Humanistic
View allAll Photos Tagged Affirmations
(english follow)
LES PHILOSOPHES
La femme: Tu connais Orson Welles n’est-ce pas?
L’homme: L’auteur de ce vieux film… Citizen Kane?
La femme : Un jour il a déclaré que….« Nous sommes nés seul, nous vivons seul et nous mourrons seul. Il n’y a seulement qu’à travers nos amours et nos amitiés que nous nous donnons l’illusion, pour un moment, de ne pas être seul. » - Toi, es-tu d’accord avec cette affirmation?
L’homme : Eh bien… Si monsieur Welles a raison, alors il faut chérir tous ces moments d’amitié, d’amour qui nous donnent l’illusion de ne pas être seul. Tu es d’accord? - Au fait, tu vois ce petit nuage stationnaire là-haut?
La femme: Tu contournes ma question, sans y répondre… comme un politicien qui ne veut pas se compromettre!
L’homme: Puisque tu insistes… Non, je ne suis pas d’accord avec Welles. Nos amours, nos amitiés et même la solitude sont tous des moments essentiels de la vie humaine. Ils ne sont pas là pour créer une « illusion » de transcendance mais pour façonner notre liberté, notre destinée d’êtres mortels.
La femme : Donc, si nous voulons façonner notre liberté, ici et maintenant, … il serait peut-être temps de résoudre ensemble l’énigme de notre petit nuage stationnaire…
Patrice photographiste
——————————-
THE PHILOSOPHERS
The woman : You know Orson Welles, don't you?
Man: The author of that old movie ... Citizen Kane?
The Woman: One day he said that…. " We are born alone, we live alone, we die alone, only through our love and friendship can we create an illusion for the moment that we're not alone ”- Do you agree with this statement?
Man: Well ... If Mr. Welles is right, then we have to cherish all those moments of friendship, of love that give us the illusion of not being alone. You agree? - By the way, do you see that little cloud stationary up there?
The Woman: You get around my question, without answering it ... like a politician who doesn't want to compromise himself!
Man: Since you insist ... No, I don't agree with Welles. Our loves, friendships, and even loneliness are all essential moments in human life. They are not there to create an "illusion" of transcendence but to shape our freedom, our destiny as mortal beings.
The Woman: So if we want to shape our freedom, here and now, ... maybe it's time to solve the puzzle of our little stationary cloud together …
Patrice photographiste
There were days when I thought I had full confidence in an affirmation. When the immensity of the universe surprises me among the mists, sitting alone, as a simple guest to be a spectator, ... a thought occurs: "I only hope to have the ability to discern who will be the person who will accompany my future and luck to share my desires. Goals that will not be approached by my perseverance in the wait, in any case I distrust in she.
Hubo días en los que creí que tenía plena confianza en una afirmación. Cuando la inmensidad del universo me sorprende entre las brumas, sentado solitario, como un simple invitado para ser un espectador, ... se produce un pensamiento: "Solo espero tener la capacidad de discernir quién será la persona que acompañará mi futuro y la suerte de compartir mis deseos. Metas que no se acercarán por mi perseverancia en la espera, en cualquier caso desconfío en ella.
What is marvelous about a photograph is that its possibilities are infinite; there aren’t any subjects ‘done to death’.
Gisèle Freund
HBW!! Ukraine Matters!
hybrid camellia, 'Yume', j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, raleigh, north carolina
“The mermaid is an archetypal image that represents a woman who is at ease in the great waters of life, the waters of emotion and sexuality. She shows us how to embrace our instinctive sexuality and sensuality so that we can affirm the essence of our feminine nature, the wisdom of our bodies, and the playfulness of our spirits. She symbolizes our connection with our deepest instinctive feelings, our wild and untamed animal nature that exists below the surface of outward personalities. She is able to respond to her mysterious sexual impulses without abandoning her more human, conscious side.
Another archive shot of a typical beach day, a sky full of happy clouds being puffed along on a playful wind. Days at the coast can be so bright and are always happy and life affirming. Ride like the wind is by Frank Zappa
Hi again everyone. I've decided to take a small break from flickr because I have some things to attend to before we start our trek through central Australia in September.
I'd particularly like to say thanks for all of your support and comments. No doubt I will do the occasional upload during this break but I won't be here on flickr anywhere near as much as I have been in the past. I'll be back online properly in September and I hope you'll come along and join me on our journey to Uluru, Alice Springs and Central Australia.
Just so nobody is worried by my absence, I'd just like to say that everything is going good for me at the moment and that is a big part of why I'm so short on time. Those of you who have been around for a long time know what I'm talking about and I'd particularly like to say a big THANK YOU to all of you who have been there to support me in the past. Your love and kindness has been a HUGE part of my getting better and I'd like to dedicate this photo and this song by Savage Garden particularly to you!
Who would have thought I would find such inspiration from the friends that I've found on flickr? I'm constantly amazed at all of my contacts' and regulars' talent, ability, empathy and kindness. You guys are an affirmation of everything that is wonderful about photography and flickr!
The witness sees suffering for what it is, without denying it, twisting it into a story of endurance, or giving it a happy ending. The witness has a profound and rare human capacity to give reverent attention to sufferers and reflect their truth back to them. And in the encounter with those who suffer, the witness undergoes conversion from numbed or removed observer to passionate advocate.
In Lamentations the narrator sees and hears the magnitude of Zion's suffering. He does not deny it, reduce it to a nicer version of itself, or blanket it with theological platitudes. Instead, he reflects back to her the pain she can barely articulate. And somehow, his ability to admit her reality into his consciousness changes him; his encounter with her “turns his spirit” (cf. 1: 16b). He grasps the truth about her situation and affirms that her suffering overwhelms him as well.
-Lamentations and the Tears of the World, Kathleen M. O’Connor
So affirmed Nagasena.
