This is what the wheels looked like: They were identical wheels, sparkling like diamonds in the sun. The creatures flashed back and forth like strikes of lightning.ġ5-16 As I watched the four creatures, I saw something that looked like a wheel on the ground beside each of the four-faced creatures. Tongues of fire shot back and forth between the creatures, and out of the fire, bolts of lightning. They didn’t turn as they went.ġ3-14 The four creatures looked like a blazing fire, or like fiery torches. The wings were spread out with the tips of one pair touching the creature on either side the other pair of wings covered its body. They turned neither one way nor the other they went straight forward.ġ0-12 Their faces looked like this: In front a human face, on the right side the face of a lion, on the left the face of an ox, and in back the face of an eagle. All four had both faces and wings, with the wings touching one another. On all four sides under their wings they had human hands. Their legs were as sturdy and straight as columns, but their feet were hoofed like those of a calf and sparkled from the fire like burnished bronze. Each had the form of a human being, but each also had four faces and four wings. Within the fire were what looked like four creatures vibrant with life. God’s hand came upon him that day.)Ĥ-9 I looked: I saw an immense dust storm come from the north, an immense cloud with lightning flashing from it, a huge ball of fire glowing like bronze. On the fifth day of the fourth month, the sky opened up and I saw visions of God.Ģ-3 (It was the fifth day of the month in the fifth year of the exile of King Jehoiachin that God’s Word came to Ezekiel the priest, the son of Buzi, on the banks of the Kebar River in the country of Babylon. She is unmothered.1 When I was thirty years of age, I was living with the exiles on the Kebar River. More often it is because the woman simply doesn't know any better. So why, if this is all so and too true, do women keep trying to bend and fold themselves into shapes that are not theirs? I must say, from years of clinical observation of this problem, that most of the time it is not because of deep-seated masochism or a malignant dedication to self-destruction or anything of that nature. They are not interested in spending time together, and if they did, one would be constantly harassing the other.īut what if you, being a swan, had to pretend you were a mouse? What if you had to pretend to be gray and furry and tiny? What you had no long snaky tail to carry in the air on tail-carrying day? What if wherever you went you tried to walk like a mouse, but you waddled instead? What if you tried to talk like a mouse, but insteade out came a honk every time? Wouldn't you be the most miserable creature in the world? ![]() Swans and mice hate each other's food for the most part. What if you were raised by the mice people? But what if you're, say, a swan. ![]() Sometimes to make the point I have to move to other animal metaphors. There is nothing wrong with ducks, I assure them, or with swans. ![]() ![]() Assume also for a moment that she has been brought up by or is currently surrounded by ducks. If warranted, I might ask my client to assume for a moment that she is a swan who does not realzie it. "I must admit, I sometimes find it useful in my practice to delineate the various typologies of personality as cats and hens and ducks and swans and so forth. Rather than understand that the beauty of her soul shines through when she is being herself, the woman changes the subject and effectively snatches nourishment away from the soul-self, which thrives on being acknowledged." If you say how lovely she is, or how beautiful her art is, or compliment anything else her soul took part in, inspired, or suffused, something in her mind says she is undeserving and you, the complimentor, are an idiot for thinking such a thing to begin with. Although it could be a matter of modesty, or could be attributed to shyness- although too many serious wounds are carelessly written off as "nothing but shyness"- more often a compliment is stuttered around about because it sets up an automatic and unpleasant dialogue in the woman's mind. “There is probably no better or more reliable measure of whether a woman has spent time in ugly duckling status at some point or all throughout her life than her inability to digest a sincere compliment.
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