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goneseriesanalysis · 3 years

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Caine Soren

Hiya guys, so here are my thoughts and opinions on Caine from my re-read of the first book. I was planning on writing this quicker but my ADHD told me no. I’m prolly gonna write up a bunch now though because I’m ✨in the zone✨ Also, apologies but this is another long one because I am physically incapable of being concise

Spoilers for Gone down below

Original Opinion: Most of my criticism on him as a character came as a result of later development so I’m not quite sure whether that will change as of yet. But as far as his role as a villain, I really enjoyed his character and what he brought to the story.

New Opinion: I still maintain that Caine is a good main villain for this book. I found him to be waaaaay different and way less competent than I remember, but boy is he interesting. I have so many thoughts on Caine and it was a real struggle getting them all down.

1.) CAINE’S APPEARANCE:

Ok so we are first introduced to Caine in chapter 14 through Sam’s POV. We see him standing apart from the other Coates kids “wearing a bright yellow V-necked sweater instead of a blazer.” This is obviously done to set him apart from the other Coates kids, and (forgive me for going all English teacher on you) the colour yellow has connotations of corruption and deceit, which fit in pretty nicely with Caine as a character. Sam then goes on to give us a more detailed description:

“He was handsome, even Sam noticed that. He had dark hair and dark eyes, not much different from Sam himself. But this boy’s face seemed to glow with an inner light. He radiated confidence, but without arrogance or condescension. In fact, he managed to seem genuinely humble even while standing alone, looking out over everyone else.”

This is one of my least favourite descriptions in the whole book because it simultaneously manages to tell us almost nothing about Caine’s appearance whilst making me cringe so hard that my muscles start to atrophy. Seen as we get very little description of Sam, telling us that Caine looks like Sam is pretty much useless – although it nicely sets up the brother twist – and dark hair and dark eyes could mean anything. Are his eyes blue, brown, black?? Is his hair black or brown?? Who knows?? Not me. And don’t even get me started on his face glowing with an inner light. Because no. I hate this line so much it actually hurts. I thought at first it may be in reference to his connection with the gaiaphage. But that makes no sense. It reminds me of the scene in The Great Gatsby where Nick describes Gatsby’s smile for about half a page and he just sounds ridiculous. I will admit the last two sentences give a good example of Caine’s ability to charm and manipulate those around him but the rest is just aaa

We also learn that he is handsome, which is then followed by what I consider to be a writer’s greatest sin. “He was handsome, even Sam noticed that” – Every. Single. Time a male character describes another male character who just so happens to be attractive in any given book from any author, we get this line. It is the writer’s equivalent of saying no homo and I’m going to make it my personal mission to call them all out on it.

Ok moving on – sorry about that. Rant over.

Sam then says that “His voice was clear and just a little higher, maybe, than Sam’s, but strong and determined. He had a way of looking at the crowed before him that made it seem he was meeting every person’s eye, seeing every person as an individual.” This is good at further establishing Caine as a leader, and shows his relationship with crowds, it gives the reader some indication of his ability to control. He is able to easily win over those of Perdido Beach with his charm.

Caine gets referred to as being attractive by a few other characters throughout the book, but the last main description we get of him is from Drake’s POV in chapter 20:

“Caine sat in his over-large leather chair, the one that had previously belonged to the mayor of Perdido Beach. It made him look small. It made him look very young. And to make matters worse, he was chewing on his thumbnail, which made it almost look like he was sucking his thumb.”

This description is kind of reminiscent of the scene with Sam and the shirt that I talked about in my Sam Temple post. He has taken over the mayor’s chair but he is not fit to take on the position of mayor. Whereas Sam’s weakness in leadership stems from his insecurities and doubts, it is Caine’s narcissism and over-confidence that make him unfit to lead. Michael gives Caine the compulsion of biting his thumbnail when he is nervous. This is a habit that people often pick up to deal with challenging emotions is a less destructive way (as opposed to having a meltdown or getting angry) and works nicely for Caine’s character. It shows that while he does have his moments where he loses control, he is capable of controlling himself to a certain degree, making it seem more likely that someone like Diana might align herself with him. This also helps to further the idea that despite his narcissism and delusions of grandeur, he is still just a kid. And of course sets up the idea that Drake is somewhat resentful towards Caine.

2.) CAINE’S PERSONALITY:

Caine’s personality is a difficult one to analyse as there are two main aspects to it – the personality he projects in order to manipulate people and his actual personality – and sometimes the line between these blurs to the point where it becomes unclear which one we are seeing. One thing that I did notice is that in this book we don’t actually get a Caine POV until the Thanksgiving battle, so we mostly see him through the eyes of Sam, Jack, Drake and Diana, who all have very different relationships with him.

As I mentioned before, we first see Caine through Sam’s POV, where we are introduced to what I’m gonna call his fake personality. Michael uses phrases such as “Caine appeared interested” alongside Astrid’s commentary, which lets the reader know that Caine is not what he appears to be, but of course the general population of Perdido Beach are not aware of this. One criticism I had towards the way that Caine’s character is portrayed is that it is initially hinted that the reason he is able to gain such control over people is because of his proficiency in manipulation and his superficial kindness (such as when he comforts the kid who asks for his mum). And yet he manages to fool almost no-one?? Astrid, Sam, Edilio, Albert, Mary and Howard all immediately see through his façade, which makes it hard to believe that this is how he gained such influence over people. (And of course all the kids at Coates who were cemented saw through it too). In fact I found myself to be kind of confused as to why anyone follows him at all?? Is it just a fear of his power?? That’s… a little disappointing. He doesn’t become mayor because he charms the population. He becomes mayor because no-one else wants to do it, and no-one can be bothered to oppose him. And even when people start to become more afraid, they aren’t afraid of Caine. It’s Drake. Although, you of course have to take into account the fact that these are just children who want someone they can look towards for help and guidance. Perhaps Caine’s persuasive abilities are less about using his charm to completely win people over and more about him being able to take advantage of situations that are presented to him. He has just enough superficial charm and makes just enough beneficial changes (such as laying down rules and protecting the food) that people are willing to overlook some of the more sinister things that he does.

That being said, I think my main issue with so many characters being able to see through Caine so quickly, is what it says about or “hero.” Sam doing nothing to stop Caine, despite him clearly knowing that Caine is bad news makes him seem a little selfish?? His insecurities stop him from doing what is right, and while it is good to have a flawed hero, his willingness to allow Caine to terrorise Perdido Beach up until he threatens Sam personally seems less like a small character flaw and more like a pretty big lapse in morality and compassion. Would Sam have ever taken control if Caine hadn’t kidnapped him?? If Sam had been fooled by Caine’s manipulation that would imo have made both of their characters better fit their respective roles of protagonist and antagonist.

That being said one of my absolute favourite lines regarding Caine is “Then let’s go in together,’ Caine said. He turned and marched purposefully up the church steps. The rest of the chosen fell in behind him.” in chapter 14. I think this perfectly captures the contrast between what Caine says and what he does, and I really love it. One of Michael’s strengths is adding little throw away lines that can perfectly sum up a character and their intentions. And this idea of Caine saying something but meaning something else is pretty central to his character – the biggest pay-off we get from this in book 1 is him promising to protect the little’s and then (horrifyingly) feeding them to the coyotes in the final battle. This was a scene that I did not previously remember and man did I feel some emotions when reading it. There wasn’t even a second thought, absolutely no indication of remorse. I know a few times it’s mentioned throughout the books that the difference between Caine and Drake is that Caine only does what is necessary – but the scene with the coyotes really contradicts that idea.

Caine’s ‘real personality’ imo is shown in little moments throughout the books. By Caine’s real personality, I’m referring to the part of him that we don’t really see at all in this book, the part of him that is only really hinted at by Diana, and occasionally Drake. Even when Caine is around Diana and Drake, he still tries to keep up a persona – this time that of a cold and detached boy with little to no emotions. But this isn’t really who he is. I think the ‘real’ Caine is an extremely emotional person (although I would like to clarify that by emotional I mainly mean angry and sometimes scared) and there are a couple of moments where this does shine through. There are a few times where Caine loses his temper with both Drake and Diana, using his powers to injure them and to reiterate the power he has over them. I think this shows how insecure Caine truly is, despite what he would have others believe. He only ever breaks character when his authority is mocked or threatened, even if the threat holds no real intention (such as Diana’s jibe after he kisses her). I do find it interesting that, at the core, Sam and Caine are quite similar. It is how these insecurities manifest and project themselves that really define them as different. Caine’s insecurities also shine through in these quotes from Diana:

“Yes. Sam is a four bar. And Caine would freak.” – Chapter 29

“Caine, despite his over-sized ego, his looks, his charm, was terribly awkward with girls.” – Chapter 39

Caine needs to be in control. He needs to be the most powerful person in the room at all times, and the only two people who can really be considered a threat to him in this way are Diana and Sam. Sam is his main threat and Diana, of course, holds a certain amount of power over him due to his feelings towards her. However, any time that Diana seems to be gaining or trying to gain more power (most notably when she makes fun of him for kissing her and when she tries to make him call off the coyotes) he reacts with violence. But I’ll go into that more when I make a post about their relationship.

Another thing that I noticed about Caine that I hadn’t previously remembered is that, he’s a bit of a coward. We first see this in chapter 34 when Little Pete frees the Coates kids “Caine was quick. He backed away, turned, and ran for the building.” The one thing that really got me about this is that he didn’t wait for Diana. He just turned and saved himself. Which kind of brings into question why Diana stays with him. Does he offer protection?? He certainly didn’t here. He literally abandoned her and ran for the hills. The other time we really see this side of him when he uses Astrid as a human shield in chapter 45. Diana even comments on this, telling him to “be a man for once.” I don’t have much else to say about this, but I think it’s an interesting aspect of his personality that certainly makes it easier to dislike him.

Now the last thing I want to talk about in regards to his personality is chapter 36 (the chapter where Drake gets his arm cut off). Caine gets in three good moments during this scene, the first one being:

“It’s not Diana or Chunk or even me,’ Caine said. ‘It’s none of us, Drake. It’s Sam. It’s Sam who did this to you, Drake. You want him to get away with it? Or do you want to live long enough to make him suffer?”

This is one of my favourite Caine moments in the book, and it’s really one of the only times that we see his manipulation actually work on someone. He knows exactly what to say to Drake in order to shift the blame in the direction he wants. Forget that I left you behind to deal with Sam and the escaped kids yourself. Forget that Diana is sawing your arm off. Just focus on Sam. And I think this line had such an effect on Drake’s psyche (which I will explore more in my Drake post) and really excellently shows off Caine’s ability to take advantage of a pre-existing situation in order to benefit himself.

The next two moments are where I really think the lines between Caine’s persona and the ‘real’ Caine blur to the point where it’s unclear which side of him we are seeing – and I think there is an argument for both although imo I feel like it’s his persona that we are seeing.

“It’s the only way to stop the pain,’ Caine said, almost showing some emotion, some pity. ‘The arm is done for Drake-man.”

“Don’t cut off my arm,’ Drake cried. ‘Let me die. Just let me die. Shoot me. ‘Sorry,’ Caine said. ‘But I still need you, Drake. Even one-handed.”

So, we first get the idea that Caine, at least somewhat, feels sorry for Drake. Drake’s injury is horrific and it’s clear that other characters, such as Jack and Diana, who are usually nothing but hostile to Drake (and rightfully so) feel some sympathy towards the situation. Now it’s also important to note that this scene is from Drake’s POV so we don’t actually know if the sympathy Caine is showing is real, is part of his attempt to manipulate Drake, or isn’t there at all and is just something that Drake wants. (I think the last option is entirely plausible as Drake often seeks praise from Caine, so in a situation like this it makes sense that he would seek some empathy). However, Caine then goes on to refuse Drake’s plea for death… because he needs him. Not because he’s a friend – or even just an ally. Not because he doesn’t want him to die. But because he needs him. That’s cold. And it’s really cold to tell him that – which leads me to believe that the almost sympathy Drake sees earlier on was never there, or at the very least was just a manipulation tactic. Caine cares so little for the people around him and I find it quite funny that it was his treatment of Drake (the person probably most deserving of it) in this scene that really showed me how much of a villain Caine can be.

3.) CAINE’S MOTIVATIONS:

Why does Caine do the things he does?? Why does he need to be in control?? And while we don’t really get much insight into Caine’s head in this book, there are a few good moments which allowed a reader to speculate as to what his motivations are. The first moment that really stood out to me was in chapter 39, where Caine tries to open up to Diana about his parents:

“I always had the feeling, you know? That my family wasn’t my real family. They never said I was adopted, but my mother – well, the woman I thought was my mother, I don’t know what to call her now. Anyway, her, she never talked about having me. You know, you hear moms talking about going into labour and all. She never talked about that.”

From this, we can see that Caine always felt like an outsider within his own family, he always felt like he didn’t belong. And this seems to be a pretty big motivator when it comes to Caine’s need to take over, to have power over everyone else. If he has control, then he will always have a place. He will always belong because the world will be his. Caine never fit in in the real world, his narcissism (and probably psychopathy) distanced him from other people right from the get go. But in this new world, in the FAYZ, Caine has a chance to be important, to be a ruler and he’s willing to do pretty much anything to get that. I think this idea, of his need for power and control stemming from the lack of acceptance and belonging he felt with his family, is emphasised in chapter 46, during the poof:

“Caine seemed spellbound, unable to tear his gaze away from the gentle, smiling face, the piercing blue eyes. ‘Why?’ Caine asked in a small child’s voice. […] ‘Why him and not me?’ Caine asked.”

This is the only time I felt the slightest bit of sympathy for Caine during my re-read of this book. He is 14. A kid. He spent his whole life feeling like and outsider and now he knows that a woman he knew, a woman that he saw almost every night is his actual mother. That she also knew this and yet never tried to talk to him, to explain, to do anything. And now he’s looking at ‘her’ and all he wants to know is why. Why did she give him up?? He lacks empathy and many other emotions that allow healthy relationships with others, yet he still wants people to have that connection with him. He needs him and rely on him. So his solution is to gain enough power, enough authority and control so that people have to listen to him and have to rely on him. He doesn’t care how many people he hurts or pisses off, because in the end, if he gets what he wants, that won’t matter. He’ll be too powerful for it to matter because they’ll still need him anyway. And that’s why “All that matters is winning. So save it.” – Chapter 45

4.) CAINE’S INTENTIONS/ HIS ROLE AS A VILLAIN:

Caine’s intentions are pretty obvious from the very first time we meet him in chapter 14. And, of course, it is these intentions that really define his role as a villain. Now, in chapter 14, it never outright says that Caine’s intentions are to take complete control over Perdido Beach. In fact, Caine tries to make it seem like he wants to make a collaborative effort to help them all move forward. But once again, his actions contradict his words, most notably in these lines:

“Orc grunted, shifted the bat from right hand to left, and stuck out his thick paw. Caine grabbed it with both his hands and solemnly looked Orc in the eye as they shook hands.”

“But Caine grabbed his elbow and manoeuvred him into a handshake.” [Referring to Sam]

“Caine had moved confidently towards the altar.”

These lines subtly show that, whilst Caine talks about working together, he is really the one in charge. He is the one dictating what is happening and when it is happening, forcing Sam and Orc to shake his hand. Giving them jobs so that he can keep an eye on them (Orc) or keep them out of the way (Sam). And of course, he won’t stand with them in the church. They don’t sit around a table and talk as equals. Caine has to be up at the front. He also gets extremely angry when other people make demands, or give an idea that he can’t take credit for. The most obvious example of this being in response to Howard telling him that they wouldn’t be working for Drake. “Sam saw a coldly furious expression appear on Caine’s handsome face, then disappear as swiftly as it had come.” This is then followed up by Caine ripping a 12ft cross off of a wall and launching it at them, so it’s safe to say that he doesn’t appreciate his authority being challenged.

Later in the book we then get more obvious examples of his intentions, as his role as the villain is fully unveiled:

“Caine, to the surprise of no-one who knew him, had taken over the mayor’s office.” – Chapter 15

“Number one says Caine is the mayor of Perdido Beach and the whole area known as the FAYZ.” – Chapter 16

After Caine basically walks into Perdido Beach, tells everyone what to do, and gets away with it, he begins to be more outright with his intentions. He immediately takes over the mayor’s office, and makes his new title of mayor the very first rule to be enforced. He isn’t really all that secretive about his intentions, at least not after the initial meeting. I think this is a measure of his confidence – he doesn’t feel at all threatened by the people of Perdido Beach. I think one of the reasons that Caine is such a good villain, is that when he is in control, he isn’t that bad?? I mean sure, having Drake as sheriff is less than ideal, but Caine himself is not a bad leader. He comes up with rules that both make sense and do actively increase the quality of life of those in Perdido Beach (minus the no magic tricks rule). It’s only what Caine is willing to do in order to get that power that actually makes him the villain. Once he has it, he’s not really a threat?? And then of course, we get Caine’s fantastic little speech in chapter 42 that really just sums up all these ideas in much less words:

“What was I supposed to do? Coates? That’s it? How do you not see what an opportunity this is? We’re in a whole new world. I’m the most powerful person in that whole new world. No adults. No parents or teachers or cops. It’s perfect. Perfect for me. All I have to do is take care of Sam and a few others, and I’ll have complete control.”

Because if it wasn’t for his ego, if he hadn’t attacked Sam, if he hadn’t used Drake to cause fear and enmity, he would have had it. He would have gotten his complete control, because no-one else really wanted to be in charge. The fool is his own worst enemy.

5.) CAINE’S POWERS:

So, the last thing I wanted to discuss about Caine, is his powers. To me, it seemed whilst reading that his powers are almost an extension of his personality. Caine is naturally a very domineering person, and so it makes sense that his power is the ability to control things with his mind. The first time we see Caine’s powers (also the first time we see anyone purposefully use their powers) is in the church:

“Caine sighed, raised his hands, and used both palms to smooth back his hair. There came a rumble, up through the floor and pews. A small earthquake… […] �� But then came a rending sound, steel and wood twisting, and the crucifix separated from the wall. It ripped free of the bolts holding it in place, like an invisible giant had yanked it away. […] The crucifix toppled forwards. It fell like a chain sawed tree. As it fell, Caine dropped his hands to his sides. His face was grim, hard, and angry. The crucifix, at least a dozen feet tall, slammed with shocking force down onto the front-row pew. The impact was as loud and sudden as a car wreck.” – Chapter 14

I like how, similarly to the way he talks, the first time we see a display of his power, he is hiding it – his body language is suggesting one action whilst he is actually doing something else entirely. This again makes me feel like the powers are an extension of personalities (and I will give other examples of this is later posts). I also noticed that the use of his powers is almost always as a response to his anger, something that Sam also learns to do thanks to Astrid’s guidance. These two scenes are great examples of this:

“Caine’s smile was cold. He raised his hand, palm out. An invisible fist hit Sam in the face. He staggered back. He barely stopped himself from falling, but his head was reeling. Blood leaked from his nose.” – Chapter 21

“Caine reached back over his shoulder with one hand, not even looking back. He spread his fingers, bared his palms. The fallen portion of the wall came apart, brick by brick. One by one, as though each brick had sprouted wings, they lifted off and flew. The bricks hurtled past Caine’s head and through the open door as fast as machine-gun bullets.” – Chapter 31

Unlike Sam, who often uses his powers as a defence strategy, Caine always uses them as a method of attack. He attacks Orc’s gang, Drake, Sam and Andrew – not as a last resort, but as a warning. He likes to make a big display of his power in order to deter people from actually engaging in a fight. Although when it does come down to an actual fight, he tends to be a little less confrontational and a little bit more of a coward. I mean come one. Hiding behind Astrid was low. At least this is the case in book 1.

Next, is the development of his powers. Unlike Sam, we know that Caine did not discover his powers alone:

“Several of us developed strange powers, starting a few months ago,’ Caine said conversationally. ‘We were like a secret club. Frederico, Andrew, Dekka, Brianna, some others. We worked together to develop them. Encouraged each other. See, that’s the difference between Coates people and you townies. In boarding school it’s hard to keep secrets. But soon it became clear that my powers were of a whole different order. What I just did to you? No one else could do that.”

The Coates kids formed a sort of support group for each other, which is why they have such a good understanding of their powers, as opposed to Lana and the Perdido Beach kids, who either hid their powers or else didn’t discover them until the FAYZ began. One thing that I do find interesting about this, is that the Coates kids all seemed to develop their powers pretty late. Caine says that the powers started a few months ago, and yet Sam first used his 14 months before the FAYZ began. I think that goes to show how the Coates environment really gave Caine the ability to experiment with and foster his powers, which is why he has such control. He achieved in a few months what is took Sam over a year to do. (One thing that I think would have been nice to have is perhaps in a later book some flashbacks on the Coates kids working together to do this. But oh well)

Thank you so much again for reading, and please feel free to add your thoughts. Next up is Diana and I have a lot to say about her. :)

#the gone series #caine soren #Gone

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katefiction · 4 years

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The Exhibition

by katefiction (Maria) / 2012

(Maria wanted me to say that this is the story she was most proud of writing.)

‘Your Royal Highness, it is an honour to have you here today’, he says fawningly.

I eye him across the table, his old skin is weathered and speckled, his completely grey hair forming a ring around the bald spot on his head, but his crystal blue eyes sparkle at me excitedly beneath the glasses that are falling down the bridge of his nose.

‘It’s a pleasure to be here, Mr. Delmonte’, I lie.

I find myself surveying his appearance more. A navy blue suit jacket made from the finest wool with a matching waistcoat, and a shirt, topped of with a silk tie with a gold tie pin. He looks as though he’s made an effort and I feel a momentary twinge of guilt at my lack of enthusiasm.

I don’t want to be here. In this stuffy office filled with piles of paperwork, tumbling over itself as if it will collapse any second and bury me alive. But then, there’s not much of an alternative.

‘It was wonderful when we heard back from your office, Ma’am’, he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘I can’t tell you how thrilled we are to have you involved.’

I want to tell him how un-thrilled I am to be involved in this. How it was only becuase ‘my office’ pushed me into it that I’m here all all. ‘It will be a wonderful opportunity for you to use your skills’, my private secretary had told me, ‘you need to be seen by the public to be doing something’.

I try my hardest not to look bored as Delmonte continues, ‘here at the Victoria & Albert Museum, we welcome anyone with a passion for history. Your degree certainly suggests you have that.’

‘Indeed’, I say smiling falsely, flicking my glossy brown mane behind my shoulder.

He looks transfixed for a moment, staring at the deep dimples in my cheeks as I give him my best ‘interested’ grin. He blinks and snaps himself out of it.

‘Well let’s get to business shall we? As you know, next year will be the 150th anniversary of the Royal Wedding of King William V and Queen Catherine. It is our intention here at the V&A to hold an exhibition to celebrate that momentous occasion, charting their early relationship to the wedding itself … ‘

He tries to go on, but I interrupt him, growing impatient. I had read all he was telling me in the letter he’d sent me three months ago.

‘I understand that Mr. Delmonte, but how exactly am I to be of assistance with your exhibition?’ I emphasise the last word. I don’t intend to be rude, but this whole thing seems faintly ridiculous.

‘Oh, yes, well …’, he is unnerved, and riffles through his papers as if he’ll find the answer in there. An interruption to his monologue was obviously not expected.

‘Your position, Ma’am, would be as the Exhibition’s Special Consultant. You would provide the curators with an insight into the late King and Queen’s relationship … ‘ He trails off, noticing my unconvinced expression.

I lean forward in my chair and look him dead in the eyes, ‘Sir, you understand that I have never met the late King and Queen, don’t you? They passed away over eighty years ago … do I look over 80 years old to you?’

Delmonte blushes fiercely, a crimson wave moving from his neck up to his face. He tries to laugh, but decides it’s too risky. ‘Of course not Ma’am’, he says with a deadpan expression of such strength, I have to admire it.

I giggle to break the tension, and he follows with a small squeak from his throat.

‘Let me begin again’, he says. ‘As a member of the royal family, you have unparalleled access to the royal archives. We believe that there may be items of interest in there; pictures, letters, and the like, that belonged to William and Catherine.’

‘Forgive my ignorance, but could your researchers not apply for access to these archives themselves?’ I say, bored now I’m not winding him up anymore.

‘Well, yes, but Ma’am, your involvement would give this exhibition a certain …’, he looks around the room, searching for the word, ‘ … gravitas!

I try my hardest not to roll my eyes.

He leans into the table, as if he doesn’t want to be heard by the non-exsistant people in the room. ‘I’m sure it would be beneficial for your … public persona’. He winks at me and I want to slap him. He’s obviously been reading the tabloids. I duly remind myself, Princesses don’t slap.

‘I will do my best to find the kind of material you require’, I say through gritted teeth.

He beams at me and taps is fingers lightly on the desk. ‘There was one more thing … ‘

‘Yes?’

