Manual Remembering the Faces ~ Through Aileens Eyes (Living and Loving Book 1)

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Life is a duty, complete it. Life is a game, play it. Life is a promise, fulfill it. Life is sorrow, overcome it. Life is a song, sing it. Life is a struggle, accept it. Life is a tragedy, confront it. Life is an adventure, dare it. Life is luck, make it. Life is life, fight for it. Just create to create. Make stuff to inspire others to make something too. Create to learn a bit more about yourself.

You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities have crept in — forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate, or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, or evil, can become a source of beauty, joy and strength, if faced with an open mind.

Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such. I had rejection slips before I sold a story. Scott Fitzgerald. To fail to try is to suffer the loss of what might have been. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself. Keep believing, keep pretending. Some succeed because they are determined. Most fails. Some works.

remembering the faces through aileens eyes living and loving book 1 Manual

You do more of what works. If it works big, others quickly copy it. Then you do something else. The trick is the doing something else. Only empty heads and empty hearts can do that. Making your unknown known is the important thing. Perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize. Then, you practice, practice, practice. And then, when you finally get up there on the bandstand, forget all that and just wail. There will be something solid for us to stand on or we will be taught to fly. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste.

But there is this gap. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story.

It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. Pull out from the depths those thoughts that you do not understand, and spread them out in the sunlight and know the meaning of them. Be humble. Fame is man-given. Be grateful. Conceit is self-given. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty.

To not dare is to lose oneself. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me… Anything can happen, child. Anything can be. We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit. There will most likely be no ticker-tape parades for us, no monuments created in our honor. But that does not lessen our possible impact, for there are scores of people waiting for someone just like us to come along; people who will appreciate our compassion, our unique talents.

Someone who will live a happier life merely because we took the time to share what we had to give. Happiness never decreases by being shared. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us. Live simply, expect little, give much. Scatter sunshine, forget yourself, and think of others. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects. His position is humble and the beauty at the crown is not his own. Remain sitting at your table and listen.

You need not even listen, simply wait, just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet. Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art. It is only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy.

Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.

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Your own reality—for yourself not for others—what no other man can ever know. Work inspires inspiration. Keep working. If you succeed, keep working. If you fail, keep working. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work. Shoot it. Publish it. Yes, work never begun. Sometimes you have to go after it with a club. You accomplish nothing if you do that.

It will cost you your life. Read everything—trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Then write. The hard part is to force them down through the bloodstream and out through the fingers. The secret is to write, not talk. Cause even garbage eventually becomes compost with a little treatment.

I write to be the characters that I am not. One should wish to celebrate more than one wishes to be celebrated. What is rare is the willingness to endure the life of the writer. And if this lack of motivation is a constant problem, perhaps writing is not your forte. I mean, what is the problem?

If writing bores you, that is pretty fatal. It is work; art is work. Scratch what itches. Write what you need to write, feed the hunger for meaning in your life. Play at the serious questions of life and death. Do I find entertainment? Is it worthwhile? Above all, does it pay? If not, then, is there a reason? That will not be still. I replaced the nail with a spike and went on writing. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children. Read what you want to read, not what someone tells you you should read.

Just get people to stop reading them. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. There is no Idea Dump, no Story Central, no Island of the Buried Bestsellers; good story ideas seem to come quite literally from nowhere, sailing at you right out of the empty sky: two previously unrelated ideas come together and make something new under the sun.

Writer, teacher, and head custodian of the Skinny Artist community. His book "Getting Creative: Developing Creative Habits that Work" is all about finding the time and energy to live a more creative life. Did you read my blog? Because this is SO what I needed, and wrote about last week. Thank you! Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Notify me of follow-up comments by email. After spending some time telling her various reasons why, things I liked about her, things about her that made me happy, she felt better.

Once she realized I did, she was happy with it. This has really helped me understand my ex partner. I also feel extremely sad. I remember the first time he asked if I had fallen in love with him, as though he was checking how intimate we were getting. Whenever talks of love or intimacy came up, he would run right away and not return for as long as two weeks. He ended it with me 4 times, each time I hoped it would be the last.


