Podcast appearances and mentions of Patrick Regan

Patrick Regan breaks down the week that was in politics. Sean Porter talks all things sports.

Patrick Regan breaks down the week that was in politics. Sean Porter talks all things sports.

Today, we're bringing you a powerful story from Hannah Bourazza, who courageously shares her journey after the tragic loss of her son, Nathaniel, who was killed shortly after his 16th birthday.Hannah reflects on Nathanial's life and legacy, and her work with Power the Fight, a London-based charity dedicated to ending youth violence. Resources:Power the Fight: Learn more about their mission and how you can support their work.Hannah has written a chapter in When Faith Gets Shaken, by Patrick Regan.Previous podcast episodes featuring Ben Lindsay, founder and CEO of Power the Fight, and author of "We Need To Talk About Race" exploring the charity's innovative strategies:BONUS EP – Power the Fight wins charity of the year!We Need To Talk About Race. The Hopeful Activists' Book - A perfect Christmas gift for the activists in your life!Subscribe to The Hopeful Activists' Podcast for more stories of faith-fueled activism, and don't forget to share this episode with someone who might be inspired by Hannah's journey.

Mike is back on Sunday night! Why did the Dems "choose" Harris? Mike takes your calls on Kennedy Jr supporting Trump, the DNC, and what the heck is Harris up too! Wrapping up the show with Patrick Regan talking all things politics and more.

Mike is back on Sunday night! Why did the Dems "choose" Harris? Mike takes your calls on Kennedy Jr supporting Trump, the DNC, and what the heck is Harris up too! Wrapping up the show with Patrick Regan talking all things politics and more.

Join us as we welcome our guest speaker, Patrick Regan.  Patrick Regan OBE is an activist whose passion is speaking about resilience, courage, and wellbeing. He founded two award-winning charities, XLP and, most recently, Kintsugi Hope, in partnership with his wife, Diane. Kintsugi Hope has pioneered Kintsugi Wellbeing groups all over the UK to help people in the area of their emotional and mental health.   Patrick is a mental health first aider, a campaigner on issues of social justice and was awarded an OBE for his services to the young by Her late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. He is an Honorary Fellow of the South Bank University for his contribution to Justice and Wellbeing. In 2023 Patrick was awarded "Most Influential CEO for Mental Health Training" by CEO Monthly. Patrick has written seven books. The titles cover his work with tackling poverty and educational failure, his own journey with mental, emotional and spiritual health and his message that it's OK not to be OK all of the time – offering tools and insights into faith and mental health. Patrick is married to Diane, and they have four children.

The elections are coming up soon. Also Sean Porter talks Pete Rose and college football. Patrick Regan wraps up the show.

The elections are coming up soon. Also Sean Porter talks Pete Rose and college football. Patrick Regan wraps up the show.

On this week's episode, Emma Fowle speaks to the Christian writer and broadcaster Sheridan Voysey. The Pause for Thought contributor shares about giving up his career as a club DJ and how he and his wife dealt with infertility. He also tells his personal story of leaving a Christain cult and updates us on his research into loneliness and friendship. The Profile is brought to you by Premier Christianity. Subscribe now and receive Patrick Regan's new book FREE premierchristianity.com/subscribe

Mike has his take on the Trump Trials. Also wrapping up the show with Patrick Regan.

Mike has his take on the Trump Trials. Also wrapping up the show with Patrick Regan.

Today's guest Patrick Regan, Founder of Rights Evaluation Studio, an independent monitoring and evaluation consultant, who brings a wealth of experience from his work with health and human rights organizations, sheds light on the importance of monitoring and evaluation (M&E) in the non-profit sector and how to make the most of a limited MEL budget. We explore the critical elements of monitoring and evaluation (M&E) in non-profit organizations and Patrick shares lots of practical tips for making the most of a restricted M&E budget.KEY TAKEAWAYSA theory of change is a crucial tool for non-profits to articulate how their activities will lead to long-term impact.Participation of stakeholders, including those with lived experience, is key to effective M&E and can lead to more relevant and impactful programs.Non-profits can implement a robust M&E system even with limited resources by prioritizing data collection and involving staff with relevant skills.Effective communication of M&E findings to donors requires a combination of quantitative and qualitative information, tailored to the preferences of the audience.BEST MOMENTS"Monitoring and evaluation is a combination of applied social research and project management principles and practices.""Stories are often the most compelling way to understand impact."“… if you have a very scientific donor, they're probably not going to want the story stuff. They're going to want a lot of hard statistics.”“A lot of resources can be spent sometimes at the wrong time, which limits the impact that budget could have….”EPISODE RESOURCESFind out about Rights Evaluation Studio's services https://rightsevaluation.studio/Connect with Patrick: https://www.linkedin.com/in/patrick-regan-a5725b120/OECD DAC Principles: https://www.oecd.org/dac/evaluation/daccriteriaforevaluatingdevelopmentassistance.htmABOUT YOUR HOSTAishat operates her own bookkeeping and accounting services practice – BAnC Services which focuses primarily on serving non-profits. Before founding her practice, she dedicated over two decades to the non-profit sector.With her podcast, Aishat shares practical insights and expertise to streamline financial management for non-profits; and shines a light on the often unseen & unheard efforts that uphold the delivery of a non-profit's mission.Beyond her professional endeavours with non-profits, Aishat is deeply committed to supporting single mothers with navigating financial management challenges and is the author of "Money Solutions for Single Mums". She also champions financial literacy among young black adults and thrives in discussions about money management.Work with Aishat: www.bancservices.co.ukCONNECTInstagramTikTok

As part of mental health awareness week, Sam Hailes talks to Patrick Regan, founder of Christian mental health charity Kintsugi Hope on mediating between Jamaican gang leaders, facing criticism from fellow Christians, and why the Bible is full of wisdom on mental health. You can also read this interview on premierchristianity.com The Profile is brought to you by Premier Christianity magazine. Visit premierchristianity.com/podcast for a HALF PRICE offer just for podcast listeners

These 47 words changed Dr Aaron Edwards' life and career, potentially forever: “Homosexuality is invading the Church. Evangelicals no longer see the severity of this [because] they're busy apologising for their apparently barbaric homophobia, whether or not it's true. This *is* a ‘Gospel issue', by the way. If sin is no longer sin, we no longer need a Saviour.” That post on Twitter (now X) went viral within minutes, with many Christians calling for Dr Edwards to remove it and apologise. Among those who objected were his employers, a Methodist Bible college, who told the lecturer to take it down. When he refused, he was suspended and ultimately sacked. Is the case an example of "lefward drift" in evangelical institutions, as Dr Edwards alleges? Or is it simply a case of poor judgement and lack of wisdom on his part? In this interview, the former lecturer explains why he still stands by the tweet, and why he's decided to take Cliff College to employment tribunal. Cliff College were given sight of this interview prior to it airing, and offered an opportunity to respond to the claims made. They declined to comment, citing ongoing litigation. You can also read this interview here The Profile is brought to you by Premier Christianity. Subscribe now and receive Patrick Regan's new book FREE premierchristianity.com/subscribe

Today, Claire is in conversation with Patrick Regan about the work he is doing with Brighter Days.  Find out about Patrick's journey from working with young people in London, through his own experience of being broken, to the work he is doing now around mental health.   Patrick designed a wellbeing course, inspired by the Japanese art form Kinsugi, which emphasizes resilience, honesty, forgiveness, and other key life skills. The course grew during the pandemic, with over 10,000 people completing it. Patrick's new book is all about connection, vulnerability, and community power.   We talk about other conversations at The Coaching Inn with Kay Young (coming soon) Kirsty Papworth Mark Goulston And the new story in the UK that has been made into a TV show: Mr Bates V The Post Office   Contact Patrick Regan through www.brighterdays.life Read more in Patrick's book Brighter Days

Get Your Custom Training Plan at https://www.mymottiv.com/Sign up at mymottiv.com and Use the Code SMARTER2 for Two Months of FULL Premium AccessIn this episode, we shine the spotlight on ultra marathoner Patrick Regan, an accomplished athlete sponsored by GU Energy Labs. Patrick shares insights from his journey from marathons to ultramarathons, including his strategies for training, injury prevention, and nutrition. With a rich background in both competitive running and coaching, Patrick provides valuable advice for runners looking to make the transition to longer distances.About Patrick Regan:Ultra marathoner with impressive achievements in 50 miles, 100Ks, and 100-mile races.A seasoned running coach with a passion for helping others achieve their ultra running goals.Host of the Ultra Wizard Ramble podcastKey Highlights:Transitioning from Marathon to Ultra: Patrick discusses the misconceptions about moving from marathon running to ultramarathons, emphasizing the importance of maintaining a strong running economy and the ability to metabolize calories efficiently over longer distances.Injury Prevention and Strength Training: Insights into Patrick's approach to reducing injury risks, including his strength training regimen and tips for balancing running with strength and mobility work.Nutrition and Fueling Strategies: Patrick shares his strategies for fueling during long runs and races, highlighting the significance of adapting calorie intake and hydration to meet the demands of ultra endurance events.Training Insights: An overview of Patrick's typical training week, offering a glimpse into how he prepares for ultramarathons and balances high mileage with recovery and strength training.Recovery Techniques: Patrick emphasizes the importance of recovery, including down weeks in training cycles and strategies for post-run and ongoing recovery to ensure longevity in the sport.Connect with Patrick Regan:Coaching Services: Learn more about Patrick's coaching philosophy and services at Patrick's Coaching Website.Connect on Insta @patrickreaganrunning Also check out the Ultra Wizard Ramble Podcast

