Archie wasn't waiting for her at the attic. She didn't consider that. He wasprobably giving her time to set and collect a trap, about a week or so as she guessed, a testing period. He couldn't trust her just yet, but she could tell that there was also more to it. He needed to distance himself, from her, because he was afraid to love her. That was it. Loving her was his flaw, weakness, and he could not have a weakness, not while at war. He wouldn't show up, not for some time. She knew that. The longer it would take for him to come back, the more he loved her.
Finn said, “You feel the wind is a bully, beating you. But that is your seeing. That is your story, not the wind’s. To a bird who rides it, that wind is only a kind hand. Because the bird rides the wind’s power. Do you understand?” Clare, bitter, cold, and wind-battered, frowned stubbornly. “But a bird can fly. I can’t fly.” He turned to look at her, and his face was troubled. “If you cling to the safety of the rock, indeed you can’t. To fly, you open your arms and fall, heart first, trusting the wind to bear you up. That’s what the birds do.
Even though peak experiences might show us the truth and inform us about why we are training, they are essentially no big deal. If we can't integrate them into the ups and downs of our lives, if we cling to them, they will hinder us. We can trust our experiences as valid, but then we have to move on and learn how to get along with our neighbors. Then even the most remarkable insights can begin to permeate our lives. As the twelfth-century Tibetian yogi Milarepa said when he heard of his student Gampopa's peak experiences, 'They are neither good not bad. Keep meditation.'
A distant love that waits to be together, is by far the most difficult relationship. It's like lighting a candle, and adoring the long flame and robust glow. Until time sets in like wax, overflowing deeper and deeper into the wick, leaving a sparse flame struggling to live. This is where most distant relationships fade, with the wax smothering the flame. This kind of relationship takes patience, hope, unconditional love, trust and strength, all centered around God. If the flame endures to the end, and the two come together, only then will it feel as if the candle was tipped and all the wax came pouring out, when the flame is revived, long and glowing again.
Now it was Arla’s turn for astonishment. The Boy gave Perry a wide smile as he shook his hand. “You know the land you say? Up along the promontory? Good. Well, perhaps we should take you along. Do you have a horse?”“No” Perry replied. “But I can ride.”“Arla is quite slight,” the Boy said. “Perhaps she can ride the packhorse with our gear.”Arla gave a strangled gasp, and the Boy grinned at her. She realised he was joking, and breathed a sigh of relief. But she did not trust herself to speak. What did Branguin think he was doing?
They saw her husband, this giant of a man in God’s Kingdom, this man, that for over fifteen years was their example of what a great man and husband looked like, walking up to his weeping wife, gently embracing her, soothing her, lifting and holding her soul up high while she released her own pains and worries from the last two days, feeling him, leaning into him, and submitting her pain and fears to her husband out of her love and trust. His strength was shown in his softness. He was made strong in his wife’s pain. He was her man of God
A leader is responsible for those under his authority. That is the first rule of command. He is responsible for their safety, their provisions, their knowledge, and, ultimately, their lives.Those whom he commands are in turn responsible for their behavior and their dedication to duty. Any who violates his trust must be disciplined for the good of others.But such discipline is not always easy or straightforward. There are many factors, some of them beyond the commander's control. Sometimes those complications involve personal relationships. Other times it isn't the circumstances themselves that are difficult. There can also be politics and outside intervention.Faliure to act always brings consequences. But sometimes, those consequences can be turned to one's advantage.
George Arthur, a tribal council delegate, spoke on behalf of the tribe. Arthur was a chairman, too, of the Navajo legislature's resources committee. . . ."Uranium mining and milling on and near the reservation has been a disaster for the Navajo people. The Department of the Interior has been in the pocket of the uranium industry, favoring its interest and breaching its trust duties to the Navajo mineral owners. We are still undergoing what appears to be a never-ending federal experiment to see how much devastation can be endured by a people and a society from exposure to radiation in the air, in the water, in mines and on the surface of the land. We are unwilling to be the subjects of that ongoing experiment any longer.
He did not want to fail, when the Bee Master had trusted him with the home and the possessions and the occupation that were all he had of his very own, and he did not know that as the storm drew nearer, as the clouds grew blacker, as the heat waves resolved themselves into definite flashes of lightning, as the night closed down black as velvet around him, he did not realize that his moral and mental forces were rising with the tide of the storm, that all the remnants of manhood left in his shaken body were gathering together for some sort of culmination, just as presently the storm would reach its height and then subside.
They have lied to us. They can't keep us from dying, so They lie to us about death. A cooperative structure of lies. What have they ever given us in return for the trust, the love--They actually say 'love'--we're supposed to owe Them? Can They keep us from even catching cold? from lice, from being alone? from anything? Before the Rocket we went on believing, because we wanted to. But the Rocket can penetrate, from the sky, at any given point. Nowhere is safe. We can't believe Them any more. Not if we are still sane, and love the truth.