View allAll Photos Tagged Irrevocable
“A complete stranger has the capacity to alter the life of another irrevocably. This domino effect has the capacity to change the course of an entire world. That is what life is; a chain reaction of individuals colliding with others and influencing their lives without realizing it. A decision that seems miniscule to you, may be monumental to the fate of the world.”
J.D. Stroube, Caged by Damnation
Beautiful washington's pacific coastline staggered with sea stacks. On this new years eve, the final sunset passes by clouds only to be memorized in our minds.
Some three thousand years ago, in a country of limpid lakes and radiant blue skies, a civilization was born. In Tibetan literature and popular imagination, its land, language, and culture have assumed the name Zhang Zhung.
The birth of Zhang Zhung occurred in a time of great tumult. Deteriorating environmental conditions were forcing people across Eurasia to adopt a more nomadic lifestyle. In this maelstrom came a fusion of ideas and the development of revolutionary technologies, transforming the face of human existence forever.
These irrevocable changes in the fabric of human experience impelled the people of highland Tibet to build the backbone of a new civilization. Demarcated through an enourmous network of citadels and burial centers spanning one thousand miles from east to west, it would endure for some fifteen hundred years. …....
The Metal Age castles of Zhang Zhung occupied the high ground, temples hidden nooks, and tombs uninhabited tracts. Many of the fortresses and religious edifices were built using heavy stone members for the roofs. These buildings contained warrens of small windowless rooms, displaying a method of construction that contrasts dramatically with the architecture adopted by later Buddhist settlers.
….. quotation from the book "The DAWN of TIBET" written by John Vincent Bellezza. East Asia Center, University of Virginia
www.tibetarchaeology.com/books/
This is one of my favourite trees. Yes, I have favourite trees! This one, of course, is actually a group of trees and, as you can see, one of them is dead. I'm always surprised to find it still standing. One of these days it will be gone, and then this wonderful little group will be irrevocably changed. But that's the nature of woodland. It's part of the natural cycle and, as a photographer, it means familiar scenes are always changing, always worth revisiting.
Original photograph copyright © Simon Miles. Not to be used without permission. Thanks for looking.
Still one of my favorite scenes from Olympic National Park. I have returned to this location several times since, but the scene has changed irrevocably, and for the worst from an aesthetic standpoint. Therein lies an important life lesson for all of us - just as photography captures a moment in time, there are times in life when we need to seize the moment.
A narrow road advances without hesitation, pulled forward by an unseen force, as if retreat were no longer permitted. On one side, the land sinks into shadow and tangled branches claw at the fading light; on the other, the horizon burns with a sky aflame, heavy with omen and consequence. The trees lean inward like witnesses, stripped bare and solemn, while the air itself seems to thicken with expectancy. This is not a path of travel but of reckoning—a corridor where the earth bows to the sky, and the sky answers with fire. Every step forward feels irrevocable, as though the road has chosen its destination long before the traveler arrived, guiding all who enter toward a final meeting with whatever waits beyond the glow. The unmade
Some three thousand years ago, in a country of limpid lakes and radiant blue skies, a civilization was born. In Tibetan literature and popular imagination, its land, language, and culture have assumed the name Zhang Zhung.
The birth of Zhang Zhung occurred in a time of great tumult. Deteriorating environmental conditions were forcing people across Eurasia to adopt a more nomadic lifestyle. In this maelstrom came a fusion of ideas and the development of revolutionary technologies, transforming the face of human existence forever.
These irrevocable changes in the fabric of human experience impelled the people of highland Tibet to build the backbone of a new civilization. Demarcated through an enourmous network of citadels and burial centers spanning one thousand miles from east to west, it would endure for some fifteen hundred years. …....
The Metal Age castles of Zhang Zhung occupied the high ground, temples hidden nooks, and tombs uninhabited tracts. Many of the fortresses and religious edifices were built using heavy stone members for the roofs. These buildings contained warrens of small windowless rooms, displaying a method of construction that contrasts dramatically with the architecture adopted by later Buddhist settlers.
….. quotation from the book "The DAWN of TIBET" written by John Vincent Bellezza. East Asia Center, University of Virginia
www.tibetarchaeology.com/books/
“Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQ7Lg0mg-ro
LES HOMMES DISENT PEU by ALEX NEVSKY
THE PHOENIX
I finally understood the words you said to me
so I watched him from a distance
and then I watched myself in the space between
and what I saw changed the way I felt
trapped so tightly within that surreal scene
I was released and a part of me was irrevocably gone
irretrievable; unachievable; it brought me to my knees
two hearts beating; one heart cheating
no chance now to beat as one
what is love without him by me
chasing rainbows that exist only in dreams
until the sun burns all the flowers and scorches the earth
I will never understand all that it means
Les hommes disent peu; the men they say little
they come in silence and leave without saying goodbye
and while they are with me they say all they need to
which is not very much, but they whisper words quietly
until the darkness and time carries them away
like clouds in the sky blown by winds that travel the earth
they are gentle like feathers that weave in my dreams
and comfort my nights with meaningless things
and notes that they stick to my mirror like dust
particles and paper airplanes; like angels that swirl
and crash to the earth when their wings have been broken
and no-one has heard when they speak in the darkness
because no-one is expecting to hear their sweet voices
don't we hear what we want to hear and disregard everything else
so we read between lines and make up the rest
if only we read the actual words written
we might stand a chance
to understand that he never promises
to save the last dance
don't give me songs to sing to you late in the night
give me something to sing about to justify this fight
the struggle within me; the passion that burns
carries on burning; the flames still ignite
the embers glow fiercely; the heat just below
the surface that protects me
where only the moon knows
carry me sweet dreams to the land where I can be
the person who finds love; whom love can set free.
