01 junho 2015
What made the Swedish political scandal of 1995, where a Prime Minister candidate had to step down,...
What made the Swedish political scandal of 1995, where a Prime Minister candidate had to step down, particularly memorable? Besides, you know, that it was a national scandal.
clouds over the pacific, photographed by goes 15, may 2015.8...
clouds over the pacific, photographed by goes 15, may 2015.
8 frames, each an average of 6 infrared photographs taken at the same time each day 25th-31st may.
detail 1: the americas; primarily the west coast, but note also also the larger islands in the caribbean, the great lakes, and clouds forming on the mexican sierra madre occidental.
detail 2: south pacific; you can just make out denser cloud over new zealand and, above and left, fiji and new caledonia.
image credit: noaa/nasa. animation & composite: ageofdestruction.
age
Veja algumas dicas de como lidar com a mágoa
A mágoa é um dos piores sentimentos que podemos cultivar e um dos mais comuns também. Ela pesa em nosso peito, traz rancor, tristeza e nos afasta de quem amamos. Existem as mágoas recentes, de uma discussão que aconteceu a pouco tempo, por exemplo, mas também podemos guardá-la por anos, sem nem mesmo nos lembrar o que nos machucou. Devemos aprender como lidar com a mágoa para superar esta angústia.
É importante aprendermos a lidar com a mágoa para seguirmos com nossas vidas de uma forma mais tranquila, para que nossas mentes e nossos corações fiquem leves e cheios de sentimentos positivos, que nos levam para a frente e não energias negativas que nos paralisam.
A primeira coisa a aprender como lidar com a mágoa é perdoar. Essa tarefa não é nada fácil, pois envolve a vontade verdadeira de superar o que aconteceu. Muitas vezes não precisamos perdoar apenas quem nos machucou, mas a nós mesmas também, por deixarmos que alguém nos tratasse de uma maneira tão negativa ou por nos colocar em situações desfavoráveis.
Veja algumas dicas de como lidar com a mágoa:
- Não tenha medo de expor os seus sentimentos, apenas escolha o melhor momento para isso. Espere a poeira baixar para que você consiga se expressar de maneira clara e com respeito.
- Seja objetiva e não traga conflitos passados para a discussão.
- Tente ver a situação com distância e analise os dois lados. Por mais difícil que seja, procure entender o lado do outro e se colocar em sua posição.
- Não insista em sentimentos negativos. Eles criam um círculo vicioso de negatividade que vai levá-la cada vez mais para baixo.
- Esqueça a postura de vítima. É muito importante assumir as responsabilidades do que acontece com você em sua vida. Mesmo que a culpa tenha sido de outra pessoa, não jogue todo o peso para fora.
- Procure ajuda profissional. Se o sofrimento for muito grande, você pode procurar um psicólogo ou um terapeuta holístico que vai ajudá-la a lidar com todos os sentimentos envolvidos na situação, para que encontre o caminho do perdão e do recomeço.
- Florais. Existem florais que nos ajudam a lidar com os sentimentos negativos. Vá a uma farmácia de manipulação ou de produtos naturais e converse com o responsável. Ele vai indicar a melhor opção para o seu caso.
- Viva o presente e não fique remoendo o passado. Isso só aumenta a dor e não resolve a situação.
Por mais que a mágoa envolva mais de uma pessoa (quem causou e quem sofreu), ela só prejudica quem a guarda. Se for difícil se desfazer dela, pense que você não está se vingando ou fazendo mal a outra pessoa apenas por guardar o rancor. Muitas vezes o outro nem sabe que você se sente assim, o que significa que você carrega todo o peso da discussão sozinha. Vale a pena? Ou é melhor seguir a sua vida e se rodear de quem quer o seu bem e procurar a felicidade?
Leia também:
- Aprenda a superar uma desilusão amorosa
- Como lidar com a depressão?
- Controle sua raiva e viva melhor
- Descomplique a vida. Afinal, sorrir faz bem!
Veja como a mesa radiônica pode te ajudar a encontrar o equilíbrio
Existem palavras que magoam - Aprenda a superá-las!
