The Story of Thanksgiving

 

Thanksgiving, made possible by only one word…

By only one man.

Those pilgrims they landed they tried and they struggled. Nothing worked. They really suffered. Nothing grew, all the seasons were wrong. They came down with all of the things that were just like at home but different, different enough to do them real harm. They even tried hunting, but even that was other than they had known. This was a new country where God had made things other than they had believed would be possible. As many laid sick and indeed dying, they gave it one more try. A small band went out looking for game and they met with something totally unexpected. This is the word. This is the message. America (Americas) listen. This is the word. “Welcome.” This is what they heard.

How could that small band of travelling originals know one word of English, “Welcome” but they did so. They cautiously walked towards the struggling settlers and spoke the one word of English they knew “Welcome” all this way from the homeland.

This was the moment which gave the Americas English. This is the reason that as new settlers arrived they heard English. All along the coasts were settlements where it was the language and new arrivals from Germany, Poland, Spain, The Ukraine, from the known world heard and adapted.

This was the word of Squanto.

For that welcoming band (that small ‘nation’) led the poor settlers to another tribe but their own. They took them to a ‘nation’ where Squanto lived.

It was Squanto who took them in, who travelled with them, who settled with them for a while. He taught them how life was different here. They gathered seeds because of him. They learned the lore. The lore of this land the Americas. And they thrived.

In years to come, they would be all along the coast, coastal settlement to coastal settlement; welcoming the new arrivals in English, just like the tribal band before them, “Welcome” “Welcome” “Welcome”

This was the doing of one person, one person on this earth; Squanto.

Many, many years before, other strangers had come, they had come to take, and they took him. Squanto the slave had to work; had to work on an alien vessel, doing alien things. Hard they treated him, and hard he worked. Then came the time that they traded him. To yet another alien vessel, in an alien world, at an alien port.

From there he sailed with this new crew to another world. To a port, as he learned they called them. To the port of London. More beings in one glimpse than he had ever seen in his life.

But he saw his life ahead of him and he jumped ship. He left. He escaped. He survived. He learned the language. English.

Time went by and he had what he needed to know. The ships that landed here could go anywhere. So he asked and he asked, and one of these ships said yes. The captain agreed, yes he was going to the ‘new’ world and yes he would employ him.

All Squanto required in payment was nourishment. Nourishment and hope.

The journey was long. And it was hard.

The shore, at last, was before him. The captain was true to his word. Squanto was free.

He was not bitter. He had learned. And he knew one word more than any other.

Long was his walk, it took him years, but he got down that coast, till he started to recognise where he was…

And was he welcomed, he who had come back from the dead, all these years gone.

As an older wiser man, he taught all around him. The only way to survive in this ‘new’ larger world was to welcome. To welcome.
He taught this word to all who came near him.

And those settlers, all those years onwards were welcome.

All along the coast of the Americas his one true word echoed. “Welcome.” “Welcome.” “Welcome.”

Welcome.

Be thankful and be welcoming.

For this is Thanksgiving.welcome

 

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Everything Donald needs to say to make it all alright

As there should be no such expression as anti-fascist ever needed, (a person who disagrees with fascism is just that a person, it is a default to be anti-fascist), all Donald needs to say is,

“All people should be treated equally. Equallity is a basic right; a basic right which effects everything. Anyone who wishes to treat some types of people worse than others is evil, evil, not just wrong; evil.”

As soon as people of influence start saying so then there will be hope for the world.

This effects everything.

This world is filled with people who have to be treated equally.trump 03

 

Thanksgiving, (This is a bright Friday), made possible by only one word…

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Thanksgiving, (This is a bright Friday), made possible by only one word…

By only one man.

Those pilgrims they landed they tried and they struggled. Nothing worked. They really suffered. Nothing grew, all the seasons were wrong. They came down with all of the things that were just like at home but different, different enough to do them real harm. They even tried hunting, but even that was other than they had known. This was a new country where God had made things other than they had believed would be possible. As many laid sick and indeed dying, they gave it one more try. A small band went out looking for game and they met with something totally unexpected. This is the word. This is the message. America (Americas) listen. This is the word. “Welcome.” This is what they heard.

How could that small band of travelling originals know one word of English, “Welcome” but they did so. They cautiously walked towards the struggling settlers and spoke the one word of English they knew “Welcome” all this way from the homeland.

This was the moment which gave the Americas English. This is the reason that as new settlers arrived they heard English. All along the coasts were settlements where it was the language and new arrivals from Germany, Poland, Spain, The Ukraine, from the known world heard and adapted.

This was the word of Squanto.

For that welcoming band (that small ‘nation’) led the poor settlers to another tribe but their own. They took them to a ‘nation’ where Squanto lived.