Until then my heart white and drained of all blood
waits like the phoenix to rise from the flood
and the ashes left over from my burning desire
will ignite deep within me and set me on fire
- AP – Copyright remains with the author
'copyright image please do not reproduce without permission'
My artwork is a compilation of 6 of my photographs
Dear friends, this is my last posting for a little while. I am very tired and need to rest, so that I stand a better chance of recovery from my illness. I will be popping in to look at your photos and I want to thank all of you for your continued support, love and friendship that you give me. It encourages me and gives me a reason to get out of bed every day. I hope you will all stay with me. Take care and love to you all x
"Your deepest roots are in nature. No matter who you are, where you live, or what kind of life you lead, you remain irrevocably linked with the rest of creation." Charles Cook
"The very first moment I beheld it, my heart was irrevocably gone.“ – Jane Austen
A year ago, I fell in love with a place. It was just a room, with some blue wallpapers. And some sun rays. Nothing special, you might say. Yet, for some reason, I was irrevocably gone. Months later, after an ordeal of sleepless, researching nights, I found myself scaling the exterior of a villa, filled with anticipation and fear. Fear that it'd be destroyed and gone. The glass cracked as I vaulted over the fence, and the first flickers of blue sparkled behind the doors. It was still there.
Lerma es un municipio y localidad española de la provincia de Burgos, en la comunidad autónoma de Castilla y León. Está situada sobre un altozano que domina la vega del río Arlanza. El término municipal cuenta con una población de 2596 habitantes (INE 2017). El casco histórico de la localidad, que también es conocida como «Villa Ducal de Lerma» al tener el título de villa, goza del estatus de bien de interés cultural, en la categoría de conjunto histórico En 2018 ha sido declarado como "Uno de los Pueblos más Bonitos de España".
La historia y el desarrollo de la villa están irrevocablemente unidos al mecenazgo de Francisco de Sandoval y Rojas, primer duque de Lerma, valido y favorito del rey Felipe III, y por extensión al Ducado de Lerma. La villa fue al Valladolid cortesano (1601-1606) lo que El Escorial a Madrid. Desde la Edad Media, la localidad es paso obligado en la Cañada Real Burgalesa, que une Extremadura y la sierra de la Demanda. Lerma es un conjunto arquitectónico notable del estilo herreriano.
Turísticamente, forma en la actualidad, junto a las vecinas localidades de Covarrubias y Santo Domingo de Silos, el llamado Triángulo del Arlanza. Alberga la sede del Consejo Regulador de la Denominación de Origen Arlanza, la Lonja Agropecuaria de Lerma, que marca los precios agropecuarios en la provincia de Burgos, además del único parador de turismo de la provincia, ubicado en el Palacio Ducal de Lerma, considerado uno de los diez mejores paradores de España.
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lerma_(España)
Lerma is a Spanish municipality and town in the province of Burgos, in the autonomous community of Castilla y León. It is located on a hillock overlooking the plain of the Arlanza river. The municipal term has a population of 2,596 inhabitants (INE 2017). The historic center of the town, which is also known as «Villa Ducal de Lerma» as it has the title of villa, enjoys the status of a property of cultural interest, in the category of historical complex In 2018 it has been declared as "One of the Most Beautiful Towns in Spain ".
The history and development of the town are irrevocably linked to the patronage of Francisco de Sandoval y Rojas, first Duke of Lerma, valid and favorite of King Felipe III, and by extension to the Duchy of Lerma. The town went to the courtier Valladolid (1601-1606) what El Escorial to Madrid. Since the Middle Ages, the town has been an obligatory step in the Cañada Real Burgalesa, which links Extremadura and the Sierra de la Demanda. Lerma is a remarkable architectural complex of the Herrerian style.
Touristically, it currently forms, together with the neighboring towns of Covarrubias and Santo Domingo de Silos, the so-called Arlanza Triangle. It houses the headquarters of the Regulatory Council of the Arlanza Denomination of Origin, the Lerma Agricultural Market, which sets agricultural prices in the province of Burgos, as well as the only tourist parador in the province, located in the Ducal Palace of Lerma, considered one of the ten best paradores in Spain.
The crocus season continues...
Crocuses (Crocus albiflorus) / Krokusse
____________________________________________________
Due to an operating error (accidentally switching to private mode) all favorites of this photo were irrevocably deleted. I apologize to those affected. The error is fixed now.
Berlin [UTC +1], March 15, at 10 AM (CET).
/
Aufgrund eines Bedienungsfehlers (versehentliches Umschalten in den privaten Modus) wurden alle Favoriten dieses Fotos unwiderruflich gelöscht. Ich entschuldige mich bei den Betroffenen. Der Fehler ist jetzt behoben.
Berlin [UTC +1], 15. März, um 10 Uhr (MEZ).
"We are made of star dust. We are irrevocably on a path that will take us to the stars. Unless, by some monstrous capitulation to selfishness and stupidity, we end up destroying us."
