Disaster Awareness Quotes

Yeah, you almost got yourself killed, you idiot,” she said smiling. She was well aware of his daredevil tendencies and to the extent possible, comfortable with them. “No, it was something stranger than that. When I was underwater, my life did flash before my eyes. You know, just like everyone says it does. But there was . . . something else . . . something that wasn’t part of my life. It was like it was stuck right there at the end, just before I popped to the surface, and I can’t imagine what it was.” Val slowly turned her head back toward the road then asked, “Well, what was it you saw?

It was a running joke; everyone was aware of how ridiculous the rumor mill was, and yet they all shamelessly participated in it.

It is a great error to be superior to others....It is such pride as this that makes a man appear a fool, makes him abused by others, and invites disaster. A man who is truly versed in any art will of his own accord be clearly aware of his own deficiency; and therefore, his ambition being never satisfied, he ends by never being proud.

He was the worst kind of confident. Not only was he shamelessly aware of his appeal, he was so used to women throwing themselves at him that he regarded my cool demeanor as refreshing instead of an insult.

What I was sure of was that Tommy had something I'd never seen in anyone else: a blind and unhinged and totally unfounded ambition. He was so out of touch, so lacking in self-awareness, yet also wildly captivating. That night there was this aura around Tommy- an aura of the possible.

I have met only a very few people - and most of these were not Americans - who had any real desire to be free. Freedom is hard to bear. It can be objected that I am speaking of political freedom in spiritual terms, but the political institutions of any nation are always menaced and are ultimately controlled by the spiritual state of that nation. We are controlled here by our confusion, far more than we know, and the American dream has therefore become something much more closely resembling a nightmare, on the private, domestic, and international levels. Privately, we cannot stand our lives and dare not examine them; domestically, we take no responsibility for (and no pride in) what goes on in our country; and, internationally, for many millions of people, we are an unmitigated disaster. Whoever doubts this last statement has only to open his ears, his heart, his mind, to the testimony of - for example - any Cuban peasant or any Spanish poet, and ask himself what he would feel about us if he were the victim of our performance in pre-Castro Cuba or in Spain. We defend our curious role in Spain by referring to the Russian menace and the necessity of protecting the free world. It has not occurred to us that we have simply been mesmerized by Russia, and that the only real advantage Russia has in what we think of as a struggle between the East and the West is the moral history of the Western world. Russia's secret weapon is the bewilderment and despair and hunger of millions of people of whose existence we are scarecely aware. The Russian Communists are not in the least concerned about these people. But our ignorance and indecision have had the effect, if not of delivering them into Russian hands, of plunging them very deeply in the Russian shadow, for which effect - and it is hard to blame them - the most articulate among them, and the most oppressed as well, distrust us all the more... We are capable of bearing a great burden, once we discover that the burden is reality and arrive where reality is. Anyway, the point here is that we are living in an age of revolution, whether we will or no, and that America is the only Western nation with both the power, and, as I hope to suggest, the experience that may help to make these revolutions real and minimize the human damage.

I stare at the last question and remember something I just read—that the word disaster comes from astro: stars, and dis: without. This will only be a disaster if I lose all awareness of light. There in front of the computer, I feel darkness setting in. I need to find some light. Quickly,

Death releases the energy into air. If a true catastrophe is looming, the disturbance becomes such that a sensitive individual may become highly troubled by it. He may be aware exactly when and where it will occur. He may see an aura around people who are soon to die. Or he may see images of the disaster beforehand...

Today, in a world with instant access to Google, we rely on the electronic web to supply everything we need, from historical facts to word definitions and spellings as well as extended quotations. All of us who use a computer are aware of the shock of inner poverty that we suddenly feel when deprived (by a virus or other disaster) of our mental crutches even just for a day or a week. Plato is right: memory has been stripped from us, and all we possess is an external reminder of what we have lost, enabling us to pretend to a wisdom and an inner life we no longer possess in ourselves.13

Forgive me,' said Abbot Zerchi. 'I wasn't getting ready to argue moral theology with you. I was speaking only of this spectacle of mass euthanasia in terms of human motivation. the very existence of the Radiation Disaster Act, and like laws in other countries, is the plainest possible evidence that governments were fully aware of the consequences of another war, but instead of trying to make the crime impossible, they tried to provide in advance for the consequences of the crime. Are the implications of that fact meaningless to you, Doctor?

Because it’s a fucking disaster to be creative when you know you’re not Mozart or Keats. Dammit, I got tired of scratching around in my past. There’s nothing in me to justify the pretension of creativity. This came before anything, before you, before Raquel, this is a matter of my own emptiness, my awareness of my own limits, maybe my sterility. Does what I’m saying to you seem awful? Now you want to come along and sell me an illusion, which I don’t believe in but which does make me believe that either you’re a fool or you underestimate my intelligence. Why don’t you just leave me alone, so I can fill the emptiness in my own way? Let me see things for myself, learn if something can still grow in my soul, an idea, a faith, because I swear to you, Laura, my soul is more desolate than this rock landscape you see here… why?

Similar ecological disasters occurred on almost every one of the thousands of islands that pepper the Atlantic Ocean, Indian Ocean, Arctic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea. Archaeologists have discovered on even the tiniest islands evidence of the existence of birds, insects and snails that lived there for countless generations, only to vanish when the first human farmers arrived. None but a few extremely remote islands escaped man’s notice until the modern age, and these islands kept their fauna intact. The Galapagos Islands, to give one famous example, remained uninhabited by humans until the nineteenth century, thus preserving their unique menagerie, including their giant tortoises, which, like the ancient diprotodons, show no fear of humans. The First Wave Extinction, which accompanied the spread of the foragers, was followed by the Second Wave Extinction, which accompanied the spread of the farmers, and gives us an important perspective on the Third Wave Extinction, which industrial activity is causing today. Don’t believe tree-huggers who claim that our ancestors lived in harmony with nature. Long before the Industrial Revolution, Homo sapiens held the record among all organisms for driving the most plant and animal species to their extinctions. We have the dubious distinction of being the deadliest species in the annals of biology. Perhaps if more people were aware of the First Wave and Second Wave extinctions, they’d be less nonchalant about the Third Wave they are part of. If we knew how many species we’ve already eradicated, we might be more motivated to protect those that still survive. This is especially relevant to the large animals of the oceans.

We are meaning-seeking creatures and, unlike other animals, fall very easily into despair if we fail to make sense of our lives. We find the prospect of our inevitable extinction hard to bear. We are troubled by natural disasters and human cruelty and are acutely aware of our

Some, perhaps, would fall by the way. Some, old or sick, would drop out of the caravan and creep away into a solitary place to die; others would be picked off by gunners, defying the law for the fancied pleasure of stopping in full flight a brave and fiercely burning life; still others, perhaps, would fall in exhaustion into the sea. But no awareness of possible failure or disaster dwelt in the moving host, flying with sweet pipings through the northern sky. In them burned once more the fever of migration, consuming with its fire all other desires and passions.

My mother has few stories to tell about these times. What I remember from them is the odd look I would sometimes catch in her eyes. It struck me, for the first time in my life, that my mother might be afraid of me. I could not even reassure her, because I was only dimly aware of the nature of her distress, but there must have been something going on in me that was beyond her: at any time I might open my mouth and out would come a language she had never heard before. I had become a visitant from outer space, a time-traveller come back from the future, bearing news of a great disaster.

I remember sitting back, on a local beach I called home; thinking about the wild storms I had already faced, the chaotic thunder I somehow learnt to dance through. This time, remembering it, was different. I had no emotional attachment, I felt free of the past and could quietly seperate who I was with who I am now and this moment was empowering , because had I not faced the greatest disasters with courage, I wouldn't have learnt the mastery of life. My self awakening.

