QUOTE: The team found that by using the signals from many brain regions, they could predict, better than chance, which of the actions the volunteer was merely intending to do, seconds later.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Evangelism
Reuters says: A coalition of major Christian churches including the Vatican launched a rule book on Tuesday for spreading their faith that aims to reduce hostility from Islam and other religions to efforts to convert their followers.
The World Council of Churches says: Christians reach broad consensus on appropriate missionary conduct.
The second sounds both more plausible and less aggressive - but that's journalism for you!
The word that first jumps out is "respect" - self, mutual and solidarity. Also respect for the process of conversion (which can be lengthy and complex). Now a bad list of suggestions.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Imago relationship therapy
Quote: we are born in relationship, we are hurt in relationship, we area healed through relationship.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Is male libido the ultimate cause of war?
QUOTE: Across four experiments Lei Chang and his team showed that pictures of attractive women or women's legs had a raft of war-relevant effects on heterosexual male participants, including: biasing their judgments to be more bellicose towards hostile countries; speeding their ability to locate an armed soldier on a computer screen; and speeding their ability to recognise and locate war-related words on a computer screen. Equivalent effects after looking at pictures of attractive men were not found for female participants.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Tale of a Slave
From Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia, pp. 290-292: "Consider the following sequence of cases, which we shall call the Tale of the Slave, and imagine it is about you."
Worth chewing on this one! At which point is it no longer slavery? From my perspective as long as there was no consensual relationship than it is slavery. No matter how "free" (or democratic) - if I cannot choose, and do not have the power to or the means to, end the relationship, then it is slavery, no?
There is much we are slaves to. Some quite willingly we enter into contract, and as long as it gives us benefits (pleasure, security, etc) then we will continue enthralled. But the moment the requirements of a contract are distasteful (or even detestable) to us, then we will look for ways to break the contract.
Where does that leave us?
Worth chewing on this one! At which point is it no longer slavery? From my perspective as long as there was no consensual relationship than it is slavery. No matter how "free" (or democratic) - if I cannot choose, and do not have the power to or the means to, end the relationship, then it is slavery, no?
There is much we are slaves to. Some quite willingly we enter into contract, and as long as it gives us benefits (pleasure, security, etc) then we will continue enthralled. But the moment the requirements of a contract are distasteful (or even detestable) to us, then we will look for ways to break the contract.
Where does that leave us?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Experimental Theology: "Jesus Stopped": On Interruptibility
Experimental Theology: "Jesus Stopped": On Interruptibility
Interruptibility, the idea that you are more important than me, is a critical component of Desert Father wisdom. Over and over again they practice hospitality. It is also, of course, a cardinal virtue for Benedictine spirituality.
Of the many many stories of hospitality in the desert tradition there is this one, which I strive to make my own: "A Brother came to a hermit. As he was taking his leave he said, 'Forgive me, abba, for preventing you from keeping your rule.' The hermit answered, 'My rule is to welcome you with hospitality, and to send you on your way in peace.'" (in "Desert Fathers" by Benedicta Ward)
In doing that you fulfill all the law and the prophets, as it were.
Interruptibility, the idea that you are more important than me, is a critical component of Desert Father wisdom. Over and over again they practice hospitality. It is also, of course, a cardinal virtue for Benedictine spirituality.
Of the many many stories of hospitality in the desert tradition there is this one, which I strive to make my own: "A Brother came to a hermit. As he was taking his leave he said, 'Forgive me, abba, for preventing you from keeping your rule.' The hermit answered, 'My rule is to welcome you with hospitality, and to send you on your way in peace.'" (in "Desert Fathers" by Benedicta Ward)
In doing that you fulfill all the law and the prophets, as it were.
The Art of Narcissism
QUOTE: "In the self-portraits, you can find a lot of stereotypes and icons from movies, advertising and the music industry. Somehow, this network of self-portraits is a mirror of society."
I do not get it, not fully. Of course I understand that we are infinitely interesting to ourselves. How could we not be? We are the primary source of pleasure and pain in our lives. We are the source of cravings and source of satisfaction. We are for ourselves like we cannot be for anything or anyone else.
I know this insight sounds profoundly idiotic. My point precisely. It is as idiotic as narcissism.
Why do we love ourselves so much? Why would we turn the camera at ourselves, over and over?
First a confession: I have not ever, to the best of my recollection, done a self-portrait. At least not for the pleasure of it. I have had my picture taken for various official documents and other means of identification. But I fail to see the need of capturing a self-portrait. A collolary confession: I do not find self-portraits of other people particularly interesting. Portraits I really do like. It is self portraiture which is uninteresting to me.
