Introduce Yourself Love Quotes

People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master...

I’m not laughing.” I was actually crying. “And please don’t laugh at me now, but I think the reason it’s so hard for me to get over this guy is because I seriously believed David was my soul mate. ”He probably was. Your problem is you don’t understand what that word means. People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can’t let this one go. It’s over, Groceries. David’s purpose was to shake you up, drive you out of your marriage that you needed to leave, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master and beat it. That was his job, and he did great, but now it’s over. Problem is, you can’t accept that his relationship had a real short shelf life. You’re like a dog at the dump, baby – you’re just lickin’ at the empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it. And if you’re not careful, that can’s gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable. So drop it.“But I love him.” “So love him.” “But I miss him.” “So miss him. Send him some love and light every time you think about him, then drop it. You’re just afraid to let go of the last bits of David because then you’ll be really alone, and Liz Gilbert is scared to death of what will happen if she’s really alone. But here’s what you gotta understand, Groceries. If you clear out all that space in your mind that you’re using right now to obsess about this guy, you’ll have a vacuum there, an open spot – a doorway. And guess what the universe will do with the doorway? It will rush in – God will rush in – and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed. So stop using David to block that door. Let it go.

Other people are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects to you something you love or hate about yourself.

Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can't let this one go. It's over, Groceries. David's purpose was to shake you up, drive you out of that marriage that you needed to leave, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master and beat it. That was his job, and he did great, but now it's over. Problem is, you can't accept that this relationship had a real short shelf life. You're like a dog at the dump, baby - you're just lickin' at an empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it. And if you're not careful, that can's gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable. So drop it.

If she has given you children remind yourself every day of the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth words in this sentence. If you hurt her in ways that are irreparable I will send out people to hurt you back, sorry, but it has to be like that. Yes, you may have had a difficult childhood, but please allow me to introduce myself: Hello, I am the woman who doesn’t give a shit. Make her something warm to drink in the mornings and give her time to begin speaking; only rush at her with an embrace or a gemstone. Wildflowers. A love note. Yeats.

Once you are in a relationship you start taking each other for granted—that’s what destroys all love affairs. The woman thinks she knows the man, the man thinks he knows the woman. Nobody knows either! It is impossible to know the other, the other remains a mystery. And to take the other for granted is insulting, disrespectful. To think that you know your wife is very, very ungrateful. How can you know the woman? How can you know the man? They are processes, they are not things. The woman that you knew yesterday is not there today. So much water has gone down the Ganges; she is somebody else, totally different. Relate again, start again, don’t take it for granted. And the man that you slept with last night, look at his face again in the morning. He is no more the same person, so much has changed. So much, incalculably much has changed. That is the difference between a thing and a person. The furniture in the room is the same, but the man and the woman, they are no more the same. Explore again, start again. That’s what I mean by relating. Relating means you are always starting, you are continuously trying to become acquainted. Again and again, you are introducing yourself to each other. You are trying to see the many facets of the other’s personality. You are trying to penetrate deeper and deeper into his realm of inner feelings, into the deep recesses of his being. You are trying to unravel a mystery that cannot be unraveled. That is the joy of love: the exploration of consciousness. And

There are certain levels of sadness that introduce you to parts of yourself you never knew existed, and it’s always a much purer version of you that couldn’t be any you-er than you. You fall in love with it and forget to move on.

What I'm saying here is sometimes the one you love introduces you to the person inside - the real one who you're close to, you don't even recognize her. Sometimes the one you love knows you better than you know yourself. They bring out the best in us when we least expect it.

You cannot love or hate another person unless it reflects something you love or hate about yourself.

She told me that love is when a person introduces you to yourself for the first time. After

No, you don't write about love for the very same reason you refuse to learn to roller skate. You dislike the idea of introducing anything that requires hurting yourself repeatedly before you get good at it.

On behalf of those you killed, imprisoned, tortured, you are not welcome, Erdogan! No, Erdogan, you’re not welcome in Algeria. We are a country which has already paid its price of blood and tears to those who wanted to impose their caliphate on us, those who put their ideas before our bodies, those who took our children hostage and who attempted to kill our hopes for a better future. The notorious family that claims to act in the name of the God and religion—you’re a member of it—you fund it, you support it, you desire to become its international leader. Islamism is your livelihood Islamism, which is your livelihood, is our misfortune. We will not forget about it, and you are a reminder of it today. You offer your shadow and your wings to those who work to make our country kneel down before your “Sublime Door.” You embody and represent what we loathe. You hate freedom, the free spirit. But you love parades. You use religion for business. You dream of a caliphate and hope to return to our lands. But you do it behind the closed doors, by supporting Islamist parties, by offering gifts through your companies, by infiltrating the life of the community, by controlling the mosques. These are the old methods of your “Muslim Brothers” in this country, who used to show us God’s Heaven with one hand while digging our graves with the other. No, Mr. Erdogan, you are not a man of help; you do not fight for freedom or principles; you do not defend the right of peoples to self-determination. You know only how to subject the Kurds to the fires of death; you know only how to subject your opponents to your dictatorship. You cry with the victims in the Middle East, yet sign contracts with their executioners. You do not dream of a dignified future for us, but of a caliphate for yourself. We are aware of your institutionalized persecution, your list of Turks to track down, your sinister prisons filled with the innocent, your dictatorial justice palaces, your insolence and boastful nature. You do not dream of a humanity that shares common values and principles, but are interested only in the remaking of the Ottoman Empire and its bloodthirsty warlords. Islam, for you, is a footstool; God is a business sign; modernity is an enemy; Palestine is a showcase; and local Islamists are your stunned courtesans. Humanity will not remember you with good deeds Humanity will remember you for your machinations, your secret coups d’état, and your manhunts. History will remember you for your bombings, your vengeful wars, and your inability to engage in constructive dialogue with others. The UN vote for Al-Quds is only an instrument in your service. Let us laugh at this with the Palestinians. We know that the Palestinian issue is your political capital, as it is for many others. You know well how to make a political fortune by exploiting others’ emotions. In Algeria, we suffered, and still suffer, from those who pretend to be God and act as takers and givers of life. They applaud your coming, but not us. You are the idol of Algerian Islamists and Populists, those who are unable to imagine a political structure beyond a caliphate for Muslim-majority societies. We aspire to become a country of freedom and dignity. This is not your ambition, nor your virtue. You are an illusion You have made beautiful Turkey an open prison and a bazaar for your business and loved ones. I hope that this beautiful nation rises above your ambitions. I hope that justice will be restored and flourish there once again, at least for those who have been imprisoned, tortured, bombed, and killed. You are an illusion, Erdogan—you know it and we know it. You play on the history of our humiliation, on our emotions, on our beliefs, and introduce yourself as a savior. However, you are a gravedigger, both for your own country and for your neighbors. Turkey is a political miracle, but it owes you nothing. The best thing you can do

