Apologizing is a choice. But all too often we convince ourselves
· It is not worth the effort
· It was all his fault
Yet like a bomb falling, unresolved resentment and unforgiven hurt eventually explodes.
Releasing a person from our own emotional grip is as beneficial to ourselves as to the person who hurt us.
However, it need not mean letting a person go scot free. Forgiveness, does not release a person from the consequences of failure.
Trust is a tender plant, and like a good relationship it must be nurtured.

So Why Apologize?

When we are hurt something inside us yearns for reconciliation- learning the art of apologizing, smoothes the road of love.
When someone does not apologize, it causes us to seek justice. So why not foster love?
In The Five Languages of Apology, Gary Chapman and Jennifer Thomas point out that we often favor one of five types of apology expressed with the five languages of love.

The Five Languages of apology

1. Regret “I’m sorry”

Regret focuses on what you did, or failed to do, and how it affected the other person.
Some people feel it helps them see that a person is sincere when they explain how their actions effected the person they are apologizing too.
Actually saying “I am sorry for …” whatever the offence was can go a long way – especially when their body language is congruent.
True regret does not add “ …. but ….” Even if there are extenuating circumstances leave them until later.
True regret does not use an apology to manipulate.
True regret is important in the process of healing.

2. Accepting responsibility

A true apology accepts responsibility for your actions.
Being reluctant to accept responsibility often stems from a sense of low self worth.
“We may reason, only losers confess, intelligent people try to show their actions are justified” wrote Thomas and Chapman.
It certainly is easier to blame others.
Often both sides of a relationship spat should apologize.
We feel that we have been attacked and that some chord deep within has been unjustly slandered or exaggeratedly laid bare.
Perhaps, we have issues bought on by a challenging childhood.
Yes, you do have a right to feel hurt.
No – you don’t have a right to retaliate in kind.
If your lover has some deep in ground flaw try to discuss it in terms of the language of love they predominately use
· Affirmations
· Acts of service
· Receiving and giving gifts
· Quality time
· Physical touch

3. Making restitution

‘Making things right’ answers the nagging fear of “do you still live me?” claim Thomas and chapman.
After all, when we are hurt, we often ask “If (s)he loves me, how can (s)he do that?”
“A willingness to do something to try to make up for the pain I have caused you is evidence of a true apology” wrote Andy Stanley in How Good is good enough?.
Forgiveness researcher Everett Worthington calls this ‘equalizing’ “a making up for the loss that the other person experienced” and offer to “equalize the balance of justice.”
It may require going beyond simply restoring an equal loss.

4. Genuinely Repenting

Restitution requires recognizing the destructive nature of the behavior, wanting to change, and making plans to start down the road to transformation.
Saying “I am sorry – but I refuse to change” is not a true apology.
Rather, a plan of transformation is best put in writing, so that small measurable progress can be seen and rewarded.
However, change can be costly. You may secretly like the flaw in your partner – especially if you like finding fault enjoy having something to criticize. You may have to change too!
Of course, change is not easy. You may fail in your attempts. So, be prepared quickly concede your failure, pick yourself up, and start again.

5. Forgiveness

Asking for forgiveness shows that you want to heal a relationship.
It shows that you realize you did something wrong.
However, most of us fear rejection. Asking for forgiveness means that we lose control. I cannot know if I will be forgiven or not.
We may fear failure. Asking forgiveness, may for some mean ‘sin’ equals failure. Perhaps it is better to see an error as a hurdle to overcome to become a stronger and healthier you.
Mature people recognize their fears but refuse to be held captive by those fears. If you value you relationship you will go against your fears and take the step needed to heal the relationship you cherish.
Mature people recognize that we have personality flaws but refuse to be controlled by them when they are obviously dysfunctional.
Having the conviction to ask for forgiveness is not a sign of weakness. It shows you value your relationship.
However, you cannot demand to be forgiven.
Being prepared to forgive is also a sign you value your relationship.
Being willing to forgive can be hard because
· Forgiveness may require you give up a quest for justice
· Forgive for actions with long lasting consequences
· Forgiveness is difficult for major or repeated offences
Forgiveness is not a small thing. So if you are not immediately forgiven, endeavor to show your love – and sincere sorrow, using the predominately used love language of your partner.
Apologizing is a choice. However, if you cherish your love life consider the words of Margaret Lee Runbeck:

“Apology is a lovely perfume;
it can transform the clumsiest moment
into a gracious gift.”

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Girls are hitting puberty earlier and earlier. More than 10 percent of American girls have some breast development by age 7, states a study published in Psychological Science. This news has upset many people, but it may make evolutionary sense in some cases for girls to develop faster, claims the authors.