Carl Sagan
what have i become...
its been a long numbing summer. i owe many letters to good friends. apologies. the place i have been was nowhere from which to correspond with the well intentioned and concerned. ive read your letters with an autistic's frustration.
ive become rather feral. i warily squint at tomorrow's promises, remembering yesterday's lies. i know the weight and heft of brutus' dagger - in my bloodied hand and in my blameless back. ive put myself together so many times that i have forgotten where are the original breaks. it would be great to think to myself that i have been on some heroic haj of introspection. no. these are the uayeb times, as the mayans called those evil-bearing days, and i have been beat down hard, beat down until what was left of me was all that truly matters. i had envisioned a triumphator's return when i moved to my land. a new life, new love, an estate of vineyards and horses and a home in which to finally start a family. i had painfully ended a ten year marriage where the promise of having children was held out like a reward for yet another sacrifice. i was going to return to my land and become the man i gave up being - please, my friends, take this to heart; never become tame to being deceived. fight it. demand the truth, no matter the cost - but God and the Devil share a perverse sense of humor and they have had a few laughs regarding my scraped chin. you are never redeemed by your circumstances, only by your submission. ive always been partial to the myth of the Minotaur: a ferocious, primal, brooding force deep inside our personal labyrinths. you cant go too far forward without reckoning with that force. it was not enough to free myself from the circumstances that kept me from having a family and building a world on my land, i had to come to terms with the monster inside. therein is redemption. but the trick to that pony is that you cant destroy it, only deliver it. love it. its the only way out of here.
so thats what i did over summer vacation...
from an earlier post:
With a healthy swagger of a swig of gin, he leveled a grin on me, ‘Friend, trust me, the worst that can befall you in this life is to know yourself undeniably. Ive had the opportunity to understand the beast within mine self; charming devil really, as long as you don’t give him power of attorney or uncross your legs. Now, in your decent bland type, the true self will always remain distant and nebulous. Never clear. As long as your self is a fable or rumor or a slight tidal tugging on your decisions, then you will be safe and content and fed. A ‘distant absentee landlord self’ is the best you can achieve, one which drops in only at harvest time to collect the rent and leaves promptly with a polite flourish of his cap. When you really dwell on it, the majority of you out there in the world are only sharecropping in your souls. The worst, and never curse your worst enemy with this, is an arrogant, jealous, petty, micromanager Yahweh self. I shudder…’
‘I can tell you what the self is not. The self is not a haven or heaven. It is not an absolving rain, a parting of darkened clouds, nor a sacred bull, it is not a friend, it is not a lover, and it must never be confused as a Truth. It is a cold wall. It will give no purchase. You cannot climb over nor burrow under it. It does not care what illusions and winks you sell in your head. It is the immutable mute until you meet it head-on; from there it becomes the unassailable asshole. It has a light (or lie) bending gravity. You can step away from it for a moment, but at each further step the pull of that gravity increases until you can resist forward no further.’ Another drink, ice clinking ‘And you plummet back on your self. Insanity, in all its flavors and hacks, is nothing more than the peculiar way one has been broken on their self, from a simple garden variety neurotic broken finger to a full autistic paralysis.’
‘When a man is said to have met his destiny he has only submitted to his self. You know what the word Islam mean? Submission. The last act of free will is true submission. Where there is no escape, you can either break in half or relent – and neither will leave you a particularly appetizing creature. This is why I say that the worst fate is to know your self undeniably, because its undeniability will crush you until you submit and become irrevocably that which is yourself.’
He twirled ice in his glass. ‘And I will tell you something else. The most dangerous man in the room is the one who loves what he is.’
A Union Pacific empty hopper train just crossed the 100th Meridan as it races west through Cozad, Nebraska. Visitors who drive through town on US Route 30 a block to the north get to pass under an arch proclaiming the invisible geographical line, and I didn't appreciate its railroading significance until I read some more on it.
During the great transcontinental race, Union Pacific crews reached Cozad on October 6, 1866. Laying rails west of the 100th meridian guaranteed the UP the irrevocable right to continue westward thanks to the Pacific Railway Act of 1862. The story goes that railroad president Thomas Durant threw a big party, promised to the crews if they made the deadline, and brought reporters and politicians to the town to note the event. The town looks a little different today than it did in the 1800's, but everything about it is still shaped by the railroad running through the middle of it.
our deepest roots are in nature. No matter who you are, where you live, or what kind of life you lead, you remain irrevocably linked with the rest of creation
The creative and labyrinthine space Lx Factory in Lisbon works as a kaleidoscopic backdrop of situations and colors that irrevocably seduce the photographic eye.
“First there is the lying in wait for prey; the prey is marked down long before it is aware of our designs on it. With feelings of pleasure and approval it is contemplated, observed and kept watch over; it is seen as game whilst it is still free, and so intensely and irrevocably seen as game that nothing can deflect the watcher's determination to get hold of it. Already while he is prowling round it he feels that it belongs to him. From the moment he selects it as his prey, he thinks of it as incorporated into himself.”
― Elias Canetti, Crowds and Power (with apologies)
"Your deepest roots are in nature. No matter who you are, where you live, or what kind of life you lead, you remain irrevocably linked with the rest of creation." Charles Cook
My friend Tom Benesoky emerged victorious from his fight with UFC legend Dan “The Beast” Severn after roughly a minute and a half tonight. It's a remarkable story. I'd like to share it with you.
This story starts on Halloween night. I’ve just finished a long show at a shopping mall and Sheree and I are at a Halloween party.
“Did you hear about Tom?” one of the people there asks me. He’s a kid with gaunt features and the look of someone who has no intention of keeping their secret. I on the other hand, am attempting employ my usual party-going strategy of trying desperately to melt into the wall until it’s time to go.
I know the kid is talking about Tom Benesocky, a man I met a dozen years ago.
“What about him?” I ask.
“He’s gonna step into the octagon and fight Dan Severn,” the kid tells me breathlessly.
“Ah,” I say. “Who’s Dan Severn?”
The kid looks at me like I’ve just blown my nose on his shirt. “You don’t know who Dan Severn is?”
“Nope,” I admit.
The kid shakes his head, face slack with disbelief. “Severn is like…well…he’s a freaking legend. Former UFC champ. He’s a freaking monster. Shit, Dave. Everyone knows who Dan Severn is.”
