Diversion Road Quotes

Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle.

Sometimes your belief system is really your fears attached to rules.

[...] the diversity of our opinions, consequently, does not arise from some being endowed with a larger share of reason than others, but solely from this, that we conduct our thoughts along different ways, and do not fix our attention on the same objects. For to be possessed of a vigorous mind is not enough; the prime requisite is rightly to apply it. The greatest minds, as they are capable of the highest excellences, are open likewise to the greatest aberrations; and those who travel very slowly may yet make far greater progress, provided they keep always to the straight road, than those who, while they run, forsake it.

Imagine if for every person you met, you thought of some way to help them, something you could do for them? And you looked at it in a way that entirely benefited them and not you. The cumulative effect this would have over time would be profound: You’d learn a great deal by solving diverse problems. You’d develop a reputation for being indispensable. You’d have countless new relationships. You’d have an enormous bank of favors to call upon down the road. That’s what the canvas strategy is about—helping yourself by helping others.

My advice is to stop trying to "network" in the traditional business sense, and instead just try to build up the number and depth of your friendships, where the friendship itself is its own reward. The more diverse your set of friendships are, the more likely you'll derive both personal and business benefits from your friendship later down the road. You won't know exactly what those benefits will be, but if your friendships are genuine, those benefits will magically appear 2-3 years later down the road.

The diversity of sounds rule my ever presence with their highs and blows, encompassing the totality of sensual experience. I'm a child of the sirens of knowledge, a warrior for the truth in a world of washed perspectives and harsh realities. My voice cries the initial cry of the unborn into the perplexing illusion. I long for the realization of the human drama, the defeat of the dogs war, and the unity of existence. The beloved Gods of virtue have been undersold for the bleeding bread of empathy. I now awaist the triumphant roar of destiny, dressed in the inviting hand of a mother, perplexed by discovering, aroused by spirit. The door is open, the road transformed. The exit code to civilization is hacked beyond dispair, chased but the moon toward the freeing sun, on our journey to light. This is an open plea to the beautiful insanity of your hearts. It is time to consummate the kiss of oblivion into the obsidian of love!

Pope John Paul II once said as well, “Lebanon is a message more than it is a country.” Now this diversity has turned into fragmentation and the richness into poverty, awaiting a miraculous remedy.

Of all the intoxicants you can find on the road (including a "national beer" for nearly every country in the world), marijuana deserves a particular mention here, primarily because it's so popular with travelers. Much of this popularity is due to the fact that marijuana is a relatively harmless diversion (again, provided you don't get caught with it) that can intensify certain impressions and sensations of travel. The problem with marijuana, however, is that it's the travel equivalent of watching television: It replaces real sensations with artificially enhanced ones. Because it doesn't force you to work for a feeling, it creates passive experiences that are only vaguely connected to the rest of your life. "The drug vision remains a sort of dream that cannot be brought over into daily life," wrote Peter Matthiessen in The Snow Leopard. "Old mists may be banished, that is true, but the alien chemical agent forms another mist, maintaining the separation of the 'I' from the true experience of the 'One.'" Moreover, chemical highs have a way of distracting you from the utterly stoning natural high of travel itself. After all, roasting a bowl might spice up a random afternoon in Dayton, Ohio, but is it really all that necessary along the Sumatran shores of Lake Toba, the mountain basins of Nepal, or the desert plateaus of Patagonia? As Salvador Dali quipped, "I never took drugs because I am drugs." With this in mind, strive to be drugs as you travel, to patiently embrace the raw, personal sensation of unmediated reality--an experience for more affecting than any intoxicant can promise.

To explore the diversity of Mother Nature with all five senses and allow it to evolve you as a Human Being is truly Travel

I stood up. Can a man stand alone, naked, and at his ease, wrist flexed at his side like Michelangelo's David, without assistance, without diversion, without drink, without friends, without a woman, in silence? Yes. It was possible to stand. Nothing happened. I listened. There was no sound: no boats on the river, no trucks on the road, not even cicadas. What if I didn't listen to the news? I didn't. Nothing happened. I realized I had been afraid of silence.

This ability to have empathy for difference, to be open to diversity, to work hard at thinking about how other people may differ from you is a key step on the road to compassion – and it’s not always easy.

SKIRTING the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of the eagles, The rushing amorous contact high in space together, The clinching interlocking claws, a living, fierce, gyrating wheel, Four beating wings, two beaks, a swirling mass tight grappling, 5 In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight downward falling, Till o’er the river pois’d, the twain yet one, a moment’s lull, A motionless still balance in the air, then parting, talons loosing, Upward again on slow-firm pinions slanting, their separate diverse flight, She hers, he his, pursuing.

magine if for every person you met, you thought of some way to help them, something you could do for them? And you looked at it in a way that entirely benefited them and not you. The cumulative effect this would have over time would be profound: You’d learn a great deal by solving diverse problems. You’d develop a reputation for being indispensable. You’d have countless new relationships. You’d have an enormous bank of favors to call upon down the road. That’s what the canvas strategy is about—helping yourself by helping others.

Here the earth, as if to prove its immensity, empties itself. Gertrude Stein said: 'In the United States there is more space where nobody is than where anybody is. That is what makes America what it is.' The uncluttered stretches of the American West and the deserted miles of roads force a lone traveler to pay attention to them by leaving him isolated in them. This squander of land substitutes a sense of self with a sense of place by giving him days of himself until, tiring of his own small compass, he looks for relief to the bigness outside -- a grandness that demands attention not just for its scope, but for its age, its diversity, its continual change. The isolating immensity reveals what lies covered in places noisier, busier, more filled up. For me, what I saw revealed was this (only this): a man nearly desperate because his significance had come to lie within his own narrow ambit.

Good sense is, of all things among men, the most equally distributed; for every one thinks himself so abundantly provided with it, that those even who are the most difficult to satisfy in everything else, do not usually desire a larger measure of this quality than they already possess. And in this it is not likely that all are mistaken the conviction is rather to be held as testifying that the power of judging aright and of distinguishing truth from error, which is properly what is called good sense or reason, is by nature equal in all men; and that the diversity of our opinions, consequently, does not arise from some being endowed with a larger share of reason than others, but solely from this, that we conduct our thoughts along different ways, and do not fix our attention on the same objects. For to be possessed of a vigorous mind is not enough; the prime requisite is rightly to apply it. The greatest minds, as they are capable of the highest excellences, are open likewise to the greatest aberrations; and those who travel very slowly may yet make far greater progress, provided they keep always to the straight road, than those who, while they run, forsake it.

