95 Matching Annotations
  1. May 2019
    1. After breakfast they made ready to say farewell, as nearly heavy of heart3 as was possible on such a morning; cool, bright, and clean under a washed autumn sky of thin blue. The air came fresh from the North-West.They rode off along a path and looked out from the hill-top over lands under the morning. It was now as clear and far-seen as it had been veiled and misty when they stood upon the knoll in the Forest. They took a deep draught of the air.4Their way wound along the floor of the hollow, and round the green feet of a steep hill into another deeper and broader valley. As they journeyed the sun mounted, and grew hot. Each time they climbed a ridge the breeze seemed to have grown less. When they caught a glimpse of the country westward the distant Forest seemed to be smoking, as if the fallen rain was steaming up again. A shadow now lay round the edge of sight, a dark haze above which the sky was like a blue cap.5 On that side the hills were higher and looked down upon them; and all those hills were crowned with green mounds, and on some were standing stones, pointing upwards like jagged teeth out of green gums. The view was somehow disquieting; so they turned from the sight and went down into the hollow circle. In the midst of it there stood a single stone, standing tall under the sun above, and at this hour casting no shadow. They set their backs6 against the east side of the stone. It was cool, as if the sun had had no power to warm it. There they took food and drink.Riding over the hills, and eating their fill,7 lying a little too long; these things are, perhaps, enough to explain what happened. How­ever, that may be: they woke suddenly from a sleep they had never meant to take. The standing stone was cold, and it cast a long pale shadow. The sun was gleaming through the mist; north, south, and east, the fog was thick, cold and white. The air was silent, heavy and chill.
    2. Riding over the hills, and eating their fill,7 lying a little too long; these things are, perhaps, enough to explain what happened. How­ever, that may be: they woke suddenly from a sleep they had never meant to take. The standing stone was cold, and it cast a long pale shadow. The sun was gleaming through the mist; north, south, and east, the fog was thick, cold and white. The air was silent, heavy and chill.The hobbits8 sprang to their feet in alarm, and ran to the western rim. They found that they were upon an island in the fog. Even as they looked out in dismay towards the setting sun, it sank before their eyes into a white sea, and a cold grey shadow sprang up in the East behind. The fog rolled up to the walls and rose above them, and as it mounted it bent over their heads until it became a roof. They felt as if a trap was closing about them. They packed up as quickly as their chilled fingers would work.Soon they were leading their ponies in single file9 over the rim and down the long northward slope of the hill, down into a foggy sea. As they went down the mist became colder and damper, and their hair hung lank and dripping on their foreheads. When they reached the bottom it was so cold that they halted and got out cloaks and hoods, which soon became bedewed with grey drops. Then, mounting their ponies, they went slowly on again. To prevent their getting separated and wandering in different directions they went in file, with Frodo leading. Suddenly Frodo saw a hopeful sign. On either side ahead a darkness began to loom through the mist; and he guessed that they were at last approaching the gap in the hills. 'Come on! Follow me!' he called back over his shoulder, and he hurried forward. His pony reared, and he fell off. When he looked back he found that he was alone: the others had not fol­lowed him.

      main body

    3. 'Sam!' he called. 'Pippin! Merry! Come along! Why don't you keep up?'10There was no answer. Fear took him, and he ran back. As he struggled on he called again, and kept on calling more and more frantically. He was weary, sweating and yet chilled. It was wholly dark.'Where are you?' he cried out miserably.There was no reply. He stood listening. He was suddenly aware that it was getting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icy wind. A change was coming in the weather. The mist was flowing past him in shreds and tatters. His breath was smok­ing.11 He looked up and saw with surprise that faint stars were ap­pearing overhead amid the strands of hurrying cloud and fog. Oat of the east the biting wind was blowing.'Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid.'Here!' said a voice, deep and cold, that seemed to come out of the ground. 'I am waiting for you!''No!' said Frodo; but he did not run away. His knees gave,12 and he fell on the ground. Nothing happened, and there was no sound. Trembling he looked up in time to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars. It leaned over him. He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with a pale light that seemed to come from some remote distance. Then a grip stronger and colder than iron seized him. The icy touch froze his bones, and he remembered no more.When he came to himself again, for a moment he could recall nothing except a sense of dread. Then suddenly he knew that he was imprisoned, caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow. A Barrow-wight had taken him, and he was probably already under the dreadful spells of the Barrow-wights about which whispered tales spoke. Hedared not move, but lay as he found himself: flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast.As he lay there, thinking and getting a hold on himself, he no­ticed all at once that the darkness was slowly giving way:13 a pale greenish light was growing round him. He turned, and there in the cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry.There was a loud rumbling sound, as of stones rolling and fal­ling, and suddenly light streamed in. A low door-like opening appeared at the end of the chamber beyond Frodo's feet; and there was Tom's head against the light of the sun rising red behind him.'Come, friend Frodo!' said Tom. 'Let us get out on to the clean grass! You must help me bear them.' Together they carried out Merry, Pippin and Sam. To Frodo's great joy the hobbits stirred, robbed their eyes, and then suddenly sprang up. They looked about in amazement. 'What in the name of wonder?14 began Merry. 'Where did you get to, Frodo?''I thought that I was lost', said Frodo; 'but I don't want to speak of it.' But Tom shook his head, saying: 'Be glad, my merry friends, and let the warm sunlight heat now heart and limb! Cast off these cold rags! Run naked on the grass!'
    4. Riding over the hills, and eating their fill,7 lying a little too long; these things are, perhaps, enough to explain what happened. How­ever, that may be: they woke suddenly from a sleep they had never meant to take. The standing stone was cold, and it cast a long pale shadow. The sun was gleaming through the mist; north, south, and east, the fog was thick, cold and white. The air was silent, heavy and chill.The hobbits8 sprang to their feet in alarm, and ran to the western rim. They found that they were upon an island in the fog. Even as they looked out in dismay towards the setting sun, it sank before their eyes into a white sea, and a cold grey shadow sprang up in the East behind. The fog rolled up to the walls and rose above them, and as it mounted it bent over their heads until it became a roof. They felt as if a trap was closing about them. They packed up as quickly as their chilled fingers would work.Soon they were leading their ponies in single file9 over the rim and down the long northward slope of the hill, down into a foggy sea. As they went down the mist became colder and damper, and their hair hung lank and dripping on their foreheads. When they reached the bottom it was so cold that they halted and got out cloaks and hoods, which soon became bedewed with grey drops. Then, mounting their ponies, they went slowly on again. To prevent their getting separated and wandering in different directions they went in file, with Frodo leading. Suddenly Frodo saw a hopeful sign. On either side ahead a darkness began to loom through the mist; and he guessed that they were at last approaching the gap in the hills. 'Come on! Follow me!' he called back over his shoulder, and he hurried forward. His pony reared, and he fell off. When he looked back he found that he was alone: the others had not fol­lowed him.
  2. Apr 2019
    1. “We have learned that trauma is not just an event that took place sometime in the past; it is also the imprint left by that experience on mind, brain, and body. This imprint has ongoing consequences for how the human organism manages to survive in the present. Trauma results in a fundamental reorganization of the way mind and brain manage perceptions. It changes not only how we think and what we think about, but also our very capacity to think.”
    2. Trauma victims cannot recover until they become familiar with and befriend the sensations in their bodies. Being frightened means that you live in a body that is always on guard. Angry people live in angry bodies. The bodies of child-abuse victims are tense and defensive until they find a way to relax and feel safe. In order to change, people need to become aware of their sensations and the way that their bodies interact with the world around them. Physical self-awareness is the first step in releasing the tyranny of the past.
    3. “As long as you keep secrets and suppress information, you are fundamentally at war with yourself…The critical issue is allowing yourself to know what you know. That takes an enormous amount of courage.”
    1. Nobody can “treat” a war, or abuse, rape, molestation, or any other horrendous event, for that matter; what has happened cannot be undone. But what can be dealt with are the imprints of the trauma on body, mind, and soul: the crushing sensations in your chest that you may label as anxiety or depression; the fear of losing control; always being on alert for danger or rejection; the self-loathing; the nightmares and flashbacks; the fog that keeps you from staying on task and from engaging fully in what you are doing; being unable to fully open your heart to another human being.
    2. Agency starts with what scientists call interoception, our awareness of our subtle sensory, body-based feelings: the greater that awareness, the greater our potential to control our lives. Knowing what we feel is the first step to knowing why we feel that way. If we are aware of the constant changes in our inner and outer environment, we can mobilize to manage them.
    3. The body keeps the score: If the memory of trauma is encoded in the viscera, in heartbreaking and gut-wrenching emotions, in autoimmune disorders and skeletal/muscular problems, and if mind/brain/visceral communication is the royal road to emotion regulation, this demands a radical shift in our therapeutic assumptions.
    1. What other colours do you have this in?' asked Sayako of the assistants, who were packing her suits, loafers, bags and wig.'Just one other colour,' said an assistant (who thought, Jesus, we'll have a drink after work tonight).She hurried to the back of the shop and quickly returned with a toffee-brown version of the sumptuous coat.8'Yes,' said Sayako. 'I take both and, of course, boots to match, size four.' She pointed to the boots worn by the red-haired manne­quin.The pile on the counter grew. Her bodyguard standing inside the shop door shifted impatiently.When the Princess and her purchases had been driven away, the manageress and her assistants screamed and yelled and hugged each other for joy.