From "World Of The Buddha" edited by Lucien Stryk.
Sunflower leaf still life, in a vase by a window. No processing other than sharpness, contrast, color boost and D-light adjustment.
Edited in View NX-i
14 rue François de Sourdis, Bordeaux
En 1982, les lois de décentralisation font de la Région une collectivité territoriale de plein exercice. Désireux d’affirmer, par l’architecture, la réalité et la puissance de cette collectivité naissante, de nombreux conseils régionaux souhaitent alors s’installer dans leur propre immeuble. À Bordeaux, en lisière du nouveau quartier Mériadeck, face au cimetière de la Chartreuse, va alors surgir de terre un colossal parallélépipède de verre, aux reflets verts, pris dans un péristyle de piliers en béton de section quadrangulaire.
En 1983, un concours est ouvert pour choisir l’équipe d’architectes qui construira le nouvel hôtel de la Région Aquitaine. La délibération d’octobre 1983 mentionne qu’il sera fait appel à des concepteurs uniquement aquitains regroupés par équipe de trois membres de départements différents.
Le lauréat est désigné en février 1984 : il s’agit du groupement conduit par la Société bordelaise d’architecture - Perrier S.A. complété des architectes P. Claudel, G. Lechene, B. Maydieu, J.R. Millies-Lacroix, G. Balhadere et M. Madoz-Moussard.
Francisque Perrier est déjà connu localement pour son implication dans divers projets comme l’ensemble de Saige-Formanoir à Pessac en 1965, la résidence « Centre » à Mériadeck en 1976 ou le Conservatoire de Bordeaux en 1977.
L'inauguration a lieu le 9 janvier 1988.
www.google.fr/maps/place/14+Rue+Fran%C3%A7ois+de+Sourdis,...
inventaire.aquitaine.fr/decouvertes-de-laquitaine/gironde...
www.docomomo.fr/sites/default/files/2018-10/hotel-region-...
Genesis 2:17 King James Version (KJV)
17 But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.
"Where's the fun in that, you grump?" asked the insightful Mr. Ted from Kentucky, an amazing talking horse who was a descendant of the brilliant Mr. Ed of Hollywood fame.
AFFIRMATION
May an Angel’s love surround you
Each and every day
May an Angel’s breath keep you warm
And tempt you to stay
May an Angel’s wings protect you always
When your life becomes difficult and hard
When the light seems increasingly dark
And you need help to find your way
May an Angel’s love surround you
Each and every day
*****
Blessings to you all,
Shelley.
Thank you to each and every one of you who has supported and shared your lives and thoughts with me this year.
I cannot thank you enough, as you have kept a light burning for me as well in difficult times.
Even semi-human Angels need love to know they are needed...
I write often of spiritual love, but some days we need to feel real tangible love.
I seek ways out of the darkness, and I hope you will continue to fly with me into the New Year.
Forgive my lateness in replying to comments and faves from my last batch of work, I will get to you...life is demanding and even Angels have to sleep....sometimes..haha!
Angels drive cars and have to get them fixed and sort out dodgy freezers right before Xmas. Angels have family and they sometimes need your surety.
But Angels also have friends on Flickr who have supported them and commented, faved and viewed with astounding generosity.
Thank you, thank you, with all my heart.
*****
This image is a detail from a stained glass window in St. Mary's, Eastbourne, East Sussex, UK.
Angels like it here a lot.
If you would like to see more of my work have a look at my website at:
affirmation:
i have no body
i have no mind
i have no spirit
i am just the breath of God
the breath of life
breath of life
breath of God
in spanish
afirmación:
no tengo cuerpo, no tengo mente, no tengo espíritu
soy solo el aliento de Dios, aliento de vida
aliento de Dios, aliento de vida
my favorite affirmation given by my yoga teacher; yogi bhajan
I will be your Father,and you will be my sons and daughters, say the Lord Almighty..
2 Corinthians 6:18
I am very beautiful.
I am very cute.
I am very adorable.
I am very smart.
I deserve lots of love.
I deserve many more treats.
And everybody loves me.
"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.”
–Stuart Smalley (Al Franken)
Saturday Night Live, 1991 debut
Happy Caturday!
AN AFFIRMATION OF SELFLESS LOYALTY
My fearless heart
Of diamond clarity
Where expression and thought
Are proof of your bravery, justice and swiftness
That cut through ignorance and malcontent
To reveal the pristine awareness of being
Where the freedom of the mind
Is like the sweet chorus of the birds
*****
Sometimes the reinforcement of gracious qualities and love can be a good thing.
So I decided to start an Album on Flickr doing just that.
I like to take shots of the things I have collected over the years that are sharing their presence with me in my home.
Some of my Grail shots have this quality, but often the poem ends up being longer than an affirmation, to me they end up more like a prayer. You can see the Album that contains those works in my Flickr account as well.
But in a sense this is the same principle, as the things I have collected over the years often have a sacred presence or meaning, so I thought I would start to share them here.
On rainy days or when I am not in a writing mood, it is good to still keep working, using the camera in this way, and it is not only enjoyable, it is an opportunity to appreciate these wonderful sacred items and sculptures all over again, and listen to what they have to say.
This Garuda is a modern piece, but the history, energy and protective instinct is the same as from his first incarnation.
This shot is from where he resides, in my glass cabinet, where I keep many other precious things..
“Canadian teachers fired for not ‘celebrating and affirming LGBTQ+’ ideology”
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKdroNgZWS0
“Antifa, police try to stop Christian rocker from giving church service”
www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5_4sadGMc8
Inclusivity: the road to authoritarianism. Communists preach equality, yet kill off those who disagree with them. History proves this.
2 Timothy 3:12 “Indeed, all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.”
This is the title of the latest exhibition by the Leicester Society of Artists at the Sock Gallery in Loughborough.
