Toby Ng - The World of 100
Have you ever asked yourself, what would the World look like as a small community of 100 people? Probably not. However, it is something to think about, as the reality would be startling - as much as you’d think so, the village would only have 7 computers, and only 1 person in the World Village would be educated at University level.
These facts are something that designer Toby Ng has thought about very carefully, and turned the results of his findings into a series of twenty infographics depicting ‘The World of 100’. Although aesthetically beautiful, with sharp lines and bold, vibrant colours, these infographics are often horrifying.
The posters look as though they have come straight out of a children’s book; is this to mirror the naivety of those that are most likely to be looking at them on their computers?
“Look, this is the World we are living in.”
- Toby Ng
If you follow this blog, you will finally achieve true and lasting happiness
(Source: overonehundred, via noseflower)
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Forgiveness is a strong woman, tender and earthy and direct. Since her children have left home, she has embarked on an extended walking tour, visiting ruins and old monuments, bathing in rivers and hot springs, traveling through the small towns and large pulsing cities, tracing the current of sorrow under the stories she hears. Sometimes the city authorities and officials don’t want her within their gates; but if the people want her there enough, she always manages to find a way inside.
Forgiveness brings gifts wherever she goes. Simple ones, a three-stranded twig with leaves turning yellow, a belt she wove on an inkle loom, a little song that grows inside you and changes everything. She brought me a silver ring from the South with a pale stone, pink with a hint of brown. When I had asthma, she taught me how to breathe.
"(Thanks for gLui for introducing me)
Forgiveness
(via amandaemoore)
Adventures in the Ether: What Might Have Been
Truth that speaks to the heart.
Reposting this from a friend and “brother in arms.” I echo his sentiments, not much has sat right with me since the news of Bin Laden’s death broke. This doesn’t bring peace, killing someone never will. The author and I are both flying into combat again tonight, into perhaps reinvigorated hatred for us and what the flag painted on the side of our airplanes stand for.
Do you remember the Afghans dancing in their streets after the Twin Towers fell? I do. And now we are doing the same, dancing in the streets and pouring budweiser down our gourds. Then we go trouncing around the world acting like we hold ourselves to some sort of higher standard and that standard needs to be exported to the rest of the world. Shame on us, we should be weeping, a man died in the midst of hatred and war and absolutely nothing has changed as a result.
We were in Canadian airspace when the controller told us Bin Laden was dead. Across the world there are, no doubt, people hooting in celebration and others wailing in lament. At a moment like this there are as many reactions as there are people. Here’s mine:
I think it’s important to…
Riots.Tornadoes.Friends.Heroes.
I need an outlet.
Today, I woke up to reading about another outburst of riots in Uganda: Riots. Hm. The thing with riots is that it is so sporadic. It can ignite and disperse as quickly as it came and wreak havoc in the areas it has passed. I liken riots to tornados—it comes through, sweeps up and leaves the community physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually damaged. Riots are scary in mob mentally areas because people will start congregating and go with the flow, not even knowing why there is a huge mob. You get sucked in—like a tornado. And once you’re in, it’s hard to get out, it’s hard to breathe, and then you look at the trail left behind.
It’s easier than not to avoid riots. Just keep your distance, stay indoors, be wise, and don’t be foolish. But you also never know where the tornado can turn. And you can’t avoid the visual presentation of the damage that you’ll see—the brokenness, hurt, and aftermath. And it is scary. There, I said it. It is scary. It is scary to be in a different environment, a culture with a mentality that is so different from yours. And you try so hard to not make it a big deal. You try hard to notscare those around you. So we hold our breathe, suck it in, ignore our fears, and try to do something that takes our mind off the smoke from the burning of the tires, flames, gunshot noises, and mobs. You try and it works. And you lock that up, brush it off, and you say it’s okay. You say that you’re okay. But then what about those people, my friends who are nationals that cannot get up and relocate to a safer area—the ones who live on the wrong sides of the train tracks. This is their life. This is their everyday.
Riots.
My friends are heroes. Except, they’ll never call themselves that. But I know—I know that they are heroes. They live in the throes of whatever life throws at them, learn to deal with it, cope, and then move onto the next task. I have friends who work for amazing organizations that directly impact the community at large. These are my friends, they are my heroes and I am so blessed to have had their lives touch mine.
Today, I pray. That’s all I can do right now. So I pray for all these lives: The expats and the nationals. All the beautiful people that I’ve met, and I just ask that the angels will wrap their arms around these amazing people in protection and guidance. My heart longs for you all.