I feel grateful for the slight sprain which has introduced this mysterious and fascinating division between one of my feet and the other. The way to love anything is to realise that it might be lost. In one of my feet I can feel how strong and splendid a foot is; in the other I can realise how very much otherwise it might have been. The moral of the thing is wholly exhilarating. This world and all our powers in it are far more awful and beautiful than even we know until some accident reminds us. If you wish to perceive that limitless felicity, limit yourself if only for a moment. If you wish to realise how fearfully and wonderfully God's image is made, stand on one leg. If you want to realise the splendid vision of all visible things-- wink the other eye.

His voice grew more remote. She wondered if he was calling from his condominium, where he’d lost his best friend, or from Avalon, where he’d lost himself. “I like you, Billie. You’re a nice person. Good company. But tonight was a mistake.” She flung an arm over her eyes and swallowed the lump of tears that had lodged in her throat. “Oh? Which part? The part where you introduced me to your family and exposed yourself as coming from a perfectly average, wholesome background? Or the part where you touched me and turned me inside-out while swaying in a hammock in the rich, beautiful woods—one of the most searing sexual experiences of my life? Which part do you regret, Adrian?” “All of it. I can’t have those things with you. You know what I am.” “Yes, Adrian, I know what you are. A gentle man. A likable one. Smart. Cultured. Sexy. I know what you are.” “But the other part—” “What about the other part? You hide behind the other part.” She yanked the pillow out from beneath her head and winged it across the bedroom, furious suddenly. “Did you call to tell me I’m not going to see you anymore? Because if that’s the case, hurry up and say it. Then hang up and go back to work, and don’t worry one bit about me. I’ve been on my own a long time, and I’m tougher than you think. I won’t cling to any man who’d rather be a-a—” She stumbled, bit back the ugly words rushing to her lips. “A what?” he countered softly. “A whore? A gigolo? Go ahead and say it, Billie. If you’re going to waste your time caring about me, then you’d better get used to the idea, because I can’t change. I won’t. Not for you or anyone.” She bit back a sound of pure derision. “How about for you? Think you could walk the straight and narrow for yourself?” He didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. Billie already knew the answer. “You’re afraid.” She sat up among the sheets as cold realization washed through her. “Afraid to live without women clambering to pay top dollar for you. All that money…it’s a measure of your value, right? It’s your self-esteem. What would happen if you were paid in love instead of cash? Would the world end? My God, Adrian. You’re running scared.” The half-whispered accusation seemed to permeate his impassivity. “I was fine before you.” His voice came low and furious. Finally, finally. True emotion. “Damn it, Billie. I want my life back.” “Then hang up and don’t call me again, because I’m not going to pay you for sex, Adrian. What I offer is a worthless currency in your world.

I don't want my life to not be the way I expected. I may not be scared of crowds. Or the dark. Or small spaces. But I am afraid. I am afraid of responsibility; I am afraid of not living up to expectations, of the changing future, of growing up, not knowing, sex, relationships, hardship, secrets, grades, judgement, falling short, loneliness, change, confusion, arguments, curiosity, love, hate, losing, pressure, differences, honesty, lies. I am afraid of me. Yet, despite this, I know I am brave. I know I am brave because I've accepted my invisible fears and haven't let them overcome me. I want you to know that you're brave because you know your fears. You're brave because you introduced yourself. You're brave because you said 'No, I don't understand.' You're brave because you are here.

But now I speculate re the ants' invisible organ of aggregate thought... if, in a city park of broad reaches, winding paths, roadways, and lakes, you can imagine seeing on a warm and sunny Sunday afternoon the random and unpredictable movement of great numbers of human beings in the same way... if you watch one person, one couple, one family, a child, you can assure yourself of the integrity of the individual will and not be able to divine what the next moment will bring. But when the masses are celebrating a beautiful day in the park in a prescribed circulation of activities, the wider lens of thought reveals nothing errant, nothing inconstant or unnatural to the occasion. And if someone acts in a mutant un-park manner, alarms go off, the unpredictable element, a purse snatcher, a gun wielder, is isolated, surrounded, ejected, carried off as waste. So that while we are individually and privately dyssynchronous, moving in different ways, for different purposes, in different directions, we may at the same time comprise, however blindly, the pulsing communicating cells of an urban over-brain. The intent of this organ is to enjoy an afternoon in the park, as each of us street-grimy urbanites loves to do. In the backs of our minds when we gather for such days, do we know this? How much of our desire to use the park depends on the desires of others to do the same? How much of the idea of a park is in the genetic invitation on nice days to reflect our massive neuromorphology? There is no central control mechanism telling us when and how to use the park. That is up to us. But when we do, our behavior there is reflective, we can see more of who we are because of the open space accorded to us, and it is possible that it takes such open space to realize in simple form the ordinary identity we have as one multicellular culture of thought that is always there, even when, in the comparative blindness of our personal selfhood, we are flowing through the streets at night or riding under them, simultaneously, as synaptic impulses in the metropolitan brain. Is this a stretch? But think of the contingent human mind, how fast it snaps onto the given subject, how easily it is introduced to an idea, an image that it had not dreamt of thinking of a millisecond before... Think of how the first line of a story yokes the mind into a place, a time, in the time it takes to read it. How you can turn on the radio and suddenly be in the news, and hear it and know it as your own mind's possession in the moment's firing of a neuron. How when you hear a familiar song your mind adopts its attitudinal response to life before the end of the first bar. How the opening credits of a movie provide the parameters of your emotional life for its ensuing two hours... How all experience is instantaneous and instantaneously felt, in the nature of ordinary mind-filling revelation. The permeable mind, contingently disposed for invasion, can be totally overrun and occupied by all the characteristics of the world, by everything that is the case, and by the thoughts and propositions of all other minds considering everything that is the case... as instantly and involuntarily as the eye fills with the objects that pass into its line of vision.

