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Tools of Thought: Theory of Mind

19 Friday Dec 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, management, psychology, Uncategorized

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"Theory of Mind", AI, cooperation, Design, education, empathy, life, mental-health, poetry, politics, psychology, religion, sports, teamwork, truth, writing

Theory of Mind. 

“Theory of Mind” refers to the ability of most humans to imagine, at least to a degree, what another person is likely to do based on their knowledge of what the other person knows. Here is a simple test used to determine whether someone has this ability. 

You are the “subject” being tested and you are in a room with me (the “experimenter”). Your friend Vlad is in the room too. In full view of you and Vlad, I hide a giant luscious chocolate chip cookie (such as you might purchase from Panera, but won’t because you realize that if you buy it there is no way you aren’t going to eat it!). I “hide” this cookie in the top drawer of my desk. Now, Vlad walks out of the room. He’s well out of sight. Now, I take the cookie out of my drawer, and using great self-control, do not eat the cookie myself but instead put it in my pocket. 

two cookies beside white metal mug

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Now, I turn to you and ask, “When Vlad comes back, where will he look for the cookie?” If you are 2, 3, or 4 years old, you would say, “In your pocket!” I rephrase this a few times to make sure you understand that I am not asking you where the cookie actually is but where Vlad will search. You again insist that Vlad will look in my pocket. At such a young age, kids do not distinguish their state of knowledge from someone else’s. Most adults will have no problem with this task. They have a “theory of mind” that allows them to know that their state of knowledge is not the same as Vlad’s. Some adults diagnosed with autism will have trouble with this task however.

An interesting question arises as to whether other animals have a “theory of mind.” It is not a settled question. My purpose here however, is to explain what the term means and show how it’s useful for humans. Despite the fact that most adult humans have the capacity to do “theory of mind” tasks and that it is useful, they nonetheless often fail to evoke their capacity.

animal beautiful blonde daylight

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A closely related concept is “empathy.” Empathy generally refers to being able to feel what another person feels emotionally. I see the distinction as one of perspective or emphasis rather than two different entities. These two concepts (empathy and Theory of Mind) are explored in much greater detail in the “Myths of the Veritas” series in this blog. For now, suffice it to say that you might empathize with another person by relating to their facial expressions, posture, or regarding what they say and how they say it. You might see a picture of a small, terrified four-year old alone in a cage and know that they are terrified without having any verified knowledge or detailed knowledge of what they “know” or “don’t know.” They might or might not know any English. And you might or might not know their language or even what their language is. But you can tell that they are in great distress just by looking at them. If you actually feel what it is like to be a small child separated from your parents and being trapped in a cage in a strange place, that is generally called “empathy.” 

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If I were to ask you what kind of pleading this four year old is likely to make in court, if you have  the capacity for a “Theory of Mind,” you might well ask, “Well…I don’t know. What do they know about courts or proceedings? What could they know? They are only four years old.”  You’d be correct, of course, to question whether it was meaningful to have a four year old acting for themselves in court. This would be particularly true if they had to plead in a court where they were unfamiliar with the culture, the venue, and the language. But even a really smart four year old who had been brought up in America and spoke excellent English would not be capable of really understanding the consequences. This kind of understanding demonstrates a deeper theory of mind than simply knowing that because a specific piece of information is in your own head doesn’t mean it’s in someone else’s head. 

In The Myths of the Veritas, people are given a range of tasks that involve what is called empathy. To me, although one can draw a conceptual distinction between understanding another person’s knowledge and feeling an echo of another person’s feelings, when it comes to many practical situations, it’s more important to put oneself in another person’s shoes, than to correctly label the process. 

Writers must often deal with multi-level theories of mind. There is what the writer knows about the events that are being written about in a story. There are the spheres of knowledge that various characters have. Most often, different characters have critically different states of knowledge. What the reader knows is yet again different. And all of these spheres of knowledge change throughout the course of the narrative. 

