View allAll Photos Tagged Instinctual
I'm glad to be home at my house in the Sierra Nevada Foothills during the long Thanksgiving vacation. Black Friday in the SF Bay Area is insufferable. Everyone going everywhere is such a frenzied state. A far cry from the instinctual behavior that gets the birds migrating.
Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming
Happy Sunday All!! Playing catch up after a busy workshop season. Burrowing owls are such a "hoot" to hang with and observe. Nothing escapes their sharp eyes and instinctual pounce on anything moving! First light of the am.... Up front and personal with Bedford Camera & Video Canon 600mm & 1DX2 combo.. A treat to have such razor thin DOF control...
Manual, Eval Meter, 1/1000 sec; f/6.3; ISO 2000
Canon 600mm II & 1DX2
I was recently at a large Garden Center to buy a tree for our yard. As I was walking around picking out which one I wanted I suddenly heard the telltale warning cry of a Killdeer 10 feet away from me.
Sure enough, a Killdeer Mama had decided to nest right out in the open and under a group of trees that were for sale. She quickly left her nest to lure me away with the classic broken wing display, their instinctual behavior when the nest is threatened. I snapped a couple pics of her four eggs (and an adopted white stone as a fifth!), then moved on. I checked on her 10 minutes later and she was happily sitting on her eggs, keeping them toasty warm :)
Although coyotes pose no threat to adult bison, these bison turned and kept their eyes fixed on him, perhaps sensing him as a threat to their young, an intruder, or just curiosity.
she doesn’t announce herself. she watches. she waits. the cold doesn’t bother her. it keeps things honest. hunger isn’t desperation, it’s clarity. she moves when it makes sense, not when it’s expected. no pack. no performance. what survives isn’t luck. it’s restraint.
she’s not lost. she’s instinctual.
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*scene/items worn can be located in tags.
MINIMAL - Breath Backdrop| Equal10
Outfit - CryBunBun Dollie Girl Outfit Dollholic
CryBunBun Play Date Heels
Hair - Doux Lemon
Pose - Lyrium Heaven #2
Taken at BloodShadow - Check out our (almost completed) Summer Camp!
I walked by this 6-inch furry bunny and it never moved.
I took a few shots with my iPhone and it still showed no sign of fear or movement.
The saying goes 'fight or flight', but I think another option is often displayed among young wild animals, and this is the instinctual 'freeze and they'll never see me', hoping that the predator will pass them by.
Whatever the case, it sure was a cutie and I was glad it gave me the chance to capture its beauty and sweetness.
An energetic boxed canvas by wildlife artist Robert Oxley.
For his dazzling Primal Colours collection, Robert adopted a primary colour palette to reinvent art history. Diving into the narrative of animals, he researched cave paintings and bestiaries and took his own reference photography to capture the majesty of the animal kingdom.
Robert says: "The title is a word that represents the majesty of the lion. As far back as the Upper Palaeolithic period (around 40,000 years ago), lions have been a symbol of strength and nobility across the globe. They are ingrained in human culture but remain one of the most primal and instinctual animals and the king of beasts.”
Just like in San Francisco 400 miles to the south, wildfire smoke also descended on Gold Beach yesterday. This was taken at 10 a.m. on what would have otherwise been a bright sunny day. It was so dark that I needed the lights on in the middle of the day. I believe the closest fire to me is about 100 miles southeast.
After everything that has been happening this year, somehow it is this orange sky of doom that really is getting to me. When you smell smoke and see the sky is the wrong color and you can't find the sun anymore, there is just an instinctual visceral response of profound dread.
Mother Nature is burning.
Blanca's fur smells of smoke.
Will this year ever end?
No matter the designation...which I'm happy to hear from the experts on...this Golden-crowned sparrow was found in a large flock on our hillside. He/she definitely seemed to stay undercover far more of the time - (probably instinctually) - due to how noticeably it stood out from the crowd. It took many days to finally get a shot that really showed off this buffy coloring and delightful beauty. It is definitely not white in coloring.
"Isabelline refers to a situation where the darker pigmented feathers are faded to a light beige color."
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isabelline_(colour)
Many thanks to those that take the time to visit and/or comment and fav...it is sincerely appreciated!
Vernunft / Reason
[...]
Vernunft ist ein komplizierter Instinkt, der noch nicht voll entwickelt ist. Das würde bedeuten, dass eine Instinkthandlung stets sinnvoll und natürlich ist. Eine Million Jahre werden vergehen, und der Instinkt wird so ausgebildet sein, dass wir keine Fehler mehr machen können – Fehler, die offensichtlich ein integraler Bestandteil der Vernunft sind. Wenn sich dann aber im Universum etwas verändert, werden wir aussterben, weil wir verlernt haben, Fehler zu machen – das heißt, verschiedene, vom starren Programm nicht vorgesehene Varianten auszuprobieren…
[...]
Aus: "Picknick am Wegesrand" von Arkadi und Boris Strugatzki
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[...]
Reason is a complicated instinct that is not yet fully developed. This would mean that instinctual actions are always meaningful and natural. A million years will pass away, and the instinct will be trained that we can no longer make mistakes - mistakes that are obviously an integral part of reason. But if something changes in the universe then we will die out because we have forgotten how to make mistakes - that is, to try different variants not planned by the rigid program ...
[...]
From: "Roadside Picnic" by Arkadi and Boris Strugatzki
I may have a slight tendency to anthropomorphize the behavior of animals but I just try to report what I observe.
I returned to the beaver lodge for a fourth consecutive day. I sat in the same location as yesterday and drank my coffee, waiting to see if any of the beaver family would show. It didn't take more than five minutes for one of the younger beavers to come out of the lodge, swim a few S turns towards me, come out of the pond for a snack and check me out. After a couple of minutes on the shore of their pond, he slipped back into the water and swam back to the lodge.
