Tekla Weaving Webs

[tekla-weaving-webs]

Happy World Elephant Day!

African and Asian, roaming the wild or in zoos, all elephants are key members of an endangered species.  This is a day for celebrating these iconic animals all over the globe, as well as reflecting on the challenges & successes.

August 12th has been #WorldElephantDay for 8 years now. Founded by #ElephantReintroductionFoundation in 2012, #WorldElephantDay and a hundred elephant conservation groups globally raise awareness of the plight of the elephants.

Elephants are an endangered species

'Signing' the online pledge might not really mean much in the grand scheme of things, but it is a minute of time taken out of a hot, busy day to think about elephants.

In Africa, there are only about 415,000 elephants now remaining, less than a third of the population in 1979. #GreenMatters #SpaceForGiants

Poachers have illegally killed an estimated 110,000 elephants over the past decade — a quarter of Africa’s elephant population.

Today isn't just about the ongoing challenges facing elephants, though. It is also about the people putting their lives literally on the line to keep them safe. It is about the success stories as well as the horrors.

So! To honor elephants, here is an article from Green Matters:

https://www.greenmatters.com/p/world-elephant-day-2020

Ways to help elephants:

1. Buy the book!  ..... Just kidding.

2. Adopt an elephant.Self evident. Will be revisiting this soon... or as soon as I can decide which charity to adopt through. Look forward to baby elephant pics!

3. Watch ‘Akashinga: The Brave Ones’.Amazing short film from Nat Geo about a real group of women in Zimbabwe fighting poaching. (And I cannot believe I did not hear about this before Adimu's character was written).

4. Sign World Elephant Day’s pledge.I am number 31,246!

5. Do not purchase ivory.Obviously. Not that it is really possible in the UK anymore.

Happy World Elephant Day!

[ragewrites]

he sits outside the bodega, perched on that same cornerstone where countless girls named Mary were told that God had chosen them by men too old to still be angels. i offer him a Camel and ask if he’s got any songs. “I don’t busk,” he says, “but I can tell you a story.” there are eyes on the soles of his feet and they have seen the world entire — he tells me of it, that saga written in blisters and blood across the scorched earth; and all throughout he is laughing, the way you would at a funeral. no amount of teeth can hope to hide his tears. yet only half of them are born of sorrow; they must be precious to him, the way he lets them knot and gather underneath his chin. I listen, quietly.

       VIRACOCHA’S WANDERINGS       // smoke break with a nomad god

      ғʏᴇᴀʜᴍʏᴛʜs’ sᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴍʏᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ         ❥ ᴅᴀʏ ғᴏᴜʀ  :  ᴀ sᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ

      lianna schreiber,  20 july 2017.

(via fyeahmyths)

[writing-prompt-s]

Area 51 has four level emergencies for a breakout. Level 3: Armed forces intervention. 2: Public statement. United Nations joint resistance. 1: Worldwide evacuation effort. Use of nuclear weapons permitted. And 0: Call the number on the sticky note (and pray to God his demands aren’t too high).

[inkmagician]

january yawns into existence, tender-mouthed & raw at the edges. teach us how to unravel these tangles with careful fingers, how to bury our wounds and stitch ourselves anew.

— arlen c. | check out my chapbooks!

[writing-prompt-s]

Write a story that contains a huge plot hole, and try to sneak it past the reader. The bigger the plot hole the better.

[writing-prompt-s]

You were born with a rather… unique… ability… You have full control of your genetic code and can alter it at will

[writing-prompt-s]

An ancient evil awakens to destroy humanity, only to find out he is no match for modern technology, thus forcing him to become a functioning member of society.

[jupiterreed]

How To Become A God For Beginners

Make a mosiac of those bedraggled bones, swallow cloudfulls of sky and roast stars on

open fires. Kiss like the whole world’s fate depends on the friction of your lips. Shake

hands with the dead-eyed ghost in the mirror, tell her you’re sorry, tell her you’re trying. Tell

her that some days are sparks of nothings, how some are droughts and others torrential. Sever

all ties with boys who bloom like bad dreams and stop biting your nails. Don’t waste your time

on wasps with katanas for teeth. See how long you can hold your breath underwater. Let the

light slurp up your rose-flaked skin. Take the small risk of stepping outside. Remember, there

are no comfort zones, to a God, everywhere is no man’s land, a warren to walk free. Apologize,

no being is perfect, and immortality often comes at the price of one’s soul. Take the night

by its stuttering reigns, zip its mouth shut. The darkness is a mere blot on your shirt, and your

shirt needs a good wash. Rekindle the hopes you’d thought you’d lost, Gods never give up.

