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poptod · 4 years ago

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Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 3 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Things get busy as the palace prepares for the Pharaoh’s journey to Thebes.

Notes: WC: 5.1k

Warm flame blotted out the stars shining through the marble arches, leaving their light dim and diluted. In each corner of the small room, a floor torch illuminated the rows of papyrus scrolls, fire and shadow dancing as the men at the table conversed quietly. At first you had attempted to follow the topic, but the longer the hours grew the less patience you had. Eventually you found yourself wondering how the Pharaoh did this seemingly every day.

"I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves," said a man you eventually learned was named Gyasi. He, along with most others gathered at the table, was an old man donned in golden linen, bearing curved lines drawn above his eyes. "We don't have time for such provisions. A number of things has delayed the King from planning earlier, so the journey to Thebes cannot be as detailed or grand as the last years, with Merenkahre."

"But we cannot arrive barren of gifts. As much as the mayor is loyal to the crown, it is good to keep in the graces of those ruling your cities. We can't afford any doubt of obedience," said the man sat on the far end of the table.

"I shall attend to the provisions and gifts myself, if need be," Piye said. Very rarely had they spoken at all this evening, and the deep tones of their nearby voice nearly startled you.

"What of the ships? Our fleet was destroyed and we don't have enough of the right design to carry what Merenkahre's advisors planned for their trips," said another man, whose long hair fell over his shoulders as he spoke.

"If the rest of you agree to tend to the soldiers, and for you the offerings," Ahk turned for a moment to the several priests gathered, "I will go through our models to find the best fit. Agreed?"

"I'm not –"

"It's nearly midnight," Piye interrupted. "The King needs his sleep, as do all of you. If you have any grievances you can bring them up tomorrow."

"... thank you, Piye," Ahkmenrah said, sighing sharply as he buried his face in his hand. "You're all dismissed. Get home and sleep well."

Rings of 'thank you, my king,' came from the men, cloth and cushions shuffling as they rose to their feet. You watched with wide eyes as they left. All who remained in the study were you, Piye, and Ahkmenrah. For the first time in at least several hours there was a quiet surrounding you, which you made sure to appreciate.

The night outside appeared to calm down, leaving only the sound of flowing water and cricket bugs chirping. Not even wind dared to brush through the arches. You sniffed, feeling sleep tug at the bags beneath your eyes. Ahk had gotten up early, and of course he insisted on taking you with him, creating for you a schedule you were very much not used to.

"I'm sorry, Amoke," Ahk said lowly, clearing his throat. "I didn't mean for this to carry on for so long. Are you tired?"

"Uh, yeah," you mumbled as you rubbed your eye.

"I'll see to it that Naguib doesn't wake you two until later. Will you be staying in your regular room or...?" Piye asked, their back turned to overlook the city.

"Inner," Ahk said with a stretch of his arms to the ceiling.

"Coward," Piye said, heading towards the door.

"Hey now, just because you have the body warmth of Ra doesn't make me a coward," Ahk said sternly, pointing a vindictive finger in Piye's direction.

"Right, sir," Piye said before swinging themselves out of the room.

He let out a long, weary sigh as he bent forward, resting his head on the low table. The blanket spread out between your laps shifted, as did the cushions, and though you tried to give him space he pulled himself into you the moment you moved. There he hid himself in you, breathing deep as he fidgeted with the cloth of your skirt.

"Did you have any thoughts about the meeting?" He asked, muffled against your neck.

"Your advisors are disappointed in you for being distracted when it comes to the religious part of the state, but can't realistically say anything since you're good with foreign diplomacy," you said.

What exactly they were planning and why had escaped you, but within the first thirty minutes of genuinely paying attention to the discussion, you'd deduced that with the prior knowledge of Ahkmenrah's and Merenkahre's reign.

"Are your advisors inherited from your father or did you choose them yourself?"

"Most of them are my father's," he said, pulling away from you to look you in the eye. "I know my cabinet needs some reorganizing, but it's not something I can concentrate on right now. Once we return from Thebes... I ask your help in deciding what changes to make."

"Um – that doesn't sound very wise, asking the advice of a civilian," you said, trying to back away from him. As usual, he did not let you, and held tighter to your hips.

"Do you question my judgement?" He asked, though kept a smile on his face.

Your answer to that was yes––very much so. There was no way you could say that, obviously, but you didn't want to lie either, so you stayed silent as he scanned you.

"A King knows what's best, my dear."

In the morning, Naguib woke you, and as he dressed Ahk, the King spoke to you. You had yet to leave the confines of silk sheets, and thus lay on your side with your cheek squished into the mattress as you watched them.

"We've got many a designs for ships, but only five of those are properly big enough to support us, the court, servants, soldiers, and offerings. Of those five there are about.. seven, I think, variations in the sails. We'll need to try each of them. How many ships is that?"

Naguib quickly looked away, avoiding the question. Similarly, you shrugged your shoulders, too out-of-it to formulate the correct answer.

"Thirty-five. Thirty-five ship rides today. Have you ever been sailing before?" He asked as he fiddled with his gold bracelet, turning to glance in your direction.

"No," you said quietly. As revered and important as water was, you still clung to your fear of the depths, and thus had never taken the opportunity to travel by river.

"I think you'll enjoy yourself," he said, with quite the amount of confidence in his tone. You, with insight into yourself, knew otherwise, and shriveled at his smile.

Massive sheets of linen rippled above you, tossed and blown by the eastern wind. The creak of wood sounded beneath your feet, spiking an uneasiness that plagued your stomach, and only worsened by the sway of the massive raft on the battering tide. All that remained to comfort you was the sun, shining blazingly overhead. You combated the burning heat by staying beneath the overhang of the little shack built into the middle of the boat.

Meanwhile, Ahk stood with hair flying in the breeze, his crown long forgotten on the floor. The skirt he wore was the only thing on his body now, allowing rays of sun to shine off the sheen of sweat worked up by his succinct movements. Mid-air he caught a rope in his palm, twisting it so it wrapped around his hand, and tugging harsh till the sail calmed itself. The billows dissipated into a smooth pillow of white, standing like a cloud against the blue sky.

"What do you think so far, Amoke?" Ahk asked above the splashing waves and muting wind.

"Takes an awful lot of effort, don't you think?"

"I suppose so," he said, panting lightly as he released the rope and headed towards you. "I won't be doing the sailing on the way there, however. At least not most of the time. We'll have our soldiers do that. Besides, this ship is large. Perhaps it is the sail hindering our work."