We are the last generation that can experience true wilderness. Already the world has shrunk dramatically. To a Frenchman, the Pyrenees are “wild.” To a kid living in a New York City ghetto, Central Park is “wilderness,” the way Griffith Park in Burbank was to me when I was a kid. Even travelers in Patagonia forget that its giant, wild-looking estancias are really just overgrazed sheep farms. New Zealand and Scotland were once forested and populated with long-forgotten animals. The place in the lower forty-eight states that is farthest away from a road or habitation is at the headwaters of the Snake River in Wyoming, and it’s still only twenty-five miles. So if you define wilderness as a place that is more than a day’s walk from civilization, there is no true wilderness left in North America, except in parts of Alaska and Canada. In a true Earth-radical group, concern for wilderness preservation must be the keystone. The idea of wilderness, after all, is the most radical in human thought—more radical than Paine, than Marx, than Mao. Wilderness says: Human beings are not paramount, Earth is not for Homo sapiens alone, human life is but one life form on the planet and has no right to take exclusive possession. Yes, wilderness for its own sake, without any need to justify it for human benefit. Wilderness for wilderness. For bears and whales and titmice and rattlesnakes and stink bugs. And…wilderness for human beings…. Because it is home. —Dave Foreman, Confessions of an Eco-Warrior We need to protect these areas of unaltered wildness and diversity to have a baseline, so we never forget what the real world is like—in perfect balance, the way nature intended the earth to be. This is the model we need to keep in mind on our way toward sustainability.

I was the only “girl writer,” probably because the power to make people laugh is also a power, so women have been kept out of comedy. Polls show that what women fear most from men is violence, and what men fear most from women is ridicule. Later, when Tina Fey was head writer and star of Saturday Night Live, she could still say, “Only in comedy does an obedient white girl from the suburbs count as diversity.

She closed her eyes an instant, and the vacuous routine of the life she had chosen stretched before her like a long white road without dip or turning: it was true she was to roll over it in a carriage instead of trudging it on foot, but sometimes the pedestrian enjoys the diversion of a short cut which is denied to those on wheels.

This new diversity will give us a better understanding of the world and enrich our cultural choices, yet

In Britain, you could drive 400 miles from London and be fairly deep into Scotland. In America, people drive 400 miles as a diversion. ‘Do

His book Witchcraft and the Shamanic Journey (formerly North Star Road) was one of the first works presented to mainstream pagan practitioners that overtly demonstrates the similarities between witchcraft and shamanism through a survey of cultures as diverse as the Norse and the Mayan. He is also responsible for bringing greater awareness to Slavic magick and shamanism through his book Slavic Sorcery. Two

Sometimes in the mountains the animals make paths by using the same route again and again. If you don't know what you're doing, you might think it's a path made by humans--it looks that way. If you follow that path, the path of beasts, you won't get anywhere at all. People lost in the wilderness, they follow these paths and only get more and more lost. Sometimes they lose their way and they die. It's not a path for humans, it's a dangerous diversion. Are you sure that's the road you want to take? It won't get you where you want to go.

The car came opposite her, and she curtsied so low that recovery was impossible, and she sat down in the road. Her parasol flew out of her hand and out of her parasol flew the Union Jack. She saw a young man looking out of the window, dressed in khaki, grinning broadly, but not, so she thought, graciously, and it suddenly struck her that there was something, beside her own part in the affair, which was not as it should be. As he put his head in again there was loud laughter from the inside of the car. Mr. Wootten helped her up and the entire assembly of her friends crowded round her, hoping she was not hurt. "No, dear Major, dear Padre, not at all, thanks," she said. "So stupid: my ankle turned. Oh, yes, the Union Jack I bought for my nephew, it's his birthday to-morrow. Thank you. I just came to see about my coke: of course I thought the Prince had arrived when you all went down to meet the 4.15. Fancy my running straight into it all! How well he looked." This was all rather lame, and Miss Mapp hailed Mrs. Poppit's appearance from the station as a welcome diversion. . . . Mrs. Poppit was looking vexed.

Here’s another misconception. A great many people believe that reconciliation boils down to dialogue: a conference on race, a lecture, a moving sermon about the diversity we’ll see in heaven. But dialogue is productive toward reconciliation only when it leads to action—when it inverts power and pursues justice for those who are most marginalized. Unfortunately, most “reconciliation conversations” spend most of their time teaching white people about racism. In too many churches and organizations, listening to the hurt and pain of people of color is the end of the road, rather than the beginning.

He told me it was for men of desperate fortunes on one hand, or of aspiring, superior fortune on the other, who when abroad upon adventures, to rise by enterprize, and make themselves famous in undertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these things were all either too far above me, or to far below me; that mine was the middle state, or what might be called the upper station of low life, which he had found by long experience was the best state in the world, the most suited to human happiness, not exposed to the miseries of hardships, the labour and sufferings of the mechanick part of mankind, and not embarrassed with the pride, luxury, ambition, and envy of the upper part of mankind. He told me I might judge of the happiness of this state by this one thing, viz. that this was the state of life which all other people envied, that kings had frequently lamented the miserable consequences of being born to great things, and wished they had been placed in the middle of the two extremes, between the mean and the great; that the wise man gave his testimony to this as the just standard of true felicity, when he prayed to have neither poverty or riches. He bid me observe it, and I should always find, that the calamities of life were shared among the upper and lower part of mankind; but that the middle station had the fewest disasters, and was not exposed to so many vicissitudes as the higher or lower part of mankind; nay, they were so subjected to so many distempers and uneasiness, either of body or mind, as those were who, by vicious living, luxury, and extravagancies on one hand, and by hard labour, want of necessaries, and mean or insufficient diet on the other hand, bring distempers upon themselves by the natural consequences of their way of living; that the middle station of life was calculated for all kinds of vertues and all kinds of enjoyments; that peace and plenty were the hand-maids of a middle fortune; that temperance, moderation, quietness, health, society, all agreeable diversion, and all desirable pleasures, were the blessing attending the middle station of life; that this way men went silently and smoothly thro’ the world, and comfortably out of it, not embarrassed with the labour of their hands or of the head, not sold to the life of slavery for daily bread, or harrast with perplexed circumstances, which rob the soul of peace and the body of rest; not enraged with the passion of envy, or secret burning lust of ambition for great things; but in easy circumstances sliding gently thro’ the world, and sensibly tasting the sweets of living without the bitter, feeling that they are happy and learning by every day’s experience to know it more sensibly.

The connection between radical attentiveness, prayer, and joy pervades Jewish mystical thinking in its diverse phases but never so brightly, so every-day-related, and so clearly as in Hasidism. Melancholy is the dust in the soul that Satan spreads out. Worry and dejection are seen to be the roots of every evil force. Melancholy is a wicked quality and displeasing to God, says Martin Buber. Rabbi Bunam said: "Once when I was on the road near Warsaw, I felt that I had to tell a certain story. But this story was of a worldly nature and I knew that it would only rouse laughter among the many people who had gathered about me. The Evil Urge tried very hard to dissuade me, saying that I would lose all those people because once they heard this story they would no longer consider me a rabbi. But I said to my heart: `Why should you he concerned about the secret ways of God?' And I remembered the words of Rabbi Pinhas of Koretz: 'All joys hail from paradise, and jests too, provided they are uttered in true joy’ And so in my heart of hearts I renounced my rabbi's office and told the story. The gathering burst out laughing. And those who up to this point had been distant from me attached themselves to me." (a quote from Tales of the Hasidim by Martin Buber). Joy, laughter, and delight are so powerful because, like all mysticism, they abolish conventional divisions, in this case the division between secular and sacred. The often boisterous laughter, especially of women, is part and parcel of the everyday life of mystical movements.

In thirty years or so, the majority will no longer be European Americans; the first generation of mostly babies of color has already been born. This new diversity will give us a better understanding of the world and enrich our cultural choices, yet there are people whose sense of identity depends on the old hierarchy.