What happened next really astonished me. A young kit departed the lodge and swam directly to me. Unlike the adults and older siblings, this kit didn't bother to approach cautiously, he just made a straight line for me. I sat as still as I could and the young beaver came within two metres, stopped for a second and then just slowly swam away.
On this evening, the behavior of the beavers was different than last night. One of the adults was on the other side of the pond, cutting down trees. It seemed he had enough of the frivolity of the previous evening and he had the infants helping with some of lodge maintenance chores, like adding branches and packing mud. A couple of times they took a break and swam to where I sat and then they would quickly return to their labors. The beaver equivalent of a coffee break?
There was no tail slapping of the water at all, just gentle dives when they returned to the lodge entrance. It seems they are used to my presence and don't sense any danger.
Scientists have pretty much concluded that all beaver dam and lodge construction activities are instinctual and not learned. That doesn't really destroy the magic of nature for me - I find it incredible that an animal just naturally knows where and how to construct a dam. The only two animals that can seriously terraform a landscape to suit their needs are humans and beavers. The primary difference is that humans can also blow up what is built, oftentimes leaving beavers and other wetland animals homeless.
Right now it feels impossible to ever soar high in freedom and peace. Maybe that is why you’re fascinated by birds—how they instinctually glide through the sky with open wings. Perhaps birds give you hope, the encouragement that maybe, as you continue pressing on in this challenging journey, you can someday have a taste of the freedom and peace you see when you notice a bird in flight.
[image created on 4-27-2023]
This is a close-up photo of the concentric 'paper' layers of the top of a hornet's nest, where it had been attached under the eaves. The co-ordination of the co-operative construction, and the engineering of the sophisticated structure are a marvel of instinctual intelligence.
Instinctual Behavior shapes the Beast, conduct and cognition shape the Man .... Quotes by Patricia
"Robert The Bruce of Scots " 1316- 1329
Instinctual Behavior shapes the Beast, conduct and cognition shape the Man .... Quotes by Patricia Bechthold
"Robert The Bruce of Scots " 1316- 1329
This is a close-up photo of the interior of a hornet's hive. The three tiered, hexagonal comb structure is a marvel of instinctual engineering.
Elevate Your Ambitions, darling
" Aim higher, Leave the basics behind.... 💕"
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Chapter: The heart-for-heart game?
She's beyond the need for simple emotional exchanges. Her life is already brimming with fulfillment, so a shallow game of hearts doesn't entice her.
Her cup overflows with life's experiences, and 'heart for heart' feels like a teaspoon compared to that. Love, for her, requires more depth than a puddle. She craves an ocean of extraordinary instinctual connection ... 💕
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" Listen, the whole 'heart for heart' thing feels a little… outdated, wouldn't you say? I'm a modern woman, not interested in the emotional barter system - too bold for the heart-for-heart game. The 'heart for heart' is a little juvenile for my taste. Let's explore something deeper, shall we?
Frankly, I crave a connection built on something more substantial. A connection where 'effort is rewarded', merit is recognized. You with me?
If we haven't quite reached that level yet, how about we just savor this moment, this delicious now? Who needs the pressure of some far-off future when we can have a perfectly delightful today? ... 💕
Hearts and Love? Let's say it's been overflowing too much to be able to recognize its value anymore. Who wants that kind of thing when we can unlock the next level of depth in love? my dear ... 💕"
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Bindi: +Aura De La Luna+ Pentacle Bindi / @ GOTHCORE
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/CORE/128/237/3501
Tattoo: KOKOS-TATTOO TRITUNA - BOM
A bellying glob of orange gelatin-like substance was pulsating on the mold infested wall. This dollop of unidentifiable material looked like an infected boil, if it were full with an egg yolk, ready to burst at any second. Poking the substance with my finger caused it to jiggle back and forth as the goo swirled around inside, protected by the outer translucent sac. I felt like I was looking into some type of demented snow globe, naturally I had the urge to break it. I picked up a rusty metal coat hanger from the ground and straightened out the hook into a suitable prodding device. Slowly, I applied pressure to the glob with the far end of the coat hanger, yet the sac refused to burst, instead the rubbery material conformed around the metal hanger.
When I pulled the coat hanger back away, the bulbous blister slowly inflated back to its prior shape. Determined, I poked around the mysterious substance for second try, this time being a little less gentle. With a stabbing motion I was able to pierce the outer fleshly layer of the boil and in response the cyst popped like an over inflated balloon, excreting tiny particles of orange ooze in all directions with the force of a human sneeze. I looked over at my friend standing directly to my side as he jumped backward in horror, but it was too late for the sludge misted the left side of his face. Instinctually he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and wiped the material away from his eyes.
The gooey mass remaining attached to the wall began to sag, excreting the remainder of the inner eggy matter as it slowly dripped down the wall. The orange ooze appeared quite vicious, mimicking the texture of maple syrup, but there were no pancakes in the world I'd dare lather this special sauce over. I joked with my friend as he clearly took the brunt of syrup surprise, fortunately he appeared to be in good spirits as we both laughed over the unexpected outcome. However, a couple days later I received a text message from my friend stating that his left eye was completely swollen, inflamed with a similar blister like sac of goo as to what was on the wall. A doctor told him it was a bacterial infection and with some antibiotics the contagion would clear up. Fortunately, in a couple weeks time his sight returned the the infection dissipated.
I've learned never to play with unidentifiable wall blisters again. I've also come to realize that Preakness Healthcare Center was by far the most disgusting abandonment I have ever explored. The place was more black mold and fuzzy fungus than it was an actual building. In my youth I didn't quite realize the health hazards Preakness truly encapsulated. Unfortunately, in years past I've heard similar horror stories from other explorers who have been stricken near deathly ill from wandering the mold infested halls at Preakness. Here's to a hell hole that faced a welcome demolition for once and here's to future good health!
"a purely instinctual creature, all desire and joy and rage."
