Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

Re: [anthroposophy_tomorrow] Abraham Lincoln's Sophia

Expand Messages
  • dottie zold
    Well, I thought to copy a bit from the link below. Closer to the bottom is the Sophia experience I am speaking about regarding this young ladies death. In
    Message 1 of 4 , Aug 21, 2006
    • 0 Attachment
      Well, I thought to copy a bit from the link below.
      Closer to the bottom is the Sophia experience I am
      speaking about regarding this young ladies death.

      In looking at the greatness of the man and the timing
      thereof so close to the incoming birth of Rudolf
      Steiner it just seems to me that we are dealing with
      something really specific on a spiritual front that
      has not been looked at. It seems to me that this is
      one of the primary important moments that define the
      spirit of a man who pulls himself from no education to
      an extraordinary effort of one's own self education
      that I am not sure exists anywhere as incredible as it
      does in the life of this man Abraham Lincoln. It's
      almost as if life dared him to keep going. That
      sensitive spirit within him seemed just dared to keep
      going against all odds. And it seems that it was
      something extraordinary that kept him together.

      It's funny too looking at the pictorial book I have
      where one can see a picture of him in 1861 and then
      one four years later and it is clear we are looking at
      death before it happens. The forces are at their end.

      I bought the book because I was struck by one of the
      pictures there in that is a direct picture of someone
      living today. I am struck by the thought of what
      Abraham Lincoln's next step in a reincarnated life
      would be. It leads me to wonder who he was in a past
      life as well. I do not believe the greatness of this
      man has been surpassed by any of history. His great
      love for his fellow man and his willingness to take a
      stand for love seems unsurpassed in all that I have
      read of him and others.

      The darkness of his skin is often mentioned. I am
      called to think of the great native american spirit
      way of the great Chiefs who walked this country long
      before the whiteman did. Something about him speaks to
      me about the greatest Chief that ever lived. Funny how
      we call our presidents the Commander in Chief.

      Anyhow, below is the link and an excerpt of it. It is
      from a book that is looking at depression but I found
      some good references to Abraham Lincoln's life that I
      thought were well presented.

      http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4976127


      "Three elements of Lincoln's history -- the deep,
      pervasive sadness of his mother, the strange spells of
      his father, and the striking presence of mental
      illness in the family of his uncle and cousins --
      suggest the likelihood of a biological predisposition
      toward depression. "Predisposition" means an increased
      risk of developing an illness. As opposed to
      traditional Mendelian inheritance -- in which one
      dominant gene or two recessive genes lead to an
      illness or trait -- genetic factors in psychiatric
      illnesses are additive and not categorical. "The genes
      confer only susceptibility in many cases," explains
      the psychiatrist S. Nassir Ghaemi, in The Concepts of
      Psychiatry, "not the illness. That is, they only
      increase the likelihood that fewer or less severe
      environmental factors are required for the illness to
      develop, compared with someone who has fewer
      disease-related genes."

      What tips a person from tendency to actuality? For
      centuries, philosophers and physicians emphasized
      climate and diet. Today's experts focus on harsh life
      events and conditions, especially in early childhood.
      Lincoln's early life certainly had its harsh elements.
      His only brother died in infancy in Kentucky. In 1816,
      Abraham's eighth year, the family moved to southern
      Indiana. Two years later, in the fall of 1818, an
      infectious disease swept through their small rural
      community. Among those affected were Lincoln's aunt
      and uncle, Thomas and Elizabeth Sparrow, and his
      mother, Nancy Lincoln. Eventually, the disease would
      be traced to a poisonous root, eaten by cattle and
      then ingested by humans in milk or meat. But when
      Abraham watched his mother become ill, the disease was
      a grim mystery that went by various names, from
      "puking fever" to "river sickness" to "fall poison."
      Later, it became known as the "milk sick." "No
      announcement strikes the members of a western
      community with so much dread as the report of a case,"
      said a newspaper of the time. A physician described
      the course of the illness: "When the individual is
      about to be taken down, he feels weary, trembles more
      or less under exertion, and often experiences pain,
      numbness and slight cramps." Nausea soon follows, then
      "a feeling of depression and burning at the pit of the
      stomach," then retching, twitching, and tossing side
      to side. Before long, the patient becomes "deathly
      pale and shrunk up," listless and indifferent, and
      lies, between fits of retching, in a "mild coma."
      First the Sparrows -- with whom the Lincolns were
      close -- took sick and died. Then Nancy Lincoln went
      to bed with the illness. Ill for about a week, she
      died on October 5, 1818. She was about thirty-five
      years old. Her son was nine.

