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#love of nature
cherry-posts · 1 year
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Nature art 🌲🌴🌺
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dedeashor · 12 days
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أينما حَل الوَرد يُحِل الجَمال". 🌸💓
زهرة القرنفل الجميلة برائحتها والوانها 🌸🩷💗
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queering-ecology · 29 days
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Chapter 13. Biophilia, Creative Involution, and the Ecological Future of Queer Desire by Dianne Chisholm
Our essence as a species binds us to explore and affiliate with all life. We are lovers who can add up glucose, amino acids, water, fragrant oils, pigments, and other issue and call it both a flower and a mystical gesture. We can also decimate pollinators with an unloving tonnage of pesticides, precipitating the extinction of entire populations of those mystical gestures, once and forever. Lives without access to sensations are lives that edge out the earth’s raw, pervasive sweetness, that deeply biophilic connection to all life. –Ellen Meloy
Biophilia can be a mindful reverence for the infinity of organic sexual-social order; a love for the diversity of non-human life that stirs the mind to infinity for the beneficial enlightenment of humanity Biophilia can be an earthy curiosity for the erotic vitality with which life affects fidelity to extreme geography; an erotic-ethical affiliation between humans and nonhuman life in experimental symbioses whose ecological benefits are sensed and desired, if not fully cognizable (360)
Biophilia, Episemophilia, Cognitive Adventuring
What do nature writers want?; nature writers desire to know what nature desires (361)
“What does a prickly pear cactus desire that couples it so tenaciously to bare basalt sandstone with a sexual rhythm that erratically keeps pace with drought and flash flood? What conjunction of organic and inorganic elements add up to such a thriving, if exotic, symbiotic assemblage?
 the ‘intercourse’  that can develop is not zoophilic bestiality nor anthropomorphic romancing; rather it is a transmutation of human being into something other, prompted by the closeness of the human body to the vibrating heat and rhythms of the animal pack (361)
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‘Becoming-other-than-human’; by being so close to animals (in this case big horn sheep) Ellen Meloy becomes caught up in the pack's migrations and affections in an other dimension of belonging to place. She senses an otherworld with de-familiarized, or deterritorialized human sensibility—a sensibility pushed to the limit of being human on the threshold of becoming other and she wishes to “bring back their startling news” to the human side, where human knowledge of the nonhuman can be put to mutually beneficial work.  
The human mind evolve(s/d) in contact with animal life (Meloy). Children playacting the animal; children are drawn to animals, animating the senses, connecting and communicating with others, to explore and affiliate with nonhuman lifeforms.
“Touched by indigenous life to the desert heartland, Meloy allies herself with native nature/culture and she foregrounds and reconnects pre- and post-colonial territorial practices” (372)
“To Touch an Otherworld”:Biophilic Ethics
Species interdependence is the name of the worlding game on earth, and that game must be one of response and respect…Queer messmates in mortal play, indeed.—Donna J. Haraway
For humans to aid bighorn survival, it is crucial to understand the zoogenic factor (or the autopoiesis of animal life) in co-evolutionary ecology.
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Synthesis weds symbiosis in a post-anthropocentric recovery of the wild—a becoming-animal of wildlife management that “runs contrary to the historical imperative to press everything alive, dead, or otherwise into human service” (307) (374)
Deleuze emphasizes the anti-utilitarian, communal ethics of becoming-animal. “it is no longer a matter of utilizations or captures, but of sociabilites and communities” (1988, 126) (375)
Human alliances with wild animals that do not only protect animal territoriality but also promote animal-earth symbiosis. How can human interference proceed while respecting and/or preserving the other’s own relations and world? (375)
The Ecological Future of Queer Desire
“Opponents to native fish recovery programs…measure worth as most of us do, by human ego. What good are these fish? You can’t eat them, they appear to have no medical, economic, sport, or industrial value…even their file drawer in the wildlife management bureaucracy ---“nongame”---assigns them not their own innate something but that which they are not: not sport, not food. These fish, many people believe, are dead-end. Tertiary detritus with strange humps, and weird lips. They are just too queer….what does a humpback chub want?” ---Ellen Meloy
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Rejects the ‘survival of the fittest’ in favor of cyborg syntheses and unnatural symbiosis (survival of the queerest?)—sexual selection that refines and perfects the family tree
‘sexuality is badly explained by the binary organization of the sexes, and just as badly by a bisexual organization within each sex. Sexuality brings into play too great a diversity of conjugated becomings; they are like n sexes, an entire war machine through which love passes” (Deleuze and Guttari 1987, 278) (375-6)
“Only queers can battle an imperative that unites Left and Right, thereby neutralizing domestic politics” (Lee Edelman, 2004)
“A better science and monitoring is required if variants are to be identified as sympatric (species that cohabit the same region, which do not usually interbreed but which do hybridize naturally, if rarely) or extrinsic (hybridization due to human civilization). More than improved technology , it takes devotion to distinguish variations that signal either adaptive evolution or “the last-ditch, high-pitched shriek of preextinction”. For life’s sake—or more precisely, for life for life’s sake—our biophilia is put to the ultimate test. (379)
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gigajoulespoetry · 11 months
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Gifts
There is wonder everywhere only if you know: Where to look. How to look. When to look.
