Hangover Pill Review

The Tale Of Jack O’ Lantern

A “Jack O’ Lantern” is a pumpkin that has had its insides taken out while a pair of eyes, a nose and a mouth have been cut out on its side so light from a candle which has been placed inside might be seen by all in the dark. This is what a “Jack O’ Lantern” is but where does this beautifully frightful object get its name from? This is what the following story is about.
Once upon a time there was a man whose name was Jack his last name being O’ Lantern as he was Irish. Jack like many a man in Ireland enjoyed a shot of whisky from time to time among many other drinks which might have included a pint of Guinness now and then. Jack was also rumored to have been a man who despised working and everything that took away his freedom to loaf about doing what he enjoyed the most which was nothing that did not including going to the pub for a drink.

Jack lived a gay life as he would stay up to the early hours of the morning drinking in merry company only to sleep through the rest of the day so that he might wake up late in the afternoon with intensions of repeating the same cycle. Such was the life of this man who in truth never did harm to no man but then again never did good to no man either.
Good deeds however were not the only thing this man never performed for it can not be said in truth that this man never performed what could be labeled as an honest days work as his life was one of laziness.

Jack had a grand life or so he thought till one day while at his favorite bar the devil came upon him to inform him that his time on earth was up meaning he would have to accompany the devil on a road that would lead to where people like him belonged. Jack however remained defiant in the face of the prince of darkness and challenged him to attest who he was by saying in a cheeky manner “If you are so powerful as you claim to be then prove it! Change yourself in to a coin and you will have left no doubt over whom you say you are”.
The devil incensed by this defiance turned himself in to a coin which Jack suddenly grabbed tightly in his hand on which he had had a cross carved on. It was in doing this that he trapped the devil who offered Jack what ever he wanted if he were to let him go. Jack once having trapped the devil and knowing he had him at his mercy negotiated that should the devil not bother him for one more year he would let him go. Th
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e devil not having much in the way of options agreed and did not disturb Jack for another year.

A year however passed from that day on which Jack O’ Lantern encountered the devil for the first time and therefore the devil came back with vengeance to claim Jack but Jack would not have it fore he tricked the devil again. This time Jack was outside and instead of goading him in to turning himself in to a coin he deceived him in to claiming up a tree where he trapped him by carving out a cross on it. Naturally with the cross between himself and the ground the devil was trapped on this tree and therefore unable to get down. Jack at that moment seeing the opportunity struck another deal with the devil telling him that in return for his help in getting down the tree the devil should grant him more time on earth which the devil did.
Naturally like all good things that must come to an end eventually so did Jack’s life however when he died he had a problem and that being that when he got to heaven God did not want him there because after all he had never done any acts of kindness for anyone.
Jack then after having been refused entrance by the all mighty knew not were to turn to so he tried to see if he could enter hell but it was once again that he was denied access this time by the same devil whom he had tricked.

Oh, poor Jack had no where to go as he was unwelcome where ever he went! It was a sad case even for the devil who in a show of pity gave him a pumpkin (ok, it was really a turnip) with a red hot amber inside telling him that it would serve to light his way while he walked the earth for the rest of eternity as such was his fate.

And that as they say is the tale of “Jack O’ Lantern” the man who unwillingly gave his name to the item that no proper Halloween can ever go with out or who shall know fore it maybe that what we are seeing is the spirit of Jack O’ Lantern walking the earth.

By: Gianni Truvianni

Article Directory: The Playful Spirit
 by: Galina Pembroke

On the road to enlightenment, don’t forget to laughŅ.

It’s been called the “ id” by Freud, and hedonism by zealots. In truth, the animal self is the part of us that reacts naturally. Labeling this limits our experience of it. Still for the sake of reference I’ll describe this very free, intrinsically joyful aspect of being as “animal.” Animal encapsulates it. The living world seeks out pleasure and avoids pain without fear of appearing lazy, foolish or greedy. The irony is that for many animals this creates productivity, dignity and unselfishness. By looking at their actions from a spiritual rather than biological viewpoint we have a tool to unhinge ourselves from our hang-ups.