      In this part sayako taked more type of cloths and shoes. And shop assistents happy that they sail so many items.

    2. She then handed over a platinum card which bore the name of her father, the Emperor of Japan.
    3. 'What other colours do you have this in?' asked Sayako of the assistants, who were packing her suits, loafers, bags and wig.'Just one other colour,' said an assistant (who thought, Jesus, we'll have a drink after work tonight).She hurried to the back of the shop and quickly returned with a toffee-brown version of the sumptuous coat.8'Yes,' said Sayako. 'I take both and, of course, boots to match, size four.' She pointed to the boots worn by the red-haired manne­quin.The pile on the counter grew. Her bodyguard standing inside the shop door shifted impatiently.When the Princess and her purchases had been driven away, the manageress and her assistants screamed and yelled and hugged each other for joy.
    4. As the manageress tapped in the magic numbers from the card,7 Sayako tried on a soft green-coloured suede coat which was also be­ing worn by a red-haired mannequin. The suede coat cost one penny less than a thousand pounds.

      Sayako paid for her goods by credit card.

    5. 'That colour's very good on you,' she said, smiling professio­nally.Sayako said, 'I take it and also I take it in strawberry and navy and primrose.'3The manageress inwardly rejoiced. She would now reach this week's target.4 Her job would be safe for at least another month. God bless the Japanese!Sayako walked over on stockinged feet5 to a display of suede loafers.'And these shoes to match all suits in size four,' she said. Her role model was the fibreglass mannequin6 which lolled convincingly against the shop counter, wearing the same cream suit that Sayako was wearing, the loafers that Sayako had just ordered and a bag that Sayako was about to order in navy, strawberry, cream and primrose. The mannequin's blonde nylon wig shone under the spotlights. Her blue eyes were half closed as though she were encaptured by her own beauty.She is so beautiful, thought Sayako. She took the wig from the mannequin's head and placed it on her own. It fitted perfectly.'And I take this,' she said.She then handed over a platinum card which bore the name of her father, the Emperor of Japan.

      In this part Sayako taked many type of cloths and colours

    6. 'That colour's very good on you,' she said, smiling professio­nally.Sayako said, 'I take it and also I take it in strawberry and navy and primrose.'3The manageress inwardly rejoiced. She would now reach this week's target.4 Her job would be safe for at least another month. God bless the Japanese!Sayako walked over on stockinged feet5 to a display of suede loafers.'And these shoes to match all suits in size four,' she said. Her role model was the fibreglass mannequin6 which lolled convincingly against the shop counter, wearing the same cream suit that Sayako was wearing, the loafers that Sayako had just ordered and a bag that Sayako was about to order in navy, strawberry, cream and primrose. The mannequin's blonde nylon wig shone under the spotlights. Her blue eyes were half closed as though she were encaptured by her own beauty.She is so beautiful, thought Sayako. She took the wig from the mannequin's head and placed it on her own. It fitted perfectly.'And I take this,' she said.

      Main Body

    7. She then handed over a platinum card which bore the name of her father, the Emperor of Japan.As the manageress tapped in the magic numbers from the card,7 Sayako tried on a soft green-coloured suede coat which was also be­ing worn by a red-haired mannequin. The suede coat cost one penny less than a thousand pounds.'What other colours do you have this in?' asked Sayako of the assistants, who were packing her suits, loafers, bags and wig.'Just one other colour,' said an assistant (who thought, Jesus, we'll have a drink after work tonight).She hurried to the back of the shop and quickly returned with a toffee-brown version of the sumptuous coat.8'Yes,' said Sayako. 'I take both and, of course, boots to match, size four.' She pointed to the boots worn by the red-haired manne­quin.The pile on the counter grew. Her bodyguard standing inside the shop door shifted impatiently.When the Princess and her purchases had been driven away, the manageress and her assistants screamed and yelled and hugged each other for joy.

      Main Body

    8. 'That colour's very good on you,' she said, smiling professio­nally.Sayako said, 'I take it and also I take it in strawberry and navy and primrose.'3The manageress inwardly rejoiced. She would now reach this week's target.4 Her job would be safe for at least another month. God bless the Japanese!Sayako walked over on stockinged feet5 to a display of suede loafers.'And these shoes to match all suits in size four,' she said. Her role model was the fibreglass mannequin6 which lolled convincingly against the shop counter, wearing the same cream suit that Sayako was wearing, the loafers that Sayako had just ordered and a bag that Sayako was about to order in navy, strawberry, cream and primrose. The mannequin's blonde nylon wig shone under the spotlights. Her blue eyes were half closed as though she were encaptured by her own beauty.She is so beautiful, thought Sayako. She took the wig from the mannequin's head and placed it on her own. It fitted perfectly.'And I take this,' she said.She then handed over a platinum card which bore the name of her father, the Emperor of Japan.As the manageress tapped in the magic numbers from the card,7 Sayako tried on a soft green-coloured suede coat which was also be­ing worn by a red-haired mannequin. The suede coat cost one penny less than a thousand pounds.'What other colours do you have this in?' asked Sayako of the assistants, who were packing her suits, loafers, bags and wig.'Just one other colour,' said an assistant (who thought, Jesus, we'll have a drink after work tonight).She hurried to the back of the shop and quickly returned with a toffee-brown version of the sumptuous coat.8'Yes,' said Sayako. 'I take both and, of course, boots to match, size four.' She pointed to the boots worn by the red-haired manne­quin.The pile on the counter grew. Her bodyguard standing inside the shop door shifted impatiently.When the Princess and her purchases had been driven away, the manageress and her assistants screamed and yelled and hugged each other for joy.
    1. The message of the campaign, to “see beauty in imperfections” and not to “worship stereotypes,” has both raised the morale of women worldwide and greatly increased Dove sales revenue (Dove).

