How Exercise(ˈeksərˌsīz) Might Increase Your Self-Control

By Gretchen Reynolds

For most of us, temptations are everywhere, from the dessert(diˈzərt) buffet(bəˈfā,ˈbəfit) to the online shoe(SHo͞o) boutique(bo͞oˈtēk). But a new study suggests that exercise might be a simple if unexpected way to increase our willpower and perhaps(pərˈ(h)aps) help us to avoid making impulsive(imˈpəlsiv) choices(CHois) that we will later regret(riˈgret).

Self-control(kənˈtrōl) is one of those concepts(ˈkänˌsept) that we all recognize(ˈrekigˌnīz,ˈrekə(g)ˌnīz) and applaud(əˈplôd) but do not necessarily(ˌnesəˈse(ə)rəlē) practice(ˈpraktəs). It requires forgoing(fôrˈgō) things that entice(enˈtīs) us, which, let’s face it, is not fun. On the other hand, lack of self-control can be consequential(ˌkänsəˈkwenCHəl) for health and well-being, often contributing to problems like weight(wāt) gain(gān), depression or money woes.

Given these impacts, scientists(ˈsīəntist) and therapists(ˈTHerəpist) have been interested in finding ways to increase people’s self-restraint(riˈstrānt). Various(ˈve(ə)rēəs) types of behavioral(biˈhāvyərəl) therapies(ˈTHerəpē) and counseling(ˈkouns(ə)liNG) have shown promise. But such techniques(tekˈnēk) typically(ˈtipikəl) require professional(prəˈfeSHənl) assistance(əˈsistəns) and have for the most part been used to treat(trēt) people with abnormally(abˈnôrməl) high levels of impulsiveness(imˈpəlsiv).

There have been few scientifically validated(ˈvaləˌdāt) options available to help those of us who might want to be just a little better at resisting(riˈzist) our more devilish(ˈdevəliSH) urges(ərj).

So for the new study, which was published recently(ˈrēsəntlē) in Behavior(biˈhāvyər) Modification, a group of researchers at the University of Kansas(ˈkanzəs) in Lawrence(ˈlär-,ˈlôrəns) began wondering about exercise.

Exercise is known to have considerable(-ˈsidrəbəl,kənˈsidər(ə)bəl) psychological(ˌsīkəˈläjəkəl) effects(iˈfekt). It can raise(rāz) moods, for example(igˈzampəl), and expand people’s sense(sens) of what they are capable(ˈkāpəbəl) of doing. So perhaps, the researchers speculated(ˈspekyəˌlāt), exercise might(mīt) alter(ˈôltər) how well people can control their impulses(ˈimˌpəls).

To find out, the scientists decided first to mount a tiny(ˈtīnē) pilot(ˈpīlət) study, involving(inˈvälv) only four men and women.

…

Procrastination(prō-,prəˌkrastəˈnāSHən) is a Practice(ˈpraktəs) Ground for Life Mastery(ˈmast(ə)rē)

By Leo Babauta

There isn’t a person among us who doesn’t procrastinate(prō-,prəˈkrastəˌnāt) — put off your work for the day, distract(disˈtrakt) yourself, put off pursuing(pərˈso͞o) your dreams, put off putting your work out in the world for fear(fi(ə)r) of being judged(jəj).

But here’s the thing: most people think that this procrastination is a problem.

Most people stress(stres) out about being a procrastinator, and feel bad about themselves for doing it.

Au contraire (that’s French(frenCH), don’t bother looking it up, it means you’re way wrong).

Instead(inˈsted), procrastination is the perfect place to practice all the most important life skills.

Our tendency(ˈtendənsē) to procrastinate is exactly(igˈzak(t)lē) how we’ll see how our minds work, and learn to be better at all the difficulties of life. Because life will always have these difficulties, no matter how much we’d prefer to avoid them, and how we respond to them will determine everything.

Let’s work on our responses to the hardest things in life.

How We Usually(ˈyo͞oZHo͞oəlē) Respond

When we procrastinate, this is the usual process:

We have something difficult or uncomfortable(-ˈkəmftərbəl,ˌənˈkəmfərtəbəl) to do.