‘A great exhibition is one that reveals something about the subject that was previously unknown. We would hope for something … intimate.’

I arch my eyebrow and curl my lip in disgust, ‘intimate?’

‘Your Royal Highness, William and Catherine were a popular King and Queen, the public’s desire for information about them is still very strong’, he rings his hands together.

‘Are you asking me to give you private information about my family?’ I ask him.

‘Of course not’, he insists, although I’m not convinced that he’d be adverse to digging through my ancestor’s underwear draws. ‘Just a little something to bring this exhibition to life! If you were able to find something for us to draw the public in, a unique selling point, it would be a success for everyone involved.’ He winks and me again and I instinctively sit on my hands.

I act as if I am considering it, furrowing my brow. ’I'll do my best’, I say finally, after I feel he’s sufficiently on edge.

‘Wonderful!’, he exclaims as I start to stand up. ‘Please get in touch if you have any queries’. He extends his hand to me and I take it reluctantly. Just as I expected. Sweaty.

‘Thank you, my office will be in touch’, I say, resisting the urge to wipe my hand on my dress.

I slip into my waiting car and immediately kick off my heels, flexing my toes to get the blood back into them. As I watch the colour slowly return, I can’t help churning over what Delmonte had said ; ‘I’m sure it would be beneficial for your … public persona’. He’s right of course.

Since graduating from university thirteen months ago with a degree in History, I had taken on a couple of charities, made a few visits, but not decided on any career plan. My father and my office had tried to help, suggesting everything from the military to finance, all of which I’d rejected. Naturally, the press had pounced on me.

The thing is, finding your passion and committing to it is a little difficult when you’re waiting for the inevitability of life as the future Queen.

I’m pulled out of my reverie by my driver opening the car door, signalling that we’re home at my apartment in Clarence House.

I head barefooted to kitchen, my stomach growling wildly. There standing at the fridge, rustling like a bear, is a tall figure, with greying hair and and portly belly.

‘Fridge pickers wear bigger knickers!’, I say.

He jumps and turns to me, holding a box of chocolate eclairs, ‘hello Cora’, he says, his hazel eyes that are so like mine are twinkling under the kitchen spotlights.

‘Evening daddy’, I walk over and give him a hug and a peck on the cheek.

‘Eclair?’

‘Yes please’. I prop myself up on the tall kitchen stool as he slides the box over to me.

‘How was your meeting?’ he asks, patiently waiting for the cakes to be returned.

I look up, the eclair half way to my mouth, ‘how did you know about that?’

‘I have to keep tabs on my favourite girl’, he says teasing me.

I purse my lips, ‘I’m your only girl, daddy, and if you must know it was boring as fu -, um … hell’. I push the cakes back to him, smiling innocently after my near slip.

He chooses to ignore it. ‘I thought it would be a perfect fit, you like history.

I fill my mouth with more of the cream and pastry to avoid having to reply.

‘Cora you have to start taking responsibility, you’ve been out of university for over a year now.’ He gives me his concerned father look. ‘You are going to be this country’s first queen in over 135 years, you have an example to set. Do you know Queen Elizabeth the second was … ‘

‘Yes daddy, she was twenty five years old when she acceded the throne, three years older than I am now, and one hundred percent more amazing!’

He softens. He hates seeing me upset, or annoyed, or anything other than happy. ‘Princess, just try to make more of an effort, the press will ease if you do, and they might not be inclined to pictures of you coming out of nightclubs every weekend.’

I nod in agreement, that last thing I want to do is let dad down. ‘I’ll try, I really will, but does it have to be with this exhibition?’

‘I thought this one would be right up your street’, he says, clearly disappointed that yet another opportunity would go to waste.

‘William and Catherine? Really, dad?’

‘You’ve lost me Cora, what exactly is the problem?’

‘They’re just so … so boring. Out of everyone they could have chosen, Elizabeth and Philip, the Duke of York and Sarah Ferguson, they choose those two?!’

Dad laughs as he always does when I’m being stubborn, ‘they were loved by this country.’

‘That’s what Delmonte said’, I say screwing my face up at the memory, ‘he wants me to find something intimate about them. I mean, what is there to find? Boy meets girl at uni, they fall in love, get married, live happily ever after. It’s hardly Romeo and Juliet!’

I rest my elbows on the table and lean into my hands. Dad leans down to my level, ‘you never know what you might find if you put your mind to it, they were young once too, you know.’

I’m not convinced. But the prospect of more ‘Party Princess’ headlines makes my blood run cold.

I sigh dramatically and put my hands up. ‘Fine, I’ll get Maggie to get me access to the archives at Windsor, you never know, I might find their dusty old scrabble set’, I gasp and place the back of my hand to my forehead, ‘oh the scandal!’

Dad shakes his head and passes me another eclair.

* * *

July 2009

‘Qi?’

‘Qi’, he says, ‘eleven points.’

‘William, that is not a word’, I lift my eyebrow at him.

‘I think you’ll find qi is a circulating life energy in Chinese philosophy’, he says, lining up his tiles neatly on the Scrabble board. ‘Are you gonna put your letters down or shall we declare me the winner now?’

I look down at my tiles. A ‘J’ and a ‘P’ sit on the tile holder. ‘I need another letter’, I say, reaching into the bag to get one. An ‘E’. There’s still hope yet.

Sitting on the rug opposite me, William is smirking. He picks up his final piece, an ‘S’, and smugly places it on the end of the word ‘climb’, which I created half an hour earlier when this game was looking much more promising.

‘Plurals aren’t allowed!’, I tell him confidently.

‘They are according to the Scrabble dictionary…’, he pats the book on the floor next to him. I bought it for him last year for Christmas and have regretted it ever since. ‘…which makes me the winner … again!’

I huff childishly and pour my ‘J’, ‘P’ and ‘E’ back into the bag, making William laugh tauntingly.

‘You’re such a sore loser Middleton’

‘Oh shut up!’ I say, picking up his winning ‘S’ and launching it at his head.

He yelps suddenly and clutches at his eye.

‘Oops! Are you ok?’. I scramble over the board to him, knocking all the words out of place and trying not to laugh.

’I need two eyes to fly helicopters you know’, he says feigning anger.

I giggle and pull his hand from his eye, pretending to inspect it for damage, ‘you’ll live to fly another day Flight Lieutenant Wales.’ Leaning in, I trace my lips over his eyelid, planting a small butterfly kiss on his skin.

He pulls me closer to his body, and I end up curled up in his lap. I start fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, ‘I wish you didn’t have to go back tomorrow’.

William had been training with the RAF in Shropshire for the last few months. I’d missed him terribly.

‘So do I’, he brushes a piece of hair from my face. ‘It won’t be long until I’m stationed somewhere full time’. He looks down at the floor nervously. ‘We were talking about North Wales … do you like it in Wales?’

I stop playing with his shirt and place my hand flat on his chest. It is an odd question. ‘I guess so, does it matter?’

‘Yes’.

I can’t disguise my confusion. All of William’s career decisions have been made without me in mind, and now, tonight, surrounded by the mess of Scrabble tiles, I’m part of the equation. ‘Why?’

‘Because …’ He gulps and I watch as his Adam’s apple shudders in his throat. ‘I was hoping you’d come with me.’

* * *

Windsor Castle is rather an imposing place. As I walk into the large open entrance, the enormous paintings of my long dead ancestors look down at me from the cold stone walls as if I’m doing something wrong. I shudder and move along quickly to the round tower that holds the Royal Archives.

Waiting there to greet me is a tiny middle-aged lady, dressed immaculately in a sea green tweed dress suit, with her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. She curtsies as I walk in.

I extend my hand, ‘Pleasure to meet you’.

‘Your Royal Highness’, she says taking it. ‘Welcome. My name is Joan Hilson, and I’m the Keeper of the Archives, may I give you a short tour before we begin?’

I agree and as she walks me around the rooms, I am impressed that far from this place being stacks of dusty documents and objects piled on rotting wooden shelves, it is a sleek and disaster proof space, more akin to a high-tech laboratory. Joan has laid out some items that she thinks I might like to see. She leads me to a weathered looking book that she has displayed for me on one of the research tables.

‘This is Queen Victoria’s diary, it’s really quite revealing’ she says proudly.

For the first time I feel a flicker of excitement as I read Victoria describe her wedding night, “He clasped me in his arms, and we kissed each other again and again! When day dawned (for we did not sleep much) and I beheld that beautiful face by my side, it was more than I can express!“

I turn to Joan with a new found sense of determination, if Victoria could write this openly in 1840, surely William or Catherine could in 2011? ’Is there anything like this from William and Catherine? Letters or a diary, something the public has never seen?’

Joan shakes her head, ‘I’m afraid Ma’am, that nothing of the kind was ever given to the Royal Archives’.

My heart sinks. Just when I was getting into this project.

Joan senses my disappointment. ‘You must remember, communicating personal feelings on paper largely became became extinct in the family after King Charles III. King William and Queen Catherine most likely communicated through text message or email.’

‘And I suppose there are no print outs of those?’, I say partly in jest, partly in vain hope.

Joan merely laughs, which I take as a no. ‘But we do have plenty of other items.’ She takes me into a small reading room with no windows, where there are boxes upon boxes of documents stacked on the table. ‘I took the liberty of selecting some some things to get you started.’

You don’t say, I think, as I ponder whether lack of sunlight could send me insane. Joan leaves me to get going and I hunker down and begin wading through the documents.

Two hours later, and I want to smash my head against the wall. In 120 minutes I have found official documents between King William and the Monarchs and High Commissioners of Thailand, India, Sweden and every other country known to man. I have found parliament papers, pictures of William and Catherine at state dinners and most excitingly, a dead spider squashed between the pages of their official coronation programme.

Joan comes in, and finds me resting my head on the table. I jump up with a start. Gracefully, she acts like she saw nothing.

‘I forgot to give you this’, she says, handing me another box.

I groan inwardly wandering what sleep inducing item it will contain. When I open it, however, I find a leather bound book, embossed with the words ‘The Language of Flowers’. I look up at Joan questioningly.

‘It was Catherine’s, the copy she used to choose her wedding flowers. She was very keen on the meanings behind flowers, take a look, the pages she used still have their corners turned down.’

I remove the book carefully from the box and start flicking through the turned down pages ; lily of the valley means “trustworthy”, myrtle “hope and love”, hornbeams “resilience”. I am almost done looking at each page when I notice a slight bulk between two of the pages.

I open them and am surprised to find what looks like it used to be a flower pressed between the pages. It is crumbling into dust, but a picture along side it shows it was once eight lavender coloured petals, forming the shape of a star and long stamen with bright yellow anthers. Joan comes over to my seat, not bothering to hide her curiosity.

She watches as I take out a handwritten note that has been slipped in with the flower.

“Grewia similis/Crossberry flower. Meaning: Calmness/Peace. 900-102″

’900-102? What does that mean?’ I say.

Joan furrows her brow. ‘It’s anyone’s guess Ma’am, but it must have meant something to Catherine’.

‘So this is her handwriting?’

‘Oh yes, I would recognise her and King William’s writing anywhere’, she says, blushing slightly.

I concede that the book might be of some use to the exhibition and tell Joan that someone from the V&A will be in touch about it. As I start to leave, Joan stops me, looking sheepish.

‘Please forgive my impertinence, but if it is something more personal you’re looking for, may I suggest looking somewhere closer to home.’

I give her a puzzled look, willing her to continue.

‘Kensington Palace’, she says looking at me as if this was obvious. ‘They resided there for over fifty years. If there are personal artifacts anywhere, I imagine that’s where they would be.’

I curse her inwardly for not telling me this two hours ago, but outwardly, I thank her, hoping that Kensington Palace holds something more significant than a crumbling old flower.

* * *

August 2009

I run my toes through the fresh strands of grass, enjoying the sensation of the ground on my bare feet. Next to me, where I’m propped up on the hill, I pluck out a single daisy.

‘Do you know daisies are a symbol of childhood innocence?’, I say, twirling it between by index finger and thumb.

‘Do you know I don’t care?’, my sister Pippa replies, lying next to me, sunglasses shading her closed eyes. ‘Is that how you seduce Will? By talking about flowers?’

I give her a playful slap on the arm and return my gaze to the polo field, where William is dismounting from his horse.

‘What’s going on with him anyway? Have you agreed to move in with him yet?’ Pippa says.

‘No, we’re just sorting out logistics’, I bite the inside of my lip as I always do when I’m uncomfortable.

Pippa turns to me. ‘What’s the issue? You have lived with him before’.

‘I know, but that was different, it’s so far away’, I start plucking absently at the daisy petals.

Will begins to walk towards us, red and sweaty from the match. ‘Alright?’, he says when he reaches us, his body casting a shadow from the sun.

‘William, if my sister moves in with you, are you going to let her out of her cage to visit her family occasionally?’ Pippa says bluntly.

‘Pippa!’ I screech unattractively.

William stutters, unsure if she is joking or not, ‘I don’t control your sister, she can do what she likes.’ He looks between me and Pippa, it’s obvious he doesn’t know who he should direct his comments at.

‘Are you going to steal her away to live with you when you’re back in London too?’, she jokes.

Will laughs, ‘not likely.’

I flinch at his response. Not likely.

‘Well there you are then, I’m going to get another drink’. Pippa stands up and strides off, leaving William still standing over me awkwardly.

‘Is that why you haven’t said yes yet? You’re worried about not seeing your family?’, he asks.

I roll my eyes. ‘Of course not, I’m not a child’, I say dismissively.

‘Then what is it?’

I ignore his question and go straight in for the kill. ‘Why is the idea of me living in London with you so funny? I’m good enough to be in Wales with you, but in London, I’m dismissed?’

William looks around to make sure no-one is listening and crouches down to me. ‘Are you being serious? I live in Clarence House, you can’t live with me there Kate!’

‘I know- I didn’t say I wanted to. I just want you to want me to’.

‘Of course I do’, he says sweetly.

‘I don’t want to be in limbo’, I refuse to look at him, embarrassed with what I’m saying, ‘part of your life in Wales, but less important when we get back to London and you have your friends and family around.’

He taps his knees, and I can tell he wants to take my hand, but can’t in public, ‘I asked you to live with me because I want you more included in my life, my whole life.’

A silent understanding passes between us. We’ve talked at length for hours about the future, he wants me to be ready to join his ‘public life’. The reality is, that right now, I’m not.

* * *

‘Mr Delmonte emailed me, he wanted to know how you were getting on.’

‘You can tell him I haven’t found any of their knickers’, I reply.

Maggie looks at me with a mixture of disapproval and amusement. We are browsing through the private store room in Kensington Palace. It is place that holds items belonging to royals long gone, that have been passed down through the generations and ended up in this room because no-one knows what to do with them. I wonder to myself if my grandfather has thrown any unwanted items in here over the years.

‘When I’m in charge, I’m going to send all this crap to Windsor. Joan will love it’, I say, fondly imagining Joan’s face as I hand her centuries worth of personal royal items.

Maggie is digging through boxes of William and Catherine’s clothes, ‘what about this?’, she says, peeling back the protective paper to reveal a beautiful rose pick ball gown, adorned with glittering silver beads. She removes a picture of Catherine wearing the dress that lies with it, and hands it to me.

I turn it over and recognise the same handwriting that I’d seen at Winsdor last week.

‘Ark Gala, June 10th, 2011′

‘Gorgeous’, I say. Maggie closes the box and puts it to one side in our ‘keep’ pile.

As my private secretary, Maggie has been an invaluable part of my life for the last five years – though I’d never tell her that. A tall, lean woman with short, curly black hair, she possesses all the patience, resilience and drive that I so lack, but has enough of a sense of humour to put up with me.

I look over at the pile we’ve created. The dress, a ruby necklace, and a monogrammed baby blanket that belonged to their first son, and my great-great-great grandfather, King George, is all I have to present to Delmonte.

I sigh heavily and sit myself on the floor, all but ready to give up. I look up at the rows of shelves that we still have to work through. Maggie had devised a plan ; she would take the clothes section and I would take the boxes of items that had had been labelled chronologically, working from left to right.

I decide to deter from the plan and grab the box closest to me on the bottom shelf, labelled ‘Queen Catherine, Date Unknown’. Maggie glances at me, but I ignore her frown and open the box.

Inside is a smaller black box, around the size of a shoe box but made from metal and clearly locked. Lifting it up, I inspect it, finding it has not one, but two combination locks on its front, each requiring three digits.

Maggie reels off some numbers that might work, birthdays and anniversaries relating to William Catherine. None of them work and I’m ready to find a crow bar to jimmy it open.

‘I wonder why no-one has tried to force this open’, I say, pulling at the handle in a vain attempt to open it.

‘Probably because they respect her privacy’, Maggie says, carefully placing a floral Jenny Packham day dress back in it’s wrapping.

‘Oh please, she’s long gone!’

‘That doesn’t make her any less of a human being does it? She was your great-great-great-great grandmother after all’

Maggie always has a way of chiding me without crossing the line. I put the box down guiltily and watch her as she continues to pack away the floral dress.

A thought pushes itself to the front of my mind … the floral dress … flowers … Grewia similis/Crossberry flower …

‘900-102!’ I yelp, startling Maggie.

My fingers fumble with the locks as a I dial in the digits. A satisfying click tells me it’s open.

‘How on earth …?’

‘She is my great-great-great-great grandmother, we have a connection’, I tease, and Maggie rolls her eyes, unconvinced.

The contents are full to bursting, and as soon as I lift the lid, photos, cards and letters spring out as if coiled up, and waiting to be freed for 150 years.

I rifle through them excitedly, finding a birthday card with a countryside scene on the front of it. Inside it reads, ‘Dear Kate, have a good one, Will’ and is dated at the top ’9th Jan 2003‘.

I soon discover that everything in this box is dated, ‘God she was anal’, I mutter to myself.

Maggie and I begin to sort the contents into piles, ‘do you think this will count as ”unique selling point” for the exhibition?’, I ask, mimicking Delmonte’s voice.

‘It’s certainly something, just look at this’, she says picking up a letter and reading from it.

’29th April 2011,

Dear Kate, good morning for the last time as a “single woman”. I bet right now you’re sitting in bed, your hair all ruffled, and probably quite tired from little or no sleep. And I bet as you read that, you’re unconsciously tidying your hair – caught you! I want to remind you of the promise I made you. That no matter what, I will do everything in my power to make you happy, I will protect you, and I will love you for the rest of my life. I meant it then and I mean it now. I will see you there – don’t be late! W’

Maggie appears from her reading doughy-eyed, ‘how romantic’.

‘See, Joan was wrong, they did write letters!’, I say feeling justified.

I grab a pile of photos, looking for something worth using. One shows them, presumably in bed, a view of just their heads, Catherine kissing William on the cheek as he beams into the camera. Another has them standing under a tree. The glare on the lens in strong, causing a bright light to obscure the left hand side of the photo.

I turn the photo over looking for the inevitable date, but instead am faced with something totally different. Attached to the back, with something yellow that I assume was once sellotape, is a piece of string about three inches long. On closer inspection, I see it’s actually three pieces, two red, one brown, braided together.

‘This one doesn’t have a date on it’, I say, passing it to Maggie.

‘Perhaps she forgot’, she replies, inspecting the braid.

‘She dated everything!’. I show her the back of the rest of the photos as evidence. ‘Don’t you think it’s suspicious?’

‘I think you’re looking for a scandal where there isn’t one’, she laughs, passing me back the photo, ‘you were the one telling me that William and Catherine were as dull as dishwater.’

‘Urgh fine!’, I put the photo in my handbag, my instinct still telling me there is something special about it. ‘Maybe I am reaching. I still can’t imagine them spontaneously making out in the palace corridors in a fit of passion’.

Maggie rolls her eyes. ‘If you are quite done with that mental image, we have a tour to Kenya to prepare for!’

* *

September 2009

‘Kate’, I hear through a fog of sleep.

‘Kate … Catherine’, it continues.

‘Catherine’, this time it’s right next to my ear, accompanied by a rough, bristly rub against my cheek.

I release my hand from under the covers and swat it away. This only encourages it further and before I can protest, William’s head is buried in the crook of my neck, murmuring, ‘wake up’.

I push him off me, giving in and opening my heavy eyes, ‘I was enjoying my sleep!’

‘You need to build up some resilience, one night out and you’re dead to the world’. He rolls over onto his back.

‘That wasn’t any night out Will, I haven’t drunk that much since uni’. I place my hand over my head and close my eyes again, feeling the sweet relief of darkness. I’m sure I can feel it pounding into my hand.

Along with a small group of friends, William and I had gone to Raffles in Chelsea last night. In the two years since we had gotten back together, I had kept a low profile, working for my family’s business and seeing William on the weekends. Apart from last night. Where we drunk like sailors.

My mind flashes back to us dancing carelessly in the club, giggling like teenagers on the way home, and stumbling through the doors at Clarence House at 3am.

I let out a low groan, ‘do you remember last night?’

‘Not really’, he yawns.

‘You serenaded me with ‘Moon River’ when we got here and insisted on kissing me all the way way up the stairs’, I say, recalling the image in my mind.

William laughs.

‘It’s alright for you!’, I say poking him in the stomach. ‘You can get pissed and it’s fine, your staff must’ve thought I was such a waster!’

William’s face is suddenly serious. ‘Of course they didn’t’

I turn my head and stare at the ceiling, knowing I’m right, that William’s staff don’t respect me, as they shouldn’t have to as his girlfriend, but I don’t want to argue.

William mimics me, looking at the ceiling, ‘you know things’ll be different … when we’re … when you’re my wife.’

My heart leaps. I love hearing him say that word.

‘Things’ll be easier for you.’

‘In some ways, but not all’, that niggling fear of my life and marriage becoming public properly scratching at me.

William takes note my resistance, ‘do you still want to marry me?’

‘More than anything’, I turn to smile at him, and try to lighten the mood, ‘stop trying to dig for compliments.’

He doesn’t take the bait, but instead places a warm hand over my head, ‘you know if I had it my way, it would just be us, a small house, and a dog.’

‘I know’, I reassure him, knowing he wants ‘just us’ as much as I do.

‘Speaking of alone time, I was thinking we could go to Scotland for a couple of days after we come back from Kenya?’

Now it’s my turn to nuzzle into his neck, ‘fine by me’. I lie warm in him embrace, relishing the thought of ten days of peace, ten days where our secrets will be ours to keep.

* * *

The African sun begins to set as we make our descent onto Kenyan soil, turning the sky golden.

‘Ah ha, signal!’, Maggie says behind me, already un-strapped from her seat and walking up the aisle. ‘Your Royal Highness, I have a few emails’, she says, ignoring the flashing seat belt sign and holding onto my seat, wobbling precariously.

‘Kwasi has confirmed the details of your stay with him and his family and has kindly agreed to show you around Wakamba village … ‘

The Craigs, who had incidentally been friends with my family since the days of King William, had kindly asked me to to stay with them for a couple of days as a respite, after my four day tour of Kenya. After telling them about the exhibition, they regretfully told me there was nothing to be found at Lewa Wildlife Conservancy or Rutuntu Lodge, where William and Catherine had become engaged. However, they suggested I spend some time in a the neighbouring village of Wakamba, where another old friend of the family, Kwasi, lived.

‘ … And the Telegraph has gotten wind of your involvement with the exhibition.’

I groan, ‘Delmonte is such a snake’

‘It is quite complimentary Ma’am, I suggest you read it when you have a moment’. Maggie looks at me optimistically.

I know she is thinking the same as me, that between this visit and the exhibition, I might just get back on track.

Four days in Kenya fly by. I am touched by the warm welcome of children with ‘Welcome Princess Cora!’ signs at an educational project, and the positive attitude of sports and women’s charities that I visit.

But as fast as it began, it’s over and I find myself jumping out of the land rover onto a dirt track to meet Kwasi.

I see him approaching from a distance, tall, well built, with smooth dark skin, he looks almost elegant. I haven’t seen him in ten years, but already sense the familiarity.

‘Your Royal Highness’, he says with a low bow, ‘welcome to Wakamba.’

‘Oh please, none of that!’, I say, slightly dazzled his strong handsome features.

He smiles gratefully and continues to speak with his thick Kenyan accent. ‘Ok, “Miss Cora” then.’

As we walk into the village, conversation turns to William and Catherine, ‘My ancestor was close to King William and Queen Catherine’

‘Really? How?’, I say, curious as to how my family first forged links with this tiny village.

We begin to walk down the dirt path as we talk, ‘they took an interest in Wakamba, helped to build a school, that kind of thing’.

There is a tone in his voice that irks me, like he is holding something back, but I ignore my instinct, wanting to extract as much information as I can.

‘So you are looking for something special for an exhibition?’, Kwasi says as we enter the village, the afternoon sun burning on my back.