Uh-oh,” Brynna says. “Here comes Caleb.” “Caleb, I’d like to introduce—” “Fine,” says Caleb, Brynna’s husband, holding his hand up for me to stop talking. “I know who you are. And I don’t give a flying fuck. If you hurt her, I’ll kill you and make it look like you did it to yourself, do you understand me?” “Well, that’s lovely,” I mutter. “And unnecessary.” “He’s here?” Will chimes in, hurrying over. “Dude, we’ll kill you. But welcome.

Here is the voice of my main Character in my Talon book series, I’ll let her introduce herself to you: My name is Matica and I am a special needs child with a growth disability. I am stuck in the body of a two year old, even though I am ten years old when my story begins in the first book of the Talon series, TALON, COME FLY WITH ME. Because of that disability, (I am saying ‘that’ disability, not ‘my’ disability because it’s a thing that happens to me, nothing more and because I am not accepting it as something bad. I can say that now after I learned to cope with it.) I was rejected by the local Indians as they couldn’t understand that that condition is not a sickness and so it can’t be really cured. It’s just a disorder of my body. But I never gave up on life and so I had lots of adventures roaming around the plateau where we live in Peru, South America, with my mother’s blessings. But after I made friends with my condors I named Tamo and Tima, everything changed. It changed for the good. I was finally loved. And I am the hero and I embrace my problem. In better words: I had embraced my problem before I made friends with my condors Tamo and Tima. I held onto it and I felt sorry for myself and cried a lot, wanting to run away or something worse. But did it help me? Did it become better? Did I grow taller? No, nothing of that helped me. I didn’t have those questions when I was still in my sorrow, but all these questions came to me later, after I was loved and was cherished. One day I looked up into the sky and saw the majestic condors flying in the air. Here and now, I made up my mind. I wanted to become friends with them. I believed if I could achieve that, all my sorrow and rejection would be over. And true enough, it was over. I was loved. I even became famous. And so, if you are in a situation, with whatever your problem is, find something you could rely on and stick to it, love that and do with that what you were meant to do. And I never run from conflicts.

Once upon a time there is nothing but darkness. You stumble around blindly, so close to the edge that you are sure you'll tumble over it. And if you are to be honest, you must admit that you are so low already you don't necessarily think that would be a bad thing. Then one day you meet someone. He finds you kneeling right at the precipice and instead of telling you to get back up he kneels next to you. He tries to see what you are seeing. He doesn't ask anything of you or beg you to snap out of it or remind you there are people who need you. He just waits until you turn and squint and think to yourself, "oh yes, I remember, this is what light looks like." You don't know how it happens, but you become friends. You find yourself looking in the parking lot to see if his car is there. You see something on tv or read it in a book and think, "I must remember to tell him." You learn how he takes his coffee and what his favorite color is, not by asking but by observation. Then you realize your day speeds up when you see him. The hair stands up on the backs of your forearms when his shoulder bumps yours in the elevator. His presence is so filling the absence of him aches. You begin to reconfigure the puzzle of your life with him in it. You don't want to spend time without him if you can help it. You introduce him to family. You suffer their elbow gabs and raised eyebrows, because later it gives you two something to laugh about. You wish you could introduce him to the family members who aren't here anymore. They would have loved him. You see him around children and you think one day.

It was this motley band of modest peeps and plovers on the beach who reminded me of the human beings I loved best - the ones who didn't fit in. These birds may or may not have been capable of emotion, but the way they looked, beleaguered there, few in number, my outcast friends, was how I felt. I'd been told that it was bad to anthropomorphize, but I could no longer remember why. It was, in any case, anthropomorphic only to see yourself in other species, not to see them in yourself. To be hungry all the time, to be mad for sex, to not believe in global warming, to be shortsighted, to live without thought of your grandchildren, to spend half your life on personal grooming, to be perpetually on guard, to be compulsive, to be habit-bound, to be avid, to be unimpressed with humanity, to prefer your own kind: these were all ways of being like a bird. Later in the evening, in posh, necropolitan Naples, on a sidewalk outside a hotel whose elevator doors were decorated with huge blowups of cute children and the monosyllabic injunction SMILE, I spotted two disaffected teenagers, two little chicks, in full Goth plumage, and I wished that I could introduce them to the brownish-gray misfits on the beach.

My dear, dear ladies,” Sir Francis effused as he hastened forward, “what a long-awaited delight this is!” Courtesy demanded that he acknowledge the older lady first, and so he turned to her. Picking up Berta’s limp hand from her side, he presed his lips to it and said, “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Sir Francis Belhaven.” Lady Berta curtsied, her fear-widened eyes fastened on his face, and continued to press her handkerchief to her lips. To his astonishment, she did not acknowledge him at all; she did not say she was charmed to meet him or inquire after his health. Instead, the woman curtsied again. And once again. “There’s hardly a need for all that,” he said, covering his puzzlement with forced jovially. “I’m only a knight, you know. Not a duke or even an earl.” Lady Berta curtsied again, and Elizabeth nudged her sharply with her elbow. “How do!” burst out the plump lady. “My aunt is a trifle-er-shy with strangers,” Elizabeth managed weakly. The sound of Elizabeth Cameron’s soft, musical voice made Sir Francis’s blood sing. He turned with unhidden eagerness to his future bride and realized that it was a bust of himself that Elizabeth was clutching so protectively, so very affectionately to her bosom. He could scarcely contain his delight. “I knew it would be this way between us-no pretense, no maidenly shyness,” he burst out, beaming at her blank, wary expression as he gently took the bust of himself from Elizabeth’s arms. “But, my lovely, there’s no need for you to caress a hunk of clay when I am here in the flesh.” Momentarily struck dumb, Elizabeth gaped at the bust she’d been holding as he first set it gently upon its stand, then turned expectantly to her, leaving her with the horrifying-and accurate-thought that he now expected her to reach out and draw his balding head to her bosom. She stared at him, her mind in paralyzed chaos. “I-I would ask a favor of you, Sir Francis,” she burst out finally. “Anything, my dear,” he said huskily. “I would like to-to rest before supper.” He stepped back, looking disappointed, but then he recalled his manners and reluctantly nodded. “We don’t keep country hours. Supper is at eight-thirty.” For the first time he took a moment to really look at her. His memories of her exquisite face and delicious body had been so strong, so clear, that until then he’d been seeing the Lady Elizabeth Cameron he’d met long ago. Now he belatedly registered the stark, unattractive gown she wore and the severe way her hair was dressed. His gaze dropped to the ugly iron cross that hung about her neck, and he recoiled in shock. “Oh, and my dear, I’ve invited a few guests,” he added pointedly, his eyes on her unattractive gown. “I thought you would want to know, in order to attire yourself more appropriately.” Elizabeth suffered that insult with the same numb paralysis she’d felt since she set eyes on him. Not until the door closed behind him did she feel able to move. “Berta,” she burst out, flopping disconsolately onto the chair beside her, “how could you curtsy like that-he’ll know you for a lady’s maid before the night is out! We’ll never pull this off.” “Well!” Berta exclaimed, hurt and indignant. “Twasn’t I who was clutching his head to my bosom when he came in.” “We’ll do better after this,” Elizabeth vowed with an apologetic glance over her shoulder, and the trepidation was gone from her voice, replaced by steely determination and urgency. “We have to do better. I want us both out of here tomorrow. The day after at the very latest.” “The butler stared at my bosom,” Berta complained. “I saw him!” Elizabeth sent her a wry, mirthless smile. “The footman stared at mine. No woman is safe in this place. We only had a bit of-of stage fright just now. We’re new to playacting, but tonight I’ll carry it off. You’ll see. No matter what if takes, I’ll do it.