We don’t feel like doing it, because it’s difficult, uncertain(ˌənˈsərtn), uncomfortable.

Our minds habitually(həˈbiCHo͞oəl) turn away from this task, and find a more comfortable, certain thing to do, like watching videos or playing games or checking email or social media(ˈmēdēə).

We run to the easier thing, and then put off even thinking about the other thing.

We feel bad that this happens, and start to form a negative(ˈnegətiv) image(ˈimij) of ourselves. We rain harshness(härSH) and criticism(ˈkritəˌsizəm) upon our psyche(ˈsīkē).

This makes us less likely to do better the next time around. It’s a vicious(ˈviSHəs) cycle(ˈsīkəl), I tell ya(yə).

We can learn to do better.

The Mind(mīnd) of John McPhee

A deeply private(ˈprīvit) writer reveals(riˈvēl) his obsessive(əbˈsesiv) process(prəˈses,ˈpräsəs,ˈpräˌses,ˈprō-).

BY SAM(sam) ANDERSON(ˈandərsən)

When you call John McPhee on the phone, he is instantly(ˈinstəntlē) John McPhee. McPhee is now 86 years old, and each of those years seems to be filed(fīld) away inside of him, loaded(ˈlōdid) with information, ready to access(ˈakˌses). I was calling(ˈkôliNG) to arrange(əˈrānj) a visit(ˈvizit) to Princeton(ˈprinstən), N.J., where McPhee lives(liv,līv) and teaches writing(ˈrītiNG). He was going to give me driving(ˈdrīviNG) directions. He asked where I was coming from. I told him the name of my town, about 100 miles(mīl) away.

“I’ve been there,” McPhee said, with the mild(mīld) surprise of someone who has just found a $5 bill(bil) in a coat pocket. He proceeded(prō-,prəˈsēd) to tell me a story of the time he had a picnic(ˈpikˌnik) at the top of our local mountain(ˈmountn), with a small party that included the wife of Alger Hiss, the former United States official(əˈfiSHəl) who, at the height(hīt) of McCarthyism(məˈkärTHēˌizəm), was disgraced(disˈgrāst) by allegations(ˌaliˈgāSHən) of spying(spī) for the Russians(ˈrəSHən). The picnic party rode(rōd) to the top, McPhee said, on the incline railway, an old-timey(ˈōld ˈtīmē) conveyance(kənˈvāəns) that has been out of operation for nearly 40 years, and which now marks the landscape(ˈlan(d)ˌskāp) only as a ruin(ˈro͞oin): abandoned(əˈbandənd) tracks(trak) running up a scar(skär) on the mountain’s face, giant(ˈjīənt) gears(gi(ə)r) rusting(rəst) in the old powerhouse at the top. Hikers stop and gawk(gôk) and wonder(ˈwəndər) what the thing was like.

“It was amazing(əˈmāziNG),” McPhee said. “A railroad created by the Otis Elevator(ˈeləˌvātər) Company(ˈkəmpənē). An incline of 60-something percent.”

Then he started giving me directions — 87, 287, Route 1 — until eventually(iˈvenCHo͞oəlē) I admitted(ədˈmit) that I was probably just going to follow(ˈfälō) the directions on my phone. McPhee kept going for a few seconds, suggesting another road or two, but finally he gave up.

“Well,” he said. “The machine(məˈSHēn) will be telling you what to do.”

No need to be in the big city

By Derek Sivers

I used to advise(ədˈvīz) ambitious(amˈbiSHəs) people to move to the big city, where everything is happening(ˈhap(ə)niNG
). And it’s still true that it offers some benefits(ˈbenəfit).

But now “where everything is happening” is online. And the way to be there is to create something that adds to it.

Most of the fascinating(ˈfasəˌnātiNG) and successful people I know now are people I met online. I see something they’ve done, or they see something I’ve done, one of us sends the other an email, and that’s it. A few emails, maybe a phone call, and we’re friends.

What’s even more fascinating is finding out that the super-connectors, the people who know everybody and everybody knows, are often physically(ˈfizikəl) remote.

