the hermit.

singing-songwriting-all things writing-art journaling https://youtube.com/channel/UCpc0DQraZuN8DBsCaEQyxvA

[havingapoemwithyou]

march by Mary Oliver

[mamoru]

I think one of the goals of society should be that someone who requires expensive medicine and a lot of care can live an amazing life, the longest life they possibly can, with dignity, even if they have no friends or family or anyone who cares enough about them to help. the goals of a society should be to make life better than if we are alone, society should want life to be as good as possible for as many people as possible, and those goals should account for people not having social support networks.

[mamoru]

social life aside, the most hated or ignored person in town should be able to live as good and fair and just of a life as the most loved person in town. survival needs to stop being a popularity contest.

[tordenvejr]

you can't avoid your way into a life you love

[thegreatimpersonator]

thinking of halsey's writing the poem "date with an arsonist"

[theleoisallinthemind]

Olafur Eliasson . I grew up in solitude and silence, 1991

[syringavulgaris]

Mahmoud Darwish, Life To The Last Drop

[halogen2]

I THINK LOVE IS SOMETHING / THAT HAPPENS TO OTHER PEOPLE - Michael Gray Bulla

[beguines]

At the end of my poem "The Visitor," there is the line "There is nothing one man will not do to another." It's a truth that I recognized in great pain and horror, but once you know this truth, it's possible to also know that there is nothing one man will not give another, too. We are beings in process, in a deep spiritual process that we recognize and intuit and do not understand at all. It gives me great hope and great faith that it's possible to understand this in a single human lifetime. If we live long enough, if we are given enough time on earth, we can live to see the spiritual potential of human beings.

Carolyn Forché, "Infinite Obligation to the Other" from A God in the House: Poets Talk about Faith, ed. Ilya Kaminsky and Katherine Towler

[dk-thrive]

The older I get, the more I find that you can only live with beings who liberate you, who love you with an affection that is as light to bear as it is strong to feel. Life today is too hard, too bitter, too debilitating for us to suffer new bondages, new captivities from those whom we love. This is how I am your friend: I love your happiness, your freedom, your adventure, in a word - and I would like to be, for you, a companion you can be sure of, always.”

— Albert Camus, (to René Char, 1957) in "Camus-Char: Correspondence 1946-1959) (Gallimard, 2007) (via Alive on All Channels)

[itsyourfriendhere]

[thememedaddy]

[godmutt]

[itsyourfriendhere]

how to get rid of remnants of unloved past

[goneintohidingliterally]

the cover and a selection of pages from the fabric book I just finished, This summer I spent a lot of time sleeping with my head in a pool of moonlight.

The pages are printed on canvas, muslin, and cotton bedsheets and are silkscreened, printed with photo intaglio processes, drawn on, and embroidered.

[weltenwellen]

Joy Sullivan, from “Culpable”, Instructions for Traveling West

[anthropoetics]

a compilation of videos very worth watching! 

the pink triangles: the story of the gay holocaust

nawal el saadawi on feminism, fiction and the illusion of democracy

life beyond: alien life, deep time, and our place in cosmic history 

life beyond II: the museum of alien life

stephen axford: how fungi changed my view of the world

man spends 30 years turning degraded land into massive forest 

the prisoner of azkaban - why john williams’ score is the best in the series

video essay: the world of wong kar wai

how much is enough?

[anthropoetics]

what it means to be black in brasil

vozes da floresta | ailton krenak

the beauty of wong kar-wai

a japanese ufo? - the utsuro-bune incident in 1803

the ghosts of hokusai

“confidence” is a cult

why are wong kar-wai films so dreamy?

ambiguous horror of the wailing

[anthropoetics]

how the rich ate south korea

the stages of whale decompostion

what happens when you put your head in a particle accelerator?

how brazil’s music hid protest inside harmony?

hayao miyazaki: a importância do vazio

how nope tricks your ears

serj tankian eats his last meal

birds do not sing in caves

the horrors of becoming lost

[anthropoetics]

peking opera: china’s greatest gender-fluid spectacle

understanding snufkin: a moomins essay

the appalachian rainforest

in search of the greenman

two alaska towns: one survived. one disappeared

when a director understands sound

the life of an old school japanese cafe owner

the cotswolds most haunted stately homes

when the audience is tricked by the director

every “final destination” death, explained by the producer

[sorrrowfull]

[byanri]

essay by Anna Howard

"I used to feel extra special because of a pile of white rocks on the front porch of my childhood home. I remember thinking we had the best house in the block because of this pile of rocks, not because it was beautiful but because it was distinct and anything distinct felt extraordinary to me then. When I look at pictures, it’s clear to me now that it was just a garden bed without a garden. The rocks were a placeholder for two tired parents renting the house with no extra time or energy to get to a garden. From an adults perspective it’s actually quite ugly. I look back on the girl that thought something so ugly made her so special and I love her ardently. When strangers told her she had the best Halloween costume they’ve seen all night, she believed them. When her music teacher went out of her way to ask her why she hadn’t joined after school choir yet, she took that to mean she had the most beautiful voice in the world. When her grandparents got her cardboard cut out of Zac Efron for Christmas, she thought her entire family was full of comedic geniuses. When her first crush kept the sock doll, she made him at the bottom of his backpack until the last day of school, it was assumed to be cherished not forgotten. The pile of white rocks was special because they were hers. The compliments were special because they were assumed to be true. The gifts were special because they were given by people that were paying attention. The small embarrassment of infatuation didn’t register as embarrassments at all because she imagined reciprocation was inevitable. She found details that made her feel special effortlessly and she did this without trying every every single day. She had an ego and her attention was finally tuned to her own significance. Anything that violated the feeling that she was one of a kind garnered and intense reaction of indignation. Her family called her firestarter, not because she actually liked to start fires, but because she had a strong sense of justice towards herself. This wasn’t always helpful. In fact, it was often problematic. But I guess the question is, when did I go from special as an assumed state of being to special as an endowment that I should act coy about or special as a notification I need to keep refreshing the feed to find or special as a state of being that a man has any power to take away."