Sync Quotes

I don't believe in soul mates, not exactly. I think it's ridiculous to think there's only one person out there for us. What if your 'soul mate' lives in Zimbabwe? What if he dies young? I also think 'two souls becoming one' is ridiculous. You need to hold on to yourself. But I do believe in souls being in sync, souls that mirror each other.

We tend to use prayer as a last resort, but God wants it to be our first line of defense. We pray when there's nothing else we can do, but God wants us to pray before we do anything at all. Most of us would prefer, however, to spend our time doing something that will get immediate results. We don't want to wait for God to resolve matters in His good time because His idea of 'good time' is seldom in sync with ours.

Lord, bless the works of my hands. Let my name be associated with good things. Shield me from persecution and false accusations; guard me against greed, discouragement, and sabotage. I welcome opportunities to grow and mature. Let my actions be in sync with Your will. In Jesus’s name, amen.

Sometimes I feel as though there are two me's, one coasting directly on top of the other: the superficial me, who nods when she's supposed to nod and says what she's supposed to say, and some other, deeper part, the part that worries and dreams... Most of the time they move along in sync and I hardly notice the split, but sometimes it feels as though I'm two whole different people and I could rip apart at any second.

You know that place between nightmares and dreams? The place where tomorrows never come and yesterdays don't hurt anymore? The place where your heart beats in sync with mine? The place where time doesn't exist, and it's easy to breathe? I want to live there with you.

So, what now? We’re friends?" Yeah. If friends could be in love, but not together. In sync, but out of touch. Willing to die for each other, but unable to trust.

I’m attracted to people. To the words they speak, to the actions they take, to their full-bodied mannerisms and soulful gaits. I am attracted to people. To impassioned hearts that beat out of sync, the ones that skip a measure, heard in hushed places and violent spaces—I am attracted to people.

My feelings are not God. God is God. My feelings do not define truth. God’s word defines truth. My feelings are echoes and responses to what my mind perceives. And sometimes - many times - my feelings are out of sync with the truth. When that happens - and it happens every day in some measure - I try not to bend the truth to justify my imperfect feelings, but rather, I plead with God: Purify my perceptions of your truth and transform my feelings so that they are in sync with the truth.

Sex is a powerful intent to create: the creation of pleasure, creation of love, and ultimately the creation of life. It connects and syncs two beings emotionally, physically, and mentally and is one of the strongest expressions of love that exists in this World.

Life is warped. I'm just in sync.

I was suddenly struck by how dissimilar we were. It occurred to me that if Grace and I were objects, she would be an elaborate digital clock, synced up with the World Clock in London with technical perfection, and I’d be a snow globe – shaken memories in a glass ball.

Time was something that moved in fits and starts for Magnus, dissipating like mist or dragging like chains, but when Alec was here, Magnus’s time seemed to fall into an easy rhythm with Alec’s, like two heartbeats falling into sync.

When we feel out of sync with the priorities of real life and overwhelmed by impossible dreams, we must retrace the essential fragments of our storyline hidden in the shadow of our past. They can guide our further thoughts, actions, and behaviors, ("Camera obscura of the mind")

Everything needs to work in sync and to the best of its ability for a business to prosper.

Sometimes it's just timing, Logan. Two hearts can beat as one, even if they aren't synced. Maybe that's what it was with you two. Maybe you just need to find the right rhythm, the right timing. Maybe now's that time for you guys

And that’s how it was. We walked the same way, no more running, no more fear, no more secrets. Just me and her, in sync and together, even though we came from two separate sides of the spectrum. I was her perfect future and she was my perfect love and that was how every good love song should end. So it ends....at least for now.

Coincidences "Syncs" or some call Serendipities are signs of God making corrections to your chosen spiritual path,.......Omens are signals to turn back ,..as your not paying attention to your "Coincidences.

Love moves in sync with the cadence of forgiveness, sings in tune with the melody of acceptance, and dances in rhythm with the music of companionship.

I’m waiting for you,” he murmured, smiling a slow, familiar grin that seemed to hint at a secret between them. And for the first time, Michele and the mirror reflection were in sync as they both whispered, “Me too.

