Dose Of Reality Quotes

Look at him now, poor fellow. That's what a dose of reality does for you...Never touch the stuff myself, you understand. Find it gets in the way of the hallucinations.

In fact, he's never taken an interest in a woman before. I was beginning to to suspect he might prefer one of his male sneaks, but now..." She paused dramatically. "Now, we have the lovely, intelligent Yelena to get Valek's cold heart pumping." "You really should get out of your sewing room more. You need fresh air and a dose of reality," I said knowing better than to believe a word Dilana said, but unable to control the silly little grin on my face. Her sweet, melodious laughter followed me into the hallway. "You know I'm right, " she called.

I had lines inside me, a string of guiding lights. I had language. Fiction and poetry are doses, medicines. What they heal is the rupture reality makes on the imagination. I had been damaged, and a very important part of me had been destroyed - that was my reality, the facts of my life. But on the other side of the facts was who I could be, how I could feel. And as long as I had words for that, images for that, stories for that, then I wasn't lost.

You survived by seizing every tiny drop of love you could find anywhere, and milking it, relishing it, for all it was worth. And as you grew up, you sought love, anywhere you could find it, whether it was a teacher or a coach or a friend or a friend's parents. You sought those tiny droplets of love, basking in them when you found them. They sustained you. For all these years, you've lived under the illusion that somehow, you made it because you were tough enough to overpower the abuse, the hatred, the hard knocks of life. But really you made it because love is so powerful that tiny little doses of it are enough to overcome the pain of the worst things life can dish out. Toughness was a faulty coping mechanism you devised to get by. But, in reality, it has been your ability to never give up, to keep seeking love, and your resourcefulness to make that love last long enough to sustain you. That is what has gotten you by.

Reality in strong doses frightens.

At Garvin High we were dealt a hard dose of reality this year. People hate. That's our reality. People hate and are hated and carry grudges and want punishments ... I don't know if it's possible to take hate away from people. Not even people like us, who've seen firsthand what hate can do. We're all hurting. We're all going to be hurting for a long time. And we, probably more than anyone else out there, will be searching for a new reality every day. A better one ... But in order to change reality you have to be willing to listen and to learn. And to hear. To actually hear.

this is what’s so dangerous about a society that coddles itself more and more from the inevitable discomforts of life: we lose the benefits of experiencing healthy doses of pain, a loss that disconnects us from the reality of the world around us.

[Fiction and poetry] are medicines, they're doses, and they heal the rupture that reality makes on the imagination.

Fiction and poetry are doses, medicines. What they heal is the rupture reality makes on the imagination.

I made some studies, and reality is the leading cause of stress amongst those in touch with it. I can take it in small doses, but as a lifestyle, I found it too confining. It was just too needful; it expected me to be there for it all the time, and with all I have to do--I had to let something go.

For all these years, you’ve lived under the illusion that, somehow, you made it because you were tough enough to overpower the abuse, the hatred, the hard knocks of life. But really you made it because love is so powerful that tiny little doses of it are enough to overcome the pain of the worst things life can dish out. Toughness was a faulty coping mechanism you devised to get by. But, in reality, it has been your ability to never give up, to keep seeking love, and your resourcefulness to make that love last long enough to sustain you. That’s what has gotten you by

That wasn’t fair Sally.” “Why not? Do you think you can stay self-righteous forever. You needed a little dose of reality.” “Reality usually doesn’t include aggravated assault, breaking and entering—twice, and illegal surveillance Sally. You did that on purpose.

I can handle reality in small doses, but as a lifestyle, it's much too confining.

In regard to propaganda the early advocates of universal literacy and a free press envisaged only two possibilities: the propaganda might be true, or the propaganda might be false. They did not foresee what in fact has happened, above all in our Western capitalist democracies - the development of a vast mass communications industry, concerned in the main neither with the true nor the false, but with the unreal, the more or less totally irrelevant. In a word, they failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions. In the past most people never got a chance of fully satisfying this appetite. They might long for distractions, but the distractions were not provided. Christmas came but once a year, feasts were "solemn and rare," there were few readers and very little to read, and the nearest approach to a neighborhood movie theater was the parish church, where the performances though frequent, were somewhat monotonous. For conditions even remotely comparable to those now prevailing we must return to imperial Rome, where the populace was kept in good humor by frequent, gratuitous doses of many kinds of entertainment - from poetical dramas to gladiatorial fights, from recitations of Virgil to all-out boxing, from concerts to military reviews and public executions. But even in Rome there was nothing like the non-stop distractions now provided by newspapers and magazines, by radio, television and the cinema. In "Brave New World" non-stop distractions of the most fascinating nature are deliberately used as instruments of policy, for the purpose of preventing people from paying too much attention to the realities of the social and political situation. The other world of religion is different from the other world of entertainment; but they resemble one another in being most decidedly "not of this world." Both are distractions and, if lived in too continuously, both can become, in Marx's phrase "the opium of the people" and so a threat to freedom. Only the vigilant can maintain their liberties, and only those who are constantly and intelligently on the spot can hope to govern themselves effectively by democratic procedures. A society, most of whose members spend a great part of their time, not on the spot, not here and now and in their calculable future, but somewhere else, in the irrelevant other worlds of sport and soap opera, of mythology and metaphysical fantasy, will find it hard to resist the encroachments of those would manipulate and control it.

Some of the best experiences don’t end with a bang, but rather a dose of reality.

I stare at him. "Gee, don't feel like you have to sugarcoat it or anything." "Some people need a cold dose of reality to help them focus." "You could have just slapped me." "I considered it. But you hate clichés, and I hate being shot." "Good point. Plus, this is a hospital. Guns are kind of noisy." "Are they? I thought it was just a personal statement on your part, like women who wear too much makeup.