I can’t remember this kid’s name, so I pass on telling him my name is ‘David.’ But he plows on ahead, in the manner people have when they can’t wait to break bad news. “Severn is gonna freakin’ kill Tom.”
I feel the first tendrils of disbelief. Tom is an affable guy, powerfully built. I know he’s been doing some mixed martial arts fighting…and I have had fleeting feelings of pity for anyone who faces him in the ring.
The kid is waiting for me to do something. Break out in tears, maybe. Or to start wringing my hands.
“So who’s Dan Severn?” I ask again.
“He’s fifty wins, five losses…the guy’s a monster.”
The kid calls up a picture of Severn on his iPhone. Think about Tom Sellick, shorter and built like a brick you-know-what. Later I will see one of many YouTube videos featuring Severn slamming really big guys down on the canvas, generally landing on their heads. Severn oozes a meat-eater’s vibe. I wouldn’t even want to ride on the same bus, let alone be locked into an octagon with him. If it were me, I would look across the ring and very quietly lie down in surrender.
“What’s Tom’s record?” I ask.
“One, one and one.”
“How come he’s fighting Severn?” I ask. I am new to this UFC thing, but sounds like a little bit of a mismatch to me.
“No one else would do it! They offered the fight to all kinds of people. Tom’s the only one who said yes. He’s nuts, man. He’s gonna wind up in the hospital.”
The kid totters off, looking for someone else to share the great news with. I stare after him. I haven’t really talked to Tom in years. But I like him. I like him a lot.
I see him across the room and smile. Eventually Tom comes and sits with myself and my son, Ryan.
“How am I gonna beat Severn?” he asks Ryan.
I have been astounded at the font of knowledge my son has about things UFC. Ryan begins to speak. Tom leans forward attentively, listening to each word, nodding his head thoughtfully at what he hears.
What I know about UFC – or even this whole mixed martial arts thingie – would rattle in a peanut, so I keep my mouth shut during the conversation. But there is a picture emerging.
Said picture looks like this: Severn is, in fact, a monster. He’s an aging monster, but he’s powerful and especially deadly if the fight ‘goes to the mat.’ (This refers to what happens when one fighter drags another fighter to the ground and they grapple.) Tom, on the other hand, is fairly new at this whole fighting thing.
“Why are you doing it?” I ask him. I am careful with my tone because I don’t want it to come out like “Holy crap…are you freaking NUTS?” I know Tom’s an intelligent man, and I am looking for information.
“It’s my last fight,” he says finally. He shrugs.
“…and?” I prompt.
“I want to go out on a high note.”
I am alarmed now, and have already started praying he won’t go out on a stretcher. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“Severn’s the best,” Tom tells me. “My last fight will be against the best. It would be an honour to be beaten by him.”
I am thinking there are two meanings to the word ‘beaten.’ I am also thinking warriors have a strange way of looking at the world. But I can see a light at the back of Tom’s eyes. He’s thinking that maybe…just maybe…he can beat “the Beast” and there follows a white-hot career, where HE becomes ‘the new Beast.’
It makes me smile because I see the eyes of a man willing to dare great bodily harm to reach for a dream. And in that instant, I am totally and irrevocably on Tom’s side. We talk for a long while about things like David and Goliath, and how victory is an attitude and that maybe he can take Severn by surprise.
I find myself wanting to fan the flames of Tom’s dream: a fist raised in victory, respect from a fighting legend. But I sense there is much more than that under the surface. I am looking at a man staring levelly at a monster and walking toward it, instead of running away, as all the other fighters have done.
I prayed for Tom many times over the next three weeks. I would stop what I was doing and pray. I heard Tom was working out every day. Ryan was helping him train. So was our friend Jason – and Jason’s massive family…sons and sons in law…and friends. Every day. Every single day. Tom is getting stronger, faster…more determined that he can win.
I have visions of Rocky, punching the snot out of sides of beef, pumping his fist in victory.
*******************************************************************
The fight tonight took place in Rexall Stadium, the same place where the Oilers play hockey. My tension rose with each fight card because I knew each minute drew Tom closer to his match-up with Severn. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be Tom, sitting in a dressing room waiting for his name to be called.
Finally the lights dim and the announcer takes the ring. He introduces Tom Benesocky and the hundred or so supporters he has in the audience go bugshit. Applause, whistles, shouts. There's genuine affection and support for him. Tom takes the long walk toward the ring. His eyes are fixed straight ahead. He’s totally focused and I can see his spirit reaching out for the dream.
I go into what can only be described as ‘hyper prayer’ and find myself strangely emotional. I have the sense that something very noble and brave is happening before me.
I snap a shot from the big screen with my crappy Blackberry camera. It’s all I have with me.
Both fighters face each other in the ring. This is the point where most fighters bump gloves, it’s a token gesture to show they are gentlemen just before trying to bash each other’s faces in.
Tom does something I have never seen before. He reaches out to shake Severn’s hand. There is respect in the gesture…and a certain gentleness too. Severn pauses for the briefest instant and then smiles and shakes Tom’s hand.
Seconds later the fight is on.
As I said at the beginning, it lasted about a minute and a half. Both fighters wound up on the mat and, as predicted, Severn was too strong…too experienced and my friend Tom tapped out. (This means Tom found himself in a situation from which there was no escape…and had to give up the fight.) In the end the ref raised Severn’s hand in victory and Tom hugged and congratulated his opponent.
But something inside me found what I had just seen both lovely and noble. Sheree asked me on the way home how many of the men in that building would have climbed into the octagon with Severn.
“Not many,” I said. “But Tom did.”
And that is why I am here to tell you that one and a half minutes into a hopeless fight against UFC legend, Dan Severn, my friend Tom Benesocky walked out a winner. He did a noble…and perhaps a very great thing.
