Breeding white women

All names have been changed to protect everyone’s info. When this happened I was 21.
Long one so buckle up! So I (21f at the time) met this girl we’ll call Amy. I met Amy volunteering at a library where she just ordered people on what to do, despite only being a volunteer herself, not a librarian. Anyway… only after 7 months of knowing her she dates this guy, (we’ll call him Ben) and gets engaged within two months because she was pregnant. I kid you not, she married this guy 3 months after meeting him. I thought that was a questionable choice, but was not confrontational.
When my then fiancé and I went on a double date with Amy and Ben, Ben was nice. My fiancé loved hanging out with him due to similarities in hobbies. After dinner in bed, my fiancé is on his computer and trying to add Ben on Facebook. After searching his name up and trying nicknames and full names, we find a FRICKIN ARTICLE about how this dude slly a*ted women. I was shocked and sent the link to my Amy, worried for her. She replies with “Don’t worry, I know! He’s a changed man!! I can’t have my baby with no daddy!” Literally that, with some other stuff. Keep in mind he was only charged 2 years ago with barely any punishment. (It didn’t say exactly on the article) I, decided to leave it at that but told Amy that if she needs me, she can text or call anytime and I can help.
Fast forward to when Amy becomes a bridezilla…
Amy asks me to be her MOH! Not a BM, (not baby mamas auntie charlotte 🤭) a MOH!! And my fiancé was asked to be a best man. I accepted because Amy and I were pretty close. As soon as I accept, Amy clicks a switch. She informed me as a MOH I should be paying for the catering, BM dresses, and HER dress. As well as the Air BNB for a resort area in Hawaii! I told her that I would be willing to pay for catering and the BM dress, as well as mine (my fiancé and I were pretty well off, he said it would fine to do so.) just the total of those things would have been almost 3,000 dollars. (1,500 for dresses and 1,500 for food) she tells me that she needs help because she’s pregnant and can’t work. Amy was 2 months pregnant and worked part time at a desk. I tell her I’m sorry, but 10k quite a bit. She huffs and puffs but gets over it.
ONE DAY before the wedding we are rehearsing. It’s going well, until Amy tells me I need to change the menu for food and the BM dresses. I was shocked and asked why to which she said the menu we had now was not trendy enough and she liked a new color for the dresses. I inform her that I can’t make that happen with adjustments with the dresses and we already had the food in a freezer. Amy gets LIVID. Saying how she’s done soo much for me by being my friend and she can’t afford to change the menu. Like okay then don’t do it girl. Her fiancé took her home. I got a text from her saying how she sooo pregnant (as in 2-3 months) and she just gets cranky sometimes. More like delusional (not even delulu).
Day of the wedding comes and I see the cream white BM dresses an olive/baby poop green.I was shocked and asked Amy what happened. She said she dyed them the color she wanted them! I was surprised but didn’t bother her about it because it was her wedding. 20 minutes later, she asks if I can do her and her BMs makeup. I asked where the makeup artist was and she said she cancelled them to save herself some money. I told her I don’t do very good make up and I only do simple make up and she’s like oh OK sure do it good though. So I do 5 full faces of makeup including mine. By the time that’s done I’m exhausted mentally and we have 2 hours until the ceremony. I go to find Amy’s dress and can’t so I ask her where it is. This MF tells me I was to buy it!! I tell her I bought mine and the BMs dresses. Amy starts freaking out and lashing out on me. I tell her to calm down and I can get a white party dress if mine (looks like it could be for a wedding) and it will still look great in her. She goes “Ooh nice I don’t have to charge anyone for me renting a dress” and I’m like gurl.
Ceremony comes without too much trouble… until.
I have this teenage cousin (15-16f) of Amy who tells me Ben has been trying to get him and her alone. This poor girl we’ll call Carla was having a panic attack so my fiancé (he’s a psychologist) calms her down quickly and has her explain the situation to Amy hoping Amy will know what to do. What does Amy decide to do? To tell Carla she is a liar and Ben is too perfect to want a DISGUSTING LITTLE GIRL LIKE HER. This is when I had enough and tell Amy that that was horrible of her and I will be leaving with Carla and her accompanying people. Amy scoffs at me and just goes back to the crowd to look like the perfect wife and person in front of everyone.
I eventually was able to completely cut off ties with Amy and her family. Ben is now in jail or was and Amy now has a drug addiction (probably from the help of Ben) with her parents raising her kid to keep him safe.
That is my tea. (Sorry it’s so long and if there are spelling mistakes)

III. Changing Modes of Making It: From Horatio Alger to the Happy Hooker
…
From “Self-Culture” to Self-Promotion through “Winning Images”
In the nineteenth century, the ideal of self-improvement degenerated into a cult of compulsive industry. P.T. Barnum, who made a fortune in a calling the very nature of which the Puritans would have condemned (“Every calling, whereby God will be Dishonored; every Calling whereby none but the Lusts of men are Nourished: …every such Calling is to be Rejected”), delivered many times a lecture frankly entitled “The Art of Money-Getting,” which epitomized the nineteenth-century conception of worldly success. Barnum quoted freely from Franklin but without Franklin’s concern for the attainment of wisdom or the promotion of useful knowledge. “Information” interested Barnum merely as a means of mastering the market. Thus he condemned the “false economy” of the farm wife who douses her candle at dusk rather than lighting another for reading, not realizing that the “information” gained through reading is worth far more than the price of the candles. “Always take a trustworthy newspaper,” Barnum advised young men on the make, “and thus keep thoroughly posted in regard to the transactions of the world. He who is without a newspaper is cut off from his species.”
Barnum valued the good opinion of others not as a sign of one’s usefulness but as a means of getting credit. “Uncompromising integrity of character is invaluable.” The nineteenth century attempted to express all values in monetary terms. Everything had its price. Charity was a moral duty because “the liberal man will command patronage, which the sordid, uncharitable miser will be avoided.” The sin of pride was not that it offended God but that it led to extravagant expenditures. “A spirit of pride and vanity, when permitted to have full sway, is the undying cankerworm which gnaws the very vitals of a man’s worldly possessions.”
The eighteenth century made a virtue of temperance but did not condemn moderate indulgence in the service of sociability. “Rational conversation,” on the contrary, appeared to Franklin and his contemporaries to represent an important value in its own right. The nineteenth century condemned sociability itself, on the grounds that it might interfere with business. “How many good opportunities have passed, never to return, while a man was sipping a ‘social glass’ with his friends!” Preachments on self-help now breathed the spirit of compulsive enterprise. Henry Ward Beecher defined “the beau ideal of happiness” as a state of mind in which “a man [is] so busy that he does not know whether he is or is not happy.” Russell Sage remarked that “work has been the chied, and you might say, the only source of pleasure in my life.”
Even at the height of the Gilded Age, however, the Protestant ethic did not completely lose its original meaning. In the success manuals, the McGuffey readers, the Peter Parley Books, and the hortatory writings of the great capitalists themselves, the Protestant virtues - industry, thrift, temperance - still appeared not merely as stepping-stones to success but as their own reward.
The spirit of self-improvement lived on, in debased form, in the cult of “self-culture” - proper care and training of mind and body, nurture of the mind through “great books,” development of “character.” The social contribution of individual accumulation still survived as an undercurrent in the celebration of success, and the social conditions of early industrial capitalism, in which the pursuit of wealth undeniably increased the supply of useful objects, gave some substance to the claim that “accumulated capital means progress.” In condemning speculation and extravagance, in upholding the importance of patient industry, in urging young men to start at the bottom and submit to “the discipline of daily life,” even the most unabashed exponents of self-enrichment clung to the notion that wealth derives its value from its contribution to the general good and to the happiness of future generations.
The nineteenth-century cult of success placed surprisingly little emphasis on competition. It measured achievement not against the achievements of others but against an abstract ideal of discipline and self-denial. At the turn of the century, however, preachments on success began to stress the will to win. The bureaucratization of the corporate career changed the conditions of self-advancement; ambitious young men now had to compete with their peers for the attention and approval of their superiors. The struggle to surpass the previous generation and to provide for the next gave way to a form of sibling rivalry, in which men of approximately equal abilities jostled against each other in competition for a limited number of places. Advancement now depended on “will-power, self-confidence, energy, and initiative” - the qualities celebrated in such exemplary writings as George Lorimer’s Letters from a Self-Made Merchant to His Son. ” By the end of the nineteenth century,” writes John Cawelti in his study of the success myth, “self-help books were dominated by the ethos of sales-manship and boosterism. Personal magnetism, a quality which supposedly enabled a man to influence and dominate others, became one of the major keys to success.” In 1907, both Lorimer’s Saturday Evening Post and Orison Swett Marden’s Success magazine inaugurated departments of instruction in the “art of conversation,” fashion, and “culture.” The management of interpersonal relations came to be seen as the essence of self-advancement. The captain of industry gave way to the confidence man, the master of impressions. Young men were told that they had to sell themselves in order to succeed.
At first, self-testing through competition remained almost in-distinguishable from moral self-discipline and self-culture, but the difference became unmistakable when Dale Carnegie and then Norman Vincent Peale restated and transformed the tradition of Mather, Franklin, Barnum, and Lorimer. As a formula for success, winning friends and influencing people had little in common with industry and thrift. The prophets of positive thinking disparaged “the old adage that hard work alone is the magic key that will unlock the door to our desires.” They praised the love of money, officially condemned even by the crudest of Gilded Age materialists, as a useful incentive. “You can never have riches in great quantities,” wrote Napoleon Hill in this Think and Grow Rich,” unless you can work yourself into a white heat of desire for money.” The pursuit of wealth lost the few shreds of moral meaning that still clung to it. Formerly the Protestant virtues appeared to have an independent value of their own. Even when they became purely instrumental, in the second half of the nineteenth century, success itself retained moral and social overtones, by virtue of its contribution to the sum of human comfort and progress. Now success appeared as an end in its own right, the victory over your competitors that alone retained the capacity to instill a sense of self-approval. The latest success manuals differ from earlier ones - even surpassing the cynicism of Dale Carnegie and Peale - in their frank acceptance of the need to exploit and intimidate others, in their lack of interest in the substance of success, and in the candor with which they insist that appearances - “winning images - count for more than performance, ascription for more than achievement. One author seems to imply that the self consists of little more than its “image” reflected in others’ eyes. “Although I’m not being original when I say it, I’m sure you’ll agree that the way you see yourself will reflect the image you portray to others.” Nothing succeeds like the appearance of success.
<The American Religion by Harold Bloom (California Orphism)>
The Apotheosis of Individualism
The fear that haunted the social critics and theorists of the fifties - that rugged individualism had succumbed to conformity and “love-pressure sociability” - appears in retrospect to have been premature. In 1960, David Riesman complained that young people no longer had much social “presence,” their education having provided them not with “a polished personality but [with] an affable, casual, adaptable one, suitable to the losing organizations of an affluent society.” It is true that “a present-oriented hedonism,” as Riseman went on the argue, has replaced the work ethic “among the very classes which in the earlier stages of industrialization were oriented toward the future, toward distant goals and delayed gratification.” But this hedonism is a fraud; the pursuit of pleasure disguises a struggle for power. Americans have not really become more sociable and cooperative, as the theorists of other-direction and conformity would like us to believe; they have merely become more adept at exploiting the conventions of interpersonal relations for their own benefit. Activities ostensibly undertaken purely for enjoyment often have the real object of doing others in. It is symptomatic of the underlying tenor of American life that vulgar terms for sexual intercourse also convey the sense of getting the better of someone, working him over, taking him in, imposing your will through guile, deception, or superior force. Verbs associated with sexual pleasure have acquired more than the usual overtones of violence and psychic exploitation. In the violent world of the ghetto, the language of which now pervades American society as a whole, the violence associated with sexual intercourse is directed with special intensity by men against women, specifically against their mothers. The language of ritualized aggression and abuse reminds those who use it that exploitation is the general rule and some form of dependence the common fate, that “the individual,” in Lee Rainwater’s words, “is not strong enough or adult enough to achieve his goal in a legitimate way, but is rather like a child, dependent on others who tolerate his childish maneuvers”; accordingly males, even adult males, often depend on women for support and nurture. Many of them have to pimp for a living, ingratiating themselves with a woman in order to pry money from her; sexual relations thus become manipulative and predatory. Satisfaction depends on taking what you want instead of waiting for what is rightfully yours to receive. All this enters everyday speech in language that connects sex with aggression and sexual aggression with highly ambivalent feelings about mothers.
In some ways middle-class society has become a pale copy of the black ghetto, as the appropriation of its language would lead us to believe. We do not need to minimize the poverty of the ghetto or the suffering inflicted by whites on blacks in order to see that the increasingly dangerous and unpredictable conditions of middle-class life have given rise to similar strategies for survival. Indeed the attraction of black culture for disaffected whites suggests that black culture now speaks to a general condition, the most important feature of which is a widespread loss of confidence in the future. The poor have always had to live for the present, but now a desperate concern for personal survival, sometimes disguised as hedonism, engulfs the middle class as well. Today almost everyone lives in a dangerous world from which there is little escape. International terrorism and blackmail, bombings, and hijackings arbitrarily affect the rich and poor alike. Crime, violence, and gang wars make cities unsafe and threaten to spread to the suburbs. Racial violence on the streets and in the schools creates an atmosphere of chronic tension and threatens to erupt at any time into full-scale racial conflict. Unemployment spreads from the poor the white-collar class, while inflation eats away the savings of those who hoped to retire in comfort. Much of what is euphemistically known as the middle class, merely because it dresses up to go to work, is now reduced to proletarian conditions of existence. Many white-collar jobs require no more skill and pay even less than blue-collar jobs, conferring little status or security. The propaganda of death and destruction, emanating ceaselessly from the mass media, adds to the prevailing atmosphere of insecurity. Far-flung famines, earthquakes in remote regions, distant wars and uprisings attract the same attention as events closer to home. The impression of arbitrariness in the reporting of disaster reinforces the arbitrary quality of experience itself, and the absence of continuity in the coverage of events, as today’s crisis yields to a new and unrelated crisis tomorrow, adds to the sense of historical discontinuity - the sense of living in a world in which the past holds out no guidance to the present and the future has become completely unpredictable.
Older conceptions of success presupposed a world in rapid motion, in which fortunes were rapidly won and lost and new opportunities unfolded every day. Yet they also presupposed a certain stability, a future that bore some recognizable resemblance to the present and the past. The growth of bureaucracy, the cult of consumption with its immediate gratifications, but above all the severance of the sense of historical continuity have transformed the Protestant ethic while carrying the underlying principles of capitalist society to their logical conclusion . The pursuit of self-interest, formerly identified with the rational pursuit of gain and the accumulation of wealth, has become a search for pleasure and psychic survival. Social conditions now approximate the vision of republican society conceived by the Marquis de Sade at the very outset of the republican epoch. In many ways the most farsighted and certainly the most disturbing of the prophets of revolutionary individualism, Sade defended unlimited self-indulgence as the logical culmination of the revolution in property relations - the only way to attain revolutionary brotherhood in its purest form. By regressing in his writings to the most primitive level of fantasy, Sade uncannily glimpsed the whole subsequent development of personal life under capitalism, ending not in revolutionary brotherhood but in a society of siblings that has outlived and repudiated its revolutionary origins.
Sade imagined a sexual utopia in which everyone has the right to everyone else, where human beings, reduced to their sexual organs, become absolutely anonymous and interchangeable. His ideal society thus reaffirmed the capitalist principle that human beings are ultimately reducible to interchangeable objects. It also incorporated and carried to a surprising new conclusion Hobbes’s discovery that the destruction of paternalism and the subordination of all social relations to the market had stripped away the remaining restraints and the mitigating illusions from the war of all against all. In the resulting state of organized anarchy, as Sade was the first to realize, pleasure becomes life’s only business - pleasure, however, that is indistinguishable from rape, murder, unbridled aggression. In a society that has reduced reason to mere calculation, reason can impose no limits on the pursuit of pleasure - on the immediate gratification of every desire no matter how perverse, insane, criminal, or merely immoral. For the standards that would condemn crime or cruelty derive from religion, compassion, or the kind of reason that rejects purely instrumental applications; and none of these outmoded forms of thought or feeling has any logical place in a society based on commodity production. In his misogyny, Sade perceived that bourgeois enlightenment, carried to its logical conclusions, condemned even the sentimental cult of womanhood and the family, which the bourgeoisie itself had carried to unprecedented extremes.
At the same time, he saw that condemnation of “woman-worship” had to go hand in hand with a defense of woman’s sexual rights - their right to dispose of their own bodies, as feminists would put it today. If the exercise of that right in Sade’s utopia boils down to the duty to become an instrument of someone else’s pleasure, it was not so much because Sade hated women as because he hated humanity. He perceived, more clearly than the feminists, that all freedoms under capitalism come in the end to the same thing, the same universal obligation to enjoy and be enjoyed. In the same breath, and without violating his own logic, Sade demanded for women the right “fully to satisfy all their desires” and “all parts of their bodies” and categorically stated that “all women must submit to our pleasure.” Pure individualism thus issued in the most radical repudiation of individuality. “All men, all women resemble each other,” according to Sade; and to those of his countrymen who would become republicans he adds this ominous warning: “Do not think you can make good republicans so long as you isolated in their families the children who should belong to the republic alone.” The bourgeois defense of privacy culminates - not just in Sade’s thought but in the history to come, so accurately foreshadowed in the very excess, madness, infantilism of his ideas - in the most thoroughgoing attack on privacy; the glorification of the individual, in his annihilation.
<…>
Standing-Reserve.
Note a lack of the “Greek” in Lasch.
Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, 1927-1939 by Georges Bataille, Edited by A. Stoekl, Translated by A. Stoekl, C.R. Lovitt, and D.M. Leslie Jr.
<…>