The other night we talked about literature's elimination of the unessential, so that we are given a concentrated "dose" of life. I said, almost indignantly, "That's the danger of it, it prepares you to live, but at the same time, it exposes you to disappointments because it gives a heightened concept of living, it leaves out the dull or stagnant moments. You, in your books, also have a heightened rhythm, and a sequence of events so packed with excitement that i expected all your life to be delirious, intoxicated." Literature is an exaggeration, a dramatization, and those who are nourished on it (as I was) are in great danger of trying to approximate an impossible rhythm. Trying to live up to dostoevskian scenes every day. And between writers there is a straining after extravagance. We incite each other to jazz-up our rhythm. It is amusing that, when Henry, Fred, and I talked together, we fell back into a deep naturalness. Perhaps none of us is a sensational character. Or perhaps we have no need of condiments. Henry is, in reality, mild not temperamental; gentle not eager for scenes. We may all write about sadism, masochism, the grand quignol, bubu de montparnasse (in which the highest proof of love is for a pimp to embrace his woman's syphilis as fervently as herself, a noblesse-oblige of the apache world), cocteau, drugs, insane asylums, house of the dead, because we love strong colors; and yet when we sit in the cafe de la place clichy, we talk about henry's last pages, and a chapter which was too long, and richard's madness. "One of his greatest worries," said Henry, "was to have introduced us. He thinks you are wonderful and that you may be in danger from the 'gangster author.

Realism; fatalism; phlegm. To live in the Fens is to receive strong doses of reality. The great flat monotony of reality; the wide empty space of reality. Melancholia and self-murder are not unknown in the Fens. Heavy drinking, madness and sudden acts of violence are not uncommon. How do you surmount reality, children? How do you acquire, in a flat country, the tonic of elevated feelings?

One lies to seek a bit of relief from a ponderous, suffocating reality, but the liar, like the drinker, gradually comes to need larger and larger doses. The lies become blacker and more complex, and they mesh and rub together until in the end they shine with the luster of truth.

In reality, for those who bother to look, history and experience teach that the biggest dose of skepticism should be reserved for the authorities that seek to influence us and the information they want us to receive.

It was a brutal dose of reality," Brystal said "I've always known the world hated people like us, but I never thought someone would actually want to hurt me. It all feels so personal now." "Everyone thinks they're immune to discrimination until it happens to them," Madame Weatherberry said. "It only takes one tragic event to change your perspective forever." Brystal nodded. "Last night, those men spoke to us like we were objects without feelings or souls. We pleaded for our lives and told them they were making a mistake, but they didn't even flinch. And although we did nothing wrong, they acted like we . . . like we . . . well, I don't know how to say it." "Like you deserved to be punished simply for existing," Madame Weatherberry said. "Exactly," Brystal said.

The medicine to fear, these days, is a dose of reality! Because these days the reality is far worse than the disembodiment of the ideal. People today are afraid of the disembodiment of the ideal, because they think the ideal is the reality. A rabbit that does not know it lives in the ground with snakes, is constantly afraid of the sea hawk possibly finding its way to land, to destroy the rabbit’s meadowy existence. In the meadow, living in fear of the sea hawk, not knowing the hole in the ground next to its burrow belongs to a snake. I show the rabbit where the snakes are, thus eliminating its hazardous fear. Misplaced fear is hazardous fear. Fear well placed is a skill for survival.

I'm the un-sugared plum fairy: champion of reality, dosing bad and good. Sometimes unsweetened means raw, but isn't it more truthful that way?

Orderliness needs to be mixed with a dose of reasonable disorder.

I do believe that love is based in large measure on its anticipation and on its recollection. It is the feeling that requires the largest dose of imagination, not only when one senses its presence, when one sees it coming, and not only when the person who has experienced and lost love feels a need to explain it to him or herself, but also while that love is evolving and is in full flow. Let us say it is a feeling which always demands an element of fiction beyond that afforded by reality. In other words, love always has an imaginary side to it, however tangible or real we believe it to be at any given moment. It is always about to be fulfilled, it is the realm of what might be. Or rather, of what might have been.

Look, I admire people who can spend all their time living smack in the middle of their problems and fears. But if I had that innate capability, I probably wouldn't have become a drunk. And in early sobriety I saw nothing wrong with taking my reality in small doses.

I'm leaning against the bookshelves when it occurs to me that one thing here is real-the books. I reach behind me and let my fingers trail over the rough leather of their antique spines, then pull one free. Nobody here reads them; the books are for decoration. Chosen for the richness of their leather bindings not for the contents of their pages. Nobody will miss one, and I need a dose of reality.

I think more people would stay active in church, if they didn't get so offended by the actions of members. Sometimes, you have to view places of worship as free mental health clinics, in order to deal with the piety or hypocrisy. Parishioners are a wounded souls in various stages of healing, who are being treated by angels, with credentials from the University of Hard Knocks. Some take their therapy seriously and try to practice what they learned. Yet, others down the sacrament like a healing dose of Prozac, with no other effort required. When you keep this in mind, you won't feel so annoyed by the personalities you encounter.

And this is what’s so dangerous about a society that coddles itself more and more from the inevitable discomforts of life: we lose the benefits of experiencing healthy doses of pain, a loss that disconnects us from the reality of the world around us. You

Mothers of normal children teach them about the realities of life by introducing them to frustration experiences in carefully measured doses that gradually dispel the notion that the fused “grandiose child-omnipotent mother” entity can go on forever. They deflate their children’s feelings of grandeur and bring them down to earth. The mother of the future narcissistic personality never dispels this notion. Thus, the fused, symbiotic relationship endures, and the child grows to adulthood perceiving himself just as omnipotent and grandiose as he was as a child.

If you shirk the responsibility of confronting the unexpected, even when it appears in manageable doses, reality itself will become unsustainably disorganized and chaotic. Then it will grow bigger and swallow all order, all sense, and all predictability. Ignored reality transforms itself (reverts back) into the great Goddess of Chaos, the great reptilian Monster of the Unknown—the great predatory beast against which mankind has struggled since the dawn of time. If the gap between pretence and reality goes unmentioned, it will widen, you will fall into it, and the consequences will not be good. Ignored reality manifests itself in an abyss of confusion and suffering.

Frustrations are an inevitable part of life, and learning to deal with them in manageable doses helps us to develop a solid sense of ourselves and of reality. Our parents teach us how to handle frustrations by setting reasonable degrees of restriction for us. The enables us to relinquish the magical expectation that every need or wish we have will always be met. When a child is faced with a disappointment and his parent tells him that "life is full of frustrations but we all have to learn to live with them," the parent is helping the child to learn to cope with reality.

