View allAll Photos Tagged resentment...
"Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. - Carrie Fisher"
Pick your poison...
Macro Monday project – 07/08/13
“Guess What It Is?”
The Cats' House, designed by the architect Friedrich Scheffel, was built in 1909. Wrought-copper cats stand on the corner turrets of a building facing the Great Guild on Livu Square, their backs arched and tails poised as if ready for the final leap. The famous and peculiar building, once scandalous and even been the cause of a lawsuit, was named the Cat House because of these figures. The building was owned by a wealthy Latvian trader who, out of bitter resentment for not being admitted to the Great Guild nearby, put cat figures bearing expressive postures on the roof of his building. Tails of the cat figures were turned to the guild building thus expressing the owner's attitude towards the offending organization of traders.
I bought a new broom today
and swept the cobwebs down,
A thick accumulation of dregs,
a mass of tangles and smut.
I whisked a conglomeration of dust
that forever stuck—inaccessible.
Lifted the rug under which was hidden
years of grime that
Made traversing treacherous
with things that trip you up.
I rolled that rug and cast it off
and pitched the whole mess out.
I bought a new broom today
and mucked about the house.
Gone are the indignities that cannot be untwined
from the unfulfilled goals and dreams,
Cleared the place of bitter resentments
secured with insecurities.
Shackling phobias, permanently pitched
with a flick of bristles strawy,
Dismal doubts and grubby grudges
all brushed not so effortlessly away.
I bought a new broom today
and swept the corners of my brain.
A New Broom
Witt Wittmann
"if you are dealing with fears and insecurities from old head programs, have compassion for yourself. just love your insecurities, fears and resentments. release and forgive them as they come up. judging, beating or repressing insecurities just gives them power. then you have a pattern that never gets resolved. recognize that your real security is built from your relationship with your own heart."
~ sara paddison, the hidden power of the heart
IMG_7566r2
Sacré-Cœur Basilica is a Roman Catholic church and minor basilica in Paris, France, dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.
Sacré-Cœur Basilica is located at the summit of the butte Montmartre, the highest point in the city. It is a popular landmark, and the second-most visited monument in Paris. Sacré-Cœur Basilica has maintained a perpetual adoration of the Holy Eucharist since 1885. The basilica was designed by Paul Abadie. Construction began in 1875 and was completed in 1914. The basilica was consecrated after the end of World War I in 1919.
It is considered as both a political and cultural monument, representing a national penance for the defeat of France in the 1870 Franco-Prussian War and for the actions of the Paris Commune of 1871. The church was constructed close to the site of the beginning of the Paris Commune where, on March 18, 1871, Communard soldiers killed two French army generals and seized a park full of artillery. There was (and remains) a feeling of resentment on the French left that the massacre of the Communards was commemorated by a temple of a fundamentally conservative religion. So great was the dislike of Sacré-Cœur at the fin de siècle that the Montmartre group of artists, including van Gogh, Matisse, Degas and Toulouse-Lautrec, decamped en masse to Montparnasse.
Brixton Jones, Rowena’s half-sister, has been invited for breakfast. She gives the newly decorated space a once over and tells Rowena she missed the opportunity for minimalism and worries the place will soon become cluttered. Rowena smiles gently and tells her she hopes the place will grow on her. Brixton returns a sheepish smile, while acknowledging quietly to herself that the resentment she felt upon seeing a photo of their father, five-star General Robert Jones, on Rowena’s bookshelf had made her a little bitchy. It’s not Rowena’s fault she was the privileged daughter. She’ll try to make up for her cranky mood over breakfast by being more positive.
I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A COMPULSIVE DRAWER. I would declare war on every blank area left on notebooks, desks, chalk-boards and school walls. My teachers never appreciated this, but I did win recognition among the other kids. But I was independent and pretty much a loner. I rarely communicated verbally, but I never failed to communicate by using my favourite language: images.
Luckily for me, it was my grandparents who practically raised me, instilling in me all the values I retain to this day. But even though my grandparents offered material and emotional support, I felt abandoned. It was a pain that was muted and sometimes battered into submission, but it invariably came to surface. Plus I sensed that there was something else, a much more disturbing truth that lay at the core of the adult world. Being much too young to identify it, it remained a frustrated inarticulate feeling. But there was something clearly evident in my drawings that expressed those feelings. My talent for drawing, my attention to detail, and above all, my grotesque sense of humor were obvious in the drawings.
By the age of eight, whatever I had lodged in the back of my mind came forward in a blurry approximation in art. It was art that rescued me. Many of the drawings had an underlying dark tone. The drawings gave my incoherent inner world some form of expression and substance, however crudely rendered. Grown-ups had a profound effect on my artistic development, but not in a way they would have approved. I began to observe and to judge people, making evaluations about their nature and characters. This, too, found its way in my drawings. One could see from the progression of drawings a groping and developing maturity. It was a discovery and odyssey of self.
A teacher observed one of my drawings, and obviously dismayed, he asked: “What is the matter Victor?”
I answered: “What is the matter with everybody else?”
A conscious awareness of the adult world came into sharper focus: my overall impression of adults was that they were bogus liars and hypocrites, saying not what they thought, but rather what they believed would serve some particular purpose, some hidden agenda. Everybody came armed with two faces. It seemed to me that the world thrived on bullshit, hypocrisy and lies. I noted a desperate whoring after status, an irrational and pathetic desire to “beat the Jones” followed up by saccharine sentimentality by mealy-mouthed charlatans—and all of it showcased to the people they themselves loathed. Lies, backstabbing, deception, two-faces, malice and hypocrisy was the currency of exchange in the adult world. And so I took a profound disliking to most people I came across. I could sense the spiritual emptiness and viciousness within them. I wanted to like and admire people but I rarely came across anyone who was worthy of it. The only noted exceptions were my grandparents.
