American scientists have made an advance to prove Shakespeare's dictum, ‘love is blind and lovers cannot see’.
A brain in love looks like a neurological fireworks display.
The ventral tegmental area and ventral striatum, located in the centre of the brain, light up as the neurotransmitters dopamine and norepinephrine spring into action, causing a person to have short attention spans, feel happy and yearn for the object of her desire.
A 2005 study by Rutgers University biological anthropologist Helen Fisher and colleagues analysed the fMRI brain scans of 17 men and women who were reported being madly in love.
Each image showed the same activity in the brain's reward system as that which takes place in a cocaine addict's brain.
Moreover, the love-struck participants could readily tick off traits or characteristics they didn't particularly like about their lovers, but under the influence of pleasure-enhancing dopamine and other monoamines, they quickly ignore those faults.
Monday, May 31, 2010
"quotable quotes"
“The sum of the whole is this: walk and be happy; walk and be healthy. The best way to lengthen out our days is to walk steadily and with a purpose.”- Charles Dickens
“Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present to live better in the future.”- William Wordsworth
“A person who doubts himself is like a man who would enlist in the ranks of his enemies and bear arm He makes his failure certain by himself person to be convinced of it.”- Alexander Dumas
“Worry, the interest paid by those who borrow trouble”- George Washington
“A deaf husband and a blind wife are always a happy couple.” - Danish Proverb
“Life is divided into three terms - that which was, which is, and which will be. Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present to live better in the future.”- William Wordsworth
“A person who doubts himself is like a man who would enlist in the ranks of his enemies and bear arm He makes his failure certain by himself person to be convinced of it.”- Alexander Dumas
“Worry, the interest paid by those who borrow trouble”- George Washington
“A deaf husband and a blind wife are always a happy couple.” - Danish Proverb
Story Of Life- Helen Keller- part I
It is with a kind of fear that I begin to write the history of my
life. I have, as it were, a superstitious hesitation in lifting
the veil that clings about my childhood like a golden mist. The
task of writing an autobiography is a difficult one. When I try
to classify my earliest impressions, I find that fact and fancy
look alike across the years that link the past with the present.
The woman paints the child's experiences in her own fantasy. A
few impressions stand out vividly from the first years of my
life; but "the shadows of the prison-house are on the rest."
Besides, many of the joys and sorrows of childhood have lost
their poignancy; and many incidents of vital importance in my
early education have been forgotten in the excitement of great
discoveries. In order, therefore, not to be tedious I shall try
to present in a series of sketches only the episodes that seem to
me to be the most interesting and important.
I was born on June 27, 1880, in Tuscumbia, a little town of
northern Alabama.
The family on my father's side is descended from Caspar Keller, a
native of Switzerland, who settled in Maryland. One of my Swiss
ancestors was the first teacher of the deaf in Zurich and wrote a
book on the subject of their education--rather a singular
coincidence; though it is true that there is no king who has not
had a slave among his ancestors, and no slave who has not had a
king among his.
My grandfather, Caspar Keller's son, "entered" large tracts of
land in Alabama and finally settled there. I have been told that
once a year he went from Tuscumbia to Philadelphia on horseback
to purchase supplies for the plantation, and my aunt has in her
possession many of the letters to his family, which give charming
and vivid accounts of these trips.
My Grandmother Keller was a daughter of one of Lafayette's aides,
Alexander Moore, and granddaughter of Alexander Spotswood, an
early Colonial Governor of Virginia. She was also second cousin
to Robert E. Lee.
My father, Arthur H. Keller, was a captain in the Confederate
Army, and my mother, Kate Adams, was his second wife and many
years younger. Her grandfather, Benjamin Adams, married Susanna
E. Goodhue, and lived in Newbury, Massachusetts, for many years.
Their son, Charles Adams, was born in Newburyport, Massachusetts,
and moved to Helena, Arkansas. When the Civil War broke out, he
fought on the side of the South and became a brigadier-general.
He married Lucy Helen Everett, who belonged to the same family of
Everetts as Edward Everett and Dr. Edward Everett Hale. After the
war was over the family moved to Memphis, Tennessee.