Girls who physically mature earlier tend to start dating, have sexual intercourse at a younger age, and have more sexual partners than girls who develop later. That puts them at risk of sexually transmitted diseases and makes them more likely to have a child while they’re still teenagers.

Many psychologists and doctors think there are right and wrong ways to develop, says Jay Belsky, of Birkbeck University in London, who argues iwe shoul look at development from an evolutionary perspective.

He theorised that growing up in a risky, unstable environment—the kind that fosters an insecure rather than secure attachment of infant to mother—should accelerate pubertal maturation thus increasing the chances that one could reproduce before death.

Belsky’s team used data on 373 white females from a large study of early child development sponsored by the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development. Girls in the study were followed from birth until the age of 15.

At 15 months, security of attachment to mother was evaluated using a standard procedure involving separating and reuniting the baby with her mother in a university laboratory.

Babies who smiled, vocalized, reached, or otherwise demonstrated appreciation that their mother was back were considered to be secure; those who avoided their mother following the separation or could not be comforted by her return were considered insecure.

Pubertal development was evaluated using annual physical exams administered by nurses or physicians starting when girls were 9.5 years of age.

As predicted, that girls who were insecure as babies started their pubertal development sooner—by about two to four months—than girls who were secure as babies. They also completed pubertal development earlier and had their first period earlier than the girls assessed as secure infants.

A risky, unstable early environment, as reflected in an insecure attachment, is not the only reason girls mature early; it’s also partly due to genetics. Environmental chemicals may also have some effect. Also, there’s been a trend over the last 150 years of girls maturing earlier, possibly because of improved nutrition.

But the early rearing environment and the infant-mother attachment relationship are important influences and should not be ignored, says Belsky., who cowrote the study with Renate Houts of Duke University and Pasco Fearon of the University of Reading.

“An evolutionary biology perspective says, ‘look, the thing that nature most cares about—with respect to all living things, humans included—is dispersing genes in future generations,’” says Belsky. “Under those conditions in which the future appears precarious, where I might not even survive long enough to breed tomorrow, then I should mature earlier so I can mate earlier before that precarious future might get me.”

This is the evolutionary logic, according to Belsky, which led to the prediction—and now evidence—that early insecurity should be related to earlier pubertal development.

Image: PUBERtY by ~sixti4 on deviantART

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Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,
Standing as when I drew near to the town
Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,
Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze in its listlessness
Travelling across the wet mead to me here,
You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,
Heard no more again far or near?

Thomas Hardy

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A Voice From Above

 

Her Voice

- Oscar Wilde

Image: A Voice from Above by *RavenMacabre

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Bhatti Waliye

I will pay you with my tears,
Roast my store of sorrows in your pan,
O tender of the fire.

Tender of the fire, you are a branch of frangipani,
Roast my store of sorrows

I am late already,
The shadows are fading.
The cattle have returned
From the forest.

The birds have raised their clamour,
O roast my store of sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

Hurry, hurry
I have far to go,
To the place where
All my friends have gone.

I hear the road to that town is difficult
O roast my store of sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

Why, when it is my turn,
Is your bale of kindling damp?
Why has your earthen wok
Turned flaccid?

What has gone wrong with your fire?
O roast my store of sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

Just a handful is my measure
Let me go on my way,
Don’t leave them raw
Roast them a little more.

I beg you, bring an end to this trouble,
O roast my store of sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
The wind has dropped
Wept its mournful cry.
The stars are emitting
A sweet heat.

O roast my store of sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

- Shiv Kumar Batalvi

Transl. Suman Kashyap

Image: Indian girl by =anotherwanderer

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Finger Architecture

A magic moment I remember:
I raised my eyes and you were there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that’s beautiful and rare.

I pray to mute despair and anguish,
To vain pursuits the world esteems,
Long did I near your soothing accents,
Long did your features haunt my dreams.

Time passed. A rebel storm-blast scattered
The reveries that once were mine
And I forgot your soothing accents,
Your features gracefully divine.

In dark days of enforced retirement
I gazed upon grey skies above
With no ideals to inspire me,
No one to cry for, live for, love.

Then came a moment of renaissance,
I looked up – you again are there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that`s beautiful and rare.

- Alexander Pushkin

Image: Fingers Architecture

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The Platonic Lady

I could love thee till I die,
Would’st thou love me modestly,
And ne’er press, whilst I live,
For more than willingly I would give:
Which should sufficient be to prove
I’d understand the art of love.

I hate the thing is called enjoyment:
Besides it is a dull employment,
It cuts off all that’s life and fire
From that which may be termed desire;
Just like the bee whose sting is gone
Converts the owner to a drone.

