Regain Your Power Quotes

Most people think life sucks, and then you die. Not me. I beg to differ. I think life sucks, then you get cancer, then your dog dies, your wife leaves you, the cancer goes into remission, you get a new dog, you get remarried, you owe ten million dollars in medical bills but you work hard for thirty five years and you pay it back and then one day you have a massive stroke, your whole right side is paralyzed, you have to limp along the streets and speak out of the left side of your mouth and drool but you go into rehabilitation and regain the power to walk and the power to talk and then one day you step off a curb at Sixty-seventh Street, and BANG you get hit by a city bus and then you die. Maybe

Satan to Jesus: Well, I see someone has a bad case of the hangries. You might want to consider using your godly powers to turn these desert rocks into loaves of bread. Maybe if you engage in some serious carb-loading, you’ll regain what little sense of humor you had before you started this ridiculous hunger strike.

It is possible to stop the mental chatter, regain your emotional balance and live free of stress and anxiety when you create a new habit of daily energetic self-care using the four powerful tools in Nurturing Wellness through Radical Self-Care.

When you permit an outside agency to control your feelings and emotions at frequent intervals for a prolonged period, your system will soon get into the habit of submitting to the control of this outside agency, and will not respond any longer to any effort that the will may make to regain its original power of control.

When you’ve fallen from the sky, been abandoned by your friend, suffered police brutality, metamorphosed into a goat, lost your work as well as your wife, learned the power of hatred and regained human shape, what is there left to do but, as you would no doubt phrase it, demand your rights?

Liberty On my notebooks from school On my desk and the trees On the sand, on the snow I write your name On every page read On all the white sheets Stone blood paper or ash I write your name On the golden images On the soldier’s weapons On the crowns of kings I write your name On the jungle, the desert The nests and the bushes On the echo of childhood I write your name On the wonder of nights On the white bread of days On the seasons engaged I write your name On all my blue rags On the pond mildewed sun On the lake living moon I write your name On the fields, the horizon The wings of the birds On the windmill of shadows I write your name On the foam of the clouds On the sweat of the storm On dark insipid rain I write your name On the glittering forms On the bells of colour On physical truth I write your name On the wakened paths On the opened ways On the scattered places I write your name On the lamp that gives light On the lamp that is drowned On my house reunited I write your name On the bisected fruit Of my mirror and room On my bed’s empty shell I write your name On my dog greedy tender On his listening ears On his awkward paws I write your name On the sill of my door On familiar things On the fire’s sacred stream I write your name On all flesh that’s in tune On the brows of my friends On each hand that extends I write your name On the glass of surprises On lips that attend High over the silence I write your name On my ravaged refuges On my fallen lighthouses On the walls of my boredom I write your name On passionless absence On naked solitude On the marches of death I write your name On health that’s regained On danger that’s past On hope without memories I write your name By the power of the word I regain my life I was born to know you And to name you LIBERTY

Only by remembering to say 'no' will the women of 21st century regain their voice and remember their power. 'No' is the most important word in a woman's dialectic arsenal, and it is the one word that our employers, our leaders, and quite often, the men in our lives would do anything to prevent us from saying. No, we will not serve. No, we will not settle for the dirty work, the low-paid work, the unpaid work. No, we will not stay late at the office, look after the kids, sort out the shopping. We refuse to fit the enormity of our passion, our creativity, and our potential into the rigid physical prison laid down for us since we were small children. No. We refuse. We will not buy your clothes and shoes and surgical solutions. No, we will not be beautiful; we will not be good. Most of all, we refuse to be beautiful and good.

He leans his face next to my ear, his breath smelling of chocolate making me want him more. I moan, my body defying the warnings in my mind. “You can try and act like you don’t want me, that you have control,” he breathes into my ear as he thrusts his groin harder against me. He's still pulling my hair, making me arch my back. He slowly pulls his hips away and my ass thrusts itself against his groin trying to regain contact. The action takes me by surprise. Shadow lets out a vicious laugh. 'But your body can’t lie,' he nips my earlobe making me practically come on the spot, the pain shooting to my toes making them curl with pleasure, 'you have no power.'

To reclaim our natural power and this birthright of real magic, we must get naked and face ourselves. The truth of Who You Really Are is vast. It is genius. It crackles with electricity and sensuality and other forbidden, dangerous things. You have longed for it all your life. You catch glimpses of it from the corner of your eye. A riff of music reminds you, a surge of ecstasy during sex brings you home, a crisp Autumn wind carries some long forgotten scent which thrills you for inexplicable reasons. A thousand tiny hints show up to seduce you awake and lead you back into your true nature, but they flee when you try to grasp them and leave you wondering if you were just imagining things. You weren’t though. This quality of richness and balance and home is Who You Really Are. That is the kingdom we seek and it waits for us to find it. It wants us to regain our rightful place.

See more. Look with understanding. Help others regain use of their power.

Controlling your mindset is one of the most powerful badass things you can do.

I don’t care how old you are—fifty, sixty, or seventy. Your value doesn’t diminish with each birthday.

Don’t be stingy with your praise and support of other women. What goes around comes around. It’s great karma.

This was where Zoya had been seen sneaking off to all those nights—not to a lover, but to this monument to grief. This was where she had shed her tears, away from curious eyes, where no one could see her armor fall. And here, the Grisha might live forever, every friend lost, every soldier gone. “I know what I did is unforgivable,” she said. Nikolai blinked, confused. “No doubt you deserve to be punished for your crimes … but for what precisely?” She cast him a baleful look. “I lost our most valuable prisoner. I’ve allowed our most deadly enemy to regain his powers and … run amok.” “‘Amok’ seems an overstatement. Wild, perhaps.” “Don’t pretend to shrug this off. You’ve barely looked at me since I returned.” Because I am greedy for the sight of you. Because the prospect of facing this war, this loss, without you fills me with fear. Because I find I don’t want to fight for a future if I can’t find a way to make a future with you. But he was a king and she was his general and he could say none of those things.

Jeff opened blue eyes, grinned at me. “If you’re feeling left out . . .” I almost threw out an instinctive no, but I decided to throw him a bone. “Oh, Jeff. It’d be too good—you and me. Too powerful, too much emotion, too much heat. We’d come together and boom”—I clapped my hands together—“like a moth to a flame, there’d be nothing left.” His eyes glazed over. “Combustion?” “Totally.” He was quiet for a moment, his index finger tracing a pattern on the knee of his jeans. Then he nodded. “Too powerful. It’d destroy us both.” I nodded solemnly. “Probably so.” But I leaned over, pressed my lips to his forehead. “We’ll always have Chicago.” “Chicago,” he dreamily repeated. “Yeah. Definitely.” He cleared his throat, seemed to regain a little composure. “When I tell this story later, you kissed me on the mouth. With tongue. And you were handsy.” I chuckled. “Fair enough.

The word God can mean whatever you believe it to mean, for me it is the conscious stream of life from which we all come, and to which we can stay connected throughout our lives as a source of peace, wisdom, love, support, knowing, inspiration, vitality, security, balance, and inner strength. I think that awareness is paramount, because in awareness we gain understanding, which then enables us to regain our feeling of empowerment. We need to feel empowered to make our choices conciously, about how to deal with changes in life, rather than reacting in fear (which tends to make us blind and weak). If we are aware, we can be realistic yet postive, and we can properly focus our intentions. Awareness can be quite sensual (which can add to your sense of feeling empowered). Think about how your body moves as you live your life, how amazing it is; think about nature, observe the intricate beautiful details of natural thngs, and of things we create, and breathe deeply to soak it all in.. Focus on the taste of food, the feel of textures in cloth, the feel of you partner's hand in yours; smell the sea breeze, listen to the wind in the trees, witness the colours of the leaves, the children playing; and be thankful for this life we are experiencing - this life we can all help to keep wonderful. Feel the wonder of being alive flood into you anytime you want, by taking a deep breath and letting the experience of these things fill you, even just by remembering. We all have that same stream of life within us, so you are a part of everything. Each one of us has the power to make a difference to everything. Breathe in that vital connection to the life source and sensual beauty everywhere, Feel loved and strong.

