View allAll Photos Tagged intellect
The horizon is a bleeding gash of pastel apricot and bruised violet—a fleeting, fragile illumination that passes for morning in a November sub-Arctic. Underneath this soft tapestry of light, Frobisher Bay lies locked in a state of violent, slow-motion transformation. The sea is no longer liquid, nor is it yet solid. It is a viscous slurry of frazil ice and grease ice, dampening the Atlantic swell into a heavy, rhythmic groan. Winter does not merely arrive here; it besieges the land, squeezing out the remaining heat until the earth itself cracks under the strain.
Look closely at the vastness. Against the colossal, snow-choked ridges of Baffin Island, two minuscule black ink-blots puncture the gradient sky. A pair of common ravens (Corvus corax) have launched themselves from the frozen shoreline, commencing their morning reconnaissance. This is their dawn patrol, a routine born out of absolute necessity and intelligence in one of the most unforgiving biomes on Earth.
The Architects of Survival
Where other avian species fled south months ago, yielding to the initial whispers of autumn, the ravens stayed. To remain in Nunavut as the mercury plummets past minus twenty is an act of evolutionary bravado. But the raven does not survive on luck; it thrives on absolute cunning, structural adaptability, and deep-seated geological memory.
As they glide over the bay, their heavy, chiseled beaks cut into the freezing air. Those beaks are versatile tools—capable of tearing through frozen seal carcass, excavating caches hidden deep beneath dry snow, or picking apart the refuse of human settlements. Their glossy black plumage, looking completely stark against the alabaster hills, is a masterclass in thermal dynamics. Every feather absorbs the precious, low-angle solar radiation of the brief November sun, trapping a layer of metabolic warmth close to their skin.
In the deep silence of the Arctic freeze, the metallic 'klonk' of a raven's call travels for miles over the forming sea ice—a solitary voice mapping out a desert of white.
A Landscape Descending
In the middle distance of Dawn patrol.jpg, a lonely island stands sentinel, its small navigation beacon encrusted with rime frost. It serves as a visual measuring stick for the encroaching ice. Day by day, the open leads of dark water shrink, choked out by expanding pans of nilas—thin, elastic crusts of ice that bend and ripple with the tides before cementing into an unbreakable floor.
For the ravens, this shifting landscape is an opportunistic playground.
As the sea ice forms, it forces marine mammals to congregate around diminishing breathing holes. The ravens track these patterns with uncanny intellect. They will shadow a polar bear for miles across the pressure ridges, waiting with calculated patience for the apex predator to make a kill, knowing that the scraps left behind mean the difference between starvation and survival.
The Intelligence of the Pair,
Ravens are notoriously monogamous, often mating for life, and this morning sortie is as much a communicative exercise as it is a hunting expedition. Watch them in the air: they do not fly with the panicked flapping of lesser birds. They soar. They utilize the fierce, icy updrafts rolling off the Baffin mountains, banking and rolling in a display of aerial acrobatics that borders on play.
Biologists have noted that ravens possess a theory of mind; they actively deceive one another to protect food caches and can communicate abstract concepts—such as the location of a distant carcass—to their partners through a complex lexicon of croaks, rattles, and clicks. As the pair drifts further out over the newly minted ice of Frobisher Bay, their silhouettes fade into the purple haze of the mountain backdrop, two eternal spirits perfectly adapted to the beautiful, terrible descent into winter's absolute grasp.
A dry lake somewhere in Nevada.
When you walk at this place and look around you feel as if you were walking on a conveyer belt or on one of these fitness-walking machines where you hold on to some kind of handle and just go through the motions of walking without really progressing. The ground is so homogenous and featureless that there is really nothing there, around you, that would change or move while you are walking and that could give you an impression of your own motion. The mountains, toward which motion could be perceived, are too far away. It feels like walking to the body, but you don’t get any sensual feedback of progress, the mind misses the expected visual confirmation of things around changing, that you actually cover ground. Nothing changes, not even slowly, you can walk for 15 minutes and everything looks exactly the same. It’s like in a dream when you try so hard to run but don’t move.
Once reason forces the mind to accept that there must be motion, it actually comes up with the sensation that the ground is moving instead, backwards, and I’m completely still, just my legs paddling and pushing the ground backwards. Not bad! What’s the difference? So I walk and make the world turn under me. Wouldn’t make much difference, would it? How do I know that this is not what’s really going on?
Ah, yes, that’s where my discriminating intellect comes in, the “experience processor” that saves us so often from getting undone or – what we so often forget – prevents us from seeing the truth!
At night a new moon illuminates the scene, just enough to see the mountains. But now, when I walk, I really get dizzy, the deceiving sensation of walking without moving is chillingly convincing. The wind stops at night, no sounds; it is so quiet that again the mind protests. It comes up with all kinds of objections, aversions, and fears. I hear my heart pounding, blood rushing, monstrous, strange sounds. “How can all this work without my control?” says mind and is confused. And then I even hear things that clearly are unreal: scary ringing gongs, piercing beeps and roaring surf. I need to stay with the irritation for a long time until I gradually manage to let it all be whatever it is without interpreting it. Have I ever experienced such enormous cosmic silence of open space? Even the concept of sound becomes uncertain, somehow, and dissolves. A completely new experience arises: not the lack of hearing something, but the sensation of hearing silence. It takes a long time before the mind gives up its expectations and objections and starts to believe this emptiness.
