Decompression Quotes

Try pausing right before and right after undertaking a new action, even something simple like putting a key in a lock to open a door. Such pauses take a brief moment, yet they have the effect of decompressing time and centering you.

The reason why they were trying to kill, maim, etc., each other wasn’t the SecUnit’s problem, it was for the humans’ supervisor to deal with. (Or to willfully ignore until the whole project devolved into a giant clusterfuck and your SecUnit prayed for the sweet relief of a massive accidental explosive decompression, not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.)

Once, she'd been a pro at decompressing, loved to sit on the back deck of the beach house in one of our splintery Adirondack chairs for hours at a time, staring at the ocean. She never had a book or the paper or anything else to distract her. Just the horizon, but it kept her attention, her gaze unwavering. Maybe it was the absence of thought that she loved about being out there, the world narrowing to just the pounding of the waves as the water moved in and out.

Having all the wisdom and advice in the world doesn't mean we all won't have the occasional bad day. If someone isn't in the best mood and they're short with you- it's not your fault. Let them cool off. We all have days like that. Take a break and decompress. it'll pass. Goal: If you're having a bad day, unplug and relax. Take some time for yourself.

Consider how flight attendants explain airline safety to passengers. In the event the cabin decompresses, you’re supposed to put on your oxygen mask before helping others put on their masks. Help yourself first. Then, assist others. These instructions aren’t intended to promote self-preservation. Rather, the airline knows that if you help others first, you risk succumbing to hypoxia. And that would prevent you from helping anyone.

The infrastructure of power is human neurosoft compatible ROM. Authority instantiates itself as linear instruction pathways, genetic baboonery, scriptures, traditions, rituals, and gerontocratic hierarchies, resonant with the dominator ur-myth that the nature of reality has already been decided. If you want to find ICE, try thinking about what is blocking you out of the past. It certainly isn’t a law of nature. Temporalization decompresses intensity, installing constraint.

I prefer being alone. I wasn’t a hermit. I could talk to my teachers and have discussions, and I love seeing the world and doing things, but I need space to breathe. A quiet place of my own to decompress

Focusing on and sustaining life activities...jobs, budgets housekeeping etc. takes from me. It is an exhausting struggle; a desperate attempt to tread water while drowning. Life drains my well. Special interests fill it back up. I need that time, I need that filling, that relaxing, that decompressing, in order to accomplish other tasks in my life.

Research shows that we need to take a break and decompress so we can be at our best at work—and at home. Maybe we should ask if the life we’re working so hard to create is fun to live? When’s the last time you disconnected and took a vacation?

When Clients say they're wrestling with depression, what I choose to hear is that they're in a state of decompression -- in a deserved limbo, taking a little time to recover from a something that set them back... I don't see the hopelessness of the here-and-now. I see the hope in what's to come.

Professor J. B. S. Haldane was one of the most celebrated scientists in Britain. A pioneering and broad-ranging thinker, he developed a mathematical theory of population genetics, predicted that hydrogen-producing windmills would replace fossil fuel, explained nuclear fission, and suffered a perforated eardrum while testing a homemade decompression chamber: “Although one is somewhat deaf,” he wrote, “one can blow tobacco smoke out of the ear in question, which is a social accomplishment.

When I float weightless back to the surface, I'm imagining I'm becoming someone else. It's probably the decompression.

decompression chamber for scholars.

In zazen, you create the conditions for your mind to “decompress” from its habitual mode of thinking and open up to new perspectives and insight.

We all looked at Shelton, who rolled his eyes. “Like my vote matters now.” Hi patted his back. “If it makes you feel better, your vote’s never mattered.” “Hilarious.” Shelton rubbed his face. “I hope my parole officer finds you as funny.” I sprang up and hurried for the exit, stopping Chance with a hand on his shoulder. “Give me a second alone with Ben. He’s still worked up, probably needs a few minutes to decompress.” Chance’s expression soured, but he held back. Hi fired a shooter my way. “Good idea. We need him mission focused. Rodger dodger.” Shelton covered his face with his hands. “Enough already.