      Dove changes the way they see themselves.

  3. Mar 2019
    1. 'After all,' the dark woman resumed her conversation, 'how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn't sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.'He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.'On his hands and knees,' the dark woman spoke in a trium­phant voice. 'Begged me take him back.'She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She'd lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.

      Main body 2 Jean gets into an akward situation and thinks about size of the purchases.

    2. 'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.The cashier suddenly said, 'Make it out to J. Sainsbury PLC.' She was addressing a man who had been poised and waiting to write out a cheque for a few moments. His wife was loading what looked like a gross offish fingers into a cardboard box marked "Whiskas". It was called a division of labour.Jean looked again at her basket and began to feel the familiar feeling of regret that visited her from time to time. Hemmed in be­tween family-size cartons of cornflakes and giant packets of wash­ing-powder, her individual yoghurt seemed to say it all. She looked up towards a plastic bookstand which stood beside the till. A slim glossy hardback caught her eye. The words Cooking for One screamed out from the front cover. Think of all the oriental foods you can get into, her friend had said. He was so traditional after all. Nodding in agreement with her thoughts Jean found herself eye to eye with the blonde woman, who gave her a blank, hard look and handed her what looked like a black plastic ruler with the words "Next customer please" printed on it in bold letters. She turned back to her friend. Jean put the ruler down on the conveyor belt.

      In the third part, Jean finaly approaches the conveyor belt.

    3. The cashier suddenly said, 'Make it out to J. Sainsbury PLC.' She was addressing a man who had been poised and waiting to write out a cheque for a few moments. His wife was loading what looked like a gross offish fingers into a cardboard box marked "Whiskas". It was called a division of labour.Jean looked again at her basket and began to feel the familiar feeling of regret that visited her from time to time. Hemmed in be­tween family-size cartons of cornflakes and giant packets of wash­ing-powder, her individual yoghurt seemed to say it all. She looked up towards a plastic bookstand which stood beside the till. A slim glossy hardback caught her eye. The words Cooking for One screamed out from the front cover. Think of all the oriental foods you can get into, her friend had said. He was so traditional after all. Nodding in agreement with her thoughts Jean found herself eye to eye with the blonde woman, who gave her a blank, hard look and handed her what looked like a black plastic ruler with the words "Next customer please" printed on it in bold letters. She turned back to her friend. Jean put the ruler down on the conveyor belt.She thought about their shopping trips, before, when they were together. All that rushing round, he pushing the trolley dejectedly, she firing questions at him. Salmon? Toilet rolls? Coffee? Peas? She remembered he only liked the processed kind. It was all such a performance. Standing there holding her wire basket, embarrassed by its very emptiness, was like something out of a soap opera.'Of course, we've had our ups and downs,' the dark woman continued, lazily passing a few items down to her friend.Jean began to load her food on to the conveyor belt. She picked up the cookery book and felt the frustrations of indecision. It was only ninety pence but it seemed to define everything, to pinpoint her aloneness, to prescribe an empty future. She put it back in its place.'So that's why I couldn't have her there you see,' the dark woman was summing up. The friends exchanged knowing expres­sions and the blonde woman got her purse out of a neat leather bag. She peeled off three ten pound notes and handed them to the cashier.Jean opened her carrier bag ready for her shopping. She turned to watch the two women as they walked off, the blonde pushing the trolley and the other seemingly carrying on with her story.

      Main body 3 Standing there holding Jane's wire basket, embarrassed by its very emptiness, was like something out of a soap opera.

    4. 'So what did you say?' Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.'Well,' the darker woman began, 'I said I'm not having that woman there. I don't see why I should. I mean I'm not being old-fashioned but I don't see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...'Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into si­lence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn't go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and 'special offer' drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it — she'd just have to wait.'After all,' the dark woman resumed her conversation, 'how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn't sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.'He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.'On his hands and knees,' the dark woman spoke in a trium­phant voice. 'Begged me take him back.'She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She'd lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.The cashier suddenly said, 'Make it out to J. Sainsbury PLC.' She was addressing a man who had been poised and waiting to write out a cheque for a few moments. His wife was loading what looked like a gross offish fingers into a cardboard box marked "Whiskas". It was called a division of labour.Jean looked again at her basket and began to feel the familiar feeling of regret that visited her from time to time. Hemmed in be­tween family-size cartons of cornflakes and giant packets of wash­ing-powder, her individual yoghurt seemed to say it all. She looked up towards a plastic bookstand which stood beside the till. A slim glossy hardback caught her eye. The words Cooking for One screamed out from the front cover. Think of all the oriental foods you can get into, her friend had said. He was so traditional after all. Nodding in agreement with her thoughts Jean found herself eye to eye with the blonde woman, who gave her a blank, hard look and handed her what looked like a black plastic ruler with the words "Next customer please" printed on it in bold letters. She turned back to her friend. Jean put the ruler down on the conveyor belt.She thought about their shopping trips, before, when they were together. All that rushing round, he pushing the trolley dejectedly, she firing questions at him. Salmon? Toilet rolls? Coffee? Peas? She remembered he only liked the processed kind. It was all such a performance. Standing there holding her wire basket, embarrassed by its very emptiness, was like something out of a soap opera.'Of course, we've had our ups and downs,' the dark woman continued, lazily passing a few items down to her friend.Jean began to load her food on to the conveyor belt. She picked up the cookery book and felt the frustrations of indecision. It was only ninety pence but it seemed to define everything, to pinpoint her aloneness, to prescribe an empty future. She put it back in its place.'So that's why I couldn't have her there you see,' the dark woman was summing up. The friends exchanged knowing expres­sions and the blonde woman got her purse out of a neat leather bag. She peeled off three ten pound notes and handed them to the cashier.Jean opened her carrier bag ready for her shopping. She turned to watch the two women as they walked off, the blonde pushing the trolley and the other seemingly carrying on with her story.The cashier was looking expectantly at her and Jean realized that she had totalled up. It was four pounds and eighty-seven pence. She had the right money, it just meant sorting her change out. She had an inclination that the people behind her were becoming impa­tient. She noticed their stack of items all lined and waiting, it seemed, for starters orders. Brown bread and peppers, olive oil and, in the centre, a packet of beefburgers.

      Main body

    5. 'After all,' the dark woman resumed her conversation, 'how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn't sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.'He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.'On his hands and knees,' the dark woman spoke in a trium­phant voice. 'Begged me take him back.'She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She'd lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.

      In the second part of the main body, Jean gets into an akward situation and thinks about size of the purchases.

    6. 'After all,' the dark woman resumed her conversation, 'how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn't sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.'He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.'On his hands and knees,' the dark woman spoke in a trium­phant voice. 'Begged me take him back.'She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She'd lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.

      She wanted to change her cream salad for a bigger one, but realized that she would lose her spot in the queue.