Our work. He could galavant off to wherever he wanted to, fix the entire problem himself, and he'd still say 'our,' or 'we,' or 'us'. You couldn't quite pinpoint why that annoyed you.

Along with the help of several other sailors on the ship, Ahk brought the hull to a rest against the sandy shore, while the sailors began to strip the sail and replace it. While they did so, Ahk rejoined you beneath the overhang. Once he arrived, the two servant girls on either side of the door held up their fans, blocking the sun further for the King.

"It may be a little windy, but today is a beautiful day," he said to you, circling an arm around your back. He rooted his hand to your waist and pulled you closer.

"I don't... like big boats," you mumbled, shoulders tight as your fist.

"Really? Why's that?" He asked with a grin.

"The wind is unpredictable and you can't see past the surface of the water."

"I think I can help you with that," he said, and his hand fell from your waist, tangling his fingers in your own.

Before you could say anything in reply, he was dragging you out from beneath the shade, into the open, unmanageable expanse of floating wood. The floor swayed as the boat was removed from the makeshift dock, nearly toppling you over from your poor balance.

"Careful there, dearest," he said as he steadied you. You bit your tongue, but reluctantly accepted his help in leading you evenly forward.

He took you to the tall mast, almost swaying with its' thin height. Wind filled the sail with a great howl, and with a little assistance from the soldiers, the boat was back to coasting down the Nile with the new sail.

"The wind is coming from the southeast," he said, leasing his grip on you to grasp a loose rope. "It'll be coming from there all day, so you can adjust the direction of the sail accordingly. If the wind is blowing too strong, you tie up the sail so it doesn't catch the wind. If the wind is weak, you open up the sail. It's all very simple. The design of these ships are specifically tailored for conditions along the Nile, so it's very rare any ships are overturned.

"For example, right now we're going a little fast. A few pulls and a few knots later," he tugged hard, lean muscles popping up beneath tanned skin as he did. Your eyes widened, unconsciously staring at his arms. "There. Didn't close it up all the way, cause we'd probably go to a standstill at that point and it can be a little hard to pick up momentum again."

"... momentum?"

"Thrust force," he clarified. Despite yourself you blushed and turned away, embarrassed of your own question, and flustered by his answer.

"Right," you said, mouthing the word, though not fully saying it. "It is easier for things in motion to remain in motion rather than to stop and pick it up again."

"Exactly," he said with a grin.

He stepped nearer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. Your own shoulders locked and tensed as he did.

"You know, Amoke," he said, looking down to you, "I quite like having you along with me on my daily duties. I know it's not the most interesting thing for you, but... I hope you enjoy it as well."

The obvious answer, at least to you, was that you weren't enjoying yourself. Never once in your life had you given a thought to learning how to swim, which made you antsy and nervous whenever you were near water. Even a shore felt like too much. To be stuck right in the middle of a massive, overflown river with a man essentially holding you hostage kept you on overload.

As the boat continued its' leisurely pace down the water, your fingertips and feet began to itch, desperate to leave the swaying rock of the waves. Sickness welled in your stomach and crawled up your throat, acid burning the back of your tongue. You tried your best to swallow it down, but your discomfort was already noticed by the Pharaoh, whose eyes turned to concern as he faced you.

"Are you feeling alright? You look a little... um, nauseous," he said, his brow furrowed.

"I feel very warm," you admitted with flushed cheeks.

"Oh, well there's a very easy cure for that!" He grinned. "Do you know how to swim?"

"Never learned."

"Don't worry. I shall take it upon myself to teach you, for now and future instances," he said, placing his hands on your upper arms.

"I - I'm not sure I –"

"Don't worry," he murmured, pressing his cheek to yours so as to whisper in your ear. "Would you rather have to face the possibility of drowning, should I not be near?"

His hands traveled down your arms to your waist, where he began to tug at your belt. The motion had your hips bumping against his, and though you tried to jump back, all that did was loosen your skirt further. Your heart began to beat against your bones, practically thrumming in your chest. While your anxiousness grew tenfold, the Pharaoh kissed your forehead, soft as his ministrations continued.

Soon your clothes were tossed to the wooden floor, forgotten as he took in your bare form. For a moment he appreciated you, ran his fingers down your skin as his eyes dragged from your shoulders to your hips, keen to move exact and slow.

"Come now," he said, ceasing contact to take your hand, and leading you to the edge of the boat.

Steps built into the boat's side led down to the water. He led you down them, helping you to perch beside the rushing water as his own skirt fell, crumpled and tossed in the same direction as your own clothes.

By example you dipped your feet in the cool water, mimicking Ahk's own legs pushed to the side by the current.

"Moshe?" Ahk called over his shoulders.

"Yes, my King?" came from the bow of the ship.

"My pet and I are going into the water. Slow us down, will you?"

Your what?! you thought, but said nothing concerning that, and attempted to change the subject.

"Don't you have a lot of sails to go through?" You asked.

"We've got all day, and tomorrow. And maybe the day after that. After that, though, we're out of luck," he said, a wide, crooked smile cast across his face. "But, of course... anything for you."

You almost laughed with him, but you tempered it down to a half-smile. From the spark in his eye and his blushing cheeks, you realized that it didn't matter if you laughed or smiled––it was still a positive reaction in his view.

Once the river slowed to the steady pulse of a sail-less ship, Ahk dropped himself into the water, his head sinking beneath the murky surface. Your eyes widened, but you made no attempt to reach him. For a moment you imagined he'd died, and pondered upon what you would do then. Probably leave.

Wouldn't that be nice, you thought, spacing out as you stared at the sandy shore.

Drenched curls drew slowly upwards, till they sat plastered against Ahk's forehead. Droplets fell down past his eyes, trailing down his cheek, and settling on the bow of his lips. His hands reached for you, settling on your ankles with a tug. You instinctively jerked away, and he grinned slyly, humored by your easily-won reactions.

"The water won't bite you," he said, tugging harder on your ankle. "Promise."

When you still barely moved from your spot on the step, he said, "I won't bite you either, if you're worried about that. Tread water with me, dear."

Gingerly your legs untensed, thighs slipping into the water as you sunk down. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared into the hidden depths, hypnotized by the streaming rays of sunlight, reflecting off the sand floating in the river. His hand moved from your ankle to elsewhere, though you lost track of it until it reappeared on your hip.

