Rosary on the bus or reading is god tier morning vibe
Avoid scrolling just delete every social media app and avoid the slop
When you curate your consumption you’ll start to wake up your nervous system to where it needs to be just subtract everything until there’s nothing
Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite is a mysterious Christian theologian and mystic writing in the late 5th or early 6th century. He deliberately adopts the name Dionysius the Areopagite, the Athenian convert of St. Paul mentioned in Acts 17, in order to give apostolic authority to his writings.
His works synthesize Christian theology, Neoplatonic metaphysics, and mystical experience into one of the most influential spiritual systems in Western Christianity.
He profoundly shaped:
At the heart of Pseudo-Dionysius’ thought is this paradox:
God is utterly transcendent and unknowable — yet present in all things.
Human language, concepts, images, and even theology ultimately fail to grasp God’s essence. True union with God occurs beyond thought, in silence, darkness, and unknowing.
This text explores how we can speak meaningfully about God without reducing God to human categories.
God is called Good not because goodness defines Him, but because all goodness flows from Him.
This is the shortest but most radical work.
True knowledge of God comes through unknowing.
The Divine Darkness
God is not darkness because He lacks light, but because His light is too intense for human perception.
God is known by unknowing.
This text deeply influenced later Christian mystics, especially Meister Eckhart and the apophatic tradition.
This work lays out the famous nine orders of angels, arranged in three triads.
First Triad (closest to God)
Second Triad
Third Triad (closest to humanity)
Angels are not merely beings but symbols of divine order, mediation, and illumination.
This is the earthly mirror of the celestial hierarchy.
Just as angels mediate divine light in heaven, sacraments, clergy, and rituals mediate divine life on earth.
Each rite is both symbolic and transformative, guiding the soul upward toward God.
The Church is understood as a ladder of ascent, not merely an institution.
The letters clarify and defend Dionysius’ theology.
They emphasize:
Pseudo-Dionysius outlines a classic mystical progression:
This structure becomes foundational for Christian mysticism.
Both are necessary — but apophatic theology is higher.
His thought insists that:
The closer you get to God, the less you speak.
Pseudo-Dionysius teaches that God is best approached not by knowing more, but by surrendering knowledge itself, ascending through symbols into silence, darkness, and divine union.
Street photography just happens to be the language I started with
the outcome isn’t worth it if you don’t know yourself
when you know yourself, you become uncontrollable
The Chosen is a multi-season historical drama about the life of Jesus of Nazareth, told primarily through the eyes of the people who meet him—his disciples, followers, skeptics, and enemies.
Here’s the clean, no-fluff breakdown 👇
What makes
The Chosen
different
1.
It’s character-first, not sermon-first
Instead of jumping straight into miracles and divinity, the show slows way down:
- Peter is impulsive, broke, and stressed
- Matthew is socially awkward and isolated
- Mary Magdalene carries deep trauma
You meet them as humans before you meet them as saints.That’s the hook.
2.
Jesus feels approachable
Played by Jonathan Roumie, this Jesus:
- laughs
- jokes
- teases his friends
- gets tired
- listens more than he lectures
He’s reverent without being distant. Sacred, but not untouchable.
3.
Biblical, but not wooden
The show sticks closely to Scripture in spirit, but:
- fills in gaps imaginatively
- builds plausible backstories
- adds everyday dialogue Scripture doesn’t record
Important: it doesn’t rewrite theology—it dramatizes context.
4.
Crowd-funded and independent
This is huge.
The Chosen wasn’t made by a big Hollywood studio. It was crowd-funded and distributed freely through its own app at first. That independence gives it a very different tone—less glossy, more earnest.