      In addition to the loss of his mother, aunt, and
      uncle, a year or so later Abraham faced the long
      absence of his father, who returned to Kentucky to
      court another bride. For two to six months, Tom
      Lincoln left his children alone with their
      twenty-year-old cousin, Dennis Hanks. When he
      returned, the children were dirty and poorly clothed.
      Lincoln later described himself at this time as "sad,
      if not pitiful."

      The one constant in Abraham's life was his sister,
      Sarah. She was a thin, strong woman who resembled her
      father in stature, with brown hair and dark eyes. Like
      her brother, Sarah Lincoln had a sharp mind. She
      stayed with the family until 1826, when she married,
      set up house, and quickly became pregnant. On January
      28, 1828, she gave birth to a stillborn child and
      shortly afterward died herself. "We went out and told
      Abe," recalled a neighbor. "I never will forget the
      scene. He sat down in the door of the smoke house and
      buried his face in his hands. The tears slowly
      trickled from between his bony fingers and his gaunt
      frame shook with sobs."

      In the emotional development of a child, pervasive
      tension can be just as influential as loss. Lincoln's
      relationship with his father -- the only other member
      of his nuclear family who survived -- was so cool that
      observers wondered whether there was any love between
      them. The relationship was strained by a fundamental
      conflict. From a young age, Abraham showed a strong
      interest in his own education. At first his father
      helped him along, paying school fees and procuring
      books. "Abe read all the books he could lay

      his hands on," said his stepmother. "And when he came
      across a passage that struck him he would write it
      down . . . then he would re-write it -- look at it --
      repeat it." But at some point Tom Lincoln began to
      oppose the extent of his son's studies. Abraham
      sometimes neglected his farm work by reading. Tom
      would beat him for this, and for other infractions.

      To men who had been born and expected to die on farms,
      book learning had limited value. A man ought to be
      able to read the Bible (for his moral life) and legal
      documents (for his work life). Writing could help,
      too, as could basic arithmetic. Anything more was a
      luxury, and for working folks seemed frivolous. For
      generations, Lincoln men had cleared land, raised
      crops, and worked a trade. So when this boy slipped
      away from feeding livestock and splitting logs to
      write poetry and read stories, people thought him
      lazy. "Lincoln was lazy -- a very lazy man,"
      remembered his cousin Dennis Hanks. "He was always
      reading -- scribbling -- writing -- ciphering --
      writing poetry &c. &c."

      Later, Lincoln's self-education would become the stuff
      of legend. Many parents have cited Lincoln's long
      walks to school and ferocious self-discipline to their
      children. But Lincoln pursued his interests in
      defiance of established norms. Far from being praised,
      he was consistently admonished. He may well have paid
      an emotional toll. Many studies have linked adult
      mental health to parental support in childhood. Lower
      levels of support correlate with increased levels of
      depressive symptoms, among other health problems, in
      adulthood. After Lincoln left home in his early
      twenties, his contact with his father was impersonal
      and infrequent.

      When reviewing the facts of Lincoln's childhood, we
      should keep in mind some context. For example, in the
      early nineteenth century, one out of four infants died
      before their first birthday. And about one fourth of
      all children lost a mother or father before age
      fifteen. Of the eighteen American presidents in the
      nineteenth century, nine lost their mother, father, or
      both while they were children. None of Lincoln's
      contemporaries, nor Lincoln himself, mentioned the
      deaths of his siblings and mother as factors
      contributing to his melancholy. The melancholy was
      unusual, but the deaths were not. In the same vein,
      while we ought not to ignore Lincoln's conflict with
      his father and discount its possible emotional
      aftereffects, we risk missing more than we gain if we
      look at it exclusively through the lens of modern
      psychology. In fact, such a conflict between ambitious
      young men and their fathers was not uncommon in the
      early nineteenth century, a time of broad cultural and
      economic change.

