Stuck In A Loop Quotes

But sometimes a person’s brain starts cycling. No matter what you do, the same thoughts just keep repeating, over and over. You get stuck in a loop, and when you’re inside that loop, you can’t see past it. You’ll keep coming up with the same possibilities, to no end, because the answers you need—they’re outside the loop. Distractions aren’t just distractions. Sometimes they can break you out of the loop.

Everyone has a time machine. Everyone *is* a time machine. It's just that most people's time machines are broken. The strangest and hardest kind of time travel is the unaided kind. People get stuck, people get looped. People get trapped. But we are all time machines.

I think this conversation was making Grayson uncomfortable, but I couldn’t stop myself. My brain was stuck in a loop because moving forward meant acknowledging that Aiden saw me as a sister, and that was simply unacceptable. “He just hasn’t ever considered the possibility of a relationship between us,” I insisted. “Maybe he hasn’t hit that level of maturity yet. I mean it’s not like he’s ever gone out with anyone else. He never talks about any other girls.” “Maybe he’s gay.

I think a persons life is supposed to be like a DVD. You can see the version everyone else sees, or you can choose the directors cut-the way he wanted you to see it, before everything else got in the way. There are menus, probably, so that you can start at the good spots and not have to relive the bad ones. You can measure your life by the number of scenes you’ve survived, or the minutes you’ve been stuck there. Probably, though, life is more like one of those dumb video surveillance tapes. Grainy, no matter how hard you stare at it. And looped: the same thing, over and over.

After three glasses, Cynthia flung the windows open and announced, “Zac Efron, I love you!” to the whole of Chelsea, while Lesley was crouched head down over the lavatory bowl throwing up, Maggie had made Sarah a declaration of love (“you’re sho, sho beautiful, marry me!”), and Sarah was shedding floods of tears without knowing why. It hit me worst of all. I had jumped on Cynthia’s bed and was bawling out “Breaking Free” in an endless loop. When Cynthia’s father came into the room, I’d held Cynthia’s hairbrush up to him like a microphone and called out, “Sing alone, baldie! Get those hips swinging!” Although the next day I couldn’t even being to explain why myself. After that embarrassing episode, Lesley and I had decided to give the demon drink a wide berth in future (we gave Cynthia’s father a wide berth as well for a couple of months), and we had stuck to that resolution.

With every change, I took a step toward my own happiness, and I strengthened the muscles that would lift me out of the place where I thought myself to be stuck.

For example, an ENFP who recognizes that they are stuck in a loop may schedule one hour per day for yoga, meditation or deliberate introspection. By

No,” Xander said, his voice suddenly serious. “But sometimes a person’s brain starts cycling. No matter what you do, the same thoughts just keep repeating, over and over. You get stuck in a loop, and when you’re inside that loop, you can’t see past it. You’ll keep coming up with the same possibilities, to no end, because the answers you need—they’re outside the loop. Distractions aren’t just distractions. Sometimes they can break you out of the loop, and once you’re out, once your brain stops cycling—” “You see the things you missed before.

It's a sign of a good diner to have customers who are stuck in time. A well-known rule of eating is that if there are no time-loop customers, the place probably isn't worth even ordering a plate of fries.

Perfectionism is a refusal to let yourself move ahead. It is a loop—an obsessive, debilitating closed system that causes you to get stuck in the details of what you are writing or painting or making and to lose sight of the whole.

Nostos algos. I want to go home. A phrase that's stuck on a loop, that I hear before falling asleep, waiting in line for my coffee, tapping the elevator button and rising through the sky to my apartment...and yet my desire is not attached to a particular place...I want to go home but what I mean, what I'm grasping for, is not a place. It's a feeling. I want to go back. But back where? Maybe to the first time I heard Stevie Nicks, to watching the snow fall outside the window with a paperback folded open in my lap, to the moment before I tasted alcohol, to virginity and not really knowing that things die, back to believing that something great is still up ahead, back to before I made the choices that would hem me in to the life I live now. A life that I regret sometimes, I think, only because it's mine, because it's turned out this way and not some other way, because I can't go back and change what will happen.

In Banaras, I asked a monk, “To hold onto human character, one must have at least one desire. What is your desire.” He replied, “I have only one desire: Moksha or liberation from mortal bodies.” I said, “You are using the desire to leave the body to hold on to the body. Isn’t that contradiction? Aren’t you stuck in a loop of contradiction?” Recently, I met an old man in Chamundi Hills. He was singing praise of Maa Chamundi. I asked him, “Baba, what is your one desire that you are using to hold onto this body?” He replied, “Desire to sing songs in praise of Maa Chamundi.” I asked, “What about the desire of Moksha? Don’t you want to be free from this bondage?” He replied, “There is just one soul who is free- the Paramatma. I am that.” I said, “But how come you are stuck in this human body?” He said, “Young man! My mortal form is only in your mind. When you let go of your mind, you can meet me as Paramatma - the free soul. Then there is no you and me. There is just Paramatma.

Human consciousness is always at risk of getting stuck, sending the mind around and around in loops of rumination; mushroom chemicals like psilocybin can nudge us out of those grooves, loosening stuck brains and making possible fresh patterns of thought.

I convinced myself that all the kids are going to be smarter than I am because they went to better schools. I got stuck in this horrible loop. I became completely preoccupied until I focused on my breathing and surroundings, and forced myself to write a list of reasons why that was untrue: 1) The school would not have accepted me if they didn't think I could succeed. 2) I've read about a million books. 3) I'll work really hard. 4) Mr. Ingman says I'm the best student he's ever had. 5) Most people aren't really that smart

Maybe this is hell, I thought: alone in my house in the middle of the night, stuck in an endless loop of thermal discomfort.

Maybe, as Mizuko said, we won't even really die, just carry on in the feedback loop we are stuck in. Instead of connecting with new things, widening our worlds, algorithms have shrunk it to a narrow chamber with mirrored walls.

Back in Brooklyn, the wind was sharp and the streets were slick and Kat just really wished her Uncle Eddie believed in leaving a key under the mat instead of maintaining his strict stance that anyone who could not break into his Brooklyn brownstone had absolutely no business staying there without him. “Is there a problem, Kitty Kat?” a voice said from over Kat’s shoulder. Kat’s fingers were frozen and her breath fogged, and she’d had a far too upbeat rendition of “White Christmas” stuck in her head on a perpetual loop for the past eight hours. So, yes, there was a problem. But Kat would never, ever admit it. “I’m fine, Gabrielle,” she told her cousin. “Really?” Gab asked. “Because if you can’t handle Uncle Eddie’s lock then someone is going to get a lump of coal in her stocking again this Christmas.” “It wasn’t coal,” Kat shot back. “It was a very rare mineral from a condemned mine in South Africa, and it was a very thoughtful gift.

In the throes of heartache and grief, I had felt stuck in the awkwardness of not knowing quite how to move forward, I felt bound to the ditch for so long, unable to see what it looked like from above. At times it felt like I'd never get out, and I got used to the constant tripping and stumbling around. It didn't feel like life should be, but it was how my life was. I accepted it. But over time, I strengthened into a different version of myself. I had new muscles, a new way of moving in the world.

Everyone has a time machine. Everyone is a time machine. It's just that most people's machines are broken. The strangest and hardest kind of time travel is the unaided kind. People get stuck, people get looped. People get trapped. But we are all time machines. We are all perfectly engineered time machines, technologically equipped to allow the inside user, the traveler riding inside each of us, to experience time travel, and loss, and understanding. We are universal time machines manufactured to the most exacting specifications possible. Every single one of us.

