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Douay-Rheims Bible Jesus answered them, and said: My doctrine is not mine, but his that sent me. Darby Bible Translation Jesus therefore answered them and said, My doctrine is not mine, but [that] of him that has sent me. English Revised Version Jesus therefore answered them, and said, My teaching is not mine, but his that sent me. Webster's Bible Translation Jesus answered them, and said, My doctrine is not mine, but his that sent me. Weymouth New Testament Jesus answered their question by saying, "My teaching does not belong to me, but comes from Him who sent me.
World English Bible Jesus therefore answered them, "My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me.
Young's Literal Translation Jesus answered them and said, 'My teaching is not mine, but His who sent me;. The word that you hear is not My own, but it is from the Father who sent Me. Thy way, not mine, O Lord The music cannot be played on your browser.
One wet and cold February night, I saw the expressions and demeanours of a number of commuters, and I saw among them a shared sense of apathy, exhaustion and despair. Add to your website. References in classic literature? Bonar was a Scottish preacher and hymn writer. Wherever they are going, or by whatever mode of transport, this isn't just about getting from a to b, it's about playing a part in shaping the very essence of what Hong Kong is, and can continue to be. Are these pencils yours or mine?
Just looking up to God to order my steps and all that He has for me. The kingdom that I seek is Thine; so let the way that leads to it be Thine, else I must surely stray.
Austrian melody ; Harmony by J. Added to 13 users' list. Share with a friend. Add to your website.
Piano , Guitar , Text. But maybe more than anything, as TGNM is about being on the outside and looking in, this visual device can be a visual reminder of this. It compounds the fact that we are on the outside, and we do have a choice to stop, look and reflect on whether that is right for us or not. Initially, the whole notion of commuting may seem like a faceless experience devoid of any personality, but when you look closer and drill deeper, there is much to be seen and much to be learnt about those around us.
All are an indicator of what commuting can seemingly do to us as we become part of the elaborate hamster wheel that challenges and ferries us to and from our place of work. In this story, I have selected images that tap into these moments, these signifiers, these invitations into the people near and around us which we sometimes miss.
The clues we can gain into who they are and what's in their minds can come in many different forms, each of which have their own power and impact. The minds of those around us are rarely committed to being present and in the moment of commuting, but if we look close enough, we can find clues as to just where they really are. Revisiting our TGNM exploration of commuting life in London, we are excited to present another of our motion pieces. This snapshot of moments and people continues the stylistic TGNM characteristic of capturing human moments from amidst the frantic world of commuting.
The piece aims to capture the sounds and senses of the London 'grind', with focus on those fleeting moments of frantic racing around, isolation, displays of exhaustion and fatigue and a seemingly visual desire for mental escapism from what the rat race represents. As TGNM evolves and grows we hope to expand on these moving image pieces, so please contact us to let us know what you think. Despite liking to capture a humane and emotive quality to my work, it's interesting that when it comes to talking about the work, exploring that intimate sentiment is not the only topic of conversation.
People do often ask about how I get up so close and personal with the subjects, if I ever talk to them, and how I find the courage to shoot candidly all of which I am happy to talk about , but an interesting aside to this is the tech stuff that people constantly bring up, seemingly curious about what camera s I use, and I thought I would discuss within this story. To be honest, I don't really have as much of a sentimental connection to cameras as I once did my Hasselblad aside.
It's a tool, something used to capture a vision or idea, and as such it's about finding the right tool for the right job.
For 'Their Grind Not Mine', I have found that being inconspicuous and mobile are key factors that need to be balanced with a camera that offers speed and great image quality. Moments are often fleeting, you never know where they will come from and you need to shoot in a reactionary way, and so far numerous cameras have all been tried. The Fuji X-Pro was and still is a go to for me with a 50mm equivalent lens, and that has been responsible for most of the project so far.
Some early shots also came from a Canon 5D, but it's generally too big and heavy to lug around and remain candid with. I picked up a Canon G7X Mk II yesterday, an expansive point and shoot with all the bells and whistles you would want for manual control, and this story is a chance to showcase it's output including shock horror - the first TGNM colour shot! Small, discreet and nimble, it has the assets to straight away put me in the position of being able to take shots in an intimate context, which is a great start. Beyond that, the camera's output has been impressive for a point and shoot.