It was great to meet some of the other artists and there was a vibrant and inspiring atmosphere in a very welcoming and peaceful gallery setting..
This is artist Tazim Hamid who reminded me of a workshop that she'd attended many years ago that I ran at Leicester Adult Education College in Leicester. It was a papermaking workshop that I'd completely forgotten about and apparently we used the banana peels from our lunches which we reduced to pulp and made paper with.
I'm amazed that we managed that in a day as it's quite a lengthy process and must've involved the use of a lot of fans and hairdryers!
What a wonderful memory and affirmation of a working life full of interactions and shared moments that we hold forever.
I didn’t become who I am alone.
The people I’ve let close - the rare few - have shaped my architecture. Some challenged me and forced me to grow sharper; some offered quiet stability and taught me how to rest without vanishing; some widened the inner horizon I didn’t know could hold so much light.
And others, in their own ways, taught me refinement through fracture; not because they intended harm - though sometimes they did - but because not everyone is capable of seeing someone clearly, even when standing right in front of them. Every bond - tender, volatile, brief, or breathtaking - has become part of my design.
I still believe in beauty, not as decoration, but as something constructed with intention, protected with discernment, and chosen again and again in spite of everything that may try to dismantle it.
I may not be the pretty skinny girl who has her picture gawked at, but I am me. I am a human being, and I am happy with myself. I have curves, and I don't wear a size 2. Call me what you want, I know I truly am.
I believe the sun should never set upon an argument
I believe we place our happiness in other people's hands
I believe that junk food tastes so good because it's bad for you
I believe your parents did the best job they knew how to do
I believe that beauty magazines promote low self esteem
I believe I'm loved when I'm completely by myself alone
I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned
I believe you can't appreciate real love 'til you've been burned
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye
I believe you can't control or choose your sexuality
I believe that trust is more important than monogamy
I believe your most attractive features are your heart and soul
I believe that family is worth more than money or gold
I believe the struggle for financial freedom is unfair
I believe the only ones who disagree are millionaires
I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned
I believe you can't appreciate real love 'til you've been burned
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye
I believe forgiveness is the key to your own happiness
I believe that wedded bliss negates the need to be undressed
I believe that God does not endorse tv evangelists
I believe in love surviving death into eternity
I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned
I believe you can't appreciate real love 'til you've been burned
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye
Until you say goodbye
-Savage Garden "Affirmation"
EVERY DAY
You can leave me in the light
And not worry about finding me
You must surely know
That I will always seek you out
When you feel your sanity
Might be in doubt
When your heart feels sore
And you can’t take anymore
When you hide in dark corners
Shunning the current conversation
All so trite and full of spite
Come and find me
Where you left me
Just look for the light
Because that is me calling you
Every moment of the day
From the light
Look it’s alright
From the light
I love you
From the light
Day and night
*****
Thank you to my Friends and Followers,
an Affirmation for Every Day.
Dear friends and followers, and those who have viewed and faved recently on my last batch of work. I have been thinking of you all and wanting to get back to you before now.
The past few days I have been unwell however, but recovering now.
So this was just a little offering to keep you all going until I can cast my eyes over your lovely work and thank you all for supporting me.
Grail Keepers do not forget their friends. Grail Keepers are people who do not forget and have loyalty as their middle name.
Behind the scenes I have been working, thinking. Seems to me we need beauty and decency back in this world. We need the sort of values that anybody, regardless of who or what they are, or what faith they follow, can have.
A Grail Keeper in my mind is someone who will help in this way, even if its only in small ways, it all adds up to something bigger.
Martin Luther King was a Grail Keeper. John Lennon was a Grail Keeper. Mother Teresa was a Grail Keeper. Alexei Navalny was a Grail Keeper. There are so many, the list could go on.
These are courageous well known examples. But there are also Grail Keepers who work diligently in their own communities. There are Grail Keepers who perform small acts of kindness every day.
I want to start to expand on this idea, and the work I do I hope will bring some light into this dark uncertain world of ours. It doesn’t have to be this way, and Grail Keepers even if its only in a simple, small way, need to find their courage and continue to hold up a light.
This work is from Glynde Church, in Sussex in the UK. I take my Grails out into the area I know and have lived in all my life. With them I seek to find a connection to the spiritual world that will heal and enlighten.
Short of having you there with me, the least I can do is share my work in images and words.
And as always, if you would like to see more of my work, have a look at my website at:
March 13th, 2024. Dear Friends...I am still catching up...if I haven't got to you yet, I will.
Meanwhile...The Grail is obsessing me again, when does it not you might ask. Fair point. I really think there is going to be more written as I think upon it. I mean, I have thought about it pretty much all my life, but I think it has a poignant relevance now. I can see some Blogs might get written in the future, especially on the Grail Keeper theme. Modern Grail Keepers are also our future.
Think of any? Might be somebody in your local community.
Like the Post Master in mine, who helped me sort out the right postage to get my new Driving License there and back safely. He got it in the right envelopes and everything for me.
My notes are expanding. But then so is love for the Grail.
All my love everybody, Shell x
The Mastery of Triumph & The Art of Victory
True weapon kills enermies from the inside.
Strategically attack to inflict as many wounds as possible. Scares and wounds never enable fools to learn and grow, instead, they leave them mentally maimed, permanent scarred, and bereft of vitality. Devoid of positive energy and genuine intelligence, they inevitably transform into new depths of destruction, a realm meticulously crafted by your design.
ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ
Tale: Swordless Success 💕
In a circle of friends seeking her guidance, she stands out with her unique approach. While others may rely on weapons and conflicts to conquer their challenges, she takes a different path. With each request, she offers a little concept, a seed of wisdom that grows into an everlasting victory.
