View allAll Photos Tagged sobriety
Wallace fountains are public drinking fountains designed by Charles-Auguste Lebourg that appear in the form of small cast-iron sculptures scattered throughout the city of Paris, France, mainly along the most-frequented sidewalks. They are named after the Englishman Richard Wallace, who financed their construction. A great aesthetic success, they are recognized worldwide as one of the symbols of Paris.
Our Lady of the Conception Church of Santarém. Portugal
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Made for Challenge for October in the group ' Portugal Mágico'
www.flickr.com/groups/portugalmagico/discuss/721576278268...
Thanks JoesSistah for your beautiful texture.
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Built between 1672 and 1711, integrates, for the originality and sobriety of the façade in the style "floor." Educational and religious function, it was after the model of Jesuit churches in Brazil (Bahia). After the expulsion of the Jesuits from Portugal this place became the Patriarchal Seminary.
Today is the Cathedral.
In 1647 D. John IV gives the old Town Hall to the Royal Society of Jesus in exchange for building the church thatT presents a Mannerist façade within the language used on the Jesuit buildings, entering the interior has a Baroque program, particularly on their altars inlaid with marble, tile and ceiling paintings. (National Monument)
Spied this heron along with other waterfowl early one morning, love the way the tone matches the colors of the bird
I saw these numbers painted on the pavement of our local school. I happened to be walking nearest to the negative numbers and immediately was reminded of of all the negativity swirling around me this month and this year.
Then I reflected on the entire year — an entire year of my life. And I was snapped into sobriety. A message, clear as day, presented itself to me in this instance: When you're slapped in the face with so much positive, you only have to change a few things to focus on the positive.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Jenny Joseph
Five years since my last drunk today....
We all have our Demons I'm just proud I replaced mine with a pair of
Angels.........
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The houses of Aldeia Transmontana (Águas Frias - Chaves - Portugal) are an example of the rich rural architecture of northern Portugal.
In the past, they were grayish from the granite stone or whitewashed, colors that reflected the sobriety of rural life.
Today, many of these houses have been painted bright, eye-catching colors such as yellow, blue, red and green.
This change reflects the region's growing prosperity and residents' desire to express their individuality and creativity.
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The architecture of Trás-os-Montes houses is influenced by several factors, including the local climate, available materials and cultural traditions.
The houses are generally made of stone with tiled roofs.
The walls are often thick to help keep heat in the winter and cool in the summer.
The windows are small to prevent heat loss.
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Trás-os-Montes houses are also characterized by their balconies.
Balconies are used for relaxing, eating and socializing.
They can also be used to store firewood or other items.
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The change to bright colors in Trás-os-Montes houses is a relatively recent phenomenon. It began in the 1960s, when the region began to experience economic growth.
People had more money available and started investing in their homes.
They painted their houses bright colors to express their happiness and prosperity.
The shift to bright colors was also driven by a broader cultural movement that valued individuality and creativity.
People wanted their homes to reflect their own personalities and tastes.
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The change to bright colors in Trás-os-Montes houses had a positive impact on the region.
Homes are now more attractive and inviting. They also contribute to a sense of community and pride.
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However, the change was also not without its critics.
Some people believe that the bright colors are too flashy and detract from the natural beauty of the region.
Others believe the change is a sign of the loss of tradition.
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In conclusion, we can say that the change to bright colors in Trás-os-Montes houses is a reflection of the region's growing prosperity and desire to express individuality.
The change had a positive impact on the region, making it more attractive and inviting.
However, the change has also been met with some criticism, with some people believing that the bright colors are too flashy and detract from the region's natural beauty.
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Águas Frias is a parish in the municipality of Chaves, in the district of Vila Real, in Portugal.
The parish has a population of around 300 inhabitants.
The local economy is based on agriculture and livestock.
Águas Frias is known for its beautiful rural landscape and rich traditional culture.
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Text & Photography: ©MárioSilva
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The church is also known as the Church College, in memory of belonging to the Jesuits. In 1579 the Jesuit architect John Maria Bernardoni described the general father of the order "the place where the college is to be held". Three projects are known, conforming to the ideals of sobriety and synthesis of the company of Jesus. Two are kept in the National Library of Paris.
This church is the only orthodox example of architecture against reformed, whose characteristic is the perfect match between interior and exterior: the refined and luminous balance of the classroom is already visible from the façade. This is played on the contrast between the white plaster and red of the vulcanite with which the slopes and frames framing the wooden portal are realized. The bicromia continues in the tympanum in the center of which is dominated by the coat of arms of the Society of Jesus.
