Our dreams are, generally, us imagining ourselves from the outside, not the inside. This can never be experienced and, because of that, “following one’s dreams” is usually a necessarily fruitless activity. Even in the best of circumstances, it is not a source of well-being or comfort.
And although we’re often told, “You can do anything you set your mind to!”, it’s just not true. People CAN’T do anything they set their minds to. The physicality of my vocal chords make it so that I will never sing like Adele. My height precludes me from being a basketball star. My age and ethnicity prevent me from ever being a member of South Korean boy band BTS, no matter how much I set my mind to it.
If you discover what you’re truly good at, and what you enjoy doing, and it’s something you can potentially make a living at – well, that, to me, is a much richer life than following your dreams, which are not only unfullfilling, but they shift and change throughout your life anyway. Because to achieve a dream is one thing, but to live inside a dream that you discover moment by moment along your path, where you grow stronger and wiser, and enhance the lives of those around you – well, that’s a much deeper, more fulfilling life.
Nature’s particular gift to the walker, through the semi-mechanical act of walking — a gift no other form of exercise seems to transmit in the same high degree — is to set the mind jogging, to make it garrulous, exalted, a little mad maybe — certainly creative and suprasensitive, until at last it really seems to be outside of you and as if it were talking to you whilst you are talking back to it. Then everything gradually seems to join in, sun and the wind, the white road and the dusty hedges, the spirit of the season, whichever that may be, the friendly old earth that is pushing life firth of every sort under your feet or spell-bound in a death-like winter trance, till you walk in the midst of a blessed company, immersed in a dream-talk far transcending any possible human conversation. Time enough, later, for that…; here and now, the mind has shaken off its harness, is snorting and kicking up heels like a colt in a meadow.–
There appears to be a compatibility issue between the High Sierra 10.13.2 security update and Samba (SMB), the networking protocol. I believe this is an issue to do with Intel processors, but that is as far as my understanding goes.
As a result, moving files on an externally mounted drive on an internal network causes the finder to freeze, (with the message “preparing to copy…”) requiring a manual shutdown to get the computer going again.
We have found a work around as follows:
Eject the drive/computer from the machine where the freeze is happening, using the eject icon in the finder window.
Go to Finder > Go > Connect to server…
Into the server address type afp://xxxx, where xxx is the internal ip address of the server where the drives are located.
Follow your normal connection procedure from here.
This reconnects the drive using the AFP protocol. So far we have been able to have full control over our folders on the externally mounted drive on the internal network. At this point we’re not sure if this requires reconnecting each time you start up, but it would be advisable to turn of any auto load of the drives in the “login items” in your User Preferences.
A poet is somebody who feels, and who expresses his feelings through words.
This may sound easy. It isn’t.
A lot of people think or believe or know they feel — but that’s thinking or believing or knowing; not feeling. And poetry is feeling — not knowing or believing or thinking.
Almost anybody can learn to think or believe or know, but not a single human being can be taught to feel. Why? Because whenever you think or you believe or you know, you’re a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you’re nobody-but-yourself.
To be nobody-but-yourself — in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
Testing of my beautiful new Gullor fountain pens and Waterman inks on a portrait of a young Salvador Dali.
Apparently the photograph was taken of Dali by Luis Buñuel around the time of the making of Un Chien Andalou.
One suggestion is that Dali’s father strongly opposed his relationship with his future wife, Gala, he banished him from the family home. Before leaving for Paris to join her, Dali shaved his head and buried the hair at Cadaqués beach.
The phenakistiscope and ‘stroboscopic disc’ of the 1830s were the first instruments to create an illusion of movement based on rapidly changing sequence pictures; the basic technique used subsequently in one form or another by the zoetrope, the Zoopraxiscope, cinematography, television, video, and digital motion pictures. These intriguing spinning-disc toys and the sequence drawings produced for them have not been adequately investigated.
A variant of it had two discs, one with slits and one with pictures; this was slightly more unwieldy but needed no mirror. Unlike the zoetrope and its successors, the phenakistoscope could only practically be used by one person at a time. – (Juxtapoz)
On 10 December 1830 Michael Faraday presented a paper at the Royal Institution of Great Britain called On a Peculiar Class of Optical Deceptions about the optical illusions that could be found in rotating wheels. He referred to Roget’s paper and described his associated new findings. Much was similar to what Plateau had published and Faraday acknowledged this publicly but also wrote to Plateau personally and sent him his paper. Some of Faraday’s experiments were new to Plateau and especially the one with a fixed image produced by a turning wheel in front of the mirror inspired Plateau with the idea for new illusions. In July 1832 Plateau sent a letter to Faraday and added an experimental disc with some “anamorphoses” that produced a “completely immobile image of a little perfectly regular horse” when rotated in front of a mirror. After several attempts and many difficulties he constructed a working model of the phénakisticope in November or December 1832. Plateau published his invention in a 21 January 1833 letter to Correspondance Mathématique et Physique. He believed that if the manner of producing the illusions could be somehow modified, they could be put to other uses, “for example, in phantasmagoria“. – wiki
The fame of the phenakistoscope lasted only two years, due to the rapid progression of science in the era, but fortunately certain historicists have devoted their careers to sourcing and celebrating these forgotten objects. Collector Richard Balzer is one such person – an aficionado of zoetropes, dissolve slides, vue d’optiques and other such illusory devices – and since stumbling upon his first 40 years ago he has established an admirable and ever-growing collection. Here, AnOther selects a tiny fraction of his archive, from softly rippling foliage to pirouetting ballerinas and galloping horses, for your delight. – (anothermag)
There is some cool posts here and there on how to make your own. Like this from MakeZine, another from Instructables, and for good measure here is a video on it’s construction.
This article, shared recently by an internet friend, outlines three methods of coping with anxiety that closely align with my procedures for increasing artistic practice.
1. Do it badly
““Doing it badly”, without worrying about how it’s going to turn out, will not only make it much easier to begin, but you’ll also find that you’re completing tasks much more quickly than before. “
2. Wait to worry
“If something went wrong and you feel compelled to worry (because you think you screwed up), don’t do this immediately. Instead, postpone your worry – set aside 10 minutes each day during which you can worry about anything. If you do this, you’ll find that you won’t perceive the situation which triggered the initial anxiety to be as bothersome or worrisome when you come back to it later. And our thoughts actually decay very quickly if we don’t feed them with energy.”
3. Find a purpose in life by helping others.
“Being connected to people has regularly been shown to be one of the most potent buffers against poor mental health. The neurologist Viktor Frankl wrote: ‘For people who think there’s nothing to live for, nothing more to expect from life … the question is getting these people to realise that life is still expecting something from them.’”