SF is very racist stuck up and gentrified Asian's always complain about stop asian hate when they hate black people that's crazy white liberals are condescending and talk down to you and downplay their racism basically if you don't walk talk and believe in their wacky ideologies and politics then they thumb their nose up at you I'm 38 from Chicago I'm used to people being in the real world and down to earth not La La land or make believe land anyway I'm a truck driver I used to change tires and oil and haul furniture including Custodian work but I can't get a job at all in SF They definitely don't hire blacks when I go for interviews I never see black people working when i do i see most black people working security or picking up trash all the white minorities from white Latinos to Asians have all the jobs in a choke hold and they only hire their kind and also it's either you're Upper class or lower Classvno middle or you have to be one of their pet junkies strung out having bowel movements on the. Side Walk to blend in smdh weather sucks it's always cold I mean damn Baltimore MD was in the high 80's Chicago which sits on freezing Lake Michigan was in the 80's but not Lame azz SF still feels like March also I'm transgender mtf I came out to SF due to the fact L.A. shelters didn't allow trans women to shelter so I was like SF it is being optimistic but I realized I was in the movie Get Out all jokes aside it's for bougie White Gays and that's fine just be straight up and 💯 about it than portray this all is welcomed image and the food fuck!ng sucks bland off brand generic tasteless food it's expensive nope I'd take Nyc over SF at least Nyc has culture

As a Mexican dude who is partial to women of the Caucasian variety, I’ve sometimes referred to myself as a milkman but now I’m starting to wonder if I’m committing a faux pas by doing so. Recently when I was bored, I hopped on Urban Dictionary to see how they would define that word and the two pertinent entries said “black men who prefer white women”.
Not a pressing issue but I’m curious and I don’t think I could ask anywhere else without getting clowned on (and rightfully so lmao)

And perhaps as a regular member too. Why support such blatantly racist company?
I should’ve done more research before signing up for Equinox’s teacher training program (it didn’t occur to me that a gym chain located mainly on the coasts catering to diverse members could be racist). As a student going through the program, your access to studio use may be more limited, you may not get as much attention and feedback from the instructors, etc. if you are not white. And they advertise the ability to work at Equinox while completing the program as a perk. Equinox isn’t known for treating their people well, I know, but they are also blatantly racist. A quick google search on “Equinox racism” got me numerous articles on racism and sexism lawsuits.
Some quotes from two different lawsuits:
… derogatory comments such as “Black guys are good for nothing but bodybuilding and physical work” - source
…Equinox repeatedly ignored her complaints of racist and sexually inappropriate behavior by a fitness manager who reported to her and remains employed by Equinox. Europe said that the manager frequently made vulgar comments about Black women’s bodies, harassed Equinox employees using offensive language, and diverted personal training clients away from employees of color. - source
There are many other classical Pilates training programs out there. And I’d like to believe that there are better studios to work for.
It’s a throwaway account to protect my identity. But if you have any suggestions on classical Pilates studios that are not racist and actually care about their teachers, please share! I’d love to come back to this post and learn about them.

Dating apps have kinda destroyed my confidence. I feel like most black women are looking a certain archetype tbh. Am I just being a chronically online incel? Or is there some truth. For some context I’ve never in my life actually asked a black woman out IRL, and I lived in a predominantly white area most of my life so I’m probably a bit biased
Also before anyone says it, I’m not going for hood rats on dating apps or 10/10 models either. I’m going out of my way to find nerdy black women who are in my league, and still get nothing 😭😭😭 I’m cooked bro, I’m probably just ugly as sin

I think in 6:16 in LA, Kendrick is alluding to the yacht trip Drake took his crew on in the Summer of 22. Kendrick mentions Ibiza, yachts, and a white t shirt. Also interesting, during that trip, Drake went viral for a video where a bee would not leave him alone. In Euphoria, Kendrick says "Shoo, shoo, shoo, Bee, bee, bee, bee, bee, bee."
There are photos of Drake in Ibiza wearing a white button down (w/ white undershirt). He was also mysteriously detained in Stockholm the night before he was photographed in Ibiza. OVO at first denied all of it, but Drake later confirmed that it happened, but did not offer details. Just said it was weird.
Also, he was with a 20 year old the whole time he was in Ibiza, Suede Brooks. Also, 6:16 PM in LA is 3:16 AM in Ibiza- peak party hours. I'm being a little crazy now, but what if the wine cooler stain on the white t-shirt referenced in 6:16 is referring to another disposed item of Drake's? Maybe a member of the yacht crew was asked to discard of it (due to the stain), but held on to it? I'm wondering if the yacht was, at some point, used to transport women through ports, and perhaps the Swedish authorities were tipped off about their plans, or suspected something and detained Drake and OVO? We don't know every stop they took on that trip or who they met up with. I can't find a timeline anywhere. Just Stockholm Ibiza St. Tropez
I am starting to wonder if Kendrick had multiple "EPs" at various hotels and security firms offering him intel. One is EP, with information about the night at The Mark. There's another who was on the yacht trip. My guess is that the yacht mole got paid, but EP did not, because of AK and Drake's bullshit. I think Kendrick got information from several people, and he picked and chose the information that would scare Drake the most. EP probably had the best items, which is why he made it on MTG cover, but this new EP had most juicy information, which is why it's the one getting referenced in the tracks. And that makes sense- you can get away with a lot more on a private yacht than you can in a hotel, particularly sex trafficking. Plus, if the second mole was a crew member, they would have been with OVO all summer. They would have a TON of dirt on the whole crew. Additionally, Drake has a terrible reputation with how he treats service workers. I would not be surprised if, by the end of that trip, the whole crew hated him.
We need to look into that trip extensively.