As palavras carregam uma força enorme dentro delas. Elas têm o poder de nos levantar quando estamos caídas ou nos derrubar de vez. Nos rasgam e machucam, deixando cicatrizes que nunca vão se fechar por inteiro. Por isso, mesmo na discussão mais acalorada, precisamos ter cuidado com o que falamos, pois as palavras podem magoar tanto quanto ações e, dependendo da situação, nunca serão esquecidas.
Claro que todo mundo estoura de vez em quando. Com os pais, os filhos, os amigos, o parceiro. O problema é a frequência com que isso acontece e o estrago que podemos fazer. Quando as palavras erradas são usadas com muita frequência, passa a ser abuso psicológico e pode destruir a autoestima e a vida de uma pessoa. Afinal, existem palavras que magoam muito!
Elaboramos uma lista com algumas expressões e palavras que magoam para que você fique atenta antes de soltá-las e para que também pense se tem alguém a sua volta que as usa demais.
Palavras que magoam - Você é ruim, você não presta, você nunca vai conseguir
Principalmente se estamos falando com crianças e adolescentes, esse discurso pessimista acaba com a confiança de qualquer um. Esse jovem que cresceu ouvindo frases como essas se torna uma pessoa insegura, que não se dá valor e não acredita no seu potencial, ou seja, um fracasso desde o início.
Palavras que magoam - Brincadeiras que humilham
Comentar que uma amiga engordou e incentivá-la a perder peso é muito bacana. Fazer piada com seu corpo, mesmo em tom de brincadeira, não é legal. Como essa pessoa vai se olhar no espelho e enfrentar os desafios se sentir que tudo nela é errado?
Palavras que magoam - Xingamentos
Palavras como seu burro, imbecil, otário, etc… magoam e muito. Elas conversam com tudo aquilo de ruim que nós podemos pensar a nosso respeito, funcionando como uma afirmação: Viu? Você é mesmo uma incompetente. E isso não é verdade.
Palavras que magoam - Ameaçar terminar uma relação, dizer que não ama mais
Se você não pretende cumprir a ameaça, não diga que não ama mais o parceiro. Isso cria rachaduras no relacionamento e pode se voltar contra você no futuro.
Essas são algumas palavras que magoam. Com certeza você já ouviu outras que poderia acrescentar nessa lista. Se costuma usar algumas delas, está na hora de mudar. Peça desculpas a quem você ofendeu, prometa que vai tomar mais cuidado daqui para a frente e cumpra a promessa. Use palavras carregadas de amor e esperança e todos os seus relacionamentos ficarão mais leves e gostosos.
Leia também:
- Aprenda a superar uma desilusão amorosa
- Como lidar com a depressão?
- Controle sua raiva e viva melhor
- Descomplique a vida. Afinal, sorrir faz bem!
Aprenda o salmo contra a inveja e sinta-se mais protegida no dia a dia
De vez em quando sentimos que precisamos de uma dose extra de proteção, não é verdade? Pode ser quando começamos um emprego novo, ficamos grávidas ou planejamos uma grande mudança. Você sabia que existe um ótimo salmo contra a inveja?
Temos um certo medo de que alguém que nos queira mal possa atrapalhar nossa felicidade simplesmente mandando energia negativa. Realmente a inveja é um sentimento muito poderoso e popular, também. As pessoas não gostam de admitir, mas sentem inveja com mais frequência do que deveriam, porque focam tanto na vida alheia que não percebem o que têm dentro do próprio lar.
Proteção nunca é demais. Amuletos, velas, orações podem nos blindar dessas energias negativas e outra opção muito protetora é a leitura dos salmos. O Pettrus é tarólogo no Astrocentro e indicou um que é muito bom nesses casos.
Salmo contra a inveja - Salmo 142
- Hino de Davi, quando estava na caverna
- Minha voz lança um grande brado ao Senhor, em alta voz imploro ao Senhor.
- Ponho diante Dele a minha inquietação; eu lhe exponho toda a minha angústia.
- Na hora em que meu espírito desfalece, vós conheceis o meu caminho. Na senda em que ando, ocultaram-me um laço.
