Wilderness Prime Quotes

For brick and mortar breed filth and crime, With a pulse of evil that throbs and beats; And men are whithered before their prime By the curse paved in with the lanes and streets. And lungs are poisoned and shoulders bowed, In the smothering reek of mill and mine; And death stalks in on the struggling crowd— But he shuns the shadow of the oak and pine

In The Woman Reader Kate Flint argues that "the study of reading...involves examining a fulcrum: the meeting-place of discourses of subjectivity and socialization." Reading has traditionally been "a prime tool in socialization" and is "centrally bound in with questions of authority".

Finland’s great swaths of protected forests and fells make it one of Europe’s prime hiking destinations. Head to the Karhunkierros near Kuusamo for a striking terrain of hills and sharp ravines that is prettiest in autumn. The Urho Kekkonen National Park in Lapland is one of Europe’s great wildernesses, while the spectacular gorge of the Kevo Strict Nature Reserve and the fell scenery of Pallas-Yllästunturi National Park are other great northern options. A network of camping huts makes itinerary planning easy and they're good spots to meet intrepid Finns.

One author, in writing of the Bible’s uniqueness, put it this way: Here is a book: 1. written over a 1500 year span; 2. written over 40 generations; 3. written by more than 40 authors, from every walk of life— including kings, peasants, philosophers, fishermen, poets, statesmen, scholars, etc.: Moses, a political leader, trained in the universities of Egypt Peter, a fisherman Amos, a herdsman Joshua, a military general Nehemiah, a cupbearer Daniel, a prime minister Luke, a doctor Solomon, a king Matthew, a tax collector Paul, a rabbi 4. written in different places: Moses in the wilderness Jeremiah in a dungeon Daniel on a hillside and in a palace Paul inside a prison Luke while traveling John on the isle of Patmos others in the rigors of a military campaign 5. written at different times: David in times of war Solomon in times of peace 6. written during different moods: some writing from the heights of joy and others from the depths of sorrow and despair 7. written on three continents: Asia, Africa, and Europe 8. written in three languages: Hebrew… , Aramaic… , and Greek… 9. Finally, its subject matter includes hundreds of controversial topics. Yet, the biblical authors spoke with harmony and continuity from Genesis to Revelation. There is one unfolding story…

The Beat poet Jack Kerouac, feeling primed for a spiritual breakthrough, wrote to a friend before he retreated into the wilderness, “If I don’t get a vision on Desolation Peak, then my name ain’t William Blake.” But later he wrote that he found it hard to face the naked truth. “I’d thought, in June when I get to the top . . . and everybody leaves . . . I will come face to face with God or Tathagata (Buddha) and find out once and for all what is the meaning of all this existence and suffering . . . but instead I’d come face to face with myself, no liquor, no drugs, no chance of faking it, but face to face with ole Hateful . . . Me.

Seems like those boys of mine get into three times as much trouble when school is out. I still don’t understand how you get them to mind without a switch or at least a primed rifle over your arm.” He reached over to help himself to the doughnuts.

Our fathers did eat manna in the desert; as it is written, He gave them bread from heaven to eat. Then Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Moses gave you not that bread from heaven; but my Father giveth you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world. Then said they unto him, Lord, evermore give us this bread. And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst . . . Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me hath everlasting life. I am that bread of life. Your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness, and are dead. This is the bread which cometh down from heaven, that a man may eat thereof, and not die. I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.

yowbel was the Hebrew word for a ram’s horn trumpet. The first occurrence of the word in the Scripture was when YHWH shouted out the Ten Commandments verbally to Israel in the wilderness. That was before he wrote the law on the tables of stone. The next thirteen occurrences of the word were in relation to the Jubilee cycle as given to Moses in Leviticus 25. This was, as he had already learned, a cycle of fifty years which ended in the release of slaves and the forgiveness of debts. How could the Jubilee be connected to the 13th Enumeration?

