#Humancondition

[queka-store]

The power of being a HUMAN

Hello my friends 🙏☺️❤️

Sometimes the world seems deeply unfair. People often focus on punishment, guilt, and justice, not realizing they cause even more misery. In psychology, there's a famous triangle: attacker-victim-and the savior. People who save might become the victim of the victim and the attacker of the attacker.

We all are mobile, shifting between these roles throughout our lives.Between black and white, we have all the colors of the rainbow. We're all complicated beings, having both light and shadows of our own. We move along various scales in life - between being a victim, savior, or aggressor; between shadow and light; between justice and compassion; between self-acceptance and self-hate.The solution is being compassionate, firstly inwards to yourself. You might feel anger, jealousy, fear and disgust - congratulations, YOU ARE A HUMAN.

It's so hard to accept the pain that our reality and world is full of... And the temptation to divide into right and wrong, those who should suffer and those who shouldn't... But the truth is that no one should be punished or suffer.As the beautiful African proverb says: "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth". 🔥

No child, no animal, no group, no patient, no member, no friend should be left alone... The healing of the individual is the healing of society. The healing of a nation is the healing of the world.

It's true, this path isn't easy. It's unknown. But from 300,000 years of human existence, if we choose to believe the theory of science - for more than 99% of humankind's life span we lived in harmony with life and nature. Only in the last 1% of time have we developed so much that we forgot our roots... But the roots of harmony and compassion are always there, therefore we can remember them whenever we're ready to look beyond the known.

Let's explore new paths of life, as individuals full of mutual solidarity - and as groups and humankind. We all are one, this life is short, let's make it the best lives possible for as many people as possible.

Thank you for reading ❤️❤️

[pamelaaminou]

Monday's Photography Inspiration - Frank Horvat

Photography is the art of not pushing the button” – Frank Horvat Frank Horvat is a renowned photographer whose career spans several decades and is marked by a diverse and influential body of work. Born in Abbazia in April 28, 1928, (now Opatija, Croatia), Horvat later moved to Switzerland and then to Milan, Italy, where he began his career as a professional photographer in the early…

[yellowmanula]

"Człowiek zwolniony z siebie"

Wkręcony w helisę życia, przez cały czas próbuje wykręcić z niej kilka pytań, od co było do po co

Od matczynego cycka, dławi się nadmiarem odpowiedzi, brnie przez jaskrawe jaskinie wiary, próbuje powszechnej teorii wszystkiego

W końcu, podejrzewając niepewną obecność sensu, zwolniony przez siebie z bycia sobą, żyje pytając – dokąd rozwija się wstęga DNA, czy może zwija.

Henryk Gała (ur. 1938 w Zalesiu koło Gostynia w Wielkopolsce, zm. 17 lutego 2020 w Drozdowie[1]) – polski poeta i dramatopisarz.

[kdwilliamson]

I'll Always Love You

Love may stand a thousand trials. Your angels will fall and my pride will stand. All the while I'm missing you.

Our love wilts while we unchain from one another, Apart, I still find myself bound to you by memory. Let sinners cry. Can love stand strong when I'm missing you?

I love you still. Your absence hurts. I'll always... Love you, Through every ache.

Are we a modern crime? Let me avoid arrest. You are gone. Read more at: www.kdwilliamson.ca

[hoshialmosteasy]

Autor desconocido

La depresión, en todos sus niveles de gravedad, siempre encuentra ese cruce de caminos entre el abatimiento, la infelicidad y muchas otras veces, con la culpa. Y ahí es donde estamos nosotros, en silencio y desesperados, remando en una gran laguna gris interior dentro de un exhausto cascarón exterior, donde ningún tipo de comprensión puede calmar ese nudo en la garganta que siempre nos deja al borde de las lágrimas. Buscamos la fuerza necesaria para llevar a cabo hasta las tareas más simples de nuestro día a día. Muchas pueden ser las causas: la frustración generada por aquellas metas que no pudimos alcanzar en el trabajo, en nuestros estudios y hasta en el amor. Y como si no fuera suficiente, todo el peso de nuestra culpa se metaboliza en forma de una enorme roca que poco a poco empieza a hundir nuestro bote, haciendo que sea cada vez más difícil poder llegar a la costa.

