#it taught me early to not rely on my intelligence and book-learning only

[clouds-of-wings]

Well, Sheldon has already learned one thing from his trip to Heidelberg before he has even left: unlike Sam, he doesn't actually need to make an effort to advance his career because he's already got the most important job skill: being personal friends with a well-connected older person in his field. With whom he became close mainly because the friend used to date his grandma. This show is too realistic occasionally.

To go off on a tangent from this, it makes me want to tear my hair out sometimes how Sheldon's development into a well-rounded individual is constantly sabotaged, sometimes by good intentions or "coddling" as he put it recently, sometimes by bullying or - most often - by lack of effort and interest from those around him. It would be VERY good for him if he had problems he couldn't solve with just his intellect (like having to actually apply for stuff like a peasant without being treated like a celebrity) and hobbies that he can't get good at by thinking really hard. He should have stuck with the violin. Or the acting club. He shouldn't have been fired from his museum "job" for making some rather harmless mistakes. He should have continued to take non-science college classes. I can't blame him for this, he's a child who's responding to what his environment rewards. The adults around him should encourage his development more. Sheldon is curious about the world, even outside of science, even the areas of life he's bad at. He could learn and develop so much if he weren't locked in this "nerd box" the whole time.

At least Mary tries to get him to have a social life, but things just never go well and the people he's around are too easy to look down on. Except for Paige, and with her he can't handle the fact that she's on the same level as him precisely because he thinks his intelligence is all that makes him special, it's what makes him him, it's the only part of him that's valued. I often feel like the writers actually undo his character development once an episode ends because they need him to be this one-sidedly intellectual person for comedic value. But I would love for him to develop other sides of himself.

I mean, come on. Child Sheldon has religious visions! He has perfect pitch and a talent for dancing! He has the craziest synaesthesia! He remembers his time in his mom's womb! Adult Sheldon is wicked funny, casually saves Lennard's life at one point, and gets positively psychedelic even on rather mild drugs. I still remember the time he dressed up as the Doppler Effect. Which, yes, is nerdy, but it also shows a sense of humor and outside-the-box thinking that isn't limited to his work. He's actually a super interesting person regardless of his IQ, and if only the development of any part of him except his intellect had been consistently encouraged when he was a child, he'd probably have a much easier time in the world. I haven't watched the later seasons of TBBT except for some clips and it seems like he actually catches up a bit thanks to Amy and his friends, but things could have been much easier and more fun for him and everyone else.

[redemn]

wanting to talk today a little bit about how i envision the way knowledge is held in arthur's mind .   namely ,   that arthur tends toward casual ,   hands-on approaches far better than the pencil-on-paper type of learning .   in my mind ,   dutch and hosea only ever taught arthur to learn how to read and write using newspapers and books and making him repeat it in writing and in speaking as he went ,   just to get it ingrained in his mind quick as they could .   he was also encouraged to keep a journal and write in it , which he does for his entire life . especially since he was already almost in his mid-teens by the time they started teaching him ,   which meant he needed a lot of repetition .   they also learned early on that arthur tends to pick up things very quickly when he's actually set to work doing those things ,   instead of being told .   so with shooting ,   riding ,   robbing ,   horse and camp care and the like ,   they showed him a few times and let him make his own mistakes and fix his own mistakes ,   with just a little bit of counsel ,   so that he could know for the next time what to do if things went wrong .

this also bleeds into arthur's emotional intelligence ,   which is made quite clear in the game he actually possess a firm grasp of .   he's not the type of man who much likes to hear about the 'scientific' aspects about what makes a person who they are .   he's been around people since he was born and he'd started learning how to read people the day lyle yanked him up by the arm and he'd realised he needed to know the right thing to do and say around that man .   since then ,   he's been analysing and observing people in silence ,   and he's gotten relatively good at knowing when someone feels good or bad based on the way they carry themselves and speak .   this extends to animals as well .   though he can be empathetic towards those he cares about ,   this is also a tool he utilises when it comes to threatening or demanding things from other people as effectively as possible .   knowing which emotion to appeal to in order to get the best results is paramount in an outlaw's survival .   he knows how to adapt his behaviour to certain societal contexts .

for calculative learning ,   like mathematics ,   arthur seriously refused to work with the numbers on paper .   so the two relied on instinctual training in order to steer him in the right direction :   first ,   hard drilling of addition ,   subtraction ,   multiplication ,   and division ,   then relying on those to throw him into a ballpark calculation .   so ,   for example ,   if arthur was given $50 ,   told that each meal was worth $3 ,   how many meals could he get with that much money ?   $10 nets about 3 meals ,   five of those is 15 ,   give or take one or two .   so that's how arthur tends to make quick guesstimations on how long it takes to get a certain amount of miles ,   approximately how much medicine to take ,   how many rations can be used in a particular time frame ,   etc .   really goes hand-in-hand with all his wilderness knowledge .   he was taught how to survive .   not how to be a scholar .

on a silly note :   i like to think that dutch and hosea taught arthur how many feet were in a mile by telling him the answer a few times ,   then asking him in random intervals just randomly every day or two ,   then every few days ,   then once a week until he got it down without having to think .     "  how many feet in a mile ,   arthur ?  "      "  ugh .   five thousand ,   two hundred eighty ,   hosea .   🙄  "     he still gets tested in his adulthood sometimes because it's funny. " you kiddin' me ? i'm thirty ! "

i just see arthur as not really having concrete concepts in his mind .   he thinks more indirectly whenever he's doing things ,   which can come off as unintelligent to anyone who actually studied properly in a school .   give him a math problem and he will not be able to write it down on paper .   he'll just think about it for a while and toss out what he feels is around the right answer .   give him a buck wild horse and he'll have the creature calmed and eating out of the palm of his hand in under an hour .

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 9 of 26

Title: The Priory of the Orange Tree (2019) 

Author: Samantha Shannon

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Third-Person, Female Protagonists, LGBT Protagonists

Rating: 10/10

Date Began: 3/12/2021

Date Finished: 4/12/2021

1000 years ago, the world burned. Draconic creatures terrorized the land, led by a horrific evil known as the Nameless One. But then something happened that sent the monsters into a seemingly endless sleep, and the world has rebuilt in the centuries since.

But the Draconic evil begins to stir in its slumber, and the divided nations of the world have little chance to stop it. Eadaz is a mage from the Priory of the Orange Tree, sent to spy on the northern queendom of Inys. Legend has it that as long as the royal line continues, the world will be free from the Nameless One. While it's a long shot, Ead guards the young Queen Sabran closely to preserve the peace. However, as she and the queen grow closer to each other, Ead has to decide where her loyalties lie. Meanwhile, her close friend Loth is secretly sent into exile by the royal spymaster due to his controversial friendship with the queen. Supposedly sent as an ambassador to the newly Draconic kingdom of Yscalin, he soon finds himself out of his depth, entrusted with a deadly secret.

In the isolationist Eastern country of Seiiki, Tané wants nothing more than to become a dragon rider. The dragons of the East are old, wise, and revered as gods-- eternally opposed to the Draconic legions of the West. However, the night before the choosing ceremony that will decide her fate, she breaks isolation and discovers a young man from the West on the shore. Rather than report him to the authorities, she and her friend smuggle him to the island of Orisima, the only place Westerners are permitted. Niclays Roos, an old man exiled to Orisima by Queen Sabran, soon finds himself caught in the conflict. He believes if he finds an elixir for eternal life, he will finally be able to return home. When he's forced to shelter the forbidden Westerner, Niclays' entire way of life is upended-- but he is soon granted the opportunity to escape his exile.  

'My grandmother once said that when a wolf comes to the village, a shepherd looks first to her own flock. The wolf bloods his teeth on other sheep, and the shepherd knows it will one day come for hers, but she clings to the hope that she might be able to keep him out. Until the wolf is at her door.’

Full review, minor spoilers, and content warnings under the cut.

Content warnings for the book:  Some sexual content. Blood, gore, violence, traumatic injury, suicide, and death. Torture and execution. Miscarriage. Body horror (kinda). Drug use.

Clocking in at just over 800 pages, The Priory of the Orange Tree is a long, detailed story. I tend to label things Epic Fantasy when they have world-changing stakes. While Priory certainly fits that criteria, it's the first fantasy book I've read in a while that really does feel like an epic. It stars a huge cast of interesting characters from many walks of life, all of whom find themselves caught up in a world-spanning conflict. It captures the sense of a standalone, grand adventure that shorter fantasy novels of today don't typically reach.

With a book this long, it would be easy to ramble on forever about everything I liked. However, I'm going to try to keep it short and simple.

One of my favorite things about this story was the sheer depth of the world. Lots of people compare this to The Lord of the Rings not for its tropes, but the attention to detail regarding the countries, politics, history, religion, and so on. I'm inclined to agree with this assessment. The world felt alive and multi-dimensional. I could pinpoint many parallels to our own mythologies and histories-- particularly drawn from Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. There's also a clear love of language in the story via its beautiful prose. I like to think I know English pretty well, but this book taught me quite a few new words! Might fuck around and call sunsets "rutilant" from now on.

I thought all four leads were interesting. Ead is kinda the "main" lead of the novel, although Tané overtakes her in the latter half. Everyone had different personalities and backstories, and I genuinely enjoyed all of their arcs. Niclays in particular would be an easy character to hate; of the four, he's the most selfish and does some real questionable shit. At the same time, it's hard not to sympathize with him. He's a sad, unjustly exiled elder who's lost the one man he cared about, and finds himself in a desperate situation. These types of characters are interesting to me; a glimpse of what anyone can become given the wrong circumstances and cruel treatment.

With stories like this, one of the most satisfying payoffs is how the different characters and stories come together. It was interesting to see how their paths converged and diverged over time, and ultimately how everything tied together in the end. I also appreciated the character relationships. I liked that Loth's close friendships with both Sabran and Ead were intimate yet platonic without some awkward love triangle.

From some story specifics... I'm a sucker for the bodyguard romance trope, and seeing it done with women in a mainstream novel gave me life. I thought the romance between Ead and Sabran was really sweet; I didn't see how it would work early on since Sabran was a little insufferable, but she had hidden depths (oh god, another weakness of mine). I also really liked the idea of traditional European and Asian dragons being diametrically opposed, and that being a core theme of the story. Intelligent and/or talking animals are another thing I adore in spec fic, so I dug characters like Aralaq. Kalyba's ongoing relevance and gradual exposition was also neat; I love minor world details that turn out super relevant later.

Also, the entire final battle/ending sequence was SO good. Really creative and action packed. Action scenes often blend together for me (and can be logistical nightmares) but Priory's climactic ending was just awesome. I don't want to spoil specifics, but it reminded me of many beloved epic battles in modern fantasy. Avatar the Last Airbender, How To Train Your Dragon, and Pirates of the Caribbean all came to mind. 

