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Ammiel's skin tingled and her eyes sparkled as she stared up at the tall building. This was where the magic happened. The Zebulun Cancer Foundation. She had come to surprise her mum with lunch. She just hoped her mum appreciated her gesture. When she walked in and headed straight for the elevators, no one stopped her. She got to the tenth floor and walked to the door of her mum's office. “Hi, mum! I'm–” she trailed off when she opened the door to an empty room. “Mum? Mum, are you here?” She dropped the food on the desk and knocked on the bathroom door, then opened it. It was empty. She pulled out her phone and called her mum…and heard the sound of a phone ringing. Her mum hadn't taken her phone with her. She must have stepped out in a hurry. She sat down and waited. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. Her mum still didn't show. She decided to investigate. She left her mum's office and strolled through the hallway. The tenth floor was eerily empty, so she didn't find anyone to ask. At the end of the hallway, she came to a door labelled ‘Cancer Laboratory 10-A'. Chances are her mum was probably in there if she wasn't in her office. It's where she did her research. She knew she wasn't supposed to go in unauthorized, but she was already here, and she was curious. She wanted to see the place where her mum made all her discoveries. The strong smell of sterilization and the bright fluorescent lights overwhelmed her senses as she walked in. The room looked more like a hospital room than a lab as she stood in between rows of beds. Most were empty, but some had people in them. She stepped further into the room to see they were all connected to wires and IV fluids. Was this some kind of clinical trial? She approached one of the beds and was surprised to see a girl who looked to be around sixteen. She looked sick as she lay there, pale, and unmoving. She was connected to a monitor showing her vitals, and to an IV fluid bag labeled ‘Zonamycin-12'. There was a chart placed in a pocket on the outside of the bed's footboard. She pulled it out and read: Subject 125 - Date of admission: 08-18-2022 - Date of injection: 08-20-2022 - Contents of injection: glioblastoma cells [IDH-wildtype} Progress of cancer growth: tumor cells began proliferating at a rate of 300cells/day and reached a size of 5 in. after 3 mos. Drug(s)/Therapy administered: - Radiation therapy was started after tumor reached growth of 5 in. Tumor only shrunk half in size. - Afterwards, Z-12 proved to be effective in further shrinking the tumor. But subject experienced side effects such as seizures, headaches, nausea & vomiting, and pain. Notes: 2 months after Z-12 was discontinued, tumor grew back more aggressively, reaching a size of 3 in. in 1 month. Subject was started again on Z-12. Due to severe pain and side effects, subject was heavily sedated with morphine. Progress of therapy is still being monitored. Prognosis: poor. Likely to be dead within hours after the effects of morphine wear off. Scientist in charge: Dr Moriah Tennet Dread squeezed Ammiel's heart as she gripped the chart with trembling hands. “No, no, no…” At that moment, the girl began to stir, and Ammiel stepped back in shock. The moment the girl began to regain consciousness, she started moaning. As if on cue, the monitor started beeping erratically. Ammiel stood there unmoving, watching the scene unfold. “Ugh…it hurts…” the girl muttered as she tossed and turned. Then her eyes snapped open causing Ammiel to jump in fright, the chart falling to the floor with a loud smack. “Help me, please,” the girl gasped. “Help…it hurts…” Without warning, the girl's eyes rolled back in her head, and she started convulsing. Ammiel gasped and staggered away from the bed, covering her mouth with her hand. Somewhere far away, she heard footsteps as she stared at the girl in horror. Someone pulled her out of the way. “Ammiel? Ammiel!” The person began shaking her shoulders, but she was transfixed by the scene before her. At that point, the person grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the room, forcing her to turn away. The last thing she heard before she stepped out through the doors was the flatline sound of the monitor. *** No one said a word for the next five minutes as Ammiel and her mother sat across from each other. Then Dr Tennet sighed and leaned back in her seat. “There are some things you don't understand.” Ammiel looked at her mum with creased eyebrows. “Really? Then tell me I was wrong. Tell me I misinterpreted what I saw, and you were not experimenting on those people.” She saw the answer in her mum's eyes before she spoke. “Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made for the greater good." For the greater good. She'd applied this same principle to every area of her life because of her mum, and now she felt ashamed. She closed her eyes and covered her face with both hands, letting the tears fall. It was over. She was lost, and so was her mum.

