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Поток ценностей очевиднее, когда он обозначается словами-глаголами в настоящем времени и означающими продолжающееся действие. Обратите внимание на слова вроде «играть», «исследовать» или «учиться». Вы называете, активизируете и используете свои ценности и затем испытываете волнение. Вы входите в процесс и чувствуете поток! Например, счастье – это ценность, не существующая в твердом фиксированном состоянии, только в состоянии потока. Вы счастливы – это означает, что вы сейчас, в данный момент, переживаете это состояние! Когда вы бываете счастливы? Только в тот самый момент, когда испытываете счастье.

Квантовая физика предлагает хорошее метафорическое объяснение потока ценностей. Рассматривая в специальный микроскоп электрон, физик может видеть его и в форме частицы, и в форме волны. Статично электрон существует в виде частицы. Но в сам момент наблюдения и только, собственно, в процессе наблюдения ученый имеет возможность наблюдать метан отзывы динамику – волну.

Чтобы в полной мере испытать ваши ценности как состояние потока и принять новое знание, необходимо отойти от тех форм восприятия, которые основаны на убеждениях в виде укоренившихся, полученных ранее знаний, сформировавшихся и твердых.

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Мы стараемся проводить такие моменты вместе, чтобы убедиться, что они действительно были в нашей жизни, сияющие моменты открытий, ценностей и внутренней истины или значительный общий опыт, который так для нас важен. Эти моменты – и есть наша настоящая жизнь, и мы составляем из них прожитые годы. Мы побуждаем друг друга вновь переживать их. Мы собираем их, как урожай, и делимся ими в “голодное время”. сустанон цена Наше кладбище рассказывает историю деревни: мы живем в деревне сияющих моментов!

Давайте выделим некоторые основные положения о потоке ценностей. Поток ценностей – это ценности в движении. Ценности – это то, что мы считаем самым важным для себя и чем мы постепенно становимся. Наши основные ценности – это по сути наше глубинное «Я» – то, кем мы являемся сейчас, вне пространства и времени. Они присущи нам, они дают нам главные ориентиры в жизни, являются нашей подлинной идентичностью, нашим глубочайшим присутствием.

Ценности присущи нам, они дают нам главные ориентиры в жизни, являются нашей подлинной идентичностью, нашим глубочайшим присутствием.

Ценности живут собственной жизнью, мы подпитываем энергией их, а они – нас. Профессиональный коуч понимает, как важный разговор поддерживает поток осознания ценностей. Он обеспечивает объем идей, которые получают свое развитие в жизненно важных областях опыта. Это создает значимое движение в жизни человека.

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Перед более зрелым человеком встают совершенно другие вопросы относительно осознания собственной идентичности. Маленький ребенок стремится освоить роли, связанные с действиями. Подросток хочет расширить личные возможности, приобретая новые жизненные навыки и способности. Зрелому человеку необходима более широкая палитра красок. Его начинает интересовать исследование и развитие своих внутренних целей. Он задается вопросами: «Кем я в действительности хочу быть для себя и для мира? Что я хочу оставить после себя?» По сути, он спрашивает себя, каковы его ценности, и как они определяют его личность. Теперь ему хочется найти свою внутреннюю цель.

Исследование ценностной идентичности подводит вас к основной теме каждой из пятнадцати глав этой книги. Она поможет вам сознательно пережить и прочувствовать поток вашей собственной внутренней истины при рассмотрении различных аспектов своей жизни как глобального проекта – жизненного проекта. В книге «Жизнь в потоке: Коучинг» вы познакомитесь с пятнадцатью основными способами входить в состояние потока и научитесь достигать своих целей, следовать своим основным принципам и ощущать свое присутствие в этой жизни.

Познавая внутреннюю истину, вы совершаете путь знатока ценности, человека, сознательно развивающего креативную систему ценностей, ориентируясь не на конкретный момент или ситуацию, а воспринимая ее как дар будущему. Это осознание постепенно становится притягательным состоянием присутствия, истинной личностью зрелого человека. На этом этапе поток внутренней истины становится этапом пробуждения, и развитие потока внутренней истины становится вашей глубокой целью.

