View allAll Photos Tagged Unmoving
Soul of all souls, life of all life - you are That.
Seen and unseen, moving and unmoving - you are That.
The road that leads to the City is endless;
Go without head and feet
and you'll already be there.
What else could you be? - you are That."
— Rumi
The grey-headed kingfisher (Halcyon leucocephala) has a wide distribution from the Cape Verde Islands off the north-west coast of Africa to Mauritania, Senegal and Gambia, east to Ethiopia, Somalia and southern Arabia and south to South Africa.
The sexes are similar. The adult of the nominate race H. l. leucocephala has a pale grey head, black mantle and back, bright blue rump, wings and tail, and chestnut underparts. The beak is long, red and sharp. This bird grows to an average length of 21 cm (8.3 in). The song is a succession of notes, ascending, descending and then ascending again, becoming increasingly strident. The warning call is a series of sharp notes, "tchk, tchk, tchk, tchk".
A dry-country kingfisher of scrub and woodland, solitary or in pairs, often found near water, but unlike most kingfishers is not aquatic. Perches on a branch, unmoving for long periods while watching the ground for signs of insects or small lizards, bobbing head before diving on prey. Nests in holes in steep riverbanks and is aggressively protective of its nest by repeated dive-bombing of foraging monitor lizards. It is parasitised by the greater honeyguide. This species migrates at night and is often killed by flying into obstacles such as buildings, towers and powerlines.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grey-headed_kingfisher
«At that very instant:
Oh, what I would not give for the joy
of being at your side in Iceland
inside the great unmoving daytime
and of sharing this now
the way one shares music
or the taste of fruit.
At that very instant
the man was at her side in Iceland».
- Jorge Luis Borges
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Nature, travel, photography: MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL
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Taken at Lana (Now Closed)
He almost reached the house before taking a step back and noticing the swirling clouds. Did it really take him the entire day to reach his sanctuary?
A light rumble was heard nearby, but it was not of thunder, instead, it belonged to a glistening white wise one whose magnificent fur stood out in the evident darkness. A light gruff followed, mane blowing in the breeze as he looked up into the sky and let out a magnificent roar.
The man smiled watching the moment, feeling his own inner roar of strength engulfing him. Just in time to feel the first drop of rain that was falling.
"The rain would like my company tonight?" he questioned, unmoving and allowing to experience the wrath or perhaps the excitement of the storm.
"Oh no! Don't stay out there, come inside!" a voice called from the sanctuary that even the wise one tilted his head towards and scurried towards a tree for shelter like a big scared cat.
This caused old laughter to escape, "She does have that effect on everyone." said the man fondly and without wasting much time he retired into the small house. Prepared for a much bigger storm than what was outside...
“Do you have the patience to wait
till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving
till the right action arises by itself?”
— From Chapter 15, Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu —
Do you have the patience to wait
till your mud settles and the water is clear
Can you remain unmoving
till the right action arises by itself.
~ Tao Te Ching
There's an old bench under the tree
which looks quietly, unmoving
without any fear, grief, hatred or glee
over a field, harvested, unblooming.
And there, under the tree, the frost
bites deep into the bench's wood,
till it cracks, splinters, falls off and is lost
in the field and the brush and the tree root.
There, by the wayside, the old bench's
backrest leans back against the stem
and waits for birds singing on the branches
so that weary wanderers might hear them.
And hence, exhausted from their walk
would take a seat on the old bench
to rest their limbs and listen to the songs
of the birds and not to nagging worries.
© Claudia G. Kukulka, all rights reserved
While I was photographing some flowers, this very young lizard (only about 6cms long) sat unmoving on a leaf beside them.
One day in late May while driving the back roads of Saskachewan with a friend near Leader, I observed a lone female Pronghorn Antelope (Antilocapra americana) standing in a cultivated stubble field. Beside her on very wobbly legs was a young calf.
She slowly walked away with the young calf beside her when I stopped the vehicle. She continually looked back to where she had been standing when I noticed a second calf lying on the ground. I zoomed in with my telephoto and got this image of the twin calf lying completely still and unmoving.
