Shifting The Atmosphere Quotes

I’d felt it – that moment when a person you need more than air or water or sustenance steps into your orbit and everything subtly shifts, like a camera finally sliding into focus. That person, who used to mean less than nothing, enters your life and rearranges your entire atmosphere around them, as if every atom and cell that makes you you isn’t your property anymore. Suddenly, every part of you becomes theirs – your particles dissembled and rearranged to align perfectly with someone who you don’t even know or understand yet. You cease to exist as you once were, and that person who meant nothing is suddenly, overwhelmingly, everything.

a long, boozy evening when her ebullience was so uncorrupted that she could shift a room’s atmosphere

A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living': so too with the biography of that self. And just as lives don't stay still, so life-writing can't be fixed and finalised. Our ideas are shifting about what can be said, our knowledge of human character is changing. The biographer has to pioneer, going 'ahead of the rest of us, like the miner's canary, testing the atmosphere, detecting falsity, unreality, and the presence of obsolete conventions'. So, 'There are some stories which have to be retold by each generation'. She is talking about the story of Shelley, but she could be talking about her own life-story. (Virginia Woolf, p. 11)

There's no one else. In my experience, men have one primary use." She let her gaze rove over him suggestively, and the atmosphere shifted from tense to provocative. Hidden terrace lighting played over her features, softening them, and that unrevealing dress dangled the promise of what she'd hidden under it. Then she finished the sentiment. "To move furniture.

Latchkey! I mean . . . I want to talk to you . . .' He fell silent, glancing behind him and shifting from foot to foot, his waterproof trousers rattling like the bulls' bladders that boys use to learn swimming. Sterlingov angrily spat out his cigarette. 'Well? What about?' 'A . . . about a secret matter ,' Alyoshka whispered. Dozens of ears floated around them in the dust waves; the whisper was heard, and it ran on like a spark along a gunpowder wick. Alyoshka's secret message, the mysterious special clothing, the deacon's catastrophe-all this was too much. The atmosphere was charged with thousands of volts, and something was needed to discharge the electricity, to clear the air. ("X")

He felt a touch of vertigo. There had been a subtle shift in the room's atmosphere. He was going forth into an incomprehensible world and the room was already receding into the past.

Look," Steven said, pointing at the sky. The stars were out in droves. One, far in the distance, was particularly bright. It flickered, then seemed to go out altogether before returning even brighter than before. "That's them, isn't it?" she said. "The Fall?" "Yes," Francesca said. "That's it. It looks just like the old texts say it would." "It was just"-Luce furrowed her brow, squinting-"I can only see it when I-" "Concentrate," Cam ordered. "What's happening to it?" Luce asked. "It is coming into being in this world," Daniel said. "It wasn't the physical transit from Heaven to Earth that took nine days. It was the shift from a Heavenly realm to an Earthly one. When we landed here, our bodies were...different. We became different. That took time." "Now time is taking us," Roland said, looking at the golden pocket watch that Dee must have given him before she died. "Then it is time for us to go," Daniel said to Luce. "Up there?" "Yes, we must soar up to meet them. We will fly right up to the limits of the Fall, and then you-" "I have to stop him?" "Yes." She closed her eyes thought back to the way Lucifer had looked at her in the Meadow. He looked like he wanted to crush every speck of tenderness there was. "I think I know how." "I told you she would say that!" Arriane whooped. Daniel pulled her close. "Are you sure?" She kissed him, never surer. "I just got my wings back, Daniel. I'm not going to let Lucifer take them away." So Luce and Daniel said goodbye to their friends, reached for each other's hands, and took off into the night. They flew upward forever, through the thinnest outer skin of the atmosphere, through a film of light at the edge of space.

Color Theory" How yellow the sky how little the understanding Intangible the things we know for sure Dusty silica clouds over Europe the very same day We brought our baby home His second Too yellow For comfort Too sleepy Just sleepy enough For us to sleep ourselves That was last night Today the clouds shift Outside shifts Rain and shadows A mezzotint glow Then no glow Heart or soul Exactly seven pounds of civilization Hematochrome and skin and bilirubin Yawns blinks and can’t make up his made-up mind The atmosphere can’t keep its own eyes open We can’t keep our own eyes closed

Now that I knew he was the one who had brought the darkness I felt that I didn’t have to be as afraid anymore. The gloom wasn’t coming from me. I was still responsible for him but not for the atmosphere. So many times I had tried to fix things, people’s feelings, the shifting moods of men, by adjusting my own behavior.

I don’t know what it is. Perhaps it’s the combination of the smell of hair tonics and the all-man atmosphere. But more so, it’s the awareness of the tradition of barbershops. Barbershops are places of continuity; they don’t change with the shifts in culture. The places and barbers look the same as they did when your dad got his hair cut. It’s a straightforward experience with none of the foo-foo accoutrements of the modern age. There are no waxings, facials, highlights or appointments. Just great haircuts and great conversation. When you walk out of the barbershop with a sharp haircut, you can’t help but feel a little manly swagger creep into your step.

For the first time his senses began to register the exotic, heady atmosphere of Mumbai...the odors most insistently demanded his attention. There were layers upon layers of them, all present at once but individually distinct. They shifted in strength and character with the ocean breeze that blew soft, irregular gusts across his face. First came the sharp tang of engine fuel mingled with an even more acrid burning smell, as though something unnatural had been set alight to blanket the city with a smoldering stench. A shift in the air's direction brought a fresher aroma of salt and brine floating in from the sea. It gave way to the hot smell of spices frying in oil, which in turn incongruously merged with the subtle reek of garbage.

A new era! Yes, the cataclysm has done its work well. The greatest population regulator of all does once more for man what he refuses to do for himself, and drives the pitiful few who survive into a new stone age. Once more the earth has shifted its 60-mile thick shell, with the poles moving almost to the equator in a fraction of a day. Again the atmosphere and oceans, refusing to change direction with the earth's shell, have wiped out almost all life.