Inside, the aisle has three chapels per side, which contribute to unitarity and momentum to the entire structure. Symbol of the trinity, the chapels from the structural point of view are in tune with the presbytery. The cover is a barrel vaulted by a bow that is full-bodied and, in both cases, steps fill the slope with the lowest floor
La chiesa è nota anche come chiesa del Collegio, in ricordo all'appartenenza ai gesuiti. Nel 1579 l'architetto gesuita Giovanni Maria Bernardoni descrive al padre generale dell'ordine "il loco dove si ha da fare il collegio". Sono noti tre progetti, conformi agli ideali di sobrietà e sintesi della compagnia di Gesù. Due sono conservati nella Biblioteca Nazionale di Parigi.
Questa chiesa è l'unico esempio iglesiente di architettura contro riformata, la cui caratteristica è la perfetta corrispondenza fra interno ed esterno: il raffinato e luminoso equilibrio dell'aula è intuibile già dalla facciata. Questa è giocata sul contrasto tra l'intonaco bianco e il rosso della vulcanite con cui sono realizzate le lesene e le cornici che inquadrano il portale ligneo. La bicromia continua nel timpano al centro del quale domina lo stemma della Compagnia di Gesù.
All'interno, la navata ha tre cappelle per lato che contribuiscono a conferire unitarietà e slancio all'intera struttura. Simbolo della trinità, le cappelle dal punto di vista strutturale sono in sintonia col presbiterio. La copertura è una volta a botte introdotta da arco a tutto sesto ornato a lacunari ed, in entrambi i casi, gradini colmano il dislivello con l'aula che si presenta più bassa
Atelier ff mendoza ESP/FR/ ENG
Este templo cristiano catolico esta cerca de las explotaciones salineras (las salinas de Cabo de Gata) que existen desde la epoca romana . A diferencia de otros edificos de la zona se levanto sobre plataforma para evitar la entrada de agua y arena . Es de principios del siglo xx y se caracteriza por su eclecticismo y sobriedad ...
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Cette église catholique chrétienne est à proximité des mines de sel (les salines de Cabo de Gata) exploitées depuis l'époque romaine. Contrairement à d'autres bâtiments dans la région se construit à partir d'une plate-forme pour empêcher la pénétration de l'eau et de sable.Construit au début du siècle XXe siècle et se caractérise par son éclectisme et sobriété ...
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This Catholic Christian church is close to the salt mines (the salt flats of Cabo de Gata) there since Roman times. Unlike other buildings in the area got up on deck to prevent the ingress of water and sand. It is in the early twentieth century and is characterized by its eclecticism and sobriety ...
Bâtie il y a plus de deux cent soixante-dix ans, cette propriété dont les parties privées brillent par leur sobriété alors que les parties communes sont des plus raffinées donne à voir des objets de la vie quotidienne des samouraïs ainsi que des armures. Très bien préservées, ces pièces donnent un très bon aperçu de la vie à l’époque du Japon féodal.
www.vivrelejapon.com/ville-matsue/la-rue-shiomi-nawate
A lire :
www.matsue-tourism.or.jp/buke/page02.html
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Built there are over two hundred and seventy years, this property whose private parts are conspicuous by their sobriety while the common areas are more refined gives see objects of everyday life and the samurai armor. Very well preserved, these pieces give a very good insight into life in feudal Japan era.
Translated from:
De Marrakech a Merzouga
La belleza del Atlas con su sistema montañoso e inmensidad, la dureza de su clima, su escasa o nula vegetación, la sobriedad de la existencia y la austeridad de medios para la población. La grandiosidad del desierto, sus dunas. La tradición de sus pueblos, mercados y vendedores en los zocos. Sus típicos regateos previos al cierre de un trato. La dignidad de sus gentes, sus típicos atuendos para protegerse del excesivo calor. Todo ello hace esta experiencia especial e inolvidable.
From Marrakech to Merzouga
The beauty of the Atlas mountain range and its immensity, the hardness of its climate, little or no vegetation, sobriety of life and austerity of means for the population. The grandeur of the desert dunes. The tradition of their peoples, markets and sellers in the souks. Its typical prior to the closing of a deal haggling. The dignity of its people, their traditional clothing to protect themselves from excessive heat. All this makes this special and unforgettable experience.
© Copyright Rebels Abú 2010 | All rights reserved.
Please do not use, copy or edit any of my materials without my written permission. If you want to use this or any other image, please contact me first.
Thanks for the visit!
Design : Tong Liu
Paper : One uncut square, Double tissue, 6*6
Final size : 5*3
A perfect way to start the year of the rooster : Tong Liu shared the diagrams for his very cute rooster, which became the folding challenge for February on the French forum : here's my entry !
He shows different shapings on his Flickr account. I went for sobriety, especially given the size of my paper. Feel free to compare with his : flic.kr/p/RiR3zQ !