The reasons they’re so connected are:

because they keep creating great stuff(stəf) and posting it online, which gets the attention of their peers(pi(ə)r), so soon “everyone” knows who they are
because they reach out to say hello to the people they admire(ədˈmī(ə)r)

So if it seems that there’s an uncrossable canyon(ˈkanyən) between you and your heroes, don’t forget that all it takes is one connection to catch your rope(rōp), so you can shimmy(ˈSHimē) across. And you can do this from anywhere by creating great stuff online, and reaching out to potential(pəˈtenCHəl) friends.

No need to attend Harvard with Mark Zuckerberg. No need to become a cousin(ˈkəzən) of Richard Branson. And no need to date Taylor Swift.

A Bear(be(ə)r) Called Paddington

By Michael Bond

Chapter(ˈCHaptər) One

PLEASE(plēz) LOOK AFTER THIS BEAR

Mr. and Mrs. Brown(broun) first met(met) Paddington on a railway(rālwā) platform(ˈplatfôrm). In fact, that was how he came to have such an unusual(ˌənˈyo͞oZHo͞oəl) name for a bear, for Paddington was the name of the station(ˈstāSHən).

The Browns were there to meet their daughter(ˈdä-,ˈdôtər), Judy, who was coming home from school for the holidays(ˈhäliˌdā). It was a warm summer day, and the station was crowded(ˈkroudid) with people on their way to the seaside(ˈsēˌsīd). Trains(trān) were humming(həm), loudspeakers(ˈloudˌspēkər) blaring(ble(ə)r), porters(ˈpôrtər) rushing(rəSH) about shouting(SHout) at one another, and altogether(ˌôltəˈgeT͟Hər) there was so much noise(noiz) that Mr. Brown, who saw him first, had to tell his wife(wīf) several(ˈsev(ə)rəl) times before she understood.

“A bear? In Paddington Station?” Mrs. Brown looked at her husband(ˈhəzbənd) in amazement(əˈmāzmənt). “Don’t be silly(ˈsilē), Henry(ˈhenrē). There can’t be!”

Mr. Brown adjusted(əˈjəst) his glasses(ˈglasiz). “But there is,” he insisted(inˈsist). “I distinctly(disˈtiNGktlē) saw it. Over there—near the bicycle(ˈbīsikəl) rack(rak). It was wearing(ˈwe(ə)riNG) a funny(ˈfənē) kind of hat(hat).”

Without waiting for a reply(riˈplī), he caught hold(hōld) of his wife’s arm(ärm) and pushed her through the crowd, round a trolley(ˈträlē) laden(ˈlādn) with chocolate(ˈCHäk(ə)lit,ˈCHôk-) and cups(kəp) of tea, past(past) a bookstall(ˈbo͝okˌstôl), and through a gap(gap) in a pile(pīl) of suitcases(ˈso͞otˌkās) towards the Lost Property(ˈpräpərtē) Office(ˈäf-,ˈôfis).

“There you are,” he announced(əˈnouns) triumphantly(trīˈəmfənt), pointing(ˈpointiNG) towards(t(ə)ˈwôrd,tôrd) a dark corner(ˈkôrnər), “I told you so!”

Mrs.(ˈmɪsɪs) Brown followed(ˈfälō) the direction of his arm and dimly made out a small, furry(ˈfərē) object in the shadows(ˈSHadō). It seemed to be sitting(ˈsitiNG) on some kind(kīnd) of suitcase(ˈso͞otˌkās), and around its neck(nek) there was a label(ˈlābəl) with some writing on it. The suitcase was old and battered(ˈbatərd), and on the side, in large letters(ˈletər), were the words WANTED ON VOYAGE(ˈvoi-ij).

Mrs. Brown clutched(kləCH) at her husband(ˈhəzbənd). “Why, Henry,” she exclaimed(ikˈsklām). “I believe you were right after all. It is a bear!”

…

How Obedient(ōˈbēdēənt) Are You?