After taking several images we drove away and then watched as the female returned to the calf on the ground.
Knowing that the family was safe, we departed the area. It is likely that the young claves had just been born and were gaining energy to begin their new life on the prairie landscape near Leader, Saskatchewan, Canada.
I was feeling quite fortunate to have seen something I will likely never experience again.
24 May, 2016.
Slide # GWB_20160524_2292.CR2
“Sometimes in the evening on Summer days,
Even when there’s not a breeze at all, it seems
Like there’s a light breeze blowing for a minute
But the trees are unmoving
In every leaf of their leaves
And our feelings have had an illusion,
An illusion of what would please them...”
― Alberto Caeiro
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Thanks to all for 10,000.000+ views and kind comments ... ! Enjoy your Sunday...!
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved
DeepSkyStacker + Lr - my first attempts to stack photos. Photo consisting of 21 photos with exposure parameters 12 mm, f / 2.8, ISO 3200, 5s - OBO tripod + Manfrotto XPRO 3W.
I have calculated that for an observer using a 12mm lens (MFT) and an eye resolution of max 1 "angle (this is for a person with great eyesight and for good eyesight it is 2" angular) - the maximum exposure time for getting the view of unmoving stars is about 4,33 s. Such photos without visible foreground can be snapped and then folded as panels with the foreground not moved into a mosaic.
I wanted to check if (O-MD E-M10 Mark II) M.Zuiko 12-40 mm f / 2.8 could work in the landscape field Astro (with the subject of the foreground on the ground) without a head with guidance (sky with stars as mosaic panels ) - please give me an opinion.
I am thinking of using Star Adventurer or iOptron Skyguider Pro, but since the results of star formation are punctual, does it make sense to use the head leading to the astro landscape with the subject of the foreground on earth?
The blurred glow at the bottom of the photo comes from slowly flowing clouds gently lit by the glare of lights from a city 20 km away (Opoczno).
Masai Mara National Reserve
Kenya
East Africa
The grey-headed kingfisher (Halcyon leucocephala) has a wide distribution from the Cape Verde Islands off the north-west coast of Africa to Mauritania, Senegal and Gambia, east to Ethiopia, Somalia and southern Arabia and south to South Africa.
A dry-country kingfisher of scrub and woodland, solitary or in pairs, is often found near water, but unlike most kingfishers is not aquatic. Perches on a branch, unmoving for long periods while watching the ground for signs of insects or small lizards, bobbing head before diving on prey.
In appearance very like the brown-hooded kingfisher but with a red rather than red and black bill and like the woodland kingfisher, but the woodland kingfisher lacks the chestnut belly and has greater coverage of cyan feathers on the back.
Nests in holes in steep riverbanks and is aggressively protective of its nest by repeated dive-bombing of foraging monitor lizards. It is parasitised by the greater honeyguide. This species migrates at night and is often killed by flying into obstacles such as buildings, towers and powerlines. – Wikipedia
does anyone know how to start selling prints?
or what company?
just wanting to know if anyone is interested in any of my photos.
:)
A branch in winter quietness returning to the earth. Resting unmoving in a disturbing stillness. Day and night.
As we were arriving at the Wounded Knee Cemetery, these fellows were digging a grave. The man on the right remained unmoving for the entire time we were in the cemetery, which was probably about twenty minutes. I don't know if he was tired, grieving, bored or what. We asked permission to photograph. I wish I had done a better job of the whole thing, but felt a bit self-conscious and intrusive, so only took a couple of quick snaps.
What the gesticulation by the gent on the left was supposed to mean, I know not.
Great book for those who are interested: "Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee" by Dee Brown. I highly recommend it.