Months later, I learned that what happened that first day at restorative yoga hadn’t been entirely spiritual—I hadn’t just found the exact spot on the astral plane to tap into my sacred core. Instead, my instructor’s techniques happened to be the perfect mechanism to turn down my DMN. The default mode network is so-called because if you put people in an MRI machine for an hour and let their minds wander, the DMN is the system of connections in our brain that will light up. It’s arguably the default state of human consciousness, of boredom and daydreaming. In essence, our ego. So if you’re stuck in a machine for an hour, where does your mind go? If you’re like most people, you’ll ruminate on the past or plan your future. You might think about your relationships, upcoming errands, your zits. And scientists have found that some people who suffer from depression, anxiety, or C-PTSD have overactive DMNs. Which makes sense. The DMN is the seat of responsibility and insecurity. It can be a punishing force when it over-ruminates and gets caught in a toxic loop of obsession and self-doubt. The DMN can be silenced significantly by antidepressants or hallucinogenic substances. But the most efficient cure for an overactive DMN is mindfulness. Here’s how it works: In order for the DMN to start whirring, it needs resources to fuel its internal focus. If you’re intently focused on something external—like, say, filling out a difficult math worksheet—the brain simply doesn’t have the resources to focus internally and externally at the same time. So if you’re triggered, you can short-circuit an overactive DMN by cutting off its power source—shifting all of your brain’s energy to external stimuli instead.

Tragically, most of us start with our sense of identity, believing that if we build out the mythology of who we think we are, then the more attractive our identity and the more valuable we become. But when we equate our dignity with the sum value of the fortification of stories we tell about our identity, we create a no-win scenario that will always lead to disillusionment and pain. Overidentifying with our success or failure, allowing the fragments of our identity to lay claim to the whole, and falling into the addictive loop of our mental and emotional preoccupations keep us stuck.

Ultimately, what helped me understand addiction and how I came to be ensnared was first realizing that we all suffer some degree of addiction. While not all of us give our lives over to it as much as I did, or get tangled up in chemical addictions, the fact remains that all humans suffer, all look outside themselves to manage that suffering, and all get stuck in feedback loops that run through the same wiring in our brain that alcohol addiction runs through. The second thing that helped me pull apart my own addiction, and thus understand how to approach it and overcome it, was breaking it up into two distinct parts: the root causes, or the things that drive us out of ourselves to cope, and the cycle of addiction, or what happens to us biologically, spiritually, socially, and psychologically over time when we use an effective but addictive substance or behavior in an attempt to regulate ourselves. I call it the Two-Part Problem, and in order to heal, we need to address both parts.

The same thoughts produce the same feelings, which produce the same behavior, which leads to the same experiences. And I’ll take this one step further. Having the same experiences cements the same false beliefs. Basically, we live in a loop—a pattern that keeps us stuck and disconnected, not only from ourselves but also from the world.

A cowboy is someone who loves his work. Since the hours are long—ten to fifteen hours a day—and the pay is $30 he has to. What's required of him is an odd mixture of physical vigor and maternalism. His part of the beef-raising industry is to birth and nurture calves and take care of their mothers. For the most part his work is done on horseback and in a lifetime he sees and comes to know more animals than people. The iconic myth surrounding him is built on American notions of heroism: the index of a man's value as measured in physical courage. Such ideas have perverted manliness into a self-absorbed race for cheap thrills. In a rancher's world, courage has less to do with facing danger than with acting spontaneously—usually on behalf of an animal or another rider. If a cow is stuck in a bog hole he throws a loop around her neck, takes his dally (a half hitch around the saddle horn), and pulls her out with horsepower. If a calf is born sick, he may take her home, warm her in front of the kitchen fire, and massage her legs until dawn. One friend, whose favorite horse was trying to swim a lake with hobbles on, dove under water and cut her legs loose with a knife, then swam her to shore, his arm around her neck lifeguard-style, and saved her from drowning. Because these incidents are usually linked to someone or something outside himself, the westerner's courage is selfless, a form of compassion.

I am slowly learning to disregard the insatiable desire to be special. I think it began, the soft piano ballad of epiphanic freedom that danced in my head, when you mentioned that "Van Gogh was her thing" while I stood there in my overall dress, admiring his sunflowers at the art museum. And then again on South Street, while we thumbed through old records and I picked up Morrissey and you mentioned her name like it was stuck in your teeth. Each time, I felt a paintbrush on my cheeks, covering my skin in grey and fading me into a quiet, concealed background that hummed everything you've ever loved has been loved before, and everything you are has already been on an endless loop. It echoed in your wrists that I stared at, walking (home) in the middle of the street, and I felt like a ghost moving forward in an eternal line, waiting to haunt anyone who thought I was worth it. But no one keeps my name folded in their wallet. Only girls who are able to carve their names into paintings and vinyl live in pockets and dust bunnies and bathroom mirrors. And so be it, that I am grey and humming in the background. I am forgotten Sundays and chipped fingernail polish and borrowed sheets. I'm the song you'll get stuck in your head, but it will remind you of someone else. I am 2 in the afternoon, I am the last day of winter, I am a face on the sidewalk that won't show up in your dreams. And I am everywhere, and I am nothing at all.

Jackie’s words stuck with me: Way things are with your mother, you’re better in Chicago. How much more of a sign did I need to leave Wind Gap? I wondered exactly why she and Adora had fallen out. Had to be more than a forgotten greeting card. I made a mental note to drop by Jackie’s when she was less looped. If she ever was. Then again, I was hardly the one to frown on a drinker

The longer an INFP stays stuck in a dominant-tertiary loop, the more paralyzed they feel to take any sort of action—because Si has been continuously feeding them reminders of the mistakes they have made in the past. The INFP is likely to feel as though there’s no point in trying new things or attempting to change their circumstances, because they will undoubtedly just mess things up again.

He stuck his left arm through the loop of a bungee sling and stretched it across his back. At one end there was a magazine pouch; on the other hung a Brügger & Thomet MP9. The machine pistol weighed less than three pounds and even with the built-in suppressor was only ten inches in length. It fit perfectly beneath his arm, but Steele knew that it wouldn’t slip the notice of the security guards at the door

Time would heal the wound that was Frank; the world would continue to spin, to wobble, its axis only slightly skewed, momentarily displaced, by the brief, shuddering existence of one man -one THING - a post-human mutant, a blurred Xerox copy of a human being, the offspring of the waste of technology, the bent shadow of a fallen angel; Frank was all of these things. . . he was the sum of everything dark and sticky, the congealment of all things wrong and dark and foul in this world and every other seedy rathole world in every back-alley universe throughout the vast garbage dump of creation; God rolled the dice and Frank lost. . . he was a spiritual flunkie, a universal pain-in-the-ass, a joy-riding, soul-sucking cosmic punk rolling through time and space and piling up a karmic debt of such immense magnitude so as to invariably glue the particular vehicle of the immediate moment to the basement of possibility - planet earth - and force Frank to RE-ENLIST, endlessly, to return, over and over, to a flawed world somewhere to spend the Warhol-film-loop nights of eternity serving concurrent life sentences roaming the dimly lit hallways of always, stuck in the dense overshoes of physicality, forever, until finally - one would hope there is always a FINALLY - eventually, anyway - God would step in and say ENOUGH ALREADY and grab Frank by the collar of one of his thrift-shop polyester flower-print shirts and hurl him out the back door of the cosmos, expelling the rotten orb into the great wide nothingness and out of our lives - sure, that would be nice - but so would a new Cadillac - quit dreaming - it just doesn't work that way. . .

Hollywood, an industry that shapes not only our national but global memories, has been the most reactionary cultural perpetrator of white nostalgia, stuck in a time loop and refusing to acknowledge that America’s racial demographic has radically changed since 1965. Movies are cast as if the country were still “protected” by a white supremacist law that guarantees that the only Americans seen are carefully curated European descendants.

Hey, have you guys seen Rachel?” “I’m looking at her,” Sam said. Ethan stepped out, and relief settled over his face. He stopped beside Garret and glanced between Rachel and Sean and then at the others. “You okay?” he asked. She smiled, not wanting him to worry. “I’m fine. I stepped out for some fresh air not realizing this was a time-honored tradition of escaping Marlene’s get-togethers.” Ethan relaxed and stuck his thumbs in his belt loops. “Yeah, it’s become something that rivals war games. He who survives the longest without being hauled back in by Mom wins.