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I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become.
Words by Carl Jung
♫ - Tanita Tikaram - Twist In My Sobriety
for Flickriver - Sophie Shapiro
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I would like to thank everyone who takes an interest in my work. I am truly grateful and appreciate your ongoing support and positive feedback. Please take good care of yourselves in these uncertain times. Keep well, safe & inspired.
Kind regards, Sophie.
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As said by one of two bikers who passed thru this gate with bollards and metal poles preventing car traffic onto Oregon Avenue from Discovery Park Boulevard
UN MANIERO ALLE PORTE DELLA CARNIA
La sobrietà delle forme e l’essenzialità estetica caratterizzano da sempre l’aspetto di questo maniero che, considerata la collocazione privilegiata a fini difensivi, era sorto come luogo di guardia e controllo sulle importanti vie di comunicazione che attraversavano la pianura sottostante.
Note tratte dal sito:
www.castellodiartegna.it/castello-savorgnan/
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A MANOR ON THE DOORSTEP OF CARNIA
The sobriety of the forms and the aesthetic essentiality have always characterized the appearance of this manor which, considering the privileged location for defensive purposes, was created as a place of guard and control over the important communication routes that crossed the plain below.
CANON EOS 600D con ob. CANON EF 24-85 f./3,5-4,5 USM
La iglesia concatedral de San Nicolás de Bari, es una sede catedralicia de la diócesis de Orihuela-Alicante. Se encuentra situada en la Plaza Abad Penalva de Alicante (España) fue edificada sobre los restos de una mezquita, en estilo renacentista herreriano. Sobria en su aspecto exterior, su construcción se realizó entre 1616 y 1662, aunque su claustro, más antiguo, data del siglo XV. Fue elevada como concatedral en 1959, compartiendo la sede catedralicia con la Santa Iglesia Catedral del Salvador de Orihuela.
Su aspecto exterior es de una gran sobriedad que estilísticamente enmarcaremos entre un renacimiento tardío y el primigenio barroco desornamentado. Construida según planos de Agustín Bernardino, discípulo de Herrera, conserva sin embargo trazas del claustro pertenecientes al s. XV, testimonio de un templo anterior más pequeño que se alzó sobre una antigua mezquita.
English:
The cathedral church of St. Nicholas of Bari, is a cathedral seat of the diocese of Orihuela-Alicante. It is located in the Plaza Abad Penalva Alicante (Spain) was built on the ruins of a mosque, in the Renaissance style Herrera. Sober in appearance, it was built between 1616 and 1662, although its cloister, oldest, dating from the fifteenth century. It was elevated as a cathedral in 1959, sharing the seat with the Holy Cathedral Church of the Saviour Cathedral of Orihuela.
Its outward appearance is of great sobriety stylistically framed by a late Renaissance and Baroque desornamentado primal. Built to plans by Augustine Bernardino, a pupil of Herrera, nevertheless retains traces of the cloister belonging to s. XV, testimony of a previous smaller temple which rose on an ancient mosque.
OTRA FORMA DE VER MI GALERIA. Mira todas mis fotos y amplia la que quieras
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Mis blogs:
I know that this photograph will not like much.
But it resembles to me: clearly - obscure, sobriety, research depth of the heart, of what hides behind appearance.
Je sais que cette photo ne plaira pas beaucoup .
Mais elle me ressemble : clair -obscur , sobriété , recherche de la profondeur de l'âme , de ce qui se cache derrière l'apparence ..
164/365
"Look my eyes are just holograms
Look your love has drawn red from my hands
From my hands you know you'll never be
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety"
Tanita Tikaram: Twist in My Sobriety
Lens: Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS USM
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Thank you for clicking on my picture. Every thought (faves, comments) appreciated!
Good lights to all of you, fellows.
FEARLESS - March 20, 2012
Chapter 1 – “Why Are We Afraid”
“Why are you fearful? O you of little faith.” Matthew 8:26
You would have liked my brother. Everyone did. Dee made friends like bakers make bread: daily, easily, warmly. Handshake—big and eager; laughter—contagious and volcanic. He permitted no stranger to remain one for long. I, the shy younger brother, relied on him to make introductions for us both. When a new kid moved onto the street or walked onto the playground, Dee was the ambassador.
But in his mid-teen years, he made one acquaintance he should have avoided—a bootlegger who would sell beer to underage drinkers. Alcohol made a play for us both, but where it entwined me, it enchained him. Over the next four decades, my brother drank away health, relationships, jobs, money, and all but the last two years of his life.
