These Dog Portraits Are Completely Captivating

#truelove #allowing #dating

GPS for the Soul – The Huffington Post
These Dog Portraits Are Completely Captivating
When we first met Jessica Trinh last April, she was photographing her two extremely photogenic dogs — an Australian shepherd named Daisy and a golden retriever named Chuppy, who sadly passed away earlier this month.

Some Puppy Love

Over the past year, the now-19-year-old photographer from Southern California expanded her photography portfolio, capturing incredible photographs of dogs everywhere.

Storing Love in a Box

A Color Bath

Boo

Trinh also grew her “Project Let it Rain Love.” She began the undertaking, in which she photographs shelter dogs with the hope of finding them a home, in January 2013. To date, she’s photographed about 50 dogs and is looking for more, she told The Huffington Post.

“I wanted to make animal shelter dogs look beautiful to the public, rather than just sad dogs behind cages,” she told HuffPost.

Check out the two images below for a glimpse at the project:

red hearts

flower petals

Trinh has also set out to create a film which looks into the life of a shelter dog by taking us on a journey through the pup’s eyes she told HuffPost. Her hope is to reflect the horrors of high-kill animal shelters. Since it is still in the works she has yet to decide on a name, but is leaning toward “Caged Hearts.”

She says the most meaningful part of her work is seeing people’s reactions.

“It makes the entire process worth it when people see the final product, and go ‘Wow, that dog is indeed beautiful and should not be behind bars,'” she said.

you've got the stars on string 27/365

Waiting for Winter

To see more of Trinh’s photographs and to learn more about Project Let it Rain Love, visit her website here.

h/t LifeBuzz

The Power of Not Knowing
Imagine a world in which everything is known and under control. It would be a flatland. There would be no amazement, no wonder, no edge. I believe that just under our skin, we intuit that we know next to nothing about our lives at all — where we came from, who we are, where we are going, and why. To avoid the anxiety this can arouse might just be why we keep ourselves so busy and preoccupied.

To trust the unknowing is easy to say, but how much more convenient it often is to fall back on what we know or what others know — or say they know. It is far simpler and easier to live by pre-digested belief and information rather than by faith.

Religious beliefs, political beliefs, social beliefs, cultural beliefs — we all have them in one shape or another because we live in a relational world in which we are formed in part by our culture and early experiences. We all have core beliefs about ourselves and the world — it’s a safe place, or a dangerous place. I’m a bad or a good person — that were formed so early they now direct our outlook on life automatically without our conscious participation.

Yet behind those beliefs is the stillness, the presence that we are, the great mystery of being. That presence does not reside in our intellect, our will or our memory. Who we are cannot be pointed to in time or space. We are nowhere to be found. Who we are cannot be known at all. This knowing presence can only be inhabited, there where nothing and no one ever is. Thomas Merton wrote these lines:

“There is no where in you a paradise that is no place and there
You dare not enter except without a story.
To enter there is to become unnameable.”

By paradise, he does not mean some state of bliss divorced from the immanent world. He means a place of deepest clarity and stillness — unnameable, and therefore unknowable, beyond the reach of language and knowledge. Yet this presence that we are is itself the source of knowing. We ourselves are the Mystery, then. And the deeper we penetrate a mystery, the more mysterious it becomes. Just look and see. Look into the question of who you are, not with ideas or answers, but with a felt sense of the ever-receding ungraspability of you.

When we know this as a felt experience. When we inhabit and trust the silence that words may lead to but cannot reach, then we become intimate with ourselves in a way that is not possible when we remain content with our stories and memories of who we like to think we are. Our edges soften. We become a kindness to ourselves and to the world.

“Who made the world?
Who made the swan and the black bear?”

Asks Mary Oliver in her poem, A Summer Day. She does not ask casually. Her question arises from a genuine sense of unknowing — from sheer wonder. “The questioning that emerges from unknowing differs from conventional inquiry,” Stephen Batchelor notes in his book, Confessions of a Buddhist Atheist, “in that it has no interest in finding an answer. Perplexity keeps awareness on its toes.”

Who made the world? Who made this hand traveling across the page in the slanting light of an August afternoon? I look and I wonder and I sit back and I gasp as I realize that I do not know what a single thing is. What this is before me that is known as a table and who this is that sits breathing softly by my side, her legs crossed and her eyes down? It is a wonder we are here at all and a greater wonder still that I can wonder at it, and yet the more I wonder the closer I feel, the more intimate I feel, to this throbbing wild and passionate world. I wonder, and I come alive as the world comes alive before my eyes. Can we wonder the world alive, in spite of all that we think we know about it already? In spite of everything?

You can order Roger Housden’s new book, Keeping the Faith Without a Religion, here.

Subliminal hypnosis: sports hypnosis, weight loss hypnosis, mental health hypnosis, and 40 different topics hypnosis at Amazon.com, full catalog    http://amzn.to/VGoe0Y photo 2163_zps044fb03b.jpg

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s