WATNEY HEARD Lewis’s voice in the distance. Like someone talking to him through a long tunnel. He vaguely wondered what she wanted. His attention was briefly drawn to the fluttering canvas ahead of him. A rip had appeared and was rapidly widening. But then he was distracted by a bolt in one of the bulkheads. It only had five sides. He wondered why NASA decided that bolt needed five sides instead of six. It would require a special wrench to tighten or loosen. The canvas tore even further, the tattered material flapping wildly. Through the opening, Watney saw red sky stretching out infinitely ahead. “That’s nice,” he thought. As the MAV flew higher, the atmosphere grew thinner. Soon, the canvas stopped fluttering and simply stretched toward Mark. The sky shifted from red to black. “That’s nice, too,” Mark thought. As consciousness slipped away, he wondered where he could get a cool five-sided bolt like that.

Another paper calculates that if a magic switch were thrown, causing the entire world to shift to a plant-based diet, and the land now occupied by livestock were rewilded, the carbon drawn down from the atmosphere by recovering ecosystems would be equivalent to all the world’s fossil fuel emissions from the previous sixteen years.[218] This drawdown could make the difference between our likely failure to prevent more than 1.5°C of global heating, and success.

Astounding, really, that Michel could consider psychology any kind of science at all. So much of it consisted of throwing together. Of thinking of the mind as a steam engine, the mechanical analogy most ready to hand during the birth of modern psychology. People had always done that when they thought about the mind: clockwork for Descartes, geological changes for the early Victorians, computers or holography for the twentieth century, AIs for the twenty-first…and for the Freudian traditionalists, steam engines. Application of heat, pressure buildup, pressure displacement, venting, all shifted into repression, sublimation, the return of the repressed. Sax thought it unlikely steam engines were an adequate model for the human mind. The mind was more like—what?—an ecology—a fellfield—or else a jungle, populated by all manner of strange beasts. Or a universe, filled with stars and quasars and black holes. Well—a bit grandiose, that—really it was more like a complex collection of synapses and axons, chemical energies surging hither and yon, like weather in an atmosphere. That was better—weather—storm fronts of thought, high-pressure zones, low-pressure cells, hurricanes—the jet streams of biological desires, always making their swift powerful rounds…life in the wind. Well. Throwing together. In fact the mind was poorly understood.

Humans never outgrow their need to connect with others, nor should they, but mature, truly individual people are not controlled by these needs. Becoming such a separate being takes the whole of a childhood, which in our times stretches to at least the end of the teenage years and perhaps beyond. We need to release a child from preoccupation with attachment so he can pursue the natural agenda of independent maturation. The secret to doing so is to make sure that the child does not need to work to get his needs met for contact and closeness, to find his bearings, to orient. Children need to have their attachment needs satiated; only then can a shift of energy occur toward individuation, the process of becoming a truly individual person. Only then is the child freed to venture forward, to grow emotionally. Attachment hunger is very much like physical hunger. The need for food never goes away, just as the child's need for attachment never ends. As parents we free the child from the pursuit of physical nurturance. We assume responsibility for feeding the child as well as providing a sense of security about the provision. No matter how much food a child has at the moment, if there is no sense of confidence in the supply, getting food will continue to be the top priority. A child is not free to proceed with his learning and his life until the food issues are taken care of, and we parents do that as a matter of course. Our duty ought to be equally transparent to us in satisfying the child's attachment hunger. In his book On Becoming a Person, the psychotherapist Carl Rogers describes a warm, caring attitude for which he adopted the phrase unconditional positive regard because, he said, “It has no conditions of worth attached to it.” This is a caring, wrote Rogers, “which is not possessive, which demands no personal gratification. It is an atmosphere which simply demonstrates I care; not I care for you if you behave thus and so.” Rogers was summing up the qualities of a good therapist in relation to her/his clients. Substitute parent for therapist and child for client, and we have an eloquent description of what is needed in a parent-child relationship. Unconditional parental love is the indispensable nutrient for the child's healthy emotional growth. The first task is to create space in the child's heart for the certainty that she is precisely the person the parents want and love. She does not have to do anything or be any different to earn that love — in fact, she cannot do anything, since that love cannot be won or lost. It is not conditional. It is just there, regardless of which side the child is acting from — “good” or “bad.” The child can be ornery, unpleasant, whiny, uncooperative, and plain rude, and the parent still lets her feel loved. Ways have to be found to convey the unacceptability of certain behaviors without making the child herself feel unaccepted. She has to be able to bring her unrest, her least likable characteristics to the parent and still receive the parent's absolutely satisfying, security-inducing unconditional love. A child needs to experience enough security, enough unconditional love, for the required shift of energy to occur. It's as if the brain says, “Thank you very much, that is what we needed, and now we can get on with the real task of development, with becoming a separate being. I don't have to keep hunting for fuel; my tank has been refilled, so now I can get on the road again.” Nothing could be more important in the developmental scheme of things.

The grass in the meadow is wet and the ground gives a little beneath her feet. The herd of alpacas that have taken up residence in the meadow graze in the far distance. Maggie cuts a path towards the distant stile, watching as a flock of starlings take flight, swooping up from the earth and across the bone-colored sky until they come to settle in the treetops. Stepping into the woods, Maggie senses the shift in atmosphere; here the air is a little cleaner, the light a little softer, glancing off the smooth, silver-grey trunks and dancing in the green canopy. She breathes the trees' exhalation, takes it in and makes it her own, inhales the moist-earth scent rising up beneath her boots and fills her lungs. The leaves rustle in the breeze, dripping the last of the raindrops in a steady beat.

