Dearth of Verse

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A dearth of verse
Makes me wonder
Whether my inner life
Is playing second fiddle
To putting myself on the stage

I’m living in interesting times
And putting my shoulder to the wheel
Leaving precious little time
For introspection
Or verse

But I’m bottling up less
Speaking up and plainly
Maybe that’s why verse has subsided
Perhaps some inner tension
Has subsided too

Poets die younger
Performers live longer
To my surprise
I’m currently happier performing
Than turning terse into verse.

I am a Scientist

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Like most people I guess, I get irritated by folk who are wrong. But unlike most people, I actually don’t mind so much when I am.

Perhaps that’s because I believe in a ‘Bayesian brain’. Mash up all the facts, data and experience you have (however little) and come up with a probabilistic answer. That’s certainly how my mind works.

Of course we all live trapped in our own heads. So what seems common sense to me, absolutely may not to other people. Different experiences, different world views, different data.

As a recently deceased US Senator said:

“Sir, you are entitled your own opinions, but not your own facts.”

But what are facts anyway? Just a combination of data, theory and interpretation.

If someone says something I disagree with, generally speaking, I’ll have a quick go at saying so – and what I think. If pushed, I’ll point out the flaws in their position, if they are obvious.

But except in the most extreme or important situations, I’ll generally leave it after one or two tries. Experience tells; people don’t change their minds easily.

One of the weaknesses in a Bayesian approach is similar to the ‘ethical’ problem I used to have as a Utilitarian. The balance of probabilities, like the balance of morality, isn’t easy to explain or justify to people of principle and belief.

Most of the calls we make are analogue not digital. They are ‘probably’ not ‘binary’. So I’ve learnt, in the main, to simplify what I’m thinking when it comes to persuading. In the art of human persuasion, a single strong argument trumps several reasons.

And this cuts us to the chase. Why is it so hard to reason with people? Because most of human existence was in the pre-scientific era. Belief, superstition and commandment drove most people’s thoughts and deeds.

And a quote I read from the late great populariser of science, Carl Sagan, sums up the difference:

In science it often happens that scientists say, “You know that’s a really good argument; my position is mistaken.” And then they would actually change their minds and you would never hear that old view from them again. They really do it. It doesn’t happen as often as it should, because scientists are human and change is sometimes painful. But it happens every day. I cannot recall the last time something like that happened in politics or religion.

I am a scientist.

Ground Control to Major Tom

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This week’s song is Bowie’s Space Oddity. Having had to take to the airwaves – and take on the national news media – at times I’ve felt a bit like Major Tom.

Small stuff really – Monocle 24 a boutique radio station, a few letters to the papers and the Huffington Post an Internet newspaper. But high enough stakes for me.

On Wednesday, as I sat staring through the glass into a radio studio control room, there was a pang of what Bowie sang. “Here am I sitting in my tin can, far above the world. Planet Earth is blue. And there’s nothing I can do.”

Earlier, ‘Ground Control’ had contacted Major Tom. “You’ve [nearly] made the grade”, I learned on the back of my rapid letter and blog writing endeavours. Then Ground Control moved swiftly on to another far bigger beast: “the papers want[ing] to know whose shirts [he] wears”.

But the weirdest experience for me, was taking part in a four way radio debate. To my surprise it was fun. I enjoyed it and I came out feeling less tired than when I went in – the opposite of what I’d assumed.

I’d certainly found myself “floating in a most peculiar way.” But as for Major Tom, “the stars look very different today”. A thing I have often feared, turns out to be fine – even fun.

Perhaps – like Major Tom my “spaceship knows which way to go” better than I do. Could this be lift-off for a bit more self-confidence in ‘fronting-up’ on the media? I might even enjoy it.

Only time will tell.

A Titian

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‘A Titian’ I exclaimed today at work and I didn’t need a handkerchief. Presented with two cover designs for a research publication, for me, there was a clear winner. Not the one with a complex assembly of people, the one with a bright red shipping container daubed with Tunisian freedom graffiti.

But why? Thanks to Titian. Last night I learned from the redoubtable Ernst Gombrich, that the great Venetian artist was the first to use colour as a prime ingredient in artistic ‘composition’.

Rather than limiting himself to the beautiful symmetry and positioning of figures which Raphael had perfected, Titian allowed himself asymmetry. But he balanced it through pure, beautiful and powerful colour – a simple flag for example balances the Pesaro Madonna above.

Thanks to Titian, I could explain why ‘red shipping container’ beat ‘protesting crowd’; powerful symmetry of content and composition achieved through colour.

I do love it when a genius from the past bursts to life in the everyday of today – right under your nose.

Dining Alone

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For possibly the first time in my adult life, I went to a restaurant last week and ate alone. What came over me?

As a kid I loved restaurants. When we moved to Holland for my Dad’s work, I went to the Eurotel restaurant, all by myself – aged 9 – to have dinner and my very own portion of sauté potatoes – smilingly served in an oval stainless steel dish. Mmmm.

Pace adult life: travelling the world on business and subsequently living in France. A world of opportunity. But if I found myself alone, I’d never deviate from room service and TV dinners. Eating solo, whatever the city, whatever the food – it just felt wrong.

My regular – but unusually absent – lunching partner sent me a quote from Epicurus in response to the photo above:

“We should look for someone to eat and drink with before looking for something to eat and drink, for dining alone is leading the life of a lion or wolf”.

He asked me which I was: lone wolf or feasting lion? I’m not sure I was either. But facing an uncomfortable afternoon in a management meeting, I thought ‘what the hell’, I need some blood sugar, I’ve got one hour, I don’t want anyone in my face – lets have a tasty plate in preparation and quiet contemplation.

Epicurus might have raised an eyebrow but it was fine. Nobody stared at me. I didn’t howl or roar. I just quietly and quite contentedly devoured.