In the Era of Fear I Comfort them with Great Love
Anita Moorjani was cured from cancer not because of a certain medicine, vaccine or chemotherapy. She was cured because of this Great Love. Anita Moorjani is a forty years old woman who is simple and honest. She was born in India, grew up in Singapore and was English educated. Later she went to Hong Kong. She knows Tamil, English and Cantonese. In 2002 the doctor said that she was down with cancer lymphoma or the blood cell tumor. After four years, in 2006 seventy percent of her body is covered with the cancerous cells. She stayed in the hospital, suffering terribly because of this illness. Later the doctor pronounced her death. After three days she woke up and was cured miraculously. This is truly inconceivable when she woke up from her death. In her mind she was very sure she was cured already. No treatment was needed. But she was very weak. She could not even talk. The doctor was surprised of her condition and again they carried out a checking on her body and found that she was free from all symptoms of cancer. In her mind she knew she was already cured. In her mind there was a great transformation that she personally experienced. And all the cells on her body were transformed into healthy cells. Later she wrote a book entitles: After dying once I finally learn to love’ By looking at this title, it coincides with Master Shan Dao’s teaching on the one with deep faith in the dharma. He said, ‘Standing here is waiting to die. Going forward is also death. Turning back, I too cannot escape from death.’ This can be found in the ‘Analogy of two rivers and one white lane’ the three sure deaths. If we have died once, we will truly give ourselves up. This is the same as the Pure Land teaching that we have to admit we are the sinful mundane man. We lose all hope as we have no ways to leave the triple realm. In cultivation we need to really undergo a total death in order to really practise the path. The zen cultivator says this is known as undergoing great death and great living. Otherwise, no real cultivation can be expected because most of us are very arrogant, very self-centred, without much changes in our stubborn mindset. That is why she said after dying once only she managed to learn how to love. In the Pure Land door this is known as having deep faith. Such a man will surely have faith in Amitabha’s 48 vows to gather in living beings without any doubts and suspicion. By relying on the strength of the Buddha’s Vows we will surely attain a rebirth. This is living in the great love of Namo Amitabha Buddha. We receive the love of Amitabha Buddha. Only then we can have the genuine love and we are able to learn to love. If we do not feel the love of Amitabha Buddha, we will not know how to love. Our love will be frightening as it is an attachment, a desire to control, to possess others. Such a love is impure, it is a threat to us. If we are not careful it might turn into hatred. Such is a frightful kind of love. If we learn from Amitabha Buddha, the love is pure, without condition and transparent. This is truly loving a person. It is not easy to learn this. We look at the couples around us. So many got married and end up in divorce. How about those who do not get a divorce? Yes, they spend the whole life fighting！The truly loving couples are as few as the stars in the broad day light. So, learning to love is our homework for the whole life. It is not easy. Today I would like to discuss this passage with you. After reading her writing I feel most shameful as what the author has said is very true in accord with her experience. Even though I have left home for more than twenty years, receiving the teaching of the Buddha, the guidance of the patriarch, the exhortation of my Master, the help of my lotus friends and all, I still feel I am lacking in genuine practice and virtues. On the contrary this lady has not met with the Buddha Dharma. She has such an awakening after dying once, it is truly a gain for her. She said, ‘After my body stopped functioning, I entered into another world.’ She was so seriously ill that her heart, her liver and everything stopped functioning. This is to show there is a world after death. She said, ‘I saw myself as a very wonderful person. This is because I was not terrorised until I had a change in shape.’ ‘I felt there was this vibrant energy around me and I was able to enter it. I realise if a man can see his wonderful existence, he must be the happiest man.’ Most of us like to complain about our imperfect existence. We often think thus, ‘I do not have enough money. I am not healthy. I am not pretty. I do not have enough clothing ….’ Here we must learn to see the good points in us, to appreciate the value of our existence. A woman who can say like this is truly very calm in mind. A man who always complains about himself will not be able to live happily each day. So, without knowing the love of Amitabha for us, we will be a great complainer. We complain about no money, we complain about our look, our wrinkles and so on and so forth. What kind of life will this be with so many complaints? She said, ‘I found that there was this power surrounding me.’ When we pass away, we will no longer be using our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind to observe. Instead, we will be awakened to our innate Buddha. She felt she is surrounded by this vibrant field of energy and she is also this energy. What kind of power is this? It is a kind of energy. It is always in the universe or the dharma realm in the Buddhist terms. In fact, this is Amitabha Buddha. This is the strength of the Buddha Nature. She uses her Buddha Nature to experience the Buddha Nature. It exists forever. It is neither born nor become extinct. If the Buddha enters the world or does not enter the world, it is always there without changing. Of course, she does not use these Buddhist terms. She said, ‘When I give up the attachment to the mundane world, I enter another world effortlessly. It is unnecessary to pray, to recite a sutra or to give a dharma talk. It is unnecessary to seek forgiveness, repentance or other methods.’ ‘Death gives me the feeling that I do not need to do anything. It is just as though I am telling someone I am coming to the end. I cannot do anything anymore. I give up. Whatever you want to do I will just accept.’ I feel that this passage is very near in meaning to the Pure Land’s view. It means when we die, we have just to let go as nothing can be done anymore. Most people die in torment as there are many attachments in this world. They are worried about their children, money and work. Some people find it difficult to die. So, from here we must learn to let go when it is our turn to leave the world. Moreover, we have the promise from Amitabha Buddha who will come to receive us in accord with the strength of his vows. It is much easier for us. This lady just let go and she entered another world. Her state should be quite high too. I will explain below. I feel that she had arrived at the border of the Pure Land. Her state of an awakened mind showed that she was not in the heaven. She seemed to be enlightened to the Buddha nature and non -existence of a self. She experienced the light of enlightenment and returned to life, to lead a life of love. So, in our practice we are told to let go of all attachment and to wish for a rebirth in the Pure Land relying on Amitabha’s strength of vows. So from here we can see it is very easy to be born in the World of Ultimate Bliss. She said it is unnecessary to recite a sutra, a dharma or seeking for forgiveness. She enters the other world naturally when she simply gives up herself. I remember once I went with my Master to console a dying man. I was very touched by my Master’s words. He said kindly to the man who is on the verge of death, ‘So and so, now we will recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. If you can recite, then recite together. If you can’t, just lay down and relax. It is ok if you just listen to our recitation.’ Are not these words very comforting? The dying man will feel very safe and relax. But if you were to say, ‘So and so, this is the last chance. Bring out all your strength to face death. If you can recite then recite together. If you cannot recite, you must try also!’ On listening to this threat, the sick man is stressed out. He will die instantly as he has no strength to join in recitation. The Master who with his great love understands the rescue of Amitabha Buddha is a natural process that he is able to say in such a comforting way. No condition is needed. There is no threat nor fright in his words. A man who threatens people is not calm as he must be frightened too in his mind. That is why what he says will frighten people, giving stress to others. If we are loving in our mind, our words will only bring love, peace and calm to others. People will feel our love for them. So, this lady says it is unnecessary to read or recite any prayer or seeking forgiveness. This is because the wavelength of her mind is on a par with the great love of the universe. She naturally enters it. Namo Amitabha Buddha is a dharma that requires no seeking or pleading. It is a dharma of rescue without condition. When we recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, the wavelength of our mind is the same as Amitabha Buddha. So, we will attain a rebirth naturally. Many of us who do not understand the kindness of Amitabha Buddha will seek a rebirth by pleading to the Buddha every day. His mind is unsettled and frightened that he might be left out. This is because he does not understand when he recites the Buddha’s name, the wavelength of his mind is in the same frequency with Amitabha Buddha’s mind and vows. Then people will ask, ‘Do we still go to recite the Buddha’s Name for the dying man?’ ‘Yes, of course.’ This is because the dying man has yet to understand this point. When we recite for him, he will be safe in the shine of Namo Amitabha Buddha. This is a method which is bestowed upon us to save us with this Name in accord with the strength of the Buddha’s vows. When she says to somebody, this refers to Amitabha Buddha. She says she cannot do anything anymore and she gives up. She gives herself up to the Buddha. So, when we die do not try to fight with death and refuse to die. We must just admit we are the offender and we need the help of Amitabha Buddha to take us, to rescue us. Namo is to admit we take refuge in the Buddha, we surrender ourselves. When we cultivate this door, we must not add in our ideas. We must just let Amitabha Buddha to decide for us. This is because Amitabha has the power of great vow, the extensive great strength of the Buddha Nature, the strength of immeasurable light, the strength of immeasurable lifespan. We just have to give up all planning. He will plan for us. So, when we recite the Name of the Buddha, just recite without thinking of doing this or that trying so hard to reach a certain acceptable standard. These are all unnecessary. This type of thinking is the habit of the sagely path cultivators. When we sit on the plane, just sit there. The plane will bring you to your destiny. It is unnecessary for you to help the plane to fly. Amitabha Buddha the pilot does not need you to fly the plane. If he needs your help then he is not known as Amitabha Buddha. Anita said, ‘In the other world, I found that my mind is very clear and bright. I realise by myself that I will only die out of the fear and terror in my mind.’ These words are very true. Clarity of mind means her mind is pure. In this world our mind is turbid, dark and deluded. That is why are enveloped in all kinds of worries and terror. But once we arrive at the Pure Land, we will naturally be pure and bright. This is because the land is pure and is enveloped in bright illumination. She said she naturally know she will be cured. This knowing ability is possessed by us originally. No learning is needed because our Buddha nature is originally pure and bright. In the Saha world our ability is being covered up by afflictions. But when we arrive at the World of Ultimate Bliss, we will naturally possess this ability. This ability reappears relying on the strength of Vows of Amitabha Buddha. When we arrive at the Pure Land, we will naturally possess the ability to make offerings to the Buddha. On hearing one sentence we are enlightened to the millions. Our mind is opened up to the thousands of million Dharanis. Everyone of us have this innate ability. And Amitabha Buddha’s strength of Vows enhances its opening. In this Saha World our innate nature is all covered up and cannot function. In the world of ultimate bliss, by relying on Amitabha Buddha’s strength of great vows, our innate ability is open up. So they are not contradicting. ‘I naturally know the source of the thought that I will die. The source is I was frightened. If there is no fear, there is no death.’ In actuality there is no death. It is only our fear of death that this illusion comes froth. In Buddha dharma we should know death itself is an illusion. Time is also an illusion. That is why the Buddha speaks all the Sutra in this manner, ‘Thus have I heard, at one time the Buddha was…..’ No specific time is stated. Now the physics has proven its illusory. As time is an illusion, it does not exist. Let me give you an example of what is meant by death. It is as if we are driving a car into a tunnel. The shape of the tunnel resembles that of a tomb. And we keep on driving into it. We say we are entering the tomb, that we are going to die soon. We are threatened as the entrance represents death. We continue on our journey in the tunnel and later leave the tunnel, again travelling on our way to another destiny. The entrance of the tunnel, the funeral wreath looks like the tomb. For us, death is a terrible idea that we are fearful of it. We do not know life is a continuity and there is no death. It is our wrong concept that there is this section of birth and death. No one can do anything about it until they personally realise it. ‘I am unable to live out my real self as I have too much worried.’ Most of us live in this world wearing a mask. If everyone of us is free to show our real self this is the most beautiful side of a self. Why cannot we live the way we should live? It is because we are always burdened with worries. We are worried we are not good enough. We are worried that our parents will scold us. We are worried our teacher will get angry and criticize us. We are worried about losing face. We only live for others. We lose our life away trying to accord to others’ expectation. We lose the light of a happy life. Our life is controlled by all these worrisome thoughts. But if we truly recite the Buddha’s Name, our mind will be at ease. Amitabha Buddha takes away our worries by replacing them with Namo Amitabha Buddha. We will realise all these worries and views are not important and we will gradually pay no attention to them. Our true life is Buddha recitation. That is our real identity. Our mind will be at ease as we will pay no attention to those unreal things, words and ideas. Our worries only arise when we care too much about the mundane matters. The author has not learnt about Buddhism. This is her experience in death. What she has written is very personal, true experience, not something that we learn from a book. Her experience gives her an awakening to the reality of life and she lives out her life in this awakening. I saw her video and I feel she is an enlightened person. An enlightened person may not be replete with spiritual penetration. But she will reveal her love in her daily living. She is calm at ease and without any sense of fear in her mind. She leads her life in a genuine way. She said, ‘I know that cancer is not a punishment neither is it a retribution. Cancer is my energy capacity which reveals itself on my body. Because of my fear I am unable to reveal the beautiful self in me. And this is the job which should be carried out by me. I know that cancer is not a punishment which is forced on me. It is not an external force of retribution.’ This is what we often do when certain things happen, we will try to find an excuse or put the blame on reward or retribution. We treat the misfortune with anger and hatred. We often have this tendency to catogorise every happening in accord with the cause or reason. In Buddhism we talk about cause and effect. As she is not a Buddhist she says, ‘Cancer appears as a result of a change in my energy capacity. This energy shows itself in the form of cancer.’ This is because she lives in fear and worries. She does not live out her real happy self. So if we the Buddha recitation cultivators are able to reveal the bright side of life, to live without worries, there will be no more cancer for us. This is her understanding about life. That is why I have often said, ‘Lead a life of a mundane man and recite the Buddha’s Name sincerely.’ We should lead a life of Amitabha Buddha. Our life will be full of light and blessings. And we will become more loving. Finally we will lead a comfortable life and people around us will be comfortable also. This itself is the propagation of the dharma of love. Otherwise, if we cannot live a loving life, there is no point talking about anything as they will be useless. Anita said, ‘In that state which is vast and limitless, I found that I am too strict with myself. I keep on whipping myself.’ Can we feel the existence of being vast and limitless? No. We are often limited by our surrounding. As she had entered the limitless vastness, she is able to know her whole life. She knows her fault is being too strict with herself. In fact, most of us are very strict with ourselves, demanding ourselves to be like this or that. She said, ‘No one is punishing me. The person whom I cannot forgive is I myself. I have abandoned myself. I do not love myself. This matter is none of others’ business.’ No one from outside comes to punish us. It is we who punish ourselves. We cannot forgive our selves. We add on a lot of unnecessary locks and chains on ourselves. What is more for us the Buddha reciters? If we recite the Buddha’s name and on the other hand, we add on ourselves lots of locks and chains whence Amitabha Buddha is trying to unlock us, isn’t this a most pitiful situation?’ She said that she had abandoned herself. It means we throw ourselves away and become a lone ranger, an isolated person living a life of sadness, a live without love. Look at a baby. Her eyes are clear as the baby is a simple being, just like a simple puppies or baby cat. The baby can play with chickens, puppis as she does not give rise to diffentiation. Not everyone of us is like Anita. But every one of us can recite the Buddha’s name. When we recite the Buddha’s name, we will be calm. Amitabha Buddha said, ‘In the world of fear I comfort them with great love.’ It is because all the worries are gone when we accomplish Buddhahood at the Pure Land. We will not be so worried about our poverty, health problem, ugliness, stupidity, inability to recite a sutra, a mantra. All these are unimportant as finally I will become a Buddha in the Buddha Land. We will be more humorous. For example, if we are ugly we will use it as a joke. It does not matter at all. Because all the external states are not you. The real self, our real life is the Buddha’s Name. It is our true identity. It will bring ease to our mind. A baby is pure. But as it grows up, it starts to abandon himself. A baby resembles a glass of pure water. When he grows up, his greed starts to accumulate when he wants a toy, a book, good results, money, benefits, fame women and so on. All these are placed in the glass of water. Everything is a piece of mud that we put in out glass. The more we put into the glass, the more the water will flow out. This water is the genuine self. We abandon the true self, chase it out with our greed. We fill ourselves with all the rubbish. The genuine blessings and bliss are chased away. We lead an opaque life without transparency. Our life become a glass of muddy water and we live in great torment. The more we obtain, the more we lose ourselves. That is why the Buddha is truly kind. He and his disciples lead a life of a beggar. When you have nothing, you will be happy and relax. The mind retains its purity. Human beings are deluded as they think to possess a wife, children, a house, a car are called blessings. A man who truly loves himself does not love money, sex, fame, food, sleep. These five desires are the knives that will cut us into pieces and bring on great sufferings. Anita said, ‘I realise I am the child of the beautiful universe. As long as I exist, I will obtain this unconditional love.’ This is very good. I would like to make the following changes, ‘I realize that I am the son of the adorned Amitabha Buddha.’ In Buddhism we use adorned to replace the word beautiful. The universe is this Amitabha Buddha. In the Sutra we are told Amitabha Buddha is the Treasury Body of the Dharma Realm. Amitabha Buddha exists in the whole of the Dharma Realm. Of course, there are also the reward body and transformation bodies beside the dharma body. Amitabha Buddha is the immeasurable wisdom and lifespan. Anita says that the universal energy is abundant and inexhaustible, vast and without limits. This is the existence of the Buddha Nature. She says as long as she exists, she will surely obtain the unconditional love. I often also say, ‘No conditions are required for us to receive the love and rescue of Amitabha Buddha.’ Let us take the analogy of a tree. As long as it exists, it will receive the sunlight. No other condition is needed. So it is the same for the house and everything on earth. Amitabha Buddha’s Name is also known as the Light that Far-surpassing the Sun and Moon. Amitabha Buddha’s light pervasively illumines all the living beings and things in the world. As long as we exist, we will receive the light of the Buddha, the protection of his loving kindness and rescue. It is unnecessary for us to become somebody so as to receive the unconditional rescue of Amitabha Buddha. Our Master Hui Jing also wrote a book on the ‘Unconditional Rescue of the Buddha.’ Some people cannot believe. He says, ‘If this is the case everyone will commit evils.’ Such a thinking is negative and full of fear as his mind is dwelling in darkness. He is afraid that the world will go upside down. He cannot understand that as long as there is the existence, may they be a cat, a dog, a hell being, they will be taken care of by Amitabha Buddha. The only condition is they exist. This reminds me of the words of Great Master Tan Luan, ‘The future scholars who hear about the rescue of the Buddha, the rescue that relies on other’s strength, he should give rise to faith. Do not refuse such a chance. It is being stupid.’ Do not think that you should do this and that to obtain the rescue? Amitabha Buddha did not ask you to do anything. He says, ‘Living beings in the ten directions who have faith in me.’ It means they exist and the Buddha will be there to save them. Buddha recitation is not a condition. It is just a method of saving. Anita says, ‘I do not have to do anything to obtain this love.’ Just like a blade of grass in the water. Does it need to do anything to obtain water? It is unnecessary. As long as it exists, it is surrounded by the water. As long as we exist, we are surrounded by the love of Amitabha Buddha. We do not need to do anything to obtain this love and care. Once we know this, we will be fearless and calm at ease. This is the same as the sunlight which shine on the mountain and also the valley. In our life no matter what level we are we will receive the illumination of Amitabha Buddha. Anita says, ‘No prayer, no seeking is needed.’ Amitabha’s rescue is there always. As long as we recite, we will be saved by him. Amitabha Buddha says, ‘All living beings in the ten directions who call on me will be saved by me. You only have to say out my name.’ You say you are dumb and cannot call the name. Such a man who understands the rescue of Buddha will also be saved even if he cannot pronounce the Name. But if you are unwilling, you are creating an obstacle for yourself. That is why our dharma door is known as the ‘The Dharma is taught without being asked.’, the ‘Befriend us without being asked’. As long as we trust him, he will come personally to take us to his Pure Land. On hearing that nothing is needed to be done, some will be confused. They want to do something, to clean the altar, to change the water, to offer some fruits and incense, to sit in meditation and so on. They think this will help them to attain a rebirth. They have to do something. They do not realise what they need to do is to reveal the beautiful self, to lead the adorned life and let themselves become the love. As long as we sit there and lead a loving life we are in accord with the love of the Buddha Amitabha. When the sun is shining, you say, ‘It is good. A shiny day.’ When it is raining, you say, ‘Very good. It is raining now.’ When it snows, you say, ‘Good, I love snow.’ This way of living is to add the positive loving energy to this universe. You are spreading the pure and harmony energy to the universe. In the Buddha Dharma it is known as the lights shine on one another. The whole universe will receive the positive energy of your loving and harmonious mind. So, what you need to do is to recite Namo Amitabha Budda loudly, softly, silently. All will be ok. If we live this way, Amitabha Buddha will be most happy to see us. It is just like a child who is sleeping in the cradle. Doing nothing. What do you think? Will the mother be happy to see him like that? Yes, of course. She will be very glad with him just sleeping there. Nothing has to be done. A child in the arms of his mother is the revelation of total trust. And this is the same for us to be in the arms of Amitabha Buddha. We just relax and trust him. We will lead a happy life. And this is the genuine way of living in accord with the love of oneself. More often than not we lead a life with worries, fear, twisted emotions and trying to cover up our faults. Our adorned life cannot be revealed. Everyday, we live in fear and worries. This is adding chains and locks to ourselves. Anita says, ‘I have never truly loved myself before. I have never valued my existence. I have never seen the adorned soul in me.’ She uses soul to describe herself. In the Buddha Dharma this refers to the beauty and adorned Buddha Nature. She said, ‘I am so beautiful yet I have never realised it. It is replaced with the hard facts of mundane existence. I decay because I do not understand my beautiful soul.’ In the Buddha Dharma it is described as all living beings are originally the Buddha. Yet we do not live, in accord with our Buddha Nature. We are often controlled by our mundane existence, the salary, the examination results and such like. We forget of our Buddha Nature. We lead a life of decay, a life of erosion. This is the General path of Buddhism. From the angle of Buddha Recitation, the rescue of Amitabha is always with us, only that we do not realise it. We try all kinds of methods hoping for the Buddha to rescue us. We do not know that we just have to admit we are the mundane men who are covered with offences. There is no other way to save ourselves if we do not rely on Amitabha Buddha. Then we let go and recite the Buddha’s Name wholeheartedly. This is the way to be saved by the Buddha. But most people cannot understand this. They want to do something good, to be pretentious and make out something good of himself, to scold people for their lacking in virtues and such like. This is against the practise of this pure land door. Why cannot the people in the world see their pretention? It is because they are also not living a true life. Their eyes are not clear enough to see through this pretention. A fake man sees something fake and he will treat it as genuine. A clear -headed man will surely be able to see through all these false masks. If we were to wear a false mask for too long it will be difficult to remove it. It has grown on to our skin. It will be painful if we want to remove this fake mask. So it takes time for us to loosen this false mask as we have been wearing them for too long. Anita says, ‘This understanding makes me realise that I do not have to be frightened anymore.’ There is no more fear in her mind. It is a mind of calm and bliss. It is a mind which is full of hope. It is a comforting mind that can soothe others. With this calm and happy mind it is already a contribution to all around us. It is already a protection and mindfulness to all around us. We do not have to do anything at all. Most of us live in fear. We pay for insurance because we are afraid when we get old, we have no money, no money to pay the medical fees. We get married out of fear that we will be lonely. Why do we give birth to children? We are afraid no one will take care of us at old age. Why do we go to school? It is because we are afraid of our mother’s anger. Why must we study hard? We are afraid of our teacher. Why do we go to university? We are afraid people will look down on us. Can we live without fear? We cannot. Even our mother who loves us so much say we will suffer if we do not study hard. From our young age we receive the education of fear. We are threatened by our beloved parents, our responsible teachers. We do not receive the education of love. So, if we love our children, do not add fear to them. We must give only love and courage so that they can face life with their original positive energy, positive strength. This is because the world is full of twisted people, fake people, suffering people. There are very few upright men, genuine men, happy and hopeful men around. I only hope all of you my lotus friends will bring up a future generation who is upright, genuine, happy and hopeful with the strength of Amitabha Buddha. So, we must lead a life based on the right values taught by Amitabha Buddha. If we teach our child to fight for self -benefit, to contend with others, we are making them blind so that they do not see the truth of life. This is harming them. If we are enlightened to this, we will only rely on Amitabha Buddha. We are not afraid to be lonely. We will be at ease. Those who see the light, the warmth of the Buddha will no longer be frightened. Anita says, ‘I realise this is a state that can be reached by myself and everyone.’ In Zen sect it is said all living beings are Buddha. In the Buddha recitation door, everyone can recite the Name, everyone can attain a rebirth and everyone can accomplish Buddhahood. This is the bestowment by Amitabha Buddha. All the things that we fight for may not be beneficial to us. Everything that benefits us are often free. For example, the air we take in every instant is free. We do not pay to stand on the earth. We do not pay to look at the sky above. Whatever we fight and earn to get are valueless. Everything that is valuable is free. In the general practice it is said, ‘No cultivation is the cultivation. Nothing is obtainable. This is the state of a bodhisattva. The original face of all dharma often dwells in the mark of still extinction. Our Buddha Nature is replete with all merits and virtues. We cannot cultivate anything to enhance it. This is because all the things that we can do are only dreams, illusion, bubbles and shadow. Whatever that we do, that we create are not in accord with our Buddha Nature. The Buddha Nature is always there, original and shining out naturally. And in our Pure Land Dharma, whatever we have offered, whatever we have done are not the causes for our attainment of a rebirth. Attaining a rebirth is the state of nothing doing. It stays apart from creation or doing. It is a natural state. Reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha helps us to return to this state. Anita said, ‘So I decided to return to the mundane world.’ She has enlightened to the opportunity of life and she decided to come back to tell us about life. Just like many Pure Land cultivators who say that they will not come back any more to sufferings. Yet when they arrive at the Pure Land and brings forth the Bodhi mind, they will come back by themselves to help other beings. Anita said, ‘When I was on the verge of death, I realised the universe comes forth from unconditional love. I am one of the revelations of this love in my present form.’ For the scientists they will say the universe is made from electron, protons, neutrons and so on. This is talking only at the surface level, the materials. But as she talked from her true experienc,e she can see all the things, all the people are the expression of this universal love. When she comes back from death, she deeply penetrates the genuine love the mother universe and her wavelength is in accord with the universal love. She comes back as a healthy woman. So once there is a change in our mind set, the body, the people and the surroundings will also change. In the eyes of Buddha and Bodhisattva there is no differentiation of filth and purity. Everything is pure and adorned in its own expression. Every one of us is the art piece of this unconditional love or in the Buddha’s words, the Buddha Nature. She said, ‘I cannot change into another form as it is my original expression, original nature of this unconditional love.’ Everything that exists is the expression of the Buddha Nature. Even something which is defiled or unwholesome is also part of the expression of this unconditional everlasting love. That is why the Buddha says, ‘All the Dharma from the original state dwells constantly in still extinction.’ Still extinction refers to Nirvana the state of the Buddha. So, when we recite the Buddha’s Name we will enter the Buddha’s dwelling. ‘The energy capacity of the strength of life forms derives from love. And I am made from the universal energy capacity. On knowing this, I realise I do not need to become somebody else. And my true value will not be depreciated too.’ Anita said, So, it is unnecessary for us to become another man. A business man does not need to become Jack Ma. Why is this so? It is because you are equal to him. He is not higher than you. He has the Buddha Nature and you also have the Buddha Nature. Every one is equal. So we do not need to measure in terms of money especially if we truly know the benefits of Buddha recitation. In the eyes of the Buddha every one of us is a shining star. We do not need to chase after another star. Just imagine the havoc it will be when the stars do not dwell in its orbit and try to chase after another star. What a chaos the universe will become. Everyone of our existence is in perfect conditions in the eyes of the Buddha and Bodhisattva. ‘This is the I that I have always wanted to be.’ she said. We must learn to appreciate ourselves, accept ourselves and love ourselves. This ‘I’ is invaluable under the unconditional love of the Rescue of Amitabha Buddha. We are his precious sons, the pearls on his hand. If we are accepted by the Buddha, we will be so happy as we will have no complaint about ourselves. We are often surrounded by people who keep on complaining about us. The first one is our mother who says that we are not clever, we have low marks. We are not filial. We earn too little. See how our mother teaches us not to appreciate ourselves. Then we are blamed by our teacher, our classmates, our girl -friend and so on. Then comes Amitabha Buddha who studies us and says, ‘Put aside all the complaints. You are qualified to attain Buddhahood. No problem at all. I give you 100 percent.’ That is why we Buddha Recitation Practitioners are always at ease under the shine of Amitabha Buddha who give us the confirmation. This is the greatest benefits the Buddha bestows upon us. Buddhism brings hope and bliss to the world, the universe. So, in this life’s time we must try our best to lead a life of Amitabha Buddha. Do not be swayed by the mundane values, mundane eyes, mundane perspective. We rely only on the outlook of the Buddha and Bodhisattva. ‘Once we know that we are this love, it is unnecessary to purposely go forth to shower love on others. As long as we are faithful to our original nature, we will automatically become the tools of love, touching the hearts of everyone who have affinity with us.’ This part of her speech is very good. If we are already the lamp, there is no need for us to go out purposely to shine on others. The lamp just stands at its place and it manages to brighten up the place. So, when we are the LOVE, we will naturally touch those around us with our love. Take a look at our Master Hui Jing. He sits there quietly and yet every one of us are calm and happy naturally. So when we become the love, wherever we are, all will feel calm at ease, without any fear. Anita said, ‘The most important thing I have learnt is I am the Love itself. All my fears are gone. This is the reason I come into life again.’ Amitabha Buddha said, ‘I will transform all the fear into great calmness, great serenity’ When We recite His Name we are charged with his love. We also become the love. We will leave behind all fear. ‘My dear, you will always be loved. You do not need to harbour any fear. There is no way for you to commit any errors.’ Always think about these three sentences. There is the light of truth in it. This is spoken by a non -Buddhist who was on the verge of her death and who lives again. How about us the Buddha Recitation Practitioners? Can we deny the love of Amitabha Buddha, His unconditional love of rescue? From this story we know the unconditional love of rescue of the Buddha pervasively surrounds us. We must have faith in this and lead a life of joy with no more fear. Nowadays, everyone lives in fear. We must learn to replete ourselves with love and bring this shine to others, to lead them out of fear. Love yourself and love others. Namo Amitabha Buddha. A dharma talk by Dharma Master Shi Jing Zong, the Abbot of the Hong Yuan Monastery in Anhui, China entitled: Dying Once to Learn to Love Link: https://oridharma.wordpress.com/2020/05/16/in-the-era-of-fear-i-comfort-them-with-great-love/