CREDITS.
skin. DEETALEZ // Judith - Nordic
eyes. SUICIDAL UNBORN // Nova Eyes v.2
hair. TABLEAU VIVANT // Hairplay - Front Blow - Redheads
eyeliner. FETCHxVEECHI // Essential Matte Shadow [NEW @ The Epiphany]
flames. COLE'S CORNER // Eternal Flame - Flaming Palms Orange RARE
pose. POSEIDON POSES [modified]
The striking monarch butterfly is tougher than it looks. This tiny flier undertakes an incredible 2,000 mile journey every winter in search of a few specific mountaintops in the fir forests of Central Mexico.
Amazingly, the epic migration to and from the fir forests spans the life of three to four generations of butterfly, meaning no single individual ever makes the entire journey. Yet the species as a whole instinctually knows where to find these isolated mountaintops year after year.
The Monarchs are known for their incredible and instinctual migration to Florida and I believe, Mexico. I decided to get rid of my lawn and create a small nature corridor after reading Nature's Best Hope by Douglas Tallamy. We have to do all we can to help nature.
I love this..... my daughter Jessie (2 1/2) painted this a couple months ago, and I have it out in my sunroom where I can look at it often... the more I look, the more I see. I am in awe of her imagery, color, gesture and line... all no doubt instinctual, but powerful to me none the less. She doesn't call this a fox, or a rider on a fox or whatever else one might see...she just calls it her painting. She talks about a fox often, or riding an animal or horse in a dream... but she doesn't say that is what this is about. All the more awesome to me.
It is the dark, inaccessible part of our personality, what little we know of it we have learnt from our study of the dream-work and of the construction of neurotic symptoms, and most of this is of a negative character and can be described only as a contrast to the ego. We all approach the id with analogies: we call it a chaos, a cauldron full of seething excitations... It is filled with energy reaching it from the instincts, but it has no organization, produces no collective will, but only a striving to bring about the satisfaction of the instinctual needs subject to the observance of the pleasure principle.
The id contains everything that is inherited, that is present at birth, is laid down in the constitution -- above all, therefore, the instincts, which originate from the somatic organisation and which find a first psychical expression here (in the id) in forms unknown to us.
The id is, among other things, the underside of a broken concrete table in a rain forest in Costa Rica.
Best if viewed large on black.
Instinctual Behavior shapes the Beast, conduct and cognition shape the Man .... Quotes by Patricia Bechthold
"Robert The Bruce of Scots " 1316- 1329
The last nearly four years have seemed like eons for me. Every day that I can bear to pay attention, I am horrified by what atrocities Trump is responsible for. I have gone to so many protests in so many places for so many causes/reasons, both well attended and scarcely attended in good weather and in the middle of a freezing cold winter. There are times I have really questioned what good it even does but a little voice in my head has still told me it was the right thing to do.
But, then the Coronavirus hit and I wondered seriously if protesting was the right thing to do…after reading the statistics in my own city about people of color being killed by the Coronavirus at a much higher rate than white people, I had to ask myself, is it actually a case of white privilege if I protest? This seems like such a strange thing to ask when you are protesting your outrage about a man being killed only because he happened to be Black and existing in America but still I had to ask. Because, if I am part of the problem of spreading this virus and my presence results in more deaths of more people of color, isn’t that defeating the purpose? In addition, how about all of the healthcare workers who have been burdened for so long? Why should I make a choice for them that could affect the survival and treatment of myself and others? It just seemed too risky for this die hard protestor.
I have never dealt with this kind of moral dilemma before. My sense of right and wrong is usually pretty strong and doesn’t leave room for tons of contemplation and deliberation. I can’t really remember the last time I had to seriously ponder “What is the right thing to do in this situation?” asking myself again and again. I usually just know these things intuitively and then try to make my best ethical choice. I’m not saying that I don’t see layers of grey between black and white so much as just I have an idea of how to act in terms of what is right with my soul. I’m also not saying that I don’t learn new things and from the perspective of others and change based on being open to learning. But, the idea of what is fundamentally the ethical choice to make about whether or not to attend a protest for a cause I believe in has never been this difficult before.
And, there is the other side of things that I don’t really like to talk about-the more human side of things. I am unfortunately all too human in my fears about contacting Coronavirus/Covid19. To be honest, I’m the type of person that gets nervous taking a walk in my own neighborhood and gets frustrated when I see the joggers and dog walkers on my street roaming without a mask or groups of a few friends partying on a rooftop in close proximity. It seems pretty hypocritical to me that I’d also be finding myself amidst thousands of people in super close proximity sometimes under overpasses neck to neck, masks or no.
So, what I am saying is that I am actually probably a little paranoid. For a large part of my life, I didn’t realize I was any different from others in my fears until I went to college and learned about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and realized that my irrational fear of death that took hold of me if I didn’t do certain things when I was little-tap my fingers every time I saw a green car, squeeze my toes every time I passed a squirrel-that sort of thing-wasn’t what most kids go through. And, it was crippling. Most of the time, I would cry hysterically thinking I was going to die and great harm would really come to my family and I if I told anyone and voiced these fears out loud. I know, I know…it sounds crazy and doesn’t make tons of sense. And, even though I know that and have gotten better dealing with this side of my self as an adult, it still hasn’t gone away completely. There’s a real instinctual fear that makes me think the worst will happen to me.
The news, of course, doesn’t help…and consider that non essential businesses were shuttered and school was cancelled for the rest of the year, I am even more terrified about the damage this virus can do. Then, there’s also the choir study…where they found that one man in close proximity singing with a choir infected pretty much the whole choir and killed a few too. Of course, this is outdoors, but I still can’t help thinking about all of the times I opened my mouth to chant pro Black Life Matters sentiments even if I was wearing a mask.
And, in many ways, I feel like I am not even worthy enough to say the name of George Floyd or Breonna Taylor who should have turned 27 on Friday, the day that I joined these protests. Because, as someone who is white, I could never know the true horror of this. She was a hero, an EMT worker, and it wasn’t just her own life and her family that was robbed but all of our lives and the sadness is overpowering. So, I ended up saying her name a few thousand times and feeling like I was losing my mind because I couldn’t rewind time and change reality.