I HAD TURNED SIXTEEN JUST A FEW MONTHS before the holidays. Christmas brought distant relatives and immediate family together at the Pross household. For me, people were bad enough on their own but it became worse when they assembled together under the same roof. It was on such occasions that fully demonstrated the insanity and phoniness of these people. I would scan the large living room absorbing the adults sitting on the couches and chairs, each one looking anxious and distant. They were tipsy on day-long benders of Bloody Caesars, making efforts to appear jovial. There was a constant display of smiley backslapping and “Merry Christmases” by people who maligned one another the moment backs were turned. There was an unvarying spectacle of petty bickering over trivia and the sudden surfacing of years-long resentments best forgotten. All the forms of human flaws and ugliness to be found in the world---a world which insists on being imperfect—were on display before the eyes of the juvenile artist.
To lighten the mood, somebody put a dance song on. I watched with keen interest as glasses were overturned by dancing feet and the coffee table was moved out of the way to make room. A frenzy of stimulation bubbled in the room and everyone’s voice rose imperceptibly in pitch. As far as I was concerned, it was a circus.
Each relative represented an unsavory social stereotype or archetype of one kind or another. They were caricatures. From the town’s busy body gossip-monger tyrant--to the dour spinster forever spouting on about “God’s wrath”--to the town’s fast-talking used car salesman who dressed like a big city pimp---to every other stereotype imaginable. It was all there. This was no less true when it came to Uncle Bernard, better known as “Bernie.” Sitting near the Christmas tree, I was observing him closely. He was the jet-set wannabe playboy type. He sported a dyed perm that looked as if had come straight off a Styrofoam head from 1973. Assuming himself a lady-killer, he actually had all the charm of a toupee made of straw dipped in black ink. With each attempt at a pickup he was invariably shot down. “Lesbian!” he would bellow at women who rejected him.
Sitting next to Bernie was my mother, Terry. She was immersed in conversation, laughing with a forced hilarity, her drink spilling over. There was something that troubled me about my mother. She was a woman who was so utterly self-absorbed, forever preoccupied with what others thought. My mother’s sense of personal value was crucially dependent on the image of herself as a glamorous beauty. At the age of thirty-eight, she was wont to ask for reassurances of her looks. “Do you think I have nice legs? I use to be a Go-Go dance, you know?” and “When was the last time you saw a woman as gorgeous as me—and at my age?” With each passing year she began to perceive every wrinkle on her face as a metaphysical menace. Taking aging as a threat to her identity, she plunged into a series of sexual relationships with men fifteen years her junior demanding fresh admiration to assuage her hollowness.
My mother’s constant need for validation annoyed me. I was nevertheless fascinated with human behavior. What I perceived in my mother was a definite narcissism, only I didn’t have the word for it at the age of sixteen. Spurred by mother’s conceit, I decided to try an experiment. I played upon her vanity by offering her a lavish compliment, just to see her reaction. My motive wasn’t flattery for flattery’s sake, it was a psychological experiment.
I tapped my mother on the shoulder, interrupting her conversation.
“Mom?”
My mother turned to me, clearly annoyed, her expression a fusion of wonder and irritation.
“Victor dear, can’t you see I’m talking to this nice gentleman?”
“But mom, I need to tell you something.”
“Yes, yes, what is it?”
“I just wanted to say that…you look just like Marilyn Monroe.”
My mother took a deep intake of breathe. She clapped her hands in appreciation and snuggled her darling son into her arms. “Did you hear that?” she demanded of the guests. The room fell to a hushed silence. “What is it, Terry?” asked a guest. “My boy said I look like Marilyn Monroe. That’s my boy! Oh, he knows a good looking chick when he sees one!” My mother then let out an exuberant laugh, which itself was enough to draw attention. After a few more brandy-laced eggnogs, my mother became more of an embarrassment. She made damn well sure to tell new arrivals at the party what her son had said about her. It was a compliment that was warmly recalled by her for years to come. I had always regretted my causal flattery.
I appreciated the art of caricature more so than ever before. I enjoyed the spectacle of observing the reaction of anyone I nailed in a drawing. When people observed a grotesque drawing I had rendered of them—in dead-on accuracy---they would dissolve in self-consciousness. This had a clinical kind of fascination to me. Although one can be disconcerted at witnessing an open incision, I got some amazing glimpses of their guts. What came out of it was a deeply ingrained self-doubt. I knew my art had the power to reach people. “You are a sick guy, Pross,” said one of my displeased subjects. “How is it that I’m sick,” I responded, amazed by this sudden psychological evaluation. “The drawing portrays how you are—not me.”
Observing my mania for drawing, my grandfather decided to have a heart-to-heart chat with me. He entered my room as I sat at my desk, which was littered with sketchpads of drawings and half-ass watercolors.
Grandfather picked up a sketch pad flipping through it. “You have a real talent there, my boy,” he said. A firm hand rested on my shoulder. “It would be a shame if that went to waste”
I smiled and lowered my head.
“There are a lot of people who always dump on me for drawing, granddaddy.”
He smiled. “When it comes to insults, consider the source---and also try to consider what you think may be their motivation.”
My grandfather put an encouraging arm around me, playfully mussing up my hair.
He pulled up a nearby chair and sat down next to me.
“Now listen to me,” he said with a pinch of gravity, “you have a talent, son—a very evident and rare talent, but you can’t expect it to do all the work for you. You have to hone and develop that talent. If you want to be an artist, it takes practice, practice, practice. It is about hard work. It’s not enough to have talent alone. You need to have a hunger. You understand?”
I smiled. “I need to be a hungry artist?”
