Who?

Nº. 1 of  27

Of Cloud Forests & Starving Children

It was the last week of January, 2008 and the harsh beep of an alarm pulled me out of sleep. Groggy, I looked up at the peeling cement ceiling three feet above me.

I was on a top bunk in the room of a small inn. ($9 a night didn’t seem like a bad deal.) On the bunk below me was my friend Yoani — a Holland-born boy raised in the tobacco country of southern Ontario (we’d met at university) — and our cameraman, Mike, who we’d dragged all the way from his urbane Toronto to the mountains of northern Nicaragua. 

Stepping out into the courtyard, I could see clouds hanging a couple hundred feet above our rooftops. Neighbourhoods of huts drifting into barren, stump-filled openness drifting into heavily wooded hillsides vaulted up the sIopes of the mountains surrounding this highland vale-town. Those treed verticals rose into the mist and gave the low-hanging clouds the look of being a blanket pinned to surrounding peaks, like a child giant’s living room fortress. 

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“Gold is the corpse of value,” says Goto Dengo.
“I don’t understand.”
“If you want to understand, look out the Window!” says the patriarch, and sweeps his cane around in an arc that encompases half of Tokyo. “Fifty years ago, it was flames. Now it is lights! Do you understand?” […]
“Wealth that is stored up in gold is dead. It rots and stinks. True wealth is made every day by men getting up out of bed and going to work. By schoolchildren doing their lessons, improving their minds. Tell those men that if they want wealth, they should come to Nippon with me after the war. We will start businesses and build things.”
— Goto Dengo to Avi and Randy in “present day”, Chapter 95, “Goto Sama”, and Goto Dengo to Enoch Root in 1945, Chapter 96, “R.I.P.”, all from Cryptonomicon, by Neal Stephenson
(Photo via pushthemovement)

“Gold is the corpse of value,” says Goto Dengo.

“I don’t understand.”

“If you want to understand, look out the Window!” says the patriarch, and sweeps his cane around in an arc that encompases half of Tokyo. “Fifty years ago, it was flames. Now it is lights! Do you understand?” […]

“Wealth that is stored up in gold is dead. It rots and stinks. True wealth is made every day by men getting up out of bed and going to work. By schoolchildren doing their lessons, improving their minds. Tell those men that if they want wealth, they should come to Nippon with me after the war. We will start businesses and build things.”

— Goto Dengo to Avi and Randy in “present day”, Chapter 95, “Goto Sama”, and Goto Dengo to Enoch Root in 1945, Chapter 96, “R.I.P.”, all from Cryptonomicon, by Neal Stephenson

(Photo via pushthemovement)

I want tools that make me feel like I’m trudging through the mud, tools that require some kind of physical mastery, that feel alive when you use them, like a cowhand’s steed. Why do we have to slouch here in front of these glowing screens? Why can’t the work we do be a higher expression of beauty, both mentally and physically, possess the grace an olympian propelling herself backwards over a wobbling high jump bar? What if web design was a full-contact sport?

—Jack Cheng on The Setup

Advice for the modern consumer

Advice for the modern consumer

(Source: gaws, via mnmal)

Even now, after centuries of reductionist propaganda, the world is still intricate and vast, as dark as it is light, a place of mystery, where we cannot do one thing without doing many things, or put two things together without putting many things together. Water quality, for example, cannot be improved without improving farming and forestry, but farming and forestry cannot be improved without improving the education of consumers — and so on.

The proper business of a human economy is to make one whole thing of ourselves and this world.

Wendell Berry, from In Distrust of Movements

It’s just one of those days.

It’s just one of those days.

(Source: ummhello)

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We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.

— E.E. Cummings

(via lylaandblu)

What is deceptive, especially in the West, is our assumption that repetitive and mindless jobs are dehumanizing. On the other hand, the jobs that require us to use the abilities that are uniquely human, we assume to be humanizing. This is not necessarily true. The determining factor is not so much the nature of our jobs, but for whom they serve. ‘Burnout’ is a result of consuming yourself for something other than yourself. You could be burnt out for an abstract concept, ideal, or even nothing (predicament). You end up burning yourself as fuel for something or someone else. This is what feels dehumanizing. In repetitive physical jobs, you could burn out your body for something other than yourself. In creative jobs, you could burn out your soul. Either way, it would be dehumanizing. Completely mindless jobs and incessantly mindful jobs could both be harmful to us.

Dsyke Suematsu from his white paper discussed at Why Ad People Burn Out.

(Source: viakylemeyer)

Old-growth forests

Old-growth forests

(via indigenousdialogues)

He who works with his hands is a laborer.
He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman.
He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist.

—St. Francis of Assisi

Nº. 1 of  27