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Showing posts with label Takes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Takes. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Explorer Steve Boyes takes us on an epic journey to save Africa’s last remaining wetland wilderness

Fellows Friday

Blog_FF-SteveBoyes

Steve Boyes is passionately devoted to the preservation of wilderness, as well as to restoring and protecting species and landscapes already damaged by human intervention. At TED2014, the ornithologist and National Geographic Emerging Explorer spoke to the TED Blog about his work to save South Africa’s endangered Cape parrot and his campaign to get the Okavango Delta listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site. Oh, and he also walked us through the profound experience of being a tiny human in the midst of Earth’s primordial wilderness. Below, an edited transcript of our conversation.

Why is wilderness important?

Wilderness cannot be restored or recreated—only destroyed. We are about to lose the last glimpses into prehistory that connect us to a time before modern man. By wilderness, I mean places untouched by modern society that are capable of completely taking you away, bringing you to tears, making you feel spiritual — all of those things that people go into nature to find. I firmly believe that in the next two decades, humans will lose our last true wilderness areas if we do not focus on preserving them.

My long-term research and expeditions focus on the future of the Okavango Delta — Africa’s last-remaining wetland wilderness, located in northern Botswana. This untouched 18,000 square kilometer alluvial fan is the largest of its kind, and is supplied by the world’s largest undeveloped river catchment — the mighty Kavango Basin. The Okavango Delta is home to the largest-remaining elephant population and keystone populations of lion, hyena, giraffe and lechwe antelopes. It’s the size of Texas, and visible from space.

Every year, my team and I pole ourselves in dugout canoes — called  “mekoro” — across the Okavango Delta, guided by baYei people, who have lived in harmony with this environment for hundreds of years. Accessing the central wilderness of the delta takes eight days, and the baYei’s mekoro are the only craft that can get us there. Twenty years ago, the journey would’ve taken two hours in a boat out of the only nearby town, Maun. It’s an indicator of how far the wilderness area has retreated.

These 340-kilometer research expeditions take us 15 to 18 days through the unexplored central wilderness. It’s a scientific investigation — we are establishing baselines for biodiversity so that we have a point of reference when things change, as they inevitably will. This pristine delta and river are threatened by irrigation schemes, agricultural development, hunting, overfishing, mining exploration, poaching, tourism and population increase, all of which have already had an impact.

The Okavango Delta expedition team poles across the vast wetland by the only possible form of transport, a dugout canoe called a mekoro. Photo: Wild Bird Trust The Okavango Delta expedition team cross the vast wetland in the only possible form of transportation, a dugout canoe called a “mekoro.” Photo: Wild Bird Trust

You are an orthinologist, so your first love is birds, right? What is the link between your study of birds and your work preserving the Okavango Delta?

Put simply, birds can choose with their wings. When things go wrong in an ecosystem, they will simply not return. One of our projects in the Okavango Delta is the Okavango Wetland Bird Survey. It is a broad-based biodiversity survey that focuses on birds as bioindicators of significant change in the water and islands of the Okavango. You’ll see all the storks come in, check it out, go hmm, and go somewhere else — and maybe die in the process. But they’ll leave. It’s almost instant. One year they’re there, and the next year they’re gone.

As for how I got to the Okavango in the first place—I did my Ph.D. on the Meyer’s parrot, which thrives there. The Meyer’s parrot is the most abundant, widespread parrot in Africa, with massive distribution and six subspecies. It’s a highly successful parrot and typically lives in remote river valleys throughout the African subtropics. It’s a close relative of the South African Cape parrot — which is, in contrast, Africa’s most endangered parrot. Yet we knew nothing about the Meyer’s parrot. I wanted to help the Cape Parrot, so I went to the Okavango to learn the Meyer’s parrot’s secrets as to why it’s so successful. I’ll tell you one:  Meyer’s parrots are the only hole-nesting birds that breed in winter in the Okavango Delta, because they are the only animal that feeds on an abundant supply of insect larvae pupating in seed pods. I wanted to learn things like this, to take to the Cape parrot and try and create context for them.