Creator: Dallas Jenkins
Tone & vibe
- Grounded
- Warm
- Slow-burn
- Emotionally sincere
Less “epic Bible movie,” more lived-in ancient world.If you like:
- character studies
- spiritual realism
- quiet transformation
…it hits hard.Who it’s for (and who it’s not)
You’ll probably love it if:
- you’re spiritually curious
- you care about inner transformation
- you like shows that let moments breathe
You might bounce off if:
- you want nonstop action
- you dislike any religious framing
- you prefer purely symbolic or abstract takes
Why it resonates right now
In a noisy, cynical age, The Chosen feels:
- sincere without being preachy
- spiritual without being fake
- human without being hollow
It’s less about “believe this” and more about “come and see.”
complaining about the weather is kind of just silly when Uniqlo exists and even considering the need to be working on a computer and stuff like that, you could just walk around with your phone 1000 times more enjoyable and productive
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante.
Today I’m deconstructing the layers in this photograph that I made on the 4th of July at Coney Island in 2025. Without further ado, let’s jump right into it and look at the contact sheets behind the scenes of how I made this frame.
When I approach a scene, I don’t simply make one picture and move on. In this particular instance, I made dozens of photographs. I’m watching the scene unfold, making pictures around me, looking at the different moments that are happening — people jumping into the water, people gathering on the rocks.
I’m photographing consistently. I’m not just pressing the shutter one time. I’m photographing through the moment so that I can maybe find the decisive moment.
This practice requires patience and presence.
While I’m photographing, I’m hyper-aware of my surroundings. I’m listening to the children jumping, the way they’re moving, and I’m observing all the complexities of the scene.
Once I see something start to manifest, I look at the world in front of me like a visual puzzle.
Photography becomes about understanding the relationships between things, not forcing moments.
In this scene, I started sensing the possibility of layers — the different planes of rocks, the way people were positioned throughout the frame.
As things unfolded naturally, I stayed in one place, in one position, and allowed the scene to unfold. I didn’t force the moment. I responded to intuition.
Photography is a physical medium. You press the shutter with instinct and gut, but it’s your physical position in relation to the subject and background that constructs the frame.
As the scene unfolded, I kept making pictures. I dropped to a low angle to separate the subjects and bring the frame to life.
I’m not shooting in burst mode, but I am pressing the shutter consistently. That way, when the decisive moment happens — when the boy turns and looks to the right — everything in the frame is already synthesized.
One thing I want to emphasize with layering in street photography is that the background is extremely important.
I dropped to a low angle so the background could be filled with sky and clouds. The rocks became a stage, grounding the bottom half of the frame and creating planes throughout the image.
The middle ground connects the subjects on the left with the boy in the foreground. His glance becomes the punctum — the subtle human element that adds emotional intensity and elevates the photograph.
I’m not afraid to milk a scene. I don’t leave until the scene leaves me.
I photograph through the chaos, through the unsettling moments, as people jump into the water and the sun begins to set. The light was fading fast, and the timing was perfect.
When you have good light and a strong scene, you need to be there. You need to be present and work it fully.
At the end of the day, I came home with two frames from this scene. And then you have to decide: which one do you keep, and which one do you ditch?
Light, composition, timing, gesture — all of these matter. But when comparing frames side by side, you have to ask which one feels more interesting.
The left frame has more formal elegance — geometry, separation, clean gestures. But the right frame, while more imperfect, has that foreground boy pulling your eye through the entire image.
That human emotion elevates the frame.
That’s why I kept it.
Photography has everything to do with how you engage with humanity.
Don’t be afraid to work a scene. Don’t be afraid to interact with people. When your presence is established, people begin to trust you — and eventually forget you’re even there.
That’s when you can really make photographs.
At the end of the day, this is a simple approach to composition:
Drop low.
Move left.
Move right.
Be patient.
Work the scene.
Let things unfold naturally.
Make the pictures first. Decide later — through culling, sequencing, and comparison — which frames you keep and which you let go.
That’s how I think about layering and composition in my work.
Thank you for watching, and I’ll see you in the next one.
Peace.
What’s poppin, people? It’s Dante.
Today I want to talk about why simplifying your street photography practice changes everything.