I don’t know the answer to all of this and I still don’t know if I contracted the virus or not. But, in any case, I hope that these protests meant something and continue to mean something. Maybe it actually means more to those in power that people would risk their lives to fight for Black Lives and, if those mayors and governors really care about the citizens of their city, they have to act on these social justice issues-hold police accountable, take police out of schools and bring in social workers, counselors, librarians, art and music creative outlets instead. Let’s have a dance class or a drama class instead of kids being subjected to cruel excessive force and mock prison cells from early ages. Surely anything that helps kids is better than something doing active harm. Let’s put more money into mental health facilities instead of incarcerations. Let’s make sure when someone is released from prison that they have a job to go to. Let’s make sure our citizens have healthcare and that there are valid low income housing measures. All of these things will reduce crime and improve the quality of life. That is the direction we need to think in instead of increasing a police force. We need to think about the disparities between communities and races and ensure these people are protected and treated with respect-the same respect and treatment white people have been taking for granted in my country for centuries.
Above: a new mural for George Floyd, murdered by a group of police officers in a complicit system where the police are protected from their evil racist acts.
This mural was recently completed in the past couple of days and is found in Humboldt Park, Chicago on Division Avenue just east of California Ave. Cristian J. Roldán and Esther Kovacs
***All photos are copyrighted***
Another longish RP I thought I'd share, just for the watchability of the scene I felt!
It starts off with Kamy teasing Serafina (Fin) that *she* got a key /and/ a book from the Ranger cabin.. and Fin has neither of these things. Fin quickly turns the tables on her, and her aggression and jealousy amuses Kamy so much that she does the same... with Fin's boyfriend.
The first few posts are a touch edited to protect the not-so-innocent (other rp'ers ;) ).
Thanks to Phoebe for patiently teaching me how to split-screen!
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Kamy was beyond the flirtations and deviant looks at this point, at least alone when the girls could just be girls. She leaned in then and kissed her full on the lips, far more sensual then anyone would expect from the outrider, letting it pull but linger before popping happily back. "I got a fucking key to the cabin..." she snickered with the very intention of making her jealous and started off then, wiggling her hips as she silently began them on a walk through the park.
Fin kissed back, but while it started off with a sensual little lapping growl, it quickly *did* turn jealous, and she sought to *bite* her lip. Hard. Before she slipped away. Her eyes glittered and quite literally turned greener. ".. Oh yeah? How nice for you," she shoots back and falls into step to follow her through the trees, pushing limbs gently out of the way.
Kamy sunk an arm into hers so they might walk like school girls, licking where her lip had bruised from that chomp and pulling her to the bridge. Most tended to use this one sparingly, a careful step here and there. Kamy walks upon it full force, naturally taking to its bouncing sways and creaking protests without hesitation.
Fin delights in their raping of the bridge. So what if they pingponged off and flew into the river? She was filled with this dangerous rush of adrenaline and unconcern, driving her steps onto the planks all punk rock style. Hipbumps and rowdy hollers. ".. Yeah.. well.. ain't that somethin'. I don't know, man," her tune changing some. ".. I just wish they were all -around- more. I got shit to ask! You know? Th'fuck am I supposed to do?" She hopped to the other side and stretched her arms high above her head, then cracking neck to either shoulder. ".. Build a doghouse next to the cabin and be all, 'Bark Bark lemme in'?"
Kamy laughed when Fina bounced upon the bridge recklessly. She had just been walking like normal but it didn't mean she didn't appreciate the recklessness of it. She laughed when her foot nearly lost it but the book she held was clutched tight, quick to run free from its swaying surface. Would probably collapse on the next person who crossed it carefully. She reached out and took Fina by the belt, dragging her back to hook a knee between her thighs. "talk to one of the others then," she ran a nose along her jaw line, oblivious to anyone else's approach.
Serafina spun back towards Kamy by her own momentum and the Dreg's own tug of Fin's belt. Bare, dark skin *smacked* against her suspenders and covered-for-damn-good-reason skin. While that nose ran along her jawline, it drew out a loose growl, like something had just broken and was crashing down over their heads. ".. Fuck /talking/," she hissed, and yes, her legs parted, but they did so to square off, and grab Kamy by the shoulders to shove her down. Hard. Harder than she'd pulled on the woman before. Her hand would try to pin her throat, her hips, Kamy's pelvis, while her free would skate over her clothing, into bindings and straps, sensually fast. ".. I'm /taking/ ..that key."
Dylon sent his boots into the dirt to stop on the sudden appearance of the girls, it was still a chocolatey-clustery-headfuck for the guy to process. Shit, every time he thought he got a handle on the situation there it was, the diagram. The scissoring of fingers that explained how the two girls ended up, that enough was a struggle, what did you do? What the fuck were you meant to do?! Jack off? Raise that questioning brow to your girlfriend? The answer like all things in life were sometimes obvious, maybe it was Kamy's nose into Fin's face. That image alone made him think of their bed, they were going to need a bigger boat. Chin up and spark up. When he was about to raise his head to speak he stopped, why ruin the moment with a hello. Instead, the man just stood there enjoying the remains of that cigarette held between his fingers.
Kamy squealed when she went down, a very unusual noise for a Dreg to make but she was unraveling fast in the private company of Finn, her dark predatory facade that kept her fat and alive in the outpost abandoned for something far more girly. She couldn't stop laughing when Fina pinned her, hips lifting the girl off the ground with a thrust of her core, enjoying the site of those freckled swells bouncing. Kamy sighed when the girl's hands easily parted the handmade top from her chest, knuckled persed beneath leather and feathers. She nodded at the assessment. "yes good idea...I am tired of sharing you with him anyway" she stated rather boldly, unusual since she'd always liked Dylon from afar. She unbuckled Fina's pants and shimmied them down. "MY fucking key bitch...ug why don't you ever wear skirts..."