“I’m serious, son.”
“I know. So am I”
“Good. That’s right, a hungry artist.”
“I am. It’s like a compulsion. I feel so good when I’m drawing. It lifts me up. I need to express what I have going on inside of me. I suppose that is a hunger.”
I paused for a moment. My grandfather looked at me, his clear blue eyes beaming. His smile conveyed immense admiration…and hope. “I love you, grandson.”
I couldn’t express in words the feeling that I felt so abundantly. The love and admiration I felt for this man was great, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him so for some reason. And so I simply smiled and look downward, hoping that this motion expressed what should have said with words.
Not everyone responded with agitation to the drawings of this teenage caricature artist. Sam Ferguson, the owner of the diner I frequented at the time, was blessed with a robust sense of humor. As he observed one of my renderings, he laughed with his whole body, his heavy-set frame shook like a bowl of Jell-O resting on the clothes dryer in final spin. “You are a crazy son of a bitch!” Gus hollowed. “How do you think of this stuff?” In the drawing, I had Gus lurched over a hot stove stirring the day’s soup special with beads of sweat dripping into the pot. In the background, one can see an unsuspecting customer slurping the broth, bellowing, ‘Gus, I love the extra flavor you added!’
“Come here, my boy,” Gus said, sliding a hamburger and fries over to me. “Here’s your payment for a job well done.”
“You’re paying me for that drawing…by feeding me?”
Gus looked astonished that I was astonished. “Of course! A man should be paid for his work. That drawing is hanging on my wall, and it gives me a great deal of pleasure.”
“It does.”
“You are very talented. Hey, I want to frame it and hang it up on my office wall. How much do you want for it?”
“You just paid me,” I answered, biting into the hamburger.
“No, not that, that’s a token payment, I’m talking about really paying you. That is a work of art we’re talking about!”
“I don’t know…”
“Here,” Gus said, taking my hand and slipping a hundred dollar bill into it.
“Hey man, are you serious—a hundred bucks!”
“Too little?”
“No, this is cool. Thanks Gus!”
“One day you are going to be a famous artist. People will be paying you a lot more than a measly hundred bucks. Hey, don’t think that I’m cheating you…I’m not a rich guy.”
“Come on, Gus, I know that. This is so cool, man. If only my grandfather could see this.”
I realized that I could temper my art with light-hearted humor, the gentle good wit that my grandfather imparted in me—along with the acerbic wit characteristic of Barry McConnell. It was here that this artist punk learned that caricature has both a dark and light face to it. I also learned that the caricatures I drew, and the people who inspired them, were not confined to the community where I lived. They circled the globe. It was to the wider culture that my focus turned. I had so much to learn and so much to express.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**above photo is of my mother--Terry, my oldest brother--Robert, and Kevin (with his arm around me).
Brinlack, Gweedore, County Donegal, Ireland
Only yesterday was I yarning to an old mate about holidays this summer. He was whinging away on how his family holiday to Spain was cancelled & that they were now forced to spend their summer holiday here in Ireland (Staycation) for the first time in 20 years! As he was throwing his arms about complaining with a look of resentment on his face, I couldn’t help but to intervene with hopefully a positive opinion.
My loud spoken thoughts were that I also have travelled quite a bit across the globe over the years. However, we as a family decided 6 years ago that all our future family holidays will instead be spent here in Ireland. Our reasons were, that everywhere we previously visited abroad, either Spain, Turkey or Greece etc seemed to look the same. Each beach resort/town had the same imported sand, same fake Irish bars, same type of “nick nack” shops as all their neighbouring resorts & when we drove a few miles out of the town, there was only dust & volcanic rock for as far as the eye could see all around. I understand not all holiday resorts are the same but the ones we visited certainly were.
Since then each holiday we have taken over the years has now been a 100% Irish Staycation & we loved every one of them. Each county visited differs completely from the last! Varying from forests, lakes, mountains, coast drives, marshlands, green plains, islands, cities & so many ancient buildings, the list is endless. Every road we travel has beauty on it, especially along the coast of Gweedore in Donegal where this little cottage rests.
Certainly everyone has their own opinion which is naturally fair. Some love travelling abroad for holidays & some love to Staycation holiday here in Ireland. My point being….. its not as bad as you may think to spend some time around Ireland this summer, just as we happily done as children growing up here. Remember all those wonderful memories on our beaches & Castles? There is so much beauty to rediscover, all you need to do is look through your childhood eyes once more & enjoy 😊
Hope you enjoy! Please Favourite & Follow to view my newest upcoming works, Thank you
The red mist enveloped the village of Torval like a shroud. No one dared to step outside; the elders whispered that when the sky bled and the fog devoured the streets, something ancient would awaken.
Deep in the forest, a cracked gravestone split in two with a dull sound. From the earth, a tall figure emerged, wrapped in a tattered black cloak. On its face, a wooden mask, twisted into a cruel grin. Behind the mask, eyes glowed with an infernal red light.
It had returned.
Centuries ago, the demon Kuro’zan had been sealed away with a forbidden ritual, his body buried beneath the thousand-year-old oak. But the seal was fragile, and the red mist—laden with the resentment of the dead—had shattered it.
The doors of the houses began to tremble. Dogs howled. A whisper spread through the empty streets.
“Kuro’zan walks again.”
Then, silence. A warm breath behind the door. And a guttural whisper:
“I am hungry.”
Mask: Akumatatakai Mask New Lantern: Home Koboremi Lantern New
Kimono: !H! Honenoke Lace Kimono New
Hat: Roningasa Hat On Store
lukasismyword.blogspot.com/2025/03/the-return-of-masked-d...