- Olho para a direita e vejo: não há ninguém que cuide de mim. Não existe para mim um refúgio, ninguém que se interesse pela minha vida.
- Eu vos chamo, Senhor, vós sois meu refúgio, sois meu quinhão na terra dos vivos.
- Atendei ao meu clamor, porque estou em uma extrema miséria. Livrai-me daqueles que me perseguem, porque são mais fortes do que eu.
- Tirai-me desta prisão, para que possa agradecer ao vosso nome. Os justos virão rodear-me, quando me tiverdes feito este benefício. Uma dica é imprimir o texto e andar com ele na carteira, assim, toda vez que sentir necessidade, é só pegá-lo e fazer sua meditação. Aproveite o poder dos salmos e tenha uma vida mais plena!
Busque a sua proteção sempre que sentir que a inveja pode te atrapalhar, e sinta-se mais fortalecida.
Leia também:
- Atitudes positivas que vão mudar a sua vida
- Conheça a poderosa oração de São Jorge
- Aprenda uma forte oração para afastar inveja
Descubra qual é o seu anjo da guarda
June 1st 1812: Beginnings of War of 1812On this day in 1812, the...
James Madison (1751 - 1836)
Damage to the Capitol after the Burning of Washington
US declaration of war
June 1st 1812: Beginnings of War of 1812
On this day in 1812, the US President James Madison sent a message to Congress listing American grievances against the United Kingdom. This led to Congress issuing its first declaration of war, which began the War of 1812. The tensions between the two nations arose out of the Napoleonic Wars, with grievances including impressment of American sailors into the British Navy and the UK stopping American ships from trading. The US also feared a resurgence of British control over the fledgling nation. It was during this war that British troops set fire to many public buildings in Washington DC, including the White House and Capitol building. America’s victory inspired Francis Scott Key to write the national anthem ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’.
ANATOMY OF ERROR A surgeon remembers his mistakes. BY JOSHUA...
ANATOMY OF ERROR
A surgeon remembers his mistakes.
BY JOSHUA ROTHMAN
For the schoolteacher, the changes had come slowly. First, his walking had grown unsteady; then his hearing had worsened. He had become stooped, and had begun walking with a cane, even though he was only in his late fifties. Now he sat with his wife and son in the consulting room of Henry Marsh, a London neurosurgeon, looking at a scan of his brain, which showed a tumor growing near the base of his skull. The question was whether it could, or should, be removed. Marsh, who had been practicing neurosurgery for only a few years, was unsure. The tumor was massive—he was startled by its size—and it was situated in the brain stem, a vital area. Left to itself, it would destroy the schoolteacher’s hearing, rob him of his ability to walk, and, eventually, kill him. But, Marsh explained, surgery could leave him paralyzed, or worse. The family faced a difficult choice, between the certainty of a slow, predictable decline and the possibility of an immediate cure—or catastrophe.
They decided to seek a second opinion from an older, eminent neurosurgeon. A few days later, the surgeon phoned Marsh. “It’s a young man’s operation,” he said. “I’ve told them you should do it.” Flattered, Marsh agreed to go ahead. The surgery began at nine in the morning and continued late into the night. Brain surgery is slow and dangerous, and removing a tumor can be like defusing a bomb. Often, surgeons look through a microscope and use long-handled, fine-tipped instruments to pull the tumor away from the brain before removing it with a sucker. A quarter of the body’s blood courses through the veins and arteries of the brain; if one of them is torn, bleeding and stroke can result. It’s also possible to remove important parts of the brain by accident, because brain tissue and tumor tissue look pretty much the same. Unlike the rest of the body, the brain and the spinal cord rarely heal. If a neurosurgeon makes a mistake, the damage is often permanent.
By midnight, Marsh and his team had removed almost all of the tumor. The atmosphere in the operating theatre was relaxed and celebratory; the surgical team paused for cigarette breaks and listened to Abba and Bach. “I should have stopped at that point, and left the last piece of tumor behind,” Marsh writes in his memoir, “Do No Harm” (Thomas Dunne). Instead, he ventured further—he wanted to be able to say that he had taken it all out. “As I started to remove the last part of the tumor,” Marsh writes, “I tore a small perforating branch off the basilar artery, a vessel the width of a thick pin. A narrow jet of bright red arterial blood started to pump upwards.” The basilar artery carries blood to the brain stem, which regulates the rest of the brain. Marsh quickly stopped the bleeding, but the oxygen deprivation was enough to irreparably damage the man’s brain stem, and he never regained consciousness.