Another way to regain control of your day is this: When you work, work; and when you play, play. Mixing the two never works. All you end up doing is cheating yourself both ways. If you work and play at the same time, you’ll miss the joy that comes from great accomplishment and the complete release that is the gift of pure play.

The right dose of expectations can be as powerful as one of the strongest painkillers.

Who should you trust? Yourself first of all. Many people have lost their self-confidence. Through the rediscovery of your inner treasures you also regain your self-confidence.

You now have more experience and wisdom than ever before. Age enhances your value.

Make it your mission to finish your career on your terms with a bang, not a whimper.

Be proud of how you show up every day, feeling comfortable in your own skin, being your magnificent you.

In order to forgive an offender, we have first to forgive ourselves, then we can forgive them. In this way we are not helpless victims anymore, we regain our power, acting from our peaceful place of power.

When you are present, when your attention is fully and intensely in the Now, Being can be felt, but it can never be understood mentally. To regain awareness of Being and to abide in that state of "feeling-realization" is enlightenment.

A young man came to a sage one day and asked, "Sire, what must I do to become wise?" The sage vouchsafed no answer. The youth after repeating his question a number of times, with a like result, at last left him, to return the next day with the same question. Again no answer was given and the youth returned on the third day, still repeat- ing his question, "Sire, what must I do to become wise?" Finally the'sage turned and went down to a near-by river. He entered the water, bidding the youth follow him. Upon arriving at a sufficient depth the sage took the young man by the shoulders and held him under the water, despite his struggles to free himself. At last, however, he released him and when the youth had regained his breath the sage questioned him: "Son, when you were under the water what did you most desire?" "The youth answered without hesitation, "Air, air! I wanted air!" "Would you not rather have had riches, pleasure, power or love, my son? Did you not think of any of these?" queried the sage. "No, sire! I wanted air and thought only of air," came the instant response. "Then," said the sage, "to become wise you must desire wisdom with as great intensity as you just now desired air. You must struggle for it, to the exclusion of every other aim in life. It must be your one and only aspiration, by day and by night. If you seek wisdom with that fervor, my son, you will surely beeome wise.

Son of Heav'n and Earth, Attend: That thou art happy, owe to God, That thou continu'st such, owe to thyself, That is, to thy obedience; therein stand. This was that caution giv'n thee; be advis'd. God made thee perfect, not immutable; And good he made thee, but to persevere He left it in thy power, ordain'd thy will By nature free, not overrul'd by Fate Inextricable, or strict necessity; Our voluntary service he requires, Not our necessitated, such with him Finds no acceptance, nor can find, for how Can hearts, not free, be tri'd whether they serve Willing or no, who will but what they must By Destiny, and can no other choose? Myself and all th'Angelic Host that stand In sight of God enthron'd, our happy state Hold, as you yours, while our obedience holds; On other surety none; freely we serve, Because wee freely love, as in our will To love or not; in this we stand or fall: And some are fall'n, to disobedience fall'n, And so from Heav'n to deepest Hell; O fall From what high state of bliss into what woe! --Archangel Raphael to Adam, Paradise Lost Book V

Depression starts from a deeply rooted idea, that as a human being, you are a sinner. Even if you are agnostic, atheistic, or a mystic, sin is a belief that you have violated some internal law of ethics, which causes an inability to regain your divine state of love. It is Fault. Disobedience to a higher power, god, or archetype is another definition from separation of peace of mind. Even if the god or archetype cannot be proven, it still exists in your mind, thus fault is real in your mind. It's the idea that you have broken an internal rule that separates you from delivery of a promise. This creates depression, which is a long standing feeling of pain due to permanent loss. It is not short term loss. It is complete loss that can never be returned. When you birthed yourself into this reality, you were vast, elegant, exquisite, intelligent, infinite, and beautiful beyond understanding. You came into this time and space matrix to gain a soul, and that required a lot of experience. Experience is painful. Experience is expansive. Close the door by accepting the loss.

In the center of the room Sarra the demon hung upside down by one leg, its arms bound behind its back, its suit scuffed-looking. Beneath it, crawling around an intricately scribed circle, a woman with short, curly red hair drew binding symbols with a gold stick. She looked up as I fanned away the smoke that was billowing up from the crack in the tile. "You're a Summoner. Hullo. I'm Noelle. Did you know that you have mismatched eyes?" I walked around the demon. It glared at me. "Yes, I know. Why do you have Sarra strung up by one leg?" She drew another symbol. It flared bright green as soon as the stick lifted from the circle. "It was getting a bit stroppy with me. The Hanged Man always teaches them a few manners. It's retaliating with the smoke. Are those spirits I saw yours, then?" "Yes, they are. There are four others as well. I hate to be a bother, but I'm in a bit of a hurry, what with Christian being held by this one's master and all, so if you could possibly just give me the abbreviated version of what's going on here, I'll be on my way to rescue him." She leaned back on her heels and sucked the tip of her gold stick. "Asmodeus, eh?" The demon snarled. A chunk of ceiling fell behind me. We both ignored it. It just never does to give a demon the satisfaction of knowing it's startled you. "It's a nasty bag of tricks, but I heard through the demonic grapevine that it was weakened and searching for a suitable sacrifice to regain its power," she added. "Well, it can't have Christian; he's mine. Back to the demon, if you don't mind…" She looked up at Sarra, still sucking the stick. "It's a pretty specimen, isn't it? I like the hair gel. Nice touch. The mustache is a bit much, though, don't you think? Makes it look so smarmy." "Um…" "I'm destroying it, so I suppose it really doesn't matter." I blinked and avoided two wine bottles as they flew out of a rack when the demon hissed at the Guardian.

Yet when God entered time and became a man, he who was boundless became bound. Imprisoned in flesh. Restricted by weary-prone muscles and eyelids. For more than three decades, his once limitless reach would be limited to the stretch of an arm, his speed checked to the pace of human feet. I wonder, was he ever tempted to regain his boundlessness? In the middle of a long trip, did he ever consider transporting himself to the next city? When the rain chilled his bones, was he tempted to change the weather? When the heat parched his lips, did he give thought to popping over to the Caribbean for some refreshment? If he ever entertained such thoughts, he never gave into them. Not once. Stop and think about this. Not once did Christ use his supernatural powers for personal comfort. With one word, he could've transformed the hard earth into a soft bed, but he didn't. With a wave of his hands, he could've boomeranged the spit of his accusers back into their faces, but he didn't. With an arch of his brow, he could've paralyzed the hand of the soldier as he braided the crown of thorns. But he didn't.