I lived, up to the time of the illness that deprived me of my
sight and hearing, in a tiny house consisting of a large square
room and a small one, in which the servant slept. It is a custom
in the South to build a small house near the homestead as an
annex to be used on occasion. Such a house my father built after
the Civil War, and when he married my mother they went to live in
it. It was completely covered with vines, climbing roses and
honeysuckles. From the garden it looked like an arbour. The
little porch was hidden from view by a screen of yellow roses and
Southern smilax. It was the favourite haunt of humming-birds and
bees.
The Keller homestead, where the family lived, was a few steps
from our little rose-bower. It was called "Ivy Green" because the
house and the surrounding trees and fences were covered with
beautiful English ivy. Its old-fashioned garden was the paradise
of my childhood.
Even in the days before my teacher came, I used to feel along the
square stiff boxwood hedges, and, guided by the sense of smell
would find the first violets and lilies. There, too, after a fit
of temper, I went to find comfort and to hide my hot face in the
cool leaves and grass. What joy it was to lose myself in that
garden of flowers, to wander happily from spot to spot, until,
coming suddenly upon a beautiful vine, I recognized it by its
leaves and blossoms, and knew it was the vine which covered the
tumble-down summer-house at the farther end of the garden! Here,
also, were trailing clematis, drooping jessamine, and some rare
sweet flowers called butterfly lilies, because their fragile
petals resemble butterflies' wings. But the roses--they were
loveliest of all. Never have I found in the greenhouses of the
North such heart-satisfying roses as the climbing roses of my
southern home. They used to hang in long festoons from our porch,
filling the whole air with their fragrance, untainted by any
earthy smell; and in the early morning, washed in the dew, they
felt so soft, so pure, I could not help wondering if they did not
resemble the asphodels of God's garden.
The beginning of my life was simple and much like every other
little life. I came, I saw, I conquered, as the first baby in the
family always does. There was the usual amount of discussion as
to a name for me. The first baby in the family was not to be
lightly named, every one was emphatic about that. My father
suggested the name of Mildred Campbell, an ancestor whom he
highly esteemed, and he declined to take any further part in the
discussion. My mother solved the problem by giving it as her wish
that I should be called after her mother, whose maiden name was
Helen Everett. But in the excitement of carrying me to church my
father lost the name on the way, very naturally, since it was one
in which he had declined to have a part. When the minister asked
him for it, he just remembered that it had been decided to call
me after my grandmother, and he gave her name as Helen Adams.
I am told that while I was still in long dresses I showed many
signs of an eager, self-asserting disposition. Everything that I
saw other people do I insisted upon imitating. At six months I
could pipe out "How d'ye," and one day I attracted every one's
attention by saying "Tea, tea, tea" quite plainly. Even after my
illness I remembered one of the words I had learned in these
early months. It was the word "water," and I continued to make
some sound for that word after all other speech was lost. I
ceased making the sound "wah-wah" only when I learned to spell
the word.
They tell me I walked the day I was a year old. My mother had
just taken me out of the bath-tub and was holding me in her lap,
when I was suddenly attracted by the flickering shadows of leaves
that danced in the sunlight on the smooth floor. I slipped from
my mother's lap and almost ran toward them. The impulse gone, I
fell down and cried for her to take me up in her arms.
These happy days did not last long. One brief spring, musical
with the song of robin and mocking-bird, one summer rich in fruit
and roses, one autumn of gold and crimson sped by and left their
gifts at the feet of an eager, delighted child. Then, in the
dreary month of February, came the illness which closed my eyes
and ears and plunged me into the unconsciousness of a new-born
baby. They called it acute congestion of the stomach and brain.
The doctor thought I could not live. Early one morning, however,
the fever left me as suddenly and mysteriously as it had come.
There was great rejoicing in the family that morning, but no one,
not even the doctor, knew that I should never see or hear again.
I fancy I still have confused recollections of that illness. I
especially remember the tenderness with which my mother tried to
soothe me in my waling hours of fret and pain, and the agony and
bewilderment with which I awoke after a tossing half sleep, and
turned my eyes, so dry and hot, to the wall away from the
once-loved light, which came to me dim and yet more dim each day.
