<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010</id><updated>2009-10-18T07:09:51.671+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hatch Foster</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-4284344827449080720</id><published>2009-01-13T14:07:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T16:14:10.350+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like the Owl pining for it's love; the Moon- Part 9</title><content type='html'>R- An extract;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'The world(what surrounds us) is incomprehensible. We won't ever understand it; we won't ever unravel it's secrets. Thus we must treat it as it is, a sheer mystery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An average man doesn't do this though. The world is never a mystery for him and when he arrives at old age he is convinced he has nothing more to live for. An old man has not exhausted the world. He has exhausted only what people do. But in his stupid confusion he believes that the world has no more mysteries for him. What a wretched price to pay for our shields!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A warrior is aware of the confusion and learns to treat things properly. The things that people do cannot under any conditions be more important than the world. And thus a warrior treats the world as an endless mystery and what people do as endless folly.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the semblance with what you're saying?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You asked me about veiling or rather about unveiling. I know you care for the Truth. You seek for the Reality. And I'm just like you too, treading along this path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you asked me, Truth and Reality is one and the same. It isn't transient that changes with time. What we see now is that everything changes. Can we say that out there is real? Can Truth then manifest itself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps we have a timing mechanism in our bodies as what they say. That unconciously we measure time knowing our existence here is temporal. And we leave when the time comes. When the seconds stop beating. The heartbeat too. When the veil is spread open. When Truth and Reality is made known.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-4284344827449080720?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/4284344827449080720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=4284344827449080720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/4284344827449080720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/4284344827449080720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2009/01/like-owl-pining-for-its-love-moon-part_636.html' title='Like the Owl pining for it&apos;s love; the Moon- Part 9'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-2380514260258730849</id><published>2009-01-13T12:13:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T16:16:29.632+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like the Owl pining for it's love; the Moon- Part 8</title><content type='html'>C-Let me tell you a little story. About time. I don't know exactly anymore who taught me or if that older child meant it serious or was just playing with my mind making fun of me. At that moment I used to believe almost everyone and everything with that innocence that only children( though nowadays I tend to doubt that some children are innocent anymore), because I didn't know about hidden thoughts, lies, deceiving, hiding truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone told me that I could read time in my palm, without having a clock. That I have just to circle with my right point finger over the open palm of my left hand and I would know what time it is. I would have to go around with the finger and say," Clock oh Clock, tell me what time it is."and where I stopped in that imaginery circle there was the hour. And after that I would just have to do it again and say " Clock oh Clock, show me the minutes" and there where the minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some strange reason it worked, most of the time surprisingly exactly (because we checked the real watch afterwards). I was so enthusiastic at that moment that I told immediately my parents that I don't need a watch anymore (At that time I didn't have a wrist watch, actually just learned about reading a clock, but was hoping that my parents consider me old enough to buy me one)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think they believed it, but didn't say that they didn't. My mom verified my method a few times asking me what time it is, and it always was correct or very close. I still try it sometimes. It still works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received my first wrist watch when I was 9 years old, still one of those that you have to turn every 24 hours so it doesn't stop. I was very happy because I thought I entered the adult world. I had the responsibility of a clock that needed to be turned on. Of course the enthusiasm vanished slowly away like it happens with novelty that is no longer novelty one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't wear watches anymore today, except as a fashion accessory or when it's absolutely necessary. It's true that I don't need as I can read the time on the phone or on the PC and other places, andall kinds of clocks. But most of the time I like to ignore clocks. And who knows, they will ignore me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You mentioned veiling. And I am not sure about the meaning. Do you mean covering, hiding or do you mean softening? I don't know about veiling or hiding secrets. More about unveiling. More about looking under the veil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if veils have anything to do with mysteries, then I agree with those who think that the world's and life's mysteries are not to be completely solved, completely uncovered, that they should be protected. Found and understood yes, but also kept as mysteries. Because we need to wonder. and we need the wonders.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-2380514260258730849?