Social situations can be overwhelming to HSPs, as they continually process a lot of data: the emotions of others, microexpressions, implicit messages, and contextual cues in their environment. HSPs often use coping mechanisms in overstimulating social situations, like hanging back to observe, leaving early, and decompressing afterward.

If she still doesn’t want to talk, wait for her. Sometimes she’ll need to decompress for hours before she’s ready. You may find that she’ll open up only during cozy, relaxed moments, like bathtime or bedtime. If that’s the case, make sure to build these situations into the day. And if she’ll talk to others, like a trusted babysitter, aunt, or older sibling, but not to you, swallow your pride and enlist help.

Q: Your customer-service representatives handle roughly sixty calls in an eighty-hour shift, with a half-hour lunch and two fifteen-minute breaks. By the end of the day, a problematic number of them are so exhausted by these interactions that their ability to focus, read basic conversational cues, and maintain a peppy demeanor is negatively affected. Do you: A. Increase staffing so you can scale back the number of calls each rep takes per shift -- clearly, workers are at their cognitive limits B. Allow workers to take a few minutes to decompress after difficult calls C. Increase the number or duration of breaks D. Decrease the number of objectives workers have for each call so they aren't as mentally and emotionally taxing E. Install a program that badgers workers with corrective pop-ups telling them that they sound tired. Seriously---what kind of fucking sociopath goes with E?

It’s easy to be bold in the moment, because all you have is what you can process: see, smell, feel, taste. And that’s a very small amount of what is. But afterward, when everything decompresses and uncoils bit by bit, and the horror of what you did and what happened to your friends hits you. It’s overwhelming. That’s the curse of this naval war. You fight, then spend months waiting, engaged only by the tedium of routine. Then you fight again. I

Whereas his father’s principal interests concerned miners and poisoning, the younger Haldane became obsessed with saving submariners and divers from the unpleasant consequences of their work. With Admiralty funding he acquired a decompression chamber that he called the “pressure pot.” This was a metal cylinder into which three people at a time could be sealed and subjected to tests of various types, all painful and nearly all dangerous. Volunteers might

In the middle of a busy workday, or after a particularly trying morning of childcare, it’s tempting to crave the release of having nothing to do—whole blocks of time with no schedule, no expectations, and no activity beyond whatever seems to catch your attention in the moment. These decompression sessions have their place, but their rewards are muted, as they tend to devolve toward low-quality activities like mindless phone swiping and half-hearted binge-watching.

The "intellectual decompression chamber" of the Satanic temple might be considered a training school for temporary ignorance, as are ALL religious services! The difference is that the Satanist KNOWS he is practicing a form of contrived ignorance in order to expand his will, whereas another religionist doesn't - or if he does know, he practices that form of self-deceit which forbids such recognition. His ego is already too shaky from his religious inculcation to allow himself to admit to such a thing as self-imposed ignorance!

Experiments conducted in decompression chambers had by then demonstrated that a human plucked from sea level and dropped on the summit of Everest, where the air holds only a third as much oxygen, would lose consciousness within minutes and die soon thereafter. But a number of idealistic mountaineers continued to insist that a gifted athlete blessed with rare physiological attributes could, after a lengthy period of acclimatization, climb the peak without bottled oxygen. Taking this line of reasoning to its logical extreme, the purists argued that using gas was therefore cheating.