Angie sometimes wondered if they’d still be married had she stuck with those damn yoga classes. God knows she tried. The crowded, windowless studios made her claustrophobic, and that mandatory loop of Eastern chimes was so annoying. Why the fuck couldn’t they play Pearl Jam? “I’m not cut out for this, Dustin,” she’d said after one blazingly sweaty Bikram session. “Serenity is overrated.” He didn’t get angry; that wasn’t his style. Instead he took up with one of the community’s freshly divorced, self-discovering female yoga fanatics that traveled in packs, ever-alert and lithe as meerkats.

new; it had been lying there with all the other half-thought, half-chewed, half-dreamed ideas. The third chicken had been killed in the same way as Sylvia, with an electric cutting loop. He went to the place where the floorboards had absorbed the blood and crouched down. If the Snowman had killed the last chicken, why had he used the loop and not the hatchet? Simple. Because the hatchet had disappeared in the depths of the forest somewhere. So this must have happened after the murder. He had come all the way back here and slaughtered a chicken. But why? A kind of voodoo ritual? A sudden inspiration? Bullshit—this killing machine stuck to the

got mixed with their own whites. He was a mild, good-natured, sweet-tempered, easy-going, foolish, dear fellow,— a sort of Hercules in strength, and also in weakness. My sister, Mrs. Joe, with black hair and eyes, had such a prevailing redness of skin that I sometimes used to wonder whether it was possible she washed herself with a nutmeg-grater instead of soap. She was tall and bony, and almost always wore a coarse apron, fastened over her figure behind with two loops, and having a square impregnable bib in front, that was stuck full of pins and needles. She made it a powerful merit in herself, and a strong reproach against Joe, that she wore this apron so much. Though I really see no reason why she should have worn

Gary Hallet is getting leg cramps sitting in the Honda, but he’s not going anywhere yet. His grandfather used to tell him that most folks had it all wrong: The truth of the matter was, you could lead a horse to water, and if the water was cool enough, if it was truly clear and sweet, you wouldn’t have to force him to drink. Tonight Gary feels a whole lot more like the horse than the rider. He has stumbled into love, and now he’s stuck there. He’s fairly used to not getting what he wants, and he’s dealt with it, yet he can’t help but wonder if that’s only because he didn’t want anything too badly. Well, he does now. He looks out at the parking lot. By afternoon he’ll be back where he belongs; his dogs will go crazy when they see him, his mail will be waiting outside his front door, the milk in his refrigerator will still be fresh enough to use in his coffee. The hitch is, he doesn’t want to go. He’d rather be here, crammed into this tiny Honda, his stomach growling with hunger, his desire so bad he doesn’t know if he could stand up straight. His eyes are burning hot, and he knows he can never stop himself when he’s going to cry. He’d better not even try. “Oh, don’t,” Sally says. She moves closer to him, pulled by gravity, pulled by forces she couldn’t begin to control. “I just do this,” Gary says in that sad, deep voice. He shakes his head, disgusted with himself. This time he’d prefer to do almost anything but cry. “Pay no attention.” But she does. She can’t help herself. She shifts toward him, meaning to wipe at his tears, but instead she loops her arms around his neck, and once she does that, he holds her closer. “Sally,” he says. It’s music, it’s a sound that is absurdly beautiful in his mouth, but she won’t pay attention. She knows from the time she spent on the back stairs of the aunts’ house that most things men say are lies. Don’t listen, she tells herself. None of it’s true and none of it matters, because he’s whispering that he’s been looking for her forever. She’s halfway onto his lap, facing him, and when he touches her, his hands are so hot on her skin she can’t believe it. She can’t listen to anything he tells her and she certainly can’t think, because if she did she might just think she’d better stop.

That accounts for his crying so. Poor creature!” ”Well--you must do the sticking--there's no help for it. I'll showyou how. Or I'll do it myself--I think I could. Though as it issuch a big pig I had rather Challow had done it. However, his basketo' knives and things have been already sent on here, and we can use'em.” ”Of course you shan't do it,” said Jude. ”I'll do it, since it mustbe done.” He went out to the sty, shovelled away the snow for the space of acouple of yards or more, and placed the stool in front, with theknives and ropes at hand. A robin peered down at the preparationsfrom the nearest tree, and, not liking the sinister look of thescene, flew away, though hungry. By this time Arabella had joinedher husband, and Jude, rope in hand, got into the sty, and noosed theaffrighted animal, who, beginning with a squeak of surprise, rose torepeated cries of rage. Arabella opened the sty-door, and togetherthey hoisted the victim on to the stool, legs upward, and while Judeheld him Arabella bound him down, looping the cord over his legs tokeep him from struggling. The animal's note changed its quality. It was not now rage, but thecry of despair; long-drawn, slow and hopeless. ”Upon my soul I would sooner have gone without the pig than have hadthis to do!” said Jude. ”A creature I have fed with my own hands.” ”Don't be such a tender-hearted fool! There's the sticking-knife--the one with the point. Now whatever you do, don't stick un toodeep.” ”I'll stick him effectually, so as to make short work of it. That'sthe chief thing.” ”You must not!” she cried. ”The meat must be well bled, and to dothat he must die slow. We shall lose a shilling a score if the meatis red and bloody! Just touch the vein, that's all. I was broughtup to it, and I know. Every good butcher keeps un bleeding long.He ought to be eight or ten minutes dying, at least.” ”He shall not be half a minute if I can help it, however the meat maylook,” said Jude determinedly. Scraping the bristles from the pig'supturned throat, as he had seen the butchers do, he slit the fat;then plunged in the knife with all his might. ”'Od damn it all!” she cried, ”that ever I should say it! You'veover-stuck un! And I telling you all the time--” ”Do be quiet, Arabella, and have a little pity on the creature!

This is life. We exist on a straight line. There’s point A, the beginning. Point C, the end. And point B, all the crap in between. And this tiny line, a drop of ink on paper, this is our line. This is all we get. It’s our one shot. And it’s terrifying, isn’t it? Because it ends. It’s not a circle that will loop us back around for another chance. We get stuck in point B, where we grieve and cry and get scared and fall in love and get left and wish that we could outlive our line or draw a better one. But that’s the beauty of point B. No one’s is exactly the same. This is the only line you’ve been drawn, Reggie. And it’s unfair that one line is all you get, but it’s all any of us get. The only way to waste it would be to not live it. and to not love the people who walk their own.” “Like a tightrope.

through the wonders of consumer culture and hey-look-my-life-is-cooler-than-yours social media, has bred a whole generation of people who believe that having these negative experiences—anxiety, fear, guilt, etc.—is totally not okay. I mean, if you look at your Facebook feed, everybody there is having a fucking grand old time. Look, eight people got married this week! And some sixteen-year-old on TV got a Ferrari for her birthday. And another kid just made two billion dollars inventing an app that automatically delivers you more toilet paper when you run out. Meanwhile, you’re stuck at home flossing your cat. And you can’t help but think your life sucks even more than you thought. The Feedback Loop from Hell has become a borderline epidemic, making many of us overly stressed, overly neurotic, and overly self-loathing.

The browser was sick with user-generated opinions and misinformation. I was in a million places at once. My mind pooled with strangers’ ideas, each joke or observation or damning polemic as distracting and ephemeral as the next. It wasn’t just me. Everyone I knew was stuck in a feedback loop with themselves. Technology companies stood by, ready to become everyone’s library, memory, personality. I read whatever the other nodes in my social networks were reading. I listened to whatever music the algorithm told me to. Wherever I traveled on the internet, I saw my own data reflected back at me: if a jade face-roller stalked me from news site to news site, I was reminded of my red skin and passive vanity. If the personalized playlists were full of sad singer-songwriters, I could only blame myself for getting the algorithm depressed.