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/2380514260258730849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=2380514260258730849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/2380514260258730849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/2380514260258730849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2009/01/like-owl-pining-for-its-love-moon-part_2688.html' title='Like the Owl pining for it&apos;s love; the Moon- Part 8'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-3772286888836888338</id><published>2009-01-13T11:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T12:11:15.816+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like the Owl pining for it's love: the Moon- Part 7</title><content type='html'>R-You overwhelmed me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With your wit and size of dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You said I challenged you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For indeed you're a warrior&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time, tame it you say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So very true. Holy in your actions. Most religious. The saying;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time is like a sword, if you don't cut it, it will cut you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people look at time[as it appear to them] as past present and future. Often the past as something to grieve about and the future as something to wary of while they insist they're living in he present. But can there be a present? As baffling as it is even to Science this concept of Time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're living on borrowed time, the saying goes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps, we ought to be like children who knows no such concept. Purity in mind and spirit they are, the reality is nothing strange to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reality. Truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in Time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes therein lies power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Power of Suggestion, if I may.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Malay proverb;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the Owl pining for it's love; the Moon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I relished and marvelled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This energy...yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it why Virginia Woolf said the tendency to be veiled in a woman is there. If so tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gone now the field, forest and village. In it's place, stood the National University and Hospital. If it's any consolation..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-3772286888836888338?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/3772286888836888338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=3772286888836888338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/3772286888836888338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/3772286888836888338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2009/01/like-owl-pining-for-its-love-moon-part_13.html' title='Like the Owl pining for it&apos;s love: the Moon- Part 7'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-2996320080502476810</id><published>2009-01-10T12:46:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T13:00:03.302+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The tree speaks of blessings..</title><content type='html'>Recently I noticed a tree twisted in a strange shape as it reached for the sun. A savage storm had tried to rip it from the ground. This tough tree had survived and was growing towards the sky again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Savage storms were battering my soul that day. I felt I was being ripped from the ground. As I looked at this tree and remembered it's storm, I was struck with a remarkabvle kinship. This tree had overcome it's slant in life by an unexplained process in trees that allows them to change the length of some of their cells to help them once again grow toward the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, my storm seemed manageable. My storm did not stop, but the phenomenon of the twisted tree left an impression never to be forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If God has designed the tree with such an incredible built in recovery system, surely he is aware of my storms...and has provided ways for me to make the necessary corrections to once again reach for the sun-with confidence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-2996320080502476810?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/2996320080502476810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=2996320080502476810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/2996320080502476810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/2996320080502476810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2009/01/tree-speaks-of-blessings.html' title='The tree speaks of blessings..'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-3433628767605717576</id><published>2009-01-10T11:28:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T11:53:16.581+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I like to make a difference..</title><content type='html'>I am reminded of a story about a little boy on a beach. A man saw him repeatedly reaching down to pick up starfishes from the sandy floor and then gently throwing each one into the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man asked the boy why he was doping what he was doing. The little boy said that he was throwing the starfishes back to the sea so that they wouldn't die as the sun was up and the tide was low. Looking at the miles and miles of sandy beach full of starfishes, the man told the little boy that he wasn't making a difference with what he was doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy smiled at the man and said: "I make a diiference for the ones I throw back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Excerpts from the book entitled, Many Lives Many Matters:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Balance and harmony are neglected today, yet they are the foundations of wisdom. Everything is done to excess. People are overweight because they eat excessively. Joggers neglect aspects of themselves and others because they run excessively. They drink too much, smoke too much, carouse too much [ or too little ], talk too much without content, and worry too much. There is too much black-or-white thinking. All or none. This is not the way of nature.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In nature, there is balance. Ecological systems are not eliminated en masse. Plants are consumed and then grow. The sources of sustenance are dipped into and then replenished. The flower is enjoyed, the fruit eaten, the root preserved. Humankind has not learned about balance, let alone practised it. It is guided by greed and ambition, steered by fear.