But the greatest human problems are not social problems, but decisions that the individual has to make alone. The most important feelings of which man is capable emphasise his separateness from other people, not his kinship with them. The feelings of a mountaineer towards a mountain emphasise his kinship with the mountain rather than with the rest of mankind. The same goes for the leap of the heart experienced by a sailor when he smells the sea, or for the astronomer’s feeling about the stars, or for the archaeologist’s love of the past. My feeling of love for my fellowmen makes me aware of my humanness; but my feeling about a mountain gives me an oddly nonhuman sensation. It would be incorrect, perhaps, to call it ‘superhuman’; but it nevertheless gives me a sense of transcending my everyday humanity. Maslow’s importance is that he has placed these experiences of ‘transcendence’ at the centre of his psychology. He sees them as the compass by which man gains a sense of the magnetic north of his existence. They bring a glimpse of ‘the source of power, meaning and purpose’ inside himself. This can be seen with great clarity in the matter of the cure of alcoholics. Alcoholism arises from what I have called ‘generalised hypertension’, a feeling of strain or anxiety about practically everything. It might be described as a ‘passively negative’ attitude towards existence. The negativity prevents proper relaxation; there is a perpetual excess of adrenalin in the bloodstream. Alcohol may produce the necessary relaxation, switch off the anxiety, allow one to feel like a real human being instead of a bundle of over-tense nerves. Recurrence of the hypertension makes the alcoholic remedy a habit, but the disadvantages soon begin to outweigh the advantage: hangovers, headaches, fatigue, guilt, general inefficiency. And, above all, passivity. The alcoholics are given mescalin or LSD, and then peak experiences are induced by means of music or poetry or colours blending on a screen. They are suddenly gripped and shaken by a sense of meaning, of just how incredibly interesting life can be for the undefeated. They also become aware of the vicious circle involved in alcoholism: misery and passivity leading to a general running-down of the vital powers, and to the lower levels of perception that are the outcome of fatigue. ‘The spirit world shuts not its gates, Your heart is dead, your senses sleep,’ says the Earth Spirit to Faust. And the senses sleep when there is not enough energy to run them efficiently. On the other hand, when the level of will and determination is high, the senses wake up. (Maslow was not particularly literary, or he might have been amused to think that Faust is suffering from exactly the same problem as the girl in the chewing gum factory (described earlier), and that he had, incidentally, solved a problem that had troubled European culture for nearly two centuries). Peak experiences are a by-product of this higher energy-drive. The alcoholic drinks because he is seeking peak experiences; (the same, of course, goes for all addicts, whether of drugs or tobacco.) In fact, he is moving away from them, like a lost traveller walking away from the inn in which he hopes to spend the night. The moment he sees with clarity what he needs to do to regain the peak experience, he does an about-face and ceases to be an alcoholic.

Try a cognitive enhancer from the list in this chapter to promote healthy brain function and avoid cognitive degeneration as you age. Here is the short list: •​Piracetam: Reduces cognitive decline with age •​Modafinil: Performance enhancing, not anti-aging •​Nicotine: Low doses (not from cigarettes) can be helpful for aging and cognitive performance •​Deprenyl: Works on dopamine receptors for cognitive enhancement •​CoQ10: Helps your mitochondria produce energy •​PQQ: A powerful antioxidant for anti-aging •​L-theanine: An amino acid that helps with memory and mental endurance •​Curcumin: Improves memory and attention while acting as an antioxidant •​He Shou Wu: Longevity-enhancing antioxidant herb that can also help you regrow and regain color in your hair!

Things We All Do in Extraordinary Ways We actively choose and even seek out partners who will love us in ways that feel familiar. Yes, the person you’re dating is, in one way or another, symbolic of your experiences from childhood. We co-create a dynamic that resembles a re-enactment of our earlier experiences and that will leave us feeling something very familiar. We feel entitled to a variety of things from our partner to make those feelings go away. I see each re-enactment as an unconscious chance to regain control of something that was once painful, intolerable, or absent. It’s about gaining power, not over that thing, but from within. In re-enacting a past pattern, we unconsciously re-create a dynamic that allows us to do something different and to transform.

Through the buzzing in her ears, she heard new sounds from outside, shouting and cursing. All of a sudden the carriage door was wrenched open and someone vaulted inside. Evie squirmed to see who it was. Her remaining breath was expelled in a faint sob as she saw a familiar glitter of dark golden hair. It was Sebastian as she had never seen him before, no longer detached and self-possessed, but in the grip of bone-shaking rage. His eyes were pale and reptilian as his murderous gaze fastened on Eustace, whose breath began to rattle nervously behind the pudgy ladder of his chin. “Give her to me,” Sebastian said, his voice hoarse with fury. “Now, you pile of gutter sludge, or I’ll rip your throat out.” Seeming to realize that Sebastian was eager to carry out the threat, Eustace released his chokehold on Evie. She scrambled toward Sebastian and took in desperate pulls of air. He caught her with a low murmur, his hold gentle but secure. “Easy, love. You’re safe now.” She felt the tremors of rage that ran in continuous thrills through his body. Sebastian sent a lethal glance to Eustace, who was trying to gather his jellylike mass into the far end of the seat. “The next time I see you,” Sebastian said viciously, “no matter what the circumstances, I’m going to kill you. No law, nor weapon, nor God Himself will be able to stop it from happening. So if you value your life, don’t let your path cross mine again.” Leaving Eustace in a quivering heap of speechless fear, Sebastian hauled Evie from the vehicle. She clung to him, still trying to regain her breath as she glanced apprehensively around the scene. It appeared that Cam had been alerted to the fracas, and was keeping her two uncles at bay. Brook was on the ground, while Peregrine was staggering backward from some kind of assault, his beefy countenance turning ruddy from enraged surprise. Swaying as her feet touched the ground, Evie turned her face into her husband’s shoulder. Sebastian was literally steaming, the chilly air striking off his flushed skin and turning his breath into puffs of white. He subjected her to a brief but thorough inspection, his hands running lightly over her, his gaze searching her pale face. His voice was astonishingly tender. “Are you hurt, Evie? Look up at me, love. Yes. Sweetheart… did they do you any injury?” “N-no.” Evie stared at him dazedly. “My uncle Peregrine,” she whispered, “he’s very p-powerful—” “I’ll handle him,” he assured her, and called out to Cam. “Rohan! Come fetch her.” The young man obeyed instantly, approaching Evie with long, fluid strides. He spoke to her with a few foreign-sounding words, his voice soothing her overwrought nerves. She hesitated before going with him, casting a worried glance at Sebastian. “It’s all right,” he said without looking at her, his icy gaze locked on Peregrine’s bullish form. “Go.

When we arrived they led us into a room to meet privately with some of the nurses and doctors. They lined us all up in chairs and we went down the line introducing ourselves. I was the last one in the line. When it was my turn, suddenly I was overcome with emotion. I was too choked up to even say my name. I stood up but could only muster, “I can’t talk.” And I sat back down. I don’t know where it was coming from, but my emotions were powerful and paralyzing. Everyone carried on with the question-and-answer session and I just sat there taking deep breaths, trying to regain my composure. Finally, after I was sure my voice was steady and my tears were dry, I stood up and said that I’d like to speak. “I don’t remember coming through here, but I haven’t felt this emotional anywhere else. I know none of you were here when I came through or when these other guys came through, but you’re doing the same job. You’re doing it for other guys here now and I just want to say thank you for what you do, what you have to see day in and day out, not knowing how things go afterwards. I hope that with our being here, you’re able to see that we do move on. We do recover. And I wanted to say thank you.” I barely made it through the last few words before I choked up again. Tears streamed steadily down my cheeks. I looked around and everyone else was crying, too. Every guy in our group as well as every doctor and nurse. It was emotional for all of us.

Navigate “This Is Too Hard for Me” Thinking Anxious perfectionists like to feel very on top of things. When they think, “This is too hard for me,” they often treat it as fact, instead of recognizing it as potentially just another anxiety-induced false alarm. Remember, if you’re anxiety-prone, then by definition your anxiety system is predisposed to false alarms—that is, registering dangers that aren’t there. Thoughts are just thoughts; the problem is that we accept thoughts as true, and confuse feelings with facts. Part of the reason this happens is memory bias: Your brain will tend to remember events from the past that match your current mood. Because current mood has such a powerful effect on thoughts, consciously trying to recall evidence that you’re skilled and talented probably won’t feel very authentic or convincing when you’re feeling down. If you know this is how your brain works, then you can discount some of the negative thoughts you have when you’re in a deflated mood. Your thoughts will naturally improve when your mood improves. Therefore, regaining confidence is often just a matter of being patient and waiting for a negative or anxious mood to pass. Experiment: Have there been any times in the past when you’ve had “this is too hard for me” thoughts, those thoughts have been a false alarm, and you’ve managed to do the thing you feared was too hard for you? Identify one example. Your example doesn’t need to be something huge. A small example will do.