Fin squeezed her thighs so her pants could only unzip *enough*, the belt having gone unbuckled by Kamy's swift fingers. ".. I do," she snarked. "just for the men.. for you.. I make it hard." But green-eyedness wins over her again, the jealousy of Kamy having that key, and a book. Since talking hadn't gotten her far, she'd scythe through with force. ".. MINE!" she hurls at her, real anger dominating her voice, or perhaps, she's simply trying to /dominate/ her. ".. Hi Dylon.. " she singsongs between her next *firmly* growled statement. ".. MY. Fucking. ...Key." She'd try to grab Kamy's wrists, probably a battle of sorts while they scurried at her own pants. Her aim to drive them over the woman's head so she could use her free to keep searching.
Dylon sent those arms of his to fold across that chest of his, as that weight of his frame shifted from one foot to another. Just like that, something got that back of his up, a instinctual reaction to double taking on hearing Kamy's words, were they about him? and what was this fucking key?!. That figure of his turned side on then, yanking the cigarette from his lips harshly as his eyes bored down upon the air while that smoke wielding hand rested up against his chest. Maybe it was the twitch of his left cheek and the billow of smoke that was the sign of a vented thought. When that hello came from Fin that head jerked in a greeting nod before stilling.
The book was off to the side, Kamy's hand had carefully set it aside even in the collapse, perhaps indicating she had more control then she'd let on. It was her error to think Fina was only playing however, the surprise obvious when the girl snatched her wrists and pinned them to the earth. She'd lost her chance to truly resist, arms flexing with the push but only coming an inch off the grass. She snarled when the girl started searching her for real, pleased at least that Fina would have a hard time finding it considering the position. Hips popped her up again. "FINA...she gave it to me!" she looked over in surprise at Dylon, laughing despite herself. "Hey clit kicker! Mind holding her down for me?" spoken as if she hadn't even made mention of him before.
Fin let out a victorious "... HA!" when she pinned her wrists overhead. Serious, she was, was Kamy's own fault for digging at her jealousy. ".. I -know- she gave them to you that's th'fucking point," she growled, a touch smoother. As her hand roamed the woman, sliding over hip, scooping a buttock (and here, she'd grin at her, tongue held at her tooth) up, exploring behind her thigh, then her arm bands, she offered a similar suggestion. ".. Mmhm! Yes, Dylon. Why don't you help hold her down for me. And stop laughing, you're gonna make this harder," she grumbled.
It wasn't often Dylon got to break up two girl's who were getting hot and heavy over a game of hide and go fucking seek. Though as he stood there towering over both of them that look of his went to the bridge, blinking at it swayed in the light breeze. "What are you two up to?" he said with a rather strained and exhausted tone. A grimace of pain fell upon his face for a moment, sending a hand against that jacket to palm lightly the spot under his ribs. "And then part of me is just too damned scared to ask.." A breath of air was pulled in through nostrils, causing them to flare before looking back down to the pair.
Kamy was sulking HARD that her key was stolen, tempted to bash Fina upside the head and take it back which was likely the sensible thing to do. But that would just be petty, no way she was giving her the gratification of fighting for it back. Of course she'd forgotten all about taking her wrist phone. She looked around for something to take while the girl was doubled over. She looked up at Dylon as he held her, watching him with a devious sneer. She broke from his grasp with a yank, leaping up and jumping on him with intensive vertical. His weight might hold her but she'd hit him hard, knees grasping his ribs with a crushing squeeze, her lips just smashed upon his. She'd grip the back of his head, sure he'd resist at first, but an insistant roll of her head and a thrust of her tongue within his stubbled lips was downright lewdly performed. Eyes hung to the corners of her gaze,watching for Fina's reaction.
Fin gave him a wriggling eyebrow, like wasn't she just the cockiest bully, mowing down the smartass nerd as she left school with her lunch money and favorite paperback clutched to her chest. Fin was just sitting up to secure her prizes when she *gawped* at Kamy climbing on top of -her boyfriend-. She watched that slide of her tongue to his, their mouths open and grasping as if she was being treated to a close-up of a cinematic still. She gawped and then glowered, pissed off like a firecracker. ".. HEY," she bared her teeth jealously and clamored to her feet, standing next to them and hovering as she tried to think fast. "... Fine, *Elephant Ass*. You fight mean and fair. Who th'fuck am *I* supposed to kiss to piss YOU off huh?" She narrowed eyes at them both and stalked to the cliff edge, dangling the key over the river. ".. Oo, a gust of wind!" she fake-cried.
Lost balance, Dylon was too busy distracted on looking to Fin when Kamy's body launched at him. By the time that back of his hit the dirt she was already upon his ribs, her squeeze, sending that bandage around his side to tighten, ripping open the stitches to the wound that caused him to growl. Well he would of growled, if it wasn't for Kamy's tongue shoved between his lips. A arm came up to his side to try and elbow the Dreg's face out of his to at least giving him some breathing room. "..." A breath of air, a blink or two and he was trying to focus, seeing Fin then holding that key out, leaving him to perk a brow as he tried to process what the hell was going on.
Kamy's eyes lit up at the insult, not sure if the girl was just being clever or if she actually knew that elephant was one of the translations to her name. She came off gasping when he elbowed her chin off his mouth, the wet POP of their lips disconnecting leaving her just as breathless. She sat atop Dylon and glared back at her. "You could kiss people! You could kiss a lot of people!" she defended, not realizing in that moment what a whore she sounded like. In truth there weren't many she'd be jealous over, maintaining the share and share alike concept. She watched the key dangle with an unfair unf. "go ahead and drop it! I fish those waters freckle pussy!" she upped the stakes, the crack of her bum sticking out good as she sliiiid back down Dylon's waist. She'd rip those pants open with impressive skill, born from skinning animals but it worked here too. She shoved a hand down his pants, far more gentle then the kiss in grasping his shaft and trying to forcefully coax it hard and free. "I got a much bigger key anyway..."
