Lady Gaga Reveals Her Truth About The Entertainment Industry
Watch as Lady Gaga reveals the sad truth about the modern day entertainment industry.
Posted by Collective Evolution on Friday, 6 November 2015
I love to think about God’s goodness to me,
All day every day he is shouting his love,
My heart hears his daily declaration,
Of the words of a proud father,
I know that I am loved.
Today I heard it in the sunrise,
I saw it in the gift of laughter,
Shared meals with lots of talk,
Listening to the sounds of love.
This is the life that has been given to me,
My God created me to enjoy it all,
My thoughts are full of the all that I have,
Understanding every day is an abundance
Each day is stretched by possibility.
Columbus was a failure. He failed when he joined in the attempt to conqure the Kingdom of Naples. He was captured by Portuguese ships as he escorted an armed convoy. He was wounded. And he never did get to India. The fact that he didn’t give up and become a shopkeeper after this rough start was critical to his success.
May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you,
wherever He may send you.
May He guide you through the wilderness,
protect you through the storm.
May He bring you home rejoicing
at the wonders He has shown you.
May He bring you home rejoicing
once again into our doors.
From birth speaking deceit,
Impressed by a words power,
To control by paralysis,
Evil only hears its own voice,
Charmed by its own sound,
The pain of injustice is no longer heard.
Their destructive outbursts,
Don’t worry God,
He watches as they harmlessly echo into nothing,
Powerless to harm language’s creator.
When God speaks deceit will bow,
It will choke on its own spit,
Humility will watch on,
When God’s voice corrects deceit,
Humility hears its sound,
Deceit is silenced.
A Hand Meditation
Sitting with your palms up resting in your lap, eyes closed, tune into your breathing, relax your tension points and go into your centre.
Become aware of the air at your fingertips, between your fingers, on the palm of your hand. Experience the fullness, strength and maturity of your hands. Think of your hands, think of the most unforgettable hands you have known the hands of your father, your mother, your grandparents. Remember the oldest hands that have rested in your hands. Think of the hands of a new-born child, your nephew or niece of the incredible perfection, delicacy of the hands of a child. Once upon a time your hands were the same size.
Think of all that your hands have done since then. Almost all that you have learned is through your hands turning yourself over, crawling and creeping, walking and balancing yourself.; learning to hold something for the first time; feeding yourself; washing and bathing, dressing yourself. At one time your greatest accomplishment was tying your own shoes.
Think of all the learning your hands have done and how many activities they have mastered, the things that they have made. Remember the day you could write your own name.
Our hands were not just made for themselves but for others. How often were they given to help another. Remember all the kinds of work they have done, the tiredness and aching they have known, the cold and the heat, the soreness and the bruises. Remember the tears they have wiped away, our own or another’s, the blood they have bled, the healing they have experienced. How much hurt, anger and even violence have they expressed and how much gentleness, tenderness and love they have given.
How often they have been folded in prayer; both a sign of their powerlessness and of their power.
There is a mystery which we discover in the hand of a woman or a man that we love. There are the hands of a doctor, a nurse, an artist, a conductor, a priest, hands which you can never forget.
Now raise your right hand slowly and gently place it over your heart. Press more firmly until your hand picks up the beat of your heart that most mysterious of all human sounds, one’s own heartbeat, a rhythm learned in the womb from the heartbeat of one’s own mother. Press more firmly for a moment than release your hand and hold it just a fraction from your clothing. Experience the warmth between your hand and your heart. Now lower your hand to your lap very carefully as if you were carrying your heart. For it does. When you extend your hand to another, it’s not just bone and skin, it is your heart. A handshake is a real heart transplant.
Think of all the hands that have left their imprint on you. Fingerprints and hands that have left their imprint on you. Fingerprints and handprints are heartprints that can never be erased. The hand has its own memory. Think of all the places that carry your handprints and all the people who bear your handprint. They are indelible and will last forever.
Now without opening your eyes begin to write out of your stream of consciousness. Slowly become more aware of your outer extremities. The pressure of the air on your forehead. The sensation of the air touching your fingertips.
Slowly as you are ready become present to your reality once more.
Throughout my career, there have been many times when advice, support, and criticism were critical for my own professional development. Sometimes that assistance came from people who were formally tasked with providing advice; a good example is a Ph.D. advisor (in my case, John Aldrich of Duke University, who has been a fantastic advisor and mentor to a long list of very successful students). Sometimes that advice was less formal, coming from senior colleagues, other academics at conferences, and in many cases from peers. The lesson is professional advice and support — or to put it into a single term, mentoring — comes from many different sources and occurs in many different ways.