Ayngaran Institute of Spiritual Science: A Vision for a Harmonious World Ayngaran Institute of Spiritual Science is a non-profit organization based in Palani, Tamil Nadu, India. It was founded by Sasi Krishnasamy, a spiritual guru and social activist, and is managed by him and Vince Thomas, the chairman. The institute aims to promote the recognition and practice of the spiritual principles and values that can lead to a stable and interdependent world society. The institute offers various educational activities, such as meditation, yoga, Veda Bodhi Vanam (a forest of wisdom), Bodhipedia (a digital encyclopedia of spirituality), Ayngaran Goshala (a cow shelter), and organic agro farms. The institute believes that every person has the ability to harness the energies of nature and the inner power of the soul to mold their life. The institute also runs a charitable initiative called Akshya Dharma, which distributes food and groceries to the poor families in different districts of tamilnadu and Kerala . The director of Akshya Dharma is Mr Riyas Kunhimon, who is accompanied by a team of volunteers who help him in identifying and reaching out to the needy. The institute has a presence on social media platforms such as Facebook and LinkedIn, where it shares inspirational quotes, videos, and updates on its activities.The institute invites people to join its mission of creating a peaceful and prosperous world through spiritual science. The institute's motto is "Meditation and service are two forms of devotion".The institute's vision is to create a global community of spiritually awakened individuals who can contribute to the welfare of humanity and the planet.

Ayngaran Institute of Spiritual Science is a non-profit organization based in Palani, Tamil Nadu, India. It was founded by Sasi Krishnasamy, a spiritual guru and social activist, and is managed by him and Vince Thomas, the chairman. The institute aims to promote the recognition and practice of the spiritual principles and values that can lead to a stable and interdependent world society. The institute offers various educational activities, such as meditation, yoga, Veda Bodhi Vanam (a forest of wisdom), Bodhipedia (a digital encyclopedia of spirituality), Ayngaran Goshala (a cow shelter), and organic agro farms. The institute believes that every person has the ability to harness the energies of nature and the inner power of the soul to mold their life

In this time of stress and laziness I want to deliver inspiration through this short story of mine to all those young students who are determined to put their minds to work to unravel the mysteries of the Universe around them. If an archaeologist spends his entire life studying a piece of land, he studies every piece of rock on it, and he does this with such dedication that he leaves all of the luxuries of life for it, his family, his friends, even his favorite food, just for the sake of scientific inquiry, to increase human knowledge, to fill the missing gaps in our understanding of our universe around us. And in doing so he losses 60 years of his life, and by the end of his career he discovers nothing! Nothing of any significance, every rock he has flipped tells him nothing, the decades he spends reading, writing, contemplating, leads to nothing. If this was the case for any other profession, his career would be considered a failed one. But not for him, he is a scientist! He has provided the most valuable service to the society of all. His work will build the foundation for a younger generation, they will not spend years trying to collect data he has already provided, nor try to prove or disprove something his work has already established rather they will venture forward into more uncertain areas of work. The same is true for every scientist in every field of work. Because “A SCIENTIST WORK NEVER GOES TO WASTE”, it either proofs something or proofs something. And that's meaningful to me, this makes me fearless of failure.

