denise hostin @dhostin2

Even George Orwell would be terrified by 2026.

Elon Musk @elonmusk

2 days ago

Orwell was a genius

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@OrevaZSN Ask Grok for them

I recommend you go study history- Thomas Woods explaixs how the Catholic Church helped built westen civilisation- there is s YouTube series about if and it provides the reference documents if you are intellectually honest to consider different points of view- however, it may be that your atheistic beliefs prevent you doing so…

@IfindRetards Royal family sound deaf (sexual abuse post)

When I watched the Ecuador coach celebrate so passionately after his team's victory over Germany yesterday, I was reminded of a profound truth often associated with Napoleon Hill: "The most powerful mastermind alliance a man will ever form is in his marriage. A woman, rightly chosen, aligned in vision, and honored in spirit, can make a man unbreakable. But a woman wrongly chosen or unaligned in purpose will drain him of vision, strip him of confidence, and sentence him to spiritual poverty. Many men fall not because of failure in business, but because of conflict in the home. They rise with vision only to have it mocked. They speak with clarity only to have it questioned. They act with courage only to be met with resistance. This is not partnership. This is war. And a man at war with his household cannot build peace outside of it. But when a woman supports a man's purpose, when she believes in his destiny, when she reflects his greatness before the world sees it, that woman becomes the mastermind in motion. Her energy fuels him. Her intuition sharpens him. Her peace steadies him. Her presence becomes a sanctuary. And the man with that kind of partner is dangerous to every limitation. You must choose this alliance with wisdom. And if you are already in one, you must train it, not ignore it. Share your aim. Speak your plan. Invite her insight. Draw strength from her spirit. This is not weakness. This is wisdom. This is law."

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Hay días en los que uno cree saber por qué viaja. Hay otros en los que el destino espera hasta el final para explicárselo. Ayer, 24 de junio, viajé a Caracas. Cuando la tierra comenzó a temblar yo descendía por la bajada de Tazón. Al mismo tiempo, desde Guanare, mi familia nos escribía diciendo que allá también había temblado. Pensamos que sería uno de esos movimientos con epicentro por los lados de Boconó. No imaginábamos que estábamos entrando a una Caracas herida por un doble golpe de terremotos devastadores. Mi agenda era sencilla. Hoy debía suscribir un documento importante. Pero la ciudad tenía otros planes y Dios, al parecer, también. Desde muy temprano solo pensaba en regresar al llano, con el corazón apretado por evidenciar tanto dolor, tanta incertidumbre y tantas familias rotas de un momento a otro. Faltando poco para salir ocurrió lo inesperado. Una familia de Guanare pidió ayuda por redes sociales. Su hija estaba en Caracas y necesitaban traerla de vuelta a casa. Fuimos a buscarla a Fuerte Tiuna. Horas después, al estacionar el vehículo frente a la acera donde la esperaba su madre en Guanare, presencié una de esas escenas que justifican un viaje entero, incluso una vida. Nunca olvidaré aquellos ojos. No eran únicamente ojos de alivio. Eran ojos de una madre que volvía a respirar. Su “gracias” apenas lograba abrirse paso entre las lágrimas. Luego vino ese abrazo infinito donde madre e hija dejaron de ser dos personas para volver a ser una sola certeza: estaban juntas. No conozco a esa madre. Tampoco conocía a su hija, pero mientras me dirigía a casa algo me estremeció más que el propio terremoto. Hace doce días, sin saberlo, Dios comenzó a organizar este viaje. Yo pensaba que iba a Caracas a firmar un documento. Él sabía que iba a buscar una hija para devolverla a los brazos de su madre. A veces creemos que dirigimos nuestra agenda y resulta que solo somos instrumentos de una voluntad infinitamente más sabia. Hay documentos que llevan una firma, y otros que Dios escribe en silencio, en los ojos agradecidos de una madre. Esos son los que nunca se olvidan.

The kindest thing literature does is remind you that your peculiar little feelings have always existed. Someone, in some century, was equally confused by love, bored by society, tired of performing, and hungry for meaning.

The Fibonacci elephant.

