Alert Awake Quotes

In mindfulness one is not only restful and happy, but alert and awake. Meditation is not evasion; it is a serene encounter with reality.

Champions never sleep, the eternal spirit keep them alert and awake.

Every part of me pulses with electric energy. Every synapse is firing, every part of me is alert, awake, and what I think is that this, this feeling, this is real. This feeling of being absolutely alive, absolutely in this moment, this is as real as it gets.

A Blessing; May the light of your soul guide you; May the light of your soul bless the work you do with the secret love and warmth of your heart; May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul; May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light and renewal to those who work with you and to those who see and receive your work; May your work never weary you; May it release within you wellsprings of refreshment, inspiration and excitement; May you be present in what you do. May you never become lost in the bland absences; May the day never burden; May dawn find you awake and alert, approaching your new day with dreams, possibilities and promises; May evening find you gracious and fulfilled; May you go into the night blessed, sheltered and protected; May your soul calm, console and renew you.

Read poems to yourself in the middle of the night. Turn on a single lamp and read them while you're alone in an otherwise dark room or while someone else sleeps next to you. Read them when you're wide awake in the early morning, fully alert. Say them over to yourself in a place where silence reigns and the din of the culture — the constant buzzing noise that surrounds us — has momentarily stopped. These poems have come from a great distance to find you.

Exposure to nature - cold, heat, water - is the most dehumanizing way to die. Violence is passionate and real - the final moments as you struggle for your life, firing a gun or wrestling a mugger or screaming for help, your heart pumps loudly and your body tingles with energy; you are alert and awake and, for that brief moment, more alive and human than you've ever been before. Not so with nature. At the mercy of the elements the opposite happens: your body slows, your thoughts grow sluggish, and you realize just how mechanical you really are. Your body is a machine, full of tubes and valves and motors, of electrical signals and hydraulic pumps, and they function properly only within a certain range of conditions. As temperatures drop, your machine breaks down. Cells begin to freeze and shatter; muscles use more energy to do less; blood flows too slowly, and to the wrong places. Your sense fade, your core temperature plummets, and your brain fires random signals that your body is too weak to interpret or follow. In that stat you are no longer a human being, you are a malfunction - an engine without oil, grinding itself to pieces in its last futile effort to complete its last meaningless task.

May the light of your soul guide you; May the light of your soul bless the work you do with the secret love and warmth of your heart; May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul; May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light and renewal to those who work with you and to those who see and receive your work; May your work never weary you; May it release within you wellsprings of refreshment, inspiration and excitement; May you be present in what you do. May you never become lost in the bland absences; May the day never burden; May dawn find you awake and alert, approaching your new day with dreams, possibilities and promises; May evening find you gracious and fulfilled; May you go into the night blessed, sheltered and protected; May your soul calm, console and renew you.

The worst stage was when one could tell she was still awake and almost alert, but she knew that nothing worked. Imprisoned. She was imprisoned. In a statue like the Sphinx. Looking out from the eyes. Her own mind, at that point, was as small and bewildered as a little fly. Behind great battlements.

I’m awake and alert, numb and exhausted. I never knew I could be all these things at the same time.

We need to increasingly live from the fullness of our whole hearts in order to become who we are meant to be and play the significant role that is ours to play. We want to be awake and alert. We want to be women who live their lives on purpose.

Be like a servant waiting for the return of the master,” says Jesus. The servant does not know at what hour the master is going to come. So he stays awake, alert, poised, still, lest he miss the master’s arrival. In another parable, Jesus speaks of the five careless (unconscious) women who do not have enough oil (consciousness) to keep their lamps burning (stay present) and so miss the bridegroom (the Now) and don’t get to the wedding feast (enlightenment). These five stand in contrast to the five wise women who have enough oil (stay conscious).

A King Inside Who Listens There are many people with their eyes open whose hearts are shut. What do they see? Matter. But someone whose love is alert, even if the eyes go to sleep, he or she will be waking up thousands of others. If you are not one of those light-filled lovers, restrain your desire-body's intensity. Put limits on how much you eat and how long you lie down. But if you are awake here in the chest, sleep long and soundly. Your spirit will be out roaming and working, even on the seventh level. Muhammad says, I close my eyes and rest in sleep, but my love never needs rest. The guard at the gate drowses. The king stays awake. You have a king inside who listens for what delights the soul. That king's wakefulness cannot be described in a poem.

At that time my virtue slumbered; my evil, kept awake by ambition, was alert and swift to seize the occasion.

Tiny, searing stabs. Wherever the droplets of mist touch my skin. "Run!" I scream at the others. "Run!" Finnick snaps awake instantly, rising to counter an enemy. But when he sees the wall of fog, he tosses a still-sleeping Mags onto his back and takes off. Peeta is on his feet but not as alert. I grab his arm and begin to propel him through the jungle after Finnick.

Across the distance, the Acropolis museum cradled within its protective walls its legendary treasures, lulling them to a peaceful sleep under the eerie light from the heavens. Yet, through the large window, the five Caryatids stood alert on their strong platform. The ageless maidens with the long braided hair down their backs remained awake even at this hour gazing across to the Acropolis, full of nostalgia for their sacred home. Inside their marble chests, they nurtured as always, precious hope for the return of their long lost sister.

Part of what existence means to me is knowing the difference between what I am now and what I was then. It is being capable of looking after myself intellectually as well as financially. It is being able to tell when I am being wronged and by whom. It means being awake to protect myself and the ones I love. It means being a part of the world community, and being alert to which part it is that I have joined, and knowing how to change to another part if that part does not suit me. To know is to exist: to exist is to be involved, to move about, to see the world with my own eyes. This, at least, the Movement has given me.

A lot of people believe in working long days and doing dou­ble, triple, or even quadruple shifts. I'm not one of them. Neither Transmeta nor Linux has ever gotten in the way of a good night's sleep. In fact, if you want to know the honest truth, I'm a firm believer in sleep. Some people think that's just being lazy, but I want to throw my pillow at them. I have a perfectly good excuse, and I'm standing by it: You may lose a few hours of your produc­tive daytime if you sleep, oh, say, ten hours a day, but those few hours when you are awake you're alert, and your brain functions on all six cylinders. Or four, or whatever.

