Невероятно, сколько необычным способом подчас к историкам попадает определенный материал, способный сказаться на обычном восприятии событий прошлого. Пусть археология и представляет собой науку, ориентированную на постижение чего-то древнего, она вообще не чужда и новых открытий.   Огромное количество новых данных извлекается из книг. К примеру, художественная литература может дать знать, как формировалась та или иная культура, какие бытовые ритуалы существовали. Реально многое может дать изображение бытовой жизни, обрисовка культовых традиций и зон их проведения (храмов, капищ и проч. ) – по этим материалам есть шанс понять, к примеру, в каких точно регионах поселялись люди, где устраивали храмы.   Рисование и керамика, разнообразные культурные предметы, явления могут стать замечательными источниками освещения истинной исторической подоплеки определенной эпохи, определенной народности.   Важно обладать способностью грамотно подходить к такому знанию и не терять объективности, не трактовать полученные сведения только в угоду своей теории действительности.  

January 2017              A Traumatic Brain Injury ~ Life Before and After According to the Oxford American Dictionary, the word “trauma” is defined as “emotional shock producing a long lasting effect upon a person”. “What the hell happened to my hair !!” ~ first words out my mouth when I regained awareness from a coma”. A dedicated reader, hard-working and very responsible person my entire life ~ it all changed in a matter for moments with no knowledge this would ever happen, it just simply happened beyond anyone’s control. Here is my story as much as I can collaborate the details. Enjoy ~ So the story begins in a small upscale Catholic community outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The youngest of 5 children, good parents and a funky dog named Huey. My Dad was a milkman and Mom stayed home to manage our household. We were the all American family until it all fell apart. There are simply situations in life you can control ~ and those you cannot… but life is a gift and these experiences occur to teach valuable life lessons along the way. Some were pleasant and some were not, they range from being in the church choir to attending AA meetings with my family, writing this novel, if nothing else will help others in life. That is my ultimate goal. I spent 30+ years in the accounting and finance departments of both residential and commercial construction, an industry that was very profitable with an amazing staff of owners and employees. I was always in a position of trust and I took that role very seriously ~ with the credentials to prove it. One normal day I was headed back to work after my lunch break and was experiencing a very bad headache which was out of the norm for me. The headache got so bad while driving that I decided to pull over on the side of road.…

The First Symphony “If music be the food of love, play on”, says Orsino, Duke of Illyria, in Shakespeare’s ‘Twelfth Night’. “Music and women I cannot but give way to, whatever my business is”, reads the 9th March, 1666 entry of Samuel Pepys’ ‘Diary’. “For there is music wherever there is harmony, order, or proportion”, wrote Sir Thomas Browne (1605-1682) in his ‘Religio Medici’. Now what more can this dusty museum piece of a man possibly have to add to this symphony in praise of music? Within the bounds of propriety, no. But as is obvious by now, propriety is a social attribute very much alien to this old recluse whose pet project is speaking out of turn. He speaks not because he has something to say, but because he has to say something. Now, what was I going to say? Oh yes, music. Music! My association, or rather my attempt to associate with music, has always been an unhappy affair of unrequited love. Like two ships passing each other in the dark on open seas, if a hollow head might use a learned phrase. Take whistling, for instance. When I first managed to whistle after days of arduous attempts, I was still a little boy in baggy khaki shorts, thin legs, shoes a size too big. In short, Mickey Mouse, Myanmar version. I had been trying to  whistle during each and every class but nothing resembling a whistle emerged. But when it did emerge, it must come when the School Head, an Italian Catholic nun, was on her inspection rounds. When I heard my own whistle, I couldn’t believe my ears. The School Head (we had to address her as Mother Superior) couldn’t either, although for a different reason.My eyes almost popped out. So did hers. I whistled once more. It was a most beautiful feeling, knowing that the gust of wind that had passed your own two lips…

                       Silence, within its frozen reality, keeps an animated world of expressions. The expressions, unheard by the ears of thoughtless noise-mongers and whispered to the wisdom of calm wanderers. To them, silence is the gift of divine understanding, coherent and cogent.                           All revelations were revealed in the adoption of silence. The David son of Jesse knew exquisitely well the significance of silence. Rejoicing under its meek tranquility once, the prophet uttered a divine word, “When you are on your beds, search your hearts and be silent.” This is still serving as pedagogy of insights in the consecrated school of inspiration and admired by the ones who delve through the hidden territory of its meaning and purpose. This, ushering the genuine seeker into the secret, spiritual valley of self-realization. It is a prophetic prescription for highly social lips, talking worldliness most part of the day.                           When the sun sets behind the ocean of noises, when the shadows of darkness gradually grow to overwhelm the sphere, and the day beckons night to take its turn, the silence dawns slowly from the sacred heavens upon the awkward acoustics of retiring human beings to hush up the surroundings. The time it reaches its perfect adolescence, there begins an unending dialogue between the youth of empty spaces and the elegance of still shadows. The dialogues, floating freely upon the naked waves of gentle breeze, traveling against the echoes of trembling murmurs.                           There is a decisive intimacy between silence and thought. A proper thought when meditated upon consistently in silence, unleashes the streams of fortitude to dampen the rigid soil of conscious delicacies so the seed of higher sense and awareness be scattered upon it to reap the harvest of intellectual harmony.                           Silence has varied meanings. A mother’s silence to her child may mean devoid of any further…

