Either-Or

Have you ever wondered how the games we play affect our thinking; our view of the world?

Consider the difference between Eastern and Western game pieces. On one end of our world we have Mahjongg. On the other, we have checkers. The Western games are ordered black and red, up or down, right or wrong. Choices are thereby simplified. Eastern games are not as straightforward. To succeed, one might have to take a path congruent or obtuse to the goal.

Western thinking, through the Greeks, have been affected by this concept of either-or. Do you sacrifice the sickly member of your team in order for most to survive? Make the hard choice.

But sharpening the choice to one or another fails to pattern real life. Sometimes we make the hard choice with the hope to bring back the fallen member over time. In the long view, both win.

I have an example. When my children were young adults; one well and one ill, I had to choose who had to leave the family home. I told the sick one to leave. Why? In the blunt light of either-or, the welfare of the well took precedence. I am happy to say, though, that the story did not end there. The sick child did not wither and die. He learned the hard lessons of the street and became a humbler man because of it. Not to diminish the harshness of the choice, but by reinforcing my love in the face of hard choices over the intervening years, my son and I are reconciled.

The moral of the tale? Be slow to assume the consequences of your choices. Don't give up in the face of a "negative" choice. Hope gives new chances, and life is more complex than pass or fail.

Devotion makes me cry

It was a book that brought me to tears. It was the story of a young man who gave his all to good. That will get me every time. The story was from Navy commander Abrashoff and his relationship with the crew of the USS Benfold. He listened to them and helped them do their job better. Along the way, there were stories of nobility. These young men joined the navy to escape or rise from a checquered past. Some chose to make a better way. Like the young man who had spent his childhood bouncing from one foster home to another, who resolved to be a social worker. He would make a difference for the young boys coming after him.

That example of selfless giving always moves me to tears. It speaks to greater values than personal gain. It is still there in our society, maybe not blazing in neon or blaring from our i-pods or speakers, but it is there.

A Case of Excessive Courtesy

A reader of my blog asked me how I manage to accomplish so much. I gave her a list of reasons why I've ended up the way I am. Not all of the reasons or noble or pretty. There has to be an element of obsessiveness for me to do all that I do. I do so many things well, and I do so much, something has just got to give. My hubby would cheerfully give you a long list of my defects. Perhaps the quirkiest is my inability to keep track of simple things. I lose keys, credit cards, change purse, pens, lip balm, and mitts. Hubby says I'd lose my head if it wasn't screwed on tight.

I got caught out yesterday in a moment of absent-mindedness. The incident and the recovery is an example I think, of the Canadian habit of excessive courtesy. I have a theory, too, on why we do it.

I plan to go to the YMCA to work out after we are let out early on New Year's Eve. I've had an exciting week of physical activity, shifting files, and I am eager to keep the momentum going. I hop over from my secondary office to my primary to pick up my gym bag. The YMCA is right across the street from there. I open up the bag, and there are no gym shoes. Drat. I'd left them at home. Anyways, I go for my swim. Still burning with excess desire, I decide to finish off with twenty minutes on the recumbent cycle. I've cycled at home in my socks before. No harm, right? Did I mention I am wearing thick, day-glo orange socks?

I love thick socks. They cured me of a heel spur years ago, and I won't give them up. These socks are old and chunky, losing their elasticity. They were a poor choice this morning, as they bunched up in my shoes as I shifted files. I'd ended up taking off my shoes on the job so I wouldn't be walking on bunched-up cotton. Perhaps this old chunky pair are due for the dumpster.

Anyways, I am padding through the exercise room in my day-glo chunky old cotton socks. I reach the recumbent cycle at the end of the row, and I am pounced upon by one of the staff. "Excuse me", as he glances nervously at my feet, "Do you have gym shoes?"

I am mortified.

"I am so sorry. I thought I had them with me but I don't. Would it be all right if I went on the machine anyways?"

We jumble our apologies and our reasons together in a rush,

"Maybe this once."

"I won't forget my shoes again."

"You can't go over to the weight area."

"Of course."

"And the treadmill. I hate to think what would happen if you had an accident on the treadmill."

"I won't be going on the treadmill today."

"I'd hate to be responsible...just this once."

"I'm sorry to put you through this. I will be sure to bring my shoes from now on."

We agree I can have my twenty minutes on the cycle machine.