Her strategies are not rooted in aggression or violence, but rather in the power of thought and the art of diplomacy. She understands that true triumph lies not in the destruction of others, but in the elevation of oneself and the collective. With her wise counsel, she empowers her friends to navigate the complexities of life, armed not with swords, but with innovative ideas and a steadfast belief in their potential to conquer any obstacle.
ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ
" Nurture victory within,
Choose battles that thrive in your enemies' minds and souls - small enough to win but big enough to matter.
Strategic victories lie within the battles of the mind. Transform fools into grand masters of their own folly, and empower the weak by affirming their wrong strength, leaving no room for their growth.
Choose wisely, for the relentless struggle unfolds in your enemies' obsessions and inner conflicts. As they embrace the seed you sow, you emerge triumphant, for they unwittingly nurture the very force that conquers them. 💕"
______ Scarlett Saphira
ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ
Outfit Art&Ko - Sword Girl Set - Fatpack
Art&Ko
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Kaleidoscope%20Island/145/...
Night without a DAY
Day without a NIGHT🌙
Somebody wanders maybe into my DREAMS 💭
•
♫ www.youtube.com/watch?v=uH9vdvK9Xwo - Gaia MESIAH
Rovingian Council - Culture as Geometry of the Spirit - Diversity as an Act of Resistance by Daniel Arrhakis (2026)
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Rovingian Council - Culture as Geometry of the Spirit - Diversity as an Act of Resistance
"Culture is not what separates us, but the lens through which the invisible becomes visible."
Culture is not just a set of habits, but an external manifestation of an internal metaphysics and, therefore, of an internal spirituality. Just like a living organism, where aesthetics are never merely "decorative," but functional and spiritual.
The way someone moves or the color they choose to wear for a ritual is a direct manifestation of their cosmology—their way of understanding how the universe works.
1. Culture as "Geometry of the Spirit"
Every stroke, facial painting, or gesture is a "spiritual projection," and describes what many scholars call a worldview.
For many peoples, a pattern on a fabric is not just decoration; it is a map of the universe or a visual clause.
- The Sacred in Everyday Life:
In these cultures, there is no separation between the "profane" and the "sacred." The way the land is cultivated or danced is, in itself, an act of worship and connection with ancestral lineage.
- Temporal Continuity:
This idea that culture has a past, present, and future is fundamental. Unlike the Western view of a straight line that leaves the past behind, this "cultural lineage" suggests a circularity.
2. Cultural Diversity as Spiritual Ecology
The analogy between cultural diversity and biodiversity is extremely powerful. Just as the loss of a species impoverishes the ecosystem and reduces the planet's resilience, the extinction of a culture or language eliminates a unique way of perceiving reality.
- The Risk of Hegemony:
"Global cultural hegemony" often acts like an agricultural monoculture: it is efficient and fast, but it sterilizes the spiritual soil, updating deep identities through superficial and rootless mass consumption.
3. Preservation as an Act of Resistance
Preserving these values is not an act of "retrograde nostalgia," but rather a political and spiritual act of affirming human freedom.
Identity vs. Globalism:
Defending the specificity of a people is defending the right of each human group to interpret the mystery of existence in its own way.
Urgency:
The speed of digital communication accelerates the destruction of local oral and aesthetic traditions. Preservation now requires a conscious and active intention.
If we lose the "distinctive marks" of each ethnicity or people, we not only become more alike - We become poorer without access to the different facets of spiritual truth that each culture has managed to capture over millennia.
"Identity is not a museum piece, but the root that allows the tree to grow without being knocked down by the wind of uniformity and banality."
________________________________________________________________________________________________
Conselho Rovingiano - A Cultura Como Geometria Do Espírito - A Diversidade Como Acto De Resistência
"A cultura não é o que nos separa, mas a lente através da qual o invisível se torna visível."
A cultura não é apenas um conjunto de hábitos, mas uma manifestação exterior de uma metafísica interna e, por conseguinte, de uma espiritualidade interna. Tal como um organismo vivo, onde a estética nunca é apenas "decorativa", mas sim funcional e espiritual.
A forma como alguém se move ou a cor que escolhe usar para um ritual é uma manifestação direta da sua cosmologia — a sua maneira de entender como o universo funciona.
1. A Cultura como "Geometria do Espírito"
Cada traço, pintura facial ou gesto é uma "projeção espiritual", e descreve aquilo a que muitos estudiosos chamam de cosmovisão.
Para muitos povos, um padrão num tecido não é apenas decoração; é um mapa do universo ou uma oração visual.
- O Sagrado no Quotidiano:
Nestas culturas, não existe separação entre o "profano" e o "sagrado". A forma como se cultiva a terra ou se dança é, em si mesma, um ato de culto e de ligação à linhagem ancestral.
- A Continuidade Temporal:
Esta ideia de que a cultura tem um passado, presente e futuro é fundamental. Diferente da visão ocidental de uma linha reta que deixa o passado para trás, esta "linhagem cultural" sugere uma circularidade.
2. A Diversidade Cultural como Ecologia Espiritual
A analogia entre diversidade cultural e a biodiversidade é extremamente poderosa. Tal como a perda de uma espécie empobrece o ecossistema e reduz a resiliência do planeta, a extinção de uma cultura ou língua elimina uma forma única de perceção da realidade.
- O Risco da Hegemonia:
A “hegemonia cultural global” atua muitas vezes como uma monocultura agrícola: é eficiente e rápida, mas esteriliza o solo espiritual, substituindo identidades profundas por um consumo de massa superficial e sem raízes.
3. A Preservação como Ato de Resistência
Preservar estes valores não é um ato de "saudosismo retrogrado", mas sim um ato político e espiritual de afirmação da liberdade humana.
Identidade vs. Globalismo:
Defender a especificidade de um povo é defender o direito de cada grupo humano a interpretar o mistério da existência à sua maneira.
Urgência:
A velocidade da comunicação digital acelera a destruição das tradições orais e das estéticas locais. A preservação exige agora uma intenção consciente e ativa.