You will learn about A.A. and Al-Anon in the Red Road to Wellbriety but you will also learn about Talking Circles, Helping Spirits, the sweat lodge, the Medicine Wheel, sacred dances, smudging rituals, and praying with the eagle feather.  You will hear men and women of many tribes and traditions illustrating the diversity of how they came to live sober, meaningful lives. The

This new diversity will give us a better understanding of the world and enrich our cultural choices, yet there are people whose sense of identity depends on the old hierarchy. It may just be their fear and guilt talking: What if I am treated as I have treated others? But with all the power and money that is behind it, this backlash could imprison us in a hierarchy all over again. As

1. Experience: People who have been down the road of life and understand it. 2. Heart for God: People who place God first and uphold His values. 3. Objectivity: People who see the pros and cons of the issues. 4. Love for people: People who love others and value them more than things. 5. Complementary gifts: People who bring diverse gifts to the relationship. 6. Loyalty to the leader: People who truly love and are concerned for the leader. The Maxwell Leadership Bible

«Sono Mack Stephenson, ho ventisette anni, qualche mese fa ho preso un master in sociologia all'università Centrale del Missouri, dove studiavo il comportamento dell'uomo in diversi ambienti sociali. Ti evito la definizione esatta di quello che ho appreso, la riassumo dicendo che ho un master in sociologia, ed è piuttosto discreta come spiegazione. Amo sapere in anticipo come sarà il futuro, in funzione di certe scelte, ma amo anche scoprire il mondo, le persone, amo l'ignoto e non sapere cosa accadrà domani. Amo essere contraddittorio con me stesso, amo fare delle esperienze, amo viverle a fondo, senza farmi domande, e apprendere le cose sul posto. Amo incontrare persone diverse che vivono fuori dalle classi sociali conformi alla società. Ma soprattutto, vorrei vivere e scoprire il mondo e quelli che lo occupano prima di finire con il culo dietro a qualche scrivania per tutta la vita. Perché quando rientrerò fra qualche mese, avrò un lavoro al NAICS. Ecco, Travis, ora sai perché sono sulla strada o almeno, hai un inizio di risposta, perché te l’ho fatta breve.»

«C’è una reale buona ragione per te, di andare a vivere una vita che non sembra sedurti più di me? Più di quello che abbiamo vissuto?» mi chiede. Travis sta facendo un altro tentativo di sapere cosa nascondo. Come quando eravamo lontani da qui, lontani da questo addio. Nel bel mezzo dell'Alaska, in quella camera d'albergo. Solo che da allora le cose non sono cambiate. «Fra un po’ di tempo comprenderai che posso restare per sempre nel tuo cuore, ma non nella tua vita. Non possiamo vivere insieme, Travis, le nostre vite sono troppo diverse, e questo finirebbe per distruggerci. Quello che abbiamo adesso, in questo istante, non potrà mai sopravvivere al ritorno alla realtà. Ma l'amore che proviamo sarà probabilmente il più bel ricordo della nostra vita.» Taccio un istante prima di sussurrare dolcemente: «Sei la mia cometa, Travis Hamilton. Sapevo che la nostra relazione avrebbe avuto una data di scadenza, ma questo non mi ha impedito di vivere quello che c’era da vivere con te, approfittando di ogni istante, senza mai dispiacermene, perché era perfetto. Corto, ma perfetto»

If discipleship practices offer the means to lead us from segregation to solidarity, lament provides the mood. We dare not come to this ministry of reconciliation with any other posture. We move forward humbly, as those only slowly awakening to the extent of the damage done by our previously defective discipleship. The road ahead will often feel unnatural to those of us who’ve been discipled in the narrative of racial difference. For those who’ve known only racial privilege, the journey toward equitable reconciliation will sting at times. We are accustomed to segregation, novices on this journey to solidarity. And so we must practice.

He [Aldo Leopold] recognized that industrial-age tools were incompatible with truly wild country - that roads eventually brought with them streams of tourists and settlers, hotels and gas stations, summer homes and cabins, and a diminishment of land health. He sort of invented the concept of wilderness as we now understand it in America: a stretch of country without roads, where all human movement must happen on foot or horseback. He understood that to keep a little remnant of our continent wild, we had no choice but to exercise restraint. I think it's one of the best ideas our culture ever had, not to mention our best hope for preserving the full diversity of nonhuman life in a few functioning ecosystems.

To “trip out,” you have to trip up your frontal lobes. Although creativity arises from the frontal lobes, it almost always takes a backseat to the dominant responsibility of those same lobes: the executive and planning function that aims to get through the day as efficiently as possible. So with time, mental habits take hold that reinforce efficient behavior by forming preferential electrical pathways and networks, like freeways directing the major flow between major cities. What psychedelics are thought to do is to disassemble the freeways temporarily, leaving only a dense and evenly distributed network of roads. This dissolution greatly expands the diversity of connections and, as a result, allows unexpected and original thoughts.

And you looked at it in a way that entirely benefited them and not you. The cumulative effect this would have over time would be profound: You’d learn a great deal by solving diverse problems. You’d develop a reputation for being indispensable. You’d have countless new relationships. You’d have an enormous bank of favors to call upon down the road. That’s what the canvas strategy is about—helping yourself by helping others. Making a concerted effort to trade your short-term gratification for a longer-term payoff. Whereas everyone else wants to get credit and be “respected,” you can forget credit. You can forget it so hard that you’re glad when others get it instead of you—that was your aim, after all. Let the others take their credit on credit, while you defer and earn interest on the principal.

And in this it is not likely that all are mistaken the conviction is rather to be held as testifying that the power of judging aright and of distinguishing truth from error, which is properly what is called good sense or reason, is by nature equal in all men; and that the diversity of our opinions, consequently, does not arise from some being endowed with a larger share of reason than others, but solely from this, that we conduct our thoughts along different ways, and do not fix our attention on the same objects. For to be possessed of a vigorous mind is not enough; the prime requisite is rightly to apply it. The greatest minds, as they are capable of the highest excellences, are open likewise to the greatest aberrations; and those who travel very slowly may yet make far greater progress, provided they keep always to the straight road, than those who, while they run, forsake it.