Are you a fan of Science Fantasy? Come join the Kynaston Royal Saga Facebook Group to join in the fun as we prepare for the launch of Book 1! Power In Time follows the adventures of Larkspur, an unwitting time traveler who finds herself stuck 4,000 years in the future, with unknown superpowers lurking in her DNA, and adopted into one of the most powerful families on all four inhabited planets. Will painful surprises from her distant past now help her embrace an uncertain future? https://www.facebook.com/groups/996482640749642/

When I tell people I want to study classics, they give me weird looks. “What?” “That's so random.” And I agree; it's completely and totally random. Like many competitive schools nowadays, my classmates — including me — are hyper STEM-focused. Here, you'll find Robotics flyers posted on twenty-three different Instagram stories, enthused student officers screaming at you to sign up for Finance Club, news alerts about our national championship Math Madness team and the like. There's this newfound belief (read: pandemonium) that STEM education holds the key to a secure, prosperous future. And if the pop-up of private, $30k/year schools with STEM-focused, Advanced-Placement-driven curriculums aren't indicative warning signs, I'm not sure what is. A belief? Maybe. I think it's a madness. I've spent most of my time delving into the world of science and math. So I'm not knocking on the merits of STEM education at all; my chemistry research mentors and Science Olympiad advisors would be at the very least offended if I threw away their gifts of knowledge like that. Yet, there's something lost in the neglecting of humanities; in a sea of future mathematicians, entrepreneurs, and engineers like myself, I can count the number of history/literary hopefuls I know on one hand. My interest in classics is recent. I've only just begun to delve into the two-thousand-year-old world, and I'm only starting to put together the pieces of the field's significance. For the most part, classics, like other non-STEM fields, is soothing. It's fun and interesting. I'm fully aware that there's genuine passion and fulfillment in crunching numbers and solving physics problems, but the arts and humanities just strike a different chord — one of free expression, boundless imagination, and infinite understanding. Unlike STEM, I believe classics is relevant in teaching the value of us — our past, our motivations, our fate, our dreams, our limitations — through the lens of myths. As Homer famously says in the Iliad, “Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is the man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.” Classics, unlike many liberal arts fields, draws value in stripping away deceptions and cloaks; it gives us raw anguish and emotion, dissimilar to modern works, which arguably encourage an understanding of complex historical context. But the field of classics is fundamental — there is nothing prior, only other myths in context. As the basis of Western literature and really, civilization, classics is incredibly crucial to unlocking the secrets of famous works. T. S. Elliot's well-known “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” makes clear references to Hesiod's Work and Days and opens with Dante's Inferno — the latter of which literally features Virgil throughout. Elliot also makes references to Shakespeare's Hamlet, which cites the Fall of Troy (the Aeneid), among other allusions I definitely missed. Mind. Blowing. (Or am I just a nerd, and this epiphany only surprising to me?) I imagine the average Biopage reader is well-read; if not specifically in classics, at least with contemporary literature, modern journalism, and the sort. It's something I aspire to be. And for me, and all my fellow science nerds, perhaps the best way to find ourselves is by reconnecting with our roots — even if it's old, dead, white men.

The moment I was brought into this world, I was instantly branded developmentally-stunted, narcissistic and lazy. Apart from being a lethargic preemie (who forced doctors to take him out weeks early), my other crime was being born in the 80's. While newer evidence from psychology (mercifully) defends my generation as suffering from the dual struggles of discovering identity while enduring growing pains of the most rapidly-changing socioeconomic environment in human history, impulsive prejudice built up against Millennials towers over us like Mount Olympus (which, ironically, few detractors would ever climb such pre-conceptual heights to find out whether we fit their expectations). To our elders, strangers (elder strangers or was it strange elders?), we would instinctually be graced as “Generation Me”. Deep in my bones, I knew I wasn't this kind of person. Much of the joy in my youth, for instance, came from volunteering at the hospital or performing songs to soothe weary audiences of their troubles. Partying was a worthless social obligation (starting with boredom and ending with anxiety for the time I wasted). Whether my young mind knew it or not, I was determined to be something other than the selfish, entitled brats Gen Me were destined (by society) to be. It's probably why, at 24, I faced a quarter-life crisis. Days before my 25th birthday, I was unstoppable. Fresh off of earning my black belt in Shorin Ryu karate (a feat some believed beyond me), I raced to the wall in my room, placing the half-English, half-Japanese certificate above my ARCT in piano performance and my medical science degree. I gazed up at my trinity gleefully, only for my pride to vaporize instantly. I had accomplished nothing. Emptiness welled up inside me as I questioned the truth behind those certified proclamations. For all the blood, sweat, tears, time and effort I had poured into those milestones, my patient friend, Walter, from my hospital days (who always blessed me as a ‘good man' whenever we parted) was still dead. My musical performances were little more than transient pleasures. But shaking me most was that a tech at school (I had just finished my 3rd year of pharmacy) died suddenly from cancer. Surrounded by medical practitioners - and all we could offer were our sincerest condolences. Her death was the last straw: fueling me to choose cancer to cure since there's not a single person whose life hasn't been touched