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Caesar, however, finally determined to set out on his return to the capital. Leaving Cleopatra, accordingly, a sufficient force to secure the continuance of her power, he embarked the remainder of his forces in his transports and galleys, and sailed away. He took the unhappy Arsinoe with him, intending to exhibit her as a trophy of his Egyptian victories on his arrival at Rome.

The war by which Caesar reinstated Cleopatra upon the throne was not one of very long duration. Caesar arrived in Egypt in pursuit of Pompey about the first of August; the war was ended and Cleopatra established in secure possession by the end of January; so that the conflict, violent as it was while it continued, was very brief, the peaceful and commercial pursuits of the Alexandrians having been interrupted by it only for a few months.

Nor did either the war itself, or the derangements consequent upon it, extend very far into the interior of the country. The city of Alexandria itself and the neighboring coasts were the chief scenes of the contest until Mithradates arrived at Pelusium. He, it is true, marched across the Delta, and the final battle was fought in the interior of the country. It was, however, after all, but a very small portion of the Egyptian territory that was directly affected by the war. The great mass of the people, occupying the rich and fertile tracts which bordered the various branches of the Nile, and the long and verdant valley which extended so far into the heart of the continent, knew nothing of the conflict but by vague and distant rumors. The pursuits of the agricultural population went on, all the time, as steadily and prosperously as ever; so that when the conflict was ended, and Cleopatra entered upon the quiet and peaceful possession of her power, she found that the resources of her empire were very little impaired.

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When it was unrolled, and Cleopatra came out to view, Caesar was perfectly charmed with the spectacle. In fact, the various conflicting emotions which she could not but feel under such circumstances as these, imparted a double interest to her beautiful and expressive face, and to her naturally bewitching manners. She was excited by the adventure through which she had passed, and yet pleased with her narrow escape from its dangers. The curiosity and interest which she felt on the one hand, in respect to the great personage into whose presence she had been thus strangely ushered, was very strong; but then, on the other hand, it was chastened and subdued by that feeling of timidity which, in new and unexpected situations like these, and under a consciousness of being the object of eager observation to the other sex, is inseparable from the nature of woman.

The conversation which Caesar held with Cleopatra deepened the impression which her first appearance had made upon him. Her intelligence and animation, the originality of her ideas, and the point and pertinency of her mode of expressing them, made her, independently of her personal charms, an exceedingly entertaining and agreeable companion. She, in fact, completely won the great conqueror’s heart; and, through the strong attachment to her which he immediately formed, he became wholly disqualified to act impartially between her and her brother in regard to their respective rights to the crown. We call Ptolemy Cleopatra’s brother; for, though he was also, in fact, her husband, still, as he was only ten or twelve years of age at the time of Cleopatra’s expulsion from Alexandria, the marriage had been probably regarded, thus far, only as a mere matter of form. Caesar was now about fifty-two. He had a wife, named Calpurnia, to whom he had been married about ten years. She was living, at this time in an unostentatious and quiet manner at Rome. She was a lady of an amiable and gentle character, devotedly attached to her husband, patient and forbearing in respect to his faults, and often anxious and unhappy at the thought of the difficulties and dangers in which his ardent and unbounded ambition so often involved him.

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On the other side of the door, dressed in frock coat and silk hat, there stood hesitating a tall, thin, weary man who had been afoot for exactly twenty hours, in pursuit of his usual business of curing imaginary ailments by means of medicine and suggestion, and leaving real ailments to nature aided by coloured water. His attitude towards the medical profession was somewhat sardonic, partly because he was convinced that only the gluttony of South Kensington provided him with a livelihood, but more because his wife and two fully-developed daughters spent too much on their frocks. For years, losing sight of the fact that he was an immortal soul, they had been treating him as a breakfast-in-the-slot machine: they put a breakfast in the slot, pushed a button of his waistcoat, and drew out banknotes. For this, he had neither partner, nor assistant, nor carriage, nor holiday: his wife and daughters could not afford him these luxuries. He was able, conscientious, chronically tired, bald and fifty. He was also, strange as it may seem, shy; though indeed he had grown used to it, as a man gets used to a hollow tooth or an eel to skinning. No qualities of the young girl’s heart about the heart of Dr. Cashmore! He really did know human nature, and he never dreamt of anything more paradisaical than a Sunday Pullman escapade to Brighton.

