Pyrate & David, At the Mt. Lebanon Shaker Village site East of Albany on a tour of the site I was informed of plans not only to restore the buildings but also the landscape. I was concerned lest that meant cutting down the tall trees to make them smaller and older in appearance. It did not. Then I wondered since I have read that Mother Ann had a habit of going about and telling her flock that specific angels were standing invisibly in particular locations if there would be that sort of authenticity of detail in the restoration. I mean, someone should be able to figure out where Mother Ann said there was the Angel Gabriel as the Shakers were pretty good about writing down all sorts of observations about lesser matters. ][<en P.S. That was not, as we will see, by design or conscious intent. Let it suffice to say that in 60 billion years there was never in this one place ever a thought of murder, or suicide, not even the thought to kill an errant roach. Mention of this lack of a deadly character to this particular place is not intended to bring attention to a peculiarity of the space, nor to make it out as somehow more important than any other – there is no special power of faith here that emanates from a vortex of the divine cosmos to cause one to want to embrace life any more or less -- as to indicate that it looks not much like any other space occupied off and on by life, fairly regular people when you get down to it, that would be forgot other than it be mentioned, and modestly described here. You may yourself know very well of those that I speak. But you may also suspect, as I have often considered, that this particular place where there has never been violence, or even the slightest hint of violence, not even a scream or a salted tear or the pin prick of a finger to bleed or the consumption of a poisoned apple, let alone a poisoned pickle as may be more appropriate for the Grinder, that such a space would not have any ghosts. No spirits, and as such, it is a forbidden vacuity of a place without ghostly spirits. No automatic writing, no table taps, no alphabet board guided by an invisible hand. A place where doors, front, back, sideways or unimaginable to open to other dimensions or even a trap door in the floor to capture the unwary and unsuspect would never mysteriously open and close seemingly of themselves. So it is like life that here the doors open and close because we consciously will them to open and close. One needs to use an arm or a leg and to push or pull or shove. Nothing is automatic in a dead free zone. That quality in and of itself can make one to feel oppressively confined. ][< -- To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to: <http://listserv.icors.org/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>