However, there is growing concern in political science that more mentoring is necessary, that there are scholars who are not getting the professional support and advice that they need to help them with career decisions, teaching, and the publication of their research. There are many good programs that have developed in recent years to help provide more mentoring in political methodology, for example the excellent “Visions in Methodology” program. And the Society for Political Methodology recently approved the foundation of a new professional award, to recognize excellent mentors. But more needs to be done to improve mentoring and mentoring opportunities in academia.
– See more at: http://blog.oup.com/2014/11/mentorship-academic-career-political-science/#sthash.QybfMfbR.dpuf
Chris’ working life began as an office clerk in a large farm implement manufacturing company in Dalby Qld. After a year he began an apprenticeship as a fitter and turner in the same company and successfully completed his indentures four years later.
Looking for an adventure he then travelled to Israel to work on a Kibbutz. He primarily worked in the farm section of the Kibbutz producing turf for many of the major tourist and residential developments in Israel at that time.
On his return to Australia he began working at the local Dalby Hospital and completed his training as an enrolled nurse. He then worked at Baillie Henderson Hospital in Toowoomba for a year.
Chris completed several years of Bible College training and worked as a teacher and then Dean of Cornerstone Bible College in Emerald, Qld. He moved to Charters Towers in North Queensland to commence employment as a church Pastor with the Churches of Christ and Baptist Churches. During this time he also worked as a Nurse, Newspaper Photographer, School Teacher, Chaplain and a variety of other jobs to augment his role in the church.
Chris’ interest in education was developed through his studies at the University of Southern Queensland where he completed a Bachelor in Further Education and Training. Chris moved to the Gold Coast in 2002 and completed his Masters in Education (Online Learning) that year. At this time he began applying some of the ideas formulated during his studies to the development of a Cert IV in Christian Ministry. A number of students were engaged in individually adapted learning that sought to provide learners situated learning within their community of practice.
In 2007 Chris moved to Toowoomba with the aim to develop an applied spirituality in the workplace. He became a builder’s labourer working on site with the purpose of developing a holistic mentoring model that produced positive learning outcomes for the business.
In 2010 Chris spent 6 months teaching Business and English in China. This was an adventure and educational experience for the whole family. Chris and the family returned in February, 2011.
In 2014 Chris began a 6 month leadership course with the Centre for Courage and Renewal in Austin, Texas. He will complete this in April 2015. One of his recent learning influences has been the work of Parker Palmer who founded the Courage and Renewal Academy and authored the work, The Courage to Teach. This experience has inspired Chris to recommence his Phd studies in 2015.
Masters in Education (Online Learning)
Graduate Certificate in Theology
Bachelor in Further Education and Training
Diploma in Theology
Diploma of Vocational Education and Training
Diploma of Training Design and Development
Diploma in Counselling and Groupwork
Diploma in Business (Frontline Management)
Certificate IV in Training and Assessment
Certificate III in Human Services
Certificate III in Fitting, Turning and Machining.
Doctor of Philosophy, University of Southern Queensland
I discovered a strange thing over the past weekend.
Happiness is about spending time with people. Valuing them. Listening to the person. Not judging.
This is my wife’s perspective on the weekend we spent away.
“Chris told me he was taking me away for a ‘romantic weekend’. Our room with a queen size bed. Restaurant that serves pre- dinner drinks & nibblies. Ensuites that is a mere 200 metres from our queen bed. And a view to die for once you walk 2.4 km directly uphill. (Romantic weekend conjured up a different image in my head.)”
We spent hours walking together. Talking. Listening. Sometimes not saying anything. There were no shops.
It was a happy time.
I awake suddenly with a start. It is dark as death. Dark, and terribly late at night. The sky is filled with barely visible clouds whipping across the void.
I am standing on a hillside, almost a cliff, a sheer tumbling down, plummeting down to the pitch black water. I sense rather than see the saltbush and stunted shrubs that cling for dear life against the sea, churning so far below.
The air is full of the roar of the waves, grinding and casting and moaning against the rocks far beneath, bellowing and sighing, as though great Behemoth were gnawing away at the precarious handhold life has here, trying to drag it, spinning and circling, into its foaming maw.
I can smell the salt fresh of the air, the tang of it, sea spray ice-cold across my face.