He’s a murdering chud,” Zil was yelling. “What do you want to do? Lynch him?” Astrid demanded. That stopped the flow for a second as kids tried to figure out what “lynch” meant. But Zil quickly recovered. “I saw him do it. He used his powers to kill Harry.” “I was trying to stop you from smashing my head in!” Hunter shouted. “You’re a lying mutant freak!” “They think they can do anything they want,” another voice shouted. Astrid said, as calmly as she could while still pitching her voice to be heard, “We are not going down that path, people, dividing up between freaks and normals.” “They already did it!” Zil cried. “It’s the freaks acting all special and like their farts don’t stink.” That earned a laugh. “And now they’re starting to kill us,” Zil cried. Angry cheers. Edilio squared his shoulders and stepped into the crowd. He went first to Hank, the kid with the shotgun. He tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Give me that thing.” “No way,” Hank said. But he didn’t seem too certain. “You want to have that thing fire by accident and blow someone’s face off?” Edilio held his hand out. “Give it to me, man.” Zil rounded on Edilio. “You going to make Hunter give up his weapon? Huh? He’s got powers, man, and that’s okay, but the normals can’t have any weapon? How are we supposed to defend ourselves from the freaks?” “Man, give it a rest, huh?” Edilio said. He was doing his best to sound more weary than angry or scared. Things were already bad enough. “Zil, you want to be responsible if that gauge goes off and kills Astrid? You want to maybe give that some thought?” Zil blinked. But he said, “Dude, I’m not scared of Sam.” “Sam won’t be your problem, I will be,” Edilio snapped, losing patience. “Anything happens to her, I’ll take you down before Sam ever gets the chance.” Zil snorted derisively. “Ah, good little boy, Edilio, kissing up to the chuds. I got news for you, dilly dilly, you’re a lowly normal, just like me and the rest of us." “I’m going to let that go,” Edilio said evenly, striving to regain his cool, trying to sound calm and in control, even though he could hardly take his eyes off the twin barrels of the shotgun. “But now I’m taking that shotgun.” “No way!” Hank cried, and the next thing was an explosion so loud, Edilio thought a bomb had gone off. The muzzle flash blinded him, like camera flash going off in his face. Someone yelled in pain. Edilio staggered back, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to adjust. When he opened them again the shotgun was on the ground and the boy who’d accidentally fired it was holding his bruised hand, obviously shocked. Zil bent to grab the gun. Edilio took two steps forward and kicked Zil in the face. As Zil fell back Edilio made a grab for the shotgun. He never saw the blow that turned his knees to water and filled his head with stars. He fell like a sack of bricks, but even as he fell he lurched forward to cover the shotgun. Astrid screamed and launched herself down the stairs to protect Edilio. Antoine, the one who had hit Edilio, was raising his bat to hit Edilio again, but on the back swing he caught Astrid in the face. Antoine cursed, suddenly fearful. Zil yelled, “No, no, no!” There was a sudden rush of running feet. Down the walkway, into the street, echoing down the block.

Taking the catcher’s place, he sank to his haunches and gestured to Arthur. “Throw some easy ones to begin with,” he called, and Arthur nodded, seeming to lose his apprehensiveness. “Yes, milord!” Arthur wound up and released a relaxed, straight pitch. Squinting in determination, Lilian gripped the bat hard, stepped into the swing, and turned her hips to lend more impetus to the motion. To her disgust, she missed the ball completely. Turning around, she gave Westcliff a pointed glance. “Well, your advice certainly helped,” she muttered sarcastically. “Elbows,” came his succinct reminder, and he tossed the ball to Arthur. “Try again.” Heaving a sigh, Lillian raised the bat and faced the pitcher once more. Arthur drew his arm back, and lunged forward as he delivered another fast ball. Lillian brought the bat around with a grunt of effort, finding an unexpected ease in adjusting the swing to just the right angle, and she received a jolt of visceral delight as she felt the solid connection between the bat and the leather ball. With a loud crack the ball was catapulted high into the air, over Arthur’s head, beyond the reach of those in the back field. Shrieking in triumph, Lillian dropped the bat and ran headlong toward the first sanctuary post, rounding it and heading toward second. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daisy hurtling across the field to scoop up the ball, and in nearly the same motion, throwing it to the nearest boy. Increasing her pace, her feet flying beneath her skirts, Lillian rounded third, while the ball was tossed to Arthur. Before her disbelieving eyes, she saw Westcliff standing at the last post, Castle Rock, with his hands held up in readiness to catch the ball. How could he? After showing her how to hit the ball, he was now going to tag her out? “Get out of my way!” Lillian shouted, running pellmell toward the post, determined to reach it before he caught the ball. “I’m not going to stop!” “Oh, I’ll stop you,” Westcliff assured her with a grin, standing right in front of the post. He called to the pitcher. “Throw it home, Arthur!” She would go through him, if necessary. Letting out a warlike cry, Lillian slammed full-length into him, causing him to stagger backward just as his fingers closed over the ball. Though he could have fought for balance, he chose not to, collapsing backward onto the soft earth with Lillian tumbling on top of him, burying him in a heap of skirts and wayward limbs. A cloud of fine beige dust enveloped them upon their descent. Lillian lifted herself on his chest and glared down at him. At first she thought that he had been winded, but it immediately became apparent that he was choking with laughter. “You cheated!” she accused, which only seemed to make him laugh harder. She struggled for breath, drawing in huge lungfuls of air. “You’re not supposed…to stand in front…of the post…you dirty cheater!” Gasping and snorting, Westcliff handed her the ball with the ginger reverence of someone yielding a priceless artifact to a museum curator. Lillian took the ball and hurled it aside. “I was not out,” she told him, jabbing her finger into his hard chest for emphasis. It felt as if she were poking a hearthstone. “I was safe, do you…hear me?” She heard Arthur’s amused voice as he approached them. “Actually, miss—” “Never argue with a lady, Arthur,” the earl interrupted, having managed to regain his powers of speech, and the boy grinned at him. “Yes, milord.” “Are there ladies here?” Daisy asked cheerfully, coming from the field. “I don’t see any.” Still smiling, the earl looked up at Lillian.

There are twelve unique nerves that sprout from the brain, exit the skull into the face, and mediate smell, sight, hearing, taste. These are called cranial nerves, and the tenth one is nicknamed the “wandering nerve” because it’s the only one out of the twelve that ventures well beyond your face and around your heart and lungs. After its exit from a tiny hole in the base of the skull, it descends in the neck tucked between the carotid artery and jugular vein. If you were to slice it and look at its cut end head-on, you’d see fibers called efferents, because they carry outbound signals to your chest cavity. These are half of the nerve fibers that your brain uses to control your heart rate in times of stress or rest; specifically, these are the fibers which are activated in rest. They are also, unsurprisingly, the pathway that Buddhist monks and others, through years of training, use to lower their heart rate with thought alone. Less well known is that the wandering nerve is a two-way street. It also carries signals (via afferent fibers) back into the skull from your heart and lungs to shower the brain with ascending information signaling the brain to enter a more calm and restful state. And these fibers can be manipulated or even hijacked. How? You can do it yourself through the intense practice of mindful breathing. Meditative breathing can calm the electrical oscillations and stress responses in your mind by resetting your vagal tone. The neuroscience term is “network reset.” So, despite the increasing popularity of inserting catheters and wires into brains, the basic ability to modify your thoughts and feelings is actually already a built-in technology in each of us. I’m not saying that mindful, meditative breathing alone would have necessarily relieved Raymond’s compulsive use of eyedrops; certainly, it would not have helped Nathan Copeland regain feeling in his fingers. But I do say this: never underestimate the power of the human brain.

