It has often been said that there is a central paradox in the role of r throughout history: on the one hand, r has been the single greatest cause of war and suffering. On the other, it has been the source of redemption and liberation for humanity. How can we possibly make sense

yhteiskunta muodostuu erilaisista elaimista ja heidan yhteisoistaan. kaikki haluavat, huolehtivat mutta moni katosi. ei olla huolehdittu tarpeeksi. ihmisilla on alueita joita yleensa laajennetaan. tiedon alue, kokemuksen alue, terveyden
kuka saa olla terve. saavatko kaikki
Tukholmassa. Vapaampi ja rikollisempi

This orchid hypothesis also answers a fundamental evolutionary question that the vulnerability hypothesis cannot. If variants of certain genes create mainly dysfunction and trouble, how have they survived natural selection? Genes so maladaptive should have been selected out. Yet about a quarter of all human beings carry the best-documented gene variant for depression, while more than a fifth carry the variant that Bakermans-Kranenburg studied, which is associated with externalizing, antisocial, and violent behaviors, as well as ADHD, anxiety, and depression. The vulnerability hypothesis can’t account for this. The orchid hypothesis can. Most of us have genes that make us as hardy as dandelions: able to take root and survive almost anywhere. A few of us, however, are more like the orchid: fragile and fickle, but capable of blooming spectacularly if given greenhouse care.

spacecat

t really is a queestion of Light

Money is generally accepted

but if it is to enjoy the life, communication isnt moneyits a picture or feelings

To be widely communicable ee, a medium of exchange should possess some characteristics:

1. transportability
2. divisibility
3. value
4. recognizability
5. resistance to counterfeiting like friendship
   

happy hallow we

we du care

In life, there is a time when you look back and be astonished how you as a human are capable of figuring out how to survive without knowing that’s what you do. One way is to avoid facing detrimental factors in your life and put them away so that you can survive. We do this all at a very unconscious level. Duck season? Wabbit season?

You are here

The wings began to disintegrate as he passed the lone palm into the forbidden zone. Feathers flew in fluttering spirals; leather began to rot, brass buckles corroded in time-lapse on the harness. Out of control, John lost altitude, strewing debris behind. By the time he crashed through the treetops, the wings, and indeed his clothing and eye-patch, had returned to the dust. Naked as the day of his arrival, he tumbled through the darkness, cracking branches and scraping skin to land on his back amongst the bushes, the breath forcibly expelled from his lungs. He lay deafened in the pitch-blackness, his bitten tongue welled blood in his mouth, pins and needles invaded his left leg.
Long seconds of slow time before moving the leg experimentally, he felt the foliage attempting to pull him in. He scrabbled backward, no bones broken; clear of the Vampiric bush, spitting blood. His breath and hearing returned in deep gasps above the roar of the surf.
He waited for his heartbeat to slow.
He’d lost all sense of direction in the absolute darkness and was loosing all sense of purpose when, to his left, he heard the sound of something large making its way toward him; he backed himself up against a cold tree trunk, fists raised in readiness.
“John Gabriel,”
On carrion breath came the Stripper’s voice,
“A person familiar in surroundings strange.
The alarm on thine face is unsupported by circumstances.
You need not fear our darkness,
it carries no danger for those as strong or as stupid as thee.”
The Stripper paused and sucked a rancid sigh,
“Besides, we have pickings enough in the fecund carcass of Osiris to nourish us another eon.
That feeble minded creature,
Should have known better
fleeing the change that took his brother,
he wandered into places he’d previously warned others to vacate.
One man’s poison is another’s meat.”
John took a ragged breath and managed the words carefully on his swollen tongue.
“Wish way tha chain?”
The Stripper sighed once more; John could hear it hiking the dead load of wet meat onto its shoulder.
“Ah the chain.
We envy thine options John Gabriel.
We have stood on the peninsula and watched as those such as thee have taken that option,
watched with pain in our core,
in a just universe it would be an option available to all.”
The Stripper shifted its weight; John imagined he heard it lick once at the corpse on its shoulder. He shrugged the image off.
“Turn a half-circle,
then walk forward
this should take you to the spinal path,
turn right and your destination will await.
Farewell John Gabriel,
the light will soon be upon us.”
John heard the Stripper turn on the rustling floor of leaves and lumber off into the darkness.
The absolute darkness brought guilt and foreboding. He saw again Adam’s body crushed; feathers flying on the moon’s grey face. John’s chest tightened with the knowledge that it was his actions; his discontent that had led to the boy’s death.
He decided to wait for the dawn. He shuffled down to sit with his back to the tree trunk. He dozed for long minutes hours or days without dreams – aeroplane sleep – waking dry mouthed to find that he could make out the vague outlines of the trees as the sky slowly lightened behind the crash of the waves.