This is a Cleansing Ceremony. It opens most of our activities and helps transport one into the calm focused world of spiritual gatherings. A smudge is made by lighting a match (preferred to a lighter) to a ball of dried plant medicines so that it smolders. The material is often held in a shell or ceramic bowl. It is most common to use: tobacco, sage, cedar and sweetgrass.
Tobacco is used as an offering before you harvest anything from Mother Earth. It is believed to open the door between our world and the Spiritual World and carries our prayers to the Creator in the sky.
Sage is believed to be a masculine plant and it reduces or eliminates negative energy.
Cedar offers protection and grounding. It can be placed at entrances to a home. For extra grounding it is placed in shoes for daily wear.
Sweetgrass is a feminine plant that teaches kindness because it bends without breaking. Because sweetgrass is considered to be the hair of Mother Earth, we show respect to her by braiding it before it is picked. In a smudge it is used to attract positive energy.
The smoke from these four dried medicines is pushed forward with an Eagle Feather. When we smudge, we first cleanse our hands with the smoke rising from the smudge bowl as if we were washing our hands. Then we draw its smoke over our hearts, our mouths, eyes, ears, small of back and our feet.
We cleanse our heart to clean it of resentment and ill will and to
open it to compassion.
We cleanse our mouth so that what we speak will be truthful and
honest and said in a caring manner.
We cleanse our eyes so that they will see the Truth in the world, the
beauty of Mother Earth and the gifts of the Creator.
We cleanse our ears so that we will clearly hear the messages of
others and understand the truth.
We cleanse the small of our backs so that we will release anger
gathered there, open ourselves to positive energy and heal.
We cleanse our feet so that we will walk the True Path, walker
closer to our friends and families and easily flee our enemies.
At least eight Tibetans were killed on April 4 in eastern Tibet after armed police fired on a crowd of several hundred monks and laypeople after an incident in which monks were detained after they objected to an intensified 'patriotic education' campaign, including photographs of the Dalai Lama being thrown to the ground, according to reliable sources. State media confirmed the incident took place, characterizing it as a "riot" but did not mention any deaths (Xinhua, April 4). According to various sources, the authorities have strengthened 'patriotic education' campaigns in various monasteries following the protests in recent weeks, leading to increasing resentment. A new phase in protests across the Tibetan plateau appears to have developed in the form of responses to political campaigns requiring denunciations of the Dalai Lama.
Source: International Campaign for Tibet
The sorting hat: "Another Moore, I see?" The sorting hat spoke, once the girl had followed after her sister to sit on the stool and the raggedy piece of clothing had been placed. "And a twin to the first, no less. Such a wish for friendship, for belonging. Perhaps a Hufflepuff, but no... There's a craving for freedom." It paused in contemplation, before continuing, "Oh, but I can feel the resentment you have, and the fight within you. The desire to be strong, to be seen. Slytherin, perhaps? No, that's not quite right..." The hat fell quiet once again, its tip becoming limp as though it were looking downwards in thought. Then, it came to life, with a loud, 'ah-hah!' "It's so easy then, isn't it? Different though you may be, I believe you will follow your sister and find your place in GRYFFINDOR!" With yet another lion in the den, the hall erupted in that same cheer.
Soundtrack // Bande-son: JOY DIVISION ("Love Will Tear Us Apart"): www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuuObGsB0No
"When routine bites hard... And ambitions are low... And resentment rides high... But emotions won't grow... And we're changing our ways... Taking different roads... Love, LOVE WILL TEAR US APART again... Love, love will tear us apart again..."
Blog: wp.me/p1Yh7Y-jM
First blog post in 2016, let the pelicane leads us all to learn to forgive ourselves, let go of resentment towards others, and keep our heads held high no matter how heavy our burdens are.
Woke up this morning with "pink" in my mind. So decided to make that the subject of today's image.
The meaning of "pink" is - The colour pink represents compassion, nurturing and love. It is a positive colour inspiring warm and comforting feelings, a sense that everything will be OK. Pink calms and reassures our emotional energies, alleviating feelings of anger, aggression, resentment, abandonment and neglect.
Hmm, after all you put me through
You'd think I'd despise you
But in the end, I wanna thank you
'Cause you made me that much stronger
Well I, I thought I knew you
Thinkin' that you were true
Guess I, I couldn't trust
Called your bluff, time is up, 'cause I've had enough
You were there by my side, always down for the ride
But your joy ride just came down in flames
'Cause your greed sold me out in shame, mm-hmm
After all of the stealing and cheating
You probably think that I hold resentment for you
But uh-uh, oh no, yeah, you're wrong
'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do
I wouldn't know just how capable
I am to pull through
So I wanna say thank you
'Cause it
Makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
It makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, oh
I never saw it coming
All of your backstabbing
Just so you could cash in on a good thing before I realized your game
I heard you're goin' 'round playin' the victim now
But don't even begin feeling I'm the one to blame
'Cause you dug your own grave
After all of the fights and the lies
Guess you're wanting to haunt me
But that won't work anymore
No more, uh-uh, it's over
'Cause if it wasn't for all of your torture
I wouldn't know how to be this way now and never back down
So I wanna say thank you
Littlefield Fountain (also known as the Littlefield Memorial Gateway) is a World War I memorial monument designed by Italian-born sculptor Pompeo Coppini on the main campus of the University of Texas at Austin, at the entrance to the university's South Mall. Completed in 1933, the monument is named after university regent and benefactor George W. Littlefield, whose donation paid for its design and construction.
In 1916 Major George W. Littlefield, a former regent of the University and major benefactor to its development, proposed the construction of a memorial arch over the university's southern entrance that would honor the Confederate dead from the Civil War. In 1919 Littlefield contacted Coppini requesting a design that would include images of notable figures from the history of Texas and the American South, and proposing to fund the project with a donation of $200,000 (equivalent to $3,000,000 in 2020).