Marsh, who is now sixty-five, is one of Britain’s foremost neurosurgeons. He is a senior consultant at St. George’s Hospital, in London, and he helped to pioneer a kind of surgery in which patients are kept awake, under local anesthesia, so that they can converse with their surgeons while they operate, allowing them to avoid damaging what neurosurgeons call “eloquent,” or useful, parts of the brain. Marsh has been the subject of two documentary films. Still, he writes, “As I approach the end of my career I feel an increasing obligation to bear witness to past mistakes I have made.” A few years ago, he prepared a lecture called “All My Worst Mistakes.” For months, he lay awake in the mornings, remembering the patients he had failed. “The more I thought about the past,” he recalls in his book, “the more mistakes rose to the surface, like poisonous methane stirred up from a stagnant pond.”
There’s a tradition of physicians writing about their errors. “When the Air Hits Your Brain,” a neurosurgical memoir by Frank Vertosick, Jr., begins with a scene in which a resident, while drilling a hole in a man’s skull, accidentally goes too far, plunging the drill bit into the brain. “Oh, shit!” he exclaims. (An older doctor reassures him: “It’s just the lateral hemisphere.”) Physician writers usually view such errors with a generous spirit. They point out that medicine is built on mistakes, because doctors, like the rest of us, learn by screwing up.
Marsh isn’t interested in the usefulness of error. He is the Knausgaard of neurosurgery: he writes about his errors because he wants to confess them, and because he’s interested in his inner life and how it’s been changed, over time, by the making of mistakes. As an epigraph to “Do No Harm,” he quotes the French doctor René Leriche: “Every surgeon carries within himself a small cemetery, where from time to time he goes to pray.” Marsh knows there’s something unprofessional about this inwardness—a surgeon’s emotions are supposed to be beside the point compared with his patients’ suffering—but he is drawn to “reckless honesty.” (When he delivered “All My Worst Mistakes” to an audience of neurosurgical colleagues, he writes, “it was met by a stunned silence and no questions were asked.”) “Do No Harm” is an act of atonement, an anatomy of error, and an attempt to answer, from the inside, a startling question: How can someone spend decades cutting into people’s brains and emerge whole?
Marsh became a neurosurgeon almost by accident. Midway through his undergraduate years, at Oxford, he fell in unrequited love and, inspired by the Jack Nicholson movie “Five Easy Pieces,” fled to Newcastle, in the rugged northeast of England, to nurse his broken heart. There, he wrote bad poetry, worked as a hospital porter, and saw his first surgery. “I found its controlled and altruistic violence deeply appealing,” he writes. After he finished his degree, in 1973, he entered the Royal Free Hospital School of Medicine. Students weren’t allowed into the neurosurgical theatres, but one day Marsh caught a glimpse through a round porthole in a closed door—“a naked woman, anaesthetized, her head completely shaven, sitting bolt upright on a special operating table.” The image stayed in his mind, and struck him as “a scene from a horror film.”
Marsh married, and qualified as a doctor. Not long afterward, his three-month-old son, William, developed a tumor in the center of his brain and successfully underwent surgery to remove it. Marsh feels now that he didn’t fully appreciate the risks: he writes that, much later, “I watched a child bleed to death in the very same operating theatre where my son had been treated, as my boss—the very surgeon who had saved my son’s life—now failed with a similar tumor.” Soon after his son’s surgery, while working in intensive care, Marsh observed an aneurysm operation. The surgeon had to make his way deep into the brain, exposing the small, deadly balloon of arterial blood so that, without rupturing it, he could seal it off using a miniature metal clip. It “was more like a blood sport than a calm and dispassionate technical exercise,” Marsh writes. It also “involved the brain, the mysterious substrate of all thought and feeling… . The operation was elegant, delicate, dangerous, and full of profound meaning. What could be finer, I thought, than to be a neurosurgeon?” Neurosurgery—strange, brutal, and miraculous—had seduced him, and he started the training as soon as he could.