You’re the man, Tom.
I am honored to know you.
Congratulations. Consider your hand raised high.
PS: (Tom's Facebook page is here: www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000844123322#!/tom.ben... )
I don’t want to make this about politics, but this potential trade war has irrevocably hurt USA Canada relations leaving me extremely upset. Even the Wall Street Journal called it the dumbest trade ever. I hope saner heads prevail.
You are the candle burning in the back of my mind, gently illuminating my every thought, your soft glow always guiding me home. You are also the roaring bonfire whose heat and light are a beacon for miles around. Drawing me irrevocably to you. Your pulse and energy burn with a primal force that makes my blood sing and flames me to life.
The Scottish Terrier (also known as the Aberdeen Terrier), popularly called the Scottie, is a breed of dog. Initially one of the highland breeds of terrier that were grouped under the name of Skye Terrier, it is one of five breeds of terrier that originated in Scotland, the other four being the modern Skye, Cairn, Dandie Dinmont, and West Highland White terriers. They are an independent and rugged breed with a wiry outer coat and a soft dense undercoat.
Beam me up Scotty; the command Captain Kirk gives his chief engineer, Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, when he needs to be transported back to the Starship Enterprise.
Though it has become irrevocably associated with the series and films, the exact phrase was never actually spoken in any Star Trek television episode or film. Despite this, the quote has become a phrase of its own over time. It can be used to describe one's desire to be elsewhere.
Taunton, Somerset, UK.
Friends, I have not been here since the middle of July 2021.
This is the last photo I took - on the morning of 19th July - in unusually clear still Pembrokeshire sea.
By the end of that day, life had irrevocably altered, with the news that my eldest son was incurably ill and had only a few days more to live.
He died at a few minutes before midnight on 30th July, and I have felt as if I have been drowning ever since.
I need to surface and take a breath. In 2022, I am determined to take and post photos, and get back to interacting with people.
That is my new year resolution. I don't feel very sure of being able to keep it, but I intend to try my hardest.
Edit 3.1.22: Many thanks everyone for the views, comments and for explore (especially for the comments).
Zhang Zhung
Some three thousand years ago, in a country of limpid lakes and radiant blue skies, a civilization was born. In Tibetan literature and popular imagination, its land, language, and culture have assumed the name Zhang Zhung.
The birth of Zhang Zhung occurred in a time of great tumult. Deteriorating environmental conditions were forcing people across Eurasia to adopt a more nomadic lifestyle. In this maelstrom came a fusion of ideas and the development of revolutionary technologies, transforming the face of human existence forever.
These irrevocable changes in the fabric of human experience impelled the people of highland Tibet to build the backbone of a new civilization. Demarcated through an enourmous network of citadels and burial centers spanning one thousand miles from east to west, it would endure for some fifteen hundred years. …....
The Metal Age castles of Zhang Zhung occupied the high ground, temples hidden nooks, and tombs uninhabited tracts. Many of the fortresses and religious edifices were built using heavy stone members for the roofs. Thse buildings contained warrens of small widowless rooms, displaying a method of construction that contrasts dramatically with the architecture adopted by later Buddhist settlers.
….. quotation from the book "The DAWN of TIBET" written by John Vincent Bellezza. East Asia Center, University of Virginia
www.tibetarchaeology.com/books/
"Your deepest roots are in nature. No matter who you are, where you live, or what kind of life you lead, you remain irrevocably linked with the rest of creation." Charles Cook
“It is a terrifying thing to have been born: I mean, to find oneself, without having willed it, swept irrevocably along on a torrent of fearful energy which seems as though it wished to destroy everything it carries with it.” —“The Mass on the World”
- Pierre Teilhard De Chardin
“In very truth, it is God, and God alone whose Spirit stirs up the whole mass of the universe in ferment.” —“The Mystical Milieu”
-- Pierre Teilhard De Chardin
"Dear, sweet, unforgettable childhood! Why does this irrevocable time, forever departed, seem brighter, more festive and richer than it actually was?"
Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (1860-1904)
"I never have taken a picture I've intended. They're always better or worse."
Diane Arbus
“Garlic is divine. Few food items can taste so many distinct ways, handled correctly. Misuse of garlic is a crime. Old garlic, burnt garlic, garlic cut too long ago and garlic that has been tragically smashed through one of those abominations, the garlic press, are all disgusting. Please treat your garlic with respect. Sliver it for pasta, like you saw in Goodfellas; don't burn it. Smash it, with the flat of your knife blade if you like, but don't put it through a press. I don't know what that junk is that squeezes out the end of those things, but it ain't garlic. And try roasting garlic. It gets mellower and sweeter if you roast it whole, still on the clove, to be squeezed out later when it's soft and brown. Nothing will permeate your food more irrevocably and irreparably than burnt or rancid garlic. Avoid at all costs that vile spew you see rotting in oil in screw-top jars. Too lazy to peel fresh? You don't deserve to eat garlic.” ― Anthony Bourdain
I like to use squeeze garlic in soups, dishes although sometimes a clove of garlic is required for example on garlic bread! Anthony Bourdain says in "Kitchen Conflidencial", no way this is junk! :-)
filigrees of tedium
silent substratum of verbal nights
electric conductor of the liquidity of the hours
slowly putting to sleep
neon fossil broken mold absent turn
twisting grunting grinding
if only there was a place where light
dims noise away
if only there was a time to die outside
the place of dying
the camera seeking the movement of such spaces
blind
through the tumult of crossed mirrors
the inoculation of the placenta
over Umbria
over Bonaventure
over Lagos
and the erosion of the seasons
to better capture the scenario
hunting the scene in its departing dis
loc
ation
boredom cigarettes zoom alcohol words
to invent the end of the world words
to invent the invention of the world words
to think
and to think
and to think
brought here to hear the sighs of landmines
brought here to scatter thoughts in the mud
to take pictures to film the debauchery of the carrots
to give face
to spatial blades
out of the set
out of the voice of ancestors
out of the scream of gargoyles
out of the retrograde claustrophobia of nations
one inside the other
beyond forbidden perimeters
where the heads
the suspended heads
the illuminated heads
the cosmic heads the immense heads
sacramental heads
softly lullaby the creosote
calling by number the name of lost orphans
because there’s always a gasoline chant
to spill the night into the crackling hours
there’s always a terrible word to electrocute
a voice
exuberant
devastating voice that spells the spark
lacerating voice that nominates
the irrevocable dissipation of the gesture
but no not to exorcise the spell of no running waters
not to devastate the torrent of famished villages
not to follow the arrow into the epicenter
of the kiss
a voice a word an umbilical scream
an end of the world for the criminal record
metaphysical crustacean
torn diadem
.