Coppini developed a design featuring a 40-foot (12 m) blind arch framing statues of six Confederate figures behind a pool and fountains, but he warned Littlefield that the project would require a larger budget, even after Littlefield agreed to increase his donation to $250,000. On April 15, 1920, Coppini presented university officials with a new, cheaper design that eliminated the arch and expanded the fountain pool to hold a large allegorical sculpture. Coppini also persuaded Littlefield to dedicate the monument to the students and alumni who had died in the Great War (now known as World War I), arguing that a Confederate memorial would only prolong the lingering resentments from the Civil War.
Littlefield died in November 1920, and Coppini spent most of the next decade developing the sculptures that he intended for the memorial. The project was impeded by cost overruns and delays, including a labor strike by Coppini's bronze workers. The six human figures were completed in 1925 and temporarily displayed in the Texas State Capitol, and the central sculpture was completed in 1928. Construction of the fountain was begun in the fall of 1932, with its plan somewhat altered by campus architect Paul Philippe Cretics and the six statues relocated to the adjoining South Mall. The memorial was dedicated on April 29, 1933, and the water was turned on that March.
The Littlefield Fountain's function as a memorial to the Confederacy drew criticism even when it was first proposed in the early twentieth century. After the fountain's installation, the statues of Confederate notables along the university's South Mall that Coppini had designed for the fountain attracted controversy, as did a dedication inscribed on a wall along the west edge of the fountain complex, which honored the Confederate cause along with American participation in World War I. In 2004 university President Larry Faulkner wrote a letter recommending that the six Coppini statues be moved up to the edges of the fountain and supplemented by a plaque that would explain the symbolism intended by the artist and provide historical context for the figures, but no such steps were taken during his tenure.
Beginning in 2015 and accelerating in 2017, a national controversy grew over the prominent positions of monuments to the Confederacy in many public spaces across the United States, and particularly in the American South. In March 2015 UT's student government passed a resolution calling for the removal of Coppini's statue of Jefferson Davis from the South Mall. That August the university removed the statues of both Davis and Woodrow Wilson from the Mall and placed them in storage, despite a lawsuit from the Texas Division of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, which failed to persuade the Texas Supreme Court to block the plan. Davis' statue was later relocated to the university's Dolph Briscoe Center for American Historic, where it has been displayed since 2017.
In July 2016 the university removed the stone panels bearing the dedication inscription from the fountain complex and stored them, possibly for future display at the Briscoe Center. On August 20, 2017, in the aftermath of the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, the university removed the remaining four Coppini statues of Confederate notables from the South Mall.
Source: Littlefield Fountain on Wikipedia, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Littlefield_Fountain. Retrieved December 21, 2021.
In addition to the Littlefield Fountain, Littlefield and his wife Alice made a tremendous number of contributions to the university, including funds for the Main Building (UT Tower), and the Littlefield Dormitory. They also developed the Littlefield Building in downtown Austin, finished in 1912. The beautiful view of the fountain and tower make Littlefield Fountain one of the most popular picture locations on campus.
MI DEVO TOGLIERE QUALCHE SASSOLINO DALLE SCARPE.
I HAVE TO TAKE A FEW PEBBLES OFF MY SHOES.
Questo è un modo di dire molto usato in Italia e nasconde un senso di disagio e di insoddisfazione, motivo di inquietudine, cosa che dà fastidio
|| Togliersi un sassolino dalla scarpa, liberarsi di un peso; dire apertamente quanto è stato sempre taciuto per convenienza, per non suscitare risentimenti.
Per fortuna,finora, non ho motivo di risentimento e di rivalsa verso nessuno, è solo un aggancio per presentare la mia foto macro nel concorso "Macro Mondays"
--------------------------------------------------------
This is a widely used saying in Italy and hides a sense of unease and dissatisfaction, a cause for concern, which bothers
|| Remove a pebble from your shoe, get rid of a weight; to say openly what has always been kept silent for convenience, so as not to arouse resentment.
Fortunately, so far, I have no reason for resentment and revenge against anyone, it's just a hook to present my macro photo in the "Macro Mondays" competition
CANON EOS 6D Mark II con ob. CANON EF 100 mm f./2,8 L Macro IS USM
"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."
Mahatma Gandhi
"Holding on to anger, resentment and hurt only gives you tense muscles, a headache and a sore jaw from clenching your teeth. Forgiveness gives you back the laughter and the lightness in your life."
Joan Lunden
"Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness forces you to grow beyond what you were."
Cherie Carter-Scott
"Forgiveness is almost a selfish act because of its immense benefits to the one who forgives."
Lawana Blackwell
"Okay, you screwed up. Again. People are angry with you because you let them down. But you know what? They love you so they will forgive you, Dave. Your job is to not let them down again. And- why the hell are you angry at them? Apologize to them!!! Your anger only gets in your own way, it's a protection from the shame you feel. You should practice some forgiveness, too and actually try to love someone other than yourself."
John Bertrand
Ésta es la cuarta de una serie de 4 fotos: Souffrir/ S'ouvrir / Offrir / Sourire.
Y sonríe. Alza la cabeza bien alto y sonríe. Porqué llevas dentro de ti toda la fuerza de la naturaleza, que renace ciclo tras ciclo. Llevas la fuerza de la semilla que se alza hacía la luz, resistiendo a la fuerza de los elementos, a las tormentas, las lluvias, las sequías, y continua alzándose para dar sus frutos. Sonríe al dolor del otro, a pesar del daño que ese dolor te pueda haber hecho, acéptalo como si fuera el tuyo, dale amor y compasión, que lo necesita. Sonríe porqué eres libre: libre de escoger la vía por dónde caminas, entre continuar en un pozo de odio y rencor o alzarte hacía la luz y la belleza. Esta libertad es tu fuerza.