All right, then. While it might be beyond her power to stop desiring him entirely, she didn’t have to let him control the attraction. In her years of dreaming of him--the admittedly chaste dreams of a virgin--she had been in control, making him burn and yearn, making him regret that he’d ever put her aside. Perhaps it was time to fulfill those dreams. She opened her eyes to find him watching her with a heavy-lidded gaze that promised all manner of sensual pleasures if she would just give herself over to him. She would make him keep that promise…but without giving up herself. Edwin would undoubtedly disapprove of this dalliance, but just now she didn’t care. Dom was about to learn that she wouldn’t be ruled by him or any other man. Looping her arms about his neck, she rose up on tiptoe to kiss his mouth. This time she was the one to instigate the duel of tongues and lips that sent her senses reeling. This time she was the one in control. Until Dom pulled down her bodice and corset and shift to bare her breasts. Oh, sweet Lord in heaven. He was more wicked--and more wonderful at this--than even she could have imagined. But she could be wicked, too. Remembering what Nancy had told her about men, she reached down between them to cup the hard length of him through his trousers. He jerked back. “What are you doing?” How wonderful to be the one to shock him! Though she noticed he didn’t step away or pull her hand off him. And his flesh seemed to grow beneath her very fingers. “Don’t you like it?” she said in what she hoped was a sultry-sounding voice. “Good God, yes.” He practically groaned the words. “But where the blazes did you learn to do it?” “Nancy said men like to be touched…down there.” “Wonderful. Now the sinner is instructing the saint,” he muttered before he took her mouth again, giving her no chance to protest that she wasn’t as saintly as he assumed. But clearly he’d guessed because he leaned into her hand, letting her fully explore the male appendage that Nancy had only described in furtive whispers. To Jane’s delight, the more she rubbed him through his trousers, the more his kiss changed, grew bolder, hotter, fiercer. How delicious! They had certainly never done anything like this in their youth. Perhaps if they had, he wouldn’t have been so content to toss her aside. It was definitely making her ignite. Or perhaps it was his hands roaming her body doing that. Whichever the case, an unfamiliar ache began between her legs that made her want to squirm. So she focused on caressing him with renewed vigor, hoping to regain control over this…insanity. He grabbed her hand to still it. She tore her mouth from his. “What? Am I doing it wrong?” “If you do it any more right, I will embarrass myself.” He fixed her with a dark stare. “Or perhaps that’s what you want. Another way to torture me.” “I don’t know what you mean. Am I doing it right or am I torturing you? Which is it?” He searched her face, then, apparently satisfied with what he saw there, smiled faintly. “Both.” Taking her by surprise, he dripped onto the pianoforte bench and tugged her across his lap. “Here, I’ll show you.” As he drew her skirts up to her knees, she froze. “I don’t know if this is…such a good idea, Dom.” “Oh, trust me, it’s a fine idea.” He smoothed his hands up her stockings and past her garters until he came to her drawers. “Before you go running off to seal your ‘arrangement’ with Blakeborough, you should at least have a taste of passion. Just so you’ll know how important it really is.” Pressing his mouth to her ear, he added, “Men aren’t the only ones who like to be touched there, sweeting.

Organic, unfiltered apple cider vinegar is a powerhouse of nutrients and prebiotic compounds that help the beneficial gut bacteria to regain the upper hand. Your energy levels and health will improve, and you’ll feel a lot more vital again.

Court is a dangerous place....It's made up of power and those poisoned by it. It's like a sand pit in the desert; you can't see one until it traps you, and then it's too late. You struggle to regain your footing, but you won't go far before sliding to the bottom.

There's power in your purpose!" -Joe Braxton

Avoiding whatever scares you gives it power. Power it should not have! By avoiding it, you’re acknowledging that it is indeed dangerous and that the anxiety is legitimate. That’s exactly the opposite of the solution.

Something amazing happens when we learn a new skill. Our brain starts to form new neural pathways so that something you first had to consciously focus on can become automated. That’s pretty powerful stuff. Now let’s use this principle on your anxiety. If you’ve suffered from any anxiety-related issue for some time, that anxious or at least negative way of thinking has now become an automatism. That’s why you probably seem to get way more negative thoughts than positive ones. For the moment, it’s still just a habit of your brain, one that we can change.

Today, I wish you to know that you are much more wiser, bigger & powerful than your circumstances. Don’t let the testing, upsetting or confusing moments hit you hard & steal away your ability to do what you do the best. Darling listen – you can no longer avoid what’s possible & good for you. I want you to remind yourself of your capabilities, how you did all the things in the past & how your old self has won so many battles despite all the barriers. Sweetheart, retrace & regain your confidence & strength. It's time for you to upgrade, transform & live patiently (purposefully). Sweetheart (the person reading this), I wish to assure you that whatever battle you’re facing right now, just know that you’ll make it out & soon you will witness yourself in the greatest form. Very soon things will start accelerating towards the outcomes you want & you will see God’s hand working for you. Enjoy the blessings & congratulations in advance! Wishing you a great week ahead!

I know I’ve buried shit rather than face up to it in the past. Before I realized that is how tormentors continue hurting their victims. The only way to take back power, to regain control over your life, is to face your demons head-on.

Exposure is strong against anxiety because it is your way of saying, “I don’t fear the fear. I will feel fear, but I’ll do it anyway.” That’s strong. Running away gives more power to the anxiety, to what you fear.

Let me repeat that. If you don’t run from your anxiety and just wait it out, it will get bad (with or without a panic attack) and then it will pass! On its own. There’s no need to run. To recap: exposure is a powerful and necessary weapon against anxiety, but only when you combine it with the other tools you are learning throughout this book.

October 26 He went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone. (Matthew 14:23) Christ Jesus, in His humanity, felt the need of complete solitude—to be entirely by Himself, alone with Himself. Each of us knows how draining constant interchange with others can be and how it exhausts our energy. As part of humankind, Jesus knew this and felt the need to be by Himself in order to regain His strength. Solitude was also important to Him in order to fully realize His high calling, His human weakness, and His total dependence on His Father. As a child of God, how much more do we need times of complete solitude—times to deal with the spiritual realities of life and to be alone with God the Father. If there was ever anyone who could dispense with special times of solitude and fellowship, it was our Lord. Yet even He could not maintain His full strength and power for His work and His fellowship with the Father without His quiet time. God desires that every servant of His would understand and perform this blessed practice, that His church would know how to train its children to recognize this high and holy privilege, and that every believer would realize the importance of making time for God alone. Oh, the thought of having God all alone to myself and knowing that God has me all alone to Himself! Andrew Murray Lamartine, the first of the French Romantic poets and a writer of the nineteenth century, in one of his books wrote of how his mother had a secluded spot in the garden where she spent the same hour of each day. He related that nobody ever dreamed of intruding upon her for even a moment of that hour. It was the holy garden of the Lord to her. Pity those people who have no such Beulah land! (See Isa. 62:4.) Jesus said, “Go into your room, close the door and pray” (Matt. 6:6), for it is in quiet solitude that we catch the deep and mysterious truths that flow from the soul of the things God allows to enter our lives.

An interesting study found that meditation and other forms of relaxation have the power to shrink the amygdala, thus allowing you to become much more calm, cool, collected and more importantly, confident.[9]

Every time you thought “what if?” and imagined everything going wrong, you were using your imagination to make it worse. We’re using the same system here but in the opposite way. You’ve seen the negative powers of using your imagination. Now let’s use the positive side.

Learn to love the fact that your mind is so inventive. That it has the power to come up with so many scenarios and compliment your unlimited creativity for scaring you in new ways. The best horror and thriller writers in Hollywood could learn a lesson or two from your mind’s creativity.

You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.

