Pulse Rate Quotes

Red stimulates and excites your nerves, pulse rate and blood circulation, and lends energy to your entire system. When you are fatigued, lethargic or sluggish for any reason, red has an energizing influence.

Nothing. Heart pounding. Respiration and all somatic processes including all manner of diencephalic-controlled autonomic responses to crises: adrenalin greater heartbeat pulse rate glands pouring throat paralysed eyes staring bowels loose et al. Stomach queasy and sex instinct suppressed. And yet nothing to see nothing for body to do. Run All in preparation for panic flight. But where to and why Mr Tagomi asked himself. No clue. Therefore impossible. Dilemma of civilized man body mobilized but danger obscure.

If a song is a living, breathing entity, you might think of the tempo as its gait—the rate at which it walks by—or its pulse—the rate at which the heart of the song is beating.

Home. Home was BAMA, the Sprawl, the Boston-Atlanta Metropolitan Axis. Program a map to display frequency of data exchange, every thousand megabytes a single pixel on a very large screen. Manhattan and Atlanta burn solid white. Then they start to pulse, the rate of traffic threatening to overload your simulation. Your map is about to go nova. Cool it down. Up your scale. Each pixel a million megabytes. At a hundred million megabytes per second, you begin to make out certain blocks in midtown Manhattan, outlines of hundred-year-old industrial parks ringing the old core of Atlanta...

Walking soothes. There is a healing power in walking. The regular placement of one foot in front of the other while at the same time rowing rhythmically with the arms, the rising rate of respiration, the slight stimulation of the pulse, the actions required of eye and ear for determining direction and maintaining balance, the feeling of the passing air brushing against the skin -- all these are events that mass about the body and mind in a quite irresistible fashion and allow the soul, be it ever so atrophied and bruised, to grow and expand.

Individual heart cells beat at their own rate when separated from one another, a phenomenon easily observed beneath a microscope. It has long been known that when they are pushed together, they will synchronize their pulses. Recent studies have shown, however, that heart cells begin to synchronize slightly before they touch. It is not known how they signal across this distance. Some scientists speculate that this method of communication may be able to cross great distances and may explain how social animals bond, or how pets seem to sense when their masters are coming home, or even how people fall in love, one heart calling to another.

My heart’s beat thy sight stole, Taking mine unruly soul. My pulse at rates of abrupt speed; I proclaimed love before my creed. Blooming flowers hold no compare To thy blissful beauty, oh so rare. Give me agony or give me death, I’ll take thy heart as eternal breath. Ceaselessly Yours, David Chios

Lieutenant Colonel John Glenn, who became the first American to orbit the Earth and would later run for president, was admired by his comrades for his supercool pulse rate during liftoff (only 110 beats per minute).

The Dalai Lama has said that transforming thought is one of his favorite practices. He instructs, “Let yourself visualize the effects of unskillful thought patterns such as annoyance, anger, self-judgment, and so forth. Inwardly see how such thoughts affect you: the tension, the raising of your pulse rate, the discomfort. Outwardly see how such thoughts affect others who hold them, making them upset, rigid, even ugly. Then make the compassionate determination, ‘I will never allow such states to make me lose my peace of mind.

For the early U.S. astronauts, having a low heart rate, which is associated with low reactivity, was a status symbol. Lieutenant Colonel John Glenn, who became the first American to orbit the Earth and would later run for president, was admired by his comrades for his supercool pulse rate during liftoff (only 110 beats per minute).

Each electrical pulse—and resulting squirt of neurotransmitter—is not an order commanding the next neuron’s actions; it is more like a vote on what the next neuron should do. The whole pattern of activity is like a presidential election. Everyone votes on who the president should be, and depending on those votes, the country veers off in one direction or another. If you can change the number of votes in a few key swing states by only a few percentage points, you can dramatically change the course of the country. The same is true of the brain. By changing the firing rate of neurons in a few key regions, you can influence the pattern of activity in the entire brain.

Your heart rate is up,” I said, my lips on his pulse point. “You have that effect on me,” he answered, a smile in his joke. “Well, you know what they say: When two hearts race, both win.” He lifted my chin to kiss me again. “Who said that?” “I don’t know. I saw it in on the inside of a Dove chocolate wrapper. But it fits, don’t you think?

Walking soothes. There is a healing power in walking. The regular placement of one foot in front of the other while at the same time rowing rhythmically with the arms, the rising rate of respiration, the slight stimulation of the pulse, the actions required of eye and ear for determining direction and maintaining balance, the feeling of the passing air brushing against the skin – all these are events that mass about the body and mind in a quite irresistible fashion and allow the soul, be it ever so atrophied and bruised, to grow and expand.

Well,all she had to do was ask," one offended male replied. "I hope you're satisfied!" Lauren whispered furiously. "I'm not," Nick chuckled in her ear. "But I'm going to be." Fully intending to leave him to take his own notes, Lauren slammed her notebook closed and tried to shove her chair back. Nick's body blocked the chair. She twisted her head around to say something scathing, and his lips captured hers in a kiss that forced her head against the back of the chair, tripled her pulse rate and robbed her of thought. When he took his mouth away, she was too shaken to do anything except stare at him. "What do you think,Nick?" a voice asked over the speaker. "I think it gets better every time," he answered huskily. When the call was finally over, Nick pressed a button on the desk, and Lauren saw the door leading into Mary's office swing shut electronically. He grasped her arms and drew her out of the chair, turning her toward him. His mouth came closer to hers,and Lauren felt herself being helplessly drawn into his magnetic spell. "Don't!" she pleaded. "Please don't do this to me." His hands tightened on her arms. "Why can't you just admit you want me and enjoy the consequences?" "All right," she said wretchedly, "You win. I want you...I admit it." She saw the gleam of triumph in his eyes, and her chin lifted. "When I was eight years old, I also wanted a monkey I saw in a pet store." The triumph faded. "And?" he sighed irritably,letting go of her. "And unfortunately I got him," Lauren said. "Daisy bit me,and I had to have twelve stitches in my leg." Nick looked as if he was torn between laughter and anger. "I imagine he bit you for naming him Daisy." Lauren ignored his mockery. "And when I was thirteen, I wanted sisters and brothers. My father obliged me by remarrying, and I got a stepsister who stole my clothes and my boyfriends, and a stepbrother who stole my allowances." "What the hell does that have to do with us?" "Everything!

It was as if she had just discovered the irreversible process. It astonished her to think that so much could be lost, even the quantity of hallucination belonging just to the sailor that the world would bear no further trace of. She knew, because she had held him, that he suffered DT’s. Behind the initials was a metaphor, a delirium tremens, a trembling unfurrowing of the mind’s plowshare. The saint whose water can light lamps, the clairvoyant whose lapse in recall is the breath of God, the true paranoid for whom all is organized in spheres joyful or threatening about the central pulse of himself, the dreamer whose puns probe ancient fetid shafts and tunnels of truth all act in the same special relevance to the word, or whatever it is the word is there, buffering, to protect us from. The act of metaphor then was a thrust at truth and a lie, depending where you were: inside, safe, or outside, lost. Oedipa did not know where she was. Trembling, unfurrowed, she slipped sidewise, screeching back across grooves of years, to hear again the earnest, high voice of her second or third collegiate love Ray Glozing bitching among “uhs” and the syncopated tonguing of a cavity, about his freshman calculus; “dt,” God help this old tattooed man, meant also a time differential, a vanishingly small instant in which change had to be confronted at last for what it was, where it could no longer disguise itself as something innocuous like an average rate; where velocity dwelled in the projectile though the projectile be frozen in midflight, where death dwelled in the cell though the cell be looked in on at its most quick. She knew that the sailor had seen worlds no other man had seen if only because there was that high magic to low puns, because DT’s must give access to dt’s of spectra beyond the known sun, music made purely of Antarctic loneliness and fright. But nothing she knew of would preserve them, or him.

