Andrew Malcolm
Andrew Malcolm | Psychopomp 🧿🪬🧿
Filmmaker 🎥 Philosopher 📜
Conservationist 🐘 Resolutionary not a Revolutionary
Let’s work together ⬇️
We’re here folks! The moment has arrived! Discovery Mode is officially out for the public! It has been five years getting here and I am so excited to able to finally share the product of years worth of work to hopefully inspire you! PLEASE SHARE THE FILM! The only way this will get seen by people is if my kind and generous followers share it and inspire others to share it! I will be answering questions about the movie and doing Instagram live chats in the coming weeks about the film. But it’s only with your support that this movie will be seen by the world at large! Thank you so much for your support during this very exciting experience! I hope you enjoy the movie! And a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who helped make this movie possible! All of my interviewees, co-producers and supporters!!! #discoverymode #comedy #documentary #southeastasia #travel #travelgram #thailand #bali #reelsinstagram #hellofrom #voyaged
Playing with baby Sandy is the best! .
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#instadaily #travel #travelphotography #traveller #travelblogger #travelgram #travelling #thailand #thailandtravel #thailand_allshots #reelslife #sony #igcreators #sonyalphasclub #sonya7siii #travelgram #voyager #hellofrom #adventurelife #travelblog #travelblogger #roamtheplanet #beautifuldestinations #reels #voyaged
#elephant #elephants #elephantlove #elephantlover #elephantfamily #elephantsofinstagram #asianelephant
Sleeping with baby Sandy is a dream. Her mother and I have known each other for many years and I feel a safe around her as I would my own mother. Supporting elephants and their caregivers is crucial to their survival in Asia in the 21st century. International pressure is increasing to make sure places like this end traditional practices like elephant shows and chair-back rides. Currently mama is on a chain to protect her and baby Sandy; who can be attacked by other elephants in the herd. They walk with each other every day separately from the group. When she is old enough, she and her mom will rejoin the herd, and spend 16-18 hours a day freely roaming. Unfortunately, to protect them from poaching, being killed by villagers, and dying from eating agricultural poison, elephants do have to be restrained at night. But even practices around how when and for how long are evolving.
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#instadaily #travel #travelphotography #traveller #travelblogger #travelgram #travelling #thailand #thailandtravel #thailand_allshots #thailandguide #sony #sonyalpha #sonyalphasclub #sonya7siii #travelgram #voyager #hellofrom #adventurelife #travelblog #travelblogger #roamtheplanet #beautifuldestinations #reels #voyaged
#elephant #elephants #elephantlove #elephantlover #elephantfamily #elephantsofinstagram #asianelephant
Join us this July in Avalon for the Alchemy of Love Retreat! Explore the beating heart of ancient Avalon in the heart of Somerset, visiting the ancient Druidic mystery sites of Avesbury and Stone Henge, unlocking the serpent and dragon codes of past, womb worship and balancing the divine masculine and feminine forces of the holy leylines. Then continue on with us to Glastonbury to explore the world famous Glastonbury Tor, the heart chakra of the world, and discover the ancient legends of the priestesses of Avalon, and King Arthur. Visit the sacred Chalice Well, legendary home to Mary of Magdalene and celebrate ecstatic union in her ancient chapel in private ceremony. Curious?! Comment “Avalon” and we’ll send you information!
A truly incredible experience with @tainted_love77 of watching a new foal’s first 12 hours of life, from the beautiful Norma Jean as a proud and incredible mother. Catherine breeds and care takes some of the most beautiful horses I have ever seen. Life is incredible.

Thank you for the inspiration @fiona.hillery. This is the way. We are the threshold of becoming. Through is, peace rises, love remains, and wholeness is amplified. #chooselove
These times are a reflection of an ancient understanding of cycles. Each of us is a fractled expression of the singular Self, reflecting on its coherence and memory of what it is, as the true source of experience and creation. We are at a nexus point in its growth as the child of experience and consciousness. The One, as the Divine Child, the product of the intellectual movement of the Father, and the creative womb and experience of the Mother. We are transforming into a more mature comprehension of reality, and the boundless creation contained within our being. This is why this time is so tense, scary, and full of psychotic dissociation. We are dissolving the old order through reflection of our wounds, inconsistencies and attachments to parts of our whole. By light meeting the shadow, each serves as a mirror and a transformational vessel of change, realignment, expansion, comprehension and growth. You are here in service to that unfolding. An agent of transformation.What leaves is? After coming through our bodies, minds, emotions and virtues, builds the reactions the world feeds on for its own process of growth and reflection. Therefore the keys are to embody Truth, Unity, Love, Compassion and service.