In the Era of Fear I Comfort them with Great Love
Anita Moorjani was cured from cancer not because of a certain medicine, vaccine or chemotherapy. She was cured because of this Great Love. Anita Moorjani is a forty years old woman who is simple and honest. She was born in India, grew up in Singapore and was English educated. Later she went to Hong Kong. She knows Tamil, English and Cantonese. In 2002 the doctor said that she was down with cancer lymphoma or the blood cell tumor. After four years, in 2006 seventy percent of her body is covered with the cancerous cells. She stayed in the hospital, suffering terribly because of this illness. Later the doctor pronounced her death. After three days she woke up and was cured miraculously. This is truly inconceivable when she woke up from her death. In her mind she was very sure she was cured already. No treatment was needed. But she was very weak. She could not even talk. The doctor was surprised of her condition and again they carried out a checking on her body and found that she was free from all symptoms of cancer. In her mind she knew she was already cured. In her mind there was a great transformation that she personally experienced. And all the cells on her body were transformed into healthy cells. Later she wrote a book entitles: After dying once I finally learn to love’ By looking at this title, it coincides with Master Shan Dao’s teaching on the one with deep faith in the dharma. He said, ‘Standing here is waiting to die. Going forward is also death. Turning back, I too cannot escape from death.’ This can be found in the ‘Analogy of two rivers and one white lane’ the three sure deaths. If we have died once, we will truly give ourselves up. This is the same as the Pure Land teaching that we have to admit we are the sinful mundane man. We lose all hope as we have no ways to leave the triple realm. In cultivation we need to really undergo a total death in order to really practise the path. The zen cultivator says this is known as undergoing great death and great living. Otherwise, no real cultivation can be expected because most of us are very arrogant, very self-centred, without much changes in our stubborn mindset. That is why she said after dying once only she managed to learn how to love. In the Pure Land door this is known as having deep faith. Such a man will surely have faith in Amitabha’s 48 vows to gather in living beings without any doubts and suspicion. By relying on the strength of the Buddha’s Vows we will surely attain a rebirth. This is living in the great love of Namo Amitabha Buddha. We receive the love of Amitabha Buddha. Only then we can have the genuine love and we are able to learn to love. If we do not feel the love of Amitabha Buddha, we will not know how to love. Our love will be frightening as it is an attachment, a desire to control, to possess others. Such a love is impure, it is a threat to us. If we are not careful it might turn into hatred. Such is a frightful kind of love. If we learn from Amitabha Buddha, the love is pure, without condition and transparent. This is truly loving a person. It is not easy to learn this. We look at the couples around us. So many got married and end up in divorce. How about those who do not get a divorce? Yes, they spend the whole life fighting！The truly loving couples are as few as the stars in the broad day light. So, learning to love is our homework for the whole life. It is not easy. Today I would like to discuss this passage with you. After reading her writing I feel most shameful as what the author has said is very true in accord with her experience. Even though I have left home for more than twenty years, receiving the teaching of the Buddha, the guidance of the patriarch, the exhortation of my Master, the help of my lotus friends and all, I still feel I am lacking in genuine practice and virtues. On the contrary this lady has not met with the Buddha Dharma. She has such an awakening after dying once, it is truly a gain for her. She said, ‘After my body stopped functioning, I entered into another world.’ She was so seriously ill that her heart, her liver and everything stopped functioning. This is to show there is a world after death. She said, ‘I saw myself as a very wonderful person. This is because I was not terrorised until I had a change in shape.’ ‘I felt there was this vibrant energy around me and I was able to enter it. I realise if a man can see his wonderful existence, he must be the happiest man.’ Most of us like to complain about our imperfect existence. We often think thus, ‘I do not have enough money. I am not healthy. I am not pretty. I do not have enough clothing ….’ Here we must learn to see the good points in us, to appreciate the value of our existence. A woman who can say like this is truly very calm in mind. A man who always complains about himself will not be able to live happily each day. So, without knowing the love of Amitabha for us, we will be a great complainer. We complain about no money, we complain about our look, our wrinkles and so on and so forth. What kind of life will this be with so many complaints? She said, ‘I found that there was this power surrounding me.’ When we pass away, we will no longer be using our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind to observe. Instead, we will be awakened to our innate Buddha. She felt she is surrounded by this vibrant field of energy and she is also this energy. What kind of power is this? It is a kind of energy. It is always in the universe or the dharma realm in the Buddhist terms. In fact, this is Amitabha Buddha. This is the strength of the Buddha Nature. She uses her Buddha Nature to experience the Buddha Nature. It exists forever. It is neither born nor become extinct. If the Buddha enters the world or does not enter the world, it is always there without changing. Of course, she does not use these Buddhist terms. She said, ‘When I give up the attachment to the mundane world, I enter another world effortlessly. It is unnecessary to pray, to recite a sutra or to give a dharma talk. It is unnecessary to seek forgiveness, repentance or other methods.’ ‘Death gives me the feeling that I do not need to do anything. It is just as though I am telling someone I am coming to the end. I cannot do anything anymore. I give up. Whatever you want to do I will just accept.’ I feel that this passage is very near in meaning to the Pure Land’s view. It means when we die, we have just to let go as nothing can be done anymore. Most people die in torment as there are many attachments in this world. They are worried about their children, money and work. Some people find it difficult to die. So, from here we must learn to let go when it is our turn to leave the world. Moreover, we have the promise from Amitabha Buddha who will come to receive us in accord with the strength of his vows. It is much easier for us. This lady just let go and she entered another world. Her state should be quite high too. I will explain below. I feel that she had arrived at the border of the Pure Land. Her state of an awakened mind showed that she was not in the heaven. She seemed to be enlightened to the Buddha nature and non -existence of a self. She experienced the light of enlightenment and returned to life, to lead a life of love. So, in our practice we are told to let go of all attachment and to wish for a rebirth in the Pure Land relying on Amitabha’s strength of vows. So from here we can see it is very easy to be born in the World of Ultimate Bliss. She said it is unnecessary to recite a sutra, a dharma or seeking for forgiveness. She enters the other world naturally when she simply gives up herself. I remember once I went with my Master to console a dying man. I was very touched by my Master’s words. He said kindly to the man who is on the verge of death, ‘So and so, now we will recite Namo Amitabha Buddha. If you can recite, then recite together. If you can’t, just lay down and relax. It is ok if you just listen to our recitation.’ Are not these words very comforting? The dying man will feel very safe and relax. But if you were to say, ‘So and so, this is the last chance. Bring out all your strength to face death. If you can recite then recite together. If you cannot recite, you must try also!’ On listening to this threat, the sick man is stressed out. He will die instantly as he has no strength to join in recitation. The Master who with his great love understands the rescue of Amitabha Buddha is a natural process that he is able to say in such a comforting way. No condition is needed. There is no threat nor fright in his words. A man who threatens people is not calm as he must be frightened too in his mind. That is why what he says will frighten people, giving stress to others. If we are loving in our mind, our words will only bring love, peace and calm to others. People will feel our love for them. So, this lady says it is unnecessary to read or recite any prayer or seeking forgiveness. This is because the wavelength of her mind is on a par with the great love of the universe. She naturally enters it. Namo Amitabha Buddha is a dharma that requires no seeking or pleading. It is a dharma of rescue without condition. When we recite Namo Amitabha Buddha, the wavelength of our mind is the same as Amitabha Buddha. So, we will attain a rebirth naturally. Many of us who do not understand the kindness of Amitabha Buddha will seek a rebirth by pleading to the Buddha every day. His mind is unsettled and frightened that he might be left out. This is because he does not understand when he recites the Buddha’s name, the wavelength of his mind is in the same frequency with Amitabha Buddha’s mind and vows. Then people will ask, ‘Do we still go to recite the Buddha’s Name for the dying man?’ ‘Yes, of course.’ This is because the dying man has yet to understand this point. When we recite for him, he will be safe in the shine of Namo Amitabha Buddha. This is a method which is bestowed upon us to save us with this Name in accord with the strength of the Buddha’s vows. When she says to somebody, this refers to Amitabha Buddha. She says she cannot do anything anymore and she gives up. She gives herself up to the Buddha. So, when we die do not try to fight with death and refuse to die. We must just admit we are the offender and we need the help of Amitabha Buddha to take us, to rescue us. Namo is to admit we take refuge in the Buddha, we surrender ourselves. When we cultivate this door, we must not add in our ideas. We must just let Amitabha Buddha to decide for us. This is because Amitabha has the power of great vow, the extensive great strength of the Buddha Nature, the strength of immeasurable light, the strength of immeasurable lifespan. We just have to give up all planning. He will plan for us. So, when we recite the Name of the Buddha, just recite without thinking of doing this or that trying so hard to reach a certain acceptable standard. These are all unnecessary. This type of thinking is the habit of the sagely path cultivators. When we sit on the plane, just sit there. The plane will bring you to your destiny. It is unnecessary for you to help the plane to fly. Amitabha Buddha the pilot does not need you to fly the plane. If he needs your help then he is not known as Amitabha Buddha. Anita said, ‘In the other world, I found that my mind is very clear and bright. I realise by myself that I will only die out of the fear and terror in my mind.’ These words are very true. Clarity of mind means her mind is pure. In this world our mind is turbid, dark and deluded. That is why are enveloped in all kinds of worries and terror. But once we arrive at the Pure Land, we will naturally be pure and bright. This is because the land is pure and is enveloped in bright illumination. She said she naturally know she will be cured. This knowing ability is possessed by us originally. No learning is needed because our Buddha nature is originally pure and bright. In the Saha world our ability is being covered up by afflictions. But when we arrive at the World of Ultimate Bliss, we will naturally possess this ability. This ability reappears relying on the strength of Vows of Amitabha Buddha. When we arrive at the Pure Land, we will naturally possess the ability to make offerings to the Buddha. On hearing one sentence we are enlightened to the millions. Our mind is opened up to the thousands of million Dharanis. Everyone of us have this innate ability. And Amitabha Buddha’s strength of Vows enhances its opening. In this Saha World our innate nature is all covered up and cannot function. In the world of ultimate bliss, by relying on Amitabha Buddha’s strength of great vows, our innate ability is open up. So they are not contradicting. ‘I naturally know the source of the thought that I will die. The source is I was frightened. If there is no fear, there is no death.’ In actuality there is no death. It is only our fear of death that this illusion comes froth. In Buddha dharma we should know death itself is an illusion. Time is also an illusion. That is why the Buddha speaks all the Sutra in this manner, ‘Thus have I heard, at one time the Buddha was…..’ No specific time is stated. Now the physics has proven its illusory. As time is an illusion, it does not exist. Let me give you an example of what is meant by death. It is as if we are driving a car into a tunnel. The shape of the tunnel resembles that of a tomb. And we keep on driving into it. We say we are entering the tomb, that we are going to die soon. We are threatened as the entrance represents death. We continue on our journey in the tunnel and later leave the tunnel, again travelling on our way to another destiny. The entrance of the tunnel, the funeral wreath looks like the tomb. For us, death is a terrible idea that we are fearful of it. We do not know life is a continuity and there is no death. It is our wrong concept that there is this section of birth and death. No one can do anything about it until they personally realise it. ‘I am unable to live out my real self as I have too much worried.’ Most of us live in this world wearing a mask. If everyone of us is free to show our real self this is the most beautiful side of a self. Why cannot we live the way we should live? It is because we are always burdened with worries. We are worried we are not good enough. We are worried that our parents will scold us. We are worried our teacher will get angry and criticize us. We are worried about losing face. We only live for others. We lose our life away trying to accord to others’ expectation. We lose the light of a happy life. Our life is controlled by all these worrisome thoughts. But if we truly recite the Buddha’s Name, our mind will be at ease. Amitabha Buddha takes away our worries by replacing them with Namo Amitabha Buddha. We will realise all these worries and views are not important and we will gradually pay no attention to them. Our true life is Buddha recitation. That is our real identity. Our mind will be at ease as we will pay no attention to those unreal things, words and ideas. Our worries only arise when we care too much about the mundane matters. The author has not learnt about Buddhism. This is her experience in death. What she has written is very personal, true experience, not something that we learn from a book. Her experience gives her an awakening to the reality of life and she lives out her life in this awakening. I saw her video and I feel she is an enlightened person. An enlightened person may not be replete with spiritual penetration. But she will reveal her love in her daily living. She is calm at ease and without any sense of fear in her mind. She leads her life in a genuine way. She said, ‘I know that cancer is not a punishment neither is it a retribution. Cancer is my energy capacity which reveals itself on my body. Because of my fear I am unable to reveal the beautiful self in me. And this is the job which should be carried out by me. I know that cancer is not a punishment which is forced on me. It is not an external force of retribution.’ This is what we often do when certain things happen, we will try to find an excuse or put the blame on reward or retribution. We treat the misfortune with anger and hatred. We often have this tendency to catogorise every happening in accord with the cause or reason. In Buddhism we talk about cause and effect. As she is not a Buddhist she says, ‘Cancer appears as a result of a change in my energy capacity. This energy shows itself in the form of cancer.’ This is because she lives in fear and worries. She does not live out her real happy self. So if we the Buddha recitation cultivators are able to reveal the bright side of life, to live without worries, there will be no more cancer for us. This is her understanding about life. That is why I have often said, ‘Lead a life of a mundane man and recite the Buddha’s Name sincerely.’ We should lead a life of Amitabha Buddha. Our life will be full of light and blessings. And we will become more loving. Finally we will lead a comfortable life and people around us will be comfortable also. This itself is the propagation of the dharma of love. Otherwise, if we cannot live a loving life, there is no point talking about anything as they will be useless. Anita said, ‘In that state which is vast and limitless, I found that I am too strict with myself. I keep on whipping myself.’ Can we feel the existence of being vast and limitless? No. We are often limited by our surrounding. As she had entered the limitless vastness, she is able to know her whole life. She knows her fault is being too strict with herself. In fact, most of us are very strict with ourselves, demanding ourselves to be like this or that. She said, ‘No one is punishing me. The person whom I cannot forgive is I myself. I have abandoned myself. I do not love myself. This matter is none of others’ business.’ No one from outside comes to punish us. It is we who punish ourselves. We cannot forgive our selves. We add on a lot of unnecessary locks and chains on ourselves. What is more for us the Buddha reciters? If we recite the Buddha’s name and on the other hand, we add on ourselves lots of locks and chains whence Amitabha Buddha is trying to unlock us, isn’t this a most pitiful situation?’ She said that she had abandoned herself. It means we throw ourselves away and become a lone ranger, an isolated person living a life of sadness, a live without love. Look at a baby. Her eyes are clear as the baby is a simple being, just like a simple puppies or baby cat. The baby can play with chickens, puppis as she does not give rise to diffentiation. Not everyone of us is like Anita. But every one of us can recite the Buddha’s name. When we recite the Buddha’s name, we will be calm. Amitabha Buddha said, ‘In the world of fear I comfort them with great love.’ It is because all the worries are gone when we accomplish Buddhahood at the Pure Land. We will not be so worried about our poverty, health problem, ugliness, stupidity, inability to recite a sutra, a mantra. All these are unimportant as finally I will become a Buddha in the Buddha Land. We will be more humorous. For example, if we are ugly we will use it as a joke. It does not matter at all. Because all the external states are not you. The real self, our real life is the Buddha’s Name. It is our true identity. It will bring ease to our mind. A baby is pure. But as it grows up, it starts to abandon himself. A baby resembles a glass of pure water. When he grows up, his greed starts to accumulate when he wants a toy, a book, good results, money, benefits, fame women and so on. All these are placed in the glass of water. Everything is a piece of mud that we put in out glass. The more we put into the glass, the more the water will flow out. This water is the genuine self. We abandon the true self, chase it out with our greed. We fill ourselves with all the rubbish. The genuine blessings and bliss are chased away. We lead an opaque life without transparency. Our life become a glass of muddy water and we live in great torment. The more we obtain, the more we lose ourselves. That is why the Buddha is truly kind. He and his disciples lead a life of a beggar. When you have nothing, you will be happy and relax. The mind retains its purity. Human beings are deluded as they think to possess a wife, children, a house, a car are called blessings. A man who truly loves himself does not love money, sex, fame, food, sleep. These five desires are the knives that will cut us into pieces and bring on great sufferings. Anita said, ‘I realise I am the child of the beautiful universe. As long as I exist, I will obtain this unconditional love.’ This is very good. I would like to make the following changes, ‘I realize that I am the son of the adorned Amitabha Buddha.’ In Buddhism we use adorned to replace the word beautiful. The universe is this Amitabha Buddha. In the Sutra we are told Amitabha Buddha is the Treasury Body of the Dharma Realm. Amitabha Buddha exists in the whole of the Dharma Realm. Of course, there are also the reward body and transformation bodies beside the dharma body. Amitabha Buddha is the immeasurable wisdom and lifespan. Anita says that the universal energy is abundant and inexhaustible, vast and without limits. This is the existence of the Buddha Nature. She says as long as she exists, she will surely obtain the unconditional love. I often also say, ‘No conditions are required for us to receive the love and rescue of Amitabha Buddha.’ Let us take the analogy of a tree. As long as it exists, it will receive the sunlight. No other condition is needed. So it is the same for the house and everything on earth. Amitabha Buddha’s Name is also known as the Light that Far-surpassing the Sun and Moon. Amitabha Buddha’s light pervasively illumines all the living beings and things in the world. As long as we exist, we will receive the light of the Buddha, the protection of his loving kindness and rescue. It is unnecessary for us to become somebody so as to receive the unconditional rescue of Amitabha Buddha. Our Master Hui Jing also wrote a book on the ‘Unconditional Rescue of the Buddha.’ Some people cannot believe. He says, ‘If this is the case everyone will commit evils.’ Such a thinking is negative and full of fear as his mind is dwelling in darkness. He is afraid that the world will go upside down. He cannot understand that as long as there is the existence, may they be a cat, a dog, a hell being, they will be taken care of by Amitabha Buddha. The only condition is they exist. This reminds me of the words of Great Master Tan Luan, ‘The future scholars who hear about the rescue of the Buddha, the rescue that relies on other’s strength, he should give rise to faith. Do not refuse such a chance. It is being stupid.’ Do not think that you should do this and that to obtain the rescue? Amitabha Buddha did not ask you to do anything. He says, ‘Living beings in the ten directions who have faith in me.’ It means they exist and the Buddha will be there to save them. Buddha recitation is not a condition. It is just a method of saving. Anita says, ‘I do not have to do anything to obtain this love.’ Just like a blade of grass in the water. Does it need to do anything to obtain water? It is unnecessary. As long as it exists, it is surrounded by the water. As long as we exist, we are surrounded by the love of Amitabha Buddha. We do not need to do anything to obtain this love and care. Once we know this, we will be fearless and calm at ease. This is the same as the sunlight which shine on the mountain and also the valley. In our life no matter what level we are we will receive the illumination of Amitabha Buddha. Anita says, ‘No prayer, no seeking is needed.’ Amitabha’s rescue is there always. As long as we recite, we will be saved by him. Amitabha Buddha says, ‘All living beings in the ten directions who call on me will be saved by me. You only have to say out my name.’ You say you are dumb and cannot call the name. Such a man who understands the rescue of Buddha will also be saved even if he cannot pronounce the Name. But if you are unwilling, you are creating an obstacle for yourself. That is why our dharma door is known as the ‘The Dharma is taught without being asked.’, the ‘Befriend us without being asked’. As long as we trust him, he will come personally to take us to his Pure Land. On hearing that nothing is needed to be done, some will be confused. They want to do something, to clean the altar, to change the water, to offer some fruits and incense, to sit in meditation and so on. They think this will help them to attain a rebirth. They have to do something. They do not realise what they need to do is to reveal the beautiful self, to lead the adorned life and let themselves become the love. As long as we sit there and lead a loving life we are in accord with the love of the Buddha Amitabha. When the sun is shining, you say, ‘It is good. A shiny day.’ When it is raining, you say, ‘Very good. It is raining now.’ When it snows, you say, ‘Good, I love snow.’ This way of living is to add the positive loving energy to this universe. You are spreading the pure and harmony energy to the universe. In the Buddha Dharma it is known as the lights shine on one another. The whole universe will receive the positive energy of your loving and harmonious mind. So, what you need to do is to recite Namo Amitabha Budda loudly, softly, silently. All will be ok. If we live this way, Amitabha Buddha will be most happy to see us. It is just like a child who is sleeping in the cradle. Doing nothing. What do you think? Will the mother be happy to see him like that? Yes, of course. She will be very glad with him just sleeping there. Nothing has to be done. A child in the arms of his mother is the revelation of total trust. And this is the same for us to be in the arms of Amitabha Buddha. We just relax and trust him. We will lead a happy life. And this is the genuine way of living in accord with the love of oneself. More often than not we lead a life with worries, fear, twisted emotions and trying to cover up our faults. Our adorned life cannot be revealed. Everyday, we live in fear and worries. This is adding chains and locks to ourselves. Anita says, ‘I have never truly loved myself before. I have never valued my existence. I have never seen the adorned soul in me.’ She uses soul to describe herself. In the Buddha Dharma this refers to the beauty and adorned Buddha Nature. She said, ‘I am so beautiful yet I have never realised it. It is replaced with the hard facts of mundane existence. I decay because I do not understand my beautiful soul.’ In the Buddha Dharma it is described as all living beings are originally the Buddha. Yet we do not live, in accord with our Buddha Nature. We are often controlled by our mundane existence, the salary, the examination results and such like. We forget of our Buddha Nature. We lead a life of decay, a life of erosion. This is the General path of Buddhism. From the angle of Buddha Recitation, the rescue of Amitabha is always with us, only that we do not realise it. We try all kinds of methods hoping for the Buddha to rescue us. We do not know that we just have to admit we are the mundane men who are covered with offences. There is no other way to save ourselves if we do not rely on Amitabha Buddha. Then we let go and recite the Buddha’s Name wholeheartedly. This is the way to be saved by the Buddha. But most people cannot understand this. They want to do something good, to be pretentious and make out something good of himself, to scold people for their lacking in virtues and such like. This is against the practise of this pure land door. Why cannot the people in the world see their pretention? It is because they are also not living a true life. Their eyes are not clear enough to see through this pretention. A fake man sees something fake and he will treat it as genuine. A clear -headed man will surely be able to see through all these false masks. If we were to wear a false mask for too long it will be difficult to remove it. It has grown on to our skin. It will be painful if we want to remove this fake mask. So it takes time for us to loosen this false mask as we have been wearing them for too long. Anita says, ‘This understanding makes me realise that I do not have to be frightened anymore.’ There is no more fear in her mind. It is a mind of calm and bliss. It is a mind which is full of hope. It is a comforting mind that can soothe others. With this calm and happy mind it is already a contribution to all around us. It is already a protection and mindfulness to all around us. We do not have to do anything at all. Most of us live in fear. We pay for insurance because we are afraid when we get old, we have no money, no money to pay the medical fees. We get married out of fear that we will be lonely. Why do we give birth to children? We are afraid no one will take care of us at old age. Why do we go to school? It is because we are afraid of our mother’s anger. Why must we study hard? We are afraid of our teacher. Why do we go to university? We are afraid people will look down on us. Can we live without fear? We cannot. Even our mother who loves us so much say we will suffer if we do not study hard. From our young age we receive the education of fear. We are threatened by our beloved parents, our responsible teachers. We do not receive the education of love. So, if we love our children, do not add fear to them. We must give only love and courage so that they can face life with their original positive energy, positive strength. This is because the world is full of twisted people, fake people, suffering people. There are very few upright men, genuine men, happy and hopeful men around. I only hope all of you my lotus friends will bring up a future generation who is upright, genuine, happy and hopeful with the strength of Amitabha Buddha. So, we must lead a life based on the right values taught by Amitabha Buddha. If we teach our child to fight for self -benefit, to contend with others, we are making them blind so that they do not see the truth of life. This is harming them. If we are enlightened to this, we will only rely on Amitabha Buddha. We are not afraid to be lonely. We will be at ease. Those who see the light, the warmth of the Buddha will no longer be frightened. Anita says, ‘I realise this is a state that can be reached by myself and everyone.’ In Zen sect it is said all living beings are Buddha. In the Buddha recitation door, everyone can recite the Name, everyone can attain a rebirth and everyone can accomplish Buddhahood. This is the bestowment by Amitabha Buddha. All the things that we fight for may not be beneficial to us. Everything that benefits us are often free. For example, the air we take in every instant is free. We do not pay to stand on the earth. We do not pay to look at the sky above. Whatever we fight and earn to get are valueless. Everything that is valuable is free. In the general practice it is said, ‘No cultivation is the cultivation. Nothing is obtainable. This is the state of a bodhisattva. The original face of all dharma often dwells in the mark of still extinction. Our Buddha Nature is replete with all merits and virtues. We cannot cultivate anything to enhance it. This is because all the things that we can do are only dreams, illusion, bubbles and shadow. Whatever that we do, that we create are not in accord with our Buddha Nature. The Buddha Nature is always there, original and shining out naturally. And in our Pure Land Dharma, whatever we have offered, whatever we have done are not the causes for our attainment of a rebirth. Attaining a rebirth is the state of nothing doing. It stays apart from creation or doing. It is a natural state. Reciting Namo Amitabha Buddha helps us to return to this state. Anita said, ‘So I decided to return to the mundane world.’ She has enlightened to the opportunity of life and she decided to come back to tell us about life. Just like many Pure Land cultivators who say that they will not come back any more to sufferings. Yet when they arrive at the Pure Land and brings forth the Bodhi mind, they will come back by themselves to help other beings. Anita said, ‘When I was on the verge of death, I realised the universe comes forth from unconditional love. I am one of the revelations of this love in my present form.’ For the scientists they will say the universe is made from electron, protons, neutrons and so on. This is talking only at the surface level, the materials. But as she talked from her true experienc,e she can see all the things, all the people are the expression of this universal love. When she comes back from death, she deeply penetrates the genuine love the mother universe and her wavelength is in accord with the universal love. She comes back as a healthy woman. So once there is a change in our mind set, the body, the people and the surroundings will also change. In the eyes of Buddha and Bodhisattva there is no differentiation of filth and purity. Everything is pure and adorned in its own expression. Every one of us is the art piece of this unconditional love or in the Buddha’s words, the Buddha Nature. She said, ‘I cannot change into another form as it is my original expression, original nature of this unconditional love.’ Everything that exists is the expression of the Buddha Nature. Even something which is defiled or unwholesome is also part of the expression of this unconditional everlasting love. That is why the Buddha says, ‘All the Dharma from the original state dwells constantly in still extinction.’ Still extinction refers to Nirvana the state of the Buddha. So, when we recite the Buddha’s Name we will enter the Buddha’s dwelling. ‘The energy capacity of the strength of life forms derives from love. And I am made from the universal energy capacity. On knowing this, I realise I do not need to become somebody else. And my true value will not be depreciated too.’ Anita said, So, it is unnecessary for us to become another man. A business man does not need to become Jack Ma. Why is this so? It is because you are equal to him. He is not higher than you. He has the Buddha Nature and you also have the Buddha Nature. Every one is equal. So we do not need to measure in terms of money especially if we truly know the benefits of Buddha recitation. In the eyes of the Buddha every one of us is a shining star. We do not need to chase after another star. Just imagine the havoc it will be when the stars do not dwell in its orbit and try to chase after another star. What a chaos the universe will become. Everyone of our existence is in perfect conditions in the eyes of the Buddha and Bodhisattva. ‘This is the I that I have always wanted to be.’ she said. We must learn to appreciate ourselves, accept ourselves and love ourselves. This ‘I’ is invaluable under the unconditional love of the Rescue of Amitabha Buddha. We are his precious sons, the pearls on his hand. If we are accepted by the Buddha, we will be so happy as we will have no complaint about ourselves. We are often surrounded by people who keep on complaining about us. The first one is our mother who says that we are not clever, we have low marks. We are not filial. We earn too little. See how our mother teaches us not to appreciate ourselves. Then we are blamed by our teacher, our classmates, our girl -friend and so on. Then comes Amitabha Buddha who studies us and says, ‘Put aside all the complaints. You are qualified to attain Buddhahood. No problem at all. I give you 100 percent.’ That is why we Buddha Recitation Practitioners are always at ease under the shine of Amitabha Buddha who give us the confirmation. This is the greatest benefits the Buddha bestows upon us. Buddhism brings hope and bliss to the world, the universe. So, in this life’s time we must try our best to lead a life of Amitabha Buddha. Do not be swayed by the mundane values, mundane eyes, mundane perspective. We rely only on the outlook of the Buddha and Bodhisattva. ‘Once we know that we are this love, it is unnecessary to purposely go forth to shower love on others. As long as we are faithful to our original nature, we will automatically become the tools of love, touching the hearts of everyone who have affinity with us.’ This part of her speech is very good. If we are already the lamp, there is no need for us to go out purposely to shine on others. The lamp just stands at its place and it manages to brighten up the place. So, when we are the LOVE, we will naturally touch those around us with our love. Take a look at our Master Hui Jing. He sits there quietly and yet every one of us are calm and happy naturally. So when we become the love, wherever we are, all will feel calm at ease, without any fear. Anita said, ‘The most important thing I have learnt is I am the Love itself. All my fears are gone. This is the reason I come into life again.’ Amitabha Buddha said, ‘I will transform all the fear into great calmness, great serenity’ When We recite His Name we are charged with his love. We also become the love. We will leave behind all fear. ‘My dear, you will always be loved. You do not need to harbour any fear. There is no way for you to commit any errors.’ Always think about these three sentences. There is the light of truth in it. This is spoken by a non -Buddhist who was on the verge of her death and who lives again. How about us the Buddha Recitation Practitioners? Can we deny the love of Amitabha Buddha, His unconditional love of rescue? From this story we know the unconditional love of rescue of the Buddha pervasively surrounds us. We must have faith in this and lead a life of joy with no more fear. Nowadays, everyone lives in fear. We must learn to replete ourselves with love and bring this shine to others, to lead them out of fear. Love yourself and love others. Namo Amitabha Buddha. A dharma talk by Dharma Master Shi Jing Zong, the Abbot of the Hong Yuan Monastery in Anhui, China entitled: Dying Once to Learn to Love
https://oridharma.wordpress.com/2020/05/16/in-the-era-of-fear-i-comfort-them-with-great-love/