Incluso la depresión, siendo un sentimiento común en casi la totalidad de la humanidad, continúa siendo un tema casi prohibido entre nuestros yo interiores. Intentamos llevar nuestra dura existencia con normalidad, como si el pedir un abrazo y un poco de entendimiento fuera el peor de los pecados. Con una sociedad que aparentemente goza de un oasis de alegría, terminamos no solo luchando contra la pena, sino contra nuestro orgullo de pedir ayuda, ahogándonos aún más en un vaso de agua, empeorando como si en realidad no hubiera algo más normal y rutinario que el sentimiento de pesar.

La melancolía es aquel sentimiento que nos hace brotar lágrimas cuanto más apretamos el puño. Cuando las cosas se ponen más difíciles, es aquel sentimiento que nos ata al sufrimiento, producto de nuestra decepción, fruto de nuestros sentimientos sobre las experiencias que nos vemos obligados a atravesar como seres humanos. Nuevamente nos sentimos obligados a buscar empatía donde no la hay, donde la sociedad pretende que tenemos que mantenernos positivos ante cualquier adversidad. Sentirnos incomprendidos es nuestra primera reacción ante todas las cosas, creyendo injustificada tanta ira contra el mundo, producto de la falta de empatía que tiene nuestro entorno con nosotros. Pero es ahí donde deberíamos sentirnos en paz, sentir que podemos amar y ser amados, pero nunca va a ser tan simple como eso.

Sentirnos tristes a veces funciona como una droga; uno poco a poco le va agarrando el gusto. Miramos con ojos incrédulos la posibilidad de que toda aquella gente decente y normal no pueda sentirse tan alienada e incomprendida como nosotros. ¿Acaso merezco cada uno de los golpes de la vida? ¿Acaso los tiempos duros son el resultado de tantos pasos en falso? ¿Acaso soy responsable de tanto dolor? Pero dentro, y muy en lo profundo de nuestro ser, el sentimiento de infelicidad es algo casi tan básico que costaría no encontrarle un sentido.

Queremos creer que, lamentablemente, nunca aprendemos de nuestros errores y que siempre es demasiado tarde para poder intentarlo de nuevo. Así perdemos meses y años, autoflagelándonos día a día con la fantasía: ¿qué hubiera pasado si...? en vez de tomar nuevamente las riendas de nuestra existencia dejando un poco de lado la imaginación y esa agridulce fantasía, en lugar de seguir engordando aquel sentimiento de ira y desesperación. Quizás deberíamos hacernos más tolerantes, amables, mejores personas para concentrarnos en lo que realmente importa. Es tan simple y tan difícil como eso. ¿Acaso no existen suficientes razones en nuestra vida para sentirnos felices? Es complicado porque siempre vamos a ser nosotros quienes debemos quitar la venda de la infelicidad.

Intentamos buscar culpables exteriores de aquellos sentimientos cuando somos nosotros los encargados de que ese río encuentre el mar. Nuestra vida siempre va a estar rodeada de malas decisiones. Muchas veces nos vamos a equivocar y vamos a ser testigos involuntarios del amor y del odio ajeno antes de que decidamos abandonar nuestro hogar y entregar la llave de la vida al siguiente inquilino. Junto con nuestro día a día, y a medida que vamos creciendo, vamos tomando conciencia del complejo entramado del vivir e ingenuamente creemos que somos incapaces de comprender algo tan complicado, cuando en realidad nadie puede.

Aunque constantemente seamos bombardeados por las malas noticias en un mundo sin lugar para los débiles, nos autoconsolamos interiormente con la promesa de que el mañana será mejor. Pero, lamentablemente, un día la gallina infinita de los huevos de amor simplemente muere. ¿Entonces acaso ese dolor es el producto de nuestro fracaso? Rechazamos cual tabú uno de los sentimientos más primitivos que tenemos como humanidad, avergonzados de ser seres sensibles como si el mundo no nos estuviera poniendo en constante prueba. Somos nosotros quienes debemos poner peso a nuestra existencia y entender que los sentimientos no son positivos o negativos, simplemente son.

¿Acaso estás dispuesto a llevar esa pesada mochila al resto de tu vida, o peor aún, terminar con ella cuando solo bastaba vaciarla de piedras? Somos prisioneros, captores y guardias de nuestro mismo exilio, y a su vez somos aquellos quienes portan la llave para salir caminando de esa prisión de tonos grisáceos. Tenemos terror a nuestros defectos como si fuéramos la mismísima representación de todo lo que está mal en el mundo, cuando son los mismos problemas que día a día combate tu vecino, tu amigo, el presidente y el hombre más rico de la tierra. Tan solo si por un segundo pudiéramos entrar en la cabeza de aquella persona que tanto anhelamos ser, te sorprendería saber que está pasando, pasó o pasará por lo mismo que nosotros.