Until 1957 the West German Ministry of the Interior banned any screenings of Wolfgang Staudte’s (East German) film of Heinrich Mann’s Der Untertan (‘Man of Straw’, 1951)—objecting to its suggestion that authoritarianism in Germany had deep historical roots. This might seem to confirm the view that post-war Germany was suffering from a massive dose of collective amnesia; but the reality was more complex. Germans did not so much forget as selectively remember. Throughout the fifties West German officialdom encouraged a comfortable view of the German past in which the Wehrmacht was heroic, while Nazis were in a minority and had been properly punished.

Based on these interviews, he compiled a list of ten dimensions of complexity-ten pairs of apparently antithetical characteristics that are often both present in the creative minds. The list includes: 1. Bursts of impulsiveness that punctuate periods of quiet and rest. 2. Being smart yet extremely naive. 3. Large amplitude swings between extreme responsibility and irresponsibility. 4. A rooted sense of reality together with a hefty dose of fantasy and imagination. 5. Alternating periods of introversion and extroversion. 6. Being simultaneously humble and proud. 7. Psychological androgyny-no clear adherence to gender role stereotyping. 8. Being rebellious and iconoclastic yet respectful to the domain of expertise and its history. 9. Being on one had passionate but on the other objective about one's own work. 10. Experiencing suffering and pain mingled with exhilaration and enjoyment.

A Conversation with the Author What was your inspiration for The 7½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle? Inspiration is a flash-of-lightning kind of word. What happens to me is more like sediment building. I love time travel, Agatha Christie, and the eighties classic Quantum Leap, and over time a book emerged from that beautiful quagmire. Truthfully, having the idea was the easy part, keeping track of all the moving parts was the difficulty. Which character was the most interesting to write, and in which host do you feel Aiden truly flourishes? Lord Cecil Ravencourt, by miles. He occupies the section of the book where the character has to grapple with the time travel elements, the body swapping elements, and the murder itself. I wanted my most intelligent character for that task, but I thought it would be great to hamper him in some way, as well. Interestingly, I wanted to make him really loathsome—which is why he’s a banker. And yet, for some reason, I ended up quite liking him, and feeding a few laudable qualities into his personality. I think Derby ended up getting a double dose of loathsome instead. Other than that, it’s just really nice seeing the evolution of his relationship with Cunningham. Is there a moral lesson to Aiden’s story or any conclusion you hope the reader walks away with as they turn the final page? Don’t be a dick! Kind, funny, intelligent, and generous people are behind every good thing that’s ever happened to me. Everybody else you just have to put up with. Like dandruff. Or sunburn. Don’t be sunburn, people. In one hundred years, do you believe there will be something similar to Blackheath, and would you support such a system? Yes, and not exactly. Our prison system is barbaric, but some people deserve it. That’s the tricky part of pinning your flag to the left or right of the moral spectrum. I think the current system is unsustainable, and I think personality adjustment and mental prisons are dangerous, achievable technology somebody will abuse. They could also solve a lot of problems. Would you trust your government with it? I suppose that’s the question. The book is so contained, and we don’t get to see the place that Aiden is escaping to! Did you map that out, and is there anything you can share about the society beyond Blackheath’s walls? It’s autocratic, technologically advanced, but they still haven’t overcome our human weaknesses. You can get everywhere in an hour, but television’s still overrun with reality shows, basically. Imagine the society that could create something as hateful as Annabelle Caulker.

This is precisely the test of true humility, that one no longer presumes to judge whether or not one is too miserable to be included in the call to sanctity but simply answers the merciful love of God by sinking down into adoration.” And this sinking down, this humility, leads to confidence. Hildebrand continues, “The question whether I feel worthy to be called is beside the point; that God has called is the one thing that matters.”15 Understanding that our emotions are not the measure of God’s call may go a long way to closing the confidence gap between men and women. In the May 2014 cover story of the Atlantic, journalists Katty Kay and Claire Shipman write about the sociological phenomenon in which men tend to overestimate their abilities while women tend to underestimate theirs, even when controlled evaluations show no difference in competence. Sociologists suggest many causes for the confidence gap—including even chemical differences—but the result of such a gap is that women’s self-doubt keeps them from acting, while men’s overconfidence leads them to act when they shouldn’t. Of course, this does not mean that all men have an inflated sense of their abilities or that some women couldn’t use a dose of humility. But the research does reveal how our emotions don’t always correspond with reality. And because they don’t, we can’t be led by them—especially when it comes to the Holy Spirit’s call on our life.

Marlboro Man paused, his eyes piercing through to my marrow. We’d started out watching the sunset over the ranch, sitting on the tailgate of his pickup, legs dangling playfully over the edge. By the time the sun had gone down, we were lying down, legs overlapping, as the sky turned blacker and blacker. And making out wildly. Making out, oh, so very wildly. I didn’t want to wait for him to bring it up again--the dreaded subject of Chicago. I’d avoided it like the plague for the past several days, not wanting to face the reality of my impending move, of walking away from my new love so soon after we’d found each other. But now the subject wasn’t so scary; it was safe. I’d made the decision, at least for now, to stay--I just had to tell Marlboro Man. And finally, in between kisses, the words bubbled suddenly and boldly to the surface; I could no longer contain them. But before I had a chance to say them, Marlboro Man opened his mouth and began to speak. “Oh no,” he said, a pained expression on his face. “Don’t tell me--you’re leaving tomorrow.” He ran his fingers through my hair and touched his forehead to mine. I smiled, giggling inside at the secret I was seconds away from spilling. A herd of cows mooed in the distance. Serenading us. “Um…no,” I said, finding it hard to believe what I was about to tell him. “I’m not…I’m…I’m not going.” He paused, then pulled his face away from mine, allowing just enough distance between us for him to pull focus. “What?” he asked, is strong fingers still grasping my hair. A tentative smile appeared on his face. I breathed in a deep dose of night air, trying to calm my schoolgirl nervousness. “I, umm…” I began. “I decided to stick around here a little while.” There. I’d said it. This was all officially real. Without a moment of hesitation, Marlboro Man wrapped his ample arms around my waist. Then, in what seemed to be less than a second, he hoisted me from my horizontal position on the bed of his pickup until we were both standing in front of each other. Scooping me off my feet, he raised me up to his height so his icy blue eyes were level with mine. “Wait…are you serious?” he asked, taking my face in his hands. Squaring it in front of his. Looking me in the eye. “You’re not going?” “Nope,” I answered. “Whoa,” he said, smiling and moving in for a long, impassioned kiss on the back of his Ford F250. “I can’t believe it,” he continued, squeezing me tightly.

