I try to have a unique view of the world. I don’t like the black and white view of the world, with cut and dried good and evil being the norm. It oversimplifies morality and has a hard line that is too easily straddled or crossed over. Innocence or guilt, good or evil, right or wrong. Hardcore law with no flexibility built into it. Under grace. Under law. Your choice on where to live your life.

What I see in life is a little bit of good in the evil we do, as well as a little bit of evil in the good we do. Every action is a shade of grey, darkness and lightness determined by the intention of the human heart. Unfortunately, the most pure heart in the lives of men is still tarnished by the lightest shade of grey, so much so that there are no men in this world with a pure heart.

I am not a god. If offered, I would hope that I would turn down the position. I know myself too well, and I know that I would somehow screw something up in ways too grand to be imagined. Bruce Almighy, the Jim Carey movie with Morgan Freeman playing God, shows what happens when infinite cosmic power is used for selfish gain, and without infinite wisdom and self-control, let alone the infinite love, required to wield the power effectively in the service of others.

I am a human being, so much smaller than God or any other deity that has at one time been worshipped and adored. I am thankful that I am not Buddha, or that I am not Rama, Shiva, or any other incarnation of some other deity. I do not hold out my hand and speak the magic words, Let there be light, and then watch light magically appear in my hand. I do not go out into the back yard and carve a humanoid shape into the soil and then attempt to breathe life into it. I am good at creating monsters, but they are only figments of my own imagination. There are worse creatures in the world than H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulu. My monsters would freak out Cthulu.

I do not have a God’s eye view on the world. Being so close to the human race, I have this tendency to see this crazy shading of blacks and whites and greys mixing together, blending into a dark menagerie of hopelessness. And all that is evil in the world takes the paint brush and does all that it can to smear that which is good with the greyness of its own existence. There is no room for goodness, decency, morality, or law.

The greatest tragedy in all of this is seeing how the word “love” has been corrupted. Love is no longer strong. Love is no longer faithful. Love is no longer patient. Love is no longer kind. Love is no longer truthful. Love no longer casts out fear, but becomes something to fear. Love is not something to die for, but one must kill in the name of love. Love must be eradicated from this world craving the darkness at the expense of the light.

I have listened to the words of conservatives, neoconservatives, right-wingers, left-wingers, and liberals. I have never heard a conservative demand the death of a human being, except for Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, and a few other terrorists. From the liberal end of the spectrum I have heard demands for people to be killed, like former Pres. Bush, Alex Jones, Rush Limbaugh, and the list extends right on down to unborn babies, those vile creatures accidentally conceived during one hot, sweaty moment of passion when there was no love to be found.

The only people I know in politics who have dared use “love” to unite voters were the supporters of the Ron Paul rEVOLution. Evil people from the Left and the Right took out their paintbrushes and painted these people as moonbats or political freaks who believed every conspiracy theory ever designed. The Left is angry at the Right, the Right is angry at the Left, and everyone is angry at Ron Paul.

So much anger, so much hatred, so much fear to spread, so many voices calling for violence to end it all, and so little time to make it happen. By the grace of God the blood people are calling for has not yet been spilled. One day God will step aside and many prayers will be answered as the body count uncontrollably spirals into the depths of the earth. The people calling for blood will one day mingle their blood with the blood of their enemies.

I see shades of grey. God sees things in black and white. This is God’s universe. God makes the rules. God has the right to be a hardliner. His way or no way. His way is love. Evil hates Jesus Christ, and as such it hates God the Father. Sin separates us, God’s children who are in love with evil, from the only deity in this universe that has ever claimed to be our Father.

The only reason why a person burns in the lake of fire at the end of time is because he or she rejected Jesus Christ as the only way to get to the Father. God will not coerce a person into believing in Him. God will not force a person to go to Heaven. God will not twist a person’s arm or break a leg or do anything to a person that will violate the individual’s free choice that He gave to him or to her. God does not bodyslam nonbelievers and then demand repentance. God will not bend to the will of a human being if it means believing in Him. God has already done what is required to save a person. The person has to be willing to be saved on God’s terms, or else that person is lost.