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-3433628767605717576?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/3433628767605717576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=3433628767605717576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/3433628767605717576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/3433628767605717576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-like-to-make-difference.html' title='I like to make a difference..'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-2686950706205789790</id><published>2008-12-15T17:03:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T19:21:21.541+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like The Owl pining for it's Love; The Moon-Part 5</title><content type='html'>HF - Our return to where we come from. Some knows the way, some are in the dark, others kept searching for it. For those who knows will always keep reminding oneself. It what keeps one sanity whilst on this life's journey. the poet who searched has found the door..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are tears of joy of euphoria of understanding of sympathy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The words of the poet were meant to heal..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So is your presence..here and wherever you go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When time and space are mere ideas, would you believe that you are there on that field of grasshoppers with the others euphoric in innocence awash in that sea of exuberance..?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;' The spirit of a warrior is not geared to indulging and complaining, nor is it geared to winning or losing. The spirit of the warrior is geared only to struggle and every struggle is a warrior's last battle on earth. Thus the outcome matters very little to the warrior. In the warrior's last battle on earth a warrior lets his spirit flow free and clear. And as he wages his battle, knowing that his will is impeccable, a warrior laughs and laughs.'&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                                Carlos Castaneda&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                             ' A Separate Reality'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-2686950706205789790?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/2686950706205789790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=2686950706205789790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/2686950706205789790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/2686950706205789790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/12/like-owl-pining-for-his-love-moon-part_15.html' title='Like The Owl pining for it&apos;s Love; The Moon-Part 5'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-3786148609431001023</id><published>2008-12-11T18:22:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T14:02:28.944+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like The Owl pining for it's Love; The Moon- Part  2</title><content type='html'>R-That faraway look..that photo of yours, you're not exactly looking into the camera but through it. I've seen that look before. Those eyes are searching wanting to read the energy of what lies ahead. Special people do this. Like a balm they are to the others. They may not realise this but they can heal others merely by their presence. People are attracted to them like bees to honey. They find it difficult to let others down even willing to walk through the fire if they are asked to. And I know you're one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gypsy is a state of being. I don't know why I'm stating this for you. You want to drift along this path perhaps sleeping under the stars like a gypsy does. And in communion with nature. But your mind is restraining you with all the trivialities. I can't speak for you but you're a recipient of the myth. And you need the space for you and for you only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not go to the&lt;br /&gt;garden of flowers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O friend! go not&lt;br /&gt;there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In your body is the&lt;br /&gt;garden&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of flowers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take your seat on&lt;br /&gt;the thousand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;petals and there&lt;br /&gt;gaze on the&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;infinite beauty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C-So many things to be said. And because of your last mail I have to talk about myself first. But there are so many things to be said too. And I will come back to them next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you are so surprisingly right, in so many ways. Maybe because you are such a good reader, or I am so easy to read or both. I don't like to talk about me, and most of the times i avoid even thinking about myself, but now i must think and talk, you challenged me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact is that I let people "read" me if they want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk around with an open heart and mind. I used to think that this is the way that I am, and that I can't help it, but it is also a choice I made. and I don't mind the consequences. It's the way I find balance. And it enriches my life and my soul. And maybe one day I will find a meaning of all this, and the meaning of my life. I wish to believe that there is a meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure of the healing part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true that I have put too often others first, and that I find it very difficult to say no, that I care, that I am friendly and kind and understanding and that I look for the sparkle of light in the people around me, that I am very empathetic and that sometimes I sensed that I can have a positive calming impact, but I don't think it is more than that. Maybe we all could be like this if we would want or try, or think more about it. Maybe I am special only because I seem to be different when compared with other people. But maybe I am not even different. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gipsy interpretation surprised me also. and now I am smiling because I remember that at my first carnival at kindergarden I was dressed as a gipsy. I was the smallest child, had no idea of what a carnival was or a gipsy and why they gave me the first prize for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You made me think about this gipsy state of mind and state of being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes it would be great to sleep under the stars. Oh yes it would be great to not care about rules and be completely free. and in communion with nature. And listening to the universe. And deciphering the signs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes I need a space for me and me only. Space to breathe and feel, an be, only be. Not for dreaming away. And I know how to find my space without disturbing others, still being present. that's why I walk with my heart and my mind open. I don't mind being foolish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes as a romanian poet said " I was tired and suffered. I think I suffered from too much soul".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too much talking writing about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to read people too. and read between the lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishing you all the best,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-3786148609431001023?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/3786148609431001023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=3786148609431001023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/3786148609431001023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/3786148609431001023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/12/like-owl-pining-for-its-lover-moon-part.html' title='Like The Owl pining for it&apos;s Love; The Moon- Part  2'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-5925659586560157634</id><published>2008-12-11T17:24:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T18:21:18.556+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I applaud you..</title><content type='html'>There's a story told about an elderly lady in Arkansas, US. The state voted to increase welfare payments to indigents. Hoping for a tear-jerker story, a television interviewer went into the back hills where many welfare recipients lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old woman he chose to interview lived in a one-room shack: draughty in winter; stifling in summer. Her bed was a few rough planks nailed together, with a pine needle mattress. A couple of thin blankets, and a fireplace, did little to protect her from the cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her furniture, a table and two chairs, were fashioned from the same rough wood as her bed. Some shelves held a few cans from the general store, a 3-mile walk down the road. Several jars of preserves and a few squash completed her larder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had no refrigerator or freezer. The fireplace provided heat for cooking. With no phone or television, her only connection with the outside world was an old radio that pulled in two or three local stations on a good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old woman had one convenience: running water. A crystal clear stream gurgled a short distance behind her home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small garden near her back door provided fresh vegetables during the summer, and some squash and turnips for the winter. A tidy flower garden brightened the front of her house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The television crew arrived and set up their big expensive cameras. Their mobile station broadcast pictures of the woman and the place she called home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, the interviewer asked the old woman, "If the government gave you $200 more each month, what would you do with it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without hesitation, The woman replied, "I'd give it to the poor."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-5925659586560157634?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/5925659586560157634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=5925659586560157634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/5925659586560157634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/5925659586560157634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-applaud-you.html' title='I applaud you..'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-4371734556714106621</id><published>2008-12-11T16:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:21:32.596+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I became an intellectual delinquent</title><content type='html'>Somebody not just anybody told this story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was seven, I lived in Whitstable in Kent, England, and attended a boy's school. My only interest then was nature study. I loved animals and nature and so did my best friend Barry. We would wait for school to finish so that we could be with nature and animals. We used to keep rabbits, cats, dogs, fish, spiders and butterflies. Our houses were like little zoos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barry was very extraordinary. He could identify birds by their flight pattern. He is now a conservationist and drives a lorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In school, Barry and I were put into different streams; he was in 1D and I was in 1A. We were told that it made no difference which class we were in, as it was determined in random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it did not take us long to figure out that 1A was for bright boys and 1D stood for the so-called "dull" ones. Yet, at the age, you do not particularly think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In class, the teacher made us sit according to our placing in class. So the top student would sit at the first table on the right and everyone else snaked all the way to the front.