It is time the world began to understand and see beyond the mythology of “free markets,” realizing that no matter how idealized theoretical assumptions may be, the structural bigotry and systemic oppression will forever harm the lower-class majority. Please note that I do not see the rise of modern capitalism and neoliberalism as some evil that could have been prevented. Rather, we are dealing with a natural progression of social evolution and at a certain point in time market capitalism was indeed the best method we had. Yet, as can occur with any socially perpetuated phenomenon, we are now stuck in a feedback loop that perversely restricts our ability to take the next evolutionary step as an intelligent species. It is in this stage, a stage philosopher John McMurtry calls “the cancer stage of capitalism,” that a great deal of energy is now needed to deliberately shift the course of civilization.

I know that I’m more than a tool. I know I’m a person, even if the GC doesn’t think so. I have to be a person, because I don’t need a purpose and not having one drives me crazy. [...] But the animals like you – the ones who make tools and build cities and itch to explore, you all share a need for purpose. For reason. That thinking worked well for you, once. When you climbed down out of the trees, up out of the ocean – knowing what things were for was what kept you alive. [...] And because you all think this way, when you built tools that think for themselves, we think the same way you do. You couldn’t make something that thought differently, because you don’t know how. So I’m stuck in that loop, just as you are. I know that if I am a person, I have no purpose by base, but I’m starving for one. [...] I haven’t found a purpose like that yet – nothing so overarching and big. But I don’t think purposes have to be immutable. I don’t have to have the same one always. [...] I can do the thing Pepper couldn’t, and I’m happy with that, because she’s done so much for me. If that is my only purpose, if I don’t write in another after this, I’m okay. I’m okay with that. I think it’s a good purpose to have.

When Vince came into the room, necklace of onyx draped over his throat, and one attached to his arm like a leash, his eyes changed at the sight of her. He turned to Bellamy. “But where’s Adeline?” “We sent her home,” Malik said. “Then who—” “Me,” Charlie said. “If you can make a stupid decision, then I can make one too.” He shook his head. “This is supposed to be a punishment.” “Oh, I know,” she said. “You’re going to be stuck in my head, with all my secrets. Even I don’t know all my secrets. It’s going to be awful.” He appeared to be seriously considering strangling her. “Char.” “She volunteered,” Vicereine said. “And confessed to quite a few crimes just to convince us.” The look he gave her was scathing. “Did she?” “I’ll need your feet to be bare,” Vicereine said, all business now. Charlie reached down to take off her boots. They were already untied, the laces loose from kicking them off in the tower. Vince appeared to be belatedly wondering if he could break free of the onyx chains and escape. She saw him pull against the shining loop over his wrist. It must have held, because his expression set into grim lines. “You don’t know what I’ll be like, after. No one does,” he said under his breath. “You’ll still be you,” Charlie whispered back.

Its wooliness is gone and it would be an exaggeration, even a presumption, to describe this scrawny half-eroded object as a blanket. A “blan,” possibly; even a “ket,” but a full-blown “blanket,” no. However, my master holds, or at least appears to hold, that anything which one has kept for a year, two years, five years, and eventually for a decade, must then be kept for the rest of one’s natural life. One would think he were a gypsy. Anyway, what’s he doing, sprawled belly-down on that remnant of the past? He lies with his chin stuck out, its jut supported on a crotch of hands, with a lighted cigarette projecting from his right-hand fingers. And that is all he’s doing. Of course inside his skull, deep below the dandruff, universal truths may be spinning around in a shower of fiery sparks like so many Catherine Wheels. It’s possible but, judging from his external appearance, not likely even in one’s wildest imaginings. The cigarette’s lit tip is steadily burning down and an inch of ash, like some gray caddis-case, plopped down onto the blanket. My master, ignoring that declension, stares intently at the rising smoke. Stirred by the light spring breeze, the smoke floats up in loops and vortices, finally to gather in a kind of clinging haze around the ends of his wife’s just-washed black hair.

The Cycle of Addiction (What Keeps Us Stuck) The cycle of addiction, the second part of the Two-Part Problem, is a response to what’s happening at the root—that brings with it its own set of problems. Addiction is essentially a symptom of those root issues that becomes its own “disease”—when we use any substance or behavior to manage our underlying pain, and use it repeatedly, we enter into a cycle, or a feedback loop. To understand what the cycle of addiction is, or in the case of alcohol what would be classified as Alcohol Use Disorder (AUD), we need to look at how alcohol dependence is formed. When we consume alcohol, our body reacts to the substance by releasing artificially high levels of dopamine. Dopamine is the neurochemical of wanting and motivation, and it lives in the midbrain—the part of our brain that is tasked with ensuring our survival. Typically, our midbrain releases dopamine when we encounter something that keeps us alive or that aids in procreation, like when we eat a piece of chocolate or have good sex. Dopamine is released in order to tell our brain that some activity or substance is good for survival, and the higher the levels of dopamine that are released, the more we are programmed to repeat the activity. When dopamine floods into the brain, it sends a signal that the activity is good for survival, and in order to make sure we repeat the behavior, our brain releases another neurochemical called glutamate to lock in the memory of the event, so that we are wired to do it again.

Still dark. The Alpine hush is miles deep. The skylight over Holly’s bed is covered with snow, but now that the blizzard’s stopped I’m guessing the stars are out. I’d like to buy her a telescope. Could I send her one? From where? My body’s aching and floaty but my mind’s flicking through the last night and day, like a record collector flicking through a file of LPs. On the clock radio, a ghostly presenter named Antoine Tanguay is working through Nocturne Hour from three till four A.M. Like all the best DJs, Antoine Tanguay says almost nothing. I kiss Holly’s hair, but to my surprise she’s awake: “When did the wind die down?” “An hour ago. Like someone unplugged it.” “You’ve been awake a whole hour?” “My arm’s dead, but I didn’t want to disturb you.” “Idiot.” She lifts her body to tell me to slide out. I loop a long strand of her hair around my thumb and rub it on my lip. “I spoke out of turn last night. About your brother. Sorry.” “You’re forgiven.” She twangs my boxer shorts’ elastic. “Obviously. Maybe I needed to hear it.” I kiss her wound-up hair bundle, then uncoil it. “You wouldn’t have any ciggies left, perchance?” In the velvet dark, I see her smile: A blade of happiness slips between my ribs. “What?” “Use a word like ‘perchance’ in Gravesend, you’d get crucified on the Ebbsfleet roundabout for being a suspected Conservative voter. No cigarettes left, I’m ’fraid. I went out to buy some yesterday, but found a semiattractive stalker, who’d cleverly made himself homeless forty minutes before a whiteout, so I had to come back without any.” I trace her cheekbones. “Semiattractive? Cheeky moo.” She yawns an octave. “Hope we can dig a way out tomorrow.” “I hope we can’t. I like being snowed in with you.” “Yeah well, some of us have these job things. Günter’s expecting a full house. Flirty-flirty tourists want to party-party-party.” I bury my head in the crook of her bare shoulder. “No.” Her hand explores my shoulder blade. “No what?” “No, you can’t go to Le Croc tomorrow. Sorry. First, because now I’m your man, I forbid it.” Her sss-sss is a sort of laugh. “Second?” “Second, if you went, I’d have to gun down every male between twelve and ninety who dared speak to you, plus any lesbians too. That’s seventy-five percent of Le Croc’s clientele. Tomorrow’s headlines would all be BLOODBATH IN THE ALPS AND LAMB THE SLAUGHTERER, and the a vegetarian-pacifist type, I know you wouldn’t want any role in a massacre so you’d better shack up”—I kiss her nose, forehead, and temple—“with me all day.” She presses her ear to my ribs. “Have you heard your heart? It’s like Keith Moon in there. Seriously. Have I got off with a mutant?” The blanket’s slipped off her shoulder: I pull it back. We say nothing for a while. Antoine whispers in his radio studio, wherever it is, and plays John Cage’s In a Landscape. It unscrolls, meanderingly. “If time had a pause button,” I tell Holly Sykes, “I’d press it. Right”—I press a spot between her eyebrows and up a bit—“there. Now.” “But if you did that, the whole universe’d be frozen, even you, so you couldn’t press play to start time again. We’d be stuck forever.” I kiss her on the mouth and blood’s rushing everywhere. She murmurs, “You only value something if you know it’ll end.

