🤍

“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”

The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.

“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”

“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”

The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”

Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”

“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”

Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.

“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”

“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?” 

The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.

A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer. 

“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”

“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”

“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”

The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.

And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.

Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.

“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”

“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”

“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.

“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”

“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”

“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.

“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”

Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.

“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”

“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.

“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”

Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.

“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.

“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.

“What?” the god asked.

The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.

He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.

So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.

“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.

The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.

“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.

“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”

“No,” Arepo smiled.

“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”

“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.

“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.

“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”

The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”

Yepraksia Gevorgyan, 110

You know who said that? Hitler. Adolf Hitler, as a way to justify the Holocaust. Because the world turned a blind eye to the Armenian genocide, he thought the world would turn its back to the Holocaust.

His wife, Yukiko, was also a part of this; she is often credited with suggesting the plan. The Sugihara family was held in a Soviet POW camp for 18 months until the end of the war; within a year of returning home, Sugihara was asked to resign - officially due to downsizing, but most likely because the government disagreed with his actions.

He didn’t simply grant visas - he granted visas against direct orders, after attempting three times to receive permission from the Japanese Foreign Ministry and being turned down each time. He did not “misread” orders; he was in direct violation of them, with the encouragement and support of his wife.

He was honoured as Righteous Among the Nations in 1985, a year before he died in Kamakura; he and his descendants have also been granted permanent Israeli citizenship. He was also posthumously awarded the Life Saving Cross of Lithuania (1993); Commander’s Cross Order of Merit of the Republic of Poland (1996); and the Commander’s Cross with Star of the Order of Polonia Restituta (2007). Though not canonized, some Eastern Orthodox Christians recognize him as a saint.

Sugihara was born in Gifu on the first day of 1900, January 1. He achieved top marks in his schooling; his father wanted him to become a physician, but Sugihara wished to pursue learning English. He deliberately failed the exam by writing only his name and then entered Waseda, where he majored in English. He joined the Foreign Ministry after graduation and worked in the Manchurian Foreign Office in Harbin (where he learned Russian and German; he also converted to the Eastern Orthodox Church during this time). He resigned his post in protest over how the Japanese government treated the local Chinese citizens. He eventually married Yukiko Kikuchi, who would suggest and encourage his acts in Lithuania; they had four sons together. Chiune Sugihara passed away July 31, 1986, at the age of 86. Until her own passing in 2008, Yukiko continued as an ambassador of his legacy.

You want to know about my motivation, don’t you? Well. It is the kind of sentiments anyone would have when he actually sees refugees face to face, begging with tears in their eyes. He just cannot help but sympathize with them. Among the refugees were the elderly and women. They were so desperate that they went so far as to kiss my shoes, Yes, I actually witnessed such scenes with my own eyes. Also, I felt at that time, that the Japanese government did not have any uniform opinion in Tokyo. Some Japanese military leaders were just scared because of the pressure from the Nazis; while other officials in the Home Ministry were simply ambivalent.

People in Tokyo were not united. I felt it silly to deal with them. So, I made up my mind not to wait for their reply. I knew that somebody would surely complain about me in the future. But, I myself thought this would be the right thing to do. There is nothing wrong in saving many people’s lives….The spirit of humanity, philanthropy…neighborly friendship…with this spirit, I ventured to do what I did, confronting this most difficult situation—and because of this reason, I went ahead with redoubled courage.

The stone next to him bears a quote from the Talmud; “He who saves one life, saves the entire world.”  

A tyrannical government doesn’t come for you out of the blue. They come for you after they’ve disarmed you and run an intense propaganda campaign that labels you as a threat to society so few would even consider standing up for you. They come for you after they condition you to believe that they have your best interest at heart and that they are best qualified to make decisions for you as an individual and society as a whole. They come for you after they’ve convinced you that resistance is futile. They come after they’ve convinced you that fighting back only hurts those you love.

If some of these things sound familiar, they should.

Books, movies, TV, and internet videos from Youtube, Instagram, and The Dodo often show animals in their best moments, or even acting because they’ve been trained to do certain tasks (or are animated as humanlike characters). The fact is that the vast majority of people, even those who already have pets, have a very low or nonexistent level of animal literacy; what they take away from that kind of media oftens turns into “I want that animal as a pet.” 

People who watched Finding Nemo created an explosion of demand for clownfish and blue tangs; Harry Potter, owls; 101 Dalmatians for dalmatians, etc etc etc. When the decision to get a pet modeled after the cute, photo-ready animals seen on a screen is made, there is zero consideration as to whether or not their needs can be met and if people can actually handle them. 