I love a youth will give me leave
His body in my arms to wreathe;
To press him gently, and to kiss;
To sigh, and look with eyes that wish
For what, if I could once obtain,
I would neglect with flat disdain.

I’d give him liberty to toy
And play with me, and count it joy.
Our freedom should be full complete,
And nothing wanting but the feat.
Let’s practice, then, and we shall prove
These are the only sweets of love.

- Lord John Wilmot
(1647-1680)
2nd Earl of Rochester

Image: Platonic love by ~rebenke

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The Fig

Touch me: it is softness of good satin, and when you open me, what an unexpected rose! Do you not remember some king’s black cloak under which a redness burned?

I bloom inside myself to enjoy myself with an inward gaze, scarcely for a week.

Afterward, the satin opens generously in a great fold of Congolese laughter.

Poets have not know the color of night, nor the figs of Palestine. We are both the most ancient blue, a passionate blue, richly concentrating itself because of its ardor.

I spill my pressed flowers into your hand. I create a deaf meadow for your pleasure. I shower you with the meadow’s bouquet until covering your feet. No. I keep the flowers tied – they make me itch; the resting rose also knows this sensation.

I am also the pulp of the Rose-of-Sharon, bruised.

Allow my praise to be made: I nourished the Greeks, and they have praised me less than Juno, who gave them nothing.

- Gabriela Mistral

transl. Maria Jacketti

Image: Serpent Lady by ~sphinxmuse http://fav.me/dgl7dq

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The Fruit by Maina

Fruit Bowl

Pale flesh beneath a skirt of dark peel,
Revealingly rent!  A twist of
Thin white pith protecting inner
Succulence.  Juicy, ripe; but not my tea.

Easy in fruit bowl sat, nestling, tempting:
My gaze alights, but never, seemingly
Never, do I reach forward for you:
Tempting, delicious, untouched.

Widening the rent, tugging pith away,
Fingers juiced fluid forgiving flesh.
Segments separated; tangy sweetness
A delicate explosion on my tongue.

- Oblique Wordsmith

Image: The Fruit by Maina :thumb116239801:

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Geet
(A Song)

Where rivulets of perfume flow,
There my beloved lives.
Where passing breezes halt,
There my beloved lives.

Where dawn arrives on little bare toes,
Where night throws henna-beams on feet.
Where fragrance bathes in moonlight,
There my beloved lives.

Shiv Kumar Batalvi

Transl. Suman Kashyap

Image: Indian Sari II by ~NIGHTRAINstock

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Jenseits von Afrika :thumb91469817:

125th Street and Abomey

Head bent, walking through snow
I see you Seboulisa
printed inside the back of my head
like marks of the newly wrapped akai
that kept my sleep fruitful in Dahomey
and I poured on the red earth in your honor
those ancient parts of me
most precious and least needed
my well-guarded past
the energy-eating secrets
I surrender to you as libation
mother, illuminate my offering
of old victories
over men over women over my selves
who has never before dared
to whistle into the night
take my fear of being alone
like my warrior sisters
who rode in defense of your queendom
disquised and apart
give the woman strength
of tongue in this cold season.

Half earth and time splits
us apart
like struck rock.
A piece lives elegant stories
too simply put
while a dream on the edge of summer
of brown rain in nim trees
snail shells from the dooryard
of King Toffah
bring me where my blood moves
Seboulisa mother goddess with one breast
eaten away by worms of sorrow and loss
see me now
your severed daughter
laughing our name into echo
all the world shall remember.

- Audre Lorde

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Autumn Song

Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
The wild wind blows in a cloud.
Hark to a voice that is calling
To my heart in the voice of the wind:
My heart is weary and sad and alone,
For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, And why should I stay behind?

-          Sarojini Naidu
(1879 – 1949)
from The Golden Threshold

little birdie’s autumn song by *AsBeautyDies

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You ladies of merry England
Who have been to kiss the Duchess’s hand,
Pray, did you not lately observe in the show
A noble Italian called Signior Dildo?

This signior was one of the Duchess’s train
And helped to conduct her over the main;
But now she cries out, ‘To the Duke I will go,
I have no more need for Signior Dildo.’

At the Sign of the Cross in St James’s Street,
When next you go thither to make yourselves sweet
By buying of powder, gloves, essence, or so,
You may chance to get a sight of Signior Dildo.

You would take him at first for no person of note,
Because he appears in a plain leather coat,
But when you his virtuous abilities know,
You’ll fall down and worship Signior Dildo.

