New Chapter Unlocked Quotes

Life is too short, we are here for a reason to meet someone new to be part of our new life chapter/adventure. Stop being the prisoner of your past but be the builder of the future and or the present. Time to unlock the door and let the new one to enter. It is time to close the door of the past forever.

So what, in the light of all this, would Paul say had actually happened by six o’clock on the first Good Friday evening? If Romans 3:21–26 was all we had to go on, what might we conclude? First, he would say that the age-old covenant plan of the Creator, to rescue humanity and the world from sin and death, had been accomplished. The new Passover had taken place, in fulfillment of God’s promises to Abraham. Second, he would say that this had been accomplished by God himself, in his act of covenant faithfulness (for which the shorthand is “love,” though Paul does not use that word until chapters 5 and 8), drawing together Israel’s vocation and his own deepest purposes in the faithful death of the Messiah. Third, as befits a “Passover” moment, he would say that people of all sorts—Jews and Gentiles alike—were now free, free from past sins, free to come into the single covenant family. They were “freely declared to be in the right,” to be within God’s justified people, able to look ahead to the final day without fear of condemnation (5:9; 8:1; 8:31–39). Fourth, as we have seen in all the other early Christian strands of thought we have studied, Paul saw the new Passover also as the “dealing with sins” through which exile was undone. This is where Passover and the “Day of Atonement” meet and merge. Fifth, and at the heart of it all, Paul saw Israel’s representative Messiah “handed over because of our trespasses,” in the sense intended in Isaiah 53. Dealing with sins robs the “powers” of their power; and this, as we have seen, is the key that unlocks all the other doors.

To sum up: it's time to rewrite the maxim that practice makes perfect. The truth is, practice makes myelin, and myelin makes perfect. And myelin operates by a few fundamental principles. The firing of the circuit is paramount. Myelin is not built to respond to fond wishes or vague ideas or information that washes over us like a warm bath. The mechanism is built to respond to actions: the literal electrical impulses traveling down nerve fibers. It responds to urgent repetition. In a few chapters we'll discuss the likely evolutionary reasons, but for now we'll simply note that deep practice is assisted by the attainment of a primal state, one where we are attentive, hungry, and focused, even desperate. Myelin is universal. One size fits all skills. Our myelin doesn't “know” whether it's being used for playing shortstop or playing Schubert: regardless of its use, it grows according to the same rules. Myelin is meritocratic: circuits that fire get insulated. If you moved to China, your myelin would wrap fibers that help you conjugate Mandarin verbs. To put it another way, myelin doesn't care who you are—it cares what you do. Myelin wraps—it doesn't unwrap. Like a highway-paving machine, myelination happens in one direction. Once a skill circuit is insulated, you can't un-insulate it (except through age or disease). That's why habits are hard to break. The only way to change them is to build new habits by repeating new behaviors—by myelinating new circuits.

When we allow our evolutionary compass to guide us home to ourselves, we naturally gravitate toward certain foods and avoid others. In the next chapter, we will explore some of the frontiers in the science of food and energy and learn how to assess new inventions, sidestep those that make us sick, and navigate toward the inputs that best align with what our bodies need and crave at a cellular level.

One of the most surprising findings to emerge from neuroscience in recent years is that rather than responding in real time to the vast amount of incoming sensory data, the brain tries to keep one step ahead by constantly predicting what will happen next. It simulates a model of the immediate future based on what has just happened. When its predictions turn out to be wrong—for example, we’re feeling just fine then suddenly experience a stab of anxiety about a romantic date—this mismatch creates an unpleasant sense of dissatisfaction that we can either try to resolve by ruminating and then doing something to alleviate the anxiety (canceling the date, perhaps) or by updating the brain’s model of reality (investigating and accepting the new sensation). These alternative strategies employ the “narrative” and “being” modes of thought I described earlier in this chapter. Of course, both strategies have their place according to the situation, but an overreliance on avoidance behavior rather than acceptance stores up problems for the future because there are many things in life that cannot be changed and therefore need to be faced. Mindfulness through interoception is all about accepting the way things are. When we are mindful, the insula continually updates its representation of our internal world to improve its accuracy by reducing discrepancies between expectation and reality. As we’ve seen in previous chapters, this reality check—the focusing of dispassionate attention on unpleasant sensations such as pain or anxiety—loosens the hold that they have over us. So the structural changes in the brains of highly experienced meditators of Siddhārtha’s caliber, in particular in their insula and ACC, may be responsible for the imperturbable calm and acceptance that is the ultimate goal of contemplative practice, sometimes described as enlightenment or nirvana.