John rose on stiff joints and aching muscles. His mouth tasted coppery with blood from his bitten tongue and he spat dryly in an attempt to clear it. He picked his way through the undergrowth until he came upon the path. Turning right, as instructed by the Stripper, John followed the undulating path as the heat of the morning sun filled the forest with the high-pitched roar of insects. After a long hot walk the path began to climb steeply, cutting into the red powdery rock in a series of large steps that led ten metres up to the small flat top of the mesa. John stood and gazed down at the rocky peninsula where the rusty black chain creaked and groaned out into the blue green ocean.
He looked back at the island, the mountain, the moon, smoke from Eden’s kitchen. It almost seemed real.
His heel bumped into the old man, he almost fell backwards.
The old man was the same red as the mesa, he lay on his back cruciform, in places John could not tell where the old man ended and the mesa began, he was not sure if the man was being colonised by the mesa or vice versa, but it seemed that the process was almost complete. He crouched beside the dry sandy body - his mind on hold - the face was vaguely familiar. He noticing that the chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly, as if attuned to the rhythm of the waves, he could see tiny puffs of sand stirring at the nostrils, he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle with disquiet.
“The rocks are aware of your presence interloper.” came a voice that rustled like hundreds of dead insect wings in the breeze before a storm. John jerked back as bulbous eyelids retracted to reveal eyes, the whites yellow with age, staring up at him. “The rocks do not care the reasons for your presence. The rocks do not care.”
They stared at one another, three eyes and an empty socket. John recognized the familiarity in the old face as a family resemblance; only this one was older than the Blueman, way older, the lines in the face deeply etched and fractalled beyond the limits of John’s eyesight.
“I thpoke to your thun up there,” John pointed back up at the mountain, doing his best to annunciate the words clearly, tongue catching on his teeth painfully, “He thed you wunth had all tha arnthers.”
The red body of the old spirit seemed to grow even stiller. For a while John thought that the old man would not answer.
“My son,” came the eventual rustle, “was damaged at birth, he fell from the crucible… he is a fool.” A ripple travelled through the old man’s body, “The rocks do not care for the answers, answers do not bring relief to the rocks, the rocks have no questions.”
“Tha chain,” said John pointing out to sea, “Where duth it go?”
The old man in the sand sighed shallowly
“Questions. Always questions. The rock does not care where the chain goes. The chain links the links of a larger chain, et cetera et cetera.” He coughed a little cloud of red dust from his lungs, “Now leave, go, walk the chain, don’t walk the chain, it’s all the same to the rocks.” He closed his eyes and seemed to settle deeper into the sand. John rose from the supine red figure; his naked body had begun to sweat profusely in the heat of the sun, the breeze coming off the sea turned the sweat cool on his back. He turned and walked unsteadily to the edge of the mesa, looking for a way down. Choosing what seemed like a likely groove in the erosion, he descended from the edge in a barely controlled slide; loosing his balance completely for the last two metres and landing face down on the grassy dune with the surf roaring in his ears. From somewhere deep within his stunned and battered mind Martha’s face rose in absolute clarity and his heart filled with the beauty and familiarity of the vision. He tried to drink in the detail of her face but the closer he looked the hazier it became until he was left with only a vague sense of déjà vu. John Gabriel rose spitting beach sand, and stared out at the chain, an involuntarily shiver ran across his shoulders and the back of his neck. Someone just walked across my grave he thought.
He approached the giant black ring embedded in the rock. He stared out at the chain that stretched out into the infinity of the hazy sea and wondered whether he was doing the right thing. A seagull circled, watching, and John grasped on to the remnants of the memory of Martha’s face as he climbed onto the creaking chain, finding hand and footholds unsteadily on the pitted links.
Ten metres out from the shore and John had gained confidence; the chain did not sag beneath his weight but continued its rhythmic creak as he passed beyond the line of breakers that had drenched him cold at the outset. The seagull too, after a few half-hearted dives and warnings, had left him to his folly as if to imply that this one was beyond help.
With the breakers now some way behind, John’s exertions were draped in relative silence, the occasional lap of the swelling sea serving to punctuate his rasping breath and the creak of the chain. Muscles aching with his unfamiliar ape-like horizontal climb.
He rested briefly, looking back to find that the island was now lost in the haze, the view back the same as the view forward. Loneliness had never been so absolute. Briefly he contemplated going back.
“The rocks don’t care,” whispered the sandman on the red mesa.
John Gabriel cocked his head to one side, imagining he heard the sound of the wind wailing mournfully on the haze up ahead,
“Fuck it,” he inhaled deeply and continued to walk the chain. mac tonnies writes :Consciousness is a potential technology; we are exquisite machines, nothing less than sentient patterns. As such, there's no convincing technical reason we can't eventually upload ourselves into matrices of our design and choosing. It's likely the phenomenon we casually call "intelligence" will cease to be strictly biological as we begin to merge with our machines more meaningfully and intimately. (Philip K. Dick once wrote that "living and nonliving things are exchanging properties." I suspect that in a few hundred years, barring disaster, separating the animate from the inanimate will probably be an exercise in futility.) Ultimately, we have options: self-mutate in minds and bodies of our own design