Who can say why resolve sometimes wins and sometimes loses, but at the age of fifty-four my brother discovered an aquifer of will power, drilled deep, and enjoyed a season of sobriety. He emptied his bottles, stabilized his marriage, reached out to his children, and exchanged the liquor store for the local AA. But the hard living had taken its toll. Three decades of three-packs-a-day smoking had turned his big heart into ground meat.
On a January night during the week I began writing this book, he told Donna, his wife, that he couldn’t breathe well. He already had a doctor’s appointment for a related concern, so he decided to try to sleep. No luck. He awoke at 4:00 a.m. with chest pains severe enough to warrant a call to the emergency room. The rescue team loaded Dee on the gurney and told Donna to meet them at the hospital. My brother waved weakly and smiled bravely and told Donna not to worry, but by the time she and one of Dee’s sons reached the hospital, he was gone.
The attending physician told them the news and invited them to step into the room where Dee’s body lay. Holding each other, they walked through the doors and saw his final message. His hand was resting on the top of his thigh with the two center fingers folded in and thumb extended, the universal sign language symbol of “I love you.”
I’ve tried to envision the final moments of my brother’s earthly life: racing down a Texas highway in an ambulance through an inky night, paramedics buzzing around him, his heart weakening within him. Struggling for each breath, at some point he realized only a few remained. But he didn’t panic or cower, he quarried some courage.
Perhaps you could use some? I know I could. An ambulance isn’t the only ride that demands valor. You may not be down to your final heartbeat, but you may be down to your last paycheck, solution, or thimble of faith. Each sunrise seems to bring fresh reasons for fear.
They’re talking layoffs at work, slowdowns in the economy, flare-ups in the Middle East, turnovers at headquarters, downturns in the housing market, upswings in global warming, breakouts of Al Qaeda cells. Some demented dictator is collecting nuclear warheads like others collect fine wines. A strain of Asian flu is boarding flights out of China. The plague of our day, terrorism, begins with the word terror. News programs disgorge enough hand-wringing information to warrant an advisory. “Caution: this news report is best viewed in the confines of an underground vault in Iceland.”
We fear being sued, finishing last, going broke; we fear the mole on the back, the new kid on the block, the sound of the clock as it ticks us closer to the grave. We sophisticate investment plans, create elaborate security systems, and stronger military; yet we depend on mood-altering drugs more than any generation in history. Moreover, “the average child today … has the same level of anxiety as the average psychiatric patient in the 1950s.”
Fear, it seems, has taken a hundred-year lease on the building next door and set up shop. Oversized and rude, unwilling to share the heart with happiness. Happiness complies. Do you ever see the two together? Can one be happy and afraid at the same time? Clear thinking and afraid? Confident and afraid? Merciful and afraid? No. Fear is the big bully in the high school hallway: brash, loud, and unproductive. For all the noise fear makes and room it takes, fear does little good.
Fear never wrote a symphony or poem, negotiated a peace treaty, or cured a disease. Fear never pulled a family out of poverty or a country out of bigotry. Fear never saved a marriage or a business. Courage did that. Faith did that. People who refused to consult or cower to their timidities did that. But fear itself? Fear herds us into a prison of unlocked doors.
Wouldn’t it be great to walk out?
Imagine your life, wholly untouched by angst. What if faith, not fear, was your default reaction to threats? If you could hover a fear magnet over your heart and extract every last shaving of dread, insecurity, or doubt, what would remain? Envision a day, just one day, absent the dread of failure, rejection, or calamity. Can you imagine a life with no fear? This is the possibility behind Jesus’ question.
“Why are you afraid?” he asks.
At first blush we wonder if Jesus is serious. He may be kidding. Teasing. Pulling a quick one. Kind of like one swimmer asking another, “Why are you wet?” But Jesus doesn’t smile. He’s dead earnest. So are the men to whom he asks the question. A storm has turned their Galilean dinner cruise into a white-knuckled plunge.
Here is how one of them remembered the trip. “Jesus got into a boat, and his followers went with him. A great storm arose on the lake so that the waves covered the boat” (Mt. 8:23-24 NCV).
These are Matthew’s words. He remembered well the pouncing tempest and bouncing boat and was careful in his terminology. Not just any noun would do. He pulled his Greek thesaurus off the shelf and hunted for a descriptor that exploded like the waves across the bow. He bypassed common terms for spring shower, squall, cloudburst, or downpour. They didn’t capture what he felt and saw that night: a rumbling earth and quivering shoreline. He recalled more than winds and white tops. His finger followed the column of synonyms down, down until he landed on a word that worked. “Ah, there it is.” Seismos—a quake, a trembling eruption of sea and sky. “A great seismos arose on the lake.”