      Abraham was not evidently a wounded child, but signs
      point to his being sensitive. He spent a lot of time
      alone. He was serious about his studies and reading,
      and uncommonly eager to explore imaginative realms,
      which psychologists often observe in sensitive
      children. He also took up a popular cause among
      sensitive people, the welfare of animals. Some boys
      found it fun to set turtles on fire or throw them
      against trees. "Lincoln would Chide us -- tell us it
      was wrong -- would write against it," remembered one
      of his neighbors. His stepsister remembered him once
      "contending that an ants life was to it, as sweet as
      ours to us."

      At the same time, Lincoln was a winsome child. Others
      sought him out, followed him in games, and applauded
      him when he mounted a stump and performed for them,
      pretending to be a preacher or a statesman. By the
      time he was a teenager, grown men would flock around
      him, eager to hear his jokes and stories. He was well
      liked.

      Lincoln was not depressed in his late teens and early
      twenties -- at least not so far as anyone could see.
      When he left his family, at age twenty-one, he had no
      money or connections. His chief asset -- perhaps his
      only real asset -- was his golden character. Settling
      as a stranger in New Salem, a small village on a river
      bluff in central Illinois, he soon was among the
      best-liked men around. A gang of rough boys developed
      a fierce attachment to him after he made a stellar
      showing in a wrestling match, displaying not only
      physical strength but a sense of fairness. Others were
      impressed with Lincoln's wit and intelligence,
      noticing, for example, how when he recited the poetry
      of Robert Burns, he nailed the Scottish accent, the
      fierce emotion, and the devilish humor. Though Lincoln
      looked like a yokel -- tall and gangly, he had thick,
      black, unruly hair and he wore pants that ended above
      his ankles -- he had good ideas and a good manner. "He
      became popular with all classes," said Jason Duncan, a
      physician in New Salem.

      After less than a year in New Salem, Lincoln declared
      himself as a candidate for the Illinois General
      Assembly. He was twenty-three years old. He lost the
      race but got nearly every vote in his precinct, which,
      said another candidate, was "mainly due to his
      personal popularity." When he volunteered for a state
      militia campaign against a band of Native Americans
      under Chief Black Hawk, a part of the bloody Black
      Hawk War, his company elected Lincoln captain. Nearly
      three decades later -- as a veteran of Congress and
      his party's nominee for president of the United States
      -- Lincoln wrote that this was "a success which gave
      me more pleasure than any I have had since."

      In his first four years in New Salem, Lincoln struck
      his new friends and neighbors as sunny and
      indefatigable. "I never saw Mr Lincoln angry or
      desponding," said a fellow soldier in the Black Hawk
      War, "but always cheerful." Indeed, "the whole
      company, even amid trouble and suffering, received
      Strength & fortitude, by his bouancy and elasticity."
      Once Lincoln stopped at the house of a neighbor,
      Elizabeth Abell, after working in the fields. He was
      scratched all over from briar thorns. Abell fussed
      over him, but Lincoln laughed about it and said it was
      the poor man's lot. "Certainly," she said years later,
      "he was the best natured man I ever got acquainted
      with." Asked by a biographer whether the Lincoln she
      knew was a "sad man," Abell answered, "I never
      considered him so. He was always social and lively and
      had great aspirations." Crucially, his liveliness and
      sociability served him well in politics. Campaigning
      again for the state legislature in 1834, he went out
      to a field where a group of about thirty men were
      working the harvest. A friend of Lincoln's, J. R.
      Herndon, introduced him. The men said that they
      couldn't vote for a man who didn't know how to do
      field work. "Boys," Lincoln said, "if that is all I am
      sure of your votes. "He picked up a scythe and went to
      work. "I dont think he Lost a vote in the Croud,"
      Herndon wrote.

      Lincoln won the election easily. When a mentor in the
      legislature recommended that he study law, he took the
      challenge. It would be a good profession to accompany
      politics, in particular the politics of the Whig
      party, which drew its strength from the growing number
      of urban and industrial professionals. In the early
      nineteenth century, attorneys commanded a kind of awe,
      embodying the stately Anglo-Saxon tradition of common
      law and domestic order. Gaining "the secrets of that
      science," explained the poet-author William Allen
      Butler, would give a person a perpetual glow, for the
      law, "more than all other human forces, directs the
      progress of events."