I know you can't see it now, but this is a good thing, man,” I say. “You have your freedom back. You're young, good looking, have a great job – just think about how much pussy you're going to get.” “I don't want pussy,” he moans. “I want Stephanie back.” I groan inwardly. Stephanie is a terrible human being. I haven't liked her since they first started dating back when we were all going to Stanford together. She was always too pretentious and condescending for my liking. Always looked down on people and seemed to think that she was better than everyone else. No, Stephanie and I never got on well at all. I know that it’s always bugged Trey, but some people just don't click. I never went out of my way to be an asshole to her – at least, not usually. But, I was never overly-friendly to her either. I have a hard time making nice with somebody I despise. Truthfully, I want to do fucking cartwheels and throw a party now that she's out of Trey's life. I genuinely think he'll be better off without her. And that he'll find a much better woman. I pour out another shot – a smaller amount this time – and Trey pounds it down, slamming his shot glass onto the bar again. “I really thought she was the one, man,” he says, sniffing loudly. “Yeah, well, I don't want to be an asshole,” I say, “but you usually aren't going to find the ‘one’ down on her knees sucking some other guy off in your house.” I feel bad for slapping Trey with such a hard dose of reality, but he needs it. Stephanie is about as close to the one for him as I am. I tried telling him that back in college. I've always suspected she had a side piece, but I couldn't ever prove it. And mentioning it to Trey was as useful as talking to a brick wall about it. All he ever saw in Stephanie was the good. Or at least, what he perceived to be good. But really, there is

In reality we rarely have the problem of being naively contented with our lives, or with the world in general. On the contrary, we are remorselessly confronted by our own failings and by the radical imperfections of society. Rather than needing a stern dose of disenchantment, we’re more likely to require art-tools that can feed and sustain our beleaguered optimism.

First grade teacher Emily Towson always does the right thing. But in her dreams, she does bad, bad things with the town’s baddest boy: Tanner O’Connor. But when he sells her grandmother a Harley, fantasy is about to meet a dose of reality. Tanner spent two hard years in prison, with only the thought of this “good girl”to keep him sane. Before either one thinks though, they’re naked and making memories on his tool bench. Now Tanner’s managed to knock- up the town’s “good girl”and she’s going to lose her job over some stupid “morality clause”if he doesn’t step up.

For those who seek allegory, it must be maddening. (It must be allegory! Of course Frodo is Christ! - or is Gollum Christ?) for those whose grasp on reality is so tenuous that they crave ever-increasing doses of "realism" in their reading, it offers nothing - unless, perhaps, a shortcut to the looney bin.

In reality, the crack addict smokes crack not for the benefits of the drug, but to relieve the withdrawal the previous dose created.

A classic example in the nutritional realm is the age-related difference in muscle protein synthesis (MPS) in response to protein feeding. Subjects in their seventies require nearly double the protein dose in a single meal to maximally stimulate MPS compared to subjects in their twenties.40

high dose of philosophy and low dose of reality, and he told me it seemed all of Ben’s ideas were straight out of the Ishmael books.

Value #1: Reality Huh? Isn’t every business based on reality? In fact, isn’t everything based on reality? Actually, no. Lehman Brothers, Bear Stearns, AIG (American International Group), IndyMac, Washington Mutual, Countrywide, and all the other banks that blew themselves to smithereens in 2008 weren’t basing their businesses on reality. They were basing their businesses on sheer fantasy, wish, and whim—and an unhealthy dose of greed, the most unrealistic thing of all. They believed the housing market would always go up. Credit markets would never be illiquid. People with no jobs could pay back their mortgages.

Spread a mindset, not just a footprint. Running up the numbers and putting your logo on as many people and places as possible isn’t enough. 2. Engage all the senses. Bolster the mindset you want to spread with supportive sights, sounds, smells, and other subtle cues that people may barely notice, if at all. 3. Link short-term realities to long-term dreams. Hound yourself and others with questions about what it takes to link the never-ending now to the sweet dreams you hope to realize later. 4. Accelerate accountability. Build in the feeling that “I own the place and the place owns me.” 5. Fear the clusterfug. The terrible trio of illusion, impatience, and incompetence are ever-present risks. Healthy doses of worry and self-doubt are antidotes to these three hallmarks of scaling clusterfugs. 6. Scaling requires both addition and subtraction. The problem of more is also a problem of less. 7. Slow down to scale faster—and better—down the road. Learn when and how to shift ears from automatic, mindless, and fast modes of thinking (“System 1”) to slow, taxing, logical, deliberative, and conscious modes (“System 2”); sometimes the best advice is, “Don’t just do something, stand there.

He thought he had the best father in the world, but in reality, Rob had never bought his son anything. He was too lazy to work like a real man and take care of his family.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (NIV) What does Scripture mean when it tells us to fix our eyes on what we can’t even see? How do we begin to do that? Even though as Christians we affirm the reality of the spiritual realm, sometimes we succumb to naturalistic assumptions that what we see is real and what we don’t see isn’t. Many people conclude that God can’t be real, because we can’t see Him. And Heaven can’t be real, because we can’t see it. But we must recognize our blindness. The blind must take by faith that there are stars in the sky. If they depend on their ability to see, they will conclude there are no stars. Sitting here in what C. S. Lewis called the Shadowlands, we must remind ourselves what Scripture tells us about Heaven. We will one day be delivered from the blindness that obscures the light of God’s world. For many people—including many believers—Heaven is a mysterious word describing a place that we can’t understand and therefore don’t look forward to. But Scripture tells us differently. What we otherwise could not have known about Heaven, God says He has revealed to us through His Spirit (1 Corinthians 2:10). God tells us about our eternal home in His Word, not so we can shrug our shoulders and remain ignorant, but because He wants us to anticipate what awaits us and those we love, and because it has the power to transform the way we live today. Life on earth matters not because it’s the only life we have, but precisely because it isn’t—it’s the beginning of a life that will continue without end. It’s the precursor of life on the New Earth. Eternal life doesn’t begin when we die; it has already begun. With eternity in view, nearly any honest activity—whether building a shed, driving a bus, pruning trees, changing diapers or caring for a patient—can be an investment in God’s kingdom. God is eternal. His Place is eternal. His Word is eternal. His people are eternal. Center your life around God, His Place, His Word, and His people, and reach out to those eternal souls who desperately long for His person and His place. Then no matter what you do for a living, your days here will make a profound difference for eternity—and you will be fulfilling the biblical admonition to fix your eyes on what is unseen.     This book includes 60 daily devotionals on a variety of topics related to living each day purposefully with an eternal perspective. (My thanks to Stephanie Anderson for compiling things I’ve written and quotations I’ve collected.) I hope they will encourage you to live with eternity in mind as you follow Jesus with all your heart.   —Randy Alcorn

