Carmel Quotes

I don't care what your name is," she hisses. "And I don't care who you are. If you don't get him some help, I will burn your fucking place down." Go Carmel.

You’re … what was it Carmel said earlier?” She looks down, then back at me. “An ass.

Chef?" Carmel exclaims. "I could give a shit about a chef. I'm going to find the most expensive thing in that kitchen, eat one bite, and throw the rest on the floor. Then I'm going to break some plates.

Above all, she is the girl who 'feels' things, who has hung on to the freshness and pain of adolescence, the girl ever wounded, ever young. Now, at an age when the wounds begin to heal whether one wants them to or not, Joan Baez rarely leaves the Carmel Valley.

… you’ll need some help getting acquainted. I’m Carmel Jones.” “Theseus Cassio Lowood. What kind of a parent names their kid Carmel?” She laughs. “What kind of a parent names their kid Theseus Cassio?” “Hippies,” I reply. “Exactly.

Carmel’s a very pretty girl,” she says hopefully. “Thomas seems to think so.” She sighs, then smiles. “Good. He could use a woman’s touch.” “Mom,” I groan. “Gross.” “Not that kind of touch,” she laughs.

She's liked you since chemistry last semester," Carmel says, scowling. "Then you should have told her what an ass I am. Made me sound like a moronic jerk." "Better to let her see it for herself.

When he realizes that Carmel’s standing behind me, he quickly checks his face for drool and tries to smooth his hair down. Unsuccessfully.

Will Carmel eventually forget about this adventurous time with us? Will she shun Thomas and go back to being the center of SWC? She wouldn’t do that, would she? I mean, she did just compare me to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My opinion of her isn’t the highest right now.

You wouldn't think that people would believe that we all got so incredibly beat up—in so many interesting ways—from a bear attack. Especially not when Carmel is sporting a bite mark that is a spot-on match for wounds found at one of the most horrifying crime scenes in recent history. But I never fail to be surprised by what people will believe.

Trusting God's grace means trusting God's love for us rather than our love for God. […] Therefore our prayers should consist mainly of rousing our awareness of God's love for us rather than trying to rouse God's awareness of our love for him, like the priests of Baal on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18:26-29).

I’ll be here if he needs me. I’ll watch his back.” Carmel smiles. “Better watch all sides. He can be downright clumsy sometimes.

I sigh. “So now what? Can I possibly tell you to go home and forget about this? Is there any way that I can avoid us forming some peppy group of—” Before my mouth can finish, I lean forward and groan into my hands. Carmel gets it first, and laughs. “A peppy group of ghostbusters?” she asks.

Guys," he says. "After this is over, can we go get a burger or something?" "You're thinking about food now?" Carmel asks. "Hey, you haven't spent the last three days fasting and doing herbal rue steams and drinking nothing but Morfran's gross chrysanthemum purification potions." Carmel and I grin at each other in the mirror. "It isn't easy becoming a vessel. I'm freaking starving.

We must uncenter our minds from ourselves; We must unhmanize our views a little, and become confident As the rock and ocean that we were made from.

What is the truth?” Carmel asks. “What happened in that house? Am I really supposed to believe that Mike was murdered by a ghost?

Carmel experienced another burst of euphoria. She might have lost a husband, but she got herself a wife. An efficient, energetic young wife. What a bargain. What an upgrade.

This is as close as I've ever heard to a Thomas and Carmel argument. And as special as it is to listen to your friends argue over whether or not you have a mental illness, I'm starting to get the urge to go back to class.

She raises her brows at Thomas and Carmel. "How do you want to room? The two of you and the two of us? Or boys in one, girls in the other?" "Boys in one," I say quickly. "Right. Back in a minute." Jestine gets up to make the arrangements, leaving me with my gaping friends. "Where'd that come from?" Carmel asks. "Where'd what come from?" As usual, playing dumb gets me nowhere.

9. Never give up prayer, and should you find dryness and difficulty, persevere in it for this very reason. God often desires to see what love your soul has, and love is not tried by ease and satisfaction.

Our greatest need is to be silent before this great God with the appetite and with the tongue, for the only language he hears is the silent language of love.

Confidence is your most powerful asset; knowledge is your most powerful weapon.

Don't just reach for the stars, pluck one out of the sky.

Seek in reading and you will find in meditation; knock in prayer and it will be opened to you in contemplation.

The Carmel is a lovely little river. It isn't very long but in its course it has everything a river should have. It ... tumbles down a while, runs through shallows, ... crackles among round boulders, wanders lazily under sycamores, spills into pools where trout live ... In the winter, it becomes a torrent, ... and in the summer it is a place for children to wade in and for fishermen to wander in.

Letter 33 [To a discalced Carmelite nun in Segovia[63] Ubeda, October-November 1591]   ... Have a great love for those who contradict and fail to love you, for in this way love is begotten in a heart that has no love. God so acts with us, for he loves us that we might love by means of the very love he bears toward us. [63] This person's identify is unknown.

Everyone else has sort of scattered off to their respective corners. I suppose everyone's doing some thinking, maybe saying some prayers. Hopefully Thomas and Carmel are making out in a closet.

He is like ice cream without the calories or whiskey without the hangover. He's a drug. My drug.

Alana, you could never disappoint me," he shifts while still on top of me. "I may have had more lovers than you, and I may take my clothes off for countless women, but you are the only one who can strip me bare.

I've been dead for five years Alana." "You look pretty alive to me." He shakes his head, "I came back to life five minutes ago.

Joan Baez was a personality before she was entirely a person, and, like anyone to whom that happen, she is in a sense the hapless victim of what others have seen in her, written about her, wanted her to be and not to be. The roles assigned to her are various, but variations on a single theme. She is the Madonna of the disaffected. She is the pawn of the protest movement. She is the unhappy analysand. She is the singer who would not train her voice, the rebel who drives the Jaguar too fast, the Rima who hides with the bird and the deer. Above all, she is the girl who “feels” things, who has hung on to the freshness and pain of adolescence, the girl ever wounded, ever young. Now, at an age when the wounds begin to heal whether one wants them to or not, Joan Baez never leaves the Carmel Valley.

If life were fair, Carmel would turn around and look into his eyes, see that he’s her willing slave, and be grateful. She’d lift him up and he wouldn’t be a slave anymore, he’d just be Thomas, and they’d be glad to have each other. But life isn’t fair. She’ll probably end up with Will, or some other jock, and Thomas will suffer quietly.

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I was applying for campus housing and overheard Andy telling my mother that the only way I was going to be safe from all the sexual assaults he'd heard about on National Public Radio was if I lived in an all-girl dorm. Never mind that I have been kicking the butts of the undead since I was in elementary school, and that almost the entire time I resided under Andy's roof, I had a hot undead guy living in my bedroom. These are two of those secrets I was telling you about. Andy doesn't know about them, and neither does my mother. They think Jesse is what Father Dominic told them he is: a "young Jesuit student who transferred to the Carmel Mission from Mexico, then lost his yearning to go into the priesthood" after meeting me. That one slays me every time.

