TRACA “People On The Sand” Music video from Damien Bonnaire on Vimeo.

soundcloud.com/traca
Storyboard vimeo.com/127847222
TRACA “People On The Sand” by Nicolas Tracanelli
Director and producer : Damien Bonnaire
Cinematographer : Antoine Waterkeyn
Odd-job man : Grégeoire De Villepoix
Pasty paper mask : Charlie Longuet
Animation and compositing : Sauvane Petaut

Thanks : Charlie Longuet, Nicolas Tracanelli, ALTER K, HUMAN FILMS, Simon Kesler, Mansoria Larchet, Sarah Scialom, Perrine Raffin, Emilie Remond, Damien Ronget, Édouard Mazier, Inès Caro.

facebook.com/wonkatraca

My idea of enlightenment is when ego and Tao are fused, and Tao is perceived as ego. Then everything happens with complete appropriateness.
Terence McKenna, Psychedelic Salon Podcast #472
Walden, pt. 2
  • It is not all books that are as dull as their readers. There are probably words addressed to our condition exactly, which, if we could really hear and understand, would be more salutary than the morning or the spring to our lives, and possibly put a new aspect on the face of things for us. How many a man has dated a new era in his life from the reading of a book! The book exists for us, perchance, which will explain our miracles and reveal new ones. The at present unutterable things we may find somewhere uttered. These same questions that disturb and puzzle and confound us have in their turn occurred to all the wise men; not one has been omitted; and each has answered them, according to his ability, by his words and his life. Moreover, with wisdom we shall learn liberality.
  • Not till we are lost, in other words not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are and the infinite extent of our relations.
  • I observed two large ants, the one red, the other much larger, nearly half an inch long, and black, fiercely contending with one another. Having once got hold they never let go, but struggled and wrestled and rolled on the chips incessantly. Looking farther, I was surprised to find that the chips were covered with such combatants, that it was not a duellum, but a bellum, a war between two races of ants, the red always pitted against the black, and frequently two red ones to one black. The legions of these Myrmidons covered all the hills and vales in my woodyard, and the ground was already strewn with the dead and dying, both red and black. It was the only battle which I have ever witnessed, the only battle-field I ever trod while the battle was raging; internecine war; the red republicans on the one hand, and the black imperialists on the other. On every side they were engaged in deadly combat, yet without any noise that I could hear, and human soldiers never fought so resolutely. I watched a couple that were fast locked in each other’s embraces, in a little sunny valley amid the chips, now at noonday prepared to fight till the sun went down, or life went out. The smaller red champion had fastened himself like a vice to his adversary’s front, and through all the tumblings on that field never for an instant ceased to gnaw at one of his feelers near the root, having already caused the other to go by the board; while the stronger black one dashed him from side to side, and, as I saw on looking nearer, had already divested him of several of his members. They fought with more pertinacity than bulldogs. Neither manifested the least disposition to retreat. It was evident that their battle-cry was “Conquer or die.” In the meanwhile there came along a single red ant on the hillside of this valley, evidently full of excitement, who either had dispatched his foe, or had not yet taken part in the battle; probably the latter, for he had lost none of his limbs; whose mother had charged him to return with his shield or upon it. Or perchance he was some Achilles, who had nourished his wrath apart, and had now come to avenge or rescue his Patroclus. He saw this unequal combat from afar–for the black were nearly twice the size of the red–he drew near with rapid pace till he stood on his guard within half an inch of the combatants; then, watching his opportunity, he sprang upon the black warrior, and commenced his operations near the root of his right fore leg, leaving the foe to select among his own members; and so there were three united for life, as if a new kind of attraction had been invented which put all other locks and cements to shame. I should not have wondered by this time to find that they had their respective musical bands stationed on some eminent chip, and playing their national airs the while, to excite the slow and cheer the dying combatants. I was myself excited somewhat even as if they had been men. The more you think of it, the less the difference … I have no doubt that it was a principle they fought for, as much as our ancestors, and not to avoid a three-penny tax on their tea; and the results of this battle will be as important and memorable to those whom it concerns as those of the battle of Bunker Hill, at least.
  • The one who came from farthest to my lodge, through deepest snows and most dismal tempests, was a poet. A farmer, a hunter, a soldier, a reporter, even a philosopher, may be daunted; but nothing can deter a poet, for he is actuated by pure love. Who can predict his comings and goings? His business calls him out at all hours, even when doctors sleep.
  • If we knew all the laws of Nature, we should need only one fact, or the description of one actual phenomenon, to infer all the particular results at that point. Now we know only a few laws, and our result is vitiated, not, of course, by any confusion or irregularity in Nature, but by our ignorance of essential elements in the calculation. Our notions of law and harmony are commonly confined to those instances which we detect; but the harmony which results from a far greater number of seemingly conflicting, but really concurring, laws, which we have not detected, is still more wonderful.
  • Our village life would stagnate if it were not for the unexplored forests and meadows which surround it. We need the tonic of wildness–to wade sometimes in marshes where the bittern and the meadow-hen lurk and hear the booming of the snipe; to smell the whispering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary fowl builds her nest, and the mink crawls with its belly close to the ground. At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be infinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature. We must be refreshed by the sight of inexhaustible vigor, vast and titanic features, the sea-coast with its wrecks, the wilderness with its living and its decaying trees, the thunder-cloud, and the rain which lasts three weeks and produces freshets. We need to witness our own limits transgressed, and some life pasturing freely where we never wander.
  • “Direct your eye right inward, and you’ll find
    A thousand regions in your mind
    Yet undiscovered. Travel them, and be
    Expert in home-cosmography.”
  • The life in us is like the water in the river. It may rise this year higher than man has ever known it, and flood the parched uplands; even this may be the eventful year, which will drown out all our muskrats.
  • The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.