The path is paved with consistent, conscious mental and spiritual alertness and the gradual growth of goodness in our heart and clarity in our mind. We are awake. If we keep trying to understand, we will understand. If we keep telling ourselves that we are loved by Life and if we keep looking for evidence of that love, we will find it.

The unpardonable sin, in Campbell’s book, was the sin of inadvertence, of not being alert, not quite awake.

He was instantly awake and alert, leaning toward her as if he, too, always knew where she was.

During World War Two, troops were given meth pills to make them better soldiers: able to stay awake for long periods, with hyper-alert senses and an increased willingness to take risks

Even though she was still so tired she felt glued to the matress, the yelling made Helen's eyes open. She saw Ariadne, Cassandra, and Noel standing over her bed. Correction, they were standing over Lucas's bed and Helen was in it. Her eyes snapped open and her head whipped around to look at Lucas. He was frowning himself awake and starting to make some gravelly noise in the back of his throat. "Go argue someplace else," he groaned as he rolled over onto Helen. He tucked himself up against her, awkwardly fighting the drag of the casts on his legs as he tried to bury his face in Helen's neck. She nudged him and looked up at Noel, Ariadne, and a furious Cassandra. "I came to see how he was and then I couldn't get back to my bed," Helen tried to explain, absolutely mortified. She gasped involuntarily as one of Lucas's hands ran up the length of her thigh and latched on to the sloping dip from her hip to her waist. Then she felt him tense, as if he'd just realized that pillows weren't shaped like hourglasses. His head jerked up and he looked around, alert for a fight. "Oh, yeah," he said to Helen as he remembered. His eyes relaxed back into a sleepy daze. He smiled up at his family and stretched until he winced, then rubbed at his sore chest, no longer in a good mood. "Little privacy?" he asked. His mother, sister, and cousin all either crossed their arms or put their hands on their hips.

challenges are everywhere. Awake! challenge and defeat the challenges that challenge you in a challenging way and be not be defeated by the challenges that challenge you in a challenging way

Her eyes snapped open and she was instantly awake, alert, and ready. “Thank you, Ensign,” she said. Kember saluted unsteadily, her face drained of blood. “Oh, and Ensign?” Josette said, before the girl left. “That request for you to throw yourself over the side and fall straight to Hell was not a formal order. You may feel free to disregard it.

If the body is at a certain level of alertness and awareness you will see that once it is well rested, it will awaken—that is, if it is eager to come to life. If it is somehow trying to use the bed as a grave, then it is a problem. Keep the body in such a way that it is not longing to avoid or escape life. Maintain it in such a way that it is longing to come awake.

It was a night of impossible things, and he fought to stay awake, to be conscious and alert for as long as possible, to enjoy and repeat to himself everything that had happened to him, a lifetime’s worth of wishes coming true in a few brief hours.

O life as futile, then, as frail! / O for thy voice to soothe and bless! / What hope of answer, or redress? / Behind the veil, behind the veil … She felt alert, somehow – perhaps awake was a better word: everything seemed clearer, as if a fog had lifted; colours were sharper, the edges of things more defined. The world no longer felt muted and grey and far away – behind a veil. It felt alive again, and vivid, and full of colour, wet with autumn rain; and vibrating with the eternal hum of endless birth and death.

Motherhood means I’m always a little bit awake, a little bit alert at all times.

The Shams men began their lives in America awake, unnaturally alert, like two windows with the blinds torn off.

She felt alert, somehow—perhaps awake was a better word: everything seemed clearer, as if a fog had lifted; colors were sharper, the edges of things more defined. The world no longer felt muted and gray and far away—behind a veil. It felt alive again, and vivid, and full of color, wet with autumn rain; and vibrating with the eternal hum of endless birth and death.

Many women report just being awake and alert all day as a huge improvement in this area. They feel a tremendous difference in their ability to counteract “ the paralysis of will ” that leaves many bright women sitting for hours, remote in hand, aimlessly changing channels with a million intentions and good thoughts trapped inside their head not being translated to action.

How does the man accessing the Warrior know what aggressiveness is appropriate under the circumstances? He knows through clarity of thinking, through discernment. The warrior is always alert. He is always awake. He is never sleeping through life. He knows how to focus his mind and his body. He is what the samurai called “mindful.” He is a “hunter” in the Native American tradition.

Be like a servant waiting for the return of the master,” says Jesus. The servant does not know at what hour the master is going to come. So he stays awake, alert, poised, still, lest he miss the master’s arrival.

The natural quality of mind is clear, awake, alert, and knowing. Free from fixation. By training in being present, we come to know the nature of our mind. So the more you train in being present - being right here - the more you begin to feel like your mind is sharpening up. The mind that can come back to the present is clearer and more refreshed, and it can better weather all the ambiguities, pains, and paradoxes of life.

I’ll always remember the particular intensity that malnutrition brings on, I know that I miss it still. That alertness of sensation, where every minute cell in the body is awake and alive to the smallest details of the outside world.

Recent scientific research reveals that the human system is capable of producing its own narcotic if it is maintained in a certain way. It is a completely self-contained system. And, what’s more, this is a narcotic which has a tremendous impact on health, well-being, alertness and perception. This chemical has been termed Anandamide (after the ancient Sanskrit word ‘ananda’, which refers to the core of life as blissfulness). If a sufficient amount is generated in the system, an individual can be intoxicated and fully awake at the same time. So, what Adiyogi disclosed, in effect, was that there is a whole marijuana mountain inside you! If you cultivate it properly, you could be stoned and yet stable, exuberant and yet aware all the time.

I closed my eyes—unnecessary in the inky darkness—and settled in for a consultation. Okay, Mel. What now? I was glad to find that she was still awake and alert. Opposition brought out her strength. It was only when things were going well that she drifted away.

As you become tired, your attention will indeed blink out, for a simple reason. People think you’re either awake or asleep, he told me, but he found that even if your eyes are open and you are looking around you, you can lapse—without knowing it—into a state called “local sleep.” This is where “part of the brain is awake, and part of the brain is asleep.” (It’s called local sleep because the sleep is local to one part of the brain.) In this state, you believe you are alert and mentally competent—but you aren’t. You are sitting at your desk and you look awake, but parts of your brain are asleep, and you are not able to think in a sustained way. When he studied people in this state, he found “amazingly, sometimes their eyes were open, but they couldn’t see what was in front of them.

