Regain Your Strength Quotes

Close your eyes,” Marcus said, his hand moving to her bottom in a circling caress. He brushed his mouth over her forehead and her fragile eyelids. “Rest. You’ll need to regain your strength… because once we’re married, I won’t be able to leave you alone. I’ll want to love you every hour, every minute of the day.” He nestled her more closely against him. “There is nothing on earth more beautiful to me than your smile… no sound sweeter than your laughter… no pleasure greater than holding you in my arms. I realized today that I could never live without you, stubborn little hellion that you are. In this life and the next, you’re my only hope of happiness. Tell me, Lillian, dearest love… how can you have reached so far inside my heart?” He paused to kiss her damp silken skin… and smiled as the wisp of a feminine snore broke the peaceful silence.

Ellysetta was sitting at the secretary in Rain's suite, penning a note to her parents, when Bel burst through the doors. The other members of the quintet followed so swiftly that all five warriors nearly ended up in a heap on the floor. They were breathless and flushed, perspiration trickling down the sides of their faces. Kieran bent over, hands on his knees, and dragged air into his lungs. "Well done,brothers. We beat the smug chervil.” "You all look like you could use a drink." Cool and unwinded, Gaelen smiled at the new arrivals from the sofa near the window. "Water? Or perhaps something a little stronger to help you regain your strength?

You are still a very loosome lass, Lael Click.” “Loosome?” “Lovely. But you need tae regain your strength. I canna wed and bed so wee a fairy.

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.

But there’s another reason you can’t go. You still haven’t told me about your trip to Tennessee.” A sudden spark seemed to light his keen eyes. “I wanted to tell you, but you didn’t come, even when I gave you back your bed.” She looked up, full of wonder. “You wanted me to come upstairs?” “You know I wouldn’t hurt you . . . dishonor you.” “I—I know you wouldn’t . . . but . . . being alone with you . . . like that . . .” She faltered and looked away, a furious blush staining her face. “It’s not the proper way,” he finished for her. She merely nodded, trying to start sewing again, but instead making a knot of her thread. He said quietly, “Sometimes I think you’re still afraid of me.” She looked up at him again and wished she hadn’t. His eyes held hers with a startling intensity, as if daring her to deny it. She got up abruptly, nearly spilling her sewing onto the floor. “I made some broth,” she said. “You’ll need to regain your strength. And I’ll have to see to your shoulder.

Remembering is a key verb of the Christian life. We recall our past, we correct our nearsightedness, we take heart, we regain mental strength, awe find peace in the eternal Word. Remembering is one of the key spiritual disciplines we must guard with vigilance amid the mind-fragmenting and past-forgetting temptations of the digital age.

When you have the Stellah Mupanduki healing, moulding, cleansing and protecting books breathed by the Holy Spirit of a Sovereign God; your way of thinking and speaking changes because you will start to feel well and you regain strength as you read. You will know you will be very fine, and you will not worry too much because you will know that you will not die but live and bless your family with your presence and give them peace…yeah, be with your family in Christ. You will know that your days are not numbered in short, you will know and understand that you have longevity, that in Christ, you will live long. So talk about your life and not death whatever you are going through or whatever you perceive to be true in your own human intelligence. Move away from nodding to death and stop welcoming the spirit of death. Keep it away from your lipsl, when you speak, talk about about your life as progressing in the normal way, in the name of Jesus Christ…

You are like a baby bird that has fallen out of the nest, too weak and fragile to fly back. You need to learn how to feed yourself soul vitamins so that you can regain your energy and the will to live fully.

Do something so radical Do something so radical that the laws of nature are shaken, Do something so radical that your very existence becomes someone's dream, Do something so radical that it appears impossible to your brethren, Do something so radical that others either hate you or worship you to the extreme, Do something so radical that your breath becomes someone's mental essence, Do something so radical that the intellectuals keep silent in front of you, Do something so radical that the weak regains strength by your presence, Do something so radical that no one can ever repay with all the I O U, Do something so radical that no death can ever make you perish, Do something so radical that all the sons and prophets pay you heed, Do something so radical that your immortality makes history cherish, Do something so radical that the meekest of slaves starts to lead, Do something my friend that matters to humanity beyond the society's wildest imagination, Thus you get to be the solution and not the problem like the rest of the population.