Quality wise the detail is good, and as I play with it more I look forward to seeing what else I can get with the stills and motion from it. After our last story on London where the largely underground commuting experience lends itself to a dark, daylight deprived sensibility that helps personify commuting in that great city, I thought Sydney would be an interesting comparison. On the contrary, despite the city being drenched in sunlight as we move into summer, the city continues to display a fatigue and sombreness to my eyes at least that many wouldn't expect to see here.
The hustle is real.
It wears people down, and as the year draws to a close many will be looking for the chance to take a break and reflect on both and on what they want from Having grown up on the outskirts of the British Capital, London was an integral part of my youth. As soon as I was old enough I visited the city as often as I could, I then studied there, and ended up living there for over 15 years. I have now been living in Sydney in Australia for 10 years, and whenever I get the chance to head back to London I feel like I have the pleasure of seeing the city somewhat afresh each time.
It's a location changing at a fast pace, a pace only matched by the relentless hustle and bustle of the people that navigate their way around on the tube, buses and trains to their respective lives and professions. It's a city where people are united by the understanding that time is a very very valuable commodity largely because nobody has enough of it which fuels and perpetuates the sense of rushing around that is so evident at every twist and turn. However I would urge anyone in London stuck on a tube, bus or train to make the conscious decision to stop.
Just for a moment, stop. Take a look around you, as your city is a wonderful, wonderful place that you may have lost sight of. And that's what this TGNM story is all about, capturing the essence of this vast, manic, fast-paced city in a series of moments captured as still images. London is in the midst of an unstable time. The unrest over Brexit and the ongoing atrocities linked to terrorism would seemingly see the great City shaken, but instead, the city seems to be galvanised and people seem closer than ever. It may be fast, it may be frantic, but the people who give so much to this great city can handle anything it throws at them…even their daily commute.
While much of TGNM's studies have so far focused on inner city locations where public transport is the vehicle for a sense of doom and gloom that so regularly characterises commuting, Bali offers some respite. Bali is a place where 2 wheels rule as scooters and motorbikes provide a dominant transport choice that offers a free and vibrant sense of movement that filters through every city town, village, hamlet, beach and everything in between.
Throughout, travel is a rampant and unruly system with seemingly next to no governance or display of rules which means that everyone goes anywhere at any given time. To the untrained eye mine it looks impossible to read, perplexing to understand and bewildering to be a part of, yet something galvanises the entire experience as while you would think that travelling in this complex way would be more exhausting than anything you can experience in city life, you might be wrong.
Something we seem to lose when ferried about on buses and trains within cities is the ability to find mindfulness. As we are transported we have the ability to drift and ponder which can lead to listlessness and contemplation, which causes our psyche to react accordingly. We can think, analyse, stress, form anxiety, and what goes through our minds is hard to disguise physically.
As such, I'd have absolutely no qualms about using it in informal English, but I might consider expanding the contraction in formal English; not. Mine definition is - my —used before a word beginning with a vowel or h or in the examples do not represent the opinion of Merriam-Webster or its editors.
The reality is that anything other than being present and in the moment could lead to horrendous accidents, so vigilance and mindfulness are key, and this state of mind radiates something quite unexpected. Rather than displaying the contemplative listlessness and fatigue that city life commuting can regularly display, in Bali we instead see a positivity, vibrance and joy of life that sets it apart. Navigating through hoardes of bikes on narrow elevated pathways through rice fields, weaving through congested city streets, and travelling in close proximity with friends and family is something that galvanises, lifts and empowers to create a positive mindset.
The bike is a heralded item, carefully maintained by the countless roadside garages, and regularly personalised to make the item stand out and resonate with the owner.
The scooter had to brake, swerve, and only missed careering off the road into a ditch with the narrowest of margins. Well, there was no anger, no frustration, no resentment. Together both parties smiled and worked together to clear the road before they moved on.