Belonging to no one: there is a sense of freedom that comes along with the knowing and understanding of this truth. You belong to no one, and no one belongs to you,
Just think about it.
No one feels your joys, your pains, your sorrows. No one. They are unique to you.
We exist together through connection but are ultimately alone.
Your life is your life, and solely your responsibility. -tM
Brutalist architecture and harsh terrain made beautiful by ways of merging life with art.
They soften one another. -tM
Architecture: Alejandro Aravena | Chile, Pacifc Ocean
The broken heart: an inevitable occurrence and a right of passage no matter what your age.
I have always thought that it was a necessary phenomenon, that there are plenty of good things that come from an injured heart, if you so choose to approach it in such a way: lessons, self-reflection, personal growth, and perhaps even a change in the way one lives their life.
During Medieval Times before the capability of Science, individuals believed that the heart was the centre of all things. That decisions were made based on how we felt, that the body moved voluntarily/involuntarily due to the heart and its body driving life force. A lot of attention was paid to the way one felt, to their emotions, and ailments were diagnosed based on the understanding of ones feelings.
Flash forward to the Scientific Revolution where the heart was dismissed for that of the mighty brain. As the brain took centre stage, the heart merely became a secondary player. We were now asked to listen to our brains as opposed to our heart. One was the seat of logic while the other was the seat of emotion, which according to Science, were two separate organs that at times seemed to be working against each other.
Most recently, the Scientific community is finding that the heart-brain correlation is more significant then we ever thought. That the heart speaks to the brain more then we realize. When the heart breaks, when it is in pain, or one gets emotionally upset, its rhythm changes, and that in turn sends a message to the brain that affects its higher decision making processes. There is no real separation. So when someone says, “Listen to your heart, or use your logic” truly they are one in the same. Science is now starting to believe that most of the information we process is emotionally regulated by the heart anyway, that in turn sends messages to the brain.
So in short, take care of your heart, be Medieval about it, listen to it, but also set it free. Let it move in and out of heart break, there is a higher-learning that takes place in such circumstances. And trust it, really be attentive, because it always knows, whether you are in denial about it or not, it is the centre of your emotional and spiritual being.
Your heart is King, pay attention to its voice, and let your mind be the advisor, its a symbiotic relationship, one is nothing without the other. -tM
Back to front, handbag on foot, foot in hand, heel to heel, curve to curve, nudity to Sunday best, life to art, art to life, hand to thigh, hip to hand, a power pose made grandeur by a supportive gesture, looking away to looking directly at, walking off to stopping by, heel to toe, click to clack…and the beat goes on…-tM
“Composition is selective improvisation” Igor Stravinsky
A colour often synonymous with the free loving 60’s & 70’s, seems to have somewhat disappeared design wise. The above is a visual ode to the colour itself, used as an accent or in its entirety, yellow marries well with so many colours, and there are so many versions of it to fall in love with.
I remember a girlfriend (who is Irish herself) told me that if you see a house with a yellow painted door, you’d better believe that those residing inside are Irish. It’s a distinctive colour, that can be bold as much as it can be soft, however, anyway you look at it yellow means standing away from the crowd.
I think those who accept yellow into their lives through interior design or otherwise don’t take themselves too seriously.
It’s a statement, as are all colours, however this one not so subtle in its display. -tM
Photography: Unknown; Image No. 3 & 4 DIMORE Studio Design
This reminds me of my ancestry, of my youth, of things that I once knew and continue to learn. -tM
In these modern times, do you pray?
I have always prayed, even as a child. Nobody told me to, or even requested that I do, I don’t even know how I fell into prayer. I think maybe I just felt like I needed to be heard, but in private. I never really asked for anything, I remember always giving thanks, and being grateful for my loved ones. Now that I have respectfully grown older, I still pray and give thanks, but it happens throughout the day, rarely at bedtime. My requests have changed a little, but I still give thanks. I also meditate and connect to the universe in different ways. Prayer is such a sacred practice only for the reason that it is so deeply personal and is spoken in truth.
The importance of prayer lays in the connection I make with the universe and nature herself. It’s a way for me to feel that I am connected to everything, a devoted reminder that we all are.
