View allAll Photos Tagged Intellection
Baku, Azerbaijan
It there is an indication or measure of a city's culture or intellect then chess might be one of those measures. Dotted all along the promenade are these giant chess boards, complete with giant pieces. Clearly, chess is a popular game in Baku and I dare say throughout Azerbaijan as well as there were matches being played morning, noon and night.
I'd go as far to say that it's not something you would come across in any UK city, mainly because all the pieces would get nicked or smashed in the first 24 hours... the Manchester Mobikes thefts and vandalism a case in point!
It was only when I got home did I discover the popularity of chess in Azerbaijan and it's most famous son - Garry Kimovich Kasparov, World champion 1985-1993 (undisputed) and 1993-2000 (classical)
One Lily is joy and several are a pleasure. In the wondrous white flowering there was an unfocused centre ready to be composed into a Heart. The Heart was all ready fading, the bright petals were gently time spent mouldering back to soil from where they had sprouted with their moment of splendid presentation now fading into degradation. One picture repeated and repeated to release the central pulse from the Heart of Death and of Life to fulfil the flowering out of The Lily of Life not unlike the sephira of Tiphareth on The Tree of Life.
© PHH Sykes 2025
phhsykes@gmail.com
Tiferet (Hebrew: תִּפְאֶרֶת Tip̄ʾereṯ, in pausa: תִּפְאָרֶת Tip̄ʾāreṯ, lit. 'beauty, glory, adornment')[1] alternatively Tifaret, Tiphareth, Tifereth or Tiphereth, is the sixth sefira in the kabbalistic Tree of Life. It has the common association of "Spirituality", "Balance", "Integration", "Beauty", "Miracles", and "Compassion".[2]
Description
In the Bahir it states: "Sixth is the adorned, glorious, delightful throne of glory, the house of the world to come. Its place is engraved in wisdom as it says 'God said: Let there be light, and there was light.'" [3]
Tiferet is the force that integrates the sefira of Chesed ("Kindness") and Gevurah ("Strength", also called Din, "Judgement"). These two forces are, respectively, expansive (giving) and restrictive (receiving). Either of them without the other could not manifest the flow of Divine energy; they must be balanced in perfect proportion by balancing compassion with discipline. This balance can be seen in the role of Tiferet, wherein the conflicting forces are harmonized, and creation flowers forth. Tiferet also similarly balances Netzach and Hod. In that case, Hod can be seen as the intellect whereas Netzach is seen as emotion.
©2015 RESilU | Please don't use this image without my explicit permission.
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Intellect takes you to the door, but it doesn`t take you into the house.
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40 Rules of Love by Shams Tabrizi
Rule 16
Real filth is the one inside. The rest simply washes off. There is only one type of dirt that cannot be cleansed with pure waters, and that is the stain of hatred and bigotry contaminating the soul. You can purify your body through abstinence and fasting, but only love will purify your heart
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Continuing on from my last post.
The morning was overwhelmingly beautiful and it provided me with a bit of a dilemma in terms of which direction to head in. There is a path that rounds the whole perimeter of Kinder Scout, some 15-16 miles in length depending on how strictly you want to stick to the edge. Those 16 miles have a great many geological features and different landscapes to be seen along the way, all providing a myriad of photographic subjects...choices, choices.
I let intuition decide rather than intellect and found my legs taking me East along the perimeter path in the direction of Crookstone Knoll, not with a mind so much on photography, but just enjoying the dream like experience of being above the clouds. I followed the trail of a Mountain Hare, which a was occasionally accompanied by the footprints of Red Grouse, all of us seemed to be headed the same direction so there must be something in it, I thought. I chuckle a little at the thought of a hiker following behind later in the day, wondering where the heck a hare, a grouse and human were all heading together!
Not too far along the path at Rowland Cote Moor, I caught sight of Win Hill properly for the first time and was mesmerised by the cloud raking over Hope Brink and the beautiful pastel orange sky, the likes of which I’ve only seen a few times before. I’m rarely a single-subject shooter, but I couldn’t pass up beautiful simple shot that represented the atmosphere of the morning so well.
The shade of yellow determines the meaning. Pure, bright and sunny yellow is the easiest color to see. People who are blind to other colors can usually see yellow. Yellow is full of creative and intellectual energy. Always use yellow note pads.
Yellow symbolizes wisdom. Yellow means joy and happiness. People of high intellect favor yellow. Yellow daffodils are a symbol of unrequited love. Sunday's color is yellow-gold.
Yellow Energy
Like the energy of a bright sunny day, yellow brings clarity and awareness. The shade of yellow determines its effect: Yellow-green can mean deceit, and creates a disoriented feeling. Orange-yellow imparts a sense of establishment. Clean light yellow clears the mind, making it active and alert.