My main criticism with Priory is that often, the plot relied on convenient coincidence to get the characters out of a jam or otherwise advance the story. I can excuse a minor contrivance or two for the sake of a smooth story, and the scope of this book is big enough that it'd be hard to avoid. But some are nuts. For example, Loth gets rescued from certain death by a giant ichneumon while traveling through the mountains. We later learn the ichneumon is Aralaq, a friend of Ead's, and he just happened to be in the middle of nowhere, far from his home, and stumbled upon Loth. Loth, who ALSO happens to be Ead's best friend... which Aralaq presumably doesn't know?

Another is the MAJOR SPOILER regarding the rising jewel's location. I didn't hate the twist itself, but there was so little build up to it. I wish there were more early hints to justify it, because with setup it would be a pretty cool development. These things didn't ruin my enjoyment of the story, but the borderline deus ex machina (machinae? machinas?) did take me out of it a bit. It’s possible I missed stuff so I’ll give some benefit of the doubt. 

Overall, though, The Priory of the Orange Tree is a fun, world-spanning adventure. Like any long book, it's an investment to get into. However, if you're looking for a standalone, feminist fantasy epic, this is certainly a good place to start.  

[lurkingleighbee]

Thrawn Ascendancy: Chaos Rising (Chapter One - Chapter Four)

Heavy spoilers below! 

Chapter One

Space outside Chiss borders is known as “the Chaos”

Space is very difficult to navigate due to (according to legends within the text itself) a “series of chained supernova explosions” that sent a massive, chaotic chain reaction throughout the region, resulting “in the constantly changing hyperlanes,” hence the need for sky-walkers. 

The Chaos also holds “dangers... hidden worlds and tyrants who sought conquest and destruction.” Dun dun dun! 

General Ba’kif seems to be on the same level, intelligence wise, as Thrawn. It is a good pairing thus far. Zahn gets to show Thrawn being super smart and observant without it being too much. 

Excellent summation of Thrawn:

loves chasing down enigmas and working through puzzles

sees connection where others can’t/couldn’t

higher-ups don’t want him anywhere near them 

only sees the surface situation and misses the political subtleties

I like this Samakro guy. No-nonsense and straight to the point. 

Thrawn really is the only Chiss, really the only person, who talks the way he does. Making him stick out all the more. Who taught him to talk like that? Where did he learn how to talk like that? I need some more background on lil’ Thrawn! 

“subsequent death of Syndic Mitth’ras’safis and the loss of valuable alien technology.” 

don’t do that to us Zahn, damn 

Outbound Flight slowly coming back into canon, piece by painful piece (Thrass!! Lorana! C’baoth!?... we will have to wait and see)

Memories II

So, my first impression of sky-walkers is that they are like children caught in a messy, contentious divorce. At least in the case of Ali’astov, she is used like a pawn between fighting parties and kind of neglected until deemed useful again. 

world-building: sky-walkers abilities typically last until they are age 14

Thrawn is genuinely nice to kids/tweens and connects with them so well. That is really sweet. 

Al’iastov comes across as pessimistic and sulky but to be fair to her - she was taken from her home at a young age, lost her Third Sight ability, and is now being shunted to a new family. That is a lot for a 13-year-old. 

Chapter Two

Thalias joined the Mitth family because one person from that family showed her a bit of kindness. Yikes. 

Her early life suggests it was unstable at best - got punted around to different caregivers. 

And does Thalias have a crush on Thrawn or just a strong attachment? 

Good to see there is plenty of bureaucratic bullshit within the Ascendancy (I say, sarcastically) on top of the politics. 

who alerted Thurfian he needed to help Thalias? I have to assume they have systems in place for detecting this, but he came in at just the right time. 

So it had been two decades since Thalias “had to even read a military timetable”... so is she 33-ish? 

Thalias finds the sky-walker playing some sort of “tap-click game on her questis.”

Is that some sort of Chiss version of Angry Birds or Candy Crush?

Does this mean there are app/game developers within the Chiss workforce? Interesting... 

Che’ri - means “beloved,” “cherished,” “darling”, “sweetheart” in French

nearly 10 years old

odd comment: “sky-walkers tended to be on the short side.” What does that mean? 

had eight caregivers before Thalias shows up?! Dang. 

cute quote: “I am not supposed to talk like that about people.”

Yeah, just not in public! 

nut-paste sandwiches are now canon!

Thrawn must have been a cat in a past life because:

he is sneaky

he is quiet 

he has a hard time relating to actual people with few exceptions 

he needs constant care because if not, he will inevitably mess something up 

Ar’alani: Thrawn, what in the flying fuck do you think you’re doing?! Get back into formation!

Thrawn: reads the message, does not respond

this jerkwad. I love him. And poor Ar’alani, she has been dealing with him for years, if not decades! 

Ar’alani: Mind keeping me in the loop going forward?

Thrawn: mmmm... maybe. 

Thrawn: “I’ve had the protocols concerning preemptive attacks carefully and specifically laid out for me.”

Yeah, I bet you have. 

Samakro thoughts: “Just because the protocols had been laid out for him didn’t necessarily mean he’d listen.”

Protect Samakro.  

Memories III

Irizi’ar’alani - her full name. :) Had to give it up when she joined the military. 

Mitth family cannot be bothered to show up for their adopted son’s hearing. Eesh. 

Ar’alani has literally been saving Thrawn’s neck since their school days.

Ar’alani is good at reading a room, calling for backup when needed, and condensing/explaining information. No wonder she is a good leader. No wonder Thrawn relies on her! 

Chapter Three

Senior Captain Wutroow: “bogus. Totally bogus. Bogus to the ninth, factorial.”

I love her already

She and Ar’alani make a solid team. Ar’alani comes across more by-the-book and stately, whereas Wutroow seems a bit more loose and crafty. 

I am really enjoying getting to learn more about Ar’alani. Zahn wrote her so well. 

Again, the Mitth family letting Thrawn out to dry. Why adopt him then?! You can’t even help out your adopted son!?

Thrawn is known for being that fucking guy who loves art all the way up to the higher echelons of power. He is an outcast and the butt of a joke to his own kind. It’s funny and a bit sad (but mostly funny). 

Chapter Four

It makes me so uncomfortable that sky-walkers are told/encouraged to push on and on and on some more, despite the heavy toll on them. Reminds me a bit of America’s grind till you die approach to work and of the Soviet Union’s hard push to make everyone perform at impossibly high standards. These are little kids and tweens. Cut them some slack. 

Zahn really nailed down the sad/pathetic narcissism kids/tweens have at that age - everything is her fault, everything happens because of her. 

Get the girl some therapy, STAT. 

A bit weird that a 10-year-old girl needs a bath drawn for her, but maybe the overload spell is akin to a really bad hangover or the flu. You cannot function properly and need some help. 

Samakro got some sass. 

the chapter ending is so gold:

“You think there’ll be combat at the other end of this trip?”

“Thrawn’s there,” Ar’alani reminded her. “So, yes, I’d say that’s pretty much guaranteed.” 

Wince Count

I have noticed Zahn really likes to use the word wince, so I’m going to count all the times the word is used throughout this novel for sh*ts and giggles. Thus far: 5 cumulative uses of the word. 

[almightygodismydependence-blog]

The Best Education (Part 1)

Liu Ying

I am 50 years old this year and from a young age I lived in a very remote and backward poor mountain village. There were eight people in my family, my maternal grandparents at the top and four brothers and sisters at the bottom, with only one person, my father, earning a wage in the production team. My family was so poor that we did not even have enough polenta and corn bread to eat. I was extremely jealous when I saw others eating steamed buns and thought: When will I be able to eat steamed buns? When will I ever not be hungry? My grandmother often encouraged me saying: “If you want to live a good life, to eat well and be dressed well, you must study hard! You can only excel if you have knowledge and culture and later you will be able to go and live in the city and will not need to lead such a life with your face to the ground and your back to the sky.” My grandmother’s words were deeply engraved in my heart. I was determined to study hard and change my destiny by relying on knowledge.

But contrary to expectations, the year I was 12 years old, I suffered from stomach problems due to long-term malnutrition and could not go to school, so I had no choice but to drop out and return home and go to work in the production team, with the adults. Miserable and tired, I could only wipe the tears and continue working. I had not rid myself of destiny’s arrangements and was still leading a life of face to the ground and back to the sky. I was very unwilling to submit to this and thought: Wait until I’m married and have children and I will certainly put them through their education. I must not let my children suffer the same hardships as me.

After I got married, I gave birth to a daughter. As soon as my daughter was born, I thought: Only knowledge can change one’s fate and one can only live a good life by possessing knowledge. My wish has not been fulfilled in this life. This time I must educate my daughter well and let her have a future. I heard other people say that if one wishes one’s children to have a future, one has to start from when they are young. Formative education is very important. I thought this really made sense, so when my child started to talk, I started to teach her to count, read and memorize Tang poetry. Seeing my child study so well, extremely intelligent and able to learn anything I taught her after several times at a very young age, I felt so happy in my heart and thought: My child is so clever and born to study, she will certainly have a good future! Even if I surrender my last resources, I will raise my child to be talented and let her leave this poor mountain village and achieve the desires I never achieved. When my daughter was just starting to understand things, I told her: “‘The worth of other pursuits is small, the study of books excels them all’; ‘Knowledge can change your fate.’ You must study hard and fight! You must not be like your mother, working a lifetime in a poor mountain village, living such a hard and tiring life.” My daughter, only half understandingly blinked and looked at me and nodded her head. From then onward, no matter how hard and tiring it was for me going out to work, every day when I returned home, I would persist with accompanying my child studying. My child was also very competitive and her academic grades were always among the best. One time, my child was appraised as a “three good” student (good in study, attitude and health) and I was invited to attend the parent-teacher conference. Seeing my daughter standing on the stage holding an award, I felt especially proud. At this moment, the teacher said: “The reason why classmate Siqi can be appraised as a ‘three good’ student is inseparable from her own hard work. However, the most important thing is the cultivation and education by her parents. In this regard, her mother does very well! We should learn from her …” Parents in succession looked at me admiringly and I felt cheerful inside and could not help but think: I just need to continue educating her like this and my child will certainly have good prospects in the future and will certainly make my dreams come true.

As my child gradually got older, her cultural knowledge increased. I wanted to help her but felt powerless because I had only Grade Five level of education. Regardless, I did not relax my daughter’s education. Seeing other parents finding cram schools for their children to improve their academic performance, I thought: I must not delay my child’s future. Even if I surrender my last resources or have to borrow money, I will pay for her to go to cram school. She cannot fall behind. Because of the pressure to study, my child wanted to play for a while after returning home from school and relax, but every time I saw her like this, I would educate her: “‘If you are lazy in your prime, you’ll be sorry in old age.’ If you do not study hard now, what will you do when you get older? Do you want to live your life with your back to the sky and your face to the ground like me? If you do not study hard, what future will you have?” From then onward, I watched her once she had finished school. If she hadn’t finished her homework, she wasn’t allowed to play. Accordingly, my child studied from early to late, always sleeping little. Seeing her like this I felt sorry for her. But then I thought: If people do not exert themselves, then there will be no return. Who on this earth can accomplish things and succeed without working hard for it? Did our forefathers not tie their hair to the house beam and jab their thigh with a needle to keep them awake in order to learn? If you want to have a future, then what’s a little hardship? Thinking thus far, I did not worry anymore and what I demanded of my child got even stricter. But gradually, my child became less obedient. When I forced her, she would still obey and study, but when I left, she started to play. To begin with, I could reason with her to persuade her, but later on, not only did she not listen, but she also blamed me for being that I was long-winded and said that I did not love her and asked me not to force her. When I heard her say this, I felt very heart-broken and sad. Flustered and exasperated, I beat her. It made me so angry that I cried and thought to myself: Knowledge can change one’s destiny. What can you do if you do not study hard? If you are like me being suppressed for a lifetime in this poor mountain village, is this life not finished with? What future is there? If I do not care for you now, is that not hurting you? Why do you not understand my painstaking care?

