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May 27 2017

ihuntyoursoul
14:42
9411 3441 500
Reposted fromnajlepsza najlepsza viakokoloko kokoloko
ihuntyoursoul
14:33
14:33
9291 8156
Reposted fromDennkost Dennkost viahouda houda
ihuntyoursoul
14:32
1506 7490 500
Reposted fromPoranny Poranny vianiktwazny niktwazny

May 21 2017

ihuntyoursoul
19:23
5753 96b0 500
Reposted fromfungi fungi
ihuntyoursoul
19:21
Zapytaj mnie o to, jaka książka ostatnio zrobiła na mnie największe wrażenie. Zapytaj mnie o to, o czym marzę. Zapytaj mnie o to, czy czuję się szczęśliwa. Zapytaj mnie o to, czy ostatnio widziałam obraz, który mnie poruszył. Zapytaj mnie o to, czy boję się śmierci. Zapytaj mnie o to, czy udaje mi się realizować moje plany.
Nie pytaj mnie o to, jak się czuję. Nie pytaj mnie o to, co dziś zrobiłam. Nie pytaj mnie o to, o której wstałam. Nie pytaj mnie o to, czy widziałam ostatni odcinek czegośtam. Nie pytaj mnie o to, co u mnie słychać. Ale przede wszystkim, nie pytaj mnie: „Co tam?”
Często spotykam się z „jałowymi” pytaniami, które nie mają za zadanie zbliżyć się do mnie i lepiej mnie poznać, tylko wypełnić ciszę. Na siłę. Byle ktoś coś powiedział, byle szybko, byle głośno, byle więcej. A to, co naprawdę u mnie słychać schodzi jakoś na dalszy plan. (...)
Ale zdaję sobie sprawę z tego, że niektórzy nie lubią pytań bardziej egzystencjalnych. Bo to porusza gdzieś w nich pokłady emocji, które próbowali ukryć pod zwałami codzienności. I nie chcą, żeby ich lęki wychodziły na światło dzienne. Bo mogliby się rozpłakać, zacząć krzyczeć albo zwyczajnie nie wiedzieli co powiedzieć. Bo może zapomnieli już jak się marzy, jak planuje. Może nie czytali nic ostatnimi czasy albo przeładowani obowiązkami nie mieli zwyczajnie ochoty łazić po muzeach i galeriach sztuki. Może to co ich otacza im wystarcza. I dobrze. O ile są w tym swoim świecie szczęśliwi.
Życzę Ci umiejętności zadawania właściwych pytań właściwym osobom. I słuchania jedynie tych pytań, które chcecie. Chociaż wiem, że czasem trzeba ludzi po prostu nakierować. I odbić ich pytanie o to „co tam”, swoim „jaką książkę ostatnio czytałeś?”. Często działa. Bo często ludzie boją się zadawać bardziej wnikliwe pytania, gdy nie wiedzą jak możemy zareagować i dlatego wolą kontakt powierzchowny. A tyle chcieliby o nas wiedzieć…
ihuntyoursoul
19:15

When you meet the right woman. She can stop the rage & pain.

Reposted fromToBier ToBier viairmelin irmelin
19:12
2062 abbd

asymbina:

randomtaleaday:

solitarelee:

221cbakerstreet:

spookyrawr:

rassoey:

avianawareness:

aph-romania:

reallymisscoffee:

dansknapp:

stultiloquentia:

doctormemelordmd:

fangirling-so-hard-rn:

Crows are scary
They

  • use tools
  • Can be taught to speak (like parrots)
  • Have huge brains for birds
  • like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee
  • They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things
  • they are scary smart at solving puzzles
  • some crows stay with their mates until one of them dies
  • they can remember faces
  • SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT.  They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows.  Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag.  But the nice guys with masks they left alone.  THEN, OH WE’RE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WEREN’T EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight.  THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES.
  • They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns.

Guys I’m really scared of crows now.
(q

Yeah but have you seen this 

A colleague of my dad’s lives next to a lake, and looked out the window one morning to see a duck trapped in the ice. A crow swooped down. “Oh hell,” she thought, expecting carnage, because crows are opportunists. But the crow chipped at the ice with its beak until the duck was free.

Idk of this counts but a few crows saved me from a magpie swooping attack once ,they’re bros who can tell when magpies are being unreasonable and need to chill

I love crows so damn much. When I was fifteen, I hit a pretty serious bout of depression, to the point I was in my room for months. Well, a family of crows made a nest in a tree outside my window. There were two parents and two chicks. One chick was healthy and strong. One was weak, and had a caw like something being strained. It sounded more like a rooster crowing and so my parents jokingly named him ‘Buck’.Well… months passed and Buck’s sibling was taught to fly. His parents focused on the sibling because the sibling was strong. The father stayed behind to try and teach Buck, but I saw him try to fly, fail, and crash to the floor. His father helped him back up into the tree.

Every day, I would watch Buck from my window until one day I opened it and started talking to him. He was small and gangly and he couldn’t caw right. His feathers were all over the place and I felt a kinship. So I made a deal with him. I told him that if he could do it, if he could fly, then I could find the strength to get up. Well… near the end of the season, after talking with him every day, I finally saw him get out of the nest. He went to the edge of his branch, braced himself, and jumped… and just before he hit the ground, he soared back up into the sky. I cheered harder than I ever had before.

That winter, Buck left the area. I was crestfallen. I felt like I’d lost a friend. But I was so damn proud of him. 

Cut to the next spring? I’m walking up the driveway one day when suddenly I hear a sound… a broken caw. I look up, and Buck is sitting in a tree above my head. He stared at me and puffed his feathers, then hopped down in front of me and cawed again. I was so damn thrilled, and I told him how proud I was of him. He ruffled his feathers and then soared off into his old tree. 