Marsh is fascinated by the brain. He loves looking at it through his counterbalanced surgical microscope, which “leans out over the patient’s head like an inquisitive, thoughtful crane.” To Marsh, the view is beautiful. At the center of the brain, he writes, the internal cerebral veins are like “the great arches of a cathedral roof”; the Great Vein of Galen can be seen “dark blue and glittering in the light of the microscope.” It is “a very private view,” “clearer, sharper and more brilliant than the world outside,” and “made all the more intense and mysterious by my anxiety.”
That anxiety begins long before surgery, with the decision to operate in the first place, which could easily be wrong. (A brain scan is mute on the all-important question of how tightly a tumor will cling to the brain.) It continues through a series of meetings in which Marsh must try to explain that uncertainty without alarming his patients. (It’s tempting to be reassuring, he writes, but after failed operations he has “bitterly regretted having been too optimistic.”) Bicycling to the hospital, Marsh is oppressed by dread—“almost a feeling of doom”—and, before surgery, he is often seized by panic, which is swept away, at the last moment, by “fierce and happy concentration.”
Brain surgery itself, Marsh writes, is “something I hate doing.” Beforehand, patients are depersonalized—their heads are shaved, and they are covered in sterile drapes—although you can’t entirely depersonalize the brain. Often, there’s a question about how far to go: if an aneurysm clip is not quite perfectly positioned, should Marsh take the risk of repositioning it? To do so, he must struggle against the “urge to finish the operation and escape the fear of causing a catastrophic haemorrhage.” Eventually, he writes, “I decide at some unconscious place within myself, where all the ghosts have assembled to watch me.”
Neurosurgical disasters can be cruel. A patient can wake up and appear healthy only to die, a few days later, of a stroke or a hemorrhage that’s related, in “some unknowable way,” to the operation. And patients can live on despite severe brain damage—an outcome that’s a particular source of fear for Marsh. He tells a colleague, “Nobody, nobody other than a neurosurgeon, understands what it is like to have to drag yourself up to the ward and see, every day—sometimes for months on end—somebody one has destroyed and face the anxious and angry family at the bedside.” The schoolteacher lived on in just this way. Seven years after that failed surgery, Marsh was visiting a home for vegetative patients when he looked into a room and “saw his grey curled-up body in its bed.” Of the feelings such experiences produce in him, Marsh writes, “I will not describe the pain.”
In his decades of medical practice, Marsh has been a witness or a party to almost every kind of mistake. There are errors of commission (the hubristic removal of too much tumor) and of omission (the missed diagnosis). There are errors that go unreported (after a successful surgery, Marsh might decide not to tell a patient about a close call) and errors for which Marsh is held accountable. (He writes that, after one operation, “I told them to sue me. I told them I had made a terrible mistake.”) There are errors of delegation—as when Marsh allows a resident to perform a simple spinal surgery, and the patient is left with a paralyzed foot—and historical errors: at a mental hospital, Marsh encounters victims of lobotomy. One morning, Marsh operates after having a petty argument with another surgeon, and the operation paralyzes half the patient’s face. He writes, “Perhaps this was going to happen anyway—it is called a ‘recognized complication’ of that particular operation—but I know that I was not in the right state of mind to carry out such dangerous and delicate surgery, and when I saw the patient on the ward round in the days afterwards, and saw his paralyzed face, paralyzed and disfigured, I felt a deep sense of shame.”
In a 1976 essay, the philosopher Bernard Williams explored a concept that he called “moral luck.” Often, he observed, we are morally responsible for actions that contain an element of chance. Imagine two people who drink too much at the same party, and who both drive home drunk; suppose that one of them hits a pedestrian. The driver in the accident is morally responsible for this outcome, and yet only chance distinguishes him from the other driver. Much of moral life, Williams thought, contains a similar element of luck. We happen to find ourselves in situations that bring judgment upon us. Yet this doesn’t absolve us of responsibility for what we do. It underscores an unsettling fact about moral life—that the distribution of moral fault in the world depends, in many ways, on good and bad luck.