She wanted to climb on to the rack herself to wrench one of the pilgrims away from the sight that transfixed them, to rip back the cowl from their helmet, to press her own face against that blank mirror and try to make contact--before it was too late--with whatever fading glimmer of human individuality remained. She wanted to drive a rock into the faceplate, shattering faith in an instant of annihilating decompression. And yet she knew that her anger was horribly misdirected. She knew that she only loathed and despised these pilgrims because of what what she feared had happened to Harbin. She could not smash the churches, so she desired instead to smash the gentle innocents who were drawn toward them

channel as the rest of the team, but now he could not hear the transmission. Strange. Court turned to the three men next to him on the bench. From their posture, from their facial expressions, Gentry determined that, just like their leader, they weren’t decompressing after the tension of the extraction from the hot zone. No, they moved and looked like they were about to go into action. Gentry had spent sixteen years in covert operations, studied faces and evaluated threats for a living. He knew what an operator looked like when the fight was over, and he knew what an operator looked like when the fight was about to begin. Surreptitiously he unhooked the strap securing him to the bench and swiveled in his seat to face the men around him.

So you thereby challenge Spinozist or Nietzschean ethics, which separate movements of being-more from those of being-less, of action and reaction? - Yes , let us dread to sec the reappearance of a whole morality or politics under the cover of these dichotomies, their sages , their militants , their tribunals and their prisons . Where there is intensity, there is a labyrinth, and to fi x the meaning of the passage, of suffering or of joy, is the business of consciousnesses and their directors . It is enough for us that the bar turns in order that unpredictable spirals stream out, it is enough for us that it slows down and stops in order to engender representation and clear thought. Not good and bad intensities , then, but intensity or its decompression. And as has been said and will be said again, both dissimulated together, meaning hidden in emotion, vertigo in reason. Therefore no morality at all, rather a theatrics; no politics, rather a conspiracy.

Now as a slightly less young adult Valentine’s Day is an oasis of sorts. I’ve become one of those rotten lovers who didn’t keep his promise to stay connected no matter what life through at him. Between children, work, school and church each day just fills up. At day’s end when the work is done and the kids are safely in bed it’s time to unwind, decompress or just veg out. Sure we spend that time together but I forget to make time to take her in my arms and just stare into those beautiful eyes. I don’t always take every shot I get to hold or caress her hand and tell her I’ve missed her today. I neglect to mention that when I catch a glimpse of her from across the room my heart still leaps in my chest. I don’t remind her daily that she’s the reason behind everything I do and she’s given my life meaning. I fail to tell her that I smile every time I think of her or that I’m smiling right now as I type this because I’m thinking of her. Or that she’s just as beautiful today as she was the day we got married, or how lucky I am to share a life with her. Valentine’s Day is an opportunity to break from the dizzying array of stuff that crowds our day to day and say “I Love You”.

The cotton swab softly moved across my face, leaving a pleasant coolness behind. It swept over my forehead, down my nose, on the sides of my cheeks, and across my chin. It relaxed me and I melted. And slowly, I began to fall asleep. I considered reupping for another hour. But then I felt the burning. “Oooh,” I said, opening my eyes. “Cindy, this doesn’t feel right.” “Oh, good,” Cindy said, sounding unconcerned. “You’re starting to feel it now?” Seconds later, I was in severe pain. “Oh, I’m more feeling it,” I answered, gripping the arms of the chair until my knuckles turned white. “Well, it should stop here in a second…,” she insisted. “It’s just working its magic--” My face was melting off. “Ouch! Ow! Seriously, Cindy! Take this stuff off my face! It’s killing me!” “Oh, dear…okay, okay,” Cindy answered, quickly grabbing a soaked washcloth and quickly wiping the nuclear solution from my skin. Finally, the intense burning began to subside. “Gosh,” I said, trying to be nice. “I don’t think that’s something I want to try again.” I swallowed hard, trying to will the pain receptors to stop firing. “Hmmm,” Cindy said, perplexed. “I’m sorry it stung a little. But you’ll love it tomorrow morning when you wake up! Your skin will look so fresh and dewy.” It better, I thought as I paid Cindy for the torture and left the tiny salon. My face tingled, and not at all in a good way. And as I walked to my car, the floodgates of wedding worry opened once again: What if my dress doesn’t zip? What if the band doesn’t show up? What if the shrimp taste fishy? I don’t know how to two-step. How long is the flight to Australia? Are there tarantulas in the country? What if there are scorpions in the bed? The facial had done little to decompress me.

