A few meters behind, a 73 year old woman is sitting on an icy path, inching forward on her buttocks, using both her hand and feet to maintain her balance. She sits still and watches calmly as her son, daughter-in-law, and grandson save the family mule and a year supply of food grain.

An hour later, along with other families, they reach a swift stream. Without a thought the men, women, children hitch up their Ghos and Kiras (Bhutanese dress) to the waist and wade across, oblivious of the water which is at about freezing point. Young men pass lewd remarks at the women who are forced to expose their upper thighs to avoid getting their kiras wet. The women respond with quick witty remarks.

By evening, families are camped along the way in caves or under leafy trees. They care for the horses first and then sit down to a simple hot meal. By dark, after a few bottles of Ara and Sinchang (Local brewed alcohol and wine); they share their experience of the past months. This year, the highlight was the meeting in Gasa (District Head Quarters), where they met their King and Queens. They marvel that their king walked just as they did, all the way.

THE LAND

The four day journey from Punakha, usually stretched over several weeks as they relay a year’s food supply, brings the Layaps home to one of the most spectacular region in the Kingdom of Bhutan, the raw natural beauty of the high alpine range.

Spreading upwards from 12000 feet above sea level, Laya sits on the Lap of the 7100 meters Masagang, One of Bhutan’s 20 virgin peaks which are above 7000 meters. The mixed conifer forest above Gasa Dzong, dotted with maple and rhododendron in full bloom, merge into groves of birch, juniper, maple and mountain cane. The entire slopes are richly colored by wild flowers.

Across Bari-la and Kohi lapcha, two rugged passes, the terrain leaves behind the tree- line and the vast alpine grassland undulate towards the great northern glaciers. High above the crystal waterfalls which often cut through the ice formations on the cliff side, and the clear rapid streams, are their sources, the turquoise fresh water lakes many of which the local population hold in sacred awe.

This is the world where the snow leopards roam, where the blue sheep, Sambar, and Musk deer graze in solitude. Lower down, this is the home of Takin, the Himalayan black bear, numerous deer and the wild dog. The winged inhabitants of the region include the raven, wild pheasants, snow pigeons, the red billed cough, the alpine swift, the snow partridge, and the black necked crane.

HISTORY

The Layaps called their home Bayu, the hidden land, with good reasons. The cluster of villages is completely hidden by ridges and appears suddenly when the travelers reaches the first houses. The people believe that they are protected by an ancient gate leading to the main village. It was here that their guardian deities kept a Tibetan invasion at bay. In an important annual ceremony, the Layaps pay homage to the protective forces which turned all the stones and trees around the gate into soldiers to repel the invaders.

But if such legend is history in Laya, history is also Legend. This was the place where Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal entered Bhutan. In a journey which resounds with conquest of human and supernatural dimensions the Shabdrung crossed a chain of Mighty Himalayan ridges and entered Laya from Tibet. In a small meadow below the villages, called Taje-kha a chorten shelters the footprints of the shabdrung and his horse.

History and legend are still the realities of today. The pristine mountain ranges have not succumbed to changes over the centuries. Neither have its people, like in many other parts of Bhutan, the land nor have the people existed in a harmony which the modern world does not adequately appreciate. And it is in this context that the Layaps must be viewed. It is against this rugged backdrop that they must be understood.

THE PEOPLE

“The Layap smell”, is one well known comment. “You cannot depend on the Layaps, is another, often from civil servants. “The Layaps are backward”, say people living in the lower valleys. “The Layaps are alcoholics,” say many who know them, most people stop to look when a layap woman passes by in her distinct, perhaps ‘quaint’ kira. Some would point her out to friends.

The Layaps is all of these, if you do not look beyond the surface or if you do not understand him in the right context. A discerning observer would probably find, however, that the Layap has far more substantial qualities to be admired than those passing these derogatory comments.

If the Layaps are weather beaten as the alpine rangelands they are as untamed and unpredictable as the forces of nature which are sometimes harsh That is why, perhaps, the frustration of a civil servants who finds that the Layap cannot be bound to a deadline or even to a responsibility. When you call them they always say yes but never turn up, explains one District official.

The Layaps are also as open as their environment, normally free of social inhibition. Men and women are open and relaxed on issues like the boundaries sexual behavior. This, in fact is, often exploited by occasional visitors like tourist guides, military patrolmen, and civil servants.

Survival has also sharpened the wiles of the Layap. Today, it is a nightmare for District officials to pin a Layap herder down on a number of yaks in his herd because he wants to avoid tax. Call a Layap family for official duty during the busy season and the best bet is an old woman who is not needed at home.

But inside the rough Layap exterior is a tenderness which is invisible to the casual observer. Every Layap, for example, identifies with a 46 year old horse owner who risked his life to scale and icy cliff to his horse which had fallen. The man was oblivious to the bitter cold as he sat with his dying horse for two days, feeding the animal water from his cupped palm, the water mixed with his tears.

The Layaps are most tender in their feelings for the Yaks which are the mainstay of their semi-nomadic existence. They officially own about 2000 of Bhutan’s 30000 yak population, both believed to be reduced figures. The 300 to 400 KG beast of burden is a source of food, shelter, draught power, transportation and part of the layap Identity.

THE LIFE

The carefree life-style comes with the alcohol consumption by the layap men. Nearly every men drinks heavily, often losing time, effort and hard earned money in drunken stupors and converting all the hard toiled food grain into alcohol. 63 years old Ap Tshering claims to be a typical example of the Layap man. “I have lived a hard life,” he says with a proud smile. “Now I have two important goals in life. I brew sinchang (local wine) during the day and I drink it at night.”

In this patriarchal society where girls are married early and move to the husband’s home, polyandry is on the decline. With clear cut gender roles the woman bears a serious domestic responsibility, looking after the Yak herds, digging the fields, weaving the traditional clothing, and generally keeping the home and family together. The men are responsible for trade and the transportation of goods, their own and for the Government.

THE COMMUNITY

With about 60,000 semi nomadic pastoralists spread across the kingdom’s northern region, the 800 or so layaps share a strong community spirit. They are fiercely protective about the image of their community. Internal squabbles are normally settled within the community and even a child will not divulge the name of a Layap who is guilty of some wrong doing.

As a community, the Layaps are also proud of their self sufficiency in the basic necessities of life despite the day to day physical difficulties. Wealth is measured by the number of Yaks in a herd or the volume of rice. The Layaps are also quick to inform the visitors that they constitute an important proportion of the Workforce in Gasa District.

THE SPIRITUAL

There is a strong spiritual element in the cohesion of the Layap community. The men pay obeisance to their Pho-la, the local guardian deity. Every archery match, every business trip, every journey, every development project starts with a prayer at the Pho-la’s sacred shrine, a small chorten above the village.

Like the broader Bhutanese society the advice of the village astrologer is sought on most activities and the local medium is usually consulted during illness. It is the legacy of the Shabdrung that the Layaps celebrate the Bumkar festival to plant barley and the Aulay festival during harvest.

A superstition is strong and is, in fact, one of the protective forces of the Layap identity. E.g., the distinctive Kira (women’s cloth) of Layap women has been kept partly because of the belief in its necessity. A superstition also controls etiquette and other aspects of the local traditions.

TRADE

The layaps are traders, bartering their animal products for food grain and other edibles every winter. Starting in late October, when nature offers a respite between the rains and the snow, they move to Punakha, their horses and every person laden with Yak meat, butter cheese, incense plants from the wilderness and sometime trans border goods like dried fish, shoes and brick tea. By March, when the trail becomes accessible, they move back with rice, oil, salt, sugar, chillies, clothing and shoes.

The only relief in this annual venture is a visit to the popular Gasa Tshachhu (hot spring) where they join people from all parts of the country in the baths which are believed to be of curative value and a boost to general health.

Yak products account for 49% of Layaps earning, 18% comes from trade, 15% from animal transport and 4% from tourism, the last benefiting only 5 or 6 horse owners who are in contract with tour operators in Thimphu.

CHANGE

It is largely the exposure from these annual trips that have given Layaps a view of a rapidly changing world outside. A handful has ventured as far as Thimphu. And, in recent years, they have watched the widening gap in economic progress with some dismay.

The urge to reach out and pluck the fruits of progress which their fellow citizens are enjoying is beginning to gnaw at the roots of Layap culture. The goal of one man was to build a house like the one he saw in Punakha, a woman preferred a car so she would be spared a heavy loads, a young girl envied the Punakha School girls, and an eight year old boy rolled his father’s hat around the campfire, his mind on the plastic toy cars he had seen in the shops.

