Reverse Sad Quotes

I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.

What happened when you woke up?" "I was having a dream. I don’t know what it was, but when I woke up, I had this awful realization that I was awake. It hit me like a brick in the groin." "Like a brick in the groin, I see." "I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare." "And what is that nightmare, Craig?" "Life." "Life is a nightmare." "Yes.

I don’t want to hurt you, and if our roles were reversed, I couldn’t handle watching you with another man.” I gave him a sad smile as I whispered, “You already did.” Kellan’s mouth parted, and a wave of sadness swept over his features. It broke my heart.

I didn’t want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that’s really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.

Understanding America for the Non-American Black: Thoughts on the Special White Friend One great gift for the Zipped-Up Negro is The White Friend Who Gets It. Sadly, this is not as common as one would wish, but some are lucky to have that white friend who you don’t need to explain shit to. By all means, put this friend to work. Such friends not only get it, but also have great bullshit-detectors and so they totally understand that they can say stuff that you can’t. So there is, in much of America, a stealthy little notion lying in the hearts of many: that white people earned their place at jobs and schools while black people got in because they were black. But in fact, since the beginning of America, white people have been getting jobs because they were white. Many whites with the same qualifications but Negro skin would not have the jobs they have. But don’t ever say this publicly. Let your white friend say it. If you make the mistake of saying this, you will be accused of a curiosity called “playing the race card.” Nobody quite knows what this means. When my father was in school in my NAB (Non American Black) country, many American Blacks could not vote or go to good schools. The reason? Their skin color. Skin color alone was the problem. Today, many Americans say that skin color cannot be part of the solution. Otherwise it is referred to as a curiosity called “reverse racism.” Have your white friend point out how the American Black deal is kind of like you’ve been unjustly imprisoned for many years, then all of a sudden you’re set free, but you get no bus fare. And, by the way, you and the guy who imprisoned you are now automatically equal. If the “slavery was so long ago” thing comes up, have your white friend say that lots of white folks are still inheriting money that their families made a hundred years ago. So if that legacy lives, why not the legacy of slavery? And have your white friend say how funny it is, that American pollsters ask white and black people if racism is over. White people in general say it is over and black people in general say it is not. Funny indeed. More suggestions for what you should have your white friend say? Please post away. And here’s to all the white friends who get it.

A Dream As the Earth began spinning faster and faster, we floated upwards, hands locked tightly together, eyes sad and bewildered. We watched as our faces grew younger and realized the Earth was spinning in reverse, moving us backwards in time. Then we reached a point where I no longer knew who you were and I was grasping the hands of a stranger. But I didn't let go. And neither did you. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I had my first dream about you last night. Really? She smiles. What was it about? I don't remember exactly, but the whole time I was dreaming, I knew you were mine.

Maybe we have lost the ability, that sixth sense that allows us to see miracles and have visions and understand that we are something other, larger than what we have been told. Maybe evolution has been going on in reverse longer than I suspect, and we are already sad, dumb fish.

The sadness of death lies in the fact that it cannot be reversed. Cherish the world of the living whilst you have it, for you cannot visit there again.

What if the universe listened? What if you or your mom or the kids were supposed to die in a car crash and your dad said ‘Take me instead’—and the universe did. And nobody remembers the way it was supposed to be because that’s the deal. You never get to know that he’s a hero. The fates are reversed and the tribute takes the thing he asked for to save someone he loves. If you think of it that way, instead of being sad that he’s gone, be happy that he got what he wanted. And that somebody loved you enough to take your place.

One consequential change is that people used to get most of their calories at breakfast and midday, with only the evening top-up at suppertime. Now those intakes are almost exactly reversed. Most of us consume the bulk--a sadly appropriate word here--of our calories in the evening and take them to bed with us, a practice that doesn't do any good at all.

I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.

In movies, they use exaggeration to stimulate your mind, Reverse is also true, When your mind is stimulated (by a sad or happy event), you start exaggerating things. Your problem is not as big as your mind makes you believe. To get real perspective, go out, take a walk. observe life around you.

Negative prophecies are reversible. The Lord reveals to conquer. You are created to reverse any negative with your prayers and the word of God.

Like, if I suggested to a school friend we do something, she could say, 'Sorry, I don't have any money'. Which is something I could never say if the situation was reversed. If I said "I don't have any money', it would really mean "I don't have any money'. It's sad. Like, if a pretty girl says "I look terrible today, I don't want to go out,' that's OK, but if an ugly girl says the same thing people laugh at her. That's what the world was like for me.

People often think depression is just being sad all the time, but it’s far more than that. In fact, people with depression do not necessarily feel sad—they often feel numb, like an emptiness where emotion should be. Hopeless and helpless.

It's a strange reversal, seeing the things my baby sister has mastered that I never got around to. It makes me proud, but also sort of sad. Maybe this is how parents feel when their kids grow up, like some piece of them has become fundamentally unknowable.

There is a misery of the body and a misery of the mind, and if the stars, whenever we looked at them, poured nectar into our mouths, and the grass became bread, we would still be sad. We live in a system that manufactures sorrow, spilling it out of its mill, the waters of sorrow, ocean, storm, and we drown down, dead, too soon... uprising is the reversal of the system, and revolution is the turning of tides.

It was not honor that made Meleager fight, or his friends, or victory, or revenge, or even his own life. It was Cleopatra, on her knees before him, her face streaked with tears. Here is Phoinix’s craft: Cleopatra, Patroclus. Her name built from the same pieces as mine, only reversed.

You know how when something bad happens to someone you love, and you wish you could take it from them instead?” “Yeah.” “What if the universe listened? What if you or your mom or the kids were supposed to die in a car crash and your dad said ‘Take me instead’—and the universe did. And nobody remembers the way it was supposed to be because that’s the deal. You never get to know that he’s a hero. The fates are reversed and the tribute takes the thing he asked for to save someone he loves. If you think of it that way, instead of being sad that he’s gone, be happy that he got what he wanted. And that somebody loved you enough to take your place.

Looking for a weird old guy who could grant wishes was pathetic. It was sad and stupid.

Every day I felt more like a parent to him—in charge of his physical needs, anxious about his emotions—our roles reversed by the sad alchemy of terminal illness.

And what the music elicits—in me, in most everyone who hears it and takes to it—is a strangely comforting, sensual melancholy, a gentle sadness, the kind that comes with soft rain. It’s the same for all truly great dark art. There’s a pleasure in seeing our shadows paraded beautifully. It’s liberating to find them so prettily decked out, a sort of reverse Halloween.