Producer Alain Silver and director Patrick Regan

  The Haunter of the Dark By H. P. Lovecraft (Dedicated to Robert Bloch) I have seen the dark universe yawning Where the black planets roll without aim— Where they roll in their horror unheeded, Without knowledge or lustre or name. —Nemesis. Cautious investigators will hesitate to challenge the common belief that Robert Blake was killed by lightning, or by some profound nervous shock derived from an electrical discharge. It is true that the window he faced was unbroken, but Nature has shewn herself capable of many freakish performances. The expression on his face may easily have arisen from some obscure muscular source unrelated to anything he saw, while the entries in his diary are clearly the result of a fantastic imagination aroused by certain local superstitions and by certain old matters he had uncovered. As for the anomalous conditions at the deserted church on Federal Hill—the shrewd analyst is not slow in attributing them to some charlatanry, conscious or unconscious, with at least some of which Blake was secretly connected. For after all, the victim was a writer and painter wholly devoted to the field of myth, dream, terror, and superstition, and avid in his quest for scenes and effects of a bizarre, spectral sort. His earlier stay in the city—a visit to a strange old man as deeply given to occult and forbidden lore as he—had ended amidst death and flame, and it must have been some morbid instinct which drew him back from his home in Milwaukee. He may have known of the old stories despite his statements to the contrary in the diary, and his death may have nipped in the bud some stupendous hoax destined to have a literary reflection. Among those, however, who have examined and correlated all this evidence, there remain several who cling to less rational and commonplace theories. They are inclined to take much of Blake's diary at its face value, and point significantly to certain facts such as the undoubted genuineness of the old church record, the verified existence of the disliked and unorthodox Starry Wisdom sect prior to 1877, the recorded disappearance of an inquisitive reporter named Edwin M. Lillibridge in 1893, and—above all—the look of monstrous, transfiguring fear on the face of the young writer when he died. It was one of these believers who, moved to fanatical extremes, threw into the bay the curiously angled stone and its strangely adorned metal box found in the old church steeple—the black windowless steeple, and not the tower where Blake's diary said those things originally were. Though widely censured both officially and unofficially, this man—a reputable physician with a taste for odd folklore—averred that he had rid the earth of something too dangerous to rest upon it. Between these two schools of opinion the reader must judge for himself. The papers have given the tangible details from a sceptical angle, leaving for others the drawing of the picture as Robert Blake saw it—or thought he saw it—or pretended to see it. Now, studying the diary closely, dispassionately, and at leisure, let us summarise the dark chain of events from the expressed point of view of their chief actor. Young Blake returned to Providence in the winter of 1934–5, taking the upper floor of a venerable dwelling in a grassy court off College Street—on the crest of the great eastward hill near the Brown University campus and behind the marble John Hay Library. It was a cosy and fascinating place, in a little garden oasis of village-like antiquity where huge, friendly cats sunned themselves atop a convenient shed. The square Georgian house had a monitor roof, classic doorway with fan carving, small-paned windows, and all the other earmarks of early nineteenth-century workmanship. Inside were six-panelled doors, wide floor-boards, a curving colonial staircase, white Adam-period mantels, and a rear set of rooms three steps below the general level. Blake's study, a large southwest chamber, overlooked the front garden on one side, while its west windows—before one of which he had his desk—faced off from the brow of the hill and commanded a splendid view of the lower town's outspread roofs and of the mystical sunsets that flamed behind them. On the far horizon were the open countryside's purple slopes. Against these, some two miles away, rose the spectral hump of Federal Hill, bristling with huddled roofs and steeples whose remote outlines wavered mysteriously, taking fantastic forms as the smoke of the city swirled up and enmeshed them. Blake had a curious sense that he was looking upon some unknown, ethereal world which might or might not vanish in dream if ever he tried to seek it out and enter it in person. Having sent home for most of his books, Blake bought some antique furniture suitable to his quarters and settled down to write and paint—living alone, and attending to the simple housework himself. His studio was in a north attic room, where the panes of the monitor roof furnished admirable lighting. During that first winter he produced five of his best-known short stories—“The Burrower Beneath”, “The Stairs in the Crypt”, “Shaggai”, “In the Vale of Pnath”, and “The Feaster from the Stars”—and painted seven canvases; studies of nameless, unhuman monsters, and profoundly alien, non-terrestrial landscapes. At sunset he would often sit at his desk and gaze dreamily off at the outspread west—the dark towers of Memorial Hall just below, the Georgian court-house belfry, the lofty pinnacles of the downtown section, and that shimmering, spire-crowned mound in the distance whose unknown streets and labyrinthine gables so potently provoked his fancy. From his few local acquaintances he learned that the far-off slope was a vast Italian quarter, though most of the houses were remnants of older Yankee and Irish days. Now and then he would train his field-glasses on that spectral, unreachable world beyond the curling smoke; picking out individual roofs and chimneys and steeples, and speculating upon the bizarre and curious mysteries they might house. Even with optical aid Federal Hill seemed somehow alien, half fabulous, and linked to the unreal, intangible marvels of Blake's own tales and pictures. The feeling would persist long after the hill had faded into the violet, lamp-starred twilight, and the court-house floodlights and the red Industrial Trust beacon had blazed up to make the night grotesque. Of all the distant objects on Federal Hill, a certain huge, dark church most fascinated Blake. It stood out with especial distinctness at certain hours of the day, and at sunset the great tower and tapering steeple loomed blackly against the flaming sky. It seemed to rest on especially high ground; for the grimy facade, and the obliquely seen north side with sloping roof and the tops of great pointed windows, rose boldly above the tangle of surrounding ridgepoles and chimney-pots. Peculiarly grim and austere, it appeared to be built of stone, stained and weathered with the smoke and storms of a century and more. The style, so far as the glass could shew, was that earliest experimental form of Gothic revival which preceded the stately Upjohn period and held over some of the outlines and proportions of the Georgian age. Perhaps it was reared around 1810 or 1815. As months passed, Blake watched the far-off, forbidding structure with an oddly mounting interest. Since the vast windows were never lighted, he knew that it must be vacant. The longer he watched, the more his imagination worked, till at length he began to fancy curious things. He believed that a vague, singular aura of desolation hovered over the place, so that even the pigeons and swallows shunned its smoky eaves. Around other towers and belfries his glass would reveal great flocks of birds, but here they never rested. At least, that is what he thought and set down in his diary. He pointed the place out to several friends, but none of them had even been on Federal Hill or possessed the faintest notion of what the church was or had been. In the spring a deep restlessness gripped Blake. He had begun his long-planned novel—based on a supposed survival of the witch-cult in Maine—but was strangely unable to make progress with it. More and more he would sit at his westward window and gaze at the distant hill and the black, frowning steeple shunned by the birds. When the delicate leaves came out on the garden boughs the world was filled with a new beauty, but Blake's restlessness was merely increased. It was then that he first thought of crossing the city and climbing bodily up that fabulous slope into the smoke-wreathed world of dream. Late in April, just before the aeon-shadowed Walpurgis time, Blake made his first trip into the unknown. Plodding through the endless downtown streets and the bleak, decayed squares beyond, he came finally upon the ascending avenue of century-worn steps, sagging Doric porches, and blear-paned cupolas which he felt must lead up to the long-known, unreachable world beyond the mists. There were dingy blue-and-white street signs which meant nothing to him, and presently he noted the strange, dark faces of the drifting crowds, and the foreign signs over curious shops in brown, decade-weathered buildings. Nowhere could he find any of the objects he had seen from afar; so that once more he half fancied that the Federal Hill of that distant view was a dream-world never to be trod by living human feet. Now and then a battered church facade or crumbling spire came in sight, but never the blackened pile that he sought. When he asked a shopkeeper about a great stone church the man smiled and shook his head, though he spoke English freely. As Blake climbed higher, the region seemed stranger and stranger, with bewildering mazes of brooding brown alleys leading eternally off to the south. He crossed two or three broad avenues, and once thought he glimpsed a familiar tower. Again he asked a merchant about the massive church of stone, and this time he could have sworn that the plea of ignorance was feigned. The dark man's face had a look of fear which he tried to hide, and Blake saw him make a curious sign with his right hand. Then suddenly a black spire stood out against the cloudy sky on his left, above the tiers of brown roofs lining the tangled southerly alleys. Blake knew at once what it was, and plunged toward it through the squalid, unpaved lanes that climbed from the avenue. Twice he lost his way, but he somehow dared not ask any of the patriarchs or housewives who sat on their doorsteps, or any of the children who shouted and played in the mud of the shadowy lanes. At last he saw the tower plain against the southwest, and a huge stone bulk rose darkly at the end of an alley. Presently he stood in a windswept open square, quaintly cobblestoned, with a high bank wall on the farther side. This was the end of his quest; for upon the wide, iron-railed, weed-grown plateau which the wall supported—a separate, lesser world raised fully six feet above the surrounding streets—there stood a grim, titan bulk whose identity, despite Blake's new perspective, was beyond dispute. The vacant church was in a state of great decrepitude. Some of the high stone buttresses had fallen, and several delicate finials lay half lost among the brown, neglected weeds and grasses. The sooty Gothic windows were largely unbroken, though many of the stone mullions were missing. Blake wondered how the obscurely painted panes could have survived so well, in view of the known habits of small boys the world over. The massive doors were intact and tightly closed. Around the top of the bank wall, fully enclosing the grounds, was a rusty iron fence whose gate—at the head of a flight of steps from the square—was visibly padlocked. The path from the gate to the building was completely overgrown. Desolation and decay hung like a pall above the place, and in the birdless eaves and black, ivyless walls Blake felt a touch of the dimly sinister beyond his power to define. There were very few people in the square, but Blake saw a policeman at the northerly end and approached him with questions about the church. He was a great wholesome Irishman, and it seemed odd that he would do little more than make the sign of the cross and mutter that people never spoke of that building. When Blake pressed him he said very hurriedly that the Italian priests warned everybody against it, vowing that a monstrous evil had once dwelt there and left its mark. He himself had heard dark whispers of it from his father, who recalled certain sounds and rumours from his boyhood. There had been a bad sect there in the ould days—an outlaw sect that called up awful things from some unknown gulf of night. It had taken a good priest to exorcise what had come, though there did be those who said that merely the light could do it. If Father O'Malley were alive there would be many the thing he could tell. But now there was nothing to do but let it alone. It hurt nobody now, and those that owned it were dead or far away. They had run away like rats after the threatening talk in '77, when people began to mind the way folks vanished now and then in the neighbourhood. Some day the city would step in and take the property for lack of heirs, but little good would come of anybody's touching it. Better it be left alone for the years to topple, lest things be stirred that ought to rest forever in their black abyss. After the policeman had gone Blake stood staring at the sullen steepled pile. It excited him to find that the structure seemed as sinister to others as to him, and he wondered what grain of truth might lie behind the old tales the bluecoat had repeated. Probably they were mere legends evoked by the evil look of the place, but even so, they were like a strange coming to life of one of his own stories. The afternoon sun came out from behind dispersing clouds, but seemed unable to light up the stained, sooty walls of the old temple that towered on its high plateau. It was odd that the green of spring had not touched the brown, withered growths in the raised, iron-fenced yard. Blake found himself edging nearer the raised area and examining the bank wall and rusted fence for possible avenues of ingress. There was a terrible lure about the blackened fane which was not to be resisted. The fence had no opening near the steps, but around on the north side were some missing bars. He could go up the steps and walk around on the narrow coping outside the fence till he came to the gap. If the people feared the place so wildly, he would encounter no interference. He was on the embankment and almost inside the fence before anyone noticed him. Then, looking down, he saw the few people in the square edging away and making the same sign with their right hands that the shopkeeper in the avenue had made. Several windows were slammed down, and a fat woman darted into the street and pulled some small children inside a rickety, unpainted house. The gap in the fence was very easy to pass through, and before long Blake found himself wading amidst the rotting, tangled growths of the deserted yard. Here and there the worn stump of a headstone told him that there had once been burials in this field; but that, he saw, must have been very long ago. The sheer bulk of the church was oppressive now that he was close to it, but he conquered his mood and approached to try the three great doors in the facade. All were securely locked, so he began a circuit of the Cyclopean building in quest of some minor and more penetrable opening. Even then he could not be sure that he wished to enter that haunt of desertion and shadow, yet the pull of its strangeness dragged him on automatically. A yawning and unprotected cellar window in the rear furnished the needed aperture. Peering in, Blake saw a subterrene gulf of cobwebs and dust faintly litten by the western sun's filtered rays. Debris, old barrels, and ruined boxes and furniture of numerous sorts met his eye, though over everything lay a shroud of dust which softened all sharp outlines. The rusted remains of a hot-air furnace shewed that the building had been used and kept in shape as late as mid-Victorian times. Acting almost without conscious initiative, Blake crawled through the window and let himself down to the dust-carpeted and debris-strown concrete floor. The vaulted cellar was a vast one, without partitions; and in a corner far to the right, amid dense shadows, he saw a black archway evidently leading upstairs. He felt a peculiar sense of oppression at being actually within the great spectral building, but kept it in check as he cautiously scouted about—finding a still-intact barrel amid the dust, and rolling it over to the open window to provide for his exit. Then, bracing himself, he crossed the wide, cobweb-festooned space toward the arch. Half choked with the omnipresent dust, and covered with ghostly gossamer fibres, he reached and began to climb the worn stone steps which rose into the darkness. He had no light, but groped carefully with his hands. After a sharp turn he felt a closed door ahead, and a little fumbling revealed its ancient latch. It opened inward, and beyond it he saw a dimly illumined corridor lined with worm-eaten panelling. Once on the ground floor, Blake began exploring in a rapid fashion. All the inner doors were unlocked, so that he freely passed from room to room. The colossal nave was an almost eldritch place with its drifts and mountains of dust over box pews, altar, hourglass pulpit, and sounding-board, and its titanic ropes of cobweb stretching among the pointed arches of the gallery and entwining the clustered Gothic columns. Over all this hushed desolation played a hideous leaden light as the declining afternoon sun sent its rays through the strange, half-blackened panes of the great apsidal windows. The paintings on those windows were so obscured by soot that Blake could scarcely decipher what they had represented, but from the little he could make out he did not like them. The designs were largely