35 Images of Kindness Found Within Conflict

Something that brought a peaceful feeling to me today, and a few Aww moments.

Kindness Blog

During times of conflict and political or religious civil unrest, the power of the human spirit’s capacity for non-violent protest and kindness still shines through.

This man, Alberto Casillas, instantly became a national celebrity in Spain when he protected a group of youths who were protesting against the government’s austerity measures. The police were beating and attacking protestors who then ran into Casillas’s cafe for protection. When the police demanded he let them enter, he stood against them, with absolutely no weapons or way to defend himself and said, ”On my Life, you will not enter! It will be a massacre.” When the police stood down, the protestors started hugging and thanking him. The best part of this story? Casillas actually supported the government the protesters were fighting against. But that didn’t matter to him. As he said, ”There were excessive police forces. I am for compliance with the law, but above the law, there is humanity. I did what I had to do, that’s all.”

Alberto Casillas, instantly became a national celebrity in Spain when he protected a group of youths who were protesting against the government’s austerity measures. The police were beating and attacking protestors who then ran into Casillas’s cafe for protection. When the police demanded he let them enter, he stood against them, with absolutely no weapons or way to defend himself and said, ”On my Life, you will not enter! It will be a massacre.”

“Ukrainian girl giving sandwiches to protesters”

Ukrainian girl giving sandwiches to protesters

This is the aftermath of a very sweet moment between a General and a protester in Brazil.

This is the aftermath of a very sweet moment between a General and a protester in Brazil. Upon seeing what looked to be an impending conflict, the general made a simple request. “Do not fight, please. Not on my birthday.” How did the protesters respond?…

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Heroes in my Life

I posted on Monday that I’ve been losing myself in this world of depression, I didn’t think things would get worse, but somehow they were able to.  I’ve reached the point where all I want to do is sleep and not wake up, to finally have peace. While you are reading this, I’ll be getting ready to go to the viewing of my one of my grandfathers.

About an hour after publishing the piece on Monday, I received news that my mother’s father passed away a few moments before I was contacted. I knew he was not doing great. The day before I spent at his bedside talking about the good times we had when I was younger and crying and apologizing for not being around the past 3 years out my own stupidity. He had been bed ridden since a stroke a few years ago that left him paralyzed on his one side. Friday night he became violently ill and would not recover.

This amazing and remarkable guy meant the world to me, still does. He introduced me to history, painting, calligraphy, photography, sketching, classic movies and music, and my first set of tools. (Ok they were both mine and my brother’s, we had to share.) We would have marathon games of Monopoly, and watch the home movies he took of my mom and her brother, of them building the house they lived in. We’d take walks in the woods behind their house, or go swimming at the pool, pony and balloon rides at my Grandmother’s company picnic. He would be at every ballet recital taking photos and handing me flowers after.

There were family vacations that I’ll never forget. Always to the beach where we’d see the wild ponies, and dolphins. That one time we saw a pregnant mare with a stork sitting on her hindquarters making jokes that it was her due time. Sitting with him and his brother after dinner listening to stories of when the were younger and causing mischief, not that they ever stopped either (explains a bit about my brother and I and that we just didn’t inherit from our father). The love of motorcycles was born from my grandfather. The pictures of him and his brother with their Harley’s is pure love. He never lost that care free attitude and love of living.

He didn’t just introduce me to the arts, he gifted them to me. If it wasn’t for him, my writing, painting, photography, all of it, would not exist. I inherited this through him, as he did from his family. He comes from a line of artists, writers, musicians. My dad’s side of the family were not artists, and my grandmother wasn’t either. It came from grandpa. I do it all but singing. Trust me, my kitten sings better than I do, however I do write, play instruments, sculpt, paint, draw, craft, photography (though the writing is much harder at this moment).

He taught me to see the good in everything, to look at life through the viewfinder. That’s where you will see the magic. Even when he was bed ridden those last years, he always had a camera with him to take photos. An artist ’til the end. I miss him each and every moment. To that end, I’ve pulled out all of the art supplies, and the drafting table he gave me that have been to each and every new apartment, and have begun a series of painting some of my photography, so I can have all he introduced me to with me always.

Sadly, the tale doesn’t end there. As I was finally wrapping my head around his death, and trying to pull myself together, I received more news. My father’s father died. He had been sick since the winter and slipped into a state that made him weaker and weaker. Dementia took over, and he finally slipped away. That was Wednesday. Within the span of 3 days, I lost 2 of the men in my life that helped to shape who I am.

Growing up, I was always Lindsay or Linds, but to my dad’s father, I was Linnie. I would smile each time he’d say it. I was his Linnie. I’m crying just thinking about it. He’d see me and give me the biggest hug and kiss, and yell “Linnie” when he’d see me. He was also at all my ballet recitals smiling and full of hugs. He had a harder life, so he was a bit rough around the edges, but I loved each of those edges just as I loved my other grandfather as well. He was a steel worker, and before that, a US Airforce man. That’s where he met my grandmother. They both were military people when they were younger.