With a dreamy sigh, I prop my chin on my fists. “Who knew that one day I’d be on a date with the lead singer from a famous boy band?” He scowls. “Infinite Gray was not a boy band.” “Were there any girls in the band?” “No.” “That makes you a boy band.” “It made us an all-male rock group.” I bite back my smile. He’s so cute when he’s irritated. “Right, like ’N Sync.” He winces. “Not like ’N Sync. Jesus, watch where you hurl those things. Words hurt, Maggie.

I really felt like I understood him. And I think he understood me. You know, things like that, that kind of connection with a person, it is sort of like playing with fire. Because it feels good, to be understood. You feel in sync with a person, you feel like you're on a level that no one else is.

Keefe closed the distance between them. And then… everything was new. The soft press of his lips against hers. The way their breath seemed to fall perfectly into sync while her heart and her brain screamed, FINALLY! Some tiny part of her had always wondered if kissing could really be as great as everyone claimed. But kissing Keefe was So. Much. Better. He

Are you kidding?” Sophie and Fitz asked, once again in perfect unison. Elwin chuckled. “I’m sure if Keefe were here, he’d have a lot to say about how in sync you two are getting.” “Just more proof that Fitzphie’s the best,” Fitz told him, with a wink that shouldn’t have made Sophie’s heart flutter. But hearts could be foolish things.

You know that place in between nightmares and dreams? The place where tomorrows never come and yesterdays don’t hurt anymore? The place where your heart beats in sync with mine? The place where time doesn’t exist, and it’s easy to breathe? I want to live there with you. –TC

Keefe closed the distance between them. And then... everything was new. The soft press of his lips against hers. The way their breath seemed to fall perfectly into sync as her heart and brain screamed FINALLY! Some tiny part of her had always wondered if kissing could really be as great as everyone claimed. But kissing Keefe was So. Much. Better. He was the one to finally pull away, leaning back to study her in the shimmering light. "You're okay, right? No regrets?" She grinned. "Absolutely none." His relieved smile was the sweetest thing she'd ever seen- but it faded a little as he leaned his forehead against hers. "I don't want to mess this up," he whispered. "Please don't let me mess this up." "I won't," she promised, tilting her chin up to steal another quick kiss.

I listened for the voice I knew so well, the one I always heard at the beginning. Good girl, Macy! You're doing great! You know the first steps are the hardest part! They were. Sometimes I felt so out of sync, it was all could do not to quit after a few strides. But I kept on, as I did now. I had to, to get to the next part, this part, where I finally caught up with Wes, my shadow aligning itself with his, an dhe turned to look at me, pushing his hair our of his eyes.

Niko and Myla could be on opposite sides of an ocean and they'd breathe in sync

If your goals aren’t synced with the substance of your heart, then achieving them won’t matter much.

Most days it feels like I am watching a movie where the sound isn't in sync, the speed is all wrong. Either I'm moving too quickly and the world is dripping along, or the world is moving too quickly, cosmic, and I'm oozing like a slug barely able to pull my own weight. It's best if I keep moving because if I stopped and stood still people would see me shaking.

Time was something that moved in fits and starts for Magnus, dissipating like mist or like chains, but when Alec was there, Magnus's time seemed to fall into an easy rhythm with Alec's, like two heartbeats falling into sync.

She nodded, her gaze locked on his mouth. He could tell she wanted it on hers, and for once, they were perfectly in sync. Having no idea what he was doing, he kissed her again, another no-holds-barred, tongues tangling, rock-his-fucking-world kiss that left him staggered and her apparently unable to speak as they tore apart for air and waited for the world to right itself. Didn’t happen.

Amazing, isn’t it? That hearts that once beat in sync could be so perfectly and forever separated. That’s the whole process of life, I think: a long, slow process of separation. It can be cured only by the reabsorption into everything, into the single heartbeat of time.

When what you value and dream about doesn’t match the life you are living, you have pain.

Haley and I would talk for hours about which member of 'N Sync we'd want to marry. After long deliberation, the answer was always J. C. Chasez. Joey Fatone's last name was going to be “Fat One” no matter how great he was, and even though they didn't know at their age that Lance Bass was gay outright, they sensed he'd make a better good friend and confidante. As for Justin Timberlake, well, JT was the coolest and hottest, but too flashy, so we couldn't trust him to be faithful. J. C. Chasez was the smart compromise.

