11-9n:

A Very Very Short History of Philosophy. I’ve always felt that there are basically two kinds of philosophies: those that begin in wonder and those that begin in despair. The philosophies of wonder marvel at the world; they are drawn to its shimmering presence, and are driven by curiosity, which euphorically leans towards knowledge. By contrast, the philosophies of despair recoil from the world; they are at once perplexed by and weary of its ephemeral and fragile contours. They are driven by a doubt that gives way to a still greater doubt, until almost nothing is left. The philosophies of wonder embrace the world; the philosophies of despair are suspicious of it.

It would be tempting to describe philosophies of wonder as “optimistic” and philosophies of despair as “pessimistic”, were it not for the enthusiasm of the latter.

Eugene Thacker, Infinite Resignation

thehotgirlproject:

diseonfire:

indiaincredible:

Step-wells in India by Victoria Lautman

So I clicked through and had a read of the story. It’s worth doing.

Step-wells were used as a way to access water, which could fluctuate wildly between almost nothing in the dry season, to overflowing right to the top of the stairwells even, during the monsoon season.

Constant pumping however, has dropped the water table, so most of these structures are no longer in use and are being used as rubbish dumps or just left to decay. Victoria Lautman (in 2015 at the time the article was written) has been going around India trying to photograph all of these structures before they disappear.

These structures are not for the faint of knees

llleighsmith:

Cooking makes love manifest. We tend a garden, head for the grocery store or the farmers’ market, receive a largesse of food gifts from family, friends, and neighbors. We set to work or perchance to play. Whenever food appears, it is the work of many people and the offering of other forms of life, a gift from Beyond, from sun, earth, sky, and water, from mystery. It is onion knowing how to onion, salmon fully infused with salmoning. It is blood, sweat, and tears; thoughts, emotions, and physical actions made visible, tasteable, edible. What we can put in our mouths, chew, and swallow, digest, absorb, and eliminate has been sorted out from what we can’t. It is offered, served forth. We go on living. Our bodies are nourished, and if we are fortunate, our spirits are lifted. […]

Lifted, light, and buoyant with the sights, smells, and tastes of what is being eaten, the body remembers that it is also spirit. The divide between body and mind is bridged —no, the two are simply no longer recognized or found. They have become indistinguishable from the present, magnificently vibrant and awash with well-being. Whether spoken or not, thank you choruses throughout the room: to Source, to God, to the Divine, to family and friends, to the chefs, the growers, the pickers and shippers, to our ancestors, to the Blessed Ones and to those not so blessed, to all beings giving their lives. We give thanks. We are grateful. We forget ourselves. We forgive ourselves, and others. We praise.

It’s in the cooking. It’s in the eating, in the air, the ground, the sunlight. You can tune to it. You can bring it forth.

It’s your good heart expressing itself, manifesting wherever you look. Loving what is. And using your body, mind, and heart to bring it to the table, ready to eat.

— edward espe brown, no recipe: cooking as spiritual practice

otro-estupido-ser-humano:

“Both of them were uncertain; both of them were trying as much as they could; both of them would doubt themselves, would progress and reduce. But they would both keep trying, because they trusted each other, and because the other person was the only other person who would ever be worth such hardships, such difficulties, such insecurities and exposure.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life