In late May one year while travelling through southwestern Saskatchewan we noticed a female Pronghorn Antelope (Antilocapra americana) standing in a stubble field. Beside her on very wobbly legs was a young calf. When I got out of the vehicle to set up my tripod to stabilize my telephoto lens, she slowly walked away with the young calf beside her. She continually looked back to where she had been standing when I noticed a second calf lying on the ground. I zoomed in with my telephoto and got this image of the calf lying completely still and unmoving. After taking several images we drove away and then watched as the female returned to the calf on the ground. Knowing that the family was safe, we departed the area. It is likely that the young claves had just been born and were gaining energy to begin their new life on the prairie landscape near Leader, Saskatchewan, Canada.
It was truly a wondrous sight to behold.
24 May, 2016.
Slide # GWB_20160524_2293.CR2
Use of this image on websites, blogs or other media without explicit permission is not permitted.
© Gerard W. Beyersbergen - All Rights Reserved Worldwide In Perpetuity - No Unauthorized Use.
This place is crowded with silent things. It's night here now as I write this and I shudder to think what it must be like in this deep place being watched over in the darkness by these huddled unmoving hordes.
A dry-country kingfisher of scrub and woodland, solitary or in pairs, often found near water, but unlike most kingfishers is not aquatic. Perches on a branch, unmoving for long periods while watching the ground for signs of insects or small lizards, bobbing head before diving on prey.
Shot in the wild
Samburu National Reserve
Lifer
all day cropping
winter grass
alone, a day
of deep silence,
windless, chill,
from a distance
she seems to be
unmoving, as if
in another world
I saw this green iguana (iguana iguana) at Entopia Butterfly Farm, on the island of Penang, in Malaysia. Fortunately, it remained unmoving for the time it took me to get close enough and compose the shot
Coming to Necrosis this round (January 29-February 12) is Be My Mannequin? Pose Store with TWO exclusive poses based on the theme: Tainted Love! Here is the second of the poses: '...I'll Kill You...' which helped me create my picture: Just Desserts.
With your purchase, you get a chef's knife (clean and bloodied versions) which attaches to your hand directly from your inventory! They both make a great prop for future photographs as well!
(Note: The chef's knife is not shown in picture as to show the versatility of the pose but you can see it at Necrosis or in the sister picture: One Last Chance.)
...I'll Kill You... is certainly a creative couples pose, and I've not seen another like it! I love the ground lay because its so unique and the standing pose is exceedingly versatile and looks great from any angle!
Come over to the Necrosis event when it opens on January 29th and DEMO it personally! See you there!
To see the other exclusive pose from Be My Mannequin? Pose Store for this round of Necrosis, click: www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/50870632367
Special thanks to the owner/creator of Be My Mannequin? Pose Store for posing for me: Vin Raven-Mysterious! Be sure to check out his phenomenal photography in People in Photo!
~~~
It was said that a rogue demon had been ravaging the temple on the far end of the woods outside of the capital; taking lives of the monks and priests who lived there. The monks and priests just couldn't figure out who it was so they sent for help. That help was me.
I arrived the night I got my orders and took in the appearance of the temple. It was old and who knew what kind of entities lived here? But I am good at what I do and it didn't take me very long to find the tainted one among them. There were whispers of orange, glowing demonic eyes coming from the shadows. All night I hunted it down and finally, as the dawn began to break, I found my target.
The sound of an angry scream could be heard echoing the halls of the temple as one of the priests fell to the floor to his knees, blood pooling from the wound to his stomach where I'd managed to strike. This priest was no priest at all and it became evident as it began to lose its human form. Its demonic, tipped ears and piercings revealed itself as the orange glow of its eyes began to fade. It fell forward, squishing in its own blood upon the floor as it finally lay dead and unmoving.
I stared, cross in my left hand and bloodied knife in my right. I wanted to make sure it wasn't going reanimate itself somehow. Once I was sure of its death, I took a clean handkerchief and began to clean the blood from my blade, watching as blood began to gather and pool below the body. That creature got its just desserts.