There was such a complex interaction of empathy and a desire to please in that short exchange. Neither of us wanted to dissapoint. He had his duty towards the safety of the members, of course. He had to confront me, as unpleasant as that might be. I wanted to avoid embarrassment and the extra chore of coming back another day through the traffic and storms. It got me to thinking how many times that week I'd heard strangers reflexively apologizing for the smallest things.

It seems to me the apology index went up as soon as our weather became brutal. Edmonton has finally been hit with cold and snow. This week also I finished "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People" by Dr. Stephen Covey. It took me a year to finish the book because I got stuck on habit three. The third habit is to do those things you know would make the biggest impact on your life. Covey askes, pointedly, why we don't do them? Because it is easier to ignore the big things! My big thing is exercise. Surprise. Anyways, I made it past habit three and the rest of the book was a cinch.

Covey speaks of our need to build each other's Emotional Quotient. If someone's EQ is low, it doesn't matter how reasonable our request. Their reserves are depleted and they are in no frame of mind to grant requests. Covey impresses the requirement to "seek to understand" before we strive to be understood. This is habit five.

It seems to me a batch of tough weather takes a toll on us all. There's the planning of the trip and the coordination of errands. No-one wants to take the trip twice. There's the dressing and the bracing for the hit of frigid air. There's sweeping and shovelling and skidding and caution. It's like the entire community's EQ takes a dip with the thermometer.

It seems that in the midst of adversity, we make a community decision to be nice. To show extra courtesy. To be kind and polite, and if necessary, apologize where no apology is needed. Because we all know deep down that we need the boost.

Like a community of winter birds, huddling to stay warm through the dark nights, we help get through the cold together.

So that's my theory. Canadians are extra nice because we never know when we might need a boost. It's like we pad our guts with an extra reserve of warmth. By experience we know we are all in this together. The happier you are, the better off I am too.

The blogger, ACPL Kids hosts the picture above, "New Socks" by Bob Shea.

Neverending Story

Trailing ends leave me nervous. Maybe they bother you, too. Do you tuck in the tag sticking out from your friend's shirt collar? Will you wind up the trailing strand on a ball of wool? Must you watch the movie to the bitter end? Then maybe you are like me, too.


I'm a lifelong Trekkie. I partly blame my mom. She would not tolerate rivals, and Star Trek rivalled her for my attentions. So she planned dinner to start ten minutes before the finale. Ten minutes to six. She would trot up to the television and turn it off, "Dinner's ready." I'd thought for many years that it was terribly inconvenient that television programming did not accommodate people's dinner schedules. It only dawned on me many years later that mom planned dinner hour on purpose to mess with my schedule. All those missing finales, they left their mark. I'm never sure when I watch a re-run if I've seen the whole thing through. So I set myself down, even today, to revel in the pleasure of a finished story.



The paper-back sections of the public library similarly leave me with trailing ends. I admit, I'm trolling the science fiction section. Especially in SF, it seems, authors get themselves a series going. It must be a great deal of work manufacturing entire worlds and civilizations. It is a terrible waste to use it all up on one book. So we have ourselves our trilogies and our tetralogies and our heptalogies. Anyways, back to our problem in the paper-back section of our public libraries. Typically they contain fairly current novels. Which means they have perhaps the third volume but not the first or the second. I am thrust in to the middle of the story without context. Or worse, I am fully involved in my hero's tale with no way of knowing how it ends. To this day I'll pick up any Asimov novel I come across, just in case it might be one I've missed. I'm sure I've read Foundation dozens of times, fearing it's one of my missed books.


How does all this talk of trailing ends have to do with life and blogs? Now that I'm halfway through my earthly toil, it seems to me that life itself is a story with trailing ends. Often I've thought of writing of what I've learned about parenting, courage, success...but the lack of a satisfactory conclusion has held me back. My children are a work in progress. I'm a work in progress. I cannot say that one way or another guarantees satisfaction or an end to problems. Problems are interwoven in to the fabric of our life. They mess up the edges of our lives, leaving trailing bits of undone business around. Perhaps that tension of an unsatisfactory conclusion drives us forward to do better, to give another try. Let us hope that is the way to respond to life's trickeries.


It does no good to throw the book to the ground (or toss our relationships to the side) because they do not satisfy.