So when she seemed distracted or absent-minded, it was in fact, I think, that she was aware of too many things, having no principle for selecting the more from the less important, and that her awareness could never be diminished, since it was among the things she had thought of as familiar that this disaster had taken shape.

the word disaster comes from astro: stars, and dis: without. This will only be a disaster if I lose all awareness of light.

It’s the catch-22 of mental illness: How can your brain not be working right if you’re as goddamn self-aware as you are?

It’s when you start noticing these subtleties of the game that you realize baseball is actually a series of games within a game. It’s like the game grows within itself. The events are all interconnected, and as you become aware of them all, the game pulls you in deeper. And there comes a point in a fan’s life when the game becomes all-encompassing. It’s nearly impossible to look away, and suddenly the job phone call that you didn’t get that day, the date that ended in disaster—all those other things that felt so important an hour ago have disappeared.

The money itself didn’t seem terribly important to Fischer. He cared little for material things but he hungered for respect and he was acutely aware that in the culture in which he lived, money was the prevailing gauge of success.

The body knows the looming of disaster or is convinced it knows in a fundamental way that has nothing to do with statistics or facts or conscious awareness or so-called reality. The body carries within it the constant possibility of betrayal, from within or without.

This is our task: be serene at all times, do not be vengeful, nor scorn your enemy; speak truthfully, befriend the virtuous, be equable in the face of disaster. Be aware that everything must pass, just as clouds arise, drift, and disperse, so do not seek to cling to anything.

Tragedy can strike without premonition. A natural disaster can arrive when the kids are playing with their Christmas presents. The narrative containers we use to impose structure and morality onto our lives no longer fit. Happy endings do not necessitate good deeds. Pain is immune to virtue.

All elves were jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but there was something particularly handsome about Keefe Sencen—and the boy was well aware of it. Though he seemed a little off his game at the moment. His smug smirk was noticeably absent as he scrounged around his blankets, searching for something. “Here,” Ro said, tossing Keefe a wrinkled black tunic from the floor. “Bet you’re wishing it didn’t smell so much like sweaty boy in here, huh?” “It’s fine,” Sophie promised, even if the room could definitely use some airing out. A good cleaning would work wonders too. Everywhere she looked were piles of crumpled clothes and scattered shoes and stacks of papers and plates of half-eaten food. And all the thick curtains were drawn tight, leaving the space dim and stuffy. The room was clearly designed to be beautiful, with marble floors broken up by rugs woven to look like pristine sand, and seafoam walls inlaid with starfish and anemone shells. But under Keefe’s care, it was a disaster zone. Even the furniture had a strange randomness to the arrangement that made Sophie wonder if he’d moved it all just to bug his dad.

From conversations with her husband she was aware that the static came from a number of sources such as the atmosphere, other electrical equipment and even, incredibly, an amount from the noise of radiation emitted in the origin of the universe's Big Bang. To her however, it was the sounds of the souls of countless millions of people who had perished in this international disaster, brushing past her in the ether on their way to the afterlife.

Too soon the two weeks were over and we were back in Lugano, and there we learned about Disaster. We weren’t completely ignorant. We knew about disaster from our previous schools and previous lives. We’d had access to televisions and newspapers. But the return to Lugano marked the beginning of Global Awareness Month, and in each of our classes, we talked about disaster: disaster man-made and natural. We talked about ozone depletion and the extinction of species and depleted rain forests and war and poverty and AIDS. We talked about refugees and slaughter and famine. We were in the middle school and were getting, according to Uncle Max, a diluted version of what the upper-schoolers were facing. An Iraqi boy from the upper school came to our history class and talked about what it felt like when the Americans bombed his country. Keisuke talked about how he felt responsible for World War II, and a German student said she felt the same. We got into heated discussions over the neglect of infant females in some cultures, and horrific cases of child abuse worldwide. We fasted one day each week to raise our consciousness about hunger, and we sent money and canned goods and clothing to charities. In one class, after we watched a movie about traumas in Rwanda, and a Rwandan student told us about seeing his mother killed, Mari threw up. We were all having nightmares. At home, Aunt Sandy pleaded with Uncle Max. “This is too much!” she said. “You can’t dump all the world’s problems on these kids in one lump!” And he agreed. He was bewildered by it all, but the program had been set up the previous year, and he was the new headmaster, reluctant to interfere. And though we were sick of it and about it, we were greedy for it. We felt privileged there in our protected world and we felt guilty, and this was our punishment.

The only way to reverse this trend is to mount a campaign to put Obama’s support for the Muslim Brotherhood at the forefront of the political debate, and to educate Americans about the real dangers we face. Americans need to become aware of the Islamic supremacist threat, of the malignant designs of the Muslim Brotherhood, and of the disasters that may lie ahead because of the Obama administration’s policies of appeasing and enabling their evil ambitions.

23 Emotions people feel, but can’t explain 1.    Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own. 2.    Opia: The ambiguous intensity of Looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable. 3.    Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place. 4.    Énouement: The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self. 5.    Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops. 6.    Rubatosis: The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat. 7.    Kenopsia: The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet. 8.    Mauerbauertraurigkeit: The inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like. 9.    Jouska: A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head. 10.    Chrysalism: The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm. 11.    Vemödalen: The frustration of photographic something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist. 12.    Anecdoche: A conversation in which everyone is talking, but nobody is listening 13.    Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out. 14.    Kuebiko: A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence. 15.    Lachesism: The desire to be struck by disaster – to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire. 16.    Exulansis: The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it. 17.    Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone. 18.    Rückkehrunruhe: The feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness. 19.    Nodus Tollens: The realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore. 20.    Onism: The frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time. 21.    Liberosis: The desire to care less about things. 22.    Altschmerz: Weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had – the same boring flaws and anxieties that you’ve been gnawing on for years. 23.    Occhiolism: The awareness of the smallness of your perspective. John Koenig, The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows (Simon & Schuster, November 16, 2021)

As public awareness of the predicament of the Negro family increases, there will be danger and opportunity. The opportunity will be to deal fully rather than haphazardly with the problem as a whole—to see it as a social catastrophe brought on by long years of brutality and oppression and to meet it as other disasters are met, with an adequacy of resources. The danger will be that the problems will be attributed to innate Negro weaknesses and used to justify further neglect and to rationalize continued oppression.

O, how lacking in awareness of their sufferings are those who do not praise death and do not look forward to it as nature’s finest discovery, whether it sets a seal on our happiness, or keeps disaster at bay, or ends the old man’s jadedness and weariness, or cuts a young life short in its prime when even better things are expected, or calls a halt to childhood before the more difficult stages are reached: for everybody death is an end, for many a cure, for some an answer to prayer; and it does no one a greater favor than those to whom it comes without waiting to be asked.

I know more than he does, she thinks, in this mad excess of arrogance. I may work in an advertising agency. I may prefer central heating to carrying coals, and a frozen pizza to a fresh mackerel, but I grant the world its dignity. I am aware of what I don't know, don't understand, and that's more than you can do. My body moves with the tides, bleeds with the moon, burns in the sun: I, Minette, I am a poor passing fragment of humanity: I obey laws that I only dimly understand, but I aware that the penalty of defying them is at best disaster, at worst death. ("The Man With No Eyes")

It is because we feel that we are separate from nature that we also feel it is okay to manipulate it, pollute it, and cause it harm. We project our inner turmoil onto the planet, causing outer turmoil. Nearly all of the disasters of our time—war, famine, oppression, social injustice, environmental pollution, extinction—arise from this delusional belief that we have an existence independent of the world we live in. All of this misery, all of this destruction, all of this pain and suffering, is caused by our failure to realize that there is no separation and that really we are all one.

Seventy-five percent of the time when I'm ordering my "almond milk matcha latte with no sugar added, lukewarm, please," I'll be recognized by an employee. And yes, my order is a pin in the ass, but I'm determined to enjoy the liquid indulgences of modern life. Might as well take advantage of it all before the zombie apocalypse. I have no practical skills; I'm fully aware that I'll be one of the first ones "turned." Instead of learning motorcycle repair or something else disaster-scenario useful, I'll order the drink I want until I become a shambling corpse. AND I WON'T BE DEFENSIVE ABOUT IT, OKAY?