Watch the world with fresh eyes, in you flow a million veins, in you stutter a million heartbeats,

so many churches to fill. Don’t pick at your scars, eat them. Now that you’ve ingested them,

they’re harmless. They’re trapped. Color your hair and give your body the gift of sleep. Hold

your own hand, hug a tree. You don’t have to scale the side of a mountain or hold the weight

of Atlantis to make a difference, to leave a mark. Remember that the best stories come from

drowned cities. Remember you’re a kingpin with wings handcrafted by angels. Remember

that the moon withers with you, that a firefly goes out everytime you drop your hurting head.

Remember the tides look to you for their lovesick cues, that the desert found a safe

place to sleep in you. Remember that, when you’re a God, the morning always comes.

[writing-prompt-s]

“Note to self, that kills people. Do not do again”

[inkmagician]

it splinters softly. not a supernova, you could’ve handled an explosion. just this: shifting eyes, shifting hearts. you never pay attention in geography but you know about continental drift, and this is it. countries falling away, peeling apart.   when the silence weighs too heavy in your bones, you find him and search his eyes like a map that once led to you. you want to say ‘is this what pangaea felt like?’ but what comes out instead is ‘did you know the moon moves away from the earth at 3.78 centimeters per year?’ you’re not sure what you expect, maybe ‘so who am i, earth or moon’, and you’d say 'earth, of course, i’m moving but i can’t ever break away from you’, but he looks at you like he’s forgotten the past ten years.   later, he apologizes, a string of platitudes that aren’t enough and never will be. your hands are still empty, your heart even emptier. as you walk away, you think about continental drift and how the countries still stand, even separated. you wonder if europe and africa were ever best friends and that’s what they felt, like ripping out their lungs from their ribcages and still trying to breathe.

victims of continental drift | a.c. | check out my chapbook unmythologize! (via inkmagician)

[inkmagician]

i. five a.m. dreaming out the windows, eyes open and doors unlocked. chopin’s nocturnes on repeat as if i can somehow fill this cavity with moonlight in the form of a song. ii. tell me, have you ever felt like a thousand pieces of a thousand people all at once? iii. this is a lullaby, or perhaps an apology to myself. i’ve forgotten what it means to sleep without the flutter of your heartbeat next to mine. iv. sometimes i feel like a dozen tectonic plates always shifting, never at rest. there’s a chasm between my ribs and i named it after you. v. friday night dancing under the streetlights, a song in my throat as i build myself up from the ground. still learning how to pick myself out of the shipwreck, still learning to accommodate the fracture lines across my skin. vi. i am the thousand people i’ve been before, i am the thousand people i have yet to be. i am learning to love every one.

after the earthquake | a.c. for @existential-celestial | want one? (via inkmagician)

[writing-prompt-s]

Humans aren’t actually mortal. Upon suffering fatal damage, they are shown the entire future of humanity and given the option to heal or to accept death. Everyone picks option two.

[writing-prompt-s]

An imbecile observes intellectuals believing that they are stupid. This man believes that he is an intellectual since he is self-aware that he is, in fact, stupid. Using this newfound knowledge, he explains a deep philosophical question to his peers.

[writing-prompt-s]

Write a scene in the style of “The Stanley Parable”, then rewrite it, but this time, the character disobeys the narrator and derails the plot.

[bostonpoetryslam]

Are you outraged, sometimes, that there is no word for each thing. That the world presses into you each moment and you cannot accept it, cannot make it yours, and yours alone. Cannot make it stay.

Sam Cha, “Word Problem: Feathers,” published in Diagram (via bostonpoetryslam)

[afadthatlastsforever]

The sunset is proof that, sometimes, an ending can be beautiful too.

Beau Taplin • S u n s e t s  (via afadthatlastsforever)

[luthienne]

Be good, they said, and so too I was Good until I was not.

Lucie Brock-Broido, from Stay, Illusion; “A Cage Goes in Search of a Bird” (via luthienne)