Put some yellow in your life when you want:
clarity for decision-making
relief from 'burnout', panic, nervousness, exhaustion
sharper memory and concentration skills
protection from lethargy and depression during dull weather
Le partage ça s'apprend.
La douceur est un partage.
La nourriture qui ce partage.
L'amitié se partage les plaisirs.
La dévotion ça ce partage à deux.
Le plaisir de partager ses sentiments.
La gentillesse ça se partage sans réserve.
Le respect se bâtit avec le temps et le partage.
Le partage, l'amour, la joie, le bonheur pour la vie.
La photo et le partage peuvent devenir une passion.
La passion tissant des rapprochements avec la faune ailée.
La sensibilité esthétique est tout à fait digne des hommes.
L’œil qui appréhende la beauté avec autant de créativité.
La fragilité rend toute chose infiniment plus précieuse.
L'émotion au moment d'appuyer sur le déclencheur.
L'esprit créatif cultivant des liens avec sa nature.
L'œil derrière le viseur, et la nature dans l'œil.
La nature dans l'Art et un art dans la nature.
La patience nous apprend à immortaliser ces moments si précieux. L’esprit qui désire se concentré devra éliminer toutes les distractions. La photo fait appel aux sens, aux émotions, aux intuitions et à l'intellect.
La passion est une nature dominante qui se dévoue gaîment à son art. La nature procure aux yeux attentifs les plus beaux spectacles du monde. La photographie ajoute au plaisir des yeux celui d'un divertissement sans fin.
Les Geais bleu au bout de mon zoom téléobjectif.
Pour le plaisir et la joie qu'elle me procure,
la passion des images.
Michel Villeneuve53
Objectif 100% Nature
© All Rights reserved no publication without permission.
© Tous droits réservés aucune publication sans la permission.
"I feel grateful for all I've learned
and the people to whom I turned
Now like a river flowing to the Sea
I let them all go now to their own destiny
while I follow that one Light blazing in me
I'm gonna live my own dream again
I'm gonna live my own dream again
I'm gonna break through these clouds of rain
Straight to that bright shining sun
In the name of the One
I stake my claim
where I live my own dream again."
Ganga Fondan, 2009
All week I've been singing this song in order to stir up some feelings of ache and desire again. When my rational mind reminds me of my losses, my songs lead me back to a place of hope, of faith and courage again. Staring at the evergiving Ocean, my heart rises once more to declare its intent. I draw strength from the words:
"Your Consciousness is the spark and Universal Consciousness is the blaze and they are one and the same. Constantly reflecting on the meaning of this Truth and silencing the constant chatter of the intellect brings this Truth to our realization. This is referred to as crossing over the Ocean of Consciousness." - Tulshi Sen, "Ancient Secrets of Success for Today's World"
In a town so inconspicuous that it eluded every map, there dwelt a young inventor by the name of Elian Tinkerfield. Elian was captivated by the cogs of time, by seconds piling into minutes, and minutes constructing hours. His life was a tribute to clocks and chronometers, and at the tender age of twenty, he commenced his magnum opus: a time machine.
Day and night Elian toiled, spurred on by a melody once heard from an ancient music box, which whispered in refrain: "bitte bleib stehen, bleib stehen, Zeit." His contraption was a fantastical assembly of pendulums and steam, of copper pipes and aged pocket watches gleaned from the stalls of flea markets. And then, one day, as the clock struck twelve, he activated the device and unfurled a shimmering time portal.
Stepping through, Elian emerged in a realm where time coursed backward. Children gambolled in retrograde innocence, the aged reverted to youth, and Elian himself became... 101 years of age. He had been rendered an old man, yet with the intellect of a youth.
He ambled through a world at once familiar and bizarre. Rivers flowed uphill, trees defoliated only to burst into full bloom. Elian perceived that all once beautiful was unwinding in reverse. He witnessed lovers devolving from passionate embraces to shy glances and thought, "Ah, if it could but last forever."
Yet Elian knew he could not linger in this antithetical cosmos. He yearned to preserve the beauty of the moment where youth was not adversity, and the end did not loom. Thus, he returned to the machine and reverted the flow of time.
He arrived back in his own era, not as the youth he once was, but as a centenarian, ensnared in time's relentless current.
The machine was never again employed. He now understood the words of the song that had once inspired him: "bitte bleib stehen, bleib stehen, Zeit." But time would not heed such pleas. It is a future that cannot be conjured.
In his final days, Elian found solace in life's minutiae—the smile of a child, the warmth of the sun, the aroma of freshly baked bread. He had lived, had loved, and now it was time to depart, as the song went, "when it is most wondrous."
When Elian at last closed his eyes forever, the world paused for an infinitesimal moment — in the perfect moment.