The Wild Bird Trust works to restore the population and forest habitat of South Africa's endemic and endangered Cape parrot. Photo: Wild Bird Trust The Wild Bird Trust works to restore the population and forest habitat of South Africa’s endangered Cape parrot. Photo: Wild Bird Trust

When I’m not in the Okavango Delta, I’m back in South Africa working on the iziKhwenene Project — iziKhwenene means “Cape parrots” in isiXhosa. We work with local communities of the Amathole Mountains, teaching people how to rehabilitate the forest ecosystem that the birds rely on. Together, we are restoring Afromontane forest patches by planting thousands of indigenous trees and creating protected areas. We also support Cape parrots by administering vaccines, building nest boxes and offering supplementary food. Rebuilding destroyed forest requires the participation of local communities over generations. So we are establishing a conservation culture, capturing the imaginations of local children and providing jobs for their parents. And it has worked: once the Cape parrot was never mentioned, but it is now widely known in South Africa, especially in the villages below the Amathole Mountains. Local community members now shout “iziKhwenene” in joy as we drive past in one of the project vehicles.

Together, the iziKhwenene Project and the work in the Okavango Delta grew and grew until we needed to establish the Wild Bird Trust in 2009. We want to use endangered bird species as ambassadors for threatened ecosystems. So, it is really all about birds and people. We cannot exist one without the other.

Your tales of visiting the Okavango Delta are thrilling. Tell us more about the experience. Who goes with you?

We have two research camps, which we visit seasonally. One’s testing nest boxes, so we learn about what Meyer’s parrots need and can take this information to the Cape Parrots and their nest boxes. The other one is focused on wetland birds. This camp is more accessible and can accommodate volunteers and scientists. There are three camp managers, who cook and so on, that travel with us. Each year, we also do a crossing of the delta to which we add one writer, one filmmaker and one blogger.

I believe that one of the key things we need to do to preserve wilderness is to convince millions of people around the world to protect landscapes and wilderness areas they’ll never visit, because they simply can’t. We want to share our experiences, so they know these places exist and are important. The Into the Okavango website, an open-access site where we upload and track data in real-time during our journey, allows the world to follow us and experience what we’re experiencing firsthand. It’s about inspiration.

We have a core group of outdoorsman and scientists that engineer their annual calendars to accommodate these annual expeditions across the Okavango Delta. We will all continue doing this for the foreseeable future.

Surrounded by wildlife in the Okavango Delta. Photo: Wild Bird Trust Surrounded by wildlife in the Okavango Delta. Photo: Wild Bird Trust

Aren’t these people afraid to enter such wilderness? What’s it like?

Often production people don’t have any wilderness background, but I’ve guided for 15 years. I know how to take care of people in the wilderness, and how to support a wilderness experience. When I take you, I’m going to prepare you with a lot of talking around the fire. For example, you’ll have to be a vegetarian the whole time. You will have the bare minimum of gear — no possessions. From the first day, when you get out into the landscape, you’ll be on the water—at one with nature—exposed for three weeks.

Every day on expedition we have to be off the water by 4 o’clock, because we typically use hippo paths to travel by day—the hippos use them at night. So well before sunset we’re out of the water and setting up camp. You set your tent up. I say, “I’m going to give you a little three-legged stool. You can take a notebook with you, you can take binoculars, a bird book, a little flask of whiskey or tea, whatever you want. And you’re going to walk off, and you tell me where you’re going.” You walk and open yourself to the reality of this place. You must feel and recognize the anxiety building inside you. When it becomes too much to go any further — it could be 10 meters, it could be 100 meters, it’s up to you — you must stop. Find a place up against a tree, on a termite mound. Put your things down. And you sit. You’ve seen all kinds of wildlife that day and now, in this remote place, there are ultimate consequences — we must be all very aware of that. I’ve got a great medical kit and am qualified as a caregiver, but I’m not a medical doctor. We’ve got medical evacuation support: a helicopter could be here in the daytime, within an hour or two, but at night you’re on your own for 12 hours. So you can’t take any risks, and I’m very clear about that. I say, “You’re going to start to see the sun setting—that’s the next source of anxiety. It’s going to build and build until it gets too scary and you cannot handle it anymore. At that point, you walk back to the fire.”

Huddled around the campfire. Photo: Wild Bird Trust Huddled around the campfire. Photo: Wild Bird Trust

That’s the process of linking a person into that wilderness experience, into the reality of that place they’re in and into themselves. You just sit there quietly and listen. Don’t focus on that feeling of anxiety, just be mindful of it, because it’s telling you when you must go. These are powerful experiences for people, where they get in touch with their own survival instinct speaking to them, as well as a landscape. That can teach you — it is a bit of a cliché — how small you are.

