A strange artifact has been discovered on a distant planet, an artifact that may be the key to humanity's salvation. For we at war with the Fallers, an alien race bent on nothing short of genocide, and this is a war we are losing. The artifact is not only a powerful weapon, but possibly the rosetta stone to a lost super science . . . a super science that the Fallers may have already decoded. Or it may be a doomsday machine that could destroy the very fabric of space.
This exceptional book traces the trail of shamanic culture through 30,000 years of ice age art into the earliest civilizations of human history. It is illustrated with over 80 tracings showing these images and objects for the first time in unprecedented detail and context. The book investigates Chauvet Cave the oldest and most complete ice age cave in Southern Europe and discusses its symbolic content and conventions. It explores the similarity of a barbed sign with a rib cage, references to lunar and solar cycles, conventions that leave away and hide prominent features of animals such as fur, antlers and hooves. It shows how the shamanic northern hemisphere bear cult provides a useful template for interpreting cave art and early religions. By doing this, Ice Age Art and the Bear Cult highlights how our own world today still resonates with concepts and views that our ancestors developed over a period hundreds of thousands of years with roots spreading to early human forms that predate our modern appearance.
In The Cool Knife, T. O. Beidelman analyzes in rich detail the ritual, imagery, and symbolism of Kaguru initiations, relating them to other Kaguru ceremonies as well as to more routine daily activities. He argues that initiation educates boys and girls in their gender roles and constructs an ethnic identity that is assuming greater importance to the Kaguru as outside pressures threaten to undermine their culture.
A classic introductory book to Buddhism, What the Buddha Taught, contains a selection of illustrative texts from the original Pali texts, including the Suttas and the Dhammapada (specially translated by the author), sixteen illustrations, and a bibliography, glossary, and index.
Desmond Morris, in his introduction to The Naked Ape: A Zoologist’s Study of the Human Animal, says that of the 193 species of monkeys and apes, all but one is covered with hair. He identifiesHomo sapiens, the self-named ape, as the exception. In the seven chapters that follow, Morris studies humans from a zoological perspective, focusing on origins, sexual behavior, rearing, exploration, fighting, feeding, and comfort. The final chapter explores humans as they relate to other animals.
From a zoological perspective, Morris rejects the idea of a homocentric universe. He contends that humans’ biological nature has shaped their social structure and not the reverse. He argues that the human reproductive cycle has the potential to overpopulate the world, and therefore, those opposing birth control are engaged in “dangerous war mongering.” Finally, he cautions people that humans may destroy themselves if they do not control population and aggression and the resulting environmental damage both to other species and to the earth.
From a zoological perspective, Morris rejects the idea of a homocentric universe. He contends that humans’ biological nature has shaped their social structure and not the reverse. He argues that the human reproductive cycle has the potential to overpopulate the world, and therefore, those opposing birth control are engaged in “dangerous war mongering.” Finally, he cautions people that humans may destroy themselves if they do not control population and aggression and the resulting environmental damage both to other species and to the earth.
Animal tracks, word magic, the speech of stones, the power of letters, and the taste of the wind all figure prominently in this intellectual tour de force that returns us to our senses and to the sensuous terrain that sustains us. This major work of ecological philosophy startles the senses out of habitual ways of perception.
For a thousand generations, human beings viewed themselves as part of the wider community of nature, and they carried on active relationships not only with other people with other animals, plants, and natural objects (including mountains, rivers, winds, and weather patters) that we have only lately come to think of as "inanimate." How, then, did humans come to sever their ancient reciprocity with the natural world? What will it take for us to recover a sustaining relation with the breathing earth?
In The Spell of the Sensuous David Abram draws on sources as diverse as the philosophy of Merleau-Ponty, Balinese shamanism, Apache storytelling, and his own experience as an accomplished sleight-of-hand of magician to reveal the subtle dependence of human cognition on the natural environment. He explores the character of perception and excavates the sensual foundations of language, which--even at its most abstract--echoes the calls and cries of the earth. On every page of this lyrical work, Abram weaves his arguments with a passion, a precision, and an intellectual daring that recall such writers as Loren Eisleley, Annie Dillard, and Barry Lopez.