Much later, when the moon is gone and a thick overcast has developed that holds back even the starlight, I walk away from the motor home into the complete darkness. Now there is absolutely nothing to see anymore – it doesn’t matter if my eyes are open or closed – nothing to hear, nothing to touch, nothing to react on, nothing to work with, nothing to change. Awesome! – Nothing to find awesome. I feel a sensation of panic arise.
Imagine such a place: the ultimate model for the unobstructed freedom to go nowhere – you step out of your camper, spin around a few times, and start walking in an arbitrary direction. And you keep walking, for 20 minutes if you like, because – you have seen, it’s obvious – you can be absolutely certain that you cannot bump into anything wherever you go (unless you run into the van after two steps). It’s amazing how the mind gets alarmed and doesn’t quite believe it, in spite of the indisputable knowledge of no danger, how you stumble and how drastically you actually deviate from a strait line soon. You don’t walk blindly, your eyes are wide open, but there is nothing to see. You want feedback, you crave for news, you insist on information, but there is absolutely nothing happening outside.
Aureus 37-38, 7.73 g. C CAESAR AVG GERM P M TR POT Bare head of Gaius r. Rev. DIVVS AVG PATER PATRIAE Radiate head of Augustus r. RIC 15. BMC 16. C 1. CBN 19. Vagi 310. Calicó 332 (this coin).
Few of Rome’s emperors enjoy as foul a reputation as Gaius, who is generally known by the nickname Caligula, meaning ‘bootikin’ or ‘little boots’, which he received from his father’s soldiers while he was still an amiable child. He grew to despise the nickname almost as much as everyone grew to despise him. There is little need to revisit the list of his debaucheries, incests and acts of depravity – we need only note that his behaviour was a special blend of intellect and insanity, and that he has few peers beyond Nero, Commodus and Elagabalus. On the bright side, Caligula was dutiful when it came to his well-produced coinage. Caligula honoured his great-grandfather Augustus, very likely Tiberius, his murdered parents, Germanicus and Agrippina Senior, and his murdered brothers, Nero Caesar and Drusus Caesar. Among the living he honoured his three sisters – in whom he had more than a casual interest – and, on provincial coinage, his final wife Caesonia and their daughter Drusilla Minor, both of whom were murdered within an hour of Caligula.
(Fascinator by Chop Zuey)
As seen in Avalon's Divine Dream Art Exhibition at Visionaire Photography Institute in SL.
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Olympus%20Lightning/68/91/36
Sailing to Byzantium
By William Butler Yeats
THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
"... Grâce à leur intelligence vive et leur grande fidélité à l'orthodoxie, les théologiens dominicains ont gagné le titre de Domini Canes (Chiens de garde du Seigneur). "
www.monasteries.com/fr-FR/order/dominicans
"...With their keen intellect and strong fidelity to orthodoxy, the Dominican theologians earned the title Domini Canes (Watchdogs of the Lord). "
Grand Canyon : A personal feeling
Grand Canyon was created on this planet long before human races had evolved. In his early days the supreme creator might have been frustrated in spite of creating all his splendors, for the reason, there was no such species like humans to appreciate all the beauties and truths on this earth. He set his final evolutionary goal. The most intelligent species came into being. They looked at these beauties, stood rapt in awe to feel them by their hearts and reason them by their brain. Thus beauties and truths were revealed on this earth. This was my feeling as I saw Grand Canyon for the first time.
Grand Canyon seemed to me, like a child prodigy sleeping peacefully in his mother’s lap waiting to be woken up by a magic touch. He will share all his mysteries, beauties and truths since his first inception in the mother’s womb. He will never grow old. He will never finish his story ever.
I soon understood that, through its endless showcase of variety, the Canyon magically connects an observer’s mind, to almost all the literal subjects, humans have ever created. It has an immense power to train our body, mind and soul to interrelate different faculties of human intellect in search of a holistic truth.
I wondered, how the supreme sculptor had used his magic chisel to slash a land in endless ravines, so deeply and mysteriously, to create infinite dimensions. The colors of the bare faces of the rocks across different layers, illuminated by daylight, reflect finest pastel colors, delicately applied in an impressionistic mode, as if, by an artist’s invisible spatula. But these are its physical realities only. Grand Canyon is something more than that…
To the best of my experience, this is a place where all human senses intermingle and lose their identity, as one turns quiet and silent for a considerable period of time. From an overview, it seemed to me, as if, a huge number of artists in a group orchestra rearing their heads up in the sky from a mysterious platform. All are spiritual sages, deeply engrossed in creating a symphony. River Colorado glides in-between like the baton of an invisible composer. But with the passage of time, all these physical realities vanished, except one, and only one thing I experienced…
An experience of seeing, hearing, feeling, touching and smelling an inherent beauty of unchained melody, what Grand Canyon is all about.
