Chủ Nhật, 1 tháng 1, 2017

Waching daily Jan 1 2017

As promised here comes another giveaway

I now have 2250 subscribers

So I have some things for you

I will do another giveaway at 2500 subscribers

2750 another

and in 3000 I will do a big giveaway to celebrate

What do I have today?

I got a spinnerbait from Savage Gear Da'Bush for pike

Also from savage gear the Hard Eel

a little spinner spoon

and from Lucky John

the lure for Walleye/Zander

this pack

to enter in the giveaway

you just need to comment this video and give a thumbs up

and with that you are in

day 10 I will make another video with the winner

with luck will go outside Portugual to be different

cya soon

For more infomation >> 2250 subscribers giveaway is open - Está aberto o giveaway dos 2250 subscritores - Duration: 2:52.

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Twenty C# Questions Explained: 16 How do I make a text box that only accepts numbers? - Duration: 11:06.

For more infomation >> Twenty C# Questions Explained: 16 How do I make a text box that only accepts numbers? - Duration: 11:06.

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Being Different Is Normal | Ven. Pomnyun's Dharma Q&A - Duration: 6:36.

Being Different is Normal

It''s a pleasure to meet you.

I've wanted to ask a question since I heard your Dharma talk on April 7

but I didn't have the courage to ask before.

I learned about Buddhism by hanging a lantern with my acquaintance.

After I hung the lantern, I didn't go to the temple often.

To motivate myself a bit more, I've registered a beginner's Dharma class.

It's been a month since I started the class Maybe this is due to my lack of faith

but I feel uneasy when I hear the repeated request from the teacher

regarding the lantern donation at the end of each class.

I did the lantern donation for my family voluntarily for the first time.

With the repeated requests, I feel obligated to do it.

And this makes me uneasy, questioning my lack of faith.

Then I heard that the abbot will be having a book launch at a hotel.

I think it is inappropriate to have a book launch in a hotel by an abbot.

I know Christianity gets blamed from the public because it's too worldly.

And these days I start to wonder if Buddhism is following the same path,

I'd like to ask if my lack of faith is causing this critical thought.

Nobody is the same in this world, right?

Are politicians all the same or not?

Not all pastors are bad, right? And not all of them are good either.

It's the same with monks. Monks are all different

And temples are all different.

So then what's normal? All to be the same, or to be different?

It's normal to be different.

Right. So every happening in this world is

just one of happenings that are possible in this world.

There are monks who lead pure life with belief in non-possession.

Then there are monks who are greedier than ordinary people

and relish in worldly pleasures.

Among monks, there are all sorts of different types.

Among ordinary group of people, some of them are humble and kind, right?

There are bright smart students and then

there are those who dozes off in a school class.

Among teachers who complain about these students,

some of them fall asleep during my lecture.

Among principals who complain about these teachers,

some fall asleep during my lecture.

The same goes with school administrators. There are some who fall asleep as well.

This is just how the world is.

There are all kinds of different people in this world.

But you insist your own way about monks, temples, and whatever.

Wouldn't it be nice if that were the case?

But the real world is not so.

It's very diverse.

So, see the world like this.

This temple asks for lantern donations, and that temple doesn't mention it.

Instead of judging them good or bad,

just acknowledge that this temple is trying to get lots of lantern donations,

and that temple doesn't know how to get donations in this day and age

Just accept like that.

There's someone who publishes tens of books who never holds a book launch event

Then there's someone who organizes a big launch with their first book.

Some do elaborate way, others do simple way,

there are these differences.

So instead of judging what is right or wrong,

just observe it as a phenomenon.

There are flowers large or small in size, yellow or red in color,

having this or that shape. Just see all these diversities.

With your obsession about monks and others to be certain way,

you judge them constantly.

This would make you exhausted.

You criticize a monk visiting the temple.

You criticize Buddhism while studying Buddhism.

You criticize Korea while living here. This would diminish your pride.

This isn't due to lack of faith. It has nothing to do with faith.

This could be from the misunderstanding of Dharma.

So, are all things the same? No.

So then how should I live in this reality?

If you believe a monk should be frugal,

then go to a temple that has a frugal monk. Understand?

If you believe that lantern donations should be voluntary,

and not be pressured by others, then

do not judge the temple is bad when it asks donations.

Just go to another temple that doesn't ask

(Questioner) Yes. I understand.

For more infomation >> Being Different Is Normal | Ven. Pomnyun's Dharma Q&A - Duration: 6:36.

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Mohawk - Full Length Western. Enhanced Video and Audio: With Subtitles - Duration: 1:18:36.

Auntie.

- My, aren't they handsome! - Aunt Agatha!

At my age a lady no longer has to hide...

her admiration for handsome men.

- What are they? - Iroquois.

- Are they friendly? - I don't call them poisonous snakes...

They're my friend on account that they don't bite me.

Jonathan said they are so peaceful.

Oh, he is an artist. He prefers not to see things.

Snakes is snakes.

Do they mean to make trouble?

They never tell what they mean, ma'am.

Especially them Tuscaroras from the south.

They are the ones to look out for.

I thought you said they were Iroquois?