conventional, and his knowledge of obscure symbolism told him much concerning some of the ancient patterns. The few saints depicted bore expressions distinctly open to criticism, while one of the windows seemed to shew merely a dark space with spirals of curious luminosity scattered about in it. Turning away from the windows, Blake noticed that the cobwebbed cross above the altar was not of the ordinary kind, but resembled the primordial ankh or crux ansata of shadowy Egypt. In a rear vestry room beside the apse Blake found a rotting desk and ceiling-high shelves of mildewed, disintegrating books. Here for the first time he received a positive shock of objective horror, for the titles of those books told him much. They were the black, forbidden things which most sane people have never even heard of, or have heard of only in furtive, timorous whispers; the banned and dreaded repositories of equivocal secrets and immemorial formulae which have trickled down the stream of time from the days of man's youth, and the dim, fabulous days before man was. He had himself read many of them—a Latin version of the abhorred Necronomicon, the sinister Liber Ivonis, the infamous Cultes des Goules of Comte d'Erlette, the Unaussprechlichen Kulten of von Junzt, and old Ludvig Prinn's hellish De Vermis Mysteriis. But there were others he had known merely by reputation or not at all—the Pnakotic Manuscripts, the Book of Dzyan, and a crumbling volume in wholly unidentifiable characters yet with certain symbols and diagrams shudderingly recognisable to the occult student. Clearly, the lingering local rumours had not lied. This place had once been the seat of an evil older than mankind and wider than the known universe. In the ruined desk was a small leather-bound record-book filled with entries in some odd cryptographic medium. The manuscript writing consisted of the common traditional symbols used today in astronomy and anciently in alchemy, astrology, and other dubious arts—the devices of the sun, moon, planets, aspects, and zodiacal signs—here massed in solid pages of text, with divisions and paragraphings suggesting that each symbol answered to some alphabetical letter. In the hope of later solving the cryptogram, Blake bore off this volume in his coat pocket. Many of the great tomes on the shelves fascinated him unutterably, and he felt tempted to borrow them at some later time. He wondered how they could have remained undisturbed so long. Was he the first to conquer the clutching, pervasive fear which had for nearly sixty years protected this deserted place from visitors? Having now thoroughly explored the ground floor, Blake ploughed again through the dust of the spectral nave to the front vestibule, where he had seen a door and staircase presumably leading up to the blackened tower and steeple—objects so long familiar to him at a distance. The ascent was a choking experience, for dust lay thick, while the spiders had done their worst in this constricted place. The staircase was a spiral with high, narrow wooden treads, and now and then Blake passed a clouded window looking dizzily out over the city. Though he had seen no ropes below, he expected to find a bell or peal of bells in the tower whose narrow, louver-boarded lancet windows his field-glass had studied so often. Here he was doomed to disappointment; for when he attained the top of the stairs he found the tower chamber vacant of chimes, and clearly devoted to vastly different purposes. The room, about fifteen feet square, was faintly lighted by four lancet windows, one on each side, which were glazed within their screening of decayed louver-boards. These had been further fitted with tight, opaque screens, but the latter were now largely rotted away. In the centre of the dust-laden floor rose a curiously angled stone pillar some four feet in height and two in average diameter, covered on each side with bizarre, crudely incised, and wholly unrecognisable hieroglyphs. On this pillar rested a metal box of peculiarly asymmetrical form; its hinged lid thrown back, and its interior holding what looked beneath the decade-deep dust to be an egg-shaped or irregularly spherical object some four inches through. Around the pillar in a rough circle were seven high-backed Gothic chairs still largely intact, while behind them, ranging along the dark-panelled walls, were seven colossal images of crumbling, black-painted plaster, resembling more than anything else the cryptic carven megaliths of mysterious Easter Island. In one corner of the cobwebbed chamber a ladder was built into the wall, leading up to the closed trap-door of the windowless steeple above. As Blake grew accustomed to the feeble light he noticed odd bas-reliefs on the strange open box of yellowish metal. Approaching, he tried to clear the dust away with his hands and handkerchief, and saw that the figurings were of a monstrous and utterly alien kind; depicting entities which, though seemingly alive, resembled no known life-form ever evolved on this planet. The four-inch seeming sphere turned out to be a nearly black, red-striated polyhedron with many irregular flat surfaces; either a very remarkable crystal of some sort, or an artificial object of carved and highly polished mineral matter. It did not touch the bottom of the box, but was held suspended by means of a metal band around its centre, with seven queerly designed supports extending horizontally to angles of the box's inner wall near the top. This stone, once exposed, exerted upon Blake an almost alarming fascination. He could scarcely tear his eyes from it, and as he looked at its glistening surfaces he almost fancied it was transparent, with half-formed worlds of wonder within. Into his mind floated pictures of alien orbs with great stone towers, and other orbs with titan mountains and no mark of life, and still remoter spaces where only a stirring in vague blacknesses told of the presence of consciousness and will. When he did look away, it was to notice a somewhat singular mound of dust in the far corner near the ladder to the steeple. Just why it took his attention he could not tell, but something in its contours carried a message to his unconscious mind. Ploughing toward it, and brushing aside the hanging cobwebs as he went, he began to discern something grim about it. Hand and handkerchief soon revealed the truth, and Blake gasped with a baffling mixture of emotions. It was a human skeleton, and it must have been there for a very long time. The clothing was in shreds, but some buttons and fragments of cloth bespoke a man's grey suit. There were other bits of evidence—shoes, metal clasps, huge buttons for round cuffs, a stickpin of bygone pattern, a reporter's badge with the name of the old Providence Telegram, and a crumbling leather pocketbook. Blake examined the latter with care, finding within it several bills of antiquated issue, a celluloid advertising calendar for 1893, some cards with the name “Edwin M. Lillibridge”, and a paper covered with pencilled memoranda. This paper held much of a puzzling nature, and Blake read it carefully at the dim westward window. Its disjointed text included such phrases as the following: “Prof. Enoch Bowen home from Egypt May 1844—buys old Free-Will Church in July—his archaeological work & studies in occult well known.” “Dr. Drowne of 4th Baptist warns against Starry Wisdom in sermon Dec. 29, 1844.” “Congregation 97 by end of '45.” “1846—3 disappearances—first mention of Shining Trapezohedron.” “7 disappearances 1848—stories of blood sacrifice begin.” “Investigation 1853 comes to nothing—stories of sounds.” “Fr. O'Malley tells of devil-worship with box found in great Egyptian ruins—says they call up something that can't exist in light. Flees a little light, and banished by strong light. Then has to be summoned again. Probably got this from deathbed confession of Francis X. Feeney, who had joined Starry Wisdom in '49. These people say the Shining Trapezohedron shews them heaven & other worlds, & that the Haunter of the Dark tells them secrets in some way.” “Story of Orrin B. Eddy 1857. They call it up by gazing at the crystal, & have a secret language of their own.” “200 or more in cong. 1863, exclusive of men at front.” “Irish boys mob church in 1869 after Patrick Regan's disappearance.” “Veiled article in J. March 14, '72, but people don't talk about it.” “6 disappearances 1876—secret committee calls on Mayor Doyle.” “Action promised Feb. 1877—church closes in April.” “Gang—Federal Hill Boys—threaten Dr. —— and vestrymen in May.” “181 persons leave city before end of '77—mention no names.” “Ghost stories begin around 1880—try to ascertain truth of report that no human being has entered church since 1877.” “Ask Lanigan for photograph of place taken 1851.” . . . Restoring the paper to the pocketbook and placing the latter in his coat, Blake turned to look down at the skeleton in the dust. The implications of the notes were clear, and there could be no doubt but that this man had come to the deserted edifice forty-two years before in quest of a newspaper sensation which no one else had been bold enough to attempt. Perhaps no one else had known of his plan—who could tell? But he had never returned to his paper. Had some bravely suppressed fear risen to overcome him and bring on sudden heart-failure? Blake stooped over the gleaming bones and noted their peculiar state. Some of them were badly scattered, and a few seemed oddly dissolved at the ends. Others were strangely yellowed, with vague suggestions of charring. This charring extended to some of the fragments of clothing. The skull was in a very peculiar state—stained yellow, and with a charred aperture in the top as if some powerful acid had eaten through the solid bone. What had happened to the skeleton during its four decades of silent entombment here Blake could not imagine. Before he realised it, he was looking at the stone again, and letting its curious influence call up a nebulous pageantry in his mind. He saw processions of robed, hooded figures whose outlines were not human, and looked on endless leagues of desert lined with carved, sky-reaching monoliths. He saw towers and walls in nighted depths under the sea, and vortices of space where wisps of black mist floated before thin shimmerings of cold purple haze. And beyond all else he glimpsed an infinite gulf of darkness, where solid and semi-solid forms were known only by their windy stirrings, and cloudy patterns of force seemed to superimpose order on chaos and hold forth a key to all the paradoxes and arcana of the worlds we know. Then all at once the spell was broken by an access of gnawing, indeterminate panic fear. Blake choked and turned away from the stone, conscious of some formless alien presence close to him and watching him with horrible intentness. He felt entangled with something—something which was not in the stone, but which had looked through it at him—something which would ceaselessly follow him with a cognition that was not physical sight. Plainly, the place was getting on his nerves—as well it might in view of his gruesome find. The light was waning, too, and since he had no illuminant with him he knew he would have to be leaving soon. It was then, in the gathering twilight, that he thought he saw a faint trace of luminosity in the crazily angled stone. He had tried to look away from it, but some obscure compulsion drew his eyes back. Was there a subtle phosphorescence of radio-activity about the thing? What was it that the dead man's notes had said concerning a Shining Trapezohedron? What, anyway, was this abandoned lair of cosmic evil? What had been done here, and what might still be lurking in the bird-shunned shadows? It seemed now as if an elusive touch of foetor had arisen somewhere close by, though its source was not apparent. Blake seized the cover of the long-open box and snapped it down. It moved easily on its alien hinges, and closed completely over the unmistakably glowing stone. At the sharp click of that closing a soft stirring sound seemed to come from the steeple's eternal blackness overhead, beyond the trap-door. Rats, without question—the only living things to reveal their presence in this accursed pile since he had entered it. And yet that stirring in the steeple frightened him horribly, so that he plunged almost wildly down the spiral stairs, across the ghoulish nave, into the vaulted basement, out amidst the gathering dusk of the deserted square, and down through the teeming, fear-haunted alleys and avenues of Federal Hill toward the sane central streets and the home-like brick sidewalks of the college district. During the days which followed, Blake told no one of his expedition. Instead, he read much in certain books, examined long years of newspaper files downtown, and worked feverishly at the cryptogram in that leather volume from the cobwebbed vestry room. The cipher, he soon saw, was no simple one; and after a long period of endeavour he felt sure that its language could not be English, Latin, Greek, French, Spanish, Italian, or German. Evidently he would have to draw upon the deepest wells of his strange erudition. Every evening the old impulse to gaze westward returned, and he saw the black steeple as of yore amongst the bristling roofs of a distant and half-fabulous world. But now it held a fresh note of terror for him. He knew the heritage of evil lore it masked, and with the knowledge his vision ran riot in queer new ways. The birds of spring were returning, and as he watched their sunset flights he fancied they avoided the gaunt, lone spire as never before. When a flock of them approached it, he thought, they would wheel and scatter in panic confusion—and he could guess at the wild twitterings which failed to reach him across the intervening miles. It was in June that Blake's diary told of his victory over the cryptogram. The text was, he found, in the dark Aklo language used by certain cults of evil antiquity, and known to him in a halting way through previous researches. The diary is strangely reticent about what Blake deciphered, but he was patently awed and disconcerted by his results. There are references to a Haunter of the Dark awaked by gazing into the Shining Trapezohedron, and insane conjectures about the black gulfs of chaos from which it was called. The being is spoken of as holding all knowledge, and demanding monstrous sacrifices. Some of Blake's entries shew fear lest the thing, which he seemed to regard as summoned, stalk abroad; though he adds that the street-lights form a bulwark which cannot be crossed. Of the Shining Trapezohedron he speaks often, calling it a window on all time and space, and tracing its history from the days it was fashioned on dark Yuggoth, before ever the Old Ones brought it to earth. It was treasured and placed in its curious box by the crinoid things of Antarctica, salvaged from their ruins by the serpent-men of Valusia, and peered at aeons later in Lemuria by the first human beings. It crossed strange lands and stranger seas, and sank with Atlantis before a Minoan fisher meshed it in his net and sold it to swarthy merchants from nighted Khem. The Pharaoh Nephren-Ka built around it a temple with a windowless crypt, and did that which caused his name to be stricken from all monuments and records. Then it slept in the ruins of that evil fane which the priests and the new Pharaoh destroyed, till the delver's spade once more brought it forth to curse mankind. Early in July the newspapers oddly supplement Blake's entries, though in so brief and casual a way that only the diary has called general attention to their contribution. It appears that a new fear had been growing on Federal Hill since a stranger had entered the dreaded church. The Italians whispered of unaccustomed stirrings and bumpings and scrapings in the dark windowless steeple, and called on their priests to banish an entity which haunted their dreams. Something, they said, was constantly watching at a door to see if it were dark enough to venture forth. Press items mentioned the long-standing local superstitions, but failed to shed much light on the earlier background of the horror. It was obvious that the young reporters of today are no antiquarians. In writing of these things in his diary, Blake expresses a curious kind of remorse, and talks of the duty of burying the Shining Trapezohedron and of banishing what he had evoked by letting daylight into the hideous jutting spire. At the same time, however, he displays the dangerous extent of his fascination, and admits a morbid longing—pervading even his dreams—to visit the accursed tower and gaze again into the cosmic secrets of the glowing stone. Then something in the Journal on the morning of July 17 threw the diarist into a veritable fever of horror. It was only a variant of the other half-humorous items about the Federal Hill restlessness, but to Blake it was somehow very terrible indeed. In the night a thunderstorm had put the city's lighting-system out of commission for a full hour, and in that black interval the Italians had nearly gone mad with fright. Those living near the dreaded church had sworn that the thing in the steeple had taken advantage of the street-lamps' absence and gone down into the body of the church, flopping and bumping around in a viscous, altogether dreadful way. Toward the last it had bumped up to the tower, where there were sounds of the shattering of glass. It could go wherever the darkness reached, but light would always send it fleeing. When the current blazed on again there had been a shocking commotion in the tower, for even the feeble light trickling through the grime-blackened, louver-boarded windows was too much for the thing. It had bumped and slithered up into its tenebrous steeple just in time—for a long dose of light would have sent it back into the abyss whence the crazy stranger had called it. During the dark hour praying crowds had clustered round the church in the rain with lighted candles and lamps somehow shielded with folded paper and