That’s the thing I’ve never really understood about emotions. We’re given unhelpful words for them—sad, happy, angry, scared, disgusted—but they’re not accurate and there never seems to be anywhere near enough of them. How could there be? Emotions aren’t binary or finite: they change, shift, run into each other like colored water. They are layered, three-dimensional and twisted; they don’t arrive in order, one by one, labeled neatly. They lie on top of each other, twisting like kaleidoscopes, like prisms, like spinning bird feathers lit with their own iridescence.

I wonder if all these bad things will change when I’m a high schooler…” “At the very least, they most certainly won’t change if you intend to remain the way you are.” Way to go, Yukinoshita-san! Not going easy on the young'un just after you finished apologizing to her! “But it’s enough if the people around you change,” I remarked. “There’s no need to force yourself to hang out with others.” “But things are hard on Rumi­-chan right now and if we don’t do something about it…” Yuigahama looked at Rumi with eyes full of concern. In response, Rumi winced slightly. “Hard, you say… I don’t like that. It makes me sound pathetic. It makes me feel inferior for being left out.” “Oh,” said Yuigahama. “I don’t like it, you know. But there’s nothing you can do about it.” “Why?” Yukinoshita questioned her. Rumi seemed to have some trouble speaking, but she still managed to form the right words. “I… got abandoned. I can’t get along with them anymore. Even if I did, I don’t know when it’ll start again. If the same thing were to happen, I guess I’m better off this way. I just­” She swallowed. “­don’t wanna be pathetic…” Oh. I get it. This girl was fed up. Of herself and of her surroundings. If you change yourself, your world will change, they say, but that’s a load of crap. When people already have an impression of you, it’s not easy to change your pre­existing relationships by adding something to the mix. When people evaluate each other, it’s not an addition or subtraction formula. They only perceive you through their preconceived notions. The truth is that people don’t see you as who you truly are. They only see what they want to see, the reality that they yearn for. If some disgusting guy on the low end of the caste works his arse off on something, the higher ones just snicker and say, “What’s he trying so hard for?” and that would be the end of it. If you stand out for the wrong reasons, you would just be fodder for criticism. That wouldn’t be the case in a perfect world, but for better or worse, that’s how things work with middle schoolers. Riajuu are sought for their actions as riajuu, loners are obligated to be loners, and otaku are forced to act like otaku. When the elites show their understanding of those beneath them, they are acknowledged for their open-mindedness and the depth of their benevolence, but the reverse is not tolerated. Those are the fetid rules of the Kingdom of Children. It truly is a sad state of affairs. "You can’t change the world, but you can change yourself". The hell was up with that? Adapting and conforming to a cruel and indifferent world you know you’ve already lost to – ultimately, that’s what a slave does. Wrapping it up in pretty words and deceiving even yourself is the highest form of falsehood.

I wouldn’t trade what I have accomplished alone for whatever I would have done if I had conformed to their standards. Without them, I became passionate. Strong. Determined. Without them, I became successful. I became who I wanted to be. They missed out, not me. So why would I miss them, what could they possibly bring in my life that I didn’t achieve for myself?

James wondered for a moment whether this was the first time someone had used a witchlight rune stone as stage lighting before his mind went blank. Christopher made a small noise in the back of his throat, and Thomas stared wide-eyed. The mermaid had human legs. They were long and really quite shapely, James had to admit, loosely draped in diaphanous skirts made of woven exotic seaweeds. Unfortunately, from the waist up she was the front half of a gaping, staring fish. Her scales were shiny metallic silver and reflected the light in a way that almost, but not quite, distracted from her dinner-plate-size, unblinking yellow eyes. The audience went mad, cheering and hooting twice as loudly as before. One of the werewolves howled, "CLARIBELLA!" in a mournful, yearning voice. "May I present," Matthew cried with a grin, "Claribella the Mermaid!" The crowd whistled and banged their approval. James, Christopher, and Thomas struggled to find words. "The mermaid's backwards," said James, having regained some of his vocabulary--though perhaps not all of it. "Matthew hired a reverse mermaid," Thomas agreed. "But why?" "I wonder what kind of fish she is," said Christopher. "Are mermaids a specific kind of fish? Sharks or herring, or such?" "I had kippers this morning," said Thomas sadly. The backward mermaid began to swing her hips side to side, with the ease of a practiced cabaret dancer. Her mouth bobbed open and closed in rhythm with the music. Her small fins, on either side of her body, flapped.

She was beautiful. Her sinuous and light movements hypnotized and took away the breath of every person in the audience. Including mine. I could almost see her soul as she moved to the rhythm of music. It was brilliant and wonderful, but sad. Of a sadness that smelled of despair. She was the rain that fell slowly. Free. Wild. Unhappy. A tear that came unexpectedly from the sky. Pain in its true form. “Emma,” I whispered.

They were childless—Dan Needham suggested that their sexual roles might be so “reversed” as to make childbearing difficult—and their attendance at Little League games was marked by a constant disapproval of the sport: that little girls were not allowed to play in the Little League was an example of sexual stereotyping that exercised the Dowlings’ humorlessness and fury. Should they have a daughter, they warned, she would play in the Little League. They were a couple with a theme—sadly, it was their only theme, and a small theme, and they overplayed it, but a young couple with such a burning mission was quite interesting to the generally slow, accepting types who were more typical in Gravesend. Mr. Chickering, our fat coach and manager, lived in dread of the day the Dowlings might produce a daughter. Mr. Chickering was of the old school—he believed that only boys should play baseball, and that girls should watch them play, or else play soft-ball.

She hated a mown lawn. Maybe that was because mow was the reverse of won, the beginning of the name of what she was—a woman. A mown lawn had a sad sound to it, like a long moan. From her, a mown lawn made a long moan. Lawn had some of the letters of man, though the reverse of man would be Nam, a bad war. A raw war. Lawn also contained the letters of law. In fact, lawn was a contraction of laman. Certainly a lawman could and did mow a lawn. Law and order could be seen as starting from lawn order, valued by so many Americans. More lawn could be made using a lawn mower. A lawn mower did make more lawn. More lawn was a contraction of more lawmen. Did more lawn in America make more lawmen in America? Did more lawn make more Nam? More mown lawn made more long moan, from her. Or a lawn mourn. So often, she said, Americans wanted more mown lawn. All of America might be one long mown lawn. A lawn not mown grows long, she said: better a long lawn. Better a long lawn and a mole. Let the lawman have the mown lawn, she said. Or the moron, the lawn moron.

