A Voice, Its Tone, Beauty Without a Case

A note just added as P.S. at 9:23 am after the ‘good morning’ glass picture.

Words that hurt are not always an insult; they can be a cry from someone who is frustrated with the lack of real acknowledgment that something is wrong. But the other person may only choose to hear an insult to ‘their character’ within your tone or word choice and harp on ‘the hurt.’

‘Change takes time,’ but it’s not a free ticket; you can always be kinder in the meantime. And telling someone not to talk with others about it doesn’t help anyone but maybe a temporary better feeling of someone thinking if no one hears about them than they are somehow a better person now, even when you’re clear it’s not about ‘their person.’ You are who you choose to be no matter what people say.

And yet I see speech can fall on dead ears that liveliness can be put behind unfairly. And the life may feel zapped out in the meantime. But I don’t need to place the energy and my life now where it’s not nourished or met with compassion.

This is frustration May knew with a voice that wanted freedom for women and all people, individuality with an appreciation for differences, and words being heard with the intention for good; I place these words of hers for you reading and nourish my voice and soul in different ways now away from the conversation in a way that my soul and heart can regenerate. A voice is also reserved within the heart.

‘Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.’ Being silent with someone you choose to love may be a violence towards them to make yourself more comfortable even in your conflict. If we are respectful of each other and are tuned into love then we don’t have to withhold what we communicate because we will be coming toward others with respect. And remember too, you don’t owe people everything they may persuade you to think you do without them even specifying what they may prefer or moving through misunderstanding.

I felt myself flowing too with this flower as the wind gently moved it many ways, aware of its own beauty and not needing to make a case for it; I like being able to see it now.

I have reminders of love with me to regenerate my heart and voice. You reading speak for me too.

Good morning. The jasmine awaken
on their second day at home.

P.S. It has just been brought to my attention by my gardening uncle that these are not Jasmine but ‘Japanese Snowball’ (Viburnum)😅. As you see, I am still a novice student of nature.

This boy took up a noticeable liking for Hemingway and sat very close to his book For Whom The Bell Tolls that I’m currently reading. A memory sprung to mind and I’d looked it up to find the author Ernest Hemingway had a great liking for cats and had a great house with all of them—and there’s a Hemingway Home museum in Florida. (Hey Professor who told me Hemingway didn’t care about animals, what do you say to that?😅) As you can see while Peeko decided the man may be in, he also knows on camera that Hemingway should be taking a selfie to honor Peeko and not the other way around. 😊

It’s not very deep; I am still getting over my fear of the flash even though my camera hasn’t had a flash in awhile.


Yesterday: Touch

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