umbrellas—a guard of light to save the city from the nightmare that stalks in darkness. Once, those nearest the church declared, the outer door had rattled hideously. But even this was not the worst. That evening in the Bulletin Blake read of what the reporters had found. Aroused at last to the whimsical news value of the scare, a pair of them had defied the frantic crowds of Italians and crawled into the church through the cellar window after trying the doors in vain. They found the dust of the vestibule and of the spectral nave ploughed up in a singular way, with bits of rotted cushions and satin pew-linings scattered curiously around. There was a bad odour everywhere, and here and there were bits of yellow stain and patches of what looked like charring. Opening the door to the tower, and pausing a moment at the suspicion of a scraping sound above, they found the narrow spiral stairs wiped roughly clean. In the tower itself a similarly half-swept condition existed. They spoke of the heptagonal stone pillar, the overturned Gothic chairs, and the bizarre plaster images; though strangely enough the metal box and the old mutilated skeleton were not mentioned. What disturbed Blake the most—except for the hints of stains and charring and bad odours—was the final detail that explained the crashing glass. Every one of the tower's lancet windows was broken, and two of them had been darkened in a crude and hurried way by the stuffing of satin pew-linings and cushion-horsehair into the spaces between the slanting exterior louver-boards. More satin fragments and bunches of horsehair lay scattered around the newly swept floor, as if someone had been interrupted in the act of restoring the tower to the absolute blackness of its tightly curtained days. Yellowish stains and charred patches were found on the ladder to the windowless spire, but when a reporter climbed up, opened the horizontally sliding trap-door, and shot a feeble flashlight beam into the black and strangely foetid space, he saw nothing but darkness, and an heterogeneous litter of shapeless fragments near the aperture. The verdict, of course, was charlatanry. Somebody had played a joke on the superstitious hill-dwellers, or else some fanatic had striven to bolster up their fears for their own supposed good. Or perhaps some of the younger and more sophisticated dwellers had staged an elaborate hoax on the outside world. There was an amusing aftermath when the police sent an officer to verify the reports. Three men in succession found ways of evading the assignment, and the fourth went very reluctantly and returned very soon without adding to the account given by the reporters. From this point onward Blake's diary shews a mounting tide of insidious horror and nervous apprehension. He upbraids himself for not doing something, and speculates wildly on the consequences of another electrical breakdown. It has been verified that on three occasions—during thunderstorms—he telephoned the electric light company in a frantic vein and asked that desperate precautions against a lapse of power be taken. Now and then his entries shew concern over the failure of the reporters to find the metal box and stone, and the strangely marred old skeleton, when they explored the shadowy tower room. He assumed that these things had been removed—whither, and by whom or what, he could only guess. But his worst fears concerned himself, and the kind of unholy rapport he felt to exist between his mind and that lurking horror in the distant steeple—that monstrous thing of night which his rashness had called out of the ultimate black spaces. He seemed to feel a constant tugging at his will, and callers of that period remember how he would sit abstractedly at his desk and stare out of the west window at that far-off, spire-bristling mound beyond the swirling smoke of the city. His entries dwell monotonously on certain terrible dreams, and of a strengthening of the unholy rapport in his sleep. There is mention of a night when he awaked to find himself fully dressed, outdoors, and headed automatically down College Hill toward the west. Again and again he dwells on the fact that the thing in the steeple knows where to find him. The week following July 30 is recalled as the time of Blake's partial breakdown. He did not dress, and ordered all his food by telephone. Visitors remarked the cords he kept near his bed, and he said that sleep-walking had forced him to bind his ankles every night with knots which would probably hold or else waken him with the labour of untying. In his diary he told of the hideous experience which had brought the collapse. After retiring on the night of the 30th he had suddenly found himself groping about in an almost black space. All he could see were short, faint, horizontal streaks of bluish light, but he could smell an overpowering foetor and hear a curious jumble of soft, furtive sounds above him. Whenever he moved he stumbled over something, and at each noise there would come a sort of answering sound from above—a vague stirring, mixed with the cautious sliding of wood on wood. Once his groping hands encountered a pillar of stone with a vacant top, whilst later he found himself clutching the rungs of a ladder built into the wall, and fumbling his uncertain way upward toward some region of intenser stench where a hot, searing blast beat down against him. Before his eyes a kaleidoscopic range of phantasmal images played, all of them dissolving at intervals into the picture of a vast, unplumbed abyss of night wherein whirled suns and worlds of an even profounder blackness. He thought of the ancient legends of Ultimate Chaos, at whose centre sprawls the blind idiot god Azathoth, Lord of All Things, encircled by his flopping horde of mindless and amorphous dancers, and lulled by the thin monotonous piping of a daemoniac flute held in nameless paws. Then a sharp report from the outer world broke through his stupor and roused him to the unutterable horror of his position. What it was, he never knew—perhaps it was some belated peal from the fireworks heard all summer on Federal Hill as the dwellers hail their various patron saints, or the saints of their native villages in Italy. In any event he shrieked aloud, dropped frantically from the ladder, and stumbled blindly across the obstructed floor of the almost lightless chamber that encompassed him. He knew instantly where he was, and plunged recklessly down the narrow spiral staircase, tripping and bruising himself at every turn. There was a nightmare flight through a vast cobwebbed nave whose ghostly arches reached up to realms of leering shadow, a sightless scramble through a littered basement, a climb to regions of air and street-lights outside, and a mad racing down a spectral hill of gibbering gables, across a grim, silent city of tall black towers, and up the steep eastward precipice to his own ancient door. On regaining consciousness in the morning he found himself lying on his study floor fully dressed. Dirt and cobwebs covered him, and every inch of his body seemed sore and bruised. When he faced the mirror he saw that his hair was badly scorched, while a trace of strange, evil odour seemed to cling to his upper outer clothing. It was then that his nerves broke down. Thereafter, lounging exhaustedly about in a dressing-gown, he did little but stare from his west window, shiver at the threat of thunder, and make wild entries in his diary. The great storm broke just before midnight on August 8th. Lightning struck repeatedly in all parts of the city, and two remarkable fireballs were reported. The rain was torrential, while a constant fusillade of thunder brought sleeplessness to thousands. Blake was utterly frantic in his fear for the lighting system, and tried to telephone the company around 1 a.m., though by that time service had been temporarily cut off in the interest of safety. He recorded everything in his diary—the large, nervous, and often undecipherable hieroglyphs telling their own story of growing frenzy and despair, and of entries scrawled blindly in the dark. He had to keep the house dark in order to see out the window, and it appears that most of his time was spent at his desk, peering anxiously through the rain across the glistening miles of downtown roofs at the constellation of distant lights marking Federal Hill. Now and then he would fumblingly make an entry in his diary, so that detached phrases such as “The lights must not go”; “It knows where I am”; “I must destroy it”; and “It is calling to me, but perhaps it means no injury this time”; are found scattered down two of the pages. Then the lights went out all over the city. It happened at 2:12 a.m. according to power-house records, but Blake's diary gives no indication of the time. The entry is merely, “Lights out—God help me.” On Federal Hill there were watchers as anxious as he, and rain-soaked knots of men paraded the square and alleys around the evil church with umbrella-shaded candles, electric flashlights, oil lanterns, crucifixes, and obscure charms of the many sorts common to southern Italy. They blessed each flash of lightning, and made cryptical signs of fear with their right hands when a turn in the storm caused the flashes to lessen and finally to cease altogether. A rising wind blew out most of the candles, so that the scene grew threateningly dark. Someone roused Father Merluzzo of Spirito Santo Church, and he hastened to the dismal square to pronounce whatever helpful syllables he could. Of the restless and curious sounds in the blackened tower, there could be no doubt whatever. For what happened at 2:35 we have the testimony of the priest, a young, intelligent, and well-educated person; of Patrolman William J. Monahan of the Central Station, an officer of the highest reliability who had paused at that part of his beat to inspect the crowd; and of most of the seventy-eight men who had gathered around the church's high bank wall—especially those in the square where the eastward facade was visible. Of course there was nothing which can be proved as being outside the order of Nature. The possible causes of such an event are many. No one can speak with certainty of the obscure chemical processes arising in a vast, ancient, ill-aired, and long-deserted building of heterogeneous contents. Mephitic vapours—spontaneous combustion—pressure of gases born of long decay—any one of numberless phenomena might be responsible. And then, of course, the factor of conscious charlatanry can by no means be excluded. The thing was really quite simple in itself, and covered less than three minutes of actual time. Father Merluzzo, always a precise man, looked at his watch repeatedly. It started with a definite swelling of the dull fumbling sounds inside the black tower. There had for some time been a vague exhalation of strange, evil odours from the church, and this had now become emphatic and offensive. Then at last there was a sound of splintering wood, and a large, heavy object crashed down in the yard beneath the frowning easterly facade. The tower was invisible now that the candles would not burn, but as the object neared the ground the people knew that it was the smoke-grimed louver-boarding of that tower's east window. Immediately afterward an utterly unbearable foetor welled forth from the unseen heights, choking and sickening the trembling watchers, and almost prostrating those in the square. At the same time the air trembled with a vibration as of flapping wings, and a sudden east-blowing wind more violent than any previous blast snatched off the hats and wrenched the dripping umbrellas of the crowd. Nothing definite could be seen in the candleless night, though some upward-looking spectators thought they glimpsed a great spreading blur of denser blackness against the inky sky—something like a formless cloud of smoke that shot with meteor-like speed toward the east. That was all. The watchers were half numbed with fright, awe, and discomfort, and scarcely knew what to do, or whether to do anything at all. Not knowing what had happened, they did not relax their vigil; and a moment later they sent up a prayer as a sharp flash of belated lightning, followed by an earsplitting crash of sound, rent the flooded heavens. Half an hour later the rain stopped, and in fifteen minutes more the street-lights sprang on again, sending the weary, bedraggled watchers relievedly back to their homes. The next day's papers gave these matters minor mention in connexion with the general storm reports. It seems that the great lightning flash and deafening explosion which followed the Federal Hill occurrence were even more tremendous farther east, where a burst of the singular foetor was likewise noticed. The phenomenon was most marked over College Hill, where the crash awaked all the sleeping inhabitants and led to a bewildered round of speculations. Of those who were already awake only a few saw the anomalous blaze of light near the top of the hill, or noticed the inexplicable upward rush of air which almost stripped the leaves from the trees and blasted the plants in the gardens. It was agreed that the lone, sudden lightning-bolt must have struck somewhere in this neighbourhood, though no trace of its striking could afterward be found. A youth in the Tau Omega fraternity house thought he saw a grotesque and hideous mass of smoke in the air just as the preliminary flash burst, but his observation has not been verified. All of the few observers, however, agree as to the violent gust from the west and the flood of intolerable stench which preceded the belated stroke; whilst evidence concerning the momentary burned odour after the stroke is equally general. These points were discussed very carefully because of their probable connexion with the death of Robert Blake. Students in the Psi Delta house, whose upper rear windows looked into Blake's study, noticed the blurred white face at the westward window on the morning of the 9th, and wondered what was wrong with the expression. When they saw the same face in the same position that evening, they felt worried, and watched for the lights to come up in his apartment. Later they rang the bell of the darkened flat, and finally had a policeman force the door. The rigid body sat bolt upright at the desk by the window, and when the intruders saw the glassy, bulging eyes, and the marks of stark, convulsive fright on the twisted features, they turned away in sickened dismay. Shortly afterward the coroner's physician made an examination, and despite the unbroken window reported electrical shock, or nervous tension induced by electrical discharge, as the cause of death. The hideous expression he ignored altogether, deeming it a not improbable result of the profound shock as experienced by a person of such abnormal imagination and unbalanced emotions. He deduced these latter qualities from the books, paintings, and manuscripts found in the apartment, and from the blindly scrawled entries in the diary on the desk. Blake had prolonged his frenzied jottings to the last, and the broken-pointed pencil was found clutched in his spasmodically contracted right hand. The entries after the failure of the lights were highly disjointed, and legible only in part. From them certain investigators have drawn conclusions differing greatly from the materialistic official verdict, but such speculations have little chance for belief among the conservative. The case of these imaginative theorists has not been helped by the action of superstitious Dr. Dexter, who threw the curious box and angled stone—an object certainly self-luminous as seen in the black windowless steeple where it was found—into the deepest channel of Narragansett Bay. Excessive imagination and neurotic unbalance on Blake's part, aggravated by knowledge of the evil bygone cult whose startling traces he had uncovered, form the dominant interpretation given those final frenzied jottings. These are the entries—or all that can be made of them. “Lights still out—must be five minutes now. Everything depends on lightning. Yaddith grant it will keep up! . . . Some influence seems beating through it. . . . Rain and thunder and wind deafen. . . . The thing is taking hold of my mind. . . . “Trouble with memory. I see things I never knew before. Other worlds and other galaxies . . . Dark . . . The lightning seems dark and the darkness seems light. . . . “It cannot be the real hill and church that I see in the pitch-darkness. Must be retinal impression left by flashes. Heaven grant the Italians are out with their candles if the lightning stops! “What am I afraid of? Is it not an avatar of Nyarlathotep, who in antique and shadowy Khem even took the form of man? I remember Yuggoth, and more distant Shaggai, and the ultimate void of the black planets. . . . “The long, winging flight through the void . . . cannot cross the universe of light . . . re-created by the thoughts caught in the Shining Trapezohedron . . . send it through the horrible abysses of radiance. . . . “My name is Blake—Robert Harrison Blake of 620 East Knapp Street, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. . . . I am on this planet. . . . “Azathoth have mercy!—the lightning no longer flashes—horrible—I can see everything with a monstrous sense that is not sight—light is dark and dark is light . . . those people on the hill . . . guard . . . candles and charms . . . their priests. . . . “Sense of distance gone—far is near and near is far. No light—no glass—see that steeple—that tower—window—can hear—Roderick Usher—am mad or going mad—the thing is stirring and fumbling in the tower—I am it and it is I—I want to get out . . . must get out and unify the forces. . . . It knows where I am. . . . “I am Robert Blake, but I see the tower in the dark. There is a monstrous odour . . . senses transfigured . . . boarding at that tower window cracking and giving way. . . . Iä . . . ngai . . . ygg. . . . “I see it—coming here—hell-wind—titan blur—black wings—Yog-Sothoth save me—the three-lobed burning eye. . . .”