peace

Henki tarkoittaa ihmisen tai eläimen elämää, vanhoissa uskomuksissa myös yliluonnollista elämänvoimaa. Pyhä henki on käsite, jolla viitataan yleisesti jumalvoimaan ja sen ilmenemismuotoihin useissa eri uskonnoissaFilosofiassa hengen käsitteellä viitataan oletettuun aineettomaan substanssiin aineen vastakohtana.^[1]Henkinen tarkoittaa yksilön omien tekojen arviointia ikään kuin ulkoapäin ja kykyä eettisiin kannanottoihin.^[2] Hengellinen viittaa lähinnä uskonnolliseen aineettomaan ja siihen suuntautuvaan toimintaan ja ajatteluun. Itse on ilmeisesti ollut muinaissuomalaisen käsityksen mukaan ihmisen sielun osa, sieluun kuuluva muista osista erillinen henkiolento,

Itse on kuin sielun varjo tai varjosielu, se on erillinen minuudesta, mutta rinnakkainen tälle, ikään kuin tämän kuvajainen. Itse voi olla jopa ihmisen ruumiille rinnakkainen kaksoisolento. Itse voi kulkea ihmisen edellä hänen hahmossaan.
Weor used the terms "Being" (equivalent in meaning to Atman in Hinduism^[6]) and "ego." drawing the distinction that the two states possible are that of Being, which is "transparent, crystal-clear, impersonal, real, and true," and that of the "I," which is "a collective of psychic Aggregates that personify Defects, whose only reason to exist is ignorance."^[7]The Fruit of the Spirit is a concept from the Christian New Testament of The Bible, specifically the Epistle to the Galatians chapter 5. 'Fruit' is used to mean 'end product' or 'harvest'
Fruit of the Holy Spirit
“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” -Vincent van Gogh ..Claudio Naranjo is a renowned Chilean psychiatrist and considered a pioneer in his work as an integrator between psychotherapy and the spiritual traditions.