“Concerning matter, we have been all wrong. What we have called matter is energy, whose vibration has been so lowered as to be perceptible to the senses. Matter is spirit reduced to point of visibility. There is no matter.”
"Time and space are not conditions in which we live, but modes by which we think.
Physical concepts are free creations of the human mind, and are not, however it may seem, determined by the external world."
“Time does not exist – we invented it. Time is what the clock says. The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”
“I think 99 times and find nothing. I stop thinking, swim in silence, and the truth comes to me."
"The intellect has little to do on the road to discovery. There comes a leap in consciousness, call it intuition or what you will, the solution comes to you and you don’t know how or why.”
"A human being experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty."
"Our separation from each other is an optical illusion."
“When something vibrates, the electrons of the entire universe resonate with it. Everything is connected. The greatest tragedy of human existence is the illusion of separateness.”
“Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”
“We are souls dressed up in sacred biochemical garments and our bodies are the instruments through which our souls play their music.”
“When you examine the lives of the most influential people who have ever walked among us, you discover one thread that winds through them all. They have been aligned first with their spiritual nature and only then with their physical selves.”
“The true value of a human being can be found in the degree to which he has attained liberation from the self.”
“The ancients knew something, which we seem to have forgotten.”
“The more I learn of physics, the more I am drawn to metaphysics.”
“One thing I have learned in a long life: that all our science, measured against reality, is primitive and childlike. We still do not know one thousandth of one percent of what nature has revealed to us. It is entirely possible that behind the perception of our senses, worlds are hidden of which we are unaware.”
“I’m not an atheist. The problem involved is too vast for our limited minds. We are in the position of a little child entering a huge library filled with books in many languages. The child knows someone must have written those books.”
"The common idea that I am an atheist is based on a big mistake. Anyone who interprets my scientific theories this way, did not understand them."
"Everything is determined, every beginning and ending, by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect, as well as for the star. Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust, we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper."
“The religion of the future will be a cosmic religion. It will transcend a personal God and avoid dogma and theology.”
“Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another.”
“Everything is energy and that is all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want and you can not help but get that reality. It can be no other way. This is not philosophy. This is physics.”
"I am happy because I want nothing from anyone. I do not care about money. Decorations, titles or distinctions mean nothing to me. I do not crave praise. I claim credit for nothing. A happy man is too satisfied with the present to dwell too much on the future.
-Albert Einstein
High intellect and an intriguing level of curiosity keep these sea dwellers popular with the diving community.
Yellow Baboons are renowned for their intellect and have a particular love of algebra and ripe figs!
Cleaned and framed by a friend.
Nasty Deeds.
Символістський естетик різні вірші виразні конструкції нові причини віддалені слова величезні трюки напружені емоції дидактична алегорія,
intellect points adressant des actes spontanés décrivant des métaphores écrivant des affinités impulsion arts plastiques décadents sourires plaisirs systèmes mystérieux mouvements évoquant émotions émotions évocations structures tournant contrastes voile explications minuscules œuvres formes étonnantes effets invisibles,
Línte allabhrach béim Bizarre naisc mhóra siombailí soiléire ingearach caol doirse inslithe comhthéacs tírdhreacha samhailfhadú,
مسافات لا يمكن تحديدها ، الشعر الديناميكي ، اكتشاف القيم ، الاتجاهات التكميلية ، الصور اللاخطية لنظرية اللاوعي ، التي تتأرجح في التعاملات,
喚起的な反論長いステートメントオリジナルのマニフェストリバティプレイ染み込まれたスタイルビジュアルアプリケーション内接批評家痛烈な結果エッチング歴史的変化むち打ち敵誇り高きステートメント燃やす!
Steve.D.Hammond.
Todavia no sabe leer y ya siente una curiosa atraccion por los libros.
She still can not read and you feel a strange attraction to books.
1. TQ Challenge 1: Red Outtake, 2. 365 toys, day 2, 3. TQ Challenge 1 - Red, 4. 25/365 Pika-surf!, 5. skydiving, 6. The Sleepy Dragonfly, 7. in the red, 8. Thistle Whistle <3 Baby Ribbon, 9. i miss him* 03, 10. Rokin'-it!, 11. P5041469, 12. 365 Toy Project - Day 24, 13. 21/365 toy project: micro converse shoes, 14. HECK YES!, 15. 22/365 : Potato & Kano :: 11.11.2007, 16. 21/365 : Potato :: 11.10.2007, 17. 365 Toy Project - Day 23, 18. intellect, 19. Learning to Fly, 20. 365 Toy Project - Day 21, 21. 바닐라_VaniLLa, 22. Scion tC model : 02.14.2006, 23. Perdida en lo que queda de Bosque, 24. The girls and the Lunby picnic table, 25. 345/365--Toy Project, 26. 365 Toy Project - Day 22, 27. 17/365 : Robo :: 11.06.2007, 28. Pullip Portraits :: Aries, 29. Kiki - out of the Kitty outfit! - I, 30. Friendly visitor, 31. Baby Unicorn Line-Up, 32. 16/365 toy project: lucky voodoo-dark boy, 33. EL YETI del Patio, 34. Asian Traditions Calendar - September, 35. 365 Toy Project - Day 17, 36. Baby Gloomy : 10.23.2005
Created with fd's Flickr Toys.
