humanity
For better or for worse, relationships reveal the core of the human condition.
Why the coin and not the butterfly?
To live an esthetic life: to live a life for experience, for personal lived experiences which are intrinsically subjective and beautifully unique. This life is one of nature, of natural beauty which is less theoretically constrained by metaphysical and physical systems. This is not necessarily a life of solitude and it can be lived through rich and varied connections and lovers and friends. But some solitude is important and an esthetic finds appeal in their own time and their own prospections. An esthetic life is that of exhilaration, of the ability to see the esthetic appeal of risk and for it to be enough to tempt you past any theoretic barriers to the action. It’s likely one of experimentation, of induced hallucinations and of appreciation of the esthetics accessible via natural methods. Esthetics is orgasmic and organic
By Jali Tīeke Packer4 years ago in Humans
Attack at Dawn
In 1961 I was 15 years old. I had taken a job on a dairy in Artesia California, the one-time dairy capital of the world. I was paid $3 a morning, my duties included pitchforking hay to 120 hungry cows. I also washed out the barn after the cows had been milked. Six dollars for rubber boots was more than I could afford so I was always barefoot; I would just squirt my feet off if I stepped in cow dung. Many years later when I told my own kids about my work ethic they'd moan, “We know; 'in the snow, barefooted up-hill both ways'…”
By Gina Stewart Lebsock4 years ago in Humans
The Hornet's Nest
The Hornet’s Nest (Sheba-Dog’s Story) The humans I live with are a married couple, both have just turned sixty, I am their dog, Sheba. I am 11 years old, a big black dog with blue eyes. I have an amazing appetite and yes you could say with certainty, I am fat. Mom calls me the gentle giant.
By Deirdre FitzGerald4 years ago in Humans
MONSTER
Do you hate airports? I always did, but ironically, I always loved flying. The feeling of taking off, piercing through the clouds, looking down on the small, almost insignificant details. I sat on a bench, staring at the television flashing the flight number, the destination and the time. Only twenty minutes until boarding. To the left of me, another television played an advertisement. The State Gallery was holding an exhibit showcasing new up and coming artists. It’s flagship piece? An unknown artwork, titled ‘Monster’. Sitting directly opposite me, I watched a man reading the morning paper. ‘Drunk Driver Charged After Fatal Car Accident’ was emblazoned on the front cover. Beneath it, the crumpled wreck of a small white hatchback crushed beneath a four-wheel drive. Sitting to my right, a woman talking profusely on her mobile phone. “Yeah, it’s sad about him going missing. I know… yeah, Liam had gone on that camping trip as well… yeah…”. My eye was suddenly caught by the television, as a news ticker scrolled across. ‘Cape Luthbridge Teenager Charged with Manslaughter After Assault.’ Seeing that, I turned my head to look out the giant plate glass, catching the stare of a fluffy white owl.
By Aaron Renfrew4 years ago in Humans
Disassociating our decisions from their effects
Disassociating our actions from their consequences Cursing our luck when we are the cause I am sure we all do this unconsciously even if consciously we deny it. People blame fate, God, anything and everything for bad stuff that happens to them.
By Peter Rose4 years ago in Humans
The Night Owl
Today is her first day of therapy. She is so nervous. Although she has been wanting to go for so long now, she doesn’t know exactly what to expect and her mind is creating so many different scenarios, of very unlikely occurrences, like most things always did when she was scared. For example; ‘The therapist laughs at her maniacally when she tries to tell her what’s going on inside her head’. Or; ‘The therapist gets angry with her and yells at her for everything she’s ever done wrong in her life’.
By Tanea Edden4 years ago in Humans
Thinking about Abundance
Here I am in front for my keyboard again, relaxing my mind into a spot that’s becoming more comfortable. Its the space that allows me to “channel” my thoughts into words. That’s the odd thing about our meditations, we learn and practice techniques that all sort of leads to the same arenas.
By Quinten Larsen4 years ago in Humans
Making up my mind
Recently, I watched the Matrix trilogy's fourth part(!). Besides many things, I realised the underlying thing that the movie has always made me think of was how does one keep choosing the 'red pill' once have chosen that path? The very fact someone even gets that choice, is a big deal, and eventually, it's not just a one time thing, but needs to be done on every single waking moment.
By Pournima Barhate4 years ago in Humans
That Night
The night air had a peculiar and crisp chill to it that couldn’t just be attributed to the harsh bite of winter. One could barely make out the shape of a decrepit barn, the snow falling mercilessly, covering the structure in a thick blanket of white. Other than the sound of the blizzard, there seemed to be no movement at all, as if all the world lie dormant. Small footsteps rustling through the snow broke the stillness, almost abruptly. The small figure of a young girl labored slowly through the snow, stopping every few feet to breathe deeply and readjust the sack she carried on her shoulders. She held a small flashlight in her hand, its waning light barely enough to make out the formation of the aged barn. Stopping outside the massive barn entrance, she began struggling to pry it open through the heavy snow. With an audible grunt the doors gave away just enough for the girl to slip her tiny frame through. Stumbling inside, she turned and peered through the open door, as if waiting for something to follow her. She shone her flashlight around the interior of the barn before making her way to a small stall near the back. She threw the sack off her shoulder and sat down in the very back corner of the stall, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her head upon them. She inhaled deeply, her every breathe distributing a small cloud of steam. Time passed and the girl scarcely moved, except to pull her coat tighter around her, warding off the icy air. As she sat in the darkened barn, the only noticeable sound was the wind and snow beating against the ancient shelter’s sides. The world fell hushed again, but much like how her footsteps broke the calm of the winter storm before, the small rustling of wings could be heard entering the barn. She raised her head, and a small smile crept across her face. Reaching inside her sack, she pulled out an old lantern and lit it, immersing the stall in a warm glow. The newfound illumination revealed a small barn owl perched at the top of the enclosure. Its white and brown speckled feathers glistened, still wet from snow. The flame in the lantern danced and mirrored off the owl’s seemingly clever eyes.
By Hannah Hamm4 years ago in Humans
