The more I learn about Civil War politics, the more I'm convinced that Lincoln's most impressive and useful leadership trait was that he never let his pride get in the way of doing his job.
Other people in Lincoln's position would have come to Washington with something to prove. They'd have resented the insults and tried to disprove them. They'd have tried to seize power and credit, rejected help, spent a lot of time trying to reach a certain level of respect.
Lincoln's response to, "You're just a backwoods lawyer with no executive experience who makes too many dumb jokes," was pretty much always, "Yeah. And?" He had no interest in petty personal power plays. He had a country to run. There was a war on. It didn't matter what people thought of him so long as the job got done.
He was aware of his personal shortcomings and was always willing to accept advice and help from people who had more knowledge and experience in certain areas. He presided over a chaotic Cabinet full of abrasive personalities who thought they were better and smarter than him, but he kept working with them because they could get the job done. For example: Stanton was absolutely horrible to him when they were both working as lawyers. Just incredibly mean on a personal level. But when Lincoln needed someone to replace Cameron, he swallowed his pride and appointed Stanton as Secretary of War, where Stanton proceeded to be mean to everyone in the world, but he whipped that department into shape and kept it running efficiently through a very chaotic war. Pretty much no one except Lincoln would have been able to put up with that. He could put up with people who were personally difficult if they could do the job he needed them to do--which he was only able to do because his own ego didn't get in the way.
Lincoln's example is a prime demonstration of how humility isn't underrating yourself--it's being so secure in your own abilities and identity that you don't need to attack anyone or defend yourself to prove your worth. He knew his shortcomings, but he also knew his strengths. He was willing to give other people credit for successes and take blame upon himself for failures if it kept things running smoothly. He was secure enough in his own power that he could deal generously--but firmly--with people who tried to undermine him. In a city full of huge egos, in a profession that rewards puffed-up pride, that levelheaded humility is an extremely rare trait--which is what made it so impressive and effective.
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hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?
hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].
but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.
it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.
and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.
the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.
an emptiness, like you said.
but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.
you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.
he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.
but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.
how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.
the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.
think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.
i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.
but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one.
wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.
as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛
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seven sentence sunday
tagged by @daffi-990 💖
making more progress on alive shannon yaaay! this fic is gonna be such a mix of angst and fluff, and I hope i'll get the angst part right bc I'm not good at it, and so far a lot of after-accident stuff is turning out too cute lol (gonna fix it soon with the bombing lol)
here's a lil buddie moment finally haha (they're not in love here yet but obvi there's always been something - and it's so hard to write them not in love and pining bc in my fics they're always in love already haha)
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“So, it’s weird, isn’t it?” he asks, then takes a huge gulp of his beer.
“What is?” Buck asks carefully, grabbing the second bottle and opening it.
“This whole thing.” Eddie shrugs. “Shan being here. Was it weird?” he nods towards the living room, indicating Buck hanging out with her before Eddie came home. Buck thinks for a moment, not really sure how to answer.
“I mean, I guess a little bit? Not as much as I expected, we just watched TV.” It’s Buck’s turn to shrug. “It was fine. It is fine. A little awkward, but we literally just met, so hopefully that changes. Since, you know, she’s here to stay, and I’m- I’m, uh- I guess I’m here often enough, so I don’t want it to be awkward and stuff-” he stumbles over his words, suddenly not sure why it’s even important for him and her to get along. It would be so easy for them to just not see each other. It’s not like Eddie and Shannon are gonna hang out all the time now, after she’s better and gets back to her own life. All that’s gonna connect them after the divorce is Chris. So, really, Buck has no reason to want to get along with her beyond her staying here for now. They don’t have to be friends, and if it’s weird for a couple weeks, so what?
“Buck.” Eddie interrupts his rambling, his eyes softening. “I know what you mean. I- I kinda hoped you guys would get along, is that stupid?” he chuckles. And, well, it’s settled now, Buck has to make friends with her, doesn’t he? “Since you’re, you know, Christopher’s best friend.” he adds with amusement, and Buck beams. But then Eddie sighs and shakes his head. “And he’s so happy to have her around.”
“I noticed.” Buck smiles.
“Yeah. He loves being able to just go into another room and hug her, talk to her, have her help him with his homework, play games with him. Just have a relationship with her again. He’s actually-” he laughs. “He’s teaching her to play his favorite video games, and she sucks at it. So bad. He’s determined, though.” Eddie gets that look on his face he always gets when talking about Chris, so much love and fondness and adoration. It might be one of Buck’s favorite expressions of his. Not that he has any favorites, of course, that’d be weird. He’s not analyzing his best friend’s face and looks and smiles, and he’s definitely not making sure to remember every single one, mentally filing them carefully in the rapidly growing drawer with Eddie’s name on it in his mind.
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no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gayarthur @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @diazblunt @911onabc @eddiediaztho @housewifebuck @lover-of-mine @gayhoediaz @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @ladydorian05 @forthewolves @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @eowon @theotherbuckley @weewootruck @thewolvesof1998 @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @callaplums @loserdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @underwater-ninja-13 @thewolvesof1998 @giddyupbuck
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Who wants some Vatore lore? 👀
The library is Caleb's sanctuary. Most of the other gaudy, expensive crap in the house is Lilith's, but this is the one space he refuses to let her touch, as it's where he spends most of his time pursuing his many creative endeavors (he's had about a century to pick up a talent or twelve). His bedroom is more spartan, and it's where all the "shabby" furniture has been relegated, but he doesn't mind. It's also where he indulges his guilty pleasure of watching campy vintage horror movies. Lilith thinks pop culture is a cesspool, so he keeps this activity strictly to his secret "man cave" (Lilith's derisive way of describing it), but that doesn't stop her from giving him shit for it anyway.
But Lilith has her own guilty pleasure in the form of trashy romance novels, so she's hardly one to judge (plus, you know, there's all the ruthless killing and stuff).
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