The purpose of the lake of fire is to destroy sin. Sin is the breaking of the law. In our society, we have laws. When you are caught breaking a law, there is a penalty that must be paid. God has His laws, and LOVE is the reason the law exists. To paraphrase Jesus Christ, “Love God… Love others… upon these hang the law and the testimony.” People who reject Jesus Christ reject God. They do not love the Father, so hellfire will burn them until they cease to exist.

One of the things about Jonah that bothers me was his desire to see the people of Nineveh destroyed by fire. The Assyrians were a people ruled by brutally oppressive kings who openly bragged about their war crimes and atrocities. One can read about Ashurbanipal and Sennacharib and find similar attributes in Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin and Pol Pot. Jonah knew the reputation of the Assyrians, and he wanted to see God’s judgment poured out on Nineveh. It made him angry when the city repented and he didn’t get to see the fireworks display. On the Left and the Right I see people who are interested in the fireworks of human justice. It is not God’s justice that they seek, but it is their self-righteous judgment against their bogeymen that keeps hatred burning in our world.

I look at the hard line between right and wrong. I see the shades of grey where God’s mercy is painted. God’s paintbrush applies the blood of Jesus Christ to those who know they have sinned and seek to claim their inheritance through Him. They once again claim God as their Father. The snow falling in our world are sinners bowing before Him and seeking an escape from the uncontrolled flames of human passion that knows no mercy. God has a merciful love for us if only we would accept it. The line between black and white, good and evil, right and wrong, is blurred by the mercy I find in God’s heart for us, the love He asks us to accept and to embrace and to share with those who reject Him.

It is called “God’s strange act.” The day comes when fire falls from heaven and hellfire ignites, destroying sin. As sin is consumed, so are the people who loved sin more than they loved God. Their hatred, their self-righteous anger, their brutality are consumed by the flames, and their bodies turn to ash, then they cease to exist. God loves them, and in one final act, He answers their prayers: Dear God, please don’t exist. As each sinner finds eternal rest in the blackness of sleep, God ceases to exist, and so do they. God loves them enough to kiss them good night.

God is a hardliner. All He wants is for us to be on His side of the line, where His banner over us is LOVE. What’s wrong with that?

One of the basic tenants of Taekwondo is that the practicioner be loyal to the country of his birth. The land of one's birth should be a special place. It is the land where the elders of a village or tribe settled down and raised their children, giving them the wisdom that their own elders passed on to them. The land is where family came together to raise crops and shared life experiences in work and in play. The country of one's birth should be carried in one's heart all the days of one's life. Nothing should be as sweet as the memories of home, and passing the blessing on to one's children is a gift of hope, so when the days of one's life is at an end, one's offspring will remember their days of childhood in the homeland with the same fondness and pass the blessing on generation after generation. One's country should be held sacred, worth defending and worth dying for.

I have no use for nationalism, the rabid fever that one's country is better than another for one ridiculous reason after another. Before I started school, I found this book on the American Civil War in the house. I was fascinated by the cover of the book. It was a painting of one of the battles showing men in blue and men in grey fighting each other. Musket fire and dying men and angry men climbing this fence to get at each other are some of the details in the painting that I remember. In third grade, around 1971-72, the issue was so simple for us to understand. The war was over slavery.

Later on, when I took higher level history classes, things had changed. The war wasn't over slavery and the causes of the war were more complex than one simple issue. I look at the events leading up to the shots fired on Ft. Sumter and I can't see it as being all that complex. Slavery was a hotbed issue that the founding fathers recognized as a problem, but could not see a way out of. They left it to another generation to work out the details that would ensure that America would become a nation that understood and lived by the principle that "all men are created equal and are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights." Dread Scott, the Missouri Compromise, the rebellion of John Brown in Harper's Ferry, Virginia are just a few of the way points on the path to war over slavery.

At the start of the war, Lincoln wanted only to preserve the Union. He did not want to see the United States divided. I see the war going wrong for the Union on this level because it was about government control over the States, and an issue over the 10th Amendment right of the States to have sovereignty over issues not spoken of in the Constitution. Slavery should have been a States rights issue, and perhaps if left that way, slavery would have died of natural causes. We might have been able to avoid Jim Crowe, segregation, racial inequality, and the supremacy groups on both sides like the Ku Klux Klan and the Black Panthers. It is possible that it could have happened, but we all know it did not. One hell of a bloody war was fought and every family in the country, in the North and in the South, paid a terrible price for allowing slavery to continue as long as it did. I see the Civil War as God's judgment against the United States, and perhaps the example set in America helped other countries put an end to slavery once and for all within a generation.