View my images here www.fluidr.com/photos/rigsrocks
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I really love this photo better with these Agapanthus leading the way, in front of The Palace Of Fine Arts....I have never seen healthier Agapanthus plants anywhere else, than these...The Daylillies also were around the lagoon that I posted in the last few days.
Wiki...
The Palace of Fine Arts in the Marina District of San Francisco, California, is a monumental structure originally constructed for the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition in order to exhibit works of art presented there. One of only a few surviving structures from the Exposition, it is still situated on its original site. It was rebuilt in 1965, and renovation of the lagoon, walkways, and a seismic retrofit were completed in early 2009.
In addition to hosting art exhibitions, it remains a popular attraction for tourists and locals and is a favorite location for weddings and wedding party photographs for couples throughout the San Francisco Bay Area and such an icon that a miniature replica of it was built in Disney's California Adventure in Anaheim.[3]
Built around a small artificial lagoon, the Palace of Fine Arts is composed of a wide, 1,100 ft (340 m) pergola around a central rotunda situated by the water.[10] The lagoon was intended to echo those found in classical settings in Europe, where the expanse of water provides a mirror surface to reflect the grand buildings and an undisturbed vista to appreciate them from a distance.
Ornamentation includes Bruno Louis Zimm's three repeating panels around the entablature of the rotunda, representing "The Struggle for the Beautiful", symbolizing Greek culture.[11] while Ulric Ellerhusen supplied the weeping women atop the colonnade[12] and the sculptured frieze and allegorical figures representing Contemplation, Wonderment and Meditation.[13][14]
The underside of the Palace rotunda's dome features eight large insets, which originally contained murals by Robert Reid. Four depicted the conception and birth of Art, "its commitment to the Earth, its progress and acceptance by the human intellect," and the four "golds" of California (poppies, citrus fruits, metallic gold, and wheat).[15]
In the center of your heart lies a door to heaven.
As you open it, you're met with hosts of heavenly
helpers ready to serve and guide you. You must
go deep within, to the core of your being, however,
to find the door. It can't be entered through the
intellect and will never be found through others.
Sonia Choquette.
The books inside the cage represent censored knowledge, the suppression of critical thinking, and ideas stifled by dogma and various forms of control. Since books symbolize freedom and intellectual expansion, the cage highlights attempts to limit the intellect.
╔═════════*•.¸☠¸.•*═════════╗
Song: S.N.M.
Artist: Uada
“A fitly born and bred race, growing up in right conditions of outdoor as much as indoor harmony, activity and development, would probably, from and in those conditions, find it enough merely to live – and would, in their relations to the sky, air, water, trees, etc, and to the countless common shows, and in the fact of life itself, discover and achieve happiness – with being suffused night and day by wholesome ecstasy, surpassing all the pleasures that wealth, amusement, and even gratified intellect, erudition, or the sense of art, can give.”
Richard Bucke, Cosmic Consciousness, 1905
www.flickr.com/photos/184806716@N02/53829633506/in/pool-i...
Behold the resplendent beauty of the Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, a magnificent creature that graces the skies with its vibrant plumage and charismatic presence. With feathers of azure blue and sunlit yellow, it is a living masterpiece, painted by the hand of nature herself.
This remarkable bird hails from the lush rainforests of South America, where it soars through the canopy with effortless grace, its wings outstretched in a display of freedom and vitality. With a playful spirit and a raucous call that echoes through the jungle, the Blue-and-Yellow Macaw embodies the wild spirit of its tropical homeland.
But beyond its stunning appearance lies a creature of intelligence and social grace. Known for its keen intellect and ability to form strong bonds with its human companions, the Blue-and-Yellow Macaw captivates hearts with its curious gaze and affectionate nature.
Whether perched among the branches or taking flight against the backdrop of a tropical sunset, the Blue-and-Yellow Macaw enchants all who encounter it, reminding us of the boundless beauty and diversity of the natural world.
May we cherish and protect these magnificent birds, ensuring that future generations can continue to marvel at their splendor and grace.
Fly high, dear Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, and may your vibrant colors light up the skies for generations to come. 🌈
yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us
hg wells
"It is an unscrupulous intellect that does not pay to antiquity its due reverence."
Desiderius Erasmus
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNpeK7sDLzE
Gabrielle Aplin - The Power of Love
El corazón frente a la razón
El corazón me manifiesta una cosa y la razón me propone otra. Cuando se delibera sobre el corazón, no concierne lo mucho que se pronuncie el intelecto, ni se subleven aquellos que se hallan a nuestro alrededor, porque al final, la seducción es algo tan sintético, que la pugna persiste e insiste en asentarse en la cabeza apaciguando al talento.