Core passions and aspirations should be consistent and in sync.

You're too big for another heart beat, unable to sync with my capricious heart beating.

They are not working in sync. Working on the same thing at the same time is not as effective as working on the same thing a the same time with the same strategy.

I need you, Hudson. I need you to touch me and bring me back into sync. I’m so far out of tune with you and it hurts—like part of me is missing.

I mean, I WANT to be in love. That’s something I’ve always wanted to feel. What’s it like, to be in love and have that other person love you, too? Is it another level of friendship? Another level of trust, vulnerability, always telling that person your thoughts and feelings, sharing every little thing with them so that you’re so in sync that it’s like you’re one person? Is it like every time you see them, your heart goes wild, and you can’t think because you’re so effing happy? Is it like whenever they’re away, you feel like you’re missing a piece of yourself? Does knowing someone loves you fill you with confidence, because you know you’re the type of person who deserves love? And what’s it like to break up with someone you love? What’s it like to decide to try again, and let yourself fall in love with someone else? To decide to take that chance you might get hurt, but still want to try? I don’t know. But I want to.

My heart occasionally stuttered, out of sync, out of power—almost as if it recognised death and wanted to give in. I forced it to do the bare essentials, keeping me from a grave. I was in the coffin ready to be buried, but I wasn’t a corpse just yet.

Think about how many of us have wondered why we don't fit, why our faith doesn't stabilize us, why we seem so out of sync with most of the world. Genuine faith is the isolating force in our lives that creates tension wherever we go. To put it another way, faith is the unbalancing force in our lives that is the fruit of God's disturbing presence.

To me it proves that life and time are not in sync. It’s as if time was all wrong and the wife’s life was lived on the wrong bank of the river or, worse yet, on two banks, with neither being the right one. None of us may want to claim to live life in two parallel lanes but all have many lives, one tucked beneath or right alongside the other. Some lives wait their turn because they haven’t been lived at all, while others die before they’ve lived out their time, and some are waiting to be relived because they haven’t been lived enough. Basically, we don’t know how to think of time, because time doesn’t really understand time the way we do, because time couldn’t care less what we think of time, because time is just a wobbly, unreliable metaphor for how we think about life. Because ultimately it isn’t time that is wrong for us, or we for time. It may be life itself that is wrong.

My heart occasionally stuttered, out of sync, out of power—almost as if it recognised death and wanted to give in. I forced it to do the bare essentials, keeping me from a grave. I was in the coffin ready to be buried, but I wasn’t a corpse just yet.

Resonance happens when your mind and heart come into sync.

How two people can be so completely in sync and so completely clueless about each other at the same time is absolutely beyond my ability to comprehend.

But i do believe in souls being in sync, souls that mirror each other.

A good idea is a network. A specific constellation of neurons—thousands of them—fire in sync with each other for the first time in your brain, and an idea pops into your consciousness.

The moon rose above the canopy and a dreamy mist swirled around our knees as we danced, fingers entwined and hearts in sync with the universe; just a prince and his princess, a boy and a girl, learning to love in a beautiful world.

You can think about this decoupling as the converse of neurons that fire together wire together. Here, neurons out of sync fail to link.

The most powerful creative state to bring your desires into reality is by bring the conscious and subconscious into unison then keeping your heart and mind in perfect sync.

A writer needs a partner who can act as fuel to his artistic mind, yet has the great ability to sober him up and help him be in sync with the non-artistic part of his soul.

need instead to find people who are in sync with our beat and form a more perfect union with those who hear the same rhythm! It is time for us to find the thing we were created to do, the people we were meant to affect, and the power that comes from alignment with purpose. Having had unique opportunities to sit at the table

Love and lust aren’t always in sync. You can love someone, but not be ready to have sex with them. Or you can meet someone random and end up jumping in all the way. There’s nothing wrong with either. You’ve waited this long, so wait until you’re really feeling it. If he’s The One, he’ll understand.

