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divine things more beautiful than words_walt whitman

 

I have been thinking about the idea of tentative healing since I saw it as the daily post word prompt.  Each prayer we utter, for another’s benefit, is a tentative sending of sympathetic resonance that the recipient doesn’t know about, yet we make a tiny step to create waves of hope.  People say “Give me a blessing” or “Send me a prayer.” I am not worthy of such a gift, but if my frail deeds and conscious action can make a change in the Universe to send aid, who am I to say no to such a desperate request?

Therapeutic touch is a tentative bond between patient and healer, to insert warmth and balance into the energetic space of places out of alignment.

How can I let my adult children know that I love them without inserting myself too deeply into their own daily routines?   I am so proud for them of their achievements; They have outgrown needing or wanting my pride, but I am so happy for each of the respective life changes and achievements.  The careful speech – not too pushy, not too needy, not too opinionated – is some awkward dance of toeing the line. One misstep, and I will have to begin again, to tentatively build respect and connection.

Each sound, so carefully scrutinized, is a tentative syllable hoping to send tearful and heartfelt messages within the silent spaces between words.

A whispered prayer, for those whom we know, or those whose devastation is witnessed from thousands of miles away, is our small scared effort to help another for whom the Grace of G-d is all that separates us in pain and fear.  We are human; our empathy is how we know the doubts, the shame, the stigma, and the judgment being experienced.  I send my humbled attempt at tentative healing to those who need it and think that no one can hear their own tentative prayer for help.

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https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tentative/

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monday motivation_glorious.jpg

 

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Thank you for stopping by!  I hope that you enjoy your visit.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/glorious/

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a woman with a voice_melinda gates.jpg

Sometimes, we are faced with an irony that seems impossible in light of the “facts.” Two people in their 20’s are convinced that I have the face, voice, and knowledge to be the authority of an online channel.  I speak with strength, commitment and passion; they feel that what I say comes across in a compelling way that will make people want to listen.  Some may be threatened, but others may respond with a hearty “Heck, yeah!”

How do I reconcile this with the reality presented to me by some others?  I have worked with people who said “don’t laugh” or “don’t talk.”  Umm.  Ok, no problem, I will just be loud in my head.  Did it silence my opinions or make me think any less deeply?  Of course not; I just didn’t express my thoughts where they weren’t wanted.

I have adult children who have definitely said “Stop. Please. Just Stop.”  Sometimes, people don’t like my face, my laugh, my presumed attitude, or whatever else offends them in their opinion.  Yet, these two younger people say they can tell that I am an interesting person to listen to??? Are they playing me? (they told me I used that term wrongly).

It’s a flattering thought to try to be a voice that wants to resonate with others. But, I am also aware that there are ramifications to being a semi-public voice.  Do I really want to be famous? In a word, No.  I have no desire to seek out fame and its less appealing downside.  As they say, there are no half packages, and ramifications exist in whatever choices we make.  Validation and approval is appealing to my ego, but, my privacy is important to me.  Still, I do seem to have a lot to say.

That seems to be the dichotomy – finding our voice – and whether we choose to honor it out loud, or question its validity internally?

voice_loud in my head

I know what I like and have no problem expressing it.  My reasoning and experience give me the right to form an opinion, but what is the right way to use it?

Does having a voice mean making sure that it is seen and heard? Or, does it mean honoring portions of it in how I behave towards others?   Is it the strength to speak up or to remain silent?

you cant find your voice if you don't use it

So, now, I am curious.  Do you seek out your crowd? Or, do you create an interest and let them bring themselves as a disparate but collectively united community?  Or, does finding your voice mean that you feel so true to yourself, that you don’t need the approval of others?  It is hard to be vulnerable, but could it help others who think that they are all alone in their feelings or thoughts?

Have you found your unique voice?  If so, how have you chosen to express it?  I really want to know and intend to keep this a non-toxic environment.  Because, if my voice can be heard, I want safety, empathy, respect, and kindness.  There is room enough for all ideas and more than one way to carve out a valid point of view.

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Thank you for stopping by.  I hope that you enjoy your visit.

This is a post of mine from 2016, but when I saw a daily prompt about “Sympathy” and, particularly, on September 11th – the anniversary of a great loss beyond comprehension – I felt it to be appropriate. My deepest condolences to all of you that continue to grieve your beloved ones wherever you are.

But my brain never forgets either….

maya angelou_alike

It is that time again when I struggle to add acceptance to the other stages of grief that are playing with me again.

Anxiety, crankiness, frustration and other emotional tides are tossing me about.  It is the anniversary of a death.  I have joys and family opportunities to celebrate life and gratitude. My life has been altered by giving others permission to express their pain and truth.  We each need to be supported and encouraged to be accepted through all of our life experiences.  When I try to deny that to myself, my heart and mind know the truth.  My emotions are fragile.  Loss of a loved one is understood acutely by someone who has experienced that same gaping pain.

That anniversary surrounds me with memories of the days leading up to the passing of someone who loved me.  Looking back, I realize that I thought I had more time than I did.

My responsibilities and commitments were honored, although it didn’t mean as much to the recipients as it did to me.  When I tried to be strong, and denied myself the empathy I offered to others, I missed one more chance to say goodbye.  Another hug, or a kiss, or a kind word slipped away from me in regret.

So, now it is my turn.  Overwhelming grief makes a liar out of time.  Passage is just hands on a clock until it is someone else’s time to mourn.

Source: The Heart Remembers When

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sympathy/

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