#TRADITION
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The “B” — my old high school’s Senior tradition
The “Q” was added in 2017 following the Route 91 mass shooting which killed fellow classmate Quinton Robbins. R.i.p Q
#my photography#the B#Nevada#Henderson#high school#trail running#nostalgia#tradition#rip#Q#every year the senior class repaints the B#cardio#tumblr#vegas#landscape photography#nature photography#my photo#photography#hiking#nature#landscape#travel#calisthenics#summer#backpacking#photographer#aesthetic#photooftheday#fitness#workout
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This years tree - Jeremy Miranda , 2024.
American , b. 1980 -
Acrylic on board , 10 x 12 in.
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Omo Valley, Ethiopia — The many tribes living along the Omo River are renowned for their unique, ecstatic ritual decoration. Their customs and awe inspiring appearance have been the subject of decades of research.
Children of the Kwegu people, known for their intricate flower headdresses and face paint.
Photographer: Hans Sylvester
#reddit#utterlyuniquephotos#chemical-elk-1299#omo valley#ethiopia#tribe#omoriver#children#kwegu people#flower#flora#flower headdress#face paint#blm#africa#east africa#black history#black history month#history#photographer#photography#hans sylvester#african#culture#people#tradition#traditional art#child
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Teachers and students
#art#anime#naruto#gaara#maito gai#might guy#lee#baki#rock lee#kakashi#sketch#tradition#drawing#artist on tumblr#artwork#my art
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#ouroboros#esoteric#uroboros#ancient symbols#serpent#snake#dragon#tail#alchemy#norse mythology#ancient greek#alchemical#cycle of life#jörmungandr#jormundgandr#sword#cup#magic#magical#tradition#art#symbol#europe#european#snakes#history#sun#swords#norse#greek mythology
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The Zaouli dance: A mesmerizing blend of rhythm, tradition, and artistry. More than a performance, it’s a cultural heartbeat of the Guro people of Côte d’Ivoire. 🌍✨
#africa#african traditions#african dance#black people#black culture#african culture#african tribe#black history#blacklivesmatter#music#tribal dance#dancing#black is beautiful#black excellence#dance#The Zaouli dance: A mesmerizing blend of rhythm#tradition#and artistry. More than a performance#it’s a cultural heartbeat of the Guro people of Côte d’Ivoire. 🌍✨#Reposted: @josh.animals#panafrikan#blacktraveljourney#africanhistory#blacktravel#everydayafrica#africancreatives#representationmatters#Moyoafrika#reminds me of tap dancing#black lives matter
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Around the world today, the penumbra of the rising of the first sun of May is lined with onlookers and wellwishers, eyes on the eastern horizon to catch the first glimpse of a new season.
Because in our hearts, this is how summer returns to the northern hemisphere; this sun a baton passed in the annual relay as the south prepares for what winter may bring.
Among our number, where the hilltops flatten enough for people to trust their feet in the gloom, for over a century now morris dancers have set out in the fading dark to dance in the dawn, for the same reason we do anything: because it's what we do. That's all tradition is, after all.
And every year, alongside the bells, a passage from Terry Pratchett's Hogfather rings in my mind.
"The sun would have risen just the same, yes?"
NO.
"Oh, come on. You can't expect me to believe that. It's an astronomical fact."
THE SUN WOULD NOT HAVE RISEN.
...
"Really? Then what would have happened, pray?"
A MERE BALL OF FLAMING GAS WOULD HAVE ILLUMINATED THE WORLD.
And so, every year, follow the sound of bells and sticks, the chorus of voices singing Hal And Tow, and you'll find a bunch of knackered weirdos in the middle of nowhere in daft hats and a chill breeze, but proud of what they've done.
After all, we just made the sun rise.
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Night Vigil
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My mom longs for traditions but lacks the wherewithal to actually develop any. Growing up she’d always try to make some new Christmas gimmick that we could do each year. They never stuck. She’d forget, or we wouldn’t want to continue and she’d give up.
One year she had us sew our own stockings. This wasn’t a huge hit as I was requested to sew immediately upon waking, a skill I largely lack. My brother hated his inadequacy as I don’t think he’d gotten even the cursory education I had with a needle and thread. I think mom thought we’d make new ones each year and they’d be like a fun memento. Our dissatisfaction with the whole thing meant we skipped it the next year and I’ve been using the same janky stocking that I sewed half asleep ever since.
For two years she tried to do holiday cookie decorating but my dad griped about all the sugar in the house while gorging on cookies and the tradition faded away.
For a few years she remembered to always put a geode in the stocking that we could break open with a hammer. It was fun at first, but I had to eventually ask her to stop because I didn’t have anywhere to keep a million geodes.
We went to movies some years but trying to find a film we all wanted to see proved troublesome enough that it fizzled out.
This last holiday she just announced they’d be leaving for December and didn’t do anything with family at all.
She pines for familial connection while having little idea of how to maintain relationships. It’s more important for her to have a smiling picture as a memory than to actually be happy. She wants a picture perfect family that gets along and is constantly disappointed by what she has instead.
One of her favorite photos is the last camping trip we went on as a family, me and my siblings with their kids. She croons about how nice it was to have us all together and I don’t say that all I remember from the trip is learning my brother was a drug addict and seeing my sister hit my nephew across the face.
I reached out recently to suggest that since we’ve all got bikes now and my parents are both officially retired we can do a weekly bike ride. This was met with delight and excitement.
We had our first ride today and it was genuinely pretty fun. We’ll see if it can last a month.
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Irish Harp
#Ireland#St. Patrick's Day#Dublin#John Egan#19th century#vintage harp#musical instruments#craftsmanship#tradition#master craftsman#Celtic music#Irish heritage#1800's
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Christmas tree decorated with candles - Rudolf Bernhard Willmann
German , 1868-1919
Oil on cardboard , 48 x 32 cm. 18.9 x 12.6 in.
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In Slovenia's Soča valley, the traditional Pust festival marks the end of winter. Locals wear masks and costumes celebrating the coming of spring.
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