    7. 'After all,' the dark woman resumed her conversation, 'how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn't sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.'He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.'On his hands and knees,' the dark woman spoke in a trium­phant voice. 'Begged me take him back.'She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She'd lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.
    8. 'So what did you say?' Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.'Well,' the darker woman began, 'I said I'm not having that woman there. I don't see why I should. I mean I'm not being old-fashioned but I don't see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...'Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into si­lence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn't go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and 'special offer' drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it — she'd just have to wait.

      In the first part of the main body, the main character hears a conversation of two women about their personal problems. She also notices that she bought not everything she needed.

    9. She thought about their shopping trips, before, when they were together. All that rushing round, he pushing the trolley dejectedly, she firing questions at him. Salmon? Toilet rolls? Coffee? Peas? She remembered he only liked the processed kind. It was all such a performance. Standing there holding her wire basket, embarrassed by its very emptiness, was like something out of a soap opera.'Of course, we've had our ups and downs,' the dark woman continued, lazily passing a few items down to her friend.Jean began to load her food on to the conveyor belt. She picked up the cookery book and felt the frustrations of indecision. It was only ninety pence but it seemed to define everything, to pinpoint her aloneness, to prescribe an empty future. She put it back in its place.'So that's why I couldn't have her there you see,' the dark woman was summing up. The friends exchanged knowing expres­sions and the blonde woman got her purse out of a neat leather bag. She peeled off three ten pound notes and handed them to the cashier.

      main hero wants to buy a cookery book

    10. 'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.The cashier suddenly said, 'Make it out to J. Sainsbury PLC.' She was addressing a man who had been poised and waiting to write out a cheque for a few moments. His wife was loading what looked like a gross offish fingers into a cardboard box marked "Whiskas". It was called a division of labour.Jean looked again at her basket and began to feel the familiar feeling of regret that visited her from time to time. Hemmed in be­tween family-size cartons of cornflakes and giant packets of wash­ing-powder, her individual yoghurt seemed to say it all. She looked up towards a plastic bookstand which stood beside the till. A slim glossy hardback caught her eye. The words Cooking for One screamed out from the front cover. Think of all the oriental foods you can get into, her friend had said. He was so traditional after all. Nodding in agreement with her thoughts Jean found herself eye to eye with the blonde woman, who gave her a blank, hard look and handed her what looked like a black plastic ruler with the words "Next customer please" printed on it in bold letters. She turned back to her friend. Jean put the ruler down on the conveyor belt.

      Then Jean noted a book with the title "Cooking for one" that was on a bookstand beside the till.

    11. 'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.The cashier suddenly said, 'Make it out to J. Sainsbury PLC.' She was addressing a man who had been poised and waiting to write out a cheque for a few moments. His wife was loading what looked like a gross offish fingers into a cardboard box marked "Whiskas". It was called a division of labour.Jean looked again at her basket and began to feel the familiar feeling of regret that visited her from time to time. Hemmed in be­tween family-size cartons of cornflakes and giant packets of wash­ing-powder, her individual yoghurt seemed to say it all. She looked up towards a plastic bookstand which stood beside the till. A slim glossy hardback caught her eye. The words Cooking for One screamed out from the front cover. Think of all the oriental foods you can get into, her friend had said. He was so traditional after all. Nodding in agreement with her thoughts Jean found herself eye to eye with the blonde woman, who gave her a blank, hard look and handed her what looked like a black plastic ruler with the words "Next customer please" printed on it in bold letters. She turned back to her friend. Jean put the ruler down on the conveyor belt.

      in this part main hero reason about items one`s woman

    12. She thought about their shopping trips, before, when they were together. All that rushing round, he pushing the trolley dejectedly, she firing questions at him. Salmon? Toilet rolls? Coffee? Peas? She remembered he only liked the processed kind. It was all such a performance. Standing there holding her wire basket, embarrassed by its very emptiness, was like something out of a soap opera.'Of course, we've had our ups and downs,' the dark woman continued, lazily passing a few items down to her friend.Jean began to load her food on to the conveyor belt. She picked up the cookery book and felt the frustrations of indecision. It was only ninety pence but it seemed to define everything, to pinpoint her aloneness, to prescribe an empty future. She put it back in its place.'So that's why I couldn't have her there you see,' the dark woman was summing up. The friends exchanged knowing expres­sions and the blonde woman got her purse out of a neat leather bag. She peeled off three ten pound notes and handed them to the cashier.

      Then she thought about their shopping trips when they were together.

    13. 'So what did you say?' Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.'Well,' the darker woman began, 'I said I'm not having that woman there. I don't see why I should. I mean I'm not being old-fashioned but I don't see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...'Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into si­lence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn't go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and 'special offer' drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it — she'd just have to wait.

      Jean heard the conversation of two women standing in front of her in the queue. She felt her patience beginning to itch.

    14. 'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.The cashier suddenly said, 'Make it out to J. Sainsbury PLC.' She was addressing a man who had been poised and waiting to write out a cheque for a few moments. His wife was loading what looked like a gross offish fingers into a cardboard box marked "Whiskas". It was called a division of labour.Jean looked again at her basket and began to feel the familiar feeling of regret that visited her from time to time. Hemmed in be­tween family-size cartons of cornflakes and giant packets of wash­ing-powder, her individual yoghurt seemed to say it all. She looked up towards a plastic bookstand which stood beside the till. A slim glossy hardback caught her eye. The words Cooking for One screamed out from the front cover. Think of all the oriental foods you can get into, her friend had said. He was so traditional after all. Nodding in agreement with her thoughts Jean found herself eye to eye with the blonde woman, who gave her a blank, hard look and handed her what looked like a black plastic ruler with the words "Next customer please" printed on it in bold letters. She turned back to her friend. Jean put the ruler down on the conveyor belt.
    15. She thought about their shopping trips, before, when they were together. All that rushing round, he pushing the trolley dejectedly, she firing questions at him. Salmon? Toilet rolls? Coffee? Peas? She remembered he only liked the processed kind. It was all such a performance. Standing there holding her wire basket, embarrassed by its very emptiness, was like something out of a soap opera.'Of course, we've had our ups and downs,' the dark woman continued, lazily passing a few items down to her friend.Jean began to load her food on to the conveyor belt. She picked up the cookery book and felt the frustrations of indecision. It was only ninety pence but it seemed to define everything, to pinpoint her aloneness, to prescribe an empty future. She put it back in its place.'So that's why I couldn't have her there you see,' the dark woman was summing up. The friends exchanged knowing expres­sions and the blonde woman got her purse out of a neat leather bag. She peeled off three ten pound notes and handed them to the cashier.

      fourth part of the main body

    16. 'After all,' the dark woman resumed her conversation, 'how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn't sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.'He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.'On his hands and knees,' the dark woman spoke in a trium­phant voice. 'Begged me take him back.'She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She'd lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.

      second part of the main body

    17. 'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.The cashier suddenly said, 'Make it out to J. Sainsbury PLC.' She was addressing a man who had been poised and waiting to write out a cheque for a few moments. His wife was loading what looked like a gross offish fingers into a cardboard box marked "Whiskas". It was called a division of labour.Jean looked again at her basket and began to feel the familiar feeling of regret that visited her from time to time. Hemmed in be­tween family-size cartons of cornflakes and giant packets of wash­ing-powder, her individual yoghurt seemed to say it all. She looked up towards a plastic bookstand which stood beside the till. A slim glossy hardback caught her eye. The words Cooking for One screamed out from the front cover. Think of all the oriental foods you can get into, her friend had said. He was so traditional after all. Nodding in agreement with her thoughts Jean found herself eye to eye with the blonde woman, who gave her a blank, hard look and handed her what looked like a black plastic ruler with the words "Next customer please" printed on it in bold letters. She turned back to her friend. Jean put the ruler down on the conveyor belt.

      third part of the main body

    18. 'So what did you say?' Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.'Well,' the darker woman began, 'I said I'm not having that woman there. I don't see why I should. I mean I'm not being old-fashioned but I don't see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...'Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into si­lence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn't go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and 'special offer' drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it — she'd just have to wait.
    19. 'So what did you say?' Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.'Well,' the darker woman began, 'I said I'm not having that woman there. I don't see why I should. I mean I'm not being old-fashioned but I don't see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...'Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into si­lence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn't go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and 'special offer' drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it — she'd just have to wait.