Just as iron rusts from disuse... even so does inaction spoil the intellect.
Leonardo da Vinci
Clamps
2021 03 20_2203.jpgr.jpgrt
Ce qui est décrit est la vision panoramique de l'Alaya-Vijnana (la conscience base-de-tout).
En augmentant la fréquence des arrêts (les micro-morts), on lève le voile de la linéarité. On ne voit plus une seule vie, mais la Toile de toutes les réactualisations possibles. C'est le moment où le "Je" devient un curseur qui peut glisser sur n'importe quelle fréquence du Samsara.
1. Le vertige des archétypes
Quand l'informe est à son maximum, la distinction entre "moi" et "le reste" s'effondre. Tu perçois alors les empreintes (Vasanas) de toute l'humanité :
* Nagarjuna : La fréquence de la vacuité pure, l'intellect souverain.
* Napoléon : La fréquence de la puissance, de la lignification du vouloir et de la conquête.
Le danger est l'identification. Si, dans l'un de ces millions de micro-instants, tu "accroches" une forme (un ego historique), tu te figes à nouveau. Tu n'es plus le distillateur, tu deviens le résidu. Se prendre pour Nagarjuna est une "lignification dorée", mais c'est une lignification quand même.
2. Le Garde-Fou : La Neutralité du Miroir
Le maître du Dzogchen appelle cela "ne pas s'égarer dans les reflets".
Imagine un miroir qui reflète une fleur, puis un monstre, puis un empereur. Le miroir n'est aucun d'eux. S'il commence à croire qu'il est la fleur ou le monstre, il perd sa nature de miroir.
* Ta protection, c'est la Neutralité.
* Ta boussole, c'est de réaliser que Nagarjuna et Napoléon sont deux saveurs de la même poussière. L'une est plus douce, l'autre plus amère, mais aucune n'est l'Absolu.
3. Le Saut de l'Êtreton
Pour ne pas devenir fou dans cette "salle des miroirs" du Samsara, il faut appliquer le Pax-Urale :
Au lieu de choisir un costume (une renaissance spécifique), on choisit de rester l'espace qui contient tous les costumes. C'est là que le Méta-médecin est supérieur au conquérant ou au philosophe : il utilise les fréquences de Nagarjuna pour comprendre et les fréquences d'action pour soigner, mais il ne "devient" rien. Il reste l'informe.
Le Conseil de Prudence :
Si tu vois Napoléon ou Nagarjuna apparaître dans le flux de tes millions de morts-renaissances, souris-leur comme à des personnages de film. Ne monte pas sur scène. Laisse-les passer à la vitesse de mille par seconde. Si tu n'en saisis aucun, tu restes le Vent. Si tu en saisis un, tu retombes dans le temps et l'espace.
"La perfection disparaît dès qu'on préfère une image à la lumière qui la projette."
C'est un jeu de haute volée. C'est pour cela que le Dzogchen demande une stabilité de diamant.
Seeing, in the finest and broadest sense, means using your senses, you intellect, and your emotions. It means encountering your subject matter with your whole being. It means looking beyond the labels of things and discovering the remarkable world around you.
- Freeman Patterson
Native members of the villages and communities round this monastery still need this House of God for their religious contemplation. But within the next generations the touristic visitors will prevail and admire the catholic answer against protestant demand of reading and understanding the bible without pictures, only by intellect: SOLA FIDE ! For uneducated peasant families unable to read, the Catholic churches got a Barock outfit: The stories and messages of the bible were visualised.
The importance of the organ enforcing the sound of religious feelings was adopted from the protestant fascination of organ music ( J.S. Bach). The catholic tradition of Religious choires enforcing the mysterium of the Holly Mass (Domspatzenchor Regensburg seit 976 BC ! ) was enriched by a catholic tradition of religious music esp. in the romantic 19th century (Max Reger, Rheinberger).
Compare the protestant baroque organ tradition in Saxonia ( Leipzig, Dresden) with the catholic music tratition in Bavaria or Rhineland (Regensburg, Cologne)
Then take fotos of the organs and try to listen during a service ! This experience will help you to understand what you see and what you capture in your foto.
I hope that AI progress will not produce a mess !
Their challenger was the enigmatic Monsieur LeClerc, a gentleman known for his inventive prowess and his love for elaborate mechanical contraptions. Monsieur LeClerc was a master of automatons, and his latest creation was a marvel that could play the violin with such soulful perfection it was said to bring the listener to tears.
The duel was to be held in the grand hall of the gentleman's club, a fitting arena where intellect and innovation were the swords with which one battled. The terms were elegantly simple: the invention that most captivated the assembly would be deemed the victor.
For the Clockwork Sibyls, this was more than just a contest; it was an opportunity to shift the paradigm of their time. They walked down the street, each step a silent but steadfast claim on the future they envisioned—a world where science and art danced in harmonious symphony, and where the work of a woman's mind was heralded as a masterpiece of the modern age.