by the disease. Unfortunately, continuing to champion destructive treatments (yes, even Nobel Prize-winning immune therapies) in this civil war against our distorted cells (or selves, as it were) will still claim 1/4 of all Canadian cancer patients. With the impending arrival of the largest cancer patient population in history (due to aging baby boomers), 1.2 million baby boomers will die while the luckier 3.5 million boomer survivors will be forever cursed by a myriad of progressive chronic diseases. Three guesses whose generation bears this other impossible burden. Einstein once wrote: “A new type of thinking is essential if mankind is to survive and move towards higher levels”. To me, the answer was easy: non-destructive cures. If cancer isn't threatened, it won't desperately evolve against treatment. Sadly, humans have been killing cancer for centuries. Researching otherwise would be like growing a third head (a second being normal by contrast). Witnessing my (supposedly superior) assessor degrade patients with outdated data for her ego proved that my field also wasn't a solution. This left me one avenue to convey my theories somewhat seriously. Sci-Fi. The sting of incredible backlash still ails me to this day. My parents called me crazy. My colleagues shied away from my radical logic. Even my girlfriend dumped me, thinking I'd choose writing over pharmacy. All they saw was another selfish dreamer enticed by fame and fortune. All I could dream about were a hundred thousand terminal Canadian cancer patients pleading for euthanasia each year. What else could I have done? I shut out my heartache: setting out alone to show people that non-destructive cancer cures can solve this imminent medical genocide. At times I wonder whether publishing Destructive Salvation was worth it. I struggled through rejection, isolation and dark times when I believed my passing might be better on my parents. But in my waking nightmares, I uncovered strength within me: pushing me through crippling anxiety and fatigue I once thought unconquerable. Regardless of my gains or losses, my fire burns brighter than ever to make non-destructive cancer cures a reality. Whether my novel makes a difference is not just up to me anymore, (though I have faith good people will agree with me and want to help). In the meantime, my promise to all cancer patients past, present and future still stands: I'll never stop fighting to cure this disease properly. Not a bad calling for defying one's (preordained) destiny.

My Kickstarter campaign for my novel is live now! Sept 2019. Universal Chaos - Paladin, a Space Opera novel. The first book in the series. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/universalchaos/universal-chaos-paladin

How do you plan for this day? Personally, I carefully considered any plausible scenario that would require running. To ensure my time would last, I accounted for miscalculations, kept a running journal, and assumed my generously estimated steps would endure well into my elder years. Legend has it that people used to run to live. There are still those who believe this, but I find it preposterous! Knowing life diminishes with each allotted step, running is not meant to be superfluous. Humans can only sustain a certain amount of running before their life energy is depleted. Once that energy runs out, so does your life. I always imagined accidents or emergencies would inevitably require the use of a substantial number of steps. I built my life around these ideas, as I supposed others had done. I never anticipated an emergency of such monumental impact, however. Yet, here I was. Crouching low among the dusty crates, taking measured breaths to steady my mind and body, contemplating the expanse I must travel in order to survive. It was recently discovered that taking someone's life would transfer their life energy, including their remaining steps, to the murderer. Who discovered this? Terrorists? The government? Law enforcement? No one really knows. All we know is that once the word got out, some lunatics decided to see if it was true. There's also been talk of early deaths being the result of murder instead of depleting steps through running. It's nice to think that murder was once controlled only by powerful people, but now that maniacs can participate, it's complete mayhem! The estimated number of steps I have remaining should be enough to allow me to escape this knife-wielding psychopath. My eyes darted around, searching for the most efficient path. If I could just get to safety, I could maintain my life, albeit diminished. It was now or never. I tried to calculate how much life energy would remain after this sprint while simultaneously visualizing the steps I will take to get away. I took off running as silently as possible. I heard the heavy, long strides behind me. I knew this guy wouldn't run after me if I was his first kill. He wouldn't squander his steps unless he had killed before. His footsteps revealed that I was definitely his first, but he was relentless nonetheless. My path of liberation was running out. I searched for places to hide again, but that would require returning to my starting position. That would mean being trapped and a loss of life energy. I could push myself to run faster, but that would mean using up even more steps. I had a choice to make. Keep running and risk dying, or stop running and risk dying. This was not a choice I ever envisioned for myself. I ducked behind a wall of steel beams so I could make my decision. I knew I didn't have long, as I could hear his steps approaching. Then I saw the gleam of his knife reflected off a beam to my left. I knew I would have to flee. He would never give up the chance to prolong his life as long as I was within his grasp. My decision was made. I must run...run faster than I've ever run before...run more steps than I ever planned...run to an expedited death. Either way, my life energy would be drained. I had no idea at this point how much of my life would remain. As I sprinted, I began to drift further into the recesses of my mind, recalling each moment I had lived. I was no longer aware of the distance between me and my attacker, no longer aware of his footsteps or mine. Suddenly, I realize that I am no longer running; I feel as if I am floating; my steps have run out.