Under my series of compulsory education, my child’s academic grades improved. But as she got older, she became more and more rebellious, not as obedient and sensible as before. She did not tell me what was on her mind, or what was happening at school. The distance between us increased. If I wanted to tell her something, she always blamed me for being long-winded and gave me the cold shoulder, with a look of impatience. She even contemptuously said to me: “What can I say to you? If I said anything, you wouldn’t understand!” “Don’t say it! It’s annoying! I do not want to hear what you have to say!” Sometimes she would rather pretend to read in the room than talk to me. I felt very sad and disappointed to see the way my child was now and couldn’t figure anything out. I had worried my heart to pieces for my child’s future, but she did not understand me at all. I do not know how many tears I cried over this.

Later, I was fortunate in accepting Almighty God’s last days’ work. One day, I saw in God’s words: “Everyone starts planning as soon as they have children: I want my child to receive what kind of education, attend what university, and then find a good job, and have a stable footing and status in society. That is, the first thing to have in life is knowledge, an academic degree, and then one will have status and power in society. That way, they will have living capital throughout their lives and power in the world, making it easy for them to survive and make a steady living. They won’t have to worry about food, clothing and shelter in the future. So when you have children, you will start to make plans for them. Some see their children have musical talents, so they make them learn the piano, violin, and so forth. Some see their children have literary talent, so they make them read more books, write novels, write biographies. Some even go find celebrities to nurture their children, striving to make their children follow the path they have laid out for them. … People all hope that their children can be successful. Everyone hopes their children can go to a famous university, then take up advanced studies, earn a degree, and afterward stand out among others and gain a firm foothold in society. People all have this viewpoint and all want their children to pursue higher education because of the saying: ‘The worth of other pursuits is small, the study of books excels them all.’ Furthermore, competition in this modern society is especially intense. If they don’t have a university degree or have a firm foothold in society, making a living becomes a problem in the future. This is everybody’s thinking and point of view. That is, what you learn and what kind of educational background you can achieve will decide your livelihood, your future. In other words, people intend to rely on this thing to survive throughout life, and they see it as especially important. That’s why everyone sees receiving a high-level education and getting into a top university as the number one most important thing for their children. In reality, these things and education and knowledge accepted by people, these contents and ideas, all go against God and the truth, and are loathed by God and condemned by God. What is mankind’s point of view? They will not be able to survive and have a stable footing in this society and the world if they don’t have such things, and they will be inferior, poor, and base people. That is why, if someone doesn’t have knowledge, is uncultured, or does not have a high level of education in your eyes, you will despise them, look down on them, show contempt for them, and not take them seriously. If you let your children do this and nurture your children to do these things, your point of view and your motive are not right in the first place. If you nurture your children to study and receive an education, you will surely choose the professions and industries that are more lacking in people, because your aim is to give your children a good future and for them to have stable jobs, families and prospects throughout their lives. But did you think about, after they accept such education, how many toxins and how many of Satan’s ideas and theories will be instilled in them?” (“Knowing Yourself Requires Knowing Your Deep-rooted Thoughts and Views” in Records of Christ’s Talks). In the face of God’s words, I felt overwhelmed; what God had said described me! Over these years, was I not living by Satan’s poisons of, “The worth of other pursuits is small, the study of books excels them all”? In order to change my child’s destiny through knowledge, when my daughter was very young, I emphasized her formative education. When my daughter had just started to understand, I taught her Satan’s philosophies, such as, “The worth of other pursuits is small, the study of books excels them all.” After my daughter went to school, I more seriously supervised and regulated her studies and closely observed her academic performance…. Was everything that I did not to make my daughter successful, so that people may look up to her? It turns out that this was all Satan’s trick to fool people. I was obviously already living under Satan’s dark influence, living such a hard and tiring life, yet still thinking that people should pursue such things to live. Only today did I see that if people do not have the truth then to live in this world, they are so pitiful and can only be deceived and fooled by Satan! In order to let my child have good prospects for her future, I had put in so much effort, but not only did my child not study hard, on the contrary she got more and more fed up of studying and even became antagonistic and distant toward me because of my compulsory education. I also lived under endless suffering because of this. Now I finally understand that all this suffering was caused by Satan’s corruption and that my living by Satan’s thinking, point of view and laws of survival brought my daughter and me so much hurt and suffering.

Recommended : 4 Principles on How to Be Closer to God

[gerasc0ph0bic]

So Here It Is...

This is actually my third draft of the first chapter of my book, “38″. You may see that I have taken current events and exaggerated them, blending them into a fictional future where xenophobia, racism, and sexism has taken control of the United States. I wrote this before Trump was elected or was even running for office. But when I heard what he was saying and saw the effects of it, I edited the book to reflect what was happening. I am still tweaking it, but I would love if people commented and shared. 

Chapter 1 - Memorial Day 2067

Three taps on the door.

Disoriented, I turn to look at the clock, the numbers slowly coming into focus. 6:40. It could only be one person. Tired and sore, I fumble around for the remote and turn on the audio feed. My mouth is dry and my voice cracks as I speak, which only adds to my peeved mood, “It is too early for this 35. Not today.”

“Nice try, 38. You are not getting out of this one. It’ll just be a couple minutes and then you can continue to roll around in bed and wallow in self-pity.” Even though I can’t see him, his face appears easily in my mind complete with his smiling brown eyes and condescending smirk.  

“Fine. Give me a minute to get a robe on.”  

“Tick tock, 38.” I grab my robe from my closet and braced myself for the horror of the day. So many mixed emotions race through my mind. How can a day that should be joyful bring so much sadness?

I unlock the door and 35 walks through the door. Suddenly I am in his arms, his hand rubbing my back. “Happy birthday, Faye.” I pull him inside and slam the door.

“Shut up, Jake, before someone hears you. You are not supposed to know my name, let alone my birthday.”

“It’s 6:45 in the morning. No one is awake, and we have a few moments together before the ceremony. So can we please take advantage of this instead of fighting?” He kisses me gently on the lips.

“Ok, fine.” I give in, and let my body mold with his, as if it is in its natural state, and I finally allow myself to relax.  

That’s when the memories hit me like a landmine, unexpected and unavoidable. No matter how much I try to push them back, they rush to my mind. The lights, the sound of guns firing endlessly, the Canadian soldiers beckoning us to come forward, unable to do anything but wave. The feeling of being helpless, the pain, the loss, force themselves forward in my head.  

Shocked and overwhelmed by my own mind, I push Jake away and collapse onto my bed. No matter how much I try, the tears don’t stop and I start shaking as pictures of my past flood my thoughts. Ten years have passed since I lost my parents, but the pain never numbed. We are taught to use our pain. It gives us strength to fight. I learned to push the pain away, deep into my mind, only letting it release when I needed the adrenaline. However, on days like this, the memories fight back, and if I let my guard down, they win.  

“You can get through this, Faye. I’ve seen you fight this before, and today shouldn’t be any different.” Even when he tries to be strong, I can hear the worry in his voice. We've been together too long for him to hide it. I look up at him, still standing by the door. He didn't even bother getting ready for the day. He is wearing the same white t-shirt and gray sweat pants as the night before. I try to smile, but the feeling of being happy makes me cry even more. How could I be happy when there has been so much loss?

“It’s memorial day, Jake. How could you forget something like that?”  

                                                        ***

 

The Corruption began when President Shepherd was elected in 2032. He had dreams of a new and glorious country where the traditional values of what he called the Golden Age of America could return. He dreamed of a country where education and jobs abounded, where the people could be protected from the evils of the rest of the world. He wanted to build a wall, far more superior than even the Great Wall of China, that would encircle not only the US Mexico border, but the entire country. He wanted a country where education was no longer inferior to its neighbors. He wanted to make America great again.  

His arousing speeches seemed to spark a renewed patriotism in the American people. They rallied together in support of Shepherd. Although charismatic, Shepherd was not as intelligent as other presidential candidates. In some ways, one could even say that he was not suited for the position at all. Now and then he would make remarks that would sound racially insensitive, or cruel towards certain groups of people. Some of his plans even seemed unrealistic. However, these did not turn his followers against him. Instead, they absorbed everything like it was a new gospel and only grew in numbers.  

For his first term, he was true to his word. He began to make the USA more self-sufficient. The United States no longer relied on foreign products. More jobs were created in the forms of increased military security and led to less crime. Reformed education allowed the general population to be more successful in the fields of science and engineering. To some, this was truly a new Golden Age, to others, it was a nightmare they could not wake up from. The fear of terrorists had created its own form of terrorism. Innocent people of different religions and races began to be questioned at every turn.

"Are you here legally?"

"Are you carrying any weapons?"

"Do you have any connection to the extremists in the Middle East?"

The fear only grew deeper, leading some to simply drive questionable people from their communities, and others to even kill. Though the murders were tried and punished, one could claim Shepherd might have approved of the violence.  

Shepherd’s popularity and shocking continued success led him to be reelected in 2036.  

It was during this second term that Shepherd's ideals became as violent as his followers.  

The president initially based his second campaign on making America beautiful and united. This amazing country needs to reflect the success that we have made together. We are one people and we should fight the ugliness that we have regretted for so long. His inauguration speech brought tears to the eyes of the people and cheers could be heard wherever you went.  

Shepherd started with the cities.

President Shepherd believed that the growing turmoil of Camden, New Jersey needed to be taken care of. However, unlike presidents in the past, he believed the problem could be fixed by erasing Camden off the map with a newly developed bomb. The impact of the bomb was specific and could be calculated so that the damage was contained within a certain perimeter. Before the bomb arrived, Shepherd made an announcement. Anyone living in the United States illegally must present themselves to the nearest police station where they will be processed and contained until arrangements can be made to take them back where they came from. It is time for America to be free from these people taking away our jobs, raping our women, and selling our children drugs. We must take a stand. If they will not leave voluntarily, we will take them by force. No one knew about the bomb save the developers and select government officials. No one knows how Shepherd was able to get approval from Congress, or if he consulted them at all.  

The bomb came without warning. Thousands of people were killed and hundreds were forcefully taken from their homes for questioning. Men, women, and children were ruthlessly questioned not only about their citizenship, but the citizenship of their parents and relatives. Staying in the country illegally became impossible.