Henry Leek’s skin was indeed bluish, though, besides blankets, there was a considerable apparatus of rugs on the bed, and the night was warm. His ageing face (for he was the third man of fifty in that room) had an anxious look. But he made no movement, uttered no word, at sight of the doctor; just stared, dully. His own difficult breathing alone seemed to interest him.

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Well, hurry up and get some hot water,” said he, in a tone dictatorial and savage. “Quick, now! And brandy! And more blankets! Now don’t stand there, please! Here! I’ll go with you to the kitchen. Show me!” He snatched up the candle, and the expression of his features said, “I can see you’re no good in a crisis.

He had collapsed in the hard chair on the ground-floor. The indispensable Henry Leek was lost to him for ever. He could not imagine what would happen to his existence in the future. He could not conceive himself without Leek. And, still worse, the immediate prospect of unknown horrors of publicity in connection with the death of Leek overwhelmed him.

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Mr. Bucket eyed the old man for a moment–he had slipped and shrunk down in his chair into a mere bundle–as if he were much disposed to pounce upon him; nevertheless, he continued to bend over him with the same agreeable air, keeping the corner of one of his eyes upon us.

And as you’ve heard a good deal mentioned regarding a celebrated Chancery will case of the same name, and as you know what a card Krook was for buying all manner of old pieces of furniter, and books, and papers, and what not, and never liking to part with ‘em, and always a-going to teach himself to read, you begin to think– and you never was more correct in your born days–’Ecod, if I don’t look about me, I may get into trouble regarding this will.

Mr. Bucket had certainly picked him up at a dart. However, as soon as he could be heard through Mr. Smallweed’s coughing and his vicious ejaculations of “Oh, my bones! Oh, dear! I’ve no breath in my body! I’m worse than the chattering, clattering, brimstone pig at home!” Mr. Bucket proceeded in the same convivial manner as before.

I think it would be impossible to make an admission with more ill will and a worse grace than Mr. Smallweed displayed when he admitted this, rendering it perfectly evident that Mr. Bucket was the very last person he would have thought of taking into his confidence if he could by any possibility have kept him out of it.

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And I go into the business with you–very pleasant we are over it; and I confirm you in your well-founded fears that you will get yourself into a most precious line if you don’t come out with that there will,” said Mr. Bucket emphatically; “and accordingly you arrange with me that it shall be delivered up to this present Mr. Jarndyce, on no conditions. If it should prove to be valuable, you trusting yourself to him for your reward; that’s about where it is, ain’t it?

In consequence of which,” said Mr. Bucket, dismissing his agreeable manner all at once and becoming strictly business-like, “you’ve got that will upon your person at the present time, and the only thing that remains for you to do is just to out with it!

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My prisoner here proposed to Mrs. Bucket, after the departure of the funeral, that they should go armani replica per bus a little ways into the country and take tea at a very decent house of entertainment. Now, near that house of entertainment there’s a piece of water. At tea, my prisoner got up to fetch her pocket handkercher from the bedroom where the bonnets was; she was rather a long time gone and came back a little out of wind. As soon as they came home this was reported to me by Mrs. Bucket, along with her observations and suspicions. I had the piece of water dragged by moonlight, in presence of a couple of our men, and the pocket pistol was brought up before it had been there half-a-dozen hours. Now, my dear, put your arm a little further through mine, and hold it steady, and I shan’t hurt you!

Angel and devil by turns, eh?” cries Mr. Bucket. “But I am in my regular employment, you must consider. Let me put your shawl tidy. I’ve been lady’s maid to a good many before now. Anything wanting to the bonnet? There’s a cab at the door.

With these last words she snaps her teeth together as if her mouth closed with a spring. It is impossible to describe how Mr. Bucket gets her out, but he accomplishes that feat in a manner so peculiar to himself, enfolding and pervading her like a cloud, and hovering away with her as if he were a homely Jupiter and she the object of his affections.

Sir Leicester, left alone, remains in the same attitude, as though he were still listening and his attention were still occupied. At length he gazes round the empty room, and finding it deserted, rises unsteadily to his feet, pushes back his chair, and walks a few steps, supporting himself by the table. Then he stops, and with more of those inarticulate sounds, lifts up his eyes and seems to stare at something.