Aquellas inquietudes existenciales son la respuesta de nuestra propia interpretación al dolor y a la tristeza. Sobre todas las cosas, nos sentiríamos mucho menos solos. Debe haber pocas confesiones más vergonzosas para nosotros mismos que admitir que estamos solos. Y es gracioso, como si rodearnos de personas nos convirtiera en individuos más o menos respetables. Pero contra nuestro terco yo, esto es una característica casi innegable de que somos personas sensibles y la soledad es su fruto. Ser incomprendidos nos vuelve solitarios, y el no poder saciar aquella necesidad de compartir nos vuelve aún más alienados.

Vivimos en una contradicción constante entre la honestidad y la aceptación. El ser nosotros mismos nos hace culpables de ser rechazados. Vivimos constantemente bombardeados con la disyuntiva de elegir entre ser aceptados o dejar abierta la posibilidad de poder hacer daño. No podemos culpar a otros por no querer aceptar quiénes somos y menos castigarnos por ello. Cargamos casi orgullosamente el estandarte de la soledad como si quisiéramos disfrutar solo nosotros de nuestro dolor. Y por más que nuestro entorno quiera ayudar, nos hacemos oídos sordos.

En realidad, quieres seguir nadando solo en el océano, sabiendo que tu barco ya se hundió. Y aunque sepas que la felicidad te está esperando en la orilla con los brazos abiertos, cuando te des cuenta de que ese orgullo que te impide pedir ayuda es el resultado de una sociedad que nos preparó psicológicamente para que los hombres sean fuertes, carguen los rieles de la vida y puedan, en su peor instancia, ir a la guerra y salir ilesos, vas a comprender que rechazar tus sensibilidades es un acto de traición a ti mismo.

Aunque constantemente vivamos con la idea platónica de encontrar a nuestra alma gemela que nos comprenda perfectamente, deberíamos entender que la vida nos enseña a todos de distinta manera y en diferentes momentos. Ciertamente nunca vamos a encontrar esas personas súper preparadas para entender nuestro dolor, pero sin duda alguna existen. Lo que sí te aseguro es que nunca vamos a poder sobrellevar ese dolor con la mentalidad egoísta de guardarnos todas nuestras penas para nosotros mismos. Es algo inevitable, pero sin darnos cuenta estamos siendo más crueles con nosotros mismos de lo que seríamos con nuestro peor enemigo.

Carecemos de un factor importantísimo en el camino hacia la felicidad: el perdón. Esa disculpa que no le negaríamos a nadie que, de rodillas y con lágrimas en los ojos, te gritara con el corazón abierto "estoy muriendo por dentro." Aunque la idea de dejar de sentir te susurre en cada esquina y la presencia de quienes nos quieran se sienta muy, pero muy lejos, te lo digo de corazón, como alguien que lo vivió: no dejes de sentir. Si tomas esa decisión ahora, en este momento tan lúgubre de tu existencia, puedes ver cómo todo se desvanecerá. Pero tienes que mirar un poco a largo plazo. El mañana realmente puede llevarse ese dolor, y todas esas cosas que no podíamos soportar se harán poco a poco soportables. Junto con una mentalidad meramente positiva, pasarán a la eternidad como tópicos casi tan insignificantes como lo fueron alguna vez cuando se nos cayó un dulce en nuestra niñez.

La cualidad más importante de nuestra miseria, y que muchos ignoran, es que nos hace poco a poco, día a día, un tanto más humanos.

[bianca-alexander88]

If people of a different subject position than you are expressing concerns regarding a source of difficulty and/or trauma in their lived experiences, and it doesn’t apply to your experience, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. That means you are blessed with a certain type of privilege that allows you not to have to think about or deal with that particular challenge in your daily life. Instead of denying or diminishing the lived reality of others, simply because it doesn’t reflect your own, instead try active listening, keeping an open heart, and practicing empathy. Understand your life isn’t the sole reflection of the human experience. It might not be a part of your life, and that’s fine, how lucky you are, but it is very much a part of someone else’s. 

