All through the wintertime,
he hid himself away,
afraid to show his face,
afraid of what others might say...
It's odd that at the very time I might benefit most from compassionate companionship, I withdraw. Perhaps this has been a habit over the years, a symptom of running from facing up to the results of weakness. And so, since surgery, I had not weighed myself. The excuse was that I was too bandaged up and they weighed too much, but the bandages are now off and the stitches removed. Was the real reason that I'd had a few big carby meals during that time - ostensibly because it was still too difficult to cook - and that I didn't want to face the scales?
All through the winter
in his lonely clump of weed,
when a flock of swans espied him there
and very soon agreed,
"You're a very fine swan indeed!"
Surprise. This morning I weighed myself at last. And despite all, I have lost another pound. I'm now 272.
("The ugly duckling" ~ as sung by Danny Kaye, written by Frank Loesser, after Hans Christian Andersen in the 1952 movie of the same name. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMKxnYRhk6I )
Storm: "It's odd that at the very time I might benefit most from compassionate companionship, I withdraw."
Yes, it's odd, but I do it too. Whenever I get really down, I withdraw, even hide. So there's at least two people out there with this odd habit.
Congrats with the ongoing weight loss and thanks for the link. edited 20:46, 27 Feb 2013
Yes, Storm, you courageously express what we all feel in a way inside:'failing' at some challenge. Your sharings are inspiring.And the courage it take, aside from curiosity, to look the scale, or whatever the measuring stick is, in the face.
Me a third re withdrawing when compassion would be helpful. Maybe an inner vulnerability fears being only brutally exposed, as if no compassion will be available. Much to ponder.
Thanks all for our steadfast compassionate company
Taking a few seconds to sit/stand up properly before the prostrations intensifies the feeling of gratitude. It also decreases dizziness.
::: Reading delicate haikus
::: From another world
he hid himself away,
afraid to show his face,
afraid of what others might say...
It's odd that at the very time I might benefit most from compassionate companionship, I withdraw. Perhaps this has been a habit over the years, a symptom of running from facing up to the results of weakness. And so, since surgery, I had not weighed myself. The excuse was that I was too bandaged up and they weighed too much, but the bandages are now off and the stitches removed. Was the real reason that I'd had a few big carby meals during that time - ostensibly because it was still too difficult to cook - and that I didn't want to face the scales?
All through the winter
in his lonely clump of weed,
when a flock of swans espied him there
and very soon agreed,
"You're a very fine swan indeed!"
Surprise. This morning I weighed myself at last. And despite all, I have lost another pound. I'm now 272.
("The ugly duckling" ~ as sung by Danny Kaye, written by Frank Loesser, after Hans Christian Andersen in the 1952 movie of the same name. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMKxnYRhk6I )
And thanks for the Danny Kaye - has been years since I've seen this film. edited 16:03, 27 Feb 2013
Grateful that all ugly duckings are really swans in waiting :)
we are all beautiful
changing, growing and learning every day edited 22:28, 27 Feb 2013
Yes, it's odd, but I do it too. Whenever I get really down, I withdraw, even hide. So there's at least two people out there with this odd habit.
Congrats with the ongoing weight loss and thanks for the link. edited 20:46, 27 Feb 2013
Me a third re withdrawing when compassion would be helpful. Maybe an inner vulnerability fears being only brutally exposed, as if no compassion will be available. Much to ponder.
Thanks all for our steadfast compassionate company