
titsay
Today's Document
Sade Olutola
Cosimo Galluzzi

Product Placement
$LAYYYTER

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
KIROKAZE

JVL

@theartofmadeline
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

izzy's playlists!

if i look back, i am lost
Show & Tell
i don't do bad sauce passes
Misplaced Lens Cap
No title available
Three Goblin Art
noise dept.

blake kathryn
seen from Germany
seen from Greece

seen from Canada
seen from South Africa
seen from Malaysia

seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
@pomponia
An opinion without 3.14159 is just an onion.
Guys this isnt even funny. Please stop.
Ilya: I could marry Svetlana to get American citizenship
Shane: and I could commit a murder suicide right now. See how we’re both saying shit
I know it’s not hard to point out reactionaries hypocrisy when it comes to like safe spaces or hug boxes or whatever but genuinely how much of an echo chamber do you have to exist in for you to think this is a reasonable thing to say
reblog if attacking fascism is really the hill you want to die on
this is literally like one of the most justified and honorable hills you could die on??? lol??
Quick someone reply with the gif™️
Always reblog this if you are cool
Attacking fascism is 800% a hill I will proudly die on.
There was this woman poet in 4th century China called Su Hui (蘇蕙), a child genius who had reportedly mastered Chinese characters by age 3.
At 21 years old, heartbroken by her husband who left her for another woman, she decided to encode her feelings in a structure so intricate, so beautiful, so intellectually staggering that it still baffles scholars to this day.
Came to be known as the Xuanji Tu (璇璣圖) - the "Star Gauge" or "Map of the Armillary Sphere" - it's a 29 by 29 grid of 841 characters that can produce over 4,000 different poems.
Read it forward. Read it backward. Read it horizontally, vertically, diagonally. Read it spiraling outward from the center. Read it in circles around the outer edge. Each path through the grid produces a different poem - all of them coherent, all of them beautiful, all of them rhyming, all of them expressing variations on the same themes of longing, betrayal, regret, and undying love.
The outer ring of 112 characters forms a single circular poem - believed to be both the first and longest of its kind ever written. The interior grid produces 2,848 different four-line poems of seven characters each. In addition, there are hundreds of other smaller and longer poems, depending on the reading method.
At the center a single character she left implied but unwritten: 心 (xin) - "heart." Later copyists would add it explicitly, but in Su Hui's original the meaning was even more beautiful: 4,000 poems, all orbiting the space where her heart used to be.
Take for instance the outer red grid of the Star Gauge. Starting from the top right corner and reading down, you get this seven-character quatrain:
仁智懷德聖虞唐,
貞志篤終誓穹蒼,
欽所感想妄淫荒,
心憂增慕懷慘傷。
In pinyin, it is:
Rén zhì huái dé shèng yú táng,
zhēnzhì dǔ zhōng shì qióng cāng,
qīn suǒ gǎnxiǎng wàng yín huāng,
xīn yōu zēng mù huái cǎn shāng.
Notice how it rhymes? táng / cāng / huāng / shāng
The rough translation in English is: "The benevolent and wise cherish virtue, like the sage-kings Yao and Shun, With steadfast will I swear to the heavens above, What I revere and feel - how could it be wanton or dissolute? My heart's sorrow grows, longing brings only grief."
Now read it from the bottom to the top and you get this entirely different seven-character quatrain:
傷慘懷慕增憂心,
荒淫妄想感所欽,
蒼穹誓終篤志貞,
唐虞聖德懷智仁。
The pinyin:
Shāng cǎn huái mù zēng yōu xīn,
huāngyín wàngxiǎng gǎn suǒ qīn,
cāngqióng shì zhōng dǔzhì zhēn,
táng yúshèngdé huái zhì rén.
It rhymes too: xīn and qīn, zhēn and rén
And the meaning is just as beautiful and coherent: "Grief and sorrow, longing fills my worried heart, Wanton and dissolute fantasies - is that what you revere? I swear to the heavens my constancy is true, May we embody the sage-kings' virtue, wisdom, and benevolence."
That's just 2 poems out of the over 4,000 you can construct from the Xuanji Tu!
At the very center of the grid, the 8 red characters wrapped around the central heart, she "signed" her poem with a hidden message:
詩圖璇玑,始平蘇氏。 "The poem-picture of the Armillary Sphere, by Su of Shiping."
Or reversed:
蘇氏詩圖,璇玑始平。 "Su's poem-picture - the Armillary Sphere begins in peace."
Many scholars, and even emperors, throughout Chinese history have been completely obsessed by Su Hui's puzzle.
For instance, in the Ming dynasty, a scholar named Kang Wanmin (康萬民) devoted his entire life to the poems (kangshiw.com/contents/461/2…), ending up documenting twelve different reading methods - forward, backward, diagonal, radiating, corner-to-corner, spiraling - and extracting 4,206 poems. His book on the subject ("Reading Methods for the Xuanji Tu Poems", 璇璣圖詩讀法) runs to hundreds of pages.
Empress Wu Zetian herself, the legendary woman emperor of the Tang dynasty, wrote a preface to the Xuanji Tu around 692 CE (baike.baidu.com/item/%E7%BB%87…).
Incredibly, there's even far more complexity to the Xuanji Tu than just the poems:
- The name 璇玑 (Xuanji) - Armillary Sphere - is astronomical in meaning and the way the poems can be read mirrors the way celestial bodies orbit around a fixed center. It's a model of the heavens.