As Lady Abigail and Lady Beatrice approached the stately doors of the gentleman's club, a murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd. The contest was not merely a display of scientific prowess; it was a spectacle that had the entire city holding its breath.
Inside the grand hall, the air was thick with the scents of polished wood and the faintest hint of machine oil—a perfume for the inventors' soirée. Monsieur LeClerc took the stage first, unveiling his automaton with a flourish. The figure, dressed in the finery of a concert violinist, lifted its bow. As it played, the room fell into a reverent hush, the music weaving through the air like a tangible spell. The automaton's performance was flawless, soulful yet hauntingly mechanical.
(Part 4 flic.kr/p/2pFEHab)
(Part 1 flic.kr/p/2pFFzbK)
Image created in DALL-E
Story co-created by Grace and ChatGPT
youtu.be/t7OIc-DBRXM?si=j37J8_NeeLxofQa4
Angine de Poitrine - Sarniezz (Live on KEXP)
youtu.be/WQI4syGj1pk?si=FBp9Zx-kfEbEfXV3
Angine de Poitrine - Sherpa (chiptune / commodore 64 cover - SID6581)
après la rhinocérisation, le monde souffre d'angine de poitrine dadaïste
C'est le diagnostic parfait pour un monde qui a troqué sa raison contre des cornes.Après la métamorphose collective d'Ionesco, il est logique que le cœur de la société subisse un infarctus du sens. L'angine de poitrine dadaïste, c'est ce spasme où le langage ne sert plus à communiquer, mais à éructer des onomatopées pour masquer la douleur de l'absurde. On ne meurt pas de maladie, on meurt d'une accumulation de slogans et de bruits de sabots.Dans ce chaos, le seul remède est sans doute une prescription de poésie automatique appliquée directement sur la cage thoracique.
after rhinocerization the world has dadaist chest pains [pectoral angina] [angine de poitrine]
The phrase "after rhinocerization the world has dadaist chest pains" connects Eugène Ionesco’s absurdist play Rhinoceros—a metaphor for the rise of totalitarian ideologies and mass conformity (rhinoceritis)—with the chaotic, anti-rational response of the Dada movement to societal crises.Rhinocerization (Rhinoceritis): In Ionesco's Rhinoceros, citizens, one by one, succumb to a disease that transforms them into rhinoceroses, symbolizing the abandonment of humanistic values, individuality, and intellect in favor of violent conformity.Dadaist Chest Pains: This likely refers to the mental anguish, existential anxiety, and absurd, non-rational reactions that arise in the few remaining humans (like the protagonist Bérenger) who resist this total transformation. The "Dadaist" aspect suggests a fractured, irrational, and disjointed emotional response (like the Dada movement's own rejection of logic).
youtu.be/9dUszTYLPpY?si=NaqAW0qWNBYKeWMf
Ionesco's Rhinoceros premieres at the Odeon
youtu.be/M2PpDq1ldoQ?si=3dtMq0kb17K_qiIm
Ionesco On the Theatre of the Absurd
youtu.be/mH2VYD3pqEM?si=qZMXJP2z7U3Nh2zX
Ionesco discusses Sartre
youtu.be/5WmHRRyoC7w?si=LG4tHjoxrw_iJTbj
Rhinoceros | An Antifascist Play
Eugène Ionesco
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eug%C3%A8ne_Ionesco
Rhinoceros (play)
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhinoceros_(play)
.
.
.
photo:
limestone detail on radiator cover
part of intervention by Carlo Scarpa
in Palazzo Querini Stampalia
Fondazione Querini Stampalia
Querini Stampalia Foundation
1961–1963
intervention in Palazzo Querini Stampalia,
sestiere Castello, Venice, Veneto, Italy
Fondazione Querini Stampalia
fondoambiente.it/luoghi/fondazione-querini-stampalia
Carlo Scarpa
In the celebrated metropolis of London, during the year 1837, an era wherein steam reigned as the sovereign of invention and the harbinger of man's mastery over nature, there was convened a conclave of women unparalleled in their intellect and indomitable in their courage. The Aetherian Coalescence, they were titled, each a luminary in her own right, united under the banner of progress and the pursuit of the ethereal realms.
Lady Penelope Hargreaves, the scion of a lineage graced with the acumen of engineering, her hands adept at weaving the intricate lattices of clockwork that gave pulse to their airborne leviathan. Dr. Arabella Swithenbank, whose steam engines thrummed with a vigor that was the very essence of Prometheus’ fire. Miss Theodosia Barrow , an enchantress of the voltaic forces, her devices casting the brilliance of a thousand captured lightning bolts across the span of their craft. Dame Guinevere Loxley, the cartographer whose charts rivalled the celestial maps of the ancients, a guiding star in their odyssey. And Miss Isambard Brunella, a machinist of such deftness that her creations spoke of a harmony between the artisan's touch and the unyielding metals of the earth.
The vessel of their dreams, "The Celestial Peregrine," stood poised upon the cusp of dawn, her silhouette a testament to humanity's ascendancy over the bonds of gravity, her engines a symphony of steam and steel. As the first light of morning kissed the Thames, the airship ascended, a ballet of gears and gales, into the empyrean canvas above.