More than twenty-years-ago I had a dream that opened my eyes to a new reality. I was recovering from surgery which removed five uterine fibroid tumors. Excruciating pain and limited mobility kept me in bed with recurring thoughts about how I had lived my life up to this point. I dosed off to sleep, and found myself in a beautiful garden, having a conversation with an invisible caretaker. It became clear to me that the voice which spoke poetically but emphatically about the healing plants, herbs and trees in the garden was the voice of The Creator.

Up close, aggressive measures are required to be impervious to suffering; you have to convince yourself that people deserve what they’re getting, that their suffering has nothing to do with you. Our capacity for empathy is why the reality of war is usually kept from us or delivered in measured, manipulative doses—our wounded, perhaps, but not theirs, or those of our wounded who make for uplifting stories, but not those who are severely mutilated. And we face choices about how we live, because we are implicated.

You sound like you're mentally deficient. And possibly Chinese.

Reading good literature is not so different then taking good drugs, do it enough and it will certainly alter your mind. The drugs can have positive yet often negative affects as well, however literature will always have positive affects. Certainly no one has ever over dosed from reading too much, as far as I know. The best literature should bend your reality until you can tie it in a knot. -Andrew Pritchard

MA: Yep, you are going to sign up for some reality show now. TR: [Laughs.] I actually have an idea for a reality show that I want to pitch next time I’m out in L.A. It’s called “Fungi for the Straight Guy.” MA: Tell me. TR: Each week, we would take a middle-aged man, a corporate worker from suburbia, and give him a heroic dose of psychedelic mushrooms and then follow him around with a camera for 12 hours to see what he does.

A library is a place to go for a reality check, a bracing dose of literature, or a "true reflection of our history," whether it's a brick-and-mortar building constructed a century ago or a fanciful arrangement of computer codes. The librarian is the organizer, the animating spirit behind it, and the navigator. Her job is to create order out of the confusion of the past, even as she enables us to blast into the future.

Unbeknownst to me, from the beginning of freshman year Rob and Oswaldo had been drawn away from Yale via their friends on the dining hall and custodial staffs, outward into the city of New Haven. Rob considered these excursions a much-needed dose of reality, the social equivalent of an antidepressant.

Policy makers respond to economic distress by pursuing polices designed to improve the data. After a while, the data themselves may come to reflect not fundamental economic reality but a cosmetically induced policy result. If these data then guide the next dose of policy, the central banker has entered a wilderness of mirrors in which false signals induce policy, which induces more false signals and more policy manipulation and so on, in a feedback loop that diverges further from reality until it crashes against a steel wall of data that cannot easily be manipulated, such as real income and output.

I would take them a few times, feel my emotions and sense of reality fuzz, and look at my mother who had been doped up on them since we moved to Chattanooga. I would see her blank, hazel eyes, and her bright, but empty, smile with chronic, artificial, exaggerated cheer, and become scared. I often wondered if she was buried under layers upon layers of southern sugar. I would make bitchy, inappropriate statements and look for her. I would say something, anything to shake her and look into her eyes for something real. I saw it when she was upset or afraid. I saw it when she’d spot me exiting my bathroom, hair tied back, knowing what I’d done. I saw it when she found out I was raped. I saw it when I told her about the drugs I used. I saw flickers of a real person, but she quickly disappeared within herself once she gathered composure. I decided not to be like her. Even if it meant embracing my demons, I wanted to be real. After a couple doses, I would toss the meds in the garbage.

She's been a vegetarian since she was 12. I don't really think that you can call that a phase anymore. Besides, there are a lot of vegetarians in Louisiana." "Really? Well that must mean that you're only hanging out with the white people. Black people aren't vegetarians. They know how to cook and they would bring her back to reality with some crawdads and some gumbo and a good dose of lard.

Truth be told, the reality show itself quickly degenerated into a televisual soap opera that was not that different than old variety shows made for large audiences. And its audience was amplified at the usual rate of competing media, which leads to the self- propagation of the show via a prophetic method: self-fulfilling prophecy. In the end, the ratings for the show play part of the spiral and return cycle of the advertising flame. But all of this is of little interest. It is only the original idea which has any value: submitting a group to a sensory deprivation experiment ( Which in other times was a form of calculated torture. But are we not in the middle of exploring all the historical forms of torture, served in homeopathic doses, under the guise of mass culture or avant-garde art? This is precisely one of the principle themes of contemporary art.), in order to record the behavior of human molecules within a vacuum - and no doubt with the design of watching them tear each other apart in the artificial promiscuity. We have not yet reached this point, but this existential micro-situation functions as a universal metaphor for the modern being, holed up in his personal loft, which is no longer his physical or mental universe. It is his digital and tactile universe, of Turing’s “spectral body”, of the digital man, captured within the labyrinth of the networks, of man turned into his own (white) mouse.

Acting as neurotransmitters in the brain, neuropeptides perform many interesting known functions (and probably many not yet known . . . ). Most significantly, they allow the opening and perhaps the imprinting of new neural pathways and "networks" and/or "reflexes." This means that a heavy dose of new neuropeptides in your brain, just like a dose of LSD or some other psychedelic, will cause you to perceive and "think" (organize and interpret perceptions) in new and original ways — to drop your familiar gloss and "see" through other glosses . . . to leave your rigid reality-tunnel and enter a multi-choice reality-labyrinth . . . to transcend modeltheism (dogma) and spontaneously feel-think in the manner of the "model agnosticism" of post-Copenhagen physics .