Home isn't a place it's a feeling

I want to suggest performance as lived reality, the site of performance being located neither 'inside' nor 'outside,' but at a threshold, at the stage of one's skin.

A secret isn't a secret unless you keep it to yourself.

I don't understand it. Addiction. The pull or the control, the want or the need.

Look, this isn't who I am , it's just what I do.

I'm not lucky, I'm just privileged. There's a big difference," I clarify indifferently.

You have power, you have force, and you irreversibly own my heart.

Do you want to leave me Alana?" Ryan asks anxiously. "Do you want me to leave you Ryan?" I respond softly. "No," he rasps. "Then there's your answer.

To come to the knowledge you have not you must go by a way in which you know not.

We’re sorry about her, you know,” he says. “Carmel and I. We kind of liked her, even if she was creepy, and we know that you—” He breaks off and clears his throat again. I loved her. That’s what he was going to say. That’s what everyone else knew before I did.

When a great multitude is making a pilgrimage, I should never advise him to do so, for as a rule people return on these occasions in a state of greater distraction than when they went. And many set out and make these pilgrimages for recreation rather than devotion.

Jack Frost hibernates from March to November, dreaming snowflake designs to share in December. With glittering breath, snowstorms, and blue blizzards, lakes made of crystal, he’s an icy wizard! People assume winter will be harsh, cold, and cruel and that Jack must be a wicked, cold-weather ghoul. But he’s truly an artist, known as Bringer of Ice, and although his heart is cold, he’s really quite nice.

As long as this attachment remains, it is impossible to make progress in perfection, even though the imperfection be very small. It makes little difference whether a bird is tied by a thin thread or by a cord. Even if it is tied by a thread, the bird will be held bound… it will be impeded from flying as long as it does not break the thread.” -            St John of the Cross,       Ascent of Mt. Carmel, Book One, 11.4.

The Carmel is a lovely little river. It isn't very long but in its course it has everything a river should have. It rises in the mountains, and tumbles down a while, runs through shallows, is damned to make a lake, spills over the dam, crackles among round boulders, wanders lazily under sycamores, spills into pools where trout live, drops in against banks where crayfish live. In the winter it becomes a torrent, a mean little fierce river, and in the summer it is a place for children to wade in and for fishermen to wander in. Frogs blink from its banks and the deep ferns grow beside it. Deer and foxes come to drink from it, secretly in the morning and evening, and now and then a mountain lion crouched flat laps its water. The farms of the rich little valley back up to the river and take its water for the orchards and the vegetables. The quail call beside it and the wild doves come whistling in at dusk. Raccoons pace its edges looking for frogs. It's everything a river should be.

If you do follow your bliss you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. Follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be. ” — Joseph Campbell

In order to be united with him, the will must consequently be emptied of and detached from all disordered appetite and satisfaction with respect to every particular thing in which it can rejoice, whether earthly or heavenly, temporal or spiritual, so that purged and cleansed of all inordinate satisfactions, joys, and appetites it might be wholly occupied in loving God with its affections.

For its own well-being, the intellect should be doing what you condemn; that is, it should avoid busying itself with particular knowledge, for it cannot reach God through this knowledge, which would rather hinder it in its advance toward him.

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad;         the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus;     2 it shall blossom abundantly         and rejoice with joy and singing.     The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,         the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.     They shall see the glory of the LORD,         the majesty of our God.

In giving us his Son, his only and definitive word, God spoke everything to us at once in this sole word, and he has no more to say.

You’re dangerous because you can see the real in people.

I never thought I would touch you again," he says smoothly, his tone laced with emotion.

I'm not even capable of an auditory response; my vocal cords have shorted out and my jaw has dropped to the floor. Raunch-y.

Are you ready to pick up the pieces?" I ask quickly. "Yes, and I know exactly where each one goes.

I look up. Carmel is wearing those eyeglasses that become sunglasses when you go outside. Except she’s inside and the glasses don’t seem to have realized.

Maybe he's trying to be a gentleman, Carmel. Keeping away from the garlic for you." "Gross," I say, and Thomas laughs. It's Carmel who blushes this time.

Carmel. 1SA25.8 Ask thy young men, and they will shew

I trust you about as far as I can throw you. Which isn’t far, given that you’re six-foot something and carry the dead weight of aristocratic entitlement.

Mondays taste like split-pea soup, Tuesdays taste like gobbledygook, Wednesdays taste like licorice, Thursdays taste like deep-fried fish, Fridays taste like the color red, Saturdays taste like gingerbread, Sundays taste like chicken breast, But birthdays! Birthdays taste the best! Birthdays taste like chocolate cake, Balloons, presents, and sirloin steak.

19. Before the divine fire is introduced into the substance of the soul and united with it through perfect and complete purgation and purity, its flame, which is the Holy Spirit, wounds the soul by destroying and consuming the imperfections of its bad habits. And this is the work of the Holy Spirit, in which he disposes it for divine union and transformation in God through love. The very fire of love that afterward is united with the soul, glorifying it, is what previously assailed it by purging it, just as the fire that penetrates a log of wood is the same that first makes an assault on the wood, wounding it with the flame, drying it out, and stripping it of its unsightly qualities until it is so disposed that it can be penetrated and transformed into the fire. Spiritual writers call this activity the purgative way.

I want to be the father I never had and the husband my mother was cheated out of. So if I have to take off my fucking clothes to make the money I need, I'll do it. And I pray you want me enough to suffer through it. Because I promise I'll make it up to you for the rest of my life.

God is more pleased by one work, however small, done secretly, without desire that it be known, than a thousand done with the desire that people know of them. Those who work for God with purest love not only care nothing about whether others see their works, but do not even seek that God himself know of them. Such persons would not cease to render God the same services, with the same joy and purity of love, even if God were never to know of these.

Keep this in mind, daughters: the soul that is quick to turn to speaking and conversing is slow to turn to God. For when it is turned toward God, it is then strongly and inwardly drawn toward silence and flight from all conversation. For God desires a soul to rejoice with him more than with any other person, however advanced and helpful the person may be.

Sometimes I sensed within myself–somestimes I felt it strongly– a will, a pull towards frivolity. I wanted to separate myself from the common fate of girls who are called Carmel, and identify myself with girls with casual names, names which their parents didn't think about too hard. I wanted to elect pleasure, not duty, and to be happy, and to have an expectation of happiness. I think now that this is the great division between people. There are people who find life hard and those who find it easy. There are those who have a natural, in-built, expectation of happiness, and there are those who feel that happiness is not to be expected: that it is not, in fact, one of the rights of man. Nor, God knows, one of the rights of women.