I look at the history of other countries. England built itself an empire, but at the expense of how many human beings slaughtered? The Indian Wars in the post-Civil War years cost us more than we can ever know as we attempted to tame the land for whatever reason we could think of. The Spanish in Central and South America, the Japanese in Korea, the Burmese, Khmer, Siamese, Vietnamese in Southeast Asia, and countless other countries have in common the blood of so many victims who wanted nothing more than to live in peace in the land they cultivated. One man wanted power, and then one man wanted something more. The idea of the god-king still exists, and for the god-king many are willing to die. It is not the same as loyalty to one's country.

America is the land of my birth. I have walked the woods, along the creeks and rivers, driven the highways and listened to her breathe. I have heard her songs, I have listened to her music, I have in my mind the romantic notion of what America means to me, which is more than just a bald eagle in flight over a majestic mountain or over an amber wave of grain. Americans, ideally, do not steal from each other, but they do watch each other's backs. They can talk trash one minute to each other, but be willing to defend each other the next. I find it incredible that one man can call someone by a politically incorrect term, then be addressed in another politically incorrect term, and then clink glasses together as they share a few in some bar or tavern or pool hall. An Italian-American SOB and an Irish=American SOB have one thing in common besides the same taste in beer. Both are American SOBs and they, for whatever reason, have found a reason to respect each other and to call each other friend. Depending on the part of the country one is in, the rule changes when you start looking at Hispanic and African-American cultures. This should not be. Americans are Americans, and race, color, culture and other crap, in my romantic notion of America, are irrelevant. "All men are created equal" and share the same "inalienable rights." Indians, blacks, whites, slaves and free men fought the British at the battle of New Orleans as one army. If such a battle was to be waged today, would all men of color, white, black, red, yellow, or brown, unite together against a common foe?

I look at the parties involved in America at the time of the Civil War. It is unfortunate that there could be no loyal opposition friendly to the government of Lincoln in spite of disagreements over issues of national security or constitutional interpretations. When I saw the Southern Democrats causing fistfights in Congressional meetings over the issue of slavery, I knew I could never be a Democrat. They claim over and over again to support the common man, but they failed to stand up and support the freedom of the slave. Democrats and some populists in the South formed the secret societies like the KKK that persecuted the free slaves after the Civil War. Gun control came out of this era, making sure blacks could not claim their Second Amendment right to keep and bear arms. Over the years, Democrats have taken this policy several steps further, to keep firearms out of the hands of law-abiding citizens. Not all Democrats are like this, so that is something to be thankful for. In the North, Union generals like Burnside and Hancock knew the value of the freed slaves and encouraged them to take up the gun, and formed the National Rifle Association. I see the Democratic Party as a group of people who cause dissention in the ranks. I used to see Republicans as a force of good to bring people of all colors together in unity. I see both parties as filled with corrupt and fallen human beings, but while one party understands the shame in fallen or corrupt behavior, the other party revels in it and cares nothing at all about its own redeption in the eyes of other people.

There is controversy over whether or not the 16th Amendment to the constitution was ever ratified. Repeat a lie often enough and it becomes the truth. What I have come to believe is that the 16th Amendment, like the rest of the constitution our representatives and senators and president have sworn to defend, is as irrelevant as the constitution itself. Congress and the president do not support gun owners, don't repect free speech, could care less about individual freedeom and rights to privacy, but will come after you if you through the Internal Revenue Service if you do not pay taxes on the money you have earned. In short, the government has legalized extortion, putting a gun in your face like a mafia hood and making threats if you don't pay up. Its no wonder they don't want you to own a firearm to defend yourself. It took mafia dollars to buy off a city council that resulted in strict gun control in New York City and other mob-friendly cities where crime rates are out of control. Criminals are the most staunch supporters of gun control. They know what is at risk if they try to rob a person armed with a Carry Conealed Weapon permit. Some may joke about it, but I can understand why some want the Federal government of the US investigated under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations act (aka RICO). I pulled this from Wikipedia.org. Ask yourself if any of our Congressional leaders are guilty of any of these things:

When preparing to travel in Thailand, find a Night Market where you can buy a collection of samurai swords. The best deal has all three blades and a stand for them that you can set up in a room where you have no room for the rest of your stuff that will be left behind in the move, including the three samurai swords you added to your blade collection.

