In the Flash of a Trembling Glance

"If a man wishes to be sure of the road he treads on, he must close his eyes and walk in the dark."

[oledavyjones]

no info here, but grand shot.

The way lumber has been stored on deck way over the freeboard and reeling reminded me of an older post from May 7th (shown here, too). There was much discussion about the cargo and it’s storage… it seems that a the roof of a deckhouse can be seen to the left. The new post resembles the older one, it seems to me. However it’s not 2 photos of the same ship.

[philosophybits]

Do not despise your inner world… Our society is very outward-looking, very taken up with the latest new object, the latest piece of gossip, the latest opportunity for self-assertion and status. But we all begin our lives as helpless babies, dependent on others for comfort, food, and survival itself. And even though we develop a degree of mastery and independence, we always remain alarmingly weak and incomplete, dependent on others and on an uncertain world for whatever we are able to achieve. As we grow, we all develop a wide range of emotions responding to this predicament… Our emotional life maps our incompleteness: A creature without any needs would never have reasons for fear, or grief, or hope, or anger. But for that very reason we are often ashamed of our emotions, and of the relations of need and dependency bound up with them… So people flee from their inner world of feeling, and from articulate mastery of their own emotional experiences.

Martha Nussbaum, in, Take My Advice, James L. Harmon ed. (via philosophybits)

[dantereader]

Virgil, Dante, and Statius beside the flames of the seventh terrace, Canto XXV of Purgatorio. Art by Gustave Doré.

[adoratioetveritas]

[prayersfromlilacveins]

He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams. He began to say to himself: ‘Perhaps I shall cross the River myself one day.’ To which the other half of his mind always replied: 'Not yet.’ So it went on, until his forties were running out, and his fiftieth birthday was drawing near: fifty was a number that he felt was somehow significant (or ominous); it was at any rate an age that adventure had suddenly befallen Bilbo. Frodo began to feel restless, and the old paths seemed too well-trodden. He looked at maps, and wondered what lay beyond their edges: maps made in the Shire showed mostly white spaces beyond its borders. He took to wandering further afield and more often by himself; and Merry and his other friends watched him anxiously.

J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring (via prayersfromlilacveins)

[koredzas]

Bacchiacca (1494 - 1557) - Saint Benedict, Saint Sebastian and Saint Dominic. Detail.

[coriesu]

Salvator Mundi Bernini’s Last sculpture

[butterflyinthewell]

Visit Original Link

One of the most beautiful songs I know of. It’s always on my playlist when i’m writing.

When the dark wood fell before me And all the paths were overgrown When the priests of pride say there is no other way I tilled the sorrows of stone I did not believe because I could not see Though you came to me in the night When the dawn seemed forever lost You showed me your love in the light of the stars Cast your eyes on the ocean Cast your soul to the sea When the dark night seems endless Please remember me Then the mountain rose before me By the deep well of desire From the fountain of forgiveness Beyond the ice and the fire Cast your eyes on the ocean Cast your soul to the sea When the dark night seems endless Please remember me Though we share this humble path, alone How fragile is the heart Oh give these clay feet wings to fly To touch the face of the stars Breathe life into this feeble heart Lift this mortal veil of fear Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears We’ll rise above these earthly cares Cast your eyes on the ocean Cast your soul to the sea When the dark night seems endless Please remember me

[artist-buoninsegna]

Window Showing the Death, Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin, 1287, Duccio di Buoninsegna

[aztec-religion]

Catholic monk

[met-armsarmor]

Two-Handed Processional Sword carried by Guard of Duke Julius of Brunswick, Arms and Armor

Medium: Steel, wood, leather, velvet

Rogers Fund, 1904 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY

http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/25077

[medievalautumn]

Master of the Osservanza (1430 -1480)

Italian painter of the Sienese School

[darkesttrip]

Nights through dreams tell the myths forgotten by the day.

C.G. Jung - Memories, Dreams, Reflections (via darkesttrip)

[90377]

Fog & Reflections on Lizard Lake by John Sluder

[historicaltimes]

An unknown woman walks through a French village, Autochrome, c.1910

via reddit

[gladium-spiritus]

(Photo: a good portion of the small hoard of books I’ve accumulated over the years). It’s been many months since I have *really* used Tumblr. I am nearing a new chapter in life. I have been surprising myself. I feel older and stronger… more attuned and open, but also closing into “wholeness,” like two hands clasping, firmly, for the first time. My hunger for learning has grown greater than ever. I feel no more sense of wavering in my core. Strangely enough, academia has somehow brought about this new fire. Finding a niche in the study of moral systems, emotion and narrative structures has widened my vision. These are topics (especially ethics) that I could never previously appreciate. Nothing “clicked.” Now, in the past two years, I feel my eyes have been calibrated to this sort of discourse. It became an active search — how people derive meaning. This has operated parallel to my own private spiritual development. Well, it hasn’t been all that private for my followers here. I’m amazed at how openness to experiences and perspectives can bring stability/certitude. I guess I had on some level previously believed that compartmentalizing and forcing certainty was the right path. I was in fact shutting the door to a deeper “will” or intrinsic craving to explore. A childlike craving. I’m getting lost in libraries more and more. I’ve been acquainting myself with like minds in social reality as well as in the pages of the books. Just yesterday (for example) I read Lacan’s Discourse to Catholics for the first time with real seriousness, and it felt as though I had sat down with him and he was explaining all these layers of structure to me. I had not historically appreciated Lacan enough, for one reason or another. In at least the past year, I’ve had an inclination towards philosophers who swim in beauty rather than press their fingers into wounds of self-deception. Especially when it comes to the spiritual. I’m coming to realize that at a certain point of understanding the two are complementary. (There’s my affinity for Jung coming through). I feel like lately I’m being drawn down to earth while being simultaneously lightly extended into some higher, more mature awareness of “how things really are.” Like a tree… you know I can’t resist an opportunity for cheesy simile/metaphor.

I would like to get back into writing personal posts on here, and make an effort to have a bit of a public voice as well. I am not sure where life will take me. I will be in a different place soon. Outside Toronto and out in the world again.

[gladium-spiritus]

The Light is contemplation. Fixation without contemplation is circulation without Light. Contemplation without fixation is Light without circulation.

Secret of the Golden Flower (via gladium-spiritus)