He'd never been the type of awaken easily, always struggling to cross that daily border between slumber and the responsibilities of the wide awake world. But that day he had opened his eyes and known. Death had announced itself, named a time and place, and left him instantly alert.

Violence is passionate and real - the final moments as you struggle for your life, firing a gun or wrestling a mugger or screaming for help, your heart pumps loudly and your body tingles with energy; you are alert and awake and, for that brief moment, more alive and human than you've ever been before.

At the nurses’ station the night-shift RNs cluster on chairs, looking like birds wanting to shove their tired heads under a free wing. Their lined faces and heavy-lidded eyes show how hard it is to stay awake and alert for an entire night. I don’t work a lot of nights, but when I do I feel it. I hit a wall at 2:00 a.m., then again at 4:00. The hospital’s strong tea, bad coffee, Diet Coke from the vending machine—they all help, but nothing non-pharmaceutical will really make me feel awake for the entire night, and I’m not going down the pharmacologic road. The day after, even if I sleep all morning and afternoon, it feels as though I’m seeing the world through gauze.

She felt alert, somehow—perhaps awake was a better word: everything seemed clearer, as if a fog had lifted; colors were sharper, the edges of things more defined. The world no longer felt muted and gray and far away—behind a veil. It felt alive again, and vivid, and full of color, wet with autumn rain; and vibrating with the eternal hum of endless birth and death.

There is a qualitatively different kind of waiting, one that requires your total alertness. Something could happen at any moment, and if you are not absolutely awake, absolutely still, you will miss it. This is the kind of waiting Jesus talks about. In that state, all your attention is in the Now. There is none left for daydreaming, thinking, remembering, anticipating.

David Copperfield had a fever when he’d gone to bed, and Larch went to check on the boy. Dr. Larch was relieved to feel that young Copperfield’s fever had broken; the boy’s forehead was cool, and a slight sweat chilled the boy’s neck, which Larch carefully rubbed dry with a towel. There was not much moonlight; therefore, Larch felt unobserved. He bent over Copperfield and kissed him, much in the manner that he remembered kissing Homer Wells. Larch moved on to the next bed and kissed Smokey Fields, who tasted vaguely like hot dogs; yet the experience was soothing to Larch. How he wished he had kissed Homer more, when he’d had the chance! He went from bed to bed, kissing the boys; it occurred to him, he didn’t know all their names, but he kissed them anyway. He kissed all of them. When he left the room, Smokey Fields asked the darkness, ‘What was that all about?’ But no one else was awake, or else no one wanted to answer him. I wish he would kiss me like that, thought Nurse Edna, who had a very alert ear for unusual goings-on. ‘I think it’s nice,’ Mrs. Grogan said to Nurse Angela, when Nurse Angela told her about it. ‘I think it’s senile,’ Nurse Angela said. But Homer Wells, at Wally’s window, did not know that Dr. Larch’s kisses were out in the world, in search of him. He didn’t know, either – he could never have imagined it! – that Candy was also awake, and also worried. If he does stay, if he doesn’t go back to St. Cloud’s, she was thinking, what will I do? The sea tugged all around her. Both the darkness and the moon were failing.

He thought of one of those girls frowning over a book, pushing a lock of brown hair back over one oddly curved ear. He thought of the way she looked at him, brows narrowed in suspicion. Scornful and alert. Awake. Alive. He imagined her as a mindless servant and felt a rush of something he couldn't quite untangle- horror, and also a sort of terrible relief. No ensorcelled human could look at him as she did.

Wasn’t that exactly what I’d needed to be alone to think about? I slouched against the wall. The rice bag made a decent pillow. I closed my eyes—unnecessary in the inky darkness—and settled in for a consultation. Okay, Mel. What now? I was glad to find that she was still awake and alert. Opposition brought out her strength. It was only when things were going well that she drifted away. Priorities, she decided. What’s most important to us?

Autumn is the season of subtractions, the Japanese art of taking more and more away to charge the few things that remain. At least four times as many classical poems are set in autumn and spring, the seasons of transition, than in summer and winter. But what that means, I realize as the years pass, is that nothing can be taken for granted; people are on alert, wide awake, ready to seize each day as a blessing because the next one can't be counted on.

No matter what, we can know an internal defiant joy because death has been defeated. Life has won. There is suffering, yes. But always there is the potential for joy. In the face of the ultimate reality won for us by Jesus, we don’t have to pretend that life is better than it is, that we don’t hurt as much as we do, or that we feel happy when we are not. We are invited to be fully alive, awake, alert, and oriented to the truth, and to know that because of Jesus, we can be defiantly joyful.

THEY’D HOPED, BY now, to have banished sleep forever. The waste was nothing short of obscene: a third of every Human life spent with its strings cut, insensate, the body burning fuel but not producing. Think of all we could accomplish if we didn’t have to lapse into unconsciousness every fifteen hours or so, if our minds could stay awake and alert from the moment of infancy to that final curtain call a hundred and twenty years later. Think of eight billion souls with no off switch and no down time until the very chassis wore out. Why, we could go to the stars.

Like everything else in life, we should eat consciously. We should learn to listen to our body about what to eat and how much – not too much, not too little, the foods which will not strain or poison our system. If the channel of communication is clear between our body and mind, it will tell us what we need for our body type, age, and level of activity while taking into account any health issues or changed circumstances which affect our metabolism. We can still treat ourselves with things we love, but we should do so in honest moderation and with awareness. Eating what is right for our individual system keeps our body healthy and active, and our mind awake and alert. 

As excited as Jase and I were to have Mia home, we were both nervous about caring for an infant with special needs. We remembered the night we brought Reed home from the hospital--neither of us slept because we had never had a baby before and were afraid something might happen to him. We wanted to be awake and alert if he needed us. With only six feet separating our two bedroom doors at the time, we heard every coo and cough Reed made. One time during that first night, Reed sounded like he was choking. Jase flew out of bed and made it to Reed’s crib in two leaps--quite a feat from a waterbed! There was absolutely nothing wrong with Reed. We were two brand-new parents learning how to adjust to caring for another living, breathing human being who was now entirely our responsibility.