But, except for these fleeting memories, if, indeed, they be
memories, it all seems very unreal, like a nightmare. Gradually I
got used to the silence and darkness that surrounded me and
forgot that it had ever been different, until she came--my
teacher--who was to set my spirit free. But during the first
nineteen months of my life I had caught glimpses of broad, green
fields, a luminous sky, trees and flowers which the darkness that
followed could not wholly blot out. If we have once seen, "the
day is ours, and what the day has shown."
life. I have, as it were, a superstitious hesitation in lifting
the veil that clings about my childhood like a golden mist. The
task of writing an autobiography is a difficult one. When I try
to classify my earliest impressions, I find that fact and fancy
look alike across the years that link the past with the present.
The woman paints the child's experiences in her own fantasy. A
few impressions stand out vividly from the first years of my
life; but "the shadows of the prison-house are on the rest."
Besides, many of the joys and sorrows of childhood have lost
their poignancy; and many incidents of vital importance in my
early education have been forgotten in the excitement of great
discoveries. In order, therefore, not to be tedious I shall try
to present in a series of sketches only the episodes that seem to
me to be the most interesting and important.
I was born on June 27, 1880, in Tuscumbia, a little town of
northern Alabama.
The family on my father's side is descended from Caspar Keller, a
native of Switzerland, who settled in Maryland. One of my Swiss
ancestors was the first teacher of the deaf in Zurich and wrote a
book on the subject of their education--rather a singular
coincidence; though it is true that there is no king who has not
had a slave among his ancestors, and no slave who has not had a
king among his.
My grandfather, Caspar Keller's son, "entered" large tracts of
land in Alabama and finally settled there. I have been told that
once a year he went from Tuscumbia to Philadelphia on horseback
to purchase supplies for the plantation, and my aunt has in her
possession many of the letters to his family, which give charming
and vivid accounts of these trips.
My Grandmother Keller was a daughter of one of Lafayette's aides,
Alexander Moore, and granddaughter of Alexander Spotswood, an
early Colonial Governor of Virginia. She was also second cousin
to Robert E. Lee.
My father, Arthur H. Keller, was a captain in the Confederate
Army, and my mother, Kate Adams, was his second wife and many
years younger. Her grandfather, Benjamin Adams, married Susanna
E. Goodhue, and lived in Newbury, Massachusetts, for many years.
Their son, Charles Adams, was born in Newburyport, Massachusetts,
and moved to Helena, Arkansas. When the Civil War broke out, he
fought on the side of the South and became a brigadier-general.
He married Lucy Helen Everett, who belonged to the same family of
Everetts as Edward Everett and Dr. Edward Everett Hale. After the
war was over the family moved to Memphis, Tennessee.
I lived, up to the time of the illness that deprived me of my
sight and hearing, in a tiny house consisting of a large square
room and a small one, in which the servant slept. It is a custom
in the South to build a small house near the homestead as an
annex to be used on occasion. Such a house my father built after
the Civil War, and when he married my mother they went to live in
it. It was completely covered with vines, climbing roses and
honeysuckles. From the garden it looked like an arbour. The
little porch was hidden from view by a screen of yellow roses and
Southern smilax. It was the favourite haunt of humming-birds and
bees.
The Keller homestead, where the family lived, was a few steps
from our little rose-bower. It was called "Ivy Green" because the
house and the surrounding trees and fences were covered with
beautiful English ivy. Its old-fashioned garden was the paradise
of my childhood.
Even in the days before my teacher came, I used to feel along the
square stiff boxwood hedges, and, guided by the sense of smell
would find the first violets and lilies. There, too, after a fit
of temper, I went to find comfort and to hide my hot face in the
cool leaves and grass. What joy it was to lose myself in that
garden of flowers, to wander happily from spot to spot, until,
coming suddenly upon a beautiful vine, I recognized it by its
leaves and blossoms, and knew it was the vine which covered the
tumble-down summer-house at the farther end of the garden! Here,
also, were trailing clematis, drooping jessamine, and some rare
sweet flowers called butterfly lilies, because their fragile
petals resemble butterflies' wings. But the roses--they were
loveliest of all. Never have I found in the greenhouses of the
North such heart-satisfying roses as the climbing roses of my
southern home. They used to hang in long festoons from our porch,
filling the whole air with their fragrance, untainted by any
earthy smell; and in the early morning, washed in the dew, they
felt so soft, so pure, I could not help wondering if they did not
resemble the asphodels of God's garden.