Fin STOMPED so hard dirt kicked and coughed and she left a deep imprint. ".. GodDAMN it Kamy!" she hollered at her. "... Fine. Last thing I'm going to do is give you the satisfaction of turning me into a whining mall rat not getting her fucking ice cream cone at the food court." She'd heard about those places, course - most of them were abandoned buildings these days. She'd whirled to find her mid-pants rip... and growled. "If he gets a hardon I'm fucking you in the ass with Marsqueeze's cigar." She pauses, and crouches down to them both. She's -livid-, a boiling anger baking from her skin, breasts heaving with a racing pulse. ".. Just.. lay there, Dylon," she remarks lowly, a sneer touching her lip. Fingers snake into the back of Kamy's waistband, pull it away, and *drop* the key down her ass crack. She keeps the chesspiece though, and moves aside.
The week has just taken a turn for the strange, it was starting to feel like Dylon had dropped acid, again. In twenty four hours he had gone through the motions of violence and all the way to jealousy of seeing Kamy upon his girlfriend, his Fin. Now he was sat there, hand clutched to his side while looking to Fin, by the time it registered on what Kamy was doing her hand was around around his shaft, gripping up his length. That hard on was going to prove more than difficult, blood was already seeping through the side of his jacket, that was something no man had managed to quite maintain, shit, it was like telling your body to multi-task without having control. "Get...your..fuckin...hand...off...my...cock" Words hissed through gritted teeth. As he found himself sandwiched between the girl's power play, but what a sandwich!.
Kamy didn't feel bad for the man at all, hardly even letting him factor in. He had kicked her in the cunt after all. She felt the key slip between her butt cheeks and smiled victoriously. Hands came off his meat and she stuck them in the air in victory. She watched Fina and just found the anger pouring from the woman absolutely sexy. She reached out and tried to snatch the girl's belt as Dylon had done. This whole thing was so ridiculous and it certainly didn't escape Kamy. She'd try to pull at the back of the girl's knees while yanking her down back on top of Kamy. The arms of a wrestler would try to wrangle the angry girl in for another kiss, falling over Dylon and churning her ass upon him like a bar stool. "I win...give me my prize..."
Fin had moved off, too far away to be grabbed, and when Kamy's hand reaches for her, Fin strikes her palm with a boot, hard enough to shove her back, not hard enough to hurt. ".. I *did*. Was going to give it back anyway, asshole. With my record the rangers would be all scowly tellin' me I don't play nice. Then I'd -never- get one. What's in there, a hot-- JESUS DYLON!" she just *spins* off exasperated. ".. Just gonna FUCK her right there in'frunna me??" She's rooted in place, and pulling her bandanna away from her neck side to side.
Dylon tried to clutch for his jeans the moment Kamy's hand released from his prick. "What the fuck yo..." Those words died upon the Dreg's ass slapping over over his lap to grind over. "STOP..." Sending a heavy handed palming slap towards the girl's ass cheeks to grind her right off his lap. Once again he would try to shift himself back, a hand sliding over his jacket that came up with a smear of blood. "...She should be so fuckin lucky..." he said with a hiss as he wiped that hand of his upon the grass. "Whose dream am I in?" Either way, no alarm clock was getting him out of this one.
Kamy rolled her eyes at Fina's tantrum, climbing off Dylon with a jump and fishing the key from her ass, one eye going crooked as she had to fish deep to get it. She produced it just in time to get struck on the ass, a small leap in Fina's direction. "oh calm down...it worked did it not?" she inched the key back into her pocket and sauntered to where Fina was. "you should have seen your face..." she laughed and pranced from foot to foot, clearly teasing Fina for being so worked up with little fake boxing stances. "you think I want to fuck your boyfriend? hmm?" she asked her, waiting for that ridiculous notion to sink into the red head. She was already fucking the sister and the brother, was she going to hit the boyfriend too? "now you don't love Ka-ma-ma anymore?" she asked with a faux pout. "maybe I take you to the cabin and show you. hmm? Did you think to ask?" she had flaunted the key after all for a reason.
Fin snapped shut a plastic lighter and tossed it in the creek. She sucked a full drag of the rolled cigarette's herbal shit and cut her eyes hard to them both, him laying there even as Kamy bounds off to join her. ".. Oh god. Oh no," she mimics in a half-hearted monotone that didn't try at *all*, ".. Please stop. Please don't fuck me. Oh god. Get off. Stop." She pauses, to flick the lit cigarette towards Dylon's lap, while his pants are still undone. ".. And your cock is still out, holmes." To Kamy she shrugs. The anger's dimmed leaving her in dry unconcern. ".. Yes I still love you. And no.. I didn't ask .. thought of it yes, but they're as hard to run into like a priest in a whorehouse. Actually, no. Not that hard!" she sings faux-brightly back.
Breathed long and slow as Dylon was finally free from the pressures of Kamy's body, this would be the moment to gather yourself, instead he listened to the girl's exchange of quips at each other before that rogue cigarette of Fin's landed right into lap, hitting the open fly of his jeans to send a shower of sparks over his crotch. Never had a man stood up so fast with the self harming need of slapping his cock and balls. Ridding himself of the burning glows "....ARGH FUCK SA..." Harshly was that belt closed up, shaking out his legs as he yanked open the buttons of his jacket, shedding himself of the material to then look down his side.
Kamy choked back a laugh when she flicked the cig at Dylon's crotch, a lazy smile as she just inhaled upon the aggressive pheromones coming off the feisty girl. "Fuck you should have been a Dreg Fina...the damage we would cause..." like they weren't already causing problems for the city. She knew the girl was pissed at her but just enjoyed it all the more. She hooked thumbs from her belt and swayed beside her, annoying little hip checks popped into the girl to provoke her further. "we will go when the rangers are not around...it does not seem like such a big deal..." she lied a bit.