adv. *Nowhere
Not anywhere; in or at or to no place.
Road to........, Mirabel, Quebec, Canada.
PixQuote:
"The photographer does not create his object in reality as does the painter, but he creates, before the camera begins to function, the irrevocably ultimate aesthetic form. He carries the notion of the shape of an object in himself and he takes the object destined for that form, giving it a certain position or moving it into a certain situation of light, in a certain relation to space."
-Heinrich Schwarz
Los gorriones son los niños del aire, la chiquillería de los arrabales, plazas y plazuelas del espacio. Son el pueblo pobre, la masa trabajadora que ha de resolver a diario de un modo heroico el problema de la existencia. Su lucha por existir en la luz, por llenar de píos y revuelos el silencio torvo del mundo, es una lucha alegre, decidida, irrenunciable. Ellos llegan, por conquistar la migaja de pan necesaria, a lugares donde ningún otro pájaro llega. Se les ve en los rincones más apartados. Se les oye en todas partes. Corren todos los riesgos y peligros con la gracia y la seguridad que su infancia perpetua
Miguel Hernandez
The sparrows are the children of the air, the chiquillería of the suburbs, squares and squares of space. They are the poor people, the working masses that have to solve a diary in a heroic way, the problem of existence. It is a happy, determined, irrevocable struggle. They arrive, on the contrary, to another place arrives. You can see them in the most remote corners. You hear them everywhere. They run all risks and dangerous with the grace and security that in their perpetual childhood
Miguel Hernandez
This is a very small portion of the wing of a Euphaedra ignota, a species of butterfly endemic to Ghana. Many species in the Euphaedra genus of butterflies have scales coloured both blue and yellow, sometimes directly interacting with each-other. At this scale, the blue also reveals some royal purple hues as well, and the yellows hold more depth and appear golden. The colour palette for this image should be no surprise; I specifically sourced these butterflies for an entry in my Support for Ukraine series.
This image should serve as a reminder that the fate of peace in Europe is being determined by a senselessly bloody and destructive war of attrition in Ukraine. From friends and family I talk to from Canada and the US, I hear that the conflict is barely discussed in the news, as the sensationalist cycle of current events hold viewer’s attention more than a protracted conflict. I suppose, then, it needs to be repeated: innocence is being irrevocably destroyed in a generation of children, lives ruined and lost, all in an attempt to wipe Ukraine from existence.
I’m glad that some of the supplies we have purchased have ended up at the front lines in the Izyum region. We have more funds arriving in about a week, which will be spent on medical, surgical and power-related supplies for citizen soldiers. We will continue to provide aid as we are able, and genuinely appreciate all of the support for these efforts. There’s always more to do. The only reason why the Ukrainian heroes have been able to successfully fight for their country is because the free world as (an almost) whole has decided to help. Some efforts are too small, or too late, and the battle drags on slowly as a result.
Putin’s forces are being decimated, in part from advanced weapons but also due to the skillful and cunning tactics of the Ukrainian people. Ukrainian forces are also being destroyed on an unsustainable scale; It’s forever an uphill battle against a superior force, especially one that cannot be reasoned with. It’s likely that we will see the intensity of fighting increase dramatically in the coming days, due to Putin’s desire to control the whole of the Luhansk Oblast (Province) before his demoralized troops desert in larger quantities.
It's easy to consider this a distant conflict, but it’s already in our own communities with the cost of fuel, and soon the increased cost of food. Write to your politicians to make it known that we do not help Ukraine in every way possible, to win this war as quickly as possible, the global impact will be severe. Everyone, please keep doing what you can. Do not forget about Ukraine when they need us the most.
This image was photographed with a Mitutoyo Plan APO 50x objective, then cropped in to roughly create the equivalent of a 100x magnification. 650 frames were stacked using Helicon Focus. The company that makes Helicon Focus, HeliconSoft, is based on Kharkiv, Ukraine. It’s my preferred software for very large stacks of images in combination with Photoshop for clean-up work. If you haven’t used it before, give it a trial and support a Ukrainian company: www.heliconsoft.com/ - they also have a list of people they recommend donations go forwards on their website.
As for every image in this series, I deliberately place it into the Public Domain. Use it for any purpose you can imagine.
Lerma es un municipio y localidad española de la provincia de Burgos, en la comunidad autónoma de Castilla y León. Está situada sobre un altozano que domina la vega del río Arlanza. El término municipal cuenta con una población de 2596 habitantes (INE 2017). El casco histórico de la localidad, que también es conocida como «Villa Ducal de Lerma» al tener el título de villa, goza del estatus de bien de interés cultural, en la categoría de conjunto histórico En 2018 ha sido declarado como "Uno de los Pueblos más Bonitos de España".