My guest for this Glass Half Full podcast episode is Patrick Regan. Patrick is a young man living in Alaska with SMA (spinal muscle atrophy) who uses AAC to communicate. We've gotten to know each other through online BORP classes -- Tai Chi and Pilates.  Our communication previous to our Zoom podcast recording was through Zoom's chat. Patrick is not able to speak and uses technology to communicate via text or assisted speech. Our podcast recording was the first time I actually saw him live since he usually has a photo of himself in the Zoom window. And he varies the photos so I've seen him dressed up for different themes especially in the Rumba with Tina dance class.  Anyhow, Patrick has proven himself to be quite tech savvy and I wanted to learn more about the AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) he uses.

Resilience is incredibly crucial as one navigates through life's circumstances because it offers an anchor for one to hold onto. Yet most times we run short of it or barely hold on to the little left. In this episode, Patrick Regan shares the vitalness of resilience and 3 things that can push your resilience levels up and down. Quotes Resilience is like a river. Its levels can go up and down. Shame is a belief that I am wrong, guilt is I've done something wrong. Perfectionism always drives our inner critic. Self-compassion is talking to yourself, the way that you would talk to your best friend Gratitude is nature's nature's solution to anxiety. Beauty comes out of brokenness. Connect with Hope Made Strong Website: HopeMadeStrong.org Socials: Facebook – Instagram – Twitter – YouTube Register for The Church Mental Health Summit

Solar is attracting the power generation industry's best talent. As solar and storage enter a new era of applied strategy, better analytics and tools are accelerating growth. Pine Gate Renewables is aiming to ‘get solar done' by providing renewable energy to local communities across the country.On today's episode of the Interchange: Recharged, host David Banmiller is joined by David Groleau, Senior Vice President of Origination at Pine Gate. Together, they explore how unprecedented demand and regulatory integrations are transforming solar and storage in the US.Plus, more of the best discussions from a packed Solar and Energy Storage Summit in San Francisco. David Banmiller is joined by solar and storage experts with a focus on community and social enterprise, live from the Wood Mac event, including:Patrick Regan of Crossroads SolarBill Jordan of community initiative Share the SunEric Hafter from Origami SolarNate Webb of Passage Studio & Robert Cross from Cross Consulting ServicesFollow us on Twitter, we're @interchangeshow Pine Gate Renewables is a fully integrated renewable energy company powering the nation's energy transition with trusted utility-scale energy and storage solutions. Building projects from a community mindset, Pine Gate is committed to delivering sustainable value where we live, work and operate. Visit pinegaterenewables.com/learnmoreSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

On todays episode, we speak with professional endurance athlete and author, Travis Macy.Finisher of over 120 ultra endurance events in 17 countries, Travis Macy is a speaker, author, coach, and professional endurance athlete. He is the author ofThe Ultra Mindset: An Endurance Champion's 8 Core Principles for Success in Business, Sports, and Life, and he set a record (since broken) for Leadman, an epic endurance event consisting of a trail running marathon, 50-mile mountain bike race, Leadville 100 Mountain Bike Race, 10k road run, and Leadville 100 Run, all above 10,200' in the Rocky Mountains.Travis leads authentically to empower others to make the most of their lives through his work as an endurance coach, podcaster, speaker, and writer.And he just released his latest book - A MILE AT A TIME: A father and son's inspiring Alzheimer's journey of love, adventure, and hope, written by Travis and Mark Macy with Patrick Regan.In the Adjusted Reality podcast, well-known athletes, celebrities, actors, chiropractors, influencers in the wellness industry, and other podcasters will talk with host Dr. Sherry McAllister, president, F4CP, about their experiences with health and wellness. As a special gift for listening today visit f4cp.org/health to get a copy of our mind, body, spirit eBook which focuses on many ways to optimize your health and the ones you love without the use of drugs or surgery. Follow Adjusted Reality on Instagram. Find A Doctor of Chiropractic Near You.