Where then is the break in this continuity? What the fissure through which one sees disaster? The circle is unbroken; the harmony complete. Here is the central rhythm; here the common mainspring. I watch it expand, contract; and then expand again. Yet I am not included. If I speak, imitating their accent, they prick their ears, waiting for me to speak again, in order that they may place me–if I come from Canada or Australia, I, who desire above all things to be taken to the arms with love, am alien, external. I, who would wish to feel close over me the protective waves of the ordinary, catch with the tail of my eye some far horizon; am aware of hats bobbing up and down in perpetual disorder.

The RBMK’s stunning dual lack of the most crucial containment barriers is a glaring omission that should never have been considered, let alone designed, approved and built. Select Soviet Ministers were made aware of these inadequacies before the reactors were chosen, but still the RBMK design was selected over the competing ‘Vodo-Vodyanoi Energetichesky Reaktor’ (VVER, or ‘Water-Water Power Reactor’), a pressurised water reactor which was safer, but more expensive and marginally less powerful. Conventional wisdom at the time was that the RBMK could never cause a large-scale accident, because industry safety regulations would always be adhered to. Extra safety measures, they decided, were unnecessary.

Giants in Jeans Sonnet 97 Age doesn’t make you wise, curiosity does. Intellect doesn't make you curious, growth does. Experience doesn't make you grow, expansion does. Travel doesn't make you expand, self-correction does. Cynicism doesn't help correction, awareness does. Books don't make you aware, accountability does. Law cannot make you accountable, humanity does. Appearance doesn't make you human, acceptance does. Wokeness doesn't make you accepting, character does. Clothes don't make character, conduct does. Etiquettes don't define conduct, goodness does. Tradition doesn't make you good, oneness does. Oneness is the mother of all civilized behavior. Without oneness we're ever headed for disaster.

When I say I love you, I mean I love you so much it hurts to be close to you, it hurts to be away from you. I hurt all the damn time because my stupid heart has decided for one reason or another that it can’t survive without being next to yours. I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to me, but I’m a disaster. I’m broken for you and I never want to be fixed. And it hurts like hell because when you kiss me, I know you think of him. When I kiss you, all I see is you, all I feel is you.” A tear slid down her cheek. “When you touch me, a part of my heart breaks off, because in the back of my mind I’m always aware that the way you define the touch and the way I feel it are two totally different things. Trace, I love you. I love you. I”—my voice cracked—“I am in love with you.”- Chase

I wanted to check on you one last time . . . see if you needed anything,” she whispered, stopping in the center of the room. “Have you come to give me my orders?” There was a hint of a smile in his voice as he moved to stand before her, arms still crossed. “Orders?” she echoed. “Don’t look out the window. Don’t climb onto the roof. Don’t go below.” She tried to smile, surprised at his easy manner, but her sense of impending disaster only deepened. “I have no heart for a frolic tonight. The soldiers are simply too close.” He looked down at her, studying her small form smothered in moss green wool. She pulled her scarlet shawl closer around her, chilled by the cold bedroom. She could hear Pa calling her but made no move to go. Distracted, her eyes fell to his feet. He wore the shoepacks he’d made as they’d sat together about the fire these long winter nights, just the three of them in a warm circle of firelight—she, he, and Pa. That was what she craved—quiet companionship about the fire, not the forced frivolity before her. She swallowed down a sigh, a bit startled when he put his hands on her shoulders. In the dimness, his face held a rare pensiveness. “Do you forgive me, Morrow?” The heartfelt words returned her to the autumn day he’d first asked. “Forgive you?” she echoed. “Do you forgive me—for my father’s people?” The humble question, now thrice asked, seemed to resound to the far corners of the room. Her lips parted in answer, but no sound came. She had a keen awareness of her own thudding heart. The pressure of his hands. The warmth in his eyes. Below, the frolic seemed to fade away. “Yes.

Draco,” Harry said, because the heat of the sun was on his cheeks but he couldn’t look away from Draco’s thin, tired face. He was worn down here, the way he had never been in the curse world. He looked older, all the strain of the war and disaster taken out on him. He would never be the lighthearted kid who had kissed Harry at Hogsmeade in the fresh air after the rain. “We can’t be childhood sweethearts,” Draco said, with a sour little smile and the flicker of the Unbreakable Vow playing around his knuckles, “and we can’t have that weird, lovely life where everything was good and we always knew the right thing to do.” Harry stared at him. High up, away from him, he was aware of the faint, rough sound of Hermione crying. “We can have something else,” Draco said, and he held his free hand out to Harry.

In 1932, the combination of these intractable forces would result in widespread hardship for the agricultural provinces of old Russia, and death by starvation for millions of peasants in Ukraine.* [*While many of the young loyalists (like Nina) who joined the udarniks in the countryside would have their faith in the Party tested by what they witnessed, most of Russia, and for that matter the world, would be spared the spectacle of this man-made disaster. For just as peasants from the countryside were forbidden to enter the cities, journalists from the cities were forbidden to enter the countryside; delivery of personal mail was suspended; and the windows of passenger trains were blackened. In fact, so successful was the campaign to contain awareness of the crisis, when word leaked out that millions were starving in Ukraine, Walter Duranty, the lead correspondent for The New York Times in Russia (and one of the ringleaders in the Shalyapin Bar), would report that these rumors of famine were grossly exaggerated and had probably originated with anti-Soviet propagandists. Thus, the world would shrug. And even as the crime unfolded, Duranty would win the Pulitzer Prize.]

On May 6th, three incredibly courageous volunteers in wet suits dove into the flooded basement together197. The divers were Alexei Ananenko, a senior reactor mechanical engineer who knew the valves’ location, and two colleagues: Valery A Bezpalov, a turbine engineer who would turn the second valve, and Boris Alexandrovich Baranov, a shift supervisor who acted as a backup/rescuer in case of an emergency, and who also carried a flashlight. They were aware of the stakes and what radiation levels were like in the basement, but were apparently promised that their families would be well taken care of if they died.198 “When the searchlight beam fell on a pipe, we were joyous,” Ananenko told the Government-controlled news agency TASS, shortly after his return.199 “The pipe led to the valves.” Their light failed moments later and the poor men had to feel their way along the pipes in darkness. Once the valves were opened, “We heard the rush of water out of the tank. And in a few more minutes we were being embraced by the guys.” With the valves open, the pressure suppression pool was drained of its 3,200 tons of water, but all three heroic men were suffering from radiation sickness symptoms even as they emerged from the water, and each soon succumbed. Or so the tale goes.200

This was the first time that Buck had failed, in itself a sufficient reason to drive Hal into a rage. He exchanged the whip for the customary club. Buck refused to move under the rain of heavier blows which now fell upon him. Like his mates, he was barely able to get up, but, unlike them, he had made up his mind not to get up. He had a vague feeling of impending doom. This had been strong upon him when he pulled into the bank, and it had not departed from him. What of the thin and rotten ice he had felt under his feet all day, it seemed that he sensed disaster close at hand, out there ahead on the ice where his master was trying to drive him. He refused to stir. So greatly had he suffered, and so far gone was he, that the blows did not hurt much. And as they continued to fall upon him, the spark of life within flickered and went down. It was nearly out. He felt strangely numb. As though from a great distance, he was aware that he was being beaten. The last sensations of pain left him. He no longer felt anything, though very faintly he could hear the impact of the club upon his body. But it was no longer his body, it seemed so far away. And then, suddenly, without warning, uttering a cry that was inarticulate and more like the cry of an animal, John Thornton sprang upon the man who wielded the club. Hal was hurled backward, as though struck by a falling tree. Mercedes screamed. Charles looked on wistfully, wiped his watery eyes, but did not get up because of his stiffness. John Thornton stood over Buck, struggling to control himself, too convulsed with rage to speak. "If you strike that dog again, I'll kill you," he at last managed to say in a choking voice. p63

