The Last Lions

Posted on April 7th, 2011

The Last Lions is a harrowing saga of a mother lioness’ will to survive as she journeys across the brutal African delta. The lioness, Ma di Tau, has her world turned upside down after a fierce battle with a rival pride leaves her mate dead. During the battle, she severely injures the pride’s leader. Knowing the enemy pride will be back to seek vengeance, Ma di Tau quickly flees with her three young cubs. In the quest to find safety, they must first learn to survive in completely unknown and dangerous territory. Ma di Tau is forced to adapt to the new land. She is forced to go against her instinct and learn to hunt wildebeest while they are in the water. Ma di Tau will stop at nothing to save what’s left of her family and preserve the bloodline of her lost mate.

Filmmakers, Dereck and Beverly Joubert, take you on an incredible journey. The Last Lions is a riveting look at an iconic animal species that is in danger of becoming extinct.

Over the past 50 years, the number of lions in the wild has dropped by 330,000, leaving only 20,000 left around the world. This film offers a renewed look of what we’ll be losing if something is not drastically changed.

The Last Lions is currently playing in select theaters across the United States for a limited time. You can check for theater listings here. The official movie site is here. If you’d like to find out more on how to save the lions, visit Cause An Uproar.

The English Kid Who Became an Irish Saint

Posted on March 17th, 2011

I learned of the true history of Saint Patrick from an Irishman in an English pub in London. I asked him why Saint Patrick’s day is celebrated. He told me that it wasn’t celebrated until the 1970s when the Irish-Americans turned what was a minor holy day in Ireland into a revenue generating holiday in the States.

“Did we Americans invent the Irish Saint Patrick as well?” I asked.

He took a long draw from his beer. “If you buy me another one of these, I’ll tell you the whole story, includin’ the part about Patrick…” He leaned in a little closer and spoke in a hushed tone. “The thing of it is, Patrick was a Brit.”

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Around 390 AD Patrick was born to a well-to-do Christian family in England. He grew up caring little for religion. When he was sixteen years old he was kidnapped by Irish marauders who often raided the English coast looking for young men to enslave and put to work on the Irish isle. Patrick was sent out to the mountainous countryside to tend flocks of sheep for his master. It was here during many cold, wet and lonely days that Patrick found God. After six miserable years, it is said that Patrick heard a voice in dreams telling him how to escape back to England on a pirate ship.

Patrick was reunited with his family and became a priest. Then the same voice that told Patrick how to escape his bondage in Ireland returned and told him to go back and convert the Irish people to Christianity. Patrick was the perfect candidate for the job. His six years there gave him an understanding of the language and the tribal system that existed in Ireland.

Patrick cleverly overlaid the idea of the one Christian God over the many gods that were worshipped in Ireland at the time. Legend tells of Patrick introducing the symbol of the Christian cross on top of the symbol of the Irish moon goddess which is why the Celtic cross has its distinctive circle. The often told tale of Patrick driving the snakes out of Ireland is a metaphor. In Patrick’s time evil was often portrayed as a snake. The introduction of Christianity to Ireland cast off the evil and false gods of the island. Ironically Ireland doesn’t have any snakes.

Patrick’s quest of converting Ireland to Christianity was not an easy one. He was beaten, harassed and forgotten for a while after his death on March 17th 461. In wasn’t until many years later that a mythos formed around the legend of Patrick. And centuries after his death he was raised up as the patron Saint of Ireland.

So if you go out tonight hoist one for Patrick. The Englishman who had a rough ride to become the Saint of Ireland.

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Discovery’s Last Flight

Posted on February 28th, 2011

It was the sign I had waited 115 days to see: “Days until launch: 0”. Driving towards the press site I was asking myself, “is this it? is this the day that Discovery will finally launch?”

The last time I was here, I watched tearfully as Discovery’s flag was ceremoniously lowered from the flagpole beside the mission countdown clock. The launch had been scrubbed due to a hydrogen leak and all my hopes were dashed.

Today though, the sun was shining, the press trucks were out in force, and I was ready to see this bird fly.

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There was a nervous pause as we heard that the countdown clock had been stopped. A problem with range control meant that at that moment, we were no go. No-one knew quite what was going on. We waited.

The shout of “the clock’s counting down again” was like sweet music to our ears. The world stood still for me as the adrenalin rushed through my veins. I was physically shaking. I’d waited all these months to see this, and there it was.

The beginnings of what would turn out to be an immense plume of smoke confirmed the shuttle’s main engines had been ignited. Dense white water vapour billowed out like a timelapse of clouds rolling in, except this was real time. This was happening in front of me.

My heart was racing as I caught my first glimpse of the scorching flames shooting out of the solid rocket boosters. I’ve never seen anything so bright. It was like watching the sun burn a hole through the sky. It was incredible.

The speed of sound is slower than the speed of light so it took a few moments before the immense wall of sound hit us from across the water. It started with a low rumble, like a runaway train hurtling down the tracks and then grew to a crescendo of sound that was so powerful you could feel it shaking you. It’s difficult to describe it, as it got louder the sound began to pop, like 1000 fireworks going off at once.

I watched the trail of orangey smoke from the rocket boosters against a blue sky as the shuttle soared higher and higher, faster and faster. Even the smoke was beautiful. The shuttle, no more than a pin prick of light in the sky by now, separated from the solid rocket boosters and continued its journey up into space.

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Just as the sound wave had washed over me, I now felt a strange wave of emotions. There were no words to describe what I had just seen, I was entirely in awe of it. I stood, in my own little bubble as people checked their cameras, exchanged hugs and struggled to explain what they’d just seen. It was truly an amazing moment that will stay with me for many years.

I was told, before I saw a launch, that I had to be there to experience it. Only now do I understand what they meant by that. There is no way that a camera can do justice to the experience of watching a shuttle launch. It will never be able to capture the trepidation, the excitement, and the sheer power of the sound and feel of it. Time is running out if you want to share this experience so don’t put it off. Do whatever it takes to get there, you won’t regret it.