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We spend so much time of our lives switched on, scrolling, multitasking, reacting.
Miraval Resorts is an invitation to unplug and be present.
For over 30 years, Miraval has been a global leader in mindfulness and well-being, helping
people reconnect to what matters, body, mind, and spirit.
Through meditation, yoga, time and nature equine experiences, and moments designed for true
presence.
Miraval offers practical tools you can carry into everyday life.
Miraval meets you where you are, and supports wellness that actually lasts.
Discover more by visiting www.miravalresorts.com
This is David Eagleman with Inner Cosmos.
I've spent my life studying the brain, and one thing is obvious.
Most of us surf along on our stream of thoughts, and we never think to examine the waters.
That's what I appreciate about the waking up app from Sam Harris.
You may know that it'll teach you meditation, but it's bigger than that.
It's structured mental training that'll help you understand things like your attention
and your emotions and the patterns that drive your reactions.
We all spend a lot of time trying to explain everything around us, but we don't spend
as much time trying to understand ourselves.
Let's take some moments to turn the camera inward.
You'll be surprised by what you find.
Buy the full app free for 30 days at wakingup.com slash Inner Cosmos.
The Maps app that came with your phone?
It's fine.
If you enjoy waiting, and guessing, and inefficient routes, or you could use MapQuest.
MapQuest is back with live directions, real-time traffic, and faster routes.
It moves when you move.
Best of all, no prints are needed, no paper, no more misterns, just you and the app.
Get there fast with MapQuest.
Download the MapQuest app on the app store or visit MapQuest.com.
MapQuest.
Still getting you there.
Reginald's Christmas revel.
By Saki.
They say, said Reginald, that there's nothing sadder than victory except defeat.
If you've ever stayed with dull people during what is alleged to be the festive season,
you can probably revise that saying.
I shall never forget putting in a Christmas at the Babwolds.
Mrs. Babwold is some relation of my father's, a sort of, to be left till called for cousin.
And that was considered sufficient reason for my having to accept her invitation at about
the sixth time of asking, though why the sins of the father should be visited by the children.
You won't find any note paper in that drawer.
That's where I keep old menus and first night programs.
Mrs. Babwold wears a rather solemn personality and has never been known to smile, even when
saying disagreeable things to her friends or making out the store's list.
She takes her pleasures sadly.
A state elephant at Derbar gives one a very similar impression.
Her husband gardens in all weather's.
When a man goes out in the pouring rain, to brush caterpillars off rose trees, I generally
imagine his life indoors leaves something to be desired.
Anyway, it must be very unsettling for the caterpillars.
Of course there were some other people there.
There was a major somebody who had shot things in Lapland, or somewhere of that sort.
I forget what they were, but it wasn't for want of reminding.
We had them cold with every meal almost, and he was continually giving us details of what
they measured from tip to tip.
As though he thought we were going to make them warm under things for the winter.
I used to listen to him with a raptured tension that I thought rather suited me, and then
one day I quite modestly gave the dimensions of an o-copy I had shot in the Lincolnshire
fence.
The major turned a beautiful Tyrion scarlet.
I remember thinking at the time that I should like my bathroom hung in that color.
And I think that at that moment he almost found it in his heart to dislike me.
Mrs. Babwald put on a first aid to the injured expression, and asked him why he didn't publish
a book of his sporting reminiscence.
It would be sooo interesting.
She didn't remember till afterwards that he had given her two fat volumes on the subject,
with his portrait and autograph as a frontous piece, and an appendix on the habits of the
Arctic muscle.
It was in the evening that we cast aside the cares and distractions of the day and really
lived.
Cards were thought to be too frivolous and empty away of passing the time, so most of them
played what they called a book game.
You went out into the hall to get an inspiration, I suppose.
Then you came in again with a muffler tied round your neck and looked silly, and the others
were supposed to guess that you were wee-mech-grieger.
I held out against the inanity as long as I decently could.
But at last, in a lapse of good nature, I consented to masquerade as a book, only I warned
them that it would take some time to carry out.
They waited for the best part of forty minutes, while I went and played wine-glass skittles
with the page-boy in the pantry.
You play it with a champagne-cork, you know, and the one who knocks down the most glasses
without breaking them wins.
I, one, with four unbroken out of seven, I think William suffered from over-anxiousness.