Heaven knows what he sees. The green, green woods of Chesney Wold, the noble house, the pictures of his forefathers, strangers defacing them, officers of police coarsely handling his most precious heirlooms, thousands of fingers pointing at him, thousands of faces sneering at him. But if such shadows flit before him to his bewilderment, there is one other shadow which he can name with something like distinctness even yet and to which alone he addresses his tearing of his white hair and his extended arms.

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Jo looks all round the confined court, looks at his questioner no higher than the knees, and finally answers, “I don’t know how to do nothink, and I can’t get nothink to do. I’m wery poor and ill, and I thought I’d come back here when there warn’t nobody about, and lay down and hide somewheres as I knows on till arter dark, and then go and beg a trifle of Mr. Snagsby. He wos allus willin fur to give me somethink he wos, though Mrs. Snagsby she was allus a- chivying on me–like everybody everywheres.”

Jo looks all round the court again, looks at his questioner’s knees again, and concludes by laying his profile against the hoarding in a sort of resignation.

“Now tell me,” proceeds Allan, making a strong effort to overcome his repugnance, going very near to him, and leaning over him with an expression of confidence, “tell me how it came about that you left that house when the good young lady had been so unfortunate as to pity you and take you home.”

Jo suddenly comes out of his resignation and excitedly declares, addressing the woman, that he never known about the young lady, that he never heern about it, that he never went fur to hurt her, that he would sooner have hurt his own self, that he’d sooner have had his unfortnet ed chopped off than ever gone a-nigh her, and that she wos wery good to him, she wos. Conducting himself throughout as if in his poor fashion he really meant it, and winding up with some very miserable sobs.

“Ah!” Very apprehensive of being overheard, Jo looks about him and even glances up some ten feet at the top of the hoarding and through the cracks in it lest the object of his distrust should be looking over or hidden on the other side.

Allan looks at him in perplexity, but discovers some real meaning and good faith at the bottom of this bewildering reply. He patiently awaits an explicit answer; and Jo, more http://phcmeds.com/buy-viagra-south-africa.html baffled by his patience than by anything else, at last desperately whispers a name in his ear.

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You see, the foreign female–which you mentioned her name just now, with quite a native sound I am sure–caught up the word Snagsby that night, being uncommon quick, and made inquiry, and got the direction and come at dinner-time. Now Guster, our young woman, is timid and has fits, and she, taking fright at the foreigner’s looks–which are fierce–and at a grinding manner that she has of speaking–which is calculated to alarm a weak mind–gave way to it, instead of bearing up against it, and tumbled down the kitchen stairs out of one into another, such fits as I do sometimes think are never gone into, or come out of, in any house but ours. Consequently there was by good fortune ample occupation for my little woman, and only me to answer the shop. When she DID say that Mr. Tulkinghorn, being always denied to her by his employer (which I had no doubt at the time was a foreign mode of viewing a clerk), she would do herself the pleasure of continually calling at my place until she was let in here. Since then she has been, as I began by saying, hovering, hovering, sir”–Mr. Snagsby repeats the word with pathetic emphasis–”in the court. The effects of which movement it is impossible to calculate. I shouldn’t wonder if it might have already given rise to the painfullest mistakes even in the neighbours’ minds, not mentioning (if such a thing was possible) my little woman. Whereas, goodness knows,” says Mr. Snagsby, shaking his head, “I never had an idea of a foreign female, except as being formerly connected with a bunch of brooms and a baby, or at the present time with a tambourine and earrings. I never had, I do assure you, sir!”

Mr. Snagsby, with much bowing and short apologetic coughing, takes his leave, lightened in heart. Mr. Tulkinghorn goes upstairs, saying to himself, “These women were created to give trouble the whole earth over. The mistress not being enough to deal with, here’s the maid now! But I will be short with THIS jade at least!”

So saying, he unlocks his door, gropes his way into his murky rooms, lights his candles, and looks about him. It is too dark to see much of the Allegory overhead there, but that importunate Roman, who is for ever toppling out of the clouds and pointing, is at his old work pretty distinctly. Not honouring him with much attention, Mr. Tulkinghorn takes a small key from his pocket, unlocks a drawer in which there is another key, which unlocks a chest in which there is another, and so comes to the cellar-key, with which he prepares to descend to the regions of old wine. He is going towards the door with a candle in his hand when a knock comes.

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