crumb of bread showed up in Geronimo’s hand. At first he didn’t understand it, but as hungry and mentally incapacitated as he was, he also didn’t question it. Gratitude filled his entire being, as he enjoyed the greatest crumb of bread he had ever known. A moment later, another crumb appeared in his hand. Again, he ate it graciously despite his confusion.

It wasn’t until he stopped trying to figure out what was happening that he came to understand. In his silence he felt something unusual… it was a massage from thousands of little feet on his hands. In this silence, in the peace when his mind no longer thought, he came to realize that the ants were bringing him food!

For the next two years that Geronimo remained in solitary confinement, the ants continued to bring him food. He regained his health, perhaps moreso than any other inmate in the prison, and more importantly, he gained a newfound gratitude for life in all its subtleties. Geronimo also gained thousands of new friends with whom the only common language was stillness.

After being released from solitary confinement, Geronimo spent the next twenty years in prison. It was different out there, with other people having opinions and thoughts… egos as they were called. Geronimo was different. His ego had dissipated as he came to realize that ants, the beings he once despised and killed, were in his opinion the greatest intelligence, the greatest teachers, and now, his greatest friends. So much so that no matter which cell he was moved to, the ants always managed to find him and bring him more food at night when nobody else could see.

It is said that all beings are interconnected, and that we only need to tune into the silence within ourselves to truly understand this. Not all of us believe this, but like Geronimo, eventually we all will.


have a zendictive day

A Sioux Story
Author: Unknown

The Creator gathered all of Creation and said:

“I want to hide something from the humans until they are ready for it. It is the realization that they create their own reality.”

The eagle said, “Give it to me, I will take it to the moon.”

The Creator said, “No. One day they will go there and find it.”

The salmon said, “I will bury it on the bottom of the ocean.”

“No. They will go there too.”

The buffalo said, “I will bury it on the Great Plains.”

The Creator said, “They will cut into the skin of the Earth and find it even there.”

Grandmother Mole, who lives in the breast of Mother Earth, and who has no physical eyes but sees with spiritual eyes, said, “Put it inside of them.”

And the Creator said, “It is done.”


Moral: We create our own reality. We create our lives; life is not about finding ones self, life is about creating ones self. I have heard it said that, “we are a direct result of our enviornment,” all that we have been exposed to growing up and all that we endulge in as adults. We are given the ability to choose and with that little distinction we create our lives. We are the artist that paint ourselves, be it light, bright, colorful or dark and/or grey, we create our own way.


The Romance of the Sun and Moon

The Sun journeyed every day, across the skies in search of a lake of magical powers. This lake will grant any wish if you drink of it. Now the Sun’s wish is that he can find his love that comes to him in the darkest night of the month…she’ll slide beside him…and love him like no other. His heart waits anxiously every month for her sweet loving…but it disturbs him that he knows her not.”

After many years of this romance he figures out a plan…and on her next visit he will try it…so when the darkest night of the month came and she slid next to him and loved him like no other…he put his hand in the dying fires ambers and filled his fingers with ash…and brushed his loves face as they made love.

The next morning she was gone…this shy one had left him again so Sun got up and went out into his day and searched for the lake as well as his love. The day was long and he found neither his heart sank as he fell to the other side of the earth. Then in the distant twilight he caught a glimpse of Moon. A lovely women who kept to herself and rarely seen by Sun. As he fell to the other side, he spotted the smudge marks on Moons face as he caught his last glimpse of her as night took over. Sun then knew who his love was and cursed that they lived so far away from each other. He was storming around for days.

Realizing they will never be together…unless he looks for the magical lake. That he can drink from it and ask for his wish to be with Moon always. Not just once a month when you see them both in the twilight. If you look real good she still wears the smudge marks as a reminder that she belongs to Sun.

Sun was granted his wish and an eclipse occurred. Sun and moon stood before the world together, a marriage that will last forever. Every so often an eclipse occurs and Sun and Moon renew their vows, and still, once a month they hold each other in the same sky.



have a harmonious day


A Hindu saint who was visiting river Ganges to take a bath found a group of family members on the banks, shouting in anger at each other. He turned to his disciples smiled and asked.

‘Why do people shout in anger shout at each other?’