They are all Iroquois, miss.

The French give them names to the Mohawks, Oneidas...

Tuscaroras, Cayugas and the Senecas when they joined up together.

This is all Mohawk country.

The ones with the shaved heads is Mohawks...

The long hairs are Tuscaroras.

They are first grade fighters them Mohawks.

There ain't nobody, not even the French or the British have ever beat them in a battle.

How soon do we reach Fort Auldin?

About midday, if we don't have no trouble.

There is the Fort.

How do I look, Aunt Agatha?

Like a lady going to tea.

Uncle, you don't approve.

When a woman puts on her war paint...

she's more dangerous than any Mohawk.

Except that we like our scalps with something under them.

Sergeant.

Yes, sir.

Have them drive that wagon back to the arsenal.

Keep a guard posted until it is unloaded.

Yes, sir.

- Something precious? - Muskets and gunpowder.

But there is something really precious.

She appears already be well guarded.

The chaperone may need relieve.

Excuse me.

May I present myself, ma'am?

I'm Captain Langley. commander at Fort Auldin.

How do you do?

My niece, Cynthia Stanhope.

I'm Agatha Stanhope.

We've come to visit mister Jonathan Adams, the painter.

- Do you know him? - Yes, ma'am.

Where does he live?

You don't need that frosty look. My niece is his fiancee.

Is he expecting you?

- No, I wanted to surprise him. - You will.

Do you know where I might find him?

Uh, just a moment.

Clem. Clem Jones. Come over here, please.

Yes, Captain?

Clem, these ladies look for Jonathan Adams.

So are all the other ladies.

Clem, Miss. Cynthia Stanhope is Jonathan's fiancee.

No, this is not so funny.

He knows about this?

My good man we did not come here to discuss our personal affairs with you.

We simply want to know where Mr. Jonathan Adams lives...

And where he is at this moment. And that is all. Thank you.

- You're very welcome. - Captain Langley?

- Clem, where is Adams? - Out there, some place.

With all those frightening Indians?

There is nothing to be afraid of, ma'am.

The Indians are about our friends right now.

I will certainly consider your lacks in your responsibilities...

if you allowed him to go out there without an adequate escort.

Oh, he's not alone.

He took a cow along and my daughter Greta.

Jonathan... I'm hurting all over.

Oh, I'm sorry, Greta. Rest a while.

- I'm very beautiful. - And the cow?

It is a cow.

Why are you laughing?

I always laugh when someone else laughs.

It is my disposition.

And if someone should cry?

A woman enjoys to cry almost as much as she does to laugh.

That feels wonderful.

I know. I do it for my father all the time.

You know how to do everything to make a man happy.

That too is my disposation.

- When a man kisses you? - I kiss him.

- You have a lot of disposations, Greta. - I am happy with them.

You know I should marry a girl like you.

You're so very sweet to say that.

You should not marry me.

I am too stupid for you.

May the Lord protect me from a brainy women.

Not as if she's as brainy as you.

10 years from now I will be fat like my father.

I'll marry a farmer. Stupid like me.

We'll have many children and we'll be always together until we die.

I'm beginning to think you're the smartest woman I've ever known.

I feel happy to be smart.

Who will lead me to the chief Kowanen?

Rabbits do not talk, men do.

And the crow screams from the highest branch...

because it is afraid to touch its feet to the ground.

Now will you answer me?

I will answer when you tell me why you must see him.

Since when does the Great Kowanen...

permit boys to decide who will and who will not see him?

- Your tongue is too long. - You will not shorten it.

I'm in your village as a friend. Your laws protect me.

I am Keoga, son of Kowanen.

I will carry your message.

Then tell your father that I've come to give him warning.

Of what?

More settlers and more muskets.

White Man Butler says he brings you warning...

of new settlers and more muskets.

Greetings, Kowanen.

My son says you bring a warning.

Numbers tell more than words.

Today 61 settlers and a wagon load of muskets arrived at Fort Auldin.

Why is this a warning?

Whose land will the settlers turn into plowed fields?

There is plenty of land.

Against whom will the muskets be used?

It is wise to be strong for this keeps your enemies peaceful.

It is talked that many more soldiers will come.

The eagle is not afraid of the mole.

Those were my father's words.

And he is dead.

And we, the once proud Tuscaroras...

are driven from our land by whites...

And come like beggars to our friends the Mohawks...

For a handful of corn...

And a piece of earth on which to spread our blankets.

He was advised not to make war.

There was no peace without surrender.

They came one by one until they swarmed like ants all over us.

And left us nothing but a choice of how to die.

What is happening here...

...is I saw it happen there.

The Great Spirit brought the Iroquois to the Tree of Peace...

And taught us to listen to the eagle that sees far.

And the wise men told us we must...

bind ourselves together by holding each other hands so strongly...

nothing could break them apart.

White men can not destroy us unless we forget...

The Great Laws and so destroy ourselves first.

I will make no war on the white man.

Why do you want us to fight your own people?

They are not my people!

Once there was no greater warrior then your father.

- He is getting old. - His spirit is gone.

I do not understand him.

Let us take the muskets so they will not be used against us.