They were childless—Dan Needham suggested that their sexual roles might be so “reversed” as to make childbearing difficult—and their attendance at Little League games was marked by a constant disapproval of the sport: that little girls were not allowed to play in the Little League was an example of sexual stereotyping that exercised the Dowlings’ humorlessness and fury. Should they have a daughter, they warned, she would play in the Little League. They were a couple with a theme—sadly, it was their only theme, and a small theme, and they overplayed it, but a young couple with such a burning mission was quite interesting

At last, he began to discourse of fortune and human affairs. "Is it meet," said he, "for him that knows he is but man, in his greatest prosperity to pride himself, and be exalted at the conquest of a city, nation, or kingdom, and not rather well to weigh this change of fortune, in which all warriors may see an example of their common frailty, and learn a lesson that there is nothing durable or constant? For what time can men select to think themselves secure, when that of victory itself forces us more than any to dread our own fortune? and a very little consideration on the law of things, and how all are hurried round, and each man's station changed, will introduce sadness in the midst of the greatest joy. Or can you, when you see before your eyes the succession of Alexander himself, who arrived at the height of power and ruled the greatest empire, in the short space of an hour trodden underfoot- when you behold a king, that was but even now surrounded with so numerous an army, receiving nourishment to support his life from the hands of his conquerors- can you, I say, believe there is any certainty in what we now possess whilst there is such a thing as chance? No, young men, cast off that vain pride and empty boast of victory; sit down with humility, looking always for what is yet to come, and the possible future reverses which the divine displeasure may eventually make the end of our present happiness.

Necessities 1 A map of the world. Not the one in the atlas, but the one in our heads, the one we keep coloring in. With the blue thread of the river by which we grew up. The green smear of the woods we first made love in. The yellow city we thought was our future. The red highways not traveled, the green ones with their missed exits, the black side roads which took us where we had not meant to go. The high peaks, recorded by relatives, though we prefer certain unmarked elevations, the private alps no one knows we have climbed. The careful boundaries we draw and erase. And always, around the edges, the opaque wash of blue, concealing the drop-off they have stepped into before us, singly, mapless, not looking back. 2 The illusion of progress. Imagine our lives without it: tape measures rolled back, yardsticks chopped off. Wheels turning but going nowhere. Paintings flat, with no vanishing point. The plots of all novels circular; page numbers reversing themselves past the middle. The mountaintop no longer a goal, merely the point between ascent and descent. All streets looping back on themselves; life as a beckoning road an absurd idea. Our children refusing to grow out of their childhoods; the years refusing to drag themselves toward the new century. And hope, the puppy that bounds ahead, no longer a household animal. 3 Answers to questions, an endless supply. New ones that startle, old ones that reassure us. All of them wrong perhaps, but for the moment solutions, like kisses or surgery. Rising inflections countered by level voices, words beginning with w hushed by declarative sentences. The small, bold sphere of the period chasing after the hook, the doubter that walks on water and treads air and refuses to go away. 4 Evidence that we matter. The crash of the plane which, at the last moment, we did not take. The involuntary turn of the head, which caused the bullet to miss us. The obscene caller who wakes us at midnight to the smell of gas. The moon's full blessing when we fell in love, its black mood when it was all over. Confirm us, we say to the world, with your weather, your gifts, your warnings, your ringing telephones, your long, bleak silences. 5 Even now, the old things first things, which taught us language. Things of day and of night. Irrational lightning, fickle clouds, the incorruptible moon. Fire as revolution, grass as the heir to all revolutions. Snow as the alphabet of the dead, subtle, undeciphered. The river as what we wish it to be. Trees in their humanness, animals in their otherness. Summits. Chasms. Clearings. And stars, which gave us the word distance, so we could name our deepest sadness.

[There is] no direct relationship between IQ and economic opportunity. In the supposed interests of fairness and “social justice”, the natural relationship has been all but obliterated. Consider the first necessity of employment, filling out a job application. A generic job application does not ask for information on IQ. If such information is volunteered, this is likely to be interpreted as boastful exaggeration, narcissism, excessive entitlement, exceptionalism [...] and/or a lack of team spirit. None of these interpretations is likely to get you hired. Instead, the application contains questions about job experience and educational background, neither of which necessarily has anything to do with IQ. Universities are in business for profit; they are run like companies, seek as many paying clients as they can get, and therefore routinely accept people with lukewarm IQ’s, especially if they fill a slot in some quota system (in which case they will often be allowed to stay despite substandard performance). Regarding the quotas themselves, these may in fact turn the tables, advantaging members of groups with lower mean IQ’s than other groups [...] sometimes, people with lower IQ’s are expressly advantaged in more ways than one. These days, most decent jobs require a college education. Academia has worked relentlessly to bring this about, as it gains money and power by monopolizing the employment market across the spectrum. Because there is a glut of college-educated applicants for high-paying jobs, there is usually no need for an employer to deviate from general policy and hire an applicant with no degree. What about the civil service? While the civil service was once mostly open to people without college educations, this is no longer the case, and quotas make a very big difference in who gets hired. Back when I was in the New York job market, “minorities” (actually, worldwide majorities) were being spotted 30 (thirty) points on the civil service exam; for example, a Black person with a score as low as 70 was hired ahead of a White person with a score of 100. Obviously, any prior positive correlation between IQ and civil service employment has been reversed. Add to this the fact that many people, including employers, resent or feel threatened by intelligent people [...] and the IQ-parameterized employment function is no longer what it was once cracked up to be. If you doubt it, just look at the people running things these days. They may run a little above average, but you’d better not be expecting to find any Aristotles or Newtons among them. Intelligence has been replaced in the job market with an increasingly poor substitute, possession of a college degree, and given that education has steadily given way to indoctrination and socialization as academic priorities, it would be naive to suppose that this is not dragging down the overall efficiency of society. In short, there are presently many highly intelligent people working very “dumb” jobs, and conversely, many less intelligent people working jobs that would once have been filled by their intellectual superiors. Those sad stories about physics PhD’s flipping burgers at McDonald's are no longer so exceptional. Sorry, folks, but this is not your grandfather’s meritocracy any more.

