DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU REALLY ARE AND WHAT YOU'RE capable of?
I'm sure you think so, but just because you believe Something doesn't make it true. Denial is the ultimate comfort zone.
Don't worry, you aren't alone. In every town, in every country, all over the world, millions roam the streets, dead-eyed as zombies, addicted to comfort, embracing a victim's mentality and unaware of their true potential. I know this because I meet and hear from them all the time, and because just like you, I used to be one of them.
I had a damn good excuse too.
Life dealt me a bad hand. I was born broken, grew up with beat downs, was tormented in school, and called nigger more times than I could count.
We were once poor, surviving on welfare, living in government-subsidized housing, and my depression was smothering. I lived life at the bottom of the barrel, and my future forecast was bleak as fuck.
Very few people know how the bottom feels, but I do. It's like quicksand. It grabs you, sucks you under, and won't let go.
When life is like that it's easy to drift and continue to make the same comfortable choices that are killing you, over and over again.
But the truth is we all make habitual, self-limiting choices.
It's as natural as a sunset and as fundamental as gravity. It's how our brains are wired, which is why motivation is crap.
Even the best pep talk or self-help hack is nothing but a temporary fix. It won't rewire your brain. It won't amplity your voice or uplift your life. Motivation changes exactly nobody.
like a hug without touching
time spent with others creates an atmosphere that is warm, relaxed, friendly, down-to-earth, close, comfortable, snug and welcoming. In many ways, it is like a good hug – but without the physical contact.
It is in this situation that you can be completely relaxed and yourself. The art of hygge is therefore also the art of expanding your comfort zone to include other people.
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Bunların ilişkisi beni öldürüyorAlıntı
My phone buzzed next to me on the locker room bench where I was relaxing as I got in the zone.
“Hey there, golden boy,” I drawled pulling him up on Facetime.
“Just making sure you showed up to the game and didn’t get stuck again,” Lincoln snorted, raking his hands through his golden god hair.
“That was one time!”
“It happened last week, buddy! And you somehow thought it would be a good idea to call me instead of 911…after you got your pierced dick stuck inside your wife! What the hell was I going to do? You were literally inside her as you were talking to me!”
“Pssh, your calming presence helped me to relax enough to get it out. You were very helpful.”
Lincoln sighed, pretending to be annoyed with me. He was such a funny guy.
Sacred and Terrible Smell
What was that sacred and terrible, elusive smell in the air this time? My name is Ambrosius Saint-Miro, the locals call me “Ambrosius Pyhä-Mirä” and in Graad they call me “Svjata-Mira”. “Diduska?” they ask, their eyes wide with affection, but I answer them: “No. I am not your diduska.” I am Ambrosius Santa-Mira from Mesque, Ambrosio Hagiamira, I am ambrosia, the holy world. You chose me, authorised me with your life, your thoughts, your mind cabinet. At night, when you went to sleep and tomorrow morning, from the window of public transport. But what I do is no longer a conversation, there are no arguments here, no sides to choose. The time for doubt is over.
I come once in every era. It is a great fortune to live when I am in the world. I am innocent and now you are too. If you decided, then it was either right or wrong. If I decide, my decision is what is. When God still seemed like an interesting idea to you, I was Pius Pericarnassus; I was Ernö Pasternak – you wanted to be betrayed and slaughtered. I made you sing Pasternakian songs. That’s how fierce I am and my unnecessary war. You wanted to hate me then. I was Franconegro, you were nationalists, you wanted international, black coloured banknotes and militarism. Wanted to work in the factory, serve God. And medieval-industrial architecture, wanted to live under a concrete arch. I was a woman, Dolores Dei when it seemed to you: I want a mother, a perfect mother. I had beautiful breasts, I was young and so were you, you wanted to fall in love and I let you. Humanism, and Renaissance, care for each other. I sent you to school and taught you languages. You got tired of me, and I died. You wanted a world where I didn’t exist. Then I was your innocent Sola, an indifferent girl, sitting with folded hands and watching
How can we be more antifragile?İnsan ve Hayat
Step 1: Create redundancies Instead of having a single salary, try to find a way to make money from your hobbies, at other jobs, or by starting your own business. If you have only one salary, you might be left with nothing should your employer run into trouble, leaving you in a position of fragility. On the other hand, if you have several options and you lose your primary job, it might just happen that you end up dedicating more time to your secondary job, and maybe even make more money at it. You would have beaten that stroke of bad luck and would be, in that case, antifragile.
One hundred percent of the seniors we interviewed in Ogimi had a primary and a secondary occupation. Most of them kept a vegetable garden as a secondary job, and sold their produce at the local market.
The same idea goes for friendships and personal interests. It’s just a matter, as the saying goes, of not putting all your eggs in one basket.
In the sphere of romantic relationships, there are those who focus all their energy on their partner and make him or her their whole world. Those people lose everything if the relationship doesn’t work out, whereas if they’ve cultivated strong friendships and a full life along the way, they’ll be in a better position to move on at the end of a relationship. They’ll be antifragile.
Right now you might be thinking, “I don’t need more than one salary, and I’m happy with the friends I’ve always had. Why should I add anything new?”
It might seem like a waste of time to add variation to our lives, because extraordinary things don’t ordinarily happen. We slip into a comfort zone. But the unexpected always happens, sooner or later.
Step 2: Bet conservatively in certain areas and take many small risks in others The world of fi nance turns out to be very useful in
By a fluke, the Europeans may have momentarily grabbed the ball, primarily in the nine-teenth century and a part of the twentieth. But in the long run of history, it was the “Persians,” not the Europeans, who have been the exemplars of universal values. We should thus now rewrite the history of the world to make it clear that Europe was for most of the time a marginal zone and is probably destined to remain that.