It is hard to feel affection for something as totally impersonal as the atmosphere, and yet there it is, as much a part and product of life as wine and bread. Taken all in al, the sky is a miraculous achievement. It works, and for what it is designed to accomplish it is as infallible as anything in nature. I doubt whether any of us could think of a way to improve on it, beyond maybe shifting a local cloud from here to there on occasion. The word 'chance' does not serve to account well for structures of such magnificence... We should credit it for what it is: for sheer size and perfection of function, it is far and away the grandest product of collaboration in all of nature. It breathes for us, and it does another thing for our pleasure. Each day, millions of meteorites fall against the outer limits of the membrane and are burned to nothing by the friction. Without this shelter, our surface would long since have become the pounded powder of the moon. Even though our receptors are not sensitive enough to hear it, there is comfort in knowing the sound is there overhead, like the random noise of rain on the roof at night.

That shifting, layered sensibility is also, in part, the world into which the King James Bible was born. The king’s instructions were perfectly explicit: they were to use ‘circumlocution’, in other words language in which meaning was to be ‘sett forth gorgeously’. There was no terror of richness in this. Richness, as King David had known when he decorated the temple for God, was one of the attributes of God. Majesty, honour and power were gorgeous in themselves and the Jacobean sense of the beautiful loved both pearls and diamonds, both openness and ceremony. Miles Smith referred in his Preface to ‘the Sun of righteousness, the Son of God’, and it was the beams of that sun which the King James Translators would bring to the people. But the sense of clarity and directness was sewn and fused to those other Jacobean virtues: a pattern of order and authority; the majestic substance, the ‘meat’ of the word of God; the great ceremonial atmosphere of its long, carefully organised, musical rhythms, a ceremony of the word; an atmosphere both godly and kingly; both rich and pure, both multiplicitous and plain. This Bible, in other words, would absorb the full aesthetics of the age. You only have to read the Translators at full flood, feeling behind them the sense of unstoppable divine authority, to hear the immense, gilded majesty of the translation. In describing God’s assembling of the armies of a vengeful justice, they reached their apogee:

At that moment, remarkably, there was a man in the expansive reactor hall of Unit 4 who witnessed all this.121 Night Shift Chief of the Reactor Shop Valeriy Perevozchenko saw the top of the reactor - a 15-meter-wide disk comprised of 2000 individual metal covers which cap safety valves - begin to jump up and down. He ran. The reactor’s uranium fuel was increasing power exponentially, reaching some 3,000°C, while pressure rose at a rate of 15 atmospheres per second. At precisely 01:23:58, a mere 18 seconds after Akimov pressed the SCRAM button, steam pressure overwhelmed Chernobyl’s incapacitated fourth reactor. A steam explosion blew the 450-ton, 3-meter-thick upper biological shield clear off the reactor before it crashed back down, coming to rest at a steep angle in the raging maw it left behind. The core was exposed.122 A split second later, steam and inrushing air reacted with the fuel’s ruined zirconium cladding to create a volatile mixture of hydrogen and oxygen, which triggered a second, far more powerful explosion.123 Fifty tons of vaporised nuclear fuel were thrown into the atmosphere, destined to be carried away in a poisonous cloud that would spread across most of Europe. The mighty explosion ejected a further 700 tons of radioactive material - mostly graphite - from the periphery of the core, scattering it across an area of a few square kilometers. This included the roofs of the turbine hall, Unit 3, and the ventilation stack it shared with Unit 4, all of which erupted into flames. The reactor fuel’s extreme temperature, combined with air rushing into the gaping hole, ignited the core’s remaining graphite and generated an inferno that burned for weeks. Most lights, windows and electrical systems throughout the severely damaged Unit 4 were blown out, leaving only a smattering of emergency lighting to provide illumination.124

As soon as Kirsty walked into the living room, just behind Jamie, she knew something was wrong. There were no immediate tangible signs, but she could feel it. The atmosphere in the room felt wrong. There had been a shift in the air, a strange shape imprinted on the molecules that hung around them and made up the fabric of the room. She could smell it, this unwelcome odour. She felt like an animal, its hackles rising as it caught the scent of a stranger, an invader, an enemy encroaching on its territory.

Kids are one of natural most perfect learning devices. With just a little knowing, a kid can be activated and kept content. Starting early in your kid's growth can do wonderful factors for their psychological growth in later years, and provides them a large boost over other kids their age. Comprehend youngsters are designed to comprehend. Regular actions, such as offering, diapering, enjoying, executing, going for a generate in the child baby stroller, and getting bears from Grandpa are all "educational". You do not need to do synthetic actions or extremely concentrate on "educational activities" for a kid to succeed. Care for the kid. A kid needs a full belly, a dry diaper, a comfortable atmosphere, and really like for the best possible growth. Discuss to the kid. Provide a "play by play" of what you're doing (making a cup of tea, modifying a diaper, confirming the email box. Take part in kid talk; it's designed to stimulate a kid. Read a book together. Increase and massage. Kids really like to move their systems. Learn kid massage and kid yoga exercise exercises, which help comfortable, revitalize, and stimulate. But simply shifting the kid in a way he or she likes (like clapping arms, wearing coming back and forth, "So Big!") is outstanding work out, and properly rubbing kid down with kid massage oil is outstanding for sensitive growth. Acquire a execute gym or action gym. These are generally a company recommended with children from child up to about 12 months. They mostly come in the form of comfortable, quilted or properly cushioning execute shields, sometimes raised at the edges with a space in the center for kid. They can include detachable, holding locations for small children to try to comprehend. They usually have locations that are crinkle, smooth, scrunchy styles for kid to touch, media and action. Some come with bright dazzling illumination and alarm systems and others make insane seems to be, or musical show show seems to be, and some even do both. Look around. Kids are fascinated by factors grownups take for granted: Automobiles visiting outside the screen, tanks, vegetation provided by the wind, failing outfits in the outfits clothing dryer. Go outside A child baby stroller generate can be very interesting, going to uncommon new locations like the mailing service, bakery, recreation area, and so on.Drive your car, which has best car accessories, and go for a have a eat outside. Perform to the kid. Perform child's room music, TV jingles, your popular.Play with the kid. Conventional activities like "Peek-A-Boo" or cheap baby toys, the hug the kid's belly, shifting a football coming back and forth on are outstanding kid actions. Dance with the kid in your arms.