She felt hot tears soaking his shirt as she began to sob. “Forgive you? What king asks forgiveness of a slave?” “Avin…” he gently pushed her away. “I have wronged you. Terribly.” “Yes,” she said sadly. “But we both know it cannot be reversed. Not now. To do so will only throw Windbourne back in turmoil.” She wiped away tears with the back of her hand and looked towards the window. “I can no longer love these people after what they did, but I can acknowledge that they have suffered enough. The long winter was not their fault, but neither was the lie that made them angry. And now simple people have been promised a humbled queen, and you must deliver.” He sighed. “It is too much to ask,” he said. “Then don’t.” Avin gave him the smallest, and saddest of smiles. “You are the king,” she said. “So train me.” The tears came then, and she softened in his arms. “Save me, Xander, lest I never feel again.” “I am sorry,” he said into her hair. “I am sorry I didn’t come. I am sorry I was not the one to kill your father for the hurt he caused you. I am sorry that I caused you even more. I should have known better. I should have never believed the worst.” He put his forehead against hers. “Let me make it better, my love.

When discussing the topic of substance abuse with kids, I explain that doing drugs in order to be high and happy means that people try to support being by doing. However, being is “bigger” than doing. I validate that people who use substances know on some level that they need to take care of their being but they have the order reversed because doing can never support being simply because the “smaller” thing can never support the “bigger” thing. It is as absurd as trying to support silence by increasing the noise. The right order of things is that being supports doing and doing needs to serve being. In chess, without the King, the other pieces would all be “dead”, so their existence is supported by the King, but they need to serve the King with their capacity for action in order to have a good game. But how do we begin to honor being if we are emotionally distressed or chemically dependent? We need to accept whatever facet of being we are going through—if we are sad, we need to experience our sadness and not run from it; if we are angry, we need to go through it without acting heedlessly; if we are scared, we have to pay attention to our fear and the reasons for it. Everything we go through is a message of being, and we need to decipher the message rather than run from it. I need to stress here the importance of learning to endure distress and let our emotions run their course without making a bad situation worse. The addicted brain needs to endure strong cravings for several years until the chemically reinforced neural pathways gradually subside in the absence of continued reinforcement. Here the words of the great poet and spiritual teacher Rumi come to mind: “Of all the cures God has provided, patience is the best.

Reaching out, Andrew crooked his little finger with mine. “If I live, I’ll find a way to let you know, Drew,” he promised. “I owe you that much--and a whole lot more.” After a little silence, Andrew’s face brightened. “You don’t suppose you could stay, do you? Just think of the fun we’d have playing tricks on Edward and Mrs. Armiger.” He laughed at his own thoughts. “Why, we’d make their heads spin, Drew. They wouldn’t know one of us from the other.” For a moment, it seemed possible. My mother and father were away, they wouldn’t miss me. As for Aunt Blythe--well, we’d think of some way to let her know I was all right. We were bouncing on the bed, singing “Yip-I-Addy-I-Ay,” when the door opened and Mama appeared. It was Andrew she looked at, not me. “Why are you still awake?” she asked. “I told you to go to sleep.” As Mama approached the bed, Andrew flung his arms around her. “You can see me, Mama,” he cried. “Oh, thank the Lord! It’s me, your own true son, back again for keeps.” She stared at him, perplexed. “What nonsense is this? Of course I can see you. Of course it’s you. Who else would it be, you silly goose?” I slid off the bed and ran to her side. “Me,” I shouted, “it could be me.” When Mama didn’t even blink, I tugged at her nightgown. “Look at me,” I begged. “I’m here too, we both are. Andrew and me. Can’t you see us both?” I hugged her, but all she did was shiver. “No wonder this room is so drafty,” she murmured. “The attic door is wide open.” Andrew and I stared at each other, his face reflecting my disappointment. He was visible, I was invisible. Like the design on his quilt, the pattern had reversed. Sadly I released Mama. As I turned away, Andrew whispered, “We’ll meet again, Drew. I swear it.” Mama looked at him. “What did you say?” “Oh, nothing.” Hiding his face from his mother, Andrew winked at me and said, “I was just talking to myself, Mama.” I took one long last look at Andrew. Much as I wanted to stay, it was time to leave. When Mama reached out to close the attic door, I slipped through it like a ghost. The door shut behind me. I was alone at the bottom of the dark stairs with nowhere to go but home.

Ultimately then, as one gets ready for kundalini awakening, the goal is to help those chakras clear, open, and align. Kundalini will respond with the greatest ease of motion accomplished and will demonstrate how well it knows what to do. As you begin to work through these chakras blockages or energetic reversals, you may find that those struggles look something like this. Blockages for the root chakra may look like low energy, general fear, persistent exhaustion, identity crisis, feeling isolated from the environment, eating disorders, general lack or erratic appetite, blatant materialism, difficulty saving money, or overall constant health problems. For the sacral chakra, blockages or reversals may look like lack of creativity, lack of inspiration, low or no motivation, low or no sexual appetite, feelings of insignificance, feelings of being unloved, feelings of being unaccepted, feelings of being outcasted, inability to care for oneself or persistent and recurrent problems of relationship with one's intimate partners. Blockages may look like identity crises or deficits for the solar plexus chakra, low self-esteem, low or no self-esteem, digestive problems, food intolerance, poor motivation, persistent weakness, constant nausea, anxiety disorders, liver disorder or disease, repeated illnesses, loss of core strength, lack of overall energy, recurrent depression with little relief, feelings of betrayal, For the chakra of the heart, reversals and blockages may seem like the inability to love oneself or others, the inability to put others first, the inability to put oneself first, the inability to overcome a problem ex, constant grudges, confidence issues, social anxiety or intense shyness, the failure to express emotions in a healthy way, problems of commitment, constant procrastination, intense anxiety For the throat chakra, blockages might seem like oversharing, inability to speak truthfully, failure to communicate with others, severe laryngitis, sore throats, respiratory or airway constraints, asthma, anemia, excessive exhaustion, inability to find the right words, paralyzing fear of confusion, nervousness in public situations, sometimes extreme dizziness, physical submissiveness, verba. For the third eye chakra, blockages or reversals might seem like a lack of direction in life, increasingly intense feelings of boredom or stagnation, migraines, insomnia, eye or vision problems, depression, high blood pressure, inability to remember one's dreams, constant and jarring flashbacks, closed-mindedness, fear, history of mental disorders, and history of addiction. For the crown chakra, blockages may look like feelings of envy, extreme sadness, need for superiority over others, self-destructive behaviors, history of addiction, generally harmful habits, dissociations from the physical plane, inability to make even the easiest decisions, persistent exhaustion, terrible migraines, hair loss, anemia, cerebral confusion, poor mental control, lack of intellect.