One detects some conflict between Castaneda’s scientific restraint and the intensity of his experiences of that “separate reality” – his own backdoor to Eden, as it were. The same conflict, magnified, was evident in Dr. Timothy Leary who once resolved it by frankly junking science and setting up shop as a high priest of a new church, then decided religion was always bunk and returned to science. Traces of this, as we will see, appear in anyone who has had a strong dose of a mind-expanding chemical.

By refusing to reduce incest to merely a physical act imposed on a little girl by an adult male, Harrison reveals the necessity of the stable yet flexible, reality-dosed mirroring that Winnicott talks about; the gaze that enables a child to individuate, and experience a sense of self. She reveals the curtailing of the self that arises from the lack of good-enough parenting - parenting that Winnicott saw as both utterly ordinary and immeasurably skilled. Without it, enchanted in all the dark ways enchantment can take place, Harrison is compelled to be seen at any exorbitant, self-thwarting price.

I present you a single dose of space lobster bait. To be taken orally, and only if you're really, really sure you don't like the reality the rest of us are living in.

In my discipline, we affectionately refer to this sort of box (culture) as a zeitgeist, which literally translates to 'time ghost.' Unfortunately for any of you expecting spooky surprises, a zeitgeist doesn't refer to a literal ghost but is better understood as the 'spirit of the age,' although even this doesn't quite pin down its meaning. Think of any stereotype of any decade in the last century-from the Roaring Twenties, Flower Power of the sixties-any of these could certainly be said to illustrate the zeitgeist of that era. But zeitgeists can also be more specific than this, and its the SSDC that ends up developing a decent portion our zeitgeists, the sorts of zeitgeists that can be doubly hard to see outside of because they define more than just lifestyle practices. They define everything we think we know about our collective identities and our collective realities. Of relevance here is the zeitgeist of 'I know best about my body.' It's a lesson we teach people from almost before they can talk: 'You know your body,' 'Listen to your body,' and so forth. And while these are great truisms to teach our children about consent and empowerment as they grow older, they do come with blinders as they become our culture's zeitgeist. How can we really expect people to do a 180 on this logic all of a sudden in 2021?...It would be more productive of us to ask the broad cultural reasons that people resist such mandates, rather than scolding individuals for not conforming. Only then, I think, can we slowly begin to change our collective zeitgeists to those that encourage ownership and empowerment of our own bodies and also add in a healthy dose of 'Sometimes the body is silent' or 'Trust one's own body in collaboration with trusted experts' or something of the like. Ironically enough, the very denial of any shared realities that I mentioned in Lesson 20 is its own zeitgeist that has been gaining momentum for the last five years or so. I worry that this only allows the virus-or any other pathogen in our future-a foothold. Our divisions are their smorgasbord. How can we plan and strategize if we can't agree that we need to plan or strategize to begin with? This is one of the biggest hurdles we'll need to overcome to ensure humanity's long-term survival. It's possibly one of the most terrifying threats to humanity that I've seen in my lifetime-for if our only shared belief is that there is not shared beliefs, where do we go from there?

Nothing in the law or the ethical codes of the mental health professions prohibits clinician self-disclosure. It is an unspoken, informal convention that nonetheless functions with a lawlike force, restraining candid speech. The conventional wisdom used to be that in order for therapy to work, therapists needed to function as “blank slates” upon which patients could project their longings, needs, and fantasies without the interference of knowing their therapists’ actual biographies. But the blank slate is a myth: therapists can’t avoid disclosing aspects of their identities automatically, for no other reason than their existence is embodied in directly observable features like ethnicity or age. Yet the de facto prohibition against therapist self-disclosure persists, in large part I believe because of stigma, and perhaps an overidentification by therapists in a “helper” role and corresponding anxieties around any concessions to their own experiences of human vulnerability. I believe it’s time as a society that we move forward to a more honest and open dialogue about the reality of mental health. Removing stigma won’t eliminate mental illness, but it will make it easier to talk about it without adding an extra dose of shame to an already painful experience.

You have too big of a dick to feel this bad for yourself. Literally, everything is at the tips of your fingers. Try a little gratitude, Beau. It will change the way you see things. Plus, someone needs to give you a dose of reality. Might as well be your fiancée.

Banner, Kosabeus knew, wasn’t listening. Predictably, he was eyeballing various partygoers, offering them a wink or a smirk if he deemed them attractive enough. It was disgusting, Kosabeus thought, for Banner to still be so interested in these games. He was nearing sixty, for Mystis’s sake. And yet, there he was, still hitting up bars late at night, claiming he could bed anyone he wanted. His superiority complex was exacerbated by his position as Head of the Assembly. It was for the best Banner hadn’t attended the Batillus Academy, the premier school for War and Defense students; he would’ve emerged even haughtier than he was now. As it was, Banner went to the Ligva Academy, which stood out due to its emphasis on interdisciplinary learning. It was ironic, since Banner did nothing to demonstrate his interdisciplinary chops, instead heralding War and Defense as the greatest division. Kosabeus could only imagine the compliments his teachers and tutors had showered him with. Banner was the type of man who never heard no—not from his elders, his peers, or his conquests. Kosabeus was the only one in Banner’s inner circle who dared to temper his inflated sense of self-worth with a much-needed dose of reality.