The heart versus reason
The heart manifests one thing to me and reason proposes another. When it is deliberated about the heart it does not matter how much the intellect is pronounced, nor those who are around us revolt, because in the end the seduction is something so synthetic that the struggle persists and insists on settling in the head appeasing the talent .
Le coeur contre la raison
Le cœur me manifeste une chose et la raison en propose une autre. Quand il est question de cœur, peu importe la façon dont l'intellect est prononcé, ni ceux qui nous entourent se révoltent, car à la fin, la séduction est une chose si synthétique que la lutte persiste et insiste pour s'installer dans la tête et apaiser le talent.
Il cuore contro la ragione
Il cuore mi manifesta una cosa e la ragione ne propone un'altra. Quando viene deliberato sul cuore, non importa quanto l'intelletto sia pronunciato, né coloro che sono intorno a noi si ribellano, perché alla fine la seduzione è qualcosa di così sintetico che la lotta persiste e insiste nel sistemarsi in testa per placare il talento
María
Mood ♫ Dan + Shay - You ♫
I am the proud partner and husband to the most creative mind I've ever seen. I've never met someone who possesses the depths of both sharp intellect, and brilliant creativity that Ena has, and when she engages both into her SL creations... Holy fuck. (I'm literally running out of adjectives here).
Y'all are in for another treat. Overlook is soon returning, and waiting to please not only your entertainment and photographic desires, but also working on satisfying your rich and decadent palate. We look forward to sharing with you some of our favorite flavors, heightening your senses on the ground, or up high. ;)
Stay Tuned!
[Pose by Ana Poses - modified]
Baum’s Strong Women
For the past 104 years, people saw what they wanted to in the Wizard of Oz. In the fifties, conservatives in the government pointed an accusing finger at L. Frank Baum, its author, insisting that Oz is a communistic society lacking money, where all comrades work for the common good. At times religious groups saw the book as demonic, pointing out that Baum pictured witches as nothing more than smart women: some good, some bad. Economists saw the story as a march to the gold standard with “oz” standing for ounces of gold, the green of Oz as the color of money, and the brick road as an “obvious” reference to the yellow metal. Others insisted that the story was a political tract with the lion representing England. In fact, the emerald green of Oz may be a reference to Baum’s ancestral home of Ireland. Yellow brick was a common building material in 1900. The name “oz,” according to one of Baum’s sons, was inspired by a filing cabinet in Baum’s office. The files were listed alphabetically with the last one labeled, “O - Z”
Frank Baum insists in the introduction to The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, published in 1900, that “old time fairy tales” contain a “fearsome moral to each tale.” He would have nothing to do with placing a moral in his stories. Baum insists the story “was written solely to pleasure children of today.”
With that said, and in spite of what the author insists, there is a wealth of metaphor and meaning in his works. Perhaps the most consistent theme that runs through most of his many books is the message that girls may strive to be strong women. In ten of his fourteen books, the hero is a girl or woman. True power in Oz, both good and evil resides in woman. Dorothy, a little girl in the original story, leads (practically drags) her three adult male friends through a life’s journey, helping them find themselves. They discover that they always had the courage, kindness, and intellect that they mistakenly thought they lacked. Oz himself is a fraud.
Baum was an ardent advocate of woman’s rights. As a newspaper correspondent, he wrote numerous articles on the topic. He campaigned vigorously with his wife, mother-in-law, and Susan B. Anthony to win the vote for women in the new state of South Dakota. The vote was lost but his strong feelings for the equality of women continued to be expressed in his stories and papers.
- Dr. Len Radin
It’s said yellow is the color of the mind and the intellect, and the third chakra in the solar plexus, representing power and spark.
"So much of every art is an expression of the subconscious that it seems to me most of all the important qualities are put there unconsciously, and little of importance by the conscious intellect." - Edward Hopper
www.google.com.au/maps/@35.6594746,139.7014138,3a,75y,335...
SOOC
Il sapere umano appartiene al mondo. La condivisione e la fiducia sono alla base della conoscenza, del progresso culturale e scientifico; la mercificazione delle opere di intelletto, espressa attraverso l'imposizione del copyright, è un crimine. Musica, scritture, software, foto, pellicole. Se il prezzo non è quantificabile, il valore è inestimabile. Lucrare sui prodotti intellettuali significa considerare la propria mente alla pari con un qualsiasi bene commerciale. "Tutelare" le proprie opere significa arrestare la divulgazione del sapere; uccidere la conoscenza.
In questa sede: non applico il copyright alle mie foto perchè considero tale pratica una mortificazione, per me e per gli altri. Le Creative Commons ci sono per essere usate.
Non sfregio le mie foto con loghi personali, e se lo facessi renderei disponibili altrove le foto originali.
Metto a disposizione gli Exif per chiunque possa essere interessato alle informazioni tecniche sui miei scatti. Grazie a Exif altrui sono riuscito a migliorare conoscenze e tecnica fotografica.