Now, with all seven of these chakras revolving in the right direction with no blockages whatsoever, your kundalini would not be able to help itself from rising into that state of bliss, which it perceives above. Ultimately then, as one gets ready for kundalini awakening, the goal is to help those chakras clear, open, and align. Kundalini will respond with the greatest ease of motion accomplished and will demonstrate how well it knows what to do. As you begin to work through these chakras blockages or energetic reversals, you may find that those struggles look something like this. Blockages for the root chakra may look like low energy, general fear, persistent exhaustion, identity crisis, feeling isolated from the environment, eating disorders, general lack or erratic appetite, blatant materialism, difficulty saving money, or overall constant health problems. For the sacral chakra, blockages or reversals may look like lack of creativity, lack of inspiration, low or no motivation, low or no sexual appetite, feelings of insignificance, feelings of being unloved, feelings of being unaccepted, feelings of being outcasted, inability to care for oneself or persistent and recurrent problems of relationship with one's intimate partners. Blockages may look like identity crises or deficits for the solar plexus chakra, low self-esteem, low or no self-esteem, digestive problems, food intolerance, poor motivation, persistent weakness, constant nausea, anxiety disorders, liver disorder or disease, repeated illnesses, loss of core strength, lack of overall energy, recurrent depression with little relief, feelings of betrayal, For the chakra of the heart, reversals and blockages may seem like the inability to love oneself or others, the inability to put others first, the inability to put oneself first, the inability to overcome a problem ex, constant grudges, confidence issues, social anxiety or intense shyness, the failure to express emotions in a healthy way, problems of commitment, constant procrastination, intense anxiety For the throat chakra, blockages might seem like oversharing, inability to speak truthfully, failure to communicate with others, severe laryngitis, sore throats, respiratory or airway constraints, asthma, anemia, excessive exhaustion, inability to find the right words, paralyzing fear of confusion, nervousness in public situations, sometimes extreme dizziness, physical submissiveness, verba. For the third eye chakra, blockages or reversals might seem like a lack of direction in life, increasingly intense feelings of boredom or stagnation, migraines, insomnia, eye or vision problems, depression, high blood pressure, inability to remember one's dreams, constant and jarring flashbacks, closed-mindedness, fear, history of mental disorders, and history of addiction. For the crown chakra, blockages may look like feelings of envy, extreme sadness, need for superiority over others, self-destructive behaviors, history of addiction, generally harmful habits, dissociations from the physical plane, inability to make even the easiest decisions, persistent exhaustion, terrible migraines, hair loss, anemia, cerebral confusion, poor mental control, lack of intellect.

Money is Created to be Disseminated at the least covering a Surplus of Global Population Needs. Every time Additional Profits Being Laundered or Bypassed its Dissemination Diligently Results in Dozens of Hungry Sapiens Suffering at the Cost of Plain Nothingness,never used money, never ever be used, probably even in many cases sadly just disappear.... However This will only be Solved if you Reverse it and Reverse The Concept of Money Overall, Before its Too Late.... I feel its the Epiphany and Soon Things will get Better.

I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.” ~Ned Vizzini

Back in 1903, Thomas Edison predicted that the “doctor of the future will give no medicine, but will instruct his patient in the care of [the] human frame in diet and in the cause and prevention of diseases.”12 Sadly, all it takes is a few minutes watching pharmaceutical ads on television imploring viewers to “ask your doctor” about this or that drug to know that Edison’s prediction hasn’t come true. A study of thousands of patient visits found that the average length of time primary-care doctors spend talking about nutrition is about ten seconds.

It is the sad privilege of medicine, and especially that of psychiatry, to ever witness the weaknesses of human nature and the reverse side of life.

Light therapy is associated with Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) which brings on depression symptoms in some people during wintertime and in others during summertime, called “Reverse SAD”. The treatment requires shining a really bright light (10,000 lux) onto the face and arms typically from 15 to 60 minutes in the morning. This is done as soon as the person wakes up.

I should factionalized is more, I should conceal myself. I should consider the responsibilities of characterization, I should conflate her two children into one, or reverse their genders, or otherwise alter them, I should make her boyfriend a husband, I should explicate all the tributaries of my extended family (its remarriages, its internecine politics), I should novelized the whole thing, I should make it multi-generational, I should work in my forefathers (stonemasons and newspapermen), I should let artifice create an elegant surface, I should make the events orderly, I should wait and write about it later, I should wait until I’m not angry, I shouldn’t clutter a narrative with fragments, with mere recollections of good times, or with regrets, I should make Meredith’s death shapely and persuasive, not blunt and disjunctive, I shouldn’t have to think the unthinkable, I shouldn’t have to suffer, I should address her here directly (these are the ways I miss you), I should write only of affection, I should make our travels in this earthly landscape safe and secure, I should have a better ending, I shouldn’t say her life was short and often sad, I shouldn’t say she had her demons, as I do too.

I should fictionalize it more, I should conceal myself. I should consider the responsibilities of characterization, I should conflate her two children into one, or reverse their genders, or otherwise alter them, I should make her boyfriend a husband, I should explicate all the tributaries of my extended family (its remarriages, its internecine politics), I should novelized the whole thing, I should make it multi-generational, I should work in my forefathers (stonemasons and newspapermen), I should let artifice create an elegant surface, I should make the events orderly, I should wait and write about it later, I should wait until I’m not angry, I shouldn’t clutter a narrative with fragments, with mere recollections of good times, or with regrets, I should make Meredith’s death shapely and persuasive, not blunt and disjunctive, I shouldn’t have to think the unthinkable, I shouldn’t have to suffer, I should address her here directly (these are the ways I miss you), I should write only of affection, I should make our travels in this earthly landscape safe and secure, I should have a better ending, I shouldn’t say her life was short and often sad, I shouldn’t say she had her demons, as I do too.

In the words of Jaurès, ‘there was in the history of the red flag an ambiguous period in which its meaning oscillated between the past and the future.’ It seems that it takes its current significance from a sort of semiotic reversal: deployed by the royal authorities during the executions of sans-culottes, the latter appropriated it and began to make of it their emblem (this occurred with the insurrection of 10 August 1792, when the revolutionary crowds stormed the Tuileries Palace, put an end to the monarchy and established the National Convention, which proclaimed the Republic in September). It reappeared in 1830 and, like the barricade, became the symbol of the insurgents in all the revolutions of 1848. After the violent repression of June 1848 and the ‘bloody week’ that crushed the Paris Commune in May 1871, counterrevolution made the red colour an object of fetishistic demonization; nothing red could be tolerated, and burning red fabrics became a ritual of purification and a practice of public safety. In 1849, Léon Faucher, the state secretary of the first conservative republican government, issued a circular letter directed to the prefects that contained very precise instructions: ‘The red flag is a plea for insurrection; the red cap recalls blood and mourning; bearing these sad marks means provoking disobedience.’ Therefore the government ordered the immediate banishment of those ‘seditious emblems’. After the Paris Commune, a witness wrote in his memoirs that the city was seized by ‘a crazy rage against all that was red: clothes, flags, ideas, and language itself …’ The colour red, he explained, had become ‘a mortal disease’ whose return should be avoided absolutely, as we do ‘the plague and the cholera’.