By Steve Pavlina

In the early(ˈərlē) 1960s, Yale(yāl) professor(prəˈfesər) Stanley(ˈstanlē) Milgram conducted a serious(ˈsi(ə)rēəs) of famous(famous) psychological(ˌsīkəˈläjəkəl) experiments(rē) to measure(meZHər) people’s obedience(ōˈbēdēəns) to authority(ôˈTHär-,əˈTHôritē). A volunteer(ˌvälənˈtir) was instructed by an experimenter to help administer(ədˈminəstər) a simple test to a subject in another room. Cards were drawn(drôn) to determine(diˈtərmin) which of two “volunteers” would play each role(rōl), but the cards were rigged(rig) such that the actual(ˈakCHo͞oəl) volunteer was always given the same role each time, and the other role was played by an actor. This gave the volunteers the impression(imˈpreSHən) that the role they happened to be assigned(əˈsīn) was arbitrary(ˈärbiˌtrerē).

The test subject (i.e. actor) could be heard(hi(ə)r) but not seen by the volunteer. Whenever a test question was answered incorrectly by the subject-actor, the volunteer was instructed to administer a shock(SHäk) by pressing a button on a control(kənˈtrōl) panel(ˈpanl). These shocks began at a negligibly(ˈneglijəbəl) low voltage(ˈvōltij), but with each wrong answer, the shocks were to be increased(ɪnˈkris) in 15-volt (vält,vôlt,vōlt) increments(ˈiNGkrəmənt,ˈin-) until eventually(iˈvenCHo͞oəlē) the final(ˈfīnl) level of 450 volts was reached(rēCH). The shocks were fake(fāk), so no one was physically(ˈfizikəl) harmed, but the volunteers didn’t know that the shocks were fake.

As these shocks were administered, the subject in the next room (who again could be heard but not seen by the volunteer), would express(ikˈspres) discomfort(disˈkəmfərt) in a manner(ˈmanər) befitting the severity(səˈveritē) of the shock, including complaining(kəmˈplān) of a heart(härt) condition, screaming(skrēm) louder and louder, and banging(baNG) on the wall(wôl). After a certain(ˈsərtn) voltage was passed, the shock-receiver eventually become completely silent(ˈsīlənt) (as if to simulate(ˈsimyəˌlāt) unconsciousness(ˌənˈkänCHəsnəs) or death(deTH)). Even after this point, the volunteer was instructed to continue administering shocks.

Milgram’s experiment was intended to test how far the average(ˈav(ə)rij) person would go. At what point would they refuse(-ˌyo͞oz,riˈfyo͞oz,ˈrefˌyo͞os) to give out any more shocks, despite(diˈspīt) being told by the experimenter to continue?

If you haven’t already heard of this experiment, what would your prediction(priˈdikSHən) be? What percentage(pərˈsentij) of people would go all the way to the end?

…

Principles(ˈprinsəpəl)

By Ray(rā) Dalio

INTRODUCTION

Before(biˈfôr) I begin(biˈgin) telling you what I think(THiNGk), I want to establish(iˈstabliSH) that I’m a “dumb(dəm) shit(SHit)” who doesn’t know much relative(ˈrelətiv) to what I need to know. Whatever success(səkˈses) I’ve had in life(līf) has had more to do with my knowing how to deal(dēl) with my not knowing than anything I know. The most important thing I learned is an approach(əˈprōCH) to life based on principles that helps me find out what’s true and what to do about it.

I am now at the stage(stāj) in my life in which I want to help others be successful rather than to be more successful myself. Because these principles have helped me and others so much, I want to share(SHe(ə)r) them with you. It’s up to you to decide how valuable(ˈvaly(o͞o)əbəl) they really(ˈrē(ə)lē) are and what, if anything, you want to do with them(T͟Hem,T͟Həm).

Principles are fundamental(ˌfəndəˈmentl) truths(tro͞oTH) that serve(sərv) as the foundations(founˈdāSHən) for behavior(biˈhāvyər) that gets you what you want out of life. They can be applied(əˈplīd) again and again in similar(ˈsimələr) situations(ˌsiCHo͞oˈāSHən) to help you achieve(əˈCHēv) your goals.