Two women who had been selected to visit Thimphu in a cultural entertainment team returned embarrassed about their Kiras because they were clumsy compared with the nylon kiras of the Thimphu women. When told by a Thimphu official that the beautiful and unique Laya kira should be preserved she retorted. “So you can send tourists to take photographs of us?”

PROGRESS

It is an enlightened policy that the Royal Government of Bhutan has sensitively pursued in the mountains of Laya. The goal is to improve the life of the people without upsetting the delicate balance in the distinct cultural identity of the people, the pristine natural ranges, and the rich wildlife.

Finely tuned to the migratory pattern of the people, the priorities reflect an emphasis on improving the Yak herds and fodder, on the crops, on the road, and on the transportation of goods.

But the main benefits of development in Laya have come from the establishment of Health unit, a veterinary service, and the School. The Layaps however, place their long term hopes on a 100 or so children who represent the education of the community.

The Layaps have not been aware of the image of backwardness they suffer among a section of Bhutan’s population. “Once educated, our children can face other people with pride,” said one weary mother. A 56 year old father summed up the general sentiments, “Last month, when I went to Thimphu, my son read the bus ticket and showed me where to sit,” he said glowing with pride, his right hand gripping the boys shoulder. “I did not have to face the shame of sitting in the wrong seat.”

BEING A LAYAP

Laya today confronts an issue which Bhutan, as a nation, has been grappling with for the past four decades. If change is inevitable, will the experience be more harsh than the bitter winds which blow over the mountains?

It is a question with a familiar ring to it. It is a question facing Bhutan. The Layaps represents the Bhutanese population on a smaller scale, the harmony with their natural environment, the deep pride in their unique cultural identity, and the fierce will to protect their home.

“We Layaps have our good points and bad points.” Explains one village elder. “But in the end, our biggest pride is our land and our self. Yes we go out to trade, buy supplies, to drink, to flirt. We complain about our hardships, the heavy workload, and the tough road. We are embarrassed about our backwardness. But we would never want to be anything but a Layap.”

Source by Druk Tshering

The post Layap – The Nomadic Herders of Bhutan appeared first on American Survival Gear.

A HIGHER GOOD

INTRODUCTION

CAIN’S QUESTION

I was fifteen when I died. It was long before anyone used the phrase “Near Death Experience” or talked publicly about “Out Of Body Experiences.” I don’t know how other NDEs or OBEs feel about these terms, but I consider them euphemisms of a society scared to death of death.

I died. That’s a fact. Then I came back, and I’ve spent four decades thinking about it.

My death experience was so profound, and so at odds with Western religions, that about 20 years passed before I even spoke of it. At first I was confused and thought that if I let enough time pass the experience would fade like a dream. Such knowledge was a burden, especially for a cloistered Catholic so young. A Catholic education back in the 1950’s was nothing short of dogmatic brainwashing, complete with the certainty that anyone who did not strictly adhere to every aspect of the “one, holy, apostolic” church doctrine was headed straight to Hell. So I tried to forget it, to deny it.

Nevertheless, even after four decades, my death experience remains the most vivid memory of my existence. With the wisdom of hindsight, I now realize I had to experience the lies of life before I could accept and understand the truths of my death. I’m writing it down now because of a sense of duty, and because I obviously went further into this mysterious realm than the many who have come forward during the past decade.

I strongly suspect that other souls throughout history, and even more in the modern age, experienced the same thing, returned to this life, and remained mute. At the very least, I suspect that many of the outspoken NDEs of the common era aren’t really telling it all.

It says in the Tao Te Ching: “Those who know do not talk. Those who talk do not know.”

However, I believe it more appropriate to say: Those who know don’t know how to express it, or they refuse to do so from fear of religious labeling or even persecution. After all, even Lao Tzu disappeared into the wilderness, never to be seen or heard again, right after he handed over the Tao Te Ching, a little book of just 81 verses that spawned one of the major religions of the world.

At any rate, NDEs are difficult to talk about, especially at first. During the past decade, I’ve only shared my experience occasionally, and then only when compassion has moved me to do so. Each time I have struggled for words and similes to describe conditions and attitudes for which there are no close comparisons on Earth.

I’m not sure of all the reasons I’m baring my soul, so the speak, here and now. The logical reasons are numerous. None of them, however, carry enough weight to motivate this task. I write this because I must. I don’t expect to profit much from it. Because of my age and my health, I doubt it will be widely read until after my passing.

At any rate, it won’t be read until the world is ready to understand. It will be read during an age in which enough people are ready to burst through the confines of preconceived notions and think for themselves. It will be read when enough people are sick and tired of the social sickness they see in the world. It will be read when enough people are ready to stray from the frightened flocks that have continued to blindly follow the same paths to fearful isolation and violent mayhem.

That time, I believe, is near. It is no coincidence that today we have many thousands of living souls who have had experiences as profound as did Saint Paul on the road to Damascus. Everyone today knows of someone who claims to have had an NDE or OBE. You can attribute this phenomenon to the proficiency of modern medicine, but it is all part of a spiritual evolution that is leading mankind through a transitional period.

You won’t find these thousands standing on busy street corners attracting attention with signs warning of the end of the world. They’re not starting any new religions, and they wouldn’t think of intimidating you with threats of eternal damnation. Nor do they ask for donations to spread the “word.” When talking of spiritual matters, they never raise their voices. Theirs is a still, small voice. They are the meek, but they have no desire to “inherit the Earth.” They’ve seen something infinitely better. They just seem to be quietly waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.

There is, however, another reason for general silence among those enlightened by death. Wrapped up in the concrete understanding of answers that have puzzled philosophers and theologians throughout time is the realization that everyone must find their own way.

Knowing this, I realize what I say may have little effect on some. Even I had to make my own mistakes, suffer my own pain, and learn my own lessons; for without the mistakes, the pain, and the profound lessons-everything is little more than intellectual supposition. People can believe just about anything, but they only know for sure what they have experienced.

In many ways, my life has been richer and more purposeful because of the death experience. My existence this time around has been full and diverse and gratifying. I wouldn’t trade with anyone, though I do wish I could be more like Jesus, Gandhi, Lao Tzu, Buddha and a few other of my long-gone heros.

Like most everyone who reaches a certain age, I realize I have been blessed in many ways, but I also have experienced the depths of despair and what seems like more than an average share of pain. These painful realities of life, nevertheless, find graceful balance in the deep joys and interests. I have a passion for life, and it has been interesting. The worst part of it, however, has been continually witnessing the needless anguish, suffering, and violence that my fellow men inflict upon themselves and each other. In that respect, it seems a self-perpetuating curse in which I’m trapped-like a subject in one of Rod Sterling’s “Twilight Zone” episodes.

I am completely human and carnally burdened by the same instincts for survival and egotistical satisfaction that distorts spirituality and happiness in every human being. I retain the common fears of being hurt and of disease, but I have no fear of death. “Such a second death hath no power.”

I know my life must follow some natural course, so I walk along looking for people to help, trying to make sense of the chaos in the world and in myself. I have known God well for nearly all of my life, but have struggled a lifetime trying to figure out people. I have known Heaven and Earth, so I am left perpetually home-sick on this planet, no matter where I reside.

I think all old souls have this longing to be elsewhere, whether they’ve had a death experience or not. For most of them, the afterlife and past lives are like that name that’s just on the tip of the tongue. They know it, but they just can’t seem to think of it or grasp it. I believe this causes some people to think they must have been adopted, that they are the offspring of some alien abduction, or some other weird fantasy.

I’m going to detail my death experience in the first two sections of this book, but the goal of this work is to define the underlying causes of the chaos in this world and offer some spiritual suggestions that will relieve it. To do this I will question the most basic presumptions that have hampered and plagued mankind for thousands of years. These are not his fanciful presumptions about God, but the things he takes for granted about himself, those things that he has denied so repeatedly that they have fallen below his examination.

The underlying foundation of all our problems are buried in what we loosely dismiss as “human nature.” It has little to do with gods or devils, but with the denial of the very nature we readily dismiss without serious and objective introspection. Instead we create all manner of gods and devils to project the focus into the supernatural, and we war with each other over these egotistical definitions.

Our ideas of God, or a supreme system of balance, is the foundation of our moral philosophy. Therefore it also is the foundation of every social structure. It doesn’t matter whether one believes in God or not–all the rules and attitudes of a society are founded upon thoughts and philosophies that transcend the animal instincts of this realm of existence. This is the noble intent of man. From these thoughts we derive our ideas of moral behavior, social order, and justice.

Unfortunately, we most often twist these noble ideas of supreme rule to justify continuing cycles of violence. We use them to rationalize cruel and/or domineering behavior and retribution on a personal and national level. And we continually deny any personal responsibility for the unabated evil of the world with a logic that is always pointing the finger at some higher transgressions of our fellow man.

