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"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"
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.
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
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.
Chapter I: The Fallible Revelation.
"Somewhere along today's modern prairie of debauchery and forgotten ambition lies the essence of humankind's ego. A fine and convoluted mess of what-ifs and soon to be has-beens. This fact remains the unspoken and sad perennial truth of your reluctant ontological overview on reality, doesn't it? And the real truth is.." The vampire explained before slowly willing herself to emerge rather gracefully from the shadowy depths, which had previously only exposed a luminous pair of sleepless eyes. ".. The moment you set foot down here you became inescapably doomed," the creature finished with the tiniest timbre of melancholy invading her somber explanation.
"I'm sorry to say that I spin no greater comedy upon either of you. Consider yourselves unlucky - curse your specific god, if it helps. It is what it is. And remember - this whole farce is Mother Earth's eternal punchline, and she ought to be afforded that credit."
Before the confused pair had digested the gravity of their situation she pounced at them with an indiscriminate and preternatural speed barely visible to the naked eye. Anguish, screams and finally their whimpering pleas came to an end - and as death passed the vampire by like some nameless vapor, which ultimately turns out to be nothing at all, she obtained some semblance of tranquility.
In regards to the unsuspecting couple who in their ultimate blunder had engaged this darling figure in curious pursuit down into those dank and subterranean maintenance tunnels - yes, it was their unmistakable end. As expected the vampire initially felt little to no remorse during any blood repast. By now it could be surmised and perhaps underlined that such a manipulative being had the intellect of a serial killer and the hunting prowess of a panther.
It was an elementary thing to tow victims into their final vista before the butchery began. This barbarous routine rarely demanded these extravagant mind games, but the vampire was nothing if not self-absorbed and theatrical in nature .. And it kept things somewhat interesting.
Or at least that is what she had been continually telling herself for untold centuries of time. Yes, an ocean of time had probably elapsed by now. Though perhaps within some violently repressed section of where the heart formerly pulsed epiphany and the sting of folly in pure nihilism was finally beginning to take its toll on her. No one knew, and certainly none were alive to speak otherwise.
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. 🌈
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
In the celebrated metropolis of London, during the year 1837, an era wherein steam reigned as the sovereign of invention and the harbinger of man's mastery over nature, there was convened a conclave of women unparalleled in their intellect and indomitable in their courage. The Aetherian Coalescence, they were titled, each a luminary in her own right, united under the banner of progress and the pursuit of the ethereal realms.
Lady Penelope Hargreaves, the scion of a lineage graced with the acumen of engineering, her hands adept at weaving the intricate lattices of clockwork that gave pulse to their airborne leviathan. Dr. Arabella Swithenbank, whose steam engines thrummed with a vigor that was the very essence of Prometheus’ fire. Miss Theodosia Barrow , an enchantress of the voltaic forces, her devices casting the brilliance of a thousand captured lightning bolts across the span of their craft. Dame Guinevere Loxley, the cartographer whose charts rivalled the celestial maps of the ancients, a guiding star in their odyssey. And Miss Isambard Brunella, a machinist of such deftness that her creations spoke of a harmony between the artisan's touch and the unyielding metals of the earth.
The vessel of their dreams, "The Celestial Peregrine," stood poised upon the cusp of dawn, her silhouette a testament to humanity's ascendancy over the bonds of gravity, her engines a symphony of steam and steel. As the first light of morning kissed the Thames, the airship ascended, a ballet of gears and gales, into the empyrean canvas above.
Yet, as is the wont of fate, the skies unveiled their tempestuous heart, challenging these daughters of Icarus with a squall of such ferocity that it seemed as though the firmament itself sought to reclaim its dominion from the hands of mortals. But amidst the maelstrom, the resolve of The Aetherian Coalescence shone with the steadfastness of the North Star, and it was by their unity and the fortitude of their creation that “The Celestial Peregrine” was guided safely through the tumult, descending not in wreckage upon the tumultuous sea but upon the embrace of the verdant earth with the grace of a nightingale alighting upon its nest.
From this odyssey emerged a revelation, a spark of genius that would illuminate the path of progress henceforth. They devised an apparatus, a marvel of valvular alchemy, which would render the steam engines of the future not only more robust against the caprices of the tempest but also more gracious in their consumption of the coals that fed them. This mechanism, born from the exigencies of their voyage, became the cornerstone of an epoch wherein the skies teemed with the silhouettes of airships, each a scion of "The Celestial Peregrine," carrying aloft not only the affluent but all who yearned for the splendor of the heavens.