"Not too cold, right?" He asked with a pleased smile.

"No," you said.

It was indeed a bit frigid on your skin, but you attributed that to the fact that you'd been overheating all day in the sun. The burning cold soon began to dissipate, and what you were left with was a pleasant relief from the sun, hidden in the long shadow casted by the boat upon the ripples of water.

"Keep kicking your legs or you're going to sink," he said, moving to give you room to experiment.

Once you got hold of your legs, he mimicked how to move your arms, and soon you were floating untethered to the boat. Before you realized it, the ship was drifting away with the cool breeze. You very nearly panicked, but Ahk began to swim leisurely alongside it, and motioned for you to do the same. The slow speed of the new sails treaded steadily on, allowing the two of you to keep the same pace as the hull.

"How do you like it?" He asked, turning to drift down the river on his back, hands entwined behind his head.

"What happens if there's a creature beneath us?" You asked in return, still attempting to see the bottom through the murky water.

"We get back on the boat," he said with a shrug, a sly grin spreading across his face as you glared at him.

In order to keep with his schedule, he soon hauled himself back up onto the ship's ledge, offering a hand for you as well. You took it, but remained on the edge with your toes dipped into the water. Behind you, Ahk discussed something quietly with one of his soldiers, and reordered the sails.

Those gathered on the boat––numbering about eight or nine––went through the seven variations in the sails, and soon the boat was pulling back into the docks with the scribe's notes in the Pharaoh's hands. The crew trampled off the ship, boarding the next one in line as the sails were moved from the first deck to the second. You watched from the side, careful not to interfere, and listened to Ahkmenrah's conversation with his scribe, whose name you learned was Zaid.

"Speed can be sacrificed for storage, if we leave earlier," Ahk mumbled, biting at his bottom lip.

"Those faster ones are easier to tear," said Zaid. "If you're putting even more weight on the ship, they aren't going to work."

"Hmm. No use debating when we've got four more boats to go through."

"Yes, my King. Very well."

Zaid left the Pharaoh's side to help with the sails, earning you once more time alone with Ahk. He stepped nearer to you, placing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you in, squeezing you in a gentle side-hug.

"Zaid is a very special scribe," Ahk explained, eyes still training after the crew. "He learned his trade from Piye while they were travelling the world on a soul mission. Piye doesn't remember him at all, but he does his job very well so I don't think it's a problem, even if he is lying."

"A soul mission?"

"Yes, well, Piye didn't always look like that. You know, the whole very tall, very dark skin and very white hair. They've got a very special magic about them," he said with a nod. "I believe most of it was unlocked during their soul mission, which caused the change."

"... right," you mumbled. Ahkmenrah had said a great deal of strange things to you, but claiming magic to be real was a little much, even for you.

Egyptians were always a bit of an enigma to you––from what you'd learned in your own travels, they were fiercely protective of their homeland, such to the point that they rarely invaded other countries. Magic was something as entwined with their daily life as eating or sleeping. Every town seemed to have their own pantheon of Gods, and each tomb their own spells scarcely found in doubles. Harmony was of utmost importance, and family life was revered, having its' own pedestal to rival the significance of the Pharaonic family. The incestual Pharaonic family.

You shivered instinctively at the thought. As much as you wanted to believe Ahkmenrah was not a part of that area of his culture, you had no way of knowing, and asking him directly seemed too great a task.

For the remainder of the day, your weight was grounded on wooden decks, only breaking when you let your feet hang off the side and into the water. Ahk tried to keep his focus on the project at hand, but his attention would often waver whenever he caught sight of you. Unfortunately for the crew of the ship, that was quite often, and the Pharaoh had no trouble acquiescing to your every desire. Be it questions, or a wish to swim or break the ship routine, he would immediately fulfill your request.

By evening the tests were finally complete, leaving a few stacks of papyrus containing Zaid's notes on the ships and their sails. Ahkmenrah invited him back to the palace, where the two of them conversed quietly in his study, ignorant of the outside world and ignorant of you. To bide the time you tried looking at star charts, as the actual night sky was blinded by torchlight both in the study and the city.

The rows upon rows of scrolls and tablets soon bored you, at which point you listened on the duller conversation between Ahk and Zaid, who had a pleasant back-and-forth concerning the trip to Thebes. Slow, soft murmurs brought your shoulders to sag, muscles aching from the minimal effort of the day. It had been a while since you'd gotten any true exercise.

You closed your eyes for a moment––you could swear it was only a moment––but when you opened them, you found yourself rustling from movement, and blearily realized you were being held. Someone was carrying you down a chill hallway, and by diminishing torchlight you recognized the face of the Pharaoh.

"Long day, hmm?" He said upon noticing you were half-awake.

"No," you insisted with a frown. "I'm awake."

"Not standing, though," he teased.

"I'll fuckin' stand if y-"

"Shhh," he said softly, leaning in to peck your forehead. "We'll be sleeping soon anyway. It's far too late to do anything else."

Morning came and you found Ahk already awake, dressed in commoner's clothes and speaking softly with Naguib. From your spot on the bed, your cheek pressed into the pillow, you watched their tiny motions and the few words you could hear.

A couple minutes into listening, Ahkmenrah noticed you were awake, and hushed Naguib as he turned to you.

"Good to see you're awake," he said with a peppy smile, too bright and cheerful for your morning eyes. "I'm afraid I have to go into the markets today for a special deal. I won't be able to take you along. You might get lost in the crowd, or get hurt, and I abhor that idea. You understand, right?"

He was lying. Something about his choice of words, or the way he held his shoulders, hinted at the lie. What the truth was you wouldn't ask, though you speculated it to be a shady deal he didn't want you to know about. Instead you nodded, shifting to sit up, silken sheets pooling around your hips.

"Naguib, does this door have a lock?"

"Only from the inside, sir," Naguib said, his hands dutifully behind his back.

Ahk paused for a moment to process the answer, a detached coldness glazing over his eyes.

"Fetch me some rope, will you?" He said, and your eyes went wide, limbs suddenly scrambling backwards.

"Yes sir," Naguib said as he left the room.

"Please don't," you asked, almost on the verge of begging. Your wrists were just now barely healing, the blisters from tweed rope bruised instead of bleeding. "I'll stay with you in the market. I won't try to escape."

"I'm sorry, pet, truly," he said as he knelt on the bed, crawling up until he pinned you against the wall, your thighs pressed tightly together as you stared with pleading eyes.