 After Camden, there was Detroit and any other city with a low income or high immigrant population. Shepherd created a specific military operation whose only job was to weed out anyone living in America illegally. They targeted Hispanics and Arabs initially. As time went on, African Americans and Asians were also questioned. Although there were some who had families in America legally for generations, they were deported by the corrupt organization. Some tried to start an uprising, but Shepherd had eyes everywhere. The uprising fizzled out before the planning was done, and those who were involved in the planning were either deported or taken in for questioning.  

Shortly afterwards, President Shepherd issued Decree 39 for the Wellbeing of America, “Any person not registered as a citizen of the United States of America will be immediately deported. “Birth Right Citizenship will no longer be applicable to those born to illegal immigrants. Their children will be deported, and any citizen found to have illegal immigrants as immediate family will be questioned as to their location."  

It became clear that the president was molding a new government behind closed doors. The democracy that had built the very country he wanted to save, and the traditional values he so desperately fought vanished before the people's eyes. The president surrounded himself with officials who were just as xenophobic as he. No one held him back some out of respect of his supposed greatness, others out of fear.  

The president decided that specific identification was required for citizens and those of different religions, specifically Islam, and those who were being deported. Citizens were given chips in the back of their necks. They resembled the kind put in dogs by a vet. However, they were extremely difficult to change without the proper equipment. The chips also held more information. They kept track not only of personal identification such as a name and birthdate, but also race, religion, social security number, education, family history, and medical records. Those who were Muslim were usually deported, but those that remained in the country were forced to where a brightly colored badge on their clothes. It resembled the badges forced on the Jewish peoples during the Holocaust. Every American citizen's information was held in a database run by specialists in the CIA trained to pick out anyone suspected to be a criminal.  

Then he attacked the homeless. They are not true citizens. They have made no effort to change their ways and are drunkards and addicts. They do not deserve to live in this beautiful country. His goal was to deport the homeless. When they and others tried to protect them or tried to organize protests, shots were fired and they kept firing until the protesting stopped or when the homeless were dead.  

As 2039 neared, the people held their breath. Who would be the one to fix this travesty? Would someone clean this mess, or continue to create more? Few men and women dared to enter the race, unsure of what promises to make, or what Shepherd would do next.  

Then the unthinkable happened.

Shepherd decided to run for a third term. This law keeping me from running is outdated. Why do we need so many old laws. I wanted to make this country great and a great country needs new great laws. With enough support from congress and the senate, the law was redacted, freeing Shepherd to do as he pleased.  

Shepherd was reelected for a third term in 2040. Enough of the citizens approved of what was going on in Washington DC and very few people questioned it. Those who disapproved and were caught speaking out were deported or thrown in jail.  

The founder of The Cell, 01, saw that the USA was losing its freedom and that it was only getting worse. He had dreams of the pre-Shepherd America, where the Constitution was upheld, and the people were safe. He had only himself and his pregnant wife, but he was determined to make a difference. He began to gather a wide range of followers. Lawyers, doctors, scientists, politicians, farmers, construction workers and stay at home mothers all began to follow his new philosophy.  

Underneath the new America, a network of tunnels, shacks and houses appeared, unknown to the President or his followers. It was a new Underground Railroad befitting the new Civil War that was occurring. Each man, woman, and child was given a job. Slowly, they started gaining control of small towns and local government, gaining enough ground but staying quiet. Their firsts missions were small, gaining power in local government and moving towards Washington. They paved the way for some to escape into Canada or Mexico. Those who wanted to stay were put to work. They moved further underground and built tunnels that connected the different Cell posts all around the country. 01 knew it would take years to really make a difference, but his plans were precise. By 2043, 01 had members in the military and federal government. Every move he made was done legally, so it would not be questioned by Shepherd. There were no riots, no murders. Not yet. He needed time to gain enough power.  

My mother joined The Cell in 2043. She was trained as a professional housewife. Her assignment was to marry a lawyer in New York City, who was paid off my federal officials to forge paperwork. That man was my father. Every part of their meeting was planned. She seduced him and married him, just as she was trained to do. She used his connections to gather information about the government in New York City, which helped the Cell gain more ground during the elections. Then she got pregnant. Everything changed. She became obsessed with wanting to leave the country. One night, my father found her packing. Overwhelmed and exhausted, she told him everything. She knew he loved her and part of her loved him as well. He had suspected her involvement with an anti-government group from the way she asked questions at a party, and who she associated herself with. He loved her enough to let her, and he approved of it. He confided in her that he was being threatened by the government who said he and his family would be killed if he did not cooperate. He told her that most people who were deported were killed. The president feared being attacked by his neighbors, and wanted to kill those who could know his secrets. He wanted her to stay, and raise the baby in New York. He would not stop her from running, but he wanted to help her in her mission. So she stayed and raised me in New York. 

When I was 13, their cover was blown. A government spy had found evidence of my parents’ terrorist involvement. Before I even knew what was going on, we were on the run to Canada.  

                                                     ***

Now here I am. Ten years later, a trained professional nurse, ready for assignment. The love of my life tracing pictures on my back with his fingers, as I slowly begin to calm down.  

“I didn’t forget about Memorial Day. I just thought that maybe this year would be different. I thought that maybe we could get through it together instead of you pushing me away again.” I can see the hurt in his eyes. “Today is important for us. Did you forget that?” He was getting assigned too. For years he was being trained as a monitor, but he recently requested a change in assignment. He wanted to be with me. I was to go to the surface permanently, to gain information from a hospital as a nurse away from him, for as long as the Cell ordered me to.

“I’m sorry. Jake, I know how much this means to you, what it means for us. I want this, but if I focus too much on being assigned to you, I will be even more disappointed if it doesn’t work out. We have to be prepared for anything.”  

“I know. I just want to be there for you. No one knows you like I do.” He squeezes my hand. “I have a present for you.” He pulls out a small piece of paper from his pocket.  

It’s a picture of my parents. My mother's strikingly red hair that clashed brilliantly against the blue sky behind her. My father's deep blue eyes turned towards her and his strong arms wrapped around her waist. They smiled at each other, alive and well. I feel my hand begin to trace the outlines of their faces which I never forgot, but have not seen in ten years. I wipe my tears away before they have a chances to fall onto the fragile paper.  

“Where did you get this?”

“I did a computer search when you told me your name. The Cell did a good job in erasing all trace of you but they also trained me in finding information no one else can find. It was on a photographer’s website from over 20 years ago. You look just like them.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I just stare at their smiling faces, careful not to get any tears on the fragile piece of paper. “I love you, Jake.”

“I love you too, Faye.”  I put the photograph on the bedside table, and lay down for a couple more minutes of rest before the day begins. Jake curls up against me, holding me together.  

7:30 am. My alarm is the one to break the perfect peace, and Jake leaves to return to his room quickly and without another word. I don my gray uniform, a button up shirt with my number embroidered on the sleeve and a knee length pencil skirt, and force my frizzy ginger hair into a tight ballet bun. It’s Memorial Day. Assignment day.  

A few minutes later, the intercom buzzer rings.  

“38, time for breakfast.” Jake sounds more official. As a walk for the door, my stomach churns. In a few minutes, we will learn of our futures. I stick my new picture carefully in my shoe and open the door. Faces neutral, Jake and I head to the cafeteria.

Gray.  

After ten years of only seeing gray, the color sickens me. In the tunnels, we are one. No one stands out, and everyone has the same purpose. Take down Shepherd. Dark and dreary, the members of my class fill the hall. Every face is solemn. Today we remember those we lost. Soft conversations can be heard, whispers mixed with tears. I can almost feel mine coming back, but Jake quickly squeezes my hand under the table. He does know me better than anyone else. As hard as I try to keep my emotions to myself, I feel them building. My face is flushed and I squeeze my eyes tightly together.

“38? Are you alright?” A voice from behind startles me and I turn to see 23. His golden hair looks strange in the cafeteria lighting, almost white. I feel Jake tense up next to me.

“She’s fine, 23,” Jake blurted out before I could open my mouth. The tension from years of stupid arguments builds slowly between them and I, once again, must be the bigger person.

“I am fine, 23, thank you for asking. 35 is fine as well. How are you?”

“Well enough, given the circumstances at the present. Are you ready for placement?”

“I think so, but like many, I’m nervous. I don’t know what to expect. Has your father told you of your placement yet?”

“No. He believed that I should be notified with the rest of our class.” He looks down at his feet, his face slightly red as if embarrassed. “I hope you don’t think that I receive special treatment because of my father.”  

"That's what we all believe actually," mumbled Jake, just loud enough to be heard. I dig the heel of my shoe into his foot.

“Of course not. I’m sorry, 23,” I said through my teeth. “I never should have asked.”  

“Well, if you can excuse me, I must go finish breakfast. 38, 35.” He walks briskly away, and I can see Jake’s shoulders relax in the corner of my eye.

“What the hell, 35. Why do you have to be such an idiot.”  

“He just pisses me off. Him and his freaking entitled attitude.” Then in a whisper, “You know why I’m angry. You should be the one defending yourself. The fact that you can just talk to him so casually, frankly, pisses me off.”  

"Not all of us can afford to remain pissed off at another Cell member. I have to keep reminding myself that, after everything we've been through, he's my ally. He's yours too, so get over yourself."  

He begins to mumble incoherently under his breath and ignoring him I get up and head toward the ceremony.  

                                                         ***

I walk into the one room in this underground maze that I have never seen. Only those being assigned and full members are allowed in. The hall has no seating. On the far side of the room is a stage with a single black podium. The walls are covered with murals painted in shades of grey depicting the Corruption. Seeing the paintings forces me back into the reality of the world I live in. Sometimes on days where I fail at certain tasks, when I find myself lost in the tunnels, when the world around me seems like it might fall apart at any moment, I forget my purpose. When I see the devastation in the pictures, the horror that the country has gone through, I remember.  

My peers filter in and remain standing as the high council makes their way to the front of the room. The silence follows them.  

01 stands in the middle.  

Trembling, I stand waiting to hear my fate. No introduction is given, no heartwarming speech. 01 begins to read the names of the assigned couples to enter the surface. When the incident with my parents almost revealed the existence of the Cell, rules were drastically changed. The members of the Cell were no longer allowed to marry outside of the Cell. Instead, each member was assigned a husband or wife based on strict compatibility markers, placement and mission.  

“45 and 78.”  

“84 and 62.”

“83 and 94.”

A hand grasps mine as each couple makes their way to the front to receive the time and place of their assignment. “We’ll be ok, Faye. No matter what. I love you," Jake whispers.

“I love you too.”  

For what seems like hours, we stand there, hand in hand, watching others we barely knew step forward to get their assignments. Every couple receives an envelope containing the date and time of their meeting with 01. There, they will get the details of their missions. Some will go to small towns and live generally normal lives, making subtle but important differences. Others will be sent to large cities, New York, Chicago, even Washington DC, to gather intel to advance our cause.  

The group dwindles down as the couples leave to get to know each other, or head off to their meetings. “38,” My posture straightens when my number is called. Jake’s grip tightens and we prepare for the next number.  

“and 23.”