To endure all things, with an equable and peaceful mind, not only brings with it many blessings to the soul; but it also enables us, in the midst of our difficulties, to have a clear judgment about them, and to minister the fitting remedy for them.

Here are some of the towns I played last year: Carmel, Indiana; Hutchinson, Kansas; and Huntsville, Alabama. I even played Peoria. So why not limit my dates to easy-to-reach cities like Toronto, Chicago, and Reno? Easier still, why not just retire?

Every word they wanted to print. ‘Illegitimate.’ ‘Hidden.’ ‘Scandal.’ They even used the word ‘lovechild.’” He snorted. “Lovechild. Makes me sound like I was conceived to a Barry White soundtrack instead of in a moment of spectacularly poor judgment.

Her home in the hills above Carmel Valley is awash in thousands of books and documents. Among them is the 26-volume Warren Commission hearings and her 27,000 pages of textual analysis. “I studied it for eight years. It was like the Rosetta Stone. It unlocked every other conspiracy,” Brussell says. “Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, the Kennedys—there is always a pattern where a piece of information is destroyed, in which a witness is killed. It’s so predictable, you can go back and look up old cases.

I spend my life worrying. I worry about everything, about money, about my daddy, about my future, but draped across Sebastian's lap, I am at ease. There's no storm. There's no boat. There is no up or down, just the slapping sound of his hand against my flesh.

For God is so desirous that the government and direction of every man should be undertaken by another man like himself, and that every man should be ruled and governed by natural reason, that He earnestly desires us not to give entire credence to the things that He communicates to us supernaturally, nor to consider them as being securely and completely confirmed until they pass through this human aqueduct of the mouth of man.

The problem is that one cannot easily build Charleston anymore, because it is against the law. Similarly, Boston’s Beacon Hill, Nantucket, Santa Fe, Carmel—all of these well-known places, many of which have become tourist destinations, exist in direct violation of current zoning ordinances.

Carmel was impatient, the story not to her liking. She did not enjoy to hear about anything Rose had done before she met her father. (Nor did she like to hear about Richie's mother Louise or anything of John's life with her. It was uncomfortable to think she might so nearly not have existed.

The establishment of the missions and presidios from San Diego and Los Angeles and Santa Barbara to Carmel, San Francisco, and Sonoma, traces the colonization of California's Indigenous nations. The five-hundred-mile road that connected the missions was called El Camino Real, the Royal Highway.

Scott stared at her mouth, just stared like he was hypnotized, paralyzed, like that crimson O was the answer to all of life’s problems, or maybe just his prayers. I kicked his shin to break the spell, which worked; he blinked, then ate the bite himself as if he’d never even offered it to anyone at all. I looked frankly at Carmel; her expression was innocently amused. There are women whose whole selves are engaged in being a public commodity, and Carmel was one of these. Every gesture she made, every syllable she uttered, the tinkle of her laughter, the way her dress’s fabric draped over her breasts, all of it was self-conscious and deliberate, designed to elicit admiration in women, desire in men. This isn’t to say I held any of that against her. Not a bit. I liked her, in fact. The way I saw it, she was a kind of living work of art, and funny and thoughtful besides. Was it her fault if she, as had happened to me, sometimes provoked the basest feelings in a man? Scott and Fred made short work of that second bottle of brandy while Carmel’s and my glasses still held our initial pour. I’d found that drinking very much of any kind of alcohol still did bad things to my stomach. Carmel might have found that it did bad things to her self-preservation; I know that if I looked like her, I’d never let down my guard.

Life is like a sink full of dirty dishes—you stick your hand in, and hope there isn’t a knife at the bottom.

If you love someone, say so! Not just with words mind, but in your actions too.

Life can be as complicated or as simple as you want it to be.’ Olly snorts.

Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.

Only a few months ago, standing in front of thousands of people would have made me suicidal. But tonight, I can enjoy the holiday with my immortal, like any other normal girl.

My father sighs, "Alana, sometimes it takes one instant to change an entire life's perspective.

Everyone knows that not to go forward on this road is to turn back, and not to gain ground is to lose.

True Love Does Not Exist. 4 You To Have True Love, You Need Trust And Commitment. And That Will Never Happen...

He isn’t here to bring me hearts and flowers, he’s here to bring chaos and calamity.

The trick is not to get lost in the bad stuff. Don’t let it become the dominant voice in your head.

But this hunger must be recognized by our religious leaders. Current evangelicalism has (to change the figure) laid the altar and divided the sacrifice into parts, but now seems satisfied to count the stones and rearrange the pieces with never a care that there is not a sign of fire upon the top of lofty Carmel. But God be thanked that there are a few who care.

The outsiders stood always in awe in front of what they had surnamed the Celestial City with Mighty Walls. The great mystery that cloaked its very foundations kept impelling the youth of Crotona, as well as those of the adjacent cities, to seek admittance. In spite of the difficult rules of the Master, curiosity goaded many to venture inside its secrecy, with a passionate aspiration to discover the unknown. Yet, to enroll, young men and women should be introduced by their parents. Sometimes, it was one of the assigned Masters of the Pythagorean Society who assumed the introduction. At the massive wooden gated entrance, one could admire the marble statue of Hermes-Enoch, the father of the spiritual laws. A cubical stone formed its stall where a skillful hand had carved the words: No entry to the vulgar

Hence, for the soul to be in its center - which is God, as we have said - it is sufficient for it to possess one degree of love, for by one degree alone it is united with him through grace. Should it have two degrees, it becomes united and concentrated in God in another, deeper center. Should it reach three, it centers itself in a third. But once it has attained the final degree, God's love has arrived at wounding the soul in its ultimate and deepest center, which is to illuminate and transform it in its whole being, power, and strength, and according to its capacity, until it appears to be God. When light shines on a clean and pure crystal, we find that the more intense the degree of light, the more light the crystal has concentrated within it and the brighter it becomes; it can become so brilliant from the abundance of light received that it seems to be all light. And then the crystal is undistinguishable from the light, since it is illumined according to its full capacity, which is to appear to be light.

Lila mě postupně přesvědčila, že v lásce získáme trochu jistoty, jen když svého nápadníka podrobíme přetěžkým zkouškám. A proto, přešla rázem zas do dialektu, mi radí, abych se s Ginem zasnoubila, ale jen pod podmínkou, že bude celé léto kupovat mně, jí a Carmele zmrzlinu. „Když s tím nebude souhlasit, znamená to, že to není pravá láska.“ Udělala jsem, co mi řekla, a Gino zmizel. Takže to nebyla pravá láska.

Have habitual desire to imitate Christ in all your deeds by bringing your life into conformity with his. You must then study his life in order to know how to imitate him and behave in all events as he would.

Whether you deliver or receive the handover report, mindful communication during handovers is essential and can significantly reduce the risk of errors and accidents during your shift and the ones that follow.