‘Yes, something unseen by the public. Do you think you could help?’. I am hopeful, yet cynical that this village will hold anything special.

‘I believe they visited our village in 2009, 2010, 2023, then intermittently until their deaths’

’2009?’ My curiosity is awakened. ‘I read they came here in 2005, then 2010′

‘I suppose our ancestors can surprise us’. There is that tone again. I try and shrug away the feeling that he is hiding something from me.

I am suddenly distracted from my suspicions by a purple hue in the corner of my eye. Turning to my left, I see a shrub, adorned with star shaped purple flowers. ‘Is that ….?’

Kwasi walks towards the shrub, ‘this? It is called a …’

‘A Crossberry flower’, I say, cutting him off, and joining him at the plant.

He plucks a flower off the shrub and hands it to me. ‘They are native to Kenya.’

My heart skips a beat.

‘Catherine had pressed one of these in a book’, I tell him. ‘She must have got it on one of her visits. It seems strange though … ‘

‘Why is that?’

‘There was just this one flower in there. There are so many beautiful flowers in Kenya, and she bought back just this one’. I furrow my brow, trying to make sense of it. I can hear Maggie in the back of my head telling me I’m clutching at straws.

Shaking my head, I shrug off that niggling feeling that I’m missing something.

* * *

October 2009

Taking long confident strides, kicking the loose stones as I go, I hold William’s hand gently, bathing in the freedom we have to do such a simple thing.

‘It’s so incredibly isolated’ he enthuses as we wonder around the small village of Wakamba in Kenya. ‘Ian was so right about this place.’

Ian Craig had told us about Wakamba after William told him we would like to explore a real Kenyan village.

‘It’s so unaffected’, I say, marveling at how the trees and paths blend effortlessly with the simple wooden houses.

‘I can imagine us living somewhere like this’, he says, grinning at me.

I give him a coy smile in return. Since he had asked me to live with him, he had been more and more open about our future together.

Ian had arranged for us to dine with a friend of his, Matu, and as we approach his small home, I am struck by the delicious smell of stew.

‘Welcome!’ Matu shouts from the doorway holding a wooden spoon, an old man of a around eighty, he is short and stout.

He takes our belongings and puts them down in the corner of his small kitchen come living area before urging us to start eating. As we tuck in to the meal, Matu explains that he is a missionary and a preacher, ‘and what do you do?’, he asks, oblivious to who William is.

‘I’m training to fly helicopters and Catherine works for her family’, Will says, pleased to be anonymous.

‘Any children?’, he responds.

We both laugh, ‘not yet’, William says, making me blush.

‘You must go to the lake and bathe there, it will bring you good luck in your marriage and fertility’, Matu says sincerely.

‘Why not!’, I say brightly, looking to William, who looks just as keen.

We spend the next two hours chatting to Matu as if we’re old friends. I have never felt so comfortable with a stranger, and I can tell that William feels the same, in the way that he hangs onto Matu’s every wise word.

William listens intently as he explains his branch of Christianity that uses the trees, water and the ground as a symbol of His presence in everyday life and symbols of people’s relationships with each other. But when the candles begin to dim, we reluctantly decide it is time to leave.

After thanking Matu, we step out into the night. William takes my hand, his eyes glistening in the darkness, ‘let’s go to that lake.’

* * *

After an afternoon spent talking to Kwasi and exploring his village, he introduces me to his stunning wife Constance, and together we sit in the veranda of his home talking all night, the two of them inspiring me with their clear way of thinking. The conversation leads to the exhibition a few times, and although I still feel Kwasi is hiding something, my instinct tells me I can trust him.

The following afternoon, dusk is approaching and I’m seated outside at the wooden table and chairs swatting away the flies that are circling my paw paw fruit.

‘Let me get those pictures I was telling you about!’ Kwasi says, gliding into the house and quickly returning with a photo album.

He lets me open it, and I immediately see this is an album dedicated to William and Catherine’s visits to the village. Pictures jump out at me of them surrounded by African children, and later, with their own children, sat up on a tall African Blackwood tree.

Kwasi looks at me as I inspect the pictures, as if he’s waiting for a reaction. Finally I get to the end of the book, where slotted neatly into the last page is a picture I’ve seen before. It shows William and Catherine in front of a tree, only this time the left hand side of the picture isn’t obscured by light.

‘Who’s that?’ I say, pointing at a man standing on the left of the picture.

Kwasi leans in, ‘that is my great great great great great great grandfather that I told you about, his name was Matu’, he says fondly taking a breath from all the ‘greats’.

‘I have that same picture’. I pull it out of my handbag, where I’d kept it since discovering it at Kensington Palace. ‘Only mine has this on the back’.

I hand him the photo and he turns it over. As soon as his eyes fix on the braid, I see them widen.

‘Do you know what that is?’ I try.

‘I’m sorry, no’. He hands it back. I’ve had enough people lie to me to know that he is doing the same.

‘That’s a shame’, I say nonchalantly, ‘that means the best I have is a letter from William to Catherine on their wedding day’. It will take all my wily feminine charms to get him to open up.

Frustratingly, he doesn’t fall for it. ‘Excuse my impertinence, but is that not a very personal item to hand over to the public?’

‘It’s not as if they’re still here!’ I respond, tucking my hair behind my ear, a little stung.

‘Of course, of course’

‘Besides, the letter is literally the best I have to offer the exhibition. The curator wants to see me in a few weeks’

‘There is nothing else you can give them?’

I shake my head. ‘William and Catherine weren’t exactly groundbreaking, they always played by the rules’

Kwasi is suddenly defensive, ‘I’m sure that isn’t true.’

Deciding I’ve had enough, I let down my polite guard, ‘what is it you’re not telling me Kwasi?’

‘Nothing at all Miss’. Now he’s smiling, as if he’s happy I’m questioning him. ‘Like I said, our ancestors can surprise us.’

‘What does that mean? You said that yesterday at the Crossberry bush’, I narrow my eyes at him.

‘It is a lesson we must all learn in life not to judge before we can see the whole picture. See that tree over there?’ He points to a tall, yet weathered African Blackwood. ‘That has been there for over 150 years, it probably saw your ancestors as it sees you now’

I wonder for a second if he expects me to speak to the tree. ‘I don’t understand’.

‘We all have a habit of living in the now’, he says kindly. ‘We look to the past, of people in the past, as dead vessels, without feeling. You want to find something about William and Catherine, yes?’

‘Yes’

‘Then begin to think of them as people, as hearts and minds, not as bodies. See them as the people they were, with dreams and desires like the rest of us’

‘How? I didn’t even know them, I have nothing to go on, I haven’t got a diary or correspondence or anything to prove what was going on in their heads’, the words fall clumsily out of my mouth.

Kwasi laughs as if he’s watching a new born lamb trying to walk for the first time. ‘Miss Cora, you do not need proof, you have the best tool possible … your own mind. Who would know better than the young future Queen what the desires of a young Prince and his future Queen would want?’

I nod, seeing his point.

’150 years changes a lot, but some things stay the same’, he looks at me pointedly, and then back at the African Blackwood, standing proudly as it would have done when William and Catherine were here.

Kwasi gets up and goes into the house, and returns with something clenched in his fist.

‘You are not too different from your great great great great grandmother, you certainly look just like her’, he laughs, all you need is to make a connection’

He places a small memory card on the table, gets up, and leaves.

* * *

October 2009

‘Are you actually going to go naked!?’ I whisper, as William removes his boxers, placing them in a pile next to the lake.

The lake is surrounded by trees, it’s almost pitch black, and not a sound can be heard, but I still feel the need to whisper.

‘William, we could get in so much trouble!’ I continue, watching him dip a toe into the lake, clutching my clothes to my body. Reluctantly I’d stripped to my underwear.

‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’, he teases, pulling my clothes away from me and adding them to his pile. ‘Besides, Matu says it’s the done thing here’

He starts to wade into the shallow water, and I follow him, my feet finding the wet soil.

‘Will …’ I say, barely able to see him.

‘I’m here’, I feel his hand around my back and he leads me deeper into the lake, ‘don’t worry, you’re safe’.

We reach a spot shallow enough to be safe, but deep enough that we need to paddle to stay afloat.

‘This is amazing’, he says, looking up at the moon.

I move closer to him so our bodies our touching. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It would be even better if you did it properly’. In the moonlight, I see a smirk pass across his mouth as his unclasps my bra.

I give in and take it off, along with my pants, slipping them off underwater and clutching them tightly in my hand.

William’s arms grip tightly around my waist and he kisses me, finding my lips instinctively in the dark.

I caress his back as his trails his kisses down my face. ‘Do you think we’ve been sufficiently blessed now?’, I say.

He pulls away and suddenly ducks under the water, submerging his head. I giggle quietly and do the same.

‘Now we have!’, he grins, as I push my wet hair from my face.

‘To a happy and fertile life together’, I say, resting my chin on his shoulder.

‘To the rest of our lives being ours to live’, he says thoughtfully, gazing at his surroundings, like a light has just sparked in his mind.

‘What are you thinking?’, I ask, running a hand through is hair.

‘Nothing, just about how we should take advantage of every moment’. He runs his hands down my body, exploring every curve.

Lifting my head up, I find his lips again, my senses tingling, heightened even more by the near pitch darkness. Only William could convince me to do this, to get me in such a state of intimacy that I can’t bear to turn back.

He begins to kiss me more deeply, to the point that I can’t tell the difference between his hands and the water moving around my body.

‘We shouldn’t’ I mumble as his mouth moves along my collar bone.

‘We should do whatever we want to’, he whispers.

And now his hands are unmistakable. Taking me far away from my concerns and leaving me in a state of pure euphoria.

* * *

Sitting on the bed in Kwasi and Constance’s guest room, I slip the memory card into my laptop, and click on the only file that appears.

It immediately bursts to life, the reds, blues and golds of that day in April 2011.

William and Catherine’s wedding.

I frown consciously, wondering why Kwasi would have given me something that I could find anywhere else. Fast forwarding through the ceremony, I realise that there is nothing more to this than a copy of the wedding. Frustrated, I hit the stop button and fall backwards on to the bed.

Make a connection.

Propping myself up, I begin doing an internet search on Catherine. Surprisingly to me, I quickly learn that she wasn’t as beloved to the public as I’d thought.

Scrolling through archives of articles about her, I read that she was called ‘waity-Katie’, and ‘lazy’ for not forging a career. I look at pictures of her leaving clubs, a forced smile nearly always on her face, and I’m startled by how much I really do look like her.

The similarities are obvious, she struggled to find her identity then, and so am I now.

Drawn in completely, I spend the next hour reading as much as I can about Catherine, with or without William, before their marriage. I cringe with sympathy reading about her wayward uncle and find myself mumbling ‘buggers’ as I find paparazzi pictures of her at her most normal moments.

For the first time, I forget about the exhibition as I gladly watch William talk about their engagement, “we were planning it for at least a year if not longer“, knowing that once day I will be doing the same thing.

Lying back once again and fixing my gaze on the mosquito net above my head, I begin to contemplate what they would have wanted that day, if things were different.

To travel the world alone? To live quietly together without the world watching?

If they were so similar to me, as Kwasi suggested, then maybe. If I am wrong about them, I certainly know what my dreams are.

I want a direction in life; a career I love, that I’m not pushed into. I want to live my life without being judged every time I step out of the door. I want to fall in love with whoever I want. I want the biggest moments of my life to be mine to enjoy. My birth, my first day at school, my graduation, are now stored in some film archive for generations to watch. The future offers the same fate, my engagement, my wedding, my funeral.

I sigh unconsciously and twist my head to look at the frozen image of a smiling William and Catherine on the screen. Everything I’d read, all the research I’d done meant nothing, I knew that now. I didn’t need all that to tell me something about them, because although 150 years apart, our hopes, our dreams, our lives, run parallel.

Feeling a closeness to them for the first time, I flip back to the copy of the wedding and rewind to the start. Catherine reaches the altar, locking eyes with William. Grinning to myself, I watch as he says ‘you look beautiful’.

And then he says something else to her. ‘Stunning?’ ‘You really do?’ No.

I rewind and play it again, and again, each time, my face getting closer to the screen, watching William’s lips move.

Then I see it, his lips forming the words so clearly, it’s laughable.

I slam the laptop shut and bolt out of the room as fast as my legs will carry me.

* * *

October 2009

Late morning in Wakamba, and the lake water has had a wild effect on my hair, causing it to curl uncontrollably around my head.

William returns from a morning visit to Matu carrying a steel bowl of fruit. ‘Brunch from Matu’, he says, placing it on the small wooden table in the tiny secluded wooden hut we’re staying in by the lake. I tuck into some paw paw fruit.

‘Don’t you wish every day was like last night?’ William asks, joining me at the table.

I laugh, ‘wouldn’t that defeat the point of a romantic moment, if it was every day?’

‘I don’t mean that, I mean that feeling of freedom, of nobody knowing where we are or what we’re doing’

‘That I agree with’, I nod, chomping down on my fruit.

William had had this conversation with me many times, about how powerless he was a someone who would one day be a symbol of ‘power’. While I could empathise, the paparazzi following me as much as him, there was only so far my understanding could go.

He places his hand on mind and gently rubs my forefinger.

‘I need to talk to you Kate’

Something has changed in him during this trip, like a weight has been lifted from his burdened shoulders. Usually, I would put it down to a natural relaxation on holiday, but this time it was different.

‘I don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting you’re best years on me.’

There is something familiar in his tone that make me nervous.

‘I don’t', I say defensively.

He curls his fingers around mine protectively. ‘You put up with so much shit that you shouldn’t have to.’

That tone sparks a memory. This is how he spoke to me when he broke things off two years ago. My heart thumps in panic.

‘It’s no wonder you think my staff don’t like you or that I don’t want you to live with me in London. You don’t deserve to feel like that’. He looks out of the small dirty window on to the lake.

‘I can put up with it … if I have you’, I clutch his finger in a vain attempt to stop him doing what I think he’s about to do.

He returns his gaze to me, ‘but you shouldn’t have to, that’s what I’m trying to say Kate, you’re not ready to join my family, and I won’t put you in that position’

I pull my hand away and stand up hastily, almost tripping over the table leg. I can’t listen to his excuses.

‘Where are you going?’ he watches me as I rush out onto the deck that overlooks the murky lake. Suddenly it doesn’t look so romantic anymore.

‘I need air’, I say.

He follows and is standing close behind me before I know it. I cling onto the deck rail with both hands, feeling the splintered wood pressing into my skin.

‘I just don’t understand…’ I say quietly.

And then he laughs, almost a joyful laugh. It is an odd time for humour, I think to myself.

‘Don’t you see?!’ his voice is so confident, I feel momentarily ashamed that I don’t ‘see’ at all.

He turns me around and looks me dead in the eye, willing me to understand. ‘It’s about time something changed, Kate, and I’m about to change it’.

* * *

I bound through the front doors of Kwasi’s home, not caring who hears me, ‘Kwasi! KWASI?!’, I yell.

I see him sitting there on the porch swing, serenely looking into the distance, apparently oblivious to the screaming woman next to him.

‘Kwasi’, I say again, breathless.

‘Good evening Miss Cora’, he says, as if he’s just noticed I’m there.

‘I’ve worked it out!’ is all I say.

He gives me a puzzled look, ‘worked what out?’

‘Urgh don’t be all wise on me! You know exactly what don’t you?!’

Kwasi gives me a frustrating hint of a smile.

‘I did what you said’, I continue. ‘I made a connection. I put myself in their shoes, oh gosh it was so obvious.’ The words are flying out at lightning speed. ‘They wanted the same thing I do, why wouldn’t they? I’m living their life 150 years later.’

He listens, politely nodding to my nonsensical words.

‘I watched the memory card.’

‘Beautiful wedding, hey?’, he smiles.

‘It just hit me, I was watching her arrive, them I saw it. I saw what William said at the altar’

I want Kwasi to reassure me that what I’ve just seen was correct, but he merely sits, waiting for me to finish.

‘He says it, as clear as day, he was trying to make Catherine laugh … “déjà vu”‘

‘Miss?’

I repeat it it, with conviction this time, for in my heart I know I’m right, ‘he said “you look beautiful … déjà vu” ‘

* * *

October 2009

William’s eyes are brimming with excitement. He holds his hands just above my elbows from where he turned me around, not wanting to let me go, not wanting me to let go.

‘Marry me’

The words hang in the air, in the stunned silence between us. My mouth moves to try and speak, but no words can escape.

‘Marry me Kate’, William repeats.

I shut my eyes, wondering if I open them again, I’ll wake up. When I do, William is still there looking down at me, his face full of anticipation. I try to order my thought,s trying to connect the time before and after those words he just spoke.

‘You just said I’m not ready to join your family’ I say finally.

‘That’s just it, I said I don’t want you to have to live that life yet, I’ve never said I didn’t want to marry you’

‘Will, you’re not making any sense, those two things go together’, I take his hands, wondering if the sun has got to his head.

‘Not necessarily’, he grins and raises an eyebrow. ‘I want you to be my wife, I want to marry you … today.’

Comprehension hits me like a lightning bolt, my mind opening up to what he’s suggesting.

‘You can’t do that to your family, they’ll be devastated’

‘Not if they don’t know about it’. He’s had this all planned, I realise. He has all the answers to my doubts prepared.

‘How do you intend to keep that from them?’ I manage a small disbelieving laugh.

He squeezes my hand gently, getting closer to my face, ‘people here don’t marry with legal bindings. We don’t need a piece of paper to say we’re married.’

He waits for a response, but gets nothing.

‘Look, you have to know how much I love you, how committed I am to you’

‘I do’, I say.

‘You don’t Kate, I know you, you’ve been so patient, but I know it bothers you that we can’t be like other couples. Last night at the lake it just hit me. We want to marry each other, so why don’t we?

‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this, just to prove something to me’, I say with concern.

Will smiles, ‘I want to wake up with you every day and be able to call you my wife. I want us to live alone together up in Anglesey with no intrusions, no expectations, just you and me, as man and wife. It’s the perfect solution, none of the pressure, but all of the marriage’

I give him the first hint of a smile, making him beam at me.

‘When you’re ready, and only when you’re ready, we’ll do it in public, but until then, it’s our marriage, and ours alone’, he places him warm forehead against mine.

’I suppose I better find a dress’, I say quietly.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘That’s a yes’.

* * *

I sit on the porch swing next to Kwasi, suddenly exhausted from my revelation. ‘They eloped’, I laugh. ‘I can’t believe they actually eloped.’

‘Not so boring after all, hey?’ Kwasi teases.

‘How long have you known?’ I ask him. It’s clear to me now that this is what he was leading me to understand.

‘I’ve suspected it for a few years. You see, Matu died of a fever a couple of years after their first visit to Wakamba, In his delirium, he talked of marrying a Prince and Princess. Of course no-one believed him because of his condition, but over the years it has become a folk tale in our family that the Prince and Princess were William and Catherine. It was only this afternoon that I knew for sure, and that was because of you’.

‘What did I do?! I knew nothing!’

Kwasi laughs, ‘the picture you showed me, with the string attached to the back …’

‘Yes?’

‘I am willing to bet that was Catherine’s wedding ring, and that picture was of their wedding day’.

‘No wonder she didn’t date it’, I say more to myself.

The romance of it all starts to seep into my skin. Two people in love who just wanted to live by their own rules, to have the most important day of their life between themselves. Something that I wish I had.

‘How did nobody find out? Surely there were papers?’

‘I have looked, Miss, but there is nothing, it’s my belief that there was no legal part to the wedding.’

‘So they weren’t really married?’, I ask cynically.

Kwasi shakes his head, ‘they were married in the eyes of God’, he says wisely. ‘Let me ask you, in their second wedding, at what point were they pronounced husband and wife?’

‘Ummm …’

‘Before or after they signed the documents in the back room?’, he prompts.

‘Before’, I say, understanding.

‘Exactly, and the crowds cheers outside bled into the Abbey, because to them, that was what made them married, not the paperwork’. He smiles at me kindly.

We sit in silence for the next half an hour, listening to the insects scuttle around us. I stare into the dark night, trying to imagine the two of them making the decision to tear up the rule book. It must have been liberating, and terrifying in equal measure.

‘What will you do Miss, about your exhibition?’, Kwasi says, breaking the silence.

Kenya seemed like a world away from Delmonte’s stuffy office and indirect remarks. Back then, I would’ve given anything to find something to give him for the exhibition, just to get him off my back. And now, now that I had the biggest story I could imagine, could I really give it up? William and Catherine had come from being my dead ancestors, to here, bathed in the same hot African air that they married in, they are my family.

But this would change things for me, I would get taken seriously by the press … by my father. It was the age old battle ; my head versus my heart.

‘I don’t know’ I reply, ‘I just don’t know’.

* * *

October 2009

‘Flowers, as requested’, Will walks into the hut with a handful of flowers for me to choose from, as I’d asked him to find while I tamed my hair.

Wearing a white shirt with the first three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, with tan khaki trousers, he looks smart casual, but so incredibly handsome.

‘Matu says he’s ready when we are, he’s waiting under the blackwood tree’, he says.

‘And you’re sure he won’t tell anyone?’As trustworthy as Matu seems, I’m still nervous about trusting a virtual stranger. But William had told him who he really was, and had faith that he would keep our secret.

‘Postive’, he places the flowers down on the table where I’m seated and kisses the top of my head. ‘I’m gonna head down there, don’t be late’

‘I won’t’. I reach up for another kiss and he obliges, sending the butterflies in my stomach wild.

Alone again in the hut, I pick a dress from my bag. Cream, with small embroidered yellow flowers, it sits just above my knee with a sweetheart neckline and thin straps. From all the flowers Will has chosen, I pick out a distinctive purple, star shaped one with yellow stamen to match my dress and attach it to my hair just above my right ear. I make a mental note to find out the meaning of this flower when I get home.

Taking a breath, I leave, taking the short walk to the tree, feeling more confident, more happy, and more content than I ever have. The afternoon sun is warm against my back as I approach, as if it’s pushing me along gently. When I arrive, my heart warms at the sight of two lines of the same flower I have in my hair, creating a makeshift aisle. At the end, framed by the giant branches of the tree, is William.

He reaches out his hand as soon as I’m close enough to take it, and I do willingly, ‘you look beautiful’, he says, making me blush lightly.

‘Welcome’, Matu says emerging from behind William. ‘Shall we begin?’

We both nod.

‘William, Catherine, we are here today in the presence of God to join you as man and wife …’ Matu goes on to read a few passages from the Bible. I stroke William’s fingers occasionally during the readings, to which he replies with a quick glance and smile.

Finished with the passages, Matu opens the front cover of the Bible to reveal a small braided string. ‘William, please present Catherine with the ring’.

William takes it and places it over my wedding finger.

‘The three strands of this ring represent those values most important in marriage ; honestly, respect, and growth. William please repeat after me …’

Will repeats after Matu as he ties the ring tightly around my finger. ‘I William Arthur Philip Louis take you Catherine Elizabeth as my wife, in the values grounded in our love, I promise to respect you as my equal, be honest with you always, and encourage your growth as an individual and within our union.’

‘I Catherine Elizabeth take you William Arthur Philip Louis as my husband …’ I repeat the vows, smiling teasingly for a moment at the length of his name. Without a ring for William, I hold both of his hands tightly until I finish.

‘We shall take a moment for your personal promises to each other’, Matu says and steps back a few paces respectfully.

William locks his eyes into mine, ‘Catherine … Kate. From the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you. Your easy manner, your loyalty, and your beauty made me see that our friendship could be something so much more.’ He bows his head for a moment, ‘I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but never in those downs did I ever imagine my life without you. You’ve made me happier than I thought was possible. I promise you with my life that as your husband, I will always protect you, and that I will always love you. No matter what the future has in store, I will never let anything get between us. Our marriage will be ours and only ours, and I will thank God every day that I have you’

I fight to keep my emotions under control, taking a deep breath before I begin. ‘Will, when I met you, I was so nervous, to think I’d be standing here years later marrying you is beyond anything my 19 year old self could understand. You have been a friend, a confidant, a support, and a lover …’ I say the last part quietly ‘ … and I thank you for putting my needs above anything else. I know one day things will be so different, I will be public property, but I promise you that I will be yours and only yours for as long as I live. I will support you and love you and I will make you proud. From this day on, I will be your wife, and I will be by your side until my last breath.’

The emotion on Will’s face is evident, but not one to cry, he leans in to kiss me instead.

‘Ah not yet Sir!’ Matu says suddenly. I had forgotten he was there. ‘One more thing’.

William, do you take Catherine to be your wife? To love her and honour her from this day, and to honour God through your union?’

‘I will’, he beams.

‘And Catherine, do you take William as your husband, to love him and honour him from this day, and to honour God through your union?’

‘Of course … I will’

‘As God as our witness, I pronounce that you are man and wife together, you may seal your union’, he grins and backs away once more.