Non critico chi si comporta diversamente. Penso solo che da qualche parte si dovrà pure iniziare a ignorare la diffidenza verso il prossimo.
Il sapere è come il sesso: meglio se libero.
***
Human knowledge belongs to the world. Sharing and trust are the base of knowledge, of cultural and scientific progress; the commoditization of intellectual works, expressed through copyright, is a crime. Music, writings, software, photos, films. If the price isn't quantifiable, value is inestimable. To gain from mind products means to consider our mind equal to any consumer goods. To "safeguard" our works means to stop the intellection; to kill the knowledge.
In this session: I don't apply the copyright to my photos because I consider such custom an abasement, for the others and for me. Creative Commons licenses exist in order to be used.
I don't slash my photos with personal logos, and if I do it I'll make my original photos somewhere else aviable.
I share Exif files with anyone interested about technical informations on my shots. Thanks to other people's Exif I improve my knowledge and my photographic tecnique.
It's not a critical note against who's getting a different behaviour. I just think somewhere we shoud start ignoring distrust.
Knowledge is like sex: better when free.
10 Year Project
Each month I take a favourite photo from ten years back, and re-edit it, using current tools and knowledge.
This was called "Vision Impaired", and I don't know what I was thinking, so maybe "Intellect Impaired would have been better.
I must have been looking for some sort of mood... This was in a cemetery after all...
Anyway, removed the colour cast, and all the colour! Straightened it, inevitably, and... well, made it a bit gritty.
If we listened to our intellect we'd never have a love affair. We'd never have a friendship. We'd never go in business because we'd be cynical: "It's gonna go wrong." Or "She's going to hurt me." Or,"I've had a couple of bad love affairs, so therefore . . ." Well, that's nonsense. You're going to miss life. You've got to jump off the cliff all the time and build your wings on the way down.
Ray Bradbury
"A prophet doesn't have to have any brains. They are good to have, of course, for the ordinary exigencies of life, but they are no use in professional work. It is the restfulest vocation there is. When the spirit of prophecy comes upon you, you merely take your intellect and lay it off somewhere in a cool place for a rest, and unship your jaw and leave it alone; it will work itself. The result is prophecy."
Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)
The End (of my 366 Day Project) is Near!!!!!!!!!
Nothing expected, free of anticipation some things just fit together. Pictures of the view from the window turned into exposures of the light available from inside and out and then my old worn and loved Tarot box went to centre stage and took a bow. Some how some thing happened all at once and together in unison.
The Tarot cards within the box are two versions of, “The Smith–Waite,” or, “Rider–Waite–Smith,” or, “Waite–Smith Deck.” Originally and for decades Artist Pamela Colman Smith was not mentioned in the name of the deck, but the publishing company Rider was often mentioned when it was sold as the, “Rider Waite Deck,” and Rider continued to be a part of the name for the book and cards long after Rider were not publishing them. This box is for, “The, Original Rider Waite,” is no longer in production. The other deck, along with, “The Original Smith–Waite,” still in the box, is, “The Universal Waite,” that should be titled, “The Universal Smith-Waite,” and is recoloured by Mary Hanson-Roberts.
Underneath the top coat of green paint the original lettering and the image of the Major Arcana card numbered XIV that of Temperance, particularly the folds in the Angel’s robes can be seen. The 30 years age of this box is nothing in long historic roots of Tarot. It carries memories for me holds two decks with two artists showing the figures of European Tarot in a form modernised and expanded with a newly devised pictorial Minor Arcana. In 1909 the publisher Rider released, “The Key to the Tarot,” and in 1910 a revised version was retitled as, “The Pictorial Key to the Tarot,” by A.E. Waite. The name, “Rider Waite,” was used to describe the 78 cards and the books and various booklets both to accompany the cards and also sold separately. To acknowledge the artist who recast several of the Major Arcana and made 56 original versions of the Minor Arcana the publishing phenomenon with over 100 million copies is often now referred to as, “The Smith-Waite Deck.”
© PHH Sykes 2023
phhsykes@gmail.com
“Today, more than 100 million copies of the Rider-Waite-Smith Deck are in circulation in over 20 countries, making it the most popular Tarot deck ever made. As we set forth to recover lost histories and systematic erasures of women’s intellect and labor, this exhibition provides an essential piece of the puzzle.”
Ray, Sharmistha, Hyperallergic, 23 March 2019, “Reviving a Forgotten Artist of the Occult.”.
hyperallergic.com/490918/pamela-colman-smith-pratt-instit...
Hyperallergic is a forum for serious, playful, and radical thinking about art in the world today.
“Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us.” HG Wells
Walter Percy Chrysler, whose amazing career as a locomotive machinist, who purchased a locomotive in 1908 that he took apart and reassembled serval times before using it, was hired by Charles Nash of Buick part of General Motors in 1911 to use his intellect and mechanical knowhow to solve engineering & production problems. When founder William Durant returned to helm at GM in 1916 Chrysler was made president and general manager of Buick. Resigned in 1919 because of direction Durant was taking GM. Hired to rescue ailing Willys-Overland, which he did and was financially rewarded, though he failed to take it over. Then he worked with another ailing automotive company Maxwell which he would eventually acquire successfully and eventually became Chrysler Corporation. Chrysler envisioned an amazing skyscraper in New York City (he was living in Great Neck on Long Island) that would when he brought this property on 42nd Street from Coney Island developer William H. Reynold for $2 million and he hired William Van Allen to design his crowning jewel, the 1,048 foot Art Deco masterpiece with its massive 125 foot spire. The tallest building in the world until the Empire State Building opened in 1931, the lighting in the upper windows did not happen until late in the 20th century that is seen in this image captured by Grand Central Terminal. OM Systems Olympus OM-D EM-1 Mark III Olympus OM Systems Olympus M.Zuiko PRO 12-40 f2.8 #developportdev @gothamtomato @developphotonewsletter @omsystem.cameras #excellent_america #omsystem @bheventspace @bhphoto @adorama @tamracphoto @tiffencompany #usaprimeshot #tamractales @mpbcom @kehcamera @nycurbanism @nycprimeshot @nybucketlist #omd #olympus #olympusphotography #microfourthirds #micro43 #micro43photography @chrysler_building @chryslerbuildingtoday
I stick with him like velcro,
But never aspire to out-show.
I’m malleable like playdough,
Yet my intellect is pseudo
An echo of his maestro?
Whatever the fellow’s mojo,
I’m his shadow
And this is me in this photo.
Of particular note in gnome society, male or female, are hats. For one reason or another, gnomes have a deep love for headgear of any variety, even going so far as to refer to helmets as “war hats” and other such affectations. All gnomes own between three and several dozen hats, and hats are often seen as a social status symbol. They favor hats of all styles, colors, fabrics and sizes. Fedoras, beanies, fezzes, bomber hats, bowlers and top hats are the most popular, though any style will do. Gnomes believe a hat can say a lot about the person wearing it. This saying is not just an aphorism, however; it is something taken from their own culture.
In gnome villages and cities, all gnomes possess a single, pointed hat. The color, fabric and size of the hat are indicative of their relative social rank, intellect and criminal record. Red hats are for common folk; blue hats are for officials; yellow hats are for leaders (such as a mayor), brown hats are for criminals and white hats are for Dunces.
theathaschronicle.fandom.com/wiki/Gnomes_(Race)
At We’re Here! the host group for the day is Colors of Christmas.
I've been on a path, and it has been full of interesting intellects and furry beasties. One of the dears I met along the way was this burro and his pony pal.
"All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man... the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports."
I am representing the magical element of Air! Air is the element of creativity, intellect, and clear articulation. A powerful element for new beginnings, self-expression, and happiness.
~Attire:
ERSCH - Champagne Bodysuit & Choker & Melfea Cape
Shoes:
ERSCH - Dots Boots
~Hair:
Wasabi // Elenoire Windblown
So many emotions at one time...
I started writing something a while ago... and I never finished it... This is what I have so far:
***There's a little box we all keep in our heads. It's all the way in the back, doing nothing until you need it. Some are stubborn when it comes to dealing with emotions. They realize they are there, but they do nothing about them. They only put the emotions into that box and tuck it away again, until they need to bury something else. And that box is like a ticking time bomb. When it is full to the brim it will explode, but nobody wants to be around when that happens. Nobody wants to know what will happen.
For some, it's sadness, for others it's anger. For most, it's any kind of emotion. Joy, grief, anger... But what makes us do this? Maybe it's our family environment. The way we see our parents deal with their emotions impacts us. The way a single mother deals with her emotions effects the children to do the same. Or it could maybe even be the people we hang around. The jokes that are made when dealing with something difficult. A simple phrase like, "walk it off" or "get over it" can have an impact....***
Yeah, that's it. >.< I was so angry with myself today I was so close to throwing my camera and giving up on this project. I'm not kidding. I don't know if I'm cut out to be a photo journalist or anything.
The karate promotional was today. Well, one of three. It was from 10 until about 12.30. With only five rounds of sparring. At the black belt promotional, it's 15. I got some nice tags on kids. By "tags" I mean shots at them. They didn't block. Not my fault. I even sparred this one kid named Aiden. He's pretty cool, very polite. Apparently he was there when he was - OH MY GOD! I REMEMBER HIM FROM YEARS AGO! Wow, he grew up... It's cool seeing people grow up.