Onida.

Will you help us get those muskets?

But if you are caught, there will be killing.

A Mohawk is not afraid to die for his land.

Nor a Tuscarora.

Make us a fire and change this peaceful words...

Until it's too late to die.

The muskets will make us stronger.

You heard what our father said.

I take our father's advice when I take the muskets.

With my own ears I heard him say...

"It is wise to be strong for this keeps your enemies peaceful."

Please, Mr. Jones.

The fattest woman of the Fort will buy this.

She will never try to wear it.

But it will make her happy to pretend that it is her size.

- When do they close the gates? - At sunset.

The sun is setting now.

Can anyone get into the Fort...

after the gates are closed?

The gates do not open again until sunrise.

Aren't you worried about your daughter?

They always get back just as the gates are closing...

Always...?

It's sunset. All the Indians outside the wall.

I left my blanket back there. I do not want to lose it.

Go get it, and hurry up.

Close the gates.

Wagon coming, sir.

Open the gates.

My cow. Thank you.

Welcome.

I'm getting tired of keeping the gates open for you.

Now, don't be too hard on her, Captain. She does everything to have her portrait.

Close the gates.

Cynthia.

Here.

Cynthia, I wonder on what cloud did you fly here on?

I gave her a ride on my broom.

Dear Aunt Agatha, as frightening as ever.

Dear Jonathan, as flattering as usual...

even in the wilderness.

Oh, that is Greta. She models for me.

But you were commissioned by the Massachusetts Associate...

to do 20 landscapes.

And I have not a single painting without at least...

- one tree in the background. - Show them to me, Jonathan.

Oh, naturally, naturally. But first you must get here settled, and talk about...

you, Boston, family and friends. The paintings can wait.

I'd like to see them now.

If you insist. Are you coming, Aunt Agatha?

I am not interested in your paintings.

Only in your character.

But you know me better through my work.

I'll will know you with more pleasure when you're engaging a...

more profitable work instead of...

Painting is my work. If you made this long journey...

to say the same things you've been saying...

Please, Jonathan. I do so badly want to see your pictures.

We won't be gone long.

All these miles, days and days in a wagon and you...

can't even say "how do you do" before...

Where are we going anyway?

- To see your pictures. - Oh, they're over there.

Greta, take care of the wagon, please.

So, you are his model?

Yes, he works very hard, ma'am. And very good too.

Look. I'll show you.

- Is that all you? - I'm very beautiful.

Yes, all together too obviously.

Very interesting.

Really, Jonathan. How can you live in this dungeon?

Not at all. I just sleep here.

I keep my belongings here.

Otherwise I'd get outdoors as long as there is light.

You would have been home two months ago.

One loses track of time out here.

There are the four seasons, Easter, Christmas, and...

The days don't seem to count as calendar days.

Come home with me now before the winter sets in.

And get involved with politics? No.

I'm a painter, not a politician.

All I wanna do is paint.

You act like an irresponsible child.

You need someone to take care of you.

You made this long hard journey to tell me this because...

Because I love you.

- What am I to do about you, Cynthia? - Marry me.

- Oh, you've already decided? - Yes.

We have a lovely home in Boston.

And you'll do wonderful portraits of important people.

And you'll do wonderful portraits of important people.

Shades of Aunt Agatha.

- That's not very kind. - Forgive me.

I'm hungry.

How can you think of food at a time like this?

Cynthia, can you think of anything more accelerating?

- I just can't understand you. - And you mustn't.

You see, you risk propriety if you do.

And where would a gentle woman be without her precious propriety?

In any event, a man with full stomach is much easier to handle.

- That's from a gentle woman and propriety... - Cynthia.

Good appetite.

The belle of Fort Auldin.

- She should be rung every hour as a warning to all decent young people. - Madam...

Miss, sir. Because my wit made me laugh...

every time a man proposed.

In due time, the joke was on me.

Oh, there you are, Cynthia.

- This is Mr. Butler. - How do you do?

You have already met Captain Langley.

I presume you two gentlemen know each other.

You can hardly avoid knowing each other...

in a community as small as this.

Have you done anything worth looking at, Cynthia?

There're some very interesting things.

Mr. Adams has not thought to show us any of his work.

I didn't think you were interested, Mr. Butler.

Anything that happens in the Mohawk valley is of interest to me.

Have you been here very long?

I was born here, Miss. Stanhope.

My family was the only white family in this area.

Then settlers began coming in.

I used to think of this entire valley as my personal property.

Well, weren't the Indians here before you?

The Indians are savages and have no more rights than animals.

The Spaniards knew what they were doing...

when they made slaves of them.

No one will ever make a slave of an Iroquoi.

Then they should be slaughtered or they'll slaughter us.

No one will listen to me.

They will plow their fields and dig their graves at the same time.

Settlers will come, then the preachers...

...soldiers and even painters.

Squeeze the great valley into a small frame.

And that's the end of freedom to breathe.

Idiots.

What a frightening man!

I never can decide which he hates more.

The Indians or the settlers?

I'm not sure he's quite sane.

He is wrong about the Indians, I know that.

If we leave them alone, they leave us alone.