      It is a mark of Lincoln's soaring ambition that, four
      years from the fields, he sought to join such ranks,
      at a time when all but five percent of the men in his
      area did manual work for a living. It was a sign of
      his pluck that he did it virtually all on his own.
      While other young men learned the law at universities
      -- or, more commonly, under the tutelage of an
      established attorney -- Lincoln, as he noted in his
      memoir, "studied with nobody." This was hardly the
      only mark of his ambition. A lawyer named Lynn McNulty
      Greene remembered Lincoln telling him that "all his
      folks seemed to have good sense but none of them had
      become distinguished, and he believed it was for him
      to become so." This language suggests that Lincoln
      had, more than a personal desire, a sense of calling.
      "Mr. Lincoln," explained his friend O. H. Browning,
      "believed that there was a predestined work for him in
      the world . . . Even in his early days he had a strong
      conviction that he was born for better things than
      then seemed likely or even possible . . .While I think
      he was a man of very strong ambition, I think it had
      its origin in this sentiment, that he was destined for
      something nobler than he was for the time engaged in."
      In his first published political speech, Lincoln
      wrote, "Every man is said to have his peculiar
      ambition. Whether it be true or not, I can say for one
      that I have no other so great as that of being truly
      esteemed of my fellow men, by rendering myself worthy
      of their esteem."

      But there were cracks in Lincoln's sunny disposition.
      "If the good people in their wisdom shall see fit to
      keep me in the background," he said in that same
      speech, "I have been too familiar with disappointments
      to be very much chagrined." At times, his faith in
      personal progress gave way and his familiarity with
      disappointments shone through. Back from the militia
      campaign, Lincoln and a partner opened their own
      store, buying the stock on credit. When the store
      failed, Lincoln was in serious financial jeopardy.
      Seeing him despondent, his new friends got him a
      crucial political appointment, as New Salem's
      postmaster. Later, he was made deputy surveyor, too.
      These jobs, Lincoln noted, "procured bread, and kept
      soul and body together." Nevertheless, his debt soon
      caught up with him: a creditor seized his surveying
      equipment -- including his horse, his compass, and his
      chain -- and put it up for auction. An older man named
      James Short saw Lincoln moping about and heard him say
      he might "let the whole thing go." Short tried to
      cheer him up. Then he went and bought the equipment
      for $120 (about $2,500 in modern dollars) and returned
      it to Lincoln.

      These streaks of sadness and worry may have been minor
      depressions. But it wasn't until 1835 that serious
      concern emerged about Lincoln's mental health. That
      summer, remembered the schoolteacher Mentor Graham,
      Lincoln "somewhat injured his health and
      Constitution." The first sign of trouble came with his
      intense study of law. He "read hard -- day and night
      -- terribly hard," remembered Isaac Cogdal, a
      stonemason. At times, Lincoln seemed oblivious to his
      friends and surroundings. "He became emaciated," said
      Henry McHenry, a farmer in the area, "and his best
      friends were afraid that he would craze himself --
      make himself derange."

      Around the same time, an epidemic of what doctors
      called "bilious fever" -- typhoid, probably -- spread
      through the area. Doctors administered heroic doses of
      mercury, quinine, and jalap, a powerful purgative.
      According to one recollection, Lincoln helped tend to
      the sick, build coffins for the dead, and assist in
      the burials -- despite the fact that he was "suffering
      himself with the chills and fever on alternate days.
      "He was probably affected mentally, too, by the waves
      of death washing across his new home -- reminiscent,
      perhaps, of the "milk sick" that had devastated his
      family in his youth.

      Among the severely afflicted families were Lincoln's
      friends the Rutledges. Originally from South Carolina,
      they had been among the first to settle in New Salem,
      opening a tavern and boarding house, where Lincoln
      stayed and took meals when he first arrived. He knew
      the family well and had become friends with Anna Mayes
      Rutledge, a bright, pretty young woman with flowing
      blond hair and large blue eyes. In August 1835, Ann
      took sick. As she lay in bed in her family's cabin,
      Lincoln visited her often. "It was very evident that
      he was much distressed," remembered a neighbor named
      John Jones. She died on August 25. Around the time of
      her funeral, the weather turned cold and wet. Lincoln
      said he couldn't bear the idea of rain falling on
      Ann's grave -- and this was the first sign people had
      that he was in the midst of an emotional collapse. "As
      to the condition of Lincoln's Mind after the death of
      Miss R., "Henry McHenry recalled, "after that Event he
      seemed quite changed, he seemed Retired, & loved
      Solitude, he seemed wrapped in profound thought,
      indifferent, to transpiring Events, had but Little to
      say, but would take his gun and wander off in the
      woods by him self, away from the association of even
      those he most esteemed, this gloom seemed to deepen
      for some time, so as to give anxiety to his friends in
      regard to his Mind."