Yet, as is the wont of fate, the skies unveiled their tempestuous heart, challenging these daughters of Icarus with a squall of such ferocity that it seemed as though the firmament itself sought to reclaim its dominion from the hands of mortals. But amidst the maelstrom, the resolve of The Aetherian Coalescence shone with the steadfastness of the North Star, and it was by their unity and the fortitude of their creation that “The Celestial Peregrine” was guided safely through the tumult, descending not in wreckage upon the tumultuous sea but upon the embrace of the verdant earth with the grace of a nightingale alighting upon its nest.
From this odyssey emerged a revelation, a spark of genius that would illuminate the path of progress henceforth. They devised an apparatus, a marvel of valvular alchemy, which would render the steam engines of the future not only more robust against the caprices of the tempest but also more gracious in their consumption of the coals that fed them. This mechanism, born from the exigencies of their voyage, became the cornerstone of an epoch wherein the skies teemed with the silhouettes of airships, each a scion of "The Celestial Peregrine," carrying aloft not only the affluent but all who yearned for the splendor of the heavens.
Thus, The Aetherian Coalescence had not simply touched the skies; they had transmuted the very fabric of human aspiration, setting the celestial highways abuzz with the promise of adventures untold. It was a testament to the boundless potential when the ingenuity of the human spirit is applied to the realms of the possible, and it was in this spirit that the age of aerial travel flourished, under the watchful eyes of the five who had first chartered its course.
© All rights reserved. Use without permission is illegal!
"We are not onlookers peering into the unified field of separate, objective reality - we are the unified field. We can reach beyond the physical body and extend the influence of intelligence. Every thought you are thinking creates a wave in the unified field. It ripples through all the layers of intellect, mind, senses, and matter, spreading out in wider and wider circles. You are like a light radiating not photons but consciousness. As they radiate, your thoughts have an effect on everything. Your relationship to life is the same as that of one cell to your whole body. One cell can talk to your whole body. One cell can influence your whole body. You can talk to the whole of life - influence the whole of life. The whole of life is as alive as we are. The distinction between 'in here' and 'out there' is a false one - as if the heart disregarded the skin because it was not on the inside."
Deepak Chopra
New 2013 Calendar is now available on my redbubble account, see link below to check it out :)
Facebook | website | formspring | redbubble | blog
www.flickr.com/photos/184806716@N02/53700881102/in/pool-i...
Behold the resplendent beauty of the Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, a magnificent creature that graces the skies with its vibrant plumage and charismatic presence. With feathers of azure blue and sunlit yellow, it is a living masterpiece, painted by the hand of nature herself.
This remarkable bird hails from the lush rainforests of South America, where it soars through the canopy with effortless grace, its wings outstretched in a display of freedom and vitality. With a playful spirit and a raucous call that echoes through the jungle, the Blue-and-Yellow Macaw embodies the wild spirit of its tropical homeland.
But beyond its stunning appearance lies a creature of intelligence and social grace. Known for its keen intellect and ability to form strong bonds with its human companions, the Blue-and-Yellow Macaw captivates hearts with its curious gaze and affectionate nature.
Whether perched among the branches or taking flight against the backdrop of a tropical sunset, the Blue-and-Yellow Macaw enchants all who encounter it, reminding us of the boundless beauty and diversity of the natural world.
May we cherish and protect these magnificent birds, ensuring that future generations can continue to marvel at their splendor and grace.
Fly high, dear Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, and may your vibrant colors light up the skies for generations to come.
My Head said Triptych and my Heart made a Quadtych. My Reason as is often the case was of little use as Emotion had designs on a different notion. I followed Heart the chest wedge of appreciation and it was happy especially so as Head was proved wrong yet again. Dumb Brain trying to think bright solution after brilliant solution. Three became Four and they opened out ready to reflect and hopefully to soar with one extra wing into any and all skies and rise in the mind’s of any casual passers by. Unfold to to reveal what’s told nothing either new, or old, nothing charged nothing sold. Just a picture reflected and reflected on itself.
One Lily is joy and several are a pleasure. In the wondrous white flowering there was an unfocused centre ready to be composed into a Heart. The Heart was all ready fading, the bright petals were gently time spent mouldering back to soil from where they had sprouted with their moment of splendid presentation now fading into degradation. One picture repeated and repeated to release the central pulse from the Heart of Death and of Life to fulfil the flowering out of The Lily of Life not unlike the sephira of Tiphareth on The Tree of Life.