Jason: That conversation was weird, huh? Jason: For what it’s worth, you truly held your composure. Jason: I wasn’t frightened at all. Jason: Okay, throwing down some honesty. I was a little frightened. Jason: Just a little, nothing like pissing my pants or anything like that. Jason: Did you know you have a pulsing vein in your forehead when you’re angry? Jason: I counted its pulse rate and I think you might have high blood pressure. Jason: I’m not a nurse, I don’t know about blood pressure, but CVS has one of those arm-pressure-checker things. Want me to take you? #WorriedAboutYourHealth Jason: #PulsingVein Jason: #SerpentTongue Jason: ^^ Oh shit that was for Knox. Jason: I wasn’t saying you have a serpent tongue. I’m sure your tongue is normal. Not one ounce of evil in it. Jason: Okay, I was talking about your tongue. Jason: I feel like since you’re not texting back I might be digging myself an even bigger hole than before. Am I right? Jason: I’m going to take your silence as a yes, which in that case, you don’t have a serpent tongue. Love that pulsing vein, and not once was I frightened. There. *Wipes forehead* Glad we cleared that up. Have a good night. #GodBless Jason: P.S. Don’t know why I said God bless, just go with it. #PrayerHands Jason: P.S.S. I’m wearing my flannel jam-jams. I like when they ride up in my crack. #FeelsNice

At three hundred feet, we are profoundly changed. The pressure at these depths is nine times that of the surface. The organs collapse. The heart beats at a quarter of its normal rate, slower than the rate of a person in a coma. Senses disappear. The brain enters a dream state. At six hundred feet down, the ocean’s pressure—some eighteen times that of the surface—is too extreme for most human bodies to withstand. Few freedivers have ever attempted dives to this depth; fewer have survived. Where humans can’t go, other animals can. Sharks, which can dive below six hundred and fifty feet, and much deeper, rely on senses beyond the ones we know. Among them is magnetoreception, an attunement to the magnetic pulses of the Earth’s molten core. Research suggests that humans have this ability and likely used it to navigate across the oceans and trackless deserts for thousands of years. Eight hundred feet down appears to be the absolute limit of the human body.

An average person’s pulse rate on an empty stomach would be in the seventies or even eighties. For a person doing the right type of meditative practice, you will find that the pulse rate would range between the thirties and forties. Even after a good lunch it would stay in the fifties. This is just one parameter that indicates the level of restfulness that your body is experiencing moment to moment. Restfulness essentially defines the replenishing and rejuvenating capability of the body.

If we think of eroticism not as sex per se, but as a vibrant, creative energy, it’s easy to see that Stephanie’s erotic pulse is alive and well. But her eroticism no longer revolves around her husband. Instead, it’s been channeled to her children. There are regular playdates for Jake but only three dates a year for Stephanie and Warren: two birthdays, hers and his, and one anniversary. There is the latest in kids’ fashion for Sophia, but only college sweats for Stephanie. They rent twenty G-rated movies for every R-rated movie. There are languorous hugs for the kids while the grown-ups must survive on a diet of quick pecks. This brings me to another point. Stephanie gets tremendous physical pleasure from her children. Let me be perfectly clear here: she knows the difference between adult sexuality and the sensuousness of caring for small children. She, like most mothers, would never dream of seeking sexual gratification from her children. But, in a sense, a certain replacement has occurred. The sensuality that women experience with their children is, in some ways, much more in keeping with female sexuality in general. For women, much more than for men, sexuality exists along what the Italian historian Francesco Alberoni calls a “principle of continuity.” Female eroticism is diffuse, not localized in the genitals but distributed throughout the body, mind, and senses. It is tactile and auditory, linked to smell, skin, and contact; arousal is often more subjective than physical, and desire arises on a lattice of emotion. In the physicality between mother and child lie a multitude of sensuous experiences. We caress their silky skin, we kiss, we cradle, we rock. We nibble their toes, they touch our faces, we lick their fingers, let them bite us when they’re teething. We are captivated by them and can stare at them for hours. When they devour us with those big eyes, we are besotted, and so are they. This blissful fusion bears a striking resemblance to the physical connection between lovers. In fact, when Stephanie describes the early rapture of her relationship with Warren—lingering gazes, weekends in bed, baby talk, toe-nibbling—the echoes are unmistakable. When she says, “At the end of the day, I have nothing left to give,” I believe her. But I also have come to believe that at the end of the day, there may be nothing more she needs. All this play activity and intimate involvement with her children’s development, all this fleshy connection, has captured Stephanie’s erotic potency to the detriment of the couple’s intimacy and sexuality. This is eros redirected. Her sublimated energy is displaced onto the children, who become the centerpiece of her emotional gratification.

Against his chest he felt the baby’s heartbeat, just under twice the rate of his own. Their pulses fell in and out of phase, but one day they would be always out. They would never be this close. He would know him less well, then even less. Others would know Lawrence better than he did, where he was, what he was doing and saying, growing closer to this friend, then this lover. Crying sometimes, alone. From his father, occasional visits, a sincere hug, catch up on work, family, some politics, then goodbye. Until then, he knew everything about him, where he was in every minute, in every place. He was the baby’s bed and his god. The long letting go could be the essence of parenthood and from here was impossible to conceive.

What about television?" a young man asked. "It's an octopus. It's no longer just a little box, it's the Love Machine." "Why the Love Machine?" a reporter asked. "Because it sells love. It creates love. Presidents are chosen by their appeal on that little box. It's turned politicians into movie stars and movie stars into politicians. It can you engaged if you use a certain mouthwash. It claims you'll have women hanging on your coattails if you use a certain hair cream. It tells the kids to eat their cereal if they want to be like their baseball idol. But like all great lovers, the Love Machine is a fickle bastard. It has great magnetism--but it has no heart. In place of a heart beats a Nielsen rating. And when the Nielsen falters, the program dies. It's the pulse and heart of the twentieth century--The Love Machine.

Steerpike of the Many Problems,” said the Doctor. “What did you say they were? My memory is so very untrustworthy. It’s as fickle as a fox. Ask me to name the third lateral bloodvessel from the extremity of my index finger that runs east to west when I lie on my face at sundown, or the percentage of chalk to be found in the knuckles of an average spinster in her fifty-seventh year, ha, ha, ha! – or even ask me, my dear boy, to give details of the pulse rate of frogs two minutes before they die of scabies – these things are no tax upon my memory, ha, ha, ha! But ask me to remember exactly what you said you problems were, a minute ago, and you will find that my memory has forsaken me utterly. Now why is that, my dear Master Steerpike, why is that?” “Because I never mentioned them,” said Steerpike. “That accounts for it,” said Prunesquallor. “That, no doubt, accounts for it.

During that ride, I started playing around with my breathing. I tried to inhale and exhale slower and slower, from my usual exercising rate of 20 breaths a minute to just six. I immediately felt a sense of air hunger and claustrophobia. After a minute or so I looked down at the pulse oximeter to see how much oxygen I was losing, how starved my body had become. But my oxygen hadn’t decreased with these very slow breaths, as I or anyone else might expect. My levels rose. •

Alert> Five Chikoya approaching, open assault formation. Multiple target acquisition. Armed> Disruptor pulse. Maximum power rating. Sequential fire. U-shadow update: landing exit capsule behind Building-D. Armed> Neutron lasers. Maximum power rating. Sequential fire. U-shadow update: decoy capsules on collision vector. Mach eight. Accelerating. Armed> Microkinetics. Enhanced explosive warheads. Free fire authority. Armed> Ariel smartseeker stealth mines. Chikoya profile loaded. Dispense. Alert> New targets.