I look at street photography as a practice.
It’s a daily routine.
It’s a ritual.
It’s something I’ve fully integrated into my life.
And I’ve found that by simplifying my practice, I’m photographing more than I ever have before.
Street photography isn’t something I do sometimes.
It’s woven into my everyday life.
By stripping things down, photography no longer gets in the way of living — it moves with my life.
Every single day, I’m in a flow state.
Every single day, I’m making pictures.
On a practical level, I use a Ricoh GR.
It’s the simplest tool for this job because it fits in my pocket.
My workflow is extremely minimal:
That’s it.
I’ve simplified everything so photography is seamless. Nothing slows me down. Nothing interrupts the act of seeing.
Here’s a photo I made of a coworker while we were working in the field — playful, casual, unforced.
I think it’s important to live your everyday life and bring your camera along for the ride.
The things you photograph naturally begin to reflect who you are.
You don’t need to explain yourself.
What needs to be said is said in the photographs.
When I photograph, I follow intuition.
I don’t think about outcomes.
I don’t look for anything specific.
I’m just living my life and responding to what’s in front of me.
I photograph mundane places:
I’m no longer hunting.
I’m no longer searching.
Life comes toward me.
Carrying a compact camera allows me to stay in flow — and that’s everything.
The gear you choose matters.
Not because of specs — but because it affects whether you can practice every day.
My goal is longevity.
I want a practice that’s sustainable for life.
I want to die with the camera in my hand.
Photography becomes a lifeline — a stream of becoming.
Each shutter click affirms life.
Each photo deepens meaning.
Each moment is an act of noticing.
This way of working is liberating.
I’m not chasing my next best photo.
I’m affirming that the next photo is my best photo.
I’m detached from results.
I share everything:
The images you see are randomly pulled from my archive.
No sequencing. No curation. No agenda.
I’ve stripped everything down:
Extreme simplicity.
Extreme constraint.
And somehow — infinite possibilities.
I shoot using the LCD screen.
No viewfinder.
No hesitation.
Program mode.
Automatic settings.
Snap focus.
All I do is look at life and press a button.
This approach lets me photograph instinctively — fast, fluid, and present.
Doing the same thing forever would be boring.
This simplified process lets me:
Every day is flux.
Each day is a visual diary.
I’m not looking — I’m being.
Whether I’m in my hometown or walking through Rome or Paris, the approach is the same:
Life flows toward me.
I walk slowly.
I notice details.
Textures excite me.
Buildings speak.
Street photography isn’t something to master.
It’s a way to:
Longevity is the goal.
Through consistency, through daily practice, our authentic expression compounds naturally.
If you want to see more of this work, visit my site and check out the Flux archive.
Over 13,000 photographs.
Three years straight.
Almost no missed days.
Everything is there — the good, the bad, the imperfect.
That’s my gift to you.
Simplifying my process has given me ultimate joy.
I’m photographing more than ever.
I’m never missing another sunrise.
By removing decisions and mental clutter, enthusiasm returns.
This is how I wake up excited.
This is how I practice.
This is how I live.
Thanks for watching.
I’ll see you in the next one.
Peace.
What’s poppin people? It’s Dante.
Today I want to talk about burnout in photography — what it really is, why it happens, and how I’ve personally made burnout almost impossible in my own practice.
I don’t believe burnout in photography is creative. Photography is physical. When you look at the foundation of the medium, it requires you to be in embodied reality — walking, moving, seeing, observing, going on long hikes through the world.
Photography asks you to make the effort to be out there.
When photography starts to feel like work, when it feels like a chore, that’s burnout. And that’s what leads to stagnation.
Our goal isn’t productivity.
Our goal is perpetual motivation and creation.
Burnout starts in the body.
There’s physical fatigue — weak legs, sore feet, sluggish movement. If your body lacks vitality, how are you going to cultivate curiosity?
And there’s mental fatigue — decision fatigue.
Should I go left or right?