Based upon actual experience, I intend to stand this human logic on its head by debunking the standard metaphysical suppositions that lies at the foundation of societal structures. I’m going to explain a love and goodness that transcends our primitive ideas of justice. I’m going to tell you of a Higher Good.

My hope is that what I say may open your mind enough to rediscover the peace and love and hope that the collective ego-driven world has buried. Accept or reject whatever you wish. It’s all up to you. In the end, you are the only one responsible for finding the Way.

Religious organizations and philosophical persuasions all have their tightly cloistered camps. Each of us gleans from that religion and/or philosophy our own attitudes which constitute a personal spiritual philosophy. Whether it comes from the East or from the West, we alone are responsible for that personal spiritual philosophy. Because of free will-no one can be lead, or even blame someone else for being misled-because to follow is a choice. We’re all responsible for our own path.

On this path each of our spiritual attitudes supersede the influence of Plato, Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Freud, mom and dad, or whomever. We must all seek truth individually and responsibly-without a person, people, politics, or religion as the ultimate authority or scapegoat. To do so, we must learn to think for ourselves.

As a result of my death experience, I have developed a spiritual attitude that is neither eastern or western. It recognizes the good in each and strives for a Golden Mean. This book provides a different way of looking at God and his people (regardless your religious affiliations) so that His unconditional love can fill you with understanding.

This Golden Mean Philosophy can lead to a true and lasting peace on Earth, something that is impossible under the present conditions of modern religious dogma, which gains its authority from the negative concepts of control through fear mongering and power through separatism. As long as we continue to label ourselves as Christians or Muslims or Jews or whatever we continue a tradition of tribalism that is as old and as barbaric as man himself.

As a species, we have learned little from the continuing separatism of our history. We have never grasped the profound implications of the first question asked by a man in the Bible: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” This question, of course, was posed as an evasion from God’s question of: ” Where is Abel thy brother?”

Cain’s evasive question assumes that the answer is no, and as long as we continue to assume that the answer is no, we are condemned to repeat the past as an unavoidable aspect of what we justify as human nature. Until we give the underlying assumptions of Cain’s question our most serious attention, we will never change man’s quarrelsome and murderous nature. By assuming the answer is no, a cancerous attitude lurks in the hidden recesses of man’s most minor egotistical tendencies and surfaces in evil acts that he justifies with political and religious reasoning.

It is time for man to address the implications and ramification of these underlying assumptions, because what the first murderer may have done with a rock, we now can do with weapons that threaten our biological clock.

Much of what I’m about to reveal will offend small-minded egos and be condemned by religious fundamentalists. Religions, the way they are organized and promoted, are not the paths to love and peace-they are the insidious force behind societal differences and societal problems. They are dictatorships of totalitarian rule that ironically appeal to the worst parts of our human nature while camouflaging themselves in self-righteousness.

Religions are the most powerful and dangerous forces on Earth, and they become most self-righteous and aggressive whenever their financial structure and political power face criticism. It is built into their doctrine: to question them is to question God, and to question God is a sacrilege. “God will get you” is the implication. But I pay no heed to that threat, because God already got me.

What I’m about to tell you will not change you. It will make you think. It may even make you think differently. But it will not enlighten you or effect any peaceful change. Only you can do that, and toward that end I have devised the Three Phases of Spiritual Enlightenment to help you find your own Way. It is possible to climb God’s mountain from various sides, but all paths merge at the top. All paths lead back to the source of life. But you may have to stray a bit from the frightened flocks and dogmatic directives to find a more forthright route. You may have to think for yourself, using the simple wisdom of your soul instead of the convoluted reasoning of political and religious dogma.

Today most of us still accept the confining fences of preconceived views, prejudices, and attitudes which influence everything we see, read, or hear. As long as we remain enslaved by those biases, we remain destined to repeat the violent sessions of the past. Nothing has changed, because the general and basic human attitude toward self has not changed. We are still sheep being lead by wolves.

I have a message that can change that; a message that can help you realize the awesome power that resides within you. Why I was chosen to deliver it is beyond me. During the course of my life, I have broken, to some degree, every commandment-especially as they are defined in the Sermon On The Mount. I certainly am no saint. I’m just an ordinary man with an extraordinary experience.

My words are not meant to convey ultimatums or condemnations-but to eliminate them. They are meant to speak past the ephemeral fears of your ego to the eternal compassion of your soul. My formidable task is to formulate logical hypotheses for revolutionary statements of faith.

I am not pompous or insane enough to claim that I speak for God, but I do speak of God with the authority of actual experience.

May he help me here.

A Higher Good is 264 pages and is available from Amazon and other online bookstores.

Source by Ron Kruger

The post A Higher Good appeared first on American Survival Gear.

Our dwelling

During our stay in Zambia, we stayed in a thatched cottage at the Luangwa Valley. Situated by the Luangwa River, we were in the perfect spot for game-viewing. Every now and again we witnessed a buck, elephants or a herd of buffalos coming to the riverbanks for their daily drink of water.

Staying in a cottage felt like heaven after months of sleeping in a tent on a paper thin mattress. Don’t get me wrong, both Matthew and I enjoy camping, but I think that after awhile you start to miss small luxuries such as a bed.

After a nice long shower, I sat on our veranda overlooking the valley at sunset. With so much beauty in the world, a sunset still is one of the most beautiful. It seemed dead quiet even though there were people having a good laugh in the background. All I really heard was the soothing sound of the water and birds calling softly to each other. I was at peace and soon joined by Matthew when he came back from the local supply shop with a bottle of wine.

The rest of the evening we enjoyed our dinner, some wine, but mostly the sounds of nature. Being on the road for almost two years now, I can say that the both of us have become more peaceful within. The topic of discussion was how many, or how little, people enjoy nature these days. Matthew was making the point that he felt people would enjoy life more if they could be surrounded by nature more, go camping, safari or even just picnicking. But life seems too rushed these days.

The land of the free

The following day we headed out in the early morning hours on our first day’s drive. Zambia is well-known for its vast protected wilderness areas. It’s the sad truth that Africa’s wildlife areas are rapidly disappearing thanks to economic growth and with it Africa’s wildlife, but countries like Zambia have been committed to saving Africa’s wildlife and their land.

The Luangwa Valley specifically is any bird-lovers paradise. According to the tourist information they have recorded over 400 bird species in this area alone. During our drive we saw quite a few Antelopes, buffalos and zebras. But it was only after lunch that we were granted a special scene of survival plays. Not everybody would enjoy witnessing the oldest war in nature, that between lions and hyena.

Lions are by far the stronger between the two groups, but hyenas have another factor counting in their favour: their numbers. This was a fight for territory. It’s a well known fact that specifically lion males hate hyenas with a passion. It was quite a big pride of lions, and it seemed like this was a no-contest match, but never underestimate the cunningness of hyenas. Using their even bigger numbers to intimidate, it seemed like the hyenas were going to win this one. But when a young male lion stormed forward, we knew it was the end.

The lions were too strong and soon the hyenas ran off. My heart racing throughout the entire ordeal, I did not know whether I should watch this display of hatred and dominance or simply look away, but the sounds alone were horrifying. Some would say they were lucky to witness such a fight, I say it was heartbreaking. Matthew tried to film as much of it as possible, but it was difficult trying to focus since it all happened so quickly. This was definitely very unusual spectacle to witness, as usually the game rangers are very careful not to take their tourists to the actual killing scenes, but rather the aftermath. When we spoke to the game-ranger he told us that we really did observe something rare, since most of these situations only happen at night. This time round, we were at the wrong place at the right time so to speak.

After that we headed back to the cottage. I think we were both a bit stunned after the episode. I’ve seen videos of this kind of fight before, but never in my life would imagine witnessing such a thing in real life.

Well however the fight happened, I’m sure that neither Matthew nor I would ever feel the same after that. It was the incident that would forever change our lives. It reminded us that there is more to life than the hustle and bustle of city life. That life is intended to be enjoyed and that you should experience every thrill wholeheartedly. Zambia proved to be one of the most thrilling African safaris we’ve ever experienced, and yes, we will go back!

Source by Lulie Swanepoel

The post Zambia – The Last Animal Kingdom – African Safaris appeared first on American Survival Gear.

The usual focus is on what an individual does, not what he doesn’t do. This is normally passed over, not as the consequence of a conscious decision, but because the focus itself is not considered deeply enough. To know what is left out we must first know what is put in; but we become so focused and entangled with that that the question of what has been left out, what has been denied, never appears.