- Her original work, with the characters woven on silk brocade, was in five colors (red, black, blue/green, purple, and yellow) which correspond to the Five Elements (五行) - the foundational Chinese philosophical system that explains how the universe operates. So it's also a model of the entire cosmic order according to ancient Chinese philosophy.
- It's also of course deeply mathematical with this 29 x 29 perfect square grid, with sub-squares, lines and rectangles, and a structure which allows for symmetrical reading patterns in all directions
- Last but not least, the content of the poems themselves contain multiple registers. On top of expressing her personal grief and longing for her husband, it's also filled with accusations against the concubine (Zhao Yangtai) he left her for, reflections on politics (with many references to sage-kings) and philosophical reflections.
So the Star Gauge is simultaneously:
- A love letter (expressing personal longing)
- A legal brief (arguing her case against her rival)
- A cosmological model (structured like the heavens)
- A Five Element diagram (encoding the fundamental structure of the world according to ancient Chinese philosophy)
- A mathematical construction with perfect symmetry and precision
And yet, for all this complexity, we should not forget this was all ultimately in service of the simplest human message imaginable: a 21-year-old woman asking the love of her life "come back to me".
Her husband did, eventually. According to what empress Wu Zetian herself wrote in her preface to the Xuanji Tu, when he received Su's brocade he was so "moved by its supreme beauty" that he sent away his concubine and returned to his wife. As the story goes, they lived together until old age.
The heart at the center was filled after all.
This would be a stunning achievement painted, more impressive embroidered, but she wove this in silk brocade?!? Wrote a palindromic poem so epic no one else has come close for a couple millennia, and then wove it?
Silk brocade is a whole different level of intricate difficulty. It makes just about anything else you might choose to do with yarn look easy.
Harbinger
PUPPY HAS RECEIVED SO MANY PETS AND IS ALL WARMED UP NOW
So, I follow this “bad commercial interior design” Facebook page and-
I love a good Very Specific Resource. Here are the links to my posts about resources carefully crafted to share a specific bit of history (updated as needed)
Public Domain Image Archive - thousands of images from various repositories no longer under copyright
Medieval Murder Maps - interactive maps of murder and accidents in medieval London, York, and Oxford
Travel in Times - plan travel routes in England and Wales in various centuries
The Quilt Index - a digital repository of quilts, makers, and their stories
Louis Armstrong Archives - Some highlights from the archives and how to access the full collection from home!
RSN Stitch Bank - hundreds of sewing and embroidery stitches, their uses, their structure, how to make them, and history!
Archive of 80s mixtapes - a whole lot of tapes from the 80s and also tapes of background music from Kmart in the 80s and 90s
Feast Afrique - What started as an exploration and celebration of West African culinary heritage has since expanded to include history, language, culture, and customs of West Africa and the African diaspora.
Letterform Archive - Thousands of high quality images celebrating graphic design, calligraphy, and typography. The beauty of letters!
Historic Menu Collection - Over 17,000 historic menus, 1.3 million historic dishes transcribed. Historic popularity and price range, map it, and more.
Palestinian Embroidery - Digital archives dedicated to the preservation of Palestinian embroidery. Over 1,000+ free patterns
Black Craftseople Digital Archive - enhancing knowledge of Black crafts people (both free and enslaved) and the objects they produced.
Georgian Lady's Magazine Embroidery Patterns - Free embroidery patterns from 1770-1819
The Dutch Textile Trade Project - History and trade of textiles in the 17th and 18th centuries. Fabric types, images, data on trade.
Estonian Knitting - Bog knits! History! Techniques!
An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.
It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled walls.
It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.
It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.
As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.
Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.
“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year! You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”
She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.
The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans would say.
That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.
“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.
It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.
Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.
The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.
“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright, dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”
The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.