THESE are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to TAX) but “to BIND us in ALL CASES WHATSOEVER” and if being bound in that manner, is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only to God. Whether the independence of the continent was declared too soon, or delayed too long, I will not now enter into as an argument; my own simple opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it would have been much better. We did not make a proper use of last winter, neither could we, while we were in a dependent state. However, the fault, if it were one, was all our own [NOTE]; we have none to blame but ourselves. But no great deal is lost yet. All that Howe has been doing for this month past, is rather a ravage than a conquest, which the spirit of the Jerseys, a year ago, would have quickly repulsed, and which time and a little resolution will soon recover. I have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret opinion has…

The cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind. Many circumstances hath, and will arise, which are not local, but universal, and through which the principles of all Lovers of Mankind are affected, and in the Event of which, their Affections are interested. The laying a Country desolate with Fire and Sword, declaring War against the natural rights of all Mankind, and extirpating the Defenders thereof from the Face of the Earth, is the Concern of every Man to whom Nature hath given the Power of feeling; of which Class, regardless of Party Censure, is the AUTHOR.

Earliest memory; a beauty that will last for life. Colors that shine and lights that twinkle. Warm hugs and giggles that last long. A child see things as simple as can be that’s why her joy and life is envied by the old. First step, first word, first birthday,  and how she wear her smile proudly. Why does the earliest memory cannot be compared by any memory we have? Yes, you are right, definitely right. Because it’s incomparable, never to happen again, and very first. A lullaby, do you remember it? That simple song, that calms you and make you sleep. A gift from your parents that gives you guidance for life. How that song remind you to have faith even if life is hard and turmoil is around. A song that will remind you love, that will make you remember well the word of God, and that He is our provision. A lullaby hoping one day you’ll grow with beauty and grace; to not let the world take these for it will mean death. Yes, that lullaby is the 1st great heritage of your parent to you and from you to your children and from them to your grand children down to your great great grand children. Sing it with me. Please remember.         

Tonight is not like all the other typical nights I’ve had. I love reading articles and forums and to my interest I have read one relating article in candymag that is connected to what situation I have right now and it strucked me. It moved me. It made me want to do this. So now I’ve decided to put all my words into writing.   My friends say I am creative; that I have potentials to be a writer, artist or some sort of an art and/or photo enthusiast, maybe. I once joined a regional essay writing contest in Filipino somewhere in Tagaytay City (PH) and to my surprise I won the 3rd place! I don’t know why, yes, I believe in my capabilities but I just don’t feel like craving them out for others to see. I just do it spontaneously or on-the-spot just like other students doing home works and school projects just to pass.    But tonight is not like all the other nights I’ve had. Something or better say, someone made me want to do this. I wanted my thoughts to be organized and somewhat for others to see. I’ve decided to share and let people see what I can do not to impress but to inspire them in whatever thoughts I may have.   And I hope this won’t be the last. I hope I will be able to gather all my thoughts and be consistent in writing.  I hope this thing would be successful that for many reasons, eventually, in some point of time this woud be my passion.

Part i Optimism Within ould we choose our environment, and were desire in human undertakings synonymous with endowment, all men would, I suppose, be optimists. Certainly most of us regard happiness as the proper end of all earthly enterprise. The will to be happy animates alike the philosopher, the prince and the chimney-sweep. No matter how dull, or how mean, or how wise a man is, he feels that happiness is his indisputable right. It is curious to observe what different ideals of happiness people cherish, and in what singular places they look for this well-spring of their life. Many look for it in the hoarding of riches, some in the pride of power, and others in the achievements of art and literature; a few seek it in the exploration of their own minds, or in the search for knowledge. Most people measure their happiness in terms of physical pleasure and material possession. Could they win some visible goal which they have set on the horizon, how happy they would be! Lacking this gift or that circumstance, they would be miserable. If happiness is to be so measured, I who cannot hear or see have every reason to sit in a corner with folded hands and weep. If I am happy in spite of my deprivations, if my happiness is so deep that it is a faith, so thoughtful that it becomes a philosophy of life,—if, in short, I am an optimist, my testimony to the creed of optimism is worth hearing. As sinners stand up in meeting and testify to the goodness of God, so one who is called afflicted may rise up in gladness of conviction and testify to the goodness of life. Once I knew the depth where no hope was, and darkness lay on the face of all things. Then love came and set my soul free. Once I knew only darkness and stillness. Now I…