Downdraughts and Upwellings Just the mention of a downcurrent is enough to inspire fear in many divers as they visualize themselves getting caught by an irresistible force that drags them into the abyss with no opportunity for escape. The natural response when confronted with a situation like this where you feel out of control is to panic but there is no need. Normally, downdraughts or downcurrents are localized phenomena that occur along reef walls: think of them as waterfalls in the sea. When you encounter one, the first thing to do is get out of the flow by moving closer in to the wall so that the contours offer you shelter. Once out of the stream, relax, exhale, take a few deep full breaths, check your air supply, depth and decompression status, look around you and plan. Look to see where the big fish are hiding or if there is a place where the sea whips are not waving around. It is not a good idea to fight a downcurrent. It is a struggle you cannot win. The oft-quoted tactic of inflating your BCD to counteract its efforts to carry you down is potentially dangerous as the current might suddenly release you from its hold and you will find yourself on a runaway ascent to the surface, which will do you much more harm than the current could do. Unless you have spotted a place further along the wall that seems calm, usually the best advice is to swim laterally out away from the reef towards the blue. If you find yourself being carried a little deeper initially, stay calm and keep swimming, you will emerge from the pull of the downcurrent before long or its effect will weaken and allow you to begin your ascent and return to the wall. Think of upwellings as reverse down currents. The same advice applies. First move into the wall out of the flow, relax, think, observe and act calmly.

Learn to decompress and to not worry about the things that really don’t matter. As it says in Proverbs 15:16, “Better a little with the fear of the Lord than great wealth with turmoil.

Greg had been giving a running account of what she saw on the screen so Theo could “see” what was happening below. “Theo,” Greg said. “We don’t need video of the two of them decompressing down there, do we?” “No, let’s bring up the Enigma.” Riley tended to the cables while Greg brought the ROV back to the surface. She then jumped down onto the aft dive platform and attached the lifting cables. Riley joined Peewee at the bulwark. “So, what do you think Cole found?” He stared down at the water and worked his lips over his teeth for a long while before he spoke. “A false tale often betrays itself,” he said. “What do you mean by that?” “Riley, I’m an old man. At some point, the lies catch up with you.” She remembered

From the tests it showed that the best ascent speed was 30 ft/minute, with the best stop depth at ½ the distance for a 2½ minute deep stop and a safety stop at 20 ft for three to five minutes. Ascent rates slower than 20 ft/minute would add significantly to the overall decompression time.

From the tests done, it is clear that being warm on the bottom and cold on the decompression is not ideal for decompression. It is suggested not to do work on the bottom that will exert you, and not to stay still and get cold on decompression. By doing slight exercise (light finning) may help circulation and help keep your muscles warm.

Wait!” she said. “What decompression did you use? My suit is an older model. It uses the version 5.1 video compression. Tell the tech that, and have them try it again.

HAVE FRIENDS Most comedians have a group of friends they grow and change with. Gossip and decompression are key, but so are people you trust who will tell you what they think, good or bad, and who you know are going through the same things you are. Standup comedy PTSD bonds can last a lifetime. Also, it’s good to care about how someone else is doing. Narcissism is exhausting!

or what has been termed the “decompression zone,” as among our most meaningful and useful work. It

Beyond being normal, our obsessions are positive, empowering and absolutely necessary. What some may view as obsessive, odd, weird, abnormal and troublesome is a necessary part of our happiness. Our interests allow us to decompress, calm down, focus our energy, and gives us a reason to be excited about life - a purpose. An absence of obsessive interest leaves me feeling alone in the darkness.

It is said that the mind is a terrible thing to waste-same goes for clutter. The mind is a terrible thing to clutter. It is hard to de-stress and decompress when you have a cluttered home.