Charlie’s body was on autopilot as she stirred bitters into old-fashioneds, and doctored abominable Smirnoff Ices with half shots of Chambored. Up on stage, a drag trio in sinister yet glittery Elvira-esque attire belted out songs from the nineties. Mixing drinks, she found herself glad of something to do with her hands, some distraction from the churn of her thoughts. In the hours before a job, adrenaline kicked in. She was alert, focused. As though she only truly came awake when there was a puzzle to solve, a potential triumph outside of the grinding pattern of days. Something other than getting up, eating, going to work, eating again, and then having a few hours before bed with which you could work out or do your laundry or have sex or clean the kitchen or watch a movie or get drunk. The grinding pattern was life, though. You weren’t supposed to yearn for something else.

I start suddenly and lift my head. Bethke too, I see, is sitting up. Even Tjaden is on the alert. The year-old instinct has reported something, none yet knows what, but certainly something strange is afoot. We raise our heads gingerly and listen, our eyes narrowed to slits to penetrate the darkness. Every one is awake, every sense is strained to the uttermost, every muscle ready to receive the unknown, oncoming thing that can mean only danger. The hand grenades scrape over the ground as Willy, our best bomb-thrower, worms himself forward. We lie close pressed to the ground, like cats. Beside me I discover Ludwig Breyer. There is nothing of sickness in his tense features now. His is the same cold, deathly expression as every one’s here, the front-line face. A fierce tension has frozen it—so extraordinary is the impression that our subconsciousness has imparted to us long before our senses are able to identify it.

1Allow the eyes to close, and find a comfortable meditation posture. Begin by tuning in to the experience of the body breathing. Rest with each inhale and exhale as you feel the movement in the body. 2To energize the mind, you will start with the breath. With the inhalation, breathe in a sense of energy and awareness. Reach the body upward, straighten the spine, and open the chest. With the exhale, let go of sleepiness and distraction. 3After a minute or two, allow the eyes to open—letting light in can help us stay awake and clear. Continue practicing with the breath and notice any sights that grab your attention. 4Allow a few minutes to pass, and stand up. With your eyes open, standing on your feet, you are inviting increased alertness into your practice. It’s much harder to fall asleep standing up than sitting down! 5As you complete this exercise, take a moment to shake out your body and get some energy moving. Feel the warmth in your muscles as you move and go back to your day.

When he’d worked in the garden, he’d awoken as the birds had heralded the rising sun. But here inside, in a soft bed with a softer, warm woman against his side, he found it harder to brush away the tendrils of sleep. “What?” Lily mumbled as he gently removed her arm from his belly. He’d like to linger longer. To kiss her awake and make love to her again, but it was only a matter of time before the servants descended on the room. Besides, the sooner he left, the less likely that he’d run into other guests. So he dressed quickly as she sighed and rolled to burrow into the warm spot he’d left. Apollo gathered his coat and gave a last glance around the room before bending to kiss her again on the lips. Her brow wrinkled ferociously and she cracked her eyelids to mutter, “Is it?” He smiled. Evidently she wasn’t an alert waker. “I’ll see you later.” Her only reply was an unfeminine grunt as she pulled a pillow over her head. The smile still lingered as he crept into the hall and gently shut the door behind him.

When I woke up, Cat had already left but there was a text from Mike, asking me if I wanted to meet him in the lobby for breakfast. I felt gross and hungover, not to mention all of the butterflies in my stomach from the thought of just being near him, so I wasn’t sure I could handle keeping up a conversation all by myself. I wrote back Sure and then immediately texted Whitney and asked her to meet us so I wouldn’t have to be alone with him. When I arrived, they were bright and awake and alert, and I felt like a total zombie next to them. They teased me about my constant groaning about how sick I felt. But the truth was that my stomach butterflies were brought on more by how strange I felt around Mike. He seemed totally fine, like nothing had happened last night, but I kept stealing glances at him and thinking, You were my first kiss! In the light of day, it was hard for me to fully accept, because even though I was finally able to talk about my feelings with my friends and Nicole, I was still partially removed from that part of myself. We

What are you when you don’t think about yourself, or your past, or your future? This is quite mysterious indeed. It may seem eerie, confounding, or just plain bizarre. However, if you persist in inquiring in this way, “Who am I?” not settling for any memory (past) or referring to your imagination (future), you might find that you actually have no idea who or what you are. Even stranger, regardless of what was just recognized, your sense of “I” or “me” is quite strong and obvious with no facts, thoughts, or references attached to it. You find yourself in a space with no past and no future. This space does not rely on any concepts to define who you are, and yet here you remain. Undeniably here, awake, alert, and aware of the senses. The sounds haven’t gone anywhere, have they? The colors and shapes in front of you are still there. In fact, they are a bit more vivid, aren’t they? The sensations in the body are right here. Yet there is no story, no past, no future, no “substance” of what you always thought of as you. At this point you have a choice. You can start thinking again and just forget this little exercise, or you can decide you really want to find the answer and so you keep asking and keep investigating directly in this moment, “What am I without referencing the past and future?” If you do proceed in this way and find yourself in a thoughtless space, it’s okay to just remain there. You don’t need to continue to ask the question unless you get lost in thought.

Dolphins felt top-heavy, that year, most of the time, and wanted to lie down. When their heads weren’t on top they still felt top-heavy, but metaphysically. In public places they felt sad. They went into restrooms, hugged themselves, and quietly went, ‘Eeeee eee eeee.’ Weekends they went to playgrounds alone. They sat in the top of slides—the enclosed part, where it glowed a little because of the colored plastic—and felt very alert and awake but also very sad and immature. Sometimes they fell asleep and a boy’s mother would prod the dolphin with a broom and the dolphin would go down the slide while still asleep. At the bottom they would feel ashamed and go home and lie in bed. They felt so sad that they believed a little that it was their year to be sad, which made them feel better in a devastated, hollowed-out way. Life was too sad and it was beautiful to really feel it for once; to be allowed to feel it, for one year. When dolphins had these thoughts, usually on weekends at night, it was like dreaming, like a pink flower in a soft breeze on a field was lightly dreaming them. The sadness was like a pink forest that got less dense as you went in and then changed into a field, which the dolphins walked into alone. Sometimes the sadness was like a knife against the face. It made the dolphins cry and not want to move. But sometimes a young dolphin would feel very lonely and ugly and it was beautiful how alone it felt, and it would become restless with how perfect and elegant its sadness was and go away for a long time and then return and sit in its room and feel very alone and beautiful.