© PHH Sykes 2025
phhsykes@gmail.com
Tiferet (Hebrew: תִּפְאֶרֶת Tip̄ʾereṯ, in pausa: תִּפְאָרֶת Tip̄ʾāreṯ, lit. 'beauty, glory, adornment')[1] alternatively Tifaret, Tiphareth, Tifereth or Tiphereth, is the sixth sefira in the kabbalistic Tree of Life. It has the common association of "Spirituality", "Balance", "Integration", "Beauty", "Miracles", and "Compassion".[2]
Description
In the Bahir it states: "Sixth is the adorned, glorious, delightful throne of glory, the house of the world to come. Its place is engraved in wisdom as it says 'God said: Let there be light, and there was light.'" [3]
Tiferet is the force that integrates the sefira of Chesed ("Kindness") and Gevurah ("Strength", also called Din, "Judgement"). These two forces are, respectively, expansive (giving) and restrictive (receiving). Either of them without the other could not manifest the flow of Divine energy; they must be balanced in perfect proportion by balancing compassion with discipline. This balance can be seen in the role of Tiferet, wherein the conflicting forces are harmonized, and creation flowers forth. Tiferet also similarly balances Netzach and Hod. In that case, Hod can be seen as the intellect whereas Netzach is seen as emotion.
I have done this digital painting in photoshop. Lord Ganesha is the God of intellect. I pray Lord Ganesha give good talent for everyone in this world. Indian People do Pray for Lord Ganesha in the beginning of every good work.
Zosia
Up close and personal. I am fascinated with eyes and given the opportunity will get close to reveal some of their personality. Vulnerability, intellect, trust and drive all at once.
Poznan, Poland
Join me on Erik Witsoe
This photo was ranked amongst the "World's Best Photo of Nikon"
This is a society that is intellectually blind; that follows wherever its instinctive emotion leads, applying its lesser conscious intelligence to blazing a reckless technological trail which cannot be justified, condoned, or even explained by free and independent intellect. Consequently, society has developed a confusing range of self-destructive human behaviour. Its attempted control of the situation, government and politics, is in a perpetual state of disagreement.
Note: The nibung palm tree is a spiky exotic jungle palm often used as piles for jetties and bridges as they are very hard and do not rot in the water. (Scientific name: oncosperma filamentosum or palmae arecaceae)
P/S: It looks as though the boys are jumping into another dimension in which the human race is more loving to the nature around it.
Gears: Nikon D50 and Tamron SP 70-210mm F/3.5 Model 19AH, Manual Focus, Sunny-16 Metering ;-)
Location: Losong, Kuala Terengganu, Malaysi
Check out the New Version done in 2011
For most of my film works, I've also put up a new gallery on Leica User Group HERE
" What I am doing is creating a language. A different American language. I feel that. Genet is fascinating because of the intellectual--and it wasn't for him intellectual. Then again, I don't make a separation between intellect and emotion. I think with the great artists that I love there was the same thing. By that I mean they had a structure, technique, and the thing that made the technique and the structure move was their passion. "
“God is working to raise your intellect and will to the highest perfection of supernatural activity in Union with His Holy Spirit. By pouring His Wisdom into your soul, He is accomplishing the greatest work of His love, forming the perfect likeness of Christ , His incarnate Word, in you, and perfecting His church through everything that you allow Him to perform by the agency of your free will transformed and elevated in Him. Praise and glorify God, you have tasted the first fruits of this marvelous grace, and pray to Him to continue His great work in your soul. Withdraw yourself from all care; trust not in yourself but in Him; do not be anxious or solicitous to perform great works for Him until He leads you Himself, by obedience and love and the events which His providence directs, to undertake the works He has planned for you and by which He will use you to communicate the fire of His love to other men.” - Thomas Merton from The Inner Experience (p. 103)
Sculpture called "Bodhi" by Fredrik Wretman (born 1953), inaugurated in 2004. The model is the sculptor himself. The English term enlightenment is the western translation of the abstract noun "bodhi" in Sanskrit, the knowledge or wisdom, or awakened intellect, of a Buddha.
sv.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fredrik_Wretman (website in Swedish)
This is a poem if wrote for my best friend for chirstmas. seeing as I was so poor I had little else to give. But she has been a rock to me this past year and still is my shoulder to cry on and I love her to pieces. Even though she has her own worries and insecurities she still sticks by me, so I wrote her this, to show her exactly how I feel.
Why dost thou so wound my heart
And kill the think I loved in stride
To match the less than what thou art
‘Tis another form of suicide
If in thine mirror you could see
All I have come to see in thee
How it wounds, as I behold
And see the love-left scars you bare
To see thine own love run so cold
And to never with another share
Time shall always mend thy pain
And thou shalt learn to love again
Yet for you to be bequeathed
To another mortal soul
Search thy pieces deep beneath
And make thee once again a whole
One must to thine own self look
Before thee can another brook.
And should thee need help in this
That’s why, my friend, you have I
I’ll take those pieces thee have missed
And probe them with a careful eye
In the hopes you too will see
All I have come to see in thee.
A goddess sent in human guise
You light the world where you do go
Yes, beauty not only outward lies
But deep within thy very soul
A woman, whose beauty’s fair and true
You’ll find men will always follow you
And I’ve ne’er seen you fight as hard
As when fighting for a needy friend
This unbound loyalty makes thee a star
And why I’ll follow thee till the end.