«Non credo al destino,» dico per rompere questo silenzio pesante e facendolo sobbalzare per la sorpresa. «Non ci ho mai creduto. Penso che sia il risultato della somma delle nostre scelte, dettate dalla nostra coscienza e dal nostro libero arbitrio. Senza contare che si dipende totalmente dalle scelte degli altri. Non c'è una strada tracciata, ci sono solo diverse strade che scegli di percorrere oppure no, non sapendo mai in anticipo dove quella certa strada ti condurrà perché il numero delle variabili è completamente impossibile da prendere in considerazione. Tutto è una scelta, Mack. Non c’è nulla di prestabilito in funzione della direzione che prendi, perché le tue precedenti scelte hanno influenzato quella che hai fatto e influenzeranno le tue future decisioni. Non ci sono solo due soluzioni, ma milioni di combinazioni possibili. Quindi no, non credo al destino.» Mack si gira verso di me e io distolgo lo sguardo dalla strada per alcuni secondi per guardarlo, non sorride ancora, ma ha un'aria colpita. Okay, lo capisco, ho composto delle frasi molto lunghe per esprimermi, ma se lui non è abituato a sentirmi parlare tanto, a mia volta, io non sono abituato a non sentirlo ciarlare di continuo, e per quanto assurdo possa sembrare, la sua voce mi manca. Sento il suo sguardo insistente su di me e la cosa mi fa sorridere. Mi piace da impazzire quando mi guarda così, come se gli avessi appena annunciato l'inizio della terza guerra mondiale. «L'adrenalina, Mack, la forte situazione di stress. È stato questo quello che ieri sera ti ha fatto scoppiare e baciarmi, è stata l'euforia del momento e niente di più, quindi smettila di pensarci in continuazione e dimentica.» «Dimentica?» La sua voce grave risuona in tutta la cabina. Sento il brivido che ha sempre scatenato in me e sospiro per il tono scioccato che ha usato. «Sì, se vuoi continuare il viaggio con me, è preferibile, Mack.» «Non ho voglia di dimenticare,» risponde arrabbiato

...moderate social deviance or class non-conformism I have imputed to the first generation of pedestrians. Improved roads, after all, were one of the principal means by which the country was building a national communications network that would underpin the huge commercial and industrial expansion of the nineteenth century; changing the landscape of the country to produce the arterial interconnection of the modern state in place of a geography of more or less self-enclosed local communities; consolidating the administrative structures of the state and facilitating political hegemony over a rapidly growing and potentially unstable population; and promulgating a 'national' culture in the face of regional diversity and independence. With the main roads such powerful instruments of change, the walker's decision to exploit his freedom to resist the imperative of destination and explore instead by lanes, by-roads and fieldpaths, could well be interpreted as an act of denial, flight or dissent vis-a-vis the forces that were ineradicably transforming British society.

To return to central Rome, it’s another two miles north along a busy stretch of road, not recommended on foot or bike. Instead, catch bus #118 from the bus stop about 75 yards past Domine Quo Vadis Church (across from the TI). Bus #118 makes several interesting stops (see below) on its way to the Piramide Metro stop. (Note that another bus, the #218, also goes from here to San Giovanni in Laterano.) For those with more energy, there’s more to see, especially if you’re renting a bike and want to just get away from it all. Other Sights on or near the Appian Way Consider these diversions if you have the time and interest. More of the Appian Way: Heading south (away from downtown Rome), past the Tomb of Cecilia Metella, you’ll find the best-preserved part of the Appian Way—quieter, less touristed, and lined with cypresses, pines, and crumbling tombs. It’s all downhill after the first few hundred yards. On a bike, you’ll travel over lots of rough paving stones (or dirt sidewalks) for about 30 minutes to reach a big pyramid-shaped ruin on its tiny base, and then five minutes more to the back side of the Villa dei Quintili.

It is hard to overestimate the importance of the Catholic church’s value for European culture and for the whole world. It Christianized and civilized barbaric peoples and for a long time was the only guardian of science and art. Here the church’s cloisters were preeminent. The Catholic church developed a spiritual power unequaled anywhere, and today we still admire the way it combined the principle of catholicism with the principle of one sanctifying church, as well as tolerance with intolerance. It is a world in itself. Infinite diversity flows together, and this colorful picture gives it its irresistible charm (Complexio oppositorum). A country has seldom produced so many different kinds of people as has the Catholic church. With admirable power, it has understood how to maintain unity in diversity, to gain the love and respect of the masses, and to foster a strong sense of community. . . . But it is exactly because of this greatness that we have serious reservations. Has this world [of the Catholic church] really remained the church of Christ? Has it not perhaps become an obstruction blocking the path to God instead of a road sign on the path to God? Has it not blocked the only path to salvation? Yet no one can ever obstruct the way to God. The church still has the Bible, and as long as she has it we can still believe in the holy Christian church. God’s word will never be denied (Isa. 55:11), whether it be preached by us or by our sister church. We adhere to the same confession of faith, we pray the same Lord’s Prayer, and we share some of the same ancient rites. This binds us together, and as far as we are concerned we would like to live in peace with our disparate sister. We do not, however, want to deny anything that we have recognized as God’s word. The designation Catholic or Protestant is unimportant. The important thing is God’s word. Conversely, we will never violate anyone else’s faith. God does not desire reluctant service, and God has given everyone a conscience. We can and should desire that our sister church search its soul and concentrate on nothing but the word [1 Cor. 2:12– 13]. Until that time, we must have patience. We will have to endure it when, in false darkness, the “only holy church” pronounces upon our church the “anathema” (condemnation). She doesn’t know any better, and she doesn’t hate the heretic, only the heresy. As long as we let the word be our only armor we can look confidently into the future.

For example, the benefits of a taxpayer bailout to a failing carmaker are immediate and evident for the carmaker, its investors, and its employees. But the financial dislocation and lost fiscal opportunities resulting from the diversion of economic resources to tax subsidies are distant and disregarded. If the carmaker files for bankruptcy, the company is able and required to streamline its operations, including reducing its workforce and employee benefits and offloading certain debt. Although this allows the newly organized company a fresh opportunity to regain profitability and survive in the longer term, including expanding and hiring down the road, the immediate upshot of the reorganization, with its downsizing, and so on, is visible and tangible. Hazlitt explained the phenomenon this way: In this lies almost the whole difference between good economics and bad. The bad economist sees only what immediately strikes the eye; the good economist also looks beyond. The bad economist sees only the direct consequences of a proposed course; the good economist looks also at the longer and indirect consequences. The bad economist sees only what the effect of a given policy has been or will be on one particular group; the good economist inquires also what the effect of the policy will be on all groups.

You are familiar with The Decline of the West, in which Oswald Spengler takes note of the current decadence of painting, as well as literature and music, and concludes that the end of our cultural epoch has arrived. He is a philosopher, but one descended from the natural sciences. He arranges observations, he records insights and knowledge. He takes a graphic view of history. And if he sees that a line curves downward, he considers the trend a proven fact, so that zero must be reached at a particular time and place. And that moment represents the end, the decline of the West! "But his graphing has no bearing on any of my ideas and plans as architect and politician. I study the reasons why the line curves downward, and I try to remove the causes. But at the same time, I examine the reasons why at an earlier time the line curved upward! And then I set out to restore the conditions of that day, to awake anew the creative wall of that time, and to bring about a new crest in the constantly fluctuating curve of history. "No doubt about it! Our culture has entered on stagnation, it looks like old age. But the reasons for this state do not lie in the fact that it has genuinely passed its manhood, but rather that the upholders of this culture, the Germanic-European peoples, have neglected it and have turned their attention to material tasks, to technology, industry, to hunger for material possessions, to rapacity, and to an economic egocentrism that overwhelms everything else. All their thinking and striving reaches its only climax in account books and in the outward show of the worldly goods they possess. "I am overcome with disgust, a vexing scorn, when I see the way such people live and behave! [ . . . ] But thank God, it is only the top ten thousand who think along these lines. It is true that the whole of the bourgeoisie is already strongly infected and sickly. But bourgeois youth are still healthy and can be shown the way back to nature, to a higher development, to new cultural will, provided only that they do not become enmeshed in the treadmill of meaningless and wholly materialistic contemporary life, only to drown either in the cupidity of business or in the tedium of the middle-class workaday routine or in the corruption of the big city. “If we succeed in replacing the egocentric cupidity of business with a socialist communal wall and a work-affirming responsibility for the common-weal; in abolishing the tedium of middle-class workaday monotony by substituting for it the potential enjoyment of personal liberty, the beauty of nature, the splendor of our own Fatherland and the thousandfold diversity of the rest of the world; and if we put an end to the corruption of omnipresent degeneracy, bred in the warrens of buildings and on the asphalt streets of the cities of millions - then the road is clear to a new life, to a new creative will, to a new flight of the free, healthy spirit and mind. And then, my dear Herr Roselius, your bricks will form themselves into entirely new shapes all by themselves. Temples of life will be built, cathedrals of a higher cult will be raised, and even thousands of years later, the walls will bear witness to the exalted times out of which even more exalted ones were bom!” When Roselius had left Hitler’s room with me, he took my hand and said: “Wagener, I thank you for having made this hour possible. What a man! And how small we feel, concerned as we are with those things that preoccupy us! But now I know' what I have to do! In spite of my sixty years, I have only one goal: to join in the work of helping the young people and the German Volk to find internal and external freedom!