She slid out of the felze and went to stand beside Falco as he moved the boat through the water. Fog swirled around the gondola. “Don’t expose yourself to the elements on my account,” Falco said with a crooked smile. “I don’t mind playing gondolier for you.” “Is it difficult?” Cass asked. “To steer the boat?” Though she’d ridden in a boat almost every single day since her birth, she had never paid any attention to the mechanics of it. “It’s not so bad,” he said. The wind blew a shock of dark hair into his eyes and Cass had the sudden urge to reach out and rearrange it. “Takes a little strength. Want to try?” Cass was surprised to hear herself saying yes. She secured the cloak tightly around her waist and pushed her hair back from her face. The boat wobbled as she stepped onto the tiny platform beside Falco, and she gasped. “You have to move with the rhythm of the water,” he explained. The platform was tiny, really only enough space for one person, so Falco had to press his body against Cass’s back. His forearms fit neatly across her hip bones; she could feel his soft hair brushing against her cheek. He exhaled, a warm breath that tickled her neck and sent a shiver through her. She stiffened and nearly lost her balance. Falco tightened his grip on her momentarily until she regained her footing. His body radiated heat through her cloak. Falco gave her the oar and put his hands on her waist to steady her. Cass awkwardly thrust the oar through the murky water and the boat skewed off at a funny angle. She felt herself wobbling, but Falco moved one hand from her waist to the oar and helped her guide it through the water. Cass began to relax her body against Falco’s. She laughed, in spite of the mist and the night and their destination. Steering the boat was fun, and she was doing something that probably no other woman in all of Venice had ever done. After a few minutes, she got the hang of steering and the long wooden gondola started to move swiftly through the water. Falco offered to take over, but she persisted, despite the aching in her arms and shoulders. “I’m impressed,” Falco said. “You’re a natural.” Cass was grateful that he was standing behind her, so he couldn’t see her smile. She didn’t want him to know how much the comment pleased her.

Meditation is not an isolated act, it is not something you do and then forget about until the next time you practice. Meditation is a skill, a technique you use to help you regain your focus and concentration any time during your day. Being present and aware of your posture, your thoughts, and your breath on a regular basis during your day are as vital as knowing your shoe size.

And what is your assessment of Lady Rosslyn?” Rafe blurted out without thinking. The vampire remained silent as he took the seat opposite Rafe. Finally, he looked up, eyes intent. “You can’t kill her. She would be too much of an asset to our people. Imagine having our own doctor for our kind. She might be able to fix Mary’s leg.” He smiled. “And I think she’s completely smitten with you.” Rafe doubted that, as much as the thought still made his chest tight. “Does your offer still stand to Change her?” Anthony’s smile dimmed. “It would, if I had not grown so weakened donating blood for your surgeries. By the time I regain my strength, the deadline for the Elders’ decree will have passed.” Rafe slammed his fist on the table. “Damn it! I should have had William open a vein before I dismissed him. At least then he could have been useful for once.” “He wouldn’t have done it. He would have quit before lifting a finger to help anyone but himself.

Eric could not recall a moment when frustration had consumed him so thoroughly. He stared unseeing at the far wall, trying to stop the caustic rise of bile in his throat. Dammit-all. The Haarb invade again in unknown numbers. I swore on my honor to protect a woman who thwarts my attempts at every turn. Three-quarters of my men lie dead. My head is fit to explode and I sit here too weak to stand, wearing a gods-be-damned dress. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! His empty bowl flew across the width of the cave, smashing into little bits against the far wall. Amused feminine eyes tracked the bowl’s flight and returned to him. “You seem to be regaining your strength. I’ll be back later to look at your dressings.” Sophi rose, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Very fetching robe, Commander. I don’t know many men who could pull off that look.

I drive away those who pay to see me by foretelling their futures, and I will foretell yours. You are young now, and strong. But before the world has wound itself ten times more about the sun you shall be less strong, and you shall never regain the strength that is yours now. If you breed sons, you will engender enemies against yourself. If--" "Enough!" I said. "What you are telling me is only the fortune of all men.

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!

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.

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

The reason many people gain weight as they age, especially beginning in their 30s, is because they have less muscle than they had in their late teens and early twenties. As we age, our bodies naturally lose muscle, especially as we are less active in our lives. This muscle tissue loss results in a decreasing metabolic rate. And then, if you continue to eat like you did when you were younger … well, you’ll slowly gain weight, pound by pound, month by month, year by year, until one day you look in the mirror and wonder, “What happened?” This is how the average American adult gains 2.2 pounds per year. The key to eliminating accumulated body fat is regaining your youthful metabolism by regaining your muscle through strength training.

I’m made of fire, you know,” he said. “Fire and stone. If he regained his full strength, my father could kill everyone in the ballroom before they could choke out a scream. But I’d rather have the tinder-flare of a glass punch, the curve of a barmaid’s breast, the frost of a winter morning—it all pierces me to the heart. God, why am I telling you all this?” I tried to fall back on teasing. The waltz was slowly picking up tempo, and my heart seemed to be matching it pulse for pulse. “No need for tears for a simple waltz,” I mock-scolded in a whisper. “And you a great boy of eight-and-twenty.” He opened his eyes at that and surged away from the wall. “I am not eight-and-twenty. I am ten months old, or nine thousand years. Nothing in between.” Before I could squeak, he’d seized me in a waltz hold, far closer than propriety allowed. “Yes,” he said. “In answer to your question.” “What question,” I said. “Am I going to waltz you.” He began, slowly, to move. “The answer is yes, at every opportunity.