Then, quietly, he said, “I could do it.” “What?” “I could braid your hair.” “You?” “Yes.” Kestrel’s pulse bit at her throat. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything he had crossed the room and swept her hair into his hands. His fingers began to move. It was strange that the room was so silent. It seemed that there should have been some kind of sound when a fingertip grazed her neck. Or when he drew a lock taut and pinned it in place. When he let a ribbon-thin braid fall forward so that it tapped her cheek. Every gesture of his was as resonant as music, and Kestrel didn’t quite believe that she couldn’t hear any notes, high or low. She let out a slow breath. His hands stilled. “Did I hurt you?” “No.” Pins disappeared from the dressing table at a rapid rate. Kestrel watched small braids lose themselves inside larger ones, dip in and under and out of an increasingly intricate design. She felt a gentle tug. A twist. A shiver of air. Although Arin wasn’t touching her, he was touching no living part of her, it felt as if a fine net had been cast over Kestrel, one that hazed her vision and shimmered against her skin. “There,” he said. Kestrel watched her reflection lift a hand to her head. She couldn’t think of what to say. Arin had drawn back, hands in his pockets. But his eyes held hers in the mirror, and his face had softened, like when she had played the piano for him. She said, “How…?” He smiled. “How did a blacksmith pick up such an unexpected skill?” “Well, yes.” “My older sister used to make me do this when I was little.

One day over breakfast, a medical resident asked how Dr. Apgar would make a systematic assessment of a newborn. “That’s easy,” she replied. “You would do it like this.” Apgar jotted down five variables (heart rate, respiration, reflex, muscle tone, and color) and three scores (0, 1, or 2, depending on the robustness of each sign). Realizing that she might have made a breakthrough that any delivery room could implement, Apgar began rating infants by this rule one minute after they were born. A baby with a total score of 8 or above was likely to be pink, squirming, crying, grimacing, with a pulse of 100 or more—in good shape. A baby with a score of 4 or below was probably bluish, flaccid, passive, with a slow or weak pulse—in need of immediate intervention. Applying Apgar’s score, the staff in delivery rooms finally had consistent standards for determining which babies were in trouble, and the formula is credited for an important contribution to reducing infant mortality. The Apgar test is still used every day in every delivery room.

For reasons we don't yet understand, the tendency to synchronize is one of the most pervasive drives in the universe, extending from atoms to animals, from people to planets. Female friends or coworkers who spend a great deal of time together often find that their menstrual periods tend to start around the same day. Sperm swimming side by side en route to the egg beat their tails in unison, in a primordial display of synchronized swimming. Sometimes sync can be pernicious: Epilepsy is caused by millions of brain cells discharging in pathological lockstep, causing the rhythmic convulsions associated with seizures. Even lifeless things can synchronize. The astounding coherence of a laser beam comes from trillions of atoms pulsing in concert, all emitting photons of the same phase and frequency. Over the course of millennia, the incessant effects of the tides have locked the moon's spin to its orbit. It now turns on its axis at precisely the same rate as it circles the earth, which is why we always see the man in the moon and never its dark side.

The nose is crucial because it clears air, heats it, and moistens it for easier absorption. Most of us know this. But what so many people never consider is the nose’s unexpected role in problems like erectile dysfunction. Or how it can trigger a cavalcade of hormones and chemicals that lower blood pressure and ease digestion. How it responds to the stages of a woman’s menstrual cycle. How it regulates our heart rate, opens the vessels in our toes, and stores memories. How the density of your nasal hairs helps determine whether you’ll suffer from asthma. Few of us ever consider how the nostrils of every living person pulse to their own rhythm, opening and closing like a flower in response to our moods, mental states, and perhaps even the sun and the moon.

unease grew when she reached the part about their divorce. He hadn’t. Isn’t that why her pulse had started pounding the second she saw the cover? “He broke our agreement not to talk about the divorce.” “Asshole fink. What does it say?” “It says…” Her heart rate doubled as she read the print. She was tempted to put her head between her legs, standing up. “He said we had different ideas about our life together. He wanted to serve a higher good. Give the public information to...improve their lives. Bullshit. Oh, and now he wants to be a public servant in an elected office. He said I wanted a more traditional family with kids—the kind you read about in books—not that he’s against that.” Pain seared her temple at the betrayal even as she wanted to rip apart the magazine. Her old wounds emerged, raw and fresh.

In order to avoid the deafening of conspecifics, some bats employ a jamming avoidance response, rapidly shifting frequencies or flying silent when foraging near conspecifics. Because jamming is a problem facing any active emission sensory system, it is perhaps not surprising (though no less amazing) that similar jamming avoidance responses are deployed by weakly electric fish. The speed of sound is so fast in water that it makes it difficult for echolocating whales to exploit similar Doppler effects. However, the fact that acoustic emissions propagate much farther and faster in the water medium means that there is less attenuation of ultrasound in water, and thus that echolocation can be used for broader-scale 'visual' sweeping of the undersea environment. These constraints and trade-offs must be resolved by all acoustic ISMs, on Earth and beyond. There are equally universal anatomical and metabolic constraints on the evolvability of echolocation that explain why it is 'harder' to evolve than vision. First, as noted earlier, a powerful sound-production capacity, such as the lungs of tetrapods, is required to produce high-frequency emissions capable of supporting high-resolution acoustic imaging. Second, the costs of echolocation are high, which may limit acoustic imaging to organisms with high-metabolisms, such as mammals and birds. The metabolic rates of bats during echolocation, for instance, are up to five times greater than they are at rest. These costs have been offset in bats through the evolutionarily ingenious coupling of sound emission to wing-beat cycle, which functions as a single unit of biomechanical and metabolic efficiency. Sound emission is coupled with the upstroke phase of the wing-beat cycle, coinciding with contraction of abdominal muscles and pressure on the diaphragm. This significantly reduces the price of high-intensity pulse emission, making it nearly costless. It is also why, as any careful crepuscular observer may have noticed, bats spend hardly any time gliding (which is otherwise a more efficient means of flight).

Twas the night before Christmas and in SICU All the patients were stirring, the nurses were, too. Some Levophed hung from an IMED with care In hopes that a blood pressure soon would be there. One patient was resting all snug in his bed While visions—from Versed—danced in his head. I, in my scrubs, with flowsheet in hand, Had just settled down to chart the care plan. Then from room 17 there arose such a clatter We sprang from the station to see what was the matter. Away to the bedside we flew like a flash, Saved the man from falling, with restraints from the stash. “Do you know where you are?” one nurse asked while tying; “Of course! I’m in France in a jail, and I’m dying!” Then what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a heart rate of 50, the alarm in my ear. The patient’s face paled, his skin became slick And he said in a moment, “I’m going to be sick!” Someone found the Inapsine and injected a port, Then ran for a basin, as if it were sport. His heart rhythm quieted back to a sinus, We soothed him and calmed him with old-fashioned kindness. And then in a twinkling we hear from room 11 First a plea for assistance, then a swearing to heaven. As I drew in my breath and was turning around, Through the unit I hurried to respond to the sound. “This one’s having chest pain,” the nurse said and then She gave her some nitro, then morphine and when She showed not relief from IV analgesia Her breathing was failing: time to call anesthesia. “Page Dr. Wilson, or May, or Banoub! Get Dr. Epperson! She ought to be tubed!” While the unit clerk paged them, the monitor showed V-tach and low pressure with no pulse: “Call a code!” More rapid than eagles, the code team they came. The leader took charge and he called drugs by name: “Now epi! Now lido! Some bicarb and mag! You shock and you chart it! You push med! You bag!” And so to the crash cart, the nurses we flew With a handful of meds, and some dopamine, too! From the head of the bed, the doc gave his call: “Resume CPR!” So we worked one and all. Then Doc said no more, but went straight to his work, Intubated the patient, then turned with a jerk. While placing his fingers aside of her nose, And giving a nod, hooked the vent to the hose. The team placed an art-line and a right triple-lumen. And when they were through, she scarcely looked human: When the patient was stable, the doc gave a whistle. A progress note added as he wrote his epistle. But I heard him exclaim ere he strode out of sight, “Merry Christmas to all! But no more codes for tonight!” Jamie L. Beeley Submitted by Nell Britton