Afternoon drinkers shifted in the gloom as if they sensed new blood.

Carlton Church Warning - Nuclear Fraud Scheme North Korea has been producing different nuclear weapons since last year. They have sent warning on the neighboring countries about their plan for a nuclear test. Not just South Korea, but other countries like China, U.S., and Japan have stated their complaints. Even the United Nations has been alarmed by North Korea’s move. During the last period of World War, a bomb has been used to attack Japan. Happened on 6th of August 1945, Enola Gay dropped an atomic bomb just 10 kilometers away from Tokyo. This is why people and organizations like Carlton Church who’s against the use of nuclear power for production of armory in war. Many protested that it is a threat to mankind and environment. Groups who are in favor of the nuclear use explained its advantage. They say it can be helpful in generating electricity that can be used for residential and commercial purposes. They also expound how it is better to use than coal mining as it is “less harmful to the environment.” Nuclear Use: Good or Bad? Groups who are against the use of nuclear reactor and weapons try to persuade people about its catastrophic result to the environment and humankind. If such facility will be used to create weapons, there is a possibility for another world war. But the pro-nuclear groups discuss the good effects that can be gained from it. They give details on how greenhouse gas effect of coal-burning can emit huge amounts of greenhouse gases and other pollutants such as sulfur dioxide nitrogen oxide, and toxic compounds of mercury to the atmosphere every year. Burning coal can produce a kilowatt-hour of electricity but it also amounts to over two pounds of carbon dioxide emissions. They also added that the amount of carbon dioxide it produces contributes to climate change. Sulfur dioxide may cause the formation of acid rain and nitrogen oxide, if combined with VOCs, will form smog. Nuclear power plants do not emit harmful pollutants or other toxic gases. Generating energy from nuclear involves intricate process, but as a result, it produces heat. These plants have cooling towers that release water vapor. If the facility has been properly managed it may not contribute disturbance in the atmosphere. It may sound better to use compared to coal. But studies have shown that the vapor that came from nuclear plants have an effect to some coastal plants. The heated water that was released goes back to lakes and seas, and then the heat will eventually diffuse into surface warming. As a result of the increased water temperature on the ocean bodies, it changes the way carbon dioxide is transferred within the air. In effect, major shifts in weather patterns such as hurricanes may occur. It does not stop there. The nuclear power plant produces radioactive waste, which amounts to 20 metric tons yearly. Exposure to high-level radiation is extremely harmful and fatal to human and animals. The waste material must be stored carefully in remote locations for many years. Carlton Church and other anti-nuclear groups persuade the public to initiate banning of the manufacturing of nuclear products and give warnings about its health hazards and environmental effects.

And thus yielding two remarkable and independent coincidences at the same time – the climate is exhibiting unusual change over the past 100 years, and yet exactly what scientists believe would cause such change – an increase in atmospheric greenhouse gas concentrations to levels not seen on earth in millions of years, is, by even more remarkable coincidence, itself otherwise not altering the climate of the earth while that climate bizarrely just starts to shift on its own, anyway.

Don't waste your time looking down," Roen says. "Look up." My lips part as I shift my gaze, taking in the views thirty meters into the air. This high up, Jimeta's towering cliffs are dark silhouettes jutting into the sky. Bright stars coat the atmosphere like diamonds stitched into the fabric of night.

The crisis of fuel isn't necessarily a crisis of scarcity or overproduction. The shift away from fossil fuels isn't the end of the regime of cheap energy. Indeed, the climate crisis has afforded an opportunity for finance to present itself as a mechanism of global salvation: it is through carbon credits, offsets, and permits to pollute the atmosphere that the atmosphere will be saved - or so we are told. This is where commoning can finally be ended - through the full financial externalization of collective responsibility, turning what need to be collective decisions on the fate of the commons into a financial product in a global market.

For the pagan Malays of the ancient past, the tree was literally the core of their universe. They believed that at the centre of the world was a great ocean, and in the middle of this ocean grew a gigantic tree called Pauh Jangi—the original, primordial tree of life that had stood since the beginning of creation. At the root of this enormous tree was a cavern called Pusat Tasek (Navel of the Great Lake). In this cavern lived a gigantic crab that emerged once a day. The movement of this gigantic creature caused the ebb and flow of the tides, the shifting of the winds and other atmospheric changes (Skeat, 1900). But it was the great tree Pauh Jangi that kept this pagan cosmos together, serving as the gravitational centre to this mobile and erratic universe.

The inclusive atmosphere of the class was the key driver of allowing the class to be eager to learn. The focus really shifted away from grades and points, and towards understanding concepts and learning.” The key link is between inclusivity and the shift of focus away from test scores. When students are given the responsibility to support each other, their own score falls down the list of priorities.

I realised the power of the human aura through my dealings with other people. Some would measure me up, and want to compete with or against me. Whereas, some would see a leader in me. A leader whom they could trust. There were no words or actions involved. It's always the aura that shifted the atmosphere in the room.