"Please, Ahk," you begged, succumbing to your natural self-protective instinct.

"It won't be for long," he promised, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You shivered in disgust of his movements. "I'll come back in a few hours and I'll... I'll take you anywhere you want to visit, alright?"

His kind words made you falter, and once more you reminded yourself of an unfortunate illness that happened often to those kidnapped by lust-driven people. It was a condition you'd seen a few times––the kidnapped begins to sympathize with the kidnapper, falls in love with them, and never realizes the implication of it all.

Those sweet words of his would not bring you to your knees. You kept your resolve best you could, even as tears began to well in your eyes, pain shooting through your nerves as he wrapped the tweed rope back around your wrists and tied you to the bed frame.

Before he left to follow Naguib, he kissed your forehead again, brushing the hair out of your face as he did.

"I'll have the servants bring you some food," he said, shutting the door behind him.

You sighed sharply. Since you were last tied up, this would be your first moment alone, hidden deep within the stone walls of an alien palace. Irritation grew within you as you looked to the paintings on the wall, and soon you were grunting as you pulled at your restraints. The rough hay poked at your skin, stabbed and chafed as you struggled, attempting to find some give in the tight knot.

In the end you lay back down on your side, tears crossing your eyes and temple as blood began to drip from your already-bruised skin.

Damn him, you thought, sniffling. I swear I'll kill him.

About an hour later––though you had no idea of knowing how much time had actually passed––a servant came to visit you, a tray of food in hand. You sat up best you could, attempting to wipe away your teary shame.

"My name's Haji," he said. "I've seen you around, with the Pharaoh. I'm sorry."

"... thank you," you said blankly, despite the horrifying array of emotions that came to you. That was the first time you'd actually gotten sympathy in this Godforsaken place. Mostly you were met with people who thought you were lucky, or people who thought you were bad for the King.

"Yeah.. do you want me to undo those?" He asked, gesturing to the rope.

"Yes please," you mumbled, shoulders tightening as a blush dusted your cheeks.

He reached up, nails digging into the strange knot. Slowly it began to loosen, eventually falling over your shoulders, with your arms no longer numb from blood loss. Freezing cold first overcame your limbs, followed by tingling warmth that finally brought about movement.

"Thank you," you said, reaching for a roll and biting into it. "Are you actually allowed to do that?"

"Not really," he chuckled, "but usually people like to keep their dignity and not be handfed as an adult."

"Right?" You said, your first smile in Egypt crossing your face. "Ahk insists on it sometimes, it's incredibly strange."

"He probably has some sort of weird mommy complex. I do know he really wants kids," Haji said, drifting off slightly in thought.

Your eyes widened. Is that why he wanted you? Then came the next question, barreling into your mind without thought for your sanity––were you the child, or was he keeping you there to have his children?

You very nearly threw up.

"... but that's probably just because he enjoys protecting people," he finished.

"You seem to know him well," you said, attempting to speak through your nausea.

"I've worked for the royal family my entire life. I kind of grew up with the Pharaoh... he used to steal wine from the kitchen and I always let him. Don't really want to risk saying no to a royal," he joked.

"I understand," you said softly. "If it makes you feel better, it doesn't really matter what you say. He'll take whatever he wants."

"I know," he said, looking to you with a regretful brow. He allowed a moment of silence before he asked, "you begged with him, didn't you?"

"Yes," you said, voice cracking.

"Bit of advice? If you struggle physically, he'll get more forceful, but if you cry, he'll feel bad about himself and stop," he said.

Without thought you burst out laughing, covering your face with your hands as you tried to stop the torrent of giggles. He grinned as well, less amused by his advice, and more delighted that you found it so entertaining. Caught up in your own laughter, neither of you noticed the door swinging open by the Pharaoh's hand. When you did turn, you found the King beaming at you, his smile bright enough to fill the whole of the room.

"Amoke!" He said, striding across the room to you. Your eyes darted quickly to Haji, who looked as alarmed as you, before you were pulled from your spot and heaved into a tight hug by Ahk. Even there you glanced to Haji, whose mouth was now open in disbelief.

"Um, I'll leave you two alone," Haji said, gingerly raising himself from the spot on the bed.

Ahk promptly dropped you back into the soft cushions, a high-pitched huff unwillingly leaving you as you landed.

"Nonsense Haji! You made my pet laugh," he said, turning from Haji to you as he spoke your name, fingers dragging beneath your chin to force you upwards. "Considering I've rarely seen Amoke smile, much less laugh, I think some new arrangements in order. You shall join us on our journey to Thebes."

"Like... a professional friend..?"

"Sure. Whatever you'd like to name yourself. Go get packed––we leave within the hour," he said, information that sent Haji bolting out the door with an obedient, 'yes sir'.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you noted with mild suspicion.

“Someone burned a whole pot of blue lotus and it got caught in the, um, room. With the traders. You know, where I was for an hour. That’s probably why.”

"Oh. I thought we were leaving in two weeks," you said with a confused frown, moving to your feet when Ahk pulled you to do so.

"Not sure where you heard that, but we were hoping to leave within a week. Do you have any belongings you want to bring along?"

"My clothes. I still haven't gotten them back from those washhouse servants," you said.

"Then it shall be done. By someone else. We need to get to the docks. I'm assuming you've never been to Thebes before?"

"No."

"I think you'll like it," he said, taking your hand in his and leading you out of the room. "The orgies there are fantastic."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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a-kid-named-sutton · 3 years ago

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Final Reflection

One of the things I enjoyed about the class was bringing in the social media component of the common book posts by using Tumblr. I think this made assignments more relevant and creative and kept us engaged and interacting with one another. Online learning can be tough, and you never really get to know your classmates, but I thought the weekly posts (and the discussions with the essays) were great ways to bring us together as a class. It was cool being able to see and comment on classmates’ work (especially since we can’t see one another in the classroom) and seeing how we all had similar thoughts and reactions to the themes each week. The weekly posts pushed me to dig deeper and find images and links that fit with the weekly theme and really try to post a paragraph that might get my classmates thinking.

There were many themes that I considered for the Common Book project, but the one I decided to focus on was “The Unfair Cultural Expectations of Women” in society. I considered making it even more specific and discussing the unfair treatment in countries that were predominately Muslim, but I wanted to include a few early posts from the assignment and from Under the Udala Trees, where she was Christian or in a Christian culture. I think all the readings and videos share this common theme and really helped me see that all cultures have unfair expectations on women that have led to stereotypes and mistreatment and struggles for equality for women for hundreds or even thousands of years.