THE NUTRITARIAN DIET VERSUS THE STANDARD AMERICAN DIET NUTRITARIAN DIET SAD Vegetable-based Grain-based Lots of fruit, beans, seeds, nuts Lots of dairy and meat Oil used sparingly Oils comprise major caloric load Animal products 0 to 3 times a week Animal products 2 to 4 times a day Nutrient-dense calories Nutrient-poor calories

Teach your children to Smile when doing Tasks they consider hard. Many times, children would cry when they are asked to do a task they feel is hard. They would frown, sulk, begin to feign hunger or wee-wee. If you have been wondering what a FIXED MINDSET looks like, That's a FIXED MINDSET. Reversing a fixed mindset is about CHANGING EMOTIONS. It is changing a child's state of mind CONCERNING the SPECIFIC task to be learnt. It is changing his state DURING learning. It is changing the child's Perspective ABOUT LEARNING generally. Teach them to JUST SMILE! or even SING while they learn or practice "HARD" tasks. Keep them SMILING even when the task is so hard they want to CRY. Explain that a PERSON cannot excel at a thing he doesn't like. Explain that in life those who succeed AS A RULE, first had to be HAPPY and GRATEFUL for the opportunity to TRY. TEACH them that sadness and anger at the things they don't know makes what they don't know HARDER.

Sadness is just happiness in reverse. We humans have to put up with it. Just being human is an awful burden to bear.

The usual pattern of thought creating emotion is reversed in the case of the pain-body, at least initially. Emotion from the pain-body quickly gains control of your thinking, and once your mind has been taken over by the pain-body, your thinking becomes negative. The voice in your head will be telling sad, anxious, or angry stories about yourself or your life, about other people, about past, future, or imaginary events. The voice will be blaming, accusing, complaining, imagining. And you are totally identified with whatever the voice says, believe all its distorted thoughts. At that point, the addiction to unhappiness has set in.

Every time you feel anxious, sad or afraid, imagine yourself as a child. How would you comfort that child? By ignoring, judging, criticizing for screaming at it like your father did, or by making it feel safe, giving it consolation, and unconditional affection? Re-parenting yourself includes taking a step back from how you were raised, taking on and reversing the role of your dysfunctional father and giving yourself everything you needed from him, be it acceptance, love or kindness. This will include becoming visible to yourself, and treating yourself the way you wanted to be treated. This will not only make you feel safer in your own skin, but it will allow you to accept yourself the way you are, without imposing self-criticism and unrealistic expectations on yourself.

Why is it that people who are absorbed by something are seen as sad? I can't explain it, but for me it reverses the true state of affairs. To be engaged is to be a part, to be absorbed and fulfilled. To be cool, to be detached from things and to have no passionate feelings is the real sadness. At the heart of depression, that quintessentially modern malaise, is a deep sense of separation from the rest of life.

The Prince’s sudden relapse was a surprise. He usually appeared to be so much in control that it was difficult for her to imagine him losing his composure. Evidently he was quite shaken by this recent reverse. “You lost control again?” she asked. “One cannot lose what one never has,” he told her. His defeat seemed total. She could not think of what to say, so she reached out and took him into her arms. He folded into her like a bereft child. She whispered into his ear. “You wonder if you have lost your humanity,” she said. “But your feelings now are evidence to the contrary. What you now feel, regret, guilt, sadness, defeat—all are human. At the core of us all. You are not so removed from us as you think.

Everyone has it's own great triumph, has he own story with sadness, madness and reverses. That's how we are build, few are the people which share their story, most cases because of shame.

Finally there came a perfect storm of drafts from uptown and downtown, a big humid uric wind that swept the platform and then reversed itself, and reversed itself again, so that the dollar bills came levitating out of the guitar case and drifted up and down the platform like leaves in autumn, tumbling and skidding, while the band played on. It was perfectly beautiful and perfectly sad, and everybody on the platform knew it, nobody bent down to touch the money.

This is the sad reality in workplaces around the world: Women help more but benefit less from it. In keeping with deeply held gender stereotypes, we expect men to be ambitious and results-oriented, and women to be nurturing and communal. When a man offers to help, we shower him with praise and rewards. But when a woman helps, we feel less indebted. She’s communal, right? She wants to be a team player. The reverse is also true. When a woman declines to help a colleague, people like her less and her career suffers. But when a man says no, he faces no backlash. A man who doesn’t help is “busy”; a woman is “selfish.

With this sad state of affairs, today we often see a world where greed, dishonesty, avarice, hate and sometimes violence exists side by side with fear, poverty and suffering. For a very long time the entire world has been in the grip of a major imbalance, an imbalance that has not only been escalating over the decades but indeed now threatens the entire immediate future of humanity and indeed the entire planet. Mankind is directly responsible for this state of affairs, bought about by the gross misuse of the very freewill granted by our Creator. Accordingly only mankind can now reverse this situation and bring about a state of harmony, peace, happiness and balance for everyone, the “kingdom of heaven on Earth

Sadly, Jesus’ followers tend to take the reverse approach. Some churches gradually lower the ideals, accommodating moral standards to a changing culture. Others raise the bar of grace so that needy people feel unwelcome: “We don’t want that kind of person in our church.” Either way we fail to communicate the spectacular good news that everyone fails and yet a gracious God offers forgiveness to all.

