Eudaimonia & Wellbeing
Something strange and wondrous begins to happen when one spends stretches of time in solitude, in the company of trees, far from the bustle of the human world with its echo chamber of judgments and opinions — a kind of rerooting in one’s deepest self-knowledge, a relearning of how to simply be oneself, one’s most authentic self. Wendell Berry knew... See more
Maria Popova • Kahlil Gibran on Silence, Solitude, and the Courage to Know Yourself
What takes hold when control slips?
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![Thumbnail of [non-paywalled issue] The Rabbit Hole 🕳🐇 issue no.34](https://d1l054mla94ehg.cloudfront.net/media/images/thumbnails/curation/1ef51329/thumbnail.webp?height=300&dpr=2)
“At the same time, art cannot be understood in terms of purpose. As the sculptor Charles Ray has said, art is “for absolutely nothing.” To make, or experience, art is to enter a kind of free zone; it slows us down, places us in some epistemological estuary, takes us into the wild. We make art from our flaws, fragilities, perversities, from our need
... See moreslow down
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More beauty and craft,
less factory line
More weird and rebellious,
less safe and derivative
More really hard inspired work,
less status games
More authentic expression of self,
less patagonia vest
less factory line
More weird and rebellious,
less safe and derivative
More really hard inspired work,
less status games
More authentic expression of self,
less patagonia vest
Asylum Ventures
“Yes, I’m ambitious,” a friend told me recently, “but climbing the corporate ladder does not interest me like it used to. A title, a bump in pay—it’s not satisfying. What I need to feel successful and fulfilled is completely different. Am I doing something that brings satisfaction? Do I feel like I’m learning? Do I feel like I’m contributing? Do I... See more
Patricia Mou • [non-paywalled issue] The Rabbit Hole 🕳🐇 issue no.34
I felt an urgent demand in the blood. I could hear its call. Its whistling disturbed me by day and its howl woke me in the night. I heard the drum of the sun. Every path was a calling cadence, the flight of every bird a beckoning, the color of ice an invitation: come. The forest was a fiddler, wickedly good, eyes intense and shining with a fast... See more