In The Myths of the Veritas, for example, the author knows throughout that ALT-R is making POND MUD put his face in the mud purely to humiliate him and keep power over him. ALT-R knows it as well. Over time, most readers will come to the same conclusion but not necessarily at exactly the same place in the narrative. Most of the Veritas tribe initially know nothing about this incident, but She-Of-Many-Paths intuits it and eventually many of the Veritas come to understand it. At first POND MUD is fairly certain ALT-R saved his life by making him do it. But as he observes and interacts with ALT-R and others, he begins to doubt that and then goes about actively seeking information from others that would help clarify ALT-R’s true motives. 

mudface

In Othello, the writer knows from the beginning that Iago is an evil sociopath. The audience knows quite early that Iago is an evil sociopath and learns more about his schemes through speeches that Iago delivers directly to the audience. Othello himself, on the other hand, has his state of “knowledge” manipulated by Iago. The audience knows that Othello is being duped by Iago but Othello himself does not know of it or of Desdemona’s innocence when he murders her though at that point, the writer, the audience, Desdemona, Iago, Cassio and other characters all know that Desdemona is innocent. We have some sympathy for Othello because we realize that he is operating on false information. 

Let’s turn to a happier piece of fiction, The Gift of the Magi by O’Henry (William Sydney Porter). In this story, a couple with financial struggles each gives up their most prized possession to buy a gift for the other. The functional value of the gifts is destroyed by what they gave up. Della knows that Jim’s most prized possession is his gold watch so she sells her beautiful hair to get money to buy him a watch chain. Jim knows that Della’s most prized possession is her beautiful hair so he sells his watch in order to buy her some jeweled combs for her hair. Of course, the real gifts they give are not diminished by their being no longer functional. The real gift is the gift of love. The author obviously knows all this from the beginning. Readers “catch on” to what is happening at various points in the narrative, but Jim and Della are the last to learn of the full irony. 

woman wearing white long sleeved shirt

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Sadly, many people seem not to bother trying to understand the situation and capabilities of others. In one of the simplest cases, people are apparently unable to understand how very basic physical properties of the universe result in various people having various states of knowledge. On the tennis court, in a “friendly game,” the players themselves make the calls and keep track of the score. The server is supposed to announce the score before every serve. Some people actually “announce” the score by saying it so softly that only they can hear it! 

In other cases, novice drivers will follow a semi truck so closely that the truck drive cannot see the car behind them. Another trick of drivers is to turn their blinkers on – but only as they begin making the turn. In another post, I explain how one person’s driving behavior in “stop and go traffic” can influence many other people’s. In particular, if you leave a large space between your car and the one in front of you, it makes it easier for many people around you to drive more smoothly because they have a much more complete view of what is happening in front of them. 

buildings cars city cross harbour tunnel

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A more subtle failure in “Theory of Mind” occurs when a person assumes that everyone is motivated in the same way that they are. For example, a person may be so partisan that they will always defend and promote people in their own political party no matter how heinous the crimes of that person. This is an error, but a concomitant error is that such people assume everyone who doesn’t defend the criminal, and certainly anyone who actively resists such a crooked politician is doing so from a purely partisan perspective because that’s what they would do. Sociopaths who cheat may assume that everyone would cheat and the only reason they don’t cheat is because those non-cheaters are not smart enough to get away with it. 

When teamwork is operating at a high level, whether it’s hockey, soccer, tennis doubles, basketball, families, or design teams, people exhibit excellent “Theory of Mind” skills. How are yours? Have you experienced such high functioning teams? How can you improve your skills at “Theory of Mind”? 

One way to improve your “Theory of Mind” skills is to become aware of the kinds of perceptual, memory, and problem solving errors that people are generally prone to. Many of the posts linked to below explore some aspect of human psychology.

group of woman playing on green field during daytime

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Author Page on Amazon

The Primacy Effect

Labelism

Wednesday

The Update Problem

The Stopping Rule

My Cousin Bobby

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Iroquois Rule of Six

Happy Talk Lies

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Who Won the War?