Daylight slanted in through the bars making his eyes glint like polished steel. Motes of dust frenzied in his atmosphere as if drawing energy from the electric force of his presence. A thin ring of gold glinted in his left ear, and sharp cheekbones underscored an arrogant brow. He’d look stern but for his mouth, which was not so severe. It bowed with a fullness she might have called feminine if the rest of his face wasn’t so brutally cast. Mercy hadn’t realized she’d been staring at his lips, gripped with a queer sort of fascination until they parted and he spoke. “You were quite impressive back there.” “What?” Mercy shook her head dumbly. Had he just complimented her? Had they just been through the same scene? She’d never been less impressed with herself in her entire life. Would that she could have been like him. Smooth and unaffected. Infuriatingly self-assured. And yet…he’d only been that way after breaking the nose of the officer who'd struck her, and possibly his jaw. Lord but she’d never seen a man move like that before. “I listened to your deductions,” he explained. “From where you were hiding in the closet?” she quipped, rather unwisely. Something flickered in his eyes, and yet again she was left to guess if she’d angered or amused him. “From where I was hiding in the closet,” he said with a droll sigh as he shifted, seeming to find a more comfortable position for his bound hands. “You’re obviously cleverer than the detectives. How do you know so much about murder scenes?” Mercy warned herself not to preen. She stomped on the lush warmth threatening to spread from her chest at his encouragement, and thrust her nose in the air, perhaps a little too high. “I am one of only three female members of the Investigator Eddard Sharpe Society of Homicidal Mystery Analysis. As penned by the noted novelist, J. Francis Morgan, whom I suspect is a woman.” “Why do you suspect that?” His lip twitched, as if he also battled to suppress his own expression. “Because men tend to write women characters terribly, don’t they? But J. Francis Morgan is a master of character and often, the mystery is even solved by a woman rather than Detective Sharpe. His heroines are not needlessly weak or stupid or simpering. They’re strong. Dangerous. Powerful. Sometimes even villainous and complicated. That is good literature, I say. Because it’s true to life.” He’d ceased fighting his smile and allowed his lip to quirk up in a half-smile as he regarded her from beneath his dark brow. “Mathilde’s murderer now has one more person they’d do well to fear in you.” She leveled him a sour look. “Does that mean you fear me?” He tilted toward her. Suddenly—distressingly—grave. “You terrify me, Mercy Goode.

In the Second Mansion, you aim to become more discerning about your thoughts, motivations, and personal companions. We all need to be more discriminating about whom we allow into the circles that influence our souls. Beyond your friendships and social interactions, you need to become aware of how your psyche and soul are changing, of their shifts in perceptions. As you become more awakened, you may become more psychically hypersensitive and reactive to other people’s emotional energy, to highly charged negative atmospheres, to stresses in people around you, or even to the great tensions of the planet. Teresa warned her nuns that as they progressed in their Castles, they would become vulnerable in some way to other people’s emotional, psychological, mental, and spiritual debris. You need to learn, as an emerging mystic, how to protect your energy field. This hypersensitivity can be brought on by spending too much time alone in retreat or by opening up too many interior rooms too rapidly. In rare cases, achieving a blissful state of consciousness can result in a sense of ungroundedness and disorientation. A more common experience is that reading sacred literature and doing soul work can shift your values and make you feel very detached from your familiar world. In these states, you require serious hand-holding and the companionship of someone who understands the journey of the soul. You will always need to maintain a solitary, silent prayer life and time for reflection, but you will also need to reach out to at least one other person to share your experience of God.

Stage 1: The Industrial Era, from the early 1800s to 1945, when atmospheric CO2 exceeded the upper limit of Holocene variation; and Stage 2: The Great Acceleration, from 1945 to the present, “when the most rapid and pervasive shift in the human-environment relationship began.” (They also—over-optimistically, I’d say—predicted that a third stage, “Stewards of the Earth,” would begin in 2015.)

No,” Cecelia shakes her head furiously, demand in her deep blues. “Sorry, you can’t go, Dominic, because I dreamed your future up for you. Hang on, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Staring up and into the soul of the woman worth warring over—who gave me a glimpse of heaven on earth, aware of just how much power her love holds—I again curse the fucking fate that allowed it to be taken from me. But just as that thought drifts in, what I thought I’d been robbed of is gifted in the way it always has been, through her, because it was never about the weather, time, or place. Whoosh . . . Whoosh . . . Whoosh . . . Her warmth engulfs me. The atmosphere shifting as tumultuous storm clouds gather in her eyes, and her rain begins to pelt me—all burden lifting, along with any remnants of anger. A bone-deep chill sweeps through my body as the pain abates, and her turbulent blues pierce and hook me, sweeping me away.

She narrows her eyes at me, her lips pursing in a way that makes me want to kiss the pout right off her face. “I do not snore.” “You were breathing so heavily the captain asked me to control you?” I joke. She glares at me. “I. Do. Not. Snore.” “Whatever you say, princess.” I wink, feeling the atmosphere between us shift from sleepy to comfortable to something more charged, more electric.

In my newly acquired silence, I remember what sacred space means. It’s much more than a brightly lit room and high ceilings. Sacred space is a state of consciousness. When I talk about creating a space, I’m referring to the act of freely allowing for your possibilities; the liberty to let yourself explore and take risks in a safe atmosphere of non-judgment. This space is created by shifting your consciousness and thoughts. This sacred space opens room for new possibilities. There’s the space around you and the area inside of you.

In one quarter to one half a day, the geographic poles move to the Torrid Zone, and all hell lets loose. The atmosphere and the Earth's oceans and lakes don't shift with the shell - they just keep on rotating west to east - and at the equator that speed is about 1,037 miles per hour. It has to be, normally, to make one revolution per day. So, while the shell shifts with the poles going to the equator, the winds and oceans continue eastward, blowing and flooding across the earth at supersonic speeds, inundating continents with water miles deep, destroying everything with which man ever dealt, including himself. That's a summary of the process.