lately i’ve just been hating everyone.
and i’m a womanist, an intersectional feminist if you will, (feminism was a term coined by racist white women) and i think being a villain is such a male dominated industry and its time for the women to take over
lets look at history: hitler= man king geogre=man my therapist=man hannibal lecter= man diddy=man jeffery dahmer=man ted bundy=man john wayne gacy=man jim jones=man
now, there are many evil women in this world, but we need more!!! but not like rape and murder and stuff cus thats fucked up but like idk i think women should take over just for a few years like i want women to be the superior gender for like 10 years to show men what it feels like then we can all be friends
i want ti take over the world‼️‼️

Let me give you some context. In 2018 I joined twitter and I discovered my husbands “likes” and women he was following. I also saw all his comments on their posts (sexually commenting on their bodies.) Seeing his thoughts in black and white on other naked women broke something in me and I instantly felt betrayed, cheated on and not loved at all. My self confidence went in the toilet after that. I felt like he was living out fantasies and a double life. I always knew he looked at porn, but the comments and the fact that you can dm twitter users makes the women so much more “real” than just a porn actress who does it for a living. After this I became hyper sexualized, wearing slutty outfits, wanting sex more, because I just felt like I wasn’t pretty enough, sexy enough, etc. We talked about his twitter use and I asked him to please not follow or comment on any women that post sexually explicit photos and videos because it felt like he was rubbing it in my face. I kind of bottled up my feelings for the sake of our marriage and because I love him but I never got over it and I don’t fully trust him, but I put it out of my mind. We spent the majority of 2023 losing weight. He lost 100 lbs and I love 45. I was never really that overweight but now I’m in the best shape since I was 20 and I look really great and so does he. We have sex 5-6 times a week and both feel better about it because we are so much thinner. However I’m still majorly insecure and have terrible self esteem. He is still looking at naked people on twitter. He says he does it because it feels more real to him than watching porn hub. They are real people and not scripted. This doesn’t make me feel better at all, in fact that statement made me feel so much worse. Does real mean more attainable to him? I don’t know. The people he looks at look nothing like me at all. I’m blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and fair skin. I’m thin but have curves. They are usually brunettes or women with pink or other colored hair. He also went as far as downloading telegram because it was on some bimbos linktree. To me I felt like it was more than just looking at photos. You liked someone and it prompted you to download a messaging app to see more. He didn’t message anyone, but the fact that he downloaded it hurt my feelings, what was his intention. Was he going to start messaging this woman? I’m so confused because he tells me all the time how much he loves me, how beautiful I am and how fucking hot I am (his words) and he is also very supportive and caring. But even with my supposed hotness and us having lots of sex he is still on Twitter looking at naked women daily. Like WTF!! I know this because I checked his phone the other day (I know it was wrong and I shouldn’t do it, but I did it anyway.) I literally do not know what to think or how to feel. He doesn’t know I know and when I made a general comment about him still looking at porn, he lied right to my face with not even a pause or care in the world. So my question, do I trust what he tells me in person and how he treats me when we are together (which is great) and let him have his dirty secret about looking at naked women daily or should I be right not to trust him at all. Is he actually not happy with me and our marriage but we’ve been married 20 years so he pretends he is happy and loving but would prefer one of these twitter women? I know men think porn is normal and fine but it destroys their significant other and ruins marriages often. Advice??

Why did the farmer visit the pharmacy? To speak with the farm-assist.
Hi and welcome to my post! Wanted to start off with a funny to me dad joke.
Nice to meet you, I'm Dylan! To put it simple, I am a single 22 year old man who has been pretty lonely in life and lacking in female connection and interaction. And part of what comes with that is the desire to be intimate with a person. I am very mature for my age and will always be respectful of your boundaries and feelings, especially with anything sexual. Lately all I have is myself when it comes to sexual desires, so I would like to have someone to keep company with in that regard too.
I'm just relaxing at work since there's nothing really going on and thinking about going home tonight and burning a woodwick candle. Perfect for when there's a storm outside. I love candles! 🕯️ Sometimes a campfire outside on a fall night or a crackling WoodWick candle is a relaxing constant among our busy and hectic world. It's nice to just disconnect, feel grounded and happy in your own little cozy space. Feeling calm and collected and at peace. Something that fewer people take the time to do these days.
I am seeking a woman around my age or older to build a close connection with that could possibly lead to a relationship and something intimate which includes the possibility of teasing/sharing pics etc. but only when we were comfortable. Figured I would be open in my Intentions as that's the best way to be.
You:
Kind, respectful, and easy going.
Comfortable with the idea of eventually sharing intimate things together.
Willing to eventually move off of Reddit.
Want something genuine and fun!
Are honest in your intentions and a good person to be around!
That's about it, we will get along great I know it.
I've been feeling a little bummed out lately. I always try and stay happy and see the best in things. But.. I've just been so alone. Most of my whole childhood and adult years have been spent feeling lonely. I grew up surrounded by cornfields which was peaceful but also has a lonely aspect to it. My family never really were close and never did anything as a family really. And part of it too is the fact that I never had any neighbors my age to interact with. But aside from that, my adult life has been very lonely. I'm just always by myself. I barely have any meaningful adult relationships or experiences, or even any friends.
I work a 3-11 job in building maintenance at my company world headquarters building which I love, but again it's very lonely. I work the off shift so the building is always empty. I don't get normal social interaction with people my age or a chance to build relationships. I only have 3 older men as co-workers and we are mostly in the basement away from any people on the floors from knowing our existence. I always walk the floors and see office people laughing and chatting with their coworkers and I just don't have that kind of experience. And just.. no one knows I exist really. Everyone probably assumes I have a lot of friends, but I'm struggling inside with being so alone and trying to meet people and get past the "hi how are you?" "I'm good thanks" stage. Most people don't seem to want to talk beyond that. And most women are already in relationships and thus it would seem weird to approach them in an office setting trying to get to know them deeper. But man those "hi how are yous" are the only real interactions I get during my day.. so thus I decided to come here lol. Rant over, sorry! I promise I'm not a downer. 😅
Now for some things about me!
As you can tell, I am very mature for my age and am polite and have good grammar which unfortunately not everyone my age does anymore lol. I am not active at all on social media/internet culture really and don't know much about all the slang the younger people these days use. I feel like I'm 50. 🤣
I am left handed which is pretty cool. I'm not much of a party person or a drinker, I much prefer a quiet night at home and maybe a beer or two on a weekend but that's about it. I am simple and stay out of drama and trouble and don't get much into politics or other things that cause drama with people. I much prefer a relaxing campfire and a night at home and to just let the world keep on turning haha. I consider myself pretty intelligent and mature, especially for my age which is why I'm open to older ladies.
Physically I'm 180 pounds, have brown hair, green eyes, and a typical build. There's a few pictures on my profile.
Some of my hobbies are:
• Photography
I have a Nikon D200 and D5500 that I love to shoot with. I love nature scenes, abstract, black and white/goth kinda photography, sunsets, etc. it's so fun to just let your mind explore. It's not about what camera you have, but those who are behind the camera! I'm gonna try and photograph the northern lights tonight!
• Cooking and baking
I loveeee to cook and bake! I enjoy making various meals but also love to just have a frozen pizza once in awhile or something like that. I recently made homemade chili which turned out great. I love to bake, especially in the fall! I love pies, cakes, pastries, cookies, etc. I restored a vintage KitchenAid mixer that needed tbe gearbox rebuilt. Eventually I would love to practice home canning my own food.
• Music
Oh my gosh, I like so much!! Alternative rock, punk, post punk, electronic, synth pop, psychedelic rock, hard rock, etc. I am very non judgemental and open when it comes to music. My three current favorite bands are Type O Negative, Joy Division, and the Cure.
• Nature walks and camping
I really enjoy camping, making fires, and relaxing by a campfire. I love to take walks outside and just enjoy the beauty and simplicity of nature. It's wonderful, especially in a world so focused on everything digital.
• Repairing things
I'm a maintenance guy and one of my hobbies is electronics repair so I am good with my hands and just all around good at troubleshooting and fixing all sorts of things around the house. Last week I helped my elderly neighbor get his tractor started, it needed a new component in the starting circuit. So I'm pretty handy which... Comes in handy! 😂
• Autumn 🍁
This isn't a hobby per say, but man do I love the fall!!! It's my absolute favorite time of the year. Oh my gosh. The beautiful colors, crisp cool air, misty and foggy days, rain, lack of bugs, being cuddled up with a candle or by the fire drinking a tea, etc. I love it! There's only two seasons for me. Fall, and waiting for fall! Haha.
• Scented Candles and incense
Going along with my love for fall, I absolutely love candles! I have like 30 something lol. 😂 Currently my favorite are WoodWick, which are owned by Yankee candle. They have such a soothing crackle and the scents are great! I also love to burn incense from time to time as well. I have cottagecore hippie vibes.
• Old houses and architecture
I love old houses! Especially 1900s and Victorian era homes. Old homes have so much character to them and are just so beautiful from a time when people took pride in their craft. I strongly dislike the modern cookie cutter cheap construction of homes today. I would love to live in an old home one day. I also love their architecture and uniqueness, as well as architecture of old cathedrals and other buildings.
• Relaxing
Basic I know, but sometimes on the weekend I just love to get cozy in bed and relax and put on a YouTube video or an album! 😊
That's about it for me, I'm a pretty laid back and simple person. My ideal person is someone who is respectful and honest! I am very straightforward and open minded and would hope that you are as well.
If I seem interesting to you at all I would love to hear from you!
Thank you so much for reading.