The term still occupies a spot in our vernacular. A seismologist studies earthquakes, a seismograph measures them, and Matthew, along with a crew of recent recruits, felt a seismos that shook them to the core. He only used the word on two other occasions, once at Jesus’ death when Calvary shook (Mt. 27:51-54), and again at Jesus’ resurrection when the graveyard tremored (28:2). Apparently, the stilled storm shares equal billing in the trilogy of Jesus’ great shake-ups: defeating guilt on the cross, death at the tomb, and now silencing fear on the sea.
Sudden fear. We know the fear was sudden because the storm was. An older translation reads, “Suddenly a great tempest arose on the sea” (NKJV emphasis mine).
Not all storms come suddenly. Prairie farmers can see the formation of thunderclouds hours before the rain falls. This storm, however, sprang like a lion out of the grass. One minute the disciples were shuffling cards for a mid-journey game of Hearts; the next they were gulping Galilean sea spray.
Peter and John, seasoned sailors, struggled to keep down the sail. Matthew, confirmed landlubber, struggled to keep down his breakfast. The storm was not what the tax collector bargained for. Do you sense his surprise in the way he linked his two phrases? “Jesus got into a boat, and his followers went with him. A great storm arose on the lake…” (vs. 23-24 NKJV).
Wouldn’t you hope for a more chipper second sentence, a happier consequence of obedience? “Jesus got into a boat. His followers went with him and… suddenly…a great rainbow arched in the sky, a flock of doves hovered in happy formation, a sea of glass mirrored their mast…” Don’t Christ-followers enjoy a calendar full of Caribbean cruises? No. This story sends the not-so-subtle and not-too-popular reminder: getting on board with Christ can mean getting soaked with Christ. Disciples can expect rough seas and stout winds. “In this world you will [not ‘might,’ ‘may‘ or ‘could’] have tribulation” (Jn. 16:33 brackets mine).
Christ-followers contract malaria, bury children, and battle addictions, and, as a result, face fears. It’s not the absence of storms that sets us apart. It’s whom we discover in the storm: an unstirred Christ.
“Jesus was sleeping” (vs. 24 NCV).
Now there’s a scene. The disciples scream, Jesus dreams. Thunder roars, Jesus snores. He doesn’t doze, catnap, or rest. He slumbers. Who could sleep at a time like this? Could you? Could you snooze during a roller coaster loop-de-loop? In a wind tunnel? At a kettle drum concert? Jesus slept through all three, at once!
Mark’s gospel adds two curious details. “[Jesus] was in the stern, asleep on a pillow” (Mk. 4:38). In a stern, on a pillow. Why the first? From whence came the second?
First-century fishermen used large, heavy seine nets for their work. They stored the net in a nook that was built into the stern for this purpose. Sleeping upon the stern deck was impractical. It provided no space or protection. The small compartment beneath the stern, however, provided both. It was the most enclosed and only protected part of the boat. So Christ, a bit dozy from the day’s activities, crawled beneath the deck to get some sleep.
He rested his head, not on a fluffy feather pillow, but on a leather sandbag. A ballast bag. Mediterranean fishermen still use them. They weigh about a hundred pounds and are used to ballast, or stabilize, the boat. Did Jesus take the pillow to the stern so he could sleep, or sleep so soundly someone rustled him up the pillow? We don’t know. But this much we do. This is a premeditated slumber. He didn’t accidentally nod off. In full knowledge of the coming storm, Jesus decided it was siesta time, so he crawled into the corner, put his head on the pillow, and drifted into dreamland.
His snooze troubled the disciples. Matthew and Mark record their response as three staccato Greek commands and one question.
The commands: “Lord! Save! Dying!” (Mt. 8:25).
The question: “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mk. 4:39).
They do not ask about Jesus’ strength: “Can you still the storm?” His knowledge: “Are you aware of the storm?” Or his know-how: “Do you have any experience with storms?” But rather, they raise doubts about Jesus’ character. “Do you not care…?”
Fear does this. Fear corrodes our confidence in God’s goodness. We begin to wonder if love lives in heaven. If God can sleep in my storms, if his eyes stay shut when my eyes grow wide, if he permits storms after I get on his boat, does he care? Fear unleashes a swarm of doubts, anger-stirring doubts.
And it turns us into control freaks. “Do something about the storm!” is the implicit demand of the question. “Fix it, or…or…or, else!” Fear, at its center, is a perceived loss of control. When life spins wildly, we grab for a component of life we can manage: our diet, the tidiness of a house, the armrest of a plane, or, in many cases, people. The more insecure we feel, the meaner we become. We growl and bare our fangs. Why? Because we are bad? In part. But also because we feel cornered.