Why don't you go out? Do something!

They'll get along fine without me.

Hold your fire.

Stop shooting at shadows before you slaughter each other.

They're most likely gone by now.

Form a detail and search the Fort from one end to the other.

- How did they get in here? - A fine bunch of soldiers!

I'll find out how they got in here.

Well, come on, sit down. Finish your supper.

Eat? At a time like this?

Maybe you'd rather go to your room and go to sleep.

Who could sleep with all this commotion going on?

By the time you're ready for bed, it all will be over.

I'm a rather tired, Aunt Agatha.

Somebody better make certain there are no Indians...

in our room ready to scalp us.

Come along.

Any Indians in here?

You, fool.

You've got a long journey. Sleep late tomorrow morning.

- What will you be doing? - Working.

With that girl?

With that girl and the cow too. The picture isn't finished yet.

Sleep, my dear.

Good night, Aunt Agatha.

A long face doesn't stand a chance against ammunition in the right place.

Beautiful.

- Let me go. - No.

Then kill me.

I like beautiful things. I like them alive.

I'd rather paint you.

Magnificent.

Your eyes are like lightning.

I know it is in that painters fellow's room.

All right. Let's go.

Hide over there, hurry up.

There she is.

I built this tunnel 10 years ago...

So we can get the Indians from behind. If they were attacking us.

Someone must have opened it from inside.

You've been entertaining any Indians lately?

No more than usual.

Fetch a can of gunpowder.

Everything has been peaceful so long, I plumb forgot about that tunnel.

What kind of Indians got in tonight, Captain?

I don't know.

Mean, just plain mean.

They kill for the love of killing.

They should be skinned alive every one of them.

That dirty, mean, ignorant Indians.

While letting you have take their land from them?

Whose side you're on?

Nobody's. I'm a painter.

You sound like an Indian-lover, Mister painter.

I have no reason to hate them.

You seem to think of tonight: Maybe it was our fault.

If you don't like how we do around here, you can get off.

Messing around with pictures ain't certainly gonna help this valley.

Put it in the tunnel.

Sorry.

We'll double the guards and keep on searching.

- You're all right? - Yes. Thank you.

I guess you have to stay here until tomorrow morning.

And then I'll smuggle you out in my wagon.

Why?

Maybe because I have no idea.

You're not like the others.

People have been telling me that since I was 6...

- The trouble is they don't like me. - That's too bad.

Don't be so timid.

I only want to see the other side of your face.

Magnificent. You must let me paint you.

I'm a bit sorry but it's the best I have to offer.

Good night.

- Good morning. - Good morning.

Jonathan is gonna fetch the cow.

I wonder why he bothers to paint the cow when...

he has already you in the picture.

The cow is expected by the Massachusetts Associate.

I am surprised.

Is it true that men in England carry hot water jugs...

when they go courting a lady?

Good morning, Greta. Good morning, Cynthia.

Good morning, Jonathan.

Ah, perfect light today. I don't want to lose it.

- I'd like to come along, Jonathan. - After last night?

I wouldn't think of it. There's no telling what those Mohawks might be up to today.

You shouldn't go either.

I carry a beautiful amulet. It will protect me.

Oh, I didn't mean you, Greta. You can't go along either.

I'm only painting the cow today.

See you at sundown.

- Who will get your lunch? - I will milk the cow.

Open the gates.

Anyone leaving the Fort today does so at his own risk.

All right. Open the gates.

Open the gates.

You can come out now.

- They're angry with you. - They'll get over it.

Which is in love with you?

Neither one.

- And yet they kiss you? - It amuses them.

An Indian woman does not kiss, not even for amusement.

Come up here next to me.

Onida, I'm gonna kiss you.

And just why are you laughing?

You look so long-faced and your mouth became little.

You're supposed to close your eyes when you are kissed.

Do I close my eyes to watch the sunset?

What does that have to do with it?

The sunset is as beautiful as the spring flowers...

Or silvery trail that leaves the light on the water.

The eyes open to welcome beauty.

They close only to shut out ugliness.

So kissing must be ugly.

The way you put it, it sounds logical.

Only it isn't.

- Are you married, Onida? - No, not yet.

Why not? I'm sure there are many...

There are many and there are none, but I'm afraid.

Afraid of what?

The white man. What he will do to us.

I heard you talk to that man in your room.

There was no hate in your words.

Your heart was good.

Come to our village. Learn about us.

So that you may tell your people that...

you were shown that we can live in peace.

And let me paint what I see?

- Get in the back. - I will not, I...

Why are you with the white man?

Because you, my half grown brother, and the brave Tuscarora warrior...

- left me behind. - We had no chance.

You will have plenty of chance to explain to our father.

You may come back to your place, white man.

The fire is out and even the smoke crawls on the ground...

like a frightened dog.

Come out.

Must they always talk so much?

They're wasting their breath if they talk about me.

I'm no Mohawk.

You are an Iroquoi and my father is chief of all the Iroquois.

When a young fire burns so thirstily, that it's plain it reach for a tree...

It must be put out before it burns down the park.

Not put out, but made to burn where it should.

They broke the peace when I told them not to.