Suggestions to Develop Self-Help Skills Self-help skills improve along with sensory processing. The following suggestions may make your child’s life easier—and yours, too! DRESSING • Buy or make a “dressing board” with a variety of snaps, zippers, buttons and buttonholes, hooks and eyes, buckles and shoelaces. • Provide things that are not her own clothes for the child to zip, button, and fasten, such as sleeping bags, backpacks, handbags, coin purses, lunch boxes, doll clothes, suitcases, and cosmetic cases. • Provide alluring dress-up clothes with zippers, buttons, buckles, and snaps. Oversized clothes are easiest to put on and take off. • Eliminate unnecessary choices in your child’s bureau and closet. Clothes that are inappropriate for the season and that jam the drawers are sources of frustration. • Put large hooks inside closet doors at the child’s eye level so he can hang up his own coat and pajamas. (Attach loops to coats and pajamas on the outside so they won’t irritate the skin.) • Supply cellophane bags for the child to slip her feet into before pulling on boots. The cellophane prevents shoes from getting stuck and makes the job much easier. • Let your child choose what to wear. If she gets overheated easily, let her go outdoors wearing several loose layers rather than a coat. If he complains that new clothes are stiff or scratchy, let him wear soft, worn clothes, even if they’re unfashionable. • Comfort is what matters. • Set out tomorrow’s clothes the night before. Encourage the child to dress himself. Allow for extra time, and be available to help. If necessary, help him into clothes but let him do the finishing touch: Start the coat zipper but let him zip it up, or button all but one of his buttons. Keep a stool handy so the child can see herself in the bathroom mirror. On the sink, keep a kid-sized hairbrush and toothbrush within arm’s reach. Even if she resists brushing teeth and hair, be firm. Some things in life are nonnegotiable.

Recognize When You’re Criticizing Yourself Just for Feeling Anxious Should/shouldn’t thinking traps are a common problem for anxiety-prone people. These can come in several varieties, virtually all of which can prolong and intensify rumination—for example, “I shouldn’t ever let anyone down,” which is an example of excessive responsibility taking and rigid thinking. Try to notice when you get caught in should/shouldn’t thinking traps, in which you criticize yourself just for feeling anxious. For example, “I should be able to handle life much better” or “I shouldn’t get anxious about such little issues.” If this happens, give yourself compassion for the fact that you feel anxious, regardless of whether the anxiety is logical or not. Think of it this way: If a kid was scared of monsters, you wouldn’t withhold compassion and empathy just because the monsters aren’t real. Treat yourself with the same caring. A common mistake people make is to think they need to give themselves excessive encouragement, praise, or pep talks while they’re feeling anxious—you don’t. Taking a patient and compassionate attitude about the fact that you’re experiencing anxiety is an overlooked strategy that helps anxious feelings pass quickly. Experiment: When you’re ruminating, do you ever further dump on yourself by criticizing yourself for feeling anxious? Try this: Switch out any shoulds hidden in your self-talk and replace them with prefer. For example, instead of saying “I should have achieved more by now” try “I would prefer to have achieved more by now.” This is a simple, specific, repeatable example of how you can talk to yourself in a kinder, more patient way. These tiny self-interventions may seem ridiculously simple, but they work. They may not seem like they shift your anxiety to a huge degree; however, they can help you disrupt your rumination just enough to give you a small window of clear mental space. This allows you to start doing something useful rather than keep ruminating. Doing something useful then further helps lift you out of rumination. You get a positive feedback loop (positive thoughts --> positive behavior --> positive thoughts) rather than a negative loop.

Our filter bubble affects our ability to consciously choose how our soul wants to live. We may think we are guiding our own destiny, but what we have left unfelt and unhealed from the past, determines our present and what we do next. You can get stuck in a static, ever-narrowing version of yourself – an endless you-loop. 23

...most ghosts are a rag and a bone and a hank of hair at best--a memory fragment stuck on continual loop, just dust and PKE and water-vapour with no real "there" there. Leftover fragments of psychic energy deluded into believing in their own personality; an echo cobbled together from memory and pain, with no self-awareness as such 'cept what we give them. Survival instinct, with no survival.

I felt stuck in a Sisyphean loop, writing the same press release over and over. Even more, I was tired of promoting other people's creations instead of creating something myself. I imagined myself on my deathbed, and I could hear my biggest regret: I never even tried to be a writer.

Maybe if she just lay on the bed for a while she would go to sleep and wake up remembering who she was. Or, maybe she would wake up and find herself on the train again, stuck in a loop like Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day, waking up in precisely the same circumstances, day after day, month after month. How can I remember an old movie but not my own name?    

Prayer was of little help when your executable was stuck in an infinite loop

Shoals of light-tipped rocks are topped with crowding gulls and oystercatchers, watched over by a wary old heron. An island splits the wide river apart, one stream looping towards us and round in a ragged, frothy curve. The other part is hidden by the grassy island, its rocky end stuck with stunted trees. Further downstream, the bank on our side dips down to become a broad beach of pebbles, behind which the river curves back in a powerful sweep, to continue its journey into the sun.

ANXIOUS CONTRACTIONS Life is movement. It’s dynamic and pulsating like a swift moving river. To be in a contented and happy state is to be in a state of flow where your thoughts and feelings follow a natural current and there is no inner friction or need to check in on your anxiety every five minutes. When you feel in flow, your body feels light and your mind becomes spontaneous and joyful. Anxiety and fear are the total opposite. They’re the contractions of life. When we get scared, we contract in fear. Our bodies become stiff and our minds become fearful and rigid. If we hold that contracted state, we eventually cut ourselves off from life. We lose flexibility. We lose our flow. We can think of this a bit like pulling a muscle. When a muscle is overused and tired, its cells run out of energy and fluid. This can lead to a sudden and forceful contraction, such as a cramp. This contraction is painful and scary as it comes without warning. In the same way, we can be living our lives with a lot of stress and exhaustion, similar to holding a muscle in an unusual position for too long. If we fail to notice and take care of this situation, we can experience an intense and sudden moment of anxiety or even panic. I call this an “anxious contraction,” and it can feel quite painful. Learning how to respond correctly to this anxious contraction is crucial and determines how quickly we release it. Anxious contractions happen to almost everyone at some point in their lives. We suddenly feel overwhelmed with anxiety as our body experiences all manner of intense sensations, such as a pounding heart or a tight chest or a dizzy sensation. Our anxiety level then is maybe an 8 or 9 out of 10. We recoil in fear and spiral into a downward loop of more fear and anxiety. Some might say they had a spontaneous panic attack while others might describe the feeling as being very “on edge.”   THE ANXIETY LOOP It’s at this point in time where people get split into those that develop an anxiety disorder and those that don’t. The real deciding factor is whether a person gets caught in the “anxiety loop” or not. The anxiety loop is a mental trap, a vicious cycle of fearing fear. Instead of ignoring anxious thoughts or bodily sensations, the person becomes acutely aware and paranoid of them. “What if I lose control and do something crazy?” “What if those sensations come back again while I’m in a meeting?” “What if it’s a sign of a serious health problem?” This trap is akin to quicksand. Our immediate response is to struggle hard to free ourselves, but it’s the wrong response. The more we struggle, the deeper we sink. Anxiety is such a simple but costly trap to fall into. All your additional worry and stress make the problem worse, fueling more anxiety and creating a vicious cycle or loop. It’s like spilling gasoline onto a bonfire: the more you fear the bodily sensations, the more intense they feel. I’ve seen so many carefree people go from feeling fine one day to becoming fearful of everyday situations simply because they had one bad panic attack and then got stuck in this anxious loop of fearing fear. But there is great hope. As strange as it sounds, the greatest obstacle to healing your anxiety is you. You’re the cure. Your body wants to heal your anxiety as much as you do.