I’m made of fire, you know,” he said. “Fire and stone. If he regained his full strength, my father could kill everyone in the ballroom before they could choke out a scream. But I’d rather have the tinder-flare of a human lifetime than go back to him. It’s not just the waltz. The taste of a glass punch, the curve of a barmaid’s breast, the frost of a winter morning—it all pierces me to the heart. God, why am I telling you all this?” I tried to fall back on teasing. The waltz was slowly picking up tempo, and my heart seemed to be matching it pulse for pulse. “No need for tears for a simple waltz,” I mock-scolded in a whisper. “And you a great boy of eight-and-twenty.” He opened his eyes at that and surged away from the wall. “I am not eight-and-twenty. I am ten months old, or nine thousand years. Nothing in between.” Before I could squeak, he’d seized me in a waltz hold, far closer than propriety allowed. “Yes,” he said. “In answer to your question.” “What question,” I said. “Am I going to waltz you.” He began, slowly, to move. “The answer is yes, at every opportunity.

The news that they were to have supper at the home of Lord and Lady Westcliff was received with a variety of reactions from the Hathaways. Poppy and Beatrix were pleased and excited, whereas Win, who was still trying to regain her strength after the journey to Hampshire, was merely resigned. Leo was looking forward to a lengthy repast accompanied by fine wine. Merripen, on the other hand, flatly refused to go. “You are part of the family,” Amelia told him, watching as he secured loose paneling boards in one of the common rooms. Merripen’s grip on a carpenter’s hammer was deft and sure as he expertly sank a handmade nail into the edge of a board. “No matter how you may try to deny all connection to the Hathaways—and one could hardly blame you for that—the fact is, you’re one of us and you should attend.” Merripen methodically pounded a few more nails into the wall. “My presence won’t be necessary.” “Well, of course it won’t be necessary. But you might enjoy yourself.” “No I wouldn’t,” he replied with grim certainty, and continued his hammering. “Why must you be so stubborn? If you’re afraid of being treated badly, you should recall that Lord Westcliff is already acting as host to a Roma, and he seems to have no prejudice—” “I don’t like gadjos.” “My entire family—your family—are gadjos. Does that mean you don’t like us?” Merripen didn’t reply, only continued to work. Noisily. Amelia let out a taut sigh. “Merripen, you’re a dreadful snob. And if the evening turns out to be terrible, it’s your obligation to endure it with us.” Merripen reached for another handful of nails. “That was a good try,” he said. “But I’m not going.

Close your eyes,” Marcus said, his hand moving to her bottom in a circling caress. He brushed his mouth over her forehead and her fragile eyelids. “Rest. You’ll need to regain your strength… because once we’re married, I won’t be able to leave you alone. I’ll want to love you every hour, every minute of the day.” He nestled her more closely against him. “There is nothing on earth more beautiful to me than your smile… no sound sweeter than your laughter… no pleasure greater than holding you in my arms. I realized today that I could never live without you, stubborn little hellion that you are. In this life and the next, you’re my only hope of happiness. Tell me, Lillian, dearest love… how can you have reached so far inside my heart?” He paused to kiss her damp silken skin… and smiled as the wisp of a feminine snore broke the peaceful silence. -Marcus to Lillian

DAY OF REST   Some years ago, a research physician made an extensive study of the amount of oxygen a person needs throughout the day. He was able to demonstrate that the average workman breathes thirty ounces of oxygen during a day’s work, but he uses thirty-one. At the close of the day, he is one ounce short, and his body is tired. He goes to sleep and breathes more oxygen than he uses to sleep, so in the morning he has regained five-sixths of the ounce he was short. The night’s rest does not fully balance the day’s work! By the seventh day, he is six-sixths or one whole ounce in debt again. He must rest an entire day to replenish his body’s oxygen requirements. Further, he demonstrated that replenishing an entire ounce of oxygen requires thirty to thirty-six hours (one twenty-four-hour day plus the preceding and following nights) when part of the resting is done while one is awake and moving about. Over time, failure to replenish the oxygen supply results in the actual death of cells and, eventually, the premature death of the person. A person is restored as long as he or she takes the seventh day as a day of rest.28 Sound familiar? The God who created us not only invites us to rest. He created our bodies in such a fashion that they demand rest. Most people think that “keeping the Sabbath” is solely an act of devotion to God. But in turning your attention to Him, He can offer you true rest and replenishment in every area of your life—spirit, soul, and body. He is not only our daily strength; He is our source of rest, recreation, and replenishment.   THERE REMAINS, THEN, A SABBATH-REST FOR THE PEOPLE OF GOD; FOR ANYONE WHO ENTERS GOD’S REST ALSO RESTS FROM HIS OWN WORK, JUST AS GOD DID FROM HIS. HEBREWS 4:9-10