Bowhawah, the Tuscarora led them to it.

A guest must respect the house of his host.

Youth and hate make dangerous thoughts.

He has nothing left but revenge.

We must try to understand.

It hurts.

Be more gentle, Onida.

The white man is tender...

Like a young pig cries at the smallest pain.

Bokhawah, you talk like a fool.

A man would not say that and live.

Now you talk like a forceful fool.

Stand up, Keoga.

How brave you are, to fight a half grown boy.

Are you all right?

You have good legs, Keoga.

But you better put on some more size...

before you challenge a man that big.

- Will you teach me how to... - Sure, I'll teach you.

A good guest does not create disturbances in his host's house...

I beg you to forgive me.

And please do not be too hard.

- I told you he was our friend, father. - I believe it.

You'll be welcome always where ever there is a Mohawk.

I'll paint pictures of you, Kowanen, and your ways.

I'll show them to my people. So that they'll know you better.

He who fills his mouth with big words ends by eating dirt.

- Any sign of the wagon yet, sergeant? - No, sir.

Alright, close the gates.

Has he ever stayed out this late before?

No, miss. It is very disturbing.

Most likely he was killed by the Indians.

What a horrible man!

He should not say those bad things, unless it's true.

What else can it be?

There aren't any pretty women out there. Or are there?

I insist that you and your soldiers make an...

immediate search for that man.

- And where do we search for him? - I'd start with the Mohawk village.

- But he may not be agreeing. - In any doubt.

We don't happen to be at war with the Mohawks.

What was that last night? A social visit?

If you won't send your soldiers...

I'll gather the settlers and we will go ourselves.

The gates are closed, Mr. Butler.

Neither you nor anyone else goes out of this fort tonight.

There is no reason yet to believe Jonathan has trouble...

with the Mohawks.

Maybe he lost his cow and is still looking for it.

What are they singing?

They tell of Dekaniwida who brought love, and laughter...

and the Tree of Peace to the Iroquois.

I didn't know any Indian could laugh like you.

There is a small bird seen and a hawk circles its nest.

That is for love and peace. You might as well have told me that the Indians...

have wings and fly among the angels.

They do.

Why has the white man never learned to love?

Does the hawk love when he circles the small bird's nest?

Then you do know love.

As you know peace and laughter.

I'm glad.

And from Ontario...

came Dekaniwida, father of the Iroquois...

to plant peace beside the lake...

Peace with roots from the heaven.

- Throw it back. - Come on and get it.

- Throw it back. - Come and get it.

Now you get it.

But it has been days.

How can you stand by and do nothing all this time?

He knew it was not a good time to leave the Fort.

He is city bred, he doesn't understand these things.

He didn't realize how dangerous it was.

He should have.

He has been here long enough.

He has most likely found out the truth by now.

How can you laugh?

They laugh because they are men and try to hide with laughter...

that they are afraid to go and look for Jonathan.

That is why they laugh.

I ain't fighting no Indians for that painter fellow.

My crops need of me than he does.

Let this go unpunished and you'll lose your lives as well as crops.

Butler, I will not have you start a war against the Mohawks.

The war has started, Captain.

That senseless little raid several nights ago. And now this.

If you don't have got any courage they'll come in one night and slaughter every one of you.

- He's right. - He is a stupid.

The Iroquois are thousands and we are maybe two hundred.

How can we punish them?

Well, that's your problem and you have to solve it without us.

- We're going back to Boston. - Yes, that is very wise.

I'm not leaving until I know what happened to Jonathan.

I always knew I'd die a spinster.

Now, where is he going?

- The Captain from the fort. - Nothing matter.

Is this the white friend's greeting to Kowanen?

I beg your forgiveness, Kowanen.

This man has gone for days.

We thought him dead or lost.

After all my worrying, it struck me funny...

to find him peaceful employing painting your portrait.

You'd do better not to be angry with him.

That comes now, with your permission.

I should beat your brains in for all the troubles you've caused.

- What has he done? - About driven me crazy, that's all.

The settlers don't understand the Iroquois, Kowanen.

They listen to this madman, Butler.

who frightens them with predictions of massacres by painted redskins.

When Jonathan failed to return...

he said that the Indians killed him and started...

agitating for a war against you...

as punishment for your crime. He's got the people all stirred up.

I guess I better get back to Fort as quickly as possible.

Show myself alive and happy.

- Will you be back? - Quickly as a horse can run.

Keoga, you will go with them.

He who plans war does not send...

his own son into the enemy camp.

They'll understand that better than ten thousand words.

It's time to look upon Kowanen and his wife, Minikah.

I thank my guard for them, their wisdom and their goodness.

Long live to you.

And to you, long life.

How soon will be it?

I have got some paintings to take and bring back some more supplies.

I'll take the wagon. We'd better take back that cow too.

Then I won't wait for you.

And try to get in before sundown.

We'll be back with tomorrow's sun.

- Keoga. - Yes.

Be careful of your manners among the white people.

Yes, mother.

I don't understand.

He promised to be here by sundown.

Could something have happened?

I can't think of anything.

Everything was certainly peaceful enough when I left.