One of the common book posts that I wanted to include in this reflection was one of the initial posts, which was a Mr. Clean ad with a white mother and daughter that shows gender roles and gender stereotypes that exist in our society. This was inspired by the Burns reading “Introduction to Global Women’s Studies”. In part of the raising, she discusses assigned roles to women that include being the mom and taking care of the kids and doing household chores. These go hand in hand with my theme of the unfair expectations and specifically the roles/stereotypes that women enjoy cleaning and taking care of the kids. I noticed that the ad has a smiling little girl to show that the unfair and often cruel expectations for women can start at a very early age.

One of the readings that I found interesting and wanted to do a common book post on was the short story “Treatment of Bibi Haldar”. In the story, Bibi faces unfair expectations as a woman where her family should get a dowry and she would become an obedient wife. Women in the Indian culture don’t have a say in the matter in terms of what man they want to marry. These are arranged by the parents and the girls must just go along with this. They lack the freedom to choose a husband or even pursue a future. Unfortunately, she is always sick and unattractive and a girl no man wants to marry because she has seizures and no father, so the husband may not get a valuable dowry. Even though the women in the story try to help her find a husband and to find a cure for her illness, nothing really works, and her culture and society treat her unfairly. She basically has no future in the culture because she cannot cook, clean, or take care of children. She eventually is raped and becomes pregnant, but no one is accused or gets in trouble, which shows how rape and abuse of women is an accepted practice. For this post, I chose an Indian woman protesting rape and abuse of women by men in Indian culture. This has been such an accepted practice for so long and it’s a part of the culture. But allowing women to get raped and not allowing them to find live or choose their own path is an ultimate example of the unfair cultural expectations placed on women.

The book Under the Udala Trees was interesting and one I admit I never heard of or wouldn’t have read if it wasn’t part of the class. But I’m grateful I read it. Things Fall Apart was one of my favorite books, and it helped me better understand and appreciate African culture and the mistreatment of Africans during colonization. Under the Udala helped me learn more about the struggles of young women in Africa and how the Ijeoma had to cope with war, death, the pressures of religion, and her sexuality. These young women had unfair cultural expectations placed upon them. I tried to find Common Book posts that matched her struggles or the struggles of young women in Nigeria and the struggles of the LGBTQ community there. One post I used was an Instagram post of two women who got married and were celebrating their love online. Then a random, Nigerian man decided to post negative comments about their love and criticize homosexuality. He used Christianity to put down their celebration, and this reminded me of the way Ijeomas mom tried to “pray” the homosexuality out of her daughter. Unromantic saw how hypocritical this was since she realized Jesus loves all his children, and I hope the women in the post ignored the harsh criticism and went on with their lives like Ijeoma did in the book. I also found an image of a Nigerian individual that is holding a sign in support of the LGBTQ community. The individual is wearing a traditional African headdress but is wearing men’s clothes. They are likely treated unfairly in Nigerian society and have cultural biases and stereotypes against them, but I appreciate how they are standing up and fighting for equality and fair treatment.

I also was glad that we were required to read Three Sisters of Eve. This gave me a new perspective on Turkish culture and the unfair expectations that women face in that country, both as children and as adults. This was also an interesting look at the cultural and religious pressure placed on girls and women as Peri faced these expectations as a little girl. She then struggled with the expectations of being a mother and an upper-class woman in Istanbul. The image I chose to represent this in the common book project was the image of girls and women at a mosque. In the book. Peri struggled with religion and her understanding of Allah. Her mom put a lot of unfair pressure on her to always pray and live a life that strictly goes along with the Muslim religion. When she goes to pray at a mosque one day, men at the mosque told her she wasn’t welcome, and this showed that men looked down in girls and didn’t think they were worthy of entering the mosque to worship. The image for the project shows women and girls outside worshipping, so it made me wonder if this kind of discrimination and the unfair expectations that women are inferior still exist in Turkey and other Muslim countries.

One of the other aspects in the book that I wanted to discuss through the project was the stereotypes and unfair treatment that Muslim faced after the attacks on America during 9/11. In the book, Peri must deal with this when she is at Oxford when the attacks happen. She already s faces unfair treatment as a Muslim woman trying to get an education and pursue a life that goes against the expectations that the culture puts on women like her. These stereotypes were unfair to all Muslims of people of Arab descent after 9/11 because anyone that looked “Muslim” were treated like terrorists. One of the cultural traditions for Muslim women is that they sometimes have to cover their faces of wear a veil. This probably didn’t help with stereotypes so when people saw women wearing these, they automatically stereotyped these women as terrorists. This idea was also something that was discussed in the in the TedTalks video where Mogahed talks about how difficult it is to be a Muslim woman after 9/11. She uses humor in the presentation and shared things that all women have in common to show that just because she is Muslim that doesn’t mean she is not an American. And this doesn’t mean that because she is Muslim that she’s a terrorist. The image I chose was a Muslim woman wearing a American flag veil. This image represents a few things: American people discriminate against Muslim women for wearing and radical Muslims that think it’s an insult to wear an American flag. The Muslim woman in this image is bring bread by saying I am Muslim but I’m still an American. I love this country just as much as other Americans and just because I have a cultural expectation that requires a veil, this doesn’t mean I’m a terrorist.

In the end, I have learned much, and I am glad that I took the class. I was worried about all the reading and writing involved but I think I found my voice and was able to express my thoughts and feelings accurately as a man living in a male-dominated culture. I was always aware of the double-standards that exist in our society with men and women and know how women and minorities are unfairly treated in our society and culture. And knew of the stereotypes of women and other cultures and had some knowledge of how women are mistreated in Muslim countries, but the readings and TedTalks really opened my eyes to the problems that exist in the world. But most importantly I think I made the connection that this isn’t something that’s just in American or Muslim culture. The mistreatment and discrimination of women in minorities is really a human problem that needs to be addressed and fixed. It can’t happen overnight, but I think classes like this one help students like me come to this realization and consider ways that I can be better and different.