A soldier’s life is deeply shaped by such moral luck. So, it turns out, is a neurosurgeon’s. “As I become more and more experienced it seems that luck becomes ever more important,” Marsh writes. Even so, he will be blamed for what goes wrong and praised for what goes right—treated as a murderer in the morning, by one family, and as a savior in the afternoon, by another. People who are regularly exposed to moral luck often find it helpful to have some standard other than morality by which to judge themselves—a code, more or less. Marsh’s code has to do with his own emotions. If he can’t control how a surgery turns out, he will control how he feels. He tries not to let his feelings add to his patients’ fear and unhappiness; at the same time, he tries never to lie. He yearns, therefore, for feelings that are strong but realistic, fully voiced yet even-keeled. In one of the book’s most moving passages, he is called to the bedside of a favorite patient, David, a warm, accomplished, and intelligent man, whom he has known for twelve years. Marsh has fought David’s tumor in three surgeries, but now it has reached a deeper, fatal stratum of the brain. Marsh explains, with great sadness, that a fourth operation won’t do any good; David says that he’s suspected as much. Marsh holds David’s hand, is embraced by his wife, and says, “It’s been an honor to look after you.”
Given the circumstances, it’s an ideal meeting. And yet, afterward, Marsh’s emotions rebel. Leaving the hospital, he writes,
“I quickly became stuck in the rush-hour traffic, and furiously cursed the cars and their drivers as though it was their fault that this good and noble man should die and leave his wife a widow and his young children fatherless. I shouted and cried and stupidly hit the steering wheel with my fists. And I felt shame, not at my failure to save his life—his treatment had been as good as it could be—but at my loss of professional detachment and what felt like the vulgarity of my distress compared to his composure and his family’s suffering, to which I could only bear impotent witness.”
In writing “Do No Harm,” Marsh has seemingly violated his code: he expresses many of the feelings that he’s worked very hard to keep hidden. But codes, by their nature, exclude the complexities of inner and moral life, and Marsh wants to understand himself—and wants us to know him—in the light of those complexities.
Marsh writes like a novelist—he thinks in terms of scenes, patterns, and contrasts—and, reading “Do No Harm,” I thought of another Henry: Henry Perowne, the neurosurgeon protagonist of Ian McEwan’s novel “Saturday.” (In writing his book, McEwan shadowed a younger English neurosurgeon, Neil Kitchen.) The two Henrys could not be more different. Perowne, who is in his late forties, is confident and optimistic. In his surgeries, he says, he can “control outcomes”; he experiences “the pleasure of knowing precisely what he’s doing.” He admires the impersonality of scientific knowledge. He enjoys “the relief of the relatives when he comes down from the operating room like a god, an angel with the glad tidings—life, not death.” Most of his patients survive, and even, McEwan writes, “thrive.” Presumably, the same is true of Marsh’s patients. The difference is one of temperament. “It’s not the successes I remember,” Marsh writes, “but the failures.”
Years ago, when I read “Saturday,” I was in awe of Perowne. Now that I’ve read Marsh’s memoir, the character comes across as curiously unburdened by his work. (The novel imagines Perowne humbled, but by forces—time, evil, history—that lie outside the surgical theatre.) Perowne has, apparently, never done what Marsh did to the schoolteacher, whose story Marsh tells in a chapter called “Hubris.” That experience changed Marsh, professionally and spiritually. He no longer operates for so long at a stretch. He has become wary of his own optimism and talent, and suspicious of the exhilarations of surgery. (“I can no longer bear to listen to music while operating,” Marsh writes; Perowne listens to the Goldberg Variations.)