Martin Niemöller documents an extreme example of this. He was a German pastor who took a heroic stand against Adolf Hitler. When he first met the dictator in 1933, Niemöller stood at the back of the room and listened. Later, when his wife asked him what he’d learned, he said: “I discovered that Herr Hitler is a terribly frightened man.” Fear releases the tyrant within.
It also deadens our recall. The disciples had reason to trust Jesus. By now, they’d seen him “heal all kinds of sicknesses and all kinds of disease among the people” (Mt. 4:23). They had witnessed him heal a leper with a touch and a servant with a command (Mt. 8:3, 13). Peter saw his sick mother-in-law recover, and they all saw demons scatter like bats out of a cave. “He cast out spirits with a word, and healed all who were sick” (Mt. 8:16).
Shouldn’t someone mention Jesus’ track record or review his resume? Do they remember the accomplishments of Christ? They may not. Fear creates a form of spiritual amnesia. It dulls our miracle memory. It makes us forget what Jesus has done and how good God is.
And fear feels dreadful. It sucks the life out of the soul, curls us into an embryonic state, and drains us dry of contentment. We become abandoned barns, rickety and tilting from the winds, a place where humanity used to eat, thrive, and find warmth. No longer. When fear shapes our lives, safety becomes our god. When safety becomes our god, we worship the risk-free life. Can the safety lover do anything great? Can the risk-averse accomplish noble deeds? For God? For others? No. The fear-filled cannot love deeply; love is risky. They cannot give to the poor. Benevolence has no guarantee of return. The fear-filled cannot dream wildly. What if their dreams sputter and fall from the sky? The worship of safety emasculates greatness. No wonder Jesus wages such a war against fear.
His most common command emerges from the “fear not” genre. The gospels list some 125 Christ-issued imperatives. Of these, twenty-one urge us to “not be afraid” or to “not fear” or to “have courage,” “take heart,” or “be of good cheer.” The second most common command appears on eight occasions. If quantity is any indicator, Jesus takes our fears seriously. The one statement he said more than any other was this: Don’t be afraid.
Siblings sometimes chuckle or complain at the most common command of their parents. They remember how Mom was always saying: “Be home on time.” “Did you clean your room?” Dad had his favorite directives too. “Keep your chin up.” “Work hard.” I wonder if the disciples ever reflected on the most-often repeated phrases of Christ. If so, they would have noted: “he was always calling us to courage.”
“So don’t be afraid. You are worth much more than many sparrows.” (Mt. 10:31 NCV)
“Take courage, son, your sins are forgiven.” (Matthew 9:2 NASB)
“Don’t worry about everyday life—whether you have enough…” (Mathew 6:25)
“Don’t be afraid. Just believe, and your daughter will be well.” (Luke 8:50 NCV)
“It’s all right. I am here! Don’t be afraid.” (Matthew 14:27 NCV)
“Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” (Matthew 10:28)
“Do not fear, little flock, for it is your father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” (Luke 12:32)
“Don’t be troubled. You trust God, now trust in me…. I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.” (John 14:1-3 NLT)
“.. don’t be troubled or afraid.” (John 14:27)
“Why are you frightened?” he asked. “Why are your hearts filled with doubt?” (Luke 24:38 NLT)
“You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed.” (Matthew 24:6 NIV)
Jesus came and touched them and said, “Arise, and do not be afraid.” (Matthew 17:8 NKJV)
Jesus doesn’t want you to live in a state of fear. Nor do you. You’ve never made statements like these:
“My phobias put such a spring in my step.”
“I’d be a rotten parent were it not for my hypochondria.”
“Thank God for my pessimism. I’ve been such a better person since I lost hope.”
“My doctor says, if I don’t begin fretting, I will lose my health.”
We’ve learned the high cost of fear.
The question of Jesus is a good one. He lifts his head from the pillow, steps out from the stern into the storm, and asks: “Why are you fearful, O you of little faith?’” (vs. 26).
To be clear, fear serves a healthy function. It is the canary in the coal mine: warning of potential danger. A dose of fright can keep a child from running across a busy road or an adult from smoking a pack of cigarettes. Fear is the appropriate reaction to a burning building or growling dog. Fear itself is not a sin. But it can lead to sin.
If we treat fear with angry outbursts, drinking binges, sullen withdrawals, self-starvation, or vice-like control, we exclude God from the solution and exacerbate the problem. We subject ourselves to a position of fear, allowing anxiety to dominate and define our lives. Joy-sapping worries. Day-numbing dread. Repeated bouts with insecurity that petrify and paralyze us. Hysteria is not from God. “For God has not given us a spirit of fear…” (2 Tim. 1:7 NKJV emphasis mine).