Once you’ve gone through eight days of that, you’ve arrived — it is literally a wonderland, a wilderness beyond comparison. It is thousands of birds, it is hundreds of elephants, it is so many lions at night that you don’t know what to do. They are everywhere. So many hippos. You’ll have a clan of 50 hyenas come at some point in the night, running around the camp, trying to see what is going on. They’re very inquisitive animals that inspect and break everything in a matter of minutes.

How do you protect yourself from the lions and hyenas and elephants?

Don’t need to. They have no interest in human beings. You just have to be a calm, normal human, and these animals do not consider you prey — they’re very scared of you. It’s just if you are drunk, or trying to hurt them, or doing something odd. These animals know that human beings are the most dangerous thing they’re ever going to see in the wilderness, and they’ve known that for 100,000 years. You just respect all wildlife, and you’re safe. Live mindfully and live calm — you’ll be safe.

When we first accessed this wilderness, it hadn’t been seen for 60 years. It had been cut off from the world. And before that, people had only really visited it for another 60 years. Before that, not one human being had been in there. It’d have been impossible, the technology didn’t exist. The first time we got in there, there was a small group — about four of us. Everyone had gone off to do their walkabouts. They were all sitting somewhere; I didn’t know where they were. These two elephant herds — bachelor herds — come onto the small island and they’re [makes growling/roaring sounds] hitting the palms. Chaos ensues. Dust going up. And then I see — doop! — like meercats: my brother’s up, Giles is up, Pete’s up, I’m up. This was the first time on the expedition that I knew exactly where they were sitting. I was sitting under a sausage tree completely overwhelmed by this place.

Elephants at sunset. Photo: Wild Bird Trust Elephants at sunset. Photo: Wild Bird Trust

I wanted to know what they were feeling after discovering this place for themselves. So I went to speak to each of them and—whispering, like we were in a church—asked, “Well, what do you think?” Every single one of them just cried, and cried, and cried. And I cried with him, and I cried with the next guy. Because it was just —  you try to say something about an elephant, or you try to say something about a lion, but you cry. It’s happened many times since.

That’s what we might lose—these places. There’s no doubt in my mind that true wilderness is the birthplace of all religion. It’s where Muhammad, Moses, Jesus — they all went into the deserts, the mountain, and they sat quietly. It’s exactly like I make people do. If we lose that, we will lose the secrets that those guys were given, whether it’s on a tablet or in a book. Those were important secrets that helped societies continue for thousands of years. We need to be able to sit silently in the wilderness to listen to the universe and ourselves.

Buddha under the tree?

Yes. I believe that in the next few decades we’ll lose that tree, those last wild places. There’s not much left. Meditation is our only hope after the last wilderness goes. I don’t meditate, perhaps because I am addicted to wild places that bring me into that state instantly.

But the “wild” is not only found in remote, faraway places. In many of my talks about wilderness, I’ll say, “Picture yourself. You’re sitting at home, reading a book in your favorite room. It’s late at night and you’re calm. The lights suddenly go out. It’s pitch dark. The hum of the refrigerator down the hall  that you rarely hear, but was always there, is gone. It’s that eerie silence. That’s the ‘wildness’ saying, ‘I am here. I am never going to go away. You just need to be quiet to see, feel and hear me.’”

Our planet will die and all will go gray if we lose our connection to true “wildness.” It’s always there. It’s the fabric of the universe. That’s what we must tune ourselves into. It’s overwhelming, and direct, and fluid in the wilderness. But come home and you will find it in the park, in your favorite river, that hike you love, the pond your kids play in. One of the best places to experience it is swimming in the ocean, feeling that anxiety and wonder building.

Above: watch a trailer for the upcoming feature documentary Okavango, which folllows Steve Boyes and his team of explorers on their epic journey into the primordial wilderness of Botswana’s Okavango Delta. Their mission: to ensure the preservation of Africa’s last-remaining wetland wilderness.

During the next couple of years, you’ll be filming a feature documentary on the Okavango Delta, in partnership with National Geographic. What is your aim for this film?