      Indeed, the anxiety was widespread, both for Lincoln's
      immediate safety and for his long-term mental health.
      Lincoln "told Me that he felt like Committing Suicide
      often," remembered Mentor Graham, and his neighbors
      mobilized to keep him safe. One friend recalled, "Mr
      Lincolns friends . . . were Compelled to keep watch
      and ward over Mr Lincoln, he being from the sudden
      shock somewhat temporarily deranged. We watched during
      storms -- fogs -- damp gloomy weather . . . for fear
      of an accident." Another villager said, "Lincoln was
      locked up by his friends . . . to prevent derangement
      or suicide." People wondered whether Lincoln had
      fallen off the deep end. "That was the time the
      community said he was crazy," remembered Elizabeth
      Abell.

      The fact that Lincoln broke down after Rutledge's
      death, of course, doesn't necessarily mean that her
      death produced his breakdown. This is an important
      point, because from the very earliest writings on
      Lincoln, his relationship with Ann Rutledge has been
      controversial. Questions about whether he loved her
      and whether they were engaged have been debated
      fiercely, and still are. The myths and countermyths
      about this young woman played a big role in the early
      historiography of Lincoln -- and, amazingly, played a
      large role in pushing Lincoln's melancholy to the
      margins of history. More on this in the Afterword, but
      for now the essential point is that leading scholars
      have long said that what we think about Lincoln's
      first breakdown must hinge on what we think about his
      relationship with Ann Rutledge. If his love for her is
      a myth, this thinking goes, then the breakdown must be
      a myth, too.

      In fact, in the eyes of the New Salem villagers,
      questions of a love affair followed hard and
      irrefutable knowledge of an emotional collapse. As the
      original accounts make clear, his breakdown was
      impossible to miss. Nearly everyone in the community
      who gave testimony spoke of it, remembering its
      contours even decades later. Lincoln, after all, had
      become immensely popular, loved by young ruffians and
      old families alike. Now, all of a sudden he was openly
      moping and threatening to kill himself. Why? people
      asked. What accounted for the great change?

      It was in an attempt to answer this question that
      people turned to his relationship with Rutledge. He
      had obviously been upset by her illness. And after her
      funeral he had fallen off an emotional cliff. "The
      effect upon Mr Lincoln's mind was terrible," said
      Ann's brother, Robert Rutledge. "He became plunged in
      despair, and many of his friends feared that reason
      would desert her throne. His extraordinary emotions
      were regarded as strong evidence of the existence of
      the tenderest relations between himself and the
      deceased." Notice the careful progression from fact
      (Lincoln's breakdown after Ann's death) to inference
      (they must have been tenderly involved). James Short,
      who was the Rutledges' neighbor, came to a similar
      conclusion. "I did not know of any engagement or
      tender passages between Mr L and Miss R at the time,"
      Short said. "But after her death . . . he seemed to be
      so much affected and grieved so hardly that I then
      supposed there must have been something of the kind."
      Because Lincoln "grieved so hardly" and became
      "plunged in despair," it seemed reasonable to his
      friends that there must have been some proximate
      cause.

      In fact, major depression, in people who are
      vulnerable to it, can be set off by all manner of
      circumstances. What would appear to a non-depressed
      person to be an ordinary or insignificant stimulus can
      through a depressive's eyes look rather profound.
      "It's not the large things that send a man to the
      madhouse, "Charles Bukowski has written. "No, it's the
      continuing series of small tragedies . . . a shoelace
      that snaps, with no time left." In this light, it is
      worth noting that, according to reminiscences, the
      pivotal moment for Lincoln wasn't Rutledge's death but
      the dismal weather that followed. After the death,
      wrote John Hill, the son of Lincoln's friend Samuel
      Hill, "Lincoln bore up under it very well until some
      days afterwards a heavy rain fell, which unnerved him
      and -- (the balance you know)." The intonation here
      suggests an understanding among Lincoln's friends that
      there was something precarious about him, and that --
      like Bukowski's shoelace -- a factor as ordinary as
      poor weather could send him reeling. As we will see,
      cold temperatures would contribute to Lincoln's second
      breakdown. Lincoln himself would write that "exposure
      to bad weather" had proved by his experience "to be
      verry severe on defective nerves."