I always return others’ energies to their higher selves or pass it to the Divine to hand back, instead of directly sending it back to the others. I learned this lesson the hard way. I once had a client who had been suicidal for decades. We determined that her father’s death wish had entered into her own system through her physical energetic field. We returned this wish to her father energetically, and he committed suicide the next day. As a healer, I now send energy only through higher channels, so it will produce loving, rather than acute, effects. I ask the Divine to link each person involved to his or her own healing stream of grace (as introduced on page 65). Healing streams of grace surround and emanate from everyone. They are, essentially, energetic strands of love. The very fact that these exist means that we don’t have to earn this grace/love, but only to allow it. Healing your energy boundaries requires only that you connect yourself to the healing stream intended for you; healing others or keeping them from penetrating your boundaries invites them to access their own healing streams of grace. I then ask the Divine to lift the negative or intrusive energy from my client and return it to the other’s higher self. This process works for illnesses, death wishes, curses, cords, entity release, and all other concerns. Finally, I ask that my client receive the healing needed for both his or her body and physical energetic boundary.

Once you are in a relationship you start taking each other for granted—that’s what destroys all love affairs. The woman thinks she knows the man, the man thinks he knows the woman. Nobody knows either! It is impossible to know the other, the other remains a mystery. And to take the other for granted is insulting, disrespectful. To think that you know your wife is very, very ungrateful. How can you know the woman? How can you know the man? They are processes, they are not things. The woman that you knew yesterday is not there today. So much water has gone down the Ganges; she is somebody else, totally different. Relate again, start again, don’t take it for granted. And the man that you slept with last night, look at his face again in the morning. He is no more the same person, so much has changed. So much, incalculably much has changed. That is the difference between a thing and a person. The furniture in the room is the same, but the man and the woman, they are no more the same. Explore again, start again. That’s what I mean by relating. Relating means you are always starting, you are continuously trying to become acquainted. Again and again, you are introducing yourself to each other. You are trying to see the many facets of the other’s personality. You are trying to penetrate deeper and deeper into his realm of inner feelings, into the deep recesses of his being. You are trying to unravel a mystery that cannot be unraveled. That is the joy of love: the exploration of consciousness.

Dear Brave People, I realise that it appears I'm fearless. I can make that presentation with ease, I can stand near the edge of the cliff and look down, and I can befriend that spider in the bathroom. (He's called Steve). But recently I've realised that's not what makes people brave. Brave has a different meaning. I'm afraid of people leaving. After I watched my best friend become someone else's and I was forced into befriending my childhood bully, I realised I don't want to let myself go through this again. I see my fear come through when questioning my boyfriend;s affections. I see it when I distance myself from my friends who are going to leave for university. Isee it in my overanalysis of my parents' relationship and paranoia over a possible divorce. I don't want to be alone. I'm afraid of failure. I aced my exams and the bar has moved up again. I have those high expectations along with everyone else, but I know now that maybe the tower is just too tall, and I should've built stronger foundations. I act like I know what I'm doing, but really I'm drifting away from the shore faster and faster. I don't want to let anyone down. I'm afraid of change. I don't know where I lie anymore. I thought I knew what to do in my future, but I can't bear to think that I'm now not so sure. I thought I was completely straight, but now it's internal agony as I'm not so sure. Turns out I thought a lot of things. I don't want my life to not be the way I expected. I may not be scared of crowds. Or the dark. Or small spaces. But I am afraid. I am afraid of responsibility; I am afraid of not living up to expectations, of the changing future, of growing up, not knowing, sex, relationships, hardship, secrets, grades, judgment, falling short, loneliness, change, confusion, arguments, curiosity, love, hate, losing, pressure, differences, honesty, lies. I am afraid of me. Yet, despite this, I know I am brave. I know I am brave because I've accepted my invisible fears and haven't let them overcome me. I want you to know that you're brave because you know your fears. You're brave because you introduced yourself. You're brave because you said "No, I don't understand." You're brave because you're here. I hope you can learn from me and be brave in your own way. I know I am. -B