Before I could give it too much thought, my attention snagged on Darius as he charged across the pitch like a stampeding rhino, tackling a member of the other team so hard that I heard something crack. My breath caught in my throat as the Starlight player groaned on the ground while Darius snatched the ball from him and launched it across the pitch with the force of a torpedo. A timer was counting down as the Starlight player failed to get up and Darius raced away from him without a backwards glance. I knew it was part of the game but it was insanely brutal. Although if I was being totally honest, watching all of them brawl like that and seeing the power they exuded even while they were losing, was totally hot too. Darius’s muscles pumped fiercely as he sprinted away from me and I found myself staring at his legs which were splattered with mud and somehow looked even better because of it. “Olef you’re Out!” Prestos yelled but the Starlight player still didn’t move. A pair of medics jogged onto the pitch and gave him a quick inspection. “Broken back!” one of them yelled. “This is a long heal, call in a sub once his time out is up.” My lips parted, I stared on in shock and I couldn’t quite believe what I’d heard. “Did he just say that Darius broke that guy’s back?” I asked in disbelief. “That’s the risk you take when you play,” Orion said darkly as he walked past me to regain his seat. Darcy raised her eyebrows at me and I returned my gaze to the match just as Geraldine tore up the pitch with a rumble of writhing earth magic, knocking the Starlight Waterguard off of her feet and forcing her to drop the ball. A huge -5 flashed into place on the Starlight scoreboard and I leapt from my seat in excitement to applaud my friend. “Go Geraldine!” I screamed and she flashed me a smile as she somehow managed to hear me. Seth almost missed the ball as it was thrown to him next while he was distracted by scratching his head. He managed to wrangle it with a gust of air magic and started sprinting for the Pit as the timer above us ticked down to ten seconds. The crowd started counting down, “Nine! Eight! Seven-” Seth leapt into the air, propelling himself forward with his magic but the two air Elementals on the opposing team threw their own magic up to counter him. “Three! Two-” Seth gritted his teeth as he threw even more power into his propulsion but he was out of time. The ball in his arms exploded in a blast of pure air which snapped his head back and sent him tumbling out of the sky. He hit the ground hard as the crowd oooohed in disappointment. For three whole seconds my heart didn’t beat at all as I stared at his prone body in the mud, wondering if he was dead. Seth coughed, pushing himself into a sitting position just as Darius appeared to offer him a hand up. He shook his head to clear it and my eyebrows rose all the way into my hairline. “This game is crazy,” Darcy breathed, her eyes wide with the thrill of it. “I think I love it,” I agreed. (tory)

Mindfulness and emotional management can help us overcome burnout and regain our autonomy and power within a broken system.

But when Yrene’s power flags, when she is drained or tired, your injury will regain control, and your ability to walk will again be impaired. It will require you to use a cane at the very least—on hard days, perhaps many days, the chair. But the injury to your spine will remain.

Let the other person initiate the go‐forward plan, and then you can add the specifics of your input. This helps to complete the transfer of ownership from your problem to our solution.

What is your problem is that you are conceptualizing the problem as “They are wrong; they should change their behavior.

She did this by framing the discussion using the idea of “phases.” She congratulated him for being the founder that succeeded in phase 1 of the company by having the idea, securing funding, and bringing in the right people to get it off the ground. She introduced the idea that they were now entering phase 2 in which different skill sets and talent

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With a sigh, I whisked the moisture off my cheeks, then studied Narian’s handsome features, creating a portrait in my mind. I traced his cheekbones and jaw, lingering over his lips. Impulsively, I leaned down to kiss him and his eyelids flicked open. “I will always love you, Alera,” he murmured, momentarily regaining clarity. “And I will always love you.” I curled up beside him, my arm across his chest, willing him to stay with me for as long as possible. I continually fought against drowsiness, but exhaustion and grief eventually got the best of me, and I drifted off to sleep. Someone was shaking my shoulder and I slowly came awake to see London crouched down beside me. I bolted upright, then reached out to touch his face, certain I was seeing a ghost. “Alera, it’s all right. I’m here to bring you safely home.” I nodded, then shifted onto my knees, my voice urgent. “The High Priestess has poisoned Narian. She doesn’t want him to fight against her if she sends reinforcements to Hytanica.” London placed a hand upon Narian’s chest, feeling for a heartbeat, for the rise and fall of breathing, for warmth. “He’s still alive,” he told me. “How long ago was he poisoned?” “About ten hours now. He can’t have much time left. According to what the High Priestess told me about the poison, he should already be dead.” “Listen to me. He may still have some of Nantilam’s healing power inside of him.” “From when the Overlord tried to kill him?” London nodded and hope surged within me. It had been the residual effect of Nantilam’s healing abilities that had enabled the deputy captain to withstand the Overlord’s torture. “That’s probably why his dying is prolonged,” London continued. “With any luck, she may have miscalculated what it will take to kill him. But we need to help him fight, Alera.” “How?” London retrieved his water flask and bedroll from his horse, handing them to me. “Get as much water as possible into him, to dilute the toxin in his bloodstream, and we’ll cover him with all the blankets and cloaks we have. He’s fevered, so let’s help his body sweat out some of the poison.” I began to cover Narian while London added wood to the fire. Then he removed his own cloak and tossed it to me. “I’m going to gather some herbs that might help. I’ve learned a few things about Cokyrian compounds over the years, knowledge that I’m guessing the High Priestess would like to take away from me about now. You stay here and care for him as you have been doing. And, Alera, keep talking to him. He is strong and will fight to hear the sound of your voice--fight to come back to you.” “I think the High Priestessis in love with you, London.” “Just proves folly knows no limit.

Because the number one argument that comes against “alive living” is that it is selfish. When you stop pleasing and placating other people who have gotten used to you bending your life around them, it makes them uncomfortable. There is safety in being able to shame you with their emotional pain. They feel controlling you with shame is the only thing stopping you from hurting them. When they no longer have that power (as you are no longer prioritizing being good, but rather being true to yourself), fear enters the equation because they can no longer protect their heart. They too are under the impression that hidden pieces inside of you are bad, because that’s how they feel about themselves. So they fear that if you unleash your hidden heart, bad things that will hurt them will come out.               Fear creates anger, and most people will try to regain their power by making you see that you are bad, and should therefore change. And in my experience, the first weapon thrown is the dirty word, SELFISH!

Phantom choked on the porridge. Brother Thomas pounded him on the back while Phantom reached for, then drank from a small wooden cup. He gave a menacing glare to Thomas, who immediately halted his hand in the mid-pounding stroke position. “Pardon?” Phantom asked once he’d regained some composure. “I wish to go home and I need a guide and guard.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll get neither from me, Your Majesty. I will not return there. Ever.” “Why are we returning with Phantom, my queen?” She glanced over to Lutian. “I’ll explain later.” Then she looked back at Phantom. “I can pay you a fortune.” Phantom scoffed at that. “Coin is ever useless to a corpse.” She arched a brow at him. “Are you afraid, then?” He laughed bitterly. “Hardly, and you’ll never get me to agree by calling me craven.” “Then what will it take?” Phantom wiped his mouth, then gave Brother Thomas an almost amused smirk. “You haven’t enough money, power, or influence to buy me, Your Majesty. There are some things—few, I grant you, but some—that are not for purchase. My loyalty, or in this case stupidity, will not be bartered for any price.” He picked his cup up and lifted it in a mock salute. “Work your wiles on your husband. He’s the greater fool of the two of us.” Her throat tight, Adara struggled for composure. “And therein lies the problem. I’ve no wish to work my wiles on him, either. He’s suffered enough in this.” -Phantom, Adara, & Lutian

Once you gave up fear, you regained your power.

Regaining God’s perspective — refocusing our spiritual eyesight — is one of the greatest blessings of the believer. It changes everything. If we don’t consciously take a step back and adjust our vision, we’ll live under a perpetual cloud of illusion. This is a conscious, meditative turning, a determined effort to set our sights on what really matters. Will you pause for just a moment and consider where your eyesight may be growing dim? Are you blinded to God’s daily blessings because you’re too focused on financial concerns, health issues, or frustrated relationships? Have you stopped seeing people as important and instead stare persistently at possessions, power, and pleasure? Are your eyes so preoccupied by your comfort that they have grown too tired to look at your life and your circumstances from God’s perspective?