Fin spared him a glance. Was that smell the whistling burn of ... hair? Her narrow shoulders jump with a smirk, and she gathers her hair to the other side of her neck, rounding her long spine in a wide hipcheck in return. Thwunk. She held power in her hips and back, moreso than arms and legs, even as bony as they sometimes felt to be. ".. Don't think it would be .. " she agreed, and made the breathy noise that showed she had more to say on the subject.. but stopped herself. Instead, she glanced to Kamy, then back at Dylon. She wasn't even sure if Kamy had successfully "brought the cock home to roost", and wasn't even sure it mattered at this point. ".. So. I'm going to .. buy some birth control. For -everyone-," she adds.
Dylon kept that hand locked to his side as he looked at the pair of girls. "You know what you two are.....a big bag of fuckin troubles...." Shaking his head at them slowly. "...Fuckin hell...." A chuckle, it was rolling over his shoulders as he doubled over a bit. "Somehow Kamy....I get the impression I'm goin to have to get used to you..." That jaw of his clenched then, a throaty grunt before allowing himself to straighten up. "...wait wait....you're not on birth control now?"
"Birth control?" Kamy asked a little confused. "oooh you mean to keep from birth, I get it." she nodded. "the Dreg men blow it on the girl usually, or some use the tubes not used for the sausages" she explained casually. She eyed Dylon with a soft sneer at his comment, reaching out to hang on Fina like he was going to take a picture of them. "why you not think we make a good pair?" she asked and shook a few dreads into the red head's face. "She is too much woman for one man to handle Dylon. You should be happy there is someone like me in her life" she explained.
Fin remains unimpressed by Dylon, and though Kamy didn't get off scoff-free either, she's neither angry nor pleased with them both. There's a strange resignation she feels - she wasn't even sure she'd be the jealous type - never thought she had that kind of .... possession in her. It's there, but it rears its furious head with no warning. For now, she's just left with a dull, faint soundtrack in her mind, some rhythm in her head that's sweeping distance between her and her friends. The dreads thwapping her in the face bring a funny wincing smirk, and she moves between them, arm around either one of their backs. As close as they are, her mind is to those elsewhere thoughts and music. ".. Mm, no, not now," she murmurs. "This afternoon?" She laughs some to Kamy's remark, and bites each of their shoulders.
We had just sat down for lunch when this Steller's Jay appeared and continued to fly around us. Unfortunately, this bird's behavior leads to me believe that it is being fed. Do not feed the wildlife. I understand it is tempting especially when they come close to you, but for many, it is a death sentence. You really upset the natural order since all wildlife has instinctual and learned behaviors on how to feed itself and its offspring.
Mollie would often walk around in the house, meowing, while carrying one of her soft toys. Was this instinctual, as if she was carrying a kitten? 🤔
I was coming home late, it was 4am and I had to transfer at Atlantic Ave to catch my train home. I missed my stop because I was tired and into the music on my iPhone... I went just one extra stop so I got out of the train and walked back to Atlantic Avenue. I had the camera in my bag. Instinctually I knew just because I shouldn't have been there it must have been meant to be. In that 3 block walk in 5 minutes I actually got 5 good pictures... There are no mistakes !
Unfortunately many New Yorkers have had the experience of being approached by a stranger, sometimes pitiful looking sometimes acting in an intimidating or bizarre way, who stops them to ask for money. Knowing when to make, and when to avoid making, eye contact becomes instinctual . So when, confronted by a man dancing in the middle of the street , the two women in this photo have unsurprisingly chosen to try to ignore him and act as if he was invisible. Unsurprising and understandable, but it's also real shame .
Yes, Dancing Machine #1 is out on the street trying to make some money but he is also offering something valuable in return , a performance that he has invested a lot of time, energy and even some money of his own to create. At a minimum , he’s bought a very good sound system, found and then arranged the music that accompanies his dancing, practiced and then organized his dancing moves into a coherent and very pleasing show. The end result deserves, I think, to be seen as Dancing Man #1’s own form of street art. That his audience is often unresponsive, indifferent or uncomprehending should come as no surprise to any artist, least of all to those of us who are street photographers
Here I am...
Back from Iceland and, among many other wonders I saw there, Skógafoss.
Back from the best trip I've ever lived, with the most amazing person I could have wished to share those intense feelings with.
When your dreams come true, it's like a bath of intense joy. You barely can breathe, just like after drowning a long time and emerging again, born a second time, with so much air in your lungs at the same time that your body doesn't even know how to deal with.
Iceland made me feel so small, and paradoxically its endless landscapes made me feel like the world was mine.
My heart today feels like a new born, at the beginning of a new life, when all the possibilities and hopes are guiding you, instinctually.
I have so many (SO - MANY) pictures from Iceland to upload on my Flickr...
And lots of those pics wouldn't have been possible to take without the help and patience from another "Flickr world" member... halenism.
This was the most amazing collaboration ever :)
Oh and...
Thank you, Flickr...
You changed my life.
L
Instinctual Behavior shapes the Beast: Conduct and Cognition shape the Man..
Quotes On Making Choices
Mrs Happy Face
Edited book cover, The Essentials of Psycho-Analysis by Sigmund Freud (1856-1939).
Translated by James Strachey, edited by his daughter Anna Freud.
Freud's writings cover the themes from the meaning of dreams and the concept of the unconscious, instinctual and sexual life to the structure of the personality.
Sydney
When you let go of who you were supposed to be, you become who you are meant to be.
For me, that means letting go of expectations. Did you know that daily I have at least one person write to me to say that they wish I would create my "old" style of art, or "good art again", or "darker stuff", or "brighter stuff"...Everyone has an opinion, and you know what? Everyone is entitled to it. Just the same as I am entitled to change, growth, and standing steadfast in the wake of criticism. I cannot create to please others, but I can create for others. There is a difference. I lead with my own curiosity, and I try to touch people with the results.
For me, becoming who I am meant to be means following my deep, instinctual curiosity. Letting that curiosity be enough to carry me and lead me. Knowing that wherever I go, I will meet with whoever I am supposed to, and that my art will touch whoever it needs to.