Still, like everyone else, once shown a group picture, my eyes first scan it looking for myself. And only then will I look for others.
Do I not remember the event which is being pictured? Was I not there? It must be something about having a chance to see me through another's eyes which is interestinng, perhaps. So this is how I look to you!
Because it is very very hard to break out of myself and see me as an "other." I would not say it is impossible, but it is a difficult trick. I live in this bubble of "me" which filters, tints and taints all that I am and do.
Self-portraiture might be either a way to increase the strentgh of this "me-field," reinforcing my self-esteem (a la the Twitter revelations of (in)famous celebreties and politicians), or it could be a way to help my egocentricity to lose its hold, to allow me to see myself as other, and thus weaken the grasp of the ego in defining my self-importance.
Perhaps.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Why I Am Not a Conservative - Hayek
The only Old Viennese that is worth reading at all times...obviously not (ever) Sigmund, but rather Friedrich. Together with his cognate from Prussia they form a great vaccine against most of what passes for thinking.
QUOTE: "What the liberal must ask, first of all, is not how fast or how far we should move, but where we should move. In fact, he differs much more from the collectivist radical of today than does the conservative. While the last generally holds merely a mild and moderate version of the prejudices of his time, the liberal today must more positively oppose some of the basic conceptions which most conservatives share with the socialists."
And, a little earlier, this zinger that explains more than is possible to ask: "Let me now state what seems to me the decisive objection to any conservatism which deserves to be called such. It is that by its very nature it cannot offer an alternative to the direction in which we are moving. It may succeed by its resistance to current tendencies in slowing down undesirable developments, but, since it does not indicate another direction, it cannot prevent their continuance. It has, for this reason, invariably been the fate of conservatism to be dragged along a path not of its own choosing. The tug of war between conservatives and progressives can only affect the speed, not the direction, of contemporary developments."
Bingo! "Conservatism" is the breaks, not the steering wheel or the engine of any area of knowledge. it's sole function is to "delay gratification" (or change). This is an important function, but let us not ask for direction from a conservative.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
What colour is your breast-stroke? Or why synaesthesia is more about ideas than crossed-senses
The interesting thing is how my oldest son has started a "campaign" (among friends and family members) to label "traingles" a color. One of his (less synesthetic) friends tut-tuts the idea saying "traingles are a shape." Since I am always looking for creative versions of things, I wondered out loud if triangle wasn't secretly a scent, which meant it was a taste...something on the more acidic side of things, perhaps lime?
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Running easy
I hate running injuries. To be more precise I hate anything which does not include the words "donuts" or "recliner". For someone who hates injuries you would think that the wise decision would be to avoid running completely. In fact stay away from all forms of sports and any activity which involves heavy breathing.
My least favorite of all injuries is pulling a calf muscle. It is a really annoying injury. As far as injuries go it is a bottom-feeder. It really is. If you get a major trauma or even something which will give you scars you have something to brag about, and a fail-safe excuse to avoid mowing the lawn for a while. But a pulled muscle? As far as injuries go it is right down there with hang nails and paper cuts.
Last time I pulled a calf muscle I eneded up going to the doctor. The way it works is that I limp in and am asked by the receptionist what is my problem. I am pretty certain she meant my medical issue nto the fact that I was disturbing her magazine reading. So I say "Pulled my calf muscle" as she types away into her computer. I could not make out exactly what she wrote but I think I saw "Whinny middle-aged man needs his Mommy."
After waiting for the required hour I am ushered in. The nurse pulls my file in the computer and reads it with a smirk. She turns to me and asks "How are you doing today?" Well gee let's see, I am at a doctor's office, so I would say on a scale of 1 to 10 this day started as a solid 3. After having to sit in your germ-infested waiting room with teh TV blaring so loud that you might as well check me for a concussion it has shrunk to a 2. But it is still early, you can make me wear one of those hospital gowns and sit here for another 30 minutes waiting for the doctor...Without really waiting for my answer she says "Please put this gown on." Oh yeah, better and better.
After that she types some more on the computer. I am conviced the computer is simply a glorified instant message machine between the disgruntled receptionist and the under-paid nurse. The nurse probably types "Whinny - oh yeah! And you should see him in his gown!" I know she typed that for sure because of the loud laughter I heard from the reception area as soon as as pressed enter.