La historia y el desarrollo de la villa están irrevocablemente unidos al mecenazgo de Francisco de Sandoval y Rojas, primer duque de Lerma, valido y favorito del rey Felipe III, y por extensión al Ducado de Lerma. La villa fue al Valladolid cortesano (1601-1606) lo que El Escorial a Madrid. Desde la Edad Media, la localidad es paso obligado en la Cañada Real Burgalesa, que une Extremadura y la sierra de la Demanda. Lerma es un conjunto arquitectónico notable del estilo herreriano.
Turísticamente, forma en la actualidad, junto a las vecinas localidades de Covarrubias y Santo Domingo de Silos, el llamado Triángulo del Arlanza. Alberga la sede del Consejo Regulador de la Denominación de Origen Arlanza, la Lonja Agropecuaria de Lerma, que marca los precios agropecuarios en la provincia de Burgos, además del único parador de turismo de la provincia, ubicado en el Palacio Ducal de Lerma, considerado uno de los diez mejores paradores de España.
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lerma_(España)
Lerma is a Spanish municipality and town in the province of Burgos, in the autonomous community of Castilla y León. It is located on a hillock overlooking the plain of the Arlanza river. The municipal term has a population of 2,596 inhabitants (INE 2017). The historic center of the town, which is also known as «Villa Ducal de Lerma» as it has the title of villa, enjoys the status of a property of cultural interest, in the category of historical complex In 2018 it has been declared as "One of the Most Beautiful Towns in Spain ".
The history and development of the town are irrevocably linked to the patronage of Francisco de Sandoval y Rojas, first Duke of Lerma, valid and favorite of King Felipe III, and by extension to the Duchy of Lerma. The town went to the courtier Valladolid (1601-1606) what El Escorial to Madrid. Since the Middle Ages, the town has been an obligatory step in the Cañada Real Burgalesa, which links Extremadura and the Sierra de la Demanda. Lerma is a remarkable architectural complex of the Herrerian style.
Touristically, it currently forms, together with the neighboring towns of Covarrubias and Santo Domingo de Silos, the so-called Arlanza Triangle. It houses the headquarters of the Regulatory Council of the Arlanza Denomination of Origin, the Lerma Agricultural Market, which sets agricultural prices in the province of Burgos, as well as the only tourist parador in the province, located in the Ducal Palace of Lerma, considered one of the ten best paradores in Spain.
Completely, utterly, irrevocably SOOC. For like the first time ever. No time :)
Literally just on my way out, so took a quick portrait of me ready hahaa :) It's hannah's birthday *HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNAH* so I'm off over to hers :)
I DROVE FOR THE FIRST TIME TODAY! Mum took me to an abandoned airfield and I learnt that I am terrible behind the wheel, but it was brilliant fun. I only stalled like eight times, but I did reach fifth gear.. by, uh.. accident..
"Your deepest roots are in nature. No matter who you are, where you live, or what kind of life you lead, you remain irrevocably linked with the rest of creation." Charles Cook
For a Version of I Ching
The imminent is as immutable
as rigid yesterday. There is no matter
that rates more than a single, silent letter
in the eternal and inscrutable
writing whose book is time. He who believes
he’s left his home already has come back.
Life is a future and well-traveled track.
Nothing dismisses us. Nothing leaves.
Do not give up. The prison is bereft
of light, its fabric is incessant iron,
but in some corner of your mean environs
you might discover a mistake, a cleft.
The road is fatal as an arrow’s flight
but God is watching in the narrowest light.
~Borges
Para una versión del I King
El porvenir es tan irrevocable
Como el rígido ayer. No hay una cosa
Que no sea una letra silenciosa
De la eternal escritura indescrifrable
Cuyo libro es el tiempo. Quien se aleja
De su casa ya ha vuelto. Nuestra vida
Es la senda futura y recorrida.
Nada nos dice adiós. Nada nos deja.
No te rindas. La ergástula es oscura,
La firme trama es de incesante hierro,
Pero en algún recodo de tu encierro
Puede haber un descuido, una hendidura,
El camino es fatal como la flecha
Pero en las grietas está Dios, que acecha.
- Virgil.
In 2016 when we planned a Fall road trip to Colorado, some spots in the state automatically made it to our list. Crystal mills near Marble, Colorado, were one such location. Along with the Maroon Bells, Rocky Mountains, and the Great Sand Dunes NP, it ranked as one of Colorado's must-see places for us. While on the trip, we slowly realized that we would not make it to many of our planned destinations. We had to drop Rocky Mountain Park, and The Great Sand Dunes became a maybe. Our logic was to prioritize fall colors over everything else, and we felt these National parks probably deserve dedicated trips.
On our way to Crystal Mills, we found this beautiful little lake in a beautiful woodland setting. What caught our attention was the massive pile of tree trunks right in the middle of the lake. India doesn’t have a native beaver population, but I sure have studied about them. In a state that overwhelmingly relies on dams for power, rodents who build dams were approached with a lot of curiosity. I took advantage of the water's stillness to compose an image that showcased the tiny little island and the woodland's reflection. I am not sure if this pile of woods was remnants of beaver activity in the area, but it looks very close to images from my old school textbooks.
Amo
todas
as coisas
não porque sejam
ardentes
ou fragrantes, mas porque
não sei
porque
este oceano é o teu
é o meu: os botões,
as rodas
os pequenos
tesouros
esquecidos,
os leques em
cujas plumagens
o amor desvaneceu
suas flores de laranjeira,
as taças, as facas,
as tesouras
tudo tem
no cabo, no contorno,
a marca
de uns dedos
de uma remota mão
perdida
no mais esquecido do esquecimento
...
