Relief
Relief is the exhale — the shoulders dropping, the held breath releasing, the pressure leaving the body all at once when a danger or a doubt finally lifts. It is one of the few emotions defined entirely by what has ended rather than by what has arrived. Vela reads relief as a primary emotion in its own right, distinct from the joy it is sometimes mistaken for, and attends to the strange griefs and guilts that can ride in on its back.
Working definition · The exhale after tension resolves; pressure drops when danger or doubt lifts.
1756 passages
Vela’s read on this emotion
Relief is the easiest of the emotions to overlook, because it announces itself as the absence of something rather than the presence of it. The reading takes it seriously precisely for that reason — relief is the body's honest report that a load has been set down, and what comes rushing into the space the load leaves is often more complicated than simple gladness.
The reading is densest where relief arrives mixed. The memoir of illness and survival holds relief that is shadowed — the reprieve that the body cannot quite trust, the relief at an ending that also closes a chapter the self was not ready to lose. The literature of caregiving and loss reads the difficult relief that can follow a long death, and the guilt that so often arrives alongside it. The contemplative inheritance reads relief as the texture of mercy — the debt forgiven, the burden lifted, the deliverance the Psalms keep returning to as a bodily fact and not only a theological one.
Relief is not the same as joy, gratitude, or peace. Joy is an arrival; relief is a departure — the going of a threat rather than the coming of a good. Gratitude turns toward a giver; relief simply lets go. Peace is a settled state that can last; relief is the sharp transition into it and is gone almost as soon as it is felt. The four are kin and the reading keeps them apart, because relief's whole character is that it is defined by what is no longer there.
Study and magazine
Long-form guide in the magazine
An essay on how this word lives in language, in the tagged corpus, and in figurative art when curators pair passage with image — not a list of stages, not permission to feel.
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Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.
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1756 tagged passages
From Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance (1995)
I wondered whether, away from the spotlight, Harold thought about those constraints. Whether, like Mr. Anderson or Mrs. Reece or any number of other black officials who now administered over inner city life, he felt as trapped as those he served, an inheritor of sad history, part of a closed system with few moving parts, a system that was losing heat every day, dropping into low-level stasis. I wondered whether he, too, felt a prisoner of fate. It was Dr. Martha Collier who eventually lifted me out my funk. She was the principal of Carver Elementary, one of the two elementary schools out in Altgeld. The first time I called her for an appointment, she didn’t ask too many questions. “I can use any help I can get,” she said. “See you at eight-thirty.” The school, three large brick structures that formed a horseshoe around a broad, pitted dirt lot, was at the southern border of Altgeld. Inside, a security guard showed me to the main office, where a sturdily built, middle-aged black woman in a blue suit was talking to a taut and disheveled younger woman. “You go home now and get some rest,” Dr. Collier said, throwing her arm over the woman’s shoulder. “I’m gonna make some calls and see if we can’t get this thing sorted out.” She led the woman to the door, then turned to me. “You must be Obama. Come on in. You want some coffee?” Before I had a chance to reply, she had turned to her secretary. “Get Mr. Obama here a cup of coffee. Did those painters arrive yet?” The secretary shook her head, and Dr. Collier frowned. “Hold all calls,” she said as I followed her into her office, “except for that good-for-nothing building engineer. I want to tell him just what I think of his sorry ass.” Her office was sparsely furnished, the walls bare except for a few community service awards and a poster of a young black boy that read “God Don’t Make No Junk.” Dr. Collier pulled up a chair and said, “That girl just leaving my office, she’s the mother of one of our kids. A junkie. Her boyfriend was arrested last night and can’t make bail. So tell me—what can your organization do for someone like her?” The secretary came in with my coffee. “I was hoping you’d have some suggestions,” I said. “Short of tearing this whole place down and giving people a chance to start over, I’m not sure.”
From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)
I realize this may surprise you, and, sure, sometimes clients don’t want to know a diagnosis, as they feel it gives them a label. I respect that. However, when it comes to BPD, we see that when folks are informed about their diagnosis, they have a clearer understanding of their symptoms and the treatment outcomes. In fact, one study found that when therapists did not disclose a BPD diagnosis to their clients, 100 percent of those clients left the treatment process. 42 Why? I would argue it’s because, before clients even go to therapy, they can sense that something feels “off.” Colleen had known for years that she felt “different” but couldn’t understand why. Many clients, like Colleen, want answers and my belief is that when we have one, we should give it. It’s a rupture of trust for a therapist to withhold something so meaningful as a BPD diagnosis. Knowledge is power. Teaching clients about BPD, including whether they meet diagnostic criteria, can turn the tide. When Colleen learned that BPD is a lived experience shared by many (in fact, it’s estimated that 1.4 percent of the population experiences BPD and almost 75 percent of them are women), she felt so much less alone. 43 As can often be helpful, I recommended that she join a support group for people living with BPD, and she was elated as she told me how there were other people who could connect to the intense emotions she felt. For the first time, she felt seen by others. I wish I could tell you that Colleen’s story is unique. It’s not. Sadly, I’m sure that as you read this, you are thinking of the pains in your own life or what you’ve heard from close friends and family members. Even so, you may be wondering why I’m bringing up BPD in a book that is focused on anxiety. Here’s why: anxiety, BPD, depression, PTSD, OCD, eating disorders—I could go on—so much of these disorders is fueled by trauma. The symptoms may manifest differently for each of us, but the underlying root is often centered in our individual and our collective heartaches. The pain of our past brings us to the pain in our present. These pains can rock our worlds. They change us, and oftentimes not for the better. (Yes, post-traumatic growth is a thing that I’ll cover in a moment, but wouldn’t it be better if the trauma had never happened in the first place?) 44 Colleen should never have been abused by her aunt.