This is the last of a serie of 4 photos: Souffrir/S'ouvrir/Offrir/Sourire.
So smile. Just look up and smile. Because you bear within yourself the strenght of nature, that starts again one lifecycle after the other. You bear the strenght of the seed that grows up towards the light, resists to the elements strength, to windstorms, floods and droughts, and goes on raising up to give birth to its fruits. Smile to the other's pain, however painful it might has been to you, accept it as if it was yours, feed it with love and compassion, as it needs them. Smile because you are free: free to choose the path that you will follow, between remaining in the cave of hatred and resentment, or raising up towards light and beauty. This freedom is your strength.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJkJe2zMQng&feature=youtu.be
Para Litel Pipol, año IV, semana 45: litelpipol.blogspot.fr/2017/04/ano-iv-semana-45.html
Faction: Valithyian Titanica
Location: The Melisano Sea, Arendia
Race: Merfolk
Personality: Irresponsible rogue, tendency to mischief, chaotic neutral
Vohar is the eldest of four siblings and has recently returned to his home after a 120 year absence. He left their home after the death of their father, leaving his brother to raise their two younger sisters alone. Needless to say his relationship with his siblings is strained and difficult, especially with his brother. Nobody could fault his brothers’ resentment, nor his sisters’ confusion toward him.
The pain of their father’s loss drove him to flout the customs of their race and choose to live among the land dwellers, returning to the sea only to prolong his stay on the surface.
He took a human mate and acquired a lot of strange habits alien to his own kind. Even now that he is home, he still has a tendency to come to the surface to seek the hospitality and comforts to be found there.
He has shown little to no remorse for his lengthy absence and has wasted no time in creating chaos amongst his family. His siblings are close to his heart, but he is definitely the black fish of the family.
If push came to shove the Blackfish would not hesitate to defend his own kind, though they may only view him with suspicion and question where his loyalties lie. Vohar has his work cut out to prove himself to them, if indeed the irrepressible rogue even bothers to do so.
You said:
If you're sad, glad Christmas is JOY ...
If you have enemies, reconciled !!... Christmas is PEACE
If you have friends, look for them! .. Christmas is .. MEETING
If you are poor at your side, help !!... Christmas is .. DAR
If you have pride, Sepúltala !!... Christmas is .. HUMILITY
If you have dark, turn on your beacon! .. Christmas is .. LIGHT
If you have resentment, Forget them! Christmas is .. .. SORRY! ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
When you hold resentment toward another, you are bound to that person or condition by an emotional link that is stronger than steel. Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that link and get free.
irmãos Eliomar and Elsinho........When I met the three Andrade brothers about five years ago they all lived together in the house they grew up in. Then one of the brothers married an American woman I introduced him to and he left for the U.S. This caused a lot of resentment and jealousy and Eliomar and Elsinho stopped talking to him. Then last year Elsinho and Eliomar had a fight and they stopped talking to each other. When I got back on Sunday I asked them to "fazer as pazes" (make peace) and they did. I am happy to see them together again. (the tattoo on Elsinho's back says "Maria da Penha", the name of their mother who died in 2000).
Holi is considered as one of the most revered and celebrated festivals of India and it is celebrated in almost every part of the country. It is also sometimes called as the “festival of love” as on this day people get to unite together forgetting all resentments and all types of bad feeling towards each other. The great Indian festival lasts for a day and a night, which starts in the evening of Purnima or the Full Moon Day in the month of Falgun. It is celebrated with the name Holika Dahan or Choti Holi on first evening of the festival and the following day is called Holi. In different parts of the country it is known with different names.
The vibrancy of colors is something that brings in a lot of positivity in our lives and Holi being the festival of colours is actually a day worth rejoicing. Holi is a famous Hindu festival that is celebrated in every part of India with utmost joy and enthusiasm. The ritual starts by lighting up the bonfire one day before the day of Holi and this process symbolizes the triumph of good over the bad. On the day of Holi people play with colours with their friends and families and in evening they show love and respect to their close ones with Abeer.
No Sunflower Admires Torches, It's The Natural Attraction to Alpha Men.. 🌞🌻
Even small-brained animals like rabbits still ignore torches because the smoke is smelly and toxic.. 🐰🌞
ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ
Sunflower Tale 🌞🌻
Inspire by SL Timeline
Sunflowers naturally turn their faces towards the sun, just as strong, independent alpha women are typically drawn to confident, genuine alpha men.
These men have natural qualities that are authentic and real, making them very appealing to many women.
Alpha men are like the sun, possessing natural grace and real strength, which make them very appealing to many women due to their authentic and genuine qualities. This sets them apart from beta men who try to gain attention by using toxic behavior, similar to a weak torch that emits smoke and ash instead of producing bright and attractive light, like the sun. These kinds of weak and jealous traits make them resemble a toxic torch, emitting poisonous and toxic smoke in a desperate attempt to gain any attention from the sunflower, even if it's in an unconvincing and toxic way, like losers without any shame. They keep burning the poisonous and toxic smoke relentlessly.
ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ
" However, the sunflower will never truly appreciate or admire the efforts of such a toxic torch. The more they toxicate, the more it confirms that she made the right decision to abandon them and not involve herself with toxic men like them anymore.