      1 part of main body

    20. 'So what did you say?' Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.'Well,' the darker woman began, 'I said I'm not having that woman there. I don't see why I should. I mean I'm not being old-fashioned but I don't see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...'Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into si­lence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn't go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and 'special offer' drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it — she'd just have to wait.
    21. 'So what did you say?' Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.'Well,' the darker woman began, 'I said I'm not having that woman there. I don't see why I should. I mean I'm not being old-fashioned but I don't see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...'Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into si­lence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn't go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and 'special offer' drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it — she'd just have to wait.'After all,' the dark woman resumed her conversation, 'how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn't sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.'He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.'On his hands and knees,' the dark woman spoke in a trium­phant voice. 'Begged me take him back.'She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She'd lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.The cashier suddenly said, 'Make it out to J. Sainsbury PLC.' She was addressing a man who had been poised and waiting to write out a cheque for a few moments. His wife was loading what looked like a gross offish fingers into a cardboard box marked "Whiskas". It was called a division of labour.Jean looked again at her basket and began to feel the familiar feeling of regret that visited her from time to time. Hemmed in be­tween family-size cartons of cornflakes and giant packets of wash­ing-powder, her individual yoghurt seemed to say it all. She looked up towards a plastic bookstand which stood beside the till. A slim glossy hardback caught her eye. The words Cooking for One screamed out from the front cover. Think of all the oriental foods you can get into, her friend had said. He was so traditional after all. Nodding in agreement with her thoughts Jean found herself eye to eye with the blonde woman, who gave her a blank, hard look and handed her what looked like a black plastic ruler with the words "Next customer please" printed on it in bold letters. She turned back to her friend. Jean put the ruler down on the conveyor belt.She thought about their shopping trips, before, when they were together. All that rushing round, he pushing the trolley dejectedly, she firing questions at him. Salmon? Toilet rolls? Coffee? Peas? She remembered he only liked the processed kind. It was all such a performance. Standing there holding her wire basket, embarrassed by its very emptiness, was like something out of a soap opera.'Of course, we've had our ups and downs,' the dark woman continued, lazily passing a few items down to her friend.Jean began to load her food on to the conveyor belt. She picked up the cookery book and felt the frustrations of indecision. It was only ninety pence but it seemed to define everything, to pinpoint her aloneness, to prescribe an empty future. She put it back in its place.'So that's why I couldn't have her there you see,' the dark woman was summing up. The friends exchanged knowing expres­sions and the blonde woman got her purse out of a neat leather bag. She peeled off three ten pound notes and handed them to the cashier.

      main body

    22. 'So what did you say?' Jean heard the blonde woman in front of her talking to her friend.'Well,' the darker woman began, 'I said I'm not having that woman there. I don't see why I should. I mean I'm not being old-fashioned but I don't see why I should have to put up with her at family occasions. After all...'Jean noticed the other woman giving an accompaniment of nods and headshaking at the appropriate parts. They fell into si­lence and the queue moved forward a couple of steps.Jean felt her patience beginning to itch. Looking into her wire basket she counted ten items. That meant she couldn't go through the quick till but simply had to wait behind elephantine shopping loads; giant bottles of coke crammed in beside twenty-pound bags of potatoes and 'special offer' drums of bleach. Somewhere at the bottom, Jean thought, there was always a plastic carton of eggs or a see-through tray of tomatoes which fell casualty to the rest. There was nothing else for it — she'd just have to wait.'After all,' the dark woman resumed her conversation, 'how would it look if she was there when I turned up?' Her friend shook her head slowly from side to side and ended with a quick nod.Should she have got such a small size salad cream? Jean wasn't sure. She was sick of throwing away half-used bottles of stuff.'He came back to you after all,' the blonde woman suddenly said. Jean looked up quickly and immediately felt her cheeks flush. She bent over and began to rearrange the items in her shopping basket.'On his hands and knees,' the dark woman spoke in a trium­phant voice. 'Begged me take him back.'She gritted her teeth together. Should she go and change it for a larger size? Jean looked behind and saw that she was hemmed in by three large trollies. She'd lose her place in the queue. There was something so pitiful about buying small sizes of everything. It was as though everyone knew.'You can always tell a person by their shopping,' was one of her mother's favourite maxims. She looked into her shopping basket: individual fruit pies, small salad cream, yoghurt, tomatoes, cat food and a chicken quarter.The cashier suddenly said, 'Make it out to J. Sainsbury PLC.' She was addressing a man who had been poised and waiting to write out a cheque for a few moments. His wife was loading what looked like a gross offish fingers into a cardboard box marked "Whiskas". It was called a division of labour.Jean looked again at her basket and began to feel the familiar feeling of regret that visited her from time to time. Hemmed in be­tween family-size cartons of cornflakes and giant packets of wash­ing-powder, her individual yoghurt seemed to say it all. She looked up towards a plastic bookstand which stood beside the till. A slim glossy hardback caught her eye. The words Cooking for One screamed out from the front cover. Think of all the oriental foods you can get into, her friend had said. He was so traditional after all. Nodding in agreement with her thoughts Jean found herself eye to eye with the blonde woman, who gave her a blank, hard look and handed her what looked like a black plastic ruler with the words "Next customer please" printed on it in bold letters. She turned back to her friend. Jean put the ruler down on the conveyor belt.She thought about their shopping trips, before, when they were together. All that rushing round, he pushing the trolley dejectedly, she firing questions at him. Salmon? Toilet rolls? Coffee? Peas? She remembered he only liked the processed kind. It was all such a performance. Standing there holding her wire basket, embarrassed by its very emptiness, was like something out of a soap opera.'Of course, we've had our ups and downs,' the dark woman continued, lazily passing a few items down to her friend.Jean began to load her food on to the conveyor belt. She picked up the cookery book and felt the frustrations of indecision. It was only ninety pence but it seemed to define everything, to pinpoint her aloneness, to prescribe an empty future. She put it back in its place.'So that's why I couldn't have her there you see,' the dark woman was summing up. The friends exchanged knowing expres­sions and the blonde woman got her purse out of a neat leather bag. She peeled off three ten pound notes and handed them to the cashier.Jean opened her carrier bag ready for her shopping. She turned to watch the two women as they walked off, the blonde pushing the trolley and the other seemingly carrying on with her story.The cashier was looking expectantly at her and Jean realized that she had totalled up. It was four pounds and eighty-seven pence. She had the right money, it just meant sorting her change out. She had an inclination that the people behind her were becoming impa­tient. She noticed their stack of items all lined and waiting, it seemed, for starters orders. Brown bread and peppers, olive oil and, in the centre, a packet of beefburgers.
  4. Feb 2019
    1. Na11tral therefore means "not mechanical," rather than "springing from human na­ture."

