lv assignment

“One final paragraph of advice: do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am — a reluctant enthusiast….a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, the lovely, mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much; I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those desk-bound men and women with their hearts in a safe deposit box, and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this; You will outlive the bastards.”

Cover of <n>The Flight of the Lapwing</n> (1881) by author <n>Henry Noel Shore, Baron Teignmouth</n>.

The flight of the Lapwing. A naval officer's jottings in China, Formosa and Japan : Teignmouth, Henry Noel Shore, baron, 1847-1926 : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

A villa in Umbria, Italy, photographed by <n>Bun</n>.

<n>Photoglam - Going to Aspen</n>. Photo credits include <n>Miguel Viana Lujan</n> and <n>Sandra Rodrigues Pinto</n>.

Photograph of <n>Renan</n> from the series <n>Like a River</n> by <n>Daniel Jack Lyons</n>, 2019.

Illustration by <n>Adam de Souza</n> from his graphic novel, <n>El abismo</n>.

Digital artwork <n>Cottonopolis #3</n> by artist <n>Arben.Kasaj</n>, created using the AI tool <n>Midjourney</n>.

<n>Droga (The Road)</n> (1996) by Polish surrealist artist <n>Jacek Yerka</n>.

“I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen.” —A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Hanging ship sculptures designed by <n>Tony Duquette</n> for a party.

A view of the deck of a <n>Tirhandil</n> boat.

A view of <n>Jubal Island</n> near Hurghada from a yacht cabin.

Cows graze at <n>Duke's Nose Point</n> in Lonavala, India.

I got to build things that meant a lot to my teams simply by nature of how small the companies were and how much they had yet to build—that, and a lot of the work I did early on in my career was adventuresome and experimental. All of that felt super cool.

<n>Nature Collage</n> by <n>CollageArtBoutique</n>, made from magazine clippings on cardboard.

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 dream, 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 centre of your own 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 can 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 wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, 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 at 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 the 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 centre 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.