Every day, each of us is faced(fās) with a blizzard(ˈblizərd) of situations we must respond(riˈspänd) to. Without principles we would be forced(fôrst) to react(rēˈakt) to all the things life throws at us individually(ˌindəˈvijəwəlē), as if we were experiencing each of them for the first time. If instead(inˈsted) we classify(ˈklasəˌfī) these situations into types and have good principles for dealing(dēl) with them, we will make better decisions(diˈsiZHən) more quickly and have better lives as a result. Having a good set of principles is like having a good collection of recipes(ˈresəˌpē) for success. All successful people operate(ˈäpəˌrāt) by principles that help them be successful, though(T͟Hō) what they choose to be successful at varies(ˈve(ə)rē) enormously(iˈnôrməslē), so their principles vary.

…
https://www.amazon.cn/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?__mk_zh_CN=亚马逊网站&url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=principles+dalio

THIS IS YOUR BRAIN(brān) ON ART(ärt)

By Sarah(ˈse(ə)rə) L. Kaufman, Dani Player(ˈplāər), Jayne Orenstein, May-Ying Lam, Elizabeth(iˈlizəbəTH) Hart(härt) and Shelly Tan

When we experience(ikˈspi(ə)rēəns) art, we feel connected to something larger(lärj). Why?

If you think about it, having a great time at the theater(ˈTHēətər) defies(diˈfī) logic(ˈläjik) in many ways. We’re surrounded(səˈround) by strangers(ˈstrānjər), bombarded with unusual(ˌənˈyo͞oZHo͞oəl) images(ˈimij) and often faced with a wordless language(ˈlaNGgwij) of symbols(simbəl). Yet, on a good night, we generally(ˈjenərəlē) laugh more, cry(krī) more and enjoy(enˈjoi) ourselves(ou(ə)rˈselvz,är-) more at a live(liv,līv) performance than when we’re watching TV at home. We may even lose(lo͞oz) ourselves and feel connected to something larger. How does this happen?

Some of the answers to art’s mysteries(ˈmist(ə)rē) can be found in the realm(relm) of science(ˈsīəns). Art is considered(kənˈsidər) the domain(dōˈmān) of the heart, but its transporting effects(iˈfekt) start in the brain, where intricate(ˈintrikit) systems(ˈsistəm) perceive(pərˈsēv) and interpret(inˈtərprit) it with dazzling(ˈdaz(ə)liNG) speed(spēd). Using brain-imaging and other tools of neuroscience(ˌn(y)o͝orōˈsīəns), the new field(fēld) of neuroaesthetics(esˈTHetiks) is probing the relationship between art and the brain.

Social connection is one of the strengths(streNG(k)TH,strenTH) of our species(-SHēz,ˈspēsēz) — it’s how we learn from others by imitation(ˌimiˈtāSHən). We’re keenly(ˈkinli) attuned(əˈt(y)o͞on) to the emotions(iˈmōSHən) and actions of people around us, because our brains are designed(dəˈzīn) for this.

If, for example(igˈzampəl), you’ve ever gone to an experimental(ikˌsperəˈmen(t)l) performance-art piece(pēs) where there’s hardly(ˈhärdlē) anyone in the audience(ˈôdēəns) but you, and you’ve felt a little exposed(ikˈspōz) and awkward(ˈôkwərd), this is why. We crave(krāv) social connection. And the cues we get from those around us help our brains make sense(sens) of our surroundings. This starts from the moment we walk into a crowd(kroud).

…

Social connection is a key function of our brains. It helps us make sense of human behavior, a large part of which is evaluating(iˈvalyo͞oˌāt) movement and emotion within us and around us. Our brains like to share(SHe(ə)r) emotions with others. This is just one reason(ˈrēzən) that seeing a live performance — a concert, play, opera(ˈäp(ə)rə), etc.(et cetera et ˈsetərə,ˈsetrə) — is a neural(ˈn(y)o͝orəl) rush(rəSH). With our brain’s capacity(kəˈpasitē) for emotion and empathy(ˈempəTHē), even in the wordless art of dance(dans) we can begin to discover meaning(ˈmēniNG) — and a story.