“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”
When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms.
“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”
Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.
this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.
i had to
I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE
Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like “What is that thing, what the hell, Anette?” and she’s like “Don’t you remember my grandson Todd?” and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest she’s been since her husband died.
Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins
I just want to watch ‘Todd’ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils. Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so ‘Todd’ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but ‘Honey’ likes her hard candies, and doesn’t get oil on the carpet, and when ‘Todd’ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch. Anette never gives ‘Todd’ her soul, but she gives him her heart
In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that she’s not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. He’s tried getting her to sell him her soul, but she’s just laughed, told him that he shouldn’t talk like that. With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. He’s done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather. Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anette’s home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anette’s soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that it’s blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here. Todd looks down, holding Anette’s soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, “Please.” The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Todd’s kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While they’re arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that it’s physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.
They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they weren’t able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayor’s office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while he’s up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anette’s soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground. He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, it’s Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that she’s missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Todd’s shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Todd’s ear that he’s done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, she’s surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case. Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he can’t stay, but she won’t hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson. The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF she’s gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if she’s always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, she’s already talking about how much cake they’ll need to feed all of these relatives.
P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.
the last lines of the show:
demon: you’re not blind here – but you’re not surprised. when…?
anette: oh, toddy, don’t be silly, my biological grandson’s not twelve feet tall and doesn’t scorch the furniture when he sneezes. i’ve known for ages.
demon: then why?
anette: you wouldn’t have stayed if you weren’t lonely too.
demon: you… you don’t have to keep calling me your grandson.
anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and let’s go bake a cake. honey, heel!
honey: W̝̽̂̿͂͝Ọ̮̹̲̪̋ͦͅO̸̘͔̬͊F̜̫͙̟͕͖̙̋ͫ͌͗
I only believe in a heaven that allows entry for doggies, and grandmas, and demons who love their adopted grandmas, and everyone else, too, no matter how redeemed or not.
How could you possibly think it was heaven if the ones you loved had been excluded? That wouldn’t be heaven, that would be hell.
moment of realization 🫣
No nuance question:
Do you know what an axle is?
Yes
No
You mean this fuckin thing?
No, that's an Axl.
one of these, right?
No, that's an axe.
This guy...?
No, that's an axolotl.
No, that's Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.
Oh! You mean the clothing size!
No, that's an XL.
Did you mean this?
No, that's an atoll.
Oh, do you mean one of these?
No, that's an axel.
No, that's Ajax.
Do you mean this?
sheepish is a really funny word. fuck im so nervous (turns into this)
maybe i like my tech a little bit inconvenient
maybe i like pulling out my debit card instead of using apple pay. maybe i like untangling my wired headphones. maybe i like typing something into the search bar instead of using siri or whatever. maybe i like curating my own social media feeds over an algorithm. i just don’t think everything has to be perfectly streamlined and efficient i like it when things feel tethered to the real world.
This!! Please more of this!!
Happy pride month to my dad. When I came out as bi to him, this man googled what it ment, look at me and said "ohh. Yeah. You get that from me. You'd have far more siblings of I only shaged women." And went right back to his work emails.
