A Quote by Andrew Strauss

Grief is a bit of a journey, and it is evolving all the time but I am very functional. — © Andrew Strauss
Grief is a bit of a journey, and it is evolving all the time but I am very functional.
I don't think grief of grief in a medical way at all. I think that I and many of my colleagues, are very concerned when grief becomes pathological, that there is no question that grief can trigger depression in vulnerable people and there is no question that depression can make grief worse.
All those years I fell for the great palace lie that grief should be gotten over as quickly as possible and as privately. But, what I've discovered is that the lifelong fear of grief keeps us in a barren, isolated place, and that only grieving can heal grief. The passage of time will lessen the acuteness, but time alone, without the direct experience of grief, will not heal it.
Meditation is a good starting point, or even a little bit of contemplative reflection, asking questions like: Who am I without my name or form? What is my purpose if there is one? What do I want out of my life? What am I grateful for? Just a little bit of reflection like that starts you on the journey.
My writing is a very authentic journey of discovery. I'm going out there to learn who I am. My readers, consequently, take the same journey as my protagonist.
There is no evolving, only unfolding. The lily is in the bit of dust which is its beginning, lily and nothing but lily: and the lily in blossom is a ne plus ultra: there is no evolving beyond.
Motherhood is such an evolving journey.
I do enjoy filming, but I do consider myself still to be a bit of a novice, and I learn a bit every time I do a film job, and I am very admiring of film actors.
I like CrossFit. I agree with a lot of their coaching tips and the foundation of functional movements and hard work. They embody all that stuff. But I also think there's a bit of a cult following within the CrossFit community, a bit of a fraternity, which obviously creates a bias and a little bit of a tunnel vision.
In some ways, Lotus Eaters is a journey disguised as a party film; there's a circus in the movie, and there are parties, but the real story is of an internal journey. There's themes of emptiness and excess and beauty and grief around it, but it's always surrounded by these glamorous events, and those are ways of waylaying her on her journey in the same way that it is in the ancient Greek story.
Being resourceful and creating is a big part of my Lithuanian culture. My grandfather is part of who I am, too. He was a professional wrestler. He had a very functional, very slick, long frame.
And so I am this pilgrim - if I can somehow answer your question - who's constantly amazed by this journey. Who is learning a new thing every single day. But who's not accumulating knowledge, because then it becomes a very heavy burden in your back. I am this person who is proud to be a pilgrim, and who's trying to honor his journey.
A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.
Merely by existing and evolving in time - by existing - any physical system registers information, and by evolving in time it transforms or processes that information.
I think everyone understands grief, the journey it takes us on, whether it's the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, a disappointment. Some people don't deal with it, the power of it. Some do. Some feel the weight of it and it informs their choices. I've had to open up to grief in different contexts.
New grief, when it came, you could feel filling the air. It took up all the room there was. The place itself, the whole place, became a reminder of the absence of the hurt or the dead or the missing one. I don't believe that grief passes away. It has its time and place forever. More time is added to it; it becomes a story within a story. But grief and griever alike endure.
A lot of people know who I am now. They want a little bit of me, a little bit of my time. But at the end of the day, I still have to remember who I am.
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