Skip to main content

Idaho Mountain Express International (Tony Evans)

























Here are some articles published by writers for the Mountain Express, which have found international accaim. As more of these are brought to our attention, the adminstrators of the Idaho Conversation League will gladly post these here and in a new subject index found in the left column.







Tibetan web site:







http://www.phayul.com/news/article.aspx?article=Dalai+Lama+host+bares+his+soul+in+new+memoir&id=10596













Sufi web site







http://sufinews.blogspot.com/2006/10/from-islam-with-love.html













Media Awareness Project







http://www.mapinc.org/drugnews/v06/n064/a08.html?999













Iraqi news







http://www.aliraqi.org/forums/showthread.php?referrerid=7953&t=50979













Indianz.com







http://www.indianz.com/News/2005/011223.asp













Fundamentalism on Main Street







http://www.angelfire.com/ab8/spiritotv/features/foms.html













Buddhist Channel







http://www.buddhistchannel.tv/index.php?id=12,3135,0,0,1,0













Love Affair with the Divine







http://www.angelfire.com/ab8/spiritotv/features/svwf.html#cb













Energy Bulletin .net







http://www.energybulletin.net/27270.html













The Monks of Jerome Idaho







http://www.angelfire.com/ab8/spiritotv/features/jerome.html

Comments

JBanholzer said…
As I mentioned to Tony earlier, the Internet is no longer merely international, ever since Space Shuttle astronauts begin using it to keep in touch with Mission Control, their beloved families and even for interacting with students who have science projects aboard.

It’s easy to imagine that modern day Buzz Aldrin’s have probably already weightlessly surfed the Internet up there, to see what Michael Ames has suggested in his DVD Daze column, regarding what to watch, if you happen to be an astronomical insomniac.

Popular posts from this blog

Old post from the Anthropik network

"I noticed, when she delivered the plate of fruit, that my Balian hostess was also balancing a tray containing many little green bowls-small, boatshaped platters, each of them woven neatly from a freshly cut section of palm frond. The platters were two or three inches long, and within each was a small mound of white rice. After handing me my breakfast, the woman and the tray disappeared from view behind the other buildings, and when she came by some minutes later to pick up my empty plate, the tray was empty as well. * On the second morning, when I saw the array of tiny rice platters, I asked my hostess what they were for. Patiently, she explained to me that they were offerings for the household spirits. When I inquired about the Balinese term that she used for "spirit," she repeated the explanation in Indonesian, saying that these were gifts for the spirits of the family compound, and I saw that I had understood her correctly. She handed me a bowl of sliced papaya and...
Secret Lives of Meter Readers If you are looking for a long walk every day with not bad pay, maybe meter reading is the ticket. Generally, you get to spend a lot of peaceful time by yourself, plenty of serene reflecting space, unhindered by a bickering work crew. Simply dedicating yourself to reading meters all day can actually lead to a very ascetic lifestyle. When a vault into the earth is uncovered, great mysteries lie inside. Neighborhood kids dash over and want to spy. Newts and frogs, snakes, snails and polliwogs are all revealed from these tiny underground arenas. If the meter reader does not watch carefully, he may uncover a hornet's nest. Thus, most workers carry a medicine pouch within their toolkits. Meter reading routes are hard roads at first; but endurance soon builds up, as the man (or woman) becomes self-reliant. As he walks along, he strengthens his full character, all the way down to his stem cells. Striding along, his breathing becomes natural and he fin...

Country Bumpkin Charm

Each time I fly back to the big city, I sneak up on my old friend Tim. After surprising him with a traditional Inspector Clouseau / Kato maneuver, we drive around for Auld Lang Syne. While we hit most of our old haunts, the past we worship briefly resuscitates, through the well-regarded stories we share. We exchange our lively anecdotes; some unspoken for decades, as I cruise an old beater past the house where we dropped off a dropsy friend with a fine-feather we adorned in his cap, so his dad could get a good laugh at the boys out on the town. After a sentimental pizza, I hit the free-for-all freeway, where I drive in the slow lane. Tim says I drive like a country bumpkin. We come to a stop light and glance over at the racecar next to us, booming out rapid bass beats from its speakers. Tim doesn’t stare at the people, but I do, ‘cause I’m freshly fallen off the spud wagon, landed directly at Dulles Airport . Fifteen years in Idaho changes my outlook. At the airport, I watched pass...