“Shift your stance. You must balance your weight.”
The sky is still grey. Colors, the faintest flickers, are beginning to surface near the horizon, racing along the clouded edge and blazoning the arrival of the sun.
“Lower your center of gravity, but don’t let it dip. It’s important to be stable when channeling the light, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.”
Ikora’s hands are loosely folded behind her back as Fiona readjusts her hips. Her foot pivots about the axis of her heel and her boots squeak lightly across the enameled floor.
“Without balance you have no peace. Without peace you cannot understand the intricacies of the Light, and you will fail when you are needed most.”
Her eyes are closed. All other sounds but for her mentor’s voice have drained away, leaving a moving, breathing silence.
“Do you feel it?”
Beneath her feet the earth is humming. It beckons forth the light, the light that is vibrating in every pore of her being, the light that is spilling over the edges of her consciousness, the light that is dripping from her soaked soul and singing up from the wells of her being.
Her lips part, and she breathes in a thin breath.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I feel it.”
He stood behind her and peeked into the bowl. “Did you add cinnamon?”
“Yes, I did add cinnamon, but this will never get done if you keep hovering.”
“I’m just nervous, this has to be perfect,” he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed before walking away and giving her space.
I met him in my English class. He was actually my teacher. He was the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and seemed to be so passionate about teaching. I knew it was frowned upon to have a crush on a teacher, but I just couldn’t help myself. I had to know more about him. But how…? Would I pass him a secret note during class and leave it on his desk to find when everyone leaves? Or could I be more upfront and ask him if he’s interested in anyone? All so scary but also so exciting.
Could it be, somehow that the words I’m #instructed to write have nothing but the purpose of mist flowing down from the heavens, seeping into the earth… to return again as the sun warms the new day, enticing the moist earth to give to the heavens that gentle, soft touch? @oznolem #oneword
Gavin was a difficult person to teach. Geoff could write out the instructions in painstaking detail and the brit would still manage to forget or misinterpret one of them. That was, unless, Geoff did the instruction himself.
You have entered the second floor of the Ridley Complex. Once in the lobby, you will instruct the receptionist to leave her desk and walk into the closest quarter office, not to be seen or heard by anyone. Once he or she has departed, you will then operate her computer to root out where the stash has been hidden in the building. We predict that it will either be on the seventh floor or the twentieth – but any guesstimate risks failure.
I never read the manual. I can’t be taught by watching practical demonstrations. To instruct me, you must educate me with words, with rhetoric, with concepts to wrap my head around and facts to anchor my thoughts down.
“Shift your stance. You must balance your weight.”
The sky is still grey. Colors, the faintest flickers, are beginning to surface near the horizon, racing along the clouded edge and blazoning the arrival of the sun.
“Lower your center of gravity, but don’t let it dip. It’s important to be stable when channeling the light, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.”
Ikora’s hands are loosely folded behind her back as Fiona readjusts her hips. Her foot pivots about the axis of her heel and her boots squeak lightly across the enameled floor.
“Without balance you have no peace. Without peace you cannot understand the intricacies of the Light, and you will fail when you are needed most.”
Her eyes are closed. All other sounds but for her mentor’s voice have drained away, leaving a moving, breathing silence.
“Do you feel it?”
Beneath her feet the earth is humming. It beckons forth the light, the light that is vibrating in every pore of her being, the light that is spilling over the edges of her consciousness, the light that is dripping from her soaked soul and singing up from the wells of her being.
Her lips part, and she breathes in a thin breath.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I feel it.”
1instruct = Into Nuptual So To Reciprocate Unified Conciousness Creating Throw
He stood behind her and peeked into the bowl. “Did you add cinnamon?”
“Yes, I did add cinnamon, but this will never get done if you keep hovering.”
“I’m just nervous, this has to be perfect,” he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed before walking away and giving her space.
Instructing is a task many people thing to be easy but isnt really so..
Lean into the keyboard, i notice the sun shining, it is morning. I have re awoken after the instructions that I instruct myself to recall my dreams.
I met him in my English class. He was actually my teacher. He was the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and seemed to be so passionate about teaching. I knew it was frowned upon to have a crush on a teacher, but I just couldn’t help myself. I had to know more about him. But how…? Would I pass him a secret note during class and leave it on his desk to find when everyone leaves? Or could I be more upfront and ask him if he’s interested in anyone? All so scary but also so exciting.
Could it be, somehow that the words I’m #instructed to write have nothing but the purpose of mist flowing down from the heavens, seeping into the earth… to return again as the sun warms the new day, enticing the moist earth to give to the heavens that gentle, soft touch? @oznolem #oneword
Gavin was a difficult person to teach. Geoff could write out the instructions in painstaking detail and the brit would still manage to forget or misinterpret one of them. That was, unless, Geoff did the instruction himself.
You have entered the second floor of the Ridley Complex. Once in the lobby, you will instruct the receptionist to leave her desk and walk into the closest quarter office, not to be seen or heard by anyone. Once he or she has departed, you will then operate her computer to root out where the stash has been hidden in the building. We predict that it will either be on the seventh floor or the twentieth – but any guesstimate risks failure.
I never read the manual. I can’t be taught by watching practical demonstrations. To instruct me, you must educate me with words, with rhetoric, with concepts to wrap my head around and facts to anchor my thoughts down.