Do not simply see, the eye is a gift, use it to watch. use it to learn. use it to cherish.
Watch the wonder of the smallest creatures joyous displays. of leaves relinquished from trees, dappling the sky. of a catastrophic landslide.
Learn the wonder of a hummingbirds flitting journey. of new paths traveled, well-trod and otherwise. of a trees resilience through catastrophe.
Cherish the wonder of perfect golden warmth filtered through foliage. of flora paralyzed behind a phones case. of novelty, thirty years after catastrophe. The eye isn't the only gift, imagine: Sweetness after a spring rain. A brook who babbles serenity. Generous earth, forgotten afterfoot. There is a place where all exist together. A place that nourishes. A place that inspires. A place that calls to the soul. Need not permission to enter. Leave only gratitude to exit.
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harrison-abbott · 10 months
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He thought he’d head into the woodland to read his book. It was just a little strip of woods, walled off from the main road of the neighbourhood (albeit a quiet hood at that) and when he jumped over the wall he walked down the valley and hopped over the river, which was small now considering how dry it’d been of late. The afternoon had left its heat, the yellow sun mingling with the green foliage, leaving under the canopy these aquamarine tinge, quite mystical. He walked through the trees and into this island-like part. Where an old tree had fallen in the winds a few years back. This tall, brute of a tree. He sat on its bough to read. The tree had lived so long that he could sit on it cross-legged and it was still half a yard fat either side of his shoes. And the small river trickled. And golden stars of insects shot about in the air noiselessly. And the ivy triangles carpeted the forest floor the far bank side in strong lacy grace. All visuals and sense of peace rather effortless.
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forgottenlunarium · 1 year
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a rare piece of art painted by yours truly. i dont really do landscapes like ever, so I’m a little self-conscious of how this turned out- posting it in all my usual places in an act of radical self-confidence!
if this piece is about anything, its about disconnecting from the maelstrom of the internet and simply existing out in nature. but, try as i might to be part of the natural world, there’s always that disconnect. i’ll always be a ghost in a world no longer meant for me, a wisp trying to become as real as the ducks which waddle and swim around me.
its bittersweet in a way- nothing grounds me more than being out in nature, it lifts my spirits and makes me feel alive like nothing else. but at the same time, it reminds me that i am a human being, a creature bred and raised in the modern world, and i will never be as much a part of the natural world as the animals and plants which surround me. we have left the proverbial garden of eden, and can never return again.
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Pretty Plant!:)
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May the spring come
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cherry-posts · 11 months
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mishalogic · 1 year
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I sat by a little brook image of my face it took as brook gently flowed along tiny smooth pebbles sang their song. Thoughts in my mind gentl meandered Love of nature my soul remembered. Peaceful moments be my delight being with brook just seemed right ... Misha
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dedeashor · 1 month
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محبي الازرق ، أين انتم 💙
Blue flowers ♡✨
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sparrownimbus2000 · 1 year
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Hydrangea [19]
Cotton cloud blooms. Pink and blue. White and magenta. Purple, sometimes. But my favourite, in the deepest stillness of summer, these scentless blooms, Nodding their curly heads, To an invisible breeze.
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www-islandofsodor · 2 years
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attendtobeauty · 2 years
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The heart from the moment of its first beat instinctively longs for the beautiful…
Richard Jefferies’s essay, ‘Hours of Spring’
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emaarusovaa · 1 month
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They are so ready to be scked
SOURCE: 🔴 www.ema-rusova.com🔞
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