In Shushan the citadel there was a certain Jew whose name was Mordecai the son of Jair, the son of Shimei, the son of Kish, a Benjamite. Kish had been carried away from Jerusalem with the captives who had been captured with Jeconiah king of Judah, whom Nebuchadnezzar the king of Babylon had carried away. Esther 2:5-6 Mordecai is a Jew living in Shushan (remember from last week — this is the city that Darius established as the capital). His great-grandfather is Kish the Benjamite, who was brought to Persia / Babylon during the Babylonian captivity. Even though King Cyrus ended the captivity many years ago, many Jews have remained in Persia. Mordecai’s family was among them. Mordecai’s heritage is an vital part of God’s plan, so let’s be careful not to over look this important detail. God always has a remnant of people. Even though Mordecai is no longer captive to the will of man keeping him in exile, he is still captive to the will of God. As a result of his obedience to God, Mordecai remained in Persia even after he was free to leave. God has promised to protect His people, and His plan is in action. Mordecai is an important part of that plan! Also important to note is that this the historian’s first mention of Jews living in Persia. Mordecai descending from Kish the Benjamite is interesting, because another important biblical figure also descended from Kish: Israel’s first king, Saul. Saul was Kish’s son (1 Samuel 9:1). While this point may not seem important in a history of Ahasuerus, the ancestry of this Jew is very important in the history of Persia. Mordecai’s most important connection is about to be introduced to us: his cousin, Esther. “And Mordecai had brought up Hadassah, that is, Esther, his uncle’s daughter, for she had neither father nor mother. The young woman was lovely and beautiful. When her father and mother died, Mordecai took her as his own daughter.” Esther 2:7 Ahasuerus is not the only one in Persia busy preparing; Mordecai is preparing as well. For many years now, he has been preparing Esther, raising her for the future that God intended for her. As you prepare, consider that you might be preparing for a future you do not know anything about; and that you may be preparing someone other than yourself. Mordecai’s first step was to obey God. Certainly it was God who told him to stay with Esther in Persia, even after her parents had died. We are never told that Mordecai had married; what reason was there for him to stay in Persia? Even so, Mordecai stayed in Persia with Esther and raised her as his own daughter. Raising her was a process, and he had to depend on the Lord to know the right thing to do. He had no way of predicting what would happen in her life or his, but he was obedient during the process (remember Jeremiah 29?). Mordecai was preparing Esther for a future he did not know anything about yet, but Mordecai knew something that we need to keep in our hearts as well: serving God every day will develop qualities in us that will serve us well, whatever the future may hold. Mordecai was preparing Esther to be faithful to God, knowing that quality could only help her in her life. Mordecai did not know what God had in store for Esther — but he did know that God had a plan for her, just as He has a plan for all of us. Mordecai poured his life into her. Is there someone that you are supposed to be pouring your life into? Perhaps while reading this history, you are identifying with Esther. Maybe you are an “Esther”, but consider that you may be a “Mordecai”. It is likely you will identify with both of them at different seasons in your life. Pray that you will be able to discern those seasons. Mordecai and Esther are cousins. Sometime after the Jews were carried away to Persia, Esther’s parents died. Out of the heartbreaking tragedy of losing her parents, God’s providence was still at work. His word promises that in the hands of the Lord, “all things work together for good to those who

damages incurred from the usage of this publication.   * * * Table of Contents   1.   How to Use this Book 2.   Free Conversation Skills Training 3a. Part 1 - What is in the Way of Developing Great Conversation Skills? 3b. The 10 Negative Habits that Limit Conversation Skills 3c. The Love and Connection Daily Practice 4a. Part 2 - Conversation Skills Tips and Strategies 4b. How to Approach Someone to Start a Conversation 5.   9 Great Ways to Confidently Approach Anyone 6.   How to Stop Feeling Nervous When Meeting New People 7.   What to Say When Introducing Yourself to New People 8.   6 Easy Ways to Avoid Getting Stuck for Words 9.   10 Interesting Topics of Conversation for Every Occasion 10.  The Best Questions to Keep a Conversation Going 11.  How to Shine in Conversation with Listening Skills 12.  How to Use Body Language to Read People Like a Book 13.  Show People You Like Them and Make Friends with Ease 14.  Closing Thoughts * * * How to Use this Book     This book is a how to guide to making conversation with new people. I present ideas, strategies and approaches that can help you only if you apply the techniques.   Make sure to use these principles and ideas out there in the real world. It may take a little trial and error but if you practice you’ll see its much easier than most people think to start a conversation with someone you are meeting for the first time. You’ll have much more fun talking to people and you’ll enjoy letting your personality shine.   Do bear in mind, the strategies presented here are a starting point, you’ll need to adjust your application of the individual tips to the context and people you are dealing with. Some flexibility on your part is essential.   Take it a step at a time, aim to improve just a little each day, use these strategies often and make a commitment to ongoing learning with the free resources mentioned in the next section. Before long you’ll be one of those people others respect and admire. They’ll be wondering how you make

Talk to companions, family, locals, and new acquaintances about your writing, gently impressing upon them that keeping a journal is important to you. First, doing so will compel you to write, because if you’ve told them you’re working on something meaningful and they see you sunning yourself on the beach reading smut novels and trashy magazines all the time you’ll be embarrassed. Second, when you introduce yourself as a writer you’ll be treated with regard when seen writing. If you present the journal as something you love, people will see it as beloved and make space for it.

The greatest service I can offer is … willingness to do things in a new way. Some of us are given the awesome task of breaking our family’s pattern of poverty, pain, suffering, ignorance and fear. Some of us come into life for the sheer purpose of guiding our family into a new way of thinking, living and being. For this reason, your family may think you are weird or different. They may accuse you of doing things that are not right. They may even tell you that what you are doing is wrong. You may feel that you are wrong. If everyone is content going right, who are you to go left? If everyone in your immediate family has made it through life in a cold-water flat, who are you to want a town house? Should you find yourself in this predicament, stop trying to convince them, show them! We are living in a new age, a new time, when things must be different. You cannot continue to do what has always been done. Something or someone must change! It might as well be you! You have the visions. You have the opportunity. The only thing you need is the strength and courage to recognize that you have been chosen for the awesome task of implementing change. If you follow your own inner guidance, your progress will be the only evidence you need. Your life will provide a new direction for the generations that will follow you. Your job is to bring about change in a loving, gentle and harmonious way. You may have to leave some people behind. Should that be the case, bless them and keep on moving. Until today, you may have been so loyal to your family patterns that you would not step beyond what you have been taught to believe. Just for today, dare to be different! Dare to introduce a new way of living and being. Dare to climb out of the family tree. Today I am devoted to recognizing that the patterns of my family tree may be a noose around my neck!

Each of the twelve chapters introduces key coming-of-age concepts, such as the importance of finding a mentor, creating a supportive and loving community, spending time in nature, understanding natural cycles and rhythms, honoring your body’s innate wisdom, using and trusting intuition, and being true to yourself. Each chapter also suggests opportunities for self-discovery and activities for greater awareness.

Once you’ve identified people who can be both mentors and sponsors, you need to make contact. Don’t hesitate to introduce yourself to a potential ally at an event or in the elevator and say you admire her work. If the person is spearheading a committee or drive, volunteer to be on it. You can also request an informational interview. You could say something such as “I’ve heard so much about your work [or latest venture] and would love to know more about it.

One of these laws is simply: nature loves change. Seasons change. The weather changes. Animals are born, they mature, they die. And so it is with our lives - they unfold as a series of changes. It is only the voice of fear within us that causes us to resist and run from change. The truth is that all change is good. It causes us to grow and evolve. And it introduces us to who we truly are. When you learn (and it is a learned skill) to love change and dance in the uncertainty of life, you open yourself up to possibility and your best days. 2.