Connection survival style themes to show up in an atmosphere of safety and consent. The use of contracting emphasizes the therapist’s attention, interest, and concern about truly understanding the client. Contracting provides an opportunity to shift old relational patterns of feeling completely alone. This process of intersubjectivity supports a shift away from objectification toward subjectification. Clients are invited to be active collaborators with their therapist, which provides a sense of control over the therapeutic process. Attunement: The contracting process invites clients identified with Attunement survival style themes to check in with and express their needs and feelings. From the very beginning, this process provides an opportunity to shift old relational patterns of feeling that they cannot express their needs and feelings. Contracting helps clients feel seen and heard—by their therapist but also themselves. They are invited, welcomed, and encouraged to reflect on their authentic needs and wishes. Trust: The contracting process gives clients identified with Trust survival style themes the power to set their own course for therapy. The collaborative nature of contracting provides an opportunity to shift old relational patterns where they felt they had to control others in order to feel safe. They are welcomed to modulate their level of openness and vulnerability according to their own sense of comfort and trust. Autonomy: The contracting process encourages clients identified with Autonomy survival style themes to share their authentic Self in an environment of openness, understanding, and respect. Inviting the client to determine their intention and goals for therapy provides an opportunity to shift old relational patterns of having to control against other people’s agendas. Love-Sexuality: The contracting process supports clients identified with Love-Sexuality survival style themes with a sense of not having to be perfect to be accepted and loved. Contracting provides an opportunity to shift old relational patterns where they felt pressure of having to perform and achieve. Clients are welcomed to share from a more open-hearted and intimate place.

But although external ties between the Eleatics and first Cynics are scanty, the conceptual resemblances are striking. Again, one must not read literally, and must bear in mind that the tenets of Eleaticism were so compelling that they essentially created the philosophical atmosphere breathed by the Cynics: these tenets determined a general orientation that the Cynics unconsciously adopted, despite the fact that their explicit rhetoric was to reject the convoluted "wisdom" of Eleatics, Academics, Peripatetics, and other schools. In order to trace the intellectual asceticism of the Cynics back to Eleatic ontology, we will first describe Parmenides' vision of the One and the attributes of reality itself. These attributes had immense influence especially over subsequent physics and epistemology. Moreover, they give the Greek praise of poverty a philosophical aspect: the truth is so beautiful and absorbing that to glimpse it transforms a person, turns him in a different direction, and wrenches him away from his previous devotion to conventional goods. Philosophy is a solitary activity that pulls the thinker away from work, marriage, family, citizenship, away even from sensual pleasure and the distractions of sense-experience. Indeed, the physical world as a whole loses its hold over the "wise;' who knows something far more real and compelling. That is, the Eleatic elevation of the absolute over the relative - of the singular, eternal, and unchanging over the heterogeneous, temporal, and shifting - introduces a lasting dualism into much Greek thought. This dualism culminates eventually in a variety of types of philosophical poverty. The Platonic philosopher becomes an intellectual and even religious ascetic who devotes himself to the pursuit of divine Ideas. The Cynic, on the other hand, dismisses such talk of eternity simply to contrast mundane Fortune and the self. While the external world is filled with "smoke" ( tuphos), and is as undesirable as it is unintelligible, the Cynic unconsciously emulates the attributes of the Eleatic One, and so proclaims his self-sufficiency, unity, consistency, and inner purity from contaminating desires and relations.

The change to the Arctic has been so rapid and sudden that the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) has declared “the Arctic as we’ve known it is now a thing of the past,” even coining the phrase the “New Arctic” to describe this fundamental shift.* There are currently more than nine hundred infrastructure projects in development, totaling over a trillion dollars in investment. A majority of which is being undertaken by Russia. They’ve reopened abandoned Soviet-era military installations and established a slew of new seaports across their northern coast. Even China—which has no territorial claim to the Arctic—has expanded its global infrastructure initiative, known as Belt and Road, to include projects across the Arctic Circle. China envisions creating a northern sea route that could cut travel time between Asia and Europe by a third. To this end, China is building a fleet of hardened ice-capable cargo ships and fuel carriers to traverse this future “Polar Silk Road.”* With each passing year, the stakes in the Arctic continue to climb—as does the tension. It’s estimated that a quarter of the planet’s oil and gas remains hidden there.* It is also a treasure chest of rare earth minerals (neodymium, praseodymium, terbium, and dysprosium) that are vital to the world’s renewable energy projects, including the surging production of electric vehicles. In the Russian Arctic alone, the mineral value is estimated to be upwards of two trillion U.S. dollars.* Then there are the vast new seas open to fishing, where conflicts are already arising.

He wanted her- all of her. Not just the physical her, but her devotion, her love, her heart- all the essential her, the tangible intangible of her being, her self. He wanted it all- and he wasn't going to be satisfied with anything less. He knew why he wanted her, too. Why she was different. But he wasn't going to think about that. She was his. He'd known it the instant he'd held her in his arms, that first evening with the storm lowering about them. She'd fitted- and he'd known, instinctively, immediately, at some level deeper than his bones. He hadn't come by his name by accident; he had a gift for recognizing what scent was on the breeze. An instinctive hunter, he responded to shifts in the mood, the atmosphere, taking advantage of whatever current was flowing without a conscious thought. He'd known from the first just what was in the wind- known from the instant he'd held Patience Debbington in his arms.

I dreamed of becoming an elite White House Secret Service officer, a member of its Uniformed Division. Nothing more—and certainly nothing less. My dream came true. I stood guard, a pistol at my hip, outside the Oval Office, the last barrier before anyone saw Bill Clinton. The last barrier before Monica Lewinsky saw Bill Clinton. Yes, I’m that Secret Service officer. I saw Monica, and I saw a lot more. I saw Hillary, too. I witnessed her obscenity-laced tirades, her shifting of blame, how she berated Vince Foster until he could stand no more, how minor incidents involving blue gloves and botched invitations sent her into a tizzy. It was like watching Humphrey Bogart in The Caine Mutiny obsessing about a quart of missing strawberries—and losing sight of the world war raging about him. I saw Hillary scheming with Dick Morris to undermine White House Chief of Staff Leon Panetta. FBI agents confided in me about her emerging Filegate scandal; they were just as frustrated with Hillary’s methods as we were. Life at the Clinton White House careened from crisis (manufactured or not) to even greater crisis, the participants often unable to catch their breath and certainly incapable of learning from them. The Clinton White House atmosphere alternated from hilarity to bitter anger, lurching from nerves-on-end tension to sheer boredom, its most important residents painfully trapped between illusion and reality.

