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“Learning became her.
She loved the smell of the book from the shelves, the type on the pages, the sense that the world was an infinite but knowable place.
Every fact she learned seemed to open another question, and for every question there was another book.”
— Robert Goolrick
Love the beautiful artwork .@EmilyCarrU MFA's Graduate Exhibition (｡・‧̫・｡).*＊
Emily Carr University of Art+Design (ECUAD) - MFA Graduate Thesis Exhibition (2018)
More information // Emily Carr MFA Exhibition (2018) - Emily Carr University of Art+Design (ECUAD) Calendar
Nature chose for a tool, not the earthquake or lightning to rend and split asunder, not the stormy torrent or eroding rain, but the tender snow-flowers noiselessly falling through unnumbered centuries, the offspring of the sun and sea.
―John Muir, The Sierra Nevada
Culturally we tend to associate external accomplishment with internal accomplishment—when a person has achieved something worthy of recognition we think it’s because they have persevered and overcome a great inner struggle. Sometimes this is the case but not always; often an external achievement comes out of avoidance, of doing anything and everything possible not to have to face the real struggle. We drown ourselves in work to distract us from problems in our love lives. We try to outdo our rivals to escape our jealousy.
When we have exterior accomplishment without the interior, that’s when, I think, we most strongly feel like we are imposters. Like, Okay, we’ve done this great praiseworthy thing so how come we still aren't a better human being? Perhaps it's because when we ignore the internal challenges, we tend to act from fear rather than in spite of it. When we do the former, even if we succeed outwardly, we fail inwardly.
That vague and oft-repeated idea—being true to yourself—takes on a much more precise meaning. Being true to yourself is facing the interior challenges; taking the shame and struggle given to you by birth and circumstance, and making it your life’s work.
— Jack Cheng (eepurl.com/bk1r-j)
The ritual of drowning of Marzanna, a Slavic goddes of Winer and Death, to welcome the oncoming Spring and bury the waning Winter.
“Learning became her.
She loved the smell of the book from the shelves, the type on the pages, the sense that the world was an infinite but knowable place.
Every fact she learned seemed to open another question, and for every question there was another book.”
— Robert Goolrick
“Standing on the snow-covered plain, as if in a pasture amid the hills, I cut my way first through a foot of snow, and then a foot of ice, and open a window under my feet, where, kneeling to drink, I look down into the quiet parlour of the fishes, pervaded by a softened light as through a window of ground glass, with its bright sanded floor the same as in summer; there a perennial waveless serenity reigns as in the amber twilight sky, corresponding to the cool and even temperament of the inhabitants.
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.”
— Walden (1854) by Henry David Thoreau
(Chapter 16: The Pond in Winter)
"A human being is a part of the whole called by us the Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his 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."
— Albert Einstein
“We need the tonic of wildness...At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods
Walking on foot brings you down to the very stark, naked core of existence. We travel too much in airplanes and cars. It’s an existential quality that we are losing. It’s almost like a credo of religion that we should walk.
There is, of course, something inherently romantic—if not heroic—about the extreme solitary explorer enveloped by nature. The very image of Herzog on foot recalls the iconic 19th-century paintings of Caspar David Friedrich, especially his Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, with its lone figure staring out at the wide vista above the clouds.
'Truth itself wanders through the forests,' Herzog writes near the end. Yet here he embroiders his memories for effect: The vast swath of geography between Munich and Paris is littered with industrial towns and cities.
Once he comes out on the other end, traversing the deforested Champs-Élysées (“We were close to what they call the breath of danger”), Herzog emerges victorious.
― Of Walking in Ice: (Munich-Paris, 23 November–14 December 1974)
by Werner Herzog
TBT photos from BC Tech Association @WeAreBCTech #FinTechDay Series #FinTech ((hosted by Central1 Credit Union)) *:ﾟ*｡⋆ฺ (ﾟ∇^*) 🌿🌟 !
Terrific topic on "Canada's Small Businesses Need Smarter Technology"! More info here www.eventbrite.ca/e/fintech-day-canadas-small-businesses-...
“The rabbits mingled naturally. They did not talk for talking's sake, in the artificial manner that human beings - and sometimes even their dogs and cats - do. But this did not mean that they were not communicating; merely that they were not communicating by talking.”
― Richard Adams, Watership Down
Walking on foot brings you down to the very stark, naked core of existence. We travel too much in airplanes and cars. It’s an existential quality that we are losing. It’s almost like a credo of religion that we should walk.
There is, of course, something inherently romantic—if not heroic—about the extreme solitary explorer enveloped by nature. The very image of Herzog on foot recalls the iconic 19th-century paintings of Caspar David Friedrich, especially his Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, with its lone figure staring out at the wide vista above the clouds.
'Truth itself wanders through the forests,' Herzog writes near the end. Yet here he embroiders his memories for effect: The vast swath of geography between Munich and Paris is littered with industrial towns and cities.
Once he comes out on the other end, traversing the deforested Champs-Élysées (“We were close to what they call the breath of danger”), Herzog emerges victorious.
― Of Walking in Ice: (Munich-Paris, 23 November–14 December 1974)
by Werner Herzog