The beginning of my life was simple and much like every other
little life. I came, I saw, I conquered, as the first baby in the
family always does. There was the usual amount of discussion as
to a name for me. The first baby in the family was not to be
lightly named, every one was emphatic about that. My father
suggested the name of Mildred Campbell, an ancestor whom he
highly esteemed, and he declined to take any further part in the
discussion. My mother solved the problem by giving it as her wish
that I should be called after her mother, whose maiden name was
Helen Everett. But in the excitement of carrying me to church my
father lost the name on the way, very naturally, since it was one
in which he had declined to have a part. When the minister asked
him for it, he just remembered that it had been decided to call
me after my grandmother, and he gave her name as Helen Adams.
I am told that while I was still in long dresses I showed many
signs of an eager, self-asserting disposition. Everything that I
saw other people do I insisted upon imitating. At six months I
could pipe out "How d'ye," and one day I attracted every one's
attention by saying "Tea, tea, tea" quite plainly. Even after my
illness I remembered one of the words I had learned in these
early months. It was the word "water," and I continued to make
some sound for that word after all other speech was lost. I
ceased making the sound "wah-wah" only when I learned to spell
the word.
They tell me I walked the day I was a year old. My mother had
just taken me out of the bath-tub and was holding me in her lap,
when I was suddenly attracted by the flickering shadows of leaves
that danced in the sunlight on the smooth floor. I slipped from
my mother's lap and almost ran toward them. The impulse gone, I
fell down and cried for her to take me up in her arms.
These happy days did not last long. One brief spring, musical
with the song of robin and mocking-bird, one summer rich in fruit
and roses, one autumn of gold and crimson sped by and left their
gifts at the feet of an eager, delighted child. Then, in the
dreary month of February, came the illness which closed my eyes
and ears and plunged me into the unconsciousness of a new-born
baby. They called it acute congestion of the stomach and brain.
The doctor thought I could not live. Early one morning, however,
the fever left me as suddenly and mysteriously as it had come.
There was great rejoicing in the family that morning, but no one,
not even the doctor, knew that I should never see or hear again.
I fancy I still have confused recollections of that illness. I
especially remember the tenderness with which my mother tried to
soothe me in my waling hours of fret and pain, and the agony and
bewilderment with which I awoke after a tossing half sleep, and
turned my eyes, so dry and hot, to the wall away from the
once-loved light, which came to me dim and yet more dim each day.
But, except for these fleeting memories, if, indeed, they be
memories, it all seems very unreal, like a nightmare. Gradually I
got used to the silence and darkness that surrounded me and
forgot that it had ever been different, until she came--my
teacher--who was to set my spirit free. But during the first
nineteen months of my life I had caught glimpses of broad, green
fields, a luminous sky, trees and flowers which the darkness that
followed could not wholly blot out. If we have once seen, "the
day is ours, and what the day has shown."
Speed of your smile can influence people's first impressions of you
The speed of your smile can shape the first impressions others have of you, according to a new research.
Smiling too quickly can lead others to think that you are insincere, while slow grins appear more genuine.
As part of the research, a team of business advisors examined how smiling can give clients a positive impression.
They discovered that a smile, which appears too swiftly and does not extend to the eyes can sends signals that you lack sincerity.
They found that people should avoid three types of grin:
The Enthusiast - A huge smile showing all of your teeth and wide eyes can be overbearing.
The Big Freeze - A constant, practiced smile that lacks sincerity.
The Robot - A tiny, polite smile that doesn't display warmth.
"Studies show people perceive a slower, natural smile which floods the entire face to be more genuine," the Sun quoted Lesley Meechan of the Glasgow-based Go Group as saying.
Psychologist Bridget Hanna added: "Smiling all the time appears over-pleasing and lowers your status."
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
SOME TIPS FOR YOU DEARS....
For The People You Know
For The People Those Unknown
For Our World
- Leave a snack for an unsuspecting co-worker or friend.
- Give a friend your favorite inspirational book with a personal note attached.
- Connect two friends who had not previously met each other.
- Share an inspirational story from today's news.
- Make a lunch for someone and slip a joke in it.
- Write positive notes about your family or friends and share them.
- Help someone with a chore, unexpectedly.
- Do a 'dance of joy' for someone close to you.
- Using crayons, make your own card for someone you love.
- Write a song, poem or a note for a loved one.
- Get in touch with an old friend who you'd like to reconnect with.