Systems 1 and 2 are both active whenever we are awake. System 1 runs automatically and System 2 is normally in a comfortable low-effort mode, in which only a fraction of its capacity is engaged. System 1 continuously generates suggestions for System 2: impressions, intuitions, intentions, and feelings. If endorsed by System 2, impressions and intuitions turn into beliefs, and impulses turn into voluntary actions. When all goes smoothly, which is most of the time, System 2 adopts the suggestions of System 1 with little or no modification. You generally believe your impressions and act on your desires, and that is fine—usually. When System 1 runs into difficulty, it calls on System 2 to support more detailed and specific processing that may solve the problem of the moment. System 2 is mobilized when a question arises for which System 1 does not offer an answer, as probably happened to you when you encountered the multiplication problem 17 × 24. You can also feel a surge of conscious attention whenever you are surprised. System 2 is activated when an event is detected that violates the model of the world that System 1 maintains. In that world, lamps do not jump, cats do not bark, and gorillas do not cross basketball courts. The gorilla experiment demonstrates that some attention is needed for the surprising stimulus to be detected. Surprise then activates and orients your attention: you will stare, and you will search your memory for a story that makes sense of the surprising event. System 2 is also credited with the continuous monitoring of your own behavior—the control that keeps you polite when you are angry, and alert when you are driving at night. System 2 is mobilized to increased effort when it detects an error about to be made. Remember a time when you almost blurted out an offensive remark and note how hard you worked to restore control. In summary, most of what you (your System 2) think and do originates in your System 1, but System 2 takes over when things get difficult, and it normally has the last word.

As a nine-year-old, the circadian rhythm would have the child asleep by around nine p.m., driven in part by the rising tide of melatonin at this time in children. By the time that same individual has reached sixteen years of age, their circadian rhythm has undergone a dramatic shift forward in its cycling phase. The rising tide of melatonin, and the instruction of darkness and sleep, is many hours away. As a consequence, the sixteen-year-old will usually have no interest in sleeping at nine p.m. Instead, peak wakefulness is usually still in play at that hour. By the time the parents are getting tired, as their circadian rhythms take a downturn and melatonin release instructs sleep—perhaps around ten or eleven p.m., their teenager can still be wide awake. A few more hours must pass before the circadian rhythm of a teenage brain begins to shut down alertness and allow for easy, sound sleep to begin. This, of course, leads to much angst and frustration for all parties involved on the back end of sleep. Parents want their teenager to be awake at a “reasonable” hour of the morning. Teenagers, on the other hand, having only been capable of initiating sleep some hours after their parents, can still be in their trough of the circadian downswing. Like an animal prematurely wrenched out of hibernation too early, the adolescent brain still needs more sleep and more time to complete the circadian cycle before it can operate efficiently, without grogginess. If this remains perplexing to parents, a different way to frame and perhaps appreciate the mismatch is this: asking your teenage son or daughter to go to bed and fall asleep at ten p.m. is the circadian equivalent of asking you, their parent, to go to sleep at seven or eight p.m. No matter how loud you enunciate the order, no matter how much that teenager truly wishes to obey your instruction, and no matter what amount of willed effort is applied by either of the two parties, the circadian rhythm of a teenager will not be miraculously coaxed into a change. Furthermore, asking that same teenager to wake up at seven the next morning and function with intellect, grace, and good mood is the equivalent of asking you, their parent, to do the same at four or five a.m. Sadly, neither society nor our parental attitudes are well designed to appreciate or accept that teenagers need more sleep than adults, and that they are biologically wired to obtain that sleep at a different time from their parents. It’s very understandable for parents to feel frustrated in this way, since they believe that their teenager’s sleep patterns reflect a conscious choice and not a biological edict. But non-volitional, non-negotiable, and strongly biological they are. We parents would be wise to accept this fact, and to embrace it, encourage it, and praise it, lest we wish our own children to suffer developmental brain abnormalities or force a raised risk of mental illness upon them.

If you are willing to pay a small price for your dreams, you are definitely asleep. If you are willing to pay an average price for your dreams, you are barely awake. If you are willing to pay a big price for your dreams, you are evidently conscious. If you are willing to pay a great price for your dreams, you are undoubtedly alert.

There is a great affirmation, “I live and move and have my being in God!” You can’t say that with meaning without feeling a movement of energy. You just can’t want to stay in bed after affirming such a thought. Another affirmation I like in this regard is, “I’m alive, alert, awake, joyous and enthusiastic about my life!

Jase, Mia, and I arrived at the hospital early the next morning to what seemed like a replay of Mia’s surgery one year earlier--same hospital, same preoperative area, and same room setup. Over the next few minutes, her room filled up with people, including Reed and his girlfriend of three and a half years, Brighton, who had both driven in from college. Mia loves being silly with them, and I snapped a picture of the three of them. Mia’s cousins also surrounded her to play a game of Old Maid, thanks to the deck Mamaw Kay pulled out of her purse. Everyone was cracking jokes, taking pictures, and, well, just being themselves. All this activity helped keep Mia, as well as me and Jase, thinking positively and staying upbeat. Mia opted to not take the goofy juice this time. She told me she wanted to be awake and alert so she could tell everyone goodbye as she was being rolled back through the operating doors. Whoa! I wasn’t so sure about this. Jase thought it was very brave of her and that we should let her do it. Reluctantly, I agreed. Dr. Sykes, the anesthesiologist, said he would tell her every single thing he was going to do before he gave her enough gas to first make her silly and then to put her to sleep. She was all for it. However, as Dr. Sykes rolled her away, tears formed in Mia’s eyes. I had to keep myself from shouting my thoughts: Wait! Are you sure about this, Mia? You don’t have to go in like this! Let’s rethink this goofy juice thing! I watched Mia’s face closely to catch the slightest glimpse of her wanting to change her mind. There was none. Even though she was scared, she pushed through, and Jase and I let her. We both followed the gurney with tears in our eyes, but she never saw them.

