Advice for young people facing hard times
“I think that we need to get along better. We’d have to do more trading and getting along better and making do with what we have, and raise gardens, and raise food. You know you can raise a lot of food just in your flower garden if you had to. You could plant your flower garden to vegetables. You could do a lot of things to make do.”
(via Elsa Mora)
An entry into the Blown Covers weekly cover contest, themed “The Gays,” by writer and illustrator Ella German. The cover addresses the recent historic moment for marriage equality, also referencing Maurice Sendak, who had passed away the previous week. Though far from a gay rights activist, Sendak lived as an openly gay man with his partner of half a century. The two never had the opportunity to marry.
(Source: , via ahumblemagic)
Stories never really end…even if the books like to pretend they do. Stories always go on. They don’t end on the last page, any more than they begin on the first page.- Cornelia FunkePhoto: Steve McCurry, Al Hudaydah, Yemen
(via teacoffeebooks)
hello friends there’s a summer sale going on now at sandwich party :)
15% off with coupon code “YAYSUMMER12” on all ready-to-ship items.
(i’m about to go on vacation so i can’t sew anything custom right now :D)ends soon, or until stuff is sold !
<3
My most wonderfulest friend makes cute and friendly creatures, you should buy them!
I GOT A LOVE JONES: do not tell a domestic violence victim to "just leave"
so usually i don’t bother writing about all the problems with glee, in large part because the problems are thoroughly covered by seemingly every other person on the entire internet. but this recent storyline with coach beast being hit by her husband and the reaction of the glee…
![theatlantic:
Waiting to Exhale: Learning to free dive off Hawaii’s Kona Coast
On the fourth morning, as we head out from the shore of Pu’uhonua o Honaunau—past sunbathers and snorkelers, coral beds and lava flows, damselfish and yellow tangs—it’s not long before nothing but blue lies beneath us. The instructors warn us not to get a number in our heads, but of course we want to reach 100 feet, even though most of us have never before tried going deeper than 30. I think of this goal as swimming the length of a Boeing 737 that has crashed nose-first into the ocean. Setting a depth goal and reaching it might as well be free diving’s narcotic.
If scuba diving is an outward journey—Krack calls it tearing through a forest in a Hummer with the AC on and the windows up—free diving is an inward passage. It’s a lone descent, as you feel your body adapt to the depth. The mammalian diving reflex kicks in: the heart slows, peripheral blood vessels constrict, the spleen compresses and dopes the body with red blood cells.
As I kick down, I’m bubbleless, sleek. A bright metal plate at the end of the line marks 100 feet. A solitary squid watches me descend. I kick and kick, feeling my fins paddle back and forth, through a medium with 800 times the density of air. The water is clear here. I shouldn’t be looking at the plate, but I can’t help myself. I reach and grab it, before turning to head up to the surface. I’ve been sinking, so now I have to kick hard, as I bring my hands together overhead. I’ve slipped from my Zen state. My legs feel leaden, as my diaphragm contracts. What can I do but kick? At 33 feet, I’m aware of my instructor motioning for me to sweep my arms down in a final push. The contractions are worse, but I know I’m not far. So I kick. The air expands inside my mask. It’s possible—and thrilling—to take the minutest sniff. Then I exhale, as I’ve been taught, before breaking the surface, so I can immediately breathe in.
Read more. [Image: James Sturz]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m2ko6ngGym1qcokc4o1_500.jpg)
Waiting to Exhale: Learning to free dive off Hawaii’s Kona Coast
On the fourth morning, as we head out from the shore of Pu’uhonua o Honaunau—past sunbathers and snorkelers, coral beds and lava flows, damselfish and yellow tangs—it’s not long before nothing but blue lies beneath us. The instructors warn us not to get a number in our heads, but of course we want to reach 100 feet, even though most of us have never before tried going deeper than 30. I think of this goal as swimming the length of a Boeing 737 that has crashed nose-first into the ocean. Setting a depth goal and reaching it might as well be free diving’s narcotic.
If scuba diving is an outward journey—Krack calls it tearing through a forest in a Hummer with the AC on and the windows up—free diving is an inward passage. It’s a lone descent, as you feel your body adapt to the depth. The mammalian diving reflex kicks in: the heart slows, peripheral blood vessels constrict, the spleen compresses and dopes the body with red blood cells.
As I kick down, I’m bubbleless, sleek. A bright metal plate at the end of the line marks 100 feet. A solitary squid watches me descend. I kick and kick, feeling my fins paddle back and forth, through a medium with 800 times the density of air. The water is clear here. I shouldn’t be looking at the plate, but I can’t help myself. I reach and grab it, before turning to head up to the surface. I’ve been sinking, so now I have to kick hard, as I bring my hands together overhead. I’ve slipped from my Zen state. My legs feel leaden, as my diaphragm contracts. What can I do but kick? At 33 feet, I’m aware of my instructor motioning for me to sweep my arms down in a final push. The contractions are worse, but I know I’m not far. So I kick. The air expands inside my mask. It’s possible—and thrilling—to take the minutest sniff. Then I exhale, as I’ve been taught, before breaking the surface, so I can immediately breathe in.
Read more. [Image: James Sturz]
It would be soo amazing to free dive. I love swimming in the ocean, this is such motivation to get in shape to go free diving. I have a lot of work to do…This guy free dives into a giant hole in the sea floor and then climbs up the sides of it to get back out. The whole video is pretty cool, and the climbing part stars at 3:00.
Heartwarming Tearjerker of the Day: The sheer cliffs at the mouth of Sydney Harbor have long been a popular Australian suicide spot. But they’re about to get a lot more deadly — the local man who is credited with talking at least 160 people out of killing themselves since 1964 died this week.
Window-watcher Don Ritchie, known as the Angel of the Gap, could spot the troubled ones from his home across the street; he’d wander down to the cliff-edge and calmly ask, “Can I help you in some way?” More often then not, he could. He’d chat with them a bit, then invite them back to his place for a cup of tea.
“My ambition has always been to just get them away from the edge, to buy them time, to give them the opportunity to reflect and give them the chance to realize that things might look better the next morning,” Ritchie once said. “You just can’t sit there and watch them. You’ve got to try and save them.”
(via themidnightblues)