A Japanese immunologist spent 20 years proving that the chemicals trees release into the air walk into your bloodstream, hunt down your stress hormones, and arm your immune system in ways no therapist or pharmaceutical has ever matched, and most of the data has been sitting in Japanese medical journals for two decades waiting to be translated. His name is Qing Li. He is a clinical professor at Nippon Medical School in Tokyo and the president of the Japanese Society of Forest Medicine. The Japanese government has been funding his research since 2004, and the body of work he has produced is the reason forest bathing is now an officially prescribed clinical therapy in Japan and Korea. The story actually starts in 1982, when the Japanese Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries coined the term shinrin-yoku to describe the practice of slow, mindful walking in a forest. They did it for a practical reason. Japan was urbanizing fast, stress-related illness was climbing, and the country had thousands of square kilometers of forest sitting unused. The idea was to give people a reason to walk into the trees... They had no idea what was actually happening to the human body during those walks until Qing Li ran the first proper experiment in 2005. He took twelve healthy adult men on a three-day, two-night trip to a forest park. They walked for a few hours each day. Nothing strenuous. No prescribed routes or breathing exercises. They simply walked slowly through the trees, breathing the air, looking at the forest. Li drew blood and urine samples before the trip, on the second day, on the third day, on day seven after returning home, and again on day thirty. The numbers that came back from the lab were not what anyone expected. The activity of a specific type of immune cell called the natural killer cell, which is the cell your body uses to hunt down cancer cells and virus-infected cells before they can spread, had jumped by roughly 50 percent during the forest trip. The actual number of natural killer cells circulating in the bloodstream had increased significantly. Three different anti-cancer proteins that those cells produce, called perforin, granzymes, and granulysin, had all risen sharply. And the effect did not disappear when the men went home. The immune boost was still measurable on day seven and was still partially present on day thirty. Two hours a day in a forest had upgraded the immune system for a full month. Li ran the same experiment with women a year later and found nearly identical results. Then he ran it with a control group who took a three-day trip through an urban area with the same amount of walking, the same hotel quality, and the same diet. The urban group showed no measurable change in natural killer cell activity at all. The forest was doing the work, not the vacation. The mechanism turned out to be a class of airborne molecules called phytoncides. Trees produce these compounds to defend themselves against insects, bacteria, and fungi. Pine, cedar, oak, and cypress trees release them in particularly large amounts, especially in warmer weather and after rainfall. When you walk through a forest, you are inhaling those molecules into your lungs and absorbing them through your skin, and once inside your body they appear to directly stimulate the production and activity of the very immune cells Li was measuring in his lab. Roughly 50 percent of the health benefit of a forest walk, according to Li's data, comes from the chemistry of the air itself. The other half comes from what the forest is doing to your nervous system. This is where it stops being only about the immune system and starts being about stress. A separate Japanese research team measured cortisol, the body's main stress hormone, in 84 participants across 35 different forest sites. They drew samples before and after a 30-minute walk in each forest and compared them to control walks in matched urban environments. The cortisol levels of the people who walked in the forest were lower than the cortisol levels of the people who walked in the city by a significant margin. Their heart rates were lower. Their blood pressure was lower. The activity of their parasympathetic nervous system, which is the part responsible for rest and recovery, had gone up. The activity of their sympathetic nervous system, which is the part that drives fight or flight, had gone down. Then a researcher at the University of Michigan named MaryCarol Hunter ran the cleanest version of this experiment ever done. She recruited participants from a city and told them to take a nature pill three times a week for eight weeks. They were free to choose the time, the place, and the duration of the nature experience, as long as it was outside, in daylight, and free of phones, conversations, and aerobic exercise. They sent her saliva samples before and after each session so she could measure cortisol changes accurately and rule out the normal daily drop in stress hormones that happens to everyone. The result was that participants experienced a 21.3 percent drop in cortisol per hour spent in nature, with the biggest payoff happening between minutes 20 and 30 of the walk. After that, the cortisol kept dropping, but more slowly. The threshold dose for measurable stress relief was just 20 minutes outside in something that looked and felt like nature. What none of this means is that nature is a substitute for therapy or for medication when someone genuinely needs them. Therapy treats different things than a walk does, and Li himself has been careful in interviews to call forest bathing a complementary intervention rather than a replacement for clinical care. But what the research has settled is that the human body has a physiological response to being among trees that operates on the same biological systems modern medicine is trying to reach with drugs and clinical protocols, and that response is fast, measurable, and free. The strangest part of Li's work is the implication he keeps repeating in interviews. The average person now spends more than 90 percent of their life indoors. Their cortisol stays elevated. Their natural killer cells stay sluggish. Their parasympathetic nervous system rarely gets a chance to take over. The system that was tuned by millions of years of life under a canopy of trees is being asked to run permanently inside a box made of drywall and screens. Your body has not forgotten what it is supposed to do in a forest. It is waiting for you to walk into one.

São Tomás de Aquino ensinava que amar é mais perfeito que ser amado. porque ser amado é passivo. você não faz nada, simplesmente recebe. amar é um ato. é a vontade se movendo em direção ao outro. é uma saída de si. é dar sem garantia de receber. e é por isso que Tomás olha pra Deus e vê não um ser que precisa ser amado, mas um ser que ama. que dá. que se move em direção à criatura, não por necessidade, mas por plenitude. Deus não ama porque precisa. ama porque é a natureza do que é perfeito transbordar. e a vocação humana, pra Tomás, é participar dessa mesma lógica. não ficar esperando ser amado. não medir o quanto recebe antes de dar. amar primeiro. amar sem garantia. amar como ato, não como reação. ser amado é bom. amar é melhor.