In September 1942, a month after Gandhi was jailed, Winston Churchill wrote to the secretary of state for India, Leo Amery: ‘Please let me have a note on Mr.Gandhi’s intrigues with Japan and the documents the Government of India published, or any other they possessed before on this topic.’ Three days later, Amery sent Churchill the note he asked for, which began: ‘The India Office has no evidence to show, or suggest, that Gandhi has intrigued with Japan.’ The ‘only evidence of Japanese contacts [with Gandhi] during the war’, the note continued, ‘relates to the presence in Wardha of two Japanese Buddhist priests who lived for part of 1940 in Gandhi’s Ashram’. Before the Quit India movement had even begun, Churchill had convinced himself that Gandhi was intriguing with the Japanese. In February 1943, when Gandhi went on a fast in jail, Churchill convinced himself that Gandhi was secretly using energy supplements. On 13 February, Churchill wired Linlithgow: ‘I have heard that Gandhi usually has glucose in his water when doing his various fasting antics. Would it be possible to verify this.’ Two days later, the viceroy wired back: ‘This may be the case but those who have been in attendance on him doubt it, and present Surgeon-General Bombay (a European) says that on a previous fast G. was particularly careful to guard against possibility of glucose being used. I am told that his present medical attendants tried to persuade him to take glucose yesterday and again today, and that he refused absolutely.’ On 25 February, as the fast entered its third week, Churchill wired the viceroy: ‘Cannot help feeling very suspicious of bona fides of Gandhi’s fast. We were told fourth day would be the crisis and then well staged climax was set for eleventh day onwards. Now at fifteenth day bulletins look as if he might get through. Would be most valuable [if] fraud could be exposed. Surely with all those Congress Hindu doctors round him it is quite easy to slip glucose or other nourishment into his food.’ By this time, the viceroy was himself increasingly exasperated with Gandhi. But there was no evidence that the fasting man had actually taken any glucose. So, he now replied to Churchill in a manner that stoked both men’s prejudices. ‘I have long known Gandhi as the world’s most successful humbug,’ fumed Linlithgow, ‘and have not the least doubt that his physical condition and the bulletins reporting it from day to day have been deliberately cooked so as to produce the maximum effect on public opinion.’ Then, going against his own previous statement, the viceroy claimed that ‘there would be no difficulty in his entourage administering glucose or any other food without the knowledge of the Government doctors’ (this when the same government doctors had told him exactly the reverse). ‘If I can discover any firm of evidence of fraud I will let you hear,’ said Linlithgow to Churchill, adding, somewhat sadly, ‘but I am not hopeful of this.’ This prompted an equally disappointed reply from Churchill: ‘It now seems certain that the old rascal will emerge all the better from his so-called fast'.

You know what I think about sometimes?” she said, raising her eyes to mine. “What?” “You know how when something bad happens to someone you love, and you wish you could take it from them instead?” “Yeah.” “What if the universe listened? What if you or your mom or the kids were supposed to die in a car crash and your dad said ‘Take me instead’—and the universe did. And nobody remembers the way it was supposed to be because that’s the deal. You never get to know that he’s a hero. The fates are reversed and the tribute takes the thing he asked for to save someone he loves. If you think of it that way, instead of being sad that he’s gone, be happy that he got what he wanted. And that somebody loved you enough to take your place.

to counter longing, pay attention to the present moment; to counter rage, invite sadness; and to reverse disheartenment, introduce an element of precision to your environment.

Many people would tell you to lay your entire heart bare, no matter the enormity of that risk, no matter the potential for heart-shattering agony. People always expect others to do what they themselves would likely not undertake were the roles reversed.” “Is that your way of saying I ought to tell him of my regard but also acknowledging that you understand why I might not manage to do so?” Angelina nodded. “I believe it to be both the correct course of action and the most difficult.” “Those two are often one and the same,” Felicity said on a sigh. “Yes, they are.” Felicity pulled her legs up toward herself, hugging her knees. “You have grown very wise in your old age, sister.” “Wisdom does seem to expand as one’s time shrinks.” Sadness Angelina didn’t often allow in her expression snuck across her face. “Do not waste the time you have been given, Felicity. It is so very precious.” She looked at her, earnestly, almost desperately. “You have a future laid out before you. Seize it. Not everyone is granted that gift.

Compare those to the smoothie I had for breakfast this morning. I started with a cup of water (0), a half cup of frozen blueberries (323), and the pulp of a ripe mango (108). I added a tablespoon of ground flaxseeds (8), along with a half cup of fresh mint leaves (33) and a palmful of bulk white tea leaves (103). (For more about tea leaves, see here.) While the typical SAD breakfast may give you only about 25 antioxidant units, my breakfast smoothie offered more than 500. And, when I add the final ingredient, a single teaspoon of amla, I get an additional 753 antioxidant units.

I had always been a person who put everyone else’s needs before my own, so naturally I was drawn to the healing professions, but sadly my care for others led me to put off my own care.

Insulin is the primary hormone that tells your body whether to store energy or burn it. When you eat—particularly when you eat the typical high-carb, heavily processed foods that most Americans eat at all hours of the day—your blood glucose levels become elevated to unhealthy ranges. Your body then increases your insulin in an effort to lower those glucose levels. Sadly this results in an enormously foolish medical strategy that many physicians use to treat tens of millions of diabetics—they frequently put type 2 diabetics on insulin in an effort to lower their blood sugar. What they fail to realize is that higher insulin levels, and secondary insulin resistance, are a far more serious issue than elevated glucose. The way to lower insulin and glucose and to treat insulin resistance is to lower your carbohydrate intake and become metabolically flexible, as co-author of The Complete Guide to Fasting and a nephrologist (kidney specialist) in Canada, so eloquently demonstrated in his 2018 case report published in the British Medical Journal. In this report, Dr. Fung was able to use intermittent fasting to reverse insulin resistance and resolve type 2 diabetes for three patients who had their diabetes for 10 to 25 years. All were taking insulin.1 One result of insulin resistance is that you gain weight because higher levels of insulin signal your body to store energy as fat. Another result is that the receptors for insulin in your cells begin to get desensitized, so you need to release more and more insulin in order to move the glucose out of your bloodstream and into your cells. As a result of the insulin resistance, your body is in constant fat-storing mode.

This question comes up from time to time, like where are the car keys. It ends a sentence, prolongs a glance between us. I wonder if the thought itself is part of the nature of physical love, a reverse Darwinism that awards sadness and fear to the survivor. Or is it some inert element in the air we breathe, a rare thing like neon, with a melting point, an atomic weight?

So what's this "sad" business mean, anyway? I mean, how often do you feel like doing it?' 'Sad? Oh, sadness is just happiness in reverse. We humans have to put up with it. Just being human is an awful burden to bear.' 'You keep on doing it? Is that why you feel compelled to collect all these old secondhand sunsets?

From whomever did I hear this address: “Success is not the key to happiness, it’s happiness that’s the key to success,” for sadly, what I saw is the reverse. “They who work hardest are the unhappy, simply because they want to be happy; while they who work slowest are the happy, simply because they’re already happy.