Se perdermos as "marcas distintivas" de cada etnia ou povo, não ficamos apenas mais parecidos uns com os outros - Ficamos mais pobres sem acesso às diferentes facetas da verdade espiritual que cada cultura conseguiu captar ao longo de milénios.
"A identidade não é uma peça de museu, mas a raiz que permite à árvore crescer sem ser derrubada pelo vento da uniformidade e da banalidade."
of a coldness to the touch with the fingers
of hurting and healing simultaneously
in the familiarity of a warm heart
Kaya Project ft.Randolph Matthews ~ Playful New World
You are amazing! Yes - You :-).
I just love this video by the Duirwaigh team.
uk.youtube.com/watch?v=f4CG18FPCj0
"When inspiration knocks - open the door."
Have a lovely day!
All images and textures are my own.
PhotoAwardsCounter
Click here to see the awards count for this photo. (?)
Thank you for your visit....!
I recognise some of those megalomaniacal male tendencies you are describing, and why wouldn’t I (DUH!)? I know that ‘lost boy’ behaviour. It’s even attractive until one reaches a certain age, then it slopes off through unfortunate, and heads downhill rather swiftly towards downright tragedy. Applying the brakes at that stage is no party, let me tell you. Sometimes I feel as if I had been worn down up to the knees, a would-be demi-legged, own-trumpet-blowing, Falstaff, (if only those Jesuits had gotten hold of me) but then this isn’t about me. All these men searching for mammies, what can I say other than sorry about my gender, and thank Yahweh that I am a cis-gender homo (can I call myself that anymore?).
I think you can tell that I have arrived at the point that I am at, now, not at all sure what I am, or am not, permitted to call myself. I fear that I, at last, know what and who I am, but I am not at all sure if being that is acceptable in an evolving world. Luckily, we will all be dead soon enough. Now that’s something to really look forward to for the terminally bewildered. I like the idea of ‘A Death’ as the inflection point of this ‘Comedy’ we are constructing. I have that funny death story to tell yet properly. That one where Jeffrey suddenly shot upright, screaming at his parents who were quibbling over what to watch on the TV. He screamed fiercely at them “I’m dying, I get to choose the video!”. It was gloriously well said. I do love the tyranny of the dying. I do love the abject tyranny of the victim (my specialty). Feck it, I will go the whole hog. I do love tyranny. I also love saying ‘Feck’, when everyone understands that you are insinuating another vowel in the place of that ‘e’. I love that feck is proper and Irish, a softening of that blow, like a dropped ‘h’, that sort of softening and lilting.
He chose 'Singing in the Rain' and collapsed back into bed raving madly about having to make three different types of pies to prepare for some party or other in his head.
I did my job. I pressed the button and released more morphine, through the catheter in his chest, awash in the 'poor meeees'.
mea culpa, mea culpa,mea máxima culpa.
Later, I made a drawing about his wonderful, life-affirming, self-assertion. I photographed myself beside it, the drawing that is, but discovered, whilst looking at it later, that I seemed to have disappeared.
I guess that's how things go. (Secretly, I love removing myself (with photoshop), but don't tell anyone).
John: A fine eulogy, full of life.
Ruin: I want to reply to this, a little later. I might even have to go into the third person, to get a little distance from the answer, and what it means. This will be an important part of 'the book'. I am putting this here as a sort of commitment.
Anyway, to start, another extended version of this 'story' begins under this photo (the title in parentheses below) below this. It starts with “I’m dying, I get to choose the video”, about halfway down. But I now want to write something a lot more personal, a lot more 'private' perhaps. So far I have been writing about what I call the 'Wild Geese', a recognised phenomenon in Irish history and culture. Now I want to talk about something a little more close to home, and that's the cuckoo gene. That born out of desperation taking up domicile in the 'nests' of other birds, that type of 'taking over'. I think of it slightly relative to that 'banquet idea' that excess, like a pheasant being stuffed with a quail, and the quail in turn being stuffed with a starling, or any smaller bird, that decadence. Anyway, I want to look at that goose initially stuffed with a cuckoo, that idea of the self as a desperate exploiter, but also looking at it as a survival strategy, a Darwinian ploy, even. I am still brewing it in my head, so it will stutter along.
‘On Universal Innocence and The Forgiveness of Freckles’.
But back to Geese and cuckoos.
‘The Rôti Sans Pareil Is 17 Birds Stuffed Inside Each Other and It Is Delicious’. So ran the headline.
"The recipe calls for a bustard stuffed with a turkey stuffed with a goose stuffed with a pheasant stuffed with a chicken stuffed with a duck stuffed with a guinea fowl stuffed with a teal stuffed with a woodcock stuffed with a partridge stuffed with a..."
There is a sort of madness there, manifesting, perhaps, one of the reasons we don't deserve to be here at all. Not that deserving has anything to do with it anyway.
Chickenman, Wild Geese, and now Cuckoo, this sounds like I am on a type of fowl trajectory. Here's to soaring, or swansonging, or attempting both, even!
John: The cuckoo was a popular metaphor in the 1950s, quite possibly in response to the aftermath of WWII and your revival gives it greater depth. One of the explorations of Bernard Malamud and Saul Bellow was the impossibly undermined reconstruction of male identity, no matter what roots they sought to revive. The cuckoo, with its echo of cuckold, the returners from war rewarded with the ghost of doubt of paternity, puts all into those same murky depths of identity which artists equally embrace or flee. As ancient mythology evidences, we have always had a need to understand and belong. Post-wars and natural disasters our need for the perceived solidity of information is greatly enhanced. Technically, having a family formed of my partner's and her ex's three daughters, I am a cuckoo.
Apart from the actual people (greatly rewarding) I have also wondered if I was defying my sense of unbelonging by consciously electing to be the cuckoo, which, unlike being an artist, is I believe a choice.