Disciples thought for a while, one of them said, “Because we lose our calm, we shout.”

“But, why should you shout when the other person is just next to you? You can as well tell him what you have to say in a soft manner.” asked the saint

Disciples gave some other answers but none satisfied the other disciples.

Finally the saint explained , “When two people are angry at each other, their hearts distance a lot. To cover that distance they must shout to be able to hear each other. The angrier they are, the stronger they will have to shout to hear each other to cover that great distance. What happens when two people fall in love? They don’t shout at each other but talk softly, Because their hearts are very close. The distance between them is either nonexistent or very small…”

The saint continued, “When they love each other even more, what happens? They do not speak, only whisper and they get even closer to each other in their love. Finally they even need not whisper, they only look at each other and that’s all. That is how close two people are when they love each other.”

He looked at his disciples and said. “‘So when you argue do not let your hearts get distant, Do not say words that distance each other more, Or else there will come a day when the distance is so great that you will not find the path to return. They may end up in divorce courts, for instance.”

Author Unknown, story found here…Why we shout when in anger


I know I have said this several times but it is my favorite saying about anger,

Anger is like grabbing a red hot coal to throw at some one, it will get stuck to the skin of your hand and burn only you.

so simple, even a cave man can do it…

and of course where do you think the toddlers learn this?

may your day be filled with smiles


Two Pebbles

Many years ago in a small Indian village, a farmer had the misfortune of owing a large sum of money to a village moneylender. The moneylender, who was old and ugly, fancied the farmer’s beautiful daughter. So he proposed a bargain.

He said he would forgo the farmer’s debt if he could marry his daughter. Both the farmer and his daughter were horrified by the proposal. So the cunning money-lender suggested that they let providence decide the matter. He told them that he would put a black pebble and a white pebble into an empty money bag. Then the girl would have to pick one pebble from the bag.

1) If she picked the black pebble, she would become his wife and her father’s debt would be forgiven.

2) If she picked the white pebble she need not marry him and her father’s debt would still be forgiven.

3) But if she refused to pick a pebble, her father would be thrown into jail.

They were standing on a pebble strewn path in the farmer’s field. As they talked, the moneylender bent over to pick up two pebbles. As he picked them up, the sharp-eyed girl noticed that he had picked up two black pebbles and put them into the bag. He then asked the girl to pick a pebble from the bag.

The girl put her hand into the moneybag and drew out a pebble. Without looking at it, she fumbled and let it fall onto the pebble-strewn path where it immediately became lost among all the other pebbles.

“Oh, how clumsy of me,” she said. “But never mind, if you look into the bag for the one that is left, you will be able to tell which pebble I picked.”

Since the remaining pebble is black, it must be assumed that she had picked the white one. And since the money-lender dared not admit his dishonesty, the girl changed what seemed an impossible situation into an extremely advantageous one.

MORAL : Most complex problems do have a solution. It is only that we don’t attempt to think. Start your day with this thought provoking story and have a nice day.



I recently discovered that male penguins will present a pebble to a promising mate and if she excepts the pebble they will mate for life. This pebble is a mere stone of natural elements. Like when a man proposes to a women and gives her a diamond ring. I would like to think that it is not the size of the diamond that determines rather she says “yes or no,” but I know for a fact that sometimes it does and that would be a clue that the relationship is founded on something other than love. I would love to see a man give a woman a pebble and ask her to marry him and see her response. I have seen a man propose to a woman with nothing more than a cigar band and she said, “Yes.”

good luck on your journey through your day

 (two more days of work and I’ll be back)

Once the great Anthony of the Desert was relaxing with his disciples outside his hut when a hunter came by. The hunter was surprised to see Anthony relaxing, and rebuffed him for taking it easy. It was not his idea of what a holy monk should be doing.

Anthony replied, “Bend your bow and shoot an arrow.” And the hunter did so. “Bend it again and shoot another arrow,” said Anthony. The hunter did so, again and again.

The hunter finally said, “Abba Anthony, if I keep my bow always stretched, it will break.”