Non-rational creatures do not look before or after, but live in the animal eternity of a perpetual present; instinct is their animal grace and constant inspiration; and they are never tempted to live otherwise than in accord with their own animal dharma, or immanent law. Thanks to his reasoning powers and to the instrument of reason, language, man (in his merely human condition) lives nostalgically, apprehensively and hopefully in the past and future as well as in the present; has no instincts to tell him what to do; must rely on personal cleverness, rather than on inspiration from the divine Nature of Things; finds himself in a condition of chronic civil war between passion and prudence and, on a higher level of awareness and ethical sensibility, between egotism and dawning spirituality. But this "wearisome condition of humanity" is the indispensable prerequisite of enlightenment and deliverance. Man must live in time in order to be able to advance into eternity, no longer on the animal, but on the spiritual level; he must be conscious of himself as a separate ego in order to be able consciously to transcend separate selfhood; he must do battle with the lower self in older that he may become identified with that higher Self within him, which is akin to the divine Not-Self; and finally he must make use of his cleverness in order to pass beyond cleverness to the intellectual vision of Truth, the immediate, unitive knowledge of the divine Ground. Reason and its works "are not and cannot be a proximate means of union with God." The proximate means is "intellect," in the scholastic sense of the word, or spirit. In the last analysis the use and purpose of reason is to create the internal and external conditions favourable to its own transfiguration by and into spirit. It is the lamp by which it finds the way to go beyond itself. We see, then, that as a means to a proximate means to an End, discursive reasoning is of enormous value. But if, in our pride and madness, we treat it as a proximate means to the divine End (as so many religious people have done and still do), or if, denying the existence of an eternal End, we regard it as at once the means to Progress and its ever-receding goal in time, cleverness becomes the enemy, a source of spiritual blindness, moral evil and social disaster. At no period in history has cleverness been so highly valued or, in certain directions, so widely and efficiently trained as at the present time. And at no time have intellectual vision and spirituality been less esteemed, or the End to which they are proximate means less widely and less earnestly sought for. Because technology advances, we fancy that we are making corresponding progress all along the line; because we have considerable power over inanimate nature, we are convinced that we are the self-sufficient masters of our fate and captains of our souls; and because cleverness has given us technology and power, we believe, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, that we have only to go on being yet cleverer in a yet more systematic way to achieve social order, international peace and personal happiness.

Another dangerous neoliberal word circulating everywhere that is worth zooming in on is the word ‘resilience’. On the surface, I think many people won’t object to the idea that it is good and beneficial for us to be resilient to withstand the difficulties and challenges of life. As a person who lived through the atrocities of wars and sanctions in Iraq, I’ve learnt that life is not about being happy or sad, not about laughing or crying, leaving or staying. Life is about endurance. Since most feelings, moods, and states of being are fleeting, endurance, for me, is the common denominator that helps me go through the darkest and most beautiful moments of life knowing that they are fleeing. In that sense, I believe it is good for us to master the art of resilience and endurance. Yet, how should we think about the meaning of ‘resilience’ when used by ruling classes that push for wars and occupations, and that contribute to producing millions of deaths and refugees to profit from plundering the planet? What does it mean when these same warmongers fund humanitarian organizations asking them to go to war-torn countries to teach people the value of ‘resilience’? What happens to the meaning of ‘resilience’ when they create frighteningly precarious economic structures, uncertain employment, and lay off people without accountability? All this while also asking us to be ‘resilient’… As such, we must not let the word ‘resilience’ circulate or get planted in the heads of our youth uncritically. Instead, we should raise questions about what it really means. Does it mean the same thing for a poor young man or woman from Ghana, Ecuador, Afghanistan vs a privileged member from the upper management of a U.S. corporation? Resilience towards what? What is the root of the challenges for which we are expected to be resilient? Does our resilience solve the cause or the root of the problem or does it maintain the status quo while we wait for the next disaster? Are individuals always to blame if their resilience doesn’t yield any results, or should we equally examine the social contract and the entire structure in which individuals live that might be designed in such a way that one’s resilience may not prevail no matter how much perseverance and sacrifice one demonstrates? There is no doubt that resilience, according to its neoliberal corporate meaning, is used in a way that places the sole responsibility of failure on the shoulders of individuals rather than equally holding accountable the structure in which these individuals exist, and the precarious circumstances that require work and commitment way beyond individual capabilities and resources. I find it more effective not to simply aspire to be resilient, but to distinguish between situations in which individual resilience can do, and those for which the depth, awareness, and work of an entire community or society is needed for any real and sustainable change to occur. But none of this can happen if we don’t first agree upon what each of us mean when we say ‘resilience,’ and if we have different definitions of what it means, then we should ask: how shall we merge and reconcile our definitions of the word so that we complement not undermine what we do individually and collectively as people. Resilience should not become a synonym for surrender. It is great to be resilient when facing a flood or an earthquake, but that is not the same when having to endure wars and economic crises caused by the ruling class and warmongers. [From “On the Great Resignation” published on CounterPunch on February 24, 2023]

As a result of the tremendous loss of life, international regulations were passed regarding lifeboats, telegraphs and communication, and ice. All ships would be required to carry enough lifeboats, crew would be trained to use them and evacuate, and passengers would have a drill so that they knew where to go and when in the event of a disaster (which anyone who has taken a cruise is well aware). Also, it was mandated that telegraph machines and later, other forms of communication, be manned 24-hours a day (had someone been at the telegraph machine on the California, they would have confirmed the emergency). Finally, patrols were set up to better survey ice fields and warn vessels about dangerous areas.

Disasters make us aware that the life force within us needs tending daily. This is why we are here.” – Dr. Anne Redelfs

She was not an accomplished temptress, and he was well aware that her experience with men was limited. But he wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman. If having her were a mere question of money, he would have purchased entire countries for her. Unfortunately, matters were not that simple. He could never offer her the genteel life she deserved and needed, the kind of life she'd had with George. If by some miracle she ever did accept him, Zachary knew that he would disappoint her time and again, until she finally grew to hate him. She would discover all the coarseness of his nature; she would find him increasingly repellent. She would find excuses to keep him from coming to her bed. No matter how well the union might begin, it would end in disaster. Because, as his mother had correctly pointed out, one did not mate a Thoroughbred with a donkey. Better to leave her alone and fix his attentions on some other, far more appropriate woman. If only he could.

As we gain an understanding of what's going on internally, we need to apply that same kind of awareness and understanding to others and to the environment around us. I've done ongoing research on the experiences of North Americans who volunteer overseas for one or two weeks. Most of these volunteers travel to developing countries where they help with disaster relief, build medical clinics, teach English, or engage in religious mission work. Of all the comments made by these North American travelers, the most common statement made upon their return is something like, “Even though those people have so little, they're so happy!” There's something endearing about hearing a group of relatively wealthy North Americans talk about their amazement that people with so little could be so happy. My question is, are the people they observed really happy? I've asked several hundred of these volunteers, “What makes you think they're happy?” They most often respond, “Because they were always smiling and laughing. And they were so generous to us. They fed us better than they eat themselves.” Part of becoming more aware of others requires we slow down to ask what familiar behaviors might mean in a different culture. The observation made by these American travelers is usually accurate—the locals they're meeting are in fact smiling and generous. But the question is whether the North Americans are accurately interpreting what those behaviors mean. First, if you don't speak the language and you're just meeting someone for the first time, what do you do? After some feeble attempts at saying things like “Hola!” “Gross Got!” or “Nee how!” there's often some nervous laughter that ensues. It's really awkward. So the locals might be expressing happiness or their smiles might just be a nervous response. Then add that in places like Thailand, where there are twenty-three different smiles, each smile communicates something different. And in one small, extremely polite community in New Zealand, smiling reactions are a way of expressing that they feel deeply offended.4 As I've consistently said, the point isn't to learn every nuanced meaning. But with heightened awareness of others, an individual will realize that while smiles might reflect genuine happiness, they just as well might be a nervous cross-cultural response that indicates little about one's level of contentment.