Ruin: Yes, that would be true, that returning soldier thing. I would guess it has always been the case, have soldiers not been returning since time immemorial? I didn't make the connection between cuckoo and cuckold, a 'duh!' moment for me. Of course, it is there. I particularly like the cuckold personage. If I was going by the evidence of Reddit, or wherever, cuckolding seems to be enjoying a huge revival in the fetish world currently. I would guess it was all part and parcel of dealing with the diminished, and further diminishing, male, that area of 'twixt and 'tween being generated by an excess of hormone disruptors now in the environment (in plastics and whatever). But I have a whole theory about that relative to the possibility of the human animal evolving from sexual reproduction to bifurcatory splitting, that laboratory-assisted dividing known as cloning, the copying of the self, whilst we are at that point of the Y chromosome being, apparently, at 3% of its former glory. Scientists tell us that it appears to be stable at 3%, but infinity is funny like that relative to stability.
The only place we would differ on here is that "unlike artist", which I am pretty sure we might partially agree on anyway. I don't see making art (or writing, even), any form of communication really, as a 'choice'. I see it both as an instinct and a compulsion, and for the most part a disruptive nuisance, an itch. I would have to fight very hard to resist it, that scratching called art making or communicating. I would have to go totally against my 'natural' self.
But this is something I will continue to work out until I no longer can, compulsively, this awful/wonderful itch. I like writing here, simply because it is immediate communication, and sometimes the feedback like yours is invaluable. There is this idea that writing needs to be done alone, like art, but I don't think that is necessarily 'true'. I think you have to work it out the best way you can, and there are no rules.
When I quote you, should I call you John Seven, or just John? I have been calling you John, but thought I should ask. As in "John: A fine eulogy, full of life." Would you prefer John Seven?
John: Well, I don't know what went wrong with my sentence construction there, as I intended to state that artist is not a choice (nor a guarantee of quality). Now amended. Regarding my name - John used to be the skinhead universal form of address, as in "Y'want bovver Jon?"
It was also, in the the year I was born, the Mohamed, It was also, in the year I was born, the Mohamed, Muhammad, Muhamad, or Mohammad of its day, the most common male name in the world. In its many forms - Ian, Iain, Ifan, Sean, Shaun, Shane, Jens, Jean, Joan, Johan and so on.
I am happy with whatever you choose.
Ruin: I guessed we were on the same page relative to art, or writing, this 'fever' to communicate is uncontrollable. It’s not a choice at all. But I feel the same about this cuckoo behaviour and this catfishing too. I see them both as survival manoeuvres, generated mostly out of desperation. Anyway, that's the point I will be starting from for this 'chapter'. I will be using the text generated here, and pulling it through the pronoun mangle, writing it in the third person, to get some distance, some overview.
Blimey, he realised, his behaviour had been stark raving cuckoo. He found it as difficult to think about as to write about this, but felt in the writing of it, that some liberation might be found there. The working out of it was going to have to be in the present, but there would be references and stories that harked back to his ‘Wild Goose’ history, his wandering, his running away. He knew too that he was going to have to stop playing with words, stop trying to entertain, this was not the way to go. By this he meant that “meself” as opposed to myself, that ‘cod Irish’, that “at all, at all”. That would naturally fall away anyway, as he moved away from childhood, as he learnt to speak, to communicate, even. His leaving Ireland was, in a way, his learning to talk. Before that period, he had been that oft-described stuttering, nervous entity, floundering between church-generated guilt and maintaining his secret—that abuse, that incest, that familial interference that could only serve to completely sunder him from family, and any semblance of security, of a feeling of belonging or of ever having been nurtured. It was nobody’s fault. Those who haven’t been nurtured have no idea how to nurture, and similarly those who have never been protected have no way of knowing how to proffer protection. Both his parents had, in their turn, been abandoned as children. It was all they knew. This was somehow part and parcel of the history of that emerald island, that history of hundreds of years of abuse. That this abuse caused Irish literature to blossom, in that foreign tongue, English, is one of those creative offshoots of abuse, one of those ‘miracles’, as his mother used to say, describing anything good or beneficial, a silver lining around those multi-generational deadening clouds.
He was angry, sad, and excited when he discovered that he had to leave to survive, that he had to give up everything and everyone he had ever known, and set out alone for that pagan land on the other side of the Irish Sea. Looking back, he liked that this cuckoo also described a sort of madness; other than the survival instinct it became somewhat renowned for, it also described that ‘stark raving’ idea, that there had always been this connection we humans make about this misunderstood creature, and its development of certain Darwinian characteristics generated by its struggle to survive.
Stealing somewhat from the title of the book by Mr Foster Wallace (of the multiple footnotes on footnotes), he suspected that he had come to that point where he might, at last, ‘Consider the Cuckoo’.
John: This riffing on a thought, expanding out to discover surprises and similarities is a thing of wonder.
Ruin: It's a bit strange to be working it out in 'real time' here. I am literally working it through in my head as I write it. It becomes a self-justification, of sorts, I guess. I will tie it in, somehow, to the main theme. I am coming out of that chapter which has to do with childhood, and heading towards London, via a year in Liverpool—that age-old Irish route—through Aristophanes' The Birds, from which the expression 'Cloud Cuckoo Land' comes, through Mr Darwin, on the way towards New York, and 'Rack and Ruin'.
But yes, he was heading for ‘Cloud Cuckoo Land’, only inasmuch as it was to be totally unfamiliar; there was the madness there of difference, a way of thinking that was foreign to everything he knew. The old rules just didn’t apply, but there were also new rules to learn.
On Universal Order
Or blessed lack thereof.