When you walk up to opportunity’s door, don’t knock. Kick that bitch in, smile and introduce yourself.

Do you know what it means to love an outlaw? That’s what I am, B. It’s what I will always be, tomorrow, twenty years from today, when I’m old and arthritic and can’t ride no more. I’ve always tried to be a gentleman like my grandma raised me to be where you are concerned. But you were willing to go out and get yourself killed for me. So I think it’s past time I introduce you to the outlaw.

Fill-In-the-Blank Headlines with Examples They Didn't Think I Could ________, but I Did. This headline works well for many reasons, including our natural tendency to root for the underdog. We're fascinated with stories of people who overcome great obstacles and others' ridicule to achieve success. When this headline refers to something you have thought about doing, but talked yourself out of, you'll want to know if the successful person shared your doubt or fear or handicap. Examples: They Laughed When I Sat Down at the Piano — but Not When I Started to Play! They Grinned When the Waiter Spoke to Me in French — but Their Laughter Changed to Amazement at My Reply! Who Else Wants ________? I like this type of headline because of its strong implication that a lot of other people know something the reader doesn't. Examples: Who Else Wants a Hollywood Actress' Figure? Who Else Needs an Extra Hour Every Day? How ________ Made Me ________ This headline introduces a first-person story. People love stories and are remarkably interested in other people. This headline structure seems to work best with dramatic differences. Examples: How a “Fool Stunt” Made Me a Star Salesman. How a Simple Idea Made Me “Plant Manager of the Year.” How Relocating to Tennessee Saved Our Company $1 Million a Year Are You ________? The question headline is used to grab attention by challenging, provoking, or arousing curiosity. Examples: Are You Ashamed of the Smells in Your House? Are You Prepared for the Next Stock Market Crash? How I ________ Very much like How ________ Made Me ________, this headline introduces a first-person story. The strength of the benefit at the end, obviously, controls its success. Examples: How I Raised Myself from Failure to Success in Selling. How I Retired at Age 40 — With a Guaranteed Income for Life.

10 Ways to Be More Personable and Friendly 1. Listen more than you speak. 2. When you do speak, ask questions of the other person before volunteering your own story. 3. Show a genuine interest in what the other person has to share. 4. Keep the focus on the other person. People love to talk about themselves—their kids, their significant other, their pets, their job, etc. 5. Keep a positive attitude, a smile, and eye contact. 6. Be the glue that holds the conversation together. And learn to be the glue that keeps other groups of people together. 7. Laugh at other people’s jokes. 8. Take the initiative to say hello and introduce yourself. 9. Get in tune with other people’s emotions. 10. Embrace small talk as a positive way to begin new conversations.

When deciding whether to follow an appealing pursuit that will introduce more control into your work life, ask yourself whether people are willing to pay you for it. If so, continue. If not, move on.

Wherever you go, you’ve just got to open your mouth and talk. If you go out but speak to no one, what’s the point? Besides, most people are not going to be rude to you for introducing yourself, and if they are, screw them. You don’t want them in your life anyway. Act the way you’d like your friends to act, and I promise they will come to you and you will find the love you deserve.

You are introducing chaos into my ordered world of cardiology. See this. This is your heart—a perfect pump. It's not just a pump. The heart is life, the holder of the soul. the keeper of dreams and the place inside yourself where you talk to the angels. -Cardiologist Angela Perkins getting schooled on the heart by medical student Michael Harper in High Risk

You are introducing chaos into my ordered world of cardiology. See this. This is your heart—a perfect pump. It's not just a pump. The heart is life, the holder of the soul, the keeper of dreams, and the place inside yourself where you talk to the angels. -Cardiologist Angela Perkins getting schooled on the heart by medical student Michael Harper in High Risk

What are you thinking about?” Grip’s whispered question mists the sensitive skin of my neck, and I scoot back to snuggle under the covers and against his hard, naked body. “‘Night on the Island.’” “Fitting.” He opens his mouth over the curve of my shoulder in a kiss. “Because you were definitely wild and sweet last night.’” “You weren’t so bad yourself.” I turn over to run my thumb over his full lips. “Neruda was so romantic. I’m glad you introduced me to him.” “Dude had serious game.” Grip laughs. “No one writes about love and sex and passion like Neruda.” He grins down at me, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “The original Chocolate Charm.” We both laugh at that. I haven’t heard it in so long. It’s our own inside joke, from the first day we met, but Grip really could charm lint from your pockets.

Horseman is the haunting sequel to the 1820 novel The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving and takes place two decades after the events that unfolded in the original. We are introduced to 14-year-old trans boy Bente “Ben” Van Brunt, who has been raised by his idiosyncratic grandparents - lively Brom “Bones” Van Brunt and prim Kristina Van Tassel - in the small town of Sleepy Hollow, New York, where gossip and rumour run rife and people are exceedingly closed-minded. He has lived with them on their farm ever since he was orphaned when his parents, Bendix and Fenna, died in suspicious and enigmatic circumstances. Ben and his only friend, Sander, head into the woodland one Autumn day to play a game known as Sleepy Hollow Boys, but they are both a little startled when they witness a group of men they recognise from the village discussing the headless, handless body of a local boy that has just been found. But this isn't the end; it is only the beginning. From that moment on, Ben feels an otherworldly presence following him wherever he ventures, and one day while scanning his grandfather’s fields he catches a fleeting glimpse of a weird creature seemingly sucking blood from a victim. An evil of an altogether different nature. But Ben knows this is not the elusive Horseman who has been the primary focus of folkloric tales in the area for many years because he can both feel and hear his presence. However, unlike others who fear the Headless Horseman, Ben can hear whispers in the woods at the end of a forbidden path, and he has visions of the Horseman who says he is there to protect him. Ben soon discovers connections between the recent murders and the death of his parents and realises he has been shaded from the truth about them his whole life. Thus begins a journey to unravel the mystery and establish his identity in the process. This is an enthralling and compulsively readable piece of horror fiction building on Irvings’ solid ground. Evoking such feelings as horror, terror, dread and claustrophobic oppressiveness, this tale invites you to immerse yourself in its sinister, creepy and disturbing narrative. The staggering beauty of the remote village location is juxtaposed with the darkness of the demons and devilish spirits that lurk there, and the village residents aren't exactly welcoming to outsiders or accepting of anyone different from their norm. What I love the most is that it is subtle and full of nuance, instead of the usual cheap thrills with which the genre is often pervaded, meaning the feeling of sheer panic creeps up on you when you least expect, and you come to the sudden realisation that the story has managed to get under your skin, into your psyche and even into your dreams (or should that be nightmares?) Published at a time when the nights are closing in and the light diminishes ever more rapidly, not to mention with Halloween around the corner, this is the perfect autumnal read for the spooky season full of both supernatural and real-world horrors. It begins innocuously enough to lull you into a false sense of security but soon becomes bleak and hauntingly atmospheric as well as frightening before descending into true nightmare-inducing territory. A chilling and eerie romp, and a story full of superstition, secrets, folklore and old wives’ tales and with messages about love, loss, belonging, family, grief, being unapologetically you and becoming more accepting and tolerant of those who are different. Highly recommended.