On the face of it, it seems preposterous to think that walking doesn’t help with weight loss. Recall that energy balance is the difference between the calories one ingests and the calories one spends. You probably burn roughly 50 calories more by walking a two-thousand-step mile than driving the same distance. So trudging ten thousand additional steps a day (five miles) will expend a respectable extra 250 calories per day.30 To be sure, those ten thousand added steps might make you hungrier, but if you snack sensibly and consume 100 calories less than you walked off, those supplementary steps will eventually amount to a deficit of about 3,000 calories a month. That amount is just shy of 3,500 calories, the supposed number of calories in a pound of fat according to a much-cited, overly simplistic, and inaccurate 1958 study.31 Further, low- to moderate-intensity activities like walking burn relatively more fat than carbohydrates (hence the “fat-burning zones” on some exercise machines).32 As a result, lots of people try to trudge away extra pounds. Biological systems such as bodies are messy, and anyone who has struggled to lose weight knows that simple theories rarely apply to the convoluted realities of weight loss. What works for one person fails for another, and while many people successfully shed pounds when they start a new weight-loss plan, satisfaction often turns to frustration as the initial rate of weight loss diminishes and then reverses. Study after study has shown that overweight or obese people prescribed standard doses of exercise for a few months usually lose at most a few pounds. For example, one experiment with the clever acronym DREW (Dose Response to Exercise in Women) assigned 464 women to 0, 70, 140, and 210 minutes of slow walking a week (140 minutes is about five added miles). Apart from their prescribed exercise, the women took about five thousand additional steps per day as they went about their normal activities. After six months, those prescribed the standard 140 minutes a week lost only five pounds, while those assigned 210 minutes lost a paltry three pounds (more on this unexpected result below).33 Other controlled studies on overweight men and women report similarly modest losses.34

He did his best to temper his conscience with a healthy dose of reality by at least following along with current events. It had allowed him to develop, over time and with a lot of experience, a great sense of what really mattered, how to fight against those who wanted to take that away, and how to stay alive while doing it.

God created the world in six days and it is difficult for us to perceive the greatness of the primary information, unless we understand a work of inner transformation or the need for a more secure future for the next generation! The immediate answer is cold and false and it has a tinge of emotional therapy. Only the inner acceptance of reality has a dose of pure truth and can generate the echo of the self that may give us a middle way in our own vision of how to avoid the evil that extends and takes over the world! Is the deceptive tranquility of the silence that conquers us, a collective passivity that reigns over the weak, frightened and cowardly people, fueled by mediocrity and the vain hope into a better future. What happens now in this world is an ancient Greek tragedy, in which we like actors that can no longer tell the stage from reality. It is like in a therapy-drama, seen as a solution for those who had traumatic experiences in their life and cannot communicate through words. It is those who choose a non-verbal language and who saw their hands in desperation, as they can no longer articulate words. They communicate like primitive people after the discovery of fire. Others are playing their role in a theater of the absurd, like some amateur actors or as mimes in a stand-up comedy show where self-deprecation is adored. Depending on each one’s perception power, different ways of expression are chosen, perhaps more superficial and well-anchored in the context of the drama we are living to the full. It is a false sense of inner security, a mere relief valve for our emotional expression and a recipe for disaster! Why is it that nothing good and fair happens in this world anymore? Is the evil perpetuating itself in shapes and patterns we are no longer capable to distinguish from the good and the right? Why are we deceiving ourselves? “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” But who, how, why, for whom, by whom, what, and in particular when ? Lucian Ciuchita

Jim Trelease: Until the "Call of the Wild", I'd always been aware I was reading a book; that is, I'd yet to be "lost" in one. Jack London gave me my first dose of "virtual reality" decades before the phrase was coined. I went immediately to his "White Fang" and then Jack O'Brien's "Silver Chief" series. For years afterwards I believed the whole experience was peculiar to me. It wasn't until I was in my fifties and read an old essay by Clifton Fadiman that I discovered the experience wasn't peculiar at all, that nearly all lifetime readers experience it with a singular book at some point. Fadiman explained that such a book is like one's first big kiss or first home run - they're unforgettable, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to duplicate or surpass them. In recent years, when my friend Stephen Krashen, the reading researcher, explored Fadiman's theory, he found it to be firmly grounded: teenagers who were avid readers could almost always name their "home run" book while unenthusiastic or reluctant readers could not.

Is your heart weighed down with worry? Look for these signals:         •  Are you laughing less than you once did?         •  Do you see problems in every promise?         •  Would those who know you best describe you as increasingly negative and critical?         •  Do you assume that something bad is going to happen?         •  Do you dilute and downplay good news with doses of your version of reality?         •  Many days would you rather stay in bed than get up?         •  Do you magnify the negative and dismiss the positive?         •  Given the chance, would you avoid any interaction with humanity for the rest of your life? If you answered yes to most of these questions, I have a friend for you to meet. Actually, I have a scripture for you to read. I’ve read the words so often that we have become friends. I’d like to nominate this passage for the Scripture Hall of Fame. The museum wall that contains the framed words of the Twenty-third Psalm, the Lord’s Prayer, and John 3:16 should also display Philippians 4:4–8:

At that remark, Trump stopped talking altogether. In that brightly lit room, with its shiny gold curtains, a shadow seemed to cross his face. I could see something change in his eyes. A hardness, or darkness. In a blink, the eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. He looked like someone who wasn’t used to being challenged or corrected by those around him. He was the one who was supposed to be in complete control. With a small comment, I had just poured a cold dose of criticism and reality on his shameful moral equivalence between Putin’s thugs and the men and women of our government. And just as quickly as the glower crossed his face, it was gone. It was as if I had not spoken, and had never been born. The meeting was done.

SCALING MANTRAS 1. Spread a mindset, not just a footprint. Running up the numbers and putting your logo on as many people and places as possible isn’t enough. 2. Engage all the senses. Bolster the mindset you want to spread with supportive sights, sounds, smells, and other subtle cues that people may barely notice, if at all. 3. Link short-term realities to long-term dreams. Hound yourself and others with questions about what it takes to link the never-ending now to the sweet dreams you hope to realize later. 4. Accelerate accountability. Build in the feeling that “I own the place and the place owns me.” 5. Fear the clusterfug. The terrible trio of illusion, impatience, and incompetence are ever-present risks. Healthy doses of worry and self-doubt are antidotes to these three hallmarks of scaling clusterfugs. 6. Scaling requires both addition and subtraction. The problem of more is also a problem of less. 7. Slow down to scale faster—and better—down the road. Learn when and how to shift gears from automatic, mindless, and fast modes of thinking (“System 1”) to slow, taxing, logical, deliberative, and conscious modes (“System 2”); sometimes the best advice is, “Don’t just do something, stand there.

In reality everything is a little bit poisonous. It's the dose that matters, not the poison.

we lose the benefits of experiencing healthy doses of pain, a loss that disconnects us from the reality of the world around us.

10 minutes, dozens of “doses” of therapeutic repetition are possible. This reality suggests that progress will be quicker if parents, teachers, and therapists all work together to form a consistent therapeutic web supporting positive change.