[aicollider]

Deities of San Mythology discuss The Cherry Orchard (Anton Chekhov)

FADE IN: INT. COZY LIVING ROOM – DAY A group of DEITIES, ranging from ancient and wise to young and flighty, sit around a cozy table with a teapot, tea cups, and cakes. They are deep in discussion about a book. The wise and commanding GODDESS OF WISDOM, ODUDUWA, begins the conversation. ODUDUWA So, what did everyone think of The Cherry Orchard? The mischievous trickster-god, ESHU, chimes in with…

[stray2home]

A LETTER TO MY DOG, EXPLORING THE HUMAN CONDITION by Andrea Gibson

[criticfilm]

15 Popular Philosophical Films That Will Make You Question Everything! 🔥

[filoo]

0X 🏷️ dehumanization I was a tag in 2024, not a name 👤 Instagram , Twitter , Tiktok , Behance

[mineofilms]

Nihil sub sole novum

From the End of the Beginning of this year, last year, most years, every year. Ah, a three-year odyssey, where time is less of a straight line and more of a spiral. If anything, these past few years have been a masterclass in the ironically absurd. Between the incompetence of systems that promise salvation (insurance, healthcare, politics, religion) and the existential dreariness of a body that stubbornly clings to life despite all odds, the journey feels less like progress and more like a forced march toward an inevitable, unremarkable end. One cannot help but wonder—has anything truly changed, or are we simply treading water in the flood of our own making? Our current way of life, metaphorical and literal, serves as a backdrop to this existential performative dance. The wreckage left in its wake mirrors not just the physical destruction but the internal chaos of living in an age where security is fleeting, satisfaction a myth, and self-importance via social media dominates. The grand dream of perfection—whether in homes, bodies, relationships, or ideologies—is swiftly eroding, leaving behind the stench of human vulnerability. Yet, in the face of this, there's a curious resignation. We become more connected than ever before while we are more disconnected than ever before. Defies logic, but here we are. The repairs are slow, the bills pile up, but at least there's a sense of grim humor in the absurdity of it all. One adapts, kicks rocks barefoot, to the constant erosion, which, in its own right, becomes a form of rebellion against the very systems that demand our submission.

The steady march of time continues, dragging more medical frustrations, loss, and the weary realization that life is as much about enduring as it is about achieving anything meaningful. Health problems, relationships, and even political ideologies become so much noise against the backdrop of the real question: What’s the Point? So, as the years accumulate, what is left to do but press forward, not in hope or optimism, but because time, relentless in its ticking, doesn’t really offer an alternative. The absurdity, after all, is the only thing that’s truly constant. Is your life a carefully constructed narrative, or are you simply improvising a tragic farce with occasional comedic beats? A theater of existence through a lens. From hurricanes that rip apart our homes and finances to the inevitable decay of the human body. I am always pondering the inherent futility of attempting to control the uncontrollable. Existential dilemmas emerge from mundane struggles: rebuilding without the tools or even a blueprint for the tools becomes a symbol of a compromised life in a dream where inflation ensures the rich get richer and the rest get a crash course in survival. Oh, that isn’t a dream. That’s been a reality for most of us. There’s a sharp turn into the familiar friend of entropy. Here lies the ironic absurdity of caregiving: futile efforts to prolong a life that ultimately evaporates into oblivion. Yet, I welcome musings of AI, conceptual horror, and the darkly comedic nature of politics, whether life has meaning, but whether meaning itself is the cruelest joke of all. They say “live and learn,” but if one hasn’t learned, did they ever live? Whenever I heard a “saying,” and it starts with “they say.” Who the hell are “they?” It makes me want to hunt down, “they,” slap them in the head.

Welcome in social media, the internet’s great experiment in collective brain rot. What begins as communication to gain different perspectives turns into tribalism in online spaces evolving into unhealthy internet subcultures, where trolls and influencers battle for supremacy in a digital coliseum of irrelevance. Internet idealism now reduced to a sandbox for the trivial and the vindictive. Does it even matter whether a troll, a cultist or elitist wins the argument if the platform itself is a dumpster fire of collective word vomit from narcissists? Granted elitists wouldn’t be on social media all that much. They are too busy ‘eliting’ themselves to more monies. When you have loads of cash, does one even want or need social media? Woke or unwoke, left or right, preaching the Lord’s name or not; these labels serve merely as masks for the fear that underpins human existence: the terror of being forgotten in a universe that never cared in the first place. The message—a searing reminder that the more we “connect,” the more we expose the gaping void within ourselves while disconnecting from the people that are actually in our reality. We try to venture out. One can only wave their hands so much to get someone else’s attention. If they choose to ignore that and you know deep down you were forward with that concept of communication. It isn’t on you to care. You attempted, they played dumb. Why would you accept that from any situation or person? The floodwaters of nature are matched only by the flood of systemic incompetence, with insurance premiums rising as fast as the costs of rebuilding. The house, much like life itself, becomes a metaphor for the disillusionment we all feel: repairs are never as simple as they seem, and some losses—like the pool cage and later the entire pool lanai—are just too damn expensive to replace. Yet, here we are and instead of descending into despair, we just realize life goes on, even when the dream moves slowly towards a singularity. You can’t save everything, but you can at least salvage the absurdity of it all, laugh and curse the fake God in the sky.