Across the black sea, made velvet by height, shines the moon, huge by the horizon. It is as though she has drawn close for some oblique, esoteric reason of her own, casting her light like a highway.
There is hope, then, but mediated. If the sun were risen, how different it would be. I wrap my arms around my body, holding in my life-heat. It is still deep night, as though the sun were dead, leaving only an unreliable memory, were it not for the moon, relaying his light – reflected, lessened. A token, a remembrance, of hope then, rather than the hope itself. Just enough to see the next step by; not enough to warm me.
I have to move, to walk. I can barely see the faintest of paths, rocky, muddy, treacherous. If I slip, if I miss my footing, then I will join the rocks and be consumed by the all-devouring mouth of the sea.
But move I must. To stay here is death as well, ossifying in the despairing cold. Though I can barely see, there is just enough light to walk the next step of the path, hesitantly and with painful delicacy, gripping onto plants, as they loom out of the night, revealing their branches against the dim sky.
As I walk, following the dim path carefully, painstakingly, along the cliff edge, I have a subtle sense that, though I can see no-one through the black, and hear no-one past the inexorable crash and roar of the sea, I am not alone. Someone has walked this path before. And the faintest echo of laughter, the scent of the best wine kept for last, a fragment of sun-warmed dust seems to brush against my skin. The faintest of hopes, when hope seems lost.
Alister Pate (Pate 2011, 10)
My son Toby plays Rugby Union. He loves his footy. He is fanatical about his sport and Rugby at the moment is the top of his list. He sleeps with his rugby ball. He lives for Friday night training and the Saturday game.
In his competition Toby is always the smallest guy on the field. I estimate that some of the players in the other teams would be almost double his weight and half his height again. Toby’s position is hooker. This means that he is always in the midst of the action.
Every week I watch him get punished by the opposition. He is small enough for most of the other guys to easily knock him down. Every time he gets the ball and doesn’t manage to offload he gets flattened. But, he never stops getting into the rucks, tackling, looking for the ball and loving the game.
The other week his team played a particularly competitive team. Their coach had obviously done a lot of work with them and they were big, fast and aggressive (a lot like their coach actually).
I watched as Toby got jersey slung to the ground by one of the opposition and then jumped on by another player. As he tried to get up the player started punching him.
Toby barely gave him a second glance as the other guy swung into mid air. Toby was already on his way running back the game. The opposition player was letting his team down because he had lost his focus on the main game.
In the end I am not sure who won or lost this game. I do know that our guys played with their hearts. I, like every other proud Dad that day felt my heart swell as I watched my boy play to his full potential against a bigger, faster and stronger team.
Three important lessons I have learned about teamwork after watching from my son’s footy games:
1. Keep your eye on the ball – In the words of Steven Covey, “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing”. When the other guy wanted to throw a punch Toby was already running to the next ruck. He was focussed on the game and wasn’t going to be distracted from the main thing.
2. What the ref says goes even though he may not be always right.
We all need to get used a few bad calls in life. The ref is human and can only view the game through his perspective. I have seen games of footy where parents have actually gone onto to the playing field to abuse the ref for a bad call. I wonder to myself what sort of lessons the players learning from the adults’ behaviour.
Any learning requires some adjustment of our prior understandings. Learn to ask the question and then get on with the task at hand.
We appreciate the feedback that we get in our Certificate IV in Training and Assessment. We are constantly looking at ways to improve. And, sometimes we get it wrong. This is true for anyone who wants to learn. We can try to justify ourselves to the person who is making the call or we can get on and learn the lesson.
3. My feedback on the game is very important to my son.
One of the most important parts of Toby’s footy game is at the end when he asks me how he went. My feedback matters to Toby. He needs me to watch him and give him advice.
This I think is the most important lesson I have learned. That going to the footy every week is one of my most valuable inputs I have into my son’s life. When he asks me, “did I run forward this week, Dad”? My affirmation is vital for Toby. He needs to know that he has done exactly what I asked and I love watching his face light up when he is told he did well.
Learning is about growth. We only understand ourselves when we others take the time to give us feedback.
You can probably tell that I am quite a proud Dad. I love the way that my son is developing and I feel a great responsibility in ensuring that he is equipped to grow into a responsible adult. I am continually learning about how to become a better parent and am looking for ways that I can grow my understanding of my children.
Rudyard Kipling says it so well in his poem, “If”,
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘ Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!