Resentment and anger will only burn them and their pathetic souls, it cannot hurt me. The more they do what I don't like, the more worthless. "
______ Scarlett Saphira
ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ
🎵 Mood 🎵
www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxnpFKZowcs
♫♪ ... You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say
I'm talking loud, not saying much
I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet
You shoot me down, but I get up
I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away 🔥💥🔥💥
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away 🔥💥🔥💥
You shoot me down, but I won't fall
I am titanium
You shoot me down, but I won't fall
I am titanium ... ♫♪
ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ
My dearest Hansen, you are my sun
Radiating strength with grace in every one
Your light shines bright and true
Guiding me through life with all that you do... 💕
With you by my side, I need not fear
For you protect me and keep me near
Your warmth envelops me like a warm embrace
Shielding me from any toxic and poisonous space... 💕
I thank you, my Hansen, for being my sun
Through the good times and the hard ones
Stay strong and shine on with all your might
For with you by my side, everything's alright... 💕
So here's to you, my love, my heart, my guide
May our love forever continue to thrive
Thank you for being the sun that brightens my day
I love you more than words can ever say... 💕
Saphira ❤️ Hansen
ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ
Dress: Ecru Couture - Semiramis (Megapack) / Exclusive @ We Love Roleplay Event
We Love Roleplay Event ( April 4th - 28th )
Taxi: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/We%20Love%20RolePlay/128/1...
Taken @ Sunflower Dairy
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Sunflower%20Island/45/198/21
ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ.-:**★**:-.ღ
Flashman aged: 56
Years: 1878
*Notes
How did the Times get the scoop on the 1878 congress of Berlin? Flashy of course! Through the machinations of Henri Blowitz Journalist for the Times, Flashman has the chance to get one over an old foe Otto von Bismark, and make the intimate acquaintance of the lovely Caprice of the french secret service. A rare danger free period of Flashmans life.
The treaty signed at the congress of Berlin whilst at the time hailed as a great peacemaking achievement caused a great resentment in many of the participating countries, which festered until the first world war in 1914.
Seems that my film cameras had some burning resentments at being stuffed on shelves while the new pretty prima donna digital got all the play time, they must have been hatching this plan for months, I never saw it coming, the last thing I remember was the blinding flashcube from the polaroid under the table.
Psychologists have studied and concluded that pink is a calming color, and tends to get rid of resentment, agression and anger! It's regarded as a sign of hope. Violent and aggressive prisoners have successfully calmed down when being placed in a pink room for a limited amount of time. Oddly enough however, longtime exposure in a pink room can result in the opposite effect, but the fact that it triggers calmness initially is intriguing.
I follow Cryptid a bit, until he led me to a small campfire with two other soldiers sitting around it. he led me over to the one on the north side of the fire, and introduced me. "This is Mackenzie, but we call him 'Klip.' I shook his hand, and told him my name. I told him a bit about myself, being overwatch and all. Then, out of the blue, the other soldier piped up, rather resentfully, "What are you, some damned super-soldier? The perfect sniper, eh?"
A haunted look must have come to my eyes; I could see it reflected in the gaze of the kid, Klip. "No, I'm not perfect, or even close," I responded. Klip softly asked me to continue. So, I did.
"I wasn't that much of an excellent shot, up through a few years ago. I was still fresh meat then, near the beginnings of the war. I was responsible for covering my unit in a rather ugly section of a city. Twenty-three men had their lives depending on me to keep them covered, and to give them warning of any attacks. I stopped looking for a brief moment, and by the time I looked back, the screams had begun. The Urags had been laying in wait, for a hapless unit of Earthlings to slaughter. Twenty three men, who died because of my carelessness. I should have seen the signs, should have warned them. Ever since then, I have dedicated myself to being the best sniper I could be. Many of my exploits are exaggerated, but I can run and gun along with the rest of them."
The group had gone quiet for my tale. There were several moments of tense silence, until the offending soldier whispered, "I'm sorry. I had no idea."
I took it in silence. It hurt, hurt badly that these soldiers can look upon their own allies with resentment, could judge without knowledge. I needed to get out of where I was, needed a change of scenery. So, through some cosmic flip of a coin, a coin scarred and malformed through eons of abuse, I decided to go out on a limb and ask these men whom I did not know, did not know other than the wind in their step and the fire of their guns, to hold my future in their response. "I could join your team, if you'd have me. Sniping isn't all I'm good at."
Nothing happened... A hunter's bullet has sung
A bird has flown into the sky where a flock was waiting for it
Nothing happened... Wind has given me wings
I am not afraid of the height, any height...
I'll find a way to you, my friends
The night didn't see how I was crying from resentment
The dawn heard how I sang freely
About what was, what will be
No, I won't believe! I won't believe for anything
That the shadow of the black cloud will hide my way to the light
No, it can't be, I won't believe for anything
That the shadow of the black cloud will hide my way
Nothing happened... A hunter's bullet has sung
A bird has flown into the sky where a flock was waiting for it
Nothing happened... Wind has given me wings
I am not afraid of... I am not afraid of the height!
No, I won't believe! I won't believe for anything
That the shadow of the black cloud will hide my way to the light
No, it can't be, I won't believe for anything
That the shadow of the black cloud will hide my way to the light
No, I won't believe! I won't believe for anything
That the shadow of the black cloud will hide my way to the light
No, it can't be, I won't believe for anything
That the black shadow will hide my way... www.youtube.com/watch?v=6o4Kwcuvvnc&list=RD6o4Kwcuvvn...
French engraving:
Katharine of Aragon dismissing Cardinal Wolsey and papal legate Cardinal Campeggio from her chambers.
The challenge contained in the 9 energy is what you need to overcome in order to create the destiny of your choice. Failing to learn these lessons acts as a barrier to your happiness and success. In other words, this can be your downfall, if you allow it to be. What makes the challenge so difficult to overcome is that you will tend to deny that it exists. And the more you deny it, the more it will stand between you and your marvelous potential.