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My classmates, Mummery and Epps, were always in seat one or two. I never sat there until I received a perfect score for a test on nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fot that exam, our teacher had asked us, among other questions, to name two types of fish in the English stream and the difference between a butterfly and a moth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not think it was a "real" test because it was easy for me. I could have given the teacher 60 types of fish and 15 differences between a butterfly and a moth if he had asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks later, my teacher came back with the results and announced that I did better than thr rest. So, for the first time, Iwas looking at the right profiles of Mummery and Epps in class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I soon understood that they did well in geographyor English because they liked those subjects as I did nature. That, for a while made me proud to be No.1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after that, I had the realisation that changed my life. I felt embarassed for thinking that I was No.1 when sitting 140 seats down from me in the front row of 1D was my best friend Barry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew that Barry knew more about nature than me and he was suppoedly the dumbest of the dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised that the education system was not measuring our intelligence or teaching us how to learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thereafter, I became an intellectual delinquent. I began asking questions like "who says one is smart?" and "what does smart mean?' and "why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My interest in intelligence flowered from that event.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-4371734556714106621?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/4371734556714106621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=4371734556714106621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/4371734556714106621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/4371734556714106621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-became-intellectual-delinquent.html' title='I became an intellectual delinquent'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-3176386362956367418</id><published>2008-12-11T13:38:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T14:03:54.444+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like The Owl pining for it's Love; The Moon- Part 1</title><content type='html'>R- Nice photographs..your table. .wonder what kind of work you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C- I am glad you like my photographs. As you can see I like taking pictures. I like to observe, and not just look but see, make little discoveries. And I love the light and the colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am at work. I work in a clothing factory. Production planner. Preparing the paperwork for the production, planning, doing translations, correspondence, import &amp;amp; export papers and many other things. It is keeping me busy and very busy, so that I probably work too much and too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R- Can you tell if you are seeing them with your third eye?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite a situation you've got there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do Romanians speak and write in very fluent English?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C-I know only about my two eyes and my pair of glasses. I am shortsighted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;English is taught in schools here, and even in kindergarden. The younger generations are more interested in learning it. Many people understand and speak it, but can't say it very fluent or accurate. English is the trend now. As it was French in the last century.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my region many know also German. Because of the significant German population that lived here and the German traditions and influences they left behind. I went to a German school. But when we started to learn English at school German became less interesting. English has not so many rules and is more musical. So I love to speak it and sing it and think it whenever I get the chance. But I must admit that thoughts are sometimes not so easy to express in a English. Probably because my mind still speaks Romanian and gets sometimes confused with all these languages. Hm, I wonder what language my soul speaks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R-Some defined the third eye as the heart. To see with the heart. And there's nothing academic about it. Cannot be proven by Science. Can't be shown how. A wiseman likened the heart as the mirror; to enable to see one'e reflection, the mirror needs to be cleaned of the dirt and dust..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the explanation. Special people the Romanians.. multilingual exposure to different cultures at the same time being deep-rooted to it's own. Cannot say the same about the people where I come from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The soul speaks no language. The understanding is silence. There's a gypsy blood running in those veins of yours. Tell me if it's so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'..When the soul lies in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas languages even the phrase You and I doesn't make any sense.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C-I like to read your mails. Because there is always something there that leaves me on thoughts. And I like to give my mind something else to think about than the common things that come across my way on an ordinary day. But as I am at work, I always have to return quickly to my job, so that I don't have the time and the silence to answer. I promise to answer as soon as possible. I want to answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why you mentioned the gypsy blood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-3176386362956367418?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/3176386362956367418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=3176386362956367418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/3176386362956367418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/3176386362956367418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/12/like-owl-pining-for-its-lover-moon.html' title='Like The Owl pining for it&apos;s Love; The Moon- Part 1'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-8354818579464086373</id><published>2008-10-10T09:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T16:44:52.588+08:00</updated><title type='text'>When the going gets tough, I relax..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;One evening a fisherman was lying on a beautiful beach, with his fishing pole propped up in the sand and his solitary line cast out into the sparkling blue sea. He was enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun and the prospect of landing a catch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon, a businessman came walking down the beach, trying to find relief for the stress that had built up throughout his workday. He noticed the fisherman and decided to find out why the guy was fishing instead of working harder to make a living for himself and his family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You aren't going to catch many fish that way," he said. "You should be working rather than lying on the beach!