      So...not Borg? (cf. mholder on Astell)

      I'm a little puzzled by this. I understand the part clarifying that natural doesn't mean inherent to human nature, but what do they mean by "not mechanical"? If gestures are attached to ideas, does that make them a physical extension of thought (and thereby not solely bodily)? Is that (mechanical/bodily) what they are getting at? If so, the separation of language and thought and/or body and mind gets a bit blurry.

  5. Jan 2019
    1. We regularly, in the interests of Plato-worship, disembody language and reason, with the narrow-mindedness Mark Johnson points out in an important recent book, The Body in the Mindl3 Our persistent evasion of the "Q" question makes for a great deal of self-centered, self-serving preaching and a great deal of self-satisfied practice. We do sometimes follow that master of contemptuous, self-satisfied self-absorp-tion, the Platonic Socrates, closely indeed.

      This reminds me of Albert Camus' thoughts on absurdity, and what James Cone says in his book Black Theology and Black Power: "All aspects of this society have participated in the act of enslaving blacks, extinguishing Indians, and annihilating all who question white society's right to decide who is human....Absurdity arises as the black man seeks to understand his place in the white world. The black man does not view himself as absurd; he views himself as human. But as he meets the white world and its values, he is confronted with an almighty No and is defined as a thing. This produces the absurdity."

  6. Dec 2018
    1. The Heads Up Health web app is designed specifically to help you track ketones alongside all of your other vital health data.
    2. Why Measuring Ketones MattersBeing able to frequently and accurately measure the level of ketosis can be important for those following the ketogenic diet for clinical purposes as well as for overall health and performance. Due to individual variability in response to different types of food, having frequent feedback will aid individuals towards improving their understanding of how their body responds while increasing motivation and adherence.
  7. Oct 2018
    1. Calculations of Σ are unfortunately very difficult even for the electrongas. We must resort to approximations and this review describes theGWapproximation (GWA)(Hedin 1965a) which is the simplest working approximation beyond the HFA that takes screeninginto account.

      This is a good explanation of what GW really does. It calculates the self energy.

  8. Sep 2018
    1. soul uing the body as an instrument of perception. Why put a divine logos in a body? This line in Phaedo suggests the soul has a practical use for having a body, that it uses the body to see or hear

  9. Jun 2018
    1. One consequence of thisposition is a more radical understanding of the sense in whichmateriality is discursive (i.e., material phenomena are inseparable from theapparatuses of bodily production: matteremerges out of and includes as part of itsbeing the ongoing reconfiguring of boundaries), just as discursive practices arealways already material (i.e., they are ongoing material (re)configurings of theworld) (2003: 822).Brought back into the world oftechnology design, this intimate co-constitution ofconfigured materialities with configuring agencies clearly implies a very differentunderstanding of the ‘human-machine interface’.
  10. Apr 2018
    1. Perhaps music and language both evolved out of the need for early humans to communicate their emotional state to other members of the group.

      Were our modern day languages created out of a singled shared language or did each separate group express themselves in different ways that lead to multiple languages today?

  11. Jan 2018
  12. Mar 2017
    1. She doesn't "speak," she throws her trembling body forward; she lets go of herself, she flies; all of her passes into her voice, and it's with her body that she vi-tally supports the "logic" of her speech.

      This is very different from the choreographed gestures of Austin. The body is spontaneous. In addition, she seems to expand what logic is. Logic is traditionally an intellectual capacity, one which has been considered men's strong point and women's weakness. She flips this conception by challenging the mind/body binary of traditional rhetoric and claiming that the body is a site of logic.

    1. ontexts without any center

      This again seems to be a contrast with Cixous, who considers the body as the center.

    2. xtending enormously, if not infinitely, the domain of oral or gestural communication.

      I wonder what the role of the body is in rhetoric and writing for Derrida. I, and I imagine most people, tend to think of speaking as more related to the body than writing--you can't use the same gestures/inflections when writing. I wonder if Derrida thinks of writing as transcending the body, or does writing extend the body, which would be very different? And this also brings me back to Cixous since for her the body and writing are interconnected.

    1. The most effective approach has been minimizing fat stores located inside the abdominal cavity (visceral body fat) in addition to minimizing total body fat.[46] Visceral fat, which is more metabolically active than subcutaneous fat, has been found to produce many enzymatic signals, e.g. resistin, which increase insulin resistance and circulating VLDL particle concentrations, thus both increasing LDL particle concentrations and accelerating the development of diabetes mellitus.
    1. like

      Not quite sure how this got here. What is the actual connection to the body?

    2. bodies

      While Locke is no doubt influenced by Cartesian dualism, which seems based upon the frequency of bodily failure, he seems to reject this idea (that the body is naturally or frequently in error).

      See chapter 4 of Dalia Judovitz's The Culture of the Body: Genealogies of Modernity.

      She closely reads Descartes' Meditations on the First Philosophy with special attention to the theological turn in Descartes' ontology. She spends the chapter considering how his claims that "the existence of God and the distinction between the mind and the body" are "underlain by the haunting invocation and recurrent appearance of errant, spectral, and mechanical bodies" (83).

    3. The anonymous and autonomous functions of the body

      See Drew Leder's The Absent Body.

      There might be some really fascinating intersections with his phenomenological investigation of disembodiment.

    1. Let one of these crusted distinctions return to its source, and in this alchemic center it may be re-made, again becoming molten liquid, and may enter into new combinations, whereat it may be again thrown forth as a new crust, a different dis-tinction. So that A may become non-A. But not merely by a leap from one state to the other. Rather, we must take A back into the ground of its existence, the logical substance that is its causal ancestor, and on to a point where it is con-substantial with non-A; then we may return, this time emerging with non-A instead.

      Looking ahead to Cixous, there will be some interesting overlaps here. In "The Laugh of the Medusa" she attempts to break down the gender binary of "man=A" and "woman=non-A" (castration, mutilation, MEDUSA), to be annotated there...

      I had never realized it until now, but she even uses the same earthly metaphors:

      This doesn't mean that she's an undifferentiated magma, but that she doesn't lord it over her body or her desire (1533).

  13. Feb 2017
    1. A composition should be "a body, not a mere collection of members,"9 but it should be a living body.

      This reminds me of Lessing's The Golden Notebook. The issue of writing and ownership is something that is playing out as the protagonist (a writer) discusses her published work as something which doesn't even feel like it belongs to her; she thinks of it more as the property of her readers, and is ashamed of her work and confused as to why critics like it. Hill seems to almost think of composition as a separate body with a life of its own, and the author is something of a parent who brings the composition into being. Where does this position the audience, and what makes a written work a "living body"? Of rhetoric doesn't make a work "alive," what does?

    1. heterogeneous and hostile audi-ences, lo claim a hearing that their very appear.ince would often seem lo deny them, and thus to add entirely new elements lo the Western rhetorical tradition

      This is a historical moment in which the body of the rhetor must be taken into account, as well as the bodies of the audience.