Greek & Armenian Forebears

A noteworthy example is Gurdjieff’s heritage. That his father was Greek, his mother Armenian is well known. We know that his family suffered at the hands of the Turks and Kurds, yet in none of his writings does he ever excoriate them. Nor does he express a personal grief at the murder of his father. Nor does he speak of the genocide of the Armenians, his mother’s people. Only when Gurdjieff tells us about the “skeletons” arriving at his door in Essentuki in July 1918, does he give us an idea of what he felt. In February of 1918 he had sent for his family in Alexandropol to come to him in Essentuki to escape the impending Turkish invasion. His mother, brother Dimitri and his wife, younger sister Sophie Ivanovna and her fiance Georgilibovitch Kapanadze came, but Gurdjieff’s eldest sister, Anna Ivanovna Anastasieff, had stayed behind in Alexandropol with their father who refused to flee.

That May, with the Turks advancing, she and her husband Feodor and six little children fled, along with twenty-two other relatives, losing their home and homeland, and, cold and hungry, walked on bare feet over tortuous mountains. In mid-July, looking like skeletons, they arrived in Essentuki, bringing the news of the murder of Gurdieff’s father by the Turks. Said Gurdjieff, “The enemy, stronger and better armed than their own troops, will inevitably mercilessly and indiscriminately massacre not only the men, but the women, the aged and the children, as was the order of things there.”

The only reference Gurdjieff makes to this persecution is in the “Armenian” chapter of Meetings with Remarkable Men. “The Aisors suffered very much in the last war, having been a pawn in the hands of Russia and England, with the result that half of them perished from the vengeance of the Kurds and the Persians….” In this chapter he also speaks of the destruction by invasion and earthquake of Ani, the ancient Armenian city of churches, and then makes a curious statement, that this is the only time he has, or will, “take from information officially recognized on earth.”

If we do look at ordinary information, one fact leaps out: after centuries of enduring killings and persecutions by the Turks, Armenians suffered two horrific genocides, the first in 1895 and again in 1915-16, under an official Turkish government policy of annihilation. On April 24, 1915, during World War I, the Armenian Holocaust began. By the time it was over 1.5 million Armenians, 750,000 Assyrians, and 400,000 Greeks had lost their lives.

We know that shortly after the 1915-16 genocide, from March to July 1917, Gurdjieff stayed with his family in Alexandropol and then went to Essentuki. Events of the Russian Revolution worsening, in August 1919 Gurdjieff left his family in Essentuki and undertook the hazardous journey of guiding his students between the Red and White armies and then over the bandit-infested Caucasus mountains. Arriving in Sochi, they took a boat to Poti and then went overland to Tiflis, where they arrived in January 1920. That Easter, Dimitri arrived in Tiflis to say that their mother and sisters and families had survived a harsh winter with famine and typhoid rampant. In June, with the Red Army having conquered the areas north of the Caucasus and threatening to take Georgia, northern Armenia and Azerbaijan, Gurdjieff left for Constantinople, arriving there in early July. Meanwhile, with his mother and family staying on in Essentuki, Anna and her family returned to Armenia. In November 1920, when the Turks once again invaded Armenia, Anna and everyone in her family was killed except a son, Valentin, one of only 30 people who escaped out of 400 villagers.

No Haven in Turkey

In Constantinople, Greeks were only marginally accepted, Armenians not at all. Only five years earlier most Armenians in the city had been sent to concentration camps to die or were taken into the wilderness where they were bludgeoned to death. With what Gurdjieff called the “wiseacring” of the “Young Turks” – Kemal Attaturk and other young military officers and reformers bent on making Turkey a secular state – becoming more virulent, he says that since the situation began “to have a particular smell, I decided – without waiting for the various delights which were bound to develop in connection with these wiseacrings – to get away with my people as quickly as possible, with our skins whole.” Leaving for Europe in August 1921, the following year he was able to establish the Institute in France and bring his mother and the remainder of his family to safety.

Years later, when living in France, Gurdjieff said the Armenians were “a wonderful people of great antiquity. They had not let their country be overrun by Western civilization. They had kept up their old customs, particularly the roots of their language, which was full of old sayings, old customs of the past, and this kept their people clean and unspoiled by the slime of the West.” Family was important to Gurdjieff, and he understood the objective meaning of war and destruction. No more than alluding to the immense suffering endured by the Armenian people, and the personal suffering he and his family endured, never did Gurdjieff vilify the Turks. In the true Christian meaning, he turned the other cheek. Of this, he said in In Search of the Miraculous:

Let us suppose that a man decides according to the Gospels to turn the left cheek if somebody strikes him on the right cheek. But one ‘I’ decides this either in the mind or in the emotional center. One ‘I’ knows of it, one ‘I’ remembers it – the others do not. Let us imagine that it actually happens, that somebody strikes this man. Do you think he will turn the left cheek? Never. He will not even have time to think about it. He will either strike the face of the man who struck him, or he will begin to call a policeman, or he will simply take to flight. His moving center will react in its customary way, or as it has been taught to react, before the man realizes what he is doing.

Prolonged instruction, prolonged training, is necessary to be able to turn the cheek, and if this training is mechanical – it is again worth nothing because in this case it means that a man will turn his cheek because he cannot do anything else.

Gurdjieff turned the other cheek often in life. As he said many times, “Exterior play a role, interior never.”

This can be seen at the time of Gurdjieff’s death. When Attaturk and the Young Turks came to power in 1923 they had immediately banned men from wearing the traditional fez, women the veil. Though outwardly he wore western clothes Gurdjieff remained traditional. In 1949, dying of cancer, Gurdjieff was taken on a stretcher from his apartment to the American Hospital. He was sitting up, smoking a cigarette, and on his head he wore a red fez.

Notes

1. I do not pretend. J. G. Bennett, Witness, p. 158.

2. Skeletons. G. I. Gurdjieff, Meetings with Remarkable Men, p. 278.

3. The enemy. Ibid., p. 278.

4. After centuries. Robert D. Kaplan, Eastward to Tartary (New York: Random House, 2000); Christopher J. Walker, Armenia: The Survival of a Nation. rev 2nd ed (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1990).

5. Take from. Meetings, p. 88.

6. To have a particular smell. Ibid., p. 283.

7. A wonderful people. Cecil Lewis, All My Yesteryears: An Autobiography (Rockport, Maine: Element, 1993), pp. 174-76.

Source by William Patrick Patterson

The post Gurdjieff’s Cheek appeared first on American Survival Gear.

I am often asked, “What encouraged you to follow your inner child guides to a pristine private island paradise to live the rest of your life surrounded by coconut, the tree of life?” Here is my story.

At age 36, after traveling the globe extensively, I had a strong vision to settle down in my own pristine Shangri-la with many coconut trees. I was then on a 16 year world sojourn, traveling together with my English partner Mark. Our adventures had taken us to some of the world’s most pristine, rugged, serene, remote tropical wilderness and animal reserves, plus canyons, rivers, lakes and island paradises fringed with coconut trees. Though shy and uncomfortable with people since a little girl, I was totally relaxed in Mother Nature, particularly in the tropics near a cleansing sea and eating organic tropical food from the wild.

During my adventures, short-term travelers would often ask questions about my long unusual journeys. Amazed myself that many of my wild dreams came true, I would tell them I was blessed to have among others, Peter Pan and TinkerBell as my mystical spiritual friends. I came to believe it and live by my mystical tropical island dream.

My ‘vision to settle’ was not your typical ‘Buy a house in the country and settle down’! My dream was a pristine paradise somewhere in the tropics far away from people. It was private and had a lush tropical jungle backdrop. I could see an island surrounded by blue crystal clear water and a nearby coral reef, teaming with fish, with a long white-sand beach fringed with coconut, my trees of life.

Amazingly, I could still see mountain peaks, caves and grottos in the picture, too. I could see myself growing my organic garden, learning how to eat coconut in many varied ways, sprouting my organic seeds in my own kitchen, eating cleansing raw food and having pets to nurture and love, but I was still unsure if I would live on a pristine island beside a tropical turquoise blue sea or on some mystical mountain.

Most people would say this was an irrational fairytale fantasy; to me it was real. I knew it was out there and I had to search. And with the help of Peter Pan and TinkerBell as my mystical guides, find my pristine paradise and my coconut trees, I did!. Like a coconut washed to a far distant shore, I started from an organic tropical coconut seed on my tropical soil, and then I grew my tropical island roots. Later I would grow my sturdy trunk, my huge green leaves and fruits to share, growing strong with the trees of life surrounding me.

Finding the Soil to Plant the Coconut Seed

Mark had airline tickets back to Australia, suggesting we look for a place in tropical Cape Tribulation, Northern Queensland, another paradise we both loved. However living in the West did not fit my mystical journey and my way of life. I could feel my need of a paradise in the East, far away from what most call ‘normal’ civilization. Still Mark was my partner; we had traveled together for more than 14 years, sharing much love, joy and experience. He would often suggest I wake up to reality and I would struggle with questions like: Why did I, at 36 years of age, still believe such a fantasy fairytale about an exotic paradise with a white-sand beach and coconut trees existed? Would I be searching my whole life for an unobtainable mystical island dream? Could there really be gods, goddesses, fairies and spiritual guides and a remote island paradise I could live on?