And all the falling stars that I saw as a child, I found them at her feet, And my joy to watch her dance, Over them in her Carmel. She is the romance of a winter love story, The picture of a million memories, The blood of God flows through her heart, The space in between her arms, Is the doorway to heaven, The light for my mornings comes from her smile, Oh to love her is like a journey, A journey of a million miles…

It’s only settling if the bad outweighs the good. I can search my whole life for the perfect man and never find him. I want a real man who loves me, one who may not be everything I want, but who’s willing to be what I need.

Letter 26 [To Madre María de la Encarnación,[53] discalced Carmelite in Segovia July 6, 1591][54]   ... Do not let what is happening to me, daughter, cause you any grief, for it does not cause me any. What greatly grieves me is that the one who is not at fault is blamed. Men do not do these things, but God, who knows what is suitable for us and arranges things for our good. Think nothing else but that God ordains all, and where there is no love, put love, and you will draw out love ...

It seems to me that I have found my Heaven on earth, since Heaven is God, and God is [in] my soul.3 The day I understood that, everything became clear to me. I would like to whisper this secret to those I love so they too might always cling to God through everything,

We do not know whether or not Thérèse had a premonition of an early death when she entered Carmel. What we do know is that by the time she passed through the portals of the cloister, she was already skilled in some of the secrets of spiritual living. For example, mortification “consisted in breaking my will, always so ready to impose itself on others, in holding back a reply, in rendering little services without recognition.”2 The practice of these nothings prepared her to be espoused to Jesus, but nothing was more important to Thérèse than the sacramental life.

So what do you do at all the diplomatic functions and balls that you have to go to?" Emilia asked, her voice light. Alexander didn't even hesitate. "Pray for death." Emilia laughed, caught off guard by the sheer dryness of his tone. "Charming." He gave her a sly smile. "It comes with the title.

Carmel couldn’t figure it out. How had she ended up with this job, for which she had never applied? Was it the sex – which got good for about two minutes and then wasn’t? Or staying over? Maybe that was where the spell got cast. Maybe, if you were a woman, the act of sleeping was enough. It could happen on a bus, you could do it on a plane. You could nod off, wake up beside some strange man who was now yours to mind for life. Carmel wanted to laugh, but actually there was an inner shrieking in her head going, I have a daughter. I have a daughter. I have a daughter, you bitch, she is only nine.

It is hard to believe that the myths told about Pythagoras did not influence the creation of some of the later stories about Christ. Pythagoras, for instance, was believed by many to be the son of God, in this case, Apollo. His mother was called Parthenis, which means “virgin.” Before traveling to Egypt, Pythagoras lived the life of a hermit on Mount Carmel, like Christ's solitary vigil on the mountain. A Jewish sect, the Essenes, appropriated this myth and is said to have later had a connection to John the Baptist. There is also a myth that Pythagoras returned from the dead, although, according to the story, Pythagoras faked this by hiding in a secret underground chamber.

It is regrettable, then, to behold some souls, laden as rich vessels with wealth, deeds, spiritual exercises, virtues, and favors from God, who never advance because they lack the courage to make a complete break with some little satisfaction, attachment, or affection (which are all about the same) and thereby never reach the port of perfection.

When we turned off Carmel Valley Road south onto Highway 1 and entered Big Sur, nature woke up and suddenly started doing the can-can. Everywhere I looked, the jagged mountains were tumbling into the sea, like rockslides frozen in free fall—still yet dramatic at the same time. We navigated a thin, winding ribbon of road hundreds of feet above the exploding surf. I rolled the window down, and heard sea lions barking and waves booming into sea caves below. The spicy aroma of sage mixed with sea salt wafted into the truck. We dipped down into forests where the air dropped ten degrees and the massive redwood trees clustered together in tribal circles, then we burst back into the sun again. I twisted my head in every direction, trying not to miss a thing.

does our relational language, already imbued with oppressive cultural meaning-making, necessarily preclude the possibility of speaking about freedom? How can you speak about freedom if you can't speak freely? Does the way that we talk about this problem make a difference in how we try to solve it? Does the question as I've phrased it fail to adequately exhaust the possibilities?

8. Such is the lowliness of our condition in this life; for we think others are like ourselves and we judge others according to what we ourselves are, since our judgment arises from within us and not outside us. Thus the thief thinks others also steal; and the lustful think others are lustful too; and the malicious think others also bear malice, their judgment stemming from their own malice; and the good think well of others, for their judgment flows from the goodness of their own thoughts; and to those who are careless and asleep, it seems that others are too. Hence it is that when we are careless and asleep in God's presence, it seems to us it is God who is asleep and neglectful of us, as is seen in psalm 43 where David calls to him: Arise, Lord, why do you sleep? Arise [Ps. 44:23].

Sebastian raised his cup in a casual toast. "Text me when you miss me, Harper." "If you're lucky, my next text will be to identify your body," she called back over her shoulder. Sebastian turned to Alexander, grinning. "She's obsessed with me." Alexander didn't even glance up from his phone. "She's literally plotting your murder." Sebastian shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. "Hey—I live rent-free in her mind either way.

14. I say this in order to make it clear that the one who would go to God relying on natural ability and reasoning will not be very spiritual. There are some who think that by pure force and the activity of the senses, which of itself is lowly and no more than natural, they can reach the strength and height of the supernatural spirit. One does not attain to this peak without surpassing and leaving aside the activity of the senses.

SAMUEL 30 Now when David and his men came to  uZiklag on the third day,  vthe Amalekites had  wmade a raid against the Negeb and against Ziklag. They had overcome Ziklag and burned it with fire 2and taken captive the women and all [1] who were in it, both small and great. They killed no one, but carried them off and went their way. 3And when David and his men came to the city, they found it burned with fire, and their wives and sons and daughters taken captive. 4Then David and the people who were with him raised their voices and wept until they had no more strength to weep. 5David’s  xtwo wives also had been taken captive, Ahinoam of Jezreel and Abigail the widow of Nabal of Carmel. 6And David was greatly distressed, for the people spoke  yof stoning him, because all the people were bitter in soul, [2] each for his sons and daughters. But David strengthened himself in the LORD his God.

Emilia turned to him, narrowing her eyes. "Why do you own a monstrous Cheshire Cat statue?" "Why does anyone own anything?" Sebastian shrugged. "It spoke to me." She scoffed. "What did it say? 'Buy me, I'm hideous'?" He grinned. "I'll have you know, it was an auction find. One-of-a-kind. Just like me." Emilia gave him a long, skeptical look. "You have entirely too much money." Sebastian grinned. "Yes, and somehow I still remain devastatingly charming.