The sun and moon and stars cross the sky again and again. Shadows lengthen and shrink. The tide ebbs and flows, and draws patterns in the sand. The ocean heaves in the background. Crabs and seabirds flicker in and out of view; meanwhile, the boulders sit in the sand - stolid, unmoving, alone, as life hurtles past, in a play of form, of being. This is the dreaming of substance, as the rocks sit and meditate while the earth changes.
Thompson River
Kamloops BC
As I took this shot, I was cursing about the train on the bridge. I'd been waiting for it to go over but it stopped and had been unmoving for a while. I can't help but thinking that it would have been a nicer shot without the train. However, to you train lovers out there I say: "You're welcome."
And they did. Right smack dab in the middle of the road, then stood there unmoving, unblinking, like statues.
I watched as a couple in a truck approached, stopped and waited.....and waited.....and waited.
The man honked his horn....and waited and waited....
Cranes stood.
Man laughed and got out of the truck walking towards them clapping his hands.
They ruffled not a single preened feather.
He looked at me, I shrugged and said beats me, I never know what to do when they get like this.
He had to finally shepherd them off the road.
The cranes and people in our community are used to each other and get along well. But every now and then.........sheesh!!
I guess most people think of the fjords when they consider this country. Why wouldn’t they? For people like you and me it might be Lofoten. Funny how the latter is part of the lexicon of landscape photography, while for the rest of the population it’s mostly unknown. Unless you’re Norwegian it is anyway. Ali and I are going on our first ever (and depending upon how it goes only ever) cruise next Spring. Destination Norwegian Fjords. We’ve been watching quite a few YouTube videos of course, to see what to expect while we’re there. It seemed pretty clear that for many of those among them who visited the northern archipelago, Lofoten was a place they’d never heard of until their cruises took them there. Many of them were gushing with praise for the islands after the time they spent there.
Similarly, I’d never heard of Norway’s first and original national park, the Rondane, until some time last year. I can’t even remember how the area first came to my attention, but once it did, the deed was done. Steve and I had been discussing the possibility of a Scandinavian road trip for some months, and while Lofoten was a bit too far from his home on the west coast of Sweden, perhaps this was an opportunity to explore a less familiar but equally dramatic area of the country next door. With no real idea as to exactly how fortuitous the timing would turn out to be, we agreed upon the third week of September. At first we flirted with the idea of a two centre trip to Norway, with a few days in the mountainous region between Bergen and Oslo, but it quickly became clear that we’d spend too much time in the car and too little of it behind the cameras. Either base would give us more than enough to photograph in the few days we had. So the Rondane it would be then. I booked my flights and began to do some research in the usual places. Pins were sunk into maps, mountain roads and trails examined as closely as possible, the handful of available YouTube videos watched and watched again, and messages were exchanged with increasing levels of anticipation as September came ever closer.
And one Tuesday morning, a little more than twelve hours after arriving at our rented cabin in the seemingly abandoned mountain village of Mysusaeter at the last hour of daylight, we ventured out on foot towards Ulafossen. Chalets stood empty after the end of the summer season in the mountains. There are plenty of them here, but no more than a handful had vehicles parked beside them by now, as if the entire place had been cast under an enchantment. A cool mist hung on the still air, unmoving, clinging to the trees and land as we stomped along the path. We weren’t sure exactly which path to take, but we knew roughly where to look, eventually squelching over a patch of wet ground through one of the sleeping properties at the edge of the birch forest as the sound of rushing water started to fill the silence with a growing crescendo. Into the trees we went, following the loudening rush to its source.
We couldn’t really have found a better spot from which to start. Ahead of us lay a spectacular series of tiers that crashed noisily and steeply through the colourful forest, long drops into shallow basins, the river chasing furiously down the mountainside and beyond us out of sight. This was my first taste of Norway, a waterfall that would surely draw huge numbers of visitors in any other place, yet here we were alone. We didn’t see another person in the two and a half hours we spent exploring Ulafossen, gradually making our way up to the bridge where the forest track crosses the river at the start of the Peer Gynt trail. This place barely makes the map here, which I suppose can only speak for Norway’s enormous wealth of natural beauty. And this was only the start of things. If the rest of our time in Norway was going to be anywhere near as good as this, then we were in for a very memorable adventure indeed.