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This helps explain. Please if you could, can you talk about the effect it has on the partner?

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Will I have his issues too now from also being emotionally and physically neglected? I fell in love and am still very much in love with the person you so outlined in your post. For the past 8 weeks, I have been obsessively trying to understand the sudden ending of our relationship, and now it feels as though the inner child voice you have shared so has answered my question. Sensitive, gentle, affectionate, intelligent, calm, and funny. He was vigilant about every aspect of our relationship, and I was amazed by the mindfulness, dedication, and care he gave to the building of us. We had been together for 7 months when I decided to throw him a surprise party for his birthday.

To the crux, the party was not appreciated. Instead it was interpreted as deception. Of the 9 guests who attended, he cut ties with all but two. He began to isolate himself further from others. I felt devastated that the gift I had orchestrated and intended to be a gesture of love turned out to be a traumatic event for him, causing him to distrust me and cut out relationships he had had for 22, 15, 10 and 8 years.

I think out of embarrassment, he denied that the party was a problem for him still. But two weeks before he ended us 8 months after the party the party issue was raised again by him. He proclaimed that he had been deceived by a room full of people and nobody understood how he was doing his best to keep the few relationships that he had chosen to retain. I accepted this as renewed commitment and believed we could resolve our issues.

However, days later, after a lovely weekend, he ended everything abruptly and I feel quite impulsively. In hindsight, I see things that occurred throughout the relationship that indicate much of what you spoke of. It feels to me as though he never could quite accept or truly believe that he was loved. It seems to me that the vigilance he had given to the relationship was his attempt to achieve something I suspect he desperately wants but is afraid to achieve.

Thank you again for sharing because your words are a rare window into the highly guarded inner thoughts of survivors of childhood neglect. A window if opened could help those who love them. Raised by an abusive father who had himself been whipped with barbed wire, beaten with log chains, etc, love came conditionally. He desired not to be like his own father, but failed to ever get help. Fast forward to my 21st year and my first serious girlfriend. She was drop dead gorgeous and was head over heels with me. We started off awesome but as our relationship grew over a rocky two years, i found myself constantly testing for her love.

I often found myself swinging emotionally from rage to sobbing in our relationship and had no idea why. It made me hate myself even more. A good looking guy, college football player, life of the party kind of guy, I never felt like i was in the right body, at least emotionally. I could walk into a room and turn heads but hated, loathed, despised the person inside. I was a closet self abuser and enjoyed the pain i could inflict on myself.

I broke up with the girl on a whim even though it destroyed me. It messed with me so much I lost a bid to the NFL because i lost so much weight. I only dated casually until … I was Now a teacher and coach, i avoided dating seriously, and chose prostitutes over a girlfriend — who knows why the hell i did it — most likely as a punishment. My self abuse and become more severe and I was cutting — the exhilaration from cutting rivaled that of sex which for me was almost nonexistent.

Now the rest of the story. During these years I discovered that one of my peers lived in the same apt complex. Terrified of a serious relationship, although she liked me, we just became good friends. Hung out, played, etc. Unfortunately, or fortunately, she was a beautiful blonde and i was a mess. With slept together several nights and initially all was okay… but then a cloud of fear hit me and i ran.

I avoided her, but since we taught in the same school would still see her. I was conflicted and miserable. Six months later the following year, we had rekindled our friendship and … woops, found myself in her bed, again. I would look at her beautiful blonde curls as she slept wishing I could love her. I ran again, avoiding her.

I opened to my dear blonde blue eyed friend and she told me in tears that she was pregnant. After a few months we agreed to get married. I found myself swinging again. I am 56 now. And i am still married to her, or maybe i should say, because of her we are still married.

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I had so many addictions when we married i could have been a side show. I was abusive like my father. I manipulated and loved conditionally like my father. Basically i was the man i hated. Started and stopped counseling a few times and finally about a dozen years ago she kicked me out of the house and i entered rehab. I spent 3 years in this program and still go periodically, especially when those feelings come back. Meds do help, but keeping those addictive behaviors at bay is a daily battle. My kids watched me change and respect me more than i ever thought they would.