In a flash of inspiration I suggested a small AU idea on discord... And people encouraged me to cook and cook hard. So I did and here's the result. I will likely have this as a 'backburner' fic to Broken Birds, writing one when I have no energy for other, so this will be lower in priority, but I hope it's enjoyable for you anyway.
Thanks to SpacePaladin15 for great universe, characters and letting fanfiction flow, as well as JulianSkies for inspiring the name of the fic and several other discord members (you KNOW who you are) for encouraging my horribleness. Without further ado... Let's open the doors of this AU.
CW: Arxur Dietary Habits, Child Suffering, Dismemberment
Memory Transcription Subject: Stynek, Venlil Cattle
Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2136
Fur surrounding my eyes hurt from layers upon layers of dried tears. I’ve cried so much over past months, with nobody to tell me it’s going to be okay. I missed mommy. I missed my teacher. I missed my friends. I was surrounded by strangers, some of different species, but mostly venlil. None of them cared when I cried. Most cried by themselves, and to themselves instead. Nobody wanted to really talk to me, except this one other venlil child I met. I don’t even remember the name he told me. But he did know something. That me and him wouldn’t be eaten for a while because we’re too young. Unless someone important wanted to eat us. That’s why adults are bitter at the children. We weren’t in the ‘breeding pen’, whatever that meant, but in the food pen. And until I was old enough to be ‘sufficiently edible’, I’d stay here. Adults knew that. They knew that when arxur came around and chose meals out of the crowd, they’d ignore the scrawny child, so they were bitter at my luck.
I wanted to cry again, but at this point, no tears were coming out. I wished I could talk to the boy, but we got separated when they moved me and a bunch of adults onto the ship. I overheard some adults mumbling about us being rations. That made me cry more when I realized what it meant. Did it mean I was lied to? That I really was old enough to be eaten after all? I regretted wanting to grow up sooner. I was always upset when mom told me I couldn’t do something. I had to listen both because she was my mom and because she was our Governor. Now I missed hearing her voice, even if it was just telling me that I must go to bed on time and stop snacking too much before second meal.
It’s been days since I was brought to the ship. Unlike the pens I’ve been in before, this one was slowly emptying. Before, new people always were thrown in to replace ones taken to be eaten. Every day a few people would be grabbed by the arxur and dragged out. Some screaming and pleading for mercy. Those just get ignored, as everyone, myself included, huddles together in far corner. Others would accept their fate and let themselves be taken. Those are even sadder. More people start crying after seeing someone who looks dead even while still breathing taken to be finished off.
I rubbed my temple where there was still a small wound. Every cattle taken to this ship had their implants removed. I couldn’t understand anything non-venlil were saying. Or arxur for that matter. Not that much was being said...
Suddenly every head was up and all ears were flicking. I slightly turned my head to see towards the entrance. An arxur, standing in doorway, slowly scanning the crowd with predatory glint. My sense of time was barely intact, but schedule was rigid, it was too early for feeding time today. So why are they here and why are they selecting a prey already?
Suddenly I realized that it was looking directly at me, its binocular gaze locking onto my eye. I couldn’t help my reaction, yelping and flinching away, trying to scuttle towards the corner. But it seems the arxur made its choice. As it stepped and started walking towards me, the crowd parted. It was almost like that experiment with anti-magnets my teacher showed once in class, except I was the one repelling everyone around me. I tried reaching out and crawling towards them, but they just furthered the distance. Nobody was willing to contest arxur’s chosen meal.
“Please... I don’t want to...”, I cried, but it fell on deaf ears. Then I felt it. A scaly hand of a monster wrapped around my ankle. I tried thrashing, but before I could, I was lifted upside down, hitting my head on cold hard floor in process. Ow... It hurt. My vision blurred, from both the hit dizzying me and the tears that were now filling my eyes. I was being taken out... To be devoured by predators... Daddy... Mommy... “Mommy... Mommy!”
I didn’t hear anything but my own cries and clacks of arxur claws against metal floor as I was taken out of the pen. Outside of pen always seemed like nicer place to be. It was better lit and cleaner from what little I could glimpse whenever door opened. Now I’d give anything just to go back to the dirty pen, huddled together with people who don’t care about me... I didn’t want to die! I wanted to go home! To my mom and dad... Why... Wasn’t I too young? Why did that boy lie to me?! I hated him!
I couldn’t even tell where I was being taken. I knew nothing about layout of the ship. It was cleaner, it was brighter. But also there were more arxur than singular one that kept coming into the pen to take people. Being carried upside down by the leg hurt and made it disorienting but even with that I couldn’t miss how every time I entered an arxur’s field of vision, their head sharply turning to stare directly at me right until we turned another corner. I realized that I was crying out loud by now, but of course predators knew no emotion, they ignored my anguish.
Then finally, it seems, we reached a destination. I was brought to a room with a big table. Table? It was ridiculous to think predators even use tables... But there were three sitting at it. One was an arxur, particularly large and imposing. But two others were... creatures I’ve never seen before. One glimpse was enough to tell me they were predators. And they were covered in clothing, more than I’ve seen anyone ever wear. Worst thing is though, they were clearly talking to the big arxur, with external translator on the table constantly translating arxur’s hisses into the other predator’s growling noises.
This is it. Arxur found another sapient predator. The worst monsters in the galaxy now found allies. Least I could comfort myself with was that mommy would be safe... But now I felt like it’s not just me that’s about to end, but whole universe.
The arxur that was carrying me smacked me down onto the table, a fair distance away from others. I kept crying and sobbing. I think some pleads for help and for my mom came out, but I couldn’t even make out my own words. I was so scared. I was ready for fangs to pierce into my neck. And yet I wasn’t, I wasn’t ready, please, anything by that. Both the big arxur and the new predators were staring me down in hunger as I felt the worst pain of my life. My leg, held firmly to the table, burned in agony... and then pain was all I knew there. I couldn’t feel anything below my knee other than pain. Pain... Pain! I cried out at the top of my lungs, but pain wasn’t getting better. My cry did not stop until my throat burnt, but that pain was like an itch compared to what my leg felt like.
With sight blurred, I saw it. The arxur that held me down dropped my own ankle down near the big one that seemed to be in charge, staining table with orange blood. Big arxur tore a chunk off, extending it towards other predators, but they seemed to just talk. Then big arxur stopped for a few moments, tossed the chunk into its horrid mouth, and motioned to one still holding me down.
Then, for a second time in last few minutes I experienced the most agonizing pain in my life, surpassing even the pain before at least tenfold. It burned! It hurt! My throat, already sore and barely able to make sounds got revived for just long enough to let out another cry before giving out again. I wanted to pass out as I was butchered alive, but it was just so painful that I couldn’t... I was forced to be aware of how the rest of the leg, from knee to hip, was brought towards the mystery predators, sliced in half and then... That explained why it hurt so much more. Why it still hurts even more. The blade that second chop was done with was red hot, and now used to burn away at the chunks presented to the predators. They recoiled from heat, as pieces of me were presented, but after a few moments of consideration, reached out and tore a few small pieces of orange legs off my dismembered calf, starting to chew. The one with long fur on their head, seemed to almost choke on the heat, while the one with dark coloration just stared at me intently, making eye contact that I could perceive even through pain and tears directly with me, hungrily chewing, no doubt wanting more than scrap it was given...
I couldn’t watch anymore I closed my eyes, beginning to whine and sniffle. I tried calling out for mom, but my mouth was suddenly clamped shut with a band, so I couldn’t even make any more noises. Pain made it hard to move at all, and with my leg chop being replaced with a burn, I wasn’t bleeding... so I couldn’t even get the release of death. Worse yet, predators were far from eager to finish me off. I was always told their bloodthirst was the only thing that defined them, but they just left me to suffer on the table as they kept talking in their horrible noises. Their sadism was much stronger than bloodlust, that’s the only explanation...
As I lay there, I eventually let my eyelids slide open. The new predators and arxur were engaged in some conversation, piece of leg in front of arxur in charge gone completely, and pieces in front of mystery predators visibly smaller. Arxur regularly typed some things, demonstrating some things on the screen. A bunch of warrior arxur banded together, a big star chart divided in weird ways, some weird colorless picture of countless dead prey animals, unfamiliar and likely non-sapient... And then a video. A venlil exterminator, fighting off a group of arxur. She managed to get two monsters burnt before getting overwhelmed, their mask torn off before their head is bitten off by one of the greys. The moment it happens, new predators both turn their eyes towards me instantly, opened wide with hunger. I flinched away again, tears managing to flow again. The arxur were horrible... They were about to sic those new predators on Venlil Prime, I knew it in my heart. They gave them taste of our flesh, and showed them how we might be dangerous... despite the fact that we were weakest and helpless. The new predators will make us into their cattle with ease and be empowered, before proceeding to move onto the rest of Federation...
There was movement. The predators and big arxur all stood up, then locked their hands in some contest of strength momentarily. The predator with long head fur pointed towards me, and then they all stared at me for a moment. Then the conversation moved on. The arxur holding me down grabbed me again, by my remaining leg and carried me off. I felt some blood drip down my fur with me being turned like that...
There was more walking, but it was even harder to pay attention in the haze that was covering my mind. I understood what the people that were taken without struggle felt now. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I just wanted it to be over... It hurts... It hurts so much...
I felt my arms moved, hands tied behind my back, and then I was handed over to the dark-colored mystery predator. It wasn’t as large as an arxur, but it could still lift me with ease, tossing me over the shoulder like I’m a sack of ipsom flour. A momentary look around showed that I was inside a smaller shuttle now, built very different from what the insides of larger ship was. I was... being taken elsewhere again. Why...?
Some more talking in the scary predator languages, and the door separating mystery predators and the arxur closed. Once that happened, there was instant rush. I found myself tossed into some white and cold room, still bound. I could hear the predators argue, that much loud yelling at one another could only be an argument. I felt the hum of ship starting up and vibration of launch. Then after a bit, I saw the long furred predator rush past me and towards something in the back of room, at which points it made noises so horrid, that I found myself crying again. I don’t know what it was doing back there, and I didn’t want to know. The dark colored one just kept looking over the burnt stump where my leg once was. And all throughout they kept growling and shouting at one another... I was going to be torn in half between the two, wasn’t I?
Instead I felt the binds on my arms and around my face cut. First thing, I opened my mouth and took a deep breath... Only to choke on air, as it was even cooler than I expected... White room, cool air, hungry predators looking over my bloodied bits and making horrid noises... I was about to be refrigerated to be kept for future. I was rations that arxur graciously gifted to these monsters. Why...? Why me?!
I tried crying, but my throat refused to make noise after earlier screaming tore it apart. Only low coughs escaped as tears completely filled my vision. There was more. More pain, a burst of it where my leg was supposed to be, then a small prick at my other leg... More memories, of my happy family and friends at school, replaced with grimy cattle pens and constant fear... More regrets at things I wanted to do and try, but never got to... But none of it mattered. I was already dead. Even if I was still breathing and moving, I was dead the moment a grey grabbed me and dragged me onto that cursed cattle ship of theirs... It just took me until now to truly comprehend it.
The last thing I thought of as pain dulled out, finally giving way to bliss of unconsciousness, was my mom’s soft wool and warm embrace, and how I never got to feel it properly for last time before dying... Mommy... I’m sorry...

I'm not very happy with it. I think I would be perfectly happy with my regular boxycharm subscription. The Fenty lipstick colors feel like rejects that aren't selling. I got the Mutha Luva, and it's very pink/coral, light and opaque. It's simply hideous. I can't see it being attractive on anyone. Though, unlike most others, I actually love the packaging itself and the formula is great. Seems really like they want us to buy refills in colors that are actually good.
Their perfumes aren't great either. I don't get all the rave reviews. They're so basic and a little bit masculine. They have a unisex feel. I like provocative and powerful feminine scents. These say, I'm afraid to make a statement and want to smell like maybe it's not perfume and I just got out of the shower. Not something you'd expect or want from a QUEEN!! I was looking forward to trying the Life of the Party perfume, but it smells like light, sweet body sweat to me, and not in a pleasant way. Definitely not the life of the party. More like the quiet girl in the corner desk.
I also got the Riddle Voyeur scent and once it dries down it's not bad, especially since it's practically unnoticeable. But it's not the original Riddle, which is one of my top 5 favorite scents. The way it goes on is awful, sweet and garish, but it does dry down to something bearable, a bit of sweet vanilla and sandalwood, but again, barely there. It says: "Who am I? I don't know but I don't want to offend anyone."
The Turn Up the Base BBB Cream is actually a great match for me in Fair 3 (Golden) since I'm pale with an olive undertone so it doesn't turn orange or yellow on me like some very white women have complained about. I love the formula, too. It doesn't feel heavy or look cakey at all for the amount of coverage. I'm quite pleased with it.
I love the skincare! I love it all! But you know, I get a ton of skincare in my regular glambag and it's a much cheaper box. I don't see the value in the icon box, not this one anyway.
I'll be canceling my icon box. I expected a lot more from a Patrick Starr icon box... a lot more of a statement!

So this dude I know was complaining about wokeness. I'm generally pro woke but this issue he put to me I had no answer for. So please help me understand the sides of this "woke agenda".
The setting is academia. The situation is that this dude feels that because he is a white male he is experiencing racism and sexism as he struggles to find a job. He said the modern day universities are only hiring women and minorities right now. Ok so, this guy has a decent resume. He's worked as a post doc fellow at a famous US university that everyone has heard of. And taught at multiple other universities that you probably haven't heard about.
A little more details: basically he asked what I think about wokeness. I told him I've never heard a counter to wokeness that made me think "woke" was bad. Then he said his piece about feeling discriminated against. I said that it must suck and now he knows how these other folks being passed over in the past must have felt. But he said that he thinks "they" over corrected and are still using gender and race to now discriminate against him.
So what's deal here? Anyone have a perspective to add to help me understand this better?

Hello please take the time to red this it’s quite a conundrum, my dad got a 20 gal tank and has experience with fish and water chemicals and such (he used to breed guppies) we kept getting gold fish but they kept dying from this white/clear slime. The slime also covered everything in the tank. Recently he drained the tank and cleaned everything, has the chemicals in order, and safe decorations. It’s been cycling for about a week now and is growing the slime again. There are no fish in it at this time, where is it coming from, what is it, and how do we stop it so we can finally have a happy tank?? He says it’s thick, white/clear, covered everything, and not anything he has seen before. Thanks

Hello Greetings from Connecticut USA 🇺🇸. I have Bipolar Disorder and I’m also diagnosed with PTSD! I hate the fact that I can’t afford the mental health app Better Help and I have to wait until next Wednesday to unload on 2 different therapists. I hate in person group therapy because there’s asshole that one self absorbed asshole trying to steal the spotlight and these Facebook mental health groups : forget it . They’re all run by bias smug single white women with a serious power trip who don’t give a shit about minorities! I really want to know what they think about this Puerto Rican and Columbian who’s happy with a Korean guy ! I really want to know

