Revenge is a dish best served frozen😉

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Numb.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Bumb.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Slum.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Crumb.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Dumb.

Suffice it to say.

One man’s trash is another’s man’s treasure.

And,

One side of the globe is hot, while the other side is cold.

Night is day.

Day is night.

Comparisons are difficult.

As are preferences.

“Just as courage takes its stand BY others in challenging situations, so compassion takes its stand WITH others in their distress. (wjb)

Our need. Is real. How we approach the remedy for angst is also real. Projection becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. Cry babies (bs) turn undeniable adulting and challenging situations and circumstances into a mess. To be cleaned up by someone else.

Even David fled into a cave to avoid being killed. Stealing his distant cousin’s clothes in the process. No one else dare be caught in the crossfires. Good and evil circle round and round. The empire and kingdom will, in the end, belong to the meek and the humble.

They will inherit the earth.😃

When He calls. Ya’ better answer in the best way possible.

Do big things. (bs) Now rather than later.

Where to begin?

Kindness. To all creatures great and small.

Little children, never give

Pain to things that feel and live;

Let the gentle robin come

For the crumbs you save at home;

As his meat you throw along

He’ll repay you with a song.

Never hurt the timid hare

Peeping from her green grass lair,

Let her come and sport and play

On the lawn at close of day

The little lark goes soaring high

To the bright windows of the sky,

Singing as if ‘twere always spring,

And fluttering on an untired wing—-

Oh, let him sing his happy song,

Nor do these gentle creatures wrong. (wjb)

Do you sometimes feel as if you are always waiting in the wings?

And not securely nestled in His gentle embrace feeling protected from the frozen ness we dimly radiate on one another. If we radiate it at all, why is not warmth we really feel?

Crying out is an instinctive and heartfelt call for help. There is no time for face-saving measures or for pretense. (jr). I think they call them ugly tears? Or something like that.

Admit it.

Sometimes a quiet place like a dark cave sounds rather inviting.

Begging the questions: Is it called a man cave because the rest of the world is too, much to handle? A simple quiet place to rest and regroup—to keep away from the self or to stay away from what the self may have done unfairly and unjustly to others.

Echo and Narcissus knew a thing or two about the abode of the cave. A moment of self reflection. Unfortunately, the quiet moments did not always answer the questions or questions of what to do next. The silence only offered quiet solace and a quiet space to think about making the next move. The most important move. The guilt of disregard was muffled with assurances that could not be heard as loudly in the whispers to a scream.

Narcissus was a beautiful youth, the son of the river God. His vanity and heartlessness have made his name synonymous with intense self-infatuation. Self-absorption often makes compassion impossible, and vice versa.(wjb)

Thomas Bullfinch would go on to describe the beautiful story of self-absorption gone horribly wrong. Echo as a beautiful nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted herself to woodland sports. Echo had one failing; she was fond of talking😩.

And.

Echo loved having the last word.

Perhaps in a former life Echo had not felt, “heard.”

One day, Juno came around looking for her husband, who was amusing himself amongst the nymphs. Echo had seen a lot. Had been around for a long time. The nymphs worked callously and carefully deceptively.

When Narcissus arrived back at the wooded area of exchange, he shunned them all. Including Echo, the constant. What was “wrong” with Narcissus? Was he in harm’s way? Was he having a bad day. Did he not feel “heard.” He even shunned Echo, the constant, into the background once and for all.

Although, a heartfelt survivor, she faded and her bones turned into the rocked cave she sought refuge in. One could say frozen in time, but not without the warmth she felt of the answer to her cries for help.

When others came to visit her. She had the last word. (Like, wow, maybe the walls were indeed talking.) A imposter, a substitute nymph appeared among Narcissus’s world in an attempt to enrapture Narcissus heart, his life, his riches. But to no avail. He was both frozen in time and burning alive at the same time.

Narcissus eventually pined away and died. A victim of his own circumstances. Helpless to see the err of his own ways for so long.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Numb.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Dumb.

Narcissus failed to respond to the heartfelt and genuine call. Of another. Time heals the wounds of the soul—both self-inflicted and outward slings and arrows.

Echo’s approach to the day was one of steadfast and observant believer in the goodness that can be. At the hands of us all if we just,

Stop. Look. Listen.

To the very best of our abilities.

We can live a long and well lived life if we face the worst parts of ourselves. Tweak the less than parts. Either fortunately or unfortunately our voice lives on in the whispers and screams we cannot always bear to hear. With tolerance and patience we can return to an order of consistency, legitimacy.

Hoping the check gets passed down the line? Gone are those days. Nowadays, the tracking proves to be stronger than the deception. For when we attempt to ram through the next idea or theme or provocation or dinner. Thus, the frozen dinner occurs. The tv gets garbled and the heat turns into the breath of freaky air we gasp for and against.

Destined to be the cold day in hell we never thought could or would occur.

Justice be damned is justice that is done.