Read the rest of this ......starts in medias res Also check that poem out(sort of a poem) .....its rough and possibly rhymes to close together like a a b b b b b .....also, its You as in, singing it to A girl, that i havealready met(r____ would be the only potential one) or a girl I have not met(most likely)... it would suck to never fall in love it is the truth i feel right now.... it makes my writing miss the romantic side, and for me thats a big side..a muse would apply here lol ... They could trigger the perfectionist, drive, and sensitive in me ... but the pitfall is they can also trigger the obsessive thinking to much loving tendency, & overly insecure side....... I tend to be attracted to the more dominate or artist girls( smarter dominate girls like H_____& R_____ they were not afraid to kick asses ) ..... or Artist like L____ (ballet & Art) understanding me better and far more interesting..I guess I loved her the most but as my past record shows,my love grows too quickly and even when theirs grows equallyas fast , at a certain point theirs will slow or cap out and mine keeps on growing into an obsessive love, they cant match, they get sick of me, & within 2 months its bye bye...... (obssesive LOVE, because it is not an obssesive sexual thoughts, it is just thr loving definitions without a limit, and beyond annoying) However, i WAS untreated Bipolar back then, NOW i AM treated so maybe it would be different, but i have a feeling it is my imagination & mind that turns me into The Love song of J. Alfred Prufrock ..... I imagine every scenario and It is always the sad outcomes that come tru(not the worst tho) unless the multi-verse of quantum physics is real, but in that guess I have split myself for every scenario I have imagined... The only thing that sucks is, my imagination is not able to deceive myself into taking action, be it is able to stop me from moving...but luckily thru fantasy, I can escape without moving ...but it cant replace what I miss the most and that has always been Love Although, one of my fears is, it was my Manic Side that got the girlfriend but it was my normal state that they left....after all, the manic side is the confident side....imagine how sad that would be, Why move?, I already know the results, just like I know I will probably never make it as a writer .. If there is a God or Gods, I would like to ask, yo whats the deal, why do i exist and more importantly what the hell? Like come on dude really, no one at all, u supplied no matches for me..and all i wanted as a kid was to fall in love...How the heck do i keep my fire burning if I have no matches to start the fire in the first place.... At least Now I am able to deal with that aspect now that I am older, it is not a Need like it was when i was younger, its all just A want now.....