We believe that the only way to save the Okavango Delta is by building a global movement to preserve the Kavango Basin as a multinational UNESCO World Heritage Site. The documentary is in service to that goal. In 2015, we will undertake a 3-month, 2,200 kilometer expedition down the length of the Okavango River in dug-out canoes. It’s not just about the adventure: the research data that will be generated by our team of experts — a botanist, zoologist, ichthyologist, herpetologist, ornithologist and sociologist — will provide the maps and media to motivate the establishment of the first protected areas in the catchment. As we travel, we will also share this impossible expedition down the world’s wildest river live with the world like never before, through the Into the Okavango website. We need to whole world to want to care about preserving the Okavango Delta, just to reserve the opportunity to one day visit this primordial wilderness.

Greeting the wild. Photo: Wild Bird Trust Greeting the wild. Photo: Wild Bird Trust

How do you live? When you’re not out in the delta, are you in an urban area?

I live on a 25-acre property in Hogsback Village on Hogsback Mountain in the Amathole Mountains, where we run the iziKhwenene Project. About 80 people live there. My wife, newborn son and I live a normal life with television and iPods. We love community life and being able to work for a landscape and a species. When Jack gets older, we will move back to Cape Town to give him every opportunity to be who he wants to be.

More than half the world’s population now lives in cities. Do you see a profound disconnect from nature?

There is, and I do feel it when I speak to people. But there’s not one person I’ve met that cannot share these experiences with me. It’s innately in everyone. We just do a really good job of forgetting, and an even better job of creating extremely dynamic, interactive lives around us that are more than we can handle. We don’t need anything else, so we don’t think about anything else. Our lives in the cities are very full. Because we fill them.

We need to bring more nature back into the cities. We can grow vegetables on the walls of buildings, we can put forests on the roofs. We can use our waste products to fertilize urban gardens and even woodlands. We even have computer programs that can help us design these landscapes. There’s so much we can do—it’s just an investment of time and a little bit of brilliance. We are brilliant creatures. Overall, we need to consume less and share more because community means everything.

Some of the people I live with and work with in the Okavango Delta have no education. They see the world completely differently, and speak in a completely different way. Their language is cyclic, very slow and almost hypnotic. We must not forget them. Their lifestyle is the reason we have a green, wonderful planet. Our lifestyles are not manifesting that at all, so we must celebrate them more.

This is the greatest challenge of the global conservation movement going forward: how do you convince billions of people around the world that have no opportunity to even see nature or stars to care enough about it to conserve it? We need to figure out how to make nature part of our daily lives again, no matter where we live.

TED Fellows is a global network of 300 innovators and trailblazers from a wide spectrum of disciplines. Read more about this community and how to become a part of it »


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Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Thursday, August 1, 2013

TED Radio Hour takes us “To the Edge”

Culture

to_the_edge_art“By inspiring ourselves, we inspire others.” These are the words of tightrope walker Philippe Petit in this week’s TED Radio Hour from NPR, “To the Edge.” hosted by Guy Raz. The episode overflows with speakers who have gone to the edge in some way: rowing across oceans; exploring caves as deep as Mount Everest is tall; and wire-walking thousands of feet above the ground, like Petit. The big question: why?

Ben Saunders, explorer of all places cold and white, kicks off the episode with the story of his journey to the North Pole. In his talk from TED2005, Saunders repeats a famous quotation from mountaineer George Mallory. He was asked why he wanted to climb Everest. Mallory responded, “Because it is there… What we get from this adventure is just sheer joy, and joy, after all, is the end of life.” Saunders agrees. Although nature can feel like the enemy during a climb, “true, real inspiration and growth only comes from adversity and challenge; from stepping away from what’s comfortable and familiar and stepping out into the unknown.” Saunders is addicted to “tasting life at the edge of what is humanly possible.” And so it seems, are the other three speakers on the show.

Raz introduces Bill Stone next, a TED speaker who explores the depths of the earth, descending into caves as deep as Everest is tall. Drawing on his talk from TED2007, Stone calls these holes “the last terrestrial frontier for humans” and shows how he and his team put themselves through months of sensory deprivation for the sake of a few extra squiggles on a map. Stone describes a “crushing psychological remoteness that begins to hit every member of the team once you get about three days inbound from the nearest entrance.” It’s a sentiment shared by Ben Saunders in his perpetually white surroundings.