I don’t know if it’s even possible to get any more psychedelic than this video. Textbook definition.

Massimo Pigliucci - Collection of Stoic Meditations

https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/68186668/Stoic%20meditations.pdf


Quotes such as “Above all, make this your business: learn how to feel joy.”

~Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, Seneca

Jen Helps Me Evolve with Khalil Gibran Quote

And a man said, “Speak to us of Self-Knowledge." 
And he answered, saying: 
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights. 
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart’s knowledge. 

You would know in words that which you have always know in thought. 
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams. 
And it is well you should. 

The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea; 
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes. 
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure; 
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line. 
For self is a sea boundless and measureless. 

Say not, "I have found the truth,” but rather, “I have found a truth." 
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul.” Say rather, “I have met the soul walking upon my path." 

For the soul walks upon all paths. 
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

If, by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

5 Days In Scotland from ALS on Vimeo.

After nearly 3 years living abroad I decided, with my brother and cousin, to go and explore the country on our doorstep.

Our route: Glasgow - Inverness - Freswick - John O'Groats - Duncansby Head - Tongue - Smoo Cave - Durness - Ullapool - Isle of Lewis - Isle of Harris - Scalpay Island, Harris - Isle of Skye - Mallaig - Morar - Glenfinnan - Ben Nevis - Glencoe - Glasgow.

Walden, pt. 1
  • To be a philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to love wisdom as to live according to its dictates, a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity, and trust.
  • When he has obtained those things which are necessary to life, there is another alternative than to obtain the superfluities; and that is, to adventure on life now, his vacation from humbler toil having commenced.
  • I say, beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes. If there is not a new man, how can the new clothes be made to fit? If you have any enterprise before you, try it in your old clothes. All men want, not something to do with, but something to do, or rather something to be.
  • …and it cannot be wondered at, since, as far as I have heard or observed, the principal object is, not that mankind may be well and honestly clad, but, unquestionably, that the corporations may be enriched.
  • As for the Pyramids, there is nothing to wonder at in them so much as the fact that so many men could be found degraded enough to spend their lives constructing a tomb for some ambitious booby, whom it would have been wiser and manlier to have drowned in the Nile, and then given his body to the dogs. I might possibly invent some excuse for them and him, but I have no time for it.
  • In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to maintain one’s self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely; as the pursuits of the simpler nations are still the sports of the more artificial. It is not necessary that a man should earn his living by the sweat of his brow, unless he sweats easier than I do.
  • There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking the root…
  • …for a man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.
  • But I would say to my fellows, once and for all, As long as possible live free and uncommitted. It makes but little difference whether you are committed to a farm or the county jail.
  • Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself.