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thank you osha thank you shift limits thank you mandatory breaks thank you overtime pay thank you labour laws thank you workers rights thank you unions thank you protesters thank you advocates thank you workers!!!!!!!

i’m lowkey kind of interested in everything that is unknown to me

From Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark

my family wasn't this strict, but in some sects of buddhism you're not allowed to eat the "five pungent vegetables", onions garlic shallots leeks and umm chives i think, really any of those kind of vegetables. probably some monk ages ago was tired of onion farts stinking up the temple. anyways, one time my brother made a soup using all five of them. he said, "one sip of this, and you'll be reincarnated as a flea."

"hey. no offence <3 !!! i have a question <3 but how do you reconcile being a filthy nasty sinner commie dyke with the One True Faith of the Apostolic Roman Catholic Church? like, how do you live with yourself? i would kms if i were you. no offence, though!!! <3"

yea

Rainer Maria Rilke, Journal of My Other Self

Maya C. Popa, from Wound is the Origin of Wonder: Poems: “All inner life runs at some delay”

I was rambling on the issue of museums and human remains and how certain populations are more likely to have their bodies put on display to be gawked at and then went "well I guess the Pompeii casts were of Europeans. there are bones in there right?" and Googled it to make sure, at which point I confirmed that yes there are bones in there, but more interestingly DNA testing revealed that a cast of an adult holding a child everyone assumed was a mother and child were, in fact, a man and a kid entirely unrelated to him. Honestly that's more moving to me. Maybe they were connected in a way other than blood, but maybe a stranger saw a child when the world was ending and thought the one thing he could do was hold them.

Did you know them, before the end of the world? This little child, this crying tiny thing, The one in your arms forever under dust And rock and plastered bones?

You share no blood but still you share a tomb, Was this a neighbour child? One you passed Most days and knew their name And knew to hold them in your final moments? Telling them “of course, we’ll find them, I know your mother’s face –“ Before the sky came thundering down?

Or were you slaves together? Abandoned at your master’s fleeing heels, As you carried this child who never should have shared your fate, Through perhaps the only minutes of freedom you ever knew? Did you pray together, cry together in a language half-forgotten As you crouched beneath the flames of Gods?

Or were you strangers then – And still – And you saw a child, alone, afraid, and thought: “The last thing I can do for them is clasp them tight and shield their eyes from these cruel, unyielding skies.”

Does it matter if you knew them then? Before the rocks, before the smoke clouds whirled Because you held them, in that end Before the death of all your world.

prev tags soooo true

not a day passes where i don't think of this butch mary magdalene painting

St. Mary Magdalene (oil, 2009) by Jim Vogel

St. Óscar Romero

Tumblr is like "isn't it weird that Christians never think about this fairly obvious implication of their own theology?", then proceeds to independently re-invent an eight-hundred-year-old heresy that caused three separate wars.

Mt. Calvary Catholic Cemetery, Portland.