Anyway, my day wasn't so great. Yeah, I talked to "Eric" and "Dan". I'm not elaborating. Nothing bad, or good, happened. "Eric" did say he would email me Monday though, so that's something to look forward to.
I don't know why, but I've just felt so.... angry lately. At myself, at people... Who knows what it could be.
I thought it was kind of funny that when Shihan was thanking everyone for helping out with the karate school and stuff, he thanked the parents and "Eric" and his brother for helping at the Greenville school... Never thanked me. I don't care. It's just kinda good to have other people know your efforts, you know? Like how I'm there everyday to take class and weapons,teach and take photos. I'd do anything for Shihan and Sensei. I really would. They've given me so much.
"All I ever wanted
Was to see you smiling
All I ever wanted
Was to make you mine
I know that I love you
Oh baby why don't you see
That All I ever wanted
Was you and me
I'm so alone
Here on my own
And I'm waiting for you to come
I want to be a part of you
Think of all the things we could do
And everyday
You're in my head
I want to have you in my bed
You are the world
You win my eyes
For you're all I want in my life
All I ever wanted
Was to see you smiling
All I ever wanted
Was to make you mine
I know that I love you
Oh baby why don't you see
That All I ever wanted
Was you and me."
("All I Ever Wanted" by Basshunter) I love Basshunter. "DotA" is pretty sweet too. It's weird... I started to cry.... I don't know why... I was just so upset, I started crying.... Weird...
Every man should use his intellect, not as he uses his lamp in the study, only for his own seeing, but as the lighthouse uses its lamps, that those afar off on the seas may see the shining, and learn their way.
#HenryWardBeecher
Do you see it ;-)? (Please note that human heart has a very different place :-))
La place de l'intellect humain dans le cosmos... l'avez-vous vu ;-)? (S'il vous plait notez que la place du coeur humain est bien différente :-))
The horizon is a bleeding gash of pastel apricot and bruised violet—a fleeting, fragile illumination that passes for morning in a November sub-Arctic. Underneath this soft tapestry of light, Frobisher Bay lies locked in a state of violent, slow-motion transformation. The sea is no longer liquid, nor is it yet solid. It is a viscous slurry of frazil ice and grease ice, dampening the Atlantic swell into a heavy, rhythmic groan. Winter does not merely arrive here; it besieges the land, squeezing out the remaining heat until the earth itself cracks under the strain.
Look closely at the vastness. Against the colossal, snow-choked ridges of Baffin Island, two minuscule black ink-blots puncture the gradient sky. A pair of common ravens (Corvus corax) have launched themselves from the frozen shoreline, commencing their morning reconnaissance. This is their dawn patrol, a routine born out of absolute necessity and intelligence in one of the most unforgiving biomes on Earth.
The Architects of Survival
Where other avian species fled south months ago, yielding to the initial whispers of autumn, the ravens stayed. To remain in Nunavut as the mercury plummets past minus twenty is an act of evolutionary bravado. But the raven does not survive on luck; it thrives on absolute cunning, structural adaptability, and deep-seated geological memory.
As they glide over the bay, their heavy, chiseled beaks cut into the freezing air. Those beaks are versatile tools—capable of tearing through frozen seal carcass, excavating caches hidden deep beneath dry snow, or picking apart the refuse of human settlements. Their glossy black plumage, looking completely stark against the alabaster hills, is a masterclass in thermal dynamics. Every feather absorbs the precious, low-angle solar radiation of the brief November sun, trapping a layer of metabolic warmth close to their skin.
In the deep silence of the Arctic freeze, the metallic 'klonk' of a raven's call travels for miles over the forming sea ice—a solitary voice mapping out a desert of white.
A Landscape Descending
In the middle distance of Dawn patrol.jpg, a lonely island stands sentinel, its small navigation beacon encrusted with rime frost. It serves as a visual measuring stick for the encroaching ice. Day by day, the open leads of dark water shrink, choked out by expanding pans of nilas—thin, elastic crusts of ice that bend and ripple with the tides before cementing into an unbreakable floor.
For the ravens, this shifting landscape is an opportunistic playground.
As the sea ice forms, it forces marine mammals to congregate around diminishing breathing holes. The ravens track these patterns with uncanny intellect. They will shadow a polar bear for miles across the pressure ridges, waiting with calculated patience for the apex predator to make a kill, knowing that the scraps left behind mean the difference between starvation and survival.
The Intelligence of the Pair,
Ravens are notoriously monogamous, often mating for life, and this morning sortie is as much a communicative exercise as it is a hunting expedition. Watch them in the air: they do not fly with the panicked flapping of lesser birds. They soar. They utilize the fierce, icy updrafts rolling off the Baffin mountains, banking and rolling in a display of aerial acrobatics that borders on play.