William clasps his arms around my waist and I reach up, pulling his shoulders in. Our lips meet, his warm skin on mine. We are oblivious to the rest of the world, held in our own moment, the biggest moment of our lives.

And it’s ours, only ours.

* * *

29th April 2161

The words are large and imposing on the poster beside the door ‘William & Catherine : A Celebration’. Below the words is a picture of the two of them on their wedding day – their second wedding day, that is.

‘Shall we go in Ma’am?’, Delmonte says excitedly, wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers.

‘Lets’ I say, feeling a lots less hostile towards him.

Behind me is Maggie, making sure everything is running like clockwork, and behind her, another staff member escorting my father, my guest of honour, around the exhibition.

Delmonte shows me around the exhibition, the reporters and cameramen scuttling around trying to get a good shot. We get to a large glass cabinet, almost the length of the wall.

‘And now Ma’am, the pièce de résistance! Your wonderful discovery!’

I smile wryly surveying my work.

Two weeks after I’d returned form Africa, I’d taken a visit back to the Kensington Palace store to double check the contents of the black box. When I found nothing else relating to the wedding, I placed the box back, only to feel it hit something bulky behind it. Pulling out what appeared to be a large alum that had been stuffed unceremoniously at the bottom of the shelf, I found my treasure.

Pages upon pages of photos. All taken by Catherine. Photos of their children just after their births, one of William lounging in a bedroom, undoing the collar of his Irish Guards uniform, dated 29th April 2011, and plenty of their holidays over the years, all capturing the intimate and normal moments of their family life.

Delmonte had been delighted, it wasn’t a scandal, but it was an insight into their lives from the eyes of a Queen.

In the end giving up their secret was never an option. Maybe it would have gained me respect, but respect wasn’t worth selling out my family. It would stay with me forever, and it gave me hope that one day I would experience a moment of pure freedom.

As we move the wedding part of the exhibition, I notice the ‘Language of Flowers’ book sitting in a cabinet with a recreation of the Royal Wedding flowers. Next to it, is the leaf of paper that once held the crossberry flower, and Catherine’s handwriting: “Grewia similis/Crossberry flower. Meaning: Calmness/Peace. 900-102″

Behind me, I overhear my father’s escort describing a photo, ‘this was taken in ’08′, she says.

An idea springs to my mind, not ’2008′, but ’08′. I look at Catherine’s note once again. 900-102. I break it up. 90-01-02. I tilt my head, flipping the numbers in my mind.

20-10-09.

20th October 2009.

A laugh escapes sharply from my mouth, making the press and Delmonte eye my curiously.

The 20th of October 2009, exactly a year before they became engaged. The pieces fit into place like a conductor directing the final notes of his orchestra.

That night in the Rutundu Lodge, they weren’t merely getting engaged, they were celebrating their first wedding anniversary.

I laugh again, unable to stop myself.

‘Are you ok, Ma’am?’ Delmonte says nervously.

‘Please, just laugh with me!’ I say quietly.

He obeys me instantly, chuckling along.

And now I’m laughing at him too, great booms of laughter escaping my body.

Of relief, of joy, of hope.

Somewhere up there, no doubt together, I know two people are looking down on me and doing the same.

The End.

#katefiction #royal fanfiction #cambridge fanfiction #kate middleton

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independentartistbuzz · 3 years

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Indie 5-0: 5 Questions with Eric Selby

Eric Selby has been making waves with his new single "Arise." The single is taken from his new album "WHERE YOU BORN AT?" which is out now.

Listen in here: https://soundcloud.com/eric-selby-9647853/arise/s-2E3zXNLjUTy

In 2021, Eric was named a "Finalist" by the WAMMIE AWARDS for "Best Folk Artist" and his "Do, Baby." record was also named a "Finalist" for "Best Folk Album," "Best Pop Album" and "Best Rock Album." Eric has performed live and recorded with many talented artists, including: Billy Thompson (Little Milton, Albert King, Art Neville), Don Côqayohômuwôk Chapman (Firefall's Larry Burnett & Rick Roberts, America), Ron Holloway (Warren Haynes, Dizzy Gillespie, The Allman Brothers, Sonny Rollins, Tedeschi/Trucks), Daryl Johnson (The Neville Brothers, Daniel Lanois, Emmylou Harris, U2, Bob Dylan), James East (Elton John, Lionel Richie, Eric Clapton), Warner Williams (Piedmont blues legend, 2012 NEA National Heritage Fellowship Winner), Drink Small (Piedmont blues legend, 2015 NEA National Heritage Fellowship Winner), Bill Payne (Little Feat, J.J. Cale, The Doobie Brothers), Lenny Castro (Adele, The Rolling Stones, Steely Dan, Maroon 5, Stevie Wonder) and Mike Finnigan (Jimi Hendrix, Joe Cocker), to name a few.

We had a chance to catch up with Eric for an exclusive interview you’ll find below.

1. What prompted you to write Arise? What does this song mean to you?

With “ARISE” co-written with Don Chapman (who has played with such amazing bands as America and Rick Roberts & Larry Burnett of Firefall), when I was writing the lyrics, I was thinking about the internal struggle someone who is battling addiction must face each day. Thankfully, I have never had this struggle, but I certainly know those who have, and thought about the internal conversations they must have between the addiction (darkness) and the true self (light). I say “Arise” and “Ascend” …but, to what?: Is it being high again, death or sobriety? I suppose that is for each listener to determine on their own.

I also sing or say “Tick-Toc” nine times in this song. I’m not talking about the social app but maybe that would work too for addiction (lol). “Tic-Toc” in this song, represents time ticking down…but, again, to what? Is it to getting high again, until death or to your first day of sobriety? That, too, is absolutely for the listener to determine. Heck, I don’t even know the answer to those questions, and I don’t think I am supposed to exactly know.

In the chorus, I sing:

“I know it’s never been easy

No one ever said it would be

Days long but still time flies

High time for you to Arise”

I am intentionally leaving it ambiguous. “I know it’s never been easy”…to what? Is it hard to be addicted? Is it hard to get sober? The answer, in this scenario, is yes to both, so listeners can determine the perspective for themselves. Then I share that even though the days seem long, time continues to move quickly, so be completely aware of what you are doing with this time we all are given because, before long, it’s… ”high time for you to Arise.”

2. How has your work with a vast variety of artists impacted your songwriting?

My work with the amazing artists that I’ve had the pleasure to work with has impacted by songwriting significantly. I’ve had the opportunity to watch, listen and, at times, take part in the songwriting processes with some incredibly talented artists. The exposure to the work of these artists, like Billy Thompson and Don Chapman, provided me with a significant education in building a song from the ground, knowing if/when to place a bridge, how to arrange the placement of parts to crescendo the vibe and deliver all of the “feels.”

Also, working with great producers, like Marco Delmar, showed me how important producing the song properly is vital to conveying the intended message. I grew up listening to The Beatles, Pink Floyd, The Dandy Warhols, XTC, Brian Wilson and Radiohead, to name a few. I was always intrigued how these bands used and even maximized production in conveying the message of the music as much as with the instruments themselves. Because of this, and learning from such great musician/producers, like Marco, many of my tunes incorporate this same mindset. If used creatively, I think the additional sound effects, vibes and tones that are layered into the song can really help deliver the “feels” that I think can be important in conveying the mood that I am trying to get across to the listener. “ARISE” is a great example of how we used production creatively to convey a mood.

3. Have your daughter’s changed the way you write songs? How so?

I think they definitely have. Life experiences and perspectives will certainly feed into the art that one creates. Being a single Dad to four daughters has taught me so many life lessons and these life lessons are most certainly conveyed into my music. They have taught me patience, kindness, forgiveness, strength and it goes on and on. All of these traits find their way into my songs. Also, since I workshop these songs, including “Arise,” at my home before anyone outside of the house has heard it, my poor daughters have heard these songs 100 times before anyone else. I must drive them crazy but I probably owe them too. In certain ways, they are amazingly supportive of my songwriting and in other ways, they just leave me be and let me do my thing and, to be real, I need both to continue this journey. Shout-out to my amazing daughters: Lainey, Anne, Emma & Ally!

4. What was it like to become the frontman as opposed to the drummer? Was that difficult for you or did it feel natural?

Right or wrong, I always approached the drums like a front man anyway so being “the name” on the front of the album, instead of in the credits, is something that has just felt natural to me. When this project started over two years ago, it was initially intended to be a studio project. Being a frontman wasn’t even on my radar but, thankfully, from the amazing response my music has been receiving, I am now talking with some folks about playing this music live. Such decisions like whether I drum and sing as the front man (a la Whitney) or play guitar and sing (like most folks) as the front man. These, my friends, are definitely good problems to have from my, and probably anyone’s,perspective.

5. Now that the world is opening back up do you have any gigs planned or are you playing out this summer?

I’ve been so blessed that when the pandemic hit in Spring of 2020, after a brief pause in all shows for about 2 months, I was able to safely continue performing either outside or via Zoom for many establishments in Virginia Wine Country in beautiful Loudoun County, VA, where I live. The whole process was serendipitous for playing duos with great musicians like Don Chapman, Deane Kern and Billy Thompson.

I have a slew of upcoming performances and you can check out when and where I am playing at: www.ericselby.com

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

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5,000 question survey series--part thirty-five

3301. When someone is 'crazy' why do we call them 'nuts' or 'fruitcakes'? Yeah, I don’t know how those sayings got started. I often wonder how a lot of our sayings and such got started.

3302. What's the dillio? *shrug* 3303. Where did the slang term 'dillio' come from? Isn’t it “dealio” as in, “what’s the deal” or “what’s going on?” 3304. How many even whole numbers are there between -5 and 5? 4. 3305. What words can you make useing only these letters: E N O? No, eon, on, one.

3306. What's the differance between foods that are low fat and foods that are lite? I feel like lite refers to lite everything and not just fat? I don’t know, I really don’t pay much attention to that. 3307. White or brown rise? I don’t like rice. 3308. Can you be content if you are physically uncomfortable? I can’t, no. 3309. What is the differance between discomfort and pain? Discomfort is more mild. 3310. What is the most uncomfortable thing you can think of? For me it’s being hot. That’s more like miserable than uncomfortable, but yeah. 3311. What do these names make you think of: britney spears? “Toxic.”

walt whitman? “I Sing the Body Electric.” buddah? A Buddah statue.

william shakespere? “To be or not to be, that is the question.” pablo picasso? His self-portrait and his paintings using shapes and the way he painted people.

adam ant? Not familiar with him. franz kafka? ^^^^ nietzche? ^^^^ madonna? “Like a virgin, touched for the very first time.” orson scott card? frieda kahlo? Her eyebrows. :X

god? Love, forgiveness, mercy. salvidor dali? The melting clocks painting.

david bowie? Labyrinth. jesus? Salvation.

lars ulrich? Metallica. jim henson? Muppets. 3312. What are your favorite games to play? I love board games. 3313. Are you quick to judge something as stupid just because you don't understand it? I’m guilty of that. 3314. Are you obnoxious to others? No. 3315. Do you feel superior to anyone? Absolutely not. 3316. Shouldn't people take a good look at themselves before they criticize others? Yes. 3317. Which is better and why: writing or saying obnoxious things about someone who isn't around to defent themselves or saying it straight to them? Which do YOU do more often? I know it’s best to speak up and say something if I had an issue with someone, but I tend to just not say anything at all. 3318. Do you appologize too often? Yes. I’m always quick to blame myself for everything 3319. Does your mind play tricks on you? Yes. 3320. Have you read (any of): the bible? the koran? the torah? the kama sutra? the satanic bible? 3321. Do you own any possetions that you hide from parents, friends, visitors? Old diaries and letters.

What? Well, they’re personal. 3322. Why does the cheese stand alone? I guess cause it smells or something. 3323. Do you watch any soaps? No. I find the acting and story lines just absolutely awful. 3324. Have you learned something new today?/ Stuff in the news. 3325. Do you believe in an 'oversoul' of all humanity? What? 3326. Have you invented your own style, just for you? It’s nothing unique.

3327. have you invented your own religion, just for you? No. 3328. What files have you recently downloaded? I don’t remember. 3329. Some people think little girls should be seen and not heard but I think: Uh, of course they should be heard. They have a voice and should be able to use it just like anyone else. 3330. Do you dance around a lot? No. 3331. Is the unexamined life worth living or not? What. 3332. What are you like when you're at your most beautiful? I never feel beautiful. 3333. What are you like when you are at your worst? I don’t even want to be around me. 3334. Why do you hide things about yourself?/ I just don’t feel comfortable talking about certain things or I’m sure how to talk about/express them. 3335. Why is anything 'too personal' to talk to others about? It just is. 3336. Why should we be embarressed, afraid, or appologetic for ANYTHING we think, say or do? I don’t know, that’s just how it is sometimes. 3337. Can true freedom exist in this world of doubt and guilt? Well, you can not let it weigh you down. 3338. What do you have no control over? Life. 3339. Do you own a vibrating pillow? No.

How about a vibrating back massager? No. 3340. Can you dance away your emotional pain? No. 3341. When you dance is it a celebration of life? I don’t dance unless you count a head bob and maybe a little arm/shoulder movement lol. 3342. When do you feel the most immortal? I don’t. 3343. Are you more of a painting, a poem or a song? I’m a sad song. 3344. Is lonliness a crowded room full of open hearts turned to stone? Blah. 3345. Is YOUR heart ever stone? I feel like my health, especially my mental health, has hardened me in some ways. :/ 3346. Are we alltogether all alone? No. 3347. Does life end in a happily ever after way? It depends on what you believe and where you go after you die. 3348. What's the warmest part of your body? Right now my entire body. It’s so hot in here. D: 3349. Are you more verbal or visual? Depends? 3350. What do you long for? For better days.

3351. True or false: When someone hates you it is because:

they're jealous of you? Not necessarily, but sometimes.

the things you say are frightening to them because what you say makes them think about things they would rather avoid thinking about? Perhaps.

they don't understand you? That can be a reason. 3352. True or false: When you hate someone it is because: I don’t hate anyone.

you're jealous of them? the things they say are frightening to you because what they say makes them think about things you would rather avoid thinking about? you don't understand them? 3353. Have you ever been fascinated by someone who hated you? I don’t know of anyone hating me. 3354. Since the human brain has defense mechanisms against feeling bad (meaning the brain lies to itself to avoid feeling bad about something it said or did) how can we ever know if we are truly being honest? Well mine must be broken cause I feel that all the time.

How do we know our brains are not tricking us into believeing we are good people when we aren't all good?/ Actually, I really hate the person I’ve become over these past few years and I pray it’s my brain making me think that and that it’s not really true. :/ 3355. How highly do you value innovation? I think it’s great? 3356. Is there a name where all the people you've ever met haveing that name had something in common with each other(ex. all the jens you've ever met had blue eyes)? Yeah, I definitely feel like there were a few examples of that, but of course I’m failing to think of any at the moment. 3357. Are you focused more outward or inward? Uhh. 3358. What is the most affectionate nickname you ever came up with for someone? I call my doggo a precious angel. lol. 3359. Are the questions STILL still interesting this deep into the survey? I guess interesting is the word for it. They’re.... something. Some are a bit out there. 3360. If someone else makes their desicions based on their intuition instead of on facts and proofs what do you think of that person? Sometimes our intuition about certain things is right. 3361. Do you trust your own intuition? Sometimes. 3362. Finish the phrase... danger is the: just keep: never trust: the way I live my life: don't change: maybe someday: 3363. Would you rather live in Frodo's world or Harry Potter's? Harry Potter. 3364. Do you believe that the dead are with us? Their memory is and we see and hear them around us in various things.

If yes in what form? ^^^^ 3365. Do you believe that those who haven't been born are with us? Like they died in the womb? Well, I believe in heaven and I believe that an unborn fetus would go there.

If yes, in what form? ^^^ 3366. Are you made of timid stuff? What. 3367. Is there anyone in this world who is not CRAZY? We’re all a little mad. 3368. What word becomes shorter when you add two letters to it? Short becomes shorter when you add “er.” 3369. Can you mashed potatoe? I never got what kind of dance the mashed potato is.

Can you do the twist? Nah. 3370. What does your family do for thanksgiving..or if you don't celebrate it what do you picture when you think of thanksgiving? We have a nice Thanksgiving dinner. 3371. What is your earliest memory? I have some memories from preschool. 3372. Have you ever taken an IQ test? Yeah. What do you think of those things? IQ is one of those things that’s difficult to really define. You be smart in different areas. I always think of that Albert Einstein quote that says, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” 3373. How do you make 'fishcakes'? I don’t know. I’ve never had ‘em and I’ve never made them. I have no desire to either. 3374. Which is the better band..the offspring or the damned? The Offspring. 3375. Do you ever think about world destruction? No, not really. 3376. Do you think humans are becoming more robotic? Yes. I definitely feel that way. 3377. Do you think we'll ever be replaced by robots? Oh, it’s happening. 3378. What do you feel a part of? Hmm. 3379. Does it freak you out to know that yogurt is ALiVe?? It’s weird to think that there’s good bacteria for you. 3380. What current band d o you think is doing something particularly interesting or innovative? *shrug* 3381. Golf course, do you remember? Remember what?

3382. Which is more important, books and cleverness or friendship and bravery? Books and cleverness. 3383. If i promise to miss you, will you go away? You don’t gotta miss me. 3384. stool, ball, powder...Can you think of a 4th word that connects these three? Nope. 3385. Who's afraid of the big bad wolf? You. 3386. Why are blondes considered 'dumb'? I don’t know why that became a big joke. 3387. What's more important..intuitiveness/creativity or factual knowledge and practicallity? They all are. 3388. Who are the two worst terrorists you can think of? All terrorists are horrible. 3389. What is jello made of? Gelatin, which consists of collagen from animal skin, bones, and connective tissue. 3390. Pick a country: Sweden. What do you believe is wrong with that country? I don’t know. 3391. Do you have strong opinions? About some things. 3392. Do you do what it takes to stand up for those opinions? I generally keep to myself. 3393. Have you ever been to a rally, protest or demonstration? No.

If yes was it effective and in what ways? 3394. When people say, 'yeah it sucks but there's nothing I can do' do you believe them? Usually there’s something. 3395. Do you know what you can do to make this world a better place? No, I don’t.

Do you care? I care, but I really don’t know what I could do. I guess this relates to question 3394 and there is something I could do, but what? 3396. Why is peace so important anyway? Do you enjoy violence and hatred?

Why is freedom important? We should be able to make our own choices, but in doing so you also pick the consequences. People tend to overlook that last part. 3397. As long as you have your house and your family and you can go to the movies and the mall who cares about peace and freedom. Right? Uh, wrong. 3398. Do you try to avoid anything involving work? These past few years you could say that. 3399. If you are not actively wrking to stop the horrors and injustices of the world (war, hunger, poverty) than aren't you partially responsible for them? I can’t be responsible for everyone. Should we try and do what we can to help? Well, yes. We don’t have to, though. That goes along with that whole freedom thing, too. 3400. Are you in denial? I don’t think so.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #5000 question survey

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nolimitsongrace · 3 years

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November 7: Prepared and Forewarned by the Spirit of God

Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison…. — Revelation 2:10

God loves you so much that if you will listen to His Spirit, He will forewarn and prepare you for things to come — whatever it is that you are to face. A perfect example of this forewarning and preparing is found in Revelation 2:10, where Jesus said, “Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried.…”

At the time that Jesus spoke these words, He was speaking to the church at Smyrna, who was suffering great persecution. He was forewarning them so they would be prepared by knowing that some of them are going to be put into prison and tried. Rather than let this event take them by surprise, Christ wanted them to know in advance, so He lovingly informed them of what the future held.

*[If you started reading this from your email, begin reading here.]

Being put in prison is a harrowing ordeal under any circumstance. But to be thrown into a Roman prison was a horrid prospect to contemplate. Thus, with great love, Christ forewarned the church of Smyrna that the devil was going to use this experience to test the commitment and steadfastness of their faith.

The word “tried” is the Greek word peiradzo, which describes a calculated test deliberately designed to expose any deficiency. By using this word, Jesus made it clear that the hardships these Christians would endure were intended to test them to see if their faith was genuine. They had confessed Jesus as Lord, and soon Satan would “try” them to discover if their commitment to Christ’s Lordship was truly sincere. Just as the devil tempted Jesus in the wilderness (see Matthew 4:1-11; Luke 4:1-13), the enemy was now preparing to tempt these believers with persecutions beyond anything they had ever endured or imagined.

Believers throughout the Roman Empire were undergoing persecution as well. When the apostle Peter wrote to the believers in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, he referred to the fiery trials that were testing their faith: “That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honor and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:7).

Both Scripture and experience confirm that a faith declaration often triggers a devilish attack. Satan’s purpose was to test the sincerity of these believers’ faith to see if they would break under pressure. Therefore, Christ warned the church that these present and imminent attacks would verify whether or not they were really committed to the faith they had publicly declared. If there was any deficiency in their faith, those fiery trials would expose it, for the devil would design this calculated test to break them. Some would succumb to his attacks and recant their faith — but the majority of those who were to be “tried” would endure and prove themselves faithful, even unto death.

Jesus had more to say about what was to come: “Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried; and ye shall have tribulation…” (Revelation 2:10).

The word “tribulation” reveals how intense these fires of testing would be. It is the Greek word thlipsis. The word thlipsis conveys the idea of a burden that is crushing, debilitating, or overpowering. Most often, the word thlipsis was used in connection with displays of extreme hostility or torture. Christ used the word to forecast a time of distress, oppression, pressure, and stress. This word “tribulation” may be understood as a clarification of the word “tried.” The tests the church of Smyrna was about to endure would be crushing, debilitating, and overpowering, resulting in great distress, oppression, pressure, and stress.

It is interesting that although Christ told these believers, “Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer…,” He didn’t hesitate to tell them that very difficult times awaited them. Jesus knew that Satan was about to unleash a horrendous onslaught against these believers to attack their faith — but He also knew they could endure this test because their faith was indeed genuine.

Jesus then went on to promise that this time of tribulation would last only for a limited period of time. He said, “Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried; and ye shall have tribulation ten days…” (Revelation 2:10).

Jesus knew that the intense, impending bombardment would seem unending to the congregation. So when He asserted, “…Ye shall have tribulation ten days….” The phrase “ten days” was meant to give encouragement and hope to the suffering church — letting these believers know that their hardships wouldn’t endure forever. Theologian Albert Barnes noted that the reference to “ten days” refers to “a short time; a brief period; a few days.”12 Bible scholar Henry Alford suggested, “The expression is probably used to signify a short and limited time.”13 Christ is so kind and merciful that He forewarned the believers in Smyrna of this time of persecution so they wouldn’t be taken by surprise. And as He promised, that time of tribulation did come to an end!

Hard times are inescapable in this life, but God’s power always has and always will continue to sustain those who are determined to be faithful to Him. Even if the fires of adversity rage and it seems as if they will never cease, those trials are temporary and will eventually come to an end. Almost 2,000 years of Church history have proven that the persecuted Church always comes forth purer than gold and mightier in the Spirit. The spiritual darkness may seem overpowering at times as Satan fiercely attempts to blot out the light of truth. But as John 1:5 promises, the light cannot be held perpetually under the domain of darkness. Victory belongs to those who endure to the end (see Matthew 10:22).

History bears witness that the Spirit of God always warns His people in advance when difficult times are coming. There are abundant historical records spanning the centuries that relate accounts of believers and missionaries in hostile nations throughout the world who were forewarned by the Holy Spirit of future hardships. Such divine warnings are intended to prepare believers to face the impending challenges, if they will hear and heed the voice of the Spirit.

Jesus lovingly prepared His people for the turbulent times that awaited them. It is imperative that in your time, you keep your heart open so that you can hear what the Spirit of God is saying to you about your future. There is one thing for sure: His goal is always to cause you to triumph (see 2 Corinthians 2:14). If you’ll keep your ear tuned to Him, He will be faithful by His Spirit to forewarn you and prepare you for the times to come — and then He will empower you to walk through every single situation as more than a conqueror in Him (see Romans 8:37)!

12Albert Barnes, Notes on the Bible (Blackie & Son, London, 1884-85; Reprinted by Baker Books, 1996), Revelation 2:10.

13Henry Alford, Greek Testament Critical Exegetical Commentary (Boston: Lee & Shepard, 1878), Volume IV.|

MY PRAYER FOR TODAY

Father, I thank You that Your love for the Church is so strong that You forewarn and prepare us for the days ahead. Please forgive me for the times when You tried to warn me but I didn’t listen — and help me open my heart to hear what You are saying to me now about the times to come. Regardless of what the future holds, I know that You are Lord of all and that You made me to be an overcomer. I pray for a flood of the Holy Spirit’s power to be unleashed in my life in these last days so that I will have everything I need to brave any storm and emerge victorious on the other side!