It’s insane,” Shed said quietly. “Flying around in these metal bubbles, and then trying to poke holes in each other. You ever seen what long-term decompression and cold exposure does? Breaks all the capillaries in your eyes and skin. Tissue damage to the lungs can cause massive pneumonia followed by emphysema-like scarring. I mean, if you don’t just die.

A good way to connect with what are called ‘friends,’” I say. “Not regular friends, usually it’s like the guy who plays softball with your coworker.” Who wants to be more connected? the bird says, does not say. Everyone is friends now? “I think people dislike other people at the ratio they did before you—” We’re not going to get very far if you can’t say died. “It’s called virtual.” I frown. “I’m not describing this correctly.” You’re describing it fine. “How would you know?” I say at the same time as she says, But how would I know? I’ve come a week early to this inn on the shaft of Long Island to prepare for the transition from woman to wife, to do what the groom calls “decompress” because “of late” I’ve become a bit of a “nightmare.

I'm delving into my spirit and unearthing diamonds glazed with grit. I have stopped trying to make these stones glint. Sixir and soulwork are more specific terms for such self-mining. Sixir and soulwork are a kiss from God, and as such, won't submit to decompression. A kiss from God is a dirt-coated diamond buried bowel-deep within the human animal. A kiss from God is how we live and die in this spirit-trapped multiverse

The president’s staffers lived in fear of one thing: bad weather. Some spent Saturday nights praying for clear skies the next day, knowing a tweet-free afternoon would give them a window of uninterrupted tranquility, time to spend with their families and decompress from a job known to be demanding under the most normal of circumstances.

Thinking about the projector as a performance tool, a display mechanism, a playback machine, a decompressor of content, an image-enlarger, a sound amplifier, a recording device, and an audiovisual interface carries far richer interpretive possibilities than thinking about it as the poor cousin of the movie theater. It also helps us to explain more about why film has long mattered across many realms of cultural and institutional activity. Critically shifting how we conceptualize what a projector is and does opens a window to a wider array of other media devices that performed the work of storing, decompressing, and yielding content, as well as interfacing with users, viewers, and analysts. Drawing on innovations in precision mechanics, chemistry, optics, and electrical and eventually acoustic and magnetic engineering, projectors catalyzed alternate ways of presenting recorded images and sounds, converting celluloid and its otherwise indecipherable inscriptions into visible and audible content, usable data, productive lessons, and persuasive messaging. In doing so they shaped performance and presentation for audiences of

The more I examine and observe experience (What else can one do? Build castles?), the more I find that I can only say of consciousness (and in this I find a notable confirmation in the Pali Suttas) that it seems only describable (knowable) “in terms of what it arises dependent upon” (i.e. seeing-cum-seen … mind-knowing-cum-mind, known or mind cum-ideas), that is, negatively as to itself. And so, instead of being said to appear, it should rather be called that negativeness or “decompression of being” which makes the appearance of life, movement, behaviour, etc., and their opposites, possible in things and persons. But while life, etc. cannot be or not be without the cooperation of the negative presence of consciousness, which gives room for them (and itself) to “come to be” in this way (gaining its own peculiar form of negative being, perhaps from them)—the only possible way of being—they are, by ignorance, simultaneously individualized in actual experience. Unindividualized experience cannot, I think, be called experience at all. Thus there appears the positive illusion also of individual consciousness: “illusion” because its individuality is borrowed from the individualness of (1) its percepts, and (2) the body seen as its perceiving instrument. Unindividualized perception cannot, any more, I think, be called perception at all. The supposed individuality of consciousness (without which it is properly inconceivable) is derived from that of its concomitants. This illusory individualization of consciousness, this mirage, manifests itself in the sense both of “my consciousness” and of “consciousness that is not mine” (as e.g. in the sensation of being seen when one fancies or actually finds one is caught, say, peeping through a keyhole, and from which the abstract notion of universal consciousness develops). The example shows that the experience of being seen does not necessarily mean that another’s consciousness is seeing one, as one may have been mistaken in one’s fancy owing to a guilty sense (though the experience was just as real at the time), before one found no one was there. To repeat: my supposed consciousness seems only distinguishable from the supposed consciousness that is not mine on the basis of the particular non-consciousness (i.e. material body, etc.) through which its negativity is manifested and with which it is always and inevitably associated in some way. It is impossible, I think, to overemphasize the importance of this fact.

decompress

Wiener dog underwent explosive decompression, scared a baby.