To be sure, there were all these maddening permutations of what could be that were not to be ignored—possibilities that were still too many to consider to one’s satisfaction. Yet, there was also a stunning beauty to all of this that was so profound that one could not help but love every facet of every conceivability, whether realized or beyond reach. There was so much to capture even in stillness that was akin to grasping at grains of sand so fine as to elude the grip—it was all so intricate, so overwhelming and so rapid, and nothing ever ceased in its glorious transformation that it could be sufficiently arrested and processed and thoroughly acknowledged. But still, there was an exhilaration in being engrossed in the details that evaded capture and in being oneself ensconced in constant flux so as to surrender without recourse to what was to come. A train whistle blows and a new door is to open: the tracks have many junction points and no shortage of stopovers and destinations. Yet, there is no instance that ever becomes the destination, no circumstance the definitive possibility, and one, for that very fact, could scarcely help but be filled with a heartening love for all of creation, if, indeed, it could be called ‘creation’ and such a word held reasonable accuracy. The Moment, after all, was Always and thus there was no ‘before,’ no instance preceding the instance. There was no infinite regression of causality, no ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ and certainly no ‘take care of yourself’ that need wrench one’s heart. There was simply the EverToward: the shifting of Now and the reformulation of Then, wherein the form and essence engendered instantaneously a sculpting of arbitrary and historic juxtapositions—which, themselves, were composed of retroactively-shaped illusions. In spite of this, there still emerges a yearning for those prehistoric elements now faded, those characters for whom one has felt an affection and who nourished one’s growth and one’s formulations of what exists—if ‘exist’ indeed suffices as a descriptor. There is twinge of loss for what was, even if it has never been or has otherwise taken on new and ersatz constructions in mind. Notwithstanding this, one cannot help but perseverate upon the hypothetical stories of a speculative childhood that presumably nurtured imagination, the scoldings that established assumptive boundary, the conjectural sacrifices that ostensibly granted sustenance. So much of one’s respiration had been populated of this air and of this interplay of actors and elements. And yet, one’s breath cycles ceaselessly through many phases on a given day. In the morning, it is yet purging itself of that mythspell of yesterday; by afternoon, it consumes the horsefeathers of new dynamics, halted again by that which passes by too fast and which can never be frozen; as evening descends, it grows slow and pensive, sometimes coughing up senescent horsefeathers and fatigued by the persistent irregularities introduced by the day itself.

Look, why don’t you just be a good neighbor and go over and introduce yourself? Then invite him over for a tour of your house. Specifically your bedroom, where the three of us will explore our sexual fantasies while covered in Astroglide and listening to Lenny Kravitz sing ‘Let Love Rule.

Fall for me? Nah. I’m trying to make you fall in love with yourself even more, then introduce me to her.

Awakening humanity one person at a time seems like a tall order. Balancing your masculine and feminine aspects is one specific guidance for how to do this. First, you acknowledge that you have both a feminine and masculine aspect, regardless of your gender or gender identity. We are all both. You just wear different outfits. Until you as individuals have the balance within you to love and honor and cherish each part of you, you will not reach the love and peace that humanity needs to achieve. Then, you can do a practice to balance your masculine and feminine energies. I experienced this reconciliation process for myself before hearing that message. It was an incredible process that left me in a state of profound peace and bliss. You can explore balancing your masculine and feminine aspects if it is right for you with this channeled practice. Practice knowing yourself through meditation if you wish. Sit quietly and ask for the masculine and feminine parts of you to come forth. They will come forth. Let them introduce themselves to you. Become familiar with the male part of you and the female part of you. Make peace with both parts because through time with your own experience, one is stronger than the other, or the human part of you fears one or the other. Practice becoming aware of those parts. And if you bring those parts forth, let them talk to each other while you observe. Journal about your experience with this exercise. The synthesis of different parts of us is not a new concept. Robert Assagioli created a process to integrate various aspects of ourselves, called psychosynthesis.38 This work aims to integrate the different aspects of ourselves into a purposeful personality, connect to our higher self, and realize the spiritual self, moving from self-identity to a transpersonal understanding of oneself (Hastings 1991, 89). Because this is the most common channeled content category, you will likely receive specific or general guidance and personal messages for living your life through your own channeling or from others. Awakening humanity, our true nature not being limited by our physical bodies, and balancing our masculine and feminine aspects are just a few topics in this channeled content category.

Think of places where your ideal customer hangs out. For instance, if your business is making custom baby gifts, you might sponsor a lunch for a local Moms of Preschoolers (MOPS) group so you can meet and build relationships with women who have little ones—and probably have friends with more little ones on the way! Or, if you offer small-business accounting services, you could bring coffee and donuts to local small businesses and introduce yourself to get your foot in the door. Whatever kind of business you have, your customers hang out somewhere. Go find them!