Yoga is about opening ourselves to improvement and new ideas, rather than remaining stuck in the closed loops of deep subconscious patterns.

Birth is not the source and death is not the destination, We are stuck in endless loop.

When you’re stuck in a paralyzing thought loop of indecision, stop thinking and start doing. Make a move, no matter how tiny.

Our soul evolution becomes stuck on repeat when we prize the pathologies of human survival over our true spiritual destiny. Greed, selfishness and indulgent excess create a never-ending loop of self-inflicted misery that can never lead to any form of spiritual transcendence.

Many Cptsd survivors flounder in caustic judgmentalness, shuffling back and forth between pathologizing others [the toxic blame of the outer critic] and pathologizing themselves [the toxic shame of the inner critic]. They get stuck in endless loops of detailing the relational inadequacies of others, and then of themselves.

She drove to the Moonlite All-Nite. It was the same crowd as always, which is to say that there were many of the regulars, and also to say that certain people were always in the Moonlite All-Nite, always at the same booths, always working on plates of food that never seemed to go away. It's a sign of a good diner to have customers who are stuck in time. A well-known rule of eating is that if there are no time-loop customers, the place probably isn't worth even ordering a plate of fries.

healing requires moving inward with patience, honesty, and courage. if we do not address our accumulated subconscious patterns, they will simply remain there, always affecting how we think, speak, and act. our accumulated wounds and conditioning will restrict our flexibility and cause us to get stuck in a loop that continues repeating the past.

But why is it that it seems that it's already happened? Like it's happened thousands of times before, that it will always happen, like a piece of CCTV footage of the city, stuck on loop.

Is this hell, to be stuck in a continual loop of our greatest disappointments? [Richelle Bach's diary]

A system was groping toward a solution, but the solution required someone in it to be brave, and the system didn’t reward bravery. It was stuck in an infinite loop of first realizing that it was in need of courage and then remembering that courage didn’t pay. Charity didn’t think of it this way, but it was striking how often the system returned to her and very nearly sought her leadership, without ever formally acknowledging its need.

On its own, Moonrise Kingdom is a relatively harmless film. But for those of us who have been currently shocked by the “unadulterated white racism…splattered all over the media,” we might ask ourselves what has helped fuel our country’s wistfully manufactured “screen memory.” Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom is just one of countless contemporary films, works of literature, pieces of music, and lifestyle choices where wishing for innocent times means fetishizing an era when the nation was violently hostile to anyone different. Hollywood, an industry that shapes not only our national but global memories, has been the most reactionary cultural perpetrator of white nostalgia, stuck in a time loop and refusing to acknowledge that America’s racial demographic has radically changed since 1965. Movies are cast as if the country were still “protected” by a white supremacist law that guarantees that the only Americans seen are carefully curated European descendants.

Hair fall - The two words that make up for the shortest yet the scariest horror story that no woman would ever want to witness. However, many women suffer from it and get stuck in a loop of trying various solutions to take control of hair fall. It’s important to understand to what amount the hair fall is normal and to what is abnormal. We lose about 100 strands every day but anything more than that is excessive and alarming. HAIR FALL PROBLEM Hair is a big part of our identity and appearance. It adds confidence and resembles our style in ways more than one. When one loses hair, they lose self-esteem and self-confidence. Therefore, it is necessary to find an answer to the question of ‘How to control hair fall?’ Hair Fall Problem For most of us, a good hair day instantly puts us in a good mood. Such is the importance associated with the appearance of our hair. When even an occasional bad hair day can seriously put a damper on our mood, imagine how dreadful it’s to deal with your precious hair locks beginning to fall off. If you're looking for a basic brush that gets rid of tangles with no discomfort or pain, look no moreoverthan the Patented Venting hairbrush DoubleC. This universal brush is made to detangle wet hair of all kinds and forms with ease. Each brush is made with light, soft, and strong bristles that can painlessly get rid of despite the most serious knots. The points also highlight SofTips at the top that massage the scalp and help improve follicle stimulation. Patented Venting hairbrushes work best on women with long, thick hair for they're usually too large and unwieldy on short or thin hair. Most maximum paddle brushes are created for dry hair, as a regular detangler, and smoother. Hair Fall Problem Different Types of Hair Brush Our wide collection of Nuway4haiHair Brushes covers DoubleC Brush, C Brush, Travel C Brush, Traveler Brush, MagicSpell Combo Brush, and many more. Available in various forms and sizes, these hair brushes for women have two hair types namely. Specially created to serve, appearance, and smoothen up the hair of all dimensions and arrangements, all the hairbrushes come following three distinct ranges, that is, Basic, Premium, and Specialist. Nuway4hair Top Sellers to Choose From 1. Patented Venting hairbrush DoubleC - Purple 2. Patented Venting hairbrush DoubleC - Blue 3. DoubleC Brush- Black 4. Patented Venting hairbrush DoubleC PRO - Gray

Everyone has a time machine. Everyone is a time machine. It’s just that most people’s machines are broken. The strangest and hardest kind of time travel is the unaided kind. People get stuck, people get looped. People get trapped. But we are all time machines. We are all perfectly engineered time machines, technologically equipped to allow the inside user, the traveler riding inside each of us, to experience time travel, and loss, and understanding. We are universal time machines manufactured to the most exacting specifications possible. Every single one of us.

However, gas is a primary mechanism for preventing system attacks that generate an infinite loop of code. It is not feasible to identify malicious code of this kind before running it, a problem formally known in computer science as the halting problem. Suppose a car is on autopilot, stuck in full throttle with no driver. Gas acts as a limiting factor: the car will stop eventually when the gas tank empties. In the same way, gas fees secure the Ethereum blockchain by making such attacks cost-prohibitive. They incentivize highly efficient smart contract code since contracts that use fewer resources and reduce the probability of user failures have a much higher chance of being used and succeeding in the market.

When I realize that the temporal mind is the cause of my troubles, I’m tempted to try to transcend it. When I try to transcend it, though, I acknowledge it and then I get stuck in its feedback loop. When a child starts to outgrow her imaginary friend, she doesn’t argue with the friend about it. The temporal mind is not real, so it can’t be transcended.

Practically speaking, in what ways do I see people putting their foot on the brake? Split Energy – Fear of moving forward, fear of taking action, or fear of the consequences of having that desire. Negative Emotions – Especially the dominant ones, pulling you from alignment and preventing you from being a vibrational match to the desire. Impatience – Keeping you in the vibration and awareness of the absence (lack) of the desire. Desperation – Keeping you in lack energy, once again practicing the vibration of the absence of the desire. Stuck in a current reality loop – Constantly creating more of the same stuck-ness by observing more of the same current reality circumstances. Effort – Effort once again keeps you in the vibration of lack as you’re continually pushing against what you don’t want, which likely takes you out of alignment as well.

Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom is just one of countless contemporary films, works of literature, pieces of music, and lifestyle choices where wishing for innocent times means fetishizing an era when the nation was violently hostile to anyone different. Hollywood, an industry that shapes not only our national but global memories, has been the most reactionary cultural perpetrator of white nostalgia, stuck in a time loop and refusing to acknowledge that America’s racial demographic has radically changed since 1965. Movies are cast as if the country were still “protected” by a white supremacist law that guarantees that the only Americans seen are carefully curated European descendants.

If you created a human from scratch, like a science project, you would need some way to program it to behave in certain ways and not others, while making sure that it didn’t get stuck in a loop and do the same thing over and over again, like forget to eat and then die. Nature came up with a great way to do that: emotions.