It is Jonathan. When he's painting he forgets time.

You might as well get some sleep.

Good evening.

You should know better than to hide in shadows as a Indian warrior.

An Indian warrior?

I thought the Indians were peaceful.

You said so yourself, Captain.

And you know better than anyone how to read the Indian mind.

Evacuate the fort. Get out of the valley.

Or you'll all be dead within 24 hours.

You worry too much Mr. Butler, you will get bad stomach trouble.

On this day we are met together.

The Great Spirit has appointed this day.

Now this day we are met because of this death.

Now into the ground will he be born, the young Keoga.

Now then wipe away the falling tears.

So that peacefully we may look around.

And then something stops your ears.

With care we remove whatever it is...

So you will hear the words to be said.

There is a stoppage in your throat.

And we take it away that you may speak your hearts.

Every day we are losing our men into the earth they are born.

Also our women and children.

And our grandchildren.

So that you are sitting in the midst of blood.

I see the ghosts of the Tuscaroras walking through the woods.

And with them, I see the ghosts of the Mohawks.

For you are dead.

Dead as Keoga is dead.

Killed, as Keoga was killed...

by the white men.

And the ghosts must walk the earth until the last day...

Because the white man has plowed the burial ground.

And there is no place for the dead to rest.

This is what I see, as I see Keoga dead before me.

And no man saying the blood of 100 white men...

for each drop of young Keoga's blood.

You grieve because you have not the courage to fight.

You are dead! Dead!

No! No!

Bokhawah speaks angry words.

And maybe with reason.

But not he nor I, no matter what is in our hearts...

can make war.

That only the Council can decide.

And you will talk for peace because your woman owns your mind...

And the white man owns your daughter.

I've seen it with my own eyes.

No!

Onida, go to the house.

The white man killed my son...

You will not kill my daughter.

I love your daughter.

The white man does not know love. Only conquest.

Let the runners go to all the chiefs of the clans for a war council.

Why did they kill my brother?

I don't know, Onida.

I can't even begin to understand.

- They must have known they'd start a war. - The madness about this thing.

If the moon would make ugly faces at the sun...

The stars would chasing each other like mad dogs.

For they are mad dogs these white men

that would make war to destroy each other.

What are they made of? They who deny their own people.

What white man has done that?

This man, Butler, who came to tell my father of the new muskets.

Butler. Why?

To make my father war against the settlers.

Jonathan, you must leave while there is still time.

If the council decides for war, and they will...

they will kill you first.

- But why would Butler... - It doesn't matter now.

Jonathan, think of yourself. You are a white man.

Blood for blood. Jonathan for Keoga.

They will kill you and throw your body to the gate of the fort.

And that would be the declaration of war.

- They decided the war. - I will try to stop them.

No, Jonathan, they will kill you. Go now!

- Kowanen, I'm your friend. - You're a white man.

Regardless I'm still your friend.

You must not blame all white men for this murder.

Let me find out first what mad man who did this thing.

We offered peace, they gave us death.

Now they will have war.

Let his body carry the flaming war arrows...

- to the white men. - So be it.

Mother, mother. They have taken Jonathan.

- He is our enemy. - You know he isn't.

I know his skin is white. I do not know the color of his heart...

Because I can not see it.

You do not sound like my mother.

- I am also Keoga's mother. - I loved Keoga.

You also love the white man.

And I will hate those who hate him.

And I will kill those who kill him.

Even if it would be my own father.

If the law is blood for blood, then I too must obey this law.

It is a man made law.

For men do nothing they enjoy so much as dying...

Knowing that women would go on making new lives...

to take the place of all deaths.

What are you waiting for? Go, free this man before...

they cut him up into pieces, the blood thirsty fools.

Don't move.

It will not be so quick, white man, there will be fire.

And the tearing of the skin... No, you will not die fast.

You will die piece by piece.

And I shall take the first.

Onida, cut me loose.

Onida hurry, somebody might have heard him.

Climb this wall and jump.

- On the other side there will be so much brush you will not be heard. - Come with me.

I belong with my people and you with yours.

I'm not leaving without you.

Would it do any good if you stay here and die instead of warn your people?

You see Jonathan, I keep my eyes closed when I kiss you.

- Now I know why. - Tell me.

To love is to close ones eyes to everything...

Except the beauty of love.

Now go, while my eyes are still closed.

Someone is coming here. He looks hurt.

Give him a hand.

Tell the colonel we have had warnings.

We should be able to hold them off a while. But you better get help as fast as you can.

Yes, sir.

Close the gates.

Open those gates again.

No one else leaves the fort.

I am not a prisoner. I will not be detained like a prisoner.

We need every men here.

I gave you warning but you wouldn't listen to me.

Now you expect me to die with the rest of you.

But I'm not such a fool. Open those gates.

Why did you give them warning? What information did you have?

It is enough that I warned them.

You said they would attack within 24 hours.

That was a good prediction, wasn't it?

Kowanen's son, Keoga, was murdered approximately 24 hours ago.

Did you know that, Butler?

What is one Indian to me?

How did you know Keoga was murdered?

It came to me in a vision.

How many shots were in your vision?