Orwell, like the authors of the other negative utopias, is not a prophet of disaster. He wants to warn and awaken us. He still hopes—but in contrast to the writers of the utopias in the earlier phases of Western society, his hope is a desperate one. The hope can be realized only by recognizing, so 1984 teaches us, the danger with which all men are confronted today, the danger of a society of automatons who will have lost every trace of individuality, of love, of critical thought, and yet who will not be aware of it because of "doublethink." Books like Orwell's are powerful warnings, and it would be most unfortunate if the reader smugly interpreted 1984 as another description of Stalinist barbarism, and if he does not see that it means us, too.

Prior to the Hurricane Ian disaster, the biggest piece of Florida government propaganda I was aware of was the DeSoto Solar Farm.

I am aware of two frauds in Florida: 1. The 2009 dangerous Desoto Solar Farm world media launch involving President Obama. 2. Withholding the known numbers of the dead bodies found and missing people reported in the hurricane Ian disaster in 2022.

As he tumbled from the ship, he managed, through remarkable presence of mind, to seize hold of a rope. It was one of the topsail halyards that, good news for John, was trailing in the rolling seawater. Used to raise the upper sail, the trailing rope now provided the only chance of escaping catastrophe. It should have been carefully tied to a cleat, but it was not secured. And due to that piece of untidy seamanship, John Howland survived. In the desperate lunge that ended with him grabbing the twisted, slippery rope, he saved himself from drowning. He clung on even though he found himself, in Bradford’s words again, “sundry fathoms under water.” Back on the Mayflower there was a hurrying of men to the side of the pitching vessel. Many hands took up the shipward end of the rope and hauled him back towards safety. As the exhausted and drenched man was pulled from the waves and up against the rough timbers of the rolling Mayflower, someone grabbed a boat hook and, by catching it in his coat, helped pull him back on board.6 It had been a close call. Had the trailing rope not been there, had Howland failed to catch it, he would have been swept away by the white-crested waves and lost. As it was, he lived. It was an almost unbelievable event; an astonishing cheating of death. All of the godly who witnessed it or who heard of it would have felt convinced that it was possible only by the providential hand of God. Jonah-like, John Howland had been both thrown into the stormy deep and also rescued from it (though without the intervention of a great fish) by the will of God. His, clearly, was a life marked out for future importance in the story of the colony about to be founded. Heads would have nodded as word of the event spread among the godly passengers on the ship. Here, clearly, was a man in the hand of God. A man blessed and marked out by the action of the Almighty. The crew, though, probably winked and swore as they considered the naivete of a landsman taking the air in such a storm. For them it was just the latest evidence that these passengers were doomed to disaster; they lacked the edge and awareness needed to survive what lay ahead of them. And those less godly among the passengers might also have been less willing than some of those around them to assume the certainty of providence acting in the events. Which of these would be proved right—faithful Saints, profane seamen, uncertain Strangers—only time would tell. But one thing was certain: the name of John Howland was on everyone’s lips. And he himself was being written into history.

Every government is accountable and responsible if its rescue system is inaccurate and insufficient in rescuing the victims and sufferers of natural disasters and catastrophes, even if the government is already aware of such disasters.

She looked at Paul's face, his eyes--the inward stare. And she knew where she had seen such a look before: pictured in records of disasters--on the faces of children who experienced starvation or terrible injury. The eyes were like pits, mouth a straight line, cheeks indrawn. It's the look of terrible awareness, she thought, of someone forced to the knowledge of his own mortality.

This new sense of personal awareness also comes with many added social accessories (batteries included). Adolescent insecurity can be a devastating plague for a youngster, especially ones whose bodies are growing faster than their emotional and social maturity. One misstep can spell disaster from which recovery is next to impossible. Drop your books in the hall once between classes. Trip going up the school steps. Let a facial blemish emerge on the wrong day. Your voice cracks in class while asking a question. Suffer through the accusation of liking someone of the opposite sex. And pray hard that you don't wear the wrong clothes to your first dance. All these near-fatal mishaps can mark you forever in your classmates' eyes, socially branding you with a label that sticks like super-glue throughout your grade-school career. Most adults can recall childhood classmates from their childhood who failed to make the grade socially. Even today, though a former classmate may be a physician, she is still remembered for the time she cried and ran off stage during the school talent show. Or the successful businessman is forever known as the boy who wet his pants and had to go home early from school. We can still name the girl who always sat out during recess games because she was athletically uncoordinated.

The increase in meditation research in recent decades is perhaps only one manifestation of a broadly distributive, collaborative, and highly intentional investigation, through multiple complementary lenses, of the nature of our own minds, bodies, and brains and how they interact to influence health and disease, well-being and suffering, happiness and depression, and, ultimately, our basic humanity. Its promise and import seem to lie in examining and understanding our potential for ongoing development as conscious and compassionate beings—our capacity to grow into what is deepest and best in ourselves both as individuals and as a species—perhaps in time to avert some of the present and potentially impending disasters we face as a result of being a precocious species on a limited and fragile planet. The Latin Homo sapiens sapiens means, literally, the species that knows and knows that it knows. The species name itself captures our core capacity for awareness and meta-awareness. Perhaps it is time for us to live our way into this potential of ours as a species before it is too late. And since meditation has everything to do with awareness and attention and their refinement through practice, this itself is a major nexus of serendipitous convergence from which humanity may ultimately benefit by drawing upon all of its various wisdom traditions and methodologies, including those of both science and the contemplative traditions at their best.

It was strange—she thought, in the days that followed, looking at the men around her—that catastrophe had made them aware of Hank Rearden with an intensity that his achievements had not aroused, as if the paths of their consciousness were open to disaster, but not to value. Some spoke of him in shrill curses—others whispered, with a look of guilt and terror, as if a nameless retribution were now to descend upon them—some tried, with hysterical evasiveness, to act as if nothing had happened. The newspapers, like puppets on tangled strings, were shouting with the same belligerence and on the same dates: “It is social treason to ascribe too much importance to Hank Rearden’s desertion and to undermine public morale by the old-fashioned belief that an individual can be of any significance to society.” “It is social treason to spread rumors about the disappearance of Hank Rearden, Mr. Rearden has not disappeared, he is in his office, running his mills, as usual, and there has been no trouble at Rearden Steel, except a minor disturbance, a private scuffle among some workers.” “It is social treason to cast an unpatriotic light upon the tragic loss of Hank Rearden, Mr. Rearden has not deserted, he was killed in an automobile accident on his way to work, and his grief-stricken family has insisted on a private funeral.

Our response to hearing of failure and disaster should therefore be compassion for others and fear for ourselves – based on an awareness of how lucky we have been, until now, not to have paid the full price for our own weaknesses of character.

It's difficult not to always be aware of those high walls and the pressure of the water beyond. Difficult to think of the City of Divine Beings as anything other than a disaster waiting to happen.

The purpose is to make you aware of the myriad ways that mankind can screw up a fine idea while trying to implement it. Don’t be alarmed. This is the raw, sometimes disturbing side of engineering, about which much of humanity has been kept unaware.

Some of the problems that are causing the environmental disasters we are experiencing are easy to fix, while others are more difficult. Ultimately, what humanity needs to accomplish is a dramatic change in our lifestyle. We need to change the way we view the world and the way we interact with it. We must also encourage corporations, governments, and politicians to realize the threat they pose to our environment and change the way they obtain and manage natural resources.