Instinctively, and against my better judgement, I pull her closer to me. She rests her head on my shoulder as if it is the most natural thing in all the worlds to do. But it's a mistake. I become aware of her heart beating, her lungs expanding with every breath, her skin beneath my touch. She moves, and her head slides to my chest. Shifting into sleep, she wraps her arm around my waist. Now I'm aware of my heart beating too, slowly, in sync with hers. I know I should push her away. But if my life depended on it, right now, that would be impossible.

…the primary trait of young adult literature is that the author’s emphasis is on plot and character and not on his own brilliance. And because few people talk about whether a young adult work is commercial or literary; the two are still in sync, and everyone’s benefitting.

I worry about Lily, sluggish as she is. Will she see Carter's truths? Will he tell her? God knows she won't hear them. She's moving too fast to hear anyone's music but her own. She's so set, but I know he could make her settled. I tried to sync their noise into music, but they both pushed back. Too obdurate to be oblong. Silly Lily. How can she resist someone who brings gum and sounds like math?

at a life stage when everyone else is moving forward; the thirties are a decade of building the foundation of the future. He’s out of sync with his peers, and in his own way, in his own grief, he probably feels completely alone.

In our modern lives we have strayed so far from living in sync with nature that integrating natural health measures into our lives can paradoxically feel unnatural.

The more we uncover who we are not and discard our disempowering unconscious behaviours, the more closely we can be in sync with our true, authentic selves.

Activate your success chakras within the fabric of 114 chakras. Cultivate your success experiences, get in sync with the cosmos, and join the dance of infinite possibilities.

All I have to do is say the word and no record label will ever touch Bad Luck. You'll be out of business faster than the fat one from N'Sync.

Some things were simply irrefutable and inescapable. The stars, the moon, and the way my heart would always beat in sync with hers.

When you find your path in life and are in sync with your primary missions in this lifetime, everything else just falls into place.

Be out of sync with your times for just one day, and you will see how much eternity you contain within you. (Letters on Life)

...people who struggle against tyranny are more psychologically healthy than those who are docile and simply conform to current ways of thinking...there is much evidence that some of the most creative people in history were driven individuals who were terribly unhappy and out of sync with their social context. Creativity itself is a form of deviant behavior that requires individuals to break from usual assumptions and understandings in developing entirely new perspectives and approaches.

Oona stopped trusting the mirror years ago. After all it told only a sliver of the story. The mirror exposed time’s passage, yes, but eclipsed her heart’s true mileage. Each year the body was hers but her mind was out of sync with her reflection.

I am aware that I fly in the face of polite convention in doing this. The times when we fall out of sync with everyday life remain taboo. We’re not raised to recognise wintering or to acknowledge its inevitability. Instead, we tend to see it as a humiliation, something that should be hidden from view lest we shock the world too greatly. We put on a brave public face and grieve privately; we pretend not to see other people’s pain. We treat each wintering as an embarrassing anomaly that should be hidden or ignored. This means we’ve made a secret of an entirely ordinary process and have thereby given those who endure it a pariah status, forcing them to drop out of everyday life in order to conceal their failure. Yet we do this at a great cost. Wintering brings about some of the most profound and insightful moments of our human experience, and wisdom resides in those who have wintered.

What’s it like, to be in love and have that other person love you, too? Is it another level of friendship? Another level of trust, vulnerability, always telling that person your thoughts and feelings, sharing every little thing with them so that you’re so in sync that it’s like you’re one person? Is it like every time you see them, your heart goes wild, and you can’t think because you’re so effing happy? Is it like whenever they’re away, you feel like you’re missing a piece of yourself? Does knowing someone loves you fill you with confidence, because you know you’re the type of person who deserves love?

I don't believe in soul mates, not exactly. I think it's ridiculous to think there's only one person out there for us. What if your "soul mate" lives in Zimbabwe? What if he dies young? I also think "two souls becoming one" is ridiculous. You need to hold onto yourself. But I do believe in souls being in sync, souls that mirror each other.

As Steven Strogatz says in his book, Sync, “For reasons we don’t yet understand, the tendency to synchronize is one of the most pervasive drives in the universe, extending from atoms to animals, from people to planets.

Time was something that moved in fits and starts for Magnus, dissipating like mist or dragging like chains, but when Alec was here, Magnus's time seemed to fall into an easy rhythm with Alec's, like two heartbeats falling into sync. He felt anchored by Alec, and his whole self felt restless and mutinous when Alec was not there, because he knew how different it would be when Alec was there, how the tumultuous world would quiet at the sound of Alec's voice.