I love my tree. She’s seen me through so many moments—beautiful and hard. This is a poem I wrote underneath her the other day:Six years it’s been since she crowned me as her forest kin, and since then the life I’ve lived has driven me to this.
And what is it?
I see a being of light stand over me and extend his hand
The trees have eyes. All which watch, and I seem only to help those that are lost.
And yet, there is so much which remains.
So much confusion and anger and hurt, pent up as silent rage.
My eye twitches again.
Here, in the wild, where love and trickery are the same
I think of myself as a Noetic agent,
And earth as its living stage.
And plainly that is not enough.
I am rebuffed by my ancient friend.
“The two are one, and by each other done, and such it is the way”
I cry some more. Thinking of my love who came to visit. Of when fairies and lights floated above our heads.
And how I keep seeing her face again and again in the likenesses of those who would have me change
To feel the way they feel. Or know as they know. Or apologize for what I don’t think I’ve done, in the face of how I’ve grown.
A baby walks through the woods,
Its parents and dog in tow
I see it explore new sticks
And watch how it might grow
I know the answer is just right there
Staring me in the face
The mother, the father, the dog, the baby, the woods in which it plays
But I cannot see the way. I look up toward the light. My home, inspiration, orientation
And do not understand the night.
I hope one day I might.

I love my tree. She’s seen me through so many moments—beautiful and hard. This is a poem I wrote underneath her the other day:Six years it’s been since she crowned me as her forest kin, and since then the life I’ve lived has driven me to this.
And what is it?
I see a being of light stand over me and extend his hand
The trees have eyes. All which watch, and I seem only to help those that are lost.
And yet, there is so much which remains.
So much confusion and anger and hurt, pent up as silent rage.
My eye twitches again.
Here, in the wild, where love and trickery are the same
I think of myself as a Noetic agent,
And earth as its living stage.
And plainly that is not enough.
I am rebuffed by my ancient friend.
“The two are one, and by each other done, and such it is the way”
I cry some more. Thinking of my love who came to visit. Of when fairies and lights floated above our heads.
And how I keep seeing her face again and again in the likenesses of those who would have me change
To feel the way they feel. Or know as they know. Or apologize for what I don’t think I’ve done, in the face of how I’ve grown.
A baby walks through the woods,
Its parents and dog in tow
I see it explore new sticks
And watch how it might grow
I know the answer is just right there
Staring me in the face
The mother, the father, the dog, the baby, the woods in which it plays
But I cannot see the way. I look up toward the light. My home, inspiration, orientation
And do not understand the night.
I hope one day I might.

I love my tree. She’s seen me through so many moments—beautiful and hard. This is a poem I wrote underneath her the other day:Six years it’s been since she crowned me as her forest kin, and since then the life I’ve lived has driven me to this.
And what is it?
I see a being of light stand over me and extend his hand
The trees have eyes. All which watch, and I seem only to help those that are lost.
And yet, there is so much which remains.
So much confusion and anger and hurt, pent up as silent rage.
My eye twitches again.
Here, in the wild, where love and trickery are the same
I think of myself as a Noetic agent,
And earth as its living stage.
And plainly that is not enough.
I am rebuffed by my ancient friend.
“The two are one, and by each other done, and such it is the way”
I cry some more. Thinking of my love who came to visit. Of when fairies and lights floated above our heads.
And how I keep seeing her face again and again in the likenesses of those who would have me change
To feel the way they feel. Or know as they know. Or apologize for what I don’t think I’ve done, in the face of how I’ve grown.
A baby walks through the woods,
Its parents and dog in tow
I see it explore new sticks
And watch how it might grow
I know the answer is just right there
Staring me in the face
The mother, the father, the dog, the baby, the woods in which it plays
But I cannot see the way. I look up toward the light. My home, inspiration, orientation
And do not understand the night.
I hope one day I might.