All-or-nothing thinking is when you see things as only black or white and either-or. For example, if you make a mistake while giving a speech, you think you are a total failure; or if a friend acts distant on the telephone, you believe he or she doesn’t like you anymore. Labeling is an extension of all-or-nothing thinking. When you make a mistake, instead of accepting that you made an error, you label yourself an idiot. If your girlfriend or boyfriend breaks up with you, instead of realizing that he or she doesn’t love you, you call yourself unlovable. Overgeneralizing is basing conclusions on isolated events, then applying them across diverse situations. If you spill a soda, you think, “I’m always a klutz.” If you can’t think of something to say when introduced to someone new, you think, “I never make a good impression.” The tip-off to this type of thinking is use of the word “always” or “never.” Mental filtering is when you remember and dwell on only the negative elements of an event. For instance, after a party, you remember the awkward pauses in conversations, feeling uncomfortable, and forgetting people’s names, while you forget all moments when you had good conversations, introduced yourself to someone new, and when someone paid you a compliment. Discounting the positive is somewhat related to mental filtering. It is when you do something well, such as give a good speech, but make excuses like “It doesn’t count” or “Anyone could have done it” and feel the accomplishment wasn’t good enough. Jumping to conclusions is making negative interpretations about events when there is no evidence to support them. There are generally two forms of jumping to conclusions. In “mind reading,” you believe that someone is reacting negatively to you without checking it out. For instance, if two people stop their conversation when you walk up to them, you assume that they were gossiping about you. In “fortune telling,” you anticipate that things will turn out badly. If you fear taking tests, for example, you always feel that you will fail, even before you start the test. Magnification is exaggerating the importance of problems. For instance, if you don’t do well on a test, you believe you are going to fail the entire semester. Emotional reasoning is when you mistake your emotions for reality. For example, you feel lonely; therefore, you think no one likes you. ”Should” and “shouldn’t” statements are ways of thinking that make you feel that you are never good enough. Even though you do well on a job interview, you think, “I should have said this,” or “I shouldn’t have said that.” Other words that indicate this type of thinking are “ought to” and “have to.” Personalizing the blame is holding yourself responsible for things beyond your control. For instance, you are on your way to study with a group of classmates and you get stuck in traffic. Instead of realizing and accepting that the traffic problem is out of your control, you think you are irresponsible because you are going to be late.

The two months that Bernard was my roommate, we became very close. I taught him photography which he took to heart. Years later, he became a professional photographer. My protégé came to visit me a month after my return to London. I introduced him to my compassionate Uncle James who kindly took the boy into his home until he introduced Bernard to a Scottish photographer friend in Edinburgh. My charge became the photographer’s apprentice. Through hard work and determination Bernard rose in rank and become the photographer’s assistant. I’m glad Bernard turned out unmarred after what he had been through. I visited him in Edinburgh a few years later when I was on a skiing trip in Scotland. By then he had found himself a mature lover. I was happy that Bernard had found someone who loved and cherished him as he is. That was the last time I saw my charge. We corresponded for some years but soon lost track when I became involved with Jorge (the Oxford graduate). My dearest Andy this is another episode which I will disclose at another time. For now be well, be safe and take excellent care of yourself. I am yours truly always. Love, Young. Xoxoxo

Thought Raise your mental field by introducing higher thought forms on a regular basis. Positive affirmations are accessible and can be fun. Stick quotes and images around your home where you will see them often. Have ‘angel cards’ or positive affirmation cards in a bowl in your home or work place where you can pick them up and look at them often. Read spiritual and personal development books as a way of reprogramming your thinking processes. Gradually change your self talk over from ‘I can’t’, ‘I hate’, ‘I’m no good at’ to ‘I can’, ‘I love’, ‘I embrace’. Do this with the use of positive affirmations and use them regularly. ‘I love who I am’ and ‘I am a loving and happy person’ are wonderful thoughts to have and repeat to yourself as you move about your day to day tasks. Deeper seeds of self-doubt in your mind maybe due to unresolved aspects of yourself. This is addressed in chapter 12.

One of my most favored day fancies creates a fool drama that goes something like this: It is evening. We have had our supper and the dishes have been washed and put away. Ima Dean and Romey are in chairs in the sitting room reading books. Though there is candy in the sack on the table they have remembered we cannot afford trips to the dentist and are munching fruit. The pages which so absorb them are taking them to faraway borders and on the way they are being introduced to great men and great women. They have come around to my way of thinking. We do not need television. It’s fare is pretty dull and slovenly compared to the excitement and order there is to be found in the written word. I go to my room and open the door and look in. The sewing machine is gone. During our day’s absence somebody has come and swiped it. I go back to the sitting room and make my spooky announcement. “The sewing machine is gone. Somebody has swiped it.” “I’m glad,” says Ima Dean, throwing her legs over the arm of her chair. “Old no-account hunk of garbage. Mrs. Connell knew it was on its last legs when she gave it to us for five dollars. I thank whoever took it. The only thing makes me mad is it didn’t happen sooner. Nobody should have to drive themselves crazy learning how to sew after they’ve worked all day at making a living. Don’t fret, Mary Call. I don’t need any new dresses. When I start to school again if people don’t like the way I look in my old ones they can look the other way. We don’t owe anybody anything and this is a free country. If I went to school in a gunnysack wouldn’t be anybody’s business but yours and mine. Clothes aren’t important, it’s brains that count. My, this is a good book. When I grow up I think I’m going to be a medical missionary and go somewheres far off and work. I don’t want to waste my life. I want it to count for something and be of some good to humanity.” “I have decided either to become an explorer or an archaeologist,” says Romey. “I haven’t settled on which yet but either way I won’t be wasting my life either. I’ll be working for the good of humanity too. You are raising Ima Dean and me right, Mary Call, and we will always be grateful to you for the way you have sacrificed yourself for us.” End of dream. The sewing machine has not been swiped. Ima Dean and Romey have not forgotten we don’t have television. They don’t give a whoop or a holler about the great men and great women in our history. Or about humanity or what sacrifices I might be making for their good. Distant shores do not beckon them. They spend their evenings wrangling with each other and listening to radio music. Sometimes, when they feel kind toward each other, they dance. I love these two but can hardly stand them.

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.

Now, as for the people you work with: You like them, but they’re very different from you. Throughout life, you’ll find yourself in this position. Each new job will introduce a brand-new and vastly different culture to you. It’s unavoidable. I worked at an early dot-com, and the culture was pure Angry Nerds with Delusions of Grandeur. In some ways, I fit right in. But I also felt like a slow-moving herd animal among honey badgers. Pushing through that feeling was crucial; it was a dream job, and if I’d let my mournful lowing get in the way of what I actually created there, it would’ve been a damn shame. Likewise, when you become a parent? You are often forced to hang out with the parents of your kids’ friends. For a while, I was seriously avoidant about this, but once I finally gave in and threw myself into befriending other parents, I realized what I was missing. I love those friends! They’re great! If I turned my back on that crowd just because every last one of our interests and values weren’t in line, my life would be far less colorful and rewarding than it is. The bigger point: Groups can’t fulfill your every need. Your spouse can’t single-handedly bring you happiness. Your best female friend can’t save you from being alone. Your group of college friends won’t feel perfectly right for you when you’re in a certain mood. There will always be discrepancies between you and your friends where priorities and lifestyle are concerned. So don’t let it prevent you from forging new connections.