I love the sound of the dancing raindrops outside.
Dancing and running in the downpour of the Ugandan rain is one of my top five blissful moments.
"Until the lion has a voice the story will only be told by the hunter."
P. Bourdieu (via beausuder)
Martin Luther King Jr. reflected in a sermon, “Every now and then I think about my own death, and I think about my own funeral. Every now and then I ask myself, ‘What is it that I want said?’ I’d like somebody to mention that day, that Martin Luther King Jr. tried to give his life serving others. I’d like for somebody to say that day, that Martin Luther King Jr. tried to love somebody. I want you to say that day, that I tried to be right on the war question. I want you to be able to say that day, that I did try to feed the hungry. And I want you to be able to say that day, that I did try, in my life, to clothe those who were naked. I want you to say, on that day, that I did try, in my life, to visit those who were in prison. I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity.”
Leaving in a hurry — I miss Uganda a lot today.
I’m not very good with good byes. So how do I cope with it? I cope with it by not saying good bye. And then what happens? I regret not saying bye. It’s how I do. It’s what I do. It’s why I want to kick myself sometimes.
The week (and weeks) before I left Uganda, I was busy finishing up a 30 page paper;
The week of my departure, I was busy transitioning out and training my replacement;
The day before my departure, I worked late to finish editing a Field Office Report.
All this to say:
I never got to say bye to my loyal and awesome boda driver: Boda Jared
I never got to say bye to the amazing lady who made AWESOME Japattis: Japatti Julie
I never got to say bye to the awesome woman who always greeted me with a huge smile and a contagious laugh when I got back from work: Auntie Joyce
I never got to say bye to the lady who did my laundry for me when I got lazy: Grace
I never got to say bye to the lady at Rocks & Roses, my lunch spot when I wanted to indulge in a $3.50 lunch: (crap I forgot her name.. I think it started with a “R”).
I never got to say bye to the guy I always bought AirTime from: Patrick
I never got to say bye to the guy who ended up being a dear friend of mine through great conversations, jokes/riddles and of course my favorite memory of his annoying rooster that we feasted on post-slaughter: Allan B
There’s a longer list of people I never got to say bye to. And on days like today… I wish I could return for just one day. Just one day so I can go and bid farewell to everyone.
Goodbyes always mean hello. Your heart is filled once again with new&old relationships. But there’s always that one void… isn’t there?
Prodigal Son: I underestimate God’s grace.
17“But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! 18I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. 19I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ 20And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. 21And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’3 22 But the father said to his servants,4 ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet.23 And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. 24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate. (Luke 5:17-24) This is a pretty well-know passage… but I like to revisit it a lot. I think a lot of great things have been written about it and I also have been listening to Sovereign Grace Music’s Prodigal Son which has really been bringing me to my knees. There are a lot of things amazing about this parable, but the thing that struck me this morning as I meditated was this: I underestimate God’s grace. If you read through the passage, you see how this young man, came to himself (came to his senses) and thought to himself… “hmmm… I can go back to my father’s place and get a place as his servant” (GBT*). Let’s process this train of thought. This young man just blew to dust the wealth that was left to him. He invested in things that didn’t yield anything, he planted seeds that did not, and were never going to fruit. And yet, he still had the sense to realize that he can go to his father’s house and be accepted into the home… as a servant. This young man came to his senses and knew his father would take him in, at the very least, as a servant. Again, in the GBT, this young man knew that his father would show him grace, even after he squandered everything that was in his name. He knew his father would take him in. He KNEW his father should show him grace. But what’s the problem here? He didn’t know how much grace his father would show him. He didn’t know the magnitude of his father’s grace. Likewise, we know that God will show us grace—of course this doesn’t mean that we should go on sinning against our father and live recklessly. But eventually we come to our senses, and know that the Lord will show us grace. However, we know that God will show us grace and still take us into his home, knowing our sinfulness. Yet I don’t think we know… I don’t think I know the magnitude of God’s grace. I know the Lord will show me grace and so I try to walk into the back door. But God’s grace not opens the front door for me, but He comes to greet me. Not only that, he clothes me in the garment worthy of His child. He clothes me as a heir, he clothes me with the title of a princess in His name, as the child of the King. That’s how big God’s grace is, and in reflection of my life, I realize I’ve been underestimating His grace. *Grace Bae Translation