“Do you want us to stop?” the man asked. So engrossed in the scene before me I was taken quite by surprise as I hadn’t heard this couple approaching me from behind. “No, no. Please keep walking as I would like to have some perspective in my photo if I can get people in it!” We chatted for a few more minutes about why we were here - me to take photos, and this couple from Holland were wild camping a few kilometers closer to the mountains. Apart from Dom - where was he exactly, I had sent that text about the rainbow - I hadn’t talked to another person face-to-face in probably over 24 hours so it was nice to “check in” with humanity, albeit for three or four minutes. They soon wandered off and I got ready for when they would get to the base of the rainbow and the top of that small knoll along the path. I rattled off ten or so shots in quick succession, happily knowing one will be “just so”.
Dom soon showed up and we started to talk about which way we should go back to the car. In hindsight we should have followed this Dutch couple even if it was a longer walk but I was conscious about my knee so both Dom and I looked to our right over the moss-covered plain. “There”, said Dom, “It looks like a path”. Sure enough it did, just a narrow depression in the moss where, probably, reindeer walked. Better still it looked like it was pointing in the direction of the big gravel car park where we had left the car over three hours earlier. Dom wanted to take a few more photos so I decided to head off before him, knowing full well he’d catch up to me.
It was fairly easy going the first 100 or so meters as I followed in the footsteps of reindeer but as soon as I crested a small hill the path disappeared. At a guess I had 600 meters to go so I carried on. Suddenly I felt one of my boots sink into an unseen pool of water. As I lifted my foot I could feel the suction of water and mud trying to pull the boot off. OK I thought as I surveyed the land before me. Best try and stay on the “higher ground”. In front of me were hundreds of small pools of water - a bog - surrounded by very springy moss. Try as I might to stay on the moss it was impossible not to lose your footing and step into a new pool of water. Or worse still, the moss that looked quite sturdy and "surely that would hold my weight" giving up as soon as I set foot on it, resulting in a Welly disappearing through and into the water underneath. After a while I took my rucksack off, undid the tripod from it and extended its legs. I was now using it as a pole to test the ground before me, or like a wizard’s staff to support my journey. Wizard… wizard…. Oh yes this reminded me of the time when Gollum was leading Frodo and Sam through the haunted Dead Marshes in Mordor. My imagination can run wild sometimes. But just to be safe I did check every now and then for the bodies of the fallen. Tolkien described the bodies as eerie, luminous candles of corpses that show the ghostly, unmoving faces of the dead. Best I do not fall in then, though dying in a Tolkien book wasn’t too bad a way to go. A buzzing in my pocket brought me joltingly back to reality. It was Dom wondering how the conditions were where I was at. “Just the same as where you’re at”, I replied as I looked back to Dom hundreds of meters behind me. My knee was now taking a beating but as I carried on I saw a mobile home drive out from the carpark and along the straight road back to Mysusæter. Even if I couldn’t quite see the road due to how the landscape was (and how dark it was getting) I knew it wasn’t too far now.
After what felt like an eternity - or a chapter from one of Tolkien’s books - I finally made it to the road. I wanted to get down on my knees and kiss it like the pope kisses the ground when coming off a plane, I was so happy. My knee said no. I still had possibly 400 meters to walk back to the car and I was going slower and slower it felt like. But back to the car I came. What a relief it was to take off my Wellingtons and slip into something a little more comfortable. I started the car and pointed home, picking up Dom along the way as he had finally finished his Dead Marshes side quest. Back to the cabin, some warm grub and some Champion’s league footie on the TV. God bless the hosts of our cabin for having the correct channels installed so Dom and I could watch footie into the night. Oh and I needed to look at my knee…
Well yes... I've given this photo the title 'Unmoving". That's in deference to innovative René Louiche Desfontaines (1751-1833), botanist in Paris. He liked to experiment with plants. Notable is his Carriage Experiment. He knew and had observed, of course, the 'movements' of Mimosa pudica. Its leaves close on being touched. Desfontaines decided to observe that phenomenon more closely so he took his Mimosa pudica on a carrage ride through Paris. He was curious whether the jostling of that vehicle would cause for the infolding of Mimosa's foliage. Indeed, it was. But he noticed, too, that after a time in the carriage they'd erect again.