Which lens should I use?
Which camera?
What should I shoot?
All of this thinking leads to stagnation.
My solution has always been to strip everything down.
I use a compact digital camera with a fixed focal length. I shoot baked-in black and white JPEGs. No lens decisions. No processing. No workflow friction.
Photography becomes integrated into daily life without getting in the way.
When photography becomes labor, burnout is inevitable.
As a street photographer, I don’t go out with preconceived ideas. I don’t hunt for shots. I don’t use themes or checklists.
That kills the joy.
I simply follow curiosity.
Photography should never interfere with life — it should move with life.
Photography requires vitality.
Strengthen your legs.
Strengthen your feet.
Strengthen your spine.
The way you carry yourself physically influences the photographs you make.
If you walk hunched over, shy, and withdrawn, you won’t make frames.
If you walk with confidence — head up, shoulders back, moving with presence — your photography improves naturally.
Too much gear creates too many decisions.
The more choices you make, the less you move.
The less you move, the less you photograph.
Once you stop thinking, you start moving.
Once you start moving, photography happens.
Photography should feel playful.
When you’re attached to outcomes, pressure enters the practice. When you detach from results and accept that there’s no such thing as a bad photo, everything becomes effortless.
I believe deeply in the subjectivity of photography.
I photograph for myself.
Ask yourself:
If you photographed for the rest of your life and no one ever saw your work — would you still do it?
That’s how I shoot.
I document my everyday life. I carry the camera. I live. I photograph what I find.
Flow emerges naturally.
Don’t chase productivity for its own sake.
The goal isn’t to make something great — the goal is to wake up eager for the day.
Photography isn’t about photography.
It’s about how you engage with life.
When you wake up with vitality, curiosity becomes inevitable.
I treat photography as gratitude.
Every click is me saying yes to life.
My mantra is simple:
My next photo is my best photo.
I’m not looking for great photos. I affirm the next one.
That mindset makes burnout impossible.
Sleep well.
Eat well.
Lift heavy things.
Strengthen your body.
When your physiology is aligned, curiosity is inevitable. Flow follows. Photography follows.
Every morning, I return to day one.
Blank slate. Beginner’s mind.
Each day is new. Each photo could be my last.
That mindset creates infinite possibility.
One practical suggestion: find a place close to home and walk it every day.
I walk the same mundane lane daily.
The challenge isn’t the location — it’s whether you can elevate the mundane and find something in nothing.
Remove decisions. Just photograph.
Burnout isn’t about creativity.
It isn’t about projects.
It isn’t about photography.
It’s about vitality.
When you wake up eager, energized, and embodied — photography becomes inevitable.
It feels like play.
It feels like joy.
It feels light.
Hopefully something here helps you on your journey.
Thanks for watching.
I’ll see you in the next one.
Peace.
Heretic comes from the Greek hairetikós (αἱρετικός), meaning “able to choose” or “one who chooses.”
Here’s the lineage:
- Greek haíresis (αἵρεσις) → a choice, school of thought, sect
- From haireîn → to choose, to take for oneself
- hairetikós → one who chooses for himself
- Latin haereticus → member of a sect
- Old French heretique → heretic
- English heretic
Original sense (important 👀)
A heretic was not originally a troublemaker — it was simply someone who chose a belief, often aligned with a particular philosophical school.
In ancient Greece:
- Choosing Stoicism over Epicureanism? You belonged to a hairesis.
- No moral judgment. Just choice.
How it shifted
With early Christianity, choice became a problem.
Once doctrine hardened:
- Orthodoxy = right belief
- Heresy = choosing differently
So a heretic became:
Someone who exercises personal judgment instead of submitting to established authority.
Deep takeaway
At its root, a heretic is a chooser.
Not evil.
Not rebellious by default.
But dangerous to systems that demand conformity.
In other words:
A heretic is someone who says, “I will see for myself.”
Pretty powerful word when you strip the fear out of it.