From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)
It’s not about trusting other people. That can be a fool’s game. Everyone messes up and if you’re hoping your loved ones will have a perfect track record, you’re going to end up inescapably disappointed. I’m talking about trusting yourself. Trust that you can handle the pain if and when it comes. You don’t need to make yourself sick with worry waiting for a shoe to drop. It might and it might not. You don’t need to guilt yourself that you “could have done more.” Sure, you could do more and even still, that may never be enough. Trust that when someone makes a choice that hurts you, it’s rarely about you. You may tell yourself, “If they really loved me, they would stop.” It’s not that they don’t love you—it’s that they’re not ready to be grossly uncomfortable by making a change in their lives. They can’t handle the pain of shifting their behavior, at least not right now, and so they choose the pain of continuing their destructive habits instead. I know it’s so hard to watch—I’ve had to watch myself from the back seat of that car in the motel parking lot when I was a kid. I’m glad to say that Jessie realized that she could care vehemently for Tony and not be responsible for making his life look different. He was responsible for changing his outcome, not she. I know you may be reading this and wondering what happened to Tony. Did he get sober? Did he get out of jail? I don’t actually know. Jessie decided while we were working to-gether that she wanted to study abroad in Ireland. Even though she initially felt some guilt about going abroad while Tony was still waiting for his trial, we worked through how she deserved to take on this opportunity that she was excited about. As she got ready to fly across the Atlantic, we decided to conclude treatment. After all, she had accomplished the goal that she didn’t know she needed to set: she was taking care of herself. There were no more excuses and there was no more time to waste. She was learning how to control what she could: her future and hers alone. Everything else, including Tony’s path, she accepted was beyond her control. She still cared, but she now cared just as much about what was best for her. I haven’t heard from her since. The truth is that the only behavior you can change is your own. Choose to take better care of yourself. Mend your heart if it’s broken. Give yourself a chance to steady your nerves if you’re stretched thin. If you’ve been caught in someone else’s rip current for a long time, you’re not soulless to swim away. It’s self- preservation. You owe it to yourself—and everyone else around you who wants to see you thrive—to get in calmer waters.
From Get Out of Your Head: Stopping the Cycle of Anxious Thoughts (2020)
When we turn off the constant distractions and sit quietly before God, focusing intently on His Word and really meditating on it, a few things happen: Your brain will be physiologically altered. “Scientists have found that the brains of people who spend untold hours in prayer and meditation are different.”8 Your imagination will be rewired. “Inappropriate thoughts can be combatted with positive thoughts, such as thinking of a new hobby, playing music, repeating an inspiring quote, or some other positive activity,” wrote Sam Black from Covenant Eyes.9 The kind of brain waves present during relaxation increases, and anxiety and depression decrease. “Several studies have demonstrated that subjects who meditated for a short time showed increased alpha waves (the relaxed brain waves) and decreased anxiety and depression.”10 Your brain stays younger longer. “A study from UCLA found that long-term meditators had better-preserved brains than non-meditators as they aged.”11 You’ll have fewer wandering thoughts. “One of the most interesting studies in the last few years, carried out at Yale University, found that mindfulness meditation decreases activity in the default mode network (DMN), the brain network responsible for mind-wandering and self-referential thoughts—a.k.a., ‘monkey mind.’ ”12 Your perspective will eventually shift. “When we take time to listen to what God has to say to us,” wrote Bible teacher Charles Stanley, “we will see how much He loves us and wants to help us through every situation in life. He gives us the confidence to live extraordinary lives in the power of His Spirit and grace.”13 Look back at the story of Saul encountering Jesus on the road to Damascus, and you’ll see that as all other distractions—not just food and water but also sight —were removed from his life, he could see clearly for the first time in his life. Like Saul, when we turn our thoughts from our problems to the only One who holds the solution in His hands, we gain wisdom we’d not otherwise have. We gain insight we’d not otherwise experience. We find One who is willing to help us and able to help us and thus uniquely poised to intervene. We come to see things not as they seem to us but as they truly are. How many times have we created entire story lines based on worst-case scenarios? How often have we imagined someone’s anger toward us simply because of a sideways glance that had nothing to do with us? We build entire narratives that begin to take on lives of their own, based on assumptions and our overactive imaginations—all because we attend to fears, attend to distractions, attend to worst-case scenarios. It has been said—and I think it is true—that the most valuable asset we possess is our attention, which prompts the question, To what are we attending? Are we attending to our fear? Or are we attending to the God who promises to be with us?
From Get Out of Your Head: Stopping the Cycle of Anxious Thoughts (2020)
When we’re spiraling in cynicism, we have a choice to shift our minds back to God through worship. When we’re spiraling in self-importance, we have a choice to shift our minds back to God through humility. When we’re spiraling into victimhood, we have a choice to shift our minds back to God through gratitude. When we’re spiraling in complacency, we have a choice to shift our minds back to God through serving Him and others. I should tell you here that after the day of prayer and fasting that led to my becoming obsessively vigilant about practicing the Paul-like patterns you’ll read about in part 2 of this book, I’ve never again woken up terrified. For a full year now, those 3 a.m. wake-up calls are no longer paralyzing me. In the same way, you may find that some thoughts, once interrupted, will simply lose their power. God can do this. Other thoughts, however, may require daily capturing and redirecting. Or hourly. In some cases, more often than that. But those deadly thoughts can be captured. They can be contained. We can be set free from the steepest of spirals. We can learn to mind our minds. We can live as if we have a choice in this matter, because we do, in fact, have a choice. A heavenly Father gave everything for me to be free. Everything so I could choose this way out! He built the way out with the love and blood of His Son, Jesus. When we think thoughts that lead to life and peace, we don’t just get better thoughts, we get more of God. We may still wake in the wee hours of the morning when all around us is dark. But rather than squirming and stewing and letting evil scenarios run haywire through our minds, we can meet with God, be reminded of His kindness, and pray. The battle for our minds is won as we focus on Jesus—every moment, every hour, every day. 6 Make the Shift A few months ago, I gathered a room full of women in my local church to study the things you and I are talking about here. We met for six weeks, and lives were changed.