Eventually the doctor comes in. I can tell she is a pro because she has that look that says "I have spent more than you will earn in 20 years, and the best years of my life learning all 10 major bones in the body, so you better be here to amaze me!" I am convinced that my doctor had her fingers crossed when she took the Hyppocratic Oath because when she does a check up she wears a HazMat suit. She asks "What seems to be the problem?"
Well the problem is that I have already spent 2 hours here and no one seems to know or care what the problem is. The second problem is pain. Pain is always a problem, especially chronic pain. No one wakes up and says "I will get me a cup o' pain this morning with my donuts!" Well I am sure some people do, but they tend to be successful talk radio hosts, and not likely to be invited into my house any time soon.
The doctor looks at me that way my cat does before proceeding to give herself a tongue bath. The docotor, though half-feral and with a look of someone who wishes she had joined a circus, does not proceed to give herself a tongue bath. She instead systematically prods the ten major bone structures (see? going to school is worth something!) in the hopes that there must be something which hurts. When I wince I can see the Aha! in her eyes. A very brief spark of interest. "So, Mr. campos. Your leg hurts?" Uh yes. She presses a few more times, by the third time I am certain she is just playing with it the way a toddler will press buttons and giggle every time a light goes one.
The spark of interest disappears quickly as she realizes that the leg is still (a) firmly attached to my body and (b) is not green or brown or oozing with fluids. Oh well. She shrugs "Take it easy and keep off that leg." Brilliant! Medical school is wonderfuL!
She scribbles something into a pad and hands it to me saying it will help me "manage my pain." I am sure that over the countless aeons of Campos family history, my ancestors developed this fine capacity to huh AVOID PAIN?! They also developed a strange capacity to ENJOY PLEASURE...go figure.
I look at the scrawled piece of paper that looks like one of my youngest kid's doodles. I am not sure it will help anything...perhaps there is a secret formula here for how to recover the lost 3 hours?
Mitochondria
http://www.herondance.org/reflections-wild-artist/
And one more thing: mitochondria come from the maternal line. We are all sons and daughters of Eve. There is a Buddhist Sutra which talks about our indebtedness to our mothers. Turns out to be truer than we think...
Monday, June 6, 2011
Stuff, Starve or Savor? Your Relationship to Food (and Life) | The Therapist Within
Good stuff! The web is full of "savories" today!
Gozer the Gozerian
Oh this is very good. Both a good summary and a great study. Between studying Gozer and the Flying Spaghetti Monster we should, if we are able to be charitable enough, be able to identify common traits of religions which are anchored on rock versus ones which are houses built on sand...seriously! What is the loss if we find that all religions share three common concepts:
(1) religion as embedded into the social and cultural life of a society
(2) mythmaking, creative myth-ing(?!) as religion's primary "product"
(3) religion as the litmus test for insider versus outsider
QUOTE: In other words, people's ideas about the divine powers of the universe began to reflect the new configuration of human political powers in society. It is no surprise, therefore, to learn that about the time the human institution of kingship was created so too was the notion of the kingship of the gods.
Bingo!
DSM 5: PDD-NOS
This disorder is supposed to be subsumed by a broader category of "Autism Spectrum Disorder". And, I kid you not, is called "Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified" - are you kidding me? How many of you would fail the test for PDD-NOS: do you or you child exhibit symptoms of some difficulty socializing with others? Check. How about repetitive behaviors wher eyou can get upset if disrupted - hmm I get cranky if you interrupt my morning cup of coffee... Check. How about heightened sensitivities to certain stimuli - wow! Let's see - video games? Sugar? Check!
I feel more than a little irritated at this kind of stuff.
I feel more than a little irritated at this kind of stuff.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
We three
Those were the days, I tell you! After spending an afternoon removing all the accessories from my new beach cruiser bike with counter pedaling brakes, things like fenders, chainguards, and the rear carrier which allowed you to, supposedly, carry groceries or school books.
My two best friends Chico and Edson and I, would go riding for hours on what some say is one of the longest gardens in the world (over 3 miles of gardens) with its endless curving pathways, statues and monuments. The equally long beach on one side and the busy main avenue on the other .
We would also go up and down the canals which are lined with jambolão trees (a type of plum, also known as jambolan or jamun in English) which were over 100 years old. The city has 19 canals, though the only ones that "really matter" were the 7 which empty on the beach and the serve as a reference for any place you want to go in town.
Navigation was always in reference to the canals, as in "Take Canal 3 and turn on Mario Carpenter, then take a right at Ana Costa and we will meet you at Brunella (a confectioner's shop with delicious treats)."