Media featuring animals inevitably creates a boom of abandonment and huge environmental impact precisely because people who were in over their heads and acted purely on a whim got their dose of reality, and it’s incredibly heartbreaking to have to see the news detailing such cases. These are just some examples: 

Yearly reminders have to be passed around telling people not to buy rabbits on Easter unless they’re committed to actually taking care of them  

Thousands of dalmatians were abandoned when families discovered that they are very energy intensive, broody work dogs that are not suited to families with small children, unlike the cuddly Perdita and Pongo

Similarly, huskies and malamutes were surrendered to shelters when people realised they are not loyal Westeros direwolves

Entire ecosystems in Europe and southern Asia lost valuable apex predators when people began poaching them to sell to fans who wanted their own Hedwigs and Errols, and again abandoning them en masse when they discovered owls are highly aggressive, loud, messy, and nocturnal

Japan imported thousands of North American raccoons after the release of the Disney movie Rascal, people let them loose in the wild, and Japan now has a problem trying to figure out what to do with their enormous pest population that has no natural predator in place to control their numbers

Pacific Reefs suffered greatly when people demanded to have clownfish and blue tangs as pets, especially considering they were caught by being stunned with sodium cyanide, which, additionally, severely damages coral as well. NatGeo estimates that up to 90% of tropical fish imported by the US are caught by way of cyanide fishing; this often ends up for naught as these fish are often flushed down the toilet or released to the wild in other ways, which is also why the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico are under threat by voracious invasive species like lionfish   

The gist is that the media perpetuates this cycle of people reading about or seeing animal characters, demand is created, people impulse buy those animals, and then leave them for shelters to care for or release them to the wild when they get a rude awakening and find they’re actually unable to deal with those animals. 

This isn’t even counting other animals like “mini” pigs, chihuahuas, snakes, foxes, etc etc etc. And we can’t exactly blame this on over enthusiastic children when it’s adults who have the purchasing power to buy a pet, and who choose to do zero research, and who choose to indulge said children or even themselves when that I Want the TV Animal as a Pet urge comes on. 

Ignoring what is essentially weaponised cuteness used for online likes is hard, especially when faced with such palatable stuff like that gif of the owl riding the tablet stylus, or the plethora of cat videos. But it costs very little effort to not only educate yourself on the needs of animals and to also not encourage a rapacious pet trade industry, but to communicate that to others so that, hopefully, we won’t have to see things like Peter Dinklage and Jo Rowling having to make statements to the news because of this problem. 

Please reblog this even if you don’t care

They’re trying to erase the existence of the rape victims of Japanese soldiers in World War II because they think the reminder of their crimes might make Japan a little bit cross

Duterte, the absolute coward, is more worried about women criticizing him than actually honoring the women this country needs to remember

I mean the Nanking Massacre beats the bombings by 72,000 (300,000 in Nanking vs 228,000 of the combined bombings) deaths alone. Then We Can pull the deaths commited by the Unit 731 at about 413,000.

With just those two we’re already at 713,000 (The population of Detroit) deaths over the (again) 228,000. Adding in the comfort women with 410,000 victims.

A total of 1,013,000 victims in just 3 aspects of the conflict with Japan.

It’s the Japanese that are trying to erase these atrocities. It’s considered political suicide to attempt to even apologize. A man was even threatened with treason for asking to remove his brother’s name from the Japanese monument dedicated to the soldiers in Nanking.

The US has apologized for the Internment Camps. Germany has apologized for the Third Reich.

Japan is with Turkey in trying to suppress their Genocide.

I saw a post about “Please stop hitting on women while they’re at work” and I 100% agree with it, which is why I’m making a separate post to say please don’t hit on people in general when they’re at work.

I work at a bakery and we have this sweet 16 about to turn 17 year old boy who works up front of our store. He used to work at the place next door to us and, while he was there, a girl he was working with developed a bit of a crush on him and asked him out.

He said no, that he has a girlfriend (which she already knew) and thought they could just continue on being friends and coworkers.

Since beginning work at our bakery she stops in every single day and talks to him for the entirety of her 30 minute long break. He has told her multiple times that he’s at work and can’t stand around and talk and when I asked him if he was uncomfortable his response was a very relieved “Oh, God, yes.” 

He’s tried to talk to one of the owners about it and his response was “You can talk to her after work” not realizing this poor boy is being made incredibly uncomfortable on a daily basis in the work place. 

When we told him he could come into the back to find something to do if he needed to he was so incredibly thankful and relieved. This girl spent twenty minutes standing up front waiting for him to come back after he said he had to go do something. Twenty minutes in the front of the store ever after being told he can’t talk to her. He doesn’t know what would happen if he says that he doesn’t want to talk to her and is genuinely nervous every time she walks in.