Thus, The Aetherian Coalescence had not simply touched the skies; they had transmuted the very fabric of human aspiration, setting the celestial highways abuzz with the promise of adventures untold. It was a testament to the boundless potential when the ingenuity of the human spirit is applied to the realms of the possible, and it was in this spirit that the age of aerial travel flourished, under the watchful eyes of the five who had first chartered its course.
"It is an unscrupulous intellect that does not pay to antiquity its due reverence."
Desiderius Erasmus
“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
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There is a road from the eye to heart that does not go through the intellect.
G. K. Chesterton
“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
"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...
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
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.
Located on the opposite side of the Red Planet, Orion Station is a hub for interplanetary meetings among Martians. Three portal structures connect to this command meeting station, floating over a surprisingly lush understory, at least for the Martian wasteland anyway. Colonies of Martians such as the Antares, the Centarui, and the Vega meet at this hub to hold council with the intelligence of Reigel and his aid, Arcturus.
A homage to the 2001 Life on Mars Lego theme, inspired the color Sand Purple. A fun theme that explored the peaceful interaction between human and alien life on Mars' surface. If any LEGO space theme were to make a return, I hope it carries heavy influence from the peaceful line.
Not only does Orion Station feature a communal hub for Martian life, it sits atop a site of ancient necessity visited frequently by the patrons. Here a sect of the Vega clan enjoy the fascinations of their ancient world. Not being known for their intellect, this sect solely ponders why this rock head is so big.
The Martian colony of the Centarui are best known for the bravery through protection of the other groups. A simple and respectable group, they choose to care for others over their themselves in a form of protection while showing no aggression to new comers unless absolutely necessary.
Each solstice a communal celebration is held at Orion Station. Martians share different cultures and ideas from each of their sects, and enjoy the beautiful, even though largely barren, landscape beneath the hub.
Princess Cassiopeia is surprised by Hoodlum Altair! Rascally Altair is up to no good as usual...
(I really don't know anything about the Life on Mars story or lore if there even was any, its been fun making up stuff though. The lime green guy named Altair just has a goofy hair pattern, never was a fun of that head as much as the others. And the other old purple Martian, Cassiopeia, is fantastic in that color.)
Local Mizar colonists point and laugh as an Earthling rover studies rocks! Silly rover, that rock is the same as the other ones.
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
My Head said Triptych and my Heart made a Quadtych. My Reason as is often the case was of little use as Emotion had designs on a different notion. I followed Heart the chest wedge of appreciation and it was happy especially so as Head was proved wrong yet again. Dumb Brain trying to think bright solution after brilliant solution. Three became Four and they opened out ready to reflect and hopefully to soar with one extra wing into any and all skies and rise in the mind’s of any casual passers by. Unfold to to reveal what’s told nothing either new, or old, nothing charged nothing sold. Just a picture reflected and reflected on itself.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
"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!!!!!!!!!
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.
"... Grâce à leur intelligence vive et leur grande fidélité à l'orthodoxie, les théologiens dominicains ont gagné le titre de Domini Canes (Chiens de garde du Seigneur). "
www.monasteries.com/fr-FR/order/dominicans
"...With their keen intellect and strong fidelity to orthodoxy, the Dominican theologians earned the title Domini Canes (Watchdogs of the Lord). "
“Concerning matter, we have been all wrong. What we have called matter is energy, whose vibration has been so lowered as to be perceptible to the senses. Matter is spirit reduced to point of visibility. There is no matter.”
"Time and space are not conditions in which we live, but modes by which we think.
Physical concepts are free creations of the human mind, and are not, however it may seem, determined by the external world."
“Time does not exist – we invented it. Time is what the clock says. The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”
“I think 99 times and find nothing. I stop thinking, swim in silence, and the truth comes to me."
"The intellect has little to do on the road to discovery. There comes a leap in consciousness, call it intuition or what you will, the solution comes to you and you don’t know how or why.”
"A human being experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty."
"Our separation from each other is an optical illusion."
“When something vibrates, the electrons of the entire universe resonate with it. Everything is connected. The greatest tragedy of human existence is the illusion of separateness.”
“Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”
“We are souls dressed up in sacred biochemical garments and our bodies are the instruments through which our souls play their music.”
“When you examine the lives of the most influential people who have ever walked among us, you discover one thread that winds through them all. They have been aligned first with their spiritual nature and only then with their physical selves.”
“The true value of a human being can be found in the degree to which he has attained liberation from the self.”
“The ancients knew something, which we seem to have forgotten.”
“The more I learn of physics, the more I am drawn to metaphysics.”
“One thing I have learned in a long life: that all our science, measured against reality, is primitive and childlike. We still do not know one thousandth of one percent of what nature has revealed to us. It is entirely possible that behind the perception of our senses, worlds are hidden of which we are unaware.”
“I’m not an atheist. The problem involved is too vast for our limited minds. We are in the position of a little child entering a huge library filled with books in many languages. The child knows someone must have written those books.”
"The common idea that I am an atheist is based on a big mistake. Anyone who interprets my scientific theories this way, did not understand them."
"Everything is determined, every beginning and ending, by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect, as well as for the star. Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust, we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper."
“The religion of the future will be a cosmic religion. It will transcend a personal God and avoid dogma and theology.”
“Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another.”
“Everything is energy and that is all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want and you can not help but get that reality. It can be no other way. This is not philosophy. This is physics.”
"I am happy because I want nothing from anyone. I do not care about money. Decorations, titles or distinctions mean nothing to me. I do not crave praise. I claim credit for nothing. A happy man is too satisfied with the present to dwell too much on the future.
-Albert Einstein
Their challenger was the enigmatic Monsieur LeClerc, a gentleman known for his inventive prowess and his love for elaborate mechanical contraptions. Monsieur LeClerc was a master of automatons, and his latest creation was a marvel that could play the violin with such soulful perfection it was said to bring the listener to tears.
The duel was to be held in the grand hall of the gentleman's club, a fitting arena where intellect and innovation were the swords with which one battled. The terms were elegantly simple: the invention that most captivated the assembly would be deemed the victor.
For the Clockwork Sibyls, this was more than just a contest; it was an opportunity to shift the paradigm of their time. They walked down the street, each step a silent but steadfast claim on the future they envisioned—a world where science and art danced in harmonious symphony, and where the work of a woman's mind was heralded as a masterpiece of the modern age.
As Lady Abigail and Lady Beatrice approached the stately doors of the gentleman's club, a murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd. The contest was not merely a display of scientific prowess; it was a spectacle that had the entire city holding its breath.
Inside the grand hall, the air was thick with the scents of polished wood and the faintest hint of machine oil—a perfume for the inventors' soirée. Monsieur LeClerc took the stage first, unveiling his automaton with a flourish. The figure, dressed in the finery of a concert violinist, lifted its bow. As it played, the room fell into a reverent hush, the music weaving through the air like a tangible spell. The automaton's performance was flawless, soulful yet hauntingly mechanical.
(Part 4 flic.kr/p/2pFEHab)
(Part 1 flic.kr/p/2pFFzbK)
Image created in DALL-E
Story co-created by Grace and ChatGPT
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.
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved FREEDOMSTREAMING PHOTOGRAPHY
Design by
© FREEDOMSTREAMING PHOTOGRAPHY
Cyans World
Pick up where Myst left off, and plunge into a deceptively beautiful world cursed by bewildering defects and a powerful overseer. Every shadow hides a secret, and appearances might not be what they seem. Atrus needs you once again – to untangle the truth about Riven and help him free his beloved wife Catherine. You must search, explore, and draw on your intellect and intuition to discover the truth about this troubled land and its inhabitants.
Der nächste Winter wird kommen .
By contemplating the created order, and by contemplating and ordering the moral structure of one’s own life, one would be led to the pure theoria of the fountainhead of all existence, ho on, ‘the existing one’, ‘He Who is’, this being the name of God revealed to Moses at the burning bush. Historical revelation in this light becomes God’s method of spelling out truth in the terms of the world: an arrangement of clues which, rightly seen, leads to illumination. However, this is not really comparable to the enlightenment of the gnostic: there is no ‘technology’ here, no suggestion of control over the laws of the Spirit. The end is simply contemplation, the enjoying of God for his sake alone; and Philo shares the biblical repugnance for any suggestion that God can be brought into human control. God can never be contained in human concepts. Moses ascends into a cloud and darkness beyond the scope of intellect, where God offers himself directly to the vision, without the intervention of any form or idea. Here, then, the pilgrimage of the understanding is seen not (as for the gnostic) in terms of acquisition but in terms of stripping away, the stripping of multiple and diffuse kinds of apprehension to the simplicity of a single-hearted vision –in Platonic terms, the return from the Many to the primal One.