Thanks to sammystuff for her lovely wool picture. http://sammystuff.blogspot.com/

Deep thoughts under a lurking migraine

After listening to "The Last Lecture"...several times...I bought the book. I bought two of them. One is for me, and one for the lucky employee who impresses me this year. Anyways, having finished with Mercator, I picked the book up, and polished it off in two bus trips and some late night reading. He repeats much of what he said on screen, plus he shares more about his family. The written word is handy for that. You can share deep feelings without blubbering all over the paper (or screen).

So it got me to thinking what I would share in my own "last lecture". It would most definitely start with "do not be afraid", and would include things about boundaries (respecting yourself) and barriers (removing them), about hummaness and inclusion, about believing and trusting yourself, about decency. Find your community, and work hard to make it yours. How to measure the quality of the information you find. How to measure the quality of your own beliefs, and to question. Be a leader worth following, and see how the world changes around you. Why it is worthwhile to fight for a better world.

P.S. I thought of two more. Integrity, the big lesson from my father, and self-discipline. How to get it and keep it and demolish the whole guilt cycle.

Candor and Veritas

Candor and Veritas, two descriptive words for Mercator, the founder of modern maps. I just finished his biography, "Mercator: The Man Who Mapped the Planet" by Nicholas Crane. On page 225, these two descriptive words are used to describe this very, very productive man, this man who also cared deeply about his work. Any natural analyst would understand his obsessive pursuit of perfection and harmony.

Wikipedia describes candor this way... "is a virtue that is the quality of being open and honest in expression. i.e., frankness. For example, 'He is a man of refreshing candor.' The word originated from the late Middle English (in the Latin sense): from Latin candor 'whiteness'".

The image I get is of a fresh fall of snow, which suddenly brightens our drear winter. It is crisp, clean, and refreshing.

From wiki also, a little bit about veritas. "In Roman mythology, Veritas (meaning truth) was the goddess of truth, a daughter of Saturn and the mother of Virtue. It was believed that she hid in the bottom of a holy well because she was so elusive. Her image is shown as a young virgin dressed in white.[1] Veritas is also the name given to the Roman virtue of truthfulness, which was considered one of the main virtues any good Roman should have possessed".

Truth's elusiveness reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from Twain:

We are always hearing of people who are around seeking after the Truth. I have never seen a (permanent) specimen. I think he has never lived. But I have seen several entirely sincere people who thought they were (permanent) Seekers after the Truth. They sought diligently, persistently, carefully, cautiously, profoundly, with perfect honesty and nicely adjusted judgment- until they believed that without doubt or question they had found the Truth. That was the end of the search. The man spent the rest of his hunting up shingles wherewith to protect his Truth from the weather.- "What is Man?"

I think an honest seeking after truth demands that the search never stop. Always, always challenge my base assumptions. Never cave to fear or pride that I might be wrong.

I found this picture at foundinthefells.com http://www.foundinthefells.com/monthly/FoundJan.htm

The best things in life are free

One of the best things in life these days is my granddaughter's admiration. It doesn't take Visa to keep it, but it does demand a great deal from me. That includes mutual admiration, constant interest and affection, consistency, baking cookies, declaring ourselves partners in the gardening business, and dozens of small acts of kindness.

On my return from holidays the other day, my granddaughter rushed in to my arms to greet me. "I have bad news,"

"I know, the fish died."

"No, it's something else. I broke your skipping rope. Shea and I were playing and..."

"Don't worry, it's a thing. It's just a thing. Never worry about just things."

She smiled and ran back.

What price can I put on that?

The Adapted Mind

Twice in one day. Well. I just can't help myself, I'm on a roll. For my own reference, here is a tentative list of instincts that people are hard-wired for. I get this list from Stephen Pinker's book, "The Language Instinct."

1. Intuitive mechanics


2. Intuitive biology


3. Number


4. Mental maps for large territories


5. Habitat selection


6. Danger, including the emotions of fear and caution, phobias


7. Food: what is good to eat


8. Contamination, including the emotion of disgust


9. Monitoring current well-being, including the emotions of happiness and sadness, contentment and restlessness


10. Intuitive psychology


11. Mental Rolodex: database of individuals, with blanks for kinship, status or rank, history of exchange of favors, and inherent skills and strengths. (Could this explain the popularity of Facebook?)


12. Self-concept


13. Justice: sense of rights, obligations, and deserts, including the emotions of anger and revenge.


14. Kinship, including nepotism and allocations of parenting effort.


15. Mating, including the feelings of sexual attraction, love, and intentions of fidelity and desertion.