      For whatever reason, or combination of reasons, in the
      late summer of 1835 Lincoln's depression was pushed
      out into the open. After several weeks of worrisome
      behavior -- talking about suicide, wandering alone in
      the woods with his gun -- an older couple in the area
      took him into their home. Bowling Green, a large,
      merry man who was the justice of the peace -- and who
      became, other villagers said, a kind of second father
      to Lincoln -- and his wife, Nancy, took care of
      Lincoln for one or two weeks. When he had improved
      somewhat, they let him go, but he was, Mrs. Green
      said, "quite melancholy for months."




      __________________________________________________
      Do You Yahoo!?
      Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
      http://mail.yahoo.com
    • Mike helsher
      ... Sweet stuff Dottie thanks, A few years ago I did a course called the Destiny of Abraham Lincoln http://www.onlinehumanities.com/courses/100.html Abraham
      Message 2 of 4 , Aug 21, 2006
      • 0 Attachment
        --- In anthroposophy_tomorrow@yahoogroups.com, dottie zold
        <dottie_z@...> wrote:
        >
        > Well, I thought to copy a bit from the link below.
        > Closer to the bottom is the Sophia experience I am
        > speaking about regarding this young ladies death.
        >
        > In looking at the greatness of the man and the timing
        > thereof so close to the incoming birth of Rudolf
        > Steiner it just seems to me that we are dealing with
        > something really specific on a spiritual front that
        > has not been looked at. It seems to me that this is
        > one of the primary important moments that define the
        > spirit of a man who pulls himself from no education to
        > an extraordinary effort of one's own self education
        > that I am not sure exists anywhere as incredible as it
        > does in the life of this man Abraham Lincoln. It's
        > almost as if life dared him to keep going. That
        > sensitive spirit within him seemed just dared to keep
        > going against all odds. And it seems that it was
        > something extraordinary that kept him together.

        >
        > It's funny too looking at the pictorial book I have
        > where one can see a picture of him in 1861 and then
        > one four years later and it is clear we are looking at
        > death before it happens. The forces are at their end.
        >
        > I bought the book because I was struck by one of the
        > pictures there in that is a direct picture of someone
        > living today. I am struck by the thought of what
        > Abraham Lincoln's next step in a reincarnated life
        > would be. It leads me to wonder who he was in a past
        > life as well. I do not believe the greatness of this
        > man has been surpassed by any of history. His great
        > love for his fellow man and his willingness to take a
        > stand for love seems unsurpassed in all that I have
        > read of him and others.

        Sweet stuff Dottie thanks,

        A few years ago I did a course called "the Destiny of Abraham
        Lincoln"

        http://www.onlinehumanities.com/courses/100.html

        "Abraham Lincoln belongs to the very best that the United States has
        contributed to the furtherance of Humankind. What sort of man was
        required to heal the split in the national soul caused by the
        institutionalization of slavery in our Constitution? How can
        Lincoln's life be instructive in your own life? How does the crisis
        he faced relate to the world today? Lincoln was influenced by the
        life of Washington, the Bible and Shakespeare. What have been great
        influences on your life? Have you had experiences in your own life
        that you could describe as "predestined?" Do you know what Lincoln
        meant by his "Friend down inside' of himself?" The course has no pre-
        requisites except the ability to think and write in English. Anyone
        interested in history and wisdom will benefit a great deal from this
        course."


        To me it is an unorthodox example of some kind of Divine order,
        stepping into human history at a crucial moment

        I was struck by the dream that he had had, just prior to his
        assasination, and his uncustomary "good bye" remark, to a close
        friend just before heading off to the theater.

        Also, a study of the character of John wilks Booth, in comparison to
        that of Abe is quite tell-taling, I think, for those who have
        curiosity as to introspection.

        I remember being glued to his Biography more so than any other story
        that I had ever read, and moved even more deeply by the fact that it
        was (more or less) a true story - The Heart of the American Souls
        biograhpy. And it had nothing really to do with Harvard or Yale.

        "We must disenthrall ourselves."

        Mike

        PS. watch this trailer if you haven't seen the movie yet
        http://www.csathemovie.com/index2.html
      Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.