Roz Savage, the marketing consultant who traded her gray cubicle for the Atlantic Ocean, had a different perspective on that feeling of remoteness, as she says in her TED Talk from 2010. Having spent 20 years feeling like a battery-farm chicken in her overpopulated office, Savage decided that her real calling in life was rowing across the world’s greatest expanses of water. The experience was liberating: “I just felt incredibly tiny and humble but at the same time very much connected to and part of it all. A lot of time on the ocean I just lost track of self … you’re just another creature. There’s real freedom to be found in that simplicity.”

Philippe Petit is the final speaker in the episode. While all the speakers here pushed themselves to the edge of human capabilities, Petit went to the edge and then stepped off. He walked on a thin steel wire strung up on some of the world’s greatest stages: the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Notre Dame Cathedral and between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. For Petit, “impossible is a human invention,” as he illustrated in his dynamic TED Talk from 2012.

To close out the episode, Petit wonderfully encapsulates the essence of all 4 TED speakers featured on this episode and hundreds of others testing the limits of science, language and humanity:

“Certainly to enter a world of terror you should not be pushed. You should be called by someone, you should be curious; you should have the heart of an explorer.”

Check out your local NPR schedule to find out when TED Radio Hour’s “To The Edge” airs or listen to it via the NPR website »

You can also head to iTunes, where the podcast is available now »


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Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Favorites of 2012: Sometimes it takes a village to make a transcript

2012 was the year of radical openness at TED. In that spirit, while our office is closed for winter break, TED’s editorial staffers have selected their favorite talks of the year …  giving you a peek into both our process and our personalities. We hope you enjoy.

I’m impressed and intimidated by people who can give a TED Talk in more than one language. So let me start by saying: Arunachalam Muruganantham speaks much better English than I do Tamil. He even cracks jokes in English — really funny jokes. Respect.

Muruganantham is an inventor from Tamil Nadu who started a business making something he knew nothing about: maxipads. It’s a painfully intriguing topic — of regular interest to some of us, it makes others squirm in their chairs. (And given the number of people on Earth who have periods, compared to the number who have, say, robotic prosthetic arms, it’s actually strange we hadn’t yet seen a great talk on the subject. Believe me, we are looking for more.) When Muruganantham saw that his wife had a problem affording sanitary supplies, he worked for years to design and (here it comes…) test an effective and cheap maxipad. He then built a philanthropically oriented business helping women’s groups around India make and sell their own pads.

So: a topic we’re squeamishly passionate about, a social message worth hearing, gorgeous footage, and a warm and laughing audience in the theater at TED@Bangalore. There’s just one thing standing between this talk and the TED front page, and it’s a tough question to think about: Some of the words that Muruganantham speaks are hard for our wider audience to understand.

Understanding is something we take really seriously. When TED first started posting videos online in 2006, we didn’t yet have transcripts or translations. And we started right away to get emails from people in the hearing-impaired community, as well as from those who did not speak English. Both of them said the same thing, and I’ll never forget hearing it: You’re sharing these ideas with everyone but me. Transcribing all our talks, and building the Open Translation Project, were driven by the desire to fix that. Now, below the window of every TED Talk is a button to turn on a transcript in English or any language it’s translated into.

So we decided, for Muruganantham’s talk, to build a text transcript and have it pop up automatically when you visit his TED Talk. It took a surprising number of people to make this simple thing happen.

First, the transcripts themselves, which happen at top speed. TED staffers Thu-Huong Ha and Morton Bast work together with a professional transcriber to attach time-coded text to the edited video. It’s doubly important to get these texts exactly right, both for our users who choose subtitles and because the English text is used as a basis for translations in 94 languages. Something like 35,000 separate text files depend on these English texts to be correct.

Then, the default behavior of our subtitles is to disappear until needed. So the transcript team had to work with our engineers to make sure that on this particular talk, the the subtitles would pop up automatically. While we’ve placed auto subtitles on talks given in French and Spanish, making it work in English took a little tweaking. Thanks, engine room!

To get around the issue, our video editor Laurie House tried a quick experiment with burning subtitles into the talk video itself — instead of using a separate layer — but quickly realized that once the talk was translated, the new language would want to go right where the English titles were burned in. So, scrap that.

Meanwhile we’ve got three people working on this transcript over the weekend, checking the text phrase by phrase into our subtitling back-end software. And they’re making a lot of headway. But on the Monday the talk is scheduled to run, just hours before we post it at 11am, we still have seven “[unclear]“s. In other words, seven places where the speaker mumbles, or makes a reference we can’t catch, or is drowned out by laughter. We’ve never gone live with this many “[unclear]“s, but we can’t just guess at what Muruganantham is saying. So at 9:30am, we socialize the problem, sending an email to everyone and anyone who might have insight on the talk.