    1. employment

      Hume and Blair both value exercising senses/faculties in order to develop taste, and though this seems hard to argue with, long-term employment in using your eyes or your hands can result in things like loss of vision or arthritis. Does this in anyway factor into taste? Individual taste can become refined, but can it develop in other ways, good or bad?

    1. In contemplating a human creature, the most nat-ural division of the subject is the common divi-sion into soul and body

      Here's that dualism Nathaniel forewarned us about . . .

    1. Die Brücke Institute

      An important historical note here: most of the Die Brücke artists and their later avant-garde peers who fell under the various "-isms" such as Fauvism, Expressionism, Cubism, etc. were eventually persecuted by the Nazis, who believed the kind of art work seen above (Emil Nolde, Masks, 1911) to be "degenerate," which I think fits well into the dialogue about the "normalcy" of the body in creating socio-political standards. Artists such as Braque, Beckmann, Chagall, Dix, Grosz, Kandinsky, Klee, Matisse, Munch, and Picasso were all considered degenerate by the racially-obsessed Nazis because of the way they depicted the composition of the human body. Hitler looked to classical models, specifically Greek and Roman traditions, as examples toward which the German Volk should strive, because their ideal exterior forms embodied the inner Nazi idea of racial superiority, or normalcy. Modernists celebrated subjective and unique perspectives of reality (including, and especially the body), which, unfortunately for them, did not fit into the promotion of a singularly molded and racially uniform German state.

    1. i"\ o~..l."'1 ~.Cf'\lc:,.e( ol11~&.1.U1~~J \ '-'-'\-~~ Q ~4....,t. ~e:cr.·u.s.

      In it's own way, the body also engages in rhetoric. I find it interesting that Austin tried to document it in such a visual manner, although the execution was... meh.

  14. Jan 2017
    1. The great resemblance between mental and bodily taste will easily teach us to apply this story.

      The mind and body rejoined: Cartesian dualism bypassed?

    1. Underpinning these discussions was the belief that the materiality of the body, one’s physical features were a catalogue of signs to be interpreted not only for the sake one’s own body, as was the case for bedside medicine, but rather and mainly for the body politic.

      So many sources to share here, but here is one in particular that I think is especially relevant today, particularly as we think about enforcement of norms based on appearance and how it...defines (?)...national identity: "Disabled Upon Arrival: The Rhetorical Construction of Disability and Race at Ellis Island" by Jay Dolmage. Hopefully this link takes you to the PDF.

      Important quote: "Ellis Island was designed to process the immigrant body—through an industrialized choreography, through a regime of vision, and through layers of anti-immigration discourse. Ellis Island became the key laboratory and operating theater for American eugenics, the scientific racism that can be seen to define a unique era of Western history, the effects of which can still be felt today. I will argue that Ellis Island, as a rhetorical space, can be seen as a nexus—and a special point of origin—for eugenics and the rhetorical construction of disability and race in the early twentieth century" (27).

      Also, here's a video of this paper presented as a lecture.

    2. His quantification of variation under the influence of the Aristotelean ‘Golden Mean,’ developed by the latter in the second volume of the Nichomachean Ethics whereby virtue is the desirable mean between deficiency and excess.

      Ah, so here (and in the highlighted portion below) is the first moment when we see the bodily "mean" or "average" being connected to virtuosity and societal ills. I mean, we have not yet jumped to "if you have a birthmark you must be a witch," but I think Lemos is identifying the scientific/historical moments which later devolved into such trends. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sglyFwTjfDU

    1. Miracles transcend the body.

      The focus on a body is judgment's first initial step. Remove the pieces off the board, look past all bodies and ask to realize the truth.

      As the ‪‎ego‬ would limit your perception of your brothers to the body, so would the ‪Holy Spirit‬ release your vision and let you see the Great Rays shining from them, so unlimited that they reach to ‪‎God‬. T-15.9.1

      ...forgiveness looks past bodies. This is its holiness; this is how it heals. The world of bodies is the world of sin, for only if there were a body is sin possible ... Only the body makes the world seem real. C-4.5

      Whenever you see another as limited to or by the body, you are imposing this limit on yourself. T-8.7.14

      It is impossible to see your brother as sinless and yet to look upon him as a body. T-20.7.4

      Attitudes toward the body are attitudes toward attack. T-8.8.1

  15. Jul 2016
    1. When you ask why such "bad" cops are  armed and allowed to patrol the streets, one begins to see that lurking beneath this violence is a fiscal menace.

      It is not fair to our cops to be under so much pressure! I am so relieved this article has pointed out the need to address the root of the problem, rather than simply get caught up in the tired "all lives matter" and so on take. This is very refreshing. I hope we all work to address this locally. Reduce fines. Reduce crime. Reduce the danger to our beloved force AND people. Do not expect them to become cash cows with their lives on the line. IMHO

  16. May 2016
    1. What happens when your consciousness no longer controls the cells of your body? The bodydisintegrates, the cells separate, and their work for the time being is finished. But do the cells dieor lose consciousness? No, they simply sleep or rest for a period, and after a while unite withother cells and form new combinations, and sooner or later appear in other manifestations of life,-- perhaps mineral, perhaps vegetable, perhaps animal; showing that they still retain their originalconsciousness and but await the action of My Will to join together in a new organism to do thework of the new consciousness through which I desire to manifest.Then apparently this cell consciousness is a consciousness common to all bodies, -- mineral,vegetable, animal, human, -- each cell fitted perhaps by experience for a certain general kind ofwork?Yes, this cell consciousness is common to every cell of every body, no matter what its kind,because it is an Impersonal consciousness, having no purpose other than doing the work allottedit. It lives only to work wherever needed. When through with building one form, it takes up thework of building another, under whatever consciousness I desire it to serve.Thus it is likewise with you

      What occurs when the physical body dies.......... cells, energy................

  17. Mar 2016
  18. Feb 2016
    1. Use HTML Builder to drag and drop your way to a beautiful and functional site!

      Please change the title text to the following:

      Use HTML Builder to build your website

      h1

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      The image should also link to this page

      Please push the above edits live once complete.

      Regards,

      Charles

  19. Jan 2016
  20. christmind.info christmind.info
    1. It is absolutely correct that you are going to have to learn to be out from your Center with your eyes open. At this point, I wish to make it very clear that in spite of your experience with the bio-feedback equipment—which seemed to make it obvious that visual experience is of such a stimulating nature that it interferes with one’s being able to come out from a theta or delta frequency—the key is where you are placing your attention. The key is whether you are placing your attention at the threshold of Centeredness or at what I will call the “threshold of stimulation.” Mind you, that “threshold of stimulation” only seems to have meaning relative to a body which, in itself, has the capacity to be sensitive, the capacity to be aware—something which the body does not have, simply because it is the visibility and the tangibility of the expression of Meaning which is being experienced as a result of Knowing.

      "It is absolutely correct that you are going to have to learn to be out from your Center with your eyes open." I find this very interesting...

      Raj speaks again of the importance of where ones attention is focussed."The key is whether you are placing your attention at the threshold of Centeredness or at what I will call the “threshold of stimulation.”

      Raj goes on to say Mind you, that “threshold of stimulation” only seems to have meaning relative to a body which, in itself, has the capacity to be sensitive, the capacity to be aware—something which the body does not have, simply because it is the visibility and the tangibility of the expression of Meaning which is being experienced as a result of Knowing."