From H Is for Hawk (2014)
Later I found a review of the book in an old British Falconers’ Club journal. It was superbly terse. ‘For those with an interest in the dull introspective business of manning and training a hawk, The Goshawk will be a well-written catalogue of most of the things one should not do,’ it said. The men in tweed had spoken. I was on the right side, was allowed to dislike this grown-up and consider him a fool. It’s painful to recall my relief on reading this, founded as it was on a desperate misunderstanding about the size of the world. I took comfort in the blithe superiority that is the refuge of the small. But for all that, my eight-year-old self revered the hawk in the book. Gos. Gos was real to me. Gos had steely pinions and a mad marigold eye, and hopped and flew and mantled his great wings over a fist of raw liver. He cheeped like a songbird and was terrified of cars. I liked Gos. Gos was comprehensible, even if the writer was utterly beyond understanding. A few years ago I met a retired U2 pilot. He was tall, flinty and handsome and had just the right kind of deadly stillness you’d expect from a man who’d spent years flying at the edge of space in a dusty-black American spy plane. The geopolitical aspects of his role were truly disconcerting. But as a day job it was absurdly cool. At eighty thousand feet the world curves deep below you and the sky above is wet black ink. You’re wearing a spacesuit, confined to a cockpit the size of a bathtub, piloting a machine that first flew the year James Dean died. You cannot touch the world, just record it. You have no weapons; your only defence is height. But as I talked with this man what impressed me the most weren’t his deadpan tales of high adventure, the ‘incidents’ with Russian MiGs and so on, but his battle against boredom. The nine-hour solo missions. The twelve-hour solo missions. ‘Wasn’t that horrendous?’ I asked. ‘It could get a little lonely up there,’ he replied. But there was something about how he said it that made it sound a state still longed-for. And then he said something else. ‘I used to read,’ he said, unexpectedly, and with that his face changed, and his voice too: his deadpan Yeager drawl slipped, was replaced with a shy, childlike enthusiasm. ‘The Once and Future King. By T. H. White,’ he said. ‘Have you heard of him? He’s an English writer. It’s a great book. I used to take that up, read it on the way out and the way back.’
From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)
While she was very hesitant to do so at first, Mikaela began considering the possibility of seeing a psychiatrist, as she was at her wit’s end with her body’s antics. After carefully deliberating, Mikaela decided that she would give medication a try if a psychiatrist thought it would be useful. I helped her find a provider whom she felt comfortable with (PsychologyToday.com is a great place to find both therapists and psychiatrists who take your insurance). After her initial appointment, Michaela’s doctor prescribed her an SSRI, or a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, which is an anti-depressant that typically takes about four to six weeks to go into effect. Mikaela soon noticed that her morning nausea all but disappeared, her uncontrollable crying lessened, and her panic attacks were greatly reduced. She told me that, for her, taking medication was a game changer. I saw the difference, too. She started laughing in her sessions, she cut back on her drinking because she didn’t need it as much to cope, and, heck, she even got a puppy. Ultimately she told me before we ended our work together: “I’m so glad that I gave the medication a chance to help me.” Now, of course, the decision to take medication is highly personal. While some people have said that medication has turned them into a “zombie” or changed their personality, it may be worth finding out why they felt that way before we jump to similar conclusions (for example, perhaps it wasn’t the right dosage or prescription for that specific person). It’s not for everyone, but I also know that I’ve seen many skeptical clients experience how medication indeed changes their personalities for the better—where they actually feel like themselves again, the people they were before the anxiety took hold of their lives. Maybe you owe it to yourself to see whether this could be of value to you if you’re feeling fed up. Besides, if you’re already self-medicating with alcohol, cannabis, or other substances anyway (and feeling dependent on them), perhaps that’s an indicator that another source of support, such as prescription medication, could be helpful. There’s no need to judge yourself (or others) if you need medication to support you. There’s nothing “wrong” with you.
From A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (BDB) (1907)
eh ערב vb. take on pledge, give in pledge, exchange (N H go surety for (rare); Ph. ערב surety; OAram. ערבא pledge; ₪ ערב , Syr. oi, go surety for; usu. identified with | I. my—mia, exchange, pledge—but quite un-— certain; cf. Buhl** Lag®**");-—Qal Pf. 3 ms. ’y Gn 44+ 4%; 2 ms. PITY Pr 6'; Jmpf. 1s, sf. BIWS Gn 43°; Imv. ערב p119™, sf. IW Is 38, so Jb 17° (but v. infr.); Inf. estr. ערב | Ez 27°; Pt. ערב Prx7', etc.;—1. c. ace. pers. take on pledge, i.e. go surety for the safety of, Gn 43°(J), 44°(J; + מַעם pers.); for the debts of Pr ri" 20% 27%; of God Is 38" go surety for me, ץצ 119, so Jb 175 (si vera 1., v. HAW); ace. pers. om., 2 ‘Y Pr 6* go surety to one (in behalf of another, || 722 at) YPM); 6. 800. rel Pr 22% (|[|2°YPA). 2. give in pledge, 0. ace. rei Ne 5° (i. 6. mortgage), fig. iad-ns ע' Je 30% so mY) 8b MAW/Y Pr v7 (|| VPA). 8. ex change (in trade), 0. ace. cogn. מִערְבך Ez 27%" Hithp. 1. recipr.: Jmv. ‘INNS נָא ayn 4 2 [6 18% exchange pledges (make a bargain) with my lord=Is 36°. 2. a. have fellowship with, 2 pers., Pf. 3 pl. WN Ezr 97; Impf. 3 mpl. SYN שש 106”; 2ms. תִתְעָרֶב 6. > pers. b. share in, 3 rei, 3 ms. יִתְעָרב Pr 14” in his joy no other shares. " Tranny n.f. thing exchanged, pledge, token;—sf. ד עַרְבָּתֶם ₪ 17%=a tokex from them, 1. 6. response, token of welfare, Th Dr al.; abs. as 800. cogn. ע' 21) Pr 17” give a pledge. THAW .מ [mj pledge;—Y 12 give a pledge Gn 38%"%, 74 npd ל זי (all J), receive (back) a pledge (why condition is fulfilled)—Jb 17° rd. perh. "22,2 (for MT °227Y), as obj. of TOY set my pl/ ge (a surety for me), so Beer Bual. +1. [מעה?] n.m. usu. Coll. articles of ex- תת merchandise (only of Tyre, Ez27);— sf. JID :555-ה as acc. cogn. 0, IW *'צ + pl. sf. מערביף v® perh. thy (diverse) wares (DELM¥o ויוי + prop., ingeniously, meaning ing orts, deriving fr. V. ערב enter, but improb.). | | 0 > תערבה 1 [הַעַרְבְה]ז n.f. pledge ;—only pl. in phr. הַפְּעַרבוּת 23 2K 14" i.e. hostages = 2 Ch 25%.
