And I Move With Purpose

Dream Work. Dream Unfolds. Dream Alive. The great aim of education is not knowledge but action. Let's dream in no small measure.

[relatablepoetryandquotes]

via @extramadness

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Searching

[haiziness]

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[photography-cnl]

15-Year-Old Boy Captures Stunning Landscape Photography

Fifteen-year old Jannik Obenhoff captures outstandingly beautiful landscape scenes of the German terrain in his spare time. Following a traditional style, Obenhoff’s composition is usually constructed of monumental mountains, a foggy setting and a seaside view. Obenhoff seamlessly conveys the peaceful and grandeur beauty of nature. The realistic and rustic portrayal is also simultaneously serene and profound. The perspective of each composition showcases the young artist’s blooming talent and natural artistry, which ironically displays years of experience and school he has not endured. 

[i-am-my-own-lord-deactivated201]

sunset and ships summer 2015

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Liquid Summer par Hayden Williams Via Flickr : Kodak Sport Waterproof Disposable Deep Wave Bay // Min Hong Kong //WEBSITE//

[jonathanohhey]

[andimovewithpurpose]

Death Knellings

My inner life is bankrupt.

Feelings of movement, desire, distress, deepest joy, truest gratitude, the dancing of my soul, the ringing in my ears, the moving energy of living---all have become atrophied muscles.

Is this growing up? Is this soul encased in the steel-cement of an adult?

A dead adult.

Without these sensations, I have already died.

[andimovewithpurpose]

From Observing

Today is just for today, today.

[andimovewithpurpose]

On Needing

Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

I looked up the character of Socrates. Interestingly, people said about him that always strived to do the right.

‘To need nothing is divine and the less a man needs the nearer does he approach divinity’.

That resonated with me. Over the past few years, I have been striving for want to nothing---a sense of liberty from the want of things, from the need to want. I want my life to be pared down, in terms of possessions. Its as if I am setting the most plain, the most sincere of backgrounds to allow the richness come from elsewhere. I want the things that sparkle and add color and vibrancy---to reveal themselves to me as pure as they are, as lively as they are. With possessions comes a certain worry, about maintaining them, worrying about if they are stolen or rot, whether they become outmoded or whether one can afford them. The worry of stylishness comes with each object owned, the of-the-moment-ness of the thing. It seems like such a bother! Such a lump of energy!

I suppose the things I want my life to sparkle with, the costume jewelry in a black velvet box, include my sense of being, my love of learning, nature, costumed in her wonder; I want to allow the relationships, the most meaningful to sharpen into focus, I want the appreciate silk bedsheets and the goodness of a berry smoothie.

I feel like our society sprints and sprints and cuts corners and is a prowling beast of pleasure, yet no longer tastes the enjoyment. Perhaps we can blame the speed of connectivity, the odd socializing with strangers via photos and cameras; or the instant satisfaction of cheaply-made, cute items. Quite a few advances are the cause of our inability to understand the notes on our tastebuds and pay attention to the written word.

Its as we have been given and eaten food that has numbed our tastebuds; we have forgotten to really taste, savor, feel the curves and quickness of life. It reminds me of those allergy commercials where a woman is playing in a field, bogged down with allergies; her world is a bit grayer, though she only notices how bright and colorful the world is once she takes her allergy medication. To me, that is the life I strive for: the concise, the colorful, the moving.

I suppose in needing nothing, it turns out I want everything.

[andimovewithpurpose]

On a Good Idea

Wrestling with a Good Idea requires the support of Aptitude, Curiosity, and the sinking feeling of perhaps being wrong. I can wrestle with him, trying to search out his weak points and pinch his sides, and when needed, knocking him to his side. However, he morphs into mountains and sand or a mouse and a leopard. A Good Idea cannot run; but he can deceive you thinking he is what he is not---or perhaps, he is?

[andimovewithpurpose]

On Time

Time comes and goes for everyone. It’s like the rubbish at the bottom of a trash can, the stuff that smears and stinks and needs washing out. My friend tells me to live a life of freedom and care; to accept what is and what is not; to paint in black and white, yet live life in ‘color’.

I am allowed to do with my time what I want---as long we both agree in her affirmative. That’s what smells.

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Visit Original Link

[modernhepburn]

Sam Smith - Lay Me Down

Your touch, your skin, where do I begin? No words can explain, the way I’m missing you

[andimovewithpurpose]

Speak

When you like a person, dont listen to the part (the part which remembers the caution, recites the tales of broken hearts, whispers the 'what ifs') which tells you to skip over them.

Attracted? Be attracted.

Want to know more? Ask questions.

Want to spend time with them, legs crossed in sync, leaning forward to each other? Then hell, do that.

Amazed how, in their presence, be completely comfortable? Enjoy it. Savor it (you fckin Introvert).

Want to talk more? Speak, idiot, speak.

If you don't, you might just have passed up a love.

a friend.

that rare person who makes you think, gives you joy, inspires you to be the better you.

dont screw that up, you motherfcker.

[andimovewithpurpose]

The point where two strangers meet. The microsopic dot which they halt, the shoepoints nearly, but not quite touching.

Then, they break the collosal, quantam diameter--and meet.

A world changes; another universe flexes and bends into itself, not quite as it used to be. Time continues. Those few minutes of noticing eye crinkles and lips and dark hair and chipped teeth extends into revealing humor (or lack thereof), eating habits, and the translation of the book in their hand.

We begin digging, furrowing ourselves into this ever-expanding space of exchange; it grows or shrivels, just as soon we step our shoe tip into it. The other might as soon shut our mind out; it depends on our interest, on our current reality whether we choose to loop this meeting space around us, from our feet to the tops of our head.

We enwrap ourselves, or we diverge.

We either inhale each other's being or we begin inching our way from the forever-shattered quantam diameter.

But what's perplexing: when strangers kiss.

The diameter purged with passion, curiousity, raw attraction, an openedness reserved for the enwrapped...

Do we miss the inhaling of the other person? Or did we know them at such a small pin-prick of their being---we know their lips, the texture of their skin, and the lowness of their voice, how their ticklish behind their knees and in the folds of their elbows---such intimate secrets---and yet, we do not know them?

Odder though still, we either want to know more about their being, or not at all. Such intimicacy still bequethes a black and white reaction.

He or she wants to know you more.

Or he or she does not want to know you more.

Perhaps, if it was anyone else across the quantam divide, they would have met their lips with the same passion and zest. And it wouldnt matter; the intimicacy would not matter to the person, or rather the significance of the intimicacy---

much like seeing musical notes, without listening to the song.

Some divine space says, 'Want to know me more', 'Please, let it be me that you wanted to kiss, not just any pair of lips'.

That is what a meeting wants: to be known.

[earlyware]