Since the late eighties, Naranjo has divided each year's agenda between his activities abroad and his writing at home in Berkeley. Among his many publications, he has revised an early book on Gestalt therapy and published two new ones. He has published three books on the Enneagram, as well as The End of Patriarchy, which is his interpretation of social problems as the expression of a de-valuation of the nurturance and human instinct and their solution in the harmonious development of our "three brained" potential. He has also published a book on meditation; The Way of Silence and the Talking Cure; and Songs of Enlightenment, on the interpretation of the great books of the West as expressions of "the inner journey" and variations on the "tale of the hero

Architecture student

p. 154

Avoiding the Void: The Lack of Self in Psychotherapy and Buddhism

The Journal of Transpersonal Psychology, Vol. 24, No. 2 (1992)

"Me katsoi ylös ja näki kiiltävä esine taivaalle ja en tiedä mitä se oli, mutta se oli tullut hulluksi", sanoi Hampton. "Voisit kertoa se oli jotakin, mutta et todellakaan voinut sanoa, mitä se oli . Se oli saada isompi ja muuttuvat eri värejä. Näin saat pienempiä ja suurempia ja mene kaikkialla. " there has never been any real lack, because there has never been any self- existing self apart from the world. The problem of desire is solved when the "bad infinity" of unsatisfiable lack transforms into a "good infinity" which needs nothing and therefore can freely become anything.

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CXHEInLUsAADDqD.jpg

You Are mi Love?

It used to be so easy. I never even tried

http://www.anomalistbooks.com/news/2009/10/24/a-quiet-escape-from-kansas-city/

miten tietos pitää käyttää We are Gods Gadgets, suppose, and worst

tietoa käytetään hallitsemiseen, mutta tunteet onneksi. Mac Tonnies had the ability to hold the most jaw-droppingly wild theories and calm, understated reason in good balance. We should all aspire to his level of rational imagination.
three days in Pakistan The mystery of wave/particle duality persists because of the stubborn adherence to the point-particle model of elementary particles. This has excluded a whole class of theories based on a three-dimensional extended wave model. It is this class of theories which holds the promise of giving both an intuitively obvious resolution to the mystery of wave/particle duality and the key to the unification of the fundamental forces. It has been incredibly difficult, however, to construct a wave model that is consistent with the observed behavior of the objects we call elementary particles. We present here a new wave model which holds the promise of being just such a consistent model. This model gives an intuitively obvious explanation of wave/particle duality. Furthermore, this model opens up a new path in the search for a unified theory of elementary particles and the fundamental forces.

Jla etkö Sinä osaa hoitaa propagandaa

kaikki nää jutut mitä tapahtuu niinku Ryssien ja Amerikoiden ja muiden välillä kaikki on liian läpinäkyvää
jolloin se ei voi olla pääasia

physical law 2 never mind

money ll not du the evolution but health. so, is better be lazy and healthy than rich

Although there is no evidence that the CIA directly supported the Taliban or Al-Qaeda, some basis for military support of the Taliban was provided when, in the early 1980s, the CIA and the ISI (Pakistan's Inter-Services Intelligence agency) provided arms
Pakistan has lost thousands of lives since joining the US' war on terror in the form of both soldiers and civilians. ::The Taliban formed during the war against the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan 1979 to 1989.-- political movement that governed Afghanistan from 1996 until 2001, when its leaders were removed from power by NATO forces

The creation of Taliban was strongly influenced by Pakistan's ISI agency.-----wheres the questionmark in this machine After the September 11, 2001 attacks in the United States of America, Pakistan became a key ally in the war on terror with the United States.
Afghanistan and Pakistan share a long history and share many cultural, linguistic and ethnic commonalities.
Historically, Iran was the first nation to recognize Pakistan. Since then, Pakistan has had close geopolitical and cultural-religious linkages with Iran. much of Iran's nuclear research have originated from Pakistan. who is the one wantin g
Relations between Pakistanis and Palestinians are considered to be very close ...sooo.

but. theres one enemy. Two Nation Theory led the Muslim League to adopt the Lahore Resolution^[7] of 1940, demanding the formation of an independent Pakistan.Since independence, relations between Pakistan and India have been characterized by rivalry and suspicioneverywhere
Kingdom of Saudi Arabia has helped Pakistan in many fields

It is still not exactly clear when Pakistan opened diplomatic ties to North Korea. It is said to be somewhere in the 1970s..utz brotherly countries have some culture in common especially because of deep Turkic and Persian influences in the two countries all these brothers
The Durand Line is the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan, which stretches approximately 2,640 kilometers which americans say is no clearly marked

Μυνημα για τους φινλανδους

The kind of certainty is the kind of language game_? "How do sentences do it?" guess like piple, mixing