I love my tree. She’s seen me through so many moments—beautiful and hard. This is a poem I wrote underneath her the other day:Six years it’s been since she crowned me as her forest kin, and since then the life I’ve lived has driven me to this.
And what is it?
I see a being of light stand over me and extend his hand
The trees have eyes. All which watch, and I seem only to help those that are lost.
And yet, there is so much which remains.
So much confusion and anger and hurt, pent up as silent rage.
My eye twitches again.
Here, in the wild, where love and trickery are the same
I think of myself as a Noetic agent,
And earth as its living stage.
And plainly that is not enough.
I am rebuffed by my ancient friend.
“The two are one, and by each other done, and such it is the way”
I cry some more. Thinking of my love who came to visit. Of when fairies and lights floated above our heads.
And how I keep seeing her face again and again in the likenesses of those who would have me change
To feel the way they feel. Or know as they know. Or apologize for what I don’t think I’ve done, in the face of how I’ve grown.
A baby walks through the woods,
Its parents and dog in tow
I see it explore new sticks
And watch how it might grow
I know the answer is just right there
Staring me in the face
The mother, the father, the dog, the baby, the woods in which it plays
But I cannot see the way. I look up toward the light. My home, inspiration, orientation
And do not understand the night.
I hope one day I might.
I love my tree. She’s seen me through so many moments—beautiful and hard. This is a poem I wrote underneath her the other day:Six years it’s been since she crowned me as her forest kin, and since then the life I’ve lived has driven me to this.
And what is it?
I see a being of light stand over me and extend his hand
The trees have eyes. All which watch, and I seem only to help those that are lost.
And yet, there is so much which remains.
So much confusion and anger and hurt, pent up as silent rage.
My eye twitches again.
Here, in the wild, where love and trickery are the same
I think of myself as a Noetic agent,
And earth as its living stage.
And plainly that is not enough.
I am rebuffed by my ancient friend.
“The two are one, and by each other done, and such it is the way”
I cry some more. Thinking of my love who came to visit. Of when fairies and lights floated above our heads.
And how I keep seeing her face again and again in the likenesses of those who would have me change
To feel the way they feel. Or know as they know. Or apologize for what I don’t think I’ve done, in the face of how I’ve grown.
A baby walks through the woods,
Its parents and dog in tow
I see it explore new sticks
And watch how it might grow
I know the answer is just right there
Staring me in the face
The mother, the father, the dog, the baby, the woods in which it plays
But I cannot see the way. I look up toward the light. My home, inspiration, orientation
And do not understand the night.
I hope one day I might.

I love my tree. She’s seen me through so many moments—beautiful and hard. This is a poem I wrote underneath her the other day:Six years it’s been since she crowned me as her forest kin, and since then the life I’ve lived has driven me to this.
And what is it?
I see a being of light stand over me and extend his hand
The trees have eyes. All which watch, and I seem only to help those that are lost.
And yet, there is so much which remains.
So much confusion and anger and hurt, pent up as silent rage.
My eye twitches again.
Here, in the wild, where love and trickery are the same
I think of myself as a Noetic agent,
And earth as its living stage.
And plainly that is not enough.
I am rebuffed by my ancient friend.
“The two are one, and by each other done, and such it is the way”
I cry some more. Thinking of my love who came to visit. Of when fairies and lights floated above our heads.
And how I keep seeing her face again and again in the likenesses of those who would have me change
To feel the way they feel. Or know as they know. Or apologize for what I don’t think I’ve done, in the face of how I’ve grown.
A baby walks through the woods,
Its parents and dog in tow
I see it explore new sticks
And watch how it might grow
I know the answer is just right there
Staring me in the face
The mother, the father, the dog, the baby, the woods in which it plays
But I cannot see the way. I look up toward the light. My home, inspiration, orientation
And do not understand the night.
I hope one day I might.
I love my tree. She’s seen me through so many moments—beautiful and hard. This is a poem I wrote underneath her the other day:Six years it’s been since she crowned me as her forest kin, and since then the life I’ve lived has driven me to this.
And what is it?
I see a being of light stand over me and extend his hand
The trees have eyes. All which watch, and I seem only to help those that are lost.
And yet, there is so much which remains.
So much confusion and anger and hurt, pent up as silent rage.
My eye twitches again.
Here, in the wild, where love and trickery are the same
I think of myself as a Noetic agent,
And earth as its living stage.
And plainly that is not enough.
I am rebuffed by my ancient friend.
“The two are one, and by each other done, and such it is the way”
I cry some more. Thinking of my love who came to visit. Of when fairies and lights floated above our heads.
And how I keep seeing her face again and again in the likenesses of those who would have me change
To feel the way they feel. Or know as they know. Or apologize for what I don’t think I’ve done, in the face of how I’ve grown.
A baby walks through the woods,
Its parents and dog in tow
I see it explore new sticks
And watch how it might grow
I know the answer is just right there
Staring me in the face
The mother, the father, the dog, the baby, the woods in which it plays
But I cannot see the way. I look up toward the light. My home, inspiration, orientation
And do not understand the night.
I hope one day I might.