I wasn't over the crankiness of the past week when I called the home office in Bangkok to find out my travel arrangements. Instead of going to Phrae, which is two hours from Chiang Mai, I am told that I am going to Roi Et. I look at the map of Thailand for Roi Et, and then settle into a depressive crash that will take a few days to recover from, but which will continue on a long shallow glide into the jaws of death itself.

Isaan comes from the name Ishana, the Hindu god of death and one form of Shiva. On the map, Isaan takes up the eastern 1/3 of the country of Thailand, and is bordered by Laos on the north and east, and Cambodia on the south. It is ten hours south of Chiang Mai by bus. There are only two temperatures in Isaan: hotter than the rest of Thailand, and shut up and drink your water. I just got home, and now I was moving further south than I was prepared for.

Thursday morning I bought my bus ticket to Bangkok. That night I packed my computer, cameras, duffle bag wtih some books, and two suitcases, then got a songtaew to the bus station where one suitcase zipper failed. I had fifteen minutes to get from one side of the bus station to the other, and I didn't have any tape. I got some help, loaded everything onto another songtaew, and made it from point A to point B, where I got my ticket. The songtaw driver took care of the tape and busted suitcase. We made it with a few minutes to spare. But my temper was shot. The anger I had at the busted suitcase elevated my stress levels that would affect me for three days.

I didn't sleep well on the bus to Bangkok. When we arrived, I had to take a taxi to a different bus station. At the other bus station things fell apart as I didn' t remember correctly details made at the travel agent's office the day before. My temper didn't want to be controlled, so it took some time to calm down. I placed a phone call, and found out that I was not going to the city of Roi Et, but the province. The city I was told to go to was Suwannaphum.

I got my ticket. I got help with the baggage. I got on the bus. I don't remember if I got any sleep on the seven hour bus trip or not. Around 2:30pm or maybe a little later, I got off the bus as the teachers I was going to work with got on the bus going to Ubon Ratchithani. The bombardment of questions from tuk-tuk drivers didn't help me make sense of the situation as I called the lady I was told to call. In a few minutes I got to where I was supposed to go, and I tried to relax. Around 5:00pm, three teachers I would be working with arrived, and we spent nearly an hour talking. Around 6:30pm, I took a nap, waking up around 11:00pm to use the restroom.

Friday I went to the school where I am to teach. I meet three students, and I am introduced to three student teachers, university students who are planning to teach English after they grauduate. After we finished at school they took me to a tailor's shop to have two shirts made. I also bought a guitar, since my other guitar is still in Chiang Mai. It was out of tune when I bought it, and I can't find pitch pipes or an electronic tuner in this town.

I called friends in Bangkok to see if they knew anyone who attended an SDA church in this area. I was given a number for a Filipino who lives about an hour from here. We weren't able to meet in Roi Et, since I didn't know where the bus station in this town was.

Saturday was a controlled crash that I managed to crawl out from. It just took a while. Strange city, no information, no map, nothing that was of a help to me. Just a lot of questions I didn't have answers to, and no meaningful Internet connection. Between Saturday and Sunday I managed to reset.

Sunday was a better day. i was rested, and spent some time with the husband and wife English teachers from South Africa. Things calmed down a lot for me that day. All that was left was to count down the hours to the start of school.

The last three weeks have worn me down a bit more than I realized.

Three weeks ago I was preparing for my first trip to Bangkok since arriving in Thailand six months ago. The agency I am working for scheduled an orientation for English teachers to be held in Kanchanaburi, a city about two hours northwest of Bangkok. I wasn't able to get a bus ticket until Saturday morning, and the bus left around 7pm so I had to get some things done rather quickly for the trip.

Pickup was at my travel agent's office, and I spent 45 minutes riding in the back of a red sangtaew, which is a pickup truck converted to a bus. Not much air circulated between myself and the other seven passengers. We arrived at the bus, loaded up and the nine hour bus ride began. Or was it ten hours? I didn't sleep well on the bus. The seats were not very comfortable, and I changed seats once. Unfortunately, the seat I was comfortable in was under the A/C, which leaked like sieve. I fell asleep, but woke up to a cold and wet sleeve on my right arm that wasn't very comfortable.