A Mile at a Time: A Father and Son's Inspiring Alzheimer's Journey of Love, Adventure and Hope by Travis and Mace Macy with Patrick Regan goes on shelves in hardcover and audiobook tomorrow.Mark “Mace” Macy, a thirty-year veteran of ultraendurance competitions, was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's disease in 2018 at age sixty-four. Whatever fears he had of losing his strength, endurance, and independence, Mace moved beyond them and began planning to participate with his son Travis—also a professional endurance athlete—in World's Toughest Race: Eco-Challenge Fiji, a grueling seven-day, 400-mile marathon of trekking, climbing, biking, and paddling through the jungle in 2020. A Mile at a Time tells not just the story of how father and son tackled that epic race but the broader narrative of how the Macy family, led by Mace's relentless optimism and remarkable inner strength, rose to the challenge of dealing with a confounding disease to become closer and stronger in the face of adversity and the unknown. Excerpts from Mace's passionate personal journal and a clear-eyed, dramatic first-person narrative by Travis come together in this inspiring book to deliver a powerful message about living—and thriving—with a disease that impacts nearly six million Americans. This timely and deeply moving account of a man and his family's grit and fortitude provides an honest assessment of the tough truths about Alzheimer's disease—and a heartening lesson of hope.TRAVIS MACY has finished over 120 ultraendurance events in seventeen countries. He is a speaker, coach, record-setting professional endurance athlete, and author of The Ultra Mindset: An Endurance Champion's 8 Core Principles for Success in Business, Sports, and Life. Travis strives to empower others to make the most of their lives through his work as an athlete, podcaster, and writer. He lives with his wife and two young children in Salida, Colorado. MARK “MACE” MACY is a retired attorney, grandfather, and well-known figure in the endurance sports world. With his contemporaries, he pioneered ultrarunning in the 1980s and in the 1990s did the same for adventure racing: demanding team events that require everything from rope climbing to trail running, mountain biking, white-water rafting, and even camel riding. In 2020 he became the only person to compete in an Eco-Challenge race after having been diagnosed with Alzheimer's.PATRICK REGAN is the author of multiple works of biography, history, humor, and lifestyle for both adults and children. He has collaborated with a long list of artists, athletes, humorists, and photographers, and his books include Dog Is My Copilot, No Other Home (with professional soccer player Matt Besler), Flipping Brilliant, and Hallmark: A Century of Caring.The Feed  WebsiteTravis Macy Instagram | Websitewww.neuroreserve.com/travismacy  (code TRAVISMACY for 15% off)Subscribe: Apple Podcast | SpotifyCheck us out: Instagram | Twitter | Website | YouTubewww.AMileAtATimeBook.com

The Profile podcast is now bringing you a bonus interview every week! Premier's resident leadership expert interviewer Andy Peck has been having conversations with preachers and pastors for the past 17 years. You'll now be able to hear some of the best of his interviews. This week Andy meets the founder of Christian mental health charity Kintsugi Hope and author of Bouncing Forwards, Patrick Regan.  The Profile is brought to you by Premier Christianity magazine. Subscribe for news, features and analysis from £3.95 (UK) or $1 (International) at premierchristianity.com/subscribe

Director Garan Fitzgerald, and featured writers Jeff Robinson and Patrick Regan with live commentary on Seminar episode 107.

Episode One Hundred Seven - Reality isn't always what it seems, and can change in a heartbeat. Featuring "Commentary" by Jeff Robinson, and "Heart of the Town" by Patrick Regan​! --Please leave us a rating on Apple Podcasts!-- Website: pendantaudio.com Twitter: @pendantweb Facebook: facebook.com/pendantaudio Tumblr: pendantaudio.tumblr.com YouTube: youtube.com/pendantproductions

On this episode, the three authors of A MILE AT A TIME: A father and son's inspiring Alzheimer's journey of love, adventure, and hope are interviewed by their editor, Kevin Stevens. The book, now available for pre-order wherever books are sold, is published by imagine!, a Charlesbridge Adult Imprint, and distributed by Penguin Randomhouse. In This Episode:If you like this podcast, please consider our book, A Mile at A Time: A Father and Son's Inspiring Alzheimer's Journey of Love, Adventure, and HopeThe Feed Instagram | WebsiteTravis Macy Instagram | WebsiteMark Macy on InstagramSubscribe: Apple Podcast | SpotifyCheck us out: Instagram | Twitter | Website | YouTubewww.AMileAtATimeBook.com

This week we were blessed to have Patrick Regan from Kintsugi Hope join us as he shared his heart for wellbeing and introduced us to the works of Kintsugi Hope.    For more information on Kintsugi Hope, please visit their website; www.kintsugihope.com Carrickfergus Vineyard also run Kintsugi Hope Wellbeing groups, keep an eye out on our Facebook, Instagram and on our website for when the next wellbeing groups are going to be. www.carrickfergusvineyard.org 

Mental health has barely been out of the headlines in recent months; but why is it so important? And what does it mean for us and our churches? How has the pandemic changed us? How do we, the Church, step up and make a difference in our communities? Join Patrick Regan OBE, as we seek to improve our understanding of mental health and explore how a robust and practical theology of mental health can enable our churches and wider communities to provide and find safe, supportive and welcoming space. Recorded at the Vineyard Leaders' Gathering 2022.

Mental health has barely been out of the headlines in recent months; but why is it so important? And what does it mean for us and our churches? How has the pandemic changed us? How do we, the Church, step up and make a difference in our communities? Patrick Regan is CEO and co-founder of Kintsugi Hope, which came about following a series of personal trials and ill-health affecting Patrick and his family. Before that, Patrick led urban youth work charity XLP, which he founded in 1996 and ran for 22 years.

Mental health has barely been out of the headlines in recent months; but why is it so important? And what does it mean for us and our churches? How has the pandemic changed us? How do we, the Church, step up and make a difference in our communities? Patrick Regan is CEO and co-founder of Kintsugi Hope, which came about following a series of personal trials and ill-health affecting Patrick and his family. Before that, Patrick led urban youth work charity XLP, which he founded in 1996 and ran for 22 years.

Patrick Regan is CEO of the charity, Kintsugi Hope, a charity that exists ‘to make a difference to people’s well-being’. Previously he founded and led a youth charity called XLP. He’s written six books – including his most recent one, ‘Bouncing Forwards‘ which looks at the subject of resilience, and he has travelled to over … Continue reading The Leadership JOurney Podcast: Patrick Regan →

Author Frankie Ann Marcille (https://www.frankieannmarcille.com/) comes in and gives us a reading of her book YES illustrated by Patrick Regan (http://faireharbourart.com/) a story all about saying yes to your dreams. Dragon, Donnie, and Frankie talk about their dreams and passions and think about a way to organize them as a Passion Poster. Don't forget to make your passion poster with Rant and Ramble: https://youtu.be/4i7aM_QYYwo Downloadable script: https://bit.ly/LWAYesScript

‘The Bible and Me' Podcast S08 E08: Patrick Regan OBE- People of Hope In this episode of ‘The Bible and Me' podcast, Nigel Watts sits down with Patrick Regan OBE. Patrick is CEO and co-founder of Kintsugi Hope, which came about following a series of personal trials and ill-health. Prior to that, Patrick led an urban youth work charity called XLP, Read the Rest... The post Patrick Regan OBE- People of Hope- Episode 8 appeared first on Precept UK.

Patrick Regan, CEO of Kintsugi Hope, joins Glenn and Lisa on this episode of the RECAST.  The conversation covers resilience, "bouncing forward", the church's relationship with mental health and uncovering Patrick's secret fear of dolphins!  Learn more about Kintsugi Hope here and purchase Patrick's latest book on his website here Patrick can be found on Twitter @PatrickReganKH

Director Garan Fitzgerald, wrapper writer VC Morrison, and featured writers Tilly Bridges, Susan Bridges, and Patrick Regan with live commentary on Seminar episode 101.

Episode One Hundred One - Endings are often new beginnings, though not always in the way you think. Featuring "Bits and Bobs" by Tilly Bridges and Susan Bridges, and "One More for the Road" by Patrick Regan! --Please leave us a rating on Apple Podcasts!-- Website: pendantaudio.com Twitter: @pendantweb Facebook: facebook.com/pendantaudio Tumblr: pendantaudio.tumblr.com YouTube: youtube.com/pendantproductions

From working with inner-city gangs to addressing the mental health crisis, former XLP founder and now Kintsugi Hope leader Patrick is a dealer in hope. Check out kintsugihope.com You can buy Bouncing Forwards from St Andrew's Bookshop. --- For more from Simon go to: simonguillebaud.com --- Produced by Great Lakes Outreach - Transforming Burundi & Beyond: greatlakesoutreach.org

Guest speaker Patrick Regan OBE brings a thought of the day at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Guest Speaker Patrick Regan brings a thought of the day at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Gust Speaker Patrick Regan OBE brings a thought of the day on 'Understanding Grief' at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Guest speaker: Patrick Regan of Kintsugi Hope. Audio recording of our livestream service on zoom.us a virtual church service.

Episode Ninety-eight - Magic is everywhere... often with intent, but occasionally when you least expect it. Featuring "Short Stories" by Patrick Regan and "Pep Talk" by Kaitlyn Kliman! --Please leave us a rating on Apple Podcasts!-- Website: pendantaudio.com Twitter: @pendantweb Facebook: facebook.com/pendantaudio Tumblr: pendantaudio.tumblr.com YouTube: youtube.com/pendantproductions

Directors Garan Fitzgerald, Adam Blanford, Jeff Robinson, Tilly Bridges, and writers Patrick Regan and Kaitlyn Kliman with live commentary on Seminar episode 98.

This powerful interview with Patrick Regan, CEO of Kintsugi Hope, highlights his season of anxiety and how the Lord transformed his brokenness into his purpose. He states, “As much as you believe in God, He believes in you!” Learn how to walk out of any brokenness and into your purpose. https://KristiLemley.com.