It was Squanto who took them in, who travelled with them, who settled with them for a while. He taught them how life was different here. They gathered seeds because of him. They learned the lore. The lore of this land the Americas. And they thrived.

In years to come, they would be all along the coast, coastal settlement to coastal settlement; welcoming the new arrivals in English, just like the tribal band before them, “Welcome” “Welcome” “Welcome”

This was the doing of one person, one person on this earth; Squanto.

Many, many years before, other strangers had come, they had come to take, and they took him. Squanto the slave had to work; had to work on an alien vessel, doing alien things. Hard they treated him, and hard he worked. Then came the time that they traded him. To yet another alien vessel, in an alien world, at an alien port.

From there he sailed with this new crew to another world. To a port, as he learned they called them. To the port of London. More beings in one glimpse than he had ever seen in his life.

But he saw his life ahead of him and he jumped ship. He left. He escaped. He survived. He learned the language. English.

Time went by and he had what he needed to know. The ships that landed here could go anywhere. So he asked and he asked, and one of these ships said yes. The captain agreed, yes he was going to the ‘new’ world and yes he would employ him.

All Squanto required in payment was nourishment. Nourishment and hope.

The journey was long. And it was hard.

The shore, at last, was before him. The captain was true to his word. Squanto was free.

He was not bitter. He had learned. And he knew one word more than any other.

Long was his walk, it took him years, but he got down that coast, till he started to recognise where he was…

And was he welcomed, he who had come back from the dead, all these years gone.

As an older wiser man, he taught all around him. The only way to survive in this ‘new’ larger world was to welcome. To welcome.
He taught this word to all who came near him.

And those settlers, all those years onwards were welcome.

All along the coast of the Americas his one true word echoed. “Welcome.” “Welcome.” “Welcome.”

Welcome.

Be thankful and be welcoming.

For this is Thanksgiving.

 

 

or travel or trains – we are into silly short blogs here I think – or films – or My Kinder Joy – or my ghost creation kitYour holiday read – and Easter Chicks

There are such things as elves

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There are such things as elves

Yes there are, and they have been seen – elves. Little childlike figures with elven faces skipping around a waterfall, appearing and disappearing. Credible sounding witnesses too. This, I am sure, will be great news for many of my readers; for the many who have approached me to tell me of their experiences. I now wish I had interviewed lots of you personally as it may well have been worthy of an international news feature as in the case of this latest sensational sighting.

Now. I tell stories, and often silly stories, so I am perhaps not one of those credible witnesses, but I am, it seems, a credible pair of ears. I skip about trapped in a fairy ring turning my hat inside out and people come up to me afterwards and tell me very serious accounts of their experiences. Trolls in particular, the littler variety usually; giggling and peeping and following and such (and turning up again later somewhere completely different to remind you); other creatures too, some quite large and all are not humanoid. These tales are most often told to me among the heady environment of Gudvangen in Norway by my Viking friends or by passing tourists, but I do hear tales of places elsewhere; small people of Iceland and the alternative world human sized helpers who wait for you to step through for instance, or the nature spirits fluttering to follow the song-lines of Aboriginal lands. There are lots of sizes and types I am told.

ship

Well. Do any of you identify with the latest creatures to be reported in the news? If any globetrotting fairy searchers are reading this and already have their bags half packed (I am serious for I know a few like this) hold fire. Do not head off to Gudvangen, well do by all means it is a magical place, but read on; we are heading to a far different part of the world.

The reason I was prompted to write about the beings from the Americas is my surprise reaction. I was scared! I am not sure if that feeling will transfer to you as you read on, but you have been warned. There are surprises in store for you, that is for certain.

Yes the Americas, the middle strip. Head there with me now for a few encounters.

The ‘children’ the account of which scared and excited me were spotted in a storm in a national park. They are not the only mystical creatures to be reported credibly in the region however. As well as these particular playful little people there are many reports of ‘Duende’, fantastical spirits or elves, and of course there is folk-lore; long long have people talked of these beings, most often as household spirits, very similar to the Hobb of Yorkshire farms. These creatures are most often talked of in their rural areas, but ‘Duende’ can be complained of in town houses too. They tend to frolic though often cause mischievous disruption. Things go missing, there are sudden bangs to wake you up or right behind you. They are cheeky to say the least. They are no doubt blamed for many a thing which is amiss and unexplainable. Not actually spotted that often, when they are they are described as elf or gnome like and wearing green, sometimes with a red top or cloak.

So it is with the being seen in the nearby Bijagua de Upala who was wearing a red cloak, almost covered by it in fact; a child-like being sat upon a rock by a volcano. Officials from the park say many report being worried for the welfare of this little guy all alone smiling away in the middle of nowhere. The latest sighting of beings cause greater concern.