I want to feel you.” “You feel me every day,” he pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the inside of my palm. “No, I want to feel you my way,” I say uneasily. He stares down at me with mesmerizing eyes. They are so lustrous they even seem to glow in the darkness. He is contemplating my request. He takes my hand from his lips and carefully moves it towards his chest; I can’t explain the fear I have from just that small gesture. The anticipation of what I will find excites me and terrifies me all at once. The last time - the only time - I felt Justice, he literally lit me on fire. As I apprehensively touch his skin, it washes over me. The tender warmth he holds inside, like I’m being wrapped in warm blankets on a cold autumn morning. “Feel what you were looking for?” he asks. “Yes,” I say, as I spread my fingers over him. The sensation is glorious. “Good,” he leans down and kisses me, his lips holding the same warmth as my insides. Without even thinking, I wrap my arms around his neck and jerk him in closer.

It must be pointed out to the preacher, if he is to cause his people profit and not to embarrass himself with vain joy and presumption, that preaching is a spiritual exercise rather than a vocal one. For, although it is practiced by means of outward words, its power and efficacy reside not in these but in the inward spirit. Wherefore, however lofty be the doctrine that is preached, and however choice the rhetoric and sublime the style wherein it is clothed, it brings as a rule no more benefit than is present in the spirit of the preacher.

Pray the Rosary every day to achieve peace for the world and the end of the war,' said Our Lady on May 13, 1917. This insistent recommendation was not only for the three poor and humble children; it is a call to the whole world, to all souls, to all humanity, believers and unbelievers, because Faith is a gift from God and we are to ask Him for it: ‘ask and you shall receive.’ You who have no Faith, ask it of God and He will grant it, because you who have no Faith have a soul that you need to save so that you will not be eternally miserable.

The will's operation is quite distinct from the will's feeling: By its operation, which is love, the will is united with God and terminates in him, and not by the feeling and gratification of its appetite that remains in the soul and goes no further. The feelings only serve as stimulants to love, if the will desires to pass beyond them; and they serve for no more. Thus the delightful feelings do not of themselves lead the soul to God, but rather cause it to become attached to delightful feelings. But the operation of the will, which is the love of God, concentrates the affection, joy, plea sure, satisfaction, and love of the soul only on God, leaving aside all things and loving him above them all.

Hence they would be very foolish who would think that God is failing them because of their lack of spiritual sweetness and delight, or would rejoice, thinking they possess God because of the presence of this sweet ness. And they would be more foolish if they were to go in search of this sweetness in God and rejoice and be detained in it. With such an attitude they would no longer be seeking God with their wills grounded in the emptiness of faith and charity, but they would be seeking spiritual satisfaction and sweetness, which are creatures, by following after their own pleasure and appetite. And thus they would no longer be loving God purely, above all things, which means centering all the strength of one's will on him.

STANZA 2   O sweet cautery, O delightful wound! O gentle hand! O delicate touch that tastes of eternal life and pays every debt! in killing you changed death to life.   Commentary   1. In this stanza the soul proclaims how the three Persons of the Most Blessed Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, are the ones who effect this divine work of union in it. Thus the hand, the cautery, and the touch are in substance the same. The soul applies these terms to the Persons of the Trinity because of the effect each of the Persons produces. The cautery is the Holy Spirit, the hand is the Father, and the touch is the Son. The soul here magnifies the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, stressing the three admirable favors and blessings they produce in it, having changed its death to life, transforming it in the Trinity.

Since the will has never tasted God as he is or known him through some gratification of the appetite, and consequently does not know what God is like, it cannot know what the pleasure of God is; nor can its being, appetite, and satisfaction know how to desire God, for he transcends all its capacity. Thus it is obvious that none of all those particular things in which it can rejoice is God. In order to be united with him, the will must consequently be emptied of and detached from all disordered appetite and satisfaction with respect to every particular thing in which it can rejoice, whether earthly or heavenly, temporal or spiritual, so that purged and cleansed of all inordinate satisfactions, joys, and appetites it might be wholly occupied in loving God with its affections. For if in any way the will can comprehend God and be united with him, it is through love and not through any gratification of the appetite.

They place more reliance upon methods and kinds of ceremony than upon the reality of their prayer, and herein they greatly offend and displease God. I refer, for example, to a Mass which is said with so many candles, neither more nor fewer; which is said by a priest in such and such a way; and must be at such and such an hour, neither sooner nor later; and the prayers and stations must be made at such time and with such ceremonies and in no other manner; and the person who makes them must have such qualities or qualifications. And there are those who think that if any of these details which they have laid down be wanting, nothing is accomplished. What is worse, and indeed intolerable, is that certain persons desire to feel some effect in themselves, or to have petitions fulfilled, or to know that the purpose of these ceremonious prayers of theirs will be accomplished. This is nothing less than to tempt God and to offend Him greatly, so much so that He sometimes gives leave for the devil to deceive them.

we assert that when a rock is in the ground it is, after a fashion, in its center, even though it is not in its deepest center, for it is within the sphere of its center, activity, and movement; yet we do not assert that it has reached its deepest center, which is the middle of the earth. Thus the rock always possesses the power, strength, and inclination to go deeper and reach the ultimate and deepest center; and this it would do if the hindrance were removed. When once it arrives and no longer has any power or inclination toward further movement, we declare that it is in its deepest center. 12. The soul's center is God. When it has reached God with all the capacity of its being and the strength of its operation and inclination, it will have attained its final and deepest center in God, it will know, love, and enjoy God with all its might. When it has not reached this point (as happens in this mortal life, in which the soul cannot reach God with all its strength, even though in its center - which is God through grace and his self-communication to it), it still has movement and strength for advancing further and is not satisfied. Although it is in its center, it is not yet in its deepest center, for it can go deeper in God.

The devil never sends damnation in its true form,

You’re...you...there are no words... It’s like you’re an entirely new, undiscovered species of fuckboy.

At the end of the day, the only gift I came to give the world is my hope for it to get better.

I see you, Truly. If my brother was stupid enough to drop you, you better fuckign believe I'm going to pick you up. I will own you, every inch that belonged to him will be mine.

Noah was never the prince in my story. Ours was never a fairytale, but fairytales are boring. Maybe our once upon a time was dark and dirty and raw, but it was ours.

Before I go, just one more thing. If you find yourself lost on a thousand roads, for whatever reason, my wish for you is that you get to find your way home soon. Be happy, persevere. Carmel x

I hate you,” I spit, as he clicks the buckle in. “I don’t give a fuck,” he spits right back. “The pussy is just as good when you’re pissed as it is when you’re happy.

You want to keep using me as an outlet for your rage, then prove that I can trust you to lead me down that dark path. If you want me, if you want to possess me, then I get to possess you too.

His last post is a picture of his hand on my thigh. The caption is a one-word declaration. Mine.

23 From there Elisha went up to Bethel. As he was walking along the road, some boys came out of the town and jeered at him. “Get out of here, baldy!” they said. “Get out of here, baldy!” 24 He turned around, looked at them and called down a curse on them in the name of the Lord. Then two bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the boys. 25 And he went on to Mount Carmel and from there returned to Samaria.