From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)
3. Flexible: The ideal way to hold boundaries, you can discern when to say yes and when to say no. You’re in tune with your values, so you gladly commit to the opportunities and people who bring you joy. In the same vein, you’re not afraid to say no when time doesn’t permit or you’re not interested. Because you respect yourself, you’re also able to appropriately respect others by being honest about what you actually do and do not want to do. Lastly, you’re willing to compromise, knowing that sometimes you can have your way and sometimes you can’t—both can be okay. If you find yourself in the diffuse or rigid category, consider being open to the possibility of responding differently. Our responses aren’t fated. Our approach and our relationships are not going to change unless we’re willing to do something about it. We have to actually take action and follow through. Changing your mindset isn’t enough. Why? It’s because our brains are so freaking smart. Simply telling ourselves that our worst fears won’t come true if we stick up for ourselves only does so much. You have to actually show yourself that it can be different. Prove to yourself that you survived saying no to a “quick favor” or that you handled someone being angry with you if you turned them down. Here are some ways you can implement this if you struggle with boundary setting: For those with diffuse boundaries: 1. Slow yourself down: Whether you give yourself a rule of waiting twenty- four hours before you give an answer or you simply start saying “Let me get back to you on that,” give yourself a stopgap in responding. With people-pleasing, we have a knee-jerk reaction to say yes without really considering how the new obligation would fit into our lives. Slow. It. Down. 2. Let go of external flattery to determine your self-worth: Compliments are our weakness—especially when they’re attached to a request. Because we associate being needed with being liked, we’re quick to take the bait, even if it will put us out. Before you commit, ask yourself whether you actually want to take on this responsibility or you’re just basking in the glow of validation. 3. Practice saying no: Just try it on. Whether it’s a friend asking to go to dinner and you’re absolutely exhausted or you’ve been asked to sign up for an extra shift at work, see how it feels in your body to say no. You likely will feel restless and guilty at first. Give yourself a day, though, to pay attention to any waves of relief that follow. You may be surprised by how good it feels to stick up for yourself.
From A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (BDB) (1907)
2K 2”, salt waters (prediction), i.e. be made fresh, Ez 47°°"; of (broken) pottery, i.e. be made whole, Je 19” (in sim.). 2. fig., be healed : a. of national hurts, subj. city Je 51°"; involving forgiveness and ’*’s blessing, impers. 6 ל of people, NED Is 53° i.e. healing has come tous. b. of personal distress, subj. pers. 16 ,ךז subj. the distress 15%. Pi. Pf. 1s. ‘DNB 2 K 2%; 2 mpl. ONS? Ez 344; 1 pl. רפּאנו Je51°; Impf. 3 ms. SBV Ex 21'* Ze 11*, SBM 1K 18"; 3 mpl. 8B Je 6", BW (Ges?) 8"; Inf. abs. רפא Ex 21";—have healed, heal, usu. human subj.: 1. lit., SBT) רפא Ex 21" he shall have (him) well healed ; c. acc. of altar, =repair, 1K 18"; c.5 of water (subj.”*) 2K 27. 2. fig. of healing national defects and hurts, ace. pers., 132345 Ze11"; work at healing, treat (ace. of hurt) Je 6™ 8" (both 73p32~dy, y. [P02] Niph. 2), 51°. Hithp. Inf. cstr. of purpose, 270i}, lit., in order to get healed, + j> of wounds 2 K 8%=9", so || 2 Ch 22° (rd. with 69 j for *3, cf. Be Kau Benz). +s רפה n.pr.m.in Benj., 1Ch 8°, Padn{ a|.— .זז NBD ---.רפה .צ 16. also “1 M2 p. 2. 5 רפאים .זנ +. sub .רפה ee : 3 ae .גנ עס.ב רְפָה in Saul’s line 1 Ch 8" Pagat(a), GL Apaya; vy. MDI.—11. .רפה .צ ר' 1 S95 n.pr.m. in Benj, Nur3%, Papou[ av]. 1 [רפאה] 5 remedy, medicine ;— pl. רפה P abs. רְפָּאת Ez 307 Je 30%, ni- 46" (all fig.). 1 רפאוּת nf. healing ;—’9 abs. Pr 38 (fig.). a c toyp n.pr.m. Levite, 1 Ch 26’, Pagan. רפיה1 n.pr.m. 1. in David’s family 1 Ch gue Pagan, A GL Pada. 2. in Simeon, 4”, Padaua(s). 3. in Issachar, 77, Padapa, A GL Pagaia. 4. descendant of Saul 9%, 200000 601, Apaya(=721 8%). 5. post-ex. name Ne 3°, Pagata(s). _ ירפאֶל1 n.przloe. in Benj., 20187, A GL lep$(a)nd : unknown. TREW , כזרפדו n.m.**"* healing, cure, health (usu. fig.);—abs. מַרפא Je 14+, מַרְפָּה 8°; estr. SBW Pri5*;—1. healing, cure, of national woes, Je8*14""(|| Dio’), (אַרְכֶה+)"36 ; esp. *49ז 76 אין 32 מ' there is no cure for us, מ' PN? עד 2 Ch 36". 2. fig. of pers., health, profit, Pr 4” (|| 0%), 12°13” 16%; with “951 רפה spiritual implic. Mal 4% ; מ' [SX Pr 65== mad 14° a mind of health (healthy, composed, mind), ef.’ alone=composure Ec 10%; מ'י לשון 15° healing of the tongue, =a soothing tongue (Toy). 3. lit., of disease, “ Ase) 2 Ch 21*.
From Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance (1995)
“Look, miss, we have just come from the airport. They told us to come here. Two days ago I was told my bag would be delivered. Now I’m told that no one even knows it’s missing. I—” I stopped in midsentence. The receptionist had withdrawn behind a stony mask, a place where neither pleading nor bluster could reach. Auma apparently saw the same thing, for the air seemed to go out of her as well. Together we slumped into a pair of lounge chairs, not knowing what to do next, when a hand suddenly appeared on Auma’s shoulder. Auma turned to find the hand attached to a dark, wiry man dressed in a blue blazer. “Eh, Uncle! What are you doing here?” Auma introduced me to the man, who was related to us in a sequence that I couldn’t quite follow. He asked us if we were planning a trip, and Auma told him what had happened. “Listen, don’t worry,” our uncle said. “Maduri, he is a good friend of mine. In fact, just now I am about to have lunch with him.” Our uncle turned crossly to the receptionist, who had been watching our conversation with considerable interest. “Mr. Maduri already knows you are here,” she said, smiling. Mr. Maduri turned out to be a heavyset man with a bulbous nose and a raspy voice. After we had repeated our story, he immediately picked up the phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Maduri. Who is this? Listen, I have Mr. Obama here who is looking for his luggage. Yes, Obama. He has been expecting his bag for some time now. What? Yes, look now, please.” A few minutes later the phone rang. “Yes … okay, send it to …” He relayed Auma’s office address, then hung up the phone and told us that the bag would be delivered there that same afternoon. “Call me if you have any more problems,” he said. We thanked both men profusely and immediately excused ourselves, worried that our luck might change at any moment. Downstairs, I stopped in front of a large photograph of Kenyatta that was hanging in an office window. His eyes dazzled with confidence and cunning; his powerful, bejeweled hand clutched the carved staff of a Kikuyu chieftain. Auma came and stood beside me. “That’s where it all starts,” she said. “The Big Man. Then his assistant, or his family, or his friend, or his tribe. It’s the same whether you want a phone, or a visa, or a job. Who are your relatives? Who do you know? If you don’t know somebody, you can forget it. That’s what the Old Man never understood, you see. He came back here thinking that because he was so educated and spoke his proper English and understood his charts and graphs everyone would somehow put him in charge. He forgot what holds everything together here.” “He was lost,” I said quietly.
From H Is for Hawk (2014)
It struck me then that perhaps the bareness and wrongness of the world was an illusion; that things might still be real, and right, and beautiful, even if I could not see them – that if I stood in the right place, and was lucky, this might somehow be revealed to me. And the sun on the glass and the memory of the shining field , and the awful laughter , and the kindness of that morning’s meeting must have thinned the armour of silence I’d worn for months, because the anger was quite gone now, and that evening as we drove to the hill, I said in a quiet voice, ‘Stuart, I’m not dealing very well with things at the moment.’ I said, ‘I think I’m a bit depressed.’ ‘You’ve lost your father , Helen , ’ he said. ‘I’m training a gos. I suppose it’s quite stressful.’ ‘You’ve lost your father . And you’re doing OK with the gos,’ he added. ‘You might not see it, but you are. She’ll be flying free, soon. She’s nearly there, Helen. Don’t be so hard on yourself.’ I hadn’t told him everything. I hadn’t confessed the unpaid bills, the letters from the bank, the impossible nights, the mornings in tears. But I had told him something. I looked at Mabel. Her head drooped forward. She looked indescribably mournful in her hood. I stroked her craggy, snake-scale toes. She was asleep. I touched the hood, very gently, and felt the whole weight of her sinking, sleeping head against my fingers. Perhaps I should ask Stuart to take us home , I thought. I was so impossibly tired; there seemed no point in flying her at all. But when I unhooded her out on the hill, Stuart, noticing her oddly upright stance, the pale feathers fluffed over her toes, the rising feathers on her crown, the shackly, possessive grasp of her feet on the glove, raised his eyebrows and asked, ‘What does she weigh?’ ‘One pound and fifteen ounces.’ ‘Look at her,’ he said. ‘She’s a different hawk today. ’ She was. I called her. I had lost hope in her coming but I called her all the same. And she flew to me. She flew like a promise finally kept. She raced towards me, wings flickering across fifty yards of flint-strewn earth, hit the glove and stayed. I gave her back to Stuart and called her again. Three times she flew to my fist the whole length of the creance with total conviction. There was no hesitation, no faltering. The hawk flew to me as if I were home. ‘You’ve hit her flying weight,’ Stuart said approvingly. ‘A couple more days of this and we’ll get her flying free.’ Of course he was right. I had miscalculated her flying weight for weeks. But the narcissism of the bereaved is very great.