Exploitation: early entrants make use of the wealth of opportunity in their environment to multiply. Most fail, not least because they are poorly-connected individuals facing a dangerous world on their own, but some may eventually build a system with potential and connectedness. This is known as the r phase: r has for many years been used as a label for the rate of growth of the population of an ecology (example of phase: young trees).2 2. Conservation: the system persists in its mature form, with the benefit of a complex structure of connections, strong enough now to resist challenges for a long time, but with the weakness that the connections themselves introduce an element of rigidity, slowing down its reactions and reducing its inventiveness. This is the K phase, where the ecology reaches its carrying capacity (example: mature trees).3 In due course, however, the tight connections themselves become a decisive problem, which can only be resolved by . . . The back loop (moving from bottom-right to top-left in the diagram): 3. . . . release: at this point, the cost and complication of maintaining the large scale—providing the resources the system needs, and disposing of its waste—becomes too great. The space and flexibility for local responsiveness had become scarce, the system itself so tightly connected that it locked: a target for predators without and within, against which it found it harder and harder to defend itself. But now the stresses join up, and the system collapses (example: dying trees). This is the omega (Ω) phase, as suggested by Holling and Gunderson, and it is placed by them in its ecological context: The tightly bound accumulation of biomass and nutrients becomes increasingly fragile (overconnected, in systems terms) until it is suddenly released by agents such as forest fires, droughts, insect pests, or intense pulses of grazing.4 4. Reorganisation: the remains of a system after collapse are unpromising material on which to start afresh, and yet they are an opportunity for a different kind of system to enjoy a brief flowering—decomposing the wood of a former forest, recycling the carbon after a fire, restoring the land with forgiving grass, clearing away the assumptions and grandeur of the previous regime. Reorganisation becomes a busy system in its own right (example: rotting trees). This is the alpha (α) phase.5 In this phase, there is a persistent process of disconnecting, with the former subsidiary parts of the system being broken up. But our diagram is drawn on a graph of potential (increasing from bottom to top) and connectedness (increasing from left to right), which allows us to note a curious aspect of this back loop: the defining relationship of the fore loop—where more potential is correlated with more connectedness—is reversed. In the back loop (even) less connectedness goes with more potential. How can this be?

Signs of a High Metabolic Rate: • Body temperature with a thermometer: 97.8 F (36.6 C) upon waking 98.6 F (37 C) mid-day • Pulse 75–90 bpm • Warm feet, hands, and nose all day. • 1–3 bowel movements/day • Urinating 4–5 times/day, not 10–12 times/day • Good hormone function: healthy sex drive, no PMS, fertile • Shiny hair, smooth and healthy skin, strong nails • 7–9 hours deep, uninterrupted sleep • Feel happy and content • Have good energy all day • Maintain your weight without dieting and excessive exercise

Healing your metabolism is not a destination. It is a constant journey, since you will always encounter stressors that will affect your health and metabolism negatively. However, you will show improvements in energy, body temperature (98–99 degrees Farenheit), pulse rate (75–90 bpm), sleep quality (seven to nine uninterrupted hours), bowel movements (one to three per day), mood, hormones, digestion, and immune function along the way.

Leading by example through "Servant Leadership" used to be a badge of honor that distinguished you from the Corps of the Blue Falcon. Present day I see the ranks of the Blue Falcon surging in a flagless flotilla of blurred morals, a low tide of integrity, and selfish ethics adrift with no anchorage. The pulse of the led is directly influenced by the organizational heart rate of the leader.

I shifted so I was leaning back on my elbows and my knees fell open. They got an intimate view of my junk. As one, they walked toward me. It made my pulse speed up and beat against my veins like a thriving demon. My first blowjob. Three men. This was a fucking reward from the universe. Beau knelt on my right, Chaos was on my left, and Grim was right between my legs. My cock gave an excited spurt of pre-cum as they leaned over me. I couldn’t even control my rapid breathing. Grim moved lower first, his lips open, and his tongue sliding out. Oh, fuck, this was really going to happen. I watched as he slowly descended. His breath rushed across my aroused flesh and then his mouth came over my tip. I inhaled sharply and then he touched. His tongue probed my piss slit and my foreskin. The sensations were astonishing. He sucked as Beau and Chaos kissed above me, their passion obvious as their mouths met and Grim took more of me into his. I gasped, moaned, unable to hold back. He was so warm and wet. Chaos and Beau broke apart. Grim kissed down my length, taking a swipe at my balls. I tucked my hips under so he could reach them better. My mind was totally fucking blown. And then Beau and Chaos lowered. I hissed out a breath as they each took a side of my cock and licked. “Please.” The word gushed out. Chaos slid his lips up and down my dick while Beau did the same to the other side. Grim was sucking the skin around my balls into his mouth. I was going to have heart failure at this rate. Then Chaos and Beau met at my tip. They tongued each other around my cockhead. I felt the swift contact as they kissed. “Yes!” I cried out. My hips bucked. Grim chuckled, reaching under and stroking a finger over my hole. His wet finger slipped inside me. I could hardly catch my breath. The stimulations were too much. I reached out, grabbing Beau and Chaos’s thigh. Gripping them as my body rebelled from so much pleasure. “Please. Need to. Come.” Beau eased back and Chaos moved over my dick. He took inch after inch inside his throat. I was overwhelmed. “Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes!” He lifted. My dick flopped out of his mouth only to have Beau take over. He deep throated me, bringing me to an entirely new realm of intensity. I was gasping, squirming by the time he stopped. My cock was going to blow. “Coming,” Grim was next. He took my cock in his mouth and descended. His tongue, his teeth, his lips. I blew. My body jerked, sending my shaft completely down his throat. “Grim!” I screamed. My orgasm exploded, cum erupted out of my body and into his. “Hold it!” I managed to say. The pleasure so intense I wanted to stay like this forever. I grabbed his head in my hands, coming and coming into him. Over and over. Spurt after spurt. Grim took every drop without fighting my hold. Then my shaky body gave way and I collapsed on the blanket. My hands fell to my sides as Grim rose and gasped for breath. I had a permanent smile as I lay there. Beau and Chaos were kissing above me again. I watched them, content to lay here for eternity.