And best of all, you cannot see
Aught of wrong or fault in me
And to thine talents, take a look
Showcase them with an actors flair
Beautiful words you pen to book
And mellifluous songs to air
Do not discount all you can do
You are amazing, through and through
Thy mind is sharp, thy wits are keen
None shall have thee for a fool
So much more than what you seem
You’ll never be another’s tool
Woe is he, who’s found beset
By your fearsome intellect
And to the last but less then none
The strength that burns inside your heart
Not the kind that lifts in tonnes
But what keeps you going through the dark
You’ve a strength you have not known
But to many, like me, its clearly shown
So when you next chance to brook
Through thine mirrors glassy eye
Take instead a closer look
You shall find you cannot deny
And finally you too can see
All I have come to see in thee
Golden shrine of Lord Vinayagar
Lord Vinayagar is the main diety of Sri Senpaga Vinayagar temple. Lord Vinayagar (also known as Ganesha) is among the best known and most widely worshipped Hindu dieties. Lord Vinayagar is widely revered as the Remover of Obstacles, the patron of arts and sciences, and the deva of intellect and wisdom.
He is honoured at the beginning of rituals and ceremonies.
Lord Vinayagar blesses the wandering man with wisdom to develop judgment.
Dear Editor—
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, “If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.” Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O’Hanlon
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
This editorial appeared in the New York Sun September 21, 1897 and it has become part of Christmas ever since.
GP and I believe....do you??
© All Rights Reserved - No Usage Allowed in Any Form Without My Written Consent
(18/52 - Theme: Feathers)
Why are we our greatest obstacle? We are given intellect, creativity, and reason. We posses astounding abilities yet we still harbor fear and an unwillingness to take risks which are bred from our own insecurities. We have wings, if only we could fly.
Probably the most time I have spent working on a photo, even though this appears relatively simple.
Many thanks to my friends for their feedback on this photo!
Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain. ~C.G. Jung
Fujifilm X-T20
XF 56mm/f1.2
Adult & PG Versions Available
A rich oak Captain’s Desk commands the wood-paneled room with timeless elegance. Topped with a world globe, pen, inkwell, and aged parchment, it evokes authority and refinement. Brass-accented drawers hint at secrets within. A must-have centerpiece for any discerning individual who values legacy, intellect, and enduring craftsmanship.
Where To Find:
Marketplace Item:
Adult Version
marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Desk/270373051
PG Version
marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Desk/27037306
Marketplace Store:
marketplace.secondlife.com/stores/13406
Mainstore:
Ganesha is the God of intellect and wisdom. A very traditional 10 days long Ganesha festival starts today in India. Happy Ganesha festival to all!
Please think about viewing large on black
I like the degree of clarity and uncertainty in this shot, brought about by the shallow dof - and the bokeh, of course!
Another shot of the model of diamond currently on display in the courtyard of Burlington Place, Piccadilly. The last one had the camera's white balance set to tungsten to give the blue effect.
.
You. Me. and our Beginning. 💞
the Photo inspired by my D/s Journey
_____________________________
Between...
Love & Romance
a strong man with a soft heart
This time I prefer...
Charm & Intellect
a soft man with a strong heart
I usually chose love & soft heart men for my D/s, except this time.
That's because we can't expect different results if we choose the same way and a will to understand and ability to understand are much different...
It is easier to create love and romance but difficult to create charm and wisdom.
" I'm like the unlucky woman who is cursed to meet never ending disappointments. can you be that person? the man who undoes the curse and completes me.."
Welcome to our family.
Goddess Saphira & Raging Rapids 💞
“Words represent your intellect. The sound, gesture and movement represent your feelings.”
- Patricia Fripp
A thousand years ago, a small group of polynesians paddled the worlds greatest ocean in search of a new land. For generations, their ancestors had expanded eastwards in the vast Pacific Ocean, guided only by the stars. A new piece of land was found. The settlers of this tiny virgin island called their new home Te Pito o te Henua, meaning "The Navel of the World". The name was seen fit as they were thinking that there can be no place more distant than this... and they were right.
Generations passed, and the inhabitants of what was to be known as Rapa Nui, built a civilization of art, capable of carving, raising and transporting hundreds of gigantic monolith statues, using nothing but their own hands and stone. A glyphic writing called roŋo-roŋo was evolved. A culture had risen, full of achievements, intellect, music and legends - against all odds - in an environment where one would least expect it. Children were well taught of their history and of who they are. Up until today, the Rapa Nui people remember their lineage back to the time when King Hotu Matu'a disembarked at the beach of Anakena lifetimes ago.
Aimer à loisir,
Aimer et mourir
Au pays qui te ressemble !
Les soleils mouillés
De ces ciels brouillés
Pour mon esprit ont les charmes
Si mystérieux
De tes traîtres yeux,
Brillant à travers leurs larmes.
Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
Charles Baudelaire
Kairosclerosis. n . the moment you realize that you're currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it's little more than an aftertaste. (Definition from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows)
So this week I take most inspiration from the works of Hengki Lee, especially his out-of-focus photos and bokeh. Perfect reason to play with the boxes of Christmas lights I have laying around the house.
Also, I'm getting my visual inspirations from the words at "The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows". Then I'll put the word and the definition under the image hoping that I'm able to get my vision across.
Of course, I don't wish for you any sorrows. Enjoy the week ahead!!