I pray this in Jesus’ name!

MY CONFESSION FOR TODAY

I confess that my spiritual ears are open and I am attuned to what the Holy Spirit is telling me about the present and the days ahead. The future will not take me by surprise, because I am listening to the Holy Spirit, and He reveals to me what I need to know. Jesus promised that the Holy Spirit would show us things to come, and I declare that my spirit is wide-awake and alert to hear the Spirit’s forecast about the future. I am filled with the Holy Spirit; therefore, He gives me all the strength and energy I need to outlast any storm the devil ever tries to send my way. With the help of the Holy Spirit, I will come out on the other side of any difficulty as an overcomer!

I declare this by faith in Jesus’ name!

QUESTIONS FOR YOU TO CONSIDER

Are you aware of any times in history when the Holy Spirit warned people in advance that difficult times were coming? Can you think of other examples in the Old or New Testament when the Spirit of God forewarned and prepared people for coming difficult times?

What is the Holy Spirit saying to you about your future? What does the Bible prophesy about believers living in the last days?

If the Holy Spirit and the Word of God speak directly about the life before you, what steps should you take to prepare for those times? What steps can be taken right now to be sure you ride through any storm victoriously?

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kunsart · 5 years

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Renoir: Luncheon of the Boating Party, 1881. Probably his most famous painting.

Renoir is an object of hatred and scorn, but the criticism is myopic.

When I said to reconsider Renoir, it’s from the last critical update, at which point, if you don’t already know, his status was solidified as a horrible painter and sexist pig-man. And while there are some cringeworthy Bather paintings, if we were to judge by his best works, he’s a phenomenal painter.

There was even a protest at a Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, in 2015, to take down Renoir’s crappy art.

It’s supposed to be funny — everyone’s a comedian — but also true. People savagaed the artist on social media, it went viral, and even mainstream and authorative art publications picked up the story. There are articles in The Atlantic, Smithsonian, The Guardian, The New Yorker, Huffpost, NPR, and Hyperallergic…

True, Renoir’s bathers portray women as if they were just born, as adults, billowing with baby fat, and as cognizant as kittens. His colors are pastel, and the paintings look like he used feathers instead of brushes. It’s all far too wispy, frivolous, and conventionally feminine looking. It stinks of potpourri, desert wine, pastries, and miniature dogs. When I’d go to people’s homes and there was a thick Renoir book on the coffee table, I could last as long thumbing through it as I could a catalogue for patio furniture. I was definitely more of a robots and monsters kind of a youth, and had no interest whatsoever in flowery bonnets or an art best relished in a kind of languorous boredom only experienced in the drawing-rooms of the affluent.

Slamming Renoir has been a favorite pastime of critics since 1874 when critic, Albert Wolff wrote:

“Try to explain to M Renoir that a woman’s torso is not a mass of decomposing flesh with green and purple spots that indicate the state of total putrefaction in a corpse!”

I believe that very humorous characterization applied to this painting in particular. I bought a catalogue for an Impressionist show at LACME decades ago, and Wlff’s statement cracked me up, mostly because I could look at the painting and see the flesh the way he described it.

Renoir, Nude in the Sun, 1875 [I know, somehow the painting is dated after the criticism by a year, but I remember it being this painting, or one very, very similar.]

From a contemporary perspective Renoir represents just about everything wrong with the art of the past. He’s another dead white male, a presumed virtuoso, he objectified women into an amalgam of flesh and frills, and is a sickeningly sweet pillar in the pantheon of patriarchal art. On top of it, he botches anatomy in spectacular ways that make his girls look like dough beasts, rather than the stunning embodiments of sensuality he intended. Let me give you a stellar example of why everyone’s dumping on Renoir:

Bather (Baigneuse), 1918.

The painting above was created when the artist was in his late 70’s, nearly 40 years after he paintted Luncheon of the Boating Party, and one year before he died. I mean, I wouldn’t judge Neil Young by his latest efforts, either. That might be worth taking into consideration when we measure her left elbow is as wide as her face. I’m guessing he didn’t use a model, and the exaggerations and stylization was deliberate [ex., the boobs got a lot smaller and the limbs a lot bitter].

Woman Leaning, 1917.

Holy crap, it’s not wonder she’s not wearing a watch!

Pierre-Auguste Renoir. Nude in a Landscape (Nu dans un paysage), c. 1917.

My anacanda don’t want none if it ain’t got buns

Renoir could, however, if he wanted, paint a nude that looks like a member of the human species. Or rather he could have when he was younger. In his late years he sufferec from crippling arthritis, and Matisse once asked him “Why torture yourself?”.

Diana the Huntress, 1867

We can have all sorts of issues with the imagery, like why she hunts without footwear, let alone anything other than a wrap-around cloth that won’t stay on, but he obviously knows the basics of anatomy, proportion, perspective, lighting and shading…

Part 1: Renoir Sucks at Painting

The main problem with the fashionable denunciation of Renoir is that he really could paint with the best of them.

If you think Monet sucks, and can’t paint either, we can just agree to disagree, and go our separate ways. But if you think Monet can definitely paint, like water lilies or not, than consider the following. Here are two paintings each by Monet and Renoir of La Grenouillère (a resort outsie of Paris). Can you tell which is by who, if you don’t already know?

The two with the boats are by Renoir. Not helpful? This one’s a Renoir:

La Grenouillère, 1869.

They painted together on the bank of the river, and if you can go toe to toe with Monet when doing Impressionism, you definitely don’t suck at painting.

Dude could do buildings, horses and buggies, carriages with people sitting all about them…

Pont-Neuf, 1872.

Hot damn he could do some quality Impressionism. Even if Monet scoffed at the painting below, he’d have been scratching his beard defensively while doing so.

The Piazza San Marco, Venice, 1881 .

These boaters are good:

Oarsmen At Chatou, 1879.

He went full-on Monet with this landscape:

Snow Covered Landscape, 1870-1875.

And one more:

Snow-Covered Landscape, 1883.

You have to admit, he could paint landscape. What about a still-life:

Mixed Flowers In An Earthenware Pot, 1869.

That’s competent indeed.

Gladioli In A Vase, 1875.

I’m just going to go out on a limb here and say he’s got it down.

Renoir could take it indoors as well to rival Degas, Mary Cassatt, or even Manet.

Mme. Charpentier and her children, 1878

There’s are all sorts of words we can heap on this image: saccharine, syrupy, treacly, cloying, and you name it, but this is an extremely accomplished painting. Quit cringing at the cute little twin girls and the big doggy for a moment, and notice how well he painted their matching dresses, and their hair, and their shoes and socks. All that against the fur of the dog, which is on top of the texture of the rug. Look at the damned sofa with its reflective thread. Never mind the still life in the background, and the texture of the chair. The figures are rendered in convincing perspective, and the anatomy is mostly very convincing (I take issue with the placement of girl in the middle’s ear). If nothing else, this painting is an astounding display of painted textures:, hard, soft, reflective, hair, fur, upholstery, glass, metal, and flesh…

We can agree that Mary Cassatt can paint, right? This one’s easier than the Monet Vs. Renoir test, but just for comparison purposes, which one is Cassatt, and which is Renoir:

Clearly the one on the left is the Renoir. The woman, while conspicuously exhibiting her cleavage to the delectation of the male gaze is not even looking at us. In the Cassatt image, the woman stairs directly at us, meeting our gaze, and with confidence, while the male, consigned to the background, is a passive figure obscured by his own proclivity to gaze. Oh, shit, I got it backwards.

And then there’s unmistakable Renoir, nude women bathing in lakes devoid of leaches, or even fish.

The Large Bathers, 1887.

To the people that would say this is bad painting, technically speaking, try to copy it, even in just a pencil, line drawing [and not by squaring off the image first and just filling boxes]. You will need a solid grasp of how to draw hands and feet, for starters. Look at the woman on the left’s left eye. Just how much of it does one show when the head is tilted at that angle. This isn’t beginner fodder. Rendering serval people interacting in realistic space is never going to be easy, especially if it includes their full bodies. Whatever else this painting is or isn’t, it’s a very technical painting that requires an enormous amount of skill.

If I were a professional artist at in the late 1800’s, and I were in a life or death painting competition with another artist, I wouldn’t want that other artist to be Renoir in a serious mood.

Part 2: Renoir is a Sexist Pig-man

A lot of people focus on this part, and we will hear about the objectification of women, the predatory male gaze, and that the presumed audience was white men only, blah, blah, blah. I’ve been hearing this ad nauseum for a quarter century, in which case even if it were absolutely true, you might forgive me for developing a mental rash from overexposure. The two flaws of renouncing Renoir are that people who say he can’t paint are clueless about what painting is or requires, and that we are judgning the art by the artist, and not the other way around.

I say that we judge the artist by the art. It’s quite egalitarian, especially if we don’t know who the artist is, what their biology is, how they identify, and so on. The proof is in the painting, I like to say. And, no, it isn’t up to the audience to determine what the art in question means (I’ve dealt with this egregious ideological blunder elsewhere). But let’s look at the evidence of Renoir’s sexist depictions of women.

Woman in a Lace Blouse. 1869.

No dignity whatsoever.

First Portrait of Madame Georges Charpeitier, 1876-1877 .

There’s no attention placed to her face!

Madame Victor Chocquet, 1875.

Of course she’s going to open her blouse!

Portrait of Mademoiselle Sicotg (1865)

Why does she have to be nude?

Alright, alright, of course I’m cherry-picking the least offensive depictions, but that’s an appropriate antidote to doing the same with the most offensive. It complicates the easy conclusion that his paintings concretely indicate he only sees women as accessible, fleshy bodies, incapable of higher thought processes.

I find it odd that people who may be comfortable with the existence of hard core porn are unsettled by the likes of this:

Bathers, 1918.

It is a bizarre and idyllic universe, devoid of men, in which women appear to spend all their time fixing their hair, bathing, and going about nude, as if the exodus never happened. It’s like the Eloy without the Morlocks. Are we supposed to think those thick arms and glabrous Sasquatch feet were intended to be arousing? Am I to understand this painting is dangerous because it represents women as fuzzy painted people without edges? Should we presume this image has anything to do with real life, and isn’t just a heavily stylized, even abstracted, fantasy? His women in landscapes are treated about the same as his fruits in a still life, just a convenient subject that’s an excuse for painting about painting.

He painted women like he painted cats.

Woman with a Cat, ca. 1875

Sleeping Girl with a Cat, 1880.

Ah, look at dat puddy!

Huh, there’s even a boy with a cat:

Young Boy with a Cat: 1868-69.

Uuuuh. Meanwhile back to our regularly scheduled programing.

A Young Girl With Daisies, 1989.

This would be one of his more plausibly erotic ones.

Even if Renoir is guilty of a peculiar fantasy and fetishization of women, are we only offended by this particular brand of objectification and fetishization? Are we policing people’s erotic fantasies? Albeit these sorts of depictions are not flattering to the subject’s intelligence and rugged independence — and I guess you can extrapolate that oppress real women in the real world — it could be a lot worse.

When I recall who had those coffee table Renoir books, it was women. Oddly, his whole body of work seems kinda’ conventionally feminine, with all the frills, lace, curly hair, bonnets, kittens, and flowers. Despite the weird presumed eroticization of imaginary dough-womankind — personages so conspicuously painterly one would need to be turned on by paint itself to relish them (being hot for Impressionist women does suggest a rather advanced level of art connoisseurship) — the paintings don’t seem designed for male erotic consumption. Context seems to indicate I must be wrong about that, but if I didn’t know better, I’d think Renoir’s target audience was women (of his era, mind you) with significant disposable income.

Renoir may or may not have been a sexist above and beyond the social climate of more-than-a-century-ago, and I could have existed happily without ever seeing his series of bathers. His sensibility seems on the opposite end of the spectrum from my own, as I have been criticized for being too dark and too graphic about it. But I do appreciate when an artist manages to manifest his or her internal vision on canvas, and the widespread antipathy towards him is making me, if anything, more receptive to his nude bathers.

Now I have to regard Renoir’s paintings as representing the vision of an artist who is being banished as a pariah, and whose work people are clamoring to expunge.

Suddenly Renoir’s presumed weaknesses become his strengths. Among legions of serious painters tackling hard reality, here is a consummate craftsman celebrating happy, prosperous Parisians exulting in the pleasures of everyday life.

Bal Du Moulin De La Galette, 1876.

and

After The Luncheonm 1879.

And desite the charges of sexism, it’s a rather feminine world he depicts:

Children’s Afternoon At Wargemont, 1884.

and

The Umbrellas, 1886.

And while his renditions of women and girls are all sugar and spice and everything nice, it’s hard for me to think he didn’t like them.

Two Sisters .on The Terrace, 1881.

I have to give him credit. I’d never do anything like this. And that is making it strangely appealing to me. This is not the portal through which I see reality: it’s Renoir’s idyllic and sweet universe, superficially resembling Paris, and populated by happy, conent, and untroubled people enjoying a hedonistic existence. In the end the campaign against Renoir has converted me to a believer. I need his art like I need a box of donuts, but I really prefer the world with donuts in it, and Renoir.

~ Ends

Renoir Reconsidered Renoir is an object of hatred and scorn, but the criticism is myopic. When I said to reconsider Renoir, it's from the last critical update, at which point, if you don't already know, his status was solidified as a horrible painter and sexist pig-man.

#art #art criticism #Impressionism #painting #Renoir #Renoirsucks

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rosyredlipstick · 7 years

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Rental Love* (5\?)

(*Read Terms & Conditions)

- Male/22/Long Island N.Y.C. Tired of showing up stag at holiday events? Want your family to stop thinking there’s something wrong with you? Just want some arm candy for a work event? Look no further. Your solution is here! I will attend holiday events with you as your paid date. Accepting all genders as applicants. Email [email protected] if interested. Interview & application will be set up there. - Nico di Angelo has been telling Hazel Levesque about his boyfriend for weeks. The bad part? Nico doesn’t have a boyfriend, the holidays are coming up, and not all of Jason’s ideas are horrible. They’re all a bit surprised about the last one. Read Part One Here Part Two Part Three Part Four

Nico was incredibly mournful of that fact that he wasn’t able to say that it was his first morning being woken up by a body colliding into his.

Jason was a terrible roommate, after all.

But this was definitely not Jason, with her high, feminine laughter ringing in the air, and her horribly clashing ugly Christmas sweater themed pajamas.

“Merry Christmas!” Hazel laughed, perfectly content in the space between him and Will’s previously sleeping bodies.

She threw her feet and hands into the air, kicking them about. “It’s Christmas!” She declared as if it wasn’t already completely obvious. “Get up!” She ordered, sitting up to point to both of them. “Hades won’t let us open any gifts until everyone’s eaten breakfast and is downstairs and neither of that is going to happen if you guys lay here all day!”

Nico groaned out loud, burying himself into his blankets, momentarily grateful both he and Will wore sleep shirts to bed. “What time is it?”

“Early.” Will groaned back, his voice just as rough as Nico’s. Nico tried to ignore it, the nice edge of the rasp in his voice, and forced himself onto other thoughts.

“It’s eight-thirty!” Hazel declared, “Frank made me wait, we’ve been up since six.”

They heard an exhausted groan from the doorway, and Nico peeked up from his pile of warmth.

Frank, leaning against the doorway, slid a hand over his lax face. “That we have.”

“Poor Frank.” Nico mumbled, tucking the blankets tighter around himself as Hazel tried to pull them off.

“Poor Frank.” Nico heard Will agree in the same low tone, muffled as he buried his face into the pillow.

Neither of them bothered to change out of their wrinkled from sleep pajama bottoms, instead only absent-mindedly shoving on shirts that belonged to the other. They both shuffled down the stairs, and Nico, with his face buried in the warmth of Will’s neck, didn’t even try to hide how heavily he was leaning against the other boy. Will didn’t seem to mind though, just as clingy in his sleepiness, his arm slung around Nico’s shoulders.

Hazel, who had bounced ahead of them as they changed, waited at the bottom of the stairs with a fond look on her face.

“Go lay on the couch with your boyfriend.” She teased, happiness in her voice. She was far too chipper, and even Will’s ‘morning person’ personality shied away from her sunny grin. She balanced a tray on her hip and made a shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Frank and I will grab the hot chocolate and be in there in a second. Hades and Persephone should be down in a minute.”

Nico laid down on the couch, and Will’s movements weren’t anything like the hesitation Nico was feeling. Will laid across his chest, his hand coming up to rest on Nico’s shoulder. His body was heavy and warm against Nico’s, and the roaring fireplace next to them wasn’t the only reason for the blush crawling up Nico’s neck.

“Is this okay?” Will’s voice was quiet, too quiet for anyone but Nico.

Nico’s voice was soft, but it didn’t need to hold any volume for Will to hear it. They were so close, Will could feel Nico’s breath on the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” He breathed out, his arms coming up to circle Will’s waist.

“Hey sleepyheads.” Hazel gave them a soft smile, balancing a tray on her hip. “Coco’s here.”

“The famous di Angelo mix.” Will grinned, catching on quickly. He accepted a cup topped heavily with whipped cream and sat up slowly.

Hazel passed Nico a cup with much less cream, but from the scent, much more peppermint. Just how he liked it.

He gave her a small smile in thanks, following Will’s example and sitting up with his legs tucked under him. He leaned into Will’s warmth, not really as tired and clingy anymore but still craving the contact nonetheless. Will’s hand, almost like without thinking, came up to brush Nico’s bed head back before it could fall into his drink, and Nico had to will away the flush climbing up his neck.

“Where’s Hades?” He asked, probably too-loud, mostly as a distraction from the way Will’s shoulders were leaning into Nico’s side, his warmth welcome and comforting through their thin pajama layers.

“Hades isn’t here.” He heard his father’s voice exclaim loudly, causing a twin wince from him and Will. “However ~” Hades threw himself in front of the couch, a large red and white hat taking up most of his face, the matching color scheme taking up the oversized outfit he was donning. “Santa is here!”

Nico only stared at him, blinking slowly in response to Will’s sudden erupting laughter at his side. “Why.” He breathed out, “Why do you have to do this.”

Hades beamed, rolling up his red sleeves only to have them fall back down a moment later.

“What are you talking about? I am simply Father Christmas, here to visit to Di Angelo household.”

Nico finally groaned, shoving his head into Will’s neck. “Why are you so embarrassing.”

Will laughed, his hand coming up to thread through Nico’s hair. “I think it’s cute.”

Had been Nico been looking, he would have seen the impressed and happy look Hades shot Will at that. “See?” He asked Nico, pulling on the edge of Nico’s foot hanging off the couch. “I’m cute.”

Nico kicked out his foot, hitting Hades’s wrist with a nice wack, and smiled a bit at his father’s noise of surprise.

Nico turned his face out of Will’s neck to see Hazel giggling loudly into Frank’s chest, their own position similar to the close one he and Will were tied up in.

Persephone - thank the gods - was wearing her normal soft pajama ensemble she wore every year - her bare face and messy ponytail a rare sight. She plopped down on the couch closest to them, tilting her head back and laughing as Hades struggled not to trip over the much, much too large outfit. Her face was fond, an open picture of love, and she tilted her head to them as she spoke with bumpy, laughter filled words.

“Isn’t he hot?” Persephone giggled, “I swear, I find him more attractive everyday. Like a fine wine, yes? Gets better with age?”

“I hate you. I hate both of you.” Nico only declared, fitting his hands over his ears, ignoring Will’s soft laughter at his side. “Why do you guys have to do this.”

“Don’t you agree, Will?” He could barely hear Persephone ask over his plugged ears, grinning wildly like the witch she was.

Nico removed his hands in time to hear Will hum, a thoughtful look on his face.

Will grinned, catching Nico’s eye playfully. “All I’ll say is this - if Nico grows up to look like that? I wouldn’t be disappointed.”

Persephone howled with laughter, her wine glass swinging dangerously as she fell forward in laughter, and Nico huffed out a breath, his traitorous cheeks coloring horribly.

“I”m leaving this family.” He announced, standing. “Goodbye, it’s been fun, Hazel can have my shares of the will.”

Hazel peeked her head over from the couch, smiling at something Frank was saying. “I can what?” She asked, laughter making her voice happy and bumpy.

“You get Hades’s retro car collection and the manor in L.A., congrats.”

Hazel nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll enjoy the sun. So your entire inheritance?”

“Consider it yours.” Nico made a bowing motion, rolling his eyes, and reached for another cup of eggnog.

“Including Jules-Albert?” She asked, her voice teasing.

Nico paused, his mouth clicking close. “Okay. Most of my inheritance.”

Hazel laughed, “Thought so.”

“Your chauffeur is in your family’s will?” Will asked, giving him a look.

Nico nodded, frowning. “Well, yeah. Someone has to remember to visit him and make sure Beatrice is up to shape, and he’s needy.” He shot a smirk over to Hazel, “And he likes me the best.”

Hazel huffed a breath up into the hair in her face. “That’s just because you used to make him to take you to the convenience store at two in the morning and force him to bond with you.”

Nico gave her a nonchalant shrug, “Worked, didn’t it?”

Hazel only rolled her eyes in response, not really minding. Everyone knew she was Allegra's favorite anyways - their esteemed cook who had been in the family since Nico could remember - and the sneaked bites before dinner and midnight snacks were enough for Hazel to give up the title of Jules Albert’s preferred.

Hades stepped forward then, Nico sighing again at the sight of his costume, and the older man took advantage of the lull in their argument.

“Merry Christmas, di Angelo's!” Hades grinned, his arms tucked behind him. “As your beloved father could not be here today -” He spoke over Nico’s loud groan, shooting a small smile to Will as the blond boy swatted at him in response - “I, Saint Nicholas, will be filling in for this Christmas morning!”

“Let’s get this over with.” Nico muttered, sitting up from Will’s embrace.

Hades, pushing the plastic white beard back a little so he could speak, smiled down at his son. “Why, little boy!” His voice was much, much too loud. “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“I hate you.” Nico answered, glaring at him with too much humor and not enough heat. “I really, really do.”

“Naughty, I assume!” Hades only took from that, still grinning widely. He took a step forward closer to his family, his hands still wound behind his back. “But that’s quite forgivable, I assure you. Especially since your father tells me you’ve brought such a nice young man home for the holidays!” He winked at Will, and Nico was almost embarrassed to acknowledge that this wasn’t the first time. This entire experience had only so far taught him one thing: he could never, ever bring home another guy to his family.

Hazel, the traitor, was giggling at the whole ordeal, her hands fanning over her wide smile from her place on the couch. Nico resisted the urge to stick her tongue out on her, and settled for rolling his eyes at his father.

“Does any of this have a point?” Nico asked through gritted teeth, ignoring how Will was shaking with quiet laughter beside him.

Hades brightened, as if Nico was reminding him of something. “Ah! Yes, yes I do.” He cleared his throat. “As comes tradition with Nico’s winnings of the Annual Gingerbread Contest -” With a lavish movement, Hades revealed an extravagantly wrapped gift from behind his back, smiling hugely. “The first present!”

He handed the gift over to his son, all eyes on Nico, and Nico took the familiarly shaped box in his hands and gave it a playful weigh.

Nico grinned,, the playful annoyance from earlier disappearing, and tipped his head back towards his father, already knowing. “Vinyl?”

“Of course.” Hades smiled, referring back to their mutual agreement of giving each other vinyl every year. It was simple, made Hades easy to shop for, and Nico was hardly ever disappointed. It was good arrangement.

He tore off the paper - too thick to be anything but ridiculously expensive for paper meant for ripping - and settled the heavy package on his lap.

He whistled, smoothing his hand over the plastic cling wrap that guarded the earthy colored album. His smile was small, private, but meant nothing less than a beaming face of joy. “Hozier - how’d you know?”

Hades knocked his shoulder with his hand. “I have my ways.” He said, his voice dripping with mystery, probably meaning he just checked out Nico’s latest spotify playlists.

Nico smiled, a small and real sort of thing. “Thanks, dad.”

Hades beamed at the thanks, already turning away to reach for Hazel’s first gift from him.

Will grinned next to him, bringing Nico’s attention to him, and his voice soft enough so his words were just for Nico. “Wow Nico, didn’t know you were a hipster too. I thought pop punks were suppose to hate hipsters, isn’t this kind of a contradiction?”

Nico shoved him, no real heat behind the action. His stuck his nose in the air, a playful look crossing his face. “It’s how music was supposed to be played. It sounds a thousand times better.”

Will hummed, tracing the silhouette on the album cover with a light finger. “You’ll have to show me later. Educate the misinformed, you know.”

Nico thought that over, glad his family was momentarily distracted as Persephone unwrapped one of her first - of many, if by tradition - gifts from Hades. “That sounds...okay.”