The country as a whole is far too complex and poor compared to Gujarat, which has been business-friendly and advanced in both governance and physical infrastructure (like roads, ports, etc.) over many decades now. On top of this, Modi’s rather high-handed autocratic personal style (which is resented by many even within his own party) does not augur well for the intricate negotiations with diverse groups, state leaders and coalition partners he will necessarily have to work with at the all-India level. His polarising personality is not conducive to the tasks of compromise and consensus-building a leader inevitably faces in a highly fragmented polity like India’s.

The hair on the back of Kiara’s neck stood up. Did they know about Chris? Since becoming a couple last year, the two worked hard at keeping their relationship under wraps. She wasn’t ashamed, just cautious. Copper Road University was a Southern school and certain types of relationships were frowned upon. She kept her love life under wraps out of a love of privacy. She also didn’t want it to interfere with becoming a Kappa. While on the national level the organization prided itself on its diverse membership, on the local level everyone may not be so accepting.

The diverse characters in the book become enmeshed in the struggle and the tension between them builds increasingly from page to page…” – Enrico Downer, author of There Once Was a Little England. “Ken Puddicombe’s JUNTA is an atypical novel set against a backdrop of a military coup in a Caribbean state.

She felt as if a bit of herself was sliding from her womb, and for a moment she felt diminished, as if she were giving too much away. The regret was fleeting. For in chaos, the one would become many, and the many would travel along diverse roads and to goals that seemed equally diverse but were, in effect, one and the same. In the end there would be one again, and it would be as it had been. This was rebirth more than birth; this was growth more than diminishment or separation. This was as it had been through the millennia and how it must be for her to persevere through the ages to come. She was vulnerable now—she knew that—and so many enemies would strike at her, given the chance. So many of her own minions would deign to replace her, given the chance. But they, all of them, held their weapons in defense, she knew, or in aspirations of conquests that seemed grand but were, in the vast scale of time and space, tiny and inconsequential. More than anything else, it was the understanding and appreciation of time and space, the foresight to view events as they might be seen a hundred years hence, a thousand years hence, that truly separated the deities from the mortals, the gods from the chattel. A moment of weakness in exchange for a millennium of surging power…. So, in spite of her vulnerability, in spite of her weakness (which she hated above all else), she was filled with joy as another egg slid from her arachnid torso. For the growing essence in the egg was her.

Experimentation also proved serendipitous for Greg Koch and Steve Wagner, when they were putting together the Stone Brewing Co. in Escondido, California, north of San Diego. It was destined to become one of the most successful brewing startups of the 1990s. In The Craft of Stone Brewing Co. Koch and Wagner confess that the home-brewed ale that became Arrogant Bastard Ale and propelled Stone to fame in the craft brewing world, started with a mistake. Greg Koch recalls that Wagner exclaimed “Aw, hell!” as he brewed an ale on his brand spanking new home-brewing system. “I miscalculated and added the ingredients in the wrong percentages,” he told Koch. “And not just a little. There’s a lot of extra malt and hops in there.” Koch recalls suggesting they dump it, but Wagner decided to let it ferment and see what it tasted like. Greg Koch and Steve Wagner, founders of Stone Brewery. Photograph © Stone Brewing Co. They both loved the resulting hops bomb, but they didn’t know what to do with it. Koch was sure that nobody was “going to be able to handle it. I mean, we both loved it, but it was unlike anything else that was out there. We weren’t sure what we were going to do with it, but we knew we had to do something with it somewhere down the road.”20 Koch said the beer literally introduced itself as Arrogant Bastard Ale. It seemed ironic to me that a beer from southern California, the world of laid back surfers, should produce an ale with a name that many would identify with New York City. But such are the ironies of the craft brewing revolution. Arrogant Bastard was relegated to the closet for the first year of Stone Brewing Co.’s existence. The founders figured their more commercial brew would be Stone Pale Ale, but its first-year sales figures were not strong, and the company’s board of directors decided to release Arrogant Bastard. “They thought it would help us have more of a billboard effect; with more Stone bottles next to each other on a retail shelf, they become that much more visible, and it sends a message that we’re a respected, established brewery with a diverse range of beers,” Wagner writes. Once they decided to release the Arrogant Bastard, they decided to go all out. The copy on the back label of Arrogant Bastard has become famous in the beer world: Arrogant Bastard Ale Ar-ro-gance (ar’ogans) n. The act or quality of being arrogant; haughty; Undue assumption; overbearing conceit. This is an aggressive ale. You probably won’t like it. It is quite doubtful that you have the taste or sophistication to be able to appreciate an ale of this quality and depth. We would suggest that you stick to safer and more familiar territory—maybe something with a multi-million dollar ad campaign aimed at convincing you it’s made in a little brewery, or one that implies that their tasteless fizzy yellow beverage will give you more sex appeal. The label continues along these lines for a couple of hundred words. Some call it a brilliant piece of reverse psychology. But Koch insists he was just listening to the beer that had emerged from a mistake in Wagner’s kitchen. In addition to innovative beers and marketing, Koch and Wagner have also made their San Diego brewery a tourist destination, with the Stone Brewing Bistro & Gardens, with plans to add a hotel to the Stone empire.

Jordan is an ancient intersection for the Silk Road of the Far East and the famed King’s Highway of the Old Testament, and the demographic diversity of Jerash remains visible today. Circassians from the Northern Caucasus live alongside Armenians who settled in the area to escape the genocide perpetrated by the Ottomans in 1915. While the various groups include Christians, an overwhelming majority of residents are Muslim. In the Arab Middle East, about 5 to 10 percent of any given population generally is Christian, but among Jamilla’s Jordanian neighbors, less than half that number claims any allegiance to Jesus Christ.

The people in this book led diverse lives. Each one of them exemplifies one of the activities that lead to character. But there is one pattern that recurs: They had to go down to go up. They had to descend into the valley of humility to climb to the heights of character.