You otter play

Almost all animals play and act silly when young. Otters continue this into old age, making him a fun furry dude to be around. They romp, wrestle, snow slide, chase each other and play catch-and-release with their dinner. Most of us, myself include, are not nearly so free spirited. For example, I haven’t tobogganed since I was eleven and my romping is confined to a spirited jog. I could learn a lot from an otter. Most important: Play is good.

Play is good. We forget this in our rush to achieve and amass. In the otter’s game of dinner lost-and-found he shows us that losing can be just as much fun as winning. This is contrary to ego but so is spirit. In the otter’s dinner-game he loses lunch but finds freedom: He doesn’t need to eat if he doesn’t want to. Spiritual aspirants who fast for greater consciousness believe the same but have a lot less fun in the process. The otter has a better idea. He relinquishes without regret or strain.

Dances with spirit

Play is one of the few ways we can lose ourselves without trying. Caught in the moment we may realize a meditative type bliss. Dance can feel like play but for some it is meditation. The spontaneous spasms that characterize ecstatic dance allow us to express spirit with the body. When else can we do this? Compared to ecstatic dance our movements are rigid as a robot’s arm. When did we become so reserved? Play and dance help us to become more spontaneous. For some this will be met with cheers. For others, and unfortunately, jeers. It takes courage to march to the beat of a different drum. Yet in practicing courage we develop it. Dancing our private dance in front of the marching crowd is a challenge.

Besides unknotting our muscles, ecstatic dance unties our mind. Though historically this practice has been thought to exist only among humans it seems that the otter, with his flipping and wriggling, would make a great ecstatic dancer. Unlike us he doesn’t wait for the music to start to move in a musical fashion. His body is free and expressive. He chooses to move with the fluidity of waves rather than the rigidity of trees. We have the same choice. We don’t have to jump in the water to enjoy this experience. Mind-body exercises like pilates, yoga and tai-chi cultivate this creative body motion.

Joyful errors

People make mistakes; animals evolve. We judge ourselves so harshly. Distinctions between right and are necessary in terms of moral issues but they have no meaning when it comes to trying new things. Yet when we make a mistake we are often the first to notice and hope to God no one else does. Nobody likes to feel humiliated. Most of us are concerned about looking foolish or feeling like we’re on display to be laughed at. Interestingly, feeling humiliated and being humiliated are two separate matters. I once watched a show called Pet Star, where an anteater was called to perform an exceptional feat: Climb up a ladder, eat from a bucket, and climb back down. His trainer/owner watched anxiously as the scaly critter ascended the metal stairs. There were a series of clunks on his journey as his tail patted the ladder and a louder clunk when he reached the bucket. He had tipped it over. A heap of berries and throngs of audience members bore witness to shame. But it wasn’t the anteater that cringed- it was the owner. The blushing young man proceeded to stammer out excuses for the creature, which by this time had climbed down and was happily eating his dinner off the stage floor. Under the glaring stage lights that illuminated his owner’s red-face and sweaty brow, no change could be found in the anteater. He was intent on claiming his berry-delicious reward. Whether or not anyone was impressed didn’t matter.

That anteater didn’t catch any awards that day. He did, however, capture my heart. I remember what that anteater taught me: There are many mistakes on our way to victory, and others may have not feel we have earned it. We can let this bother us, or like the anteater, we can dine on what we deserve.

Failure is relative

Though his efforts were obvious the anteater didn’t perform as desired by others. The anteater dealt with this in a better way than most people. Unlike the anteater we try to interpret other’s interpretation of us. This is agony for both inner peace and performance. When feeling like we’ve failed we interpret every blink as shock and mouth twitch as dismay. This creates the disappointment we fear. We can turn a stumble into slapstick if we have the confidence of Chaplin. Similarly, a misplaced streak on a canvas can create abstract perfection if we desire. Either way we must persist. What if the anteater was to stop striving when applause wasn’t forthcoming? Motivated by the end result instead of appearances he continued. All he won was some berries, but then again that’s all he wanted.