Anyway, that 'movement' came into my mind as I gazed on this pretty picture of a Peacock Butterfly, quite motionless on an unmoving Tithonia, known by Desfontaines as Tagetes rotundifolia (1768), But at least half a century earlier the brightly flowering plant has already been cultivated in Europe. It was apparently first scientifically collected by Scottish botanist William Houstoun (1695(?)-1733) at Vera Cruz, Mexico. Whatever the case: Butterfly soon fluttered away leaving Tithonia motionless in the wind-still air.
...to get a picture of a frog. This frog stopped me in my tracks, sitting right on the walkway. He sat there unmoving while I fiddled with camera settings, and then walked around him and took some more shots. An hour and a half later I came by again and he was still sitting there motionless, except that he had turned around....strange. Do frogs get rabies? lol
The Refuge is pretty much dead in the lack of water. It is full of baby birds though. Not one adult redwing to be seen or heard, but they left all their kids behind.
I came with flowers, unaware this moment was already gone. The cold floor caught me as everything collapsed. The petals fell before I did. I cry, unmoving, while the world keeps going. Behind me, I still feel him. His arms hold me softly, like a dream too real to be true. I know it isn’t real. I know I’ll wake up alone. Yet I stay, listening to his silence calling me one last time, toward a place where I cannot follow him. ❤️️
Hear the music that echoes this image, the link is in the first comment. ❤️
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The Grey-headed Kingfisher (Halcyon leucocephala) has a wide distribution and is found in tropical and semi-tropical Africa and the Arabian Peninsula..
A dry-country kingfisher of scrub and woodland, solitary or in pairs, often found near water, but unlike most kingfishers is not aquatic. Perches on a branch, unmoving for long periods while watching the ground for signs of insects or small lizards, bobbing head before diving on prey. Nests in holes in steep riverbanks and is aggressively protective of its nest by repeated dive-bombing of foraging monitor lizards.
This beautiful Grey-headed Kingfisher was captured on a photography safari and was photographed on an early morning lovely golden light on a game drive in Maasai Mara Game Reserve, Kenya.
She is 84 this year.
The years have carved deep lines into her hands and feet, but she walks to this spot every week — alone, slow but steady. She always sits on the same block of concrete, next to the marble dog with the frozen gaze. Some say the statue was part of an old temple gate, long forgotten. Others say it once guarded a family shrine.
But for her, it’s just company. Quiet, faithful company.
She never speaks when she’s here. She doesn’t need to. Her eyes rest on the horizon, just beyond the trees, toward the place where her husband was cremated thirty years ago. She doesn’t cry — not anymore. Time has softened grief into something else: remembrance, perhaps... or simply routine.
The temple grounds have changed. Monks come and go. Grass grows wild, trees stretch taller. But the marble dog remains. So does she.
Maybe she sees a reflection of herself in the stone — weathered, unmoving, steadfast. Or maybe she just likes how the late light filters through the trees from that direction, touching her face and the statue the same way, like they’re part of one still frame in a story only she remembers.
And so she sits — the old lady and her silent friend — watching, waiting, remembering. Together.
The Grey-headed Kingfisher (Halcyon leucocephala) has a wide distribution and is found in tropical and semi-tropical Africa and the Arabian Peninsula..
A dry-country kingfisher of scrub and woodland, solitary or in pairs, often found near water, but unlike most kingfishers is not aquatic. Perches on a branch, unmoving for long periods while watching the ground for signs of insects or small lizards, bobbing head before diving on prey. Nests in holes in steep riverbanks and is aggressively protective of its nest by repeated dive-bombing of foraging monitor lizards.