There were always animals living in his house. Dogs, cats, birds, they all lived there at different times. I was never without seeing a pet when I visited them. Because of that, my dad and mom always had pets as well as we were growing up. I also learned by observing that when your parents get older, you take care of them. Until she died, his mother lived with them. I got to see my great-grandmother quite a lot as she lived with my grandfather and grandmother.

My dad and grandfather are the ones that introduced me to whisky, the cure for everything when you’re sick, well just about everything. I also learned, which it’s funny to think about, but being raised in a Steel Town, when the mills were working, you knew who worked at which mill by the beer they drank. My grandfather, he was an Iron City man. The 2 other beers were Duquesne and High Life I believe, though PBR might have been in there too. I’ve always been a beer and whisky girl thanks to this.

I learned to play cards from Grandpa. I learned Spades and Hearts and a version of Aggravation Rummy. We loved playing cards.  We’d watch old movies and westerns together. Family vacations meant both Grandfathers getting together and we’d have John Wayne marathons. Though I’ll be honest, I have 2 favorite Westerns, and while one is a John Wayne (McClintock!), the other is not. Magnificent 7 just wins hands down for me. I would love family vacations where I’d have both Grandfathers and my Great Uncle together because we’d have movie marathons. We’d have the westerns, and we’d have the Tom Clancy movies, and the Bourne Series, and anything else. We just loved movies.

Still waiting on arrangements for my father’s father, though in the meantime, this glass of Tully’s is for you Grandpa.

They both taught me so much, work ethics were instilled to me, as well as having an open heart. Neither of them gave up, and they gave their all. They were fighters and stubborn to the end. They both accepted so many people, and I watched my one grandfather over come prejudices and become friends with people he swore to never befriend.

If only I can live up to their legacies.

First, I need to live.


Losing Myself

what-is-depressionDriving home the other day, I looked out at the river I drive along and it looked peaceful. So peaceful that I wanted to go in and submerge myself without plans to come up.

It was a wake up call for me. I’ve not been paying attention to myself lately and missing the signs. Urges, thoughts, feelings, those things you are suppose to take note of about yourself to make sure you are mentally healthy, I’ve ignored them and now depression has taken hold of me and pulled me back down to a place I hoped to not see again. I’m within the darkness of my mind, depressions shadows and lifelessness swallowing me whole once again.

It’s funny the things you can ignore in the need to feel “normal” to pretend this group of ugly illnesses do not exist. The forgetfulness increasing when normally remembering everything. The order of things suddenly becoming the most important thing, along with keeping a routine the exact same every day with no deviations, otherwise everything feels off. Feeling more of an outsider and unwanted. Wondering if you were no longer around if people would miss you or even notice. Always wanting to sleep and feeling utterly exhausted. Interest in anything has become obsolete, and forcing yourself to go anywhere or do anything is the only way things will happen. Anxiety choking you, fear and panic drowning you.

The world has become black, covered in shadows, with no way out. My thoughts have turned a bit morbid, darker, bleak, suicidal. Whether or awake or asleep, the world is black. When looking at my palette for the day, all I find is misery and hopelessness to paint with, having washed the joy down the sink. That little pill that makes me feel alive, has stopped producing it’s magic.

Suicidal thoughts and inclinations have started coming at an alarming rate, along with the urges to harm myself. The urges were at such a steady increase I needed to do something. I booked an appointment with my tattoo artist, and had some work done. I sport a reminder on my forearm, that I am the author of my life. I make the choice whether I live or die. I need that reminder quite often right now. I need to talk myself away from hurting myself, away from ending things.


These thoughts and feelings of being out of control of myself and my life, worthlessness, constant exhaustion, blackness, forgetfulness, failure, they need to stop.

I called the psychiatric hospital and clinic as soon as I became to come out of the fog enough to notice what has been going on. I’m in a depressive episode, and not just a small one. I need help.

I thought I was strong and able to overcome this. I’m not. I’m weak. I’m failing. I cannot do this. I’m fighting. I’m fighting against myself and I’m losing. wylMentalHealth

I’m back in therapy now. Only had the evaluation and the first session, but it’s a start. I see the doctor on the 14th about my medication(s) to start having that adjusted.

My first official session was about goals. We created long term and short term goals. My goals are set to help myself, not anyone else, but me. I am to work on and focus on me. This is me time. That’s going to take getting use to. I don’t know how to focus on me. That has always seemed selfish to me, however I’m told that if I want to get better, some things need to be about me, so these goals will help that. I want to gain interest back in art, and have my own shop set up to sell my work. Also, I want to attend a conference for blogging and writing, finally, I want to have self esteem to have better relationships, stable relationships. In order to achieve these, I am going to start with getting my art and crafts area set up. I have been told I need to write and publish an article every week. As for self esteem, well I need to have one positive mantra a week, whether it be something I thought of, or found on the interwebs.


Going to try to do this. I have no ambition right now. It’s lacking like the Sahara lacks water and vegetation. I am empty. I have a tough fight ahead of me. I hope I’m up for this. I hope I can make it. I hope I don’t give up and give in. I have demons inside of me, and they are trying to escape. How can I let them out and not let them win?