It is impossible to pray while sleeping—you must be awake and alert to talk to God, just as you are when talking with anyone.

Because they are well rested, these babies will be more alert and more willing to listen during their awake times, which in turn means they will be more active learners. They will also be more willing to play contentedly by themselves and not require constant entertainment by parents and other caregivers.

Three things to help keep your brain cells awake and alert ... drink plenty of clean water, get plenty of deep sleep, and let your imagination soar to places it's never dared venture.

Like every other mother on the planet, from the moment my first baby entered the house, I stopped getting real sleep. Motherhood means I’m always a little bit awake, a little bit alert at all times. One eye open. So

MARCH 23 YOU WILL BE SOBER AND VIGILANT AGAINST YOUR ADVERSARY MY CHILD, REMEMBER that you are not living in darkness, but I have made you aware of the evil schemes of the devil. Stay awake and watchful, for you should not be surprised by anything the enemy may try to do. Because you belong to the day, put on faith and love as a breastplate, and wear the helmet of salvation when you attempt to make war against Satan. With your mind alert and sober, set your hope on the grace that will be revealed to you when My Son returns to bring you home to heaven. Be holy in all you do. Live out your time here as a foreigner. Purify yourself with My holy Word. Resist the devil, and stand firm in your faith. 1 THESSALONIANS 5:4–11; 1 PETER 1:13–15; 5:8 Prayer Declaration I am sober and vigilant against my adversary, the devil. I am prepared to be victorious over his evil attacks, and I have armed myself with the breastplate of faith and love and the helmet of salvation. Because of the salvation of Christ, I am able to see the evil schemes and tactics of Satan before they are able to do harm to me or my family. He may cause me to suffer, but he will never be able to overcome me or to take me out of the protection of God, my Father.

The monastic tradition has always known about finding God in the daily and the ordinary, so it should not really surprise us that in recent years the monastic vision has escaped the cloister and become the property of many lay people who find that it brings them a down-to-earth refreshment of spirit which sadly they often fail to find in the institutional Church. People are waking up to hear the call of the monastery bell – and if we think of that as the bell for the first Office of the day, which is Vigils, then we are given the further image of a wake-up call, a call to become vigilant, alert, fully awake, fully alive.

And now as I count forward from 1-5, you’ll allow that energy to rise back up in you. And as you walk out the door today, you’ll notice yourself looking for even the smallest signs of success…. you’ll always get what you’re looking for. And success breeds more success. 1. Now, you find yourself feeling physically stronger and fitter. MORE wide-awake, and MORE energetic. MUCH LESS preoccupied with the challenges of yesterday, and MUCH MORE aware of your abilities today. Your nerves stronger and steadier. Your mind calmer and clearer, more composed, more peaceful and at ease. 2. You realize you think MORE clearly, concentrate MORE easily, and you see things in their true perspective, without allowing them to get out of proportion. Every day finding yourself becoming emotionally much calmer. 3. You feel a greater feeling of personal well-being, safety and security. You begin to discover much more confidence in your ability to do what you have to do each day, and MUCH MORE confidence in your ability to do whatever you ought to be able to do, easily, optimistically, and happily. 4. And because you are aware these things are happening, not because I say so, not because of some wonderful words I know to say, but simply because it’s the decision you made for yourself. You begin to feel much more contented. Much more cheerful, optimistic as every day you do better and better. 5. Eyes open, refreshed, alert, feeling good.

The essential point of finding a relaxed posture is to be able to sit in a position that is comfortable enough, so while staying awake and alert, you can almost forget about your body.

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Dr John Nash Ott had reported improved health that an outdoor lifestyle can bring in his books. He believed it could cure prolonged illness. I had a similar experience. I had achieved what had been impossible during the previous decade, a return to the weight I was in my thirties. I had far more energy and far less days of chronic fatigue. I was mentally alert and suffered far less forgetfulness and confusion. I slept better on a two stage sleep cycle that Dr John Nash Ott had reported as an effect of the outdoor lifestyle. I would go to bed earlier, typically a couple of hours after sunset and wake up around 1-2 AM before falling asleep again until morning twilight. My body had automatically aligned with the twilight times. It was common in the morning to be awake in bed listening to the morning chorus of the birds and the “Cock-a-doodle-do!” of the roosters.

Be like a servant waiting for the return of the master,” says Jesus. The servant does not know at what hour the master is going to come. So he stays awake, alert, poised, still, lest he miss the master’s arrival. In another parable, Jesus speaks of the five careless (unconscious) women who do not have enough oil (consciousness) to keep their lamps burning (stay present) and so miss the bridegroom (the Now) and don’t get to the wedding feast (enlightenment). These five stand in contrast to the five wise women who have enough oil (stay conscious). Even the men who wrote the Gospels did not understand the meaning of these parables, so the first misinterpretations and distortions crept in as they were written down. With subsequent erroneous interpretations, the real meaning was completely lost. These are parables not about the end of the world but about the end of psychological time. They point to the transcendence of the egoic mind and the possibility of living in an entirely new state of consciousness.

We are the people called into Passiontide, into Gethsemane-tide, into prayer and fasting, into betrayal and suffering, into the ambiguous and agonizing position of wrestling with the purposes of God, into knowing that we might have got it wrong, into wondering in anguish if maybe there’s a different way after all, into being misunderstood by friends and family, into fightings without and fears within. The disciples fell asleep in the garden; we are called to stay awake, to be alert, to see what the issues are and what stand must be taken, to do business with the one Jesus called Abba, Father, even if voices all around us, and even within us, tell us we might be getting it all horribly wrong.

In mindfulness, one is not only restful and happy but alert and awake,” teaches Hanh. “Meditation is not evasion; it is a serene encounter with reality.

The first factor is a signal beamed out from your internal twenty-four-hour clock located deep within your brain. The clock creates a cycling, day-night rhythm that makes you feel tired or alert at regular times of night and day, respectively. The second factor is a chemical substance that builds up in your brain and creates a “sleep pressure.” The longer you’ve been awake, the more that chemical sleep pressure accumulates, and consequentially, the sleepier you feel. It is the balance between these two factors that dictates how alert and attentive you are during the day, when you will feel tired and ready for bed at night, and, in part, how well you will sleep.