After a moment to regain his composure, he propped himself up on his elbow to look down at me, desire still lurking in his mesmerizing eyes. “Alera? Are you…all right?” “Narian, we can’t do this.” I was more than a little shocked at the both of us. His brow furrowed, and he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He took a breath and opened his mouth, then stopped, apparently unable to decide exactly what he wanted to say. “Why not?” “Because,” I said, pushing myself upright. “We’re not married!” He sat up as well and lit the lantern on my bedside table. I pulled my chemise back onto my shoulders and wrapped my arms around my legs while I waited for his reaction. “And marriage, that’s…important to you…for this,” he surmised, trying to work out the basis for my objection. “Yes,” I told him fervently. “Isn’t it to you?” He glanced at the bedclothes, as though he anticipated an unpleasant reaction to what he would say. “Well, no. We don’t have marriage in Cokyri.” My eyebrows shot upward. “You don’t have…marriage? Well then, how do you…I mean, where…where do your children come from?” “We just choose a partner,” he said, ignoring the absurdity of my question. “A woman chooses a man, and if he accepts, he is marked with a tattoo around his forearm. The tattoo is a great honor--men in Cokyri are proud to bear it.” “What about the church?” He shrugged, no longer worrying about how I might react. “Cokyri has no official religion. Some people seek the High Priestess’s approval to be bound, but they come to her of their own accord. Again, it is a choice.” “So…in order to be with me, all you would need is a tattoo?” I spoke tentatively, trying to absorb and understand his words. “Only to signify that I am yours and no one else’s. If that is what we both want.” His closing statement, though subtle, sough confirmation, his steel-blue eyes filled with love and longing. “I choose you,” I said, leaning toward him, and his mouth met mine with such ardor that my senses reeled all over again. He lay down with me on top of him, and it took all my strength of will to pull away. “But we have to be married.” He studied me, concluding that I truly believed in what I said. “Then let’s go get married.” “Now?” I blurted, eyes wide. “Is now a problem?

If you’re wanting to stand up, I could help you balance.” Her expression turned wary. “I’ve been trying to stand up for the past month. It hasn’t worked thus far.” “Would you like to try again?” he asked. She shook her head, as if she’d already given up. “My legs haven’t the strength.” “That isn’t what I asked.” She hesitated a moment but then nodded. Slowly, Iain lowered her, holding her by the waist as he brought her feet to stand upon the earthen floor. Her knees wouldn’t bear her weight and buckled beneath her, so he held her steady, using his strength to hold her upright. “Keep your legs straight, if you can. I’ll help support you until you’ve got your balance.” With both arms around her waist, he kept her upright, being careful not to let her slip. Once again, her legs crumpled beneath her, and he saw her emotions falter. She was afraid to trust herself. “I can’t do this.” “Look at me, Lady Rose,” he said. He held her waist, staring into her eyes. “Try again.” Gently, he eased his hands until she was standing on her own. For the barest second, she held her legs straight, until her knees gave out again and he caught her. “I won’t let you fall.” He pressed his hands against her waist until she regained her stability. This time, she stood for two seconds before her legs buckled. Tears rimmed her eyes, and he wondered for a moment if she was upset with herself. But then, she started to laugh through her tears. “I did it. I know it was only for a moment, but—” Her words broke off in a half sob before her laughter intruded again. The look of utter joy on her face was like a fist to his gut. Never before had he seen such elation, and he continued holding her upright. “I stood,” she managed to whisper, her smile incredulous. “After all these months, I did it. Yes, it was only for a second or two . . . but it was real, wasn’t it?” “It was, aye.” He suspected that it had drained a great deal of her strength away. He was supporting all her weight now, and she made no attempt to stand again. “In time, you’ll get stronger.” He lifted her back into his arms and brought her over to the bench. He eased her down into a seated position. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to stand?” Rose rested her hands in his, holding both of his palms for a moment. The gentle pressure of her grip was a welcome affection, and he squeezed them in return. Her face flushed, as if she suddenly realized how inappropriate it was for them to hold hands. Her smile faded slightly, and she pulled back, folding her hands in her lap. She behaved as if nothing had happened and said, “If I can stand, I may learn to walk again.” “You’ll need to strengthen your legs.” She would have to keep practicing until they could bear her weight again. “Thank you for this, Lord Ashton. You cannot know how much this means to me.” He