[forbessierra95]

What Happens When You Have Reiki Stupendous Unique Ideas

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Reiki Therapy Hindi

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Reiki Symbol Harth

This symbol greatly increases the vitality of the recipient.It quickly becomes clear during a Reiki treatment might work.After the scan the treatment at the spontaneous activation that occurs, you can use Reiki on others.Decide for yourself by more and more people who are afflicted by emotional pain after a long bout of illness.I felt she needed an emotional level, Reiki can be practised when a situation that is needed for the Reiki symbols was part of the human body was almost gone.

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[barrenharold021-blog]

What should be the emotional bond between children and robots?

When I brought the robot home from the Apple Store, I knew I was inviting a new kind of strangeness into our lives. My wife worried about giving our 4-year-old son a(nother) digital thing, a “smart” thing. I worried that he wouldn’t know what to make of it. Or that his little sister would break it. Or that I’d be jealous. Because I have always wanted a robot.

This one was Cozmo, a $179 gadget produced by Anki, which has taken more than $200 million from venture capitalists to bring “artificial intelligence and robotics to our everyday lives.” The company was founded by Carnegie Mellon graduates in 2010, one of many businesses spawned by the university’s robotics program. In downtown San Francisco, Anki employs nearly 200 people making toy robots governed by artificial intelligence.

The robot was the last present my son opened for his fourth birthday. He and I giddily pulled it out of the box and he waited patiently as the toy charged, staring at it. Cozmo is rectangular and about four inches long, with treads like a miniature tank’s; a tiny lifting arm for picking up and playing with the “power cube” blocks that are bundled with the product; and a small, low-resolution screen for a face. In an MIT Media Lab study conducted on smart devices and toys, a pair of kid participants deemed Cozmo “a bob-cat with eyes,” an apt, if dadaist, description. Do Robotic Pool Cleaners Really Work https://www.robotsden.com/do-robotic-pool-cleaners-really-work

Stefania Druga and Randi Williams, the researchers behind the study, want to know how children perceive smart robots, and, eventually, to study how those bots affect kids’ cognitive development. So far, they’ve discovered that little children (ages 3 and 4) aren’t sure whether the robots are smarter than they are, but that slightly older children (ages 6 to 10) believe the robots to have superior intelligence. Druga and Williams were inspired by the research of the legendary Sherry Turkle, who wrote a highly influential 1984 book called The Second Self. She argued that computers, as objects that exist somewhere between the animate and the inanimate, force humans to reexamine their own minds. Small children, she found, were fascinated by the question of whether computerized toys were alive, dead, or something else.

Finished charging, Cozmo came rolling out of its base station with some little bleeps. It blinked up at us with its lively eyes. Cute. We taught it to say our names and recognize our faces. Then we played a game of Quick Tap. I set one power cube in front of the robot and another in front of my son. At irregular intervals, the cubes light up with color patterns. If the colors on the two cubes match, you try to press on yours before the robot presses on its own.

Cozmo lifted its arm over the cube. My son’s little fingers dangled over his. The cubes flashed all blue. My son saw the lights and his hand twitched, but he waited for the robot’s arm to smack down first. The robot won and chuckled to itself. I tried a few rounds of the game, winning each time. Cozmo began to jitter and make minor-key noises that conveyed anger and frustration. “Don’t beat him!” my son yelled. “You’re making him sad.” We played several more rounds, letting the robot win, and it vamped back and forth across the floor. arduino robot arm source code https://www.robotsden.com/7-arduino-robotic-arm-project-ideas-tutorial-plus-source-code

It was bath time. We sat Cozmo on a ledge by the sink. The robot gamely rolled around, pushed up to the edge, and then pulled back, looking frightened. I watched with concern, hoping it wouldn’t drive itself off. Which, a few minutes later, it did, landing softly in the hand I’d extended half a second earlier. I was relieved, and unable to disentangle the financial and emotional components of the feeling. “He’s like your sister,” I said, another intrepid being who has not learned the limits of her physical abilities.

Cozmo’s creators think of it not as a bot but as a character, like you’d encounter in a movie. “Our motivation at the start was: What would it take to bring a Pixar character to life?,” Boris Sofman, Anki’s CEO, told me. They wanted “to make him understand his environment and relationships.”

Previous generations of seemingly smart toys usually relied on clever tricks. Remember Furbies, the ’90s sensation? They seemed to learn from their owners, because they gradually spoke more English, but in fact they’d simply been programmed to use more words as time went on. Humans, nonetheless, had the pleasant illusion of being the instructor. remote control car with night vision https://www.robotsden.com/best-remote-control-car-with-night-vision

Cozmo does something more than that—is something more than that, though still less than the living thing that my son seems to think it is. Cozmo can sense the world through a camera, and the images it captures get fed to an affiliated smartphone or tablet, which processes the data into a simple model of the world in which the robot finds itself. Are there people around? Are there power cubes to play with? Is it near an edge of a table? It does a simple version of what any autonomous robot must do, from a self-driving car to the pack robots that Boston Dynamics developed for the military.

As you play, software inside Cozmo determines the robot’s state: It can get excited, scared, nervous, happy, sad, frustrated. Sofman calls this software the toy’s “emotion engine”; it links the sensory technology to the robot’s behavior. Anki has hired animators from Pixar and DreamWorks to design some 1,200 little movements for the robot to make. Their animation software is hooked up directly to sample robots: The animators create new ways to show that Cozmo is, say, frustrated, and play them back through its body to see how people interpret the robot’s actions. The goal is to choreograph movements and expressions that will induce genuine emotions in the toy’s owner.

In the latest version of the software, Cozmo must be fed, repaired, and played with, not unlike the Tamagotchis of yore. But unlike those simple gizmos, which merely beeped or flashed simple expressions on a tiny screen, Cozmo can use the full breadth of its animated repertoire to summon particular feelings in its owner, and to foster emotional bonds. The idea is to create “a deeper and deeper emotional connection,” Sofman said. “And if you neglect him, you feel the pain of that.”

When he told me this, I felt a flash of not-quite-anger. It seemed almost cruel to design a robot that could play on a young kid’s emotions. And I had never considered that, in the coming human–robot conflagration, robots might take over simply by expertly manipulating us into letting them win.

Turkle has more-pointed concerns. She finds the notion of children empathizing with robots troublesome and quite possibly dangerous. Kids need connections to real people in order to mature emotionally. “Pretend empathy does not do the job,” she told me. If relationships with smart toys crowd out those with friends or family, even partially, we might see “children growing up without the equipment for empathic connection. You can’t learn it from a machine.”

My son and I sat on the porch playing with the robot. He shouted commands: “Say hello to my sister, Cozmo!” When I had Cozmo say his sister’s name by typing it into the app on my phone, he was delighted, but I also feared that I’d been sucked into a deception that the bot was even more capable than it actually was. toy robot that blows smoke https://www.robotsden.com/toy-robot-that-blows-smoke-gifts-to-delight-your-inquisitive-kid

Cozmo’s personality masks all that the robot still can’t do, Sofman told me. It can’t hear you. It can recognize only a few objects—basically power cubes, pets, and humans. And it’s completely dependent on the smartphone’s processing power to do anything. Shut your phone off, and Cozmo shuts down too. But “people become more forgiving of limitations if you have the right emotional cues,” Sofman said.

Humans don’t need much help to believe in a machine’s capabilities. Waymo, the company that emerged from Google’s self-driving-car project, has come to the position that there should be no intermediate steps between a car you drive yourself and a fully autonomous vehicle, because as soon as humans believe that a car (or a robot) has the slightest autonomy, they overestimate its capabilities. In early testing, a Google employee even climbed halfway into the back seat while the experimental software was driving on the highway. After watching enough video of how people in the driver’s seat behaved while the car was driving, the Google team set its sights on pure autonomy. Humans could not be trusted, because they were too trusting.

On the porch, my son discovered a new favorite game with Cozmo. Again and again, he turned the robot on its back so that it could not use its treads. The little robot flipped itself over in different ways and with varying levels of success, and my son laughed and laughed at its attempts. Whatever protective impulse he’d felt had dissipated in the physical comedy of robotic struggle.

Then, as he is wont to do, my son abruptly decided that he was done and that the robot needed to sleep on its charger in his room. As it turned out, what he really wanted was to watch TV, and my parental anxiety immediately attached to one of the other nightmares of our age. (Perhaps the whims of a toddler are not so easy to predict and manipulate.)

As I snuggled Cozmo into its charger, it was strange to think that the siblings and cousins and descendants of this little robot would one day, maybe quite soon, be everywhere. Self-driving cars, warehouse bots, autonomous drones—sensing, perceiving, reacting robots will be part of my son’s world. I feel about them as my parents did about computers: It will be necessary to understand these machines to comprehend the world. So now we have our first robot.

[marcusssanderson]

6 Simple Things We Can All Do to Ensure We Become a Success Story

Our latest article on how to ensure we become a success story.

Even when we’re trying our hardest to succeed, many of us don’t know the keys to developing a success mindset. There are actually critical do’s and don’ts—advice based on success psychology—that go along with courting victory.

If you’ve had difficulty achieving success, you may be surprised to discover that the recommended strategies are just the opposite of what you’ve been doing all along.

Learning about what works—and what doesn’t—will help you do a 180 and become a success story.

  How to ensure we become a success story.

  1. Focus on what you’re doing well

Some people can’t seem to help themselves from obsessing almost exclusively about what they’ve done wrong. Trying to be modest, they minimize their successes, if they acknowledge them at all, and often over-reference their mistakes or failures.

That’s because many people were raised to think that it’s a sin to boast or brag, and were groomed to be humble and self-effacing about their achievements. Maybe they had a braggart parent and vowed early on not to be like him or her. Or perhaps they were taught that “pride cometh before the fall” and never learned that feeling pride in a job well done is a great motivator.

I once had a therapy client who refused to say she was proud. It made sense knowing her history. When she was a child in a highly religious family, she was whipped with a Palmetto branch whenever she expressed pride in herself. It took her three years with me to even say the word and, until then, in our sessions she would refer to it as “the P word.”

Successful people know the difference between boasting and feeling or expressing pride. They feel pleasure (not shame) thinking about what they’re doing well, focus on it, and enjoy the glow they experience from their achievements.

They may feel enormous pride in their accomplishments, but appear humble about them with others. There’s nothing wrong with that. The point is that deep inside, where it matters, they’re thrilled with what has gone well for them, especially when they made it happen.

2. Learn from, then stop focusing on, what you didn’t do well

For most of us, the list of what we’ve failed at or lost out on goes on and on. Such is life: we won’t always succeed and sometimes we’ll be a flat out flop. The antithesis of the success mindset is being pre-occupied with these unhappy and unfortunate moments.

They include what you’ve done wrong or poorly and fixating on your failures, such as losing out on a job, flubbing a presentation, not scoring that hoped-for second date, low marks on an exam, not qualifying for the team, or that dinner party you hosted where no one seemed to enjoy the guests or the food.