As many as it take to kill an Indian.

One is enough for a man who knows how to shoot.

But there is twice as much pleasure in two.

And what pleasure was there in going to Kowanen and tell him about the new muskets?

- That's a lie. - A Mohawk told me.

You take the word of a Mohawk against that of a white man?

Mohawks don't lie, Butler. You know that.

- You killed Keoga because... - They are coming!

Mister Butler, since you insist...

Open the gates.

Tell the Mohawks we use the new muskets most regretful...

If you have the chance.

Open. Let me in.

Bar the gates.

Open up. Let me in.

Greta, catch my muskets.

Open up. In mercy's name.

Go inside and get ready to help the wounded. It will be better for you.

Wait.

Wait.

Fire!

- They are leaving. - They'll be back.

Greta, bring wine. Free wine for everybody.

And brandy too. It's too good for the Indians.

They won't appreciate it.

It's not really as painful.

And how would you know, Miss?

They have run.

- Will they come back? - With more men.

What if help doesn't arrive in time?

We don't think that way.

We say that we will hold them up until help arrives.

Jonathan shouldn't be allowed to fight.

He might be blind or have his hands wounded.

He mustn't be wasted this way. He is an artist.

He would not even be a good artist if he was not first a man.

Today is fighting day. Even for us women.

I said some nasty things about you and I'm sorry.

I did not even hear them. It is my disposition.

Greta.

Do you love Jonathan?

Jonathan does not love me.

Nothing else matters.

It is that way many times.

Love commands but never obeys.

I must bring wine to the men. They are thirsty.

What are you standing there for?

These people needs tending to.

If we let to live, come back to Boston.

Not to marry me. I have no hope anymore.

But to work or at least to live.

I don't know, Cynthia. I've lots to think about.

We can't hold them off no longer. Retire!

Get them out.

Block off the windows.

The dead are like leaves of grass under foot.

And yet they died for nothing.

For who has won this battle?

Neither white men nor Indian.

We hold your prisoner, Kowanen.

But not the great nations of the Iroquois.

For now the Iroquois will listen to the warnings of the Tuscaroras.

And the war fires will burn from the salt ocean till the Great River.

And the white men will be driven from the lands of the Iroquois

as the French 100 years ago.

Here is the man who killed your son.

He was no men's friend, not yours nor ours.

He would have us destroy each other...

to have this valley for his own.

Is it for this man we must set our world on fire?

Do we give him what he wanted even now he is dead?

Too many have died already because of him.

That's all of them. Take good care of them now.

If you ever come to Boston, do come and visit us.

You too, Greta. It was really been wonderful knowing you.

I must say I'll certainly be glad to get back to Boston...

and civilization, and away from all these disgusting Indians.

Take my paintings to the Massachusetts Associate.

There are 11 more than they ordered.

Aren't you coming with us?

No, dear Aunt Agatha. I'm staying right here.

Goodbye, Cynthia. Have a good trip.

Love commands but it never obeys.

Greta taught me that.

You always knew that, Cynthia.

You are also a woman.

Greta, I still think you are the smartest woman I've ever known.

Now we can truly dry our tears.

For the Great Spirit has sent us a son in the place of...

he who was taken away.

For this reason, we give you the name of Keoga.

May you be happy until your spirit leaves us.

Now... go to Onida.

Why are you closing your eyes?

- I'm waiting to be kissed. - In front of all these people?

Oh, there is something worth learning from the white man.

For more infomation >> Mohawk - Full Length Western. Enhanced Video and Audio: With Subtitles - Duration: 1:18:36.

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Why do we suffer? - Duration: 23:39.

We often wonder :

why is there suffering at all?

What is the purpose of suffering?

Suffering serves a very important

role.

It is the force that awakens us

( to question ),

to wonder,

to challenge our perception

our understanding.

Suffering is the force that helps us to grow,

to awaken.

To awaken to our true self,

to awaken to our reality

and to leave behind

all that is limited and conditioned,

that is dependent,

all that can be touched by suffering.

Suffering is like a marker that marks all that is relative,

that is not ultimate,

that is dependent,

that is limited.

And by marking it, it allows us

to challenge

our hold on all of that - as reality.

So whenever we suffer

we are being shown something

in a very direct way.

We are being shown that which can suffer,

that which is dependent, that which is relative.

If we are available and open

to receive this message, this wisdom

Then we are invited to recognize

that which can not be touched by suffering,

that which is not relative,

that which is absolutely free,

absolutely real.

When we ask

in a superficial way : why do I suffer?

We are actually

not truly asking the question., because

while asking we keep in our pocket

( the assumption )

that suffering should not be there.

So we are not ready to receive

the truth about suffering,

because we already hold on the the opposite as true.

We feel that there should not be suffering.

So when we ask superficially : why do I suffer?

we ask it in the context of our story,

in the context of this "I" that suffers,

it is the "I" that asks : why do I suffer?

And within the context of its story - there is no answer.

Because the answer - is the story itself.

The story,

or rather the holding on to the story as reality,

as what we are,

as our identity

is suffering.

That can be only seen

if there is complete listening.