From Get Out of Your Head: Stopping the Cycle of Anxious Thoughts (2020)
Just today, she and I were texting about our tiff, able to laugh about it now. I know that it’s all the rage these days to talk about how amazing everyone is, how we’re each special and talented and enough. But I have to tell you, I don’t find these ideas in Scripture. We find our “enoughness” only in Christ. If anything, God’s Word tells us to camp out on the opposite view from the one our culture holds: when we’re weak, it’s actually a good thing, because Christ’s power is made more evident in us.12 I happen to think that this is fantastic news. I recently read an article about the problems that come with success. It included this quote from a man who, by earthly standards, has achieved awesomeness. “Imagine life as two barometers,” he said. One is how the world sees you. The other is how you feel about yourself. As your worldly position rises, your self-image crashes. People abuse themselves with fine food or drink or drugs or sex—so they can avoid getting too successful. Why do CEOs who are sitting on top of the world have a problem with self-esteem? It’s simple: People who feel like bags of […] overcompensate and act like gods of creation.13 Self-importance always self-implodes. Because we weren’t built to live like gods. Yet with all the evidence against it, achievement is still the most popular drug of our generation. Listen. There is a reason we don’t like to hang out in nursing homes and hospitals. There’s a reason we posture. There’s a reason we buy stuff labeled “anti-aging.” There’s a reason we drive more car than we can afford. There’s a reason we notice labels. We all want to be awesome, even as Christ is the only awesome one. This is one of the most freeing and rarely embraced truths of following Christ: Because of the sacrifice of Jesus, we get His awesomeness as part of the deal. We get His righteousness. We get forgiveness. We get rest. We get grace for our souls. Humility reminds us of this truth. It says, “Relax. Your only hope is Jesus.” It is good news and grants us the exhale we all are craving. Humility Helps Us See People as God Sees Them Earlier I told you that one of the reasons I love Andrew Murray is that he had the courage to admit what you and I probably think from time to time, which is something along the lines of How am I supposed to be humble with them (whoever they are), when they’re so hurtful/annoying/wrong?
From Tipping the Velvet (1998)
I said, ‘We will’, and lowered my gaze again; then moved to take a box from Mr Bliss.Mr Bliss himself did not stay long after that - as if he thought it indelicate to linger in a lady’s chamber, even one he was paying for himself. He exchanged a few words with Kitty regarding her appointment on the morrow at the Bermondsey Star - for she had to meet the manager, and rehearse with the orchestra, in the morning, in preparation for her first appearance in the evening - then he shook her hand, and mine, and bade us farewell. I felt as anxious, suddenly, at the thought of him leaving us, as I had done a few hours before at the prospect of meeting him at all.But when he had gone - and when Mrs Dendy, too, had closed the door on us and wheezed and coughed her way downstairs behind him - I lowered myself into one of the armchairs and closed my eyes, and felt myself ache with pleasure and relief simply to be alone at last with someone who was more to me than a stranger. I heard Kitty step across the luggage, and when I opened my eyes she was at my side and had raised a hand to tug at a lock of hair which had come loose from my plait and was falling over my brow. Her touch made me stiffen again: I was still not used to the easy caresses, the hand-holdings and cheek-strokings, of our friendship, and every one of them made me flinch slightly, and colour faintly, with desire and confusion.She smiled, then bent to tug at the straps of the basket at her feet; and after a moment of idling in the armchair, watching her busy herself with dresses and books and bonnets, I rose to help her.It took us an hour to unpack. My own few poor frocks and shoes and underclothes took up little enough space, and were stowed away in a moment; but Kitty, of course, had not only her everyday dresses and boots to unpack and brush and straighten, but also her suits and toppers. When she started on these, I moved to take them from her. I said, ‘You must let me take charge of your costumes now, you know. Look at these collars! They all need whitening. Look at these stockings! We must keep a drawer for the ones that have been cleaned, and another for the ones that need mending.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
His friends in Geneva, the Council and the people, were convinced that Calvin alone could save the city from anarchy, and they made every effort to secure his return. His recall was first seriously discussed in the Council early in 1539, again in February, 1540, and decided upon Sept. 21, 1540. Preparatory steps were taken to secure the co-operation of Bern, Basel, Zürich, and Strassburg. On the 13th of October, Michel Du Bois, an old friend of Calvin, was sent by the Large Council with a letter to him, and directed to press the invitation by oral representation. Without waiting for an answer, other petitions and deputations were forwarded. On the 19th of October the Council of Two Hundred resolved to use every effort for the attainment of that object. Ami Perrin and Louis Dufour were sent (Oct. 21 and 22) as deputies, with a herald, to Strassburg "to fetch Master Calvin." Twenty dollars gold (écus au soleil) were voted, on the 27th, for expenses.612 The Registres of that month are full of actions concerning the recall of "the learned and pious Mr. Calvin." No more complete vindication of the cause of the Reformers could be imagined. Farel’s aid was also solicited. With incomparable self-denial he pardoned the ingratitude of the Genevese in not recalling him, and made every exertion to secure the return of his younger friend, whom he had first compelled by moral force to stop at Geneva. He bombarded him with letters. He even travelled from Neuchàtel to Strassburg, and spent two days there, pressing him in person and trying to persuade him, as well as Capito and Bucer, of the absolute necessity of his return to Geneva, which, in his opinion, was the most important spot in the world. Dufour arrived at Strassburg in November, called upon the senate, followed Calvin to Worms, where he was in attendance on the Colloquy, and delivered the formal letter of invitation, dated Oct. 22, and signed by the syndics and Council of Geneva. It concludes thus: "On behalf of our Little, Great, and General Councils (all of which have strongly urged us to take this step), we pray you very affectionately that you will be pleased to come over to us, and to return to your former post and ministry; and we hope that by God’s help this course will be a great advantage for the furtherance of the holy gospel, seeing that our people very much desire you, and we will so deal with you that you shall have reason to be satisfied." The letter was fastened with a seal bearing the motto: "Post tenebras spero lucem." Calvin was thus most urgently and most honorably recalled by the united voice of the Council, the ministers, and the people of that city which had unjustly banished him three years before.
From Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance (1995)
And yet I don’t entirely dismiss Gramps’s recollection of events as a convenient bit of puffery, another act of white revisionism. I can’t, precisely because I know how strongly Gramps believed in his fictions, how badly he wanted them to be true, even if he didn’t always know how to make them so. After Texas I suspect that black people became a part of these fictions of his, the narrative that worked its way through his dreams. The condition of the black race, their pain, their wounds, would in his mind become merged with his own: the absent father and the hint of scandal, a mother who had gone away, the cruelty of other children, the realization that he was no fair-haired boy—that he looked like a “wop.” Racism was part of that past, his instincts told him, part of convention and respectability and status, the smirks and whispers and gossip that had kept him on the outside looking in. Those instincts count for something, I think; for many white people of my grandparents’ generation and background, the instincts ran in an opposite direction, the direction of the mob. And although Gramps’s relationship with my mother was already strained by the time they reached Hawaii—she would never quite forgive his instability and often-violent temper and would grow ashamed of his crude, ham-fisted manners—it was this desire of his to obliterate the past, this confidence in the possibility of remaking the world from whole cloth, that proved to be his most lasting patrimony. Whether Gramps realized it or not, the sight of his daughter with a black man offered at some deep unexplored level a window into his own heart. Not that such self-knowledge, even if accessible, would have made my mother’s engagement any easier for him to swallow. In fact, how and when the marriage occurred remains a bit murky, a bill of particulars that I’ve never quite had the courage to explore. There’s no record of a real wedding, a cake, a ring, a giving away of the bride. No families were in attendance; it’s not even clear that people back in Kansas were fully informed. Just a small civil ceremony, a justice of the peace. The whole thing seems so fragile in retrospect, so haphazard. And perhaps that’s how my grandparents intended it to be, a trial that would pass, just a matter of time, so long as they maintained a stiff upper lip and didn’t do anything drastic. If so, they miscalculated not only my mother’s quiet determination but also the sway of their own emotions. First the baby arrived, eight pounds, two ounces, with ten toes and ten fingers and hungry for food. What in the heck were they supposed to do?
From Generation Anxiety: A Millennial and Gen Z Guide to Staying Afloat in an Uncertain World (2023)
Magnesium not only has been shown to help women increase their muscle mass and power, it also can help reduce symptoms of depression, prevent migraines, improve sleep, and lessen PMS symptoms. 134 And when it comes to anxiety, a six-week study found that taking 248 milli-grams of magnesium per day significantly reduced symptoms of anxiety. 135 A word of caution, though: work with your provider on the dosage, as high intake can cause diarrhea, nausea, and muscle cramping. 4. L-theanine: An amino acid found in green and black teas, as well as some mushrooms. One study found that those who drank 200 milligrams of theanine had lower cortisol levels and a lower stress response when completing a challenging task. 136 Given that L-theanine can interact poorly with sedatives, it’s important that you consult with a doctor before taking a supplement. Are you noticing an interesting pattern here? So many of the physical symptoms of vitamin and mineral deficiencies parallel the symptoms of anxiety, depression, ADHD, and even psychosis. We can easily get lost in our heads, wondering, “What the heck is going on with me?” when sometimes there can be an explainable answer sitting in our lab report. Take this as a call to action: Get your bloodwork done. Yes, everything may come back as normal. At that point, we can integrate other treatment options and tools (and we should anyway). But don’t do yourself the disservice of living in the dark about what your body may be trying to tell you. Our bodies give us cues all the time when we’re off-kilter, such as when we have frequent migraines, irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), or brain fog. Don’t minimize or ignore these signs. When I invited Suma to get her own bloodwork done, her results were eye- opening. After living with physical anxiety for much of her life and coming to the conclusion that this was “just how it would be,” she was shocked to learn that she had a significant vitamin D deficiency, as well as a B 12 deficiency. She began working with her family doctor to incorporate supplementation and within a month’s time, Suma noticed that her physical symptoms of anxiety, including fatigue, low mood, difficulty concentrating, and muscular tension, all began to improve. While Suma and I continued to do the cognitive work to help her with her mindset and behavioral changes, having her physical symptoms abate was incredibly relieving for her. She was able to use her mental energy elsewhere because she was no longer having to constantly monitor and scan for her physical symptoms of distress. She told me three months later that she felt like an entirely different person who finally had her life back. A NEW WAVE TO RIDE: Have you gotten your bloodwork done recently? If it’s been a while, what stops you from taking that step?