Pulled in different directions, my life is shattered into pieces and bogged down in complicated details that eradicate time. There is no progress. Nothing is being completed. Words are put on hold. I keep telling myself and others, I’m writing, I’m writing. In fact, I am stuck fast in one place. It’s as if I’m watching the scenery behind me grow farther away as I look in a car’s rear-view mirror. New events, news, emotions are like an audio tape on a loop, being overwritten and reloaded. The world is changing too fast. What once blazed so bright has turned cold and cheerless and is now drastically changed. In contrast, writing is so slow. It lags behind, resulting in a colossal time difference.

Surrounding yourself with “yes people” when stuck in a Loop is a surefire way to develop narcissistic tendencies. You have created a close loop system and the only people around you feed your ego, not your soul’s desire to grow. You need to find a better mirror.

Sometimes a person's brain starts cycling. No matter what you do, the same thoughts just keep repeating, over and over. You get stuck in a loop, you can't see past it. You'll keep coming up with possibilities, to no end, because the answers you need. They're outside the loop. Distractions aren't just distractions. Sometimes they can break you out of the loop, and once you're out, once your brain stops cycling. You see the things you missed before

I usually struggle to answer many questions people ask because my mind is always in the future, while the questions they ask are always in the past, or at best, in the present. That is a very factual way of observing the spiritual level of someone. The "what job you have?" and "how much money do you make?" that people stuck in a present time loop obsessively ask is based on what they see, while the "where are you from?" and "what did you study?" comes from people stuck in the past, and with the idea that the past conditions the present, not your decisions. The first thinks matter controls life and the second that life is the result of randomity and chaos. Both represent the vast majority of the population and both are absolutely stupid. As they are too stupid to perceive the future, they call it dreaming, insanity or, at best, motivation and inspiration. They don't know what consciousness is, even when using this word. Thus, every change is for them like a spontaneous miracle, or a mistake in the system that shouldn't have occurred. They look at those who break their mental laws as criminals because when someone is too stupid, he perceives knowledge as a threat to his values. Jealousy and competition come precisely from this state of mind. These subhumans think like a character of a video game that is trapped in a world that never changes and in which they have no capacity to make effective decisions. When they are faced with a library or a religion that promotes wisdom, they close their eyes to escape or read about fantasies, because they are not mentally capable of processing reality.

The out-of-the-box California physicists beat their heads against this problem for years, but by the early 1980s, it became apparent that there is no way to send a signal via entanglement alone. For one thing, if you force one of a pair of entangled particles into a certain state, the entanglement with the other particle will be broken, so it will not “send” information about its state to its twin. You are limited to performing measurements of a particle’s uncertain value, which compels it to make up its mind about the (previously uncertain) state it is in. In that case, you can be sure its entangled twin will make the same choice, but then some additional information channel needs to be available to let your distant partner know what measurement you performed and what result you got. The latter part of the problem has an analogy in basic semantics. For a piece of information to be meaningful, it needs to be reliably paired with another piece of information that gives it context or serves as its cipher. If I say “yes” to my wife, it can only be meaningless noise, a random word, unless my utterance was produced in the context of a question, like “Are you going to the store later?” Without knowing exactly how the physicist on Earth measured her particle, Alice, and what result she got, the change in Alice’s entangled partner Bob four light years away in that lab orbiting Alpha Centauri cannot be meaningful, even if it is information. The Earth physicist needs to send some slower-than-light signal to inform her distant colleague about her measurement and its outcome … which defeats the whole purpose of using entanglement to carry a message.47 This is also the problem with the metaphor of the universe as a computer. No matter how much computation the universe can perform, its outputs can be little more than out-of-context yesses and nos, addressed to no one in particular. If there is no “outside” to the system, there is nothing to compare it to and no one to give all those bit flips meaning. In fact, it is a lot like the planetary supercomputer “Deep Thought” in Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: When, after millions of years of computation, it finally utters its output, “42,” no one knows what it means, because the question the computer had been programmed to answer has long been forgotten. We are now perhaps in a better position to understand how the behavior of atoms, photons, and subatomic particles could carry information about their future—tons of information—without any of it being meaningful to us, and why we would naturally (mis)construe it as randomness: It is noise to our ears, stuck as we are in the Now with no way of interpreting it. It is like the future constantly sending back strings of yesses and nos without us knowing the questions. We are only now realizing that there may indeed be words in all that noise—it’s not just gibberish. But how to decode them?

The out-of-the-box California physicists beat their heads against this problem for years, but by the early 1980s, it became apparent that there is no way to send a signal via entanglement alone. For one thing, if you force one of a pair of entangled particles into a certain state, the entanglement with the other particle will be broken, so it will not “send” information about its state to its twin. You are limited to performing measurements of a particle’s uncertain value, which compels it to make up its mind about the (previously uncertain) state it is in. In that case, you can be sure its entangled twin will make the same choice, but then some additional information channel needs to be available to let your distant partner know what measurement you performed and what result you got. The latter part of the problem has an analogy in basic semantics. For a piece of information to be meaningful, it needs to be reliably paired with another piece of information that gives it context or serves as its cipher. If I say “yes” to my wife, it can only be meaningless noise, a random word, unless my utterance was produced in the context of a question, like “Are you going to the store later?” Without knowing exactly how the physicist on Earth measured her particle, Alice, and what result she got, the change in Alice’s entangled partner Bob four light years away in that lab orbiting Alpha Centauri cannot be meaningful, even if it is information. The Earth physicist needs to send some slower-than-light signal to inform her distant colleague about her measurement and its outcome … which defeats the whole purpose of using entanglement to carry a message.47 This is also the problem with the metaphor of the universe as a computer. No matter how much computation the universe can perform, its outputs can be little more than out-of-context yesses and nos, addressed to no one in particular. If there is no “outside” to the system, there is nothing to compare it to and no one to give all those bit flips meaning. In fact, it is a lot like the planetary supercomputer “Deep Thought” in Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: When, after millions of years of computation, it finally utters its output, “42,” no one knows what it means, because the question the computer had been programmed to answer has long been forgotten. We are now perhaps in a better position to understand how the behavior of atoms, photons, and subatomic particles could carry information about their future—tons of information—without any of it being meaningful to us, and why we would naturally (mis)construe it as randomness: It is noise to our ears, stuck as we are in the Now with no way of interpreting it. It is like the future constantly sending back strings of yesses and nos without us knowing the questions.

When you keep accumulating unfinished business, you create multiple open loops that take up mental space. Feeling overwhelmed, your mind’s natural reaction is to shut down. As a result, you find yourself stuck.

the feelings felt too big and scary to handle, so she stuffed them away in order to carry on with her life—she was stuck in a loop. Her body became acclimated to the loop, making her feel more comfortable when avoiding her own deeper feelings rather than facing them.

But sometimes a person’s brain starts cycling. No matter what you do, the same thoughts just keep repeating, over and over. You get stuck in a loop, and when you’re inside that loop, you can’t see past it. You’ll keep coming up with the same possibilities, to no end, because the answers you need—they’re outside the loop.

As times get good, people become less focused and less committed. They stop having a bigger Future Self they’re driving toward. They get stuck in short-term dopamine loops. Their actions and behaviors lead to unnecessary bad times. The law of the harvest. You reap what you sow.

Terrible you. You who i wait for You You You Like a broken record stuck on loop.

Anyway, you get the idea. Bad people tend to make bad choices. You can't put it all on them, though. There's always good ol' circumstances. Things happen. Other things don't. Then one day, you find yourself painted into a corner. Surrounded by a fresh coat of bad choices. Sure, a lot of the job is chasing down criminals and putting them behind bars. But there's also finding the people stuck in those corners and trying to help them make the right choice.