During these brief, off-leash play periods, observe whether your puppy hides or exhibits any aggression. If she needs to get away from the other dog, don’t pick her up or you will teach her to want to jump up when she feels uncomfortable or feels a desire to be rescued, which could make her more fearful. Instead, let her move between your legs if she feels more comfortable there, and then have the other owner redirect his dog’s attention (ideally, by luring and then having the dog sit to regain focus). I

Being is the eternal, ever-present One Life beyond the myriad forms of life that are subject to birth and death. However, Being is not only beyond but also deep within every form as its innermost invisible and indestructible essence. This means that it is accessible to you now as your own deepest self, your true nature. But don’t seek to grasp it with your mind. Don’t try to understand it. You can know it only when the mind is still. When you are present, when your attention is fully and intensely in the Now, Being can be felt, but it can never be understood mentally. To regain awareness of Being and to abide in that state of “feeling-realization” is enlightenment.

You did what?” Ellen shot to her feet, dropping Val’s hand as if it were diseased. “You struck Freddy? You confronted him?” “I did. His mischief was deadly, Ellen. And his only motivation was to regain possession of the estate. He thought he could scare me off by creating accidents and setbacks, then buy the place back for a pittance, probably to sell for considerably more.” Ellen shook her head. “He wants the rents. It’s about the money, and with him it will always be about the money.” “What aren’t you telling me?” Val rose to stand behind her where she stood looking out over her gardens. “Ellen?” But she shook her head and remained unyielding when Val slipped his arms around her waist. That, more than any words, alarmed him. “Ellen,” Val spoke quietly, “Freddy won’t be bothering you anymore. I’ve seen to it.” “No.” She huffed out a breath. “No, you have not, Valentine. You have merely waved a red flag before a very angry and powerful little bull. Freddy will go off, tend his wounds, and plot his moves. He sulks and fumes and skulks about, but he does not learn his lesson.” “You’re keeping secrets.” Val rested his forehead against her nape. “Why in God’s name won’t you trust me, Ellen?” “If I tell you, will you leave?” It was Val’s turn to be silent, to consider, to weigh what was in the balance, and where, if anywhere, lay the path of hope. “I’m not going anywhere until the house and farms are completely functional,” he said. “That will take a few more weeks.” “Weeks.” Ellen stood very straight in his arms. “And then you’ll go?” “If that’s still what you want and you’ve told me the reasons why by then,” Val said, tossing his entire future into the hands of a fate that hadn’t dealt with him very kindly of late. “And until I go?” “I will be your mistress,” Ellen said, her posturing relaxing. “No.” Val turned her in his arms and tucked his chin against her temple. “You will be my love.” ***

destination. We could call it your true north. Everybody deep inside their hearts and minds has a compass like this. And if you close the top, you see a clock, which represents what life is, the realities of everyday existence. Perhaps no one else would know except you and yours that you make every decision regarding your clock based upon the compass. Your sense of direction, your sense of vision and purpose, and your sense of principles and values are all based on the compass. So you frequently examine your compass, you examine your mission statement, to reclaim your moral bearings, reclaim your heritage, reclaim your sense of destiny, your sense of purpose and meaning. You regain your sense of making a difference, your sense of contributing and adding real value to life. That’s the power of this compass. I frequently look at it and think this way: Stay on target. In other words, put first things first. Put your mission statement where it can be examined and explored, where you can go and study it against your behavior to see how well you’re living up to it. As

The most powerful word in time management is NO.

Glorious Triune God, lately my attitude about the American political process has been brewing in me a cesspool of irritation and cynicism—a sure indication that I need the gospel to center me. So I begin this day reminding myself of exactly who you are and what you are up to in your world, as revealed in the Scriptures. Nothing has greater power to convict me of my sin and help me regain perspective.

In your power you can look beyond the finite problem and see infinite solutions.

Instead of worrying about their judgments of you, worry about their challenges. Deepen your empathy of their plight or their customer journey, and put your worries into how you can help them.

Acrux," a voice spoke in my head which was soft and feminine and yet fierce and full of power too. "Descendent of the oath breaker. Harbinger of doom. The blood in your veins runs thick with lies and betrayal." The power surrounding me grew denser and more potent, immobilising me as I gasped for breath and the zaps of energy began to burn against my skin. "I see two paths before you, blood of the deceiver. Choose wisely." The power released me so suddenly that I fell to my knees, sucking in a shaky breath and my limbs trembled as I fought to regain my composure. "Told you you'd feel it," Gabriel said as he stood over me and I forced myself to my feet with a grunt of pain. "What the fuck was that?" I snarled. "Something far older than us," he supplied before turning and leading me on through the trees again.

Voodoo tongue powers?” She gestured to my mouth with a hand. “I don’t know what else to call it when you steal my ability to walk every time you go down there. If you can’t control yourself until we are in a position where I can lounge for the next several hours while I regain feeling, then I may have to limit your access.” “There will be no limiting access, understood? Going down on you gives me life.

Faith in Christ will regain its decisive authority in the modern world only when we who follow Christ fear God more than we fear the powers and favors of modernity—when we hear God’s call and are so captured by his summons that we say with Luther, as the earliest printed reports add, “Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise.

The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.

as a result of your respect, each of the students will accept themselves for being who they are and regain the courage to be self-reliant. There is no doubting this. Whether they use their regained courage is up to each student.

Enlightenment is not a goal to be attained; it is a state of being to be regained.

I need to get the *&%! out of here.” Look around. Are you surrounded by a real threat? If yes, please do get out of there quickly. If not—and this is obviously the most probable outcome—stay. Let it come. Decide to no longer let your life be dictated by the panic attacks. From now on, you no longer run from them. The anxiety and panic attacks don’t get to decide when you leave, what experiences you miss, how low or high the quality of your life is. You do! If the panic attack comes, you take it with you. You’ll smother it with so much acceptance and love, it will eventually grow tired of accompanying you! Besides the “whatever happens it’s OK,” it’s also beneficial to say, “Bring it on. I’m going to stay, and I want to see what happens. Let’s find out if it really is as bad as my negative voice wants me to believe.” This is powerful, and I’ve discussed it in detail before. What you’re feeling during a panic attack is already the pinnacle of what anxiety has in store. It cannot get worse; you’re already there. Furthermore, a full-blown panic attack can only last a couple of minutes. The adrenaline you’re feeling will be taken back up by organs like your liver; it will pass! Even if you stay. Do you know what the benefit of leaving is? Why does your anxiety often calm down when you do leave? Once you reach your safe place, you’ll probably think it’s over. You’re saved. As a result, your anxiety will drop. Can you see why? It’s because you told yourself so! You calmed yourself down by telling yourself you’re safe. The physical danger, in that safe place, is as small as it was in the place you were previously in. So why not stay there and calm your mind and body down there, on the spot? It works just as well. And the added benefit is that you won’t have to keep avoiding that location in the future. At first, it will take you five to twenty minutes to calm down, which is a bit more than if you sought out the exit and left. But the long-term consequences are so much better since you communicate to your mind and body that you no longer fear the fear. And that’s always the best choice to make.

Doctors have been trained for many years; they don’t overlook serious health problems. It’s simply because the fight-or-flight system has been activated that you are feeling some strange symptoms. Your negative voice might now say, “Doctors do miss things. They’re human beings! I’ve heard stories and seen stuff on TV and the Internet... ” If you had that thought, that’s again proof of your incredibly powerful radar that looks out for you. It’s trying to find BS in what I’m saying in order to protect you. It’s doing its job!

The symptom you are feeling probably doesn’t mean anything. Your doctor can help you find out. However, even though it could have a medical cause, that still doesn’t mean you should... ...add anxiety on top of it. This has nothing to do with the actual symptom. Anxiety is a choice. And this is where you have the mental power to make a different one.