Although people seem unsettled and challenged when reporting these concerns, there is far more fear associated with the very many reports of Duende visitations. The military academy of La Glorieta has catalogues of sightings and reports with a great deal of fear and worry among the officers and men. This highly respected institution based in a large old castle has the goal of instilling civil, moral and spiritual values. They are connecting with the spiritual certainly!

Reports from all grades are starting to be made public and there are many who fear the guard duty of the early hours, with some quite disturbing repercussions. Residents and guards alike hear whisperings behind them, see objects moving about, and are suddenly touched by unseen hands. Cadets report a heavy and intense atmosphere throughout the area, from the river bank to the depth of the castle. Sudden apparitions. Los Duendes.

Eufronio and Jhonny sat listening from their guard station to bangs and the sound of picks down by the river for long moments, then all went quiet. Then there was the sound of something being dragged towards them. They reported that they knew they should have investigated (one of them is now of the rank of Captain) but they felt such unearthly fear that they hid under blankets. Presently they felt the heavy chains being dragged over them and they lost consciousness.

Not too pixy–like perhaps but the worlds of fearie hold many beings of many forms and motivations. Some are seen. Walter a cadet officer at the time reports small figures appearing, sometimes floating, shadows of smaller beings in dark corners. Talcum powder left sprinkled reveals very small foot prints. Objects appear from nowhere and are missed in another part of the castle. The lightning flashes! This is dreaded. For when there is a storm and a flash of lightning comes, small figures are seen. These figures carry swords.

Mainly they are diminutive but there is also a womanly figure which floats right through you in a long flowing gown; a queen of the fairies perhaps. These are not glimpses into a magical world where one might be enchanted; these are terrifying to the beholders with a real sense of intimidation. This phenomenon is intensifying over recent years and one cadet was admitted to hospital following seizures and talking in a strange language.

We shall put this place behind us, yet for those of you who perhaps would like to know more I refer you to the writings of Alan Murdie in the magazine of those interested in the philosophy of Charles Fort – Fortean Times (you might well read elsewhere, but this is the account I recommend).

Let us move now to somewhere beautiful, to the place I actual intend to report upon; the pathway by the waterfall on the Rio Celeste. Come with me now to the Tenoria Volcano National Park where guides and officials and visitors have had some very magical experiences. Giggling small beings, holding hands and skipping and dancing. They are dressed all in green, bright green, with little dark green hats. The torrential storm and the wildness of the area had no effect upon them, they were happy and lively and going about their own experiences. They were seen and then they were gone.

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Gone from sight of humans at least, it seems they are still there living their way in their world which overlaps our own. They step through into vision for many, and there are some among us, I know for a fact, who see such beings more clearly and constantly. I await feedback from my readers who are of this persuasion for further details of these creatures way of life and demeanour.

Yet I should not encourage visitors there. There is another side to these visitations. A chilling aspect. No contact has been made, not even eye contact or acknowledgement of our existence upon this plane, there are interesting reactions however from those privileged to witness.

There is an atmosphere, it is as if you know you should not be part way through to their world. An unaccountable feeling of fear. This feeling comes on before you are witness to the other lives. Homer, one of the guides who has walked that fearful trail tells us how chilled and frightened he felt. He didn’t know quite why he felt this way, but he was shortly to become rooted to the spot. There had been a sudden storm and he had advised his party to join him in taking a short cut at the end of their trail to enable them to return to base quicker. The rain came sudden and heavy, they were instantly soaked, so they went with him, some slightly ahead of him, down a little used path. There is an old path which traverses the bushy growth and comes very near to the entrance to the waterfall where a darker area can be seen within.

He was trying to catch up with the tourists who had got ahead of him when he saw other movement. He stopped, he stared, he could not move. Those before and behind him were also fixed to the spot. Some remembered nothing of this experience whilst most had detailed accounts. It was strange. It should not be happening. It was from somewhere else and yet from right here.

How incongruous to see happy small people in such a wild place and especially in such torrential weather. This environment was not affecting the beings at all. Party members Jennifer and her mother found it strange that a group so small should be alone and unaccompanied. They leaped and skipped as they moved, you could see that they were very very happy. This was not the feeling of the viewer however, especially when one looked into their faces. These were not the faces of children, they were gnome like, like dwarves, beautiful yet ancient in appearance. Her mother later said that a chill had ran through her body for the brief while that she watched these entities traversing the path ahead of them. They were there, they will always be remembered, then suddenly they were gone.

I will not be visiting such a place, but if you do I look forward to hearing from you upon your return.

And to my friends who are spotters of the world of faerie, I am on my way to interview you now…

 

Now try my Haunted House blog