God forfend that parren would put the razzle-dazzle aside for even a steel and airless place like Defiance, where sensible folk would all be surely attired as she was — with pressure-suit linings and emergency mask and hood near at hand in case of rapid decompression. Semaya stood at her side in a parren-equivalent jumpsuit with green ties. Behind them all, Timoshene and his small group of Domesh warriors, black robes now replaced by black jumpsuits, hoods and dark interactive glasses similar to what Phoenix’s crew would wear. The robes were merely a style, and Timoshene had been unbothered to replace them with attire that achieved the same fully-covered result

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He would frequently do solo dives at midnight, relishing the tranquillity of his own private world. While decompressing, he rested lazily on a tree log that had fallen into the water. He was often illuminated only by the Moon, whose light beams rippled through his exhalation bubbles, which rose like rapidly expanding flying saucers, exploding when they hit the surface. The rippling light cast eerie shadows on the rock entrance below Berman, making fish, crabs, and crayfish seem to dance in a strobe light, appearing, disappearing, and reappearing in an instant.

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They were willing to risk a hole in the ship emptying out half the ship’s air rather than let her up to the bridge. It was sort of gratifying to be scarier than sudden decompression

But she needed that time to decompress. To watch dumb television,

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I start watching the Food Network for 1–2 hours a night to decompress from my start-up. Half-asleep one evening, I overhear Bobby Flay say, “Take risks and you’ll get the payoffs. Learn from your mistakes until you succeed. It’s that simple.

And here I am again, not convalescing this time but decompressing, which is a lot better than decomposing.

The fish on sale in your supermarket may have died slowly, from suffocation. If it was a deep-sea fish, dragged to the surface by the net of a trawler, it may have died painfully from decompression.

In contrast to the above, what happens instead when we let go of a feeling? The energy behind the feeling is instantly surrendered and the net effect is decompression. The accumulated pressure begins to decrease as we constantly let go. Everyone knows that, when we let go, we immediately feel better. The body’s physiology changes. There are detectable improvements in skin color, breathing, pulse, blood pressure, muscle tension, gastro-intestinal function, and blood chemistries. In the state of inner freedom, all bodily functions and organs move in the general direction of normalcy and health. There is an immediate increase in muscle power. Vision improves and our perception of the world and ourselves changes for the better. We feel happier, more loving, and more easygoing.

The first commercial jetliner, the ill-fated British Comet (whose four deadly accidents were not caused by jet engines but by stress around square window frames that eventually led to catastrophic decompression), entered its brief service in 1952 at M 0.7, and the first successful and widely adopted jetliner, Boeing’s 707, began its scheduled flights in October 1958 at M 0.83.

Wow, so many firsts. No one’s ever told me how enticing and skilled I was, Reece. Fuck me. Fuck. I… I can’t even… Jesus. Let’s just go get something to eat. I’m starving, and if I don’t have some time to decompress I’m gonna crack right down the middle. Knocked up by an underage dragon…

There is a huge amount of energy stored inside of a pressurized airplane.

The last thing you want during an airplane explosive decompression is for your oxygen mask not to work!

The general population has no real comprehension of how dangerous an airplane explosive decompression is.

There are numerous long term health issues associated with airplane explosive decompression.

Crash, crash, bang!