The CEO of Kintsugi Hope on how you can flourish amidst challenging circumstance, based on his book: ‘Bouncing Forwards: Notes on Resilience, Courage and Change' 

Faith can and should push us out into the world, to bring friendship and comfort to those most in need. Patrick Regan has been doing that for years now, helping hundreds of thousands of people to understand and experience God's love. But Patrick would be the first to say (and does on this podcast) that it is so easy for the balance to go out of life, even when you are doing great works. A few years ago, Patrick hit a wall. Tune in now to hear what happened next.

Patrick Regan provides a broad and deep discussion of water's place in the power industry. This interview was recorded prior to the Texas disaster, but Patrick's insights provide a glimpse into the role water played in Texas' recent power issues. Take this opportunity to listen in on this important but oftentimes hidden aspect of water in our lives. In this session, you'll learn about: Patrick's 20 years of experience in the water industry and power sectors Patrick's broad perspective on water's role in the power sector Patrick's thoughts on where the power sector is going The impact of the power sector's direction on water How the power sector cleans up its process water Hydrogen power and its ties to and impact on water How the drinking water industry can benefit from the technology used in the power sector The importance of cross-sector collaboration in the water industry Resources and links mentioned in or relevant to this session include: Patrick's LinkedIn Page Evoqua Water Technologies' website TWV #117: Spurring Innovation in the Water-Energy Nexus with Michael Murphy TWV #097: The Impact of Energy Development on Water Use with Jason Oyler                                Thank You! Thanks to each of you for listening and spreading the word about The Water Values Podcast! Keep the emails coming and please rate and review The Water Values Podcast on iTunes and Stitcher if you haven't done so already. And don't forget to tell your friends about the podcast and whatever you do, don't forget to join The Water Values mailing list!

Patrick Regan provides a broad and deep discussion of water’s place in the power industry. This interview was recorded prior to the Texas disaster, but Patrick’s insights provide a glimpse into the role water played in Texas’ recent power issues. Take this opportunity to listen in on this important but oftentimes hidden aspect of water in our lives. In this session, you’ll learn about: Patrick’s 20 years of experience in the water industry and power sectors Patrick’s broad perspective on water’s role in the power sector Patrick’s thoughts on where the power sector is going The impact of the power sector’s direction on water How the power sector cleans up its process water Hydrogen power and its ties to and impact on water How the drinking water industry can benefit from the technology used in the power sector The importance of cross-sector collaboration in the water industry Resources and links mentioned in or relevant to this session include: Patrick’s LinkedIn Page Evoqua Water Technologies’ website TWV #117: Spurring Innovation in the Water-Energy Nexus with Michael Murphy TWV #097: The Impact of Energy Development on Water Use with Jason Oyler                                Thank You! Thanks to each of you for listening and spreading the word about The Water Values Podcast! Keep the emails coming and please rate and review The Water Values Podcast on iTunes and Stitcher if you haven’t done so already. And don’t forget to tell your friends about the podcast and whatever you do, don’t forget to join The Water Values mailing list!

Dave and Ethan interview Pat Regan, a keyboardist, producer, engineer and mixer who toured with Weird Al and recorded on three of his early albums.

The boys talk about opening day of duck season and hunting public land for the first time! You won't believe the story about a dog they went with for the dogs first hunt as well. They also tell you the story about Kents boat not starting and trailer tire blowing up on the way to scout for birds the day before. They also touch on what they will be doing this weekend like going bowfishing with Jorda from Premiere Bow Fishing Charters and Kent's future hunt with Patrick Regan. Tight Lines listen or frig off.  

Patrick Regan OBE is the founder and CEO of Kintsugi Hope, a charity which aims to create safe and supportive spaces for those suffering from emotional and mental health challenges. After Patrick and his family went through a series of personal trials and ill health, Patrick decided to step down from his previous role as CEO at XLP, another charity supporting young people, to create Kintsugi Hope. Patrick has travelled to over thirty countries working with, and on behalf, of the poorest communities and is a regular contributor on radio and TV shows where he discusses important issues like poverty and justice. He received the Mayor of London Peace Award in 2010 and was also awarded an OBE from Her Majesty the Queen for services to young people. Patrick is a fabulous communicator and the author of five books.  Support the show (https://www.buymeacoffee.com/stevelegguk)

Sunday 2nd August 2020 Seminars: Mental & Emotional Health - Resilience: thriving in adversity with Patrick Regan. Join Patrick as he explores the nature of resilience and thriving in the midst of adversity, offering hope that we can all grasp onto no matter what we are facing in our everyday lives. He unpacks his own story, in an honest and open way, that gives us all courage to embrace our scars, for they are what make us unique.

Guest Speaker Patrick Regan OBE brings a thought of the day at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Patrick Regan OBE brings a thought of the day at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Patrick Regan OBE brings a thought of the day at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Patrick Regan OBE brings a thought of the day at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Guest Speaker Patrick Regan OBE brings a thought of the day at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Guest speaker Patrick Regan OBE brings a thought of the day at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Guest Speaker Patrick Regan OBE brings a thought of the day at Estuary Elim Online. https://www.estuaryelim.church

Patrick is CEO and co-founder of Kintsugi Hope which came about following a series of personal trials and ill health affecting Patrick and his family. Prior to that, Patrick led urban youth charity, XLP which he also founded in 1996 and ran for 21 years.Patrick has travelled to over thirty countries working with and on behalf of the poorest communities and is a regular contributor on radio and TV on issues of poverty and justice. He received the Mayor of London Peace Award in 2010 for his valuable contribution towards peace and justice and was also awarded an OBE from her Majesty the Queen for services to young people.Patrick is a passionate communicator and equally at home on the main stage at major UK political party conferences, engaging in robust debates in the media, connecting with business and community leaders, speaking to inmates in a maximum security prison or gang leaders in Jamaica.Click to view: show page on Awesound

Patrick is CEO and co-founder of Kintsugi Hope which came about following a series of personal trials and ill health affecting Patrick and his family. Prior to that, Patrick led urban youth charity, XLP which he also founded in 1996 and ran for 21 years. Patrick has travelled to over thirty countries working with and on behalf of the poorest communities and is a regular contributor on radio and TV on issues of poverty and justice. He received the Mayor of London Peace Award in 2010 for his valuable contribution towards peace and justice and was also awarded an OBE from her Majesty the Queen for services to young people. Patrick is a passionate communicator and equally at home on the main stage at major UK political party conferences, engaging in robust debates in the media, connecting with business and community leaders, speaking to inmates in a maximum security prison or gang leaders in Jamaica. He is the author of five books. In this latest book, “Honesty Over Silence”, Patrick opens his heart on very personal issues, while exploring the importance of holding onto our faith and God in challenging times.

Patrick is CEO and co-founder of Kintsugi Hope which came about following a series of personal trials and ill health affecting Patrick and his family. Prior to that, Patrick led urban youth charity, XLP which he also founded in 1996 and ran for 21 years. Patrick has travelled to over thirty countries working with and on behalf of the poorest communities and is a regular contributor on radio and TV on issues of poverty and justice. He received the Mayor of London Peace Award in 2010 for his valuable contribution towards peace and justice and was also awarded an OBE from her Majesty the Queen for services to young people. Patrick is a passionate communicator and equally at home on the main stage at major UK political party conferences, engaging in robust debates in the media, connecting with business and community leaders, speaking to inmates in a maximum security prison or gang leaders in Jamaica. He is the author of five books. In this latest book, “Honesty Over Silence”, Patrick opens his heart on very personal issues, while exploring the importance of holding onto our faith and God in challenging times.

In deze 50e aflevering van Mijn Missie blikken we kort vooruit op de toekomst van de Podcast en stelt de tweede presentator zich voor. Voortaan, zullen kapitein Maarten Grendel en Patrick Regan afwisselen in de opname van Mijn Missie. Maarten verscheen eerder in aflevering 3 van de podcast over zijn missie in Libanon: 'Observeren, Monitoren, Rapporteren'.https://mijnmissie.buzzsprout.com/379645/1392625-observeren-monitoren-rapporteren-in-libanon-kapitein-maarten

In deze 50e aflevering van Mijn Missie blikken we kort vooruit op de toekomst van de Podcast en stelt de tweede presenator zich voor. Voortaan, zullen kapitein Maarten Grendel en Patrick Regan afwisselen in de opname van Mijn Missie. Maarten verscheen eerder in aflevering 3 van de podcast over zijn missie in Libanon: 'Observeren, Monitoren, Rapporteren'.https://mijnmissie.buzzsprout.com/379645/1392625-observeren-monitoren-rapporteren-in-libanon-kapitein-maarten

Q: how do you lead when you're not ok yourself? There's a myth out there that if you're a leader in any way, shape or form, you must have it all buttoned up and figured out, at all times… and that's simply not true. There is a better way. My special guest today is author Patrick Regan and he's simplifying how to lead when you're not ok. I'll be the first to admit, at times this year, I've found myself not having the “right” words or the emotional fortitude to rise up and lead 24/7. So much is happening, so quickly, I've found myself needing to put extra focus on my mental wellness by nourishing mind, body, and spirit. Well, Patrick gives us insight on how it's not an either/or situation. It's ok to not be ok and still lead in your work, your community, your families, and beyond. Here's how. My special guest today is Patrick Regan and he's simplifying how to lead when you're not ok. We tackle all aspects of it, including: As we start to rebuild from a pandemic and systemic racism, what his team have learned from studying past natural disasters as the 3-phase process: Response Recovery Reconstruction What the Japanese practice of Kintsugi is and how we can “discover treasures in life's scars” Why “self-compassion” is the first step in helping leaders reduce anxiety and panic His five simple pathways to better wellbeing for when you're not ok Connect Be active Take notice Keep learning Give back …and finally, what role entrepreneurs and small business owners play in the recovery phase. He shares his hope for the future as we pick up the pieces and start again, Kintsugi style. Patrick and his team want to see a world where “mental and emotional health is understood and accepted with safe and supportive communities for everyone to grow and flourish.” It's time we stop putting a filter on life and start coming together to discuss mental wellbeing as a whole. Instead of hiding the scars, let's bring them to the forefront. This is where deep healing can be found. I hope this conversation sparks a new light inside you. Show notes available with all LINKS mentioned here: https://thesimplifiers.com/podcast/patrick-regan-how-to-lead-when-youre-not-ok

Director Vincent Morrison and featured short writers Jeffrey Bridges and Patrick Regan with live commentary on Seminar episode 92.

Episode Ninety-two - New arrivals can bring a whole host of complications. Featuring "Just a Minute Please" by Jeffrey Bridges and "Plague Angel" by Patrick Regan! --Please leave us a rating on Apple Podcasts!-- Website: pendantaudio.com Twitter: @pendantweb Facebook: facebook.com/pendantaudio Tumblr: pendantaudio.tumblr.com YouTube: youtube.com/pendantproductions

Jeremiah 29:1-11

Leren van elkaar, sneller innoveren en een flexibelere organisatie; de samenwerking tussen de Landmacht en het bedrijfsleven floreert. In deze serie gaat Patrick Regan op zoek naar deze initiatieven. Van de ontwikkeling van een Hercules Smart Dome, tot Virtual Reality Trainingen en Robotica. In deze introductie geeft de Commandant Landstrijdkrachten zijn visie en blikken we vooruit op de serie.In het eerste seizoen van De Landmacht, De Landmacht Werkt Samen, onderzoeken we de samenwerking tussen de Koninklijke Landmacht en het bedrijfsleven. Van Robotica en Autonome Systemen tot de uitwisseling van personeel in het onderhoud van onze voertuigen.