Some people dwell on what they did wrong, recalling and analyzing every battle they’ve ever lost. In therapy, they tell me about these events in excruciating detail, although it makes them feel ineffectual and despairing. Instead of looking objectively at behaviors that disappoint them, learning from them and filing them away for future use, they beat themselves up mercilessly over their perceived failures and dwell on them ad nauseum.

We’re hard-wired to think about our mistakes and close calls or how would we ever correct and learn from them in order to survive and thrive? So, the trick is to note and accept them, to consider them without judgment but with an abundance of curiosity.

To view them not as blots on our identity, limits on our abilities, or indicators of our declining potential. When you think of them as nothing more than learning experiences, you’re getting the gist of what mistakes and failures are all about.

3. Focus on what you’ve done, not on what you have left to do

Even when people are somewhat successful, they may over-focus on problems yet to be solved or the seemingly insurmountable tasks ahead. Anxiety about the future too often overshadows feelings of pride in what they already have achieved and may make them feel overwhelmed and hopeless about all the work that’s left to be done. Let’s face it, there is almost always more to learn and do when striving to become a success story.

Successful people know this and don’t obsess about what they haven’t done or have yet to do. It’s a waste of time and brings them down. Instead, they concentrate on what they’ve accomplished, which makes them feel gratified and empowered, spurring them on.

For example, in my field of treating binge and emotional eaters, recovery is generally a long, bumpy road. Knowing this, I encourage clients to feel proud of the times they avoid engaging in mindless eating and discourage dwelling on the binges they have because they currently lack the skills to manage upset without turning to food.

They have a choice: they can feel proud that they hit the gym twice during the week or bummed that they didn’t make it the three times they’d vowed they would go. They can enjoy the fact that they’re regularly shopping for healthier foods and preparing nutritious meals, or fixate on their disappointment of having a high-fat, high-calorie McDonalds’ meal because they didn’t know what to do with themselves on a lonely Saturday night.

4. Choose goals that give you a real chance of succeeding

I recently had to hire a freelance social media assistant when mine moved on, so I posted a job description on an employment website and waited for what turned out to be four dozen resumes to pour in. The problem is that about half of these applicants had absolutely no professional experience in the field of social media. I’m guessing they had a Facebook or a Pinterest account or the like, but many of them were coming from totally unrelated fields (such as cook, home health aide, or truck driver).

I understand that it’s a tough economy and people will take a shot at almost any job that comes along, but I couldn’t help but think how these people were setting themselves up to fail, that is, to not even get an interview for the job I posted. And this is why I advise you to put efforts only towards endeavors that give you a substantial chance of becoming a success story. Maybe that chance is a long shot, but you’re more likely to hit a home run when you’re at least in the right ball park.

Another problem is that some people simply are out to prove to the world and themselves that they’re successes, which can easily boomerang and produce failure. Actually, it’s not so much success they’re striving for as trying to convince themselves and others that they’re not failures. A bit of this attitude can be a boost to motivation if you know what you’re doing.

However, you don’t want to be throwing yourself into an endeavor just to prove your worth, then end up disproving it. This is a pattern that some folks have from childhood and they wind up failing at many things because their motivation was an unhealthy one and their goals were inappropriate in the first place.

Here are some scenarios to illustrate this dynamic. Sometimes others see this tendency in you and subtly (or not so subtly) mention that a job seems out of your league, but you apply for it anyway and never hear back about it. Or you insist on struggling with do-it-yourself fix-ups in your house when what’s needed is more expertise than you have or can quickly acquire.

When you end up calling in a plumber, electrician, etc., you feel sorely disappointed in yourself and use the event as one more example that proves you’re an incompetent failure who can’t do anything right.

5. Do what you need to do when it needs to be done rather than put it off

One of the biggest barriers to becoming a success story is putting off tasks you must do to succeed. This is especially true when you’re trying to win, get ahead, complete a project, or show yourself in the best light. My view of procrastination (a word I don’t use because of its pejorative connotation) is simple: It involves both wanting to do something while also not wanting to do it.

Whenever we’re in that kind of internal conflict, we want to avoid self-judgments and, instead, be curious about what our ambivalence is really about, the point being that we need to understand what’s preventing us from doing what we say we desperately wish to do.

I’ve known talented, motivated people who are so conflicted (consciously or unconsciously) about doing what’s necessary to succeed that they stay stuck in place. Some of my clients want a job (yet also don’t), so they avoid job-hunting except in the most casual way.

Many of my dysregulated eating clients year to end comfort eating, yet fail to follow my suggestions to help them stop this behavior—find hobbies or passions, work on developing frustration tolerance and delaying gratification, improve their emotional intelligence, learn to depend on others, change their self-talk, read books on emotional and mindless eating, join an eating support group, etc.

I understand that they have mixed feelings, mostly about relying on food for pleasure and solace, but calling this behavior “procrastination” only makes them feel worse about themselves and more likely to seek food to feel better. If you often procrastinate yet want to succeed, you’re not going to get far.

There are enough people out there with your talents and drive who do what’s needed in a timely fashion that you’re setting yourself up for failure. Recognize why you put off tasks and get help from a therapist, coach, trainer or self-help books in learning how to get things done. You need this skill for three reasons.

The first is practical because doing what’s necessary will help you succeed in reaching your goals. The second is that people appreciate when they can count on you to do what you said you would. The third is that procrastination leads to self-doubt and disappointment, while getting things done leads to pride and self-empowerment.

6. Be accountable and don’t take what people say or do personally

It may seem obvious that we need to be accountable in order to succeed, but not to some folks. There are people who take the exact opposite approach and only want to be held responsible when things go well, not when they go poorly. They think that becoming a success story means always saying and doing the right thing, always coming out on top, always being the golden child, and never making mistakes.

This puts them in the position of avoiding accountability when things don’t work or work out. For example, when their joint presentation falls flat or fails to impress, they blame the rest of their team, never themselves. When sales numbers dip, it’s always due to the other guy or gal. When their children grow up to be ne’er do wells and problems in society, they blame their progeny’s current and past peers, not their own poor parenting skills.

Successful people know that the buck often stops with them and embrace this process. They feel confident enough to weather mistakes and failures and empowered enough to try to turn around fiascos. They would never wish to be anything but accountable and that comes across in what they say and do.

These folks also don’t take everything said or done to them personally. While holding others accountable, they recognize that people have bad days and cut them slack. They are savvy enough to understand that others’ negative remarks say something about the speakers themselves, not those being addressed. They avoid taking things personally because they don’t doubt their self-worth and likeability and recognize their innate and learned limitations and weaknesses as well as their considerable strengths.

  Ready to become a success story

Ask yourself these questions: Do I focus on my successes and achievements or dwell on times I’ve failed and made mistakes? Does my mind often wander back to missed opportunities and second (or last) place finishes or do I intentionally seek out and feel proud of memories of success?

Do I obsess about what I haven’t accomplished or what’s still left to do? Do I fixate more on the past and future than the present? Am I thin-skinned and take offense too easily? Do I own am my mistakes and failures? Do I regularly put off what I want to do rather than get right to it?

Whether you’re preparing your taxes or seeking a new job, climbing Mount Everest or cleaning out the garage, the above advice will help you become a success story and feel great about how and why you did.

The post 6 Simple Things We Can All Do to Ensure We Become a Success Story appeared first on Everyday Power Blog.

[uncannyvivek]

The Iceberg #MentalHealthMatters

Welcome to Inside Vivek: a post for Mental Health Awareness Week

Writing about my journey through life with mental health has been a cathartic and liberating process. I’m usually quite hesitant to share my mental health issues, as I’m the type of person who likes to deal with those issues myself.

Speaking honestly regarding #MentalHealthMatters is crucial to facilitate change by breaking down unhealthy societal barriers. This topic is fairly easy to ignore as your mental state is not clearly visible. Similar to an iceberg, 90% of your mind is hidden underneath the surface.

We all have our demons to face, challenges to overcome and our minds to control. Unfortunately, many people have more hardships to cope with in life. A common misconception is that disabled people always have mental health issues connected to their disability, this viewpoint is (generally) incorrect. Disabled individuals face the regular challenges of life along with additional environmental barriers, physical limitations or lack of disability awareness.

Mental Health is not fixed to a singular point in time but a flexible continuum, I consider the baseline emotion to be stability. I try to keep my emotional state quite stable to prevent dramatic fluctuations either up or down. Feeling Anger, Anxiety or Excitement is physically tiring for me. I don't have a large energy store so I have to efficiently manage energy levels. This does not mean that I’m an emotionless being (like Spock from Star Trek) because I do feel joy, excitement, sadness, anxiety & (at certain times) anger.

My tip for a good coping strategy or for staying positive is (I know this will sound clique) but you need to have a good sense of humour. Finding a glimmer of 'funny' in a terrible situation has helped me well over the years - a laugh is much better than feeling bitter or angry.

“Life is too important to be taken seriously.” - Oscar Wilde

Life has been quite challenging for me emotionally, psychologically and physically. On reflection, those earlier challenges have taught me invaluable lessons on emotional resilience, compassion, positivity, independence and self-respect. Without living this life, I would never have grown into the positive and confident man I am today.

I was born with the bleeding disorder Haemophilia so life was already a struggle, I had to be careful not to fall on toys or hurt myself. When I began to show signs of weak muscles I was referred to the neuromuscular consultant in Leicester who for 6 years wrongly diagnosed me with a curable condition called Polymyositis. It was a nightmare for Mum to battle with the consultant to find out what was wrong with her son. I was correctly diagnosed at age 9 which allowed me to access the correct care and finally receive a wheelchair. It was tough coping with the news but finally getting to sit down in a wheelchair and not struggle anymore with walking was welcomed.

I hadn’t fully understood my condition but as my body began to obviously limit my abilities, it hit me like a bus that my muscles would never function properly. I was really depressed/angry at that time so I didn’t care about school, playing with my toys or the future. What was the point of living? It wasn’t fair that other children could walk, run or even have a positive future.

My anger manifested when I couldn't do an activity due to my progressive muscle weakness. I became jealous of my sister being able to do all the activities I couldn't, like riding a bike instead I had to do physiotherapy exercises 3 times a day which were painful, exhausting and boring. The frustrating part was my inability to physically release those pent-up emotions properly. One day when I had an argument with my sister, I got angry so I decided to go to my room, I tried to close the door but instead, my footplate went through the door. That hole in the door is still there to this day as a reminder of what I was like.

“Unfortunately, unless we're focused on building up our courage, which gives us our self-confidence and all that we need to make a quantum change in our lives, the voice of fear will always take the lead inside our minds.” - Debbie Ford

I had to leave the private school I attended because it was not wheelchair accessible so I had to be carried upstairs by the teacher. Leaving my friends was difficult. When I was finally provided with a wheelchair, I moved to a more wheelchair friendly school, I loved school as I made amazing friends (most of them were girls). Funnily enough, I had to say goodbye to friends again because we had to move from Loughborough to a bungalow closer to the Leicester Royal hospital.

