The sea is an element of love. The Greeks say so. Aphrodite emerged from the water.
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Wrapped Trees, Christo and Jeanne-Claude, 1997-98
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It's my 2 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳 how cute
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me when i finally get the shoes i wanted
U want something and then when u get it it’s like omg………… I’m scared
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"(either we eat God or he eats us)"
“The consecrated host is Christ afflicted; it is God as a thing. God is edible… We respond to these awesome gifts by imitating them. We, too, must renounce being. We must not eat but rather become food.”
“one could eat oneself - as if the human were a god (...)”
“God who ate everything, did this world feed you?”
"God never meant man to be a purely spiritual creature. That is why He uses material things like bread and wine to put new life into us. We may think this rather crude and unspiritual. God does not: He invented eating. He likes matter. He invented it.”
There is a God, and he is hungry
Caroline Walker Bynum, “Women Mystics in the Thirteenth Century”, from Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages//what did jesus do?, adam gopnik//Claire Wolfteich, "Attention or Destruction: Simone Weil and the Paradox of the Eucharist"//sacrifice: a problem for theology, simone weil// Strike Sparks, What Is the Earth?' by Sharon Olds//Margaret Atwood, Interlunar; from 'Eating Snake'//Amor Fati, Ruth Awad//The Secret History, Donna Tartt//C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity//Introduction to Simone Weil's Waiting for God, by Leslie A. Fiedler//Reginald Scot, The Discoverie of Witchcraft//Waiting for God, Simone Weil//Archeology, Myriam Fraga.
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If art and music cannot move you, I guarantee it's because you've fried your brain on entertainment and product. If you need a constant feed of hooks, repetitive resolutions, and miniature dopamine rushes to feel invested in a story or song, then you've done the same thing to your capacity for art appreciation that porn does to your sex drive.
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"I am dirty, Milena, endlessly dirty, that is why I make such a fuss about cleanliness. None sing as purely as those in deepest hell; it is their singing we take for the singing of angels."
Letters to Milena, Franz Kafka
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When Mary Shelly wrote "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other" god I really felt that
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Summer in Seneca, South Carolina
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Naoya Inose — Where Is My Home (oil and acrylic on linen, 2021)
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