While traveling through Malaysia on our way back to Australia, I was sharing my far-fetched private island dream with a Swiss couple while sitting at a small street-side restaurant in Penang. Immediately both said that my vision sounded like the pristine area they had just left, the spectacular bay, cliffs and white-sand beaches of El Nido Palawan, Philippines.

Immediately I heard bells in my head and felt Peter Pan beside me again saying the words “what are we waiting for?” l looked at Mark, who, though amazed with my mystical adventures, agreed to add yet another detour into our plans to get back to Australia. Weeks later after trekking off the beaten track through rice paddies and waiting days in a crocodile infested riverside village for a weekly market boat, we found our way to the unforgettable shores of Bacuit Bay, home of 21 pristine islands, with coconut fringed beaches and the main town of El Nido.

After just two weeks here, surprising even me, I was adamant that I would find my island dream in one of these exotic gems. Mark had not the heart to share my dream, yet I heard myself tell him, “I will manage it alone from here and find my pristine coconut fringed island.” We said goodbye, he thinking I would come to my senses with time and experience. I knew I was here for life. Four months later, together with Peter, I was shown the unforgettable shores of my destiny. As if my friendly spiritual guides had waved their magic wands, almost all of my wishes were in front of me on this tiny magical island of Malapacao. It was my exotic, mystical place here in Asia. It was a gem surrounded by other gems, a pearl in a pristine place. It was a tropical island surrounded by blue crystal clear water, a nearby coral reef..teaming with fish… It had a long white-sand beach fringed with my beloved tress of life.It had a lush tropical jungle backdrop… It had many rugged mountain peaks, a cave and a grotto for meditation… Turtles visited the shore often to lay their eggs and exotic tropical birds shared space with colorful butterflies, dragonflies, lacewings and my trees of life.

If all of this was not enough, it had a carved small pool just on the shore that I could use as my wishing well for future diva dreams. I was ecstatic and in love. Finding my vision had taken all of three months. Now making it my tropical paradise home and becoming self sufficient on coconut and organic food was going to be the dedicated work of my life, a challenge like moving a mountain!

It was September 1987, over 23 years ago, when I was washed to these shores with Peter Pan and TinkerBell, arriving with almost no savings left. Few westerners lived in our area, few locals had met a foreigner and fewer spoke English. Even though I was well traveled, living among people from such a simple culture was like stepping back in time 50 years or more. I was ever-so green!! I had not even thought it through, how I would survive eating my beloved coconut, what I would do for funds. My family (though not close) believed like Mark did, that one day I would return to my senses and come back to Australia; there was no way I was going to ask them for any financial help.

Growing my Delicate Coconut Roots

Home for me was here, with these coconut trees, there would never be another in this lifetime. I had made the forever, life commitment. I had to trust Peter Pan and TinkerBell as well as my new island gods, goddesses and fairies to show me the way I needed to follow. There was nothing in my head saying “NO”; that it might not or would not work. I had been born a Leo, in the year of the Rabbit, and luck was my middle name. I would mesh with the local islanders and balance this most important shift in my life. I would grow like the coconut tree and learn new skills to live closely with nature. I learnt to make young coconut jelly, coconut brittle, coconut biscuits, crunches, coconut oils, coconut cheeses, coconut champagne and coconut honey. I would adapt to this tropical island lifestyle, as I believed the answers were here with the trees, and as long as I asked, all would be revealed. Looking back, I see this as my saving grace.

Thinking rationally rarely allows someone to start a tropical island adventure such as I did! Yet in hindsight, I can not help but be surprised by just how irrational I was 23 years ago! Like others starting their ‘Robinson Crusoe lifestyle’, I planted more coconut trees in my garden for my millionaire’s salad, grew my sprouts and explored the lush natural vegetation. I found lot of ways to add coconuts to wild vines, green leaves and shoots for my cleansing raw food organic diet. I started a farm to grow and then sell things so I could survive here.

On several of my trips to Manila (a 30 hour or longer cargo boat ride) I brought back 6 imported breeding sows, 2 boars, 80 egg laying pullets and 200 just born chicks, 100 Muscovy ducklings and 100 baby Australian Silver quail. Over time the pigs bred an average of 80 piglets every six months. I would sleep with the sows at their birth; clip their umbilical cords from their mothers and their eye teeth to prevent them from hurting mums teats. My island helpers even taught me how to castrate the young male piglets.

The chickens would lay approximately 60 eggs a day creating a small income and to this menagerie I acquired a few pairs of Campbell Road Runner ducks and a pair of Bengala guinea fowl. With the help of a homemade kerosene incubator, I multiplied my animals and my eggs one hundred fold.

To add to more excitement I bought 2 mother goats with 4 baby kids and 1 Billy goat. Life was full….lots of experiences……lots of daily happenings. I fed coconut in various forms to all my animals and at one point I had over 1000 of them to care for. I made salted, century eggs and balut from my ducks, sold quail eggs and created other interesting local delicacies. To provide better health for my young animals, I raised thousands of earthworms for their Vitamin B12 vermiculture. That is another story all on its own and to this day I am grateful to my humble earthworms in my organic garden supporting my cleansing raw food meals.

I sold young healthy pigs and if ever any got sick, their new owners would return them to me to doctor. I would feed them coconut, charcoal and green leaves; let them wander along the beach and under the coconut trees, until they got their energy again. I would even sleep with them; wrapping them in woolen scarves at night so they could feel warm and secure and I would massage and shampoo them with cleansing coconut oil. As is my way, I prefer not ask a person to do anything I would not do myself! Eventually I could not bring myself to kill my animals and slowly I become a spiritual vegan. It was a wonderful learning process and another step in my organic island way of life.

During that time a few other foreigners came into the area, but they seldom stayed long, finding life too challenging. I would rarely meet them, finding little common ground with people, more at home hugging the trees and rocks, dancing with the wind, snorkeling with the fish and eating coconuts and organic food. Using local folklore tales Peter Pan would help me weave fantasies of the island shapes, acknowledging the fairy guides. Inabuyatan Island in front of me, became The Princess who had cried herself to sleep hundreds of years ago, distressed with the world for allowing the Goddesses to be destroyed. Now with the help of her seven sisters, she had woken, aware that these strong women were on the scene again. A Mammoth Elephant leaning up against her as a symbol of Yin and Yang.

I, myself became a bit of a legend too – it was not hard to do here! Alone, celibate and a mystical spiritual diva who enjoyed strange dances on the beach (often nude) and with an odd cleansing diet, loving my life in nature. Foreigners and locals alike called me ‘The Crazy Coconut Lady of Malapacao.’ To those who knew me it was said in kind fun. However, most believed that in time, I would get lonely enough and give up my organic island lifestyle. Though several visitors asked me this question, my answer was always the same, “No, never!!”

In the early days life was about survival, with huge challenges. It was not a bed of roses that is for sure! Days and dramas were real and not for the weak minded. Living here can be like being in the Wild West and I had my hands full just trying to understand a culture that is so different from our world. There were days I admit I hit some mighty bumps and did buckle and bend just like the coconut tree does – it happens to all of us! But these obstacles were heaven-sent to make me a stronger diva. I believe one makes the most of what we have….I had what most people only dream of, it was a precious magical gift…how could I NOT put my heart and soul into it?

Still after four years of trying to survive, I failed to earn enough for basic needs with my farming venture. In 1992, with few facilities, I opened my doors to regular tourism, offering stretcher beds on the beach and visitors had to help me prepare meals and hot drinks on a wood fire. I had no towels, bed linens and knew nothing about bokashi composting toilet in those days. It was a rustic beginning with lots of coconut drinks and meals on my exotic menu and budget travelers loved it. Offering a tiny haven for passing yachties, I sold the coconut fruit, coconut oil, coconut champagne and veggies, other fresh fruits, green leaves and water, as well as offering refueling, laundry and garbage disposal services.

This led to an article in the Hong Kong magazine called ‘Fragrant Harbor’ and during the months of March and April before the Hong Kong changeover of 1997, groups of eight or sometimes twelve yachts would anchor in my spectacular bay. Their owners would shout from their boats, “Leeann, is it OK to come ashore for dinner? We are 14 of us, have you got some raw organic food for us, we are tired of tinned junk.” “What about some coconut champagne too” Slowly, with better income, I created more cottages under the coconut trees, adding facilities, increasing my rates, services and sharing the benefits of cleansing raw food.