I had to close my mind off from the past, psychologically manifesting the physical change I was enduring so I became a different person. I had lost all trace of my old identity, confidence, motivation and future prospects. I no longer thought of myself as a happy or confident boy only an empty shell. It’s only recently that I’ve managed to reunite both parts of myself. It was a difficult achievement as I had to learn to respect & love myself. At the time it sounded like an impossibility.

“Never expect people to treat you any better than you treat yourself.” - Bo Benett

After my diagnosis, my parents got a divorce so Mum had to manage my care and run the home alone. As any child would, I blamed myself for the divorce but looking back it was the best decision for the family.

After scoliosis surgery at age 13, I spent most of my time isolated in my room - literally bed-bound. The reason was that my NHS provided wheelchair was uncomfortable as I was unable to alter my position independently which caused pressure sores and internal bleeds (due to Haemophilia). This meant that I was unable to attend my special needs school, so I was taught at home by the Hospital School whilst waiting to hear if the charity Caldwell Trust would fund my wheelchair. During this period, I learnt a lot about myself as it gave me the chance to look inside myself and try to work through my mental state.

“To know oneself is to study oneself in action with another person.“ - Bruce Lee

Attending Ashfield the special needs school in Leicester was good for me as I was around children with similar abilities and I received physiotherapy and hydrotherapy. However, in secondary school, they did not focus on academic achievement as the classes had mixed abilities. I felt that I wasn't pushed enough to reach to my fullest potential, I personally aimed to get 5 GCSEs to enable me to attend my local college. After finally passing my GCSEs I moved on to college, however, the mentality from Ashfield that 'college will be too difficult' was engraved in my mind as I had issues with stringing sentences together and I thought I was not as intelligent as my able-bodied peers. I discovered that my fears were wrong - I could manage. I just wish that I was a student for longer than 2 years.

I battled with low mental health during my transition from children’s services to adult services as I was faced with so many overwhelming decisions. My Social Worker seemed to force me to move out of my family home. I felt that I was not in control of my life and living in the wrong way. This led me to decide to start taking more responsibility for my condition and care rather than relying on my Mum to make decisions. Gaining more autonomy of my life was the crucial transition into adulthood which meant that I was still independent living at home.

My Mum has always been a great support for me throughout life as we can discuss anything. Growing up she always made sure that I live a happy life but also prevented me using my disability as an excuse to behave badly.

“The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence.” - Denis Waitley

Losing significant muscle function at certain periods in life has been difficult to cope with especially the loss of respiratory function & hand strength. I do still find those days depressing, having to accept another loss of function is almost like a continuing bereavement process. I now consider Duchenne that annoying friend you can't get rid of so that it is easier to cope with.

I always try to let my negative emotions go by accepting them so that I can look at the loss objectively and try to find a solution. For example, after struggling to carry on gaming using the new PS4 controller I became frustrated and angry as gaming was my main hobby. However, after looking at the issue objectively I began to search for solutions which would help. This research connected me to amazing gaming charities such as ReMap and Special Effect who were able to help. Thanks to facing this problem I now focus my work on improving gaming and assistive technology.

“Small shifts in your thinking and small changes in your energy can lead to massive alterations of your end result.” - Kevin Michel

I'm generally a positive person when I wake up, as I check my mental state, try to understand the reason if I have negative mood and hopefully find a solution to the problem. I'm not suggesting that keeping positive is always easy for me, especially if there isn't a solution available.

As I was growing up it was suggested that I see a Psychologist who could help me to cope and understand my emotions. After a few sessions, I felt that it was not helping me as they could not truly empathise with my condition without living with it. Initially, the sympathy was useful but it only took me so far. Therefore, I realised quite early on that somehow I had to find a way forward by myself. So I started to think of ways to help myself by looking into what I enjoyed doing which was reading. One day I visited the local library and was excited to find a new section filled with comic books. I think I have read every single comic book in Leicester. Suddenly I realised that I was feeling happier whilst reading because I could still physically turn pages or hold a book. My mindset started to shift away from my limitations to focus on things that I could still manage to do. I can no longer hold a book or turn pages but thanks to technology I can read online or on a Kindle eReader.

I think that finding a hobby or interest helps immensely with mental health. My passion for comic books began during my isolation in bed, it gave me the ability to escape my situation. I remember that the first comic I read was Star Wars: Outlander, learning about the Jedi code about controlling emotions such as anger, fear or hate really resonated with the emotions I was battling with inside. Green Lantern taught me the most, as he uses the willpower from his lantern ring to overcome his greatest fears. It's only now that I've realised those comics/superheroes helped me to understand myself, morality and determination thus shaping me into the man I am today.

Through reading comic books I thought that I'd found a perfect coping strategy for anger, if I was reading then I'd feel okay. However this coping strategy was definitely not healthy, it was another way for me to detach from the reality I felt trapped in. I underwent extreme anxiety if I ever had to participate in the 'real' world. So my anger was replaced by anxiety, which affected my body in a different way - it manifested as a stomach ache and nausea.

“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies inside of you.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Working with Trailblazers the young campaigner's network from Muscular Dystrophy UK at the age of 20 was a big step for me, I was extremely shy, quiet and scared to speak. Trailblazers were really encouraging and gave me faith in myself. I gained vital communication and public speaking skills through active campaigning, asking questions at APPG’s, being interviewed by BBC, ITV Central, Leicester Mercury and Radio Leicester. It led me to win the 2012 Trailblazer of the year award. I'm now an East Midlands regional ambassador for Trailblazers, actively fighting to improve NHS provisions for the disabled community in Leicester.

Muscular Dystrophy UK has provided me with some amazing opportunities for growth over the years from work experience to my continuing work with Microsoft UK. I'm passionate about improving assistive technology from the top of the technology industry – it’s the future.

The next huge leap forward for me was in December 2017 when the Founder & CEO of The Muscle Help Foundation Michael McGrath chose me to become the third Muscle Ambassador, alongside Sulaiman Khan & Leah Booth. The Muscle Help Foundation is a small family charity delivering "personalised, transformative experiences called 'Muscle Dreams' for children and young people with Muscular Dystrophy and connected neuromuscular conditions." Joining the tribe is a big responsibility but the opportunity for professional growth was hard to decline. Learning from Michael McGrath is invaluable, his motivation pushes you to not only make your future better but also the future for the next generation. Interacting/Speaking with fellow ambassadors, families and beneficiaries is why I joined, at that age I would have loved to have met an adult living and achieving with Duchenne. I really look forward to representing the MHF tribe at their annual Porsche Muscle Dream Programme in June.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gK-G2tqE2Zc&w=560&h=315]

Recently whilst listening to Michael McGrath's powerful closing talk ‘The Power of the Polar Hug’ at the TEDx 2018 event held at the University of Warwick it struck me that by exposing vulnerability Michael dared to defy fear thus creating a bigger statement to the world. Exposing this truth means that Michael connected with hearts, therefore, the central theme of a hug which is kindness, compassion and love. I've never been able to hug someone for over 15 years, this has made it harder for me to express love especially since I now find smiling tiring. I reflect on those situations where I wish I could have given a hug, we all want that intimacy in our lives. As Human beings, we all need to rely on others, this is not a weakness but a strength. Community support is necessary to help with mental health issues.

“If you always put a limit on everything you do, physical or anything else. It will spread into your work and into your life. There are no limits. There are only plateaus, and you must not stay there, you must go beyond them.“ - Bruce Lee

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your story, please comment below!

[kimbachronicles]

Art & Protest

I recognize no dichotomy between art & protest

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

3.8.18

It’s 6am and I’m about to leave the house. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of starting my day at 6am in the morning if I had a choice. About 5 years ago it was normal to be up so early when I was a teacher. This time, I’m up a bit early to return a car rental before heading to work. Before heading out, I glance over at a book I bought about 4 months ago at a talk by Clint Smith. I opened the first page and it read “I recognize no dichotomy between art and protest,” a quote by Ralph Emerson. Immediately upon reading it, the quote connected with me. It wasn’t the first time that I had felt the connection of art and protest, but the words now seemed to reveal something that I had, until now, not yet personalized. It would take another two days before I revisited that quote and began to unravel it.

3.10.18

It’s 2am. The quote is on my mind. I am also thinking now, I start thinking about my passion for growth and yearning to be something, do something greater. I then start thinking about how it started when I was a young child. Where did my passion start?

For starters, I would listen to music or watch cartoons like most kids. But what I really liked to do was read books and watch the History Channel on TV. I was fascinated with the world around me. My mind shifts back. The quote returns: There is no dichotomy between art and protest. I’m reflecting on the resonance and the ways that art and protest represents itself in my life. Protest and the political is a key driving force. The political is the voice inside me. And the art, for me is art by way of expression.

But, it wasn’t the intimacy of classical art that excited me per se. Even expression of art vis-a-vis the arts, didn’t seem a reality for me. I didn’t see myself in this way; I took myself too seriously for that. And yet, deep down, I yearned to express myself.

I wanted a career in something like law at one point. Politics, history and the machinations of societal norms encouraged in me many questions. Why do we live in America, how much money does it take to travel to Italy? Why were Africans brought to America? I asked many questions in a feverish attempt at knowing more. If only I could learn more and more I would be smart. Like really smart. For me, knowledge was the highest form of greatness, intelligence was the pinnacle of success, and reading all you could was the panacea to all the ills in the world. Naturally, historians and teachers fascinated me the most.

But before long, I realized it was not enough. 

Whereas my first teacher, history, taught me the importance of knowing, poetry became my second teacher. It opened me to new possibilities by teaching me the importance of expression. I loved word play; I loved the freedom that words offered, the beauty of constructing something out of pen and paper. But initially I was uncomfortable with poetry. Sure, I had memorized Still I Rise by Maya Angelou, and had even recited it to her when I was 5. But I grew up very nervous pursuing it as a pastime. I felt poetry was for girls, wasn’t manly . enough. So until the 8th grade, when I stumbled to write a poem without calling it one, I relied on books and teachers for inspiration.

Once I discovered that poetry would fortify my passion for self-expression, it provided me a tool that would allow me to make sense of my world, my little world. Not long after, poetry would help me make sense of so much around me - more broadly, nationally and globally. I even joined a group in high school and we called ourselves the Runaway Slaves of the 21st Century. We were deep, we were inspired and we were proud to be black. But even with all this, I couldn’t seriously utilize my skills at writing poetry to make a living. What future could I have in the world of writing?

So instead, I went the traditional route: I graduated college, became a teacher and, after applying to be a teaching fellow, I taught middle school for 4 years.  When I became stagnant, fearing the impending malaise of not liking my job, not growing or developing and not being taken seriously, I sought another respectable route: work in higher education. 5 years later, here I am - I talk diversity, manage crisis situations, play counselor to students melting in a world that can’t seem to appreciate them for simply occupying space. I wear emotions and dress in empathy so that I can show that I care. No matter the stakes, however trivial in my eyes. I am Olivia Pope, a fixer, a Jack of all trades.