Will glanced at him, his eyes too blue and too nice to look at for such a casual action. He curved his smile up into a half-grin, and Nico pretended to be extremely invested in the ugly pattern of their antique rug that spread out before the fireplace.

“Yeah?” Will asked, his voice soft.

Nico nodded, still looking away. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

He glanced to his sister, excitedly gushing over the new set of watercolors Hades had ordered from Italy or France or whatever, and focused his attention on the holiday instead of Will’s warm body pressed into the line of his.

It was Persephone’s turn next - Hazel had helped Nico with hers, directing him towards a soft and earthy colored scarf Persephone had apparently been eyeing, and his step-mother smiled in thanks at the soft fabric. “Thank you boys.” She smiled, referring to the From Nico and Will tag Nico had added on last minute. “It’s beautiful.”

The continued like that, Hades enjoying the few vintage records Nico found buried in a record shop down the street from the restaurant Jason worked at. Frank made a soft noise of surprise at the engraved arrowheads Persephone had excitedly ordered weeks ago, his eyes going red as he stumbled down a shy thanks.

“Open mine next.” Nico nodded to the small wrapped gift under the tree, thanking the other boy when Frank handed it over. Hazel smiled at him, her smile going a bit soft at his messy dark handwriting on the side of the box. She tore off the paper quickly, handing it over to Frank and his garbage bag, and took a good look at the box.

Hazel blinked in surprise, a happily pleased smile coming over her face as she realized what it was. “I - I love it!” She hugged the small box to her chest, beaming. “Nico! This is - this is great! I’ve always wanted one of these!”

Nico blushed slightly, “There’s no need to sound so surprised.” He teased.

She shot him an amused look. “Nico. You got me a kitten calendar and an expired fruitcake last year. I love you, but you’re usually horrible at gift giving.” She grinned suddenly and hugely, like a thought was just now coming to her. “Wait...Will totally helped you pick this out, didn’t he?”

She laughed at the immediate blush that fell over Nico’s cheeks, “Knew it!”

“Just enjoy your gift.” Nico only said, falling back into Will’s side with an easy air. Will’s arm, already stretched across the back of the couch, fell to Nico’s shoulders, his hand brushing Nico’s neck. He willed himself not to blush at the simple action.

There was another round of ruffling paper as Hades pulled another gift from under the tree. He passed it over to his wife, giving both he and Will on the couch a playful - but happy - look.

“Your turn, Will.” Persephone smiled at him, passing over a brightly wrapped package.

Will took the package with surprised hands and eyes, his mouth falling open into an oh. He glanced up to Hades and Persephone, both still smiling excitedly, and blinked a few times in obvious surprise. “You - I didn’t - you didn’t have to -”

Hades waved his hand through the air, interrupting Will mid-stutter. “It’s nothing, son. Now hush and open your present, or my feelings very well may get hurt.”

Hades shot him a teasing smile, gesturing to the package in Will’s lap, and they all waited.

Will bit his lip and nodded, doing as told. He pushed away the wrapping paper easily and stared at the package for a long moment, still blinking.

“A Hamilton sweatshirt.” Will breathed out, looking up to glance from Nico - who shrugged - back to Persephone and Hades’s grinning faces. “How - how’d you know I -”

“Love that musical?” Persephone finished for him, still smiling widely at the shocked look on Will’s face. “Sweetheart, you’re not the only one awake at six in the morning you know. And I have to say, your shower rendition of Guns and Ships is particularly impressive.”

Will blushed a harsh color, his glowing cheeks hiding none of his obvious embarrassment. His dipped his head, his curls falling over his face, “Thank you. Um - for the gift. I really like it.”

Nico smiled at his step-mom and father, his arm coming to loosely rest around Will’s waist. Will was still staring down at the sweatshirt - a gray zip-up with the well-known logo on the breast pocket - with a shy, small smile on his face, his expression only visible to Nico through the curtain of his hair.

“We love Hamilton.” Hazel suddenly spoke up, smiling sweetly. “You should hear Nico’s Eliza - he gets into it. Burn makes him cry everytime.”

Nico scowled, “It’s an emotional song and she trusted him so much -”

“Anyways!” Hazel ignored him, “My turn!” She reached under the tree to gather one of the few presents left, shoving it over to Will’s lap. “Merry Christmas!”

Will looked even more surprised by the second present then the first, and he fumbled with the gift as to not drop it straight onto the floor. He didn’t wait for anyone’s insistence this time, only shooting Hazel a coy look before carefully folding back the expensive looking wrapping paper.

He hadn’t even fully unwrapped the gift before he paused, staring at the box in his lap with obvious question, his hands frozen mid air over the peeled back paper.

“Nico said you collected them!” Hazel beamed, “I wasn’t sure which ones you had so I just got one of the more rarer ones - I still have the receipt if you do though! I just wanted to surprise you!”

Will stared down at the package with a shell-shocked look on his face, disbelieving.

“I...I don’t have this one.” He said, his voice a bit numb. He continued to blink down at the package, and Nico craned his neck to attempt to see what it was over the mess of crumpled wrapping paper. What had she gotten him? Nico couldn’t remember even mentioning anything to her. Maybe something else Hamilton? Except that didn’t exactly fit the context.

Hazel clasped her hands together, “Great! I had to fight a few Ebay bidders for it, but I’m so glad you like it!”

Will nodded, still staring down at the gift. He looked up, giving her a convincing charming smile, despite the obvious - obvious to Nico at least - tension in his shoulder. Will was a great actor, after all. “I love it, Hazel.” He said, holding the gift - still covered a bit in wrapping paper - to his chest.

She beamed, happy, and moved on to giving Frank his present from him, nearly shaking in excitement. Hazel loved gift giving then any amount of gift receiving, and it was obvious.

After only a few minutes, Will was standing, the gift still to his chest, as he announced, “I’m going to get us some refills.” He grabbed onto Nico’s arm, a death grip. “Nico, help me, will you?

Seeing as Nico didn’t have much of a choice - and Nico was curious to whatever gift Hazel had given him - he went along, Will’s arm pulling him down the hallway into the kitchen.

Will spun on his heel as soon as they entered the room and pushed the package towards the other boy, his eyes on fire.

“What the hell is this?”

Nico stared down at the package for a long moment, uncomprehending.

He blinked a few times.

“Um.” He said, because Will was obviously expecting a response. “What?”

Will kept his voice to a low frown, “What did you tell her.” His words were flat with barely concealed annoyance and frustration, anger seeping through the syllables as well.

Nico blinked again in confusion, ready to deny having any part of the gift, when he was suddenly hit with something.

A memory came to him - fuzzy and barely there despite being only months old, a throw-away sentence that seems so insignificant and undetailed at the time - then the memory was gone, leaving behind the barely there image of a coffeeshop and Hazel’s insistent tone, a joke she had no idea to take as anything but the truth, his and Jason’s lingering joke about it.

Nico clasped a hand over his mouth, a laugh staring to climb up his throat. “ Oh my god.”

Will continued his glare at him. “What did you do.”

Nico only repeated himself, his eyes wide with realization and quickly gathering amusement. “Oh my god.”

Will put his hands on Nico’s shoulders, forcing Nico to meet his eyes. “What did you do.”

Nico took a breath, attempting to momentarily keep his laughter at bay, and grinned so widely his cheeks ached in protest. Hazel unknowingly had just become his favorite person in the entire world. “Oh my god. I had no idea she would remember. I totally forgot about it - oh my god.”

“Remember what?” Will demanded.

Nico shook his head in disbelief, his eyes falling back down on the package, causing another bout of laughter. “Hazel - Hazel wanted more details on my mysterious boyfriend or whatever a few months ago, and - oh my god - I gave her some random details and -” He broke off into another peal of laughter, bending over at the waist. He grabbed onto the chair for support, nearly heaving.

Will’s jaw clenched, and he glared at an empty spot on the wall as he said the next words, the sentence hard and flat.

“You told her I collected vintage troll dolls?”

“I told her my boyfriend collected vintage troll dolls!” Nico said through hysterical laughter, his words barely making it out. “Jason and I thought it was hilarious, and she wanted more details on my boyfriend! I had no idea she would remember!” He heaved for breath, his face turning red with the lack of oxygen. “Gods, this is the best day of my life. Oh my god. I can’t believe this, oh my god.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this.” Will hissed, shoving the package under Nico’s nose.

With a forced note of composure, Nico looked up at him with serious eyes. “Treat it lovingly, I hope. It’s rare, you know.”

Will stared at him for a long moment. “I hate you. So much.”

Nico patted him on the shoulder, his lips spread out into the most shit-eating grin he could manage. “I’m glad you like you gift, Will. Shame, if I’d known you loved them so much I might have picked you up a few.”

Will let go of a breath that must have been holding the last of his surprised anger, replacing the emotion with full, uncomprehending disbelief.

Will was now staring down at the package in his hands, at the chubby little figurine, and the neon colored hair that curled out of the top. He had to stifle down the last of his laughter.

Nico, in a rare moment of pity, grabbed onto his arm, cutting through Will’s still heavy disbelief. “They’re probably wondering where we are. Let’s grab the refills and go before someone comes looking.”

Will blinked up at him and allowed himself to be dragged away, his hand still curled around that damn package.

Nico, without the hysterical laughter, would definitely be thanking Hazel later on.

Hours later, after all the gifts were unwrapped the their arsenal of hot chocolate and eggnog drained, Hazel was shoving a bundle of clothes into his arms.

Nico was already groaning. “Hazel -”

“Nope!” Hazel smiled brightly, “Just because you fight it every year Nico doesn’t mean I’m ever gonna let you sit out, ya know.”

Nico scowled down at the bundle in his arms, Hazel already plucking through it. She found a lumpy multi-colored knitted hat and shoved it on her own head, still looking through the pile.

Will shot them both a questioning look. He caught Nico’s eye, a smile in his now-pleasant voice. “Care to fill me in, Nico?”

Will had seemed to finally adjust to the reality of his new-ownership of a probably too-costly vintage troll doll much better then Nico would have done so himself. Had it been him, Nico would have promised a fiery death on the small doll before the hour was over. Maybe Will had some experience with horrible, but well-meaning gifts. This gift, at least, should be rememberable.

Nico ignored how warm that thought made him feel. The thought that this - maybe him - would be memorable to Will.

Hazel seemed to notice that Nico hadn’t bothered answering, speaking up in his place.

“We always play in the snow for awhile if we can.” Hazel smiled sweetly, pulling out a scarf from the pile to wind around Frank’s. “It’s a lot of fun!”

Will hummed as he pulled on his gloves. “My sisters love playing in the snow.” His smile took on a bit more realness, “We have the best snowball fights.”

“Just wait till you see how competitive Hazel can get.” Frank told Will, his tone joking. “She and Nico….get into it.”

Will raised a teasing eyebrow towards Nico, who only rolled his eyes. “Gingerbread House level competitiveness?”

Frank only shook his head. “Worst.”

Will whistled lowly, “I don’t know.” He shot Nico a teasing glance, “I think I can take ya.”

Nico gave him a look clearly stating you wish and dropped the pile on the nearest flat surface to begin shifting through it.

Nico pulled out a pair of gloves he remembered wearing last year, picking at one of the loose threads as Hazel and Will continued to joke.

He threw on a few more warmth-appropriate accessories on, hoping they wouldn’t be out there much long. He was just pulling on a plaid gray and black winter hat - poof end and all - when he was interrupted by a soft touch on his arm, pulling him back into the conversation.

He glanced up, a bit surprised to see Will standing much closer than he was previously. Nico swallowed.

“What’s up?” He got out, hating how the automatic reaction his body gave in response to a too-close Will Solace, with his too-blue eyes and curved up smile, was to freak the fuck out.

Will shifted closer to him, his hand dropping from Nico’s arm, and he spoke in a flat, serious voice.

“Nico. I’m about to ask you the most important question known to man ever.” Will gave him a grave look, placing both hands on Nico’s shoulders to stare directly into his eyes.

Nico swallowed, his throat drying up a bit at the intense emotion in the other boy’s eyes. “Will, we’re already dating.” He said, half-attempting to joke, his voice light and teasing, mostly for the benefit of Hazel and Frank standing a few feet away.

Will shook his head. “That’s not it. Nico…” He trailed off, reaffirming his hard steel look. “Do you want to build a snowman?”

Not even Nico’s loud, dragging groan could drown out Will’s ringing laughter.

“What are we going to name her?”

Nico rolled his eyes, readjusting the thick scarf around his face. He hated the cold okay? It was a known fact. “We’re not naming the snowman.”

Will shot him a wounded look. “Why not? She deserves a name!”

Nico continued to pat down the snow on his side. Which hopefully wasn’t the front because, well, when you hated snow as much as Nico did, you didn’t tend to have much experience with it, which leads to horribly deformed snowman. “First, the snowman does not have a gender. And if it did it would be, ya know, a man. And secondly, no. We’re not naming a pile of snow.”

Will frowned. It was annoying that despite the thick winter gear they were bundled up into, unattractive neon colors and all, Will still had the audacity to look cute. Fuck him.

Will was still frowning, and Nico attempted to listen what he was saying. “That’s sexist. Our snowperson could totally be a woman.” He glanced around for a second, seemingly looking for something, and paused when his eyes landed on Hazel and Frank, working on their own snow pile a few yards away. “Hazel!”

Said girl turned, already grinning. “Yeah, Will?”

“Nice snowperson! What’s their name?”

Hazel turned to Frank for a quick moment before responded. “Tina! Yours?”

Will gave Nico a triumph look before turning back. “Haven’t named her yet! Thanks!”

Nico glared at Hazel, who only blew him a kiss.

Will was still giving him a satisfied look. “We have to name her. Without a name she’s nothing but snow.”

Nico stared at him. “It is nothing but snow!”

Will frowned. “Nico. We have to name her.”

Nico finally sighed and threw his hands up into the air. “Fine! Gods, name the snow pile, go wild.”

Will beamed, and Nico hated how warm that act made him feel. Will turned, eyeing their snow pile with concentrated interest. He finally seemed to decide, nodding and crossing his arms. “She’s been named.” He declared, turning back to Nico to grin.

Nico raised an eyebrow, curious despite himself. “And?”

Will nodded, looking back to the snow pile. “Antoinette. Her name is Antoinette.”

He paused, “Like…Marie Antoinette? The Queen of France?”

“Yup. That’s the one.” Will patted down a bit of the snow. “She looks like royalty, doesn’t she?”

Nico hung his head, giving up. “I – yes. Sure. Yes. The snow pile looks like royalty.”

Will beamed again. “Glad you agree. Hazel!” He waved her attention back to them. “Her name is Antoinette!”

“Like the Queen!” Frank yelled back, joining in. Will nodded excitedly.

He turned back to Nico with a smug glimmer in his eyes. “See?”

Nico only sighed, resigning himself to the fate of Will’s annoyance for the immediate future.

Will went back to patting down the snow, readjusting the stones of the face into a happy expression. Nico turned to do the same, another shiver rushing through his body as the wind began to pick up.

The chill had been worsening since they first got out there, definitely due to the slightly setting sun. Not like the sun was providing much heat to begin with, but still. It was definitely getting colder.

“It’s freezing.” Nico barely got out through chattering teeth, tucking his icy hands under his armpits.

Will frowned at him, his eyes full of concern. “You’re cold?”

“It’s winter. In Chicago. We’re outside.” Nico barely got out, “Yeah, I’m a little cold.”

Will continued that frown of his, stepping closer, one of his hands coming up to cup Nico’s cheek. “Do you wanna go inside?”

If Nico’s cheeks hasn’t already been burning a harsh red due to the frigid air that whipped around them, they would have bloomed into a slight blush at the action. Instead, Nico only stared a bit wide-eyed at the other boy, his voice a barely there stutter. “I - I mean, no. We can stay out a bit longer.”

Will nodded, a simple dip of his chin, his hand still warm and pressing into the freezing skin of Nico’s face. “Good.” He finally said, his eyes flickering up to Nico’s through his blond eyelashes. “That means I can do this.”

Before Nico could blush, or wonder what he meant, or even take another breath, Will was leaning and -

- and shoving a handful of snow down his collar.

Nico immediately jumped back, cursing and recoiling at the sudden invasion of wet ice on his dry skin as Will - along with Hazel and Frank, he noticed bitterly - cackled with laughter

“Asshole.” Nico cursed, waving out the end of his shirt to attempt to get some of the chucks out of the fabric. He continued cursing, glaring at the other boy’s still laughing face, “You’re such a dick.”

Will smirked at him, “Sorry darlin’, couldn’t help it.”

Nico held his arms tighter around himself, his voice low enough that Hazel and Frank wouldn’t be able to hear his mutter. “You couldn’t help being a dick? Wow. Prime boyfriend material, let me tell you. Can I leave a Yelp review? Might help out whatever poor sucker tries to hire you next.”

Will only answered in a laugh, his eyes dancing, and annoyingly took absolutely no offense to the remarks.

“Fine, how bout I let you get in a hit?” Will held out his arms, as if embracing for impact.

Nico thought about it for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Will continued to wait, even as Nico turned and began climbing up the slight hill back to the manor. Will called out in question behind him, his head now cocked to the side in confusion, and Nico only looked over his shoulder as he continued to walk.

“Never said I was going to cash in that freebie now.” It was Nico’s turn to smirk. “Keep on your toes, Solace.”

Will didn’t answer, but Nico definitely counted that one as a win, despite the sticking snow still melting against his chest.

He immediately headed towards his bathroom, vaguely registering Will falling in place behind him, a bit out of breath as he rushed to follow Nico and climb the staircase. Dripping with melted snow, Nico didn’t even feel bad about heading straight for the bathroom first.

Nico peeled off the cold fabric, wincing at the ice chunks that fell to the title with the action. He changed quickly, thankfully, as threw his soaked clothes into the bathtub, putting that off until another time. He dressed in a pair of delightfully soft and worn sweats - the same pair he had caught Hades, on several occasions, attempting to throw into their fireplace due to the few holes along the bottom and blotchy bleach stains - with a V-neck so stretched out it no longer resembled the letter at all. An O-Neck, maybe.

So, dressed in his unsexiest clothes, it understandable the confusion that came with the double-take Will gave him when he reentered his bedroom, the other boy already changed into similar clothes, chosen not for their fashion but completely on softness and warmth.

“What?” Nico demanded, crossing his arms.

Will stared at him for a long moment. “Your hair’s messy.”

Nico blinked, his hand coming up to rest on his head. It seemed a bit more tangled than usual, probably due to the several snowballs Hazel had manage to noogie into his head earlier in the day. He should probably put it up honestly, but unsurprisingly he couldn’t find the motivation to do so.

He gave Will a suspicious look. What did the other boy want, for Nico to drop everything and pour himself into stylizing the tangled mess that he couldn’t be bothered with? Fuck that. And it’s not like Will had the best hair in the world, despite how the curls fell oh-so-perfectly across the nape of his neck, and how the golden strands seemed to glow under sunlight.

“Yeah?” Nico gave him a half-shrug, “And?”

“You look...soft.” Will seemed to finally decide on. He gave Nico a small smile before Nico could bite back something - because how the hell was he suppose to take that? “I like it.”

And what the fuck was Nico suppose to do with that?

Nico settled on a frown, his default expression, and turned out of the room, fully expecting the other boy to follow. “Whatever.” He said, his voice nonchalant despite the very nonchalant blush his cheeks were burning.

Will didn’t answer, but Nico could almost hear the unvoiced laughter that Will was holding back. Ugh. Nico really didn’t need this.

He lead the other boy down the staircase, fully intending on throwing himself onto the plush couch to watch some Christmas specials, when he noticed a flash of movement darting into the parlor room. He frowned, following it.

This simple action, he would later remember, would lead to so, so much regret.

He lingered in the doorway of the parlor for a second, Will’s presence a slight question as his back, before he turned to leave.

“Ahhh….son?” Hades drawled out, his voice filled with glee, and Nico turned slightly to face the older man, standing in the hallway.

Hades was grinning, staring at them so obviously with such a huge grin, it was a bit creepy. He clasped his hands together, leaning into Persephone with a loving excitement evident in his eyes.

Without looking, Nico could already tell what Hades had done. He had done it many times in Nico’s teens, and even more with Hazel and Frank in their early relationship. He should have expected it.

Will was glancing up, an amused look passing over his face at he glanced over at Nico’s father. He dipped his head closer to Nico’s face, their faces nearly cheek to cheek as Will lightly pulled him forward.

“You get three moments of PDA.” Will told him, his voice a soft whisper into Nico’s ear, a soft reminder of the job Will was doing, of the service Nico was paying him for. Nico swallowed. He didn’t need the reminder. He knew.

He mentally composed himself. He - he didn’t need to think about that right now, with Will here, with Will close and warm and slightly smiling that stupid charming grin his family immediately fell for. Will smelt good - Nico had noticed these past few days - like coconut shampoo and spiced cologne. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind, pulling the smile out of him that this situation needed.

Nico glanced up, not surprised in the slightest, but needing to see it just the same.. “Does it count if we’re under mistletoe?”

Will grinned, dipping his chin. “’Fraid so. But I can’t be one to deny a tradition, can I? After all,” Will leaned in a bit, letting his hot breath brush over Nico’s lips. “We’ve got to save some for New Years. People expect those.”

Nico could only nod back, not trusting his voice, and briefly wondered when he should shut his eyes.

Nico had kissed people before. He’d slept with people before, for gods sake. He had been in relationships and dated and fucked and had one night stands and - and Nico was experienced. He wasn’t some blushing virgin, wasn’t some coy and shy eyed high schooler who’s only experience was from his left hand. Nico was experienced.

So gods, why was his body suddenly acting like he wasn’t?

Will took the lead, and the stubborn part of Nico should have risen up at that, should have at least glared at the soft part of him that desperately wanted actions like that, but he didn’t. He didn’t do that all.

Will’s hands were steady on his back, and he tilted Nico back just the slightest, almost like he was asking for permission, before dipping Nico to the side, his eyes dancing, his mouth ringing with light laughter.

Had Nico been fully mentally there, perhaps he would have rolled his eyes or muttered some sarcastic remark, or maybe would have smirked and pushed the other boy back to do the same to him.

But, as Nico’s mind tended to go a bit vacant at the blueness in Will’s eyes these days, he didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, staring with wide eyes at the other boy, he only leaned back into the dip, his hands coming up to circle Will’s neck. He wasn’t sure if he imagined the slight widening of Will’s eyes - probably did, Nico was always too wishful for his own good - but he didn’t imagine the slow grin erupting across his face, or the growing audience behind them as Hazel cooed and Frank laughed.

Will was leaning in, and so was Nico, and so was their gathered audience as their lips finally met in a chaste rendezvous under that damn piece of fake mistletoe. Will’s curls, always framing his face so nicely, fell over Nico’s forehead, and his nose pressed into Nico’s cheek ever so slightly as their lips pressed into each other.

There was just the slightest tease of tongue from Will, his tongue barely tracing the line of Nico’s lower lip, and Nico had to stifle the gasp that wanted to emerge at the unexpected move.

Will was good. Will, obviously, had had a lot of practice.

Will pulled away first, already turning away to grin at Nico’s family. He kept his arm wrapped around Nico’s waist, and Nico barely had time to slap on a grin before his family was descending on them, giggling and winking.

He’d manage to escape for a moment, pushing Will’s arm off with light, casual hands, and he’d lean against the wall and breathe in and out for a long minute, his mind racing with everything that had just happened.

He….Fuck.

Fuck.

Nico retreated to bed first that night, claiming a terrible headache, and it only took half an hour - according to the clock on the bedside table - for Will to join him.

“How are you feeling?” Will frowned, setting a cold water bottle on the table. “Did you take anything?”

Nico glanced at the other boy over the cuff of the comforter. Will began readying for bed, his concerned eyes still a presence on Nico. “Aspirin.” He lied, “I’m feeling better. Think I just need some sleep.”

Will hummed, “Understandable.” His voice was teasing. He seemed completely unaffected by what happened in the hallway, and Nico wasn’t sure if that was for the better or worst. The better, probably. “You’re used to sleeping into noon at least, eight A.M. is a big change. Surprised you didn’t crash earlier, even with all the sugar you regularly ingest.”

Nico smiled slightly at that in answer, content to simply watch as Will pulled out his pajamas and left to brush his teeth and wash his face. He would return smelling like mint and grapefruit, Nico knew, from his toothpaste and facial soap. It was a nice change from the coconut and spice he smelt like the rest of the time.

“Hazel told me the plans for tomorrow.” Will told him as he reentered the room, throwing his dirty clothes into the corner his empty duffel was. “We’ve got to be well-rested. She wants to get there before it gets too busy.”

Nico hummed in response, curling a bit in on himself as Will threw himself onto the other end of the bed.