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fisherman looked up at the businessman, smiled and said, "And what will my reward be?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well you can get bigger nets and catch more fish!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And then, what will my reward be?" asked the fisherman again, still smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You will make money and be able to buy a boat, which will then result in your catching even more fish."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And what will my reward be?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The businessman was beginning to get irritated at the fisherman's question. "You can buy a bigger boat, and hire some people to work for you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And then, what will my reward be?" the fisherman repeated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The businessman was getting angry. "Don't you understand? You can build up a fleet of fishing boats, sail all over the world, and let your employees fish for you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again the fisherman asked, "And what will my reward be?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The businessman was red with rage and began shouting at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't you see? You can become so rich that you will never have to work for your living again. You can spend all the rest of your days sitting on this beach, looking at the sunset. You won't have a care in the world!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fisherman looked up, beamed at him and said: "And what do you think I'm doing right now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-8354818579464086373?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/8354818579464086373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=8354818579464086373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/8354818579464086373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/8354818579464086373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/10/when-going-gets-tough-i-relax.html' title='When the going gets tough, I relax..'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-5445181201681932752</id><published>2008-09-26T09:25:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T09:52:28.345+08:00</updated><title type='text'>You can't afford to lose that feel..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SNxFsjYxQYI/AAAAAAAAACo/fm_ldpLLvXw/s1600-h/Image%28110%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250147897322848642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SNxFsjYxQYI/AAAAAAAAACo/fm_ldpLLvXw/s320/Image%28110%29.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Termite density...high &amp;amp; dry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;A&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SNxFs_2JhSI/AAAAAAAAACw/6-xoV1LYS8c/s1600-h/Image%28100%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250147904962266402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SNxFs_2JhSI/AAAAAAAAACw/6-xoV1LYS8c/s320/Image%28100%29.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;A Room with a view... quenching&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in the big city recently. Revisiting. A time to remember. A couple of weeks spent joining it's inhabitants in their daily rituals. In the subways, biways and highways. In their offices. In their dwellings. Dreaming the impossible dream. Over and over again. Tantalising. Provocative. Simply check in. But not without a price. You can check out anytime if you like. But then it'll be too late. Before you even know it. About to lose my worried mind. Until the fields beckoned me again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I don't know exactly what a payer is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;which is what I have been doing all day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tell me, what else should I have done?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Tell me, what is it you plan to do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;with your one wild and precious life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Mary Oliver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;The Summer Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-5445181201681932752?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/5445181201681932752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=5445181201681932752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/5445181201681932752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/5445181201681932752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/09/dont-lose-that-feel.html' title='You can&apos;t afford to lose that feel..'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SNxFsjYxQYI/AAAAAAAAACo/fm_ldpLLvXw/s72-c/Image%28110%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-5818590781577648480</id><published>2008-08-25T16:11:00.010+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T12:11:40.736+08:00</updated><title type='text'>You can ask for directions..</title><content type='html'>PERLU is an acronym which I devised for Professionals and Entrepreneurs graduates of Local University. I want to propose a forum for it; a network of socially motivated people with a desire for value creation and capacity building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reasons? A fresh graduate who just entered the job market would want to know how to look for prospective employers and to make the approach. The executive need to know where to improve his skills or how to go about setting his own business and what are the options available. The entrepreneur who is always on the lookout for somebody to share his ideas with and where he can go to get assistance for his ventures. And more..