During one of the rest periods, I felt people pause in their workouts, felt their attention shift. The atmosphere in the room changed. I looked over and saw someone in a poorly fitting double-breasted navy suit. It had wide lapels and overly padded shoulders. The kind of suit that’s supposed to impart a swagger even when you’re standing still. He was flanked by two burly specimens, more casually dressed, with yakuza punch perms. From their size and deportment I assumed they were bodyguards. They must have just come in. The guy in the suit was talking to Washio, who was paying close and somehow uncomfortable attention. I watched, and noticed other people doing the same. The newcomer couldn’t have been more than five-feet-eight, but his neck was massive and I put him at about eighty-five, ninety kilos. His ears were deformed masses of protruding scar tissue that would stand out even in Japan, where such scarification is not uncommon among judoka and kendoka.

Also, the Bible does not explicitly say that it was only due to the water’s recession (which all sides agree is indeed a factor) as to why mountaintops were seen. The text says “the tops of the mountains were seen” (Genesis 8:5). This involves two things: water level (1) and visibility (2). This second factor that is often overlooked is the conditions that may affect visibility. The warmer ocean water (which is expected from the Flood with continental shifting, rising basalts from the mantle, and possibly some nuclear decay would surely generate heat and volcanism) gives off vapors and mists that form low-lying fog and clouds. Hence, visibility would likely be rather low. Genesis 8:5 may well be discussing the state of visibility and atmospheric condition regarding clouds and fog from the heated ocean just as much at it discusses water level.

It was ash on fingertips, and vast. Stepping upon it gave the impression that it had come not from below, buffed by millions of years of wind slicing against rock, but rather from above; that perhaps it had drifted down and settled here. The layers undulated from an inch to hundreds of feet thick. Red storms swept and swirled, colouring the atmosphere with grains so light it took days until the air became clear again: shifting from bloodshot and murky to a jaundiced yellow, the sepia sun somewhere above the thick cloud-layer.

Before drawing the curtain across the porthole, Lydia took a peek outside. The evening uneven sea glimmered with slices of dairy moon, the surface waves a shifting brew of dark tea stirred by an atmospheric spoon.

The evening uneven sea glimmered with slices of dairy moon, the surface waves a shifting brew of dark tea stirred by an atmospheric spoon.

There was something about the air here. It was clean. Pure. And it had a fragrance to it I hadn’t encountered before. It was something the trees released into the atmosphere around them. I pulled a long breath into my lungs, holding it there as I stared out at the scene below. Craggy mountaintops still topped with snow shifted into heavily forested slopes which met up with a pristine lake. I sucked in another breath.

My lips part as I shift my gaze, taking in the views thirty meters into the air. This high up, Jimeta’s towering cliffs are dark silhouettes jutting into the sky. Bright stars coat the atmosphere like diamonds stitched into the fabric of night. The view makes me wish Baba were still alive; he always loved to stare up at the stars.

Corruption has been as much a fixture on these contemporary frontiers as it was during the colonial gold rushes. Since the most significant privatization deals are always signed amid the tumult of an economic or political crisis, clear laws and effective regulations are never in place - the atmosphere is chaotic, the prices are flexible and so are the politicians. What we have been living for three decades is frontier capitalism, with the frontier constantly shifting locations from crisis to crisis, moving on as soon as the law catches up.

When we talk about going into the mountains, just your presence brings an atmospheric shift to that mountain.

The politics of the 1970s were the second factor in this social shift. In his efforts to confront the Nasserite and socialist forces in Egypt, President Anwar Sadat unleashed Egypt's Islamic forces. He released thousands of the Muslim Brotherhood's leaders and members from jail (after years of imprisonment and prosecution under Nasser), and allowed the Brotherhood's old newspaper the Call (Al-Dawaa) to be reissued. He tried to assume the mantle of Islam by calling himself ‘the guardian of the faith’; emphasized that his first name was ‘Mohamed’ not ‘Anwar’; promoted religious schools; authorized a major increase in the budget of Al-Azhar and an expansion of its parallel educational system; opened the door for leading religious scholars and commentators to dominate the state-controlled media; introduced apostasy laws in Egypt after years of a highly liberal intellectual atmosphere; declared sharia law (Islamic jurisprudence) as the principal source for the Egyptian constitution (after decades during which religion was generally marginal to legislation with the exception of personal status laws); and declared himself the leader of ‘an Islamic pious country’.

I’d felt it – that moment when a person you need more than air or water or sustenance steps into your orbit and everything subtly shifts, like a camera finally sliding into focus. That person, who used to mean less than nothing, enters your life and rearranges your entire atmosphere around them, as if every atom and cell that makes you you isn’t your property anymore. Suddenly, every part of you becomes theirs – your particles dissembled and rearranged to align perfectly with someone who you don’t even know or understand yet. You cease to exist as you once were, and that person who meant nothing is suddenly, overwhelmingly, everything.

There are people in this world that you know who they are because it says so on their business card. There are people in this world that you know who they are because the atmosphere in the room shifts when they speak.