Will took a few moments to get other the blankets and comfortable, plugging in his phone, and relaxing into the blankets. Nico could almost already feel the warmth from the other boy creeping over, his arm nearly brushing Nico’s despite the hugeness of the large bed.

Nico turned over so they were back-to-back, because he was a coward and couldn’t face this conversation with Will’s too-big, too-blue eyes on him.

“What happens after this?” Nico finally asked, his fingers twisting tight in the sheets pooling around him.

“What do you mean?” Will’s voice was light, still filled with a bit of leftover energy. “We go to sleep, dork.”

Nico buried his face into the pillow. “No.” He said, “I mean. With us. What happens after this. This….whole thing.”

Will let out a breath at that, even more audible through the darkness. There was a beat of silence as he seemed to take in the mood change and as he thought over his words. When he spoke, his words were soft. “We break up. You tell your family it didn’t work out. We go our separate ways. That’s how it always goes.”

Nico swallowed, staring ahead. “Right. Yeah.”

He shifted in their shared bed, the mattress suddenly much more colder than the heat around him should have allowed.

Notes:

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) sooooooooooooooooooooooo kiss 1 down. ANGST. christmas is over.........i wonder what nerd 1 and nerd 2 are going to do for five days till NYE.................hmmm........who knows...... tbh reviews really help the writing process - knowing that some people out there are reading and actually ENJOYING my work enough that they WANT more content is honestly the best motivation. review if you enjoyed! <3 thanks loves. i had to google vintage troll dolls for this chapter and DAMN THOSE THINGS GET EXPENSIVE FIND A CHEAPER HOBBY WILLIAM i laughed so hard writing that scene omfg. poor poor william. i bet when nico was just beginning to tell hazel about his fake boyfriend he would give her the WILDEST details. thank god hazel forgot 80% of it or the plan would be foiled in like 4.5 minutes.

#solangelo #rental love #rosy writes #Percy Jackon and the Olympians #Nico di Angelo #will solace #christmas au #holiday fic #light angst #fluff #rent a boyfriend au #trials of apollo #Heroes of Olympus #my fic #wip

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christianmenatwork · 4 years

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Making the Most of the Coronavirus Season-CMAW081-Selah16

S=Something on my Heart

Dichotomy now of slowing down and sense of urgency at same time. Some of this is being forced upon us, some is our choice which is what I want to focus on, what we choose to reduce and increase during this unique time and maybe even make some paradigm shifts that will continue beyond this crisis. First, let's talk about changes that have been forced upon us. What has slowed down. The economy or more specific to this podcast..work, some of you may have an increase in work especially if you're in medical profession. Most of us have seen a slowdown, or worst case maybe even a loss of a job, and I realize some of you may have been forced to slow because you have actually contracted the coronavirus. Travel. I'm working from home and as a result I'm spending 2 hours a day at home that I would normally spend in my car, which is a cramped little Fiat, or as I jokingly call my "sports car". When you factor in errands I run between work and home that commute time can add up to 3 or even 4 hours a day. General pace of life, for most of us, has slowed down. What has increased during this time? Time at home. In some ways, fear and anxiety have increased, though I would argue that as Christians we should be experiencing the opposite emotions, we should be experiencing peace, reassurance, and purpose during this time in contrast to the world around us. It seems to me like there is more time available which is interesting. The reality is that time is constant. We have the same 24 hours given to us as a gift each day. The reality is that we are experiencing an increase in certain activities or you could say an increase in the percentage of time we spend in certain activities. Let's shift now from what is out of our control to what is in our control. Praise God that gave us free will and the freedom and ability to choose. So what are some ways we can choose to increase or decrease certain things or maybe a better way of saying it how can we make good choices to best utilize the time that we are given as well as the situation that God has placed us in right now, to make a shift in our behavior and priorities both now and moving forward in our entire lives, both in work and out of work, as well as in the lives of others we impact and interact with in our lives. I'll start with some broad, philosophical concepts and then bring it back to the practical. To make it really simple which is generally I've found the best way to be, we need to focus more on God and less on us, or you could say less on the world. Here are a number of scriptures that speak to this in different ways. Deut 30:19-20a "I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life, that both you and your descendants may live; that you may love the Lord your God, that you may obey his voice, and that you may cling to Him, for He is your life and the length of your days;". Colossians 3:2 "Set your mind on things above, no on things on the earth". Romans 8:5-6 "For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit, the things of the Spirit. For to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace". John 3:30 "He must increase, but I must decrease". 1 Cor 3:11-15 "For no other foundation can anyone lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if anyone builds on this foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay or straw, each one's work will become clear; for the Day will declare it, because it will be revealed by fire; and the fire will test each one's work, of what sort it is. If anyone's work which he has built on it endures, he will receive a reward. If anyone's work is burned, he will suffer loss; but he himself will be saved, yet so as through fire". Matthew 7:13-14 "Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it." Now, some application. Let's get into the word and in prayer. Here are several suggestions for you to get started or to increase your immersion in the word of God. First, WHAT to read. Rayburn Hall - 2 OT, 5 Ps, 1 Prov, 2 NT, Mike Mayo - History, Poetry, Prophets, Gospel, Epistles (what I'm doing using 5 different Bible audio apps. Bobby Hall from Men's Night Out, Fall, 2019 - 8 chapters every day for 30 days (2-1/2 to 3 yrs to read NT), a way to go deep. Chronological. Where are you in life?-Psalms at night, Proverbs to make a decision, John great place to start to really learn who Jesus is as both God and man and why he came to earth. HOW - Pray for God to speak to you and not stress over quantity, if you feel led to stay in one verse or one chapter do it. Value the discipline of having a plan to follow each day but don't turn your plan into a god and fall into legalism. The point is to hear from God not to check off a task on your list. 5 Fingers from Navigators Video about ways to consume the Bible,. Pick A time (what can you stick to consistently, maybe lunch or break at work, morning, night. Ask these questions 1. Who wrote this 2. Who were they writing to 3. What is the message 4. What does this reveal about the character of God 5. How is this connected to God “-Adam Union. There's certainly more we can say about being the spirit including prayer, but let's shift now to what are things of the flesh, things we should be decreasing during this time and moving forward. 2 things to avoid, one is satisfying the lusts of our flesh. With a bit more time on our hands, we will be tempted to indulge in overeating, escaping through alcohol or drugs, or watching a lot of TV, particularly things that don't honor God like pornagraphy. Another thing to avoid is to too inwardly focused. Spending time alone in prayer and the word is good, relaxing with some TV or a good book or taking a nap is good in moderation, but don't forget to look around to see who God would have us blessing and connecting with. Play a game with your kids, have a cup of coffee and alone time with your wife, text or call your neighbors close by as well as friends, family members and acquaintences far away to see how they are doing and whether they need anything including prayer. Treat your body as the temple of the Holy Spirit, eat healthy and exercise, take walks or a jog. Set healthy limits for yourself for eating and drinking. If you choose to drink alcohol, do so in moderation. I heard on the Albert Mohler The Briefing podcast that marijuana sales have shot up during this time. 1 Cor 6:12 "All things are lawful for me, but all things are not helpful. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under the power of any." Just because Marijuana has become legal in many states doesn't mean we should consume it. Just because the Bible does not say you should not have any alcohol, doesn't mean it's OK to drink beyond moderation in fact it speaks strictly against that. When it comes to our work, just because we may have less oversight working from home, doesn't mean we should be any less productive. To the extent that we are able, if we are blessed to still be employed, as Colossians 3:23 says "whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men". Put in a full day's work as you normally would. Don't be like the servant that buried the talent but rather put your time to good use so that your employer will have a return on their investment in you. Another thought on how to use this time. Forgive everyone in your life and continue to forgive them. Here are 3 groups to focus on. First forgive yourself. During times of reflection, it's easy to think about your past and mistakes you have made. Remember that God has forgiven you and what's good enough for Him should be good enough for you. Psalm 103:12 says "As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us". You're partnering with the devil and listening to his voice above the Lord's when you continue to condemn yourself and believe his accusations for past wrongs. Second, forgive individuals how have harmed you and if appropriate ask them to forgive you. This includes people who have harmed you in the past as well those harming you now. Third, forgive groups of people or organizations that have either harmed you directly or done harm or evil in general. I'm thinking personally about family members as well as about political parties and political leaders. Matthew 6:14-15, immediately after Jesus gave us what we called the Lord's Prayer, he said "For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive their trespasses, either will your father forgive your trespasses". Now back from the practical to the philosophical. Here in NC, Spring has sprung and every day reveals more life as the trees are budding, the birds are chirping and the grass is growing and turning more green. Life is bursting forth and it makes me think that the paradigm shift that I want to adopt and carry forward beyond this season of the Coronavirus is to live life more abundantly, life in the spirit and not in the flesh, through my work and through my relationship with God, myself, and my family and others in my life. And when life gets back to "normal", I don't want to fall into old habits that are not God-pleasing and life giving. I want to look back at this time in my life, whether I'm looking back from this or the other side of heaven, as a time when I made a tangible and meaningful shift to be more a part of God's story and less a part of mine.

E=Example of Faith at work

There's been a lot of talk during this Coronavirus about what's essential. I happen to work for an industry to makes products that are considered essential or critical during this downtime. This has reminded about how so much of our life is spent on non-essential things, though we've made a habit of calling them needs when they're truly wants. As an example, in Dave Ramsey's FPU he talks about how we call things like a new car a need when it's truly a want when you have an older car that works fine. He also talks about how when you're gazelle intense and trying to pay down your debt and get ahead financially, you do things like eat rice and beans, which is a reminder to me that although food is essential to living, the type of food we eat can easily slip into the "wants" category and not the "needs" category. This also led me not to just think about the value of simplifying our lives and not living in excess, but also how each of us through our work in some way contributes toward God blessing all of humanity. I've talked in the past about Tim Keller's reference to God's Common Grace in his book "Every Good Endeavor", and how all of our work is sacred to the extent that God sends rain on the just and the unjust, as it says in Matt 5:45, we are a part of the way that God blesses all humans,. Here are some examples I recently noticed of this common grace. We just bought a Cat litter system that has separate compartmets, making it easier and cleaner when our 11 year old daughter changes the litter box. I watched a 3 part series from I believe the Discovery Channel called "Harley and the Davidsons" about how how 2 Davidson brothers and the engineering genius of Bill Harley made a motorcyle that was a step above others and one that has blessed many many people over the last half plus century., As a third example, I'm going to reflect on some of the things I've done big and small, that have contributed to God's common grace to other my work and rather than share that with you I invite you ponder on your own career, past present and future and how you are a tool of common grace and as such a great example of faith at work.

A=Announcements

Will return to weekly release in June after finish with Colson Fellows

H=Handy tip to increase productivity and effectiveness

From a quote heard recently from Scott Peltin, Founder, Tignum, is not a faith based organization, but I thought was valuable and pertinent for this time we're in right now "During these critical times it is important to recognize that these are uncharted times and they will require epic leadership. To do this, you will need to show up every day at your best. This means preparing diligently for your day and your critical meetings, recharging your own cognitive and emotional batteries throughout the day, and strategically multiplying your energy throughout your teams. People will need additional direction, extra calmness and self-belief, and a level of humility and vulnerability from you to admit that you don't have all the answers. Great leaders get a little better every day but this doesn't happen by chance. It must be a choice."

Check out this episode!

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networkingdefinition · 4 years

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Searchers Quotes

Official Website: Searchers Quotes

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• A genuine leader is not a searcher for consensus but a molder of consensus. – Martin Luther King, Jr. • All I want is to know the truth, to know and experience God. I’m a searcher, that’s what I’m all about. – Elvis Presley • And what is the problem? It is the old problem of the anxious searcher – the mythic in the interior castle, the poet-pilgrim in a dark wood not sure how to proceed. Which way is the right way? – Paul Elie • At its best our age is an age of searchers and discoverers, and at its worst, an age that has domesticated despair and learned to live with it happily. – Flannery O’Connor • At my age, and in my circumstances, what sinister object, or personal emolument had I to seek after, in this life? The growing infirmities of age and the increasing love of retirement, daily confirm my decided predilection for domestic life: and the great Searcher of human hearts is my witness, that I have no wish, which aspires beyond the humble and happy lot of living and dying a private citizen on my own farm. – George Washington

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Searcher', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_searcher').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_searcher img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Before I go off and direct a movie, I always look at four films. They tend to be The Seven Samurai, Lawrence Of Arabia, It’s A Wonderful Life and The Searchers. – Steven Spielberg • Finding is reserved for the searchers, we don’t find what we need, we find what we search for – Jim Rohn • I am a searcher… I always was… and I still am… searching for the missing piece. – Louise Bourgeois • I am one of the searchers. There are millions of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. We are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery & unspeakable beauty. We like forests & mountains, deserts & hidden rivers, & lonely cities. Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know. – James Kavanaugh • I enjoy almost everything. Yet I have some restless searcher in me. Why is there not a discovery in life? Something one can lay hands on and say “This is it”? My depression is a harassed feeling. I’m looking: but that’s not it — that’s not it. What is it? And shall I die before I find it? – Virginia Woolf • I have known only one way of carrying on missionary work, viz., by personal example and discussion with searchers for knowledge. – Mahatma Gandhi • I like to say, when asked why I pursue science, that it is to satisfy my curiosity, that I am by nature a searcher trying to understand. If you haven’t found something strange during the day, it hasn’t been much of a day. – John Archibald Wheeler • I think sometimes I should do more carousing, because I don’t do much and maybe it would be fun occasionally. It’s hard for me to have fun and I’m a serious thinker and a searcher and funny from the front. – Garry Shandling • I will govern my life and thoughts as if the whole world were to see the one and read the other, for what does it signify to make anything a secret to my neighbor, when to God, who is the searcher of our hearts, all our privacies are open? – Seneca the Younger • I worked as a title searcher for almost 25 years. It took awhile for it to become fulfilling because it doesn’t pay a whole lot, takes a long time to learn, and in the years of learning there are endless frustrations. And then it creeps up on you that you’re able to solve problems, answer questions and rebut any challenges to your work. – Larry Howes • ‘If he trespass against you seven times in a day, and seven times in a day turn again to you, saying, I repent; you shall forgive him’ (Lk. 17:4). As the Searcher of hearts, the Lord knows that men are liable to very frequent trespass, and that, having fallen, they often rise up again; therefore He has given us the commandment to frequently forgive trespasses, and He Himself is the first to fulfill His holy word. As soon as you say from your whole heart, ‘I repent,’ you will be immediately forgiven. – John of Kronstadt • If you think of ‘Liberty Valance’ or ‘The Searchers,’ there are moments in there that you’ll never, ever forget… And it does not matter what century you are from. – Kevin Costner • I’m not a quester or a searcher for the truth. I don’t really think there is one answer, so I never went looking for it. My impulse is less questing and more playful. I like trying on ideas and ways of life and religious approaches. I’m just not a good candidate for conversion. – Ursula K. Le Guin • In every true searcher of Nature there is a kind of religious reverence. – Albert Einstein • In every true searcher of Nature there is a kind of religious reverence, for he finds it impossible to imagine that he is the first to have thought out the exceedingly delicate threads that connect his perceptions – Albert Einstein • In this world are very few things made from logic alone. It is illogical for man to be too logical. Some things we must just let stand. The mystery is more important than any possible explanation. The searcher after truth must search with humanity. Ruthless logic is the sign of a limited mind. The truth can only add to the sum of what you know, while a harmless mystery left unexplored often adds to the meaning of life. When a truth is not so important, it is better left as a mystery. – Bryce Courtenay • It seems almost oxymoronic to believe that this new idealism has led to a new pessimism about marriage, but that is exactly what has happened. In generations past there was far less talk about “compatibility” and finding the ideal soul mate. Today we are looking for someone who accepts us as we are and fulfills our desires, and this creates an unrealistic set of expectations that frustrates both the searchers and the searched for. – Timothy Keller • John Logan was kind of wrapping up – “Well, thanks for coming in…” – and I thought, “Oh, God, this is over and I’m out of here, and I really don’t want to leave.”So I said, “Can I ask you a question?” He said, “Sure.” “What movie do you think you’ve seen more than any other movie?” And he said, “Wow, let me think about that. I guess probably The Searchers.” And I said, “Well, oddly, that’s the movie I’ve seen more than any other movie.” And I wasn’t just BS-ing. It’s true. It’s my favorite movie. – Brent Spiner • Little by little, wean yourself. This is the gist of what I have to say. From an embryo whose nourishment comes in the blood, move to an infant drinking milk, to a child on solid food, to a searcher after wisdom, to a hunter of invisible game. – Rumi • My mother was a Bohemian – in the good sense of the word. A searcher. And she investigated various religions. – Madeline Kahn • No truth is more clearly taught in the Volume of Inspiration, nor any more fully demonstrated by the experience of all ages, than that a deep sense and a due acknowledgment of the governing providence of a Supreme Being and the accountableness of men to Him as the searcher of hearts and righteous distributor of rewards and punishments are conducive equally to the happiness and rectitude of individuals and to the well being of communities. – John Adams • Nothing could be more beneficial for even the most zealous searcher for knowledge than his being in fact most learned in that very ignorance which is peculiarly his own; and the better a man will have known his own ignorance, the greater his learning will be. – Nicholas of Cusa • Now, Friends, deal plainly with yourselves, and let the eternal Light search you, and try you, for the good of your souls. For this will deal plainly with you. It will rip you up, and lay you open, and make all manifest which lodges in you; the secret subtlety of the enemy of your souls, this eternal searcher and trier will make manifest. Therefore all to this come, and by this be searched, and judged, and led and guided. For to this you must stand or fall. – Margaret Fell • O philosophy, life’s guide! O searcher-out of virtue and expeller of vices! What could we and every age of men have been without thee? Thou hast produced cities; thou hast called men scattered about into the social enjoyment of life. [Lat., O vitae philosophia dux! O virtutis indagatrix, expultrixque vitiorum! Quid non modo nos, sed omnino vita hominum sine et esse potuisset? Tu urbes peperisti; tu dissipatos homines in societatum vitae convocasti.] – Marcus Tullius Cicero • Our behavior is different. How often have you seen a headline like this?–TWO DIE ATTEMPTING RESCUE OF DROWNING CHILD. If a man gets lost in the mountains, hundreds will search and often two or three searchers are killed. But the next time somebody gets lost just as many volunteers turn out. Poor arithmetic, but very human. It runs through all our folklore, all human religions, all our literature–a racial conviction that when one human needs rescue, others should not count the price. – Robert A. Heinlein • Rely upon your own judgment; be true to your own conscience; follow the light that is within you; all outward lights are so many will-o’-the-wisps. There will be those who tell you that you are foolish; that your judgment is faulty; that your conscience is all awry, and that the light within you is darkness; but heed them not. If what they say is true, the sooner you, as a searcher of wisdom, find it out the better, and you can only make that discovery by bringing your powers to the test. Therefore, pursue your course bravely. – James Allen • Sailing heart-ships through broken harbors out on the waves of the night, still the searcher must ride the dark horse racing alone in his fright. – Neil Young • Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places. – H. P. Lovecraft • Shall any gazer see with mortal eyes, Or any searcher know by mortal mind; Veil upon veil will lift but there must be Veil upon veil behind. – Edwin Arnold • So the story goes, so I’m told The people he knew were Less than golden hearted Gamblers and robbers Drinkers and jokers, all soul searchers Like you and me – Dave Matthews • The best hiding spots are not the most hidden; they’re merely the least searched. – Chris Pavone • The grand highway is crowded w/lovers & searchers & leavers so eager to please & forget. Wilderness. – Jim Morrison • The great Searcher of human hearts is my witness, that I have no wish, which aspires beyond the humble and happy lot of living and dying a private citizen on my own farm. – George Washington • The real searcher after truth will not receive the old because it is old, or reject the new because it is new. He will not believe men because they are dead, or contradict them because they are alive. With him an utterance is worth the truth, the reason it contains, without the slightest regard to the author. He may have been a king or serf – a philosopher or servant, – but the utterance neither gains nor loses in truth or reason. Its value is absolutely independent of the fame or station of the man who gave it to the world. – Robert Green Ingersoll • The search for truth takes you where the evidence leads you, even if, at first, you don’t want to go there. – Bart D. Ehrman • The searcher’s eye Not seldom finds more than he wished to find. – Gotthold Ephraim Lessing • There are certain books in the world which every searcher for truth must know: the Bible, the Critique of Pure Reason, the Origin of Species, and Karl Marx’s Capital. – Al Capp • Thinking carries a moral imperative. The searcher for truth must be ready to obey truth without reservation or it will elude him. – Aiden Wilson Tozer • This is also why it is wrong to treat God as a grand employment agency, a celestial executive searcher to find perfect fits for our perfect gifts. The truth is not that God is finding a place for our gifts but that God has created us and our gifts for a place of his choosing – and we will only be ourselves when we are finally there. – Os Guinness • To escape the cycle of tragedy, we (searchers) have to be tough on the ideas of the planners, even while we salute their goodwill. – William Easterly • Vertical search engines that match your business, service or products with a target market offer you a higher conversion rate than traditional search engines. Because they have already qualified their interest by coming to a search engine with a specific focus, searchers will be more receptive to targeted advertising. – Marc Ostrofsky • We [with John Logan] started talking about The Searchers, and then he went on to tell me a story about when he first met John Wayne, and he said, “Hey, you be me and I’ll be Wayne,” and I said, “No, let me be Wayne!” Anyway, it was a very pleasant conversation, it was clear to him that I was a big movie fan, and by the time I got home, there was a phone call, asking if I’d mind doing one scene in the movie [The Aviator]. – Brent Spiner • We are in a period of searchers rather than of creators. – Pierre-Auguste Renoir • We long to be found, hoping our searchers have not given up and gone home. – Jerry Spinelli • We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide. Most of all we love and want to be loved. We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give. We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love. – James Kavanaugh • We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide. – James Kavanaugh • Whoever is born in New York is ill-equipped to deal with any other city: all other cities seem, at best, a mistake, and, at worst, a fraud. No other city is so spitefully incoherent. Whereas other cities flaunt there history – their presumed glory – in vividly placed monuments, squares, parks, plaques, and boulevards, such history as New York has been unable entirely to obliterate is to be found, mainly, in the backwaters of Wall Street, in the goat tracks of Old and West Broadway, in and around Washington Square, and, for the relentless searcher, in grimly inaccessible regions of The Bronx. – James A. Baldwin • Women are dirt searchers; their greatest worth is irradicating rings on collars and tables. Never mind real-estate boards’ corruption and racism, here’s your soapsuds. Everything she is doing is peripheral, expendable, crucial, and non-negotiable. Cleanliness is next to godliness. – Florynce Kennedy • Women are like the arts, forced unto none, Open to all searchers, unprized, if unknown. – John Donne

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equitiesstocks · 4 years

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Searchers Quotes

Official Website: Searchers Quotes

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jessicakehoe · 5 years

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Jean Paul Gaultier Married Kent Monkman to Apologize for Cultural Appropriation. Here’s Why It Matters.

We sit amid a fashion revolution in an industry facing major systemic change. Trend-based talk of hemlines and heel heights is being replaced by more consequential discussions about fashion’s true costs and cultural impacts. We’re stepping outside the confines of certain beauty boxes in favour of healthier ideals and broader representation.

This undercurrent of increased awareness may create the illusion that aesthetically anything goes, but for every line that fashion needed to blur, there’s another yet to embolden: The fashion freedoms of other cultures are not ours for the taking, no matter how inspired or well intentioned we may be. Some things are still sacred. And some things are simply off limits.

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Detail of The Scream 2017 84” x 126” Acrylic on canvas #everychildmatters #orangeshirtday #Indigenous #resilience #contemporarypainting

A post shared by Kent Monkman (@kentmonkman) on Oct 1, 2018 at 1:25pm PDT

Thank goodness we’ve got brave creative souls like Kent Monkman, a Canadian artist of Cree ancestry, whose indelible work helps clarify the difference between cultural appropriation and cultural exchange. By reversing the colonial gaze and challenging pervading notions of history and Indigenous culture, Monkman explores the themes of colonization, sexuality, loss and resilience with exquisite skill, using many media and sometimes counter-appropriating the work of painters like George Catlin and Albert Bierstadt. This tongue-in-cheek turning of the tables has become Monkman’s signature.

This September marked the first anniversary of Another Feather in Her Bonnet, Monkman’s performance-art wedding extravaganza in which his sensational two-spirit alter ego, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle, reclaimed a certain white feather headdress by “marrying” fashion’s most legendary iconoclast and champion of the cone-bra corset. Yes, Miss Chief’s betrothed was none other than Jean Paul Gaultier, the man who gave us man skirts and helped blaze the trail of gender expression, famously including Andreja Pejic and Conchita Wurst on his runways. He has been recognized by amfAR for his contributions to the fight against AIDS and received one of France’s highest accolades, the Chevalier à l’Ordre de la Légion d’Honneur.