Maybe we need to stop choosing people purely by résumés and rationales that have led us headfirst into disappointment. We need instead to find people who are in sync with our beat and form a more perfect union with those who hear the same rhythm! It is time for us to find the thing we were created to do, the people we were meant to affect, and the power that comes from alignment with purpose. Having had unique opportunities to sit at the table with champions in

During the 1980s, a remote viewing project called Stargate was done at Fort Meade. It used binaural beat tones, transmitted through earphones, that altered brain waves. A hemi-sync that device played two different frequencies into each ear was found to produce altered states of consciousness. Perhaps this technology was derived from these experiments done in the 1960s on MKULTRA subjects.

Ranger is one of the few civilians in Trenton with a permit to carry concealed. He owns office buildings in Boston, has a daughter in Florida by a failed marriage, has worked worldwide as a mercenary, and has a moral code that isn’t entirely in sync with our legal system. I have no idea who the heck he is . . . but I like him.

Our souls danced in magic, but reality wore thin. Two lovers who kept getting it wrong - Our timing always out of sync. A telepathy between our hearts, but our human keeps getting it wrong. A new melody but the same old song. Apart, but together - on the road we travel on. We'll never be out of touch our souls are too interwined - but we'll be out of reach , walking paths of a different kind, promised to find eachother first next life.

When you savor life with your senses, every moment feels rich and meaningful. Think about how satisfying it feels to inhale the fresh scent of mown grass or slowly run your hand across a velvet pillow. These sensations are physically pleasurable, but they also provide opportunities for you to sync with your internal wisdom to help you create your ideal life.

We need instead to find people who are in sync with our beat and form a more perfect union with those who hear the same rhythm! It is time for us to find the thing we were created to do, the people we were meant to affect, and the power that comes from alignment with purpose.

When two sides are accusing each other, it's very difficult to figure out the reality. Because reality is different for everyone. The difference is not just in mind. Things actually look different to different people. Two or more people can align or sync their realities if they trust each other. When trust is gone, their realities again become different. This is Samsara.

Holacracy includes the following elements: • a constitution, which sets out the “rules of the game” and redistributes authority • a new way to structure an organization and define people’s roles and spheres of authority within it • a unique decision-making process for updating those roles and authorities • a meeting process for keeping teams in sync and getting work done together

When was the last time you were so completely engaged and absorbed by your work that all of a sudden you looked up and said, "I can't believe it-five hours couldn't have passed!" This is what psychologists are calling "flow." When you achieve a state of flow, you feel a sensation of confidence, of being in control, of being engaged and focused. Flow is achieved when your work is performed in sync with your aptitudes and values.

I think most people live in a fiction. I’m no exception. Think of it in terms of a car’s transmission. It’s like a transmission that stands between you and the harsh realities of life. You take the raw power from outside and use gears to adjust it so everything’s all nicely in sync. That’s how you keep your fragile body intact. Does this make any sense?

Pat Parker’s poem “For the White Person Who Wants to Know How to Be My Friend” begins with two pieces of advice: “The first thing you do is to forget that i’m Black. / Second, you must never forget that i’m Black.” After building a story of sameness and years of feeling in sync about almost everything, Ann had grasped the first rule but neglected the second.

Time, in our experience, is linear, but in truth time is also looped. It is like a piece of yarn, in which each section of the strand twists and winds around every other - a complicated and complex knot, in which one part cannot be viewed out of context from the others. Everything touches everything else. Everything affects everything else. Each loop, each bend, each twist interact with each other. It is all connected, and it is all one. But every once in a while, there are experiences that slice all the other moments apart - stark, singular things that mark the difference between Before and After. These moments are singular, separate from the knot. Separate even from the thread. They can't be tugged at or loosened. They cannot be wound into something lovely or intricate or delicate. They do not interact seamlessly with the fabric of a life. .They are of another substance entirely. Unstuck in time, and out of sync with a life's patterns and processes.