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The forum is where they can get all the information they need. A place where they can get the representation and a leverage. A place where they can meet people having the same aspirations and to share information. Not only it could save them a lot of time, it would be a morale booster for them as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Forum provides the incentive for learning and mentoring. Participants will call on one another's strength. The atmosphere is set for entrepreneurship to thrive and prosper. It will enabled the transition of a graduate to become a professional and an entrepreneur to be coordinated and cushioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The creation of PERLU Forum will facitate in achieving the objectives for the development of human capital which is an important component for the successful economic activity and distribution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, the Forum provide the critical mass; a pool of people with the knowledge, skills and abilities. They come from varied background and nationalities but having a common goal. The Forum brought them together under a self-help realisation; always wanting to be creative, innovative and inventive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secondly, the Forum will create more small medium enterprises which is the backbone of any nation economy. Businesses built here are at the grass-root level due to the diversity of participants thus ensuring that development is broad based.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, the Forum is the answer to the question of how to foster the climate of cooperation and goodwill amongst professionals and entrepreneurs cutting across boundaries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Please provide your details: name[which you want to use], email/website address, graduate/professional/entrepreneur, industry[for professional],business[for entrepreneur], academic field &amp;amp; country.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-5818590781577648480?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/5818590781577648480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=5818590781577648480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/5818590781577648480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/5818590781577648480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/08/well-walk-together.html' title='You can ask for directions..'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-4140224370531352546</id><published>2008-08-25T11:08:00.020+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T10:21:12.428+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's do it...</title><content type='html'>I'll let you on a little secret: Hatch isn't my real name and neither is Foster my surname. Hatch Foster is actually the energy. Within us. It's the power to come up[hatch] with ideas and to nurture[foster] them. The capacity is inherent in us all. No good comes of it if it remained inert. Perhaps, a platform like this blog can help in it's own little way. A common one where we can share our stories and realisations indirectly spurring one another in the process making the capacity comes alive...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SNxG1RDxEXI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Tohfez_jF_g/s1600-h/Image%28107%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SNxG1RDxEXI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Tohfez_jF_g/s320/Image%28107%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250149146533368178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The reality we perceive is a tiny fraction of the Universe as it really exists. At an invisible level, everything and everyone is interconnected in a most profound way, not only as human beings but as energy, mind and matter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;David Bohm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quantum Theory&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-4140224370531352546?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/4140224370531352546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=4140224370531352546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/4140224370531352546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/4140224370531352546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/08/is-your-name-hatch-foster.html' title='Let&apos;s do it...'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SNxG1RDxEXI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Tohfez_jF_g/s72-c/Image%28107%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-153076721106551248</id><published>2008-08-19T09:57:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T16:46:33.058+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The ties that bind us...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SKpujHgVhvI/AAAAAAAAACg/SE9SqnSSmnU/s1600-h/P1010314.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236119066360776434" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SKpujHgVhvI/AAAAAAAAACg/SE9SqnSSmnU/s320/P1010314.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The forest is like a bank like a supermarket for us. Everything is here. In the mainstream society, poverty is measured in monetary terms. But that doesn't apply to us. We are poor only if you take away our forest because that's where all our resources are. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;em style="FONT-FAMILY: times new roman"&gt;A Native Voice&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Four years ago, we read about freak incidents where crustaceans, fish and other marine animals landed in abundance in the shores of Malaysia, Indonesia and Thailand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;To most these signalled some sort of blessing from heaven. Little did they know that they were actually signs of impending disaster. In this case, it was the tsunami of December 2004, which hit not only Aceh, Indonesia, but a dozen other countries.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There had also been reports of animals behaving strangely just before the tsunami. But humans, the so-called paragons of the animal kingdom, were not alert to these signals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Elephants in Thailand moved to higher ground, animals on Andaman island escaped being overwhelmed by the deadly waves; so too those in the open flatlands of Sri Lanka.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;All these were in contrast to the hundreds of thousands of humans who perished because they were caught unawares by the disaster. We either misread the signs or ignored them as being irrelevant and carried on business as usual. For this, we paid a high price.