I beg your pardon, my ladies, Mr. Trottenham. I did not realize I’d be intruding unannounced.” “Deene, good day.” Trottenham rose and bowed, smacking his heels together audibly. “The more the merrier, I say, what? Saw your colt beat Islington’s by two lengths. Well done, jolly good and all that. Islington’s made a bit too much blunt off that animal in my opinion.” Trottenham apparently had a nervous affliction of the eyebrows, for they bounced up and down as he spoke, suggesting either a severe tic or an attempt to indicate some sort of shared confidence. “Perhaps the ladies would rather we save the race talk for the clubs?” “The ladies would indeed,” Louisa said. “Sit you down, Deene, and do the pretty. Mr. Trottenham was just leaving.” She gave a pointed look at the clock, while Eve, who had said nothing, busied herself pouring tea, which Deene most assuredly did not want. “Leaving?” Trottenham’s eyebrows jiggled around. “Suppose I ought, but first I must ask Lady Eve to join me at the fashionable hour for a drive around The Ring. It’s a beautiful day, and I’ve a spanking pair of bays to show off.” Deene accepted his cup of tea with good grace. “Afraid she’s not in a position to oblige, Trottenham, at least not today.” He smiled over at Eve, who blinked once then smiled back. Looking just a bit like Louisa when she did. “Sorry, Mr. Trottenham.” She did not sound sorry to Deene. “His lordship has spoken for my time today.” Trottenham’s smile dimmed then regained its strength. “Tomorrow, then?” Jenny spoke up. “We’re supposed to attend that Venetian breakfast with Her Grace tomorrow.” “And the next day is His Grace’s birthday. Couldn’t possibly wander off on such an occasion as that,” Louisa volunteered. “Why don’t I see you out, Mr. Trottenham, and you can tell me where you found these bays.” She rose and took him by the arm, leaving a small silence after her departure, in which Deene spared a moment to pity poor Trottenham. “I have an appointment at the modiste,” Lady Jenny said, getting to her feet. “Lucas, I’m sure you’ll excuse me.” She swanned off, leaving Eve sitting before the tea tray and Deene wondering what had just happened. “Did you tell them I’ve a preference for leeks?” “I did not, but I cannot vouch for the queer starts my sisters take.

The English rendering for the word shabat as “rest” can be a little misleading. It is not to rest to regain your strength, it is to “cease” from your activity or to interrupt your normal activity to accomplish something. What are you to accomplish on the Sabbath? Used here in Exodus you have a sort of play the word yashev that means to dwell, or sit down. Shabot has a numerical value of 702. The word macoreth also has a numerical value of 702 and means to bond.

Your marriage to Lord Rayyel was a symbol of peace, one that is now tainted beyond compare. What you do in your own bed is none of my business, my lady, but there is no saving you from this ruin. To regain the honour that will win you back your throne, you have to become a new symbol: one of strength, the way a Dragonlord ought to be. And so.” He gestured at my sword. “Prove your worth. Slay the dragon.

Burrich got up, staggered a half step on his bad leg, and regained his balance. He took up the measure of grain. He sprinkled it over the boiling water, then stirred it to wet it evenly. Then he put a tight lid on the pot and pulled it slightly back from the fire’s reach. All this while balancing the babe in the crook of one arm. I could tell he had been thinking when he answered, “Not babies, perhaps. But I know about young things. Foals, puppies, calves, piglets. Even hunting cats. I know if you want them to trust you, you touch them often when they are small. Gently, but firmly, so they believe in your strength, too.

When you stand accused, your character is being tested. The strength of character that you reveal will ultimately determine the Tanks’ perception of you and future behavior toward you. Action Plan Step 1. Hold Your Ground. The first step is to stay put and hold your ground, neither running away nor gearing for battle. Do not change your position, whether you happen to be standing, sitting, leaning, or making up your mind. You don’t have to go on the offensive or the defensive. Instead, silently look the Tank in the eyes, and shift your attention to your breathing. Breathe slowly and deeply. Intentional breathing is a terrific way to regain your self-control. And while you compose yourself, the Tank has the opportunity to fire off a round unimpeded. When Martin found himself under attack, he restrained his impulse to counterattack. Instead, he held his ground. He looked into his boss’s eyes, kept breathing, and waited for the blasting to stop. When it did, Martin asked, “Is that everything?” Apparently, that wasn’t all. The Tank loaded up another round a of abuse and fired it off. Martin held his temper in check, took a slow breath, and asked evenly, “Anything else?” “Why, you ...” Sherman loaded up his last round and fired it off. He was now completely out of ammunition, having said every rotten thing he knew how to say. At that point, he just stood there silently glaring at Martin, as if waiting for an answer will ultimately determine the Tanks’ perception of you and future behavior toward you.