This beautiful Grey-headed Kingfisher was captured on a photography safari and was photographed on an early morning lovely golden light on a game drive in Lake Nakuru National Park, Kenya.
This photo uses contrast to make its point. Sharpness contrast, the unmoving ice-encrusted rock vs the liquid flow of a rushing river; colour contrast, the icy blues of reflected sky vs the warmer highlights on the water surface. I never get tired of looking for interesting photos of ice forming in early winter - or in this case, mid-winter, following a chinook wind that warmed the prairie for a few days and loosened that season's icy grip. Winter did return with a vengeance, allowing me to photograph a second freeze-up. This was last winter. Right now, it's happening again, and if my imagination doesn't fail me there will be more ice shots to come over the next couple of months.
Photographed along the Frenchman River in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission © 2019 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
sunlight gently
touches the face
and hands of a man
gazing down
upon those slowly
moving past
his eyes so dark
sadly half-closed
as if gazing out into
the courtyard
but also aware
of shadows behind him
figures perhaps who
linger before rising
into the next life
but his expression
says nothing
to a young man
and woman, their
fingers interlaced:
I wonder, she says,
what he was thinking
400 years ago
as he sat unmoving
in silence for
his portrait.
--M deO
Roots to Branches - Jethro Tull
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VN8VJp8Gdn4
Words get written. Words get twisted.
Old meanings move in the drift of time.
Lift the flickering torches.
See gentle shadows change
the features of the faces cut in unmoving stone.
Bad mouth on a prayer day,
hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay,
branches glistening.
True disciples carrying that message
to colour just a little with their personal touch.
Home-spun fancy weavers
and naked half-believers --
Crusades and creeds descend like fiery flakes of snow.
Bad mouth on a prayer day,
hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay,
branches glistening.
Roots to branches
Roots to branches
Roots to branches
A decade or so ago I went to Rinca - one of several islands in eastern Indonesia where Komodo Dragons are endemic (www.flickr.com/photos/87453322@N00/1355595323/in/photolis...). I watched as a couple of these huge Lizards prowled for and hunted down a buffalo; they like to hunt in groups. Utterly fascinating and a bit scary, too.
There's still lots unknown about their habits and indeed their anatomical structure. Of course, they've been known to western naturalists only since 1910, so there's still much to learn. The other day in the Amsterdam Zoo, I watched their lethargy so different from their stalking behavior on Rinca. In the Zoo they don't really need to stalk at all because they're provided with all they want free of charge or exertion.
One seemed to be watching me, though. A little uncanny even if there was thick glass separating us. I was very still and unmoving and I realised then that it likely wasn't even seeing me. These Dragons' eyes function much as those of any lizard: they have difficulty seeing still objects; it's movement that alerts them. Thus Our Komodos can sense the movement of - say - a buffalo from a great distance. But quiet me? I doubt it.
The tree unmoving and connected to the earth, and rooted in it's true home likely knows more from the passage of time, and movements so slow as to be imperceptible that we only begin to glimpse in our old age... #KnowThyself #Contemplation #spirituality #BackToNature
The Grey-headed Kingfisher (Halcyon leucocephala) has a wide distribution and is found in tropical and semi-tropical Africa and the Arabian Peninsula..
A dry-country kingfisher of scrub and woodland, solitary or in pairs, often found near water, but unlike most kingfishers is not aquatic. Perches on a branch, unmoving for long periods while watching the ground for signs of insects or small lizards, bobbing head before diving on prey. Nests in holes in steep riverbanks and is aggressively protective of its nest by repeated dive-bombing of foraging monitor lizards.
Photographed on a late evening game drive in the Maasai Mara Game Reserve, Kenya.
Drago and Dozer in a rare unmoving moment. Actually Dozer was starting to turn his head so his snout is blurry.
An evening of very changeable weather, clouds moving in and out in contrast to these solid umoving rocks and still waters of Georgian Bay.
I love it when the Tanana River [TA-nuh-nah] freezes up this way.