From The Great Believers (2018)
The cold air had revived him enough by then that he was able to wonder if this was a terrible idea, if she’d again offer him cocaine and rub his thigh. But she was saying something about her son, how he’d already be home. The Door County behavior must have been the freak-out of a stressed single mother with the rare chance to misbehave. And if she hadn’t gotten the message that he really was gay when he sat outside the Howard Brown party snotting up Fiona’s shoulder, something was wrong with her. She said, “Your feet must be freezing. Don’t you have boots?” “These were my lucky Door County shoes. They worked at first. My luck has turned.” He was glad Cecily didn’t press for details. Maybe she’d gotten the impression he was prone to tears and didn’t want him melting down. She said, “How do you feel about Chinese?” His stomach responded before his head could, a tidal wave of hunger. He said, “It’s on me. For putting you out.” Cecily lived on the second floor, in a two-bedroom place with a living room half the size of Yale’s office. Her son, Kurt (“He’s a latchkey kid,” she’d said on the walk), was sprawled on the couch when they arrived, homework spread on the coffee table. He looked straight through Yale—maybe Cecily brought a lot of men home—and said, “Mom, I finished my math for the whole weekend, can I watch Miami Vice?” “This is Yale,” she said. “He works with me.” “But can I? I’ll go to bed at nine.” “We have a guest,” she said. Yale said, “I don’t mind. I like that show.” So after they ate—Yale scarfed down helping after helping of mu shu and lo mein, glad he’d paid for it—and after Yale had mindlessly asked Kurt about his classes and sports and friends, they sat and watched Don Johnson and his five o’clock shadow chase a smuggler around an eerily blue swimming pool. Kurt cheered as if it were a live sports match. This was how Yale needed to spend his days, if the next three months were going to pass with any speed. He needed to watch TV and go to movies, mindless entertainment that would keep coming at him. No neurons left for hating Charlie, missing Charlie, obsessing over his own health. After Kurt went to bed, Yale pulled out the scotch again and Cecily brought two glasses from the kitchen, little red ones with white silhouettes of Greek athletes around the sides. He told her, in detail, what had happened. Because he needed to tell someone, and because she wasn’t part of Charlie’s circle, and because, maybe, it was an offering of sorts.
From Bestiary (2020)
Ah Zheng kissed Old Guang a last time, the water already past their hips. It was true: Ah Zheng’s blood was fish blood, completely clear. Or maybe the wetness was his tears. Either way, the salt of that last kiss scoured my grandfather’s tongue, cleared his ears. He knew then. He remembered the crab’s name, the crab he still kept below deck. He whistled with three fingers in his mouth, prayed the crab’s name in his mind. And it came: It flew out of the water a hundred feet away, its legs webbed into wings. It quadrupled in size, the diameter of an umbrella, and now it was skimming the sky toward Ah Zheng and my grandfather. They each gripped a wing, and now the crab was lifting them both, tugging them free of the boat’s carcass. Old Guang blacked out—from fear or relief, he wasn’t sure—and did not remember holding on. And yet, when he woke, he was home. He was lying belly-down on the pier he’d sailed from years ago, before he was a pirate, before he’d sunk and been saved by a crab. Ah Zheng was awake,*17 standing on the pier, his back to the rain-thawed sky. Now my grandfather knew for sure. Ah Zheng was crying bullet-sized tears. He was rocking the crab in his arms. It was dead again and shrunken back to its original size. No sign of webbed wings. Its legs were leggy again.*18 This was the first time Ah Zheng had ever stood on land. It had taken him two hours to get on his feet: The vertigo had overcome him, and his legs could only straighten at a slant. He wasn’t used to a floor without feedback, a ground without any groove. But he didn’t want to fall too loudly and wake up my grandfather, who had been sleeping as if dreaming, kicking the air and twitching his nose. Now that they were both awake and on their feet, Ah Zheng and Old Guang could only stare at the crab, wait for it to confirm itself some kind of god, some kind of patron deity they would now have to spend the rest of their lives repaying. But it remained a rotting crab. Remember: Ah Zheng was born divorced from all lands, all nations.*19 He hated the dumbness of trees, the way they never ducked the axe. He hated the shit-smell of soil. Roots disturbed him, those gnarled limbs that thieved water for a living. Ah Zheng was also a hunted man, wanted by the empire for piracy, smuggling, murder, the kidnapping of fishermen. Old Guang was just another of his crimes. Meanwhile, the crab exhaled steam. It was demanding to be brought inland and cooked. Sometimes it hissed with a girl’s voice. So they parted—Ah Zheng to the sea, Old Guang to his mountain.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
On his way back he passed through Vezelay. His father was dead, but there must have been many associations of childhood which endeared the place to him. Here he learned that his wife was safe at Strassburg with Condé’s mother-in-law. Bending his steps thither, he rejoined her, and together they made the journey home, where they arrived May 5, 1563.1297 As they journeyed they knew that they were in perpetual danger, but they did not know that some of their enemies were looking for them to turn towards the Netherlands. But so it was. In June of that year a rumor was circulated at Brussels that there had been a quarrel between him and Calvin, and that in consequence he would not return to Geneva. Margaret of Parma, then regent of the Netherlands, thought to do a splendid deed, and gave orders that if he entered her domains he was to be taken, dead or alive, and offered to his capturer or murderer a thousand florins. But there having been no such break, Beza, on the contrary, took the shortest practicable route for Geneva.1298 § 172. Beza as the Successor of Calvin, down to 1586. Beza received his warmest welcome from Calvin, who was already under the shadow of death. There was no one else whom the great Reformer could so confidentially take into his counsels. And as the time of his departure drew near, he relied more and more upon him. Their friendship was based upon respect and affection and was never disturbed. The relation of the two men resembled that between Zwingli and Bullinger, and was most useful to the Church. It was of course perfectly understood by Beza that he was to be Calvin’s successor, so the year which passed before Calvin died was a year of preparation for the new duties. At last the time came, and Calvin passed away. Beza conducted the funeral, and shortly after wrote his classical life of his patron, friend, and predecessor. The city Council elected him Calvin’s successor; the Venerable Company of Pastors, as the presbytery of Geneva called itself, elected him their moderator, and continued him in this office till 1580, when he compelled them to allow him to retire. So he continued Calvin’s leadership in city and church affairs. He preached and lectured to the students. He received the fugitives from France, and the visitors from other lands. He gave his advice and opinion upon the innumerable things which turned up daily. He conducted an enormous correspondence. And every now and then he had to enter the field of controversy and repel "heretics," like Ochino and Castellio, or Lutherans like Andreä and Selnecker.