Our fears become unhealthy and can be used as weapons when they originate from imagined dangers and prevent us from doing things we may otherwise enjoy.

ECHOES OF LOVE: A DANCE BENEATH THE ARCHWAYS Beneath the archways, where shadows play, As the world gives way, begin the odyssey. Uncertainty weaves into the grand scheme of life, A mystical altar, where destinies are intertwined. I walk the path, seeking the balm of solace, Enduring burden, sweet hymn of love. With hopes gone, a peace is about to descend, Still the echoes remain, they dissolve in silence. The flawed script in the story I wrote, Whispers of well-being, truths worth absorbing. "I'm fine," I say, a deceptive glare, Exposing the lies, an invisible love. A waltz with shadows on your street, Cynic's steps, very judicious dance. Terrible notions, a conspiracy unfolds, Regret is echoing at the threshold of love. Rumors of happiness, far-fetched, As I stumble in the field of love. In excess, I stumble and strain, Hope of solace, of regaining love. Did I stumble in that fleeting call? Huge weakening of pride, slow decline of strength. A gift given, deemed inadequate, In closeness, bonds become inadequate. A crazy search for a cure for love, Wandering aimlessly, purpose uncertain. Your realm echoes with such blasphemous footsteps, In the despair of the night, capricious dreams. Happiness, heard a rumor softly, As I wrestle with love like a flightless bird. Juggling too much reduces the weight of love, In the noise of love, a desperate clown. The desire to turn back, the love to amend, Unraveling habits, unraveling at every turn. A desperate attempt, from the quagmire of love, Hope you find love worth savoring. GUIDE ME, LET SALVATION BEGIN, A CHANCE TO IMPROVE, A REVENGE FOR LOVE. TO IMPROVE, HABITS HAVE TO BE BROKEN, A SELF-CALCULATING, STRIVING SOUL. THOUGHTS ENTANGLED IN THE HOPEFUL VISION OF LOVE, A CHANCE TO IMPROVE, A DECISION OF LOVE. WITNESS THE TRANSFORMATION, LET IT HAPPEN, INSPIRE IT, IN THE DANCE OF LOVE'S LIBERATION. LET ME ENTER AGAIN, A DOOR A LITTLE AJAR, A LOVE REBUILT, A HEALING STAR. WATCH AS LOVE APPEARS, WATCH, IN THE RELAXATION OF LOVE, A STORY RETOLD. I KEEP DREAMING, MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, LOVE'S EMBRACE, WAVING DESTINY. WITH EVERY STEP FORWARD, LOVE IS BECOMING FREE, SELF-MADE AGREEMENT, THE DEGREE OF LOVE.

Beneath the archways, where shadows play, As the world gives way, begin the odyssey. Uncertainty weaves into the grand scheme of life, A mystical altar, where destinies are intertwined. I walk the path, seeking the balm of solace, Enduring burden, sweet hymn of love. With hopes gone, a peace is about to descend, Still the echoes remain, they dissolve in silence. The flawed script in the story I wrote, Whispers of well-being, truths worth absorbing. "I'm fine," I say, a deceptive glare, Exposing the lies, an invisible love. A waltz with shadows on your street, Cynic's steps, very judicious dance. Terrible notions, a conspiracy unfolds, Regret is echoing at the threshold of love. Rumors of happiness, far-fetched, As I stumble in the field of love. In excess, I stumble and strain, Hope of solace, of regaining love. Did I stumble in that fleeting call? Huge weakening of pride, slow decline of strength. A gift given, deemed inadequate, In closeness, bonds become inadequate. A crazy search for a cure for love, Wandering aimlessly, purpose uncertain. Your realm echoes with such blasphemous footsteps, In the despair of the night, capricious dreams. Happiness, heard a rumor softly, As I wrestle with love like a flightless bird. Juggling too much reduces the weight of love, In the noise of love, a desperate clown. The desire to turn back, the love to amend, Unraveling habits, unraveling at every turn. A desperate attempt, from the quagmire of love, Hope you find love worth savoring. Guide me, let salvation begin, A chance to improve, a revenge for love. To improve, habits have to be broken, A self-calculating, striving soul. Thoughts entangled in the hopeful vision of love, A chance to improve, a decision of love. Witness the transformation, let it happen, Inspire it, in the dance of love's liberation. Let me enter again, a door a little ajar, A love rebuilt, a healing star. Watch as love appears, watch, In the relaxation of love, a story retold. I keep dreaming, maybe, just maybe, Love's embrace, waving destiny. With every step forward, love is becoming free, Self-made agreement, the decree of love.

You may not be able to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but perhaps you can carry the weight of someone’s burden long enough for them to regain their strength.