…

Eliminating(iˈliməˌnāt) the Human

We are beset(biˈset) by—and immersed(iˈmərs) in—apps and devices(diˈvīs) that are quietly(ˈkwīət) reducing(riˈd(y)o͞os) the amount of meaningful interaction we have with each other.

by David(ˈdāvid) Byrne

I have a theory(ˈTHi(ə)rē,ˈTHēərē) that much recent(ˈrēsənt) tech(tek) development(diˈveləpmənt) and innovation(ˌinəˈvāSHən) over the last decade(ˈdekād) or so has an unspoken(ˌənˈspōkən) overarching(ˌōvərˈärCHiNG) agenda(əˈjendə). It has been about creating the possibility(ˌpäsəˈbilətē) of a world with less human interaction. This tendency(ˈtendənsē) is, I suspect, not a bug(bəg)—it’s a feature(ˈfēCHər). We might think Amazon(-zən,ˈaməˌzän) was about making books available(əˈvāləbəl) to us that we couldn’t find locally—and it was, and what a brilliant(ˈbrilyənt) idea—but maybe it was also just as much about eliminating human contact.

The consumer(kənˈso͞omər) technology I am talking about doesn’t claim(klām) or acknowledge(akˈnälij) that eliminating the need to deal(dēl) with humans directly(diˈrektlē) is its primary(ˈprīm(ə)rē,ˈprīˌmerē) goal(gōl), but it is the outcome in a surprising(sə(r)ˈprīziNG) number of cases(kās). I’m sort of thinking maybe it is the primary goal, even if it was not aimed(ām) at consciously(ˈkänCHəs). Judging(jəj) by the evidence(ˈevədəns), that conclusion(kənˈklo͞oZHən) seems inescapable(ˌiniˈskāpəbəl).

This then, is the new norm(nôrm). Most of the tech news we get barraged(bəˈräZH) with is about algorithms(ˈalgəˌriT͟Həm), AI, robots(ˈrōbət,ˈrōˌbät), and self-driving(ˈdrīviNG) cars, all of which fit this pattern(ˈpatərn). I am not saying(saying) that such developments are not efficient(iˈfiSHənt) and convenient(kənˈvēnyənt); this is not a judgment. I am simply(ˈsimplē) noticing a pattern and wondering if, in recognizing(ˈrekigˌnīz,ˈrekə(g)ˌnīz) that pattern, we might realize that it is only one trajectory(trəˈjektərē) of many. There are other possible roads we could be going down, and the one we’re on is not inevitable(inˈevitəbəl) or the only one; it has been (possibly unconsciously) chosen(ˈCHōzən).

How to Be a Modern Parent

By Perri(pai rui) Klass, M.D. and Lisa Damour（da mer）

We all want to be the best parents we can be, for our children, but there is often conflicting advice, on how to raise a kid who is confident, kind and successful. Throughout the circus act of parenting, it’s important to focus on balancing priorities, juggling responsibilities, and quickly flipping between the needs of your children, other family members, and yourself. Modern parents have the entire(in ter) internet at their disposal（disˈpōzəl）, and don’t follow any single authority(əˈTHôritē). It’s hard to know whom, or what to trust(trəst). Here, we’ll talk about how to help your child grow up to be a person you really like, without losing yourself in the process.

…

Good news: There is no one right way, to raise a child.

Research tells us, that to raise a self-reliant child, with high self-esteem, it is more effective(iˈfektiv), to be authoritative(əˈTHôriˌtātiv), than authoritarian(əˌTHôriˈte(ə)rēən). You want your child to listen, respect, and trust you rather than fear(fi(ə)r) you. You want to be supportive(səˈpôrtiv), but not a hovering(ˈhəvər), helicopter(ˈheliˌkäptər) parent.

All of these things, are easy to set as goals(gōls), but hard to achieve. How do you find the right balance?

As your child develops, the challenges will change, and your thinking, may evolve(iˈvälv), but your approach(əˈprōCH), should be consistent, firm(fərm), and loving. Help your child learn through experience(ikˈspi(ə)rēəns), that making an effort(ˈefərt), builds confidence, and helps you learn to tackle(ˈtakəl) challenges(ˈCHalənj). Calibrate(ˈkaləˌbrāt) your expectations about what your child is capable(ˈkāpəbəl) of doing independently, whether you have an infant(ˈinfənt) learning to sleep through the night, a toddler(ˈtädlər), helping to put toys(toi s) away, or an older child, resolving conflicts.

Remember, there is no one right way, to raise a child. Do your best, trust yourself, and enjoy the company, of the small person, in your life.