Physical & Emotional Abuse Support Group
Abuse is a general term for the treatment of someone that causes some kind of harm (to the abused person, to the abusers themselves, or to someone else) that is unlawful or wrongful. No one deserves abuse, period. Abuse can be emotional, physical, or sexual.
Pasted in from today's "Wolf's Daily Howl."
I'd like to recognize that today is a day of joyous celebration for many, with its reference to resurrection, rebirth and hope. To all celebrants today, good wishes and thoughts for your peace, happiness and holistic well-being throughout this season and the ones to come.
I'd like to tell you (though it's possible I've actually already mentioned this), about my own story of resurrection of beauty and joy.
My guess is that this story began around August of last year. It would have been a Sunday, as I was bringing my trash to where the trash cans wait to be filled, on the south side of the house. I noticed that there was a plant in my downstairs neighbor's can. It wasn't great looking but it certainly wasn't dead. The foliage was long, thin, spiky leaves, which were mostly green with a couple turning brown at the ends. My neighbor was coming out with a bag of trash and I asked if she was throwing the plant away.
She said yes. She added that her friend from New York had picked up the car load of plants brought to Connecticut while the New Yorkers were out of town on vacation, but left this one behind, saying it was an orchid but it had bloomed and wasnt going to bloom again. Given that it would never flower again, and the spiky leaves seemed to be headed downhill, my neighbor felt it was taking up limited space. So ---- yes, she was tossing it.
You dont mind if I take it? I ask. (Im an incorrigible picker, always pulling things from the curb that others have tossed away. Ive brought home a genuine antique ladder-back chair, a perfectly lovely, working lamp, and other stuff.)
No. Go ahead, she replied.
So. . . . . out came the plant, finding a new home on my back steps. Sitting there for the next three weeks, it got plenty of light and adequate rain. Sometime in September, a spike appeared, that wasnt a leaf. It was obviously a stalk of buds. A few weeks later, the plant came inside, just inside the back door. Nowhere special. I made a better space for it and it came into my apartment. As a reward. . . . a second stalk.
Some light. Some water. October, November, December. I would notice sticky droplets clinging to the stalk. Looked like water but a gooey sap. End of January. . . . . . the first stalk began to open. I moved the plant into my bedroom, so I could watch the show. Slowly, same as everything this plant had done, the stalk opened flower by flower, from the bottom up. In the middle of February I was giving a workshop and I would have loved to bring the plant as a backdrop for my presentation but I didnt want to risk having it bang around in the car and break. So I brought a smaller plant to accompany me.
By the end of February, the first stalk was entirely open and the second stalk had begun to bloom. Another three weeks, mid-March ----- both stalks were open ------ a mass, a cascade of yellow flowers, the petals tipped with mauve, with a red splash in the center. The spiky leaves framed the half-moon of flowers, some draping down around and in front of the flowers, some standing tall behind the flowers in celebration. The foliage is now a yard across in every direction. It's magnificent.
The flowers, which began appearing in January, are still in bloom. Absolutely exquisite.
This is my little story of resurrection. This plant was headed for the landfill, done, gone, tossed away and destined to be forgotten.
Instead, its here, perfuming my bedroom and adorning my life with stunning beauty. Retrieved and resplendent.
Wasnt that where some of us were headed, maybe not all that long ago? Werent we about to be tossed? Werent we on somebodys scrapheap? Maybe our own?
If youre out there feeling like the old foliage about to be carted away to the landfill, know without any doubt or uncertainty that with the least bit of sun and rain, with a teeny bit of care and faith and hope, you will bloom again.
You will bloom again because the DNA of beauty and love are down there in your roots. You will bloom again because you're [i]supposed[/i] to bloom, magnificently and resplendently. You will bloom again.
I'd like to recognize that today is a day of joyous celebration for many, with its reference to resurrection, rebirth and hope. To all celebrants today, good wishes and thoughts for your peace, happiness and holistic well-being throughout this season and the ones to come.
I'd like to tell you (though it's possible I've actually already mentioned this), about my own story of resurrection of beauty and joy.
My guess is that this story began around August of last year. It would have been a Sunday, as I was bringing my trash to where the trash cans wait to be filled, on the south side of the house. I noticed that there was a plant in my downstairs neighbor's can. It wasn't great looking but it certainly wasn't dead. The foliage was long, thin, spiky leaves, which were mostly green with a couple turning brown at the ends. My neighbor was coming out with a bag of trash and I asked if she was throwing the plant away.
She said yes. She added that her friend from New York had picked up the car load of plants brought to Connecticut while the New Yorkers were out of town on vacation, but left this one behind, saying it was an orchid but it had bloomed and wasnt going to bloom again. Given that it would never flower again, and the spiky leaves seemed to be headed downhill, my neighbor felt it was taking up limited space. So ---- yes, she was tossing it.
You dont mind if I take it? I ask. (Im an incorrigible picker, always pulling things from the curb that others have tossed away. Ive brought home a genuine antique ladder-back chair, a perfectly lovely, working lamp, and other stuff.)
No. Go ahead, she replied.
So. . . . . out came the plant, finding a new home on my back steps. Sitting there for the next three weeks, it got plenty of light and adequate rain. Sometime in September, a spike appeared, that wasnt a leaf. It was obviously a stalk of buds. A few weeks later, the plant came inside, just inside the back door. Nowhere special. I made a better space for it and it came into my apartment. As a reward. . . . a second stalk.
Some light. Some water. October, November, December. I would notice sticky droplets clinging to the stalk. Looked like water but a gooey sap. End of January. . . . . . the first stalk began to open. I moved the plant into my bedroom, so I could watch the show. Slowly, same as everything this plant had done, the stalk opened flower by flower, from the bottom up. In the middle of February I was giving a workshop and I would have loved to bring the plant as a backdrop for my presentation but I didnt want to risk having it bang around in the car and break. So I brought a smaller plant to accompany me.
By the end of February, the first stalk was entirely open and the second stalk had begun to bloom. Another three weeks, mid-March ----- both stalks were open ------ a mass, a cascade of yellow flowers, the petals tipped with mauve, with a red splash in the center. The spiky leaves framed the half-moon of flowers, some draping down around and in front of the flowers, some standing tall behind the flowers in celebration. The foliage is now a yard across in every direction. It's magnificent.
The flowers, which began appearing in January, are still in bloom. Absolutely exquisite.
This is my little story of resurrection. This plant was headed for the landfill, done, gone, tossed away and destined to be forgotten.
Instead, its here, perfuming my bedroom and adorning my life with stunning beauty. Retrieved and resplendent.
Wasnt that where some of us were headed, maybe not all that long ago? Werent we about to be tossed? Werent we on somebodys scrapheap? Maybe our own?
If youre out there feeling like the old foliage about to be carted away to the landfill, know without any doubt or uncertainty that with the least bit of sun and rain, with a teeny bit of care and faith and hope, you will bloom again.
You will bloom again because the DNA of beauty and love are down there in your roots. You will bloom again because you're [i]supposed[/i] to bloom, magnificently and resplendently. You will bloom again.
I feel that I'm on a scrap heap right now, but somehow know my roots are still healthy and I just need to find my place in 'the sun' in order to thrive again.
Thank you for this :-)
That was beautiful Ilene
Thank you