For instance, is fear ever a legitimate response to crisis? Is there any truth at all to fear? In my experience, fear is an Ego feeling out of control. In times of true crisis, there’s no time for fear, only action. It’s only thinking about it afterwards or anticipating it, that we feel fear. Also, one of the qualities of being in the presence of truth is its accompanying energy of fearlessness. Are fear, gloom and doom, attempting to control, empowered responses? As the world heats up literally and figuratively, it’s time to learn how to better handle our emotional energies during times of crisis and change. In my experience, most of our emotional responses to crisis is not usually about the event, but another one. This applies to collective events, where I consistently witness people going into fear and “concern” spirals for days on end. Ditto for building stories about “dark times”. I expect this will make me unpopular, but here goes: If you’re having an emotion about a catastrophe that lasts longer than a few minutes, and you’re not bringing food and supplies, or in it, it’s probably about something else. Either conditioning you’ve inherited from the collective, like a Pavlovian response that says “okay, when this type of event happens we get sad/fearful/despairing/bitter. Ok, now go!,” or it’s a deeper wound of your own being triggered, or you’re not grounded and centered in your own energy. If it’s not happening to you, it’s not personal. It is what is. Don’t generate more Ego energy for the collective by dwelling in disaster. Either find a way to help, pitch in if that’s your thing, or connect with your light. Either benefit all. For the Empaths who feel everything, I love what Martha Beck says. When she witnesses someone going through something tough, to avoid taking it on, in a nutshell she says, ‘This is their journey. I’ll have my time to go through xyz, but now is not my time. Everyone gets their time.’ Don’t worry, you’ll have your time to feel your own personal crisis or tragedy. Won’t you want people who are strong in their light around? Joining in with another’s or the world’s misery helps no one. It only creates more fear and misery. If you’re not baking someone a cake, better to ground, root and center. Take a walk in nature. Listen to uplifting music. Focus on your furthering your calling. The fact is: the more focus we place on external events, feeding them with fearful thoughts and “concern”, the more distracted we become from our internal reality, where, with awareness, we can liberate our self -which benefits everyone. Once we stop the fear and warring within our selves we are able to be inspired and take action from a place of grace, not from absorbing external fear energies or being mired in our own wounding. When we run on old fear conditioning- that it’s a dangerous, scary world; we’re ill-equipped for survival; we’re weak and can’t change; other people are doing this horrible thing to us- we are not only denying our light so weakening our selves, but we are not being honest. We are powerful. We are eternal. We are in charge of our experience. When we own our light it benefits everyone.

I believe that the Last Emergency has not arrived without reason, nor are we now moving into the throes of it by accident. As the bearers of conscious self-awareness on this planet, we have failed miserably thus far in recognizing our inextricable oneness with the universe. Whether we can refine this innate capacity in time to prevent the annihilation of the Earth—a travesty in which we have consciously and unconsciously colluded, is unknown. Nevertheless, in the remaining days of our presence here, we can love the Earth and we can love all its sentient beings.

Industrial civilization has held us in a subhuman state all our lives, and we now have the opportunity to discover the powers of the universe coursing through us and our environment. Likewise, we have the extraordinary privilege as consciously self-aware humans of intentionally participating with those powers in an intimate, passionate, caring relationship with the universe.

I am aware, from my earliest recollections, that we lived with the feeling that the life of the individual or of the entire Jewish community was always in danger. Being born Jewish implied a way of life, a set of beliefs and traditions and a feeling of belonging to a community, a group, that faced the same uncertainties, was potentially the victim of persecution from any possible group or from the government, depending on political or social circumstances. When financial difficulties arose in the country, international crises, war, unemployment, a failed harvest - in short - any natural or social or political disasters that occurred, were often turned into antisemitic outbursts. That was the safety valve, they let off steam and we took the heat, bore the brunt of their anger.

RUSH: Scott in Hampton, Georgia. I'm glad you called, sir. Welcome to the EIB Network. Hello. CALLER: Hello. It's good to talk to you, Rush. Um, I wanted to make you aware, if you're not already, about an impending environmental disaster. It involves the oceans, and it's being caused by the tendency of the higher-end restaurants to use real sea salt on their tables as seasoning. It's taking too much salt out of the oceans and the result of course is gonna be a decreased salinity of the oceans. That's going to affect the sea life, and I've not heard much about this. RUSH:

Environment? February 06, 2015 BEGIN TRANSCRIPT RUSH: Scott in Hampton, Georgia. I'm glad you called, sir. Welcome to the EIB Network. Hello. CALLER: Hello. It's good to talk to you, Rush. Um, I wanted to make you aware, if you're not already, about an impending environmental disaster. It involves the oceans, and it's being caused by the tendency of the higher-end restaurants to use real sea salt on their tables as seasoning. It's taking too much salt out of the oceans and the result of course is gonna be a decreased salinity of the oceans. That's going to affect the sea life, and I've not heard much about this. RUSH:

To be resilient is to be aware, adaptive, diverse, integrated, and self-regulating. These characteristics are all present, to different degrees and in different manifestations, in all resilient entities.

In the four years leading up to the rollout of the Horizon system, the Post Office prosecuted 52 Subpostmasters or Post Office staff for shortfall-related offences. In the four years after the rollout, the number more than quadrupled to 220. No one outside the Post Office queried this leap in prosecution activity because no one was aware of it. The Post Office was not required to publish its numbers.

He had enough problems without Gaby Plauget’s trying to fit him into the disaster she had made of her love life. And she knew the biggest potential problem was the one he was least aware of. Her name was Cirocco. Chris was not ready for her, and Gaby intended to do what she could to protect him from her.

She was painfully aware of the contraction her life had undergone over the last four years. Her lack of a social life or any serious professional circle. Her strict avoidance of anything that might lead to romantic involvement. It made for a narrow existence, a blur of sameness with little to distinguish one day from the next. On the other hand, there were no disasters, which made the sameness worth it.

young loyalists (like Nina) who joined the udarniks in the countryside would have their faith in the Party tested by what they witnessed, most of Russia, and for that matter the world, would be spared the spectacle of this man-made disaster. For just as peasants from the countryside were forbidden to enter the cities, journalists from the cities were forbidden to enter the countryside; delivery of personal mail was suspended; and the windows of passenger trains were blackened. In fact, so successful was the campaign to contain awareness of the crisis, when word leaked out that millions were starving in Ukraine, Walter Duranty, the lead correspondent for The New York Times in Russia (and one of the ringleaders in the Shalyapin Bar), would report that these rumors of famine were grossly exaggerated and had probably originated with anti-Soviet propagandists. Thus, the world would shrug. And even as the crime unfolded, Duranty would win the Pulitzer Prize.]

It requires some courage to break a taboo [around the high likelihood of climate-induced collapse, as opposed to mere climate disruption]. It requires some courage to make people aware of darkness that they had not seen before or had turned away from. Especially when that darkness is not in the changing climate and the institutions that have damaged our world, but is also within us. Because we have all participated in both the creation of this disaster and the ignoring of it. Or being satisfied with ineffectual action that provided us with a believable myth of being a good person. As such, climate chaos is an invitation to go deeper into self-reflection and learn about why we have participated in such destruction. From that inquiry we may find ways of living that avoid making matters worse. Bringing attention to the darkness around us, ahead of us and inside of us is essential if we are then to light candles of wisdom. People who are bringing attention to the darkness are also lighting candles of wisdom. Candles only shine within darkness. As more candles are lit, so we can see each other anew. We can connect with what is burning inside our hearts and live from that truth more fully than before.