      So the importance of being consciously aware....the form, the body is only an 'expression of Meaning' of that which is know consciously.

    2. Absolutely everything, all form, is simply the expression of the movement of Knowing, the movement of Self. Abide with the Knowing, and be from the Knowing, and all form will identify Being, because there will be no misidentification of Self to cause a preoccupation with form. I mention this because you must be very clear that in shifting from thinking to Knowing, you will not become unconscious of Self, and you will not become unconscious of body. It is just that Self and Body will not be identified with body! Again, it is just that Self and Body will not be identified with body. The simple fact is that self-consciousness and body-consciousness become secondary, and ultimately nonexistent in the Act of Knowing. And yet, consciousness, with full identity and identification will be experienced—another key point!

      "Absolutely everything, all form, is simply the expression of the movement of Knowing, the movement of Self."

      and

      "you must be very clear that in shifting from thinking to Knowing, you will not become unconscious of Self, and you will not become unconscious of body. It is just that Self and Body will not be identified with body!"

      and

      "The simple fact is that self-consciousness and body-consciousness become secondary, and ultimately nonexistent in the Act of Knowing. And yet, consciousness, with full identity and identification will be experienced."

    3. It is necessary for you not to argue against the possibility and accessibility of Guidance by assuming that certain conditions are not conducive to Listening and Hearing. One of these, of course, relates to your body, as though if you have been engaged in activity or movement, you will need to necessarily sit down and become unconscious of it. Indeed, you must rely heavily upon your experience of being centered and carrying on the activities of the Workshops. You will realize that movement of the body occurs during a Workshop—not just the movement of your lips, as is occurring at this moment—and that movement of the body is not inconsistent with being centered. Movement of the body is not, in itself, distracting to centeredness. The necessity is to give permission unconditionally. I will tell you that you can be jogging and still Hear. To be physically active does not constitute a block to Hearing. Physical activity can become part of the whole experience of centeredness and of Guidance, while not giving your focused attention to the movements, because in and of themselves they do not constitute appropriate “subject-matter,” if I can put it that way. The body, and the movements of the body, exist for the sole purpose of giving visibility and tangibility—expression—to what you find yourself Knowing as a result of Listening.

      Centred in Being does not require the body to be a certain way. Movement can be a part of being centred and hearing Guidance. Though focus is on Being.

      "The body, and the movements of the body, exist for the sole purpose of giving visibility and tangibility—expression—to what you find yourself Knowing as a result of Listening."

      A great definition of the purpose of the body.

  21. Dec 2015
    1. Right now, you are seeing from the inside. Although you do not see me with your eyes, and do not hear me with your ears, you are, indeed, perceiving me and the ideas which I am expressing. You are perceiving the meanings which my Being is expressing at that point of my infinitude which is called “Paul.” The five physical senses play no part in this exchange or process, and yet the process is Actual and experienced. As I said yesterday, observe the process of communication that we are enjoying. As you do, you will begin to grasp the process by which you may communicate with and understand the meaning of any and all parts of the infinitude of your Being, whether it is visible or invisible to the five physical senses. Everything about this process of communication illustrates and includes lessons to be learned and understood.

      The body is not necessary for communication.

    1. The blurring of boundaries between the body and the city raises complexities in relationto our understanding of the human subject and the changing characteristics of humanagency.

      Maybe this is to say we shouldn't be blurring the lines of the boundaries so much then? Sounds a bit like playing with fire..

  22. Nov 2015
    1. By “understanding” I mean real, actual felt, experiential awareness of the Physiology of that Body. You will never control your environment if you think the environment is the Image which you call the three-dimensional world. The three-dimensional world is Pure Image. The distortions you see in it are not in it. They are caused by your ignorance of the workings of the Source, of which the Image is just an image.

      What I see with the human eyes is just Image...

    2. Not having realized that what you call “body” is Image, and not Body, and not having realized that Body is Consciousness, You, you have ignored the lesson about the Reality (Source) of the Image that can only be learned by understanding the True Body.

      So what I think is the body is really only image whereas Body refers to my Body of Consciousness...

  23. May 2015
    1. When I think of my body and ask what it does to earn that name, two things stand out. IIIIIOVCS, It/eels. In fact, it docs both at the same time, It moves as it feels, and il feels itself moving. Can we think a body without this: an intrinsic conne ct ion between movement and sensation whereby each immediately summons the other?

      The body is not prior to its sensations/movements. A body does not sense and move through space but movement and sense embodies.

  24. Sep 2013
    1. It is acknowledged that the nature of man is compounded of two parts, the physical and the mental

      Physical and mental main parts of body

    2. Watching over them and training them in this manner, both the teachers of gymnastic and the teachers of discourse are able to advance their pupils to a point where they are better men and where they are stronger in their thinking or in the use of their bodies.

      Outlines a consistency here between training the body and training the mind.

    1. For in my opinion there is no profit in a man's life if his body is in an evil plight—in that case his life also is evil: am I not right?

      Is he saying that rhetoric (body) is an evil plight? So if there is any bad associated with rhetoric than it is evil. And if the body is evil then the rhetoric's existence is also evil? Seems like a bit of a stretch.

    2. Death, if I am right, is in the first place the separation from one another of two things, soul and bod

      Body and soul distinct and will be separate at death

    3. 'Healthy,' as I conceive, is the name which is given to the regular order of the bod
    4. Do you see the inference:—that pleasure and pain are simultaneous, when you say that being thirsty, you drink? For are they not simultaneous, and do they not affect at the same time the same part, whether of the soul or the body
    1. discourse is a great potentate, which by the smallest and most secret body accomplishes the most divine works; for it can stop fear and assuage pain and produce joy and make mercy abound.

      In the investigation of “what is rhetoric?”, this one line of Gorgias sums up the reason rhetoric is such an important topic. Its subtlety is overlooked and mistaken for something inconsequential. However, as Gorgias points out, this small secret body has great power. The implicit use of the word body gives rhetoric an almost physical existence and ability to move an object; as if rhetoric had the physical ability to push, pull, or lift another body. In defining what rhetoric is, this statement tells us first why it is even important to know what rhetoric is. Gorgias’ thoughts on what rhetoric is suggests it is persuasion by “trickery” or “magic”. This further describes rhetoric’s power as not just physical, but perhaps supernatural. The comparison is made between rhetoric and drugs. Just as a drug can impair judgment, making one vulnerable, rhetoric, too, can play tricks on the mind. Furthermore, the power of rhetoric can be a great force for good, persuading one or many to do good. The drug analogy applies here also as many drugs heal, promote health, and ward off sickness. This two-edged sword aspect of rhetoric is just another example of the power this small body possesses. The great power of rhetoric, which is only known to be had by humans, has given them undisputed superiority among all animals on earth. The ability to read, write, speak, or otherwise communicate rhetoric is one of the greatest gifts given to man.

    2. For one body many bodies of men came together, men greatly purposing great things, of whom some possessed great wealth, some the glory of ancient and noble lineage, some the vigor of personal strength, and others the power of acquired cleverness.
    3. The power of discourse stands in the same relation to the soul's organization as the pharmacopoeia does to the physiology of bodies.

      This is an important sentiment, one that we might see repeating in other readings. In what ways is language a drug? In what ways does language intoxicate or heal?