That summer? I heard two broken caws. One from Buck… and one from his chick.

Cut to ten years later? We have a family of crows who all have a very distinct caw and they come here and spend every spring, summer, and fall on our property. Buck still greets me every spring.

that last reply made me wanna cry. that’s so beautiful.

Don’t forget the Russian Crow SLEDDING DOWN A ROOF not once, but twice. 

this one morning i kept hearing really loud caws, i remember it was like 5am, LIKE REALLY LOUD AND ANNOYING AND AGGRESSIVE, so loud that i could hear it through a closed window, and i eventually went outside to check it out. there was a crow on my front lawn, it had an injury on its head and couldn’t fly and there were two other crows circling right above it, and they were cawing like mad. 

i tried to get close and take a better look and one of them dived super low and tried to attack me. so i went back in the house and chopped some sliced raw meat and tossed it at him from a distance.

a few more times later, very soon after, they could tell i was trying to help, and did not attack me. i was “allowed” to walk up close and pick him up, he couldn’t drink water properly so i had to dip my finger in a bowl and stick it in his mouth.

i did this few times a day and it went on for about a week before he disappeared, i thought he recovered and left, but he came back the next day and lands on me, and i see him around the block quite often, and he would come sit on my shoulder for a few minutes and then fly away again. i feel like i’ve adopted a son.

imageimageimage

Best birbs !!

your son is Beautiful and Strong

every time I see this post it has different crow stories and every time I reblog it again because all crow stories are good stories

@nentuaby - More birbfriends

BIRBS

Seriously though: crows have been known to mimic common phone alert sounds & rings just to fuck with people walking through Central Park.

Reposted fromgreggles greggles viaPstryk Pstryk
ihuntyoursoul
19:03
Jestem typem, który bardzo przeżywa to, że coś się nie uda, nie powiedzie, komuś się nie spodoba. Ja się tym mocno przejmuję, niestety. I z jednej strony potrafię np. kompletnie zapaść się w sobie, nie robić niczego, nie odzywać się – nawet do siebie – zamknąć się zupełnie, a z drugiej – daje mi to taką silną potrzebę udowodnienia, że jednak dam radę.
— Izabela Kuna

May 19 2017

ihuntyoursoul
16:34
Jeszcze w szkole, pamiętam, mówiono nam, że w naszych organizmach jest węgla na 2000 ołówków, wapnia na 30 kawałków kredy i żelaza na jeden gwóźdź.

Dzieciom trzeba mówić co innego: że ich organizm można liczyć w diamentach, kielichach wina, filiżankach herbaty i balonach.

Leżała skulona jak płód. Lewą dłoń trzymałem... pod jej stopami, prawą na czubku głowy, objąłem ją mocniej, mocniej przytuliłem do brzucha mówiąc:

teraz jesteś moja
jesteś jak tysiąc diamentów
jak garść złotych obrączek
jak kreda na tysiąc gier w klasy.

— Julio Cortazar - Gra w Klasy
Reposted fromvith vith viaintotheblack intotheblack
16:31
13:29

rgfellows:

So, in my art history class today, my professor was talking about something that is so fuckin awesome.

image

These are warrior shields from the Wahgi people of Papua New Guinea. The warriors paint them with imagery meant to symbolize animals who have traits they wish to embody in battle. These depictions are intended to give the person using it the powers of what they’re depicting.

Now. Look at this Wahgi shield:

image

Hmm. That looks a bit different from the others.

image

That looks VERY different. Why, it looks like

image

The Phantom… American comic book character by Lee Falk. And that’s because it is.

image

The Wahgi people were isolated from the rest of the “modern” world until 1933. They came into contact with WWII service men who shared some aspects of western culture with the tribesmen. In particular, they showed them the comic books they read while shipped out. The Wahgi loved them. In particular, the Wahgi adored the stories of the Phantom, who wasn’t even particularly popular in its home of America.

He is so popular that the few Wahgi who can read english will read the comics out loud in the village center and hold out the pages for everyone to see, so the whole tripe can enjoy them and marvel at the Phantom’s might in battle.

They identify with the Phantom because he came from a jungle territory, like them, wore a mask to fight, like them, and came from a long line of warriors, which the Wahgi, who worshiped their ancestors, deeply respected. Further, despite not really having superpowers, the Phantom is strong, clever, and incredibly fast. He was so fast that his enemies began to believe that he was impervious to bullets and could not be killed.

Therefore, the Wahgi began painting HIM on their shields to invoke HIS abilities in battle. There are TONS of Phantom-Wahgi shields out there.

So, you might think that you’re huge comic book fan, but the Wahgi have taken their Phantom fandom to the next level and have made the Phantom a fucking talisman to carry into battle for strength.

Reposted fromnerdtrap nerdtrap viaIMS IMS
ihuntyoursoul
13:27
1047 9638 500
Reposted fromstarwars starwars viaIMS IMS
ihuntyoursoul
13:20
5114 e4d0 500
Reposted fromdozylnie dozylnie viahouda houda
ihuntyoursoul
13:15
9911 7830 500

saltycornchip:

best-of-memes:

Someone took a candid photo of a fight in Ukranian Parliament that is as well-composed as the best renaissance art

this is currently my favorite thing on the entire internet

Reposted fromthatsridicarus thatsridicarus viahouda houda
ihuntyoursoul
12:46
7188 2e20 500
Reposted fromfungi fungi
12:42
12:40
0809 a971
Reposted fromkneadedbutter kneadedbutter viaryumajin ryumajin
12:34
9258 beb7 500

whitni:

this work is called “the impact of a book.”
– West Plains Public Library

ihuntyoursoul
12:34
Reposted fromgruetze gruetze viaebis ebis
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