It’s an awful sound, one that makes Joseph’s teeth hurt, like someone’s taken a swarm of some particularly vicious cousin of the cicada, tossed them all in a bag, and given the bag a shake, pissing them off. And yet Joseph feels there are words in that buzz. The thing in the trees is calling out a message, like a warning—This territory is mine. Stay off. Gracie motions to him to stoop down low, and they begin to creep around the area the sound came from. As they pass through one glen Joseph looks up through the branches, and he sees something at the top of a tree, near the trunk. It is dark, but he thinks he sees the silhouette of a man, balanced perfectly on a high branch like a rooster on top of a barn. In the starlight Joseph thinks he can make out the edge of the man’s face, and while he can discern a nose and a mouth, he cannot see any ears, or eyes… as he looks closer, the dark figure shifts a little on the branch, settles back its shoulders, and it lifts its head, and as it does the horrible buzz fills the forest again. Joseph feels his heart ratchet up its rate until he can feel his pulse in his eyes. The shadowy figure in the tree trembles as the buzz dies to a close, and he can see the thing begin looking around from the top of the tree, searching for intruders…

Relieving Stress Stress is your reaction to outside stimuli pushing your mind, body or spirit out of balance. Adapting to new stimuli is how you increase your capabilities and develop new skills, i.e., the basis of growth. But, if the stimuli is too great or arrives so quickly that you are unable to adapt, then the resulting stress can lead to physical, emotional or mental problems. Stress can be triggered by many factors, including: physical, emotional or mental abuse; life changing events such as a new job, moving, pregnancy or divorce; work or school-related deadlines; high stress occupations; and uncomfortable social situations Exposure to stress affects us in stages: In the first stage, when we experience stress, our bodies automatically react with the characteristic “fight or flight” response, also known as an adrenaline rush. In life threatening situations this is helpful, as adrenaline causes our bodies to increases our pulse, blood pressure and rate of breathing, better preparing us to do battle or to escape. When the outside stimuli disappear, often with a good night’s sleep, we return to normal. Continued exposure to stress, without a break, results in the second stage. In today’s modern society, everyday stress from traffic jams, work, or just plain living, triggers this same reaction. We end up in a constant state of stress. We deplete our reserves, especially our adrenal glands, and lessen our ability to handle additional stress. Even our ability to sleep can be affected. The final stage results from the accumulation of stress over time and leads to exhaustion. Unable to return our body, mind and spirit to its normal state of balance due to overwhelming stress, we suffer physical, emotional and mental breakdowns. Warning signs are: weight gain or loss, ulcers, indigestion, insomnia, depression, anxiety, fear, anger, inability to concentrate, moodiness, and other problems. It can be argued that all disease is a consequence of stress.

Second, offer your partner other ways to know that you’re turned on. Here are some alternative things your partner can pay attention to if your genitals are telling them only about learning, not about liking: Your breath. Your respiration rate and your pulse increase with arousal. You begin holding your breath, too, as you get to the highest level of arousal and your thoracic and pelvic diaphragms contract. Muscle tension, especially in your abdomen, buttocks, and thighs, but also in your wrists, calves, and feet. When the tension moves in waves through you, your body bows and arches. For some women, in some contexts, this happens in an obvious way. For other women, or in other contexts, it is subtle. Most important, your words. Only you can tell your partner what you want and how you feel. Not all women feel equally comfortable talking about their desire and arousal, but you can shortcut with “yes” or “more.

very safe pilot. He had never had an accident, had never raised his pulse to an almost unbearable rate because he was pushing an airplane--or himself--to see what he could see. The top pilots did this. They needed to know the envelope of the airplane and of themselves. They needed to know the limits to which they could push themselves and their craft and still be in control. They needed to know the precise point at which they or the airplane would depart from stable and controlled flight. So Rawson was now the CO (commanding officer), albeit

The polygraph or lie detector test consists of a customary pre-test interview, after which subjects are familiarized with the equipment and given sitting instructions. A number of tubes and wires are then attached to them. These record physiological responses to questions read that must be categorically answered in ‘yes’ or ‘no’ terms. The questions come every 25 seconds. The questions are straightforward. As the subject answers questions, every physiological change in the subject, whether it is in respiration, pulse rate, blood pressure or even skin reflex—through electrodes attached to fingers—is recorded. A comparison with his normal physiological performance guides the examiner to an opinion on whether or not the subject is telling the truth.

due to the precision of the optical electron oscillation frequency within strontium or aluminium. 30. Train of identical nearly single-cycle optical pulses. The spectrum of the pulse train looks like the teeth of a comb, hence it is called a frequency comb. ‘Optical clockwork’ of this kind allows the comparison of disparate frequencies with such remarkable precision that it provides a means to test the tenets of relativity, and thus to understand better the role of light in defining space and time. Frequency, and thus time, is the physical quantity that can be measured with the highest precision of any quantity, by far. Optical telecommunications Frequency combs are also important in telecommunications links based on light. In Chapter 3, I described how optical waves could be guided along a fibre or in a glass ‘chip’. This phenomenon underpins the long-distance telecommunications infrastructure that connects people across different continents and powers the Internet. The reason it is so effective is that light-based communications have much more capacity for carrying information than do electrical wires, or even microwave cellular networks. This makes possible massive data transmission, such as that needed to deliver video on demand over the Internet. Many telecommunications companies offer ‘fibre optic broadband’ deals. A key feature of these packages is the high speed—up to 100 megabytes per second (MBps)—at which data may be received and transmitted. A byte is a number of bits, each of which is a 1 or a 0. Information is sent over fibres as a sequence of ‘bits’, which are decoded by your computer or mobile phone into intelligible video, audio, or text messages. In optical communications, the bits are represented by the intensity of the light beam—typically low intensity is a 0 and higher intensity a 1. The more of these that arrive per second, the faster the communication rate. The MBps speed of the package specifies how rapidly we can transmit and receive information over that company’s link.

You’re not dealing with quick fix; you’re dealing with a Quadrant II activity that will bring phenomenal long-term results. Ask anyone who has done it consistently. Little by little, your resting pulse rate will go down as your heart and oxygen processing system becomes more efficient. As you increase your body’s ability to do more demanding things, you’ll find your normal activities much more comfortable and pleasant. You’ll have more afternoon energy, and the fatigue you’ve felt that’s made you “too tired” to exercise in the past will be replaced by an energy that will invigorate everything you do.

The pulsar is like a lighthouse beam spinning at high speed. Every time it comes around to face us we see a flash. Its rotation can be very accurately monitored by timing observations of its periodic pulses. Twenty years of observations have shown that the pulsing of the binary pulsar is slowing at exactly the rate predicted if the system is losing energy by radiating gravitational waves at the rate predicted by Einstein's theory.

As the crowd jeered and laughed, the leader of the attackers vowed meekly, “We will never touch girls again. Honest, we won’t.” Then the three men edged away from the smirking crowd. As my pulse rate returned to normal, I discovered I was as amazed as everyone else. Taking a deep breath, I thanked God for His help and miraculous assistance. Those who had seen the encounter continued to call out their approval and good wishes. “Well done, Superwoman!” “You should be a coach. You should be training all the young women and girls. Make the streets safe!” Eventually I would earn my black belt, become a coach and share the Gospel the same way that I was saved.

The company has recently made a push into the activity-tracking space — competing with Fitbit, Jawbone, Garmin, and others — with two devices: the Activité, a step-and-sleep tracker that looks like a regular mechanical watch, and the Pulse O2, a fitness monitor that can also check a user’s heart rate. I thought that I would find the activity trackers indispensable. But within a month I discovered that I didn’t have a particularly strong commitment to wanting to keep track of my daily activity levels, and I stopped using them. To my surprise in the end the product I now use most regularly is the one I was most hesitant to try: the Aura sleep-tracking system. The Aura is a futuristic-looking alarm clock-like device that connects to Wi-Fi and includes a sensitive, wire-connected monitoring pad that goes underneath a user’s mattress. The system keeps track of heart rate, time spent in REM sleep and deep sleep (based, in part, on body motion and breathing cycle), and room temperature (a recent update allows it to connect with Nest smart thermostats to adjust temperature for maximum sleep comfort).