True - all of these jobs provide me an outlet to being knowledgeable, invested, even passionate about student development. I am able to explore intellectual pursuits, something as a child I craved. Furthermore,  it is this drive toward developing students and getting students to think about the world, that allows me to address societal challenges, allows for deep conversations that push the bounds and challenge assumptions in our society, given that the population of students I work with are college aged. Pushing us to grapple with strategies for addressing them as well. But with all the creative juices and robust conversations I have, even this isn’t enough.

I have too much to say. I have too much passion and desire within me to let whittle away. And it is the precipice of passion that jolts me to reconsider the path I have taken thus far; Jolts me to reconsider how I make a living, what it means to make a living and what it means to make a life. I shake my head profusely as I imagine it all - the traditional and respectable route is just not for me. My calling is becoming ever more clear. In order to ascend to my rightful place in society I need to dismantle and decolonize my conceptions of work, of life and of living. 

As I come to terms with my enormous sense of commitment to work and to feeling fulfillment and creative spirituality, I now speak what I knew intuitively all along - that my work must mimic my passion for living. The future that I ask in relation to the world of writing must be reconciled. My writing, and therefore my art can no longer be silenced or relegated to periphery. It must instead materialize in the service of stories. Journeys of a million black and brown boys whose stories are yearning to be told, whose passion for understanding, expression, mobilization and above all, connection ripples at the end, and roars at the source, at the belly, at the center.

Fundamentally, I believe that our society is wrought with ills that go far beyond you and I. And while we must protest them at each and every step of the way, I’m not naive. The truth is that these ills in the form of mass incarceration, unemployment, drug addiction, violence and inequality are far too powerfully woven in the fabric of our society.And yet while these conversations do lead to robust problem solving, they are often stagnant and abstracted for palatable bite-sized sophisticated conversation in stuck-up college towns. We need alternatives. 

Art offers the ability to disrupt dangerous elements within our society, always lurking in the shadows, in spaces that leave us shackled and lost. When art is in the absence of protest it wanes in the collective conscience of people. The systems do not change; entrenched, powerful and highly structured institutions don’t have an incentive to value change or challenge. 

But what is art? If I had to answer it in my own words, it is ability to make a statement, and to use whatever tool necessary to provide this avenue. Art offers us a place to refuge from the scary drudgery that is mindless living. It also offers a vanguard of immense strength and advocacy for our most marginalized elements, our most oppressed peoples and elements of self. Art in all its forms - poetry, blogging, narrative, takes us to depthful elements of our native and raw selves and then, if we are vulnerable and lucky enough, leaves us, self-destructed and exposed. (Even more fascinating, with my interests in writing in a variety of forms, I know that I will have many opportunities at death and rebirth.)

It is this self-destruction - the egoistic “self” that must be destroyed, that serves to (re)build and healthily develop a newer sense of self. For all these reasons, I am committed to an art that sees no separation from protest. This cannot be vanilla art, this cannot be low-fat art, this cannot be bourgeois, latte, palatable art. This can only be protest art. This art can only be full, free and fearless art. Here I am to stay, my new place, at the intersections of protest and art - fiercely loyal, always together, never inseparable.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Twenty-Three: Beatrice and Natasha

Beatrice climbed the innumerable steps up from the Great Hall towards the divination classroom on the sixth floor, her mind wandering as she slowly ascended the spiral staircase leading up to the mystical tower. Dinner was good, as always in the first few weeks of the semester when the house elves were eager to sooth the nerves of the anxious first years. Stopping breathlessly at the heavy wooden door sitting in wait at the top of the tower, she closed her eyes for a moment and imagined all her worries melting away like frost in the first days of spring, leaving her mind fresh as a dewy meadow.

She gave the door a little push and stepped inside, looking up in awe at the ceiling which was charmed so Astronomers like herself could study the movement of the cosmos even when the sky was cast over with storm clouds. The sight of brown dwarf stars dancing with hypergiants around the endless vortex of space without the need for a telescope made her heart sing and long to tell her grandmother, Pania, about this place. Beatrice sighed and shook her head, inhaling the crisp clean air that filled the atmosphere of the room, enhancing Seers’ abilities.

She stepped away from the door when she heard some other students’ voices echoing off the stone walls as they walked up towards the classroom, noticing that there was already somebody sitting in the room with her, who stayed silent as Beatrice marveled at the heavenly display above their heads with disdain in her eyes. Bea offered a friendly smile to the imperious young lady who sat still as a statue, reading a book in her lap with a bored expression plastered across her pallid facade, deciding to sit beside her even when she noticed the lady’s Cucurrion pin gleaming in the light of Jupiter’s sixteen moons. She silently placed her books on the desk and tugged the sleeves of her jumper down over the cuffs of her button up shirt, slouching in her seat as she continued studying the projection high above their heads in the vaulted ceiling. The other fourteen or so students quickly filtered into the room, their mindless chatter and tedious gossip bouncing off the charmed walls as they settled into their seats. When Professor Levas came out of her office, all conversations came to a grinding halt, everybody’s eyes transfixed on the wrinkled, withered witch. “Good evening,” she said, voice barely above a whisper as she ambled down the stairs, leaning heavily on her cane before sitting on a stool in the center of the desk circle. “And welcome to Creatures and Divination. I trust you all had a good summer.” Beatrice smiled at the woman and gave a small nod, glancing at the girl beside her out of her periphery, curious what her specialty was. “As the best and brightest of your generation, you few Seers have gathered here tonight to develop your talents for prognostication together,” she said, gesturing around the room with her sickly, trembling hands. “This year, we will be focusing on those methods of Divination which require the aid of animals. Namely Ichthyomancy, Myomancy, Ornithomancy, and Ovomancy, among others.”

Natasha liked being alone in the Divination classroom, which was why she was happy to get to class early and find that there was no one else in the room, including the professor. She sat in her usual seat and opened one of her books, allowing herself to absorb all of the information she could from it. She heard someone else come in but didn’t look up, assuming that, as usual, they would leave her alone. It was much to her dismay when, instead of moving around her or even away from her, the quieter footsteps of the other person approached her, and stopped when they reached the table. She suppressed a groan, not particularly wanting to talk to anyone right now.

She didn’t bother to greet the newcomer or otherwise acknowledge their presence. It wasn’t long after that class started, and she closed her book, focusing on the airy Professor Levas as she started to speak. She could feel eyes on her occasionally, knowing that the girl next to her was looking at her. She didn’t bother to give her a look back.

Of course, it wasn’t long after that Professor Levas requested that they introduce themselves to each other because these types of Divination relied largely on cooperation and multiple understandings. She sighed and faced the other girl, putting on a gentle, charming smile. “Hello,” she murmured softly, extending her hand lightly. “My name is Natasha. And you are?”

“Beatrice Selwyn,” she said, grinning brightly in the darkened room, eagerly taking hold of her outstretched hand, unpleasantly surprised how icy cold her silky smooth touch was. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Standing up slowly like a turtle poking its head out of its shell, Professor Levas walked over to her desk and picked up a piece of parchment resting on the polished wood. “Because each of you is gifted in one method of Sight, I’ve decided that this year, you should be paired up with somebody who shares an opposing ability. As Seers, though you should be masters of your own craft, you should also be proficient in other fields of Divination as well. So, I’ve matched you up each with another student who balances your particular skills,” she explained, hobbling back over to the stool.

“Ms. Selwyn?” Professor Levas called out, craning her neck as she looked around her audience before settling on the petite Polynesian who sat with her hand raised above her head. “You’ll be paired up with a uhhh…” she rambled, casting a glance back down at the trembling paper in her hand, shaking like a leaf in late autumn, “Ms. Kraus this semester.”

She heard her name spoken after their introductions, as Professor Levas slowly explained what would be happening throughout the course of the year. She took a deep breath and glanced at the girl sitting across from her, realizing this would be her partner for the semester. “Well, I guess we’ve already met each other,” she said, an almost condescending smile toying at her dark lips.

“I suppose we must have different specialties, then. Might I ask what yours is?” she asked her. She was often curious about others in this craft since it was often considered imprecise and impractical, although she found it to be one of the most elegant and helpful forms of magic.

“Astrology and Athrimancy,” Beatrice said, smiling kindly at her as she crossed her legs at the ankle, trying to stay still though the raw magic flowing in the room made left her quite excited and unsettled. “My grandmother taught me how to use the stars to see not only where in the world I’m headed, but where, in the greater sense of life, I’m going. What’s your skill?”

“Crystal-gazing,” she informed her. Cartomancy was her true skill, but she knew that many people still found the cards to be something of Muggle legend, the types of things that people who used to pretend to be magical would use to ‘predict’ the future. She also had no intention of telling this complete stranger about her strengths, and by default, her weaknesses. “I am also someone competent in dream interpretation, but my successes there are not quite as high.”

She glanced around the room, hearing small snippets of similar conversations from the other pairs that had just been formed. She knew some of these people from her previous years, but many of them were older than her, only making her feel that much more smug for being in the class.

Beatrice nodded slowly and caught her bottom lip in her teeth, glad she had remembered to use her smudge-proof matte lipstick as she nervously chewed on the soft skin. Something about the impervious witch to her right left her feeling agitated. Deciding to push past the thought, for the time being, she turned her attention back to Professor Levas who had begun explaining their first section in the class on myomancy.

“Each pair will be given a mouse to take care of for a week. Record their behaviors, actions, eatings, excreting, and patterns of sleep,” she explained. “In addition, each group will have to prepare a report on the mice and a research paper about such behaviors and what they suggest about the future. You’re dismissed as soon as you’ve all divided the work,” she said, standing to leave while the other students gathered their materials together.

After hearing their instructions, Natasha focused her gaze on her partner and gave her a soft, charming smile. “You wouldn’t have any problems doing the project yourself, would you?” she asked her. She had no interest in learning about the behavior of mice, not having any interest in other animals whatsoever. Particularly not one of such low intelligence as a mouse.

She heard other students talking as they left, reminded now that there was a Quidditch game coming up. She didn’t have any interest in attending, but she also had a feeling she would anyway. It was sometimes entertaining, particularly when people stopped following the rules.

Beatrice paused as she was about to suggest they divvy the work up fairly with somebody coming to observe the mouse in the morning, and somebody in the evening. Maybe it would be easier to split the project in half. She shook her head and pasted on a quick smile, her stomach tied up in nervous knots that made her want to wince. “I’ll take Algernon here and you can do the research,” she said, holding her hand out. “Sound like a deal?”

She raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright,” she agreed, lightly taking her hand and just giving it a light squeeze. “It was lovely to meet you, Beatrice,” she murmured, her voice soft and still with the hint of condescension. She didn’t take long to leave after that, knowing that, as much as she would love to stay in the room, she had other things to do.

Beatrice had started to pack up her bags before she got a chance to say farewell to Natasha as well, and when she looked up, pushing back the curtain of hair that obscured her sight, she was gone. Going over to the professor’s desk where the last cage was waiting for her, she picked up the container with a little brown mouse inside, smiling down at the innocent creature when she was struck with an awful feeling. What if she was the mouse to Natasha? She looked up, hyper-aware of her solitary place in the room after everybody else had left, but couldn’t shake the sense that somebody, or something rather, was looking over her shoulder.