Biologists have noted that ravens possess a theory of mind; they actively deceive one another to protect food caches and can communicate abstract concepts—such as the location of a distant carcass—to their partners through a complex lexicon of croaks, rattles, and clicks. As the pair drifts further out over the newly minted ice of Frobisher Bay, their silhouettes fade into the purple haze of the mountain backdrop, two eternal spirits perfectly adapted to the beautiful, terrible descent into winter's absolute grasp.
A dry lake somewhere in Nevada.
When you walk at this place and look around you feel as if you were walking on a conveyer belt or on one of these fitness-walking machines where you hold on to some kind of handle and just go through the motions of walking without really progressing. The ground is so homogenous and featureless that there is really nothing there, around you, that would change or move while you are walking and that could give you an impression of your own motion. The mountains, toward which motion could be perceived, are too far away. It feels like walking to the body, but you don’t get any sensual feedback of progress, the mind misses the expected visual confirmation of things around changing, that you actually cover ground. Nothing changes, not even slowly, you can walk for 15 minutes and everything looks exactly the same. It’s like in a dream when you try so hard to run but don’t move.
Once reason forces the mind to accept that there must be motion, it actually comes up with the sensation that the ground is moving instead, backwards, and I’m completely still, just my legs paddling and pushing the ground backwards. Not bad! What’s the difference? So I walk and make the world turn under me. Wouldn’t make much difference, would it? How do I know that this is not what’s really going on?
Ah, yes, that’s where my discriminating intellect comes in, the “experience processor” that saves us so often from getting undone or – what we so often forget – prevents us from seeing the truth!
At night a new moon illuminates the scene, just enough to see the mountains. But now, when I walk, I really get dizzy, the deceiving sensation of walking without moving is chillingly convincing. The wind stops at night, no sounds; it is so quiet that again the mind protests. It comes up with all kinds of objections, aversions, and fears. I hear my heart pounding, blood rushing, monstrous, strange sounds. “How can all this work without my control?” says mind and is confused. And then I even hear things that clearly are unreal: scary ringing gongs, piercing beeps and roaring surf. I need to stay with the irritation for a long time until I gradually manage to let it all be whatever it is without interpreting it. Have I ever experienced such enormous cosmic silence of open space? Even the concept of sound becomes uncertain, somehow, and dissolves. A completely new experience arises: not the lack of hearing something, but the sensation of hearing silence. It takes a long time before the mind gives up its expectations and objections and starts to believe this emptiness.
Much later, when the moon is gone and a thick overcast has developed that holds back even the starlight, I walk away from the motor home into the complete darkness. Now there is absolutely nothing to see anymore – it doesn’t matter if my eyes are open or closed – nothing to hear, nothing to touch, nothing to react on, nothing to work with, nothing to change. Awesome! – Nothing to find awesome. I feel a sensation of panic arise.
Imagine such a place: the ultimate model for the unobstructed freedom to go nowhere – you step out of your camper, spin around a few times, and start walking in an arbitrary direction. And you keep walking, for 20 minutes if you like, because – you have seen, it’s obvious – you can be absolutely certain that you cannot bump into anything wherever you go (unless you run into the van after two steps). It’s amazing how the mind gets alarmed and doesn’t quite believe it, in spite of the indisputable knowledge of no danger, how you stumble and how drastically you actually deviate from a strait line soon. You don’t walk blindly, your eyes are wide open, but there is nothing to see. You want feedback, you crave for news, you insist on information, but there is absolutely nothing happening outside.
Aureus 37-38, 7.73 g. C CAESAR AVG GERM P M TR POT Bare head of Gaius r. Rev. DIVVS AVG PATER PATRIAE Radiate head of Augustus r. RIC 15. BMC 16. C 1. CBN 19. Vagi 310. Calicó 332 (this coin).
Few of Rome’s emperors enjoy as foul a reputation as Gaius, who is generally known by the nickname Caligula, meaning ‘bootikin’ or ‘little boots’, which he received from his father’s soldiers while he was still an amiable child. He grew to despise the nickname almost as much as everyone grew to despise him. There is little need to revisit the list of his debaucheries, incests and acts of depravity – we need only note that his behaviour was a special blend of intellect and insanity, and that he has few peers beyond Nero, Commodus and Elagabalus. On the bright side, Caligula was dutiful when it came to his well-produced coinage. Caligula honoured his great-grandfather Augustus, very likely Tiberius, his murdered parents, Germanicus and Agrippina Senior, and his murdered brothers, Nero Caesar and Drusus Caesar. Among the living he honoured his three sisters – in whom he had more than a casual interest – and, on provincial coinage, his final wife Caesonia and their daughter Drusilla Minor, both of whom were murdered within an hour of Caligula.