Why the devil do you dress like that,” he rasped, “when you’re easily the most beautiful woman in the territory?” Emma’s cheeks pulsed. She started to protest, then stopped herself in confusion. Had Steven’s question been a compliment or an insult? “What’s wrong with this dress?” she asked evenly, when she’d had a few moments to compose herself. “It’s plain enough for a missionary’s wife,” Steven replied. Although the words bit, Emma saw kindness in his eyes, and genuine curiosity. She wanted in the worst way for Steven to find her attractive, and the knowledge surprised and shamed her. After all, she was considering marrying Fulton, and she rarely gave his opinions a second thought. Uncharacteristic tears swelled along her lashes. “Hell and damnation,” Steven muttered. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Emma drew her lace-trimmed handkerchief from under her cuff and dried her eyes in the most dignified manner she could manage. “I do wish you wouldn’t swear.” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Emma. It’s just that a woman like you—well, you should be dressed in silks and satins, with a lace ruffle here and there. And maybe some bosom showing.” He narrowed his gaze for a moment, as if envisioning the change. “Yes. You have a very nice chest.” Once again Emma’s cheeks burned. Shocked though she was, his words had set a fire racing through her insides, and she started out of her chair. “If you’re going to be vulgar…” He reached out and caught hold of her hand when she would have risen. It was as though she’d dragged her feet across a thick carpet, then touched the door knob. She flinched at the sweet shock. “Please,” he said in a low, husky voice. “Don’t go.” Emma sank back into the chair. His strong fingers relaxed around hers reluctantly, it seemed to her, then released their grasp entirely. “It must be terrible, being so grimy dirty.” His teeth flashed white against a suntanned face. “Kind of you to put it that way, Miss Emma.” She bit her lower lip for a moment. “I meant—well, you must be very uncomfortable. It’s a pity you couldn’t go downstairs and use Chloe’s bathtub.” He arched his golden brown eyebrows. “I could, Miss Emma,” he said quietly, “if you’d help me.” Emma’s heart set instantly to pounding, and she drew back in her chair. “Help you?” “Get down the stairs,” he said. “I didn’t mean you should help me bathe.” She smiled, much relieved, though her heart rate had hardly slowed and she still felt a little dizzy. “Oh.

S.P. is a 68-year-old retired painter who is experiencing right leg calf pain. The pain began approximately 2 years ago but has become significantly worse in the past 4 months. The pain is precipitated by exercise and is relieved with rest. Two years ago, S.P. could walk two city blocks before having to stop because of leg pain. Today, he can barely walk across the yard. S.P. has smoked two to three packs of cigarettes per day (PPD) for the past 45 years. He has a history of coronary artery disease (CAD), hypertension (HTN), peripheral vascular disease (PVD), and osteoarthritis. Surgical history includes quadruple coronary artery bypass graft (CABG × 4) 3 years ago. He has had no further symptoms of cardiopulmonary disease since that time, even though he has not been compliant with the exercise regimen his cardiologist prescribed, he continues to eat anything he wants, and continues to smoke two to three PPD. Other surgical history includes open reduction internal fixation of the right femoral fracture 20 years ago. S.P. is in the clinic today for a routine semiannual follow-up appointment with his primary care provider. As you take his vital signs, he tells you that, besides the calf pain, he is experiencing right hip pain that gets worse with exercise, the pain doesn't go away promptly with rest, some days are worse than others, and his condition is not affected by a resting position. � Chart View General Assessment Weight 261 lb Height 5 ft, 10 in. Blood pressure 163/91 mm Hg Pulse 82 beats/min Respiratory rate 16 breaths/min Temperature 98.4° F (36.9° C) Laboratory Testing (Fasting) Cholesterol 239 mg/dL Triglycerides 150 mg/dL HDL 28 mg/dL LDL 181 mg/dL Current Medications Lisinopril (Zestril) 20 mg/day Metoprolol (Lopressor) 25 mg twice a day Aspirin 325 mg/day Simvastatin (Zocor) 20 mg/day Case Study 4 Name Class/Group Date ____________________ Group Members INSTRUCTIONS All questions apply to this case study. Your responses should be brief and to the point. When asked to provide several

Devi laughed, the sound bounced off the walls around us. The degenerates heard her. and their pulses tripped faster, triggering an increase in my own heart rate. "The plan is to send the bastards back to hell, then dance on their corpses." "She's kidding about the dance." Reese's gaze was focused on the end of the alley, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he listened. Finn stepped up to my side. "No, she's not.

Medical Warning: Talk to your doctor before beginning a John Locke series, as studies have shown them to be habit-forming and highly addictive. Do not read Locke if you suffer from high blood pressure or other heart-related issues, as readers often experience mood swings, increased pulses, elevated heart rates, and have reported unexpected shifts in body position that take them to the edge of their seats. Do not drive or use machinery while reading Locke novels. Locke novels are not for everyone, and may cause serious reactions including insomnia, night terrors, and uncontrollable, maniacal laughter. Tell your doctor right away if you have these, or if you experience unusual changes in your behavior including increased sexual urges, palpitations, or prolonged erections. Common side effects include confusion, hysteria, and trouble swallowing a given premise. Do not drink alcohol while reading Locke novels, though those with a history of drug or alcohol abuse may be more prone to understanding the material. Adverse reactions to Locke novels include nausea and vomiting, loss of appetite, severe itching, rectal bleeding, purple spots under the skin, and Jimmy Legs. In extreme cases, readers have reported laughing so hard they not only shit their pants, but other’s pants, as well. Upon completing a Locke series be prepared to experience symptoms of withdrawal, including fear, anger, extreme sadness, and moderate to severe depression. Ask your doctor today if John Locke novels are right for you!

Numerous other researchers have also been fascinated by how we form connections. As Sievers began reading science journals, he learned that in 2012, scholars at the Max Planck Institute for Human Development in Germany had studied the brains of guitarists playing Scheidler’s Sonata in D Major. When the musicians played their guitars separately, with each person focused on their own musical score, their neural activity looked dissimilar. But when they segued into a duet, the electrical pulses within their craniums began to synchronize. To the researchers, it appeared as if the guitarists’ minds had merged. What’s more, that linkage often flowed through their bodies: They frequently began breathing at similar rates, their eyes dilated in tandem, their hearts began to beat in similar patterns. Frequently even the electrical impulses along their skin would synchronize. Then, when they stopped playing together—as their scores diverged or they veered into solos—the “between-brain synchronization disappeared completely,” the scientists wrote.

The alarm that goes off in our head makes our neurons activate the pituitary gland, which produces hormones that release corticotropin, which in turn circulates through the body via the sympathetic nervous system. The adrenal gland is then triggered to release adrenaline and cortisol. Adrenaline raises our respiratory rate and pulse and prepares our muscles for action, getting the body ready to react to perceived danger, while cortisol increases the release of dopamine and blood glucose, which is what gets us “charged up” and allows us to face challenges.

Why should I write to the newspapers instead of to the machines themselves, why not summon a monster meeting of machines, place the steam engine in the chair, and hold a council of war?” asked the anonymous “mad correspondent.” “I answer, the time is not yet ripe for this. . . . Our plan is to turn man’s besotted enthusiasm to our own advantage, to make him develop us to the utmost, and find himself enslaved unawares. “My object is to do my humble share towards pointing out what is the ultimatum, the ne plus ultra of perfection in mechanized development,” the writer continued, “even though that end be so far off that only a Darwinian posterity can arrive at it. I therefore venture to suggest that we declare machinery and the general development of the human race to be well and effectually completed when—when—when—Like the woman in white, I had almost committed myself of my secret. Nay, this is telling too much. I must content myself with disclosing something less than the whole. I will give a great step, but not the last. We will say then that a considerable advance has been made in mechanical development, when all men, in all places, without any loss of time, are cognizant through their senses, of all that they desire to be cognizant of in all other places, at a low rate of charge, so that the back country squatter may hear his wool sold in London and deal with the buyer himself—may sit in his own chair in a back country hut and hear the performance of Israel in Ægypt at Exeter Hall—may taste an ice on the Rakaia, which he is paying for and receiving in the Italian opera house Covent garden. Multiply instance ad libitum—this is the grand annihilation of time and place which we are all striving for, and which in one small part we have been permitted to see actually realised.”67 This letter, bearing the stamp of Samuel Butler in style if not in name, was signed “Lunaticus.” One hundred years after Erasmus Darwin gathered his circle of Lunaticks in the English Midlands, a strand of telegraph wire was uncoiled at the antipodes of the earth. Sparked by the transit of a few pulses of electromagnetic code over this embryonic fragment of a net, Samuel Butler foresaw the evolution, perhaps not so far off as he imagined, of that phenomenon, somewhere between mechanism and organism, now manifested as the World Wide Web.