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clubofinfo · 7 years ago

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Expert: Western culture is clearly obsessed with rules, guilt, submissiveness and punishment. By now it is clear that the West is the least free society on Earth. In North America and Europe, almost everyone is under constant scrutiny: people are spied on, observed, their personal information is being continually extracted, and the surveillance cameras are used indiscriminately. Life is synchronized and managed. There are hardly any surprises. One can sleep with whomever he or she wishes (as long as it is done within the ‘allowed protocol’). Homosexuality and bisexuality are allowed. But that is about all; that is how far ‘freedom’ usually stretches. Rebellion is not only discouraged, it is fought against, brutally. For the tiniest misdemeanors or errors, people end up behind bars. As a result, the U.S. has more prisoners per capita than any other country on Earth, except the Seychelles. And as a further result, almost all conversations, but especially public discourses, are now being controlled by so-called ‘political correctness’ and its variants. But back to the culture of fear and punishment. Look at the headlines of the Western newspapers. For example, The New York Times from April 12. 2018: “Punishment of Syria may be harsher this time”. We are so used to such perverse language used by the Empire that it hardly strikes us as twisted, bizarre, pathological. It stinks of some sadomasochistic cartoon, or of a stereotypical image of an atrocious English teacher holding a ruler over a pupil’s extended hands, shouting, “Shall I?” Carl Gustav Jung described Western culture, on several occasions, as a “pathology”. He did it particularly after WWII, but he mentioned that the West had been committing terrible crimes in all parts of the world, for centuries. That is most likely why the Western mainstream psychiatrists and psychologists have been glorifying the ego-centric and generally apolitical Sigmund Freud, while ignoring, even defaming, Carl Gustav Jung. Poster of human zoo at Military Museum in Paris (Photo: Andre Vltchek) The extreme form of sadism is a medical condition; it is an illness. And the West has been clearly demonstrating disturbing and dangerous behavioral patterns for many centuries. Let’s look at the definition of sadism, or professionally, Sadistic Personality Disorder (SPD), which both the United States and Europe could easily be diagnosed with. This is an excerpt of a common definition of the SPD, which appears in Medigoo.com and on many other on-line sites: …The sadistic personality disorder is characterized by a pattern of gratuitous cruelty, aggression, and demeaning behaviors which indicate the existence of deep-seated contempt for other people and an utter lack of empathy. Some sadists are “utilitarian”: they leverage their explosive violence to establish a position of unchallenged dominance within a relationship… It is familiar, isn’t it? The Empire’s behavior towards Indochina, China, Indonesia, Africa, Latin America, Russia, the Middle East and other parts of the world. US sponsored coup in Chile on 9-11-1973 (Photo: Andre Vltchek) What about the symptoms? …Sadistic individuals have poor behavioral controls, manifested by a short temper, irritability, low frustration tolerance, and a controlling nature. From an interpersonal standpoint, they are noted to be harsh, hostile, manipulative, lacking in empathy, cold-hearted, and abrasive to those they deem to be their inferiors. Their cognitive nature is considered rigid and prone to social intolerance, and they are fascinated by weapons, war, and infamous crimes or perpetrators of atrocities. Sadists classically are believed to seek social positions that enable them to exercise their need to control others and dole out harsh punishment or humiliation… Just translate “sadistic individuals” to “sadistic states”, or “sadistic culture”. Is there any cure? Can a sadist be effectively and successfully treated? Treating a sadistic personality disorder takes a long time… And many sites and publications carry a clear disclaimer: The above information is for processing purpose. The information provided herein should not be used during any medical emergency… And humanity is right now clearly at the crossroads, facing annihilation, not only a ‘medical emergency’. The world may soon have to literally fight for its survival. It is because of the SPD of the West and its Empire. ***** So, what is in store for us now; for instance, for Syria? What will the sadistic psychopath do to a country that refused to kneel, to prostitute itself, to beg for mercy, to sacrifice its people? How horrible will the “punishment” be? We have just witnessed 103 missiles being fired towards Damascus and Homs. But that is only what the Empire did to entertain its masses. It has been doing much more evil and cruel things to the nation which constantly refuses to glorify the Western imperialist and its neocon dogmas. For instance, the Empire’s ‘professionals’ have been manufacturing, training and arming the most atrocious terrorist groups and injecting them into the body of Syria. The torture will, of course, continue. It clearly appears that this time the script will be based on some latter adaptation of the Marquise de Sade’s work, on his novel Juliette, not Justine. You see, in Justine, women were ‘only’ tied up, slapped and raped. In Juliette, they were cut to pieces, alive; they were burned and mutilated. While Justine can still be read, no normal human being could go through the 700 pages of pure gore that is Juliette. But our planet has somehow got used to the horrors that have been administered by the sick Western Empire. People watch occurrences in places like Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq or Libya as ‘news’, not as the medical record of a severely ill psychiatric patient. The most terrible ‘novel’ in the history of our Planet has been written, for centuries, by the appalling brutality and sadism of first Europe and then by its younger co-author – the United States. And the human beings in many parts of our Planet have gotten so used to the carnage which surrounds them that they do not throw up anymore; they do not feel horrified, do not revolt against their fate. They just watch, as one country after another falls; is violated publicly, gets ravaged. The mental illness of the perpetrator is undeniable. And it is contagious. Names of, and photos of, murdered Chilean people by pro-US military junta (Photo: Andre Vltchek) In turn, the extreme violence that has been engulfing the world has triggered various neuroses and mental conditions (masochism, extreme forms of submission, to name just two of many) among the victims. ***** Exposure to the constant and extreme violence ‘prescribed’ and administered by the West, has left most of the world in a neurotic lethargy. Like a woman locked in a marriage with a brutal religious fanatic husband in some oppressive society, the world has eventually stopped resisting against the Western dictates and tyranny, and ‘accepted its fate’. Many parts of the planet have developed ‘Stockholm Syndrome’: after being kidnapped, imprisoned, tormented, raped and humiliated, the victims have ‘fallen in love’ with their tyrant, adopting his worldview, while serving him full-heartedly and obediently. This arrangement, of course, has nothing to do with the healthy or natural state of things! Poster of Human Zoo at Military Museum, Paris (Photo: Andre Vltchek) In Africa, Latin America, the Middle East and Asia, bizarre things are happening! People from those nations that have been robbed and devastated for centuries by the European and North American despots, have been flying happily and proudly to Paris, Berlin, London, Madrid, New York and other Western cities, in order to ‘learn’, to ‘study’ how to govern their own countries. There is usually no shame, and no stigma attached to such obvious intellectual prostitution. Many victims are still dreaming about becoming like their victimizers, or even more so. Many former and modern-day colonies of the West are listening, with straight faces, to the Europeans preaching to them (for a fee) about ‘good governance’, an ‘anti-corruption drive’ and ‘democracy’. The media outlets of non-Western nations are taking news reports directly from Western press agencies. Even local political events are explained by those ‘wise’ and ‘superior’ Europeans and North Americans, not by the local thinkers. Locals are hardly ever trusted – only white faces with polished English, French or German accents are taken seriously. Perverse? Is it perverse? Of course, it is! Many servile intellectuals from the ‘client’ states, when confronted, admit how sick the continuous global dictatorship is. Then they leave the table and continue to do what they have been doing for years and decades; the oldest profession in short. Freedom Equality Brotherhood. For French maybe but not for colonized Vietnamese (Photo: Andre Vltchek) Such a situation is truly insane. Or at least it is extremely paradoxical, bizarre, absurd. Even a mental clinic appears to make more sense than our beloved planet Earth. However, clinical psychiatrists and psychologists are very rarely involved in analyzing the neuroses and psychological illnesses of the brutalized and colonized planet. They hardly ever ‘analyze’ the perpetrators, let alone expose them for what they really are. Most of psychologists and psychiatrists are busy digging gold: encouraging human egotism, or even serving big corporations that are trying to ‘understand their employees better’, in order to control and to exploit them more effectively. Other ‘doctors’ go so far as to directly serve the Empire, helping to oppress and to ‘pacify’ the billions living in the colonies and new colonies of the West. In 2015, I was invited as one of the speakers to the 14th International Symposium on the Contributions of Psychology to Peace, held in Johannesburg and Pretoria, South Africa (hosted by legendary UNISA). During that fascinating encounter of the leading global psychologists, I spoke about the impact of wars and imperialism on the human psyche, but I also listened, attentively. And I learned many shocking things. For instance, during his chilling presentation, “Human Rights and U. S. Psychologists’ Wrongs: The Undermining of Professional Ethics in an Era of ‘Enhanced Interrogation’”, Professor Michael Wessells from Columbia University, New York, spoke about U.S. psychologists and their participation in torturing political prisoners. Instead of diagnosing the Empire with SPD and other violent and dangerous conditions, many psychologists are actually helping to torture those who are opposing this unacceptable arrangement of the world. ***** Those who refuse to ‘learn from the West’, to fall in love with it, or at least to serve it faithfully, are being brutally punished. Lashes are hitting exposed flesh. Entire nations are being destroyed, genocides distributed to all continents. East Timor, Afghanistan, Iraq: it never stops. I follow the discourses of the US and especially British UN delegations, ‘discussing’ Syria and even Russia. What comes to my mind is Punjab in India. I recall those old, historic photos of Indian men being hanged by the Brits, pants down, and flogged in public. Flogging-on-Punjabi-man-by-British-colonialist They have been doing this kind of stuff for centuries. They like it. It clearly excites them. This is their democracy, their respect for human rights and for other cultures! If someone refuses to take his or her pants down, they catch the person, rape him or her, then do the flogging anyway. I also recall what my Ugandan friend used to tell me: When the Brits came to Africa, to what is now Uganda, their army would enter our villages and first thing they’d do was to select the tallest and strongest man around. They’d then tie him up, face towards the tree. Then the British commander would rape, sodomize him in front of everybody. This was how they showed the locals who is charge. Brits enjoying Africa How symbolic! How healthy is the culture that has been controlling our world for centuries! One of the most frightening things about mental illnesses is that the patient usually does not realize that he or she is suffering from them. It is about the time for the rest of the world to treat the West as a mental patient, not as the ‘leader of the free and democratic world’. We have to think, to gather, to develop a strategy of how to deal with this unfortunate, in fact, terrible situation! If we refuse to understand and to act, we may all end up in the most dangerous situation: as complacent servants of the perverse whims of a frustrated, extremely aggressive and truly dangerous SPD patient. http://clubof.info/