It’s the equivalent of sticking your fingers in your ears to shut out a sound. By hijacking and occupying these receptors, caffeine blocks the sleepiness signal normally communicated to the brain by adenosine. The upshot: caffeine tricks you into feeling alert and awake, despite the high levels of adenosine that would otherwise seduce you into sleep.

However, by eleven p.m. it’s a very different situation, as illustrated in figure 6. You’ve now been awake for fifteen hours and your brain is drenched in high concentrations of adenosine (note how the solid line in the figure has risen sharply). In addition, the dotted line of the circadian rhythm is descending, powering down your activity and alertness levels. As a result, the difference between the two lines has grown large, reflected in the long vertical double arrow in figure 6. This powerful combination of abundant adenosine (high sleep pressure) and declining circadian rhythm (lowered activity levels) triggers a strong desire for sleep. Figure 6: The Urge to Sleep

You can, however, artificially mute the sleep signal of adenosine by using a chemical that makes you feel more alert and awake: caffeine.

Since he held no troublesome parchment office, he was unlikely to be called upon to speak in chapter upon the various businesses of the house, and when the matter in hand was dull into the bargain it was his habit to employ the time to good account by sleeping, which from long usage he could do bolt upright and undetected in his shadowy corner. He had a sixth sense which alerted him at need, and brought him awake instantly and plausibly. He had even been known to answer a question pat, when it was certain he had been asleep when it was put to him.

General-purpose ways to improve your attention include using intention, staying awake and alert, quieting the mind, and abiding as awareness.

Ideas rarely come from watching television. Ideas sometimes come from listening to a lecture. Ideas often come while reading a book. Good ideas come from bad ideas, but only if there are enough of them. Ideas hate conference rooms, particularly conference rooms where there is a history of criticism, personal attacks, or boredom. Ideas occur when dissimilar universes collide. Ideas often strive to meet expectations. If people expect them to appear, they do. Ideas fear experts, but they adore beginners’ minds. A little awareness is a good thing. Ideas come in spurts, until you get frightened. Willie Nelson wrote three of his biggest hits in one week. Ideas come from trouble. Ideas come from our ego, and they do their best when they’re generous and selfless. Ideas come from nature. Sometimes ideas come from fear but often they come from confidence. Useful ideas come from being awake and alert enough to actually notice.

The linear order of time then is only true during wakeful states, only during the OUT cycle of consciousness. But again, wakefulness is not a constant linear thing, it is constantly fluctuating even when most of us think that we are quite awake and alert. The only way for humanity to maintain any linear order within physical time at all, is to use external physical devices (like clocks) or to focus the attention and record changes (like in calendars) in the First World. In this way, we may keep track of the physical cycles like the shift of the sun, the moon, the stars, and the seasons. Indeed, the written word, and the keeping of historical records, are ways for the outer self, the conscious ego, to maintain a semblance of linear and stable order within time.

And perhaps she’d rushed over because of how hollow Bryce’s voice had been when she’d said it. Juniper had stayed to burn the copies of the song, then gone downstairs to the apartment, where they’d watched TV in bed until they fell asleep. Bryce had risen at one point to turn off the TV and use the bathroom; when she’d come back, Juniper had been awake, waiting. Her friend didn’t leave her side for three days. They’d never spoken of it. But Bryce wondered if Juniper had later told Fury how close it had been, how hard she’d worked to keep that phone call going while she raced over without alerting Bryce, sensing that something was wrong-wrong-wrong. Bryce didn’t like to think about that winter. That night. But she would never stop being grateful for Juniper for that sense—that love that had kept her from making such a terrible, stupid mistake.

Saving Eutychus doesn’t just mean keeping him awake. It also means doing our best to keep him fresh and alert so he can hear the truth of the gospel and be saved.

it felt great, it made me feel, for want of a better word, complete. This was how I was supposed to feel all of the time. I was sharper, more awake and alert than since I could remember.

But before she could, exhaustion had swept over her like a cold gray wave. An exhaustion she had never felt before, or even imagined, deep as a knife wound. Her fingertip grip on alertness had slipped, tumbling her into the darkness of her own mind, where time swayed and lurched like a ship in a storm, and she could hardly tell whether she was awake or asleep.

Startled once for all out of the early calm, the serene untroubled youthful life which lies behind her in the past, Menie feels the change very hard and sore as she realises it; — from doing nought for her own comfort — from the loving sweet dependence upon others, to which her child’s heart has been accustomed — suddenly, without pause or preparation, to learn that all must depend upon herself, — to have the ghost of strife and discord, where such full harmony was wont to be, — to feel the two great loves of her nature — the loves which heretofore, in her own innocent and unsuspicious apprehension, have but strengthened and deepened each the other — set forth in antagonism, love against love, and her own heart the battle-ground. Shrinking and failing one moment, longing vainly to flee away — away anywhere into the utmost desolation, if only it were out of this conflict, — the next resolving, with such strong throbs and beatings of her heart, to take up her burden cordially, to be ever awake and alert, to subdue this giant difficulty with the force of her own strong love and ceaseless tenderness

Daniel had really hoped his grandmother would be drowsy, or maybe just spontaneously motivated to be civil, but no, she was awake and alert and filled with bright ideas about how to be horrible.

I knew full well that all journeys come to an end, and maybe this experience of time as finite is what lends light and texture to every living moment, knowing that you have to go back home, that you’re in a foreign land. I watched hungrily, I collected images, I tried to be alert to everything. I felt things acutely; my whole body, my whole skin was completely alive as if it was made of hunting animals, of felines, of the pumas that we were afraid to meet in the desert. I was awake and aware that life has a perimeter, almost as if I could see it. And

In 1926, after she discovered her husband was having an affair, Christie disappeared. The police dredged the local lake, believing she might have drowned. Thousands of volunteers searched for her in the countryside. Meanwhile, a woman claiming to be a grieving mother from Cape Town checked in at a health spa under a name very similar to the name of the mistress of Agatha Christie’s unfaithful husband. Eventually, one of the guests recognized her as the famous crime writer and alerted the authorities. Christie regained her memory, but she never remembered anything that happened to her during her time at the health spa.