The number forty has special significance in the Old Testament as it relates to Israel and the Promised Land. Moses was forty years old when he made his first attempt to deliver Israel from the oppression of Egypt. His efforts were rejected, and he fled to the wilderness of Midian for forty years. There he tended sheep for Jethro and his seven daughters. At the end of those forty years, YHWH called him from the burning bush and told him it was time to deliver Israel. Then after the Exodus, because of their lack of faith, they wandered in the wilderness for another forty years. During these forty years, Israel ate manna, the ‘bread of heaven.’ Forty years later, after that entire generation had passed away, Israel finally entered the Promised Land under the leadership of Joshua, the Old Testament’s Yeshua.

the past forty Jubilees, Yeshua has been that ‘bread of heaven’ during what many theologians call the Church Age. This ‘bread of heaven,’ this ‘manna,’ is received by faith and leads to eternal life.” Enthusiastically Zane interjected, “And this Church Age is characterized by seven types of ‘churches,’ or assemblies. Kind of like Moses being rejected by his own people and going into the wilderness for forty years and tending the sheep for the seven daughters of Jethro.

Labour government under Prime Minister Tony Blair was elected for a second term of office with a large parliamentary majority; the Conservative opposition appeared to be destined for a lengthy stay in the political wilderness; the country was enjoying continued, indeed unparalleled, economic growth; and the constitutional reforms introduced

We tend to think of nature and civilization as being irreconcilably opposed: Civilization’s gain is nature’s loss. But in fact, cities have become prime habitat for speciation, hybridization, and, in short, rebirth. Certainly, civilization has upended the status quo in nature, but it is also proving to be a vehicle for a natural renaissance.

When we do not create a spiritual family with strong attachments, we cut off the flow of transformational power. Low-hesed churches may look fine on the outside. People may be friendly and enthusiastic about their church. They might be excited about their five-year plans and bold strategies to grow and do great things. Prioritizing plans and vision above hesed attachments (the prime movers of growth) produces little transformation. Many churches do good things in their communities and around the world, but operate more like an efficiently run religious institution than a family. They do many good things but may not possess good character.

My wife and I can't recall how many years we've been married, but we'll never forget our first backpacking trip together. We'd just begun dating and I was her trail-hardened outdoorsman, a knight in shining Cordura, the guy who could handle any wilderness emergency. She was my...well, let's just say I was bent on making a good impression. This was her first backpacking experience and I wanted to have many more with her as my hiking partner. I'd checked and double-checked everything--trail conditions, equipment, weather forecast. I even bought a new stove for the occasion. We set off under overcast skies with packs loaded and spirits high. There was precipitation in the forecast, but it was November and too early for snow, I assured her. (Did I mention that we were just a few miles south of Mount Washington, home to the worst, most unpredictable weather in the Northeast?) As we climbed the few thousand feet up a granite ridge, the trail steadily steepened and we strained a bit under our loads. On top, a gentle breeze pushed a fluffy, light snowfall. The flakes were big and chunky, the kind you chase with your mouth open. Certainly no threat, I told her matter-of-factly. After a few miles, the winds picked up and the snowflakes thickened into a swirling soup. The trail all but dissolved into a wall of white, so I pulled out my compass to locate the three-sided shelter that was to be our base for the night. Eventually we found it, tucked alongside a gurgling freshet. The winds were roaring no, so I pitched our tent inside the shelter for added protection. It was a tight fit, with the tent door only two feet from the log end-wall, but at least we were out of the snowy gale. To ward off the cold and warm my fair belle, I pulled my glittering stove from its pouch, primed it, and confidently christened the burner with a match. She was awestruck by my backwoods wizardry. Color me smug and far too confident. That's when I noticed it: what appeared to be water streaming down the side of the stove. My new cooker's white-gas fuel was bathing the stove base. It was also drenching the tent floor between us and the doorway--the doorway that was zipped tightly shut. A headline flashed through my mind: "Brainless Hikers Toasted in White Mountains." The stove burst into flames that ran up the tent wall. I grabbed a wet sock, clutched the stove base with one hand, and unzipped the tent door with the other. I heaved the hissing fireball through the opening, assuming that was the end of the episode, only to hear a thud as it hit the shelter wall before bouncing back inside to melt some more nylon. My now fairly unimpressed belle grabbed a pack towel and doused the inferno. She breathed a huge sigh of relief, while I swallowed a pound of three of pride. We went on to have a thoroughly disastrous outing. The weather pounded us into submission. A full day of storm later with no letup in sight, we decided to hike out. Fortunately, that slippery, slithery descent down a snowed-up, iced-over trail was merely the end of our first backpacking trip together and not our relationship. --John Viehman