In 1996 my island view was chosen as the gem of all the 7001 Philippine islands by the author of the Lonely Planet Guide Book. Our Beautiful ‘Princess’ (Inabuyatan Island) also fringed with coconuts was on his front cover. Popularity brought more visitors and in those short-lived years, I was able to pay off many of the islanders who owned or claimed to own my part of the island.

Often I would accommodate thirty or more guests staying in-house daily. Supported by the help of the local islanders, we offered basic friendly services, raw and semi-raw food meals and unforgettable island adventure. The downside of more visitors was the difficult challenge of sharing my pristine environment with people who enjoyed things that I considered toxic and definitely not meant to be here in my mystical private island with my island guides.

To keep my delicate spiritual balance, the first to go off my island services was meat, followed by cigarettes, then alcohol and coffee and sugar. Having acquired an even deeper interest in the health benefits of coconut, making virgin oil as well as coconut flower honey and many other organic and herbal raw food, I would cringe at the amount of over cooked food I served on my table, including breads, buns and tarts, with not a hope in paradise to incorporate the benefits of food combining or not drinking with meals, plus what I had learned.

Like any business, one is obliged to serve what a customer wants or pay the price and lose business. In the face of much advice to the contrary, I chose the latter, adamantly believing money was not my driving force, love of my island and quality of life was! and I had to find a way.

Growing my Sturdy Tall Coconut Trunk

At this time I was completely cut off from the outside world in so many ways. No news, no radio, no newspaper, no TV, no Internet, no computer, it was just too much of a challenge to find the power. Magazines didn’t exist here unless someone brought them in, and there was no music. And none of that mattered to me. YES!! even music!

When you are a child of nature, eating a mostly cleansing raw diet, you are content with the whisperings of wonderful elementals and divas. The many and varied sounds of the sea, the swishing of the fronds of my enormous trees above was, is and always will be my musical pleasure. These trees asked me to hug them, the heavens guided me to build sundecks to embrace the light; the sea beckoned me to swim in it daily. For me the wind offered fine vibrations within the coconut trees that I adored. I was and still am content with simplicity and the song ‘All The Sounds Of The Earth Are Like Music’ is so true for me. Along the way I was blessed to have visitors share their Gentle Arts. I learnt to practice yoga, tai chi, sword dancing, and do tarot and angel card readings too.

Sometime in mid 1997, an English couple, listening to me voice my current island dreams, suggested I was outlining a detox cleansing spa. All I knew then of Spas were hot water pools in Germany. Fortunate enough to be managing a detox fasting center in Puerto Rico, these two people had my full attention. Another important spiritual serendipity was in the making. A little later, a kind Austrian offered to create my first website for me; an Internet Cafe worker in Puerto Princesa agreed to check emails and send them up in printed state. I replied in longhand. So many rustic beginnings! Imagine notes traveling via a difficult local bus/truck ride over 400 kilometers of steep mountains up to El Nido, then waiting for a rare island boat trip. It was the same process to get the answer back down to Puerto Princesa. Some email replies would have been 10-15 days old before the sender would receive it! I can laugh at the journey, so different from now!

Some of my guests wonder at my patience with the continual computer challenges we have here day by day now, but I know its all relative and I take nothing for granted. Though my library was minimal then, one book called “Touch For Health”, written by John Thie, stood out prominently. I had carried this book on many of my travels, even to the base camp of Everest. Once here, I had placed it in a corner, forgetting it, having no partner to learn with or practice it. On a whim I wrote to John Thie’s Foundation, hoping the 20 year old address might still exist and that my letter might reach them. My request to entice a ‘Touch For Health’ instructor to the island to teach me Kinesiology went off with a passing visitor. It was like sending a message in a bottle asking TinkerBell to deliver it. I never used the postal system.

I quickly learnt about mud/clay bakes, coconut body scrubs, seaweed wraps and various massage treatments. A Reiki Master sailing in a yacht anchored in my bay and I managed to convince her to stay longer, teaching me Reiki 1 and 2. Later I was blessed to learn about efficiency micro-organisms (EM) (AEM) and bokashi and started my organic garden under the coconut trees with these wonderful gifts of Mother Nature. I even belatedly learnt about the bokashi composting toilet, something still on my list of things to create.

My diva buds were expanding, spring was in the air and important groundwork was in progress. With the help of a few loyal visitors, I began building several rustic, comfy cottages with garden bathrooms, dreaming of my new ‘Adventure Wellness’ programs. In 1998, nature threw additional spice into my challenges. First global warming came, bringing ten months of drought with ancient tropical trees crashing down. Sea temperatures, generally only 26 -28 degrees centigrade rose to over 32, killing all the soft corals and much of our hard corals, all under my eyes with nothing I could do. It was a sad unforgettable time for our earth.

To cap off the year of 1998, on December 12th, with most of the construction of my new cottages almost completed, one of the strongest typhoons in 60 years ripped into us head-on. It was called ‘Norming’ and we were in the ‘Eye’ and in its wake as it went first one way, then the other it destroyed one third of my retreat, burying my beautiful white-sand beach under heaps of rubble, not to mention many small sea creatures. Almost all of my tall coconut trees were damaged, for one full year I would have no coconut fruits from my island trees. Where to continue, what to rebuild first…where were the funds to do it? I had $500 only in the bank, just enough to keep a US dollar account open. It had to go and more had to be found. Many visitors were booked to share my island paradise between Xmas/New Year, and would be deeply disappointed otherwise.

This was a huge challenge on its own; however on the heels of this, I had to ride out the aftermath of two political dramas during 1999 and 2000. These issues stopped tourism in its tracks for several years. My Adventure Wellness dreams went on the back burner. I had to survive with my coconuts…but how! Most Westerners involved in any commercial venture returned to their country to take on part-time work to maintain their Philippine lifestyle. I had nowhere to go and no money even if I wanted to leave, which I did not. I prayed to Peter Pan and TinkerBell for the answer, asking for change, asking for balance. My wonderful island spirits again heard my prayers and I managed to turn every difficult corner as I came to it.

Stretching my Limbs and Dancing my Huge Coconut Leaves

In 2002 a connection was made with the owner of Dharma Healing, Hillary Hitt. She graciously shared much information on fasting, detox, cleansing and self healing. I linked my web pages with those of Hillary’s, but nothing moved. I clearly saw detox fasting programs as my future and prayed to know where and how to begin, but though 52 years old, I had never fasted a day in my life and had only the vaguest idea what detox fasting meant.

True to the rhythms of my mystical life, less than ten months later, a full of life 73 year old Norwegian man, Frank Jenson arrived, loved my coconut paradise and wanted to stay for 2 months or more. I asked what he did for a living. Frank replied that the was a “Touch For Health” (kinesiology) instructor.

So here was the person I had asked Peter Pan to send me five years before, sent off in note in a bottle! Frank also owned ‘Monhos Velhos’, a detox fasting retreat in the Argyle, Portugal and serendipity was knocking again. Frank got an almost FREE stay; a great trade off, and I was over the moon! You might call this luck; I called it as usual, my destiny. Like so much in life, our paths are mapped out.

Learning Kinesiology was fun, but what I appreciated the most was Frank sitting beside me in my office for a two full months, (mostly nude!), rebuilding his detox fasting website. I was his willing pupil. I learnt about fasting and detox and I learnt of life-changing journeys. We were using cleansing products Frank had brought from Portugal and without even looking into where or how I would get similar items, I started my detox fasting retreat adding more coconut products to them, converting my website totally to detox and transformation and my life simultaneously too.

It was a huge financial risk to convert from simple tourism to offering detox, fasting, cleansing programs at higher prices in this remote area, but slowly with the help of TinkerBell and her magic wand, everything came slowly together. I was and still am blessed to have had the opportunity with my guides, to find and then create one of the most beautiful paradises on earth for cleansing detox, fasting and self healing. I could think of no better way to support myself in this lifetime than to share my paradise with caring visitors, mostly women, seeking a quiet sanctuary like mine for their own cleansing self healing work and to find their own balance. Plus the thrill that people could be sharing their holistic alternative health knowledge with families and loved ones, and contributing just that little bit more to the healing of our world is an added bonus.

Like many of us that move into the alternative health care detox field, I too came with my own personal baggage of health challenges. Up until that time, I had buried many of these in the spirit of ‘Just get on with it!’ Peter Pan had told me to be strong, to even play a very masculine role in order to set the groundwork. Now was my own time for spiritual growth and healing, to explore my feminine energy; to nurture and transform ME. To share with love and ever growing understanding, I had to first listen to my deepest inner child awareness. These are the beautiful gifts of my island, my island guides and much serendipity. There is so much more than we will ever know about our spiritual destiny, we must just trust and walk our inner child path.