9 is the number of GIVING and, as your challenge number, it can make you extremely generous --or -- very selfish indeed. Sometimes you can give of yourself without any thought of what you may receive in return. But at other times, you give because you want something. Sometimes, those involved may not be in a position to return the favor. You tend to give people the impression that you can solve their problems. Then, they become dependent on you to do so. Inevitably, you become overwhelmed by problems that were never yours to begin with. That is when resentment sets in and you abruptly withdraw your support, leaving the other person hurt and confused. You do not intend to offend others but, unfortunately, you often do.
In order to meet this challenge and turn it into a talent, you must admit that you become afraid when your own needs are not being met. You must admit that you tend to rush in to “save” people, without considering the responsibility involved in being a philanthropist. And you must admit that you NEED to feel needed. You must understand that the welfare of others does not fall solely on your shoulders and you must give to others only in a way that is comfortable and manageable for you. You must give because you truly WANT to and not because guilt or fear are telling you to over-exert yourself on someone else’s behalf.
An understanding of this challenge will enable you to find a secure balance which allows you the freedom to be and do what you really want in life while also satisfying your giving nature. This is a difficult challenge because 9 and 0 contain a little of all the other challenges. This is the challenge of an “old soul” who has lived many many lifetimes. When you accept that you are such an evolved human being, you will “remember” that you cannot love someone else if you do not love yourself first. You will remember that you cannot fulfill the needs of others if your own needs are not being fulfilled. Reconnect with these memories, and then see how this tough challenge balances itself.
My artwork digitised.
A view of the Colosseo (the Roman Colosseum) from the west.
This huge ancient Roman arena is at the end of the Via dei Fori Imperiali, near the Roman Forum. The stadium is elliptical, and is about 188 metres long. It came to be referred to the Colosseo, or Colosseum, because of a huge great statue of the Emperor Nero that once stood nearby. The Arch of Constantine is on the right here.
The Emperor Vespasian began building the Colosseum in 72 AD to appease public resentment of the excesses of the imperial system. The stadium stands over the site of the Emperor Nero's enormous palace, returning this piece of central Rome to public use. It was completed and inaugurated by his son, Titus in 80 AD. This was the largest arena of ancient times and famous/infamous as the venue for mass viewing of gladiatorial combats as entertainment.
The Colosseum remained in use for over four centuries. Its use faded and ended with the decline of the Western Roman Empire and a change in public tastes.
The huge ruin later became a 'quarry'; stone, marble and iron was removed from it for construction of new buildings in Rome for many years.
Rome; July, 2019
(Panorama Stitched from 3 Images
captured with a Sony RX100M5)
One evening by the fire an elderly Cherokee grandfather began to tell his grandson about a great struggle in life.
“Son,” he says, “Within all of us there is a battle of two wolves raging. One is evil. He is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.”
“The other wolf is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.”
“The same fight is going on inside of you, and inside every other person, too,” explained the wise Cherokee elder.
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked, “Which wolf will win grandfather?”
The grandfather simply replied, “The one you feed.”
Created With Deep Dream AI Generator
Simon de Vos (Antwerp, October 20, 1603 - Antwerp, October 15, 1676) The Chastisement of Cupid (circa 1532) - oil on oak 56 x 84.1 cm. Gemäldegalerie, Berlin
Nella sala rinascimentale, riccamente decorata, un signore vestito nobilmente castiga il ragazzo Cupido, piegato per la vergogna, davanti agli occhi di Venere. Cerca di aiutare suo figlio, ma viene impedita da un guerriero con l'elmo che potrebbe essere Marte. Le dame spaventate gettano a terra i loro strumenti musicali. Un gruppo di amorini fugge impauriti verso l'uscita. Una donna anziana mostra maliziosamente allo spettatore un portafoglio vuoto e con questo gesto spiega il risentimento del cavaliere che punisce il dio dell'amore.
In the richly decorated Renaissance room, a nobly dressed gentleman chastises the boy Cupid, bent over in shame, before the eyes of Venus. She tries to help her son, but is prevented by a helmeted warrior who may be Mars. The frightened ladies throw their musical instruments to the ground. A group of cupids flee in fear towards the exit. An old woman mischievously shows the spectator an empty wallet and with this gesture explains the resentment of the knight who punishes the god of love.
ИЛИ:
Kaplan and Sadock's Comprehensive Textbook of Psychiatry
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckiIUMp3zFQ
Mary Wakefield:
" Twice last year I reported a bike stolen to the Met and though no thief was pursued, both times I was offered trauma counselling."
www.spectator.co.uk/2018/01/for-some-girls-therapy-does-m...
Many will find themselves acquiescing with enthusiasm or resentment.
Addiction - with Marc Lewis
the secret of life - with Aoife McLysaght
4:00
Richard Nisbett
Happiness
Historical
LIBYA Benghazi -- 14 May 2011 -- Since the Libyan revolution began in many of the liberated towns public artwork dipicting Colonal Gaddafi has began to appear like this image in Benghazi Libya. The images - which are a result of pent-up resentment against the hated Libyan dictator - are a ruthless satire of the bloody and violent regime which Col Gaddafi has used to repress the Libyan people for the past few decades -- Picture by Rory Mulholland | Lightroom Photos *Copy also available
After sunrise, the resentment tooth ("dent de la Rancune", right) and the cockscomb ("crête de coq"; left) in the "Monts Dorés".
As Christians, our lives should be marked by joy (Phil. 4:4), taste like joy (Gal 5:22), and be filled with the fullness of joy (John 15:11). Busyness attacks all of that. One study found that commuters experience greater levels of stress than fighter pilots and riot police. That’s what we are facing. When our lives are frantic and frenzied, we are prone to anxiety, resentment, impatience, and irritability. - Kevin DeYoung