I am not certain if prayer changes things, but the act of it most certainly changes us, and hopefully as a result we in turn become capable of changing things. -tM
Considered to be one of the most provocative paintings in history. He was simply to modern for his time. The world needed a moment to catch-up. -tM
I remember, as a child, watching my mother ritualistically fill her brass coffee grinder full of beans and churn. It was part of her solemn morning coffee ceremony. I would watch in amusement as it seemed like at the time a lot of effort for one cup of Turkish coffee. The process appeared labourious to me, yet what I didn’t realize was that to her it was probably the only time she had to herself, that morning coffee ritual, still connecting to her ancestors, while raising two kids and holding down the fort.
I now have that brass coffee grinder, it sits in ornamentation. It was one thing I was adamant on having. To this day, she still makes her Turkish coffee, although with pre-ground beans, and at times exchanges the ritual for the easier one of the Nespresso.
And even though I have tried my hand at making a cup or two myself, it never turns out quite as good as my mother’s. Sometimes I think it’s because she has so much love and respect for the process, and other times I think maybe, just maybe she is in all actual fact, the coffee whisperer. -tM
*NB for those interested click on the Source link below for a little history on Turkish Kahve.
What is it about bathing outside that feels so freeing and satisfying?
Perhaps it is the omnipresence of nature that elevates the escape quotient, or perhaps it is the same reason that anything cooked over a fire tastes so good; it’s in our DNA. Whatever the reason, being naked and free in water surrounded by nature’s bounty is one of life’s most extraordinary and yet simplest pleasures. -tM
They are kissing, on a park bench,
on the edge of an old bed, in a doorway
or on the floor of a church. Kissing
as the streets fill with balloons
or soldiers, locusts or confetti, water
or fire or dust. Kissing down through
the centuries under sun or stars, a dead tree,
an umbrella, amid derelicts. Kissing
as Christ carries his cross, as Gandhi
sings his speeches, as a bullet
careens through the air toward a child's
good heart. They are kissing,
long, deep, spacious kisses, exploring
the silence of the tongue, the mute
rungs of the upper palate, hungry
for the living flesh. They are still
kissing when the cars crash and the bombs
drop, when the babies are born crying
into the white air, when Mozart bends
to his bowl of soup and Stalin
bends to his garden. They are kissing
to begin the world again. Nothing
can stop them. They kiss until their lips
swell, their thick tongues quickening
to the budded touch, licking up
the sweet juices. I want to believe
they are kissing to save the world,
but they're not. All they know
is this press and need, these two-legged
beasts, their faces like roses crushed
together and opening, they are covering
their teeth, they are doing what they have to do
to survive the worst, they are sealing
the hard words in, they are dying
for our sins. In a broken world they are
practicing this simple and singular act
to perfection. They are holding
onto each other. They are kissing.
To kiss; where all thoughts are dissolved, where we are ready to let go of everything we think we know and hope we can control. When two people become their own purpose.
Celebrating the subtlety of colour and the strength of lines.
Always look for good architectural bones when moving into a space. The rest will come together as it should, as you would like it to be. -tM
Like bars and musical notes, nature grooves to its own beat. One, that in my opinion we are totally out of sync with. -tM
I love it when small nooks can be turned into functional spaces, especially ones with views like this. -tM
Life was meant to be taken slow.
I always make it a point to take my summers as sloooow as possible. While everyone else has these epic plans of travel, and an “I can do” attitude to see people, places, and things, I on the other hand revel in the little things even more so then usual. Simply put, I live, and really feel life in all of its depth and possibilities. I move at a slow pace, I stop for things; an ant crossing my path, a dandelion parachute gently tumbling across my foot, I observe, I breathe, I keep my eyes and ears open and experience life as if it were a fantasy, because it is.
It’s magic. True magic. -tM
There is something so sensual about dressing the other,
the final zip of a dress, the tying of the cravat. I think it is about the close proximity as much as it is about the intimacy of the act itself.
In that moment, you take on the knowing of what it would be like to see the curves that bare the weight of those clothes, or to perhaps kiss that mouth or caress that neck where the collar meets the tie; lips sinking into flesh.
Seduction in reverse; poem of the flesh. -tM
Though never a fan of picnics in the park, I have always enjoyed a nosh by the water. Perhaps the view has something to do with it. Some of my fondest memories are sitting on a beach at sunset enjoying food and wine with company.
The perfect way to end the day. -tM
There has always been a question of whether style is in fact innate or something that has to be learned. Regardless of what you may or may not believe, it is nice to see two generations of style side by side and the lessons that may or may not have been passed down. -tM