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was not surprising then to read yet again about similar occurrences and responses, this time in Sichuan, China. A few days before the massive earthquake, frogs appeared in large numbers close to the tragic spot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Some in fact interpreted this as a good omen for the 2008 Beijing Olympics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The warning signs of nature were again ignored and thousands of human lives have been lost and many more have become victims of the situation, whereas virtually all the animals are said to be unharmed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We seem to have lost our capacity to survive in this world, losing our connection with our immediate surroundings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We are overwhelmed by marvels of connectivity, electronic or otherwise, causing our world to shrink to a global village, but we have failed to establish any meaningful connection with signals being emitted by Mother Nature.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We seem to have lost the ability to fathom why Mother Nature is reacting the way she does. For example, the frequent floods nowadays, or why there are longer and nastier periods of drought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We have taken for granted that everything can be solved by advances in technology without fundamentally changing our lifestyle. In fact, we are increasingly dependent on "smart" technology to comfort and save us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Thus, we talk of an artificial early warning system as though these are fool-proof. Millions of dollars are invested on such systems when nature has already "perfected" such a system for us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But we refuse to acknowledge these, condemning them as "primitive" and "unsophiscated", unfit for this brave new world of unrivalled science and technology.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We refuse to acknowledge that nature and also it's inherent wisdom have long been the source of inspiration for humankind since time immemorial.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;That the survival of the human species today is due to the fact that we have been inspired by nature is ignored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;That we took lessons from it, and symbiotically adapted our ways with it is quickly forgotten while the new sciences and emerging technologies are about conquering and exploitation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As the human species grows more arrogant, they continue to negate the role of nature to their detriment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This will mark the beginning of the human race as we know it.Homo sapiens [meaning the "wise ones"] have yet to wise up and re-learn what they have inadvertently lost, perhaps with the help of science and technology.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For now, however, the lesson is that the sophiscation and wisdom afforded by Mother Nature is something that no science and technology can match.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And when that happens, there will be no human-made counter force that can cope with it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It is best that we be humble and relearn the ways of our forebears and re-connect with Mother Nature, if we are humble enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-153076721106551248?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/153076721106551248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=153076721106551248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/153076721106551248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/153076721106551248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/08/ties-that-bind-us.html' title='The ties that bind us...'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SKpujHgVhvI/AAAAAAAAACg/SE9SqnSSmnU/s72-c/P1010314.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9056221722261717010.post-831907723637324913</id><published>2008-08-15T18:18:00.013+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T17:16:51.615+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beauty as we know it... [A tribute to The Magus by John Fowles]</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I realised that I was living in a world where the beauty of the written word was lost. Images were redefining the world I lived in. Literature is being pushed to the periphery. I longed for the genius of creativity as evident in literary works. I had lost my bearings in a convoluted world of heightened anxieties and information overload.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the splendour of letters will keep us sane in a world full of conflict and uncertainty. And we need more than just time for that, we need passion as well. David Denby* wrote about how he found himself in an immense system of representation and simulacra, yet, "I possesed information without knowledge, opinions without principles, instincts without beliefs".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Perhaps, like T.S. Elliot's poem "the Hollow Men", we are all the hollow men of the modern era - ourheadpieces stuffed with straw. We are best represented in his famous lines, "shape without form, shade without colour, paralysed force, gesture without motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;*Author of &lt;em&gt;Great Books: My adventure with Homer, Rousseau, Woolf, and Other Indestructibl&lt;/em&gt;e&lt;em&gt; Writers of the Western World&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SKkcJd9_-9I/AAAAAAAAACY/eEQ-7u2nP7I/s1600-h/pantai_teluk_kecawi-full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235746990783986642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SKkcJd9_-9I/AAAAAAAAACY/eEQ-7u2nP7I/s320/pantai_teluk_kecawi-full.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Bliss.. I'll take you there&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9056221722261717010-831907723637324913?l=hatchfoster.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/feeds/831907723637324913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9056221722261717010&amp;postID=831907723637324913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/831907723637324913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9056221722261717010/posts/default/831907723637324913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hatchfoster.blogspot.com/2008/08/tribute-to-john-fowles-magus.html' title='Beauty as we know it... [A tribute to The Magus by John Fowles]'/><author><name>HatchFoster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11432882645397839442</uri><email>hatch.foster@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17537886915523255075'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9FOLuqpAxj8/SKkcJd9_-9I/AAAAAAAAACY/eEQ-7u2nP7I/s72-c/pantai_teluk_kecawi-full.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>