2. If no pulse is noted a. Call for help (Code Button, yell, call light) b. Send someone for AED or whatever equipment is available c. Begin chest compressions i. At a rate of 100-120 beats/min ii. At at a depth of 2 inches iii. Do NOT delay chest compressions d. During chest compressions, do not stop unless instructed i. Minimizing chest compression interruptions is ESSENTIAL ii. Push hard and fast iii. Allow full recoil e. Continue CPR in 2-minute cycle finishes i. Check carotid pulse ii. Analyze rhythm (AED mode if no ACLS providers present) iii. Use bag/valve mask (or other devices) to administer breaths after 30 compressions 1. 30 (compressions): 2 (breaths) ratio until the airway is secured

Air bikes are a popular piece of fitness equipment, especially among air bike crossfit An air bike is a combination of a traditional exercise cycle and an elliptical machine. With an air bike, you can work out both your shoulders while increasing your pulse rate.

Karajan’s pulse-rate while conducting Beethoven’s Overture, Leonora No. 3. Interestingly, his pulse-rate showed the greatest increase during those passages which most moved him emotionally, and not during those in which he was making the greatest physical effort. It is also worth noting that recordings of his pulse-rate whilst piloting and landing a jet aircraft showed much smaller fluctuations than when he was conducting.3 Music is said to soothe the savage breast, but it may also powerfully excite it.

HOW DOES AN OBSESSION grow? Slowly, like a mold? The spores settle unseen and then blooms form, devouring any open brainscape. The genitals become infected quickly. I’m not sure how this process works exactly. A feedback loop. Mycelium reaches out, ridge by beating ridge, a thought, a heart rate rises, a feeling like sex or love, then another thought. Each pulse a quickening like river beneath the soil.

Vitamin E toxicity was causing an elevated heart rate of 95 BPM when I normally run at 60 BPM. I wanted to reach the toxicity stage to confirm that any vitamin E deficiency I had was cleared. To clear the toxicity I started monitoring my heart rate daily with a recording pulse oximeter and reducing the dose down every few days until my heart rate returned to normal.

High doses of Vitamin E cause a significantly elevated heart rate and should be done in conjunction with a pulse oximeter.

Vitamin E toxicity causes a significantly elevated heart rate.

Sure enough, a woman five doors down is flat-out dead, with a look of screaming horror on her face and a vitals sheet that reads “Temp 98.6, Blood Pressure 120/80, Respiratory Rate 18, Pulse 60.

Like every tokamak, ITER has central solenoid coils, large toroidal and poloidal magnets (respectively around and along the doughnut shape). The basic specifications are a vacuum vessel plasma of 6.2 meter radius and 830 cubic meters in volume, with a confining magnetic field of 5.3 tesla and a rated fusion power of 500 MW (thermal). This heat output would correspond to Q ≥ 10 (it would require the injection of 50 MW to heat the hydrogen plasma to about 150 million degrees) and hence would achieve, for the first time on Earth, a burning plasma of the kind required for any continuously operating fusion reactor. ITER would generate burning plasmas during pulses lasting 400 to 600 seconds, time spans sufficient to demonstrate the feasibility of building an actual electricity-generating fusion power plant. But it is imperative to understand that ITER is an experimental device designed to demonstrate the feasibility of net energy generation and to provide the foundation for larger, and eventually commercial, fusion designs, not to be a prototype of an actual energy-generating device.

Wood has sensual powers that cannot be quantified. It may even be that these powers are the most important properties of wood today. Through odour, colour, resonance and warmth, we develop a sentimental attachment to artefacts made of wood that often reaches beyond their practical use. It is difficult to know exactly why we make these attachments, not least because our appreciation of such properties is so subjective. For some, touching wood engenders a feeling of safety; for others, it is a reminder of the proximity of nature; for yet others, it is about connecting to the past. Perhaps, for all of us, it is some kind of biological response. After all, we came down from the trees and for 99.9 per cent of our time on earth we have lived in natural environments: our physiological functions remain finely tuned to nature. There have been plenty of studies that have attempted to better understand the power of wood: such studies have shown that in classrooms and offices with wooden furniture, blood pressure and pulse rates tend to drop – wood is thus responsible for reducing stress levels and improving quality of sleep.

I’m not blind, Beau. I’m not saying I think I’m ugly. I know I’m passably cute. I’ve got good hair and my complexion isn’t bad. I don’t have big, blue eyes or long lashes, but my eyes aren’t bad. I’m not exactly exciting or striking. Sawyer is perfect. It’s hard to believe he wants me sometimes.” I turned away from her, afraid the incredulous expression on my face would tell her more than she needed to know. I wanted to tell her how her green eyes made guys want to defend her or the way her sweet, pink lips were mesmerizing or how that one single dimple caused my pulse rate to increase. I wanted to point out how those long, tanned legs caused guys to trip over themselves, and when she wore tight shirts, I fought the urge to go cover her up so every male who saw her wouldn’t go home and jack off with her image in their head. But I couldn’t say any of those things.

I’m not blind, Beau. I’m not saying I think I’m ugly. I know I’m passably cute. I’ve got good hair and my complexion isn’t bad. I don’t have big, blue eyes or long lashes, but my eyes aren’t bad. I’m not exactly exciting or striking. Sawyer is perfect. It’s hard to believe he wants me sometimes.” I turned away from her, afraid the incredulous expression on my face would tell her more than she needed to know. I wanted to tell her how her green eyes made guys want to defend her or the way her sweet, pink lips were mesmerizing or how that one single dimple caused my pulse rate to increase. I wanted to point out how those long, tanned legs caused guys to trip over themselves, and when she wore tight shirts, I fought the urge to go cover her up so every male who saw her wouldn’t go home and jack off with her image in their head. But I couldn’t say any of those things. Forcing my expression to remain casual, I glanced back at her. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. Sawyer didn’t just choose you because of your looks.” That’s all I needed to say. She sighed and leaned back on her hands. I had to turn my head away from her again before my eyes could zero in on her tits. I didn’t need to study them to know they were perfectly round, soft, plump, and temping at hell. “I’m not always good. I try really hard to be good. I want to be worthy of Sawyer--I really do--but it’s like there is this other me inside who’s trying to get out. I fight it, but I’m not good at it all the time. Sawyer has to keep me in line.” Keep her in line Wait…what? Shaking my head to clear my thoughts from how sweet her nipples would taste, I forced myself to focus on what she was saying instead of how she would taste. She didn’t think she was good enough for Sawyer? Had Sawyer made her think something was wrong with her? Surely, he didn’t know she felt this way. “Ash, you’ve been nothing but perfect since you decided to grow up. Sure, you used to help me put frogs in people’s mailboxes, but that girl’s gone. You wanted to be perfect, and you achieved it.” She laughed and sat back up. I chanced a glance over at her. The dimple was there tucked into her cheek as she gazed down at the water. “If you only knew,” was all she said. “Tell me.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Why?” Because I want you. Just you. The girl I know is in there hiding from the world. I want my Ash back.

as she breathed deeply, trying to lower her pulse rate. Rick

My blood pressure has spiked by an average of 13 points from where it was before the test, which puts me deep into stage 1 hypertension. If left unchecked, this state of chronically raised blood pressure, also shared by a third of the U.S. population, can cause heart attacks, stroke, and other serious problems. Meanwhile, my heart rate variability, a measure of nervous system balance, has plummeted, suggesting that my body is in a state of stress. Then there’s my pulse, which has increased, and my body temperature, which has decreased, and my mental clarity, which has hit rock bottom. Olsson’s data mirror mine.