But for me, realizing the key was in my thought life — and whether about my traumatic childhood or self hate , I have a choice about those thoughts. I am actor, well want to be actor and like you a good looking fella, like you manipulation is a well crafted tool I use to getting what I want from my partner, crying to get them to feel sorry for me and when they show any sort of affection towards me I question their motives, try to understand why they are doing it and this ultimately has led me down the rabbit hole of seeking oral pleasures from other men, to cheating on my long term girlfriend with other women to isolating myself for days on end away from people in general until I want to feel something that is and then I put myself out on display.

But I know every time experience pleasure from one of these experiences I am actually just self abusing. As time passed I found it harder and harder to talk about the issue surrounding the identity of my actual father for fear of hurting my step fathers feelings.

Little did I know that by not talking about who he was I was hurting myself and what my own identity. My issues although similar appear to be getting worse and not better. I have since split from my long term girlfriend and appear to have gone out an gotten myself a complete replica girl who I have sex with on a regular basis but still seek to punish myself by indulging in homosexual acts such as receiving oral from other men. I feel the problem lies in how I see myself, I must see myself as not being worthy of actual real love and when it is displayed in front of me i get angry and want to fight with whom ever is offering it.

I feel the fact that a my dad was never around b he never came looking for me c I never talked about him I have developed symptoms of abandonment and an identity crisis.

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I have thought of therapy but the cost is a financial burden at present. Did you find that by attending therapy that you began to see yourself as a better person and with it your life began to take a turn for the better? They usually most of the time do prefer men that have a lot of money or are very rich instead. So desperately hoping for the answer to my problems. My daughter got married to a charming young man who I got to know from the local youth service.

I got along with him extremely well as he was funny, charming, entertaining and a good listener. In any case they married and things are up and down as he pushes and pulls constantly. Their relationship has the classical hall marks of insecurity as he is very controlling and suspicious at times. In addition he pushes my affections away as soon as I do the mum thing and treat him like a son or show affection.

I have read countless posts and a friend of mine who is a counsellor has sent me lovely book on insecurity. But I find myself feeling hurt and broken as part of me just wishes he would just be warm, kind and loving back. Hi maybe you could give me some feedback. I am one of those people that reject love affection compliments ect.

I married a husband like my mom. But I have been on the path of true Discovery and healing and I realized the time has come to separate from him. I found a man that is everything I could ever want loving kind sensitive emotionally available and I am scared to death of him. I keep finding ways to push him away and doubts to keep me from getting too close to him. To me there has to be a motive of some kind. Just last night he begged me not to be negative anymore to trust him and to trust in his love and I really want to but I am so afraid that I am just not enough.

Thank you. Sorry, i accidentally posted before typing. I used to wonder what is wrong with me cause I could lash out at my friends when they would do nice things to me or say nice things to be. I always wondered why people reacted the way that they do when it comes to being loved. On more than one occasion, I have been severely hurt and emotionally damaged by females that I developed feelings for. Everything was fine until I told them how I felt about them. I only see you as a good friend.

Why just go to pieces and intentionally hurt the person simply because they FEEL a certain way about you? The most recent time I told a female how i felt about her, I was told to apologize! For loving her? How stupid. Well, it effectively ended our friendship.

Now, she hates me and wants me to die. She actually wishes I would drop dead. Otherwise, i may not be here posting this today! I am the one excepting the love of my partner. I keep thinking is there something wrong with me? Know that I am aware of this is there any recommendations for help.

I feel like I would be better off being by myself. Ich suche nur nach der richtigen Person, mit der ich den Rest meines Lebens verbringen kann. Hi, I cannot feel natural, genuine feelings for other people. I have an inability to connect with anyone genuinely, authentically and naturally.