They were rather mad in the drawing-room at my not having come back, and they weren't
a bit pacified when I told them afterwards that I was at the end of the passage.
I never did like Kipling, was Mrs. Babwald's comment when the situation dawned upon her.
I couldn't see anything clever in earthworms out of tuskeny, or is that my Darwin?
Of course these games are very educational, but personally I prefer bridge.
On Christmas evening we were supposed to be specially festive in the old English fashion.
The hall was horribly drafty, but it seemed to be the proper place to revel in, and it
was decorated with Japanese fans and Chinese lanterns, which gave it a very old English
effect.
A young lady with a confidential voice favored us with a long recitation about a little girl
who died, or did something equally hackneyed, and then the major gave us a graphic account
of a struggle he had with a wounded bear.
I privately wished that the bears would win sometimes on these occasions, at least they
wouldn't go vaporing about it afterwards.
Before we had time to recover our spirits, we were indulged with some thought-reading
by a young man whom one knew instinctively had a good mother in an indifferent tailor,
the sort of young man who talks unflaggingly through the thickest soup, and smooths his
hair dubiously as though he thought it might hit back.
The thought-reading was rather a success.
He announced that the hostess was thinking about poetry, and she admitted that her mind
was dwelling on one of Austin's ores, which was near enough.
I fancy she had been really wondering whether a scrag end of mutton and some cold plum
pudding would do for the kitchen dinner next day.
As a crowning dissipation, they all sat down to play progressive helma, with milk chocolate
for prizes.
I've been carefully brought up, and I don't like to play games of skill for milk chocolate,
so I invented a headache and retired from the scene.
I had been preceded a few minutes earlier by Miss Langshan Smith, a rather formidable lady,
who always got up at some uncomfortable hour in the morning, and gave you the impression
that she had been in communication with most of the European governments before breakfast.
There was a paper pinned on her door, with a signed request that she might be called
particularly early on the morrow.
Such an opportunity does not come twice in a lifetime.
I covered up everything except the signature with another notice.
To the effect that before these words should meet the eye, she would have ended a misspent
life, or sorry for the trouble she was giving, and would like a military funeral.
A few minutes later, I violently exploded an air-filled paper bag on the landing, and
gave a stage-mone that could have been heard in the cellars.
Then I pursued my original intention and went to bed.
The noise those people made in forcing open the good lady's door was positively indecreous.
She resisted gallantly, but I believe they searched her for bullets for about a quarter
of an hour, as if she had been in historic battlefield.
I hate traveling on boxing day, but one must occasionally do things that one dislikes.
End of Reginald's Christmas revel by Saki
We spend so much time of our lives switched on, scrolling, multitasking, reacting.
Miraval Resorts is an invitation to unplug and be present.
For over 30 years, Miraval has been a global leader in mindfulness and well-being, helping
people reconnect to what matters, body, mind, and spirit.
Through meditation, yoga, time and nature, equine experiences, and moments designed for
true presence, Miraval offers practical tools you can carry into everyday life.
Miraval meets you where you are, and supports wellness that actually lasts.
Discover more by visiting www.miravalresorts.com
This is David Eagleman with Inner Cosmos.
I've spent my life studying the brain, and one thing is obvious, most of us surf along
on our stream of thoughts, and we never think to examine the waters.
That's what I appreciate about the waking up app from Sam Harris.
You may know that it'll teach you meditation, but it's bigger than that.
It's structured mental training that'll help you understand things like your attention
and your emotions and the patterns that drive your reactions.
We all spend a lot of time trying to explain everything around us, but we don't spend
as much time trying to understand ourselves.
Let's take some moments to turn the camera inward.
You'll be surprised by what you find.
Try the full app free for 30 days at wakingup.com slash Inner Cosmos.
Warning.
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F words.
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With Zipper Cruder, you can forget your frustrations, because we find the right people for your roles
fast, which is our absolute favorite effort.
In fact, four out of five employers who post on Zipper Cruder get a quality candidate
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So, whether you need to hire four, 40, or 400 people, get ready to meet first rate talent.
Just go to zippercruder.com slash zip to try Zipper Cruder for free.
Don't forget that zippercruder.com slash zip.
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Merry Christmas! - Daily Christmas Stories
