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Mako, Bolin, and Lord Zuko are bowing to eachother using a traditional shaolin style hand formation of one hand open and one hand closed.

The thing i find interesting is that in my time training wah lum/bagua/taichi, I learned that in the northern shaolin temple the right hand is open and left hand is closed. Since firebending is based off of Northern Shaolin, it would make sense that Lord Zuko of the Fire Nation would use this bow.

On the other hand, Mako and Bolin are using left hand open and right hand closed. This is the southern shaolin style of bowing, so anyone using a southern kung fu style would make this hand gesture, as well as some japanese and korean martial arts. Since Earthbending is based off of Hung Gar, a southern style of Kung Fu, it makes sense that the 2 people from an earth kingdom family would use the southern style of bowing.

I love this show, and despite all the cool fighting and great story, it’s that small attention to detail that made me super excited!

Creative people are confident in only one thing: their own doubt. I think there’s a huge lack of self-confidence in a creative person because, by nature, the definition of a creative person is someone who is trying to make something new. They know, if they are professional creatives, that the likelihood of doing that—making something new and significant—is hugely unlikely, so they build within that city of doubt. From doubt, they get to iterate and work extremely hard, hoping to find something new; it’s all about hope. I’ve never met anyone who is good at what they do creatively and is super-confident. Maybe they pretend to be confident in front of their agent or the media, but I’ve never been confident in that way.
A conversation with the inimitable John Maeda. Complement with Seth Godin on dancing with self-doubt and Anna Deavere Smith’s advice to artists on what self-esteem really means. (via letters-to-nobody)

(Source: explore-blog)

We come from a different place than a lot of other people. We know tears and laughter. Worries for young hearts, little shoulders and developing minds. We grew up quicker because we had to, to survive. We jogged, ran and jumped to stand where other people got dropped off. We made leaps and jumps just to be normal. Living life was always a struggle. Beautiful people always come, also seemed like great souls always go. But nothing ever dies. Energy just changed hands. It’s in our hands now, you know? Its little things that make up life- just like atoms make up matter, just like seconds make up days and steps make miles. Carpe Diem never meant more. This is on us now. I’ve felt it before. There’s a moment when a great things dies. When you watch a star die the stardust and embers swirl around and if you stick around long enough, a new star is formed.

That’s what we are made to do. Be reborn from ash to fire.
My mind today;contemplating the death of a star and the loss of legends. 

Fenix Xōchitl ZunoLauren BacallRobin Willams

Franz Kafka, the story goes, encountered a little girl in the park where he went walking daily. She was crying. She had lost her doll and was desolate.

Kafka offered to help her look for the doll and arranged to meet her the next day at the same spot. Unable to find the doll he composed a letter from the doll and read it to her when they met.

"Please do not mourn me, I have gone on a trip to see the world. I will write you of my adventures." This was the beginning of many letters. When he and the little girl met he read her from these carefully composed letters the imagined adventures of the beloved doll. The little girl was comforted.

When the meetings came to an end Kafka presented her with a doll. She obviously looked different from the original doll. An attached letter explained: “my travels have changed me… “

Many years later, the now grown girl found a letter stuffed into an unnoticed crevice in the cherished replacement doll. In summary it said: “every thing that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.”

May Benatar, Kafka and the Doll: The Pervasiveness of Loss (via peteseeger)

(Source: easyreadingisdamnhardwriting)

De Minimis Maxim

Why do men always wanna touch me?
The look in your eyes you can’t disguise it says
“Fuck me”
If you deride the time
Suddenly you so ugly

Like the attitude you’re now facing
Compliment contradiction
About turn violence

Change scenes
My form is curve, intuition, and beauty

Like a sunrise to your eyes
Look into the fire
Stare and go blind
Cannot hold the light
You glare from the shadows you hide

Hungry eyes
Demanding a piece of the pie
Hearth fire warm apex of Life & Desire
Seeking to enter your greedy lips overflow
Assaulting with words and kisses
Numb hands groping in the snow
Nothing you know

Blinded by the Light. Let me go!
You cannot enter
You shall not pass

Your cacophonous cat calls
Do not give me pause
Nor echo sweetly the song of love down these halls

This is my temple
King!—You say-
Supplicants to my court shall bow in my wake

The temple you profaned
Drowned in a treacherous sea
By the earth quake
The fault will grow cold
The gates rust Iron from Gold
The beast did damage untold

Now hear ye! You pillars of paradigms
Patriarchs gone past
On sand you lay your foundations
The hour glass figure counts each grain down to the last

Breaking your rocks
The Sea will erode every rough face
Hewn into marble reflecting Heaven’ face

We shall take the measure at last balance the scales
Refined raw -still prevail

Bow down to the Queens hale, Hail!

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