I saw this meme going around on twitter and I think it'll be perfect for this account.
List 5 topics you can talk on for an hour without preparing any material.
Thank you @labelleizzy for tagging me !
1) telecoms and networks : this is my bread and butter IRL job, and I *effing* love it
2) fandom dynamics : I have been in and out of fandom (mostly in) since 2002, and I am autistic enough to detect patterns everywhere… it’s kind of fascinating… if WIKTT means something to you, and the big debacle of « pawn to queen » makes you facepalm, slide in my DM to reminisce about that time 😉
3) gender as a performance
4) the Belgian Constitution and why we have a king of the Belgians and not a king of Belgium
5) the difference between the consent paradigms in kink: SSC, RACK, PRICK, CCC… or kink belonging at pride (remember Brussels is today)
Absolutely no pressure tag, but would love to read @anyawen @ato-the-bean @kmk1701d @tsubame17 @halestrom @sunmontuewrites
and anybody feeling like it!
Happy Pride 🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈
Thanks Cel!
Let's see...
Climate Change and the unraveling of systems in the Anthropocene (I'm SUPER fun at parties y'all...)
Ecosystems and the strategic decisions we have to make on where to focus restoration efforts versus preservation versus letting something go... especially in light of 1 above
Humility and recognition that our experiences are NOT universal as traits that foster empathy, acceptance, and resilience. I am a white, cis, het, woman, married to a white, cis, het man. Convincing him of the meaningful differences in our experiences as scientists at uni in the 80s, helped him see the importance of diversity and representation even on just that very small level (because let's face it I'm still hella privileged). And when one of our kids came out as trans, it made us realize that we didn't have to understand it at a bone-deep level to accept it and love them as the same person they always were... just more comfortable and authentic in their skin. IDK if that makes sense, but I can definitely talk about it for an hour.
The re-emergence of white Christian nationalism in the US and how it has to be called out and fought for all of us (even white christians because y'all segregate yourselves and go to war over the STUPIDIST minor differences). The Handmaid's Tale was not a how-to manual...
Fandom, writing (the agonizing bliss), and community outside work and family (i.e., the need to escape reality for fun and mental health).
Happy Pride Brussels! Anyone who needs an ally-mom hug, hit me up.
I'll tag @spiritofcamelot @cicerfics @foxsoulcourt @dixkens @ao3-brihna and anyone else who wants to give it a go.
Ato, thanks for including me in this intriguing prompt. Inadvertently stuck it in Drafts for a bit, so here’s my offering a month later.
Organizational change - why it is so valuable; why individuals, teams, companies + institutions fight it; why it often fails; and how to do it anyways from whatever role we have in an organization, community, family + country.
Meaning making - oh.the.tangents possible here: the value of rituals; how Christian Nationalism has little to do with the teachings of Jesus, everything to do with political power + control, and how Paul Weyrich’s anti-segregation efforts in the 1970s built the foundation of where we are today; how not to read the Bible and why; how justice-seeking organised religion is evolving and why; and why meaning making in ways which resonant to us matters, no matter how young or old we are.
Food: the many benefits of preparing some portion of what we eat; how to do it on a budget; the gift of spices + different textures; how to get more vegetables in our bodies more frequently; and the power of the refrain ‘food is fuel’.
Jazz, particularly instrumental + vocal jazz created 1950-1980. What, me, a non-musician talking about jazz ?! Yep. After decades of listening to jazz I really like and much I do not care for, I’ve gained a deeper understanding about the music and the people who made it. This topic is one of the great joys in my life.
Last one is a toss up between the DeLigHt of being a low-key curious backyard birder or the JoY of strength training. Both are excellent anti-anxiety activities, so the choice is yours.
In the spirit of extending community, I’m no-pressure tagging @fuzzballsheltiepants, @pomponia @acquitarte, @thetrojeans, @eleanor-is-fine, @luminiferocity, @bishybarnaby, @pommedepersephone, @dkafterdark, @wilsherejack + @doggernaut.
Oh oh, yes!
1: strength training and the metabolic changes that occur and the importance of it to women.
2: martial arts and how the notion of violence makes one less violent and also how good it is to know how to do a good kick
3: metabolism and biochemistry, and how most metabolic diseases are preventable but they are not prevented.
4: cats and dogs, particularly cats since I discovered the joys of sharing a house with a cat very recently
5: no, the earth is not flat and vaccines are safe (this is a reactive thing, not something I WANT to talk about but sometimes I need to)
@foxsoulcourt thanks for the tag, haven't been on Tumblr for a long time and it was a great welcome!
WHERE IS SHE?
WHERE DID THEY TOOK HER?
Got hit by lightning