The bus arrived in Bangkok at a time early in the morning, and all I wanted was an Internet connection. I made a couple of tuk-tuk drivers angry, partly because of the language barrier and partly because I knew what I wanted but they didn't have a clue where to find an Internet cafe. A metered taxi took me to a guest house where I got on a computer and printed off a map to the agency office. Then I found another metered taxi and showed him the map. We drove past the royal palace where the most beloved monarch in the world resides with his wife. Thailand is a constitutional monarchy, and King Rama IX is loved by both the people in red shirts and people in yellow shirts. Red shirts are people from the rural areas of Thailand and support former prime minister Thaksin, who was elected by the people. The yellow shirts are urban supporters of the powerful elite who control the military, courts and government. I arrived one week after the riots over Songkran, Thai New Year.

At the office, I sat around and eventually fell asleep, but didn't get much of a nap. I met a few new teachers and a few returning teachers. In time we loaded up the bus and left for Kanchanaburi. We went through five days of orientation, including introduction to Thai culture, the food, the sports, the dancing, the religion and a brief history of the land. From Sunday to Saturday we stayed at a very nice place outside the city limits. The river was nice, and the frangipani was in bloom. Frangipani has a white flower with a yellow center. It is a very beautiful flower, and is the national flower of Laos.

I was told by some of the Aussies and New Zealanders that it was a special day for them and they hoped to attend the flag raising ceremony at a cemetery where POWs who died constructing the "death railway" were buried. One of the teachers there had a great uncle buried in the cemetery. When we left the hotel, we drove to the Kwai River Bridge. I crossed the bridge with some of the other teachers. On the other side of the river a man with a violin was playing the famous theme from David Lean's movie, The Bridge on the River Kwai.

From the bridge in Kanchanaburi we went back to Bangkok. I spent two nights in the famous backpacker ghetto known as Khoa San Road. Saturday night I ordered two pairs of glasses at an optical shop across the street from my guest house. The Indian food served at the guest house was excellent, as well. On Monday I was hoping to get my paperwork to take to Vietiane, Laos, for my visa run. It didn't happen. I returned to Khoa San Road with three teachers and got a room, where I spent two more nights.

Some time ago, I had this dream that I entered a room filled with ancient weapons. Swords, spears, guns lined the walls and filled the room. At first I thought it was like the Patton Museum of Armor at Ft. Knox, Kentucky, which I visited with my Army JROTC class in 1981-82. It wasn't, though. Some details I guess I made up in my mind to explain the dream. Thinking back on past times in my life when things were relatively good compared to now.

That wasn't the case. I visited the National Museum of Thailand, which was about 15 minutes from where I was staying. The place is incredible. There is a lot of stuff there to see. Lot of history to cover. I walked through every room, I guess, but was watching the clock so I could catch my train. I entered this dark room and it was too familiar to me. It was filled with swords and spears and gun barrels and some artillery pieces that I was not familiar with. I almost left when the dream I had came to mind. I continued on, though, and looked around for a short time.

I got two shirts custom-made at a local tailor, and they look awesome. Both are loosely patterned on a Chinese shirt that I have, with Mandarin collar and two front pockets, but with regular buttons. One is black and white camouflage and the other is woodland camouflage. They are wonderful shirts, very comfortable.

Somewhere along the line I was lost on the calendar. I was running one day faster than the calendar. I gained this day on the train to Nong Khai. It left at around 6:30pm on Wednesday night, but I thought it was Thursday. We arrived in the morning, and I thought it was Friday. I didn't sleep much on the train, and it was a long train ride, nearly 12 hours long. At Nong Khai I prepared for the border crossing into Laos.

Paperwork. Always paperwork. I hate paperwork. I told a man named William from Uganda that bureaucracy was a system of government of, by and for the paperpusher. I asked him about Victoria Falls, and he assured me that they were truly as beautiful as they appear in pictures and movies.

And then came the crossing of Friendship Bridge over the Mekong River. My first time seeing the Mekong was during a tour of the Golden Triangle a few months ago. I took a tour boat over to Laos, and it was beautiful. From the bridge, not much of it could be seen. I was in the wrong seat and it wasn't visible to me. I would see more of the Mekong later.

More paperwork. More travel. More paperwork, and I was told it would be Monday when I could pick up my visa and passport.