And this is what’s so dangerous about a society that coddles itself more and more from the inevitable discomforts of life: we lose the benefits of experiencing healthy doses of pain, a loss that disconnects us from the reality of the world around us.

Across the face, mouth, etc... A cold, familiar dose of reality. I hate being a kid. Everything I do is wrong. I hate myself. I hate this life. I hate everything.

when the ACE study data started to appear on his computer screen, he realized that they had stumbled upon the gravest and most costly public health issue in the United States: child abuse. He had calculated that its overall costs exceeded those of cancer or heart disease and that eradicating child abuse in America would reduce the overall rate of depression by more than half, alcoholism by two-thirds, and suicide, IV drug use, and domestic violence by three-quarters.20 It would also have a dramatic effect on workplace performance and vastly decrease the need for incarceration. When the surgeon general’s report on smoking and health was published in 1964, it unleashed a decades-long legal and medical campaign that has changed daily life and long-term health prospects for millions. The number of American smokers fell from 42 percent of adults in 1965 to 19 percent in 2010, and it is estimated that nearly 800,000 deaths from lung cancer were prevented between 1975 and 2000.21 The ACE study, however, has had no such effect. Follow-up studies and papers are still appearing around the world, but the day-to-day reality of children like Marilyn and the children in outpatient clinics and residential treatment centers around the country remains virtually the same. Only now they receive high doses of psychotropic agents, which makes them more tractable but which also impairs their ability to feel pleasure and curiosity, to grow and develop emotionally and intellectually, and to become contributing members of society.

I used to believe in the idea that justice would prevail if you worked hard enough at it....I thought that if judges saw cheating right in front of them, they'd do something about it. The Woburn case gave me a depressing dose of reality.

1. For Strength Gain and Muscle Mass Detailed Dosage: Start with a loading phase of 20g per day, divided into 4 doses of 5g, for 5-7 days, followed by a maintenance phase of 5-10g daily. Specific Benefits: This approach aims to saturate the muscles with creatine, maximizing the muscle's capacity to regenerate ATP during intense exercises, resulting in greater strength and endurance during high-intensity training, and promoting greater muscle growth due to increased training capacity and potential hyperhydration of muscle cells.

happiness. Nor did she deserve it. If only she’d stayed home that weekend instead of racing to the mainland to prepare for an indefinite stay with the girls. The memory of that last day was all too clear to her now, very clear, having emerged in bits and pieces during her ten years in prison. If only she could turn back the hands of time. Chapter 1 October 2021 Tessa rolled over, facing the same wall she’d viewed for more than ten years. Thirty-seven cracks, 192 tiny holes punched in the shape of a small handgun, courtesy of the prison cell’s previous “guest.” She had often wondered what instrument had been used to make such tiny holes, as any objects that could remotely cause injuries were forbidden. Some days she spent hours thinking about it. It was usually at this point that her circumstances served up a harsh dose of reality. Tears pooled, and she wiped them away with the edge of the wool blanket that covered the thin, worn mattress. When her thoughts took her back to her previous

Francis was fully at home in this created world. He saw all things in the visible world as endless dynamic and operative symbols of the Real, a theater and training ground for a heaven that is already available to us in small doses in this life.

To better understand what is happening in a newly deceased person’s body, let’s go back to you, in the hospital, or wherever you had headed to death. No matter how it happens, your body—assuming it is still intact—is now in a desperate battle for life. Immediately, triggered by chemical signals released by the body, it enters a state of severe medical shock with unconsciousness—heralding entry into the proverbial ocean of death. This illustrates how the brain automatically attempts to optimize and derive the greatest meaning for the person. It switches from what can be called “life mode” to “death mode.” As this state of medical shock worsens and the person descends further into the ocean and the heart stops and the person dies, the total loss of blood pressure, down to zero, further activates tiny receptors, which in turn trigger the brain to release even higher—mega—doses of several potent and potentially lifesaving hormones into the bloodstream. The period immediately after death is when the highest levels of adrenaline (epinephrine) are released by the body: one thousand times more than the amounts normally found in the bloodstream. As well as adrenaline, the brain also spews out steroids and other potentially lifesaving hormones, including norepinephrine and vasopressin, which work synchronously to try to raise the blood pressure by tightening blood vessels, squeezing more blood toward the heart and brain. These potentially lifesaving responses start when the blood pressure drops with medical shock but become far more vigorous in death after the heart stops. Some of these hormones also act directly on the heart by trying to stimulate it to beat again. At the same time, after detecting low oxygen levels, the brain stimulates the lungs to initiate last gasp breaths. These are called agonal breaths and are an automatic reflexive response, seen in people as they die, that can help draw more oxygen into the body. But importantly, they create a vacuum in the chest that sucks blood away from the arms, legs, and abdomen and directly toward the heart and brain, where it is needed more. This is like an army calling up its reserves in the time of war. So, as mentioned, instead of an absolute loss of activity in a linear manner from 100 to zero across the whole brain in death, we see there is a dynamic process. There is dysfunction and loss of activity across much of the brain. This in turn facilitates activity in other normally dormant parts of the brain, which are better adapted to deal with the new reality of death. Even now, the brain strives to make meaning out of this situation and its efforts are focused on kick-starting the heart back to life through autoresuscitation.

The only contraindications to hormone therapy are undiagnosed postmenopausal bleeding, active liver disease, a personal history of breast cancer, or an estrogen-dependent cancer like endometrial or uterine cancer. If you’ve had a blood clot in your legs or lungs, have a genetic predisposition to blood-clotting, or have a history of heart attack or stroke, in most cases these can be contraindications; however, even these risks can be minimized with the type, dose, and mode of delivery. Not a family history of heart disease (if anything, that would be a reason to take HT, as it has been shown to reduce the risk of death from heart disease). Not a family history of breast cancer, which is a big one because I think if you had to ask, “What is the reason why most women do not want to take hormone therapy or fear it?” it is the fear of breast cancer. And women didn’t make that up. That came from the Women’s Health Initiative, which reported a slightly higher risk of breast cancer in women who took estrogen and progestin. In reality, the discussion about the association of breast cancer and menopausal hormone therapy is much more nuanced.