Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind.
Scientology: Theology and Practice of a Contemporary Religion.
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Scientology
What is Scientology?
L. Ron Hubbard
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Nick James discusses anti-drug work Read about Nick James, who is an anti-drug activist teenager.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Scientology and the Human Spirit
Read about the Rehabilitation of the Human Spirit in Scientology.
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Current Scene - Good News!
What is Scientology?
L. Ron Hubbard
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Current Scene - Good News!
What is Scientology?
L. Ron Hubbard
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Kevin Taylor
To the wind, these words...
To the wind, these words
To the sea, my soul
To the sky, all hope
To the earth, this bone
To you, my love,
And our children, joy
To the moral, vision
Darkness, rhythm
And to my enemies,
Who have always praised me loudest,
Fullness, nothing more.
You can read more of Kevin Taylor's poetry at:
Kevin Taylor
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Scientology
What is Scientology?
L. Ron Hubbard
To the wind, these words
To the sea, my soul
To the sky, all hope
To the earth, this bone
To you, my love,
And our children, joy
To the moral, vision
Darkness, rhythm
And to my enemies,
Who have always praised me loudest,
Fullness, nothing more.
You can read more of Kevin Taylor's poetry at:
Kevin Taylor
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Scientology
What is Scientology?
L. Ron Hubbard
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Jon von Gunten
Today's submission is a little different. Jon von Gunten discusses "Mr. Fix-it", a ghostly mechanic:
Mr. Fix-It first manifested himself after my over-zealous son totally disassembled the pedal-brake assembly on his old bike. Once apart, they seem to comprise a hundred little metal rings that must be reassmbled just so. He gave up in frustration. The project sat for days.
Saturday morning my son came bursting in to thank me for fixing his bike. I paused. It had not been I. I suspected my girlfriend had paid a bike shop to fix it. She swore it was not she. I asked neighbors on both sides if they had anything to do with the event. Had they seen anybody? No, and no.
But the bike was sitting in the garage, neatly put together, with its foot brake assembled and working like a Swiss watch -- and no one was responsible. We named "no one" Mr. Fix-it and thought no more about it.
About a year later, I found I had thoroughly twisted up the tape inside an audio cassette. I was able to separate the halves of its shell and get inside, but found it had an intricate and convoluted tape path. My fingers were too big to manage the fussy job, so I left my project on a counter and went to fetch a tweezers. I got sidetracked on some diversion for about ten minutes.
As I sat down to finish -- my tweezers at the ready -- my mouth dropped. The tape had been neatly threaded through all the posts and turns in the cassette. All I had to do was rejoin the two halves of the shell. Was it one of my kids, my girlfriend. I think not. I was alone in the house.
Except, of course, for Mr. Fix-It.
Saturday morning my son came bursting in to thank me for fixing his bike. I paused. It had not been I. I suspected my girlfriend had paid a bike shop to fix it. She swore it was not she. I asked neighbors on both sides if they had anything to do with the event. Had they seen anybody? No, and no.
But the bike was sitting in the garage, neatly put together, with its foot brake assembled and working like a Swiss watch -- and no one was responsible. We named "no one" Mr. Fix-it and thought no more about it.
About a year later, I found I had thoroughly twisted up the tape inside an audio cassette. I was able to separate the halves of its shell and get inside, but found it had an intricate and convoluted tape path. My fingers were too big to manage the fussy job, so I left my project on a counter and went to fetch a tweezers. I got sidetracked on some diversion for about ten minutes.
As I sat down to finish -- my tweezers at the ready -- my mouth dropped. The tape had been neatly threaded through all the posts and turns in the cassette. All I had to do was rejoin the two halves of the shell. Was it one of my kids, my girlfriend? I think not. I was alone in the house.
Except, of course, for Mr. Fix-It.
Jon von Gunten discusses Mr. Fix-It
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Scientology
What is Scientology?
L. Ron Hubbard
Mr. Fix-It first manifested himself after my over-zealous son totally disassembled the pedal-brake assembly on his old bike. Once apart, they seem to comprise a hundred little metal rings that must be reassmbled just so. He gave up in frustration. The project sat for days.
Saturday morning my son came bursting in to thank me for fixing his bike. I paused. It had not been I. I suspected my girlfriend had paid a bike shop to fix it. She swore it was not she. I asked neighbors on both sides if they had anything to do with the event. Had they seen anybody? No, and no.
But the bike was sitting in the garage, neatly put together, with its foot brake assembled and working like a Swiss watch -- and no one was responsible. We named "no one" Mr. Fix-it and thought no more about it.
About a year later, I found I had thoroughly twisted up the tape inside an audio cassette. I was able to separate the halves of its shell and get inside, but found it had an intricate and convoluted tape path. My fingers were too big to manage the fussy job, so I left my project on a counter and went to fetch a tweezers. I got sidetracked on some diversion for about ten minutes.
As I sat down to finish -- my tweezers at the ready -- my mouth dropped. The tape had been neatly threaded through all the posts and turns in the cassette. All I had to do was rejoin the two halves of the shell. Was it one of my kids, my girlfriend. I think not. I was alone in the house.
Except, of course, for Mr. Fix-It.
Saturday morning my son came bursting in to thank me for fixing his bike. I paused. It had not been I. I suspected my girlfriend had paid a bike shop to fix it. She swore it was not she. I asked neighbors on both sides if they had anything to do with the event. Had they seen anybody? No, and no.
But the bike was sitting in the garage, neatly put together, with its foot brake assembled and working like a Swiss watch -- and no one was responsible. We named "no one" Mr. Fix-it and thought no more about it.
About a year later, I found I had thoroughly twisted up the tape inside an audio cassette. I was able to separate the halves of its shell and get inside, but found it had an intricate and convoluted tape path. My fingers were too big to manage the fussy job, so I left my project on a counter and went to fetch a tweezers. I got sidetracked on some diversion for about ten minutes.
As I sat down to finish -- my tweezers at the ready -- my mouth dropped. The tape had been neatly threaded through all the posts and turns in the cassette. All I had to do was rejoin the two halves of the shell. Was it one of my kids, my girlfriend? I think not. I was alone in the house.
Except, of course, for Mr. Fix-It.
Jon von Gunten discusses Mr. Fix-It
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Scientology
What is Scientology?
L. Ron Hubbard
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