These new paintographs (why not?) signify a shift in how I create. I am so, so ready for it. Are you here for it, or not so much?
You can see closeups on my Instagram: www.instagram.com/brookeshaden
1. She was born on March 15th 2015 under the astrological sign of Pisces. She is overly emotional. She is gentle and affectionate. Highly instinctual, she lives in a world that's mostly invisible to us.
2. She always seeks a physical contact. When we are sitting on the chair she lies over our knees, or, in the sofa, she sleeps on top of us. She is our shadow. She follows us even in the bathroom. When I have a shower, I can see her over the glass lying on the mat and waiting for me.
3. She is different from D., she dislikes when we stare into her eyes, as many dogs do. She gets her do-not-lookatme/do-not-disturb expression.
4. When I play with her on the floor, she thinks I’m a dog, or better, she thinks I’m Mou so she plays rough. But she’s never really aggressive, she is a sweet girl.
5. During the night she sleeps with us. She couches very comfortable on a her own pillow positioned over mine, next to my husband. I quietly lie down at the foot of the bed...
6. She loves petting and adores cuddles. Everywhere, over the head, on the belly. She had to learn lying on her back and to appreciate this. At the very beginning she wasn’t at ease with it, she was afraid to be hurt or dominated..
7. She poops on the middle of the road. Sometime I have to stop the cars and everybody have to wait until she has finished and I've collected it.
8. She hates separations. In the morning when I'm ready to go to work, she starts whining then she attacks me, tugging at my coat and growling. When I close the door the very last thing I see it's her little sad face.
9. During the day, she goes often to smell my pj over the harmchair, silently wagging her tail.
10. When I’m back home in the evening her happiness is uncontainable. Naturally she bites me. :(
They weren't so silent......
Never leave home without the mint jelly !! 0,0
Shot @ Empress & Heirophant
slurl.com/secondlife/Empress and Hierophant/175/147/24/?a=b4369358e0f5c9fc80b50bbe73201091
Though northern lights can be explained and partly understood, it remains innately instinctual to contemplate their mystery and the wonder they bring to the sky.
Like the hand drawn maps in the days before the boundaries of our planet were known, out from the edges of the known lands was the phrase 'Beyond Here There Be Dragons.'
To take this picture, I basically buried my tripod legs in the sand and waited for a solid surge of water to come through. The exposures I did before this were 30"-40" long, and during two of them, a wave rushed up through the tripod and splashed all over my camera... While instinctually I was extremely worried about this, I have faith in my camera and the resistance it seems to have built to salt air and water... :P
I drew quite a crowd on the pier above me through, they were all tripping out because I just let the waves splash all over my equipment and I was laughing about it!
The source of numerous psychic disturbances and difficulties occasioned by man's progressive alienation from his instinctual foundation, i.e., by his uprootedness and identification with his conscious knowledge of himself, by his concern with consciousness at the expense of the unconscious. The result is that modern man can know himself only in so far as he can become conscious of himself--his consciousness therefor orients itself chiefly by observing and investigating the world around him, and it is to its peculiarities that he must adapt his psychic and technical resources. This task is so exacting, and its fulfillment so advantageous, that he forgets himself in the process, losing sight of his instinctual nature and putting his own conception of himself in place of his real being. In this way he slips imperceptibly into a purely conceptual world where the products of his conscious activity progressively replace reality. Separation from his instinctual nature inevitably plunges civilized man into the conflict between conscious and unconscious, spirit and nature, knowledge and faith, a split that becomes pathological the moment his consciousness is no longer able to neglect or suppress his instinctual side.
-Carl Gustav Jung
Why do mothers go to such great length to protect and provide safe haven from life's storms? Some would state that it is instinct, part of our dna, or part of our natural make-up mechanism being paramount to our survival. I agree that all of those are true, but what of love, obligation, and who designed those instinctual protections? Do all creatures have these characteristics by chance?
I believe that life is too complex for these events to occur by happenstance. Logic suggests to me that a mother’s instinct to be universally protective, and hold life as precious is too pure and loving to have it occur by mere circumstance. Yes, I believe that there is a higher power, a plan and purpose for life, and a reason that mothers everywhere and of every species takes loving care of their offspring.
It was a splendid day, low humidity, a cool breeze and clear skies. A very rare day in Louisiana. I had to get out and shoot. As we were approaching the Golden Hour, I found myself cutting through an alleyway when a man at the opposite end grabbed my attention.
Oshay was wearing an apron and dragging a garbage can down the alley. I asked if I could get his portrait for 100 Strangers and I explained the project. I really wanted a few images similar to the work of one of my friends, Gary Csuk. Gary, known on flickr as f u oscar does some of the most striking environmental street photography that is sensitive, classically composed and all around outstanding.
I did a quick look around and asked Oshay to stand in front of the wall where graffiti had been painted over, forming a cloud. I saw the electrical connections and the chain link fence as being metaphorical to my subject.
Oshay told me he is a dishwasher at a nearby restaurant. He was not hesitant about telling me this. He told me with the confidence of a man who knows that all work is honorable, and of a man who is making his own way in the world. Oshay and I swapped Instagram contacts, and I later found on his Instagram page "A Yahweh Fearing Man, Oakland Born, Louisiana Raised, Singer, Rap Artist."
I shot Oshay at ƒ/8 on aperture priority, with the camera bracketed one f-stop to allow more light to compensate for his dark skin. That yielded a shutter speed of 1/30. In retrospect, I would have liked a bit more sharpness, (I'm sharp obsessive). As the light began to fade, I could have easily shot this image at ƒ/5.8 or ƒ/4. I would have had a faster shutter with no DoF loss. Live and learn. That's what 100 Strangers is all about for me. Learning to make the mechanics of photography instinctual so you can focus on engaging your subject. I need to get back into the mix.
Thank you Oshay for being the 197th stranger in my 100 Strangers project. Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at the flickr group page.