United in Love Cabinet Card by Kent Monkman in collaboration with Chris Chapman.

Dude is definitely doing something right. But on the flip side, Gaultier remains a repeat offender, stealing everyone’s steez, from Hasidic Jews to Boy George. Apples and oranges indeed, but all Diet Prada-fodder affirming that fashion’s enfant terrible was in desperate need of a badass berdache bride to become his better half.

The Montreal Museum of Fine Art (MMFA) played matchmaker to the two provocateurs, having housed the world’s largest collection of Monkman’s paintings as well as Gaultier’s Love Is Love exhibit—a retrospective of his most memorable bridal creations, named in reference to Barack Obama’s statement in support of same-sex marriage and equal rights. But included in the exhibit was Gaultier’s imprudent interpretation of a headdress originated by the Plains People of North America—one cause celebrated at the expense of another’s culture.

“In my conception of clothes…I have always had a mix of cultures, so [the headdress] is an example of that. For me, it was not to make a joke, just as it was not a joke when I did a Hasidic collection.”

In defence of the headdress, Gaultier had this to say: “In my conception of clothes…I have always had a mix of cultures, so [the headdress] is an example of that. For me, it was not to make a joke, just as it was not a joke when I did a Hasidic collection. It is to show the beauty of it. The headdress was traditionally symbolic of power and leadership, and it was traditionally reserved for men, so I thought it would be interesting to suggest that a woman could have more power than a man.”

But to the Plains People, the hallowed headdress, or war bonnet, isn’t simply worn. It is earned, one feather at a time, each gifted in gratitude for honourable deeds over the course of one’s life. To be presented with an eagle feather is a sign of great respect.

The MMFA’s decision to engage Monkman to get engaged to Gaultier “was an afterthought” precipitated by some bad headdress press, says Monkman. The museum’s director general and chief curator, Nathalie Bondil, sent an email to Monkman with the subject line “WHAT WOULD MISS CHIEF DO?” (clearly the best T-shirt slogan since “KALE”), and from there Monkman concocted this most constructive spectacle.

The hallowed headdress, or war bonnet, isn’t simply worn. It is earned, one feather at a time, each gifted in gratitude for honourable deeds over the course of one’s life.

The wedding was a private affair, which may explain why the world managed to sleep through the most significant fashion moment since Michael Jackson’s red leather moto jacket, a portent of fashion’s friendlier future and proof of humour’s ability to heal.

And so on September 8, 2017, the couple were pronounced lifelong “collaborators,” each pledging to “recognize each other’s culture and celebrate their individual uniquenesses as strengths” until death do them part. “Through the alliance of marriage, we learn to understand and forgive the mistakes of our partners and build true understanding,” Monkman said at the time. “And better understanding is really at the core of all my work.”

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Performing as Miss Chief Eagle Testickle in Another Feather in her Bonnet with @jpgaultierofficial at @mbamtl, September 2017. 🌹 United in Love, a @contactphoto public installation and collaboration with @ccphotophoto launches April 30 in Toronto. Photo: Frédéric Faddoul #loveislove #misschiefeagletestickle #jeanpaulgaultier #contactfestival

A post shared by Kent Monkman (@kentmonkman) on Apr 24, 2018 at 12:09pm PDT

I asked Monkman whether he felt that the appropriated Plains headdress should have been removed from the Gaultier exhibit—or banned from the beginning—but his response affirmed that it’s time we stop sweeping such insensitivities under the rug. “You can’t police how artists draw influence from the world,” he says, “but you can create awareness about what’s cool and what’s not and how to collaborate and engage each other in a respectful way.” It is possible to “educate and develop sensitivity around cultural appropriation versus mutual exchange.”

Monkman clarifies the power imbalance at the painful root of appropriation. “When you have a dominant culture taking from a marginalized one, that’s where you run into problems,” he says. “Indigenous people have had more than their fashion stolen. They have had land, language, children—every aspect of their life and culture—taken from them. So there’s a lot of sensitivity when things are removed from their original context. People find that traumatizing; it triggers a lot of reactions that relate to these other thefts.”

“You can’t police how artists draw influence from the world, but you can create awareness about what’s cool and what’s not and how to collaborate and engage each other in a respectful way.”

The vows in Another Feather in Her Bonnet acknowledged the rampant appropriation in the worlds of both art and fashion and were perhaps a gentle nod to the groom’s career full of fashion crimes. But Gaultier isn’t the only one. In fact, “there’s a long list of designers who could benefit from a liaison with Miss Chief,” admits Monkman. “Appropriation happens all the time. We’re just paying more attention to it now.”

’Twas only four short years ago that Pharrell’s ELLE UK cover was thought to be stylistically sound when published, only to be slammed by an audience who was #NotSoHappy to see him in a headdress. And almost every year like clockwork, a Victoria’s Secret Angel takes to the stage in appropriated Indigenous attire. The list goes on.

“Indigenous people have had more than their fashion stolen. They have had land, language, children—every aspect of their life and culture—taken from them. So there’s a lot of sensitivity when things are removed from their original context.”

I’d like to think that $h!t like this will soon be extinct. But Monkman is not holding his breath, citing another important factor fuelling the industry’s incessant recycling and ripping off: “The fashion industry is predicated on having to produce an incredible volume of material—new, fresh ideas all the time,” he says. “And in the quest for new ideas, designers often pillage whatever influences enter their sphere without thinking about what they’re doing. Appropriation is easy…stealing something as opposed to reinvigorating one’s own traditions or creating something genuinely original.”

So what are we to do? Monkman suggests that we reach out to the cultures we are interested in and speak to them directly. “Make the dialogue a two-way street,” he says. “Engage a young Indigenous designer. Bring someone up and elevate them with you. If you are going to take, give something back as well.” A great example: Valentino’s Resort 2016 collaboration with renowned Métis artist Christi Belcourt, who worked with designers Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pierpaolo Piccioli to turn her large-scale works into textiles. In an artist statement, Belcourt shared that “the sacred laws of this world are respect and reciprocity. When we stop following them, we as a species are out of balance.”

“Appropriation is easy…stealing something as opposed to reinvigorating one’s own traditions or creating something genuinely original.”

It remains TBD if Gaultier will swap his stripes for sensitivity, but it’s clear that humility is in for Fall 2018—if not forever—and if you ask me, the only real fashion faux pas is an outfit rooted in oppression of any kind.

The post Jean Paul Gaultier Married Kent Monkman to Apologize for Cultural Appropriation. Here’s Why It Matters. appeared first on FASHION Magazine.

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citizentruth-blog · 6 years

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10 Keys to Well-Being (Plus Motivational Quotes) - PEER NEWS

New Post has been published on https://citizentruth.org/10-keys-to-well-being-plus-motivational-quotes/

10 Keys to Well-Being (Plus Motivational Quotes)

The very interesting Greater Good Science Center at UC-Berkeley has some assertive and scientifically-based ideas on wonderful topics such as well-being, fulfillment, meaning, happiness, flourishing, etc. Along with U-Penn’s Positive Psychology master’s program, these are two powerhouse schools that take the science of optimism, happiness, flourishing, and well-being seriously. It’s neat to see, since at times in the past, topics such as these, or “psi“, or values and virtues such as meaning, goodness, love, and wisdom were not considered suitable subjects for psychological science to research and investigate. In this blog, I discuss ten keys the GGSC, positive psychology, and I suggest for greater fulfillment, joy, contentment, and success.

Altruism

“Altruism is when we act to promote someone else’s welfare, even at a risk or cost to ourselves. Though some believe that humans are fundamentally self-interested, recent research suggests otherwise: Studies have found that people’s first impulse is to cooperate rather than compete; that toddlers spontaneously help people in need out of a genuine concern for their welfare; and that even non-human primates display altruism,” according to the Greater Good Science Center (GGSC). Altruism is one of the “values of the wise” — values that inspire and attract wise persons (for example, wisdom vs. foolhardiness, and truth vs. wishful thinking). I pair it with kindness and magnanimity, creating a mighty triumvirate of loving instinct.

A few quotations about altruistic behavior, self-sacrifice, love, and goodness:

“If you truly want to live up to the ideals our forefathers had in mind, if you sincerely care to embody the spirit of Jesus, Buddha, or Mohammed, stop hating and start loving. Love even when you don’t really feel it, even when you think you’re faking it. Soon, you won’t be faking it anymore, and you’ll be a better parent, a better friend, a better American, a better person.” ~ Alan Colmes

“Brotherhood is the very price and condition of man’s survival.” ~ Carlos P. Romulo

“There is no greater satisfaction for a just and well-meaning person than the knowledge that he has devoted his best energies to the service of the good cause.” ~ Albert Einstein

“The lover of mankind strengthens men, for he himself wishes to be strengthened; he helps men toward success, for he himself wishes to achieve success.” ~ Confucius

Awe

“Awe is the feeling we get in the presence of something vast that challenges our understanding of the world, like looking up at millions of stars in the night sky or marveling at the birth of a child. When people feel awe, they may use other words to describe the experience, such as wonder, amazement, surprise, or transcendence.

The most common sources of awe are other people and nature, but awe can be elicited by many other experiences as well, such as music, art or architecture, religious experiences, the supernatural, or even one’s own accomplishments,” the GGSC notes. I think of it as wonder; as vision; as radical creative thinking. Mindfulness and gratitude are aligned with seeing the world with awe. These special experiences fire our synapses and engender a greater sense of well-being.

A few quotations about Awe:

“The real voyage of discovery consists of not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” ~ Marcel Proust

“Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful, for beauty is God’s handwriting — a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ~ William Butler Yeats

Find the Good Side of Things, People & Changes

Ever heard an old person either say “Kids today!” or “Damn liberals!” or hear a young person absolutely demonize or denigrate an individual with whom they don’t agree (or, as in Dana Carvey’s impression of “grumpy old man“, just be sour and mad at the world)?

As can be gleaned from this Q&A with the engaging researcher Robert Sapolsky, political differences is a major issue nowadays — much more so than in the past. It divides us in homes, in communities, and in the United States. Add money to the mix and it’s political gamesmanship and subterfuge writ large.

But seeing differences between the self and the other is often not healthy. Tribalism, Sapolsky notes, is oh-so-easy. He says: “The easiest symbols that we grab on to in deciding if someone is an “us” or a “them” are visceral ones. Being disgusted by someone’s personal behavior—the way “they” do stuff—is a much easier entrée to hating them than disagreeing with their views on the trade deficit. Primates are hard-wired for us/them dichotomies. Our brains detect them in less than 100 milliseconds. Our views about things are driven by implicit (unconscious) processes.”

Gosh, that leaves one with a negative feeling. As Sapolsky puts it: “It’s depressing as hell.” That it is.

Here are some quotations to increase well-being by seeing commonalities, others’ perspectives, and being forgiving and humble – basically, optimism and positive thinking before judging:

“We spend so much time talking and judging what we think we know. . . We need to ask more questions and spend more time listening. Really listening, not just waiting for our turn to talk or be thinking the whole time how we are right and they are wrong. We also need to shift our mindset and see things from other people’s perspectives. Really appreciate and respect their perspective, not just be thinking how our’s is morally superior. We need to give more than we get in all interactions with others. Live to serve and to help make a difference in other’s lives. In short, leave this life better than we found it.” ~ Robert L. Lloyd

“All too often, visions of virtue or decency have been invoked to brand as immoral and dangerous anyone who is different. Such aggressive moral dogmatism — which, it is worth stressing, can occur on both the political right and left — is one of the greatest enemies of human dignity.” ~ Elizabeth Kiss

“Judging others takes a great deal of energy and, without exception, pulls you away from where you want to be.” ~ Richard Carlson

Mindfulness

The GGSC has this to say about this slightly-elusive value: “Mindfulness means maintaining a moment-by-moment awareness of our thoughts, feelings, bodily sensations, and surrounding environment, through a gentle, nurturing lens.

Mindfulness also involves acceptance, meaning that we pay attention to our thoughts and feelings without judging them—without believing, for instance, that there’s a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ way to think or feel in a given moment. When we practice mindfulness, our thoughts tune into what we’re sensing in the present moment rather than rehashing the past or imagining the future.”

Once you get your head around it, practices that lead to greater mindfulness — including but not limited to meditation — you can benefit from the positive effects on the human brain. Here is what my old friend Laurent Grenier, an author who found some interesting ways of dealing with his quadrapalegia, counsels:

“If you lead a happy life, of which you may be to some degree unmindful, never let a day pass without reflecting on the life of misery you could be leading instead. Imagine having lost everything and everyone you love. You will be happier for the realization that you are spared this misery.” Hard to do, but good advice. A good movie can help, I think.

Here are some quotes on this fascinating skill that will surely lead to greater relaxation, health, and well-being (and who knows, perhaps happiness and success):

“Practicing mindfulness over time reveals and develops the qualities of wisdom and compassion, the twin virtues of the discipline. Wisdom means seeing clearly into the fundamental nature of reality. Through meditative practice, we can deeply recognize the eternal arising and passing away of all phenomena and see the unsatisfactory quality of ordinary human experience that derives from the illusion of the self as an entity separate from the rest of reality.” ~ Mark W. Muesse

“Each moment of the year has its own beauty, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Research has suggested that in a few short weeks, mindfulness meditation practice can bring about physiological, psychological, and social benefits in our lives. From increases in gray matter in the brain to alleviating physical ailments such as migraines and fibromyalgia, the benefits of mindfulness and meditation practice more generally have been touted for everyone ranging from executives to schoolchildren.” ~ Hooria Jazaieri

Compassion

Next among values and phenomena that can lead to more well-being in the lives of aware individuals is this “suffering together.” Compassion is a deep empathy, a lovingness, a true caring. “While empathy refers more generally to our ability to take the perspective of and feel the emotions of another person, compassion is when those feelings and thoughts include the desire to help. Altruism, in turn, is the kind, selfless behavior often prompted by feelings of compassion, though one can feel compassion without acting on it, and altruism isn’t always motivated by compassion,” the GGSC points out.

As usual, when trying to figure out exactly what a particular value or virtue really means, I look to a wide array of diverse quotations to elucidate the concept. That is what Values of the Wise is all about.

Quotations about compassion:

“With compassion, we see benevolently our own human condition and the condition of our fellow beings. We drop prejudice. We withhold judgment.” ~ Christina Baldwin

“The Good Samaritan story illustrates altruism. Filled with compassion, he is motivated to give a stranger time, energy, and money while expecting neither repayment nor appreciation.” ~ David G. Myers and Jean M. Twenge

“We humans have the capacity to change the world with acts of love and kindness. Let’s start by teaching our children the importance of compassion.” ~ Goldie Hawn

Industriousness

A Buddhist proverb counsels, “If we are facing the right direction, all we have to do is keep on walking.” You may have also heard the oft-quoted, “Idle hands [or an idle mind] are the devil’s workshop.” If you’ve ever watched/read “Little House on the Prairie,” you know how deeply-ingrained hard work, discipline, industriousness, and persistence are in the American ethos. We work too hard now, considering how much of a cut of the profit workers receive, and considering that famous economist John Kenneth Galbraith predicted in the 1940s or 1950s that by 2000, we should be working less than twenty hours a week due to the awesome increase in technological capacity.

Well, a short workweek may not have come to pass, and America may be one of the hardest-working, most sober/religious of nations, but it still is a virtue — and one that can lead to well-being, contentment, and prosperity. Once one gets to about $75,000, happiness levels out, but up to that point, it is hard to be happy in the modern world if one is deprived, poor, or otherwise harried.

Industry vs. inferiority is a key milestone in human psychological development according to prominent developmental psychologist, Erik Erikson. As Lumenlearning.com points out, “During the elementary school stage (ages 6–12), children face the task of industry vs. inferiority. Children begin to compare themselves with their peers to see how they measure up. They either develop a sense of pride and accomplishment in their schoolwork, sports, social activities, and family life, or they feel inferior and inadequate because they feel that they don’t measure up. If children do not learn to get along with others or have negative experiences at home or with peers, an inferiority complex might develop into adolescence and adulthood.”

My sister is exemplary of effort and striving. She is actively a daughter, wife, mother of three, business owner, and reads and shares information passionately. She really gets a charge out of this lifestyle, and productivity is the result. I admire someone who finds one or more avocations and pursues them indefatigably — even in the absence of pay or a mandate. Indeed, as the quintessentially-American proverb has it, “People may get more tired by standing still than going on.”

Here are a few quotations about industriousness, effort, productivity, and dedication:

“Americans have shifted away from an energetic, purpose-driven, higher-order pursuit of value, and are instead moving toward security, insulationism, materialism and minimum-commitment thinking. Rather than building upon our history of sacrificial innovation and difficult labor, regardless of immediate or tangible personal benefits, many Americans are seizing our economic prosperity as an opportunity to slack off and opt for personal leisure, [and] short-sighted consumerism….” ~ Joseph Sunde

“Work saves us from three great evils: boredom, vice, and need.”~ Voltaire

“No ethic is as ethical as the work ethic.” ~ John Kenneth Galbraith

Empathy

Yet another key to well-being is empathy. The GGSC indicates that “[e]mpathy seems to have deep roots in our brains and bodies, and in our evolutionary history. Elementary forms of empathy have been observed in our primate relatives, in dogs, and even in rats. Empathy has been associated with two different pathways in the brain, and scientists have speculated that some aspects of empathy can be traced to mirror neurons, cells in the brain that fire when we observe someone else perform an action in much the same way that they would fire if we performed that action ourselves.”

Take David Brooks’ advice and don’t confuse empathy with rationality: “People without social emotions like empathy are not objective decision-makers. They are sociopaths who sometimes end up on death row.”

Here are three unique perspectives on empathy from three disparate individuals:

“Don’t judge anyone harshly until you have been through his experiences.” ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

“To separate egoistic distress reduction from empathy-based altruism, Daniel Batson’s research group conducted studies that aroused empathy. Then the researchers noted whether the aroused people would reduce their own distress by escaping the situation or whether they would go out of their way to aid the person. The results were consistent: with their empathy aroused, people usually helped.” ~ David G. Myers and Jean M. Twenge

“Wealthy Christians talk about the poor but have no friends who are poor. So they merely speculate on the reasons for their condition, often placing the blame on the poor themselves.” ~ Jim Wallis

Forgiveness

This beautiful and difficult virtue is one of humanity’s highest levels of achievement. Well-being is inextricably tied to the emotional grudges one holds, I’m afraid (I say that because I feel justice more easily than I feel forgiveness). But, it’s true. It’s tied to psychological well-being, heart health, and optimism. In fact, hostility and it’s ugly little brother cortisol is/are one of the main psychological predictors of heart disease!

Berkeley’s GGSC has this to say: “Psychologists generally define forgiveness as a conscious, deliberate decision to release feelings of resentment or vengeance toward a person or group who has harmed you, regardless of whether they actually deserve your forgiveness. Just as important as defining what forgiveness is, though, is understanding what forgiveness is not. Experts who study or teach forgiveness make clear that when you forgive, you do not gloss over or deny the seriousness of an offense against you.”

Alan Scott puts this virtue in this light: “I think there is a human condition where many people assume that if we forgive others for the wrongs they do to us (or those close to us) that we are, in a sense, letting them off the hook when perhaps they should be punished. The offender gets to go on their merry way through life, while we are still suffering because of their actions. I almost felt like if I forgave someone, then I was condoning the wrong that they did! Not so. Forgiveness is a necessity for us, not vengeance. God is the true judge, not us.”

I may not see it as a God thing, but I do see the psychological research point to the benefits of forgiveness when it comes to mental health and a flourishing life.

“You hold too much anger inside. It poisons you. Do you want to carry so much pain into your next life? …You must forgive. You must let go of your pain. You must let go of your anger.” Those are the wise words of the Chinese healer who tries to get Michael Keaton’s knotted-up and angry guy character to relax before his cancer kills him. It’s a fascinating scene in a fascinating movie called My Life.

Here are some quotations about forgiveness as a virtue:

“The greater you are, the more you must practice humility.” ~ Ben Sira

“So many of us hold on to little resentments that may have stemmed from an argument, a misunderstanding, the way we were raised, or some other painful event. Stubbornly, we wait for someone else to reach out to us — believing that this is the only way we can forgive or rekindle a friendship or family relationship.” ~ Richard Carlson

If one by one we counted people out For the least sin, it wouldn’t take us long To get so we had no one left to live with. For to be social is to be forgiving. ~ Robert Frost

Generosity

If there is one important thing my mom has taught me through deed and words, it is generosity. She gives, gives, gives. This doesn’t mean that she is a saint, but it does mean that she gets a great feeling from what she perceives as one of her true callings: to make a positive difference in others, in society, and in the world. She puts her money where her mouth is, as it were. I have seen a very compelling correlation in her between happiness and generosity. It’s a thing:

As Amanda L. Chan points out in this article, “Giving of yourself — whether it be your time, energy or money — isn’t just a boon to those you’re helping. A wealth of research shows that generosity can also have benefits for the giver, ranging from a better outlook at your job, to more years of life.” So give of yourself — your time, your money, your energy, your advice. Mentorship, volunteering, and charity are true ways to greater happiness, well-being, and meaning in life.

Don’t feel bad if you get a charge out of helping others and giving of yourself. That is how the brain evolved — we find certain things rewarding, such as food, sex, competition, and helping behavior. Feel good if you help another person; you deserve it! You could have ignored their need. The warm glow of givingness is something to cherish, not spurn.

Three other succinct quotes about generosity:

“One act of beneficence, one act of real usefulness, is worth all the abstract sentiment in the world.” ~ Ann Radcliffe

“I’ve never known any human being, high or humble, who ever regretted, when nearing life’s end, having done kindly deeds. But I have known more than one millionaire who became haunted by the realization that they had led selfish lives.” ~ B. C. Forbes

“To do good without ulterior motive is a generous and almost divine thing in itself.” ~ Francesco Guicciardini

Social Integration

Last, but certainly not least, social integration. Social interaction, social relatedness, inclusion, relationships – whatever you want to call it. It’s good. I should know; I have been terribly lonely and felt like a bit of an odd bird in some significant periods of my life. For a while there, I was on Prozac, living alone, doing my thesis on suicide, smoking marijuana, and wondering if life was worth living. Needless to say, I saw more of my therapist than I did women on dates. I just wasn’t in the zone, and my mental issues led to my social isolation, and my social isolation fed my mental issues. I sort of felt inferior to others; unliked; and yet superior to most others. It was quite a quandary.

Science is clear on this topic: human beings are social creatures, and though we do need some individuality and alone time, the feeling that we are alone, different, unworthy is only pernicious. It can lead to suicide, substance abuse, studying philosophy (!), and depression. Anomie is a unique version of this that has been described for some time in sociology. Yes, pets are good and helpful!

Yes, I am now married and even recently bit the bullet and started attending the local Unitarian Church! I have pets I am very fond of, I write every day, take classes, and exercise and fish oil!

On this page, Juliana Breines asks whether some social ties are better than others when it comes to contributing to well-being. She writes: “There’s no question that the digital age has changed the way we relate to one another, sometimes to our detriment, as MIT psychologist Sherry Turkle has argued in her book Alone Together. Though many of us can count Facebook friends into the thousands, research suggests that loneliness is rampant in the United States—we have fewer close friends than we did a generation ago—and takes a severe toll on our health.”

Here are some quotes about social connectedness as related to well-being. The Wisdom Archive holds other quotes about social relatedness, integration, affiliation, and connectedness, and is searchable for free.

“To the extent that we can characterize evolution as designing our modern brains, this is what our brains were wired for: reaching out to and interacting with others.” ~ Matthew Lieberman

“Social situations do profoundly influence individuals. But individuals also influence social situations. The two interact. Asking whether external situations or inner dispositions determine behavior is like asking whether length or width determine a room’s area.” ~ David G. Meyers and Jean M. Twenge

“Humans are a profoundly social species; our drive to connect with others is embedded in our biology and evolutionary history. It begins at birth, in our relationship with our caregiver—and the effects of this relationship seem to reverberate throughout our lives. When we’re cared for as children, we’re more likely to have healthy, secure attachments as we get older.” (the Greater Good Science Center)

I wish well-being, peace, and happiness for you. I will leave you with these:

I believe in courtesy, in kindness, in generosity, in good cheer, in friendship and in honest competition. I believe there is something doing somewhere, for every man ready to do it. I believe I’m ready, RIGHT NOW. ~ Elbert Hubbard

The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter. ~ Mark Twain

Optimism has an important place in some, thought not all, realms of your life. It is not a panacea. But it can protect you against depression; it can raise your level of achievement; it can enhance your physical well-being; it is a far more pleasant mental state to be in. ~ Martin E. P. Seligman

Dave Navarro Puts Mental Health & Suicide in the Spotlight with Benefit Concert

#key to happiness #quotes #well-being #wisdom

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