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I have to think about everything. It has caused untold amount of pain and suffering in my life. All I have ever wanted was a girlfriend and I cannot succeed because I am unable to form bonds with people. HELP Thanks. Hi, thank you so much this was really hurtful. I fret at the idea of marriage. I actually get angry from the thought. Recently I accepted a proposal of a man who has loved me since , and has been patient with me until now.

He loves God, is crazy about me and wants to marry next year. I rember at one point having a double date with him, my friend and her boyfriend plus her mom. Now when he calls me his wife I get furious. I feel like he is forcing me to quickly catch up with him and his feelings for me. So, perhaps, by the time he died, a year before the fall of the Berlin Wall — and knowing what he must have known by then — he did feel disappointed. Inside, however, the lift is as temperamental as it ever was, so I make the journey to his flat by foot, instantly recognising the strange studded-leather front door as I emerge from the stairwell.

During our stay, more mourners piled in, their cries and moans ricocheting off the walls. In the living room, the same furs hang above the sofa, alongside a pair of Afghan guns — a gift from the KGB colleague whom I spoke to earlier. The kitchen where he would ritualistically make his daily breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast another English habit he never broke , and spent hours cooking every evening, is now rich with the smell of the savoury pancakes Rufa is preparing for our five-hour feast.

Here, surrounded by an extensive library, he would sit for hours. The only change I can note is a computer on his desk where an old type-writer once stood. The view from one of the windows is notably different, too. Standing on the balcony, you can see the same school playground, where children in heavy ski jackets are involved in a timeless game — launching themselves from the top of a flight of concrete stairs to the ground below, cushioned with thick blankets of snow.

But out of a smaller window, in front of the door, the view of Moscow is interrupted by a throbbing neon Samsung advert. One can hardly overlook the irony of a man who so resolutely betrayed his country, surrounding himself in his Soviet apartment with British condiments, newspapers and light-hearted English classics. As previously noted, this has been taken as a sign — along with his heavy drinking — that in the end, Kim was left a broken man, disillusioned and dejected, having arrived in Moscow expecting to be given important assignments and a high-ranking role in the KGB, only to be left with very little to do, and plied with booze to keep him compliant.

Philby was recruited, it reveals, because it was mistakenly believed that his father, St John, was a British intelligence officer. One of the first tasks he was given was to spy on his own father, which he did, without question — digging up very little, because, though the Russians failed to believe it, there was nothing to dig up. Over the years he did everything that was asked of him: he gave everything he had to the cause, and yet still Moscow was deeply suspicious of a man who has been described as their finest and most loyal servant.

But so it was. And perhaps he felt that — he certainly resented having to be escorted pretty much wherever he went for his first years in Moscow, as Rufa attests. But whether that came with any sense of self-pity is something else entirely. He had friends, a wife; he indulged himself in a culture he loved — the concerts, the ballet, the galleries; he travelled to Cuba, East Berlin, around the Soviet Union, and spent weekends at his beloved dacha.

He always knew what he was risking — his family, his friends, his reputation — and he made his choices accordingly.

He did all he could do for a cause he believed in: what was there to regret? As for the drinking, Kim never needed an excuse to crack open a bottle; he was a drinker in good times and in bad. The fight against Fascism and the fight against imperialism were fundamentally the same fight. Was he wrong to have continued on the Communist path once so many others had stepped off? To see through to the end what he started? Was he lamentable for still believing that a Communist state could ultimately exist, free from the corruption which plagues all systems, to the benefit of a fair, just society?

As I step in from the balcony, my eyes settle on a single point. Joins Cambridge University Socialist Society. Heads to Vienna to serve the movement there. Back in England, begins to cover up his past, joining the Anglo-German Fellowship, editing its pro-Hitler magazine. Takes charge of British intelligence in Spain and Portugal. Area of responsibility extended to include North African and Italian espionage. Maclean and Burgess escape to Russia. Philby is summoned for interrogation and asked to resign from Foreign Service. Foreign Secretary Harold Macmillan states in Parliament that there is no evidence of Philby having betrayed the interests of Britain.

Philby still dismissed from Foreign Service for his association with Burgess. Later arrives in Russia.