Dear Rack,
I suspect we have both had our moments with each other, compassionate and understanding, and the opposite. I have never felt particularly worthy, but that’s a universal, some dreadful leftover from a hideously insecure childhood, neglectful parents, an absent alcoholic father and an abusive uncle—all that palaver, that stuff of amateur melodrama, probably endemic, commonplace even, on that little emerald jewel called ‘home’. The thing is, or the pedestrian tragedy is, that you don’t really realise what you are carrying with you when you set off into the world alone; when you put on your walking shoes, you have no idea what your coping mechanisms are, how skew-whiff they might be relative to a world out there, a place that has most likely generated another type of abuse, a foreign variant, one which you have no experience of at all. It’s not unlike our beloved Omicron, another spiked battering ram, something that you might survive or not.
Yes, it’s the same old same old, those ‘Wild Geese’ setting off, full of youthful energy and dreams of conquest, already weighed down by their own undoing. Compassion was easy for me when we met. You had, apparently, fallen at the first hurdle, or so it seemed. I was very wrong about that. Wrecked Rack was phoenix-like. I didn’t know that then, though that constant re-igniting can work a certain ruin on the old cadaver. I notice a chemical smell in my urine, and I was wondering if you do too. We are now part chemical; a bit like our beloved de Selby’s part bicycle, part human. We have been absorbing chemicals now for decades, and you even two decades more than I have. One cannot help but wonder how they have an effect on our very DNA, our day-to-day thoughts, our moods and our hopes, or despairs. But, butt, chicken butt, as I like to say, I have decided to make their influence positive. We are a hybrid, a new man and woman, a chemically enhanced super-breed of survivors.
How’s that for famous last words?
We are like no one else, though this is true of everyone. Now we have the added input of our screens, our hard-drives and external devices, all brain-enhancers and exploitable. These are our external memories, as that innate ability to remember slopes off, and it’s nothing less than a frigging ‘Universal Superhighway’. Nobody has had that before, though I would question as to whether this is a recurring phenomenon, forgotten but recurring, on an infinite, ever-expanding loop (call me loopy). Heloise and Abelard could have done with a bit of that, but they managed anyway, so how can we not rape and pillage the universe with this magnificent, unimaginable tool at our disposal? The only thing that holds us back is our massive insecurity, and our excuses. But the proffering of these to each other, the unashamed exposing of them, is the beginning of this Knausgaardian ‘struggle’, and we have been doing this for almost 30 years. We have the capacity to cross-germinate, to percolate Sontag’s ‘Camp’ through Knausgaard’s, and the other tyrant’s, ‘Kampf’—that tragedy and camp comedy combined. I would like a little more of that ‘fun’ back, the laughing at the absurdity of it all combined with the realisation of what we wrought, and how blindly reactive it was, and we were.
It would be wonderful to laugh, and scream, together again.
"But I wonder if you share my feeling that to write anything sufficiently accurate and engaging, and actually get it over all the hurdles of publication, and risk the ultimate disappointment of remaindering ... Oh, I could not do it now."
No, I have no intention of 'publishing', or even presenting what I am writing and thinking about, other than on Flickr. I find that I do things in 4-year tranches. The idea is just to sort out some of the mess I made, that cacophony of images I generated whilst trying to understand.
I am looking for where I didn't manage to communicate, although some of it ended up in museums (with appropriate puffing out of chest). A 4-year tranche is a challenge, a challenge because of age and the dragging of another 'fatal' disease along with one through a pandemic. Blissfully, science has intervened yet again, somewhat offering respite, temporarily, from the Horsemen. I got that second AstraZeneca yesterday, but am still jealous of those enjoying the intervention of the mRNA vaccines into the livestream of their DNA. If we are going to be so interfered with in that way, I want to be one of the first on that cutting edge of the glorious new Science religion (that I love)! I would have loved to have been the Musk of death, that space pioneer and not the smell. Although, one appears to have missed that boat, along with many others, for now. But there is an acute awareness of their fetlocks and broomsticks—of those aforementioned Horsemen, that is, and their Woo and Woe.
Publishers, Bookshops, Museums and Galleries are over. Didn't you get the memo?
At the same time, that remainder bin is essential. It is, more or less, where we all end up, the good and the bad, those who write with clarity and those who lick and salve their purple wounds in public.
You know that I love purple, in a hate purple sort of way. Don't start me on Orange.
Selon le site cité ci-dessous :
"Migrateur occasionnel, le Cardinal (Argynnis pandora), ce magnifique papillon dont l’envergure varie de 64 à 80 mm n’avait plus été signalé en Suisse depuis 1947.
Dès 2005, de minutieuses observations permettent d’affirmer qu’une petite population de ces Lépidoptères aux ailes orange teintées de vert et agrémentées de jolis dessins géométriques noirs, s’est établie dans un périmètre très restreint du Valais, plus précisément du côté de Martigny et notamment aux Follatères. Vigoureux et agressif, le mâle adopte un comportement territorial et défend âprement son domaine, poursuivant d’un vol rapide et puissant des concurrents impressionnés par sa taille. Il attaque d’autres espèces de papillons, des insectes et s’en prend même à de petits passereaux dans les forêts clairsemées, les friches et les prairies fleuries qu’il choisit comme habitat. Pensées sauvages, violettes et chardons lui offrent du nectar en abondance, celui-ci étant indispensable à son activité débridée et à sa remarquable longévité.
En mai, il émerge d’hibernation à basse altitude avant de migrer en montagne jusqu’à une altitude de 1400 mètres. Il y passera tout l’été. A l’automne, il redescend dans des lieux riches en violettes afin d’y pondre ses œufs un à un. Ecloses en juillet, les chenilles ne se nourrissent qu’au printemps suivant."
Source :
Une légende chinoise affirme que Bouddha invita tous les animaux au réveillon du Nouvel An afin de leur communiquer ses observations. Douze animaux se rendirent à ce rendez-vous. Arrivèrent dans l’ordre : le rat chaleureux, le buffle déterminé, le tigre courageux, le lièvre casanier, le dragon charismatique, le serpent frivole, le cheval libre, la chèvre dépensière, le singe acrobate, le coq franc, le chien justicier et enfin le cochon généreux.