The Henry Marsh of “Do No Harm” is a character, too. In 2007, the documentarian Geoffrey Smith made a film about Marsh, titled “The English Surgeon.” It seems to star a slightly different man. In the film, Marsh is goofy; he’s very tall, and wears bold, perfectly round glasses. When he talks about medical equipment, he becomes boyish. At a frozen lake—the documentary takes place in Ukraine, where Marsh has been doing pro-bono brain surgery for decades—he slides across the ice with ease. If he’s nervous before an operation, his voice rises and he grabs his head. He smiles regularly. When he delivers bad news, his eyes fill with tears: “Life can be very cruel,” he says, “I’m sorry.” It’s obvious that he’s an emotional man—the sort who might leave school to nurse a broken heart. At one point, Marsh visits Katya, the mother of a young girl whose life he tried to save. Marsh describes the scene in “Do No Harm”: sitting at her dinner table, surrounded by her family, “I was so intensely moved to see Katya again that I could scarcely talk,” he writes. It’s remarkable that such a sensitive man has become a brain surgeon. There, too, age may play a role: “I became hardened in the way that doctors have to become hardened,” Marsh writes, but “now that I am reaching the end of my career this detachment has started to fade.”
In Kiev, Marsh works with a neurosurgeon named Igor Kurilets to perform state-of-the-art procedures with second-hand surgical equipment. In “Do No Harm,” Marsh writes about the terror of operating in a strange place, with substandard equipment, but he can’t quite bring himself to describe his work there accurately. (It’s heroic.) His self-portrait, in short, leaves something out. Marsh writes that, when speaking with patients, he struggles to find the balance between “hope and reality,” “optimism and realism,” “detachment and compassion.” He also struggles to find that balance in writing about himself.
Why should that be? The darkness of Marsh’s book isn’t a kind of false modesty; his self-abnegation isn’t disguised self-regard. Instead, his desire for atonement seems to darken his recollections—faced with the irrevocability of his patients’ suffering, he is unable to escape from its shadow. And the memoir’s final chapter suggests a further possibility. Marsh writes about a woman who comes to see him in his clinic. Twenty years earlier, she had a benign brain tumor removed; even as the operation saved her life, it severed one of her facial nerves. Surgeons call this kind of trade a “sacrifice.” In most people, the result of this sacrifice would be a numbness of the face, with which they come to terms. Only a few, Marsh writes, are, like the woman, “driven mad by the numbness.” The Latin name for this, he says, is “anaesthesia dolorosa—painful loss of feeling”; the final chapter is named for that condition. Marsh, I think, is afraid of anaesthesia dolorosa. He can’t bear the thought of going numb. He is determined to feel as much as he can.
PHOTOGRAPH BY TOM PILSTON / PANO
Humildade não te faz melhor que ninguém
Humildade não te faz melhor que ninguém ... Visite-nos: http://ift.tt/1I23gTE
Posted by Mensagens da Manhã on Quarta, 22 de outubro de 2014
Siga seu coração
Seja sempre você .
Posted by Mensagens da Manhã on Quarta, 3 de dezembro de 2014
Hoje é um bom dia
- Hoje é um bom dia para ser um bom dia :) http://ift.tt/1I23gmG
Posted by Mensagens da Manhã on Segunda, 1 de junho de 2015
A vida começa quando você vence seus medos
A vida começa quando você vence seus medos ...:) veja mais em http://ift.tt/1I23gmG
Posted by Mensagens da Manhã on Segunda, 1 de junho de 2015
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As mensagens mediúnicas através da psicografia
Um paranormal consegue se comunicar com espíritos desencarnados de diferentes formas, uma delas é a psicografia, o dom que alguns indivíduos têm de transcrever cartas ditadas por almas.
Esse tipo de mensagem mediúnica é bastante procurada por aqueles que buscam contato com seus familiares já falecidos para solucionar questões mal resolvidas do passado ou receber algum aconselhamento divino.
Chico Xavier, desde os 17 anos, psicografou mais de 10 mil cartas. Durante muito tempo, confortou pessoas desoladas que desejavam notícias de seus entes queridos mortos. Segundo relatos, ele dizia escutar, em média, seis a oito almas falarem ao seu ouvido por sessão.
Os benefícios dessa forma de comunicação espiritual
Essa técnica psíquica costuma trazer bastante conforto para quem deseja entrar em contato com seus entes queridos.