Fear will always knock on your door. Just don’t invite it in for dinner and, for heaven’s sake, don’t offer it a bed for the night. Let’s dedicate some pages and thought to Jesus’ teaching about fear, examining a select number of his “Do not fear statements.” The promise of Christ and the contention of this book are simple. Fear may fill your world, but it doesn’t have to fill your heart. You can fear less tomorrow than you do today.
When I was six years old, my dad let me stay up with the rest of the family and watch the movie Wolfman. Boy, did he regret that decision. The film left me convinced that Wolfman spent each night prowling our den, awaiting his preferred meal of first grade, red-headed, freckle-salted boy. My fear proved problematic. To reach the kitchen from my bedroom, I had to pass perilously close to his claws and fangs, something I was loathe to do. More than once, I retreated to my father’s bedroom and awoke him. Like Jesus in the boat, Dad was sound asleep in the storm.
How can a person sleep at a time like this? Opening a sleepy eye, he asked to be reminded, “Now, why are you afraid?” And I would remind him of the monster. “Oh, yes, the Wolfman,” he’d grumble. He would then climb out of bed, arm himself with superhuman courage, escort me through the valley of the shadow of death, and pour me a glass of milk. I would look at him with awe and wonder, “What kind of man is this?”
God views our “seismos” storms the way my father viewed my Wolfman angst. “Jesus got up and gave a command to the wind and the waves and it became completely calm” (vs. 26).
He handled the great quaking with a great calming. The sea became as still as a frozen lake, and the disciples were left wondering, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!” (vs. 27).
What kind of man, indeed. Turning typhoon time into naptime. Silencing waves with one word. And equipping a dying man with sufficient courage to send a final love message to his family. Way to go, Dee. You faced your share of “seimos” moments in life, but in the end, you didn’t go under.
Here’s a prayer that we won’t either.
From Fearless
© Max Lucado, 2009, Thomas Nelson Publishing
In the West Village in Lower Manhattan.
As seen in "Gothamist," 8/20/22: gothamist.com/news/extra-extra-therapists-warn-that-gen-z...
All these celebrations, and the sherry provided by the Library Hierarchy have given me a hangover, so back to the sobriety of the Poole Collection for today's image. House in Alexander Street commissioned by W. McCoy shows us a fine establishment with lots of potential, and two resident corner boys. What am I offered?
+++ UPDATE +++
Well done to you all on reconstructing the lives and livelihoods of those families living and working around Alexander Street. And a special thank you to Paul O'Farrell, who has long been our roving Waterford Correspondent, for establishing a solid enough date for this photograph of in and around 1895.
Photographer: A. H. Poole
Collection: Poole Photographic Collection, Waterford
Date: Between ca 1901-1954 Around 1895
NLI Ref: POOLEWP 0687
You can also view this image, and many thousands of others, on the NLI’s catalogue at catalogue.nli.ie
Laughter is day, and sobriety is night; a smile is the twilight that hovers gently between both, more bewitching than either.
I love the late summer evening light.
Before driving down south to Moissac, I stopped in the village of Carennac, where a priory was created by the abbey of Beaulieu-sur-Dordogne, which we visited in photographs over the past few days.
The church was integrated into the Mediæval sheet wall that defended the village, therefore the main two-door portal opened to the South, on what used to be the village’s main street, even though it is quite narrow to our modern eyes.
That portal and the splendid tympanum above are almost the only parts that remain today for the aficionados of Romanesque. Construction began on the church we still see today in the late 1000s, but it replaced an earlier one, as there is at least one written mention of it in the cartulary of the abbey of Beaulieu in 932. The fact that the priory was donated to the powerful abbey of Cluny is recorded in 1047 and 48, and construction must have begun on the new church shortly thereafter. You need to understand that even though human life on average was much shorter than today, the conception of time was very different and “shortly thereafter” usually meant a decade or two...
The portal and its tympanum were probably not built before 1150 or so.
General view of the portal and tympanum. It is very large and part of the ornamentation is now gone. Parts of the voussures (the repeated arches around the tympanum) were obviously re-made much later and the sobriety of their bare stones does not seem in accordance with the rich, typically Cluniac decoration of the sculpted parts. I am personally quite sure that, like we will see in Moissac, the archivolt was adorned.
A Weka, one of New Zealand's flightless birds, about the size of a chicken. I met this beauty near Russell. New Zealand had very few mammals, and so birds evolved into most niches that mammals might originally have filled, including several flightless birds. When mammals were introduced later, it of course was disasterous for many of these birds, with manty driven to extinction, and many still under threat.
i had a whole fantasy about what the picture would be for this day.
it would be of me.
maybe the wind at my back, sun in my hair, looking up, or looking down, or something cool, something profound, done in some strong and meaningful way for my 365 project, to mark and celebrate this day that gives me precisely 4 years of sobriety.
but there was no wind, and the clouds rolled in, and really i just became much more interested in the doings of this dairy cow.
and THAT, somehow, seemed to suit me much better.
so, here's to life - mine, and yours, and this cow - and feeling every earthly moment of it, one day at a time.