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~

Mr. Winslow accused my mother of stealing his dead wife’s jewelry.
I explained it was impossible. He was welcome to search the tiny apartment I shared with my mother and aunt, he could look wherever he wanted.
“We share a tiny space,” I said. “We barely have enough room for our clothes. I don’t even know where she would hide jewelry.”
I was worried we would lose him as a client. Which would suck because cleaning his house was basically the majority of our rent cheque. But a week later he found the pearl necklace, it had somehow travelled down to his basement.
“I’m still missing the gold bangle though,” he said. “And some earrings.”
I told him I was sorry, but I had no idea. If my mom or aunt found it on their next clean, I promised they would let him know right away.
He hummed and hawed. There might’ve been a week where he hired a different maid service, but eventually he called back, asking if he could hire all three of us on-site again.
I thanked him profusely. I told him we’d keep an eye out for the missing valuables.
***
On our drive over, I had my mom and aunt practice the apology we would give him in English. Even though we didn’t steal anything, I explained we should still say sorry.
“Why?” My aunt asked. “That’s so stupid.”
“Everyone apologizes for everything in Canada. Just trust me. He will want it.”
“We need the work,” my mom said.
For a second my aunt revved up to say something else, but then let it go. We did need the work.
When we arrived, Mr. Winslow was on a phone call, watching his two large goldendoodles play in the front yard. He waved, then gestured to the front door. My mom and aunt gave small bows and carried their cleaning supplies inside.
Before I could enter, he put the phone behind his ear and approached me.
“Ida, hi. Good to see you again. Listen, don't worry about the jewelry. Water under the bridge. Hey. I’m leaving in an hour or so, and I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in dog-sitting? You’ve been around Toto and Kipper. What do you think? I’d really appreciate the help.”
I never liked the way he looked at me. It was always too close, and it lingered for too long. My aunt may have been right in that he hired us back just to see me again, but I ignored the thought.
“And don’t worry, I can cover your cab back. My usual walker is just out on holiday. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. How does six hundred sound?”
I looked at his house and imagined if I would be comfortable there. Alone at night.
“I’ll make it seven-hundred. I know it's last minute. I just hate leaving them alone. Plus Toto has his medicine. You would do me a real solid.”
My apron needed adjusting so I put down my bucket. I focused on the polyester knot, keeping my gaze away from his. I really didn’t want to be doing this, but my aunt would call me stupid for refusing easy money. And frankly, so would I.
“I had plans, but I’m willing to give them up.” I said with a straight face. “Eight hundred and it’s a done deal.”
He paused for a second, observing me scrupulously. Then he found his usual, smarmy half-smile. “You’re a life saver, you know that? An Angel.”
His hand gripped my shoulder. Then patted it twice.
***
Both my mom and aunt were pleased about the extra cash, they said I deserved to make extra for all the bookkeeping I do. But they also both voiced their concerns for safety. They said they could stay with me if I wanted.
“Safety? Mamãe I’m just watching two dogs.”
My mom wiped a caked red stain off his counter. An old wine spill. “Yes, but so late in his house? You’re not worried he might … I don’t know …”
Might what? Exploit me?
I met his groundskeeper once, another immigrant contractor. Except the groundskeeper was being paid far less, because he never properly negotiated. Mr. Winslow was certainly capable of exploiting people when he wanted to, and I’m sure he would try the same on my family.
But I was different. I’d gone to school in Banniver, and I knew the little maneuvers played by the so-called “progressive people in North America.”
And Winslow knew it too.
He didn’t realize a Canadian-raised daughter organized her mom’s cleaning service. Or that she would show up on the first day as a statement. That statement being: You can’t get away with mistreating these old Brazilian women. And you certainly can’t swindle them out of the going rates in his neighborhood. I’m onto you.
I had asserted myself with this Mr. Winslow, and felt confident that I could stand my ground if he tried any bullshit.
“Mamãe I’m not worried about him. Really, I’m not. He’s a pushover.”
***
6:00PM rolled around, it was just me and the goldendoodles.
My mom and aunt were back at home, watching low-res soaps on a Macbook, but they said if I encountered anything strange—a sound, a smell, an unexpected car in the driveway—to give them a call right away.
“Mamãe, its two dogs. I’ll be fine.”
“Just keep your phone close Ida. Your auntie has sensed things in that house. Unpleasant things.”
I forgot to mention my aunt thinks of herself as an amateur medium. In the village she grew up in, she claimed she could sometimes see people who were recently deceased.
But I never really believed her. Mostly because it was also my auntie’s idea to charge families who wanted to forward messages to the very same people who were recently deceased.
“Okay mamãe, whatever you say. I’ll phone you if I get scared.”
“That house has a history Ida, you could feel it in the walls. The outside too.”
It sure does. A history of being owned by a wealthy prick.
***
The sun slinked below the overcast horizon like a dying lantern. It got dark much faster than I expected.
I kept all the lights on, and played with the dogs a bit, trying to encourage them to try piss on the shag rug. Neither did. They mostly wanted naps.
I tried napping for a bit too, but the leather couch felt like it was made of rock. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Eventually I made myself dinner—some pasta that had been bought from Whole Foods—and ate it while scrolling on my phone.
I was just about done, ready to take my dirty plate in the sink when I first heard it.
The first explosion.
It came from the basement. A vibrating KAPOW that rattled the windows and chandelier on my floor. It sounded like someone had set off a cherry bomb.
What the hell?
I turned to the dogs who were just as scared as I was. They came whimpering with tails between their legs.
Could a pipe have burst or something?
I looked at the basement door, an area we were not instructed to clean, and then heard another explosion.
Vases shook. A painting went tilted. It sounded louder. Like full grade firework. I had lived in Rio de Janeiro, by Prianha beach, where they often launched celebratory fireworks. This was just as deafening.
I didn’t want to go down to the basement. In fact, I sat by the front door.
Both dogs huddled around me.
***
Twenty minutes passed. It had been quiet.
Out of pride I refused to call my mom—I didn’t want to admit I was scared. Instead, I spent the time going through all the rational answers in my head that could explain away the noise. Plumbing, terrorism, teen pranks … hot springs?
There were hot springs all over West Bann.
Obviously, some kind of pent-up geyser had lay dormant for a while, and it was now suddenly unleashing a ton of energy below Mr. Winslow’s house. To distract myself, I Wikipedia’d the history of West Banniver, and satisfied this theory.
During the 1850’s gold rush, West Banniver saw rapid settlement as a mining town. The proliferation of mine shafts soon led to a discovery of underground hot springs. Mayfield Briggs Ltd which was the first company to seize the opportunity as a tourist attraction…
That’s all it was. A hot spring releasing a buildup of pressure.
Then a third explosion came.
It was so loud and violent that the door to the basement flew open. I fell to the ground and covered my head as several books went flying off nearby shelves.
The dogs yipped and barked like crazy. They stood in front of me, guarding against an unseen force. A voice shrieked from the basement.
“HELP!!! HELLLLP!”
Rivets shot through my hands and knees. I was frozen to the floor.
“PLEEEEEEASE!”
It had the high-pitched desperation of someone whose life was about to end. I raised my head and listened closely to hear haggard, dusty coughing. It sounded like an old man’s cough. It echoed through the basement and into the living room. Between coughs the man continued to plead for his life.
HELLLLP!”
I had no idea who it could be or how he got down there.
Before I could think, one of the dogs shot past me, bolting down the basement steps, barking ferociously.
“Kipper!”
I tried to grab the loose leash, but I could only hold the collar of his sibling. “Kipper come back here!”
“HELLO?” The voice from below seemed to recognize my presence. “PLEASE, YOU’VE GOT TO HELP!”
I was now upright, breathing as fast as Toto was panting. I tied Toto to the thick rails on the stairs. I had to save the other dog.
Instinctually I grabbed my phone, slipped an AirPod in one ear, and dialed my mother without even looking at the screen.
“Mãe. There’s … something terrible is happening.”
My mother was suitably confused. Even more so when she heard the screaming of the man downstairs as his voice echoed in the living room. It was a cry of immense, awful pain.
After two slower, more detailed explanations of what I just heard, my mother told me to call the fire department. “Poke your head through the basement, see what’s happening. Then call the fire department.”
That made sense to me. I inched my way to the basement entrance and tried to see past the doorway. It was complete darkness. There was no light switch.
I turned the torch on my phone, and my aunt’s voice came blaring. “Get out of there Ida! I am telling you, there is darkness in that house!”
As I illuminated the dusty wooden stairs, I saw that they only lead only to more pitch black. Yup, plenty of darkness here.
There was some phone-wrestling. My mother came back on. “What is it? What did you see?”
“Don’t encourage her! Get her to leave!” my auntie yelled in the background.
I told them to pipe down because I could suddenly hear the gentle whimpering at the base of the stairs. The dog sounded close.
“Kipper come! This way! Follow my voice!”
I went down a few steps further, expecting the basement floor to appear any second, but there were only more wooden steps. How long was this staircase?
“Kipper?”
There was a flat, cold wall on my left, and no guard rail to speak of. I stepped down each step very carefully to maintain my balance, sliding my hand along the wall.
Then the wall disappeared. I flew forward.
***
I woke up lying face-first on rocky floor. My phone was cracked next to me. My mother was crying in my ear. “Ida! Ida! Oh my god! Ida!”
I looked up to see I was not at the bottom of someone’s basement. There were lights all above me. Lanterns. They were illuminating a cavernous, rocky chamber that led to many tunnels with train tracks and wooden carts. I was in the opening of a massive underground mine.
I coughed, and gave out a weak “… what?”
“Ida is that you? Are you… brrzzzzz” My mom’s voice faded.
Before I could reply, I saw the crooked form of a man in tan coveralls, shaking the immobile body of another person in coveralls next to him. In fact, there was a small row of half a dozen miners all slumped against a blasted rock wall. There were bits of granite, wood, rope, and what looked like entrails splattered all throughout.
“Oh the cruelty …” the one, standing miner said. He went from body to body and jostled each of his coworkers. “Must I find you all like this … every time?”
I crawled up to a half-standing pose and tried to see the face of the hunched over survivor.
My heart dropped.
He had no face.
The explosion which must have killed some of friends had also blasted away this man’s entire sternum, neck and skull. The miner wasn’t hunched over or leaning away with his head, he just simply … had no head.
And up there, floating right in the middle of where his face should be, were a set of eyeballs, glistening under the yellow lights.
The eyes turned to me. “Oh. Why hello. Hello there.”
Terrified, I rose to complete standing and opened both my palms in a show of total deference. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are or what this is.”
The headless miner walked toward me. I noticed he carried a pickaxe in his right arm. He gestured with his left to where his ear would be.
“I’m sorry I can’t hear you. Had an accident.”
Despite him having no head, his voice still came from where his mouth would be. There was an earnestness in his speech, it might have had something to do with his very old-timey accent, but I still felt like he was trying to be friendly.
“Another batch of faulty dynamite. Everyone’s dead. But what else is new.”
He brought his left palm to his face, perhaps to wipe away tears, but instead his hand travelled through his nonexistent head to scratch a small portion of his back.
“Been dead for many years I’m afraid. But I’ve kept busy. Been a good man. Worked very hard for the boss upstairs.”
He gestured upwards with the pickaxe. I looked up, and out in the distance, I saw a large, ancient, set of wooden stairs that I must have fallen from. They extended far up into the mine’s ceiling and kept going.
“He’s gotten good ore from me. Good, shining, golden ore. I have a knack for it you see. The same knack that killed me so many years ago. It's probably what’s still keeping me around though.”
He came closer. I could see he had brown irises, with one of the cataracts deteriorating into milky white haze. The eyes stared at me, unblinking.
“Because I’m not done, see. This mine isn’t empty. I know there’s more gold. Much more. And it’s not all for the boss. No, I’m keeping some to myself. Don’t tell him, but I’ve been stashing a large deposit for myself. It can’t all be his of course. It’s my mine after all. Half these tunnels were dug entirely by me. So of course I deserve some. It’s only natural.”
I lifted my hand and pointed at the staircase behind him. I mouthed very big, obvious words. “I have to go back. I’m going back up those stairs.”
He shifted his body. His two eyes turned in the air as if they were still inside an invisible skull. I saw nerve endings at the back undulate and twist.
“Yes, that is the only way up.”
My heart was in my throat. At least I found some form of communication. I gestured to knee height and nervously asked if he had seen a “large, shaggy dog.”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen the pooches. They come down here sometimes. When the booms don’t scare em that is. Hahah.”
I gave a thumbs up. It felt like a ridiculous interaction with a ghost, or zombie or whatever this was, but at least it was working.
“I think I saw his little tail run over that way. They like the smell of the mineral spring.”
I turned behind to see the long tunnel he was pointing at. It was dimly lit by a chain of smaller lanterns.
I thought I saw a flutter of movement, and I would have kept looking further if it wasn’t for my aunt’s voice that suddenly exploded in my ear. “Brrrzt … Ida! If you can hear us, we are calling the police to your location. Help is coming soon! … ”
I winced and stepped back—which saved my life. I just so happened to step right out of the way of a pickaxe. It sparked the ground.
I gasped and stared at the headless miner. His eyes were shimmering with a dark focus, staring directly at mine.
“Oh I’ll help you find the dog. I’ll help you find whatever you want. But I’ll need those clean new eyes of yours first.”
He swung at my head. I ducked. He went for the backswing. I ran.
Stupidly, I ran in the opposite direction of the stairs. I ran straight into the long tunnel lined with dim lanterns.
But I couldn’t turn around. I had no idea how quick he could move. And the speed of his pickaxe felt supernatural.
The tunnel was narrow, and lined with wooden tracks, I had to skip-run-jump over the panels with immense precision to make sure I didn’t trip. Behind me, his voice chased.
“Go ahead. Run. I know where these all lead.”
I ignored the words and kept going. The tunnel bent left, then right, then left again. I ignored several exits before the tunnel spat me out into an open, cavernous room filled with dozens and dozens of minecarts.
I investigated the room for anything useful. A far opposite wall appeared to be the site of the latest digging, loose rock lay everywhere.
There was a small mineshaft holding a chained up cart. And something in the cart shimmered…
It was gold.
And not just ore either. There were bars, coins, medallions, and jewelry. Mrs. Winslow’s bangles were right on top.
I ran to the cart furthest from the entrance and ducked behind it, breathing heavily, coughing from all the dust.
The headless man emerged from the tunnel, pickaxe raised and scanning where I could have hid. “I may not be able to hear you. But I can follow footprints pretty easily hah. I know you’re in here.”
He grabbed the closest minecart available and pushed it into the tunnel entrance. With an immense show of strength, he lifted and dislodged the cart off the track, cramming it sideways, creating a massive obstacle.
I was sealed inside.
Trying to stay absolutely still, I coughed through my teeth. Lungs burning. My mom’s voice came through.
“Brrzzztt… The police should be there! I told them you were in danger! They said they sent a unit over. Maybe they broke down the front door?”
I looked up at the mine shaft next to me. If it did connect to the surface upstairs, this was my only chance.
I gave a couple good yells. “HEEEEELP!!! DOWN HERE!! HELP!”
I don’t know if it did any good, but it was better than nothing. I turned to see if the miner had heard anything.
He hadn't.
The pickaxe tapped and clanged awkwardly around minecart after minecart.
I had a bigger advantage than I thought.
Although the miner had two floating eyeballs, only the left one was really capable of seeing anything.
So I kept my distance and watched where he was going, always staying behind.
As he limped and peered around minecarts, I was able to evade him, move from behind rock piles and other carts, careful not to leave a trail in the rock dust.
It was all going well until I heard a familiar panting.
“Oh look. If it isn’t precious.”
The dog had managed to jump over the miner’s blockade. It must have heard my yells. Surprisingly, Kipper was unafraid of the headless villain, and even approached him to receive pets.
“Now why don’t you go say hello to our other friend here huh? I know she's here somewhere.”
No. Kipper. Please. Don’t.
The dog started sniffing. Within seconds he found my scent. Kipper skipped towards me like Lassie and excitedly licked my face.
“Aww there we are. Now isn’t that a good boy?”
I stood up and stared at the filthy, ash-stained coveralls. Despite the lack of teeth, I could sense a menacing grin where the mouth should be.
He wasn't going to lose sight of me now. I had nowhere to go.
So I did the thing my auntie said worked on all spirits. I fell to my knees and prayed.
“Please. I only came here for work. I’m too young to die. Let me go and I won't tell anyone that you're here.”
He stood over me. Both of his pupils started to quiver. In just a few seconds, his eyes were swimming excitedly within the space of his head.
I took off the only valuable I had. A gold necklace with a miniature version of Christ the Redeemer. A gift I had received as a teen in Rio. I held it out in my shaking hands.
“Please. Take it. Take everything.”
Suddenly both the eyeballs stared forward again, entranced by the gold.
“Well look at that. How generous. How generous of her. We should reward generosity shouldn’t we?”
***
It was hard for me to describe to the police officer how exactly I got out, because I have no idea.
The fiery pain where my eyes used to be overwhelmed my entire reality for hours. All I wanted was for it to stop.
They found me half inside a dumbwaiter bleeding to death from the gouges in my face.
I was taken to the hospital, where I would spend the next four weeks recovering.
The police did not in fact storm the house like my mom said. They waited outside for the homeowner to return. But when they heard my screams coming from the top floor, they broke the back door and eventually came to my rescue.
I’m told they did a thorough investigation but could not find any of the things I described.
The basement door led into a regular basement. It was filled with old furniture, unused decor, and paint cans. No Mine.
The dumbwaiter was also just a dumbwaiter. It wasn’t some mine shaft, and it didn’t lead any deeper than the basement. Nothing special.
There were definitely hot springs close by, but nothing close enough to damage Mr. Winslow's property. And there was an old, depleted gold mine not far away either, but it was completely abandoned, closed off, and nowhere near as big as the one I had described.
***
The police, paramedics and doctors all thought my story was some hallucination. That I had been on drugs or had some mental breakdown (even though they couldn’t find anything in me other than small traces of weed.)
Thankfully, my mother and aunt believed me. They believed every word. My aunt is the one who encouraged me to make this post, so others could hear my story.
I know it was real.
I know it was.
And Mr. Winslow is fully aware of the mine’s existence.
Putting the dots together, I realized it was likely the source of his wealth. Winslow had some control over that one headless miner down there.
Did Winslow intentionally entrap me? Was he trying to get the miner a new set of eyes? Or was it all an unfortunate accident?
I might never know.
But what I do know is that Mr. Winslow has been paying for our rent ever since the accident.
He feels “terrible about the situation” and “can’t possibly imagine” what I’ve been through.
But he knows what happened.
He knows if I really pushed, If I really forced the police, or some private investigator to look into it—they would uncover something awful. Something really really bad.
“Anything you need. Anything at all. I will cover it, Ida.” He said. “You helped me out, protected my dogs, and I will never forget it.”
He’s offered to pay for the rest of my University schooling. And once my face heals up, he’s even offered to cover for some very expensive, experimental eye-transplant. We’ll see how that goes.
“You and your family will live comfortably from now on. You’ll want for nothing. Tell me exactly what you need, And you’ll get it.”
So I told him I'd like my necklace back. It was an heirloom. I said I lost it somewhere in his house.
A few days later, he returned with the usual smug, half-crooked smirk in his voice. He brought the necklace back in a box, pretending he had bought me a new one. Except it felt exactly like my old one.
It was all shined up, completely buffed of scratches, but it weighed the same. It was my old one for sure.
When my mom saw it she asked, “did it always have it? This dedication?”
As far as I remembered, the backside of the tiny Christ the Redeemer was always plain. I fingered its shape in my hands.
“What dedication?”
The new little divots caught my nails. There was writing that was definitely not there before.
My mom described it as a curly, serif font. Like a gift for a lover.
~ You’re an angel ~
~ W ~