Little trips down memory lane. Need another photo shoot soon I’m thinking. And to get back out into the world 🎉 ❤️🎉 #travel

Little trips down memory lane. Need another photo shoot soon I’m thinking. And to get back out into the world 🎉 ❤️🎉 #travel

Little trips down memory lane. Need another photo shoot soon I’m thinking. And to get back out into the world 🎉 ❤️🎉 #travel

Little trips down memory lane. Need another photo shoot soon I’m thinking. And to get back out into the world 🎉 ❤️🎉 #travel

Little trips down memory lane. Need another photo shoot soon I’m thinking. And to get back out into the world 🎉 ❤️🎉 #travel

Little trips down memory lane. Need another photo shoot soon I’m thinking. And to get back out into the world 🎉 ❤️🎉 #travel

Little trips down memory lane. Need another photo shoot soon I’m thinking. And to get back out into the world 🎉 ❤️🎉 #travel

Little trips down memory lane. Need another photo shoot soon I’m thinking. And to get back out into the world 🎉 ❤️🎉 #travel
Instagram Story Viewer to proste narzędzie, które pozwala na ciche oglądanie i zapisywanie historii Instagram, filmów, zdjęć lub IGTV. Dzięki tej usłudze możesz pobrać zawartość i cieszyć się nią offline, kiedy chcesz. Jeśli znajdziesz coś interesującego na Instagramie, co chcesz sprawdzić później, lub chcesz oglądać historie pozostając anonimowym, nasz Viewer jest idealny dla Ciebie. Anonstories oferuje doskonałe rozwiązanie do ukrywania swojej tożsamości. Instagram po raz pierwszy uruchomił funkcję historii w sierpniu 2023 roku, która szybko została zaadoptowana przez inne platformy ze względu na jej angażujący, czasowo ograniczony format. Historie pozwalają użytkownikom dzielić się szybkimi aktualizacjami, czy to zdjęciami, filmami, czy selfie, wzbogaconymi o tekst, emotikony lub filtry, i są widoczne tylko przez 24 godziny. Ten ograniczony czas sprawia, że historie cieszą się dużym zaangażowaniem w porównaniu do zwykłych postów. W dzisiejszym świecie historie to jeden z najpopularniejszych sposobów komunikacji na mediach społecznościowych. Jednak gdy oglądasz historię, twórca może zobaczyć Twoje imię na liście oglądających, co może stanowić problem związany z prywatnością. Co jeśli chcesz przeglądać historie, nie będąc zauważonym? Tutaj Anonstories staje się przydatne. Umożliwia oglądanie publicznej zawartości Instagram bez ujawniania tożsamości. Wystarczy wpisać nazwę użytkownika profilu, który Cię interesuje, a narzędzie wyświetli ich najnowsze historie. Cechy Anonstories Viewer: - Anonimowe przeglądanie: Oglądaj historie bez pojawiania się na liście oglądających. - Brak konta: Oglądaj publiczną zawartość bez logowania się na konto Instagram. - Pobieranie zawartości: Zapisuj dowolną zawartość historii bezpośrednio na swoje urządzenie do użytku offline. - Przeglądaj najważniejsze: Dostęp do Instagram Highlights, nawet po 24 godzinach. - Monitorowanie repostów: Śledź reposty lub poziom zaangażowania w historię na prywatnych profilach. Ograniczenia: - Narzędzie działa tylko z publicznymi kontami; konta prywatne pozostają niedostępne. Korzyści: - Przyjazne dla prywatności: Oglądaj zawartość Instagram bez bycia zauważonym. - Proste i łatwe: Brak potrzeby instalacji aplikacji lub rejestracji. - Ekskluzywne narzędzia: Pobieraj i zarządzaj zawartością w sposób, którego Instagram nie oferuje.
Śledź aktualizacje na Instagramie dyskretnie, chroniąc swoją prywatność i pozostając anonimowym.
Oglądaj profile i zdjęcia anonimowo za pomocą Prywatnego Viewera.
To darmowe narzędzie pozwala oglądać historie Instagram anonimowo, zapewniając, że Twoja aktywność pozostaje ukryta przed twórcą historii.
Anonstories pozwala użytkownikom oglądać historie na Instagramie bez informowania twórcy.
Funkcjonuje płynnie na iOS, Android, Windows, macOS i nowoczesnych przeglądarkach takich jak Chrome i Safari.
Priorytetem jest bezpieczne, anonimowe przeglądanie bez konieczności logowania się.
Użytkownicy mogą oglądać publiczne historie, wpisując nazwę użytkownika – bez konieczności zakładania konta.
Pobiera zdjęcia (JPEG) i filmy (MP4) z łatwością.
Usługa jest bezpłatna.
Treści z prywatnych kont mogą być dostępne tylko dla obserwujących.
Pliki są przeznaczone do użytku osobistego lub edukacyjnego i muszą być zgodne z przepisami dotyczącymi praw autorskich.
Wpisz publiczną nazwę użytkownika, aby oglądać lub pobrać historie. Usługa generuje bezpośrednie linki do zapis