Other than the external threat of asteroid and comet strikes (a common hazard throughout the solar system), all Earth’s natural hazards go hand in hand with its habitability. Indeed, Earth seems to be constructed almost perfectly to create calamities, with an outer shell thick enough to be rigid but thin enough to be breakable. Earthquakes, tsunamis, and extreme volcanic transformations are the price we pay for the life-sustaining gift of plate tectonics. Likewise, Earth’s atmosphere is primed to do damage by just the same qualities that make it so nurturing. Sun-animated, water-saturated, and seasonally shifting, our dynamic atmosphere maintains our comfortable climate. Its motions feed and water us, but can also swirl into violent storms that flood villages and splinter cities. Tornadoes, floods, blizzards, and climate shifts are collateral damage from life-enabling flows of energy, water, and chemical elements. All are also symptoms of Earth’s destructive/creative energy flows.*

What is it really that makes Earth Earth? The surface, where we live, exists at the interface between two giant heat engines: below us the churning mantle, above us the restless, windy troposphere. All rocky worlds large enough to hold an atmosphere will have some combination of these, and the dynamic possibilities of each realm have been substantially illuminated by the variations we’ve found on other worlds. We live on the convoluted, shifting shoreline between cycles of earth and sky that are incessantly driven by the Sun above and the heat below. So much about our world can be understood as the interplay between these inner and outer cycles. Life thrives at the boundary, enabled and sustained by the great cyclic flows of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, sulfur, and phosphorous. Still, something else is going on here.

Climate scientists encountered Lorenz’s ideas in 1965, when he gave the keynote address at a conference in Colorado called “The Causes of Climate Change,” the first big scientific gathering devoted to the subject. As he described the instability he had uncovered, his audience made the connection with carbon dioxide. Conference organizer Roger Revelle, who had been skeptical, was persuaded. If small changes in initial conditions could have enormous long-term effects, he said in a summary speech, then perhaps tiny rises and falls in atmospheric carbon dioxide could “ ‘flip’ the atmospheric circulation from one state to another.” Arrhenius and Callendar had been vindicated. A scientific consensus was emerging: a tiny shift in the atmosphere’s carbon dioxide load could make Earth hard to live on. And Keeling had shown that carbon dioxide levels were rising in exactly the way that might lift temperatures to new heights. Revelle was then on a panel charged by the U.S. president with writing a report about environmental pollution. He took advantage of the position to create a subpanel on carbon dioxide and write the first-ever official government report about the possibility of climate change.

ACL - Accelerated Contact Linguistics - was, Scile told me, a speciality crossbred from pedagogics, receptivity, programming and cryptography. It was used by the scholar-explorers of Bremen's pioneer ships to effect very fast communication with indigenes they encountered or which encountered them. In the logs of those early journeys, the excitement of the ACLers is moving. On continents, on worlds vivid and drab, they record first moments of understanding with menageries of exots. Tactile languages, bioluminescent words, all varieties of sounds that organisms can make. Dialects comprehensible only as palimpsests of references to everything already said, or in which adjectives are rude and verbs unholy. I've seen the trid diary of an ACLer barricaded in his cabin, whose vessel has been boarded by what we didn't then know as Corscans - it was first contact. He's afraid, as he should be, of the huge things battering at his door, but he's recording his excitement at having just understood the tonal structures of their speech. When the ACLers and the crews came to Arieka, there started more than 250 kilohours of bewilderment. It wasn't that the Host language is particularly difficult to understand, or changeable, or excessively various. There were startlingly few Hosts or Arieka, scattered around the one city, and all spoke the same language. With the linguists' earware and drives it wasn't hard to amass a database of sound-words (the newcomers thought of them as words, though where they divided one from the next the Ariekei might not recognize fissures). The scholars made pretty quick sense of syntax. Like all exot languages it had its share of astonishments. But there was nothing so alien that trumped the ACLers or their machines. The Hosts were patient, seemed intrigued by and, insofar as anyone could tell through their polite opacity, welcoming to their guests. They had no access to immer, nor exotic drives or even sublux engines; they never left their atmosphere, but they were otherwise advanced. They manipulated life with astounding finesse, and they seemed unsurprised that there was sentience elsewhere. The Hosts did not learn out Anglo-Ubiq. Did not seem to try. But within a few thousand hours, Terre linguists could understand much of what the Hosts said, and synthesised responses and questions in the one Ariekene language. The phonetic structure of the sentences they had their machines speak - the tonal shifts, the vowels and the rhythm of consonants - were precise, accurate to the very limits of testing. The Hosts listened, and did not understand a single sound.

man of stark passions. This woman knows exactly how to incite them… and how to calm them down. The King goes from barely reserved to ravenously passionate. I dare a quick glimpse at Dagan. He’s watching the display with complete apathy. But I cannot help but feel the stirring of some very bad, very unwanted emotions in my gut. I tear my eye away from the heavily muscled vampire. If anybody even suspected my secret… Quickly, I stem those thoughts. Better not entertain the horrendous possibilities. Eventually the King lets his woman go. He yanks her to his side and openly gropes her ass. Some of the rage has flowed out of him. “You should not chastise poor Riyu so,” Beatrice says sweetly. “If the fault lies with anyone, it is with me. Yes, I let both your lieutenant and his trusted under servant assume the command came from you. I take the blame.” Her voice turns sultry. “So punish me, if you’re going to punish anyone.” A growl of deep desire comes from the King’s throat. I don’t know the sort of bedroom games they play, nor do I want to. “Later,” he promises. “When we are in a more suitable space.” “The King can do as he pleases anywhere,” Beatrice reminds him. “Dismiss all these men, and have me now.” A trickle of discomfort goes down my spine. “I would, but I am not done with them.” “Then tell them what you want. But be quick about it. My recent activities have given me quite the appetite for…” She leans in and whispers the final word in his ear. It sounds a lot like “lock.” The atmosphere in the room shifts. Few know exactly the sort of experiments Beatrice runs underground. But all have heard the agonizing screams, the shrieks for mercy, which occasionally drift up from her “laboratories.” Vampires are ruthless killers. None of us shy away from a little blood. But what Beatrice

Perhaps it was the eerie shriek of the motion detector, but the hairs on the back of her neck were suddenly standing on end. Something in the atmosphere had shifted. The air was a little too tense, too cold, and too still. So very still. A chilling and invisible presence filled the room, and at that moment, there was no doubt in Kate’s mind. The séance had worked.