Not a limited listening

within the story,

but listening

to the whole experience of suffering.

Not only to the external context,

but to the very essence of the identity that suffers,

that very "I" that experiences suffering

is the answer to the question of

what is suffering and why is it here.

Living as a construct of "I",

living as this image of self,

as this limited point of view

that we experience as "I"

and constantly clashing

( with ) something ( that )

is not in tune with those borders,

with the safe-zone of this "I"

is suffering.

The very imposition

of the construct of "I"

with its

ideas, concepts, definitions,

with its safe-zone of knowledge,

the very imposition of this

as reality, as what we are

is the very root of suffering.

This imposition

of the boundaries of the "I"-self, the egoic-self

on this pure, ultimate,

free and unbound consciousness

is what is being experienced

as a contraction,

discomfort, pain.

Suffering is an act of grace.

It is a reminder

to awaken,

a reminder to release this imposition,

these imposed borders, limitations, definitions

that don't belong to our nature.

It is a waking call.

If we are

completely identified with our story

and we have yet asked :

What is this life? Who am I?

What reality is?

And we are just dreaming this dream of our story

then suffering is experienced as a disturbance,

just a disturbance,

and we just want it to be out of the way.

We are not ready yet

receive its wisdom,

to learn from it.

We are pushing it away.

Like a person who

is sleeping and dreaming

pushes away any disturbance

to his dream,

he doesn't want to be awoken.

But once we attune

to our nature,

to this deep longing

that is in the very core of our nature.

The longing to recognize

ourselves fully,

to be ourselves fully,

to be our nature, consciously.

Once we attune to this longing,

once we

truly wish to awaken

then suffering can become a great teacher.

It is no longer just a disturbance,

it is a reminder.

Each time we experience any kind of discomfort,

we are being reminded

of holding on

to some borders - some identity

that is currently experiencing

some kind of clashing with its own borders ( definitions ).

We are being reminded that we are holding on to a contraction.

And by being reminded that -

we are invited to allow this contraction,

this very mysterious contraction

of the ego-self,

to be exposed,

to be seen as what it is.

The irony is

that we are investing most of our energy

to gather knowledge

while reality can never be known.

The only knowing of reality is happening - in the moment.

It can never be kept or captured by anything.

Knowing reality is being reality,

is being open to what is entirely.

So entirely that there is unity

and in that moment of unity, which is now,

eternal now,

reality is being known

without being defined,

without being identified as anything.

It is being known without knowledge.

We are investing tremendous amounts of effort and energy

to gather knowledge

and that knowledge becomes our boundary.

We seem to think that we can use this knowledge,

we seem to think that knowledge is wisdom

that the more knowledge we have the more wise we become,

the more ready we become to life,

but it is in fact just the opposite.

The readiness for life comes from complete openness,

complete welcoming,

complete lack of any need to be ready for it,

a total confidence in what is.

Through this confidence ,through this complete openness,

a pure meeting

with what is.

We seem to think that life can be known

like a machinery,

like we gather knowledge about the mechanics of

( various ) tools

that we use later on.

We seem to think that life can be also known this way.

And so we become entrapped in knowledge,

imagining life to be

an object ( that can be known )

and ourselves to be an object.

Then

the greatness of life,

the unspeakable vastness of life,

magnificence if life

passes us by

while we are entrapped in the cocoon of knowledge.

Not feeling, not seeing,

not perceiving anything of its glory.

Its glory is such that it can never fit

any form.

You must be unified with its formless nature,

with its utter openness and vastness

in order to

be a full part of it.

But when we hide behind forms,

behind concepts,

we are disconnected from it entirely.

And this disconnection

is being shown to us

by suffering.

There is always something that goes wrong

or feels that it may go wrong.

A sense of insecurity,

of fear.

There is always doubt.

To what does it all belong? This doubt, this fear? This insecurity?

To what are they attached?

Whom do they define?

To whom does this doubt, this fear,

this confusion belong?

They belong to this identity "I",

this idea, this image of ourselves.

They belong to its constant struggle

to maintain itself,

to maintain its form

in an ever changing reality of appearances.

They belong to this prison that we have built around ourselves

unconsciously

and are holding on to.

Identifying with this image - "I"

and its story.

Imagine now

how would you

wake

someone like that?

someone like ourselves?

How would you show the persona appearing in a dream

that it is a dreamed one?

Once you start to peel the dream off

he would start to feel insecure.

The very trying - to hold on to the dream

would be experienced like

pain and grief.

Isn't it what we are experiencing when suffering happens?

The grief of letting go

of some idea

some idea of ourselves,

some safe-zone that we have become accustomed to.

Perhaps the greatest skill we can learn in life

is one of letting go.

Peacefully.

Letting go without struggle

and without regret.

Letting go without leaving a mark,

with a sense of beauty

and love.

When you have learned to let go,

when you have no more need to capture anything,

it is then that you become fully available to meet what is

and to be unified with it

entirely.

Then you can bask in your own glory,

in your own joy,

in your own timeless nature

unbound and free.

Then you will look back

and you will be very surprised.

You will see there was never anything to hold on to,

never anything to keep,

never anything to let go off.

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