The usual narrative as follows: The Soviets did shock the good American by putting the first manmade object in orbit. Then the first dog. And then the first man, and the first woman too for good measure. They kept on one-upping Uncle Sam until he got tired of it, gathered his everything to do the impossible, and delivered a momentous uppercut in the form of a size 9 ½ B boot marking and the brave red white and blue on the moon's grey soil. Then, after the customary high-fiving and just celebrating in general, they all went home to beat the reds wherever they need to be beaten. The race has been won after all. Or so we thought. The race continued. Even after the massive upset of '69, the soviets could record another triumph, the first space station in orbit. Then just as in natural order of things (classic human showmanship to his fellows), the following decade saw a back and forth between the two superpowers of the Cold War and humanity did brought up to the sky and announce their intentions to rule it one day. We saw humanity making the first forays into Mars, signifying our interest in extraplanet excursion. We sent probes—markings of our own—into the fringes of known space, setting our foot into the cosmos. And—even when the cold war was still going on—we showed that, though divisions might run deep, we made multinational space endeavours a thing, marking that a humanity together is a humanity strong. Great achievements were made along the way as we continuously raise our own bar of expectations. And so the saying goes, that the journey matters as much, if not more, than the destination. The Space Race spurred within its participants a desire not only to one-up the other, but also to learn, the drive to innovate, the mindset that no obstacle could not be overcome. Along the way, scientists and engineers made great breakthroughs in physics, engineering, computing and statesman and bureaucrats learned a thing or two about helping to run one of the most massive undertakings—the magnitude of which could not be overstated—in human history. Most important of all, all of this happened not only in one country, or two, but across multiple nations from all over the world, and advancements made were not only for the benefit of the space programs being launced, but also much to the developments in other fields due to tangling nature of technology and science. We can thank the Space Race for satellite TVs and memory foam. In the end, to say that one side had won the Space Race is simply asinine since as far as we are aware, on top of space programs still existing until now—only between new faces—each side have their victories to call their own that did contribute in their own way to the human race as a whole. Then if we really do need to answer the classic, ‘Who won the Space Race?' Why, Us of course!

In recent years, a large population of busy, working Americans have joined the wellness movement. One notable practice – meditation – has pushed to the forefront of this blossoming movement. Meditation is an ancient practice, having been practiced by Buddhist and Hindu monks since around 1500 B.C.[1], but it has only recently become accessible to a modern, secular audience as a break from the stresses and worries of day-to-day life. While meditation offers emotional perks - long-time and novice meditators alike have reported feeling relaxed, calmer, and clearer-headed after their practice - its benefits extend further into the human body, particularly the brain. SHORT-TERM BENEFITS One does not need to adapt a lifestyle change to develop resilience to stress; even short bouts of meditation prove highly beneficial to a frazzled mind. A study led by David Creswell from Carnegie Mellon University[2] examined the effects of meditation training on patients' responses to the Trier Social Stress Test (TSST), designed as a series of controlled stressful situations. Participants in the experimental group received three days of twenty-five-minute meditation trainings, during which they were instructed to pay attention to their breath, bodily sensations, and thoughts and emotions. For the same duration, participants in the control group were instructed to read and analyze a set of poems. Upon taking the TSST, the experimental group self-reported perceived lower levels of stress than did the control group. Brief meditation has also been shown to alter brain anatomy, particularly in regions associated with self-referential thinking. In a study led by Britta Hölzel from the Massachusetts General Hospital[3], participants underwent the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) program, which includes weekly group meetings and at-home exercises. Two weeks after the MBSR program concluded, MRI scans of the participants were recorded and compared to scans taken prior to the experiment. Results revealed increased gray matter concentration in four regions of the brain commonly associated with self-referential processing. Other studies[4] have identified additional brain regions positively affected by meditation. An increase in gray matter (neuronal cell bodies and connections) in these areas suggests that meditation can fortify the higher processes associated with psychological well-being and resilience against stress. Most working Americans can only practice meditation as a “moonlight” activity – a routine calming of an overworked mind – by starting or ending their day with ten minutes of mindfulness. Thankfully, even small bouts of meditation can generate psychological and neuroanatomical changes associated with overall emotional amelioration. LONG-TERM BENEFITS Those who fuse mindfulness with their everyday lives often tout the enduring benefits of prolonged, rigorous meditative practice. The portrayal of the calm, wise monk in literature and pop culture is an ever-present reminder of this common sequitur. Look no