So it is with the monk,” replid Anthony. “if we push ourselves beyond measure, we will break. It is right from time to time to relax our efforts.”


moral: Balance, as with the ying and the yang; up, down, light, dark, hot and cold, there is exertion and relaxation, a necessity for muscles to operate properly. Life is the same, stress caused by enduring to much can only be resolved by a resolution and/or relaxation. Relax, take your shoes off! For the farther a man’s/woman’s feet are from the earth, the farther one is from them-self.

have a relaxing day


~My 200th post~

~today’s poetry~

Billy Jack movies …begin with the song, One Tin Soldier, a inspirational song that seems to seep into the soul as it begins to climax. The song’s story is as strong as the music itself.

One Tin Soldier Billy Jck version

One tin soldier” in the form of a story

(song/film clip,…click to view/listen @ YouTube)

I’ll post the lyrics as a poem for the day.

One Tin Soldier (The Legend of Billy Jack) (the lyrics)

by Dennis Lambert & Brian Potter, performed by The Original Caste (1970)
This song was performed by Jinx Dawson and Coven in the movie “Billy Jack” (1971)
One Tin Soldier

Listen, children, to a story
That was written long ago,
‘Bout a kingdom on a mountain
And the valley-folk below.

On the mountain was a treasure
Buried deep beneath the stone,
And the valley-people swore
They’d have it for their very own.

Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won’t be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgment day,
On the bloody morning after….
One tin soldier rides away.

So the people of the valley
Sent a message up the hill,
Asking for the buried treasure,
Tons of gold for which they’d kill.

Came an answer from the kingdom,
“With our brothers we will share
All the secrets of our mountain,
All the riches buried there.”

Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won’t be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgment day,
On the bloody morning after….
One tin soldier rides away.

Now the valley cried with anger,
“Mount your horses! Draw your sword!”
And they killed the mountain-people,
So they won their just reward.

Now they stood beside the treasure,
On the mountain, dark and red.
Turned the stone and looked beneath it…
“Peace on Earth” was all it said.

Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won’t be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgment day,
On the bloody morning after….
One tin soldier rides away.


…One tin soldier rides away.

Billy Jack has always been a favorite movie of mine and I could make a whole post on that alone, (if ever there should be a re-make of a movie, Billy Jack would be my vote) but for now I wanted to post this song since I heard it the other day and it hit me that it is inspirational in itself and perfect for my 200th post.

On the mountain was a treasure…

…”Peace on Earth“… was all it said.


Pocket Perspectives and Pat Bean have passed the Liebster Blog award to five bloggers and I was one of them. I am honored (~_~) bows humble… this makes the second time, I am truely blessed.

Quoting from Marie and Tales of the Heart who gave the award to Marie:

“This Award is given to bloggers who have fewer  than 200 followers, all in the spirit of fostering new connections.  Leibster is German and  means ‘dearest’ or ‘beloved’ but it can also mean ‘favorite’ ”

Thank you Pocket Perspectives

Those who are  nominated are encouraged to pass along this award to 5 other blogs that they read and value… and to go to each blog to let those bloggers know that they received the award.

I have seen where quite a few have already recieved this award and well deserved too. I will try and pick 5 who I thouroughly enjoy and have not yet recieved such an award.

1: DeeShrek : her blog; Literally Challenged and… 100 day chronicle of all things silly…. have amused me as well as enlightened me. If this award is to go to those I favor, her blog would be one of them.

2: The Mirror of Truth  Zen writing from Mark B Williams. His blog reminds me of me which is probably why I like it.

3: verynormal ; megan is full of heart. I don’t know how I found her blog but I am glad that I did. I find her youthfullness refreashing nd her posts seem to be what a blog is all about, posting daily the events that accure in their lives.

4: Granbee is an inspiration to so many. Writing again as a senior is well the read. A heart felt writer that leaves words of wisdom and encouragement to so many. bows (~_~) humble

5: Zumpoems …Zumwalt is a master poet (in my opinion) he teaches poetry by simply posting them. His challenges have inspired many, (my self, I have a hard time wrapping my head around such intellectual challenges but am determined to try as soon as I can shake this NaNoWriMo hole I’m in)

These are the five I will pass this award off to. There are so many I would love to hand this award to but most of them have already recieved such a merit. I think it is a marvelous idea and a way for us to share blogs and writers. Thank you Pat and thank you Kathy…. bows (~_~)




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Emma (Sunshine),

wedding day