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Our resident male Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) paused for a few seconds today in our backyard spruce tree.

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frauki

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In bed but awake, Guim Tió (because)

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wakhan, afghanistan by matthieu paley

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Jaipur at dusk.

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The Song Of Sparrows In A Hundred Days Of Summer

Summer in a village in one of the hottest regions in India, 2013-2014.

Photographs by Sohrab Hura

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mumbai

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life in wayanad, kerala

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Full Moon, Sweden by Yuri Ovchinnikov

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15th century church I stumbled across in northern Sweden. Because it has never been heated, the original colours have been preserved. Part 2

(Photo: d.)

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Wroclaw, Poland (by Anna)

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truth is, i needed this as much as you did. we were providence to each other, just in different ways.

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i am on my way to believing that He gives back with His right hand what He has taken away with His left; that what we offer to Him, however reluctantly, will always return to us as a gift, in whatever form He decides; that the moment of surrender is always the moment we free our hands to receive again. fundamentally, God is a giver. He is that good.

it is true too that He calls us to live above the plane of our emotions. Grieve if you must, but don't stay there. God makes streams in the wasteland and rivers in the desert; He asks that we perceive it, to summon hope when the eyes can't see, to believe again that there is so much more of His goodness that is on its way.

the Lord gives and the Lord has taken away. blessed be the name of the Lord.

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in that moment, it was enough to simply be seen and understood by another. all of life's questions dissolved themselves into something liquid, something warm, something that pooled at their feet as they looked at each other. it was foreign to her, to let herself be known like this, and she thought to herself that there were no words for this, this affection, hope, vulnerability, this being loved into something new... she felt like she was standing, trembling, at the edge of a cliff, staring down the dizzying abyss over the ridge, but she also knew she had come too far now to retreat. there remained no other option.

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"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

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from the most gorgeous airbnb. it just blows my mind that this is someone's backyard. i loved stockholm - every bit of it. i loved walking the city, the near 24/7 daylight, the human-friendly weather... i loved the dogs i saw, sitting quietly at their owner's feet. i love that ferries are a common form of public transportation... i felt like i was walking into an old self, a past life... it was dreamy.