It is also important that you have total belief in yourself and that what you are doing will help you accomplish your goals. You will need to put in a lot of effort and spend plenty of time reflecting on yourself, your life, and the direction you are heading. However, by this point, you will have accepted that the only way to achieve anything of value is through hard work and dedication. Before you start working on a new project, make sure you are fully aware of what you want to achieve. Thinking about it is not enough—get a pen and notepad and write it down. If you are unsure of your aims, delay getting to work until you are sure because, if you don’t know where you are going, you will end up wasting a lot of time and energy. Also, when you fail to plan, failure is inevitable. You run the risk of developing a reputation as someone who is always starting new ventures and never completing them. You then get trapped in a vicious cycle that ultimately will erode your self-esteem and confidence. There is only one solution to this problem—choose your goals according to your abilities. Once you are confident that you can succeed, go for it. “Trying” is a recipe for disaster, whereas “doing,” is decisive and assertive.

As far as real life goes, however, serial homicide no longer commands the kind of attention it once did. In the fall of 2018, a seventy-eight-year-old convict named Samuel Little, serving three life sentences for the murders of three Los Angeles women in the 1980s, admitted to police that he had committed more than ninety murders over a five-decade span, picking up “vulnerable women from bars, nightclubs and along streets and strangl[ing] them to death in the back seat of his car.”7 The claim—which authorities believed to be true—would make him the most prolific serial sex-killer in the annals of US crime. Though Little’s shocking revelation was certainly noted in the national press, it disappeared from the news within days and, from all available evidence, barely made a dent in public awareness—a radical difference from the days when, for example, the confessions of Henry Lee Lucas rocketed him to instant (and lasting) nationwide notoriety.

I want to tell him I didn’t need inspirational sayings. I preferred to get my self-awareness advice from the same place as everyone else—social media memes.

Maybe we do live in a bubble, thinking things will always be okay, when really we’re always on the brink of disaster. Most of us can’t live our daily lives with that awareness, so we create a little illusion and live inside it.

Maybe you’ve never told a dark lie. So, just to make sure you feel included, let me swing the pendulum all the way over to little white ones. In Chapter 5 I mentioned that audiences predictably lie to reassure me they’re comfortable in uncomfortable chairs. Most of us engage in a lot of such unconscious self-deception. We use it to ignore anything from slight discomforts to flat-out torture. For example, if we’re raised hearing our drunken parents smash furniture, if we’re sexually or physically abused, or if we get stuck in disasters like war or wildfire, our conscious awareness of the unbearable events can get fuzzy, even disappear. We may repress conscious knowledge of the trauma, or drastically minimize it to make it less painful. These responses are automatic, often involuntary. But they can cause us to suffer as much as deliberate deception. Going blind and deaf to our own pain means we don’t realize that we must leave dangerous situations or people. It puts us, or keeps us, directly in harm’s way. We endure one horrible experience after another. Is this fair? No. Fairness doesn’t enter into it. Any lie, even an unconscious one, splits us from integrity. Remember the reason planes crash. Not God’s punishment. Just physics.

My Book event was kindly arranged by Brendon books of Bath Place, Taunton on 14th March 2024 I concluded my talk with a verse :- The tropical island of Sri-Lanka was surrounded by a flood Which swept a train right off its rails and buried it in mud We had always loved the place and made there many friends So I went on a kind of pilgrimage to help them make amends I took with me my Brother's french Wife and Arthur's Brother Fred I wanted to help not just myself but friends in need instead Asked Arthur C. who I should help, aware there'd be corruption There are always unscrupulous people in disasters and disruption He put us on to Valerie, Wife of Hector Arthur's SCUBA diver We thus found someone trustworthy instead of some conniver She introduced us to Stefan Birckmann a German fellow there Who was working hard to help children and others in despair In Hospitals and Orphanages, German Stefan staged events Of traditional Puppets he'd revived in villages of tents The puppets were a psychological boost were so short of resource So I donated a thousand dollars to keep them on their course The Unicef stepped-in to keep them entertaining I found helping so rewarding and then came home to find it raining So spare a thought for others when they're in their hour of need Stop thinking of only yourself and banish selfishness and greed.

Being aware about life is knowing that every day is a disaster for some and a blessing for others. So if we begin to practice suffering with others then we will be suffering every day.

From then on, that Sunday was like a veil that came between me and everything I did. I would play, I would read, I would behave normally but somehow I wasn't there. Everything had become artificial. I had trouble learning my lessons, when before I only needed to read them once to know them by heart. Acutely aware of everything around me and yet unable to concentrate., I lost my insouciance and natural ability to learn. (...) I waited for the scene to be repeated. I was positive it would happen again. I found the presence of customers comforting, dreading the moments when my parents and I were alone, in the evenings and on Sunday afternoons. I was on the alert as soon as they raised their voices; I would scrutinize my father, his expression, his hands. In every sudden silence I would read the omens of disaster. Every day at school I wondered whether, on returning home, I would be faced with the aftermath of a tragedy.

In every person's life there comes a moment; an opportunity for redemption, a chance at genuine personal growth, to become a better human being. Sometimes this moment is preceded by a jolt of clarity or some startling occurrence or disaster; it often involves an unflinching, hard look at oneself and one's actions, an enormous, and likely painful, gulp of pride, and a Herculean effort at apology.

Young, they will live forever. They tremble with this new awareness, the connections they’re forming with the world around them; their classmates vibrate with an energy that’s so new and exciting that no one notices they’re tripping over power lines, one rogue spark away from disaster.

She was painfully aware of the contraction her life had undergone over the last four years. Her lack of a social life or any serious professional circle. Her strict avoidance of anything that might lead to romantic involvement. It made for a narrow existence, a blur of sameness with little to distinguish one day from the next. On the other hand, there were no disasters, which made the sameness worth it. Most of the time.

It is women's fatal susceptibility to passionate touch that hypnotises them into by far the greater number of their disasters; for under this touch-hypnosis the present transforms itself into the eternal, and their grand sex-defence, their consciousness of continuity, their awareness of the future as an integral portion of the present, is shattered and broken up.

she was acutely aware of her pulse in her throat, the faint rushing in her ears. A big man. A strong man. The wrong man. If ever she felt an elemental attraction, it had to be a sign of impending disaster.

knew how much I didn’t like swapping. I was always worried we’d be caught out. The last time almost ended in disaster, and the memory of that day caused my pulse to spike even more. Did Ronnie and Holly suspect that we’d swapped? They were aware of Ali’s birthmark which was the only way to tell us apart. Perhaps Ronnie would try to sneak a peek at my shoulder before rehearsals

A magnitude 9.2 earthquake,” he said. “When something that powerful occurs, the Earth moves on its axis. So many people, all over Tohoku, were looking up at the sky on that night, filled with intense feelings. And looking at the stars, I became aware of the universe, the infinite space all around and above us. I felt as if I was looking into the universe, and I was conscious of the earthquake as something that had taken place within that vast expanse of empty space. And I began to understand that this was all part of a whole. Something enormous had happened. But whatever it was, it was entirely natural; it had happened as one of the mechanisms of the universe. “It’s engraved in my mind: the pitiless snow, and the beautiful shining, starry sky, and all those countless dead bodies drifting onto the beach. Perhaps this sounds pretentious, but I realized that when I began my work, giving support to people whose lives had been destroyed, I had to attend to the hearts of human beings and their suffering and anguish. But I also

Enriched uranium dissolved in water or an organic solvent will become an active nuclear reactor, increasing in power, if a specific “critical mass” is accumulated. The hydrogen in the water or the solvent acts as a moderator, slowing the fission neutrons to an advantageous speed, and even a fairly low U-235 enrichment level, like 3%, will overcome neutron losses by non-productive absorption in the moderator. This has been realized since the earliest days of reactor engineering, and those who work with uranium solutions are quite aware of the possibility.

All businesses are loosely functioning disasters, and some are profitable despite it. At 30,000 feet, the world is beautiful and orderly. On the ground, it’s chaotic and confusing. Nothing ever goes to plan. Surprises lurk around every corner. Things are constantly breaking. Someone is always upset. Mistakes are made daily. Expecting anything less is being out of touch with reality. And remember, just because you’re now aware of it doesn’t change reality. It was that way before, you just didn’t realize it.