further than His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, who maintains his presence on the world stage with press conferences and self-penned articles urging people to practice kindness. To examine the effects of long-term meditative practice, Antonietta Manna of the G. D'Annuzio University Foundation[5] led a study comparing the functional magnetic resonance (fMRI) data of Buddhist monks and novice meditators while meditating. Novices with only ten days of practice showed fMRI activation in the posterior and anterior cingulate cortex, which was consistent with the Hölzel study conclusions. Monks also showed activation of the anterior cingulate cortex; but in addition to this area, the anterior prefrontal cortex and superior temporal gyrus were also activated above baseline. These two regions are associated with personality expression and social cognition, respectively. The increased stimulation of social cognitive regions in the brains of the monks, for whom mindfulness is a lifestyle, suggests that meditation could, in addition to bringing about peace of mind, encourage prosocial behavior. This conclusion has been verified independently by multiple other studies as well. [6,7,8] Although meditation in any dosage seems to proffer mental and emotional benefits, it remains to be seen whether the mindfulness movement alone can cultivate a prosocial environment for the working American. “Moonlight” meditators, while able to temporarily retreat into peaceful meditation, may require deeper or lengthier sessions than what currently fits in a busy schedule. Perhaps regular meditation on its own does not give rise to significant neurological or psychological benefits; but, for now, the post-Om buzz is enough to keep the movement going. See full article at: https://thetriplehelix.uchicago.edu/tth-epub-fall2016/2018/3/23/your-mind-on-meditation-by-yohyoh-wang

My stomach was full of fear and dread, the black tops of the lab stations glaring at me. I had never felt comfortable or confident in a science classroom. Every day was a struggle, furthering my anxiety from my inability to understand the content, from blanks and wrong answers to my immense confusion on tests. After months of my escalating dread for the class, in the middle of a particularly confusing test, I simply decided I was done. I chose to write question marks on every answer, set my pen down, and sit back in my chair as everyone else slaved away. I watched the soft disappointment on my teacher's face as I turned in my unanswered test. “Would you like to retake this?” my teacher asked reprovingly. “I don't think I'd do much better on it,” I replied in a skeptical tone as I turned away without giving a second thought. The worst part was, I didn't feel ashamed; in fact, I was quite pleased with my decision and thought everyone else fools, dedicated to the school system. Over the next few months I lost all motivation. My laziness and hatred for chemistry spread to the rest of my classes. My idleness was spreading like a disease and my whole life had become a swamp of unintelligible school assignments. I remember struggling to crawl out of the mess I had created for myself one night. I sat at the table attempting to understand the chaos that was my homework. The clock ticked incessantly on the mantle, the light above me buzzed, every noise piercing into my mind like pinpricks. The feeling of inadequacy irked me, the sound of cars driving by seemed taunting; everything around me infringing on my mental state. I was interrupted abruptly as the lead in my pencil cracked and shattered as if under the pressure of my thought. The shards glissaded across the paper and in that moment, it wasn't just broken lead, but my own fractured truth. The shattered pieces ruled over the paper like stress over my life. All I had to do was wipe away the lead; I needed a clean slate and this time I vowed not to mess it up for myself. Following the decision to end my unproductive torture, the next semester was a struggle, but my grades stayed up. I tried my best to stay on top of my work and got help when I needed it. I really put myself into what I was learning for the first time by asking questions, spending extra time at home, and improving my level of self-advocacy. My new goal was not to get through chemistry, but to excel at chemistry and that's just what I did. My previous test score of 56% from the first semester turned into a 96% and even (my crowning achievement) 104%. While others around me were getting B's and C's, I couldn't find anyone in the class with a higher grade than me and in my head, that seemed simply impossible. I had never truly lived up to my academic capabilities until then. At the end of second semester I finished school with a 97% in chemistry and for the first time in my life, I felt in control of my academic outcome. During this process of improvement, I discovered that I had been limiting myself to being what I knew rather than discovering one of my most impressive talents. Today, chemistry is my favorite school subject and I'm now in quantitative chemistry and plan to proceed into higher levels. I would've never discovered my love for chemistry if I had continued to choose to believe that I was bad at science because I didn't understand it easily at first. I am never just going to be good at something unless I choose to make myself good at something. The primary thing that has improved me academically is the realization of that. I can't live my whole life thinking I'm bad at something or I'll never be good at it because I'm not giving myself the opportunity to work at it and learn. This idea hasn't just changed my chemistry grade, but my whole life. I have dedicated myself to be the best that I can be every day. No matter how impossible something may seem, I will put all that I have into it because that is who I choose to be.