Bluebird Way

Where do bluebirds fly? Here's a moving Charles Bukowski poem, Bluebird, brought to life. May you keep your bluebird alive.

Bluebird from Cameron McKague on Vimeo.

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I discovered a vault of beautiful skate videos by Juan Rayos recently and I'm really loving this girls just want to have fun perspective paired to awesome music (especially love the Cults opening track, "Go Outside"). The video makes me want to do just that and start a boarding crew! Who's down?

Longboard Girls Crew from Juan Rayos on Vimeo.

And ever wonder what skateboarding the streets of NYC look like? This first-hand view takes you on the ride.

Skateboarding Around Town from Zack McTee on Vimeo.

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I cannot wait to see this adaptation of Murakami's Norwegian Wood.

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I love these kaleidoscope visuals paired to Radiohead's "Feral". It's pretty perfect.

RADIOHEAD | FERAL | THE KING OF LIMBS from steven murashige on Vimeo.

Dark Side of the Lens

DARK SIDE OF THE LENS from Astray Films on Vimeo.

For everyone who loves the sea, you have to watch this epic short film. I feel inspired!

Wabi-sabi

A Drop Of Blue Salt from Vida Vega on Vimeo.
A beautiful, simple animation I came across today inspired by the Pablo Neruda sonnet below.

Sonnet IX: There where the waves shatter
by Pablo Neruda

There where the waves shatter on the restless rocks
the clear light bursts and enacts its rose,
and the sea-circle shrinks to a cluster of buds,
to one drop of blue salt, falling.

O bright magnolia bursting in the foam,
magnetic transient whose death blooms
and vanishes--being, nothingness--forever:
broken salt, dazzling lurch of the sea.

You & I, Love, together we ratify the silence,
while the sea destroys its perpetual statues,
collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness:

because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics,
galloping water, incessant sand,
we make the only permanent tenderness.

Wild Geese

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver
(one of my favorites of her beautiful poetry)

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Sun in my mouth today

Bjork's hypnotizing "sun in my mouth" interpretation of e.e. cummings' "I will wade out". Both the song and poem are simply beautiful.

I will wade out
 till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun into my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
   Alive
      with closed eyes
to dash against the darkness
    in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
    Will I complete the mystery
    of my flesh
I will rise
    After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
  And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

-e.e. cummings

The Invitation

By Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wilderness
and let the ecstasy fill you up to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.