Key West has become an imitation of its former self, its eccentricities commoditized for sale to tourists. That “character” you see with a parrot on his shoulder is about as authentic as vinyl siding, employed to provide local color. Gargantuan cruise ships dock two or three times a week, disgorging passengers by the thousands to troll the cheesy T-shirt shops on the main drag, Duval Street. And with all sorts of diversions to keep visitors occupied, like parasailing and jet skiing, tourist season is year-round, clogging the streets with autos, bikes, motor scooters, and pedestrians. I

Io non ci credo, disse la donna. No, non ci credo. é una parola troppo piccola, non le pare signor Evans?Ho un'amica, a Fern Tree, che insegna pianoforte. è una donna molto musicale. Io non ho orecchio. Ma un giorno la mia amica mi dice che ogni stanza ha una nota. Devi solo scoprirla. Si mette a gorgheggiare in giro, in alto e in basso. E di colpo una nota ritorna indietro, rimbalza sulle pareti, si leva dal pavimento e riempie la stanza con un borbottio perfetto. Con un suono bellissimo. Come se avessimo scagliato una prugna e ci fosse tornato indietro un frutteto. Una cosa da non credere, signor Evans. Due cose totalmente diverse come una nota e una stanza che riuscivano ad incontrarsi. Pareva...giusto. Sono ridicola?Secondo lei è questo che intendiamo quando parliamo d'amore, signor Evans?La nota che ti torna indietro?Che ti trova anche quando non vuoi essere trovato?Un giorno incontri qualcuno e questo qualcuno ti torna indietro con uno strano borbottio. Ci sta. è bello. Non sono affatto chiara, vero?disse. Non sono molto brava con le parole. Ma è questo che eravamo, io e Jack. Non ci conoscevamo davvero. Non sono sicura che mi piacesse tutto di lui. Credo che alcune cose di me gli dessero fastidio. Ma io ero quella stanza e lui la nota, e adesso lui non c'è più. E c'è solo silenzio.

Orchestrating a diversified team can indeed enhance the higher level of harmony.

One sky, many lands. One story, many books. One truth, many interpretations. One road, many paths. One God, many religions.

this country is transforming before our eyes. In thirty years or so, the majority will no longer be European Americans; the first generation of mostly babies of color has already been born. This new diversity will give us a better understanding of the world and enrich our cultural choices, yet there are people whose sense of identity depends on the old hierarchy. It may just be their fear and guilt talking: What if I am treated as I have treated others?

What has made the European family of nations an improving, instead of a stationary portion of mankind? Not any superior excellence in them, which, when it exists, exists as the effect, not as the cause; but their remarkable diversity of character and culture. Individuals, classes, nations, have been extremely unlike one another: they have struck out a great variety of paths, each leading to something valuable; and although at every period those who travelled in different paths have been intolerant of one another, and each would have thought it an excellent thing if all the rest could have been compelled to travel his road, their attempts to thwart each other's development have rarely had any permanent success, and each has in time endured to receive the good which the others have offered. Europe is, in my judgement, wholly indebted to this plurality of paths for its progressive and many-sided development. But it already begins to possess this benefit in a considerably less degree. It is decidedly advancing towards the Chinese ideal of making all people alike.

Naturalist E. O. Wilson writes, “There can be no purpose more inspiring than to begin the age of restoration, reweaving the wondrous diversity of life that still surrounds us.” The stories are piling up all around in scraps of land being restored: trout streams reclaimed from siltation, brownfields turned into community gardens, prairies reclaimed from soybeans, wolves howling in their old territories, schoolkids helping salamanders across the road. If your heart isn’t raised by the sight of whooping cranes restored to their ancient flyway, you must not have a pulse.

There is no such thing as a status-quo person. We are just individuals with incredibly diverse thoughts and lives who lend bits of ourselves to the machine called the status quo. We lend our bits to keep the machine running, the machine that is the world economy, the cities and towns, the roads and the sewers and the hydro and the internet. But go into any portion of the machine and you meet people, lovely, lively, dynamic, amazing beings full of life and drama.

Nostalgia freezes the past in images of timeless, childlike innocence.” 6 It fails to recognize change over time. So, instead of doing the hard work necessary for engaging a more diverse society with the claims of Christian orthodoxy, evangelicals have become intellectually lazy, preferring to respond to cultural change by trying to reclaim a world that is rapidly disappearing and has little chance of ever coming back. This backward-looking approach to politics can be seen no more clearly than in the evangelicals’ embrace of Trump’s campaign slogan: “Make America great again.

On the road to Emmaus, the disciples broke bread with their new companion and suddenly realized that the resurrected Jesus was among them. He was revealed after walking a long road with them. That’s exactly what dismantling white supremacy is all about. If we do this work in our congregations, we find that Jesus has been among us all along. We can move the planks from our eyes and truly see the beauty, diversity, and full majesty of creation. Until we embrace this work, our congregations will remain whitewashed tombs with merely the ghost of Christianity haunting them.

Under the current rules of American society, whites have no moral grounds to preserve racial majorities in any context, whether in a club, neighborhood, school, region, the nation as a whole, or even in their own families. Somewhere, deep in their bones, whites yearn for the comfort, the ease, the joy of living among their own people in societies that reflect the values of their ancestors. They answer this yearning whenever they move from Southern California to the North, from the city to the suburbs, from diversity to homogeneity. But according to today’s racial dogma, this yearning is evil. There will always be “white Meccas,” enclaves for wealthy whites who can afford them, but with no moral, legal, or practical way to preserve majorities, most whites will eventually come to the end of the road. They will find that the America for which they yearn has disappeared. At what point would it be legitimate for whites to act in their own group interests? When they become a minority? When they are no more than 30 percent of the population? Ten percent? Or must they never be allowed to take any action to ensure that the land in which they live reflects their values, their culture, their manners, their traditions, and honors the achievements of their ancestors? If whites do not cherish and defend these things, no one else will do it for them. If whites do not rekindle some sense of their collective interests they will be pushed aside by people who have a very clear sense of their interests. Eventually, whites will come to understand that to dismantle and even demonize white racial consciousness while other races cultivate racial consciousness is a fatal form of unilateral disarmament. For their very survival as a distinct people with a distinct culture, whites must recognize something all others take for granted: that race is a fundamental part of individual and group identity. Any society based on the assumption that race can be wished or legislated away ensures for itself an endless agony of pretense, conflict, and failure. For 60 years, we have wished and legislated in vain. In so doing, by opening the United States to peoples from every corner of the world, we have created agonizing problems for future generations. As surely as the Communists were mistaken in their hopes of remaking human nature, so have been the proponents of diversity and multi-culturalism. What goals might whites pursue if they had a racial identity like that of other groups? Clearly, they would end immigration; it is not in the interests of whites to be displaced by others. They would also recognize that when whites prefer to live, work, and go to school with people of their own race, that is no different from anyone else wanting to do these things. Whites—and others—should have legal means to preserve local majorities if that is their preference. That preference should not be imposed on anyone who wishes to live in a more Bohemian manner, but it is wrong to condemn whites—and only whites—for instincts science suggests are part of human nature. Another goal of whites would be to end the current propaganda about the advantages of diversity, for it only justifies their dispossession. Whites should also be free—again, like all other groups—to express pride in the accomplishments of their people.