When Enrique had realized that Carolina might not be going home for Christmas Eve, he had snuck away to the gift shop in Carmel to get her a present. There hadn't been too many options, but he purchased a pretty butterfly necklace with matching earrings. Once they were alone in the room, he took out the small wrapped box. Her eyes lit up. "Enrique! You didn't have to get me anything." He grinned. "I know. But I wanted to. Open it." She carefully unwrapped the box. "Oh, mariposas! I love these. Gracias." "You know, the butterfly represents rebirth. Carolina, you can do anything. I know you are struggling with what is going on with your family, but I want you to know that you are amazing, and I believe in you.

If you are sitting way at the back of a lecture theatre or cinema and do not find it entertaining, this dart will get your message across!

What would you do if the fear was gone?” It is a great question to ask yourself, because once we remove the element of fear from our decisions, then we find our true heart’s desire. Fear takes over if we let it, allowing people to only live half of the life they choose, or sometimes none of it, because they are crippled by terror and

what ifs. So all over the world, people are staying in terrible marriages, awful jobs, living places they don’t want to live, because they are afraid of what will happen if they take a leap of faith, they are afraid of their own instinct, and they lack trust in themselves.

As my ma was fond of saying, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. All we have is now and the hand we’ve been dealt.

The narrow passageway curved and opened into a space at the top of the tower. I banged my knee against one of the boulders as I exited. A cool breeze blew. I shivered, and a sense of unease overcame me.

3David and his men and their families settled there with Achish at Gath. David brought his two wives along with him—Ahinoam from Jezreel and Abigail, Nabal’s widow from Carmel.

Jack

seemed to sense Carmel’s anxiety

Eventually,

On a napkin she’d created a black-ink version of the painting she’d been daydreaming about, the place where her father had buried a woman named Carmel Cortez.

all gone and the sky was a lovely blue, while the dark night in my soul had passed. Jesus had awakened and was filling me with joy, and the waves were silent. Instead of the howling wind, a gentle breeze was swelling my sails, and I thought I had already reached harbor. But there were storms ahead, storms that would make me fear at times that I was being driven away beyond return from the shore I longed so much to reach. No sooner had I obtained my uncle’s consent than you told me that the Superior of Carmel would not let me enter until I was twenty-one. The possibility of such serious opposition had not occurred to anyone, and it would be very hard to overcome; but I kept up my courage and went with Father to ask him if I could enter. He treated me coldly, and nothing would change his mind; we left in the end with a most emphatic “No,” except that he added: “I am only the Bishop’s delegate, of course, and if he allowed you to enter, I could not prevent it.” As we came out of the presbytery, we found that it was pouring with rain again, just as heavy clouds were once more darkening my soul. Father did not know what to do to comfort me, but promised to take me to Bayeux if I wanted, and I gratefully accepted. Many things, however, happened before this trip was possible, and in the meantime, my life, to all outward appearances, went on as usual. I continued my studies, but most important of all, I went on growing in the love of God, so much that sometimes my soul experienced real transports of love. One evening, not knowing how to tell Jesus how much I loved Him and how I wanted above all else to serve Him and give Him glory, I was saddened at the thought that He would never receive a single act of love from the depths of Hell. Then, from the bottom of my heart, I said I would consent to be cast into that place of torment and blasphemy, so that even there He would be loved eternally. This could not glorify Him, of course, because it is only our happiness He desires, but when one is in love, one says so many foolish things. Even while I spoke like this, I still had an ardent desire for Heaven, though Heaven meant nothing to me, save love, and I was sure that nothing could take me from the Divine Being who held me captive. It was at this time that Our Lord gave me the consolation of a deeper understanding of a child’s soul, and this is how it came about. A poor woman had been taken ill, and I was giving a good deal of my time to looking after her two little girls, both under six. It was a real joy to see the way they believed everything I told them. Baptism does indeed plant the seeds of the theological virtues deep in our soul, for the

from a soap opera on TV. ‘The kids that were allowed out of Germany, the Jews, before the war really got going. They arrived here, and their parents had no idea who was going to take care of them.

But one thing I do know. You have to love yourself before you can truly give or receive love from anyone else.

Lou quietly invested his portion in some tech startups out of Silicon Valley, and now neither he nor Veronica have to work ever again. Instead the two of them spend most of the year traveling in Europe and South America, splitting their time at home between a Craftsman in Carmel and a tony apartment in Brooklyn Heights.

The city had not yet woken on the frigid Sunday morning of February 20, 2011, when the body of a young Irish woman was found outside St. Brigid's Church in Manhattan's East Village. The news reports cited alcoholism, homelessness, and hypothermia as contributing factors in her death. They said that earlier that month, on St. Brigid's feast day she had turned thirty-five years old. They said she wanted to be an artist. They said her name was Grace Farrell.

Women and children were not afforded the rights of citizenship, of subjecthood, of being. They lived under threat of being erased, hidden, buried. This is why my mother tells me - halting, hesitating - that in her day it was the worst thing in the world for a girl to find herself pregnant, but worse still was for her to talk about it.

We know that now. Vehicles of transportation include, according to the scholar of memory studies Marianne Hirsch, "narratives, actions and symptoms." The stories we tell and don't tell, the actions we take and don't take, the symptoms expressed by a mother holding the trauma tightly to herself, because she refused to burden her children with it.

The industrial ghost towns, the late spring rain, the wide, low skies. The old sadness rising. An excess of black bile, they used to say, made the melancholic personality. Freud said that mourning and melancholia are akin in that they are both responses to loss. Mourning is a conscious and healthy response to the loss of a love object. Melancholia is more complicated. It operates on a subconscious level. All the feelings of loss are present, but for what? The melancholic cannot say. This, Freud says, is a pathology.

The ‘other’ side, the good side, of chronic hospitals is that what staff they have may work and live in them for decades, may become extraordinarily close to their charges, the patients, get to know and love them, recognize, respect them, as people. So when I came to Mount Carmel I did not just encounter ‘eighty cases of post-encephalitic disease,’ but eighty individuals, whose inner lives and total being was (to a considerable extent) known to the staff, known in the vivid, concrete knowing of relationship, not the pallid, abstract knowing of medical knowledge. Coming to this community – a community of patients, but also of patients and staff – I found myself encountering the patients as individuals, whom I could less and less reduce to statistics or lists of symptoms

People with perfect vision would never know the beauty in being able to physically make the world around you disappear into a blur of colors and shapes, leaving your other senses heightened and your mind free to focus. They’d never know how easy it was to force yourself to live inside your head for just a few moments.

As I write this, I hear about an airstrike on Karmel Tower. The building takes its name from the famous high school, opposite it, which in turn is named after the great Carmel Mountain that stands above Haifa. The impressive tower was hit from more than one side. Many media centres and offices are located in the tower. The Israeli’s always go for these kind of buildings: new, impressive, exciting hubs of development and investment. I remember the destruction of Basha Tower, al-Shorouk Tower, and of course the Italian complex in 2014. The aim is always to send us back in time, to make the city look poor and ugly again.