For a thousand generations, human beings viewed themselves as part of the wider community of nature, and they carried on active relationships not only with other people with other animals, plants, and natural objects (including mountains, rivers, winds, and weather patters) that we have only lately come to think of as "inanimate." How, then, did humans come to sever their ancient reciprocity with the natural world? What will it take for us to recover a sustaining relation with the breathing earth?
In The Spell of the Sensuous David Abram draws on sources as diverse as the philosophy of Merleau-Ponty, Balinese shamanism, Apache storytelling, and his own experience as an accomplished sleight-of-hand of magician to reveal the subtle dependence of human cognition on the natural environment. He explores the character of perception and excavates the sensual foundations of language, which--even at its most abstract--echoes the calls and cries of the earth. On every page of this lyrical work, Abram weaves his arguments with a passion, a precision, and an intellectual daring that recall such writers as Loren Eisleley, Annie Dillard, and Barry Lopez.
Buck, a physically impressive dog, is living the good life in California when he gets stolen and put into dog slavery. For him, this means pulling a ridiculously heavy sled through miles and miles of frozen ice with little or nothing to eat and frequent beatings—yeah, dog slavery is no joke.
Because he's basically the definition of a domestic dog, Buck's out of his element until he begins to adapt to his surroundings and learn from the other dogs. Buck also starts having strange dreams about the primitive days of dogs and men, before the advent of cities or houses or culture. There are no rules or morality here (interesting, since Buck’s first owner was a judge), save for what is called "the law of club and fang," a kill-or-be-killed, ruthless way of thinking.
Buck becomes involved in a struggle for power with another dog, Spitz. They end up fighting and Buck wins, taking over as leader of the sled dog team. The team changes human management (new drivers) and the new people don't seem to be very competent. They’re bad drivers and end up killing everyone, including themselves. Fortunately, Buck's saved by a kind man named John Thornton moments before the group death in an icy river.
Buck becomes attached to Thornton and even saves his life several times. Buck sets off on a journey with his new master and several other men. He's loving his new life—except that he's racked with the primal urge to run off and kill things in the woods every once in a while.
Buck fights with a conundrum: should he stay with Thornton...or kill things? Be civilized...or be wild? We're guessing, since you picked up a book called The Call of the Wild, that you already know which side is more seductive for our buckaroo Buck.
At the end of Call of the Wild, Thornton is killed by the Yeehat tribe, and Buck gets a heaping helping of revenge on the people that murder his master. But there's a silver lining—Buck's now free to run with the wild dog packs...but only on the condition that he is the leader.
Because he's basically the definition of a domestic dog, Buck's out of his element until he begins to adapt to his surroundings and learn from the other dogs. Buck also starts having strange dreams about the primitive days of dogs and men, before the advent of cities or houses or culture. There are no rules or morality here (interesting, since Buck’s first owner was a judge), save for what is called "the law of club and fang," a kill-or-be-killed, ruthless way of thinking.
Buck becomes involved in a struggle for power with another dog, Spitz. They end up fighting and Buck wins, taking over as leader of the sled dog team. The team changes human management (new drivers) and the new people don't seem to be very competent. They’re bad drivers and end up killing everyone, including themselves. Fortunately, Buck's saved by a kind man named John Thornton moments before the group death in an icy river.
Buck becomes attached to Thornton and even saves his life several times. Buck sets off on a journey with his new master and several other men. He's loving his new life—except that he's racked with the primal urge to run off and kill things in the woods every once in a while.
Buck fights with a conundrum: should he stay with Thornton...or kill things? Be civilized...or be wild? We're guessing, since you picked up a book called The Call of the Wild, that you already know which side is more seductive for our buckaroo Buck.
At the end of Call of the Wild, Thornton is killed by the Yeehat tribe, and Buck gets a heaping helping of revenge on the people that murder his master. But there's a silver lining—Buck's now free to run with the wild dog packs...but only on the condition that he is the leader.