Getting what you want

What is your heart’s desire? If it doesn’t seem important to others you may be told, or may feel that your efforts are wasted. It’s not. Nobody has the right to determine the value of your dreams. This is between you and the Universal Source. As natural beings our desires are natural, and as long as they don’t harm anyone it is our divine right to aspire to them. Whether you want enlightenment, a BMW or the ideal vitamin regimen your work will be rewarded. This is providing that you keep trying. You may not get your prize in the way or at the time you first imagined, but it will come to you. Just remember to dance and play along the way. This will make the journey a lot lighter.

About The Author

Galina Pembroke is the publisher and editor-in-chief of New View Magazine online. New View Magazine offers information and inspiration for a happier, healthier life. Start a happier life by visiting us at http://www.nuvunow.ca.

nuvunow@gmail.com

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She came for him at the crack of dawn. He heard her cross the room and the small boy hoping to hide, slid deep beneath the bedding. But there was no escape that way. She ripped back the covers and dragged him sobbing from the bed. He begged and pleaded all the while looking up hopefully, but the look of grim determination on her pale face told him there was to be no mercy. He struggled to escape, but the hands that encircled his upper arms tightened, her bright red nails digging into the flesh of his skinny arms. He cried out, went limp, and when she changed her grip broke free and made a break for the door.

But he was there, and he filled the opening from top to bottom and side to side. It wasn’t fair he couldn’t fight them both. The figure in the doorway bent, large calloused hands lifted the boy, carried him from the room, dumped him on the bathroom floor and growled, ‘Wash! And don’t even think of trying the window. I’ll be here, right behind you.’

He glanced in the mirror, the man stood behind him arms folded, his blue eyes as hard as ice. The boy’s shoulders slumped, it was no good; he’d just have to get on with it. He washed and dried.

It hadn’t been like this in the beginning. In the beginning they had been kind. The man would bend, ruffle his hair and ask him what he had been doing that day and he would look up at the red face with the warm blue eyes and the friendly smile and tell him all he knew.

She had been different too; she’d smiled a lot, had a habit of brushing her blond hair from her face that was nice, and best of all, she would tuck him in and read him a story at bedtime.

But it had all been a sham, a trick, to lull him into a false sense of security and he had been taken in by it. But last night when he sneaked down for a glass of water, he had overheard them discussing their plan to get rid of him. He’d tried to escape then, but the man had caught him and forced him back to his room.

The man led him from the bathroom to the kitchen, where they forced him to eat. She left the room and returned with a uniform and made him to put it on. Black shoes then socks, trousers, shirt and jacket, all drab grey except for the symbol on the jacket that was bright yellow. Next came the cap, also grey, with same yellow symbol on the front.

A satisfied look on their faces they led him out to the car. He was bundled in the back; she came with him and held his hands scotching any chance of escape. Ten minutes later they parked the car and walked towards the building. It was now or never, he made a break for it, he could hear the shouts and thump of boots behind him. He didn’t get far; the man caught him before he reached the corner. He gave in then, but he wouldn’t let them see him cry.

They dragged him past high walls with black railings, to the gate that had an archway above it bearing the same yellow symbol. When they pushed him through the gate he knew this was the end. He joined the line of other children dressed in grey, and shuffled through the door, it closed behind him. His first day at school had begun.

Worldwide Copyright Fred Watson 2006

Fred Watson published his first book, a fantasy adventure novel aimed at the 8-12 age group in November 2006. A grandfather of four, he loves to write for all age groups, has an abiding interest in history and continues on a regular basis to add new stories etc to his website. Footprint Publishing

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