O rio
irrevocável
das coisas
não se dirá
que só
amei
os peixes,
ou as plantas da selva e do prado,
que não só
amei
o que salta, sobe, sobrevive, suspira
Não é verdade:
muitas coisas me revelaram tudo.
Não só me tocaram
ou tocou-as minha mão,
mas sim acompanharam
de tal modo
minha existência
que comigo existiram
e foram para mim tão existentes
que viveram comigo meia vida
e morrerão comigo meia morte
Ode às Coisas - Pablo Neruda
I love
all
things,
not because they are
passionate
or sweet-smelling
but because,
I don’t know,
because
this ocean is yours,
and mine;
these buttons
and wheels
and little
forgotten
treasures,
fans upon
whose feathers
love has scattered
its blossoms,
glasses, knives and
scissors –
all bear
the trace
of someone’s fingers
on their handle or surface,
the trace of a distant hand
lost
in the depths of forgetfulness.
O irrevocable
river
of things:
no one can say
that I loved
only
fish,
or the plants of the jungle and the field,
that I loved
only
those things that leap and climb, desire, and survive.
It’s not true:
many things conspired
to tell me the whole story.
Not only did they touch me,
or my hand touched them:
they were
so close
that they were a part
of my being,
they were so alive with me
that they lived half my life
and will die half my death.
Ode to things - Pablo Neruda
instagram.com/milvinicius
********************************************
EXPLORE: August 27, 2014
********************************************
I'm particularly pleased because it's an abstract work of art
rather than the usual photo that gets into Explore.
HOORAY FOR ART !
*******************************************
FOR A VERSION OF THE I CHING
The imminent is as immutable
as rigid yesterday. There is no matter
that rates more than a single, silent letter
in the eternal and inscrutable
writing whose book is time. He who believes
he’s left home already has come back.
Life is a future and well-traveled track.
Nothing dismisses us. Nothing leaves.
Do not give up. The prison is bereft
of light, its fabric is incessant iron,
but in some corner of your mean environs
you might discover a mistake, a cleft.
The road is fatal as an arrow’s flight
but God is watching in the narrowest light.
~ Jorge Luis Borges (ed. Alexander Coleman, original translations, Robert Fitzgerald )
PARA UNA VERSIÓN DEL I KING
El porvenir es tan irrevocable
como el rigido ayer. Bo hay una cosa
que no sea una letre silenciosa
de la etera escritura indescrifrable
Cuyo libro es el tiempo. Quien se aleja
de su casa ya ha vuelto. Nuestra vida
es el senda futura y recorrida.
Nada nos dice adiós. Nada nos deja.
No te rindas. La ergástula es oscura,
la firme trma es de incesante hierro,
pero en algún recodo de tu encierro
puede haber un descuido, una hendidura.
El camino es fatal como la flecha
Pero en las grietas está Dios, que acecha.
The following musing is only tenuously connected to this image, just giving you a head's up to alleviate confusion.
For one reason or another, I was Googling nebulae the other night. Have you seen photos of the Pillars of Creation? I am sure you have. There is a particularly famous photograph of that nebula that was made over 20 years ago. But if you don't know immediately what I am talking about, take a minute to Google it now. It is a pretty amazing sight. It also probably no longer exists. Scientists are fairly certain the Pillars of Creation were destroyed by a supernova that occurred about 6000 years ago. But since this nebula is 6500-7000 light years away, we can still see it, as it existed prior to the supernova, for another 500-1000 years or so. I find myself fascinated by how light and time can mix and blur like this.
Photography also blurs these boundaries to some degree, allowing us to catch and continue to reflect light that has already come and gone. In some ways, photographs are very much like little time travelling devices taking us to wonderful places that no longer exist as they once did.
I exposed this image on a sheet of Galaxy Hyper Speed Direct Positive paper. Like the Pillars of Creation, Galaxy seems to have vanished from existence. I don't want to get into how or why they up and disappeared, I don't know much except for bits and pieces. But echoes of their existence continue on in these scattered sheets of exposed (and in a few cases, still-to-be-exposed) sheets of paper. A record of caught light here, a remnant of an entity no longer in existence, a photograph of a forest that is still there but irrevocably changed from this moment in time.
Anyway, just things I am thinking about.
Linhof Technika IV
Galaxy Hyper Speed Direct Positive Paper
Exposed ISO 60 - positive processed.
Black is the Knight
Description: Athrostictus is a genus of ground beetles in the order Coleoptera, suborder Adephaga, superfamily Caraboidea, family Carabidae, subfamily Harpalinae, supertribe Harpalitae and tribe Harpalini. Although the exact diet of an Athrostictus is unknown to me, it is known that most Carabids are predators to other insects, such as the larvae of Lepidoptera, Aphids, etc. Their predatorial presence is not all that makes this family, for some Carabids feed on seeds of herbaceous plants, while some are phytophagous, and some are detritivorous. Due to this vast diet that changes from members of Carabidae their ecological importance is also vast and irrevocable. The majority of beetles in this family are, in fact, predators, though. They prefer dark places to thrive and are most often found under rocks, being a common sight during nocturnal hours.
Feeding type: The exact diet of an Athrostictus is unknown to me. Carabids, though, in general are either predators, detritivorous, phytophagous or granivorous. There is also a possibility that some are omnivorous, but this would require confirmation from a reliable source.
Sadly, it is very hard to identify these beetles through photos. It could also be, as example, a Pterostichus sp. (Carabidae: Harpalinae: Pterostichitae: Pterostichini; includes the subgenus Leptoferonia according to Wikispecies (species.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/Leptoferonia)
PROJECT NOAH (Português): www.projectnoah.org/spottings/737420517