Certain conditions must occur for this kind of ice to form; water must be moving, and supercooled (30° to 21°, -1C to -6). Water begins to form ice crystals, which gather in 'rafts' that spin and bump in the currents, forming pans with slightly rigged edges where they jostle into each other.
As this kind of ice progresses, the pans become larger, thicker, taking over the entire surface of the river. As this happens, the river becomes 'vocal', making shushy-whispering sounds as the pans jostle and bump.
As temperatures get colder with winter's progress, the pans eventually become so congested that they become fast and form an unmoving solid and jumbled surface on the river.
❤️🔥 Diams — The Firelight Dance
by Oh! Fashion
The bar was nearly empty — the kind of place where time lingered between shadows and smoke. A single man sat alone, his drink untouched, the amber reflection of the fire glinting off the rim of his glass. His name was "Vibes." And in that soft, wavering glow, I became the flame he couldn’t look away from.
The music began — slow, hypnotic, pulsing through the speakers like a heartbeat meant only for us. I stepped onto the large circular ottoman before the hearth, the velvet sinking beneath my knees as the heat kissed my skin. The air smelled faintly of bourbon and something sweet — like the prelude to a secret.
The Diams Mini by Oh! clung to me like molten silk, sculpting every curve in temptation’s image. Its sinuous surface shimmered with the PBR HUD’s reflections — light bending, fire breathing, his desire mirrored in every ripple of crimson gloss. It wasn’t fabric anymore; it was sensation — alive, responsive, a second skin made for sin.
I began to move, my hips tracing slow circles, each motion deliberate and teasing. The dress rode higher, the hem flirting with revelation. The Transparency HUD made it shimmer like smoke — sometimes solid, sometimes sheer — a game of illusion that let the imagination wander where the eyes could not.
He watched, unmoving, but I could feel his heartbeat in the silence between us. Our eyes met — then broke — then met again. I pretended not to notice, fingers toying absently with the edge of my garter, feeling lace against skin, silk against heat. When I glanced back, his composure faltered, his breath catching like a man drowning in something he wanted too much.
The music deepened, slowing to a close. I arched back into the final pose, the Diams Mini glowing one last time in the dying firelight. For a heartbeat, nothing moved — only the fire crackled, soft and alive, and our breathing filled the quiet. Love or lust? It didn’t matter. The night itself was the answer — burning, beautiful, and gone too soon.
💎 The Diams Mini by Oh!
Crafted with BLINN, ENVIROX_SOFT, and High PBR detailing, this liquid masterpiece turns light into desire — sculpting the body in molten sheen and whispering temptation in every movement. Includes Transparency HUD for adjustable seduction that reveals just enough to haunt.
✨ Compatible Mesh Bodies:
💠 PetiteX
💠 LaraX
💠 Lega
💠 Perky
💠 Bombshell
💠 Reborn
💠 Waifu
💠 Nuhma
🌹 Available at the Level Event
️ October 1 – October 24
🔗 maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/LEVEL/142/160/3
️ Oh! Mainstore:
🔗 maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Oh%20Mainstore/189/119/23
💋 He left before the fire died, but I still swear I can feel his eyes on me… somewhere beneath this dress.
In a barren wasteland under storm-heavy skies, a towering figure draped in tattered robes stands unmoving. Its face and chest are nothing but cavernous voids, blacker than shadow, as though pieces of existence itself have been carved away.
Image originally generated with Perchance, then enhanced through upscaling in Leonardo AI and Krea, and finally refined with Topaz Gigapixel AI.
A local wind farm on a still day at sunset.
Perhaps it's because I grew up in Norfolk, but exploiting the power of wind seems second nature. So, when the silent giants of the turbines stand unmoving, to me it's quite an eerie scene.
“Sometimes in the evening on Summer days,
Even when there’s not a breeze at all, it seems
Like there’s a light breeze blowing for a minute
But the trees are unmoving
In every leaf of their leaves
And our feelings have had an illusion,
An illusion of what would please them...”
― Alberto Caeiro
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