These reflections are framed not by sorrow, but by existential absurdism: does it matter? Does the universe even care a blip within a blip within a blip within an ocean, within a glass, on a planet that was swallowed by a giant space whale even care? In a world where the system is rigged and the body betrays you, the only thing left to do is keep moving forward—until the final, inevitable reset. Whether sudden or prolonged, life and the death of that life is just the final joke in a single frame of reference full of bad punchlines.

With that said 2025 is going to be a little different, at least in how I attack my writings. I have been so busy with some other things that I haven’t been able as much to work on my own stuff. I am slowly but actively taking all my blogs and converting them to audio/video presentations. They are not podcasts. I am just taking the written blogs or essays using an AI voiceover to read it with some sort of video attached to it. I like the audio spectrum. It’s like a "visualizer" for audio that allows you to see a visual for the sound, making it a neat little creative tool. I will be producing a real music video for the band I work with. Going low tech with that as well. Going for a 90s grunge or metal vibe of the time. I have a lot of audiobooks to get through this year. Many that deal with black hole fiction and stories revolving around time dilation. I want to put out a few short-stories this year as well and work on something bigger. As of right now I do not have a real writing schedule like I usually work from, but my next essay will be on labels. What they are and why they are important. We have had labels longer than sugar. I will probably write a lot of reviews on these science fiction books. The more of these more existential fictions the more it will draw me into thinking about reality and how I want to formulate my own stories. I got some solid ideas that I feel like I want to talk about. I think short-stories with expansion in mind is the best way for my brain to operate when writing. I will also continue to doing tech-style essays on some of the odd computer stuff I tend to tackle. So yeah, 2025 is gearing up. I am glad I am able to think about this in a healthy place in my brain and not have too many delusions of grandeur.

As I look ahead to 2025, the creative landscape feels like a vast, uncharted universe—full of potential, ready for exploration. Whether it’s blending audio-visual projects, diving into the abstract depths of existential fiction, or tackling the nuanced power of labels, the journey is ongoing. But, like a supernova, I’m aware that growth and creation are processes of expansion and contraction, marked by moments of clarity amidst chaos. It’s a balance between the infinite and the finite—an ever-evolving dance of ideas and reality. Here’s to the art of becoming.

Nihil sub sole novum Latin for (Nothing new under the sun) by David-Angelo Mineo 12/31/2024 1,467 Words

[coolactwonblog]

“We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my right to exist”

- James Baldwin

[xandaclaus]

Faces of Time - 10082024

https://opensea.io/collection/digital-gouache

https://www.deviantart.com/xandaclaus/gallery

[lecoupdedeuxveuves]

"We have Paleolithic emotions, medieval institutions, and godlike technology".

- Edward O. Wilson

[normally0]

Crossing Worlds: Antoni Tàpies, September 11, and the Unspoken Power of Architecture

On September 11, 1923, the artist Antoni Tàpies was born—a figure whose work would be defined by the symbolic power of the cross. Fast forward to September 11, 2001, the world witnessed the tragic destruction of the World Trade Center, designed by architect Minoru Yamasaki. These two moments in history converge in a powerful reflection on the symbolic and emotional weight that art and architecture can carry.

Tàpies’ use of the cross as a symbol of contradiction, suffering, and transcendence resonates deeply with the broader human struggle. His cross symbolizes not only Christian imagery but also universal concepts of life, death, and the intersection of forces beyond human control—themes painfully reflected in the collapse of the Twin Towers.

The destruction of Yamasaki’s architectural icons marked a crossing point in history, reminding us that architecture, much like art, is not merely about form and function. It tells stories of aspiration, failure, vulnerability, and resilience.

Just as Tàpies’ crosses evoke deep psychic and emotional responses, so too can the built environment. In light of the events of 9/11, it’s clear that architecture has the potential to communicate much more than physicality—it can represent the fragility, contradictions, and existential dimensions of human life.

As we reflect on these two moments, Tàpies’ work reminds us that the structures we build are not only symbols of progress but also of our shared human condition.

[leon-production]

If you're cold, you hurt people. If you're sensitive - people hurt you.🔪

Dostoevsky 🖋️