Benefits of Smart Watch Fitness Band Have you been so busy in- hustle hard in life that your health is getting sidelined? Yes! Then your smart lifestyle needs smart choices like a fitness band on your wrist. Incorporate your health with daily activities and monitor your fitness level. Today these bands are filled with exciting features like step count, heart rate, sleep meter, calories burn etc. –these small wearable gadgets have made tracking your fitness easier than ever, helping you lead a healthier and fitter life. So let’s come down to the benefits of fitness bands. Why it’s time to upgrade from simple watches to smart ones. Your all-Rounder Fitness Companion. Track and monitor almost all your activities like heart rate, calories burn, step counts, blood pressure meter etc. HAMMER’s fitness trackers include all these features along with automatic sleep status monitoring. It will tell your sleep time, awake time, deepness and lightness of sleep. Basically it will give you all the data you need to make informed decisions about your health. You can alter your habits accordingly and lead a better lifestyle. Hammer Pulse Smart Watch for Body Temperature Daily Visual Progress of your Hard Work Smart Watch fitness bands can help you track numerous activities throughout the day. Seeing results of your effort is instant motivation booster. It motivates you to do more. With an LED Color HD display it shows you how much active you have been throughout the day. On days when laziness takes a toll on you– it reminds you to workout and be active. It helps you to push a little harder than before and excel in your workout regimes! Can be as Tough as you They are waterproof and dust resistant which makes it suitable for intense training as it won’t slip because of sweating and can be easily cleaned after workout sessions. They can be switched into different modes like freestyle walking, running, swimming and much more as per your requirements. Sweat in Style Who said you can’t train hard in style? Fashionable and light as feather design built, available in color varieties sets easily on your wrist. Either trendy sports wear or formals these fitness trackers just never go out of style. Hey, what’s up? Stay updated Just Synchronize your phone with your fitness band and receive phone calls, messages, notifications or share your progress on social media or with friends. Hammer Pulse Smart Watch Get set and go ! No matter how long your day was- they won’t ditch you. Lasts up to 24-36 hours after one charge. Hammer Pulse smart watchhas gone an extra mile and gives 7 Days battery backup with wireless charging . No wire No worry! No need to Squeak or Squeal, Pocket Friendly Price Gone are those days when you had to compromise on some features as per your price range. HAMMER offers all the features in products at really affordable prices. You get more at less here – witches say it’s to grab the deal magical prices. Health is Priority! smart watch for body temperature In these times when being healthy should be our priority. HAMMER has launched a new unisex smart watch Hammer Pulse which is best of both – a fashionable watch and an ultimate fitness tracker. It is packed with all the features of fitness band and unique features like ● Body temperature monitor ● oxygen saturation level monitor ● Weather updates ● Multiple sports modes ● IP67 waterproof- don’t be afraid to get wet. ● 24/7 monitor, vibrates and alert when any irregularities or abnormality is detected. So what are you waiting for? Get the benefits of a fitness tracker today and start working towards your dream body. You want it, you get it here at HAMMER. Browse, Shop and add a healthy addition to your daily life. Up your game and get your hands on one of these today !

He not only held her hand, but could also capture the increasing pace of her heartbeat through her pulse. He knew when her heart rate was increasing and when it almost stopped.

The waking brain, too, has an appetite for the generative chaos that rules in the dream state. Neurons share information by passing chemicals across the synaptic gap that connects them, but they also communicate via a more indirect channel: they synchronize their firing rates. For reasons that are not entirely understood, large clusters of neurons will regularly fire at the exact same frequency. (Imagine a discordant jazz band, each member following a different time signature and tempo, that suddenly snaps into a waltz at precisely 120 beats per minute.) This is what neuroscientists call phase-locking. There is a kind of beautiful synchrony to phase-locking—millions of neurons pulsing in perfect rhythm. But the brain also seems to require the opposite: regular periods of electrical chaos, where neurons are completely out of sync with each other. If you follow the various frequencies of brain-wave activity with an EEG, the effect is not unlike turning the dial on an AM radio: periods of structured, rhythmic patterns, interrupted by static and noise. The brain’s systems are “tuned” for noise, but only in controlled bursts.

Smartwatches don't keep you fit, activity does. Do you really need to know what your pulse rate is, every minute?

Bergamot is one of the ingredients in Earl Grey tea and has a distinctive floral aroma and taste. Bergamot oil provides soothing energy that reduces depression, agitation, induces relaxation and helps with insomnia. A study conducted in 2011 discovered that the application of bergamot oil reduced anxiety, depression, blood pressure and pulse rate.

Then the Frog Maiden, a scrawny old person dressed all in green for the occasion, stepped out in front of the crowd, muttering under her breath, a violent little pulse throbbing in the leathery sinews of her neck. Finally, the priest on the tower took the casket, opened it and emptied its four occupants out into the air. Unfortunately, there was a strong wind blowing at the time. This not only considerably dissipated their rate of descent but also blew them away from the place where they were supposed to fall. The crowd drew back, but not quickly enough. Two frogs landed in a bail of straw, one on Vlad’s head and another on my shoulder, all seemingly unhurt. Taking advantage of the confusion the four of them managed to skip away and were never seen again. Imagine the consternation that this unprecedented event caused. The Frog Maiden was canvassed for an opinion, but she was as confused as the rest; upon which doubts — ill-founded ones, I have no doubt — were immediately cast upon her virginity. The general consensus was that the omens were bad; though whether this was due more to the proximity of half a million Turks than the near miraculous escape of four small amphibians I could not say. ==========

Don’t you have your suit on?” he asks, pulling off his shoes. I nod and wait for him to get distracted again before shedding layers, turning my back on him as I pull out my sunscreen and work the cool lotion into my face, down my arms, stomach and legs. A grunt escapes my mouth, the hard to reach spot on my back mocking me. No. The cliché Can you rub this on my back? is most definitely not happening. Assuming the plan is to soak up some rays and chat, I lie down on my back, hiding the vulnerable strip of unprotected skin, determined not to ask for help. His eyes are on me. I can feel it. I suck in, flattening out my stomach as much as possible, before turning my head and squinting at him. I was right. He’s staring. “What?” I ask. “Do you want me to get your back for you?” Cringe. “No, I’m fine.” “Okay, then could you get mine? I don’t really want the striped look you’re going for. A little too trendy for me.” He laughs, snapping the lid shut on his sunscreen bottle. He shakes it hard to force the lotion to the end, every muscle in his body tensing, releasing, tensing, releasing. My jaw goes slack. He asked me a question. What was it? The cliché come to life? I hesitantly sit up and he’s already on his knees on the end of my mat, back to me. “Oh. Okay, sure.” I take the bottle from him and smear the lotion on the middle of his back as fast as I can. Why isn’t it rubbing in? Too much, I took too much. His body is solid under my fingertips. And tan. And solid. And sweaty. Overstimulation. Accelerated heart rate. Bad thoughts, Pippa. Stop. The lotion finally blends into his skin and I wipe my hands on my towel. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it?” Darren twists around and winks. “Now are you going to be stubborn or do you want me to finish your back for you?” I give in for lack of a reasonable excuse and toss him my higher SPF. He kneels behind me and gently rubs even the places I know he saw me reach myself. When he nears the small of my back, I sit up straight as a board, goose bumps racing down my arms and legs, pulse loud in my ears. I need a distraction, fast.