- The Wound of Knowledge Christian Spirituality from the New Testament to St John of the Cross, ROWAN WILLIAMS
(Fascinator by Chop Zuey)
As seen in Avalon's Divine Dream Art Exhibition at Visionaire Photography Institute in SL.
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Olympus%20Lightning/68/91/36
Sailing to Byzantium
By William Butler Yeats
THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
Adult & PG Versions Available
A rich oak Captain’s Desk commands the wood-paneled room with timeless elegance. Topped with a world globe, pen, inkwell, and aged parchment, it evokes authority and refinement. Brass-accented drawers hint at secrets within. A must-have centerpiece for any discerning individual who values legacy, intellect, and enduring craftsmanship.
Where To Find:
Marketplace Item:
Adult Version
marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Desk/270373051
PG Version
marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Desk/27037306
Marketplace Store:
marketplace.secondlife.com/stores/13406
Mainstore:
I normally prefer not to photograph the homeless ... but when I first passed Alan in the park he gave up a wave and such a warm smile ... I just couldn't not want to make his picture ... and he let me do that without any hesitation or pretense or affect ... and although dirty and disheveled and unkempt and frail , when he spoke you could sense an intellect and wisdom and calm and articulation that belied and contradicted everything that his appearance manifested and suggested ... Until this week I hadn't seen Alan in the park for several months ... I'd often be sad to think that perhaps he'd succumbed to bad health or circumstance ... so ... it made me happy to see him and reconnect and make this new image ... and his survival and resilience perhaps gives some context and perspective to my own struggles, tests and difficulties .... again ... thanks to my friends here for letting me share some thoughts and my portraits on the street ...
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees,
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
— Sailing to Byzantium, stanza I, by William Butler Yeats (1926)
Tualatin River National Wildlife Refuge
See also: IMG_7559 Refuge Rest
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...
Grand Canyon : A personal feeling
Grand Canyon was created on this planet long before human races had evolved. In his early days the supreme creator might have been frustrated in spite of creating all his splendors, for the reason, there was no such species like humans to appreciate all the beauties and truths on this earth. He set his final evolutionary goal. The most intelligent species came into being. They looked at these beauties, stood rapt in awe to feel them by their hearts and reason them by their brain. Thus beauties and truths were revealed on this earth. This was my feeling as I saw Grand Canyon for the first time.
Grand Canyon seemed to me, like a child prodigy sleeping peacefully in his mother’s lap waiting to be woken up by a magic touch. He will share all his mysteries, beauties and truths since his first inception in the mother’s womb. He will never grow old. He will never finish his story ever.
I soon understood that, through its endless showcase of variety, the Canyon magically connects an observer’s mind, to almost all the literal subjects, humans have ever created. It has an immense power to train our body, mind and soul to interrelate different faculties of human intellect in search of a holistic truth.
I wondered, how the supreme sculptor had used his magic chisel to slash a land in endless ravines, so deeply and mysteriously, to create infinite dimensions. The colors of the bare faces of the rocks across different layers, illuminated by daylight, reflect finest pastel colors, delicately applied in an impressionistic mode, as if, by an artist’s invisible spatula. But these are its physical realities only. Grand Canyon is something more than that…
To the best of my experience, this is a place where all human senses intermingle and lose their identity, as one turns quiet and silent for a considerable period of time. From an overview, it seemed to me, as if, a huge number of artists in a group orchestra rearing their heads up in the sky from a mysterious platform. All are spiritual sages, deeply engrossed in creating a symphony. River Colorado glides in-between like the baton of an invisible composer. But with the passage of time, all these physical realities vanished, except one, and only one thing I experienced…
An experience of seeing, hearing, feeling, touching and smelling an inherent beauty of unchained melody, what Grand Canyon is all about.
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 :-))
Yellow Baboons are renowned for their intellect and have a particular love of algebra and ripe figs!
Cleaned and framed by a friend.
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.