Appreciating and Sharing My Flowers and Fruits

As diva life has a way of evolving so gracefully, I was destined to meet my next mentor, Farida Sharan, the owner/founder of The School of Natural Medicine, Boulder Colorado. After years of personal study, practical experience and commitment in the field of alternative natural health detox and fasting, I earned my Diploma in Naturopathy and forged ahead on my tiny coconut island. Offering colon irrigation services long before many people in my part of the world had ever heard of it, added to the legend of Leeann ‘The Crazy Coconut Lady of Malapacao’. When I began my fasting, self healing programs the flowers and fruits came into my life. As I speak they are in full strong blossom, blooming slowly more each year. Visitors now come to my pristine island from all walks of life and from every corner of the globe for guided full body detox parasite cleansing, colonics, organic raw food, coconut ology teacher training, as well as for Naturopathy, Alternative Health Care Practicum’s.

Many on my visitors become open to detox cleansing usually after they have become burnt out from stress and an unhealthy diet. Many know what to do, but forget to listen to their bodies. Sadly many get sick and take toxic medications, especially for depression, or seriously ill with cancer. Many have had no luck with regular doctors and don’t know what to do. Almost all have parasites and bacteria issues, many have sticky blood and acid pH.

Part of the process of becoming healthy is learning to love ourselves and listen to our spiritual inner child and our hearts; to learn to see our body as our temple. I feel so blessed to have my strong coconut trees and magical divas here with me every day. Ideally we should detox regularly and eat colorful living vibrant unadulterated organic food with lots of coconut, be mindful when and where we eat; spend time in nature and talk to the trees, love as many people around us as we can and enjoy and share the flowers and fruits of our labor. With this, appreciating our winding path of truth and growing inner child spirituality, becomes easier. This is my gift to the universe, to share my spectacular island with its beautiful white-sand beach with people seeking to love themselves more, to change, transform and to self heal, to find a way back to balance from a very toxic world through mother nature.

Created in love, living life in love, surrounded by love, encouraging love

Leeann

Source by Leeann Cruz

The post A Detox Fasting Paradise – Pristine Private Island – Coconut, the Tree of Life and Organic Raw Food appeared first on American Survival Gear.

1. Campfires Reach Extreme Temperatures

While everyone knows that fire is hot, campers are often surprised at the extreme temperatures a campfire can reach. It only takes a few hours for a campfire to reach 900 degrees Fahrenheit, which is hot enough to melt lead.

2. Coals Continue to Burn Underground

Many people bury their fire when they are done out of the belief that it will snuff out the flames. However, hot coals left beneath the ground can continue to smolder. If they are near tree roots or other flammable materials, then they can reignite and cause a forest fire. Coals can burn underground for an extremely long time. In Australia, Burning Mountain contains underground coal that has been smoldering for over 6,000 years.

3. Campfires Have a Long History

Evidence of what is believed to be the first-known fire has been discovered in Swartkrans, South Africa. There, charred antelope bones suggest that humans were cooking their meat over a fire as far back as 1.9 million years ago. Interestingly, it appears as though dried grass and leaves were used as kindling rather than wood.

4. A Campfire Has Many Purposes

Although campfires tend to be viewed as a gathering place for socializing, they have multiple purposes. For example, a fire can be built to signal for help when a person is lost in the woods. It can also be used to dry clothing, deter wildlife and burn refuse when there is not a trash receptacle available.

5. Netherlands Holds the Record for World’s Largest Bonfire

There are many different ways to build a campfire and some people take pride in building the best. The world’s biggest campfire had an overall volume of 151,288 ft³. It was lit on New Year’s Even in 2014 and burned for a total of five days.

6. Campfires are Color Coded

Those dancing, colorful flames are more than just fun to watch since the colors can tell you a lot about the temperature of the fire. The red light emitted comes from the cooler parts of the fire, and the bluish-white flames signal where the highest heat exists.

7. Most Wildfires Are Due to Human Error

Humans start approximately nine out of ten wildfires and campfires are the biggest culprits. For this reason, it is best to use existing fire rings when they are available and always make sure a fire is completely extinguished before leaving the site.

Using a campfire for warmth, food and survival is a tradition that dates back to the earliest humans. Today, kids at summer camp can also gather around the campfire to enjoy a sense of camaraderie as they sing songs and tell stories. With these bits of trivia in their pocket, your kid will be the star of the next campfire gathering.

Source by Genie Fletcher

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It is believed, that the Royal Bengal Tigers of this region are the most ferocious and the most intelligent among the brethren though they are comparatively smaller in size. Adapting through centuries to the climatic challenges of the Sundarbans, they have mastered every art in the trade. Shredding all euphemisms, the simple fact is that, Sundarban tigers are man-eaters by necessity. And it is necessity again that drives people to invade the territory of the wild.

The Bon Bibi (lady of the forest) legend uses the power of folklore to draw a connection between human beings and the world of nature and it is also a pertinent comment on the necessity to curb greed. The story serves as a melting pot for different cultures but is not very well known outside the Sundarbans. Local theatre companies, or ‘jatra-dol’-s as they are called in Bengali, travel from village to village enacting the story, all the year round and especially during the worship of Bon Bibi.

Although all the rituals of worship are Hindu in form they always begin with the Muslim invocation ‘Bismillah’. Also, the Bon Bibi and her brother Shah Jongoli (Jongol means ‘forest’ in Bengali) do not have origins in Bengal, nor even in Hindu mythology. They are born to the Sufi faqir Ibrahim in the Arabian city of Medina, the holiest of cities in Islam. Archangel Gabriel set them on the divine mission of making the land of tides fit for human habitation. Bon Bibi, however, is always found dressed like a typical rural Bengal housewife. This bit of discrepancy is perhaps accounted for by the fact that a large population in this area is dalit Muslims. So a connection is immediately established transcending the worship of Bon Bibi over religious barriers to a traditional plane.

Until the arrival of the Goddess, the jungles are ruled by demon king Dokhin Rai, who is always hungry for human flesh. Bon Bibi overcomes him and a truce is finally struck as boundaries are strictly defined within the jungle. The human settlement became the territory of Bon Bibi and Dokhin Rai, who at most times appeared in the semblance of a tiger, withdrew to rule over the wilderness. This balance is disrupted as a greedy fleet owner named Dhona who crosses over to Dokhin Rai’s territory in search of forest treasures. The demon manages to ensnare the human troop in the forest. In order to be released, Dhona agrees to deliver a poor boy named Dukhey, who was the last to join his troop, as ransom to the demon king.

Therefore, Dhona departs with his fleet managing to leave Dukhey behind to be devoured by Dokhin Rai. Just as the Demon was about to pounce on the poor boy in the guise of a tiger, Dukhey remembers his mother’s advice to call on Bon Bibi in times of need and appeals to the deity to deliver him from his ordeal. Bon Bibi appears as if in a flash and drives the demon into the forest after giving him a lesson to remember. Later, she restored Dukhey his health and sent him back to his mother.

The legend therefore brings back Nature to its normal course, reinstating order and balance. On another level it is a story of reinstating faith. In the Sundarbans, till date, no native will enter the jungle without seeking the blessings of Bon Bibi. The presence of the tiger, alias Dokhin Rai is so palpable that the word ‘tiger’ itself is a taboo among forest people. The fear is such that in case of a man being killed by the tiger, it is generally accepted, without doubt, that he himself was at fault for having his greed take over his better senses.

Source by Preetu Misra

The post The Bon Bibi Legend of the Sundarbans appeared first on American Survival Gear.

It’s almost always a great time to take an Australian cruise. The Australian cruise season officially runs from October through March, and is counter season to many other countries, which is great for travelers who are seeking to escape winter or holiday traffic. I mean who wouldn’t rather escape mounds of snow for tropical beaches? There are nearly 30 different ports that you can cruise from in Australia, depending on your travel destination, and the average cruise lasts between 12-16 days, but can be shorter.

While most cruise travelers enjoy the offered excursions, it is important to remember that most of your time will be spent aboard ship. Therefore, it is important to make sure that your accommodations and ship surroundings are comfortable, and that there are activities onboard that you would find entertaining. A great magic show or funny comedian could serve as your saving grace if there is a change in your itinerary or cancellation altogether. Purchasing travel insurance is also a great way to guard against any cancellations that may occur while you are cruising. Besides, having travel insurance is a great way to ease your mind while taking in the tropical and exotic Australian scenery.

One of the most popular cruise destinations in Australia includes the Western Coast. Areas like Kimberley Wilderness, the Abrolhos Islands, Rottnest Island, and The Ningaloo Reef are included in this region, and are frequently traveled by cruise ships such as North Star Cruises’, the True North. This multi-million dollar ship was designed with the expedition traveler in mind, and caters to both traveler’s expensive taste and their love for nature. The True North even includes its own helicopter and has a “no shoes” policy onboard to protect the floors. Now that’s class!