If you want to understand altitude sickness, you need to understand environmental radiation, light, temperature, nutrition, humidity, hypoxia, breathing gas, pressure, compression, decompression, vibrations, circadian rhythms and organ damage on the human biological system.

standing forward bend is an inversion. So is lying on your back on the floor (or the bed) with your legs up, resting on the wall—or a variation, lying on your back with your lower legs resting on the seat of a chair. This is a great pose to welcome yourself home with, after work and before dinner. It can really lift your mood. You can do it with your partner, catching up on your day while the pressure flows out of your feet. It’s a nice way to decompress. This is all part of a general policy to counterstretch whenever you can—to wash away a static pose with the opposite shape. If you’re on your feet all day, go upside down for a few minutes. If you’re rounded over a keyboard most of the time, lie down on the floor and,

it was for the humans’ supervisor to deal with. (Or to willfully ignore until the whole project devolved into a giant clusterfuck and your SecUnit prayed for the sweet relief of a massive accidental explosive decompression, not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.)

Consider how flight attendants explain airline safety to passengers. In the event the cabin decompresses, you’re supposed to put on your oxygen mask before helping others put on their masks. Help yourself first. Then, assist others. These instructions aren’t intended to promote self-preservation. Rather, the airline knows that if you help others first, you risk succumbing to hypoxia.

If there has been a compositional response to MP3s and the era of private listening, I have yet to hear it. One would expect music that is essentially a soothing flood of ambient moods as a way to relax and decompress, or maybe dense and complex compositions that reward repeated playing and attentive listening, maybe intimate or rudely erotic vocals that would be inappropriate to blast in public but that you could enjoy privately. If any of this is happening, I am unaware of it.

Dispatch sent them right back out without time to decompress,” said DJ. “Give them a break in between and maybe they behave differently.

Biology doesn't know in advance what the end product will be; there's no Stuffit Compressor to convert a human being into a genome. But the genome itself is very much akin to a compression scheme, a terrifically efficient description of how to build something of great complexity-perhaps more efficient than anything yet developed in the labs of computer scientists (never mind the complexities of the brain, there are trillions of cells in the rest of the body, and they are all supervised by the same 30,000-gene genome). And although there is no counterpart in nature to a program that compresses a picture into a compact description, there is a natural counterpart to the program that decompresses the compressed encoding, and that's the cell. Genome in, organism out. Through the logic of gene expression, cells are self-regulating factories that translate genomes into biological structure.

Just as spies once concealed information-filled microdots on the head of a pin, today operatives embed text documents into digital images that must be decompressed to reveal their contents.

It was sort of gratifying to be scarier than sudden decompression.

Nothing is more symptomatic of the enervation, of the decompression of the Western imagination, than our incapacity to respond to the landings on the Moon. Not a single great poem, picture, metaphor has come of this breathtaking act, of Prometheus’ rescue of Icarus or of Phaeton in flight towards the stars.” —George Steiner,

More of America’s problems than even DJ had imagined could be better understood and addressed with better access to the right information. The problem of excessive police force was another example. After a white policeman shot a defenseless black man in Ferguson, Missouri, the White House convened police chiefs from ten American cities, along with their data. The policing data was local and difficult to get ahold of—and that was DJ’s point. He wanted to show what might be possible if the government collected the information. “We asked the question: What causes excessive use of police force?” Combing the data from the ten cities, a team of researchers from several American universities found a pattern that would be hard to spot with the naked eye. Police officers who had just come from an emotionally fraught situation—a suicide, or a domestic abuse call in which a child was involved—were more likely to use excessive force. Maybe the problem wasn’t as simple as a bad cop. Maybe it was the emotional state in which the cop had found himself. “Dispatch sent them right back out without time to decompress,” said DJ. “Give them a break in between and maybe they behave differently.

Reading wasn’t a hiding place, it was an escape. A place to decompress, to wrestle with issues in real life, a means to cope. But

Suboccipital decompression is recommended in patients with cerebellar infarcts who demonstrate neurological deterioration and should be performed before significant brainstem compression occurs.