My Lady Southesk, heaven prosper her for’t,
First clothed him in satin, then brought him to court;
But his head in the circle he scarcely durst show,
So modest a youth was Signior Dildo.

The good Lady Suffolk, thinking no harm,
Had got this poor stranger hid under her arm.
Lady Betty by chance came the secret to know
And from her own mother stole Signior Dildo.

The Countess of Falmouth, of whom people tell
Her footmen wear shirts of a guinea an ell,
Might save that expense, if she did but know
How lusty a swinger is Signior Dildo.

By the help of this gallant the Countess of Rafe
Against the fierce Harris preserved herself safe;
She stifled him almost beneath her pillow,
So closely she embraced Signior Dildo.

The pattern of virtue, Her Grace of Cleveland,
Has swallowed more pricks than the ocean has sand;
But by rubbing and scrubbing so wide does it grow,
It is fit for just nothing but Signior Dildo.

Our dainty fine duchesses have got a trick
To dote on a fool for the sake of his prick,
The fops were undone did their graces but know
The discretion and vigour of Signior Dildo.

The Duchess of Modena, though she looks so high,
With such a gallant is content to lie,
And for fear that the English her secrets should know,
For her gentleman usher took Signior Dildo.

The Countess o’ th’ Cockpit (who knows not her name?
She’s famous in story for a killing dame),
When all her old lovers forsake her, I trow,
She’ll then be contented with Signior Dildo.

Red Howard, Red Sheldon, and Temple so tall
Complain of his absence so long from Whitehall.
Signior Barnard has promised a journey to go
And bring back his countryman, Signior Dildo.

Doll Howard no longer with His Highness must range,
And therefore is proferred this civil exchange:
Her teeth being rotten, she smells best below,
And needs must be fitted for Signior Dildo.

St Albans with wrinkles and smiles in his face,
Whose kindness to strangers becomes his high place,
In his coach and six horses is gone to Bergo
To take the fresh air with Signior Dildo.

Were this signior but known to the citizen fops,
He’d keep their fine wives from the foremen o’their shops;
But the rascals deserve their horns should still grow
For burning the Pope and his nephew, Dildo.

Tom Killigrew’s wife, that Holland fine flower,
At the sight of this signior did fart and belch sour,
And her Dutch breeding the further to show,
Says, ‘Welcome to England, Mynheer Van Dildo.’

He civilly came to the Cockpit one night,
And proferred his service to fair Madam Knight.
Quoth she, ‘I intrigue with Captain Cazzo;
Your nose in mine arse, good Signior Dildo.’

This signior is sound, safe, ready, and dumb
As ever was candle, carrot, or thumb;
Then away with these nasty devices, and show
How you rate the just merit of Signior Dildo.

Count Cazzo, who carries his nose very high,
In passion he swore his rival should die;
Then shut himself up to let the world know
Flesh and blood could not bear it from Signior Dildo.

A rabble of pricks who were welcome before,
Now finding the porter denied them the door,
Maliciously waited his coming below
And inhumanly fell on Signior Dildo.

Nigh wearied out, the poor stranger did fly,
And along the Pall Mall they followed full cry;
The women concerned from every window
Cried, ‘For heaven’s sake, save Signior Dildo.’

The good Lady Sandys burst into a laughter
To see how the ballocks came wobbling after,
And had not their weight retarded the foe,
Indeed’t had gone hard with Signior Dildo.

John Wilmot
(1647-1680)
2nd Earl of Rochester

Image: Dildo Pleasure

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The Weeping Rose

Born as a symbol of beauty.
Radiant.
Energetic.
Like a fresh, red rose bud in the brink of spring.
Growing into youth.
Still a fresh smile.
Yet, something has changed.
Several years go by.
Change more significant.
A symbol of all happiness, slowly disappearing.
The world’s problems deteriorate this innocent mind.
She is worn a little, drawn back.
As years go by she becomes worse.
Like a dying rose,
Losing colour,
Losing touch.
Lost like many others in a world of fear.
Darkness.
Reaching out.
But no ones there.
She becomes frail to life.
Hope lessens.
Her body weakens.
Her mind insane.
Once a symbol of beauty, now non-existent.
Feelings are gone.
She has closed her eyes.
This beautiful red rose has died.

- J. Bonura

Image: The weeping rose by ~KoAn72

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Swedish love

You Are My Purest Comfort

You are my purest comfort,
my most steadfast shelter,
you are the best I have,
for nothing hurts as much as you.

No, nothing hurts as you.
You ache like ice and fire,
you cut like steel my  soul -
you are the best I have.

-       Karin Boye

Transl. Jenny Nunn

Image: Swedish love by ~mjagiellicz

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