Buttercup walk by Alex J White. Inspired by this poem from Willow Harth.
— Alan Rabinowitz, in "A Voice for the Animals"
(Photo by Paulo/Flickr)
Man came silently into the world. As a matter of fact he trod so softly that, when we first catch sight of him as revealed by those indestructible stone instruments, we find him sprawling all over the old world from the Cape of Good Hope to Peking. Without doubt he already speaks and lives in groups; he already makes fire…. Thus, in the eyes of science, which at long range can only see things in bulk, the ‘first man’ is and can only be a crowd, and his infancy is made up of thousands and thousands of years…. — Teilhard de Chardin, in The Phenomenon of Man
This quote took. Six degrees of separation seems to be the key here.
How do a NASA scientist working on the Kepler mission and a translator of Rilke come together in this photo? By way an On Being listener:
Pancho heard Joanna Macy and I in interviews with @kristatippett and brought us together. Gratitude. @Beingtweets pic.twitter.com/mPDCdrQsku— Natalie Batalha (@nbatalha)July 18, 2014
If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces, never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again. — Flavia Weedn, from this week’s remix Revealing Ramadan.
You don’t need another person, place, or thing to make you whole. God already did that. Your job is to know it. —
Maya Angelou, as told to Oprah Winfrey in this month’s issue of O magazine.
Hear the great Dr. Angelou talk about one of her mentors, W.E.B. Du Bois, in this public radio episode.
Ah, but I love to draw beautiful words, like trumpets of light…I adore you, words who are sensitive to our sufferings, words in red and lemon yellow, words in the steel-blue colour of certain insects, words with the scent of vibrant skills, subtle words of fragrant roses and seaweed, prickly words of sky-blue wasps. words with powerful snouts, words of spotless ermine, words spat out by the sands of the sea, words greener than Cyrene fleece, discreet words whispered by fishes in the pink ears of shells, bitter words, tornado and storm-tossed words, being beaten, evil words, festive words, tornado and storm-tossed words, windy words, reedy words, the wise words of children, rainy, tearful words, words without rhyme or reason, I love you! I love you! — James Ensor, belgian printmaker and painter on language.
Our first in-studio interview at On Being! Gordon Marino talks Søren Kierkegaard and pugilism with our host Krista Tippett. (at On Being with Krista Tippett)
Dear God, I cannot love Thee the way I want to. You are the slim crescent of a moon that I see and my self is the earth’s shadow that keeps me from seeing all the moon. The crescent is very beautiful and perhaps that is all one like I am should or could see; but what I am afraid of, dear God, is that my self shadow will grow so large that it blocks the whole moon, and that I will judge myself by the shadow that is nothing.
I do not know You God because I am in the way. Please help me to push myself aside. — Flannery O’Connor, from this review of her recently released prayer journal.
"Convención de Hadas del Bosque" by Jesus Solana, which accompanies Parker Palmer’s wonderful insights on finding simplicity on the other side of complexity.
There’s something comically great about these images of larger-than-life intellectuals resting, smiling, enjoying life.
W.E.B. Du Bois was one of the great thinkers of the twentieth century. We’ve got a thorough profile of his writing on our site this week.
For the simplicity that lies this side of complexity, I would not give a fig, but for the simplicity that lies on the other side of complexity, I would give my life. — Oliver Wendell Holmes, from this week’s column from Parker Palmer.