carladoll6:

thegodmolecule:


here is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.
 

This is so sweet.

carladoll6:

thegodmolecule:

here is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.

And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.



In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.



The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.

You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.

 

This is so sweet.

likeafieldmouse:

Ross Bleckner - Falling Birds (1994)

razorshapes:

Finn Beales

Iceland (2012) - images taken with an iPhone

raspberrytart:

IMG_5641.CR2-2012 by Ernst Vikne on Flickr.

raspberrytart:

IMG_5641.CR2-2012 by Ernst Vikne on Flickr.

fairy-wren:

bluethroat
(photo by alejandro jimenez)

fairy-wren:

bluethroat

(photo by alejandro jimenez)

eatsleepdraw:

Prints: http://society6.com/SamRowe
Page: http://www.facebook.com/SamRoweIllustration
Site: http://cargocollective.com/samroweillustration
Follow: http://spokeofspam.tumblr.com/

eatsleepdraw:

Prints: http://society6.com/SamRowe

Page: http://www.facebook.com/SamRoweIllustration

Site: http://cargocollective.com/samroweillustration

Follow: http://spokeofspam.tumblr.com/

roll of thunder, hear my cry i'm sophie
i like people i can learn from.
so i guess that would mean i like people.
i don't do much, just occasionally reblog inspiring things.

“all that we are is the result of what we have thought. the mind is everything. what we think we become.”

theartofanimation:

4gico

The Adorable Story of a Grandmother and Her Cat

Japanese photographer Miyoko Ihara began taking pictures of her grandmother, Misao, 13 years ago to commemorate her rich life. Along the way, the photographer came across a beautiful bond between her now 88-year-old grandmother and a cat named Fukumaru, whose given name roughly translates as “good fortune circle.” In her photo book titled Misao the Big Mama and Fukumaru the Cat, Ihara captures the affectionate tale of these two best friends doing everything together.

Looking through a selection of photos from the book, one can see the genuine friendship and warmth between the inseparable pair as they keep each other company throughout their daily lives. It was nine years ago that Misao first found Fukumaru abandoned in a shed, described as an “odd-eyed kitten.” While the cat had its own ailments and hearing disabilities, the two have continued to grow old together, enjoying the beauty of everyday life against the stunning backdrop of nature’s fields.

To see more heartwarming images of this adorable grandmother and her precious cat, Misao the Big Mama and Fukumaru the Cat can be purchased directly through Little More Books.

ingenuities:

leonard-labuneti

ingenuities:

leonard-labuneti

blacksheepboy-:

Sinai, Egypt (1997) (by So gesehen.)

blacksheepboy-:

Sinai, Egypt (1997) (by So gesehen.)

catonhottinroof:

SYDNEY M. LAURENCE      Northern Lights

catonhottinroof:

SYDNEY M. LAURENCE      Northern Lights

likeafieldmouse:

Kim Cogan - Waves (2010)

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