I thought I arrived on Friday. I thought I relaxed on Saturday. On the day I thought was Sunday I went out and took pictures. There is this monstrosity on Lane Xang Road that was to be the Laotian equivalent of France's Arc d'Triumph. It looks like a gate. It is seven stories tall. In the upper floors there is gift shop. I bought a hat. I took some pictures. I drank some water. It is said that the structure, the monument, was built out of concrete purchased with US dollars that was to be used to build a runway at the airport. It is jokingly called "the vertical runway." If you go to Vietiane, check out Patouxay Park and this truly monstrous building that looks 1/3 Indian, 1/3 French, and 1/3 failed design for a Transformer robot. However, the view of the city is wonderful. It is beautiful up there.

I also visited the morning market, the Mekong Riverfront park area that is under development, and a couple of other places. I took a lot of pictures, including the sunset over the Mekong. It was beautiful.

On "monday" I called the guy with my visa. I thought my ride was late and was checking on him. It was with laughter that the mistake I was living with was revealed. It was not "monday" but it was Sunday. I looked at the date on my phone, I looked at the calender, and everyone around me got a nice laugh. I took everything back to my room on the third floor (no elevator in the building, and it has four stories), watched HBO, and then went out for a walk.

Monday came, and with it the driver who took me to get my passport and visa. I'd spent Thursday through Monday in one of the quietest, peaceful little towns I'd ever visited. It reminds me of Waxahatchie, Texas, and a few small towns in other parts of the country that I have visited. Very nice place to visit. I fear that it will become a very overdeveloped tourist and expat town, though, and the charm it has will be lost.

We came back to Immigration. Leaving was easier than entering. Crossed the Mekong again, and did paperwork to reenter Thailand.

I wanted to take a bus home to Chiang Mai. The confusion brought on from the lack of sleep during all this time resulted in the decision to take the train to Udon Thanai, and from there to the bus station going home. It was a five hour wait for the train to depart. It was good when we finally did leave. However, it was not good being told that I would have to wait until in the morning to catch the next bus to Chiang Mai.

There are four bags with me everywhere I go. My laptop, my camera bag, a North Face shoulder bag in which I carry notebook, travel guides and other stuff, and my dufflebag loaded with clothes and other junk. Two of the bags had put on weight from the clothes and books I bought over the course of the journey. Such are my burdens. You can understand why I was cranky with the news of not being able to catch the bus home. I also didn't want to cross a six lane highway just to get to a guest house that I might not be able to find in the dark. I got permission from a lady at the bus station to leave my duffle and my book bag at the station, and they were ready for me when I returned in the morning. I kept the computer and camera bag with me and found the guest house easily enough in the dark. I got lucky on that.

I ate pizza. I worked a little on my computer. I slept. I worked some on my computer. I checked out.

I got to the bus station on Tuesday morning, got my stuff, loaded onto the bus. We got a late start. In some of the mountainous areas, the bus slowed down to a crawl. I was tired, I was on the verge of crankiness. I tried to sleep. I thought way too much. It was 8:45am when we left. We arrived in Chiang Mai around 9:45pm.

I have been home for nearly four days. I am still feeling tired from the trip. My eyes hurt and wish they were closed for a few more hours of sleep. I think that what hurts more deeply is that my school assignment changed during my travels. I was expecting to go to a city called Phrae, which is two hours southeast of Chiang Mai. This changed to a city called Roi Et, and it looks to be about 10-12 hours southeast of Chiang Mai, and roughly east-northeast of Bangkok. I know it is south of Nong Khai, and might be within 100 to 150 kilometers from the Cambodian border. I don't know when I will be moving there, but I know classes start soon. I so am not looking forward to moving again. Just let me sleep a few more minutes. Please?

Courtyard and Throne Room at Gyeongbok Palace - Seoul, South Korea

Gyeongbok Palace garden and pond - Seoul, South Korea

Traditional Thai Dance - Kalare Night Market, Chiang Mai
Canon A620

a guitarist is in the riff at The Garden, a restaurant here in Chiang Mai featuring live music every weekend.

Blind Musician - December 2008

Street Musician - December 2008

Sword Dance - upwards of twelve swords may be used during this performance.

Mahout (Elephant Driver) - December, 2008

Bamboo River Rafter - December 2008