It's all a matter of perception. What one person deems to be important may be just as equally unimportant to another. What one deems to be right may seem very wrong to someone else. Your moral compass and values may not always be totally in sync with others you meet. In the end it's all just your perception of how you choose to live your life and this may not always win you friends. In fact it may gain you some enemies. Live your life how you choose to and if people don't like the way you do things then disagree if you must, but be nice & be respectful and then if you must, move on and leave it all behind you. It's your life after all and only you can live it. Choose your path and set your compass then start walking.

I learned to run toward the pain, not away from it. There is nothing like that feeling: pushing, your legs like two powerhouses, your cadence a seemingly effortless rhythm in sync with your mind, every emotional pain you ever experienced washed away by your power to endure. A personal thought I often have after a great run: The pain of running relieves the pain of living.

I'm tired of this shit,' I say. I don't know why I say it. Maybe because I'm tried of driving, tired of the road stretching before me endlessly, Michael always at the opposite end of it, no matter how far I go, how far I drive. Maybe because part of me wanted her to leap for me, to smear orange vomit over the front of my shirt as her little tan body sought mine, always sought mine, our hearts separated by the thin cages of our ribs, exhaling and inhaling, our blood in sync. Maybe because I want her to burrow in to me for succor instead of her brother. Maybe because Jojo doesn't even look at me, all his attention on the body in his arms, the little person he's trying to soothe, and my attention is everywhere. Even now, my devotion: inconstant.

Bad things can happen quickly, but good things aren’t built in a day, and as they unfold, they will be out of sync with the news cycle. The peace researcher John Galtung pointed out that if a newspaper came out once every fifty years, it would not report half a century of celebrity gossip and political scandals. It would report momentous global changes such as the increase in life expectancy.10

Until very recently, most mental-health practitioners believed that personality disorders were incurable because unlike mood disorders, such as depression and anxiety, personality disorders consist of long-standing, pervasive patterns of behavior that are very much a part of one’s personality. In other words, personality disorders are ego-syntonic, which means the behaviors seem in sync with the person’s self-concept; as a result, people with these disorders believe that others are creating the problems in their lives. Mood disorders, on the other hand, are ego-dystonic, which means the people suffering from them find them distressing. They don’t like being depressed or anxious or needing to flick the lights on and off ten times before leaving the house. They know something’s off with them.

If you choose the right people with the right values and remain in sync with them, you will play beautiful jazz together. If you choose the wrong people, you will all go over the waterfall together. Steve Jobs, who everyone thought was the secret to Apple’s success, said, “The secret to my success is that we’ve gone to exceptional lengths to hire the best people in the world.” I explain this concept in the next chapter, Remember That the WHO Is More Important than the WHAT. Anyone who runs a successful organization will tell you the same.

Indoors, the evening gets you’d say festive, with Maxine riding Horst for the better part of an hour, not that it’s anybody’s business of course, and coming a number of times, at last fiercely in sync with Horst, not long after which, owing to some extrasensory cue from the television, whose mute feature has been engaged, they surface from their post-orgy daze in time to witness Derek Jeter’s clutch tenth-inning homer and another trademark Yankee win. “Yes!” Horst beginning to scream in delighted disbelief. “And it better be Keanu Reeves in the biopic!

The little things we value as mundane or pithy usually turn into the big things in hindsight…an “I love you” called out as the door closes, a walk around the same block with the same friend, Grandma’s chocolate cake every time you visit…the brush of skin on skin as two loves pause to breath in sync. Life isn’t made up of miles, but memories. Cherish them while you’re making them, not just after you can’t make those memories anymore.

Emma,” he said, teary. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I always have. You and I . . . we fit like the gears of a machine, like interlocking pieces that join together effortlessly, turning in tandem, perfectly in sync. “I believe in us, sweetheart. I believe that I am good for you and that I am a better man because of you. And I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. So, Emma Blair, here it is: Will you marry me?”.

Sometimes kindness and love could be just as difficult as violence to witness. Sometimes, when you were on the outside looking in, watching two in-sync people was a scene from a horror film, the kind of thing that you wanted to look away from, forget about, banish the memory of - especially when you were about to go to bed for the day and facing hours upon hours of being alone in the dark. The knowledge that she would never have that special love with anyone was-

Here is what we do as worshipers of a Santa Claus God: We embrace the conviction that God is an infinitely generous source of all good, but conveniently forget that we were created in God’s image to be in some significant sense like God – not like God in God’s divinity, for we are human and not divine, but like God “in true righteous ness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:24), like God in loving enemies (Matthew 5:44). To live well as a human being is to live in sync with who God is and how God acts.