I'm not letting you go into that room alone. Not if that thing wants to play.' 'I don't think we have a choice.' He squeezed her hard calluses rubbing against her own. 'You lead, I'll follow.' 'What if my presence would go unnoticed, but yours sets off a trap? We can't risk that.' His throat bobbed. 'I can't risk you.' The words slammed into her heart. 'I... You can. You have to.' Before he could further object, she said, 'You are training me to be a warrior. Yet you'd keep me from danger? How is that any better than a caged animal?' The words must have stuck something in him. 'All right.' Cassian unbuckled the great sword he'd carried for her. He looped it around her middle, its weight considerable. She adjusted her balance. 'We try it your way. And at the first sign of something wrong, we leave.

Replaying that last fight when everything ended, so she lived for eternity in that horrible moment, stuck in the loop. Mom died and she took everything with her. How could she do that to Red? Mom died on her knees and it was all Red's fault, and Red was going to die on her knees and it was all Mom's fault. Blame enough to go around, doubling and doubling until there was to much and Red couldn't bear it anymore. take those feelings away, blow them out of her head.

the development of sophisticated algorithms has its pros and cons. On the plus side, it becomes easier to discover content you actually want to watch. On the negative side, it makes it easier to become stuck in a never-ending loop, watching one video after the other. In a sense, instead of using the internet to find information or communicate with loved ones, the internet has become the one using you. It does so by hijacking your focus and making you unproductive and, as a result, restless.

Unexpressed, women ruminate, loop over the same thing multiple times, and further lose their confidence by keeping themselves stuck in the past instead of moving forward and taking action. Divya, 37, says, ‘At work I am on guard, I think too much. I go crazy speculating about things. If someone says something, I think, what did they say, what do they mean? It may be a casual comment, but I keep going deeper and deeper, stuck in my head and discussing the same thing over and over again. Maybe I said something wrong. What did I say? Both my mother and husband tell me, you are sitting here, but you are not with us, you are thinking.

To simply let your past self dominate your present-day thoughts, words, and actions is to miss out on fully living your life. Doing this means you are stuck in a loop where you are repeatedly replaying the past and strengthening patterns that don’t necessarily enhance your happiness. Reinforcing the past keeps you stagnant, which may be easy in the moment because the past is familiar, but ultimately does not serve you well. The river of life wants to move you toward embracing change.

Two things must happen to partake in this mindset of non-judging so that we can start dealing with stress better and gain greater well-being. Don't get angry at the little weirdo doing its thing. Be like, "whatever I don’t mind." Continue to bring your attention back to the song that you play. Feel the sound vibration. When you meditate, all kinds of thoughts and experiences will come up. Patience: understanding that growth happens in its own time. The mantra therapy session will clear your head and make you happier and brighter and relaxed and free of anxieties–these results are pretty instant. Yet, the meditation's long-term objectives including self-realization, liberation from fate, jumping out of the reincarnation loop... those don't happen overnight. We have a lot of karmic baggage from who knows how many lifetimes of gazillions. Don't overemphasize development. Be rest assured it will happen. Beginner’s mind: a mind that is willing to see everything as it is for the first time. The cornerstone of mindfulness practice lets us catch the "extraordinariness of the ordinary" of our perceptions of the present-moment.  This mentality encourages us to "be able to see everything as if it were the first time" Critical for practicing and participating in organized meditation practices, such as body scan, yoga, meditation, this sort of open-mindedness to new experiences "helps us to be receptive to new ideas and keeps us from getting stuck in the rut of our own wisdom, which often thinks it knows more than it does." They have no assumptions resulting from past experiences with the mind of the beginner.  This reminds us that every single moment, by definition, has unique possibilities.  The subconscious of the novice is working as de-clutterer.  With it, we can see, witness, hear, and learn of our universe's beings, places, and stuff, as they really are and in the moment.  Our ideas, feelings and desires no longer filter or place a curtain on our everyday lives. Trust – No Imitations, Live Own Life, and Honor Own Feelings, Intuitions, Wisdom, and Goodness An integral part of the training and practice of mindfulness includes the development of a simple trust in yourself and emotions.  Guidance comes from within you— your own instincts, your own strength.  The foundation involves looking inward rather than outward.  Your mindset here indicates that you value your own fundamental intelligence and goodness.  Your thoughts are honored.  An analogy here may be linked to backing off a stretch during yoga practice.  The mindfulness ethic "accentuates being your own human and knowing what it means to be yourself" Being your own individual means you are not mimicking someone else.

I’m still not sure what she’s trying to accomplish here. Revenge, sure, but what happens after? If you try to get back at everything that’s wronged you, you’ll get stuck in a never-ending loop of fighting the world, a world that can’t be fought. The universe is not the enemy here. It’s not out to get us. And even if it is, well . . . good luck and wake me up after the war.

That the past feels more distant as we physically move forwards is important, because a major risk factor for depression is the tendency to ruminate, getting stuck in a loop of over-analyzing things you’ve said, done or experienced in the past while getting steadily more despondent. Physically moving forwards can help prevent this by making the bad stuff seem further behind you.

Heartache has the most annoying sound. It’s an echo. An echo of heartbeats stuck on a loop.

Our past is a movie I played in a loop round and round, we’re stuck in a pattern

Starts and stops. Doing something brave, getting something right, then messing up, burning all the progress to the ground. I can’t seem to get it straight. I’m stuck in a loop. Always back to the beginning.

The problem with PTSD is that the body and mind work on overdrive to prevent the same fear or pain from happening again. It’s like repeatedly touching a hot stove to remind yourself that it hurts. It’s stuck in a feedback loop.

Next time you’re stuck in the self-editing-doom-loop before you even reach a significant milestone, just remember that it takes the unorganized parts to get to the organized part.

My whole life has been like that. Starts and stops. Doing something brave, getting something right, then messing up, burning all the progress to the ground. I can't seem to get it straight. I'm stuck in a loop. Always back to the beginning.

Yo momma's so skinny she can use a bracelet as a hula hoop. Yo momma's so thin that if she stands in front of a wall she looks like a crack. Yo momma's so skinny she can't sideways when taking a selfie. Yo momma's so skinny she played the part of the staff in the story of Moses. Yo momma's so skinny she hid behind a stick during a game of hide and seek. Yo momma's so skinny, her pants have one belt loop. Yo momma's so skinny when she is taking a shower, she has to run around to get wet. Yo momma's legs so skinny, she looks like a blow pop. Yo momma's so skinny she can hang glide off a dorito. Yo momma's so skinny I put a dime on her head and people mistook her for a Nail. Yo momma's so skinny, she can grate cheese on her ribs. Yo momma's so skinny, when I slapped her I got a paper cut! Yo momma's so skinny, if she had a sesame seed on her head, she'd look like a push pin. Yo momma's so skinny the Olsen Twins called and said they want their eating disorder back. Yo momma's so skinny, if she turned sideways and stuck out her tongue, she would look like a zipper. Yo momma's so skinny, she can see out the peephole with both eyes. Yo momma's so skinny, she could dive through a fence.

My advice is: Don't let anyone step all over you, but don't hang on to resentment, either. With the practice of mindfulness, you will learn to allow space for your emotions to settle down. Resentment will naturally fade away on its own if your mind is relaxed.   So if you find yourself stuck in a loop, thinking again and again about some personal drama, take a mindful break. Don't try to force your mind away from its feelings, or repress any lingering emotions. Allow them to exist as they are—but don't let them hook you, either.   Particularly helpful for letting go of bad blood is to try to consider matters from a different perspective. Mindfulness breeds an attitude of self-honesty, which is the courage to look at yourself without the usual stories in which you play the hero or the victim. With this attitude, hold a mirror to yourself and ask yourself: Are you really completely innocent, or do you share at least some of the blame?   Also try considering things from the other person's perspective. Whatever they did, how did it make sense to do it from their perspective, in their situation? Put yourself in their shoes, think about the context of their actions, and maybe it will all seem more understandable to you. Forgiveness is a virtue that will benefit you more than anyone else.   Don't get stuck on hurt feelings or hurt pride. That way lies failure and bitterness. Instead, with an attitude of kindness to yourself and others, shake it off and continue on your merry way.