L’art baroque, né en Italie, exprime le renouveau du catholicisme après le concile de Trente (1545-1563). Il représente la foi joyeuse, en opposition à la rigueur protestante. Il se diffuse dans les Pays de Savoie dès la fin du XVIIe siècle et durant tout le XVIIIe.
La première pierre de l’église de Saint-Nicolas de Véroce fut posée en 1726. Elle fut construite par des artistes italiens provenant du Val Sesia, en lieu et place d’une très ancienne église qui menaçait de tomber en ruine.
Récemment restaurée, sa simplicité et sa sobriété tranchent avec un intérieur éclatant de couleur et de beauté. Une de ses particularités se trouve dans le décor de sa voûte de style néoclassique, exécuté par les frères Avondo en 1856. On peut y admirer le fameux « bleu de Saint-Nicolas ».
On y trouve toutes les particularités de l’art baroque des Pays de Savoie :
L’architecture de sa façade avec son fronton brisé, qui laisse une ouverture vers le ciel, sa fenêtre serlienne et son auvent.
Le retable majeur avec ses trois niveaux, ses statues de saint Roch et saint Etienne, et son splendide tableau d’autel de 1733 représentant saint Nicolas entouré de ses miracles.
L’autel et le tableau dédiés à Saint François de Sales (1567-1622) : Evêque de Genève, exilé à Annecy, il fut un fervent défenseur de l’Eglise Catholique et il empêcha la Savoie de devenir calviniste.
Les autels latéraux ornés de colonnes torsadées garnies de pampre de vigne, représentation symbolique et incontournable dans l’art baroque, qui préfère les lignes courbes aux lignes droites.
Baroque art, born in Italy, expresses the renewal of Catholicism after the Council of Trent (1545-1563). It represents joyful faith, in opposition to Protestant rigor. It spread in the Pays de Savoie from the end of the seventeenth century and throughout the eighteenth.
The first stone of the church of St. Nicholas of Véroce was laid in 1726. It was built by Italian artists from Val Sesia, instead of a very old church that threatened to fall into ruin.
Recently restored, its simplicity and sobriety contrast with a bright interior of color and beauty. One of its peculiarities is found in the decoration of its neo-classical vault, executed by the Avondo brothers in 1856. One can admire the famous "Saint Nicolas blue".
It contains all the peculiarities of the baroque art of the Pays de Savoie:
The architecture of its facade with its broken pediment, which leaves an opening towards the sky, its window Serlienne and its awning.
The major altarpiece with its three levels, its statues of Saint Roch and Saint Stephen, and its splendid 1733 altarpiece depicting Saint Nicholas surrounded by its miracles.
The altar and the painting dedicated to Saint Francis de Sales (1567-1622): Bishop of Geneva, exiled in Annecy, he was a fervent defender of the Catholic Church and prevented Savoy from becoming a Calvinist.
The lateral altars adorned with twisted columns lined with vine vines, symbolic representation and unavoidable in baroque art, which prefers curved lines with straight lines.
Tanita Tikaram – ‘Twist In My Sobriety’
www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5emcbg_wZk
Body and Soul - La Performance
Album Description:
www.flickr.com/photos/erikoleo/sets/72157651923738861
La Performance Site:
www.la-performance.org/show/478/body-soul
locations:
dance-theatre of La Performance Tai / Chi
slurl.com/secondlife/Tai/228/125/3546
dance-theatre of La Performance Mediterraneo OC
Joe was sitting on the northeast corner of Adams and State. I asked him how long he'd been out here and he said, "too long..." He usually stays in the shelter, but doesn't like because of the bugs. "I'm hard working and dependable", when asked what he wants people to know about him. The challenge for him right now is sobriety, he said. "The misconception people have is that we're lazy...this is work too." He's just doing what he has to survive.
A self-portrait, to mark 30 years of sobriety. Yesterday was the actual date. Or rather, the date I chose to represent when I put down the needle and spoon. I don't know the actual date. Ironically, or not, the reason I'm posting today is yesterday I forgot about my recovery birthday because I was out in the mountains riding my bike and taking pictures. That's something I would not have done or been able to do 30 years ago. I'm grateful to have survived my addiction and be contributing a little bit to society. If anyone reading this is struggling with drugs or alcohol, feel free to message me. I know what it's like to feel no hope. And there is hope. We do recover.