Miss Chao was very dedicated in her practice of the Whole Body Prayer, and I had tremendous admiration for her. The biggest challenge was to calm her overactive mind, which was wasting energy that could otherwise be healing her. This is quite typical for an overachiever/Type A personality, whose mind is like a race car. In Miss Chao’s case, her brain “motor” was extremely hot, while her lower belly was cold, which presented a problem, as the Qi that we harness in the Whole Body Prayer begins in the gut. I used a metaphor to explain the problem to her: “When we put a kettle on the stove, the fire is below, and the water is on top. Your situation is the opposite—water on the bottom, fire above.” Years of unhealthy thinking habits had caused blockages in her meridians and had “rusted” the water pipes, so her spirit energy could not circulate. Decades of stagnation like this can lead to cancer. “Tumors are not your enemy,” I told Miss Chao. “It’s your nonstop lifestyle that’s eating your soul.” It was time to slow down. She accepted it. The results were extraordinary. Within three months of practicing the Whole Body Prayer, she was pain-free and could sleep without medication. Her swelling had disappeared. Her mood was uplifted. A few months later, her captivating smile was back, along with the light in her pretty eyes. Full of energy, she’d regained twenty pounds. In November 2002, nine months after she began the ZiJiu self-healing method, she went to the hospital for scans and a thorough examination. The doctors were astonished. They’d never seen a case like this. Miss Chao was entirely cancer-free. She had defeated stage 4 ovarian cancer without drugs, radiation, or any other external interventions. She’d simply used her own body’s innate power to harness cosmic Qi and heal itself. Given Miss Chao’s notoriety, this became a big news story. The three thousand friends and colleagues she’d hosted at her own “memorial service” one year earlier didn’t know what to make of this “miracle.” “It’s no ‘miracle,’” she told them. “It’s the science of Qigong.

Reassurance gives more power to the emotion of anxiety.

I hope you find a new lens for understanding your situation. You are not crazy; you are not alone. You simply need new language for your experience, for with language, you can speak. And when you speak, you can regain what has been taken from you.

As a human being, you’ve been given the dignity of choice. While other living beings rely on their instincts, you have the power to overrule your basic instincts and negative feelings so as to grow and become more. In a way, procrastination is the ever-present tension we experience between our animal instincts and our higher purpose. It is the cost of being human.

Flynn’s kisses got more feverish as he positioned the chalice at her entrance, ready to catch every last drop. “You’re my favourite drink, Talulla.” Drip. “My Holy Grail.” Drip. With that, he feasted until she couldn’t take it anymore. Until half of the chalice was filled with her. Then, he mixed it with some blood, and drank her as if it was the one thing he needed to do to regain the power to breathe.

When I go out into the street and look people in the eye, I understand how the system works on society. Human beings have abandoned without realizing what is truly essential in this life, and they have done so because there are many titles to be harvested waiting in the dens of inclusive indoctrination, many jobs that demand that doctrine, many tributes and debts to silence Caesar, in this frivolous and superficial holographic recreation of life, love is similar to a colic, none of them believe that feeling "butterflies in the stomach" is an experience we are part of when we are in the first stage of falling in love. So, all that once was, no longer will be, and depersonalizing the human race is a great job of social engineering that the ancient shapers of humanity did very well in times past and present. But we cannot cross the bridge or break the gap or make a quantum leap through consciousness if we do not unite! If we cannot connect our hearts with our brains and send a signal across the skies to the farthest reaches of this planet, we will be lost forever! So do you realize what I am talking about? Do you understand why to this world you are just a number that adds up with your work and subtracts with your old age? Do you understand why it is necessary to regain that power before it is too late? The new generations are being subjected to a large-scale social experiment, the days will come when the men and women of the future will be replaced by a thing similar to artificial intelligence and will no longer need feelings, much less organs. So... When I go out on the street and look people in the eye, that's when I understand how the system works on society. From the book The Game of Life

As the author Marianne Williamson wrote, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.

When you are present, when your attention is fully and intensely in the Now, Being can be felt, but it can never be understood mentally. To regain awareness of Being and to abide in that state of “feeling-realization” is enlightenment.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.

It allows you to discover the significance of home life and how your home can nurture you. It’s a lifestyle that allows you to live well on little money, thereby enabling you to build a family and a home that is based on authenticity and love, rather than on fashion or what is expected of you. It helps you regain power and independence by making you stronger and more self-reliant. It builds sustainability into your family life and home. For me, simple living has allowed my husband and me to live every day to its fullest and to grow and prosper at a time when we thought we would be doing the opposite.

A young man asked Socrates how he could get wisdom. Socrates replied, “Come with me.” He took the lad to a river, pushed the boy's head under the water, held it there until the boy was gasping for air, then relaxed and released his head. When the boy regained his composure, he asked him, “What did you desire most when you were under water?” “I wanted air,” said the boy. Socrates said to him, “When you want wisdom as much as you wanted air when you were immersed in the water, you will receive it.

Lennon’s behaviour became ever more unpredictable. In the first week of May, with Cynthia on holiday abroad, he spent an evening with Shotton in his music room at Kenwood. Both took LSD, smoked cannabis and made some experimental recordings. Shortly before dawn they fell into silence, which was eventually punctuated by Lennon’s solemn announcement: ‘Pete, I think I’m Jesus Christ.’ Shotton was more than familiar with his friend’s bizarre flights of fancy, but this was a revelation too far. He attempted to pour cold water on Lennon’s sudden eagerness to tell the world of his new identity, perhaps mindful of the ‘More popular than Jesus’ controversy of 1966. ‘They’ll fucking kill you,’ he told Lennon. ‘They won’t accept that, John.’ Lennon grew agitated, telling Shotton that it was his destiny, and that he would inform the other Beatles at Apple. A board meeting was hastily convened that day, attended by the Beatles, Shotton, Taylor and Aspinall. Lennon opened the meeting by solemnly telling the others that he was the second coming of Jesus. ‘Paul, George, Ringo and their closest aides stared back, stunned,’ Shotton said. ‘Even after regaining their powers of speech, nobody presumed to cross-examine John Lennon, or to make light of his announcement. On the other hand, no specific plans were made for the new Messiah, as all agreed that they would need some time to ponder John’s announcement, and to decide upon appropriate further steps.’ The meeting came to an abrupt close, and all agreed to go to a restaurant. As they waited to be seated, a fellow diner recognised Lennon and exchanged pleasantries. ‘Actually,’ Lennon told him, ‘I’m Jesus Christ.’ ‘Oh, really,’ the man replied, seemingly unfazed by the news. ‘Well, I loved your last record. Thought it was great.’328

Self love is not as difficult a discovery as some folks will conjecture. Muting the ego's clamourous influence over the conscience. This could be the support 'self' needs to begin-to-understand' that a Divine Creator had them in mind before building their flesh brain around the soul's spirit body, purely out of a love that pre-existed prior to that of ones existence. That love was magnificently demonstrated in the hybrid spirit-to-flesh-body-back to Spiritual Saviour who purpose in introduction, activity and prophetic discourse documentation, rejection turned persecution, crucifixion and Divine Spirit Resurrection to regain proper origin in (complete soul) relationship back to each living human being. Love went through all of that to restore us back to Supreme of absolute Love. To accept that truth brings light thru revelation which guides the spirit of oneself to change thoughts from dark external influences that make us not love ourselves. How can you sp easily reject yourself against the the existence of a Love Creator that "loved" you into life, and paid an extreme price with His hybrid life to powerfully save yours back to him, from which you came. Don't get lost in the deep details. Get LOVED!

You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength…. If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment.

O Holy Heavenly Father We trust the greatness of your mercy and the power of your tenderness, especially for those who are suffering. Only YOU can provide healing to the sick. We ask you to have compassion on those who suffer in their bodies, minds and hearts. Bless them, O Lord, and let them regain health and strength to be witnesses of your mercy. Amen

When we are in high-stress situations, large doses of cortisol and adrenaline are released, which activates the ‘fight, flight or freeze’ response. The average person is unable to control this process, but the Navy SEALs are capable of doing so because they have been trained to, and depending on the situation, their responses to stressful situations could mean the difference between life and death. They use several techniques to do this, including box breathing. When a SEAL starts feeling stressed or overwhelmed, they focus on their breath to regain control. They take a series of breaths for four seconds at a time—they breathe in, hold their breath, and then breathe out. This process is repeated until the heart rate returns to normal

Being a badass means owning who you are, owning your experience, your wisdom, your talent, your age.

You can’t sit on your ass and wait for things to miraculously happen for you.