Wood for Trees

click for the detail

I’m not a huge one for detail. Not that I don’t notice things; just that I’m more interested in the bigger picture and the human dynamic these days.

It turns out my psychometric profile (in the jargon) always has one big question in mind: 

Will this work?

So I’m mostly only interested in the details which guide the answer to that question: is this a good idea, is it do-able, are people likely to go for it, can I get my bit of it done?

That means I tend to want to break big problems down into smaller ones; ‘chunking up’ (also in the jargon). 

So what is murderous for me?  

Impractical idealists, detail-minded questioners and incessant talkers… I need time and space to think and I like people who take the time to listen – as my finest friend did this week.

As the old song goeseverybody’s talkin at me’ at the moment. But the good news is, I cope better with it these days than I once did. I’m better at seeing what matters; and what I just need live with.

Which brings me onto my remarkable factiod of this week – why is the night sky dark? 

If the universe is infinite and full of an infinite number of stars, the night sky should be saturated with starlight. But it isn’t…  Roger Barlow explains all on The Conversation

Imagine you are deep in a forest. All around you there are trees. Wherever you look, you are looking at a tree. Maybe a big tree close up or a bunch of small trees further away. 

Surely it should be the same with stars. We’re deep in the universe and whatever direction we look in, there ought to be stars there – billions and billions and billions of them. You would have thought that they’d fill the whole night sky, with the more distant ones fainter but more numerous.

The reason the night sky isn’t just a blaze of light is because the universe isn’t infinite and static. If it were, if the stars went on forever, and if they had been there forever in time, we would see a bright night sky. The fact that we don’t tells us something very fundamental about the universe we live in.

A limit to the universe may seem a natural explanation – if you were in a forest and you could see a gap in the trees, for example, you might surmise that you were near the edge. But it’s dark on all sides of us, which would mean not just that the universe is bounded, but that we’re in the middle of it, which is pretty implausible.

Alternatively, the universe could be limited in time, meaning that light from far-away stars hasn’t had time to reach us yet.

But actually the explanation is neither of these. Light from the far-away stars gets fainter because the universe is expanding.

Edwin Hubble discovered in 1929 that distant galaxies and stars are travelling away from us. He also found that the furthest galaxies are travelling away from us at the fastest rate – which does make sense: over the lifespan of the universe, faster galaxies will have travelled further.

And this affects how we see them. Light from these distant, fast-moving galaxies and stars is shifted to longer wavelengths by the Doppler effect. In the case of these stars, the effect shifts visible light into invisible (to the human eye) infra-red and radio waves, essentially making them disappear. 

The blackness of the night sky is direct evidence of an expanding universe.

Fascinating – a fine example of seeing the wood for the trees. 


Looping

  
I’ve been repeatedly turning over a few tricky challenges in my head. Talking helps, but I realised this week the answer is to stop talking and get biking…

Since I started my new job I’ve been cycling much less. Complex logistics, earlier starts, different buildings, unpredictable start and end points. It all adds up to getting the bus. But that needs to change.

I realised this week that one of the things I’m missing the most, is the answers to difficult situations floating into my head 20 mins into cycling into work…

  

It always happens on this same corner too – which used to be an awful high rise (as above) then derelict and is now a huge building site. 

Hardly inspiring. But whatever the state of that corner it’s always the place inspiration comes. 

It’s clearly a freewheeling thing. Because it’s a certain time into biking a very familiar route my mind obviously goes into neutral – and goes neural. I can’t count the number of good ideas I’ve had on that corner. 

So if I want to stop looping on the same complex problem, the answer is – get on my bike. I’ll be doing so from Monday. 

Peace in our time

After some months of high emotion, major change, turbulence and anxiety; this morning I woke up knackered – but at peace.

My other half greeted me, observing I looked like ‘death warmed up’; sleepy, unshaven and generally out of it as I staggered into kitchen. True, but that wasn’t the point….

Some minutes later: accompanied by a nice piece of classical music, porridge on the boil; duck ramen, a bunch of flowers and a trip to Sainsburys in my plans – normal service has resumed.

Not that ‘change’ is done. More that it’s here to stay and be lived with. There’s a stack on at work, the kids are growing faster than feels comfortable, and we’re none of us getting any younger…

But yesterday for half term, my smart cookie of a daughter and I toured the architectural wonders of my new workplace, two museums, Chinatown, saw Giacometti sculptures, bought books and ate Japanese.

Perhaps that’s what’s fixed me. I don’t feel rattled, restless or anxious – for the first time in weeks. I just am. And she’s nearly finished munching a ham and cheese croissant in front of me now, so back to it.

Ladybirds

  
After a wonderful week of goodbyes, this morning, I feel my ladybird has begun to peep its head out from the proverbial matchbox (see my leaving card above); to see a bigger world and a brighter future.

I’ve been working in or adjacent to government for nearly 15 years. And while Aristotle felt politics to be the highest of human endeavours, a quick scan through these quotes of his pretty much covers the many pitfalls.

  
Yesterday I crossed a new bridge to work – Waterloo instead of Westminster; and spent the afternoon at a ‘freshers fair’ watching excited new students sign up for everything from touch frisbee to Russian Club. My new university life came to life.

And today the sun is shining. It’s all change – but a good one I feel sure.