It’s so pretty up here,” she says, sighing with what sounds like contentment. “Yep.  I love coming here to decompress.  I do it several times a year, but usually not in winter.” “I like the river,” says Liam, looking up from his coloring.  “It’s cold but I still swim in it.  Daddy says I have merman jeans.  But he’s silly cuz mermans don’t wear pants.  They have fish tails so they have scales.” “Not jeans.  Gene.  Like in your DNA.” “I know.  That’s what I said.  But I don’t wear my jeans in the water, cuz that would make them all wet, and I don’t like to have wet pants or wet underwear.” Nicole laughs softly, turning to look in the back seat.  “Are you going to show me how you swim in the river, Liam?” “Yep.” Brian looks in his rearview mirror at his son again.  “We need to show this girl how to fish, Li-Li.  She’s never fished before.” Liam keeps coloring.  “I’ll show her how.  But she has to bait her own hook.  That’s the rule.” Nicole faces Brian.  “What do you fish with?” “Worms.” She grimaces.  “No, thank you.  I’ll just watch.” Brian smiles, knowing he’ll be able to convince her to try.  He’ll bait her hook as long as she needs him to, rules be damned.  He just has to explain to Liam that it’s okay to bait hooks for girls and that it’s not sexist to want to spare them the ickiness of it.  The kid probably won’t understand though; he thinks squirmy worms are fun to play with.  Brian’s had to dissuade him from putting worms in his pockets for years.

Airline window seats were so wonderful until the explosive decompression of the Boeing 737 Max 9.

There are a myriad of long term health issues associated with an airplane explosive decompression.

The explosive decompression of the Boeing 737 Max 9 is expected to lead to airline travelers avoiding the window seats.

Max 8 crash, Max 8 crash and Max 9 explosive decompression. Which Max is next?

We really have to work?” Flynn groused, rubbing his head. “Can’t we relax for a bit? This place gives me the creeps—I need to decompress.” Athalar gave Flynn a look. “It gives all of us the creeps.” “No,” Flynn said gravely, shaking his head. “I told you—my magic hates this place.” “What do you mean?” Bryce asked, peering at him over a shoulder. Flynn shrugged. “The earth feels … rotted. Like there’s nothing for my magic to grab on to, or identify with. It’s weird. It bothered me the first time we were here, too.

Is anyone monitoring the long term health outcomes of all passengers from the Boeing 737 Max 9 explosive decompression?

Create space in your day to be able to decompress, relax, and return to a state of non-thinking.

That is one reason why shipwreck divers don’t spend hours working underwater; the decompression time for a two-hour dive might be as long as nine hours.

One night, Hayes went home after work and decided he would cook dinner for them. Ainsworth, stuck at work on a conference call, was running late. When she finally got home, dinner was nearly ready, but Ainsworth was wiped out and declared that she wanted to decompress in a bath. “Give me ten minutes,” she said. After a while, Hayes went upstairs to the bathroom to see what was taking so long. Ainsworth was still soaking in the tub. Hayes was hungry. He’d prepared a shepherd’s pie, a casserole-style combination of ground beef, mashed potatoes, and peas, and he wanted to eat it before it got cold. Ainsworth asked for a few more minutes. Ten minutes passed. Hayes marched back upstairs and dumped the pie into the water. Ainsworth, stunned, sat in the bath, peas bobbing around her. At work the next day, Davies asked Hayes how his night had been. Hayes took the casual question literally, and without reserve or the slightest sense of faux pas told Davies what had happened. Within days, the pie-in-the-bath story had bounced all over the City’s trading and brokerage floors. It would continue to circulate for more than a decade.

If I did any of it, my bail would be revoked, and I would be put back in prison. After weeks of fighting for Canadians’ rights and freedoms, I was losing so many of mine. I lost my right to freedom of speech. I lost the right to be with, or even talk to my friends. After all we had been through together, we couldn’t even sit down and talk about what had happened, to decompress, to share our stories and our pain.