Fern, I’m glad I ran into you,” Carmel says, even though she was not running and nor had we made physical contact. She is wearing a bold yellow dress that suits neither her skin tone nor her personality. “I notice you haven’t put your name down for the staff bowling day.” She pauses expectantly, as if waiting for an answer, even though no matter how many times I replay her comment, I can’t find the question. Once, years ago, Rose told me that conversations were simply a series of questions. One person asked a question, the other person answered, and it went back and forth like this until the questions ran out. This explanation has assisted me through countless episodes of small talk. But lately, it feels like more and more people are opting for statement-to-statement types of conversation. Which generally leaves me at a loss. I am still searching for an appropriate response when Carmel continues.

The Zionist chapter proper in the country’s history began in 1882, after the outbreak of large-scale pogroms in the Russian Empire (although the term was only invented a few years later). The first settlers called themselves Hovevei Tzion (Lovers of Zion), a network of groups which aspired to forge a Jewish national life in Palestine and, in a significant novelty, to use the reviving Hebrew language rather than Yiddish. In August that year a two-hundred-strong group from the Romanian town of Galatz landed at Jaffa, where they were locked up for weeks before enough cash could be raised to bribe the Turkish police to release them.6 Their goal was a plot of stony land that had been purchased south of Haifa. Laurence Oliphant, an eccentric British traveller and enthusiastic philo-Semite, described the scene shortly afterwards at Zamarin, a malaria-infested hamlet on the southern spur of Mount Carmel overlooking the Mediterranean. It is a remarkably vivid portrayal of two very different sorts of people who were warily making each other’s acquaintance as future neighbours – and enemies: It would be difficult to imagine anything more utterly incongruous than the spectacle thus presented – the stalwart fellahin [peasants], with their wild, shaggy, black beards, the brass hilts of their pistols projecting from their waistbands, their tasselled kufeihahs [keffiyeh headdresses] drawn tightly over their heads and girdled with coarse black cords, their loose, flowing abbas [cloaks], and sturdy bare legs and feet; and the ringleted, effeminate-looking Jews, in caftans reaching almost to their ankles, as oily as their red or sandy locks, or the expression of their countenances – the former inured to hard labour on the burning hillsides of Palestine, the latter fresh from the Ghetto of some Roumanian town, unaccustomed to any other description of exercise than that of their wits, but already quite convinced that they knew more about agriculture than the people of the country, full of suspicion of all advice tendered to them, and animated by a pleasing self-confidence which I fear the first practical experience will rudely belie. In strange contrast with these Roumanian Jews was the Arab Jew who acted as interpreter – a stout, handsome man, in Oriental garb, as unlike his European coreligionists as the fellahin themselves.

To live always joyfully. God is infinite joy" (May 14, 1919). "When one loves, everything is joy. The cross doesn't weigh down. Martyrdom isn't felt. One lives more in heaven than on earth. The life of Carmel is to love. This is our vocation" (May, 1919).

Masha smiled. “Good. At first it will feel strange. You will have to fake it. But then you will remember. You will think, ‘Oh, that’s right, this is how I talk, this is how I walk. This is me, Carmel.’” She knocked her closed fist against her heart. “This is who I am.

Whoever said grief was the price of love was a liar. Grief was the interest. The tax. The additional, invisible cost added to love that was only collected in death. It was everything you never expected to pay and more than you ever thought you could owe.

Carmel nodded fervently, not knowing exactly what this would mean in practice, but knowing there was something crucial in his impulse, some gift of experience he needed to bestow.

as for

Known for his heartfelt dedication to patient care, Joseph Galdun is a seasoned physician. With over two decades of experience in hospital medicine, he has earned trust and respect in Carmel, Indiana. His commitment to evidence-based practices and compassionate healthcare ensures that patients receive top-notch treatment.

The typical day went something like this. I’d wake up at 4:30 a.m., munch a banana, and hit the ASVAB books. Around 5 a.m., I’d take that book to my stationary bike where I’d sweat and study for two hours. Remember, my body was a mess. I couldn’t run multiple miles yet, so I had to burn as many calories as I could on the bike. After that I’d drive over to Carmel High School and jump into the pool for a two-hour swim. From there I hit the gym for a circuit workout that included the bench press, the incline press, and lots of leg exercises. Bulk was the enemy. I needed reps, and I did five or six sets of 100–200 reps each. Then it was back to the stationary bike for two more hours. I was constantly hungry. Dinner was my one true meal each day, but there wasn’t much to it. I ate a grilled or sautéed chicken breast and some sautéed vegetables along with a thimble of rice. After dinner I’d do another two hours on the bike, hit the sack, wake up and do it all over again, knowing the odds were stacked sky high against me. What I was trying to achieve is like a D-student applying to Harvard, or walking into a casino and putting every single dollar you own on a number in roulette and acting as if winning is a foregone conclusion. I was betting everything I had on myself with no guarantees.

As a specialist in palliative care, he’d explained that he saw enough to be sure that once someone decided they had had enough of living, they could shut themselves down. Medicine from that point on could only keep someone alive artificially. Once the spirit rests, then so too does the body.

The only reason people are close is because they trust each other. If there’s no trust, then there can’t be anything else either.

There’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.

Please do not confuse my medical degree with your Google search

People know towards the end. It’s as if the other life, whatever waits for us all on the other side, comes closer and the person isn’t scared any more.

From this Apocalypse of Elias and from the other Rosicrucian records, we learn much about the establishment of the monasteries and schools at Carmel, which were known as “the school of the prophets” or “the school of the Essenes.

E Tenebris COME down, O Christ, and help me! reach thy hand, For I am drowning in a stormier sea Than Simon on thy lake of Galilee: The wine of life is spilt upon the sand, My heart is as some famine-murdered land, Whence all good things have perished utterly, And well I know my soul in Hell must lie If I this night before God's throne should stand. "He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase, Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name From morn to noon on Carmel's smitten height." Nay, peace, I shall behold before the night, The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame, The wounded hands, the weary human face.

Christian marriage is a sacrament of the Gospel symbolizing the ineffable union between Himself and His Church. It is the consecration of human love to a pure and high purpose, namely, the sanctification of man and the extension of the kingdom of God. It is a bond which, whilst linking two baptized creatures to each other visibly, also joins them invisibly to their Creator and Savior by means of the special grace accompanying that bond. It is a path along which , though chequered with light and shade, the fellow travelers mutually supporting each other are enabled to journey the more easily and securely toward the heavenly Jerusalem where "in the resurrection, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God." (Mt. 22:30)

But, as the conflict-studies scholar Jayne Docherty argues, the F.B.I.’s approach was doomed from the outset. In “Learning Lessons from Waco”—one of the very best of the Mount Carmel retrospectives—Docherty points out that the techniques that work on bank robbers don’t work on committed believers. There was no pragmatism hidden below a layer of posturing, lies, and grandiosity. Docherty uses Max Weber’s typology to describe the Davidians. They were “value-rational”—that is to say, their rationality was organized around values, not goals. A value-rational person would accept his fourteen-year-old daughter’s polygamous marriage, if he was convinced that it was in fulfillment of Biblical prophecy. Because the F.B.I. could not take the faith of the Branch Davidians seriously, it had no meaningful way to communicate with them:

She had a beautiful voice, slow, rich, and deep, a voice that thoroughly frosted its phrases and laid them out like so many carmel cakes.