One of the hidden benefits of reading old books is that they rescue you from the arrogance of the present.

@RoyalFamily @IfindRetards

O Corpus Christi mais lindo que já vi. É na Itália!

@focodereality Magdali- nome da minha avo'

One reason classical education produces more mature young people is because it introduces them to greatness early. Students spend years around saints, philosophers, statesmen, poets, generals, and missionaries. They grow up reading about courage, sacrifice, honor, discipline, truth. Modern education tries to protect students from greatness because greatness creates objective standards. But young people desperately want standards. They want something higher than themselves to admire and live up to.

An elegant person will always be more magnetic, & it doesn’t cost money. -Have good hygiene -Have good manners -Smile at the staff & have small talk with strangers (show interest) -Iron your clothes -Be well-read -Stay calm under pressure -Always say please & thank you -Put your phone away when others are talking to you -Walk with confidence & make sure your chin is parallel to the floor -Give good, honest compliments -Try not to say too much “um” & “like” (read more to avoid this) -Don’t gossip! -Never speak negatively about others in public -Set boundaries -Keep your car & house clean -Never wear dirty shoes -Bonus tip (one of my favs): learn basic words/phrases in other languages so you can easily use them with locals when you travel, & learn about their culture (also respect their culture)

She gave her three-year-old daughter a sedative, wrapped her in a blanket, and placed her in a large leather suitcase. With her heart pounding, she waited in line to leave the Nazi ghetto, watched closely by armed guards. If the little girl made a sound, or if a guard decided to open the heavy bag, they would both be executed on the spot. When she finally made it outside the gates and her child was safe, she did something completely unthinkable. She went back inside. And then she saved another child. And another. She did this dozens of times, risking her life with every single step she took. For most of her life, that little girl, Henia Lewin, believed her mother, Gita Wisgardisky, had performed a single, desperate miracle just for her. It was not until her mother’s funeral many years later that the shattering truth finally emerged. An elderly survivor approached Henia at the cemetery, looked into her eyes, and revealed a secret kept for decades. "Your mother saved so many," the survivor told her. "No one knows how many. Maybe she didn’t even know herself. She didn’t count them." Gita had smuggled countless children out of the Kovno Ghetto in Lithuania, hidden deep inside suitcases or carried through secret passages, right under the noses of the oppressors. Henia was born in 1940 into a normal, loving Jewish family. That normalcy completely vanished when the Nazis invaded and forced the Jewish population into a cramped, disease-ridden ghetto. Hunger and sudden deportations became the daily reality. Gita saw through the lies early on. While some people hoped for the best, she understood the dark truth. She knew that when the Nazis spoke of relocating children, they actually meant killing them. Gita refused to wait for the end. Working secretly with a brave Lithuanian Catholic priest, she found kind families willing to hide Jewish children in the countryside. But getting the children out of the heavily guarded gates was a suicide mission. The children had to be perfectly still and silent. This was why Gita used sedatives. She put her own daughter into a deep, heavy sleep, placed her in that suitcase, and walked toward the guards. When a soldier stopped her, Gita did not panic. She calmly offered her watch and her best pair of leather boots as a bribe. The guard took them, looked away, and she passed through the gates. Little Henia was taken in by a Christian family. She was taught to call strangers mom and dad, and she learned to never mention her real name. Though she was only three, she understood the danger and kept the secret for two long years. Meanwhile, Gita went right back into the nightmare. She returned to the ghetto to find more children. Each trip involved a new suitcase, more sedatives, and a fresh set of bribes. She never asked for recognition. She simply acted. Miraculously, Gita, her husband Jonas, and Henia all survived the war. They eventually moved to the United States, where Henia grew up to become a school teacher and a passionate voice for Holocaust education. Today, Henia shares this story because memory is a torch that must be passed from hand to hand. It reminds us that even in the darkest corners of human history, love can conquer the greatest fears. Gita went to her grave without ever boasting about her heroism, but her legacy lives on in the generations of children who got to grow up, laugh, and have families of their own because one mother refused to leave anyone behind. Some stories are not meant to be closed—they are meant to be carried forward.

louça lavada em silêncio a dois. roupas estendidas no varal, conversando sobre nada importante, rindo de uma piada antiga que só vocês entendem. dentes escovados lado a lado no banheiro pequeno, olhos se encontrando no espelho em cumplicidade muda. um pé frio buscando o outro debaixo do cobertor. o mesmo amor de sempre, que de tanto ser o mesmo virou o maior. bendita seja a vida comum.