The correct practice of shamatha further and further strengthens this alert quality. It transforms into an increasing sense of being awake. Meanwhile, the mindful quality becomes more and more mindful, so that it requires less and less effort. You are just naturally mindful, naturally present. And the sense of being settled, of dwelling in the nowness, becomes more and more of the same identity as the alertness, until finally the alertness pulls this state into something that is no longer just shamatha: it has become vipashyana, the state of seeing clearly.

Whatever he said, I wouldn’t trust a man who is asleep half of the time.” “Maybe that’s why he sees things clearer.” “Meaning?” “We’re always awake. Always alert. Always thinking. Too much information could be the reason why we overlook a few details.

Have you ever thought that God is asleep? Maybe it seems He isn’t concerned about your problems and difficulties. Or perhaps you feel He isn’t listening to your prayers. The writer of Psalm 44 had a similar feeling in his difficult situation. He writes: “Awake! Why do You sleep, O Lord? Arise! Do not cast us off forever. Why do You hide Your face, and forget our affliction and our oppression? . . . Arise for our help” (vv. 23–24, 26). God does not sleep! How we feel doesn’t necessarily reflect what is true. Psalm 121:4 says that He who keeps Israel does not slumber or sleep. God is eternally vigilant and eternally alert. Our mothers learned how to sleep with one ear open. When we cried out, they were right there to help us. But God doesn’t sleep at all, so both of His ears are open. “The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and His ears are open to their cry” (Ps. 34:15). God is awake, and He is mindful of our needs. Then why doesn’t He do something? He always waits to do His will at a time when it will do us the most good and bring Him the most glory. The delays of God are not denials. Because His timing is perfect, we must wait, trust, and not complain. It’s easy to complain, but we need to wait in silence before the Lord. And praise Him, because one day you will look back and understand why you had to wait.

I got up and turned off the coffee machine, pouring the last of the brew into my cup. I sat back down and sipped it, wondering why I bothered; there was no reason for me to be awake and alert. I had all the leisure time a man could want—I was suspended from work, and being stalked by somebody who thought he was turning himself into me. And if he somehow missed me, I was still under investigation for a murder I hadn’t committed. Considering how many I had gotten away with, that was probably very ironic. I tried a hollow, mocking laugh at myself, but it sounded too spooky in the sudden silence of the empty house. So I slurped coffee and concentrated on self-pity for a while. It came surprisingly easily; I really was the victim of a gross miscarriage of justice, and it was a simple matter for me to feel wounded, martyred, betrayed by the very system I had served so long and well. Luckily, my native wit trickled back in before I began to sing country songs, and I turned my thoughts toward finding a way out of my predicament. But in spite of the fact that I finished the coffee—my third cup of the morning, too—I couldn’t seem to kick my brain out of the glutinous sludge of misery it had fallen into. I was reasonably sure that Hood could not find anything and make it stick to me; there was nothing there to find. But I also knew that he was very anxious to solve Camilla’s murder—both so that he would look good to the department and the press and, just as importantly, so he could make Deborah look bad. And if I added in the uncomfortable fact that he was obviously aided and abetted by Sergeant Doakes and his toxic tunnel vision, I had to conclude that the outlook was far from rosy. I didn’t really believe they would manufacture evidence merely in order to frame me, but on the other hand—why wouldn’t they? It had happened before, even with an investigating officer who had a whole lot less on the line. The

Difficulties with concentration are correlated with sleep impairment, especially insomnia, arising from hypervigilance. The insomniac person is always on alert, which increases his or her stress-hormone levels and heart rate, and turns on the sympathetic nervous system. One of the roles of histamine, released in response to stress, is to ensure that you’re wide-awake. These processes make relaxation and sleep difficult.

Sylvan?” she said before she thought about it. “Yes?” He didn’t sound at all surprised to hear her awake and alert. “You…I…” She wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Are you laying down there because you’re mad at me?” “No, I’m not mad.” He sighed and shifted. She could hear the whispering sound of the rug under his large body. “Well, then why…?” “It’s a better position to watch the door from. And…” “And?” she prompted. “And if I get into bed with you, I’ll want to hold you. Touch you.” His voice was deep and soft. “But I don’t think you want to be touched right now.” “Oh.” Sophie nibbled her lower lip and then had to muffle a squeak of pain. It made her realize Sylvan still hadn’t gotten around to healing her lip where he’d bitten her, which seemed like a lifetime ago. And he never will now, she realized sadly. I’ve ruined everything…everything. “Goodnight,” he said softly and she heard him shift again, as if trying to get more comfortable. “Goodnight,” she echoed.

EXCERPT: THREE A.M.– …AND JARRED OUT OF SLEEP…. “Roan snapped awake. It took a millisecond for him to key his hearing. Moonlight filtered weakly through the semi-opaque curtains pulled across both windows. His six senses were online and he quietly moved out of bed. He wore only a pair of dark blue cotton pajama bottoms, his upper body naked. Twisting the door knob, the door quietly opened. Slipping like a shadow into the darkened hall, he sensed someone moving around out in the kitchen. Shiloh? He glanced at the watch on his wrist. Three a.m. Halting in the living room, he saw Shiloh in the kitchen, putting a copper tea kettle on the stove. Her hair was unruly and she was wearing pale pink silky pajama bottoms and a pink cotton tee that outlined her breasts to perfection. Hell. She looked sleepy, hair tangled and wasn’t exactly graceful with her movements. The sense that she could not really take care of herself came across strongly to Roan. It wasn’t that Shiloh was weak or stupid. And maybe because of his black ops training, he was at the other end of the spectrum; too alert and having that situational awareness that could help save his life. She was obviously sleepy, rubbing her eyes, yawning. There wasn’t anything to dislike about her and Roan’s mouth flexed downward and thinned. Shiloh wasn’t helpless, just not aware of her surroundings. Maybe he could help her open up her awareness a little more since she was being stalked. It could save her life some day.

For so many years, I had been afraid of my own feelings, afraid of my unhappiness, afraid of change, but also afraid of traveling to new places, afraid of riding a bike, afraid of anything in which I would move too fast, in which I might careen and fall. It had never occurred to me that when the time came, I might actually welcome the sensation of falling - the rush of air, the feeling that my unencumbered body was awake and alert. I'd never imagined a falling in which I stopped wanting to remain safe at all cost, when I didn't want to grab hold of any last secure spot or didn't worry about where and how I would land.