Socialism’s main defects are the inability of political decision-makers to make rational decisions without the information provided by prices generated by marketplace transactions; the misalignment of incentives and resources; and the subjugation of economic necessities to political mandates with no basis in material economic reality. It is the last of these, above all, that makes socialism dangerous. As Mises’s colleague F. A. Hayek argued in The Road to Serfdom, central planners frustrated by their inability to mold the economic world to their will inevitably are tempted to run roughshod over the rights and interests of the individuals they purport to serve. Sometimes this takes the relatively innocuous form of high-handed officials in the Canadian public-health service denying a procedure or timely access to care; sometimes it takes one of the diverse forms explored with such horrific vigor by Kim Jong Il.

Seated at her desk the next morning, Tina made a note of what she knew about Chrissie and Billy. She knew that Billy had lived at 180 Gillbent Road, Manchester, but did not know his surname. She knew where Chrissie had lived and the names of her parents, and that her mother had been killed in the blackout. If she visited Mabel Skinner’s grave, she would be able to find out her date of birth. Maud Cutler had said that Chrissie had been sent to live with Dr Skinner’s sister-in-law in Ireland – that must be Mabel’s sister. Tina felt an unexpected rush of excitement at the thought of playing detective. It was a welcome diversion from her other problems

But across that diversity, they shared such common struggles as dealing with a federal government that had yet to honor one treaty in its entirety, gaining control of the schooling and treatment of their own children, protecting their land from exploitation for oil, uranium, and other resources on it—and much more. For instance, women on reservations suffered the highest rate of sexual assault in the country, yet the non-Native men who were the majority of their assaulters were not subject to tribal police or jurisdiction, and were mostly ignored by the larger legal system.

Later, when Tina Fey was head writer and star of Saturday Night Live, she could still say, “Only in comedy does an obedient white girl from the suburbs count as diversity.

Hans W. Frei argues that the Enlightenment period was liable for a significant portion of the eclipse of the biblical narratives. In place of the biblical narrative as the hermeneutical source and target came “the single meaning of a grammatically and logically sound propositional statement.”125 Grondin insightfully writes, regarding this emphasis on proposition, “For hermeneutics, by contrast, the proposition is something secondary and derivative.”126 The road from university to diversity traded story for proposition, mystery for the exactness of rules, and a deductive slant for one that was largely inductive. Thus, Western biblical hermeneutics followed the Enlightenment-influenced trail that saw hermeneutics as the study of right principles or as the laying out of rules governing the discipline of interpretation.

This path of 'Akram' (step-less path to Self-realization) is a diversion road, it is not a path where others views are refuted and one's own are maintained. All the 'bridges' on the 'Kramic' path (step-by-step path to Self-realization) have broken down, that is why this 'diversion road' has come about. Once the 'bridges' have been reconstructed, this 'diversion road' will disappear!

In the foam worlds, however, no bubble can be expanded into an absolutely centered, all-encompassing, amphiscopic org; no central light penetrates the entire foam in its dynamic murkiness. Hence the ethics of the decentered, small and middle-sized bubbles in the world foam includes the effort to move about in an unprecedentedly spacious world with an unprecedentedly modest circumspection; in the foam, discrete and polyvalent games of reason must develop that learn to live with a shimmering diversity of perspectives , and dispense with the illusion of the one lordly point of view. Most roads do not lead to Rome-that is the situation, European: recognize it.

The Silk Roads advanced science, mathematics, literature, art, languages, and religions, and became a singular force that shaped the diversity of societies and cultures across the continent and beyond. And all of this came about because of Bombyx mori, the little, blind, flightless moth, whose thin strand of salivary secretion—moth spit—led to a creation of a web of routes that knitted together East and West, passing thousands of kilometers east of the prime meridian and creating some of the richest chapters in human history.

One Life, One Idea (The Sonnet) One life, one idea, one duty – love. One body, one being, one vision – amity. One heart, one sight, one sentiment – care. One mind, one kind, one community – humanity. One pen, one ink, one paper – awareness. One hive, one height, one light – assimilation. One kite, one compass, one flight – unity. One sail, one sea, one ship - self-correction. One gospel, one goal, one gamble – collectivity. One cult, one core, one culture – unification. One church, one mosque, one temple – nonduality. One road, one reason, one reality – nondifferentiation. Take the mind beyond the bind to see the world anew. A world united comes to life when walls turn dust in you.

f I can struggle against a fit of depression, in the name of what vitality can I oppose an obsession which belongs to me, which precedes me? In good health, I take the path I prefer; “sick,” it is no longer I who decide: it is my disease. For the obsessed, no choice: their obsession has already opted for them, ahead of them. One chooses oneself when one possesses indifferent potentialities; but the distinctness of a disease antedates the diversity of the roads open to choice. To wonder if one is free or not — a trifle for a mind swept on by the calories of its deliriums. For such a mind, to extol freedom is to parade a discreditable health. Freedom? Sophistry of the fit.

Adopt A Neighborhood (The Sonnet) Adopt a neighborhood, Make their problems your own. This is the only road to life, Society’s hope is you alone. Charity, security and world peace, All these are cosmetic theory. When you learn to live as human, You'll see their actual foolery. When our voices combine, All noise turns melody of heavens. Joy is amplified a hundred times, We lose sense of all our burdens. Diversity and progress will come alright, Once you perceive beyond your selfish sight.

Explode With Love (The Sonnet) When the heart explodes with love, The world implodes with peace. When the eyes explode with oneness, All divisions will begin to ease. The road to an undivided society, Goes through an undivided heart. Be one with everyone and everywhere, Shatter all habits that make you part. There's no division that can't be conquered, The question is not of possibility but intent. All is right when intention is right, All are one when the heart is unbent. Devotion to one culture diminishes humanity. Devote yourself to the world, and lo pours harmony.

Hero worship is a sure road to degradation and to eventual dictatorship. The concept of nationhood we took so unthinkingly from nineteenth-century Europe is too constricting for our diversity. If you want self respect, Dr. Ambedkar said, change your religion. If you want equality, change your religion. If you want power, change your religion. That religion which forbids humanitarian behavior between men is not a religion but a penalty. That religion which regards the recognition of human dignity as a sin is not a religion but a sickness. That religion which allows one to touch a foul animal but not a man is not a religion but a madness. Everyone knew religion was India's line of no return. Beyond that line lay chaos. To the philosophers of ancient India the forest was the symbol of an idealized cosmos. The great Indian philosophical academies were all held in groves of trees, an acknowledgment that the forest - self sufficient, endlessly regenerative - combined in itself the diversity and the harmony that were the aspiration, the goal of Indian metaphysics. The assault on the senses. The caress of the senses. Surely God made India at his leisure.

Fours are people who are attracted to the offbeat and avant-garde in life. They care deeply about beauty and art. They decorate their homes in a way that reflects their originality and create things that give expression to their feelings and slant vision of the world. They take up unusual hobbies and often have a wildly interesting and diverse group of friends.

There is an old saying, “Say little, do much.” What we really ought to do is update and apply a version of that to our early approach. Be lesser, do more. Imagine if for every person you met, you thought of some way to help them, something you could do for them? And you looked at it in a way that entirely benefited them and not you. The cumulative effect this would have over time would be profound: You’d learn a great deal by solving diverse problems. You’d develop a reputation for being indispensable. You’d have countless new relationships. You’d have an enormous bank of favors to call upon down the road.