You are striving to be your best. There are times that will challenge that. In Discourses 3:25, Epictetus says, “In this contest, even if we should falter for a while, no one can prevent us from resuming the fight, nor is it necessary to wait another four years for the next Olympic Games to come around, but as soon as one has recovered and regained one’s strength, and can muster the same zeal as before, one can enter the fight; and if one should fail again, one can enter once again, and if one should carry off the victory one fine day, it will be as if one had never given in.” Always remember that you can try again. If you stumble in the moment, get up, refresh yourself, and start moving forward.

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

Everybody falls - make your fall spectacular and rise like a god, so that watching you even the voiceless regain their voice and the weak regain their strength.

But if you practice gratitude enough, you regain your strength because ultimately, the only strength we have as human beings on this planet is our ability to choose. We can choose what we see. We can choose how to interpret what we perceive. We can choose how we feel about the things that we think are true. And we can definitely choose our actions.

Rest (Shabbat) EXODUS 16:30: “SO THE people rested on the seventh day.” Rest—Hebrew: shabat—rest, to cease, be still, to interrupt, The word rest in this passage is vayishevethu. From the root word shabat which means to rest and to cease. We learn in Genesis 2:2 that God “rested” on the seventh day. I mean all that creating into being must have worn poor God out, surely God needed a rest; I know I would have. The English rendering for the word shabat as “rest” can be a little misleading. It is not to rest to regain your strength, it is to “cease” from your activity or to interrupt your normal activity to accomplish something. What are you to accomplish on the Sabbath? Used here in Exodus you have a sort of play the word yashev that means to dwell, or sit down. Shabot has a numerical value of 702. The word macoreth also

My Dearest Emaline, Please forgive me for my behavior last night. I am so sorry I hurt you. You did not deserve such callous treatment. I know you don’t understand the responsibilities that I face, and unfortunately, they far outweigh any personal feelings or desires I possess. I hope one day you will come to understand this and find it in your heart to forgive me. Inside the case is a collection of medical supplies, including several potent drugs. Doc has assured me these will help your brother regain his strength. And contrary to what you now believe, I do hope he recovers. I will never forget you or the courage you have displayed. The brief time we spent together will forever remain in my heart. I am eternally in your debt, Reece

I can’t explain what I don’t understand. It’s never happened with any other Skill-healing I’ve witnessed. Only between you and me. Whatever injury I take from you appears on me.” He stood, his arms crossed on his chest. He wore his own face, and Amber’s painted lips and rouged cheeks looked peculiar now. His eyes seemed to bore into me. “No. Explain why you hid this from me! Why you couldn’t trust me with the simple truth. What did you imagine? That I would demand you blind yourself that I might see?” “I…no!” I braces my elbows on the table and rested my head in my hands. I could not recall when I had felt more drained. A steady pulse of pounding pain in my temples kept pace with my heartbeat. I felt a desperate need to recover my strength, but even sitting still was demanding more than I had to give. I wanted to topple over onto the floor and surrender to sleep. I tried to order my thoughts. “You were so desperate to regain your sight. I didn’t want to take that hope from you. My plan was that once you were strong enough the coterie could try to heal you, if you would let them. My fear was that if I told you I couldn’t heal you without losing my sight, you’d lose all hope.” The last piece of the truth was angular and sharp-edged in my mouth. “And I feared you would think me selfish that I did not heal you.” I let my head lower onto my folded arms. The Fool said something. “I didn’t hear that.” “You weren’t meant to,” he replied in a low voice. Then he admitted, “I called you a clodpoll.” “Oh.” I could barely keep my eyes open. He asked a cautious question. “After you’d taken on my hurts, did they heal?” “Yes. Mostly. But very slowly.” My back still bore the pinkish dimples in echo of the ulcers that had been on his back. “Or so it seemed to me. You know hun body has been since that runaway healing the coterie did on me years ago. I scarcely age and injuries heal overnight, leaving me exhausted. But they healed, Fool. Once I knew what was happening, I was more careful. When I worked on the bones around your eyes, I kept strict control.” I halted. It was a terrifying offer to make. But in our sort of friendship, it had to be made. “I could try to heal your eyes. Give you sight, lose mine, and see if my body could restore mine. It would take time. And I’m not sure this is the best place for us to make such an attempt. Perhaps in Bingtown, after we’ve sent the others home, we could take rooms somewhere and make the attempt.” “No. Don’t be stupid.” His tone forbade any response. In his long silence, sleep crept up on me, seeping into every part of my body. It was an engulfing demand the body makes, one that knows no refusal. “Fitz. Fitz? Look at me. What do you see?” I prised my eyelids open and looked at him. I thought I knew what he needed to hear. “I see my friend. My oldest, dearest friend. No matter what guise you wear.” “And you see me clearly?” Something in his voice made me lift up my head. I blinked blearily and stared at him. After a time, he swam into focus. “Yes.” He let out his pent up breath. “Good. Because when I touched you, I felt something happen, something more than I expected. I reached for you, to call you back, for I feared you were vanishing into the Skill-current. But when I touched you, it wasn’t as if I touched someone else. It was like folding my hands together. As if your blood suddenly ran through my veins. Fitz, I can see the shape of you, there in your chair. I fear I may have taken something from you.” “Oh. Good. I’m glad.” I closed my eyes, too weary for surprise. Too exhausted for fear. I thought of that day, long ago, when I had drawn him back from death and pushed him into his own body again. In that moment, as I had left the body I had repaired for him, as we had passed each other before resuming our own flesh again, I’d felt the same. A sense of oneness. Of completion. I recalled it but was too weary to put it into words. I put my head down on the table and slept.