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thomasreedtn · 7 years ago

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Timothy Glenn ~ Lunar Explorations

He’s ba-a-a-ck! After his last post rocked many a worldview, Timothy Glenn returns as promised to discuss the moon and its influence. How to introduce this post? Hmmm … here’s what Tim said in his email to me:

Hi, Sis!

This is another article that wanted to become a book. Since there was a little flap over the previous article’s assertion that the moon is an artificial orb, let’s look a little deeper. Sources are mentioned that will help the curious get started. If Mitch thought I had brought “the straight talk” last time, this one may push even more buttons. Lance White loves to call out the sacred cows, and the moon seems to be one.

(Laura again) Here are two of my favorite quotes from this trigger alert article:

“The moon is currently part of our experience. We can learn to deal with it, work around it, or even utilize it without surrendering to its influence. The suggestion here is to exercise vigilance so as to make informed choices. Again we swing back to Carl Gustav Jung: ‘Don’t fight forces, use them.’”

“The only thing you can ever know for sure, is that you can never know anything for sure.”

And with that intro, here’s Timothy Glenn:

Lunar Explorations

Let’s explore theories of the origin and nature of the moon. Indigenous peoples and ancient writers have spoken of the time before the Earth had the moon. She was inhabited by humans, who passed on their remembrances of life on Earth when there was no such thing as the moon we now have.

The July 1970 edition of the journal Sputnik featured an article by Russian scientists Mikhail Vasin and Alexander Shcherbakov: “Is the Moon the Creation of Alien Intelligence?” Since then, a variety of scientists around the world have chimed in on this valid question.

There are plenty of anomalies regarding the moon and its orbit, not to mention outright absurdities when viewed in the light of current science.

A Zulu Perspective

Perhaps the best known example of indigenous lore in this area comes from Africa. For decades, Credo Mutwa has served as the lineage holder of Zulu shamanic tradition, and carries the ancient history of his people; a history that stretches back to the Golden Age before the moon arrived.

According to Credo Mutwa, two extraterrestrial reptilian brothers, Wowane and Mpanku, stole the moon from an entity called the Great Fire Dragon. The moon was analogized as an egg, which the brothers hollowed out by removing the yolk. They rolled the moon across the sky to Earth. That event marks the time when Earth’s Golden Age ended, and people started going crazy. After all, where do we get the word lunatic?

These two brothers, strikingly reminiscent of Enki and Enlil from the ancient Sumerian writings, then demanded obedience from the inhabitants of Earth. They threatened that they would move the moon and cause massive destruction if the Earthlings defied the brothers’ authority. Already traumatized by the loss of their Golden Age, the human acquiesced.