Leren van elkaar, sneller innoveren en een flexibelere organisatie; de samenwerking tussen de Landmacht en het bedrijfsleven floreert. In deze serie gaat Patrick Regan op zoek naar deze initiatieven. Van de ontwikkeling van een Hercules Smart Dome, tot Virtual Reality Trainingen en Robotica. In deze introductie geeft de Commandant Landstrijdkrachten zijn visie en blikken we vooruit op de serie.

Wellbeing and Kintsugi Hope

Patrick Regan is the CEO of Kintsugi Hope, a charity dedicated to making a difference to peoples mental wellbeing. They want to see a world where mental and emotional health is understood and accepted, with safe and supportive communities for everyone to grow and flourish. For more information on who they are visit www.kintsugihope.comThis was recorded at Skylark Church on 3rd November 2019, for more information on who we are, visit skylarkchurch.com

Episode 16 from Season 1 titled: Faith meets Emotional and Mental Heath with Patrick ReganMental Health has been a topic for so many years not spoke about but it is apart of so many of our lives. We all go through times when we don't feel strong enough to cope, what do we do? What about when a friend is struggling, how do we support them well? Patrick helps us understand the issues and how to love and work through them. Mental and emotional health is not something to be embarrassed about and in this episode, we find out why.Check out Kintsugi Hope here...  https://www.kintsugihope.com/@PatrickreganKH@kintsugihopeInstagram - patrickregan2726#worldmentalhealthday  Coming up in October....Take a retreat day with Cris in East London at a beautiful location.https://events.rfsk.org/events/making-disciples-with-cris-rogers/ Join Cris for the St Albans Science fiction lecture and see some real-life stormtroopers. https://www.stalbanscathedral.org/Event/god-science-fiction-and-a-good-space-opera Cris Rogers is a church leader at Allhallowsbow.org.uk and Director of Making Disciples. For more information check out wearemakingdisciples.com 

Living honest lives that embrace the fractures and brokenness we all carry whilst living lives for the Kingdom

Thanks to Patrick Regan for coming to Freedom Church to share the work of KintsugiHope and discussing the realities of emotional health that we all face.

Cavalerist, genist, verbindelaar of genezerik; in Mijn Missie gaat Patrick Regan op zoek naar de mooiste verhalen uit de landmacht. Van Jan Soldaat tot de hoogste generaals. Iedere aflevering duurt 30 minuten en stelt één persoon centraal.-Mijn missie is een productie van de Koninklijke Landmacht. Nieuwe afleveringen komen iedere maandagochtend online.-Volg de Koninklijke Landmacht op:TwitterInstagramFacebookYouTube

Cavalerist, genist, verbindelaar of genezerik; in Mijn Missie gaat Patrick Regan op zoek naar de mooiste verhalen uit de landmacht. Van Jan Soldaat tot de hoogste generaals. Iedere aflevering duurt 30 minuten en stelt één persoon centraal.-Mijn missie is een productie van de Koninklijke Landmacht. Nieuwe afleveringen komen iedere maandagochtend online.-Volg de Koninklijke Landmacht op:TwitterInstagramFacebookYouTube

12/05/2019 - Sunday 6:30pm message from Patrick Regan at All Saints' Woodford Wells.

Patrick explores the meaning of the term self-compassion.

Patrick Regan and Hailey Hackett sit in a shipping container and have a good talk.    Patrick explains his fascination with pop-culture phenomena, its impact on culture, and what shock content reveals about human nature.  For the latest good talk follow @goodtalkwith Want more Hailey: Instagram @haileyhacketttalks Twitter @hailey_hackett   Want more Patrick Regan: Instagram @patrickreg Twitter @patrickreg Fun Fact: Patrick fired Hailey a months after this podcast was recorded.

Janey interviews Patrick Regan OBE on embracing your flaws and recognising its 'ok not to be ok' Patrick was the CEO of the charity XLP and is now founder of Kintsugi Hope,  “Kintsugi” is a Japanese technique for repairing pottery with seams of gold.  The word means “golden joinery” in Japanese. This repairs the brokenness in a way that makes the object more beautiful, and even more unique than it was prior to being broken.  Instead of hiding the scars it makes a feature of them. Kintsugi Hope was founded by Diane and Patrick Regan OBE after a series of operations and events that took them to the brink physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Kintsugi Hope exists to create safe and supportive spaces for those experiencing mental and emotional health challenges. wwww.alcoholfreelife.co.uk

To honour World Mental Health Day, we highlight some of the mental health issues children and young people face, as well as us adults with guest interview Patrick Regan.

When Patrick Regan came to Luton for the day, Martin and Rachel took him out for lunch and persuaded him to record a podcast. Listen out for stories of XLP, exciting news of Patrick's new venture, Kintsugi Hope, and full details of the most annoying things that Martin and Rachel do.

Patrick Regan OBE is the founder Kintsugi Hope - a new charity that exists to create safe and supportive spaces for those experiencing mental and emotional health challenges. Prior to that Patrick was CEO of urban youth work charity XLP. Patrick has travelled to over thirty countries working with and on behalf of the poorest communities and is a regular contributor on radio and TV on issues of poverty and justice. He is the author of four books, the most recent being When Faith Gets Shaken. Patrick was awarded an Honorary Fellowship from London South Bank University in 2016 for his contribution to peace and social justice.

Talks from our National Leadership Conference 2018. The speakers delve into this year's theme of community transformation.

This week Maria Rodrigues talks to author and blogger ANN VOSKAMP about embracing our brokenness, PATRICK REGAN talks about embracing a God of love during a season of suffering and LIN BUTTON discusses the impact of an emotionally or physically absent father on our spiritual well-being, with JACQUELINE PEART will offering a spiritual reflection.

Patrick Regan returns to Your Stupid Minds after his appearance in Jonah Hex (both the episode and the movie) to help us review Universal’s 2010 flop The Wolfman (back when Universal used to make flops). This episode is part of our de facto ghoulish Halloween theme, when we review some scary movies in October and then go back to other things. Lawrence Talbot (played by the excessively British Benicio Del Toro) receives a visit from his sister-in-law Gwen (Emily Blunt), who tells him his brother is missing. After some reluctant hero hemming and hawing, he takes the train back home to his bizarre father Sir John Talbot (Anthony Hopkins) where some spooky doings are transpiring. His brother was ripped to shreds and the locals suspect either a gypsy bear or a werewolf. During a visit to the gypsy camp, Lawrence is bitten by a werewolf and later transforms into a werewolf. Then Hugo Weaving shows up as a Scotland Yard inspector and we glacially proceed to the giant London action set-piece and inevitable Marvel-style werewolf fight.

Live at Spring Harvest over Easter, Justin talks to stand up comedian Andy Kind, Bible scholar Paula Gooder & Patrick Regan of youth charity XLP   Read the April edition of Premier Christianity here   More news, features, blogs and a FREE copy of Premier Christianity Magazine here   Get the MP3 podcast of Premier Christianity Magazine

Our roundtable returns for part 3 of our Spider-Man 2 discussion! Featuring Nick Bestor, Stefan Claypool, Derek Long, Patrick Regan, and Daniel Watson-Jones.

Join the Cinema Excelsior crew for the second part of our analysis of Sam Raimi's Spider-Man 2. Featuring Nick Bestor, Stefan Claypool, Derek Long, Patrick Regan, and Daniel Watson-Jones.

It's the film we swore to never watch again, but boy are we glad we did! The "Cinema Excelsior" team wanted to know if Mark Steven Johnson's original vision for his cinematic disaster was an improvement over what hit the screen - and believe it or not, it absolutely was! Join us as we explain what makes the director's cut of "Daredevil" a film worth watching. Featuring Nick Bestor, Stefan Claypool, Patrick Regan, and Daniel Watson-Jones.

This week, Dave and Gunnar talk about: US Government bitcoins, skeumorphic bitcoins, TSA coin-flips, twitter drops a dime on the US government, OSS payload this Federal IT award season, our $.02 on RHEL 6.5 and Fedora 20. Subscribe via RSS or iTunes. Uzoma Nwosu likes Google Reminders and Keep, now part of Google Now on Android. Location-based reminders! GTDAgenda folks want Gunnar to try their stuff East Austin Studio Tour Will Cordis recommends Flight001 luggage Dave suggests that the Housekeeping Olympics add a Traveler category for Gunnar to dominate Boston Cops Outraged Over Plans to Watch Their Movements Using GPS GovLoop report on the Agency of the Future, featuring open source HT Matt Micene: TSA is a coin flip Twitter announces perfect forward secrecy HT Dave’s wife Melissa: U.S. Agencies to Say Bitcoins Offer Legitimate Benefits Related: As China Looms, the U.S. Ponders Ways Not to Destroy Bitcoin HT Tony James: Coin Gunnar makes annual pilgrimage to Vegas for Gartner Data Center boondoggle, Dec 9-12 Dave making a guest appearance at Patrick Regan‘s presentation on FreeIPA at the Akron LUG on Dec 5 Fedora 20 is just around the corner RHEL 6.5 is chock-full of public sector goodness including SCAP 1.2, ECC and Suite B crypto, and smart card enabled SSH! Bonus link: A (relatively easy to understand) primer on elliptic curve cryptography Brian Harrington’s magnificent beard + OpenShift makes Robin Price think of “Battle Gnome cosplay” A partner we like: Autonomic gets DOD FedRAMP approval This week in sucking up: Paul Smith wins FedScoop 50 this year Fierce Government’s 2013 Fierce 15 honors tons of government open source advocates: Matthew Burton, Michael Byrne, Doug Maughan, Jason Kahn, Keith Trippie A customer we like: FCC and their Android App Lets You Test Wireless Broadband Speeds Dropbox Buys Supercomputing Startup — And That Makes Perfect Sense The Credit Belongs to the Man in the Arena by Teddy Roosevelt “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” Cutting Room Floor Blood-chilling Lorde cover by creepy sad clown We Give Thanks Uzoma Nwosu, Will Cordis, Matt Micene, Tony James, Patrick Regan, Robin Price, and Mrs. Egts for giving Dave and Gunnar things to talk about Bonus points for Mrs. Egts for being married to Mr. Egts

Join the Cinema Excelsior crew for a round table discussion of one of the great curiosities in Hollywood history: "The Fantastic Four", Roger Corman's ill-fated adaptation of Marvel's First Family. This debacle has never been released, but thanks to the magic of YouTube, we had the opportunity to brave its many horrors and walked away... oddly pleased? Featuring Nick Bestor, Stefan Claypool, Derek Long, Daniel Watson-Jones, and special guest Patrick Regan.