{simple pleasures} non incliné: unbowed

Recognizing that sustainable development, democracy and peace are indivisible is an idea whose time has come.
— Wangari Maathai

float on: this little floating house docked on the chicago river + this solar-paneled home {click on image for a peek into chicago boat living}; both enlarge my imagination. here's a fantastic documentary directed by justin cerone: a peek into the world of sustainable energy + solar power{sustainability is defined as the endurance of systems + processes}. learn how the wave of the future is actually the ray of the future {get it?!}

whether we're harnessing the power of water, wind + solar energy; propagating the importance of planting trees like humanitarian + environmental activist wangari maathai; or reusing pre-loved clothes, our decisions matter.

{eco apparel: wearing an entirely thrifted outfit here. chambray top {you'll see this top again + again} that is a part of my capsule wardrobe with pre-loved striped terry cloth shorts + a woven straw clutch {this clutch will be making many an appearance this summer on f+d as the oversized design fits my books, snacks, phone + more inside and it adds the perfect pop of texture to my summer outfits}. military green canvas platforms from vegan brand olsen haus. walk for miles + miles in these comfy bad boys}

{simple pleasures} arbres: réflexions et poèmes

In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; 

but they do not lose themselves there, 

they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only:

to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, 

to build up their own form, to represent themselves.

Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.
— Hermann Hesse

réflexions et poèmes: pondering the great work of swiss poet, painter, novelist + 1946 nobel prize laureate hermann hess who so beautifully articulates my own respect + awe of the noble tree:

for me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. i revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. and even more i revere them when they stand alone. they are like lonely persons. not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like beethoven and nietzsche. in their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. 

trees are sanctuaries. whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. they do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

a tree says: a kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, i am life from eternal life. the attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. i was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

a tree says: my strength is trust. i know nothing about my fathers, i know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. i live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and i care for nothing else. i trust that God is in me. i trust that my labor is holy. out of this trust i live.

when we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: be still! be still! look at me! life is not easy, life is not difficult. those are childish thoughts. let god speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. you are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. but every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. home is neither here nor there. home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

a longing to wander tears my heart when i hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. if one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. it is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. it is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. it leads home. every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

so the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts:  trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. they are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. but when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. he wants to be nothing except what he is. that is home. that is happiness.