Paradise Lost

Credo Mutwa says that before the moon came, the Earth was surrounded by a canopy of water vapor. Some Christian teachings describe the firmament mentioned in the book of Genesis the same way. These conditions created a greenhouse effect that resulted in extremely lush flora, with towering trees and magnificent flowers. There were no seasonal changes, which means no winter. No one ever got sunburned, because the sunlight was diffused by the canopy to eliminate harsh glare. Storms were unknown, as everything was gently watered by mist.

When the moon arrived, it wreaked havoc. The water canopy rained from above, and the force exerted by the moon caused the Earth herself to tilt, altering her orbit. From then on, the oceans had strong tides. Many other cycles began at that time, including menstrual cycles. The life forms on Earth adapted to the new environment in whatever way they could.

NASA: Never A Straight Answer

Since this section comes from NASA, we can take it with a pound of salt. In 1969, Apollo 12 jettisoned its lunar module, which crashed onto the moon. They reported that the moon reverberated like a bell for more than an hour. The following year, Apollo 13 repeated the procedure, but actually commanded the lunar module to strike the moon’s surface. Again, the moon rang like a bell, but the reverberations lasted for three hours, twenty minutes.

Not even crashing meteors or nuclear explosions cause the Earth to produce any such effect. Most scientists have concluded that the moon must be hollow, just as Credo Mutwa said it was hollowed out before being brought to Earth. Carl Sagan said, “A natural satellite cannot be a hollow object.”

Then we have the phenomenon of the moon rocks, which have been analyzed and estimated to be more than half a billion years older than the Earth herself. The list goes on, and too many pieces of the lunar puzzle simply don’t fit the standard narrative. One of the oddest puzzle pieces is that there is no such thing as the dark side of the moon; the far side of the moon, yes, but not the dark side. The moon remains stationary in its orbit, not rotating, but always showing the same side to the Earth. This also means that the moon is perpetually hiding its far side from us. Natural? Not likely.

Food for the Moon

The Gurdjieff/Ouspensky writings offer considerable material on the nature of the moon. Peter Ouspensky wrote and lectured extensively on what George Gurdjieff had taught him, including Gurdjieff’s perspectives on the functions and effects of the moon.

“Everything living on Earth, people, animals, plants, is food for the moon.”

Lance White, host of A Fireside Chat with Zany Mystic, spent several years formally studying the Gurdjieff/Ouspensky Fourth Way material. As brevity is the soul of wit, he condenses the message to: “The moon eats souls.”

The Cosmic Recycling Department

While living in this biosphere, all life forms have energy siphoned off by the moon and by various entities as well. But upon death, the souls are drawn into the moon. According to the Proterrian channelings, the moon serves as the cosmic recycling department. Even the more awakened humans here on Earth are taught that they will follow a tunnel into the “light”. It’s actually a tractor beam, pulling the souls into the moon.

They also anticipate being greeted by loved ones or by some “spiritual” representative of the “heavenly” hierarchy. The caveat here is that the Beings who make up the recycling crew can read you clearly, and ascertain which person or persons would be most effective in luring you into their program. They can mock up the manifestation of someone you would trust, knowing how they would look, sound, talk and act.

To help us get a feel for this phenomenon, there is an old Star Trek Voyager episode called Coda, wherein Captain Janeway has a near death experience. Her “father” is there to greet her, and wants to take her through a portal into his world. You can easily find the pertinent clip on YouTube, usually entitled something like “Janeway versus evil alien”.

Getting With the Program

No other Being can force you to reincarnate back into the Earth Matrix. However, they can deceive, seduce, mislead and somehow convince you that you need to return. Their modus operandi is to convince you that you still have lessons you need to learn and/or you have karma to work off and/or you have relationships to heal. Once you have agreed to this program, you will receive a complimentary memory wipe on your way back into the Earth Matrix. Good luck on your mission. You volunteered.

Their method of persuading you to return is called a life review. Many here on Earth are being prepped for this by well-meaning teachers who truly believe this is an essential experience. On one level, it is…if you want to keep giving your power away and recycling through the Matrix.

This is not to indicate that everyone is sucked right in and shot right back down. If a soul drawn into the moon believes it has earned a place in some sort of “heaven”, it will happen; but their “heaven” will be contained within the Cosmic Matrix. If they believe they will be able to look after loved ones on the Earth, it will happen. But eventually, the vast majority will be persuaded to reincarnate. There might just be an important mission that only special souls like you can achieve, and the poor people on Earth really need your help. Can’t resist? Good luck on your mission. You volunteered.

Deal With It

Lunar apologists will point to what they believe to be the beneficial aspects of the moon, and some will emphasize that there are higher octaves of the lunar energies. Sure, there are higher octaves of literally everything, because everything is part of The Field. But within the context of our current reality, caution is recommended.

The moon is currently part of our experience. We can learn to deal with it, work around it, or even utilize it without surrendering to its influence. The suggestion here is to exercise vigilance so as to make informed choices. Again we swing back to Carl Gustav Jung: “Don’t fight forces, use them.”

In the comments section of the previous article, Eclipsing Our Reality, Kieron offered a springboard for those who wish to begin their research:

https://veilofreality.com/the-esoteric-significance-of-our-moon-and-the-matrix-control-system/

This obviously challenges a lot of entrenched beliefs. But if our ideas cannot withstand scrutiny, then those ideas need all the more scrutiny.

Philosophical Skepticism

To be skeptical is not merely to doubt or disbelieve. Etymology traces the root back to the ancient Greek word skepsis: inquiry, study, research, investigation, examination or inspection. The genuine skeptic avoids the pitfall of accepting theories at face value, preferring to explore the possibilities.

An open heart combined with intellectual honesty is the best policy. One of the quirks of the human mind stems from the insecurity of needing to accept or reject ideas on the spot, pretending we know. A popular saying has helped alleviate this: “My jury is out.”

As of the early 90’s, I have opted to view myself as an ever-changing bundle of ever-changing perceptions in the midst of an ever-changing universe. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for belief. Let’s close with Proterrian’s favorite paradox:

“The only thing you can ever know for sure, is that you can never know anything for sure.”

Timothy Glenn http://soulpurposereadings.com/

from Thomas Reed https://laurabruno.wordpress.com/2017/08/16/timothy-glenn-lunar-explorations/

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