At 9:40am, Jenny Zurawell, our Open Translation Project coordinator, takes a pass (she speaks four or five languages herself) and clears up three of the missing words.

At 9:48am, Lakshmi Pratury, the host of TED@Bangalore, weighs in from India with the rest of the four words, and a major correction we’d all missed:

At three minutes in, the transcript reads “that is why I am jealous of science in India”. ‘Science’ is not what Muruganantham said. He said ‘Saints.’  The sentence should read “…jealous of saints in India”.

And just before post, we hear from Muruganantham himself, who confirms Lakshmi and Jenny’s readings, and says:

“further any doubts, i can clear it.”

We post the talk, and — well, what we expect to happen happens. There are those few folks who won’t ever watch a talk about maxipads and lady problems. There are those few folks who get frustrated by someone who can’t speak perfectly crisp English. But most people watch the talk, read the subs, and fall in love with this beautiful guy, who just wanted to solve his wife’s monthly problem, and then found a way to help a nation full of women too.

As Rebecca Eisenberg wrote when Upworthy featured the talk on Facebook: “It must have been this guy’s time of the month to be awesome.”

Arunachalam Muruganantham at TED@Bangalore, part of the TED2013 Talent Search. Learn more at http://talentsearch.ted.com. Photo courtesy TED@Bangalore. Arunachalam Muruganantham at TED@Bangalore, part of the TED2013 Talent Search. Learn more at http://talentsearch.ted.com/. Photo courtesy TED@Bangalore.

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Saturday, February 2, 2013

On our reading list: Al Gore takes a look at The Future

Global Issues

Al Gore: Averting the climate crisisAl Gore: Averting the climate crisisAl Gore posits an intriguing question in his newest book, on shelves tomorrow, January 29: can we change the future? But this book isn’t about peering into a crystal ball.  In The Future: Six Drivers of Global Change, Gore — who’s spoken at TED multiple times — breaks down the factors that are changing our world at an unprecedented pace, leaving many of us feeling something akin to temporal whiplash. As Gore outlines, these forces are: ever-increasing economic globalization, the development of a “global mind” via instant communication, a global balance of power with multiple centers, an economic compass pointing toward unsustainable growth, revolutions in the field of genomics and biotech,Al Gore: New thinking on the climate crisisAl Gore: New thinking on the climate crisis and a disruption of the relationship between people and the earth’s ecosystems.

“What do you think about when you hear the phrase ‘the future?’ Is it a hopeful place? Is it a little scary? Does it seem like things are speeding up more than in the past?” Gore asks in a trailer for the book, above. “Well, they are. There are large forces that are shaping and reordering the world we’ve always known.”

But he promises that the tome isn’t all doom and gloom.Al Gore warns on latest climate trendsAl Gore warns on latest climate trends

“No matter where in the world we live, we face a choice—either to be swept along by the powerful currents of technological change and economic determinism into a future that may threaten our deepest values. Or shape the future in ways that protect human dignity and reflect the aspirations of people and nations throughout the world,” he says. “Mapping the future is a risky undertaking. Perhaps the only thing riskier is doing nothing.”


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Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Sheer Resolve to Do What It Takes - Nlp and Guided Visualization for Inner Resolve

Sheer Resolve to Do What It Takes - Nlp and Guided Visualization for Inner ResolveSheer Resolve to Do What It Takes - Nlp and Guided Visualization for Inner Resolve by Michael J. Emery, M.A., C.Ht., M.NLP - Personal Development Coach

This product is manufactured on demand using CD-R recordable media. Amazon.com's standard return policy will apply.

Price: $12.98


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Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Sheer Resolve to Do What It Takes - Nlp and Guided Visualization for Inner Resolve

Sheer Resolve to Do What It Takes - Nlp and Guided Visualization for Inner ResolveSheer Resolve to Do What It Takes - Nlp and Guided Visualization for Inner Resolve by Michael J. Emery, M.A., C.Ht., M.NLP - Personal Development Coach

This product is manufactured on demand using CD-R recordable media. Amazon.com's standard return policy will apply.

Price: $12.98


Click here to buy from Amazon