When we strike a balance between the challenge of an activity and our skill at performing it, when the rhythm of the work itself feels in sync with our pulse, when we know that what we're doing matters, we can get totally absorbed in our task. That is happiness. The life coach Martha Beck asks new potential clients, "Is there anything you do regularly that makes you forget what time it is?" That forgetting -- that pure absorption -- is what the psychologist Mihaly Csikzentmihalyi calls "flow" or optimal experience. In an interview with Wired magazine, he described flow as "being completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you're using your skills to the utmost." In a typical day that teeters between anxiety and boredom, flow experiences are those flashes of intense living -- bright against the dull. These optimal experiences can happen when we're engaged in work paid and unpaid, in sports, in music, in art. The researchers Maria Allison and Margaret Duncan have studied the role of flow in women's lives and looked at factors that contributed to what they call "antiflow." Antiflow was associated with repetitive household tasks, repetitive tasks at work, unchallenging tasks, and work we see as meaningless. But there's an element of chaos when it comes to flow. Even if we're doing meaningful and challenging work, that sense of total absoprtion can elude us. We might get completely and beautifully lost in something today, and, try as we might to re-create the same conditions tomorrow, our task might jsut feel like, well, work. In A Life of One's Own, Marion Milner described her effort to re-create teh conditions of her own recorded moments of happiness, saying, "Often when I felt certain that I had discovered the little mental act which produced the change I walked on air, exulting that I had found the key to my garden of delight and could slip through the door whenever I wished. But most often when I came again the place seemed different, the door overgrown with thorns and my key stuck in the lock. It was as if the first time I had said 'abracadabra' the door had opened, but the next time I must use a different word. (123-124).

Without the Dreamscape, we can’t sleep. My parents remind me all the time about stories their parents told them, of how things were in the Manic Age. The time before our bodies were upgraded to sync with the amazing invention called the Dreamscape. Thirty-eight years ago, people actually had to fall asleep on their own and, sometimes, they would toss and turn for hours. My grandparents said when sleep, in its mercy, did come, it often brought with it horrible images I’ve heard people used to call nightmares.

I’m tired of only being able to talk to you on the phone, Alyssa...”Silence. “I need to see you...” His voice was strained.  “I need to fuck you...”“Thoreau...” “No, listen to me.” His tone was a warning. “I need to be buried deep inside of you, feeling your pussy throb around my cock as you scream my name—my real name.”A hand trailed down past my stomach and between my thighs, and my fingers began to strum my clit. Slow at first, then faster, faster with every sound of his heavy breaths in my ear. “I’ve been very patient with you...” His voice trailed off. “Don’t you think?”“No...”“I have,” he said. “I’m tired of imagining how wet your pussy can get, how loudly you’ll scream when I suck your tits as you ride me...How hard I’ll pull your hair when I bend you over my desk and fuck you until you can’t breathe...Tired.”I shut my eyes, letting my other hand squeeze my breast, letting my thumb pinch my nipple.“I’m giving you two weeks to come to your fucking senses...”“What?”“Two weeks,” he whispered. “That’s when you and I are going to meet face to face, and I’m going to claim every inch of you.”“I can’t...I can’t agree to...that.”“You will.” His breathing was now in sync with mine. “And the second you do, you’re going to invite me over and I’m going to remind you of everything you’ve teased me with over the past six months.

Azami shuddered, her lips trembling, and then she consumed him as aggressively and as honestly as he did her. He felt her inside of his mind, running like lava through his veins, wrapping around his heart and filling his very bones with her. “This is madness,” she whispered against his mouth when they both came up for air. Her dark eyes searched his face. Sam didn’t have any answers. He knew she was right. They might be on opposite sides in a deadly war, yet he couldn’t let her go. She fit with him. The world around them was out of sync, not the two of them. “I know,” he admitted as he rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. “What are we going to do now?” A slow smile curved his mouth. “I really expected you to kill me so I wouldn’t have to figure that part out.” She blinked, her black fan of thick silky lashes fluttering as wildly as her heart. She moistened her lips. “You’re not getting off that easily.” Sam watched the dawning smile, the way her soft mouth curved and the warmth spread to her dark eyes with absolute fascination. “Well. Damn.

Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing attaches a form to a file. Ann Williams turns a page. Anand Singh turns two pages at once by mistake and turns one back which makes a slightly different sound. David Cusk turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages of two separate files at the same time. Ken Wax turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Chris Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ann Williams sniffs slightly and turns a page. Meredith Rand does something to a cuticle. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Kenneth ‘Type of Thing’ Hindle detaches a Memo 402-C(1) from a file. ‘Second-Knuckle’ Bob McKenzie looks up briefly while turning a page. David Cusk turns a page. A yawn proceeds across one Chalk’s row by unconscious influence. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Rotes Group Room 2 hushed and brightly lit, half a football field in length. Howard Cardwell shifts slightly in his chair and turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. traces his jaw’s outline with his ring finger. Ed Shackleford turns a page. Elpidia Carter turns a page. Ken Wax attaches a Memo 20 to a file. Anand Singh turns a page. Jay Landauer and Ann Williams turn a page almost precisely in sync although they are in different rows and cannot see each other. Boris Kratz bobs with a slight Hassidic motion as he crosschecks a page with a column of figures. Ken Wax turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. Ambient room temperature 80° F. Sandra Pounder makes a minute adjustment to a file so that the page she is looking at is at a slightly different angle to her. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Each Tingle’s two-tiered hemisphere of boxes. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Six wigglers per Chalk, four Chalks per Team, six Teams per group. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Plus administration and support. Bob McKenzie turns a page. Anand Singh turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Ken Wax turns a page. Chris ‘The Maestro’ Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Boris Kratz turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages. Anand Singh turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown uncrosses his legs and turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. The slow squeak of the cart boy’s cart at the back of the room. Ken Wax places a file on top of the stack in the Cart-Out box to his upper right. Jay Landauer turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page and then folds over the page of a computer printout that’s lined up next to the original file he just turned a page of. Ken Wax turns a page. Bob Mc-Kenzie turns a page. Ellis Ross turns a page. Joe ‘The Bastard’ Biron-Maint turns a page. Ed Shackleford opens a drawer and takes a moment to select just the right paperclip. Olive Borden turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Paul Howe turns a page and then sniffs circumspectly at the green rubber sock on his pinkie’s tip. Olive Borden turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Devils are actually angels. Elpidia Carter and Harriet Candelaria reach up to their Cart-In boxes at exactly the same time. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. ‘Type of Thing’ Ken Hindle looks up a routing code. Some with their chin in their hand. Robert Atkins turns a page even as he’s crosschecking something on that page. Ann Williams turns a page. Ed Shackleford searches a file for a supporting document. Joe Biron-Maint turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page.

I’m tired of only being able to talk to you on the phone, Alyssa...” Silence. “I need to see you...” His voice was strained.  “I need to fuck you...” “Thoreau...” “No, listen to me.” His tone was a warning. “I need to be buried deep inside of you, feeling your pussy throb around my cock as you scream my name—my real name.” A hand trailed down past my stomach and between my thighs, and my fingers began to strum my clit. Slow at first, then faster, faster with every sound of his heavy breaths in my ear. “I’ve been very patient with you...” His voice trailed off. “Don’t you think?” “No...” “I have,” he said. “I’m tired of imagining how wet your pussy can get, how loudly you’ll scream when I suck your tits as you ride me...How hard I’ll pull your hair when I bend you over my desk and fuck you until you can’t breathe...Tired.” I shut my eyes, letting my other hand squeeze my breast, letting my thumb pinch my nipple. “I’m giving you two weeks to come to your fucking senses...” “What?” “Two weeks,” he whispered. “That’s when you and I are going to meet face to face, and I’m going to claim every inch of you.” “I can’t...I can’t agree to...that.” “You will.” His breathing was now in sync with mine. “And the second you do, you’re going to invite me over and I’m going to remind you of everything you’ve teased me with over the past six months.