Hypotheses

theveganmothership:

We took this photo when we visited Opening Day of Pig Adventure at Fair Oaks Farms, a pig breeding and dairy operation that confines and forcibly impregnates 36,000 cows and 2700 sows. They make big bucks having their factory farm double as a theme park, selling exploitation as “The Miracle of Life.” You take tours, then head to restaurant for a Bacon and Swiss Grilled Cheese. We heard how much they love and respect animals. I have never seen so much misery and suffering.” — Ashley Capps

theveganmothership:

We took this photo when we visited Opening Day of Pig Adventure at Fair Oaks Farms, a pig breeding and dairy operation that confines and forcibly impregnates 36,000 cows and 2700 sows. They make big bucks having their factory farm double as a theme park, selling exploitation as “The Miracle of Life.” You take tours, then head to restaurant for a Bacon and Swiss Grilled Cheese. We heard how much they love and respect animals. I have never seen so much misery and suffering.” — Ashley Capps

(via earthandanimals)

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.
And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

Beannacht - John O’Donohue

myampgoesto11:

Daehyun Kim: The Value of Suffering, 2013

(via yesyes)

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, ‘The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Tonight I Can Write (The Saddest Lines) - Pablo Neruda
blue-voids:

Hermann Nitsch - Oedipus, 1990

blue-voids:

Hermann Nitsch - Oedipus, 1990

O land I love you green
Green
an apple dancing in water and light
Green
your night green, your dawn green
so plant me with the tenderness of a mother’s hand
in a handful of air
I am one of your seeds
Green …
Mahmoud Darwish, from “Mural” (via yesyes)
The Seven Sisters by Margaret Drabble

The Seven Sisters by Margaret Drabble

bee-topia:

Original Photograph by Google Street View

bee-topia:

Original Photograph by Google Street View

(Source: twistedsifter.com, via malabonce)

bee-topia:

Phillip Askew, yoga instructor, and Lydia Walker, formerly of the School of American Ballet, present their “Variations On Surya Namaskara” as part of Columbia Ballet Collaborative’s Fall Show at New York City Center Studio on November 22, 2008. With the improvisational accompaniment of pianist Jonah Rank.

(Source: malabonce)

indefenseofart:

A slaughterhouse truck filled with animal puppets by Banksy, currently on the corner of 86th and Columbus on the Upper West Side, NY!

(via xojanedotcom)

You have always been the place.
You are a woman who can build it yourself.
You are born to build.

 #poetry 

Sunglassey EP

 #SoundCloud   #AKIINE 
I drink to our ruined house,
to the dolor of my life,
to our loneliness together;
and to you I raise my glass,
to lying lips that have betrayed us,
to dead-cold, pitiless eyes,
and to the hard realities:
that the world is brutal and coarse,
that God in fact has not saved us
Anna Akhmatova, The Last Toast, trans. Kunitz (via yesyes)
 #do good 

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