- Write a thank you note to a teacher who inspired you.
- Call a mentor to say thank you.
For The People Those Unknown
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For Our World
- Research the most eco-friendly materials for clothing and personal care and share them with your friends.
- Clean up litter on your block.
- Send a thank you note to a person or business helping the world.
- Go to the nearest park and clean up as much as you can!
- Find 3 stories of earth-friendly people and share them.
- Call an animal shelter and donate at least one item they need.
- Stand outside a supermarket and give people reusable shopping bags.
- Hand out long-life light bulbs to those around you.
- Give an eco-friendly gift to at least 1 neighbor.
- Plant a fruit tree where it will thrive.
- Green your food! Cook a locally grown, organic, or vegetarian meal for your friends.
- Hug a tree in public, inspire another to do the same.
| Tips For Yourself | |
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- Make and post signs with tips to reduce water use.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
10 Things Science Says Will Make You Happy
Savor Everyday Moments
Pause now and then to smell a rose or watch children at play. Study participants who took time to “savor” ordinary events that they normally hurried through, or to think back on pleasant moments from their day, “showed significant increases in happiness and reductions in depression,” says psychologist Sonja Lyubomirsky.
Avoid Comparisons
While keeping up with the Joneses is part of American culture, comparing ourselves with others can be damaging to happiness and self-esteem. Instead of comparing ourselves to others, focusing on our own personal achievement leads to greater satisfaction, according to Lyubomirsky.
Put Money Low on the List
People who put money high on their priority list are more at risk for depression, anxiety, and low self-esteem, according to researchers Tim Kasser and Richard Ryan. Their findings hold true across nations and cultures. “The more we seek satisfactions in material goods, the less we find them there,” Ryan says. “The satisfaction has a short half-life—it’s very fleeting.” Money-seekers also score lower on tests of vitality and self-actualization.
Have Meaningful Goals
“People who strive for something significant, whether it’s learning a new craft or raising moral children, are far happier than those who don’t have strong dreams or aspirations,” say Ed Diener and Robert Biswas-Diener. “As humans, we actually require a sense of meaning to thrive.” Harvard’s resident happiness professor, Tal Ben-Shahar, agrees, “Happiness lies at the intersection between pleasure and meaning. Whether at work or at home, the goal is to engage in activities that are both personally significant and enjoyable.”
Take Initiative at Work
How happy you are at work depends in part on how much initiative you take. Researcher Amy Wrzesniewski says that when we express creativity, help others, suggest improvements, or do additional tasks on the job, we make our work more rewarding and feel more in control.
Make Friends, Treasure Family
Happier people tend to have good families, friends, and supportive relationships, say Diener and Biswas-Diener. But it’s not enough to be the life of the party if you’re surrounded by shallow acquaintances. “We don’t just need relationships, we need close ones” that involve understanding and caring.
Smile Even When You Don’t Feel Like It
It sounds simple, but it works. “Happy people…see possibilities, opportunities, and success. When they think of the future, they are optimistic, and when they review the past, they tend to savor the high points,” say Diener and Biswas-Diener. Even if you weren’t born looking at the glass as half-full, with practice, a positive outlook can become a habit.
Say Thank You Like You Mean It
People who keep gratitude journals on a weekly basis are healthier, more optimistic, and more likely to make progress toward achieving personal goals, according to author Robert Emmons. Research by Martin Seligman, founder of positive psychology, revealed that people who write “gratitude letters” to someone who made a difference in their lives score higher on happiness, and lower on depression—and the effect lasts for weeks.
Get Out and Exercise
A Duke University study shows that exercise may be just as effective as drugs in treating depression, without all the side effects and expense. Other research shows that in addition to health benefits, regular exercise offers a sense of accomplishment and opportunity for social interaction, releases feel-good endorphins, and boosts self-esteem.
Give It Away, Give It Away Now!
Make altruism and giving part of your life, and be purposeful about it. Researcher Stephen Post says helping a neighbor, volunteering, or donating goods and services results in a “helper’s high,” and you get more health benefits than you would from exercise or quitting smoking. Listening to a friend, passing on your skills, celebrating others’ successes, and forgiveness also contribute to happiness, he says. Researcher Elizabeth Dunn found that those who spend money on others reported much greater happiness than those who spend it on themselves.
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