Bouddha leur dit : « Pour vous remercier d’être venu à ce réveillon, à partir de cette année, chacun d’entre vous recevra des bénéfices lors de l’année qui lui est consacrée et lors des années consacrées aux animaux compatibles ». Ainsi, chacun des animaux a su quels autres animaux lui étaient compatibles, et qu’elles étaient leurs années favorables et défavorables selon l’élément de l’année. Les Douze animaux purent ainsi vivre une vie sereine.
Nouméa, Nouvelle-Calédonie
Le centre culturel Tjibaou est un établissement public destiné à promouvoir la culture kanak, situé à Nouméa, en Nouvelle-Calédonie.
Le centre culturel Tjibaou est :
- Un pôle de développement de la création artistique kanake et un centre de diffusion de la culture contemporaine kanake. Il affirme la culture kanake dans son patrimoine, dans son actualité et ses créations.
- Un lieu privilégié de rencontre et de création culturelle en Nouvelle-Calédonie. Tout en donnant à la culture kanake sa place de « culture de référence », il suscite l’émergence de pratiques et de références culturelles nouvelles et communes à la Nouvelle-Calédonie.
- Un pôle de rayonnement et d’échanges culturels internationaux.
Ce complexe poly-culturel est donc à la fois un musée, une médiathèque, un palais des congrès, un centre de spectacle, un pôle de recherche et de création et un parc paysager et botanique.
La construction du bâtiment, incluse dans les Grandes opérations d'architecture et d'urbanisme de François Mitterrand, s'est faite entre 1995 et 1998 suivant les plans de l'architecte italien Renzo Piano.
La ficaire fait le printemps
Cette affirmation rappelle un proverbe à propos d’un autre symbole du printemps, l’hirondelle (sous-entendu l’hirondelle rustique, l’espèce qui niche au plus près des hommes dans les fermes et arrive dès les premiers jours d’avril). Effectivement, il existe un lien avec cet oiseau via le nom anglais de la ficaire : lesser celandine ; lesser de nouveau pour « petite » mais celandine dérive du vieux français célidoine, la chélidoine. On recroise aussi cette dernière dans un autre nom ancien de la ficaire : Chelidonium minus, la petite chélidoine. Or, chélidoine dérive lui-même de chelidôn, l’hirondelle, que l’on retrouve dans le surnom d’herbe à l’hirondelle (swallow-wort en anglais). Cette association remonte à Dioscoride, le célèbre botaniste grec de l’Antiquité, qui déclarait que la chélidoine fleurissait à l’arrivée des hirondelles et mourrait quand elles partaient ; là-dessus est venu se greffer une légende : les hirondelles récoltaient des feuilles de chélidoine pour frotter les yeux collés de leurs oisillons et leur rendre la vue (on retombe sur les propriétés médicinales ophtalmiques !). Par déformation, ce nom a donné au Moyen-âge « coeli donum », don du ciel d’autant que l’hirondelle représente un oiseau céleste (qui reste en l’air) et est associé au soleil et au ciel. Ainsi, ficaire et chélidoine se trouvent à jamais unies pour saluer l’arrivée du printemps !
Plusieurs des surnoms de la ficaire renvoient à sa couleur jaune d’or brillante dont jauneau ou pot au beurre. Ce dernier nom, outre l’allusion directe à la couleur jaune, rappelle une pratique connue des enfants d’autrefois à la campagne (j’en fais partie !!) : on place une fleur de ficaire (ou de renoncule : voir paragraphe suivant) sous le menton d’un(e) ami(e) et on lui demande « Aimes-tu le beurre ? » et la réponse s’écrit immédiatement sur le menton sous la forme d’un halo jaune doré projeté par la fleur magique ! Cette capacité de réfléchir un faisceau de lumière jaune intrigue depuis longtemps les biologistes et le mécanisme physique commence seulement à être pleinement compris (1) : il implique la structure cellulaire de l’épiderme des pétales. La lumière traverse la couche superficielle épidermique transparente chargée de pigment tandis qu’une coloration diffuse jaunâtre provient de la dispersion de la lumière par une couche sous-jacente chargée de grains d’amidon. Une mince couche d’air qui sépare ces deux couches explique la réflexion orientée du faisceau lumineux. L’ensemble donne cette apparence si brillante, intense qui doit certainement jouer un rôle dans l’attraction des insectes pollinisateurs (voir ci-dessous). Cette illumination dégage de la chaleur et fait de ces fleurs en sous-bois des sites chauffés pour les visiteurs et donc plus attractifs.
*No matter what obstacles come across my path today I overcome them with renewed inner strength.
*I Have a dream, and LIVE IT!
*I NOW choose a more direct path to higher awareness.
*I joyously leap out of my bed and greet my morning with a glad heart.
*As I inhale deeply I open up every cell in my body to all the good vibrations of the universe. I am full of life and full of light. Everything is right.
*My inner strength is a mighty fortress.
*I find myself growing in wisdom, courage and good health and responding to others with compassion.
*I am loved and I am capable.
*My life is full of wealth, blessings, and supportive loved ones.
*I am the sum total of my choices which make me who I am. We are all of us unique.I celebrate what it is that makes me unique and unrepeatable.
*I embrace learning and personal advancement. I choose wisdom.
*I believe in myself. I can do anything!
*I face today's difficulties with strength and wisdom. Troubles melt away and are replaced with peace and contentment.
*I get my work done effortlessly. I meet challenges bravely. I grow stronger each day.
*Negativity is banished from my world. I am surrounded by positive vibrations.
source: www.thoughtco.com/self-growth-affirmations-1728653
Blog Post