The thankees listed are a diverse group. Some have contributions that are obvious (the barista and the farmers). Some are admittedly quite tangential (the folks who make the asphalt for the roads on which the coffee-carrying trucks travel). But my thesis is that the world is woven together by connections. So I wanted to be expansive in my thanks, not restrictive. These folks may be tangential, but they are also, oddly enough, crucial.

We armed ourselves with pistols, shotguns, and assault rifles. We knew that the government had us impossibly outgunned but nevertheless felt obliged to not only prepare ourselves for the upcoming collapse of society as we had known it, but also to do whatever it took to speed the day when that collapse occurred. The government was illegitimate; a puppet regime manipulated by a shadowy and sinister force that was hellbent on our destruction. The supposed democracy that seated traitorous politicians had been tainted by mass media that poisoned the minds and souls of our people to not only blind them against what was happening, but also to con them into complicity in their own downfall. Our guns served many purposes. In addition to the simple purpose they were designed for-to kill people-our firearms endowed with us a sense of destiny befitting an epic struggle against fearsome odds. The deadly seriousness of the situation was underlined, italicized, and emboldened by the smell of gun oil and the clack of magazines sliding into position as we recruited new soldiers into our movement. According to the founding Fathers, it was not only our right, but our duty to bear arms against the tyrants who had usurped our beloved nation. I spent 7 years immersed in that world. A reality where I was constantly looking over my shoulder to reveal the handiwork of the enemy. Every aspect of our culture faced a relentless assault. Everything that was good about America-Life, Liberty, And The Pursuit of Happiness-had been denigrated and disparaged by those that sought to impose Marxist equality. I hated them for that. I hated them with the passion of a patriot. That hate was fueled by what I truly believed was a love for my race. Oops! Did I say "race?" I meant a love for my country, Or was it a love of Christ? Or Allah? It could have been any of a number of allegiances-any number of ways to identify myself-that I built walls around and bristled at those outside, and it was all in the name of love. Roads to a lot of really bad places are paved with that kind of bizarro love. A vampiric, soul-depleting love-substitute that beckons to those who never know the real thing. I was very lucky to realize the true love of a little girl-my daughter-otherwise I'd likely be dead or in prison like so many of my former comrades. Simply by playing with other children, she taught me that the walls and guns and hate that had seemed to give me purpose were in fact unnecessary constructs that threatened to separate us. The children she shared toys, laughs, and smiles with also shared the same need for love and compassion that we all do-regardless of the color of our skin, our family's choice of spirituality, or the part of the world we come from. I made a decision to cast aside the fear that masqueraded as love, and to live my life in wonderful affection for diversity instead of scorn for it.

All roads lead to people - those that don't, lead back to the jungle.

If you are a follower of PBS Newshour and enjoy its special features about people and places that make the multiracial, multicultural United States such a vibrant, diverse, and complex nation, you will want to read Michael Saltz’s The Winding Road: My Journey Through Life and the McNeil/Lehrer Newshour. Not only will you learn an insider’s history of the evolving PBS Newhour programming, but you will learn about the role of producers, writers, photographers, and tech people, most of whom are never mentioned or credited on the nightly program. This is a fascinating personal history written by an incredibly versatile former senior producer on the show. The book chronicles his work as well as his love of music, the arts, and the people who inhabit this country.

As you get past the first few weeks of your travel experience however, you’ll discover that partying on the road is different from partying at home. At home, partying is a way of celebrating the weekend or taking a pause from the workaday world. On the road, every moment is a weekend, every day a break from the workaday world. Thus, falling into a nightly ritual of partying - as can easily happen in traveler hangouts anywhere on the planet - is a sure way to overlook the subtlety of places, stunt your creativity, and trap yourself in the patterns of home. Granted, you can have plenty of fun in the process; but if you travel the world merely to indulge in the same kinds of diversions you enjoy at home, you’ll end up selling your experience short.

The necessary condition for the lively correspondence between the nuns and their spiritual leaders was the recognition of a sphere in which men and women could meet as human beings of equal value; the belief that in the sight of God a masculine soul and a feminine soul were equally precious, alike of such eternal value as to deserve His imparting Himself to them and forming them—but a masculine soul was a masculine soul and a feminine soul was a feminine soul. The differences and variations were a part of the diversity with which the Creator had adorned His creation.

Don’t we need some “secular” social space where diverse people of faith can encounter one another with some level of privacy and anonymity? Isn’t the real scandal not that our religious leaders might be imagined walking across a road or talking as friends together in a bar, but rather that their followers are found speaking against one another as enemies, day after day in situation after situation? Questions like these have always mattered. But in the years since 9/11/01, more and more of us are realizing just how much they matter. So to imagine Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed taking a walk across a road or even getting together as friends for a meal and conversation doesn’t have to introduce a joke: it could introduce one of the most important conversations possible in today’s world.

There more diverse among the Belt-Road.

A country has seldom produced so many different kinds of people as has the Catholic church. With admirable power, it has understood how to maintain unity in diversity, to gain the love and respect of the masses, and to foster a strong sense of community. . . . But it is exactly because of this greatness that we have serious reservations. Has this world [of the Catholic church] really remained the church of Christ? Has it not perhaps become an obstruction blocking the path to God instead of a road sign on the path to God? Has it not blocked the only path to salvation? Yet no one can ever obstruct the way to God.

A country has seldom produced so many different kinds of people as has the Catholic church. With admirable power, it has understood how to maintain unity in diversity, to gain the love and respect of the masses, and to foster a strong sense of community. . . . But it is exactly because of this greatness that we have serious reservations. Has this world [of the Catholic church] really remained the church of Christ? Has it not perhaps become an obstruction blocking the path to God instead of a road sign on the path to God? Has it not blocked the only path to salvation? Yet no one can ever obstruct the way to God. The church still has the Bible, and as long as she has it we can still believe in the holy Christian church. God’s word will never be denied (Isa. 55:11), whether it be preached by us or by our sister church. We adhere to the same confession of faith, we pray the same Lord’s Prayer, and we share some of the same ancient rites. This binds us together, and as far as we are concerned we would like to live in peace with our disparate sister. We do not, however, want to deny anything that we have recognized as God’s word. The designation Catholic or Protestant is unimportant. The important thing is God’s word. Conversely, we will never violate anyone else’s faith. God does not desire reluctant service, and God has given everyone a conscience. We can and should desire that our sister church search its soul and concentrate on nothing but the word [1 Cor. 2:12– 13]. Until that time, we must have patience. We will have to endure it when, in false darkness, the “only holy church” pronounces upon our church the “anathema” (condemnation). She doesn’t know any better, and she doesn’t hate the heretic, only the heresy. As long as we let the word be our only armor we can look confidently into the future.

We would ask those of you who find yourselves thinking judgmental thoughts about the perpetrators of what you see as harm to know that there is always a positive outcome to be served by the misery. We would say to you that misery is the illusion. We would say that people who open a newspaper or turn on their television, see world events, and judge them as negative are simply taking the easy road and not thinking things through. There is always something deeper. There is always something more. There is always meaning. We hope that the examples in this book will help to teach people to think two and three times about the meaning and value of diversity and how it is the catalyst to growth.