I can’t explain what I don’t understand. It’s never happened with any other Skill-healing I’ve witnessed. Only between you and me. Whatever injury I take from you appears on me.” He stood, his arms crossed on his chest. He wore his own face, and Amber’s painted lips and rouged cheeks looked peculiar now. His eyes seemed to bore into me. “No. Explain why you hid this from me! Why you couldn’t trust me with the simple truth. What did you imagine? That I would demand you blind yourself that I might see?” “I…no!” I braces my elbows on the table and rested my head in my hands. I could not recall when I had felt more drained. A steady pulse of pounding pain in my temples kept pace with my heartbeat. I felt a desperate need to recover my strength, but even sitting still was demanding more than I had to give. I wanted to topple over onto the floor and surrender to sleep. I tried to order my thoughts. “You were so desperate to regain your sight. I didn’t want to take that hope from you. My plan was that once you were strong enough the coterie could try to heal you, if you would let them. My fear was that if I told you I couldn’t heal you without losing my sight, you’d lose all hope.” The last piece of the truth was angular and sharp-edged in my mouth. “And I feared you would think me selfish that I did not heal you.” I let my head lower onto my folded arms. The Fool said something. “I didn’t hear that.” “You weren’t meant to,” he replied in a low voice. Then he admitted, “I called you a clodpoll.” “Oh.” I could barely keep my eyes open. He asked a cautious question. “After you’d taken on my hurts, did they heal?” “Yes. Mostly. But very slowly.” My back still bore the pinkish dimples in echo of the ulcers that had been on his back. “Or so it seemed to me. You know how my body has been since that runaway healing the coterie did on me years ago. I scarcely age and injuries heal overnight, leaving me exhausted. But they healed, Fool. Once I knew what was happening, I was more careful. When I worked on the bones around your eyes, I kept strict control.” I halted. It was a terrifying offer to make. But in our sort of friendship, it had to be made. “I could try to heal your eyes. Give you sight, lose mine, and see if my body could restore mine. It would take time. And I’m not sure this is the best place for us to make such an attempt. Perhaps in Bingtown, after we’ve sent the others home, we could take rooms somewhere and make the attempt.” “No. Don’t be stupid.” His tone forbade any response. In his long silence, sleep crept up on me, seeping into every part of my body. It was an engulfing demand the body makes, one that knows no refusal. “Fitz. Fitz? Look at me. What do you see?” I prised my eyelids open and looked at him. I thought I knew what he needed to hear. “I see my friend. My oldest, dearest friend. No matter what guise you wear.” “And you see me clearly?” Something in his voice made me lift up my head. I blinked blearily and stared at him. After a time, he swam into focus. “Yes.” He let out his pent up breath. “Good. Because when I touched you, I felt something happen, something more than I expected. I reached for you, to call you back, for I feared you were vanishing into the Skill-current. But when I touched you, it wasn’t as if I touched someone else. It was like folding my hands together. As if your blood suddenly ran through my veins. Fitz, I can see the shape of you, there in your chair. I fear I may have taken something from you.” “Oh. Good. I’m glad.” I closed my eyes, too weary for surprise. Too exhausted for fear. I thought of that day, long ago, when I had drawn him back from death and pushed him into his own body again. In that moment, as I had left the body I had repaired for him, as we had passed each other before resuming our own flesh again, I’d felt the same. A sense of oneness. Of completion. I recalled it but was too weary to put it into words. I put my head down on the table and slept.

Consequently, an ultrarapid 50-pound loss may lead a person to not only lose the actual strength to continue with their efforts, but also to suffer from a disproportionately slower metabolism consequent to their disproportionate loss of muscle and perhaps an amplified near-starvation adapted metabolic response. This phenomenon may help to explain why it is that people who lose large amounts of weight rapidly often regain more than they’d lost despite in fact not eating any more than they used to. If that person then goes back to the life they were living before their ultrarapid loss, even though they’re not eating any more than they did prior to losing weight, they’ll gain back