The only reprieve he gets is from the bakers in the back saying “I get it. Come back here” because the Owners don’t understand that he, a male coworker, can be made uncomfortable by these unwanted advancements being made toward him. 

Please.

This post isn’t made to undersell not hitting on women while they’re at work. I get that and that’s why this separate post exists.

Please.

Don’t hit on people when they’re at work.

Hong Kong on some next level shit, no-selling tear gas canisters.

The bill potentially places in high risk anyone with openly critical views about the governing and policies in mainland China. Given that there have already been many abductions from Hong Kong–particularly of bookstore owners selling materials of a critical nature–this legislation would only enable the Chinese government in further silencing political dissent.

Bear in mind that mainland China is where Winnie the Pooh continues to be banned from mention on all social media because people were making humorous comparisons between Pooh and Xi Jinping–the General Secretary of the Communist Party of China (aka the current President of China).

Oxford claims women can’t deal with pressure, decides to inflate number of degrees just to increase the number of female degree holders

Rosemary Mariner standing in front of her A-7 Corsair II, 1976. Mariner was the very first female Naval Aviator, the first to fly a front line attack aircraft, the first to land on an aircraft carrier, first to serve aboard a warship and the first to gain command of an aviation squadron.

via reddit

Gov’t: The gov’t shutdown means parks won’t get cleaned! You need us!

Libertarians: We will clean it, voluntarily. 

High five!

Rape culture and sexual violence may be gaining ground in New Zealand because of pornography, a new survey has found.

The survey of 622 sexual health services, youth workers, schools and families has found increasing genital injuries caused by violent sex inspired by pornography that depicts violence as normal.

Respondents report “increased degradation, objectification and disrespect of women and girls; normalising of sexual violence and coercion; a disregard for consent; a devaluing and transactional approach to sex; advanced sexual knowledge for development age; an erosion of mutual pleasure and the normalising of painful sex particularly for women and gay males.”

The survey does not claim to be an academic study and was done to inform a set of resources for youth, schools and parents on how to deal with porn, which will be published on October 1 on www.thelightproject.co.nz.

An Education Review Office review of sexuality education in schools, published today, highlighted the survey as evidence that many schoolchildren “are learning about sex through pornography” on their smartphones.

Survey organiser Nikki Denholm, a former sexual health nurse who has worked internationally on female genital mutilation and other sexual health issues, said she was inspired to do something about porn after working on child sex trafficking in the Philippines.

“I was surprised how many young people had been filmed for the sex industry,” she said.

Back in New Zealand, she teamed up with Auckland sex therapist Jo Robertson, sexual health nurses Lief Pearson and Melissa Powell and former child protection worker Veronia Houghton to found the “Light Project”, named “to shine a light in an area that is quite dark”.

Schoolteachers, principals and guidance counsellors who responded to their online survey “gave many accounts of students viewing porn on personal or school devices during school hours”.

One said: “Pornography is now the main sex educator for young people.”

Another said: “Porn is normalising misogynistic, violent, rape culture, racist, anti-LGBTI sexual behaviour - leading to an expectation that this is okay behaviour.”

Sexual health workers and youth workers said they saw “an increase in sexual aggression and sexual violence, including sexually coercive behaviours, increasing incidences of sexual assault (for boys and girls), an increase in sexually aggressive behaviours seen in younger children, sexual violence towards partners and increased incidences of child-on-child abuse including re-enacting porn scenes”.

“Young people are inadvertently educated that it’s normal to endure or inflict pain,” one person said.

A sexual health doctor said: “A number of sexual practices are becoming more common and normalised among young people, I believe as a result of watching porn. These include pubic hair shaving, anal sex, group sex, etc.”

Health services also reported “increasing presentations of young men to Sexual Health Services with sexual dysfunction”.

“These men are reporting problems with ‘normal’ sex not being as stimulating as pornography, causing difficulty reaching orgasm or maintaining an erection,” one person said.

Robertson, who is completing a master’s thesis at Sydney University on the impacts of porn on adolescents, said therapists were seeing young men with erectile dysfunction that “you would have never seen in a 25-year-old” before smartphones.

Therapists expressed concern that parents were ignoring the issue.

“Fathers don’t realise how vital it is to talk to their boys about it. They think it is acceptable, a fad, or just a ‘fact of life’,” one therapist said.

Denholm said the Light Project resources would include tips on how to talk to young people about porn, suggestions for schools, and resources for young people themselves about the importance of consent and where to get help.