One of my friends had a tough week. There’s very little that’s worse than someone you care about having troubles, and there being nothing you can do to ease their pain, whether it be mental, physical or emotional. It’s hard to be grateful when you know someone is hurting.
But I am grateful for my friends, and that we can talk to one another. I’m grateful to know that there are ears willing to listen to me when I am down, and that others trust me enough to talk to me.
My mindfulness/journaling word for the week is Authenticity.
It’s used in the books I’m reading in the following sentences:
- Polly had given Laura a ride to the store, but rater than wait for SnaggleBuggle to extricate himself from an argument with Clare about brand authenticity, Laura had decided to walk home. Abbi Waxman
- That’s all right: boredom is an authentic emotion just like any other, and you’re allowed to feel it. Kate Peers
- In a world where language is too often used to manipulate, poems can help us find our authentic voice. Caroline Kennedy
- Memory is a fickle thing, but other than names and certain identifying details- which I have changed out of respect for others’ privacy- I have endeavored to document my family’s undocumented years as authentically and intimately as possible. Qian Julie Wang
- Make sure to carve out some time and space so you can tap into your deepest, most authentic desires. Shira Gill
How I’m going to think about authenticity this week:
- Do we have trouble being authentic?
- Do we want to be authentic, or is this a word we throw around because we are struggling to find out who we are?
- What does authentic really mean in our day to day lives?
- Has authenticity become a marketing term? When we think authentic do we think brand?
- Am I authentic?
- Are we afraid to be authentic?
- Quote 3- is poetry more authentic than prose?
- The word authentic was used the most times in a home organization book- in our homes do we try to show who we want to be instead of who we are?
The Smaller Orchid by Amy Clampitt Love is a climate small things find safe to grow in- not (though I once supposed so) the demanding cattleya du cote de chez Swann, glamour among the faubourgs, hothouse overpowerings, blisses and cruelties at teatime, but this next-to-unidentifiable wildling, hardly more than a sprout, I’ve found flourishing in the hollows of a granite seashore — a cheerful tousle, little, white, down-to-earth orchid declaring its authenticity, if you hug the ground close enough, in a powerful outdoorsy-domestic whiff of vanilla. Poem Attribution © Amy Clampitt, The Smaller Orchid