Coral Princess Cruises also travels The Kimberly, but offers cruises to what is known as The Top End, as well. The Top End is a national park that includes the Coburg Peninsula, The Great Barrier Reef, Arnhem Land, and Cape York Peninsula. Almost every sea lover dreams of exploring The Great Barrier Reef at some point in their lives. The pristine waters, tropical marine life, and one-of-a-kind corals are a snorkeler’s paradise and offer a rare view of nature undisturbed.

No matter where you are going on your next Australian cruise, you can be sure that there is a destination with your name written on it. What are you waiting for?

Source by Sabrina Carasco

The post Experience the Trip of a Lifetime – Cruise Australia appeared first on American Survival Gear.

Bison were the most numerous single species of large wild mammals on Earth and is the largest land mammal in North America since the end of the Ice Age. A male buffalo may stand as high as six feet and weigh up to 2,000 pounds.

Prior to the white man’s desecration of the American wilderness, Native Americans depended on the buffalo for food, clothing and shelter. Indian culture had a reverence and respect for the buffalo and used the meat, hide and bones of the beast.

In the 19th century buffalo were hunted to near extinction. In the 1880’s only a few hundred of the magnificent creatures still survived.

The major reason for the extermination of the giant herds was the profitable harvesting of buffalo hides. There was a lucrative export trade to Europe of buffalo hides to make the luxurious rugs and robes so coveted by the wealthy elite. Old West buffalo hunting was very often a massive commercial enterprise, involving organized teams of professional hunters, backed by a team of skinners, gun cleaners, re-loaders, camp cooks, wranglers, blacksmiths, teamsters and numerous horses, mules and wagons. Men were even employed to reclaim and recast lead bullets taken from the gut piles.

From 1873-83 there were over a thousand of these professional hunting companies operating in the United States. History records that as many as 50,000 – 100,000 buffalo were executed per day, dependent on the season. The buffalo hunters left behind carcasses that slowly decayed into giant piles of buffalo bones, making the prairie so white some said it looked as if it were covered in snow even during the summer months. After the carcasses decayed, the buffalo bones were collected and shipped back east.

Many of these professional hunters, such as Buffalo Bill Cody, slaughtered hundreds of animals at a single stand and many thousands in their career. One proud professional hunter massacred over 20,000 by his own count. An average quality hide could bring $3 and a prime one (the heavy winter coat) could sell for $50 in an era when a laborer would be fortunate to earn a dollar a day. Greed is a great motivator. Many people denounced the slaughter but few did anything actively to stop the carnage.

The extermination of the American Buffalo was part of a diabolical plot by the United States Government to control the American Indian population. There were government initiatives, at both the local and federal level, to starve the population of the Plains Indians by eliminating their main food source, the buffalo. The herds were the basis of the survival of the Plains tribes. Without buffalo to feed and clothe them, the Indians would be forced to leave or starve to death.

Because the Indians depended so much on the buffalo for their survival, their very religions were centered around the buffalo. The interdependence between Indian and buffalo is exemplified in the poetic words of John Fire Lame Deer:

“The buffalo gave us everything we needed. Without it we were nothing. Our tipis were made of his skin. His hide was our bed, our blanket, our winter coat. It was our drum, throbbing through the night, alive, holy. Out of his skin we made our water bags. His flesh strengthened us, became flesh of our flesh. Not the smallest part of it was wasted. His stomach, a red-hot stone dropped into it, became our soup kettle. His horns were our spoons, the bones our knives, our women’s awls and needles. Out of his sinews we made our bowstrings and thread. His ribs were fashioned into sleds for our children, his hoofs became rattles. His mighty skull, with the pipe leaning against it, was our sacred altar. The name of the greatest of all Sioux was Tatanka Iyotake–Sitting Bull. When you killed off the buffalo you also killed the Indian–the real, natural, “wild” Indian.”

The government also actively encouraged buffalo hunting for other reasons. A reduction in the buffalo population allowed ranchers to range their cattle without competition from other bovines. The railroad industry also wanted buffalo herds culled or eliminated. Herds of buffalo on the railroad tracks could damage or derail locomotives when the trains failed to stop in time. During winter storms, the massive herds often sought shelter in the artificial cuts formed by the grade of the tracks winding though the prairies and hills. As a result, buffalo herds could delay a train’s passage for several days and delays cost money.

By 1884, the American Buffalo was close to extinction and proposals were put forth to protect the buffalo. Recognizing the pressure on the species was too great, Cody was one of the most vocal proponents of measures to save the waning buffalo population.

In South Dakota, the herd of James “Scotty” Phillips was one of the earliest reintro-ductions of buffalo to North America. In 1899, Phillips had a goal to preserve the species from extinction and purchased a small herd from Doug Carlin. Carlin’s son Fred had roped 5 calves in the Last Big Buffalo Hunt on the Grand River in 1881 and transported them to the family’s ranch on the Cheyenne River. At the time of purchase there were approximately 7 pure buffalo left in the United States.

At the time of his death in 1911 at 53, Phillips had developed the herd to an estimated 1,000 to 1,200 head. Several other herds were also established from the 5 calves rescued at Grand River.

During that same time, two Montana ranchers, Charles Allard and Michel Pablo, invested over 20 years in assembling one of the largest collections of purebred bison on the continent. At the time of Allard’s death in 1896, the herd numbered 300. In 1907, after the U.S. government declined to purchase the bison herd, Pablo entered into a contract with the Canadian government to ship the majority of his herd north to the newly built Elk Island National Park.

The present American Buffalo population has rebounded rapidly and is estimated at 350,000, compared to an estimated 75 to 100 million in the mid-19th century. However, most of the current herds are genetically polluted or partly crossbred with cattle. Presently there are only four genetically unmixed herds and only one that is also free of brucellious; it resides in the Wind Cave National Park in South Dakota. A founder population of 16 animals from the Wind Cave herd was recently established in Montana by the American Prairie Association.

The only continuously wild buffalo herd in America is located within Yellowstone National Park. Numbering about 3,500, this herd is directly descended from a remnant population of 23 individual buffalo that survived the mass annihilation of the 1800s by hiding out in the Pelican Valley of Yellowstone Park.

The buffalo of Yellowstone Park have occasionally descended to lower elevations outside the park in search of winter forage. The presence of wild buffalo outside the park is perceived as a threat by many cattle ranchers, who fear that the small percentage of bison that carry brucellosis will infect their livestock and cause cows to abort their calves. However, there has never been a documented case of brucellosis being transmitted to cattle from wild bison. The controversy that began in the early 1980s continues to this day. Advocacy groups argue that the Yellowstone herd should be protected as a distinct population segment under the Endangered Species Act.

In Montana, where public herds require culling to control the target bison population, hunting was re-established in 2005.

Buffalo live 15 to 20 years in the wild, although the average lifespan depends on local predators, hunting pressures and natural disasters. Bison have been known to live up to 40 years in captivity.

The bison remains an icon of American culture, however our past treatment of this majestic animal is shameful. Hopefully we will carefully consider how to ensure an ecological future for the buffalo and all the wild creatures that still inhabit our precious planet.

Source by Marlene Affeld

The post The Extermination of the American Buffalo appeared first on American Survival Gear.

Rich in human history, Temagami has been home to the Anishnabai people for thousands of years. Evidence, such as the pictographs on Diamond Lake, serves to transport travelers back in time to an age of camaraderie, hard work, and survival…a reminder that the world existed before computers and email!

The traditional way of travel during the winter months was by swift dog teams which enabled hunters to cover many miles of trap lines and carry loads of supplies to the trading posts.

It is the very same traditional trail system known as Nawstagan that you will be traveling today by dog team. Wolf Within adventures is a company that promotes traditional ways of travel; their mission is to keep sled dogs as a part of Temagami’s heritage. Much has changed over the years however, dog sledding still remain one of the true pleasure offered to anyone blessed by an adventurous spirit.

Dog teams today are mostly made up of Alaskan huskies; a medium size mix breed, world recognized for their endurance, stamina and very friendly nature. Their excitement to run is contagious and they are eager to lead you through an amazing landscape; across windswept lakes, over muskegs and down the snowy highways trough the forest.

These dogs are excellent athletes; they have proven their ability over and over again during the thousand mile sled dog races such as the Iditarod in Alaska and the Yukon Quest that runs between Canada and Alaska. The countless hours spent caring for them, training and playing, generate a strong bond between the dogs and the driver in such a way that human efforts are rewarded by these amazing dogs many times over, once on the trail.

Source by Francesco Libertini

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