I felt like I'd just asked a child what he wanted to be when he grew up. And a child had answered me, honestly, with no adult filter telling him what was and wasn't possible. "Your own planet," I said. I wanted to laugh but couldn't. In fact, I had goose bumps. This man sitting in front of me had no detectable talent, did everything wrong, wasn't comfortable saying how old he was or where he was from, and seemed to take an hour to learn what most people picked up in five seconds. Still, for that moment I believed him. I believed he could have his own planet. "Yeah," he said, looking up. "I see this big thing and big light and big events with stores and hotel and movie. All these things all together. It will be spectacular." He reached for his glass of hot water but hesitated before lifting it to his mouth. Tommy peered at me from beneath his large protruding brow. "And you can live in my planet, if you decide. Maybe I let you stay for little while." What did I think of living on Tommy's planet? I wasn't sure. What I was sure of was that Tommy had something I'd never seen in anyone else: a blind and unhinged and totally unfounded ambition. He was so out of touch, so lacking self-awareness, yet also weirdly captivating. That night there was this aura around Tommy—an aura of the possible. Stick with him, I thought, and something would happen, even if I had no idea what that something might be. Maybe that was it: Tommy made me listen to the right voices in my head. This big, childish vision of his—what was it if not every actor's secret dream?

I am aware that I’m an imperfect messenger on climate change. The world is not exactly lacking in rich men with big ideas about what other people should do, or who think technology can fix any problem. And I own big houses and fly in private planes—in fact, I took one to Paris for the climate conference—so who am I to lecture anyone on the environment? I plead guilty to all three charges. I can’t deny being a rich guy with an opinion. I do believe, though, that it is an informed opinion, and I am always trying to learn more.

16.​Hochschild presents Mike and Donny’s argument about the I-10 bridge as dialogue—how does this capture the Great Paradox? If you could enter the conversation, what would you say to Mike and/or Donny? (p. 185) 17.​What role does memory play in Hochschild’s story of the people she meets with regard to the environmental disasters, the development of industry, and the way things used to be? Looking at Hochschild’s visit with Mayor Hardey, how do industry and local government allow the potential disaster and pollution to re-occur in the name of business? What is it about the residents’ deep story that allows them to be susceptible to “structural amnesia”? (pp. 51, 90, 198) 18.​How does Hochschild explain Tea Party members’ identification with Trump and the 1 percent? After reading Strangers in Their Own Land, are there ideas or stories that you can draw from the book that help you understand Trump’s victory? (p. 217) 19.​What does Hochschild mean by the “Northern strategy”—and how does it fit into the historical narrative she provides? She suggests that the Southern legacy of secession has been applied to social class: it’s not that the South is seceding from the North but that the rich are seceding from the poor. What do you make of this point? (p. 220) 20.​By the end of the book, Hochschild expresses admiration for her new Tea Party friends, mentioning their capacity for loyalty, sacrifice, and endurance. Are there other notable traits you became aware of while reading the book? (p. 234) 21.​Many of the people Hochschild meets are worried about jobs and blame government regulations for getting in the way of jobs. Yet the petrochemical companies in Louisiana are for the most part owned by foreign companies, so the money leaves the state and the jobs are often held by temporary workers from the Philippines or Mexico. How do you explain this disconnect? 22.​Did the book make you feel hopeful about climbing the empathy wall and the possibility of bridging the political divide with people in your own community?

Since the launch of the First Five-Year Plan in 1928, tens of thousands of their comrades in the urban centers had been working tirelessly to build power stations, steel mills, and manufacturing plants for heavy machinery. As this historic effort unfolded, it would be essential for the country’s grain-producing regions to do their part—by meeting the increased demand for bread in the cities with leaps in agricultural production. But to pave the way for this ambitious effort, it was deemed necessary to exile a million kulaks—those profiteers and enemies of the common good, who also happened to be the regions’ most capable farmers. The remaining peasants, who viewed newly introduced approaches to agriculture with resentment and suspicion, proved antagonistic to even the smallest efforts at innovation. Tractors, which were meant to usher in the new era by the fleet, ended up being in short supply. These challenges were compounded by uncooperative weather resulting in a collapse of agricultural output. But given the imperative of feeding the cities, the precipitous decline in the harvest was met with increased quotas and requisitions enforced at gunpoint. In 1932, the combination of these intractable forces would result in widespread hardship for the agricultural provinces of old Russia, and death by starvation for millions of peasants in Ukraine. (While many of the young loyalists (like Nina) who joined the udarniks in the countryside would have their faith in the Party tested by what they witnessed, most of Russia, and for that matter the world, would be spared the spectacle of this man-made disaster. For just as peasants from the countryside were forbidden to enter the cities, journalists from the cities were forbidden to enter the countryside; delivery of personal mail was suspended; and the windows of passenger trains were blackened. In fact, so successful was the campaign to contain awareness of the crisis, when word leaked out that millions were starving in Ukraine, Walter Duranty, the lead correspondent for The New York Times in Russia (and one of the ringleaders in the Shalyapin Bar), would report that these rumors of famine were grossly exaggerated and had probably originated with anti-Soviet propagandists. Thus, the world would shrug. And even as the crime unfolded, Duranty would win the Pulitzer Prize.)

We open the successive doors in Bluebeard's castle because each leads to the next by a logic of intensification which is that of the mind's own awareness of being. To leave one door closed would be not only cowardice but a betrayal - radical, self-mutilating-of the inquisitive, probing, forward-tensed stance of our species. We are hunters after reality, wherever it may lead. The risk the disasters incurred are flagrant. But so is, or has been until very recently, the axiomatic assumption and a priori of our civilization, which holds that man and truth are companions, that their roads lie forward are dialectically cognate....We cannot turn back. We cannot choose the dreams of unknowing. We shall, I expect, open the last door in the castle even if it leads, perhaps because it leads, onto realities which are beyond the reach of human comprehension and control. We shall do so with that desolate clairvoyance, so marvelously rendered in Bartók s music, because opening doors is the tragic merit of our identity.

Illness is not the problem. You are the problem — as long as the egoic mind is in control. When you are ill or disabled, do not feel that you have failed in some way, do not feel guilty. Do not blame life for treating you unfairly, but do not blame yourself either. All that is resistance. If you have a major illness, use it for enlightenment. Anything “bad” that happens in your life — use it for enlightenment. Withdraw time from the illness. Do not give it any past or future. Let it force you into intense present-moment awareness — and see what happens. Become an alchemist. Transmute base metal into gold, suffering into consciousness, disaster into enlightenment.

Remember us. Recognize us. It's one community's simple insistence that it mattered, made urgent by a suspicion that, ultimately, it might not matter. In other words, the overwhelming disaster everyone in Our Town is confronting is irrelevance: a creeping awareness that no matter how secure and central each of us feels within the stories of our own lives, we are, in reality, just specks of things, at the mercy of larger forces that can blot us out indifferently or by chance.

There is a fine line between sinful anxiety and planning for the future. We can and should prepare for the future; we just can’t sin as we do so. To be sure, there is much that can cause anxiety these days, but Christians are called to fear not (Luke 12:23). z We are commanded to not be anxious about the future (John 14:1). z We are called to have our emotions under control (Galatians 5:22–23). z We are warned that anxiety about the future is an insult to God (Matthew 5:25–39). While we might be comforted by the fact that every human being on earth has committed the sin of anxiety, that does not let us off the hook. We are accountable for our emotions. Fear of the future is common, but it is not acceptable. That is why you must be aware of which feeling you are actually having. If you are sad because of sin, death, or disaster, that is fine. If you are sad because you are worried about tomorrow, that is not fine.

Which zero-carbon options should we be deploying now? Answer: the ones with a low Green Premium, or no premium at all. If we’re not deploying these solutions already, it’s a sign that cost isn’t the barrier. Something else—like outdated public policies or lack of awareness—is stopping us from getting them out there in a big way.