Outra vantagem desse tipo de mensagem mediúnica, de acordo com Allan Kardec, é que, através da escrita, é possível tangibilizar a presença de um espírito, uma vez que não fica apenas no plano oral.
As cartas psicografadas tornam-se formas de lembrança de quem sentimos falta e, assim, recorremos à ajuda de um paranormal para nos comunicar. Elas costumam conter informações íntimas do desencarnado, nomes de parentes e condições de morte que apenas familiares teriam conhecimento.
Como são transmitidas as mensagens mediúnicas psicografadas?
Essa técnica psíquica pode ser transmitida de distintas maneiras pelo paranormal, dentre elas: semimecânica, intuitiva e mecânica.
Semimecânica: quando o médium tem consciência de que está psicografando, mas o espírito atua sobre sua mão. Ele só tem conhecimento do que está escrevendo à medida que a mensagem está sendo transmitida.
Intuitiva: quando o paranormal está consciente no momento em que está escrevendo a carta sobre domínio do desencarnado, mas a alma não atua diretamente na mão do especialista.
Mecânica: quando o médium recebe um impulso do desencarnado que independe da sua vontade, apenas após psicografar é que terá conhecimento da mensagem.
Precisando de uma indicação de vidente? Encontre os melhores esotéricos
Encontrar uma boa indicação de vidente nos dias de hoje, mesmo com tudo ao alcance das mãos, não é tão simples.
Já parou para pensar como é difícil achar um nome de confiança? Perguntar para amigos ou parentes nem sempre é a melhor opção, porque certamente eles vão questionar o motivo e querer saber por que você está procurando ajuda, mas nem sempre queremos dividir nossas angústias e fragilidades com pessoas próximas, não é mesmo?
Para sair dessa situação desconfortável, encontre aqui no Astrocentro uma relação de videntes avaliados por nossos usuários, com ótimas indicações, e escolha aquele que se identificar para uma consulta esotérica.
Além desta indicação de melhores videntes, descubra quais as vantagens de consulta-los
- Ideal para aqueles momentos em que precisamos, mais do que nunca, abrandar nossos medos e preocupações em relação ao porvir.
- Um verdadeiro vidente consegue antecipar com precisão tendências de eventos importantes do futuro.
- Ajuda o consulente a planejar melhor seus passos e tomar eventuais decisões importantes com calma.
- Indica os melhores caminhos, onde haverá mais chances de sucesso.
- As consultas podem ser por telefone, chat ou e-mail, de acordo com sua escolha.
Leia também:
- Conheça alguns dos diferentes instrumentos utilizados para fazer previsões de vidência.
- Saiba mais sobre alguns dos diferentes dons de vidência e mediunidade e entenda como e por que eles acontecem.
Low-Density Supersonic Decelerator Prepared For Second Flight Test
The second flight test of NASA's Low-Density Supersonic Decelerator (LDSD) will be attempted on Tuesday, June 2, launching a rocket-powered, saucer-shaped test vehicle into near-space from the Pacific Missile Range Facility on the island of Kauai in Hawaii. At launch time, a giant balloon will carry the test vehicle to an altitude of 120,000 feet.
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Human Sacrifice in Silla
Archaeologists in South Korea have unearthed an ancient tomb with remains of a young man and woman lying next to each other. Dating to the late 400s or early 500s CE, the tomb was found near the coastal city of Gyeongju. The site was the capital of the kingdom of Silla, which flourished for nearly a millennium, from 57 B.C. to 935 CE, producing 56 monarchs, intricately crafted gold ornaments and beautiful Buddhist temples.
The burial is a human sacrifice, in which the man was killed to be entombed with the woman. She was probably in her 30s, she wore a belt which appears to be decorated with gold earrings and gold leaf. The woman was also buried with jade green jewels and a threaded necklace made of beads. Judging by the contents of the second room in the tomb, she rode horses and knew how to use a sword. Researchers believe the tomb was built for the noblewoman since no accessories were related to the man, a strong indicator he was the human sacrifice. And this isn’t the first tomb found from the period where a man was sacrfied for a woman’s tomb. Throughout the Silla kingdom, women enjoyed a relatively high status — the dynasty produced three reigning queens.
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