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Writings from the Heart Shameka P. Kelly Every time he looks into my eyes or gives me a huge hug; I always know this man will always love me in spite of.
Table of contents
- Healing Quotes
- 10 Life-Changing Facts to Heal the Pain of the Past
- Popular in: Medical Students / Training
- What Leonardo taught us about the heart
The scientific research on the benefits of so-called expressive writing is surprisingly vast. Now researchers are studying whether the power of writing — and then rewriting — your personal story can lead to behavioral changes and improve happiness. The concept is based on the idea that we all have a personal narrative that shapes our view of the world and ourselves.
Healing Quotes
Some researchers believe that by writing and then editing our own stories, we can change our perceptions of ourselves and identify obstacles that stand in the way of better health. It may sound like self-help nonsense, but research suggests the effects are real.
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In one of the earliest studies on personal story editing, researchers gathered 40 college freshman at Duke University who were struggling academically. Not only were they worried about grades, but they questioned whether they were intellectual equals to other students at their school. The students were divided into intervention groups and control groups. Students in the intervention group were given information showing that it is common for students to struggle in their freshman year.
They watched videos of junior and senior college students who talked about how their own grades had improved as they adjusted to college. The goal was to prompt these students to edit their own narratives about college. You gave your heart and soul to this love, and now it is no more. How can your heart ever be whole again? There is a very deep thought attributed the Mystical Rabbi of Kotzk, "there is nothing as whole as a broken heart". Although a broken heart is painful, it brings a person to turn to God.
He realizes that he is ultimately alone in the world except for God who is always there to comfort him. I lie awake tonight, Wishing of things I can change. I try to convince myself, But it's all so strange. That has so much truth: I think we all do that at times and our companions get used to it.
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But sometimes we push too hard and push them away. But with true love comes an unbelievable force He wrote her a song, but it never got finished They both fell in love, but it was soon diminished She sits on his bed and cries in his lap He cries back at her, knowing they can't go back. Read Complete Poem. This is absolutely unique and astonishing.
10 Life-Changing Facts to Heal the Pain of the Past
I've never had a boyfriend myself, but there was someone who came very close. We were best friends, doing everything together and having the time of Read complete story. Do you know a life of loneliness and one filled with pain, living a life with nothing to gain, Surrounded by darkness, overwhelmed with shame.
A life without peace with no one to blame. Well, same stuff, but I know I need to be strong for my kids! Every morning I see your face, And for that fleeting second I'm in a different place, A place where we smiled, laughed, and talked, A place where we could hold hands wherever we walked,. He was a friend. I didn't know the exact moment I fell in love. So you hear the news, and you take the long trip back from LA or Detroit— wherever you're from— and you see the faces of the drivers as they approach you out of the fog, and you see this one: a woman hunched over the wheel like your mother, and you think, It is my mother.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see your father's face in the driver's seat of a '49 powder blue Pontiac sedan. The thin sliver of his moonlit profile's smiling, but the nose is too long and it's not really him, and besides he'd never understand anyway— this impatience, this anger, this rage, this love, this fog on the windshield, this never even knowing if it's inside or out— because his whole life was waiting, and what does a fish know of the water or a bird of the air?
So you push the leaden accelerator down and act like you're headed to some small emergency, and you don't give a damn about the cop waiting behind the billboard or death over your left shoulder, and you think you might want to pray, and you do pray, but you don't know what for, and, anyway, you're driving, so you go back to the endless lines of headlights and traffic and exit signs until you get home to see the light flash on your answering machine, but you don't pick it up.
Instead, you go to the bathroom, take a shower, take a piss, pull out a carton of leftover food—anything— but you can't swallow it. So you push the button, and it's your sister's voice, but it's choked, and she can't speak.
That's how I learned that the waiting was over, that my life changed forever, that this end was a beginning, but I didn't know for what. I used to think it was death I was waiting for, but that's not what this is. This is life. So you show up and do the work and love who you love, and you learn to wait, and if you're lucky, you learn what waiting is and what you have to give. I dig the earth with my hands, claw stones with my nails, sift ash through my fingers— bone and tooth fragments burned out by morning spread on the ground.
The rain washes down the smoldering mass below. Our human flesh the caustic ash now together turn to soap. When I was asked by the minister of a local congregation if I would read my poetry on illness, death and dying as part of their Sunday service, I viewed it as an opportunity to facilitate a community's healing. The congregation had recently sustained a number of deaths, and the minister wanted to facilitate a dialogue among the congregants who were having difficulty talking about the losses.
After the reading, twenty stayed. It was six months after we first found the lump. Between the breast surgeries and the metastases and the strokes, she was gone. Die now!
Popular in: Medical Students / Training
My Dad was in coma for weeks. He got agitated and made sounds, but he couldn't talk. The doctors said there wasn't much they could do. I sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand. We'll be O. I couldn't do him any good like that. Then, when I was out of the room, his heart stopped, and I wasn't there. Nine years it's been. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself. He's in a wheelchair…a gunshot wound when he was sixteen. He takes care of our Mom. He does it all. He washes for her.
What Leonardo taught us about the heart
He cooks. He cuts watermelon. He's a blessing, he is. I just can't do it. He blames me, but what can I do? Some people just aren't cut out for it. I don't cry. When they're gone, they're gone… nothing more. I work in the movie business. People come and go. We can be close for six months, work together every day, then it's on to the next project. I may never see them again. That's what it was like when my friend Ernie died… like he's out there somewhere, too involved with another project to call.
That's nothing unusual for Ernie. Time just passes. People say there's something wrong with me. I don't know. Sometimes I wonder. In the end, she's still gone, no matter how I work it out. We were fifteen. I've got children now. I love my wife, but my sister… She was all of our heroes… tall with dark red hair.