How sad and astonishing a spectacle it is to see a man near the coast of eternity--namely, to behold a wretched sinner in his cold sweats and dying groans with his precious and immortal soul standing on his pale, cold, quivering lips; and death, the great conqueror and king of terrors, marching furiously with his writ of removal in one hand, not to be reversed, and his deadly dart and sting in the other hand; conscience on the rack, barking, biting, and tearing him like a lion; the devil, God's executioner, looking on and standing by; the heart under dejecting and sinking despair; the eyes dim and fixed; his heart strings ready to break with anguish; his wife, children, and friends at the bedside, weeping, sighing, crying, wring their hands, beating their breasts; the wife crying out, "Alas, my husband!"; the child crying out, "Alas, my father!"; the poor perishing soul all this while looking backward on his misspent time and bypast sins, inward on his own heart--a dreadful sight! Where he sees no Christ, no grace, no purity, nothing but sin, guilt, death, darkness. Then, looking upward to that God who has been provoked, to that Christ who has been rejected, to that heaven and eternity that he has lost. And looking downward to that dark and dreadful pit that must be his place and portion (with a fearful looking for judgment), seeing the devils come and ready to seize on him. Oh what a dreadful outcry and shriek will the soul make when it departs! Perceiving itself sinking down, down to the burning lake and bottomless pit, where he must take up his lodging with devouring fire to all eternity.

Either brave or stupid, Rachel thought. Of course, everything brave was also stupid. Sadly the same could not be said of the reverse.

To maximize pleasure and to minimize pain - in that order - were characteristic Enlightenment concerns. This generally more receptive attitude toward good feeling and pleasure would have significant long-term consequences. It is a critical difference separating Enlightenment views on happiness from those of the ancients. There is another, however, of equal importance: that of ambition and scale. Although the philosophers of the principal classical schools sought valiantly to minimize the role of chance as a determinant of human happiness, they were never in a position to abolish it entirely. Neither, for that matter, were the philosophers of the eighteenth century, who, like men and women at all times, were forced to grapple with apparently random upheavals and terrible reversals of forture. The Lisbon earthquake of 1755 is an awful case in point. Striking on All Saints' Day while the majority of Lisbon's inhabitants were attending mass, the earthquake was followed by a tidal wave and terrible fires that destroyed much of the city and took the lives of tens of thousands of men and women. 'Quel triste jeu de hasard que le jeu de la vie humaine,' Voltaire was moved to reflect shortly thereafter: 'What a sad game of chance is this game of human life.' He was not alone in reexamining his more sanguine assumptions of earlier in the century, doubting the natural harmony of the universe and the possibilities of 'paradise on earth'; the catastrophe provoked widespread reflection on the apparent 'fatality of evil' and the random occurrence of senseless suffering. It was shortly thereafter that Voltaire produced his dark masterpiece, Candide, which mocks the pretension that this is the best of all possible worlds. And yet, in many ways, the incredulity expressed by educated Europeans in the earthquake's aftermath is a more interesting index of received assumptions, for it demonstrates the degree to which such random disasters were becoming, if not less common, at least less expected. Their power to shock was magnified accordingly, but only because the predictability and security of daily existence were increasing, along with the ability to control the consequences of unforeseen disaster. When the Enlightened Marquis of Pombal, the First Minister of Portugal, set about rebuilding Lisbon after the earthquake, he paid great attention to modern principles of architecture and central planning to help ensure that if such a calamity were to strike again, the effects would be less severe. To this day, the rebuilt Lisbon of Pombal stands as an embodiment of Enlightened ideas. Thus, although eighteenth-century minds did not - and could not - succeed in mastering the random occurrences of the universe, they could - and did - conceive of exerting much greater control over nature and human affairs. Encouraged by the examples of Newtonian physics, they dreamed of understanding not only the laws of the physical universe but the moral and human laws as well, hoping one day to lay out with precision what the Italian scholar Giambattista Vico described as a 'new science' of society and man. It was in the eighteenth century, accordingly, that the human and social sciences were born, and so it is hardly surprising that observers turned their attention to studying happiness in similar terms. Whereas classical sages had aimed to cultivate a rarified ethical elite - attempting to bring happiness to a select circle of disciples, or at most to the active citizens of the polis - Enlightenment visionaries dreamed of bringing happiness to entire societies and even to humanity as a whole.

You remember the Gordon riots, and all the tales about the Jesuits being behind the King’s madness and many other things. By the way, Stephen, those Fathers were not Jesuits, I suppose? I did not like to ask straight out.’ ‘Of course not, Jack. They were suppressed long ago. Clement XIV put them down in the seventies, and a very good day’s work he did. Sure, they have been trying to creep back on one legalistic pretext or another and I dare say they will soon make a sad nuisance of themselves again, turning out atheists from their schools by the score; but these gentlemen had nothing to do with them, near or far.

Wat was happening in Birobidzhan had often been, and would often be, repeated in the Soviet Union: after people were placed in conditions demonstrably unsuitable for living, after thousands fled and died, in a few years life seemed to settle into some semblance of stability. Once again, the Soviet experiment had demonstrated through great human sacrifice that people can survive anywhere. More than eight thousand people arrived in 1935, and none gave up - a remarkable reversal following a year in which more than half the newcomers turned around and left. That year, the Jewish population of Birobidzhan woudl have roughly doubled.

I didn’t want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that’s really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.” “And what is that nightmare, Craig?” “Life.” “Life is a nightmare.

The scroll slowed on a post from Madison. Predictably, she was sharing more pregnancy content. Today's post was a column graph about maternal mortality rates, accompanied by the caption: This makes me so sad. Growing a human is hard enough. We shouldn't have to fear for our lives on top of that. Mae frowned. The graph was cut off. It showed rates for All, White, and Hispanic, but there was a sliver of what looked like another bar on the far right. Under it, the only part of the word that didn't get cut off was Bl. Ordinarily, Mae wouldn't have wasted any time on this. It was just Madison being Madison, thinking of herself and no one else. But after learning about her grandma Doris's racist past yesterday, it was hard to look past anything about the Parkers anymore. A reverse-image search turned up the original article, titled Black women three times more likely to die in childbirth than white women. The full graph showed that the column for Black women towered over the other columns Madison had posted. Anger and annoyance rising within her, Mae returned to Madison's post and started typing. You'll be fine. If you'd read the article and shared the full graph, you'd know the point of the piece is that Black women are way more at risk. Or do you not care about that?