Give your morning to God, and he will give you your day.

14. People should not imagine that just because God and the saints converse amiably with them on many subjects, they will be told their particular faults, for they can come to the knowledge of these through other means. Hence there is no motive for assurance, for we read in the Acts of the Apostles what happened to St. Peter. Though he was a prince of the Church and received immediate instruction from God, he was mistaken about a certain ceremony practiced among the Gentiles.

disappearing around a bend into the dusk. She’ll walk to Marbella, the humour she’s in, Valerie thought glumly, making her way back up the garden to the terracotta terrace. She would have liked to pour herself a big glass of fruity red wine and get smashed but she wouldn’t drink knowing that her granddaughter was asleep inside, and Briony was scorching along the beach in a temper, having given Valerie no indication as to what time she’d be back. That damn letter. She’d forgotten all about it. Tessa had given it to Valerie’s mother, Carmel, some time after

Miserable man that I am, what fellowship hath my perverseness with Thy uprightness ? Thou art truly good, I wicked; Thou full of compassion, I impious; Thou holy, I miserable; Thou just, I unjust; Thou art light, lam blind; Thou art life, and I am dead; Thou art medicine, I am sick; Thou supreme truth, and I utter vanity.’ It is, therefore, supreme ignorance for anyone to think that he can ever attain to the high estate of union with God before he casts away from him the desire of natural things, and of supernatural also, so far as it concerns self-love, because the distance between them and the state of perfection is the very greatest. For Christ our Lord hath said, ‘ Every one of you that doth not renounce all that he possesseth, cannot be My disciple.’  The doctrine of Christ which He came into the world to teach, is contempt of all things, that we may thereby have power to receive the reward of the Spirit of God. For he who does not withdraw himself from the things of the world, is not qualified to receive the Spirit of God in the pure transformation.

Suppose boredom is a backstairs to liberation — insignificant, and so often overlooked. No one who has not known its higher degrees can claim to have lived. Not the Relative Boredom of long waiting at junctions for railway connections on the way to visit friends—or the rashly accepted week-end with acquaintances—the reviewing of a dull book. In such Relative Boredom the "wasting-of-time"-feeling only heightens the enjoyment of the coming escape, the anticipation of which sustains us meanwhile. Absolute Boredom is rather the pain of nausea, it is the loss of one's livelihood as for the pianist who loses his hands, the unsatiable desire for what we know makes us sick, it is the Great Drought, the "Carnal physic for the sick soul", the Dark Night of the Soul after the climbing of Mount Carmel, it is the pillar of salt, the exile from the land which is no more, the Sin against the Holy Ghost, the break-up of patterns, the horror that waits alone in the night, the entry into the desert where Death mocks by serving one one's daily food and one cannot bear hut to keep the darkness of one's own shadow before one for the very brightness of the light that reveals the universal emptiness. Do not try to turn back now — here in the desert perhaps there are doors open—in the cool woods they are overgrown, and in the busy cities they have built over them.

Karol Wojtyła was always on his knees before God, still, motionless, and as though dead in his silence before the majesty of his Father. In thinking of that saintly successor of Peter, I often recall this remark by John of the Cross in the Ascent of Mount Carmel: “All objects living in the soul—whether they be many or few, large or small—must die in order that the soul enter divine union.”3 God

The monkey mind is constantly generating thoughts, which may appear as images, sounds, fragments, judgments, or memories. Sometimes, these thoughts pass through us like clouds. At other times, we may identify with them and get hooked by them.

When you bring mindful mindful awareness to your thoughts, you train your mind to settle, and, with time and practice, realize you don't have to react to every passing thought.

Just as a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, a group is only as strong as its weakest member.

Knowing how to manage conflict is a vital skill for nurses.

Communicating with awareness and kindness, and listening without judgement, are at the heart of good nursing practice.

If you reduce your levels of distraction and stress, errors are less likely.

It is easy to slip into autopilot mode when you are distracted or have too much to do.

Do not wait until your body is flooded with stress hormones before you practice mindfulness. By then, it is often too late! Instead, practice being mindful when things are going smoothly and during the early stages of stress.

To plant the seed of mindfulness firmly in your life, set the intention to practice mindful breathing daily.

Compassion arises from inside you - it is already present within you like a seed that needs to be cultivated. If you feed and water it, your compassion will grow - and so will you.

Mindfulness and compassion practice are antidotes to compassion fatigue.

Compassion fatigue is a common phenomenon, and nurses are especially vulnerable.

With mindful attention, you realize that thoughts are just thoughts - mental processes in the mind - rather than the truth.

Mindfulness helps you shine the spotlight on negative thoughts that run rampant - and unchallenged - in your mind for years.

Nursing work is stressful - physically and emotionally demanding. The daily grind can cause back issues, ill health, and emotional distress. Fortunately, loving-kindness meditation can help counteract those difficulties.

Practice loving-kindness and compassion by sending warmth, friendliness, and goodwill to everyone with whom you come in contact.

Mindfulness puts you in charge of where you place your attention. Then, when you are less preoccupied with concerns and worries, you have more energy available to attend to your work.

Mindful communication is about becoming aware of the ways you send information into the world. When you are conscious of the messages you project, you understand the effect that your words and actions have on others.

With increased presence comes kindness and compassion - the nurse's calling cards.

Even without words, you communicate through touch, body language, and facial expression.

The primary causes of errors in nursing are distraction and stress.

Administering medications is the nursing activity most associated with errors.

Clinical handovers are high-risk situations for patient safety. Errors lead to delays in diagnosis and treatment, unnecessary tests and treatments, incorrect patient treatment, increases in the length of hospital stay, patient complaints, and malpractice claims.

Although the handover report is crucial to ensuring patient safety and continuity of care, it is surprising that most training programs neglect to focus on or develop this skill.

Whenever you are delivering or receiving a handover report, mindful communication ensures the handover is effective.

The beaches at Malibu are neither white nor as wide as the beach at Carmel. The hills are scrubby and barren, infested with bikers and rattlesnakes, scarred with cuts and old burns and new R.V. parks. For these and other reasons Malibu tends to astonish and disappoint those who have never seen it, and yet its very name remains, in the imagination of people all over the world, a kind of shorthand for the easy life. I had not before 1971 and will probably not again live in a place with a Chevrolet named after it.