We would ride up and down the gardens for hours on end. And during those rides we would discuss all the important issues of the day. We would discuss our bikes and small improvements made and which was the best lubricant: oil or grease. Soccer was always a mandatory discussion. Amazingly all three of us supported different teams which frequently led to heated debates. We would discuss music, with profound topics such as whether or not Madonna or Cindy Lauper were the real deal - most of us thought Lauper was and Madonna would just fade away after one or two hits.
And then we would discuss women. Well it was not really a discussion. It was more of a liturgy. Edson was the older (by a year) and therefore wiser of us, having snuck a peak or two at his older brother's Playboy collection would regale us with forbidden knowledge.
The conversations would frequently begin with him intoning in a near whisper: "I read on Playboy that girls like that." At which point he would proceed to explain to us what "that" was. Chico and I would nod and agree without any hesitation, and without the faintest clue as to what he was referring to. Chico was the resident skeptic since he had 2 older sisters, and would frequently question Edson’s wisdom. Eventually we all agreed that sisters were not girls, as such, and therefore were not to be included in generalities about girl behavior. Edson would intone his 'misa est' by proclaiming "Girls are strange."
So much misinformation and sheer urban legends! But somehow a couple of things survived from all of these talks: one, women were to be handled very very carefully since they were highly flammable; two, the great danger made them have great value. Women to us three boys biking around a huge garden, were the most precious and desirable and scary things in the world. Second only to our bikes and soccer, or course.
My two best friends Chico and Edson and I, would go riding for hours on what some say is one of the longest gardens in the world (over 3 miles of gardens) with its endless curving pathways, statues and monuments. The equally long beach on one side and the busy main avenue on the other .
We would also go up and down the canals which are lined with jambolão trees (a type of plum, also known as jambolan or jamun in English) which were over 100 years old. The city has 19 canals, though the only ones that "really matter" were the 7 which empty on the beach and the serve as a reference for any place you want to go in town.
Navigation was always in reference to the canals, as in "Take Canal 3 and turn on Mario Carpenter, then take a right at Ana Costa and we will meet you at Brunella (a confectioner's shop with delicious treats)."
We would ride up and down the gardens for hours on end. And during those rides we would discuss all the important issues of the day. We would discuss our bikes and small improvements made and which was the best lubricant: oil or grease. Soccer was always a mandatory discussion. Amazingly all three of us supported different teams which frequently led to heated debates. We would discuss music, with profound topics such as whether or not Madonna or Cindy Lauper were the real deal - most of us thought Lauper was and Madonna would just fade away after one or two hits.
And then we would discuss women. Well it was not really a discussion. It was more of a liturgy. Edson was the older (by a year) and therefore wiser of us, having snuck a peak or two at his older brother's Playboy collection would regale us with forbidden knowledge.
The conversations would frequently begin with him intoning in a near whisper: "I read on Playboy that girls like that." At which point he would proceed to explain to us what "that" was. Chico and I would nod and agree without any hesitation, and without the faintest clue as to what he was referring to. Chico was the resident skeptic since he had 2 older sisters, and would frequently question Edson’s wisdom. Eventually we all agreed that sisters were not girls, as such, and therefore were not to be included in generalities about girl behavior. Edson would intone his 'misa est' by proclaiming "Girls are strange."
So much misinformation and sheer urban legends! But somehow a couple of things survived from all of these talks: one, women were to be handled very very carefully since they were highly flammable; two, the great danger made them have great value. Women to us three boys biking around a huge garden, were the most precious and desirable and scary things in the world. Second only to our bikes and soccer, or course.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Religious Experiences Shrink Part of the Brain: Scientific American
Quote: "It is also somewhat problematic that stress itself did not correlate with hippocampal volumes since this was one of the potential hypotheses proposed by the authors and thus, appears to undercut the conclusions."
I should say it is "somewhat problematic"!! Nevertheless, it is critical to see how whatever we are immersed in, immerses our brains, and therefore changes us. Or perhaps it is the other way around?
You are what you think, but not in a The Secret sort of way. Not even in a "name it and claim it" Osteen way. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say "You are how you think"?
I should say it is "somewhat problematic"!! Nevertheless, it is critical to see how whatever we are immersed in, immerses our brains, and therefore changes us. Or perhaps it is the other way around?
You are what you think, but not in a The Secret sort of way. Not even in a "name it and claim it" Osteen way. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say "You are how you think"?
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