Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum.+Baz Luhrmann via About Time (Full Extract)
Both are very hard work. Writing something is almost as hard as making a table. With both you are working with reality, a material just as hard as wood. Both are full of tricks and techniques. Basically very little magic and a lot of hard work are involved. And as Proust, I think, said, it takes ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration. I never have done any carpentry but it’s the job I admire most, especially because you can never find anyone to do it for you.+Gabriel Garcia Marquez via The Paris Review
Nate Silver at Rotman’s Shift Disturbers.
Most people miss their whole lives, you know. Listen, life isn’t when you are standing on top of a mountain looking at a sunset. Life isn’t waiting at the altar or the moment your child is born or that time you were swimming in a deep water and a dolphin came up alongside you. These are fragments. Ten or twelve grains of sand spread throughout your entire existence. These are not life. Life is brushing your teeth or making a sandwich or watching the news or waiting for the bus. Or walking. Every day, thousands of tiny events happen and if you’re not watching, if you’re not careful, if you don’t capture them and make them count, your could miss it.
You could miss your whole life.
Toni Jordan in Addition
Song: “What Are We Waiting For?” by Amiina
Above all, we cannot afford not to live in the present.+Walking, Henry David Thoreau
Some travellers tells us that an Indian had no name given him at first, but earned it, and his name was his fame and among some tribes he acquired a new name with every new exploit. It is pitiful when a man bears a name for convenience merely, who has earned neither name or game.+Walking, Henry David Thoreau
In short, all good things are wild and free. There is something in a strain of music, whether produced by an instrument or by the human voice, -take the sound of a bugle in a summer night, for instance, - which by its wildness, to speak without satire, reminds me of the cried emitted by wild beasts in their native forests. It is so much of their wildness as I can understand. Give me for my friends and neighbours wild men, not tame ones. The wildness of the savage is but a faint symbol of the awful fertility with which good men and lovers meet.+Walking, Henry David Thoreau
Life consists with wildness. The most alive is the wildest. Not yet subdued to man, its presence refreshes him. One who pressed forward incessantly and never rested from his labours, who grew fast and made infinite demands on life, would always find himself in a new country or wilderness, and surrounded by the raw materials of life.+Walking, Henry David Thoreau
We go eastward to realize history and study the words of art and literature, retracing the steps of the race; we go westward as into the future, with a spirit of enterprise and adventure.+Walking, Henry David Thoreau
I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks - who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering: which word is beautifully derived “from idle people who roved about the country in the Middle Ages, and asked charity, under pretence of going à la Sainte Terre,” to the Holy Land, till the children explained, “There goes a Sainte-Terrer,” a Saunterer, - a Holy-Lander. They who never go to the Holy Land in their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds but they who do go there are saunterers in the good sense, such as I mean. Some, however, would derive the word from sans terre, without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere. Fot this is the secret of successful sauntering. They who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatest vagrant of all; but the saunterer, in the good sense, is no more vagrant than the meandering river, which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to the sea.
+Walking, Henry David Thoreau
no one tells you
if anyone does you do not listen anyway
if you do still you do not understand
no one tells you how to be free
there is fire in your neck
ocean in your ear
there is always your fear
the words you cannot even
no one is here
when the world opens upside
down you reach toward dawn
your weight on the earth changes
some of us plant deeper
others ache to fly