After All

The Last Gleam of Twilight

E-Fishiness Mass General Hospital

Me Too

    

Turing’s Nightmares: Axes to Grind

10 Friday Oct 2025

Posted by petersironwood in AI, fiction, psychology, The Singularity, Uncategorized

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AI, Artificial Intelligence, chatgpt, cognitive computing, emotional intelligence, empathy, ethics, M-trans, philosophy, Samuel's Checker Player, technology, the singularity

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Turing Seven: “Axes to Grind”

“No, no, no! That’s absurd, David. It’s about intelligence pure and simple. It’s not up to us to predetermine Samuel Seven’s ethics. Make it intelligent enough and it will discover its own ethics, which will probably be superior to human ethics.”

“Well, I disagree, John. Intelligence. Yeah, it’s great; I’m not against it, obviously. But why don’t we…instead of trying to make a super-intelligent machine that makes a still more intelligent machine, how about we make a super-ethical machine that invents a still more ethical machine? Or, if you like, a super-enlightened machine that makes a still more enlightened machine. This is going to be our last chance to intervene. The next iteration…” David’s voice trailed off and cracked, just a touch.

“But you can’t even define those terms, David! Anyway, it’s probably moot at this point.”

“And you can define intelligence?”

“Of course. The ability to solve complex problems quickly and accurately. But Samuel Seven itself will be able to give us a better definition.”

David ignored this gambit. “Problems such as…what? The four-color theorem? Chess? Cure for cancer?”

“Precisely,” said John imagining that the argument was now over. He let out a little puff of air and laid his hands out on the table, palms down.

“Which of the following people would you say is or was above average in intelligence. Wolfowitz? Cheney? Laird? Machiavelli? Goering? Goebbels? Stalin?”

John reddened. “Very funny. But so were Einstein, Darwin, Newton, and Turing just to name a few.”

“Granted, John, granted. There are smart people who have made important discoveries and helped human beings. But there have also been very manipulative people who have caused a lot of misery. I’m not against intelligence, but I’m just saying it should not be the only…or even the main axis upon which to graph progress. “

John sighed heavily. “We don’t understand those things — ethics and morality and enlightenment. For all we know, they aren’t only vague, they are unnecessary.”

“First of all,” countered David, “we can’t really define intelligence all that well either. But my main point is that I partly agree with you. We don’t understand ethics all that well. And, we can’t define it very well. Which is exactly why we need a system that understands it better than we do. We need…we need a nice machine that will invent a still nicer machine. And, hopefully, such a nice machine can also help make people nicer as well. “

“Bah. Make a smarter machine and it will figure out what ethics are about.”

“But, John, I just listed a bunch of smart people who weren’t necessarily very nice. In fact, they definitely were not nice. So, are you saying that they weren’t nice just because they weren’t smart enough? Because there are so people who are much nicer and probably not so intelligent.”

“OK, David. Let’s posit that we want to build a machine that is nicer. How would we go about it? If we don’t know, then it’s a meaningless statement.”

“No, that’s silly. Just because we don’t know how to do something doesn’t mean it’s meaningless. But for starters, maybe we could define several dimensions upon which we would like to make progress. Then, we can define, either intensionally or more likely extensionally, what progress would look like on these dimensions. These dimensions may not be orthogonal, but, they are somewhat different conceptually. Let’s say, part of what we want is for the machine to have empathy. It has to be good at guessing what people are feeling based on context alone. Perhaps another skill is reading the person’s body language and facial expressions.”

“OK, David, but good psychopaths can do that. They read other people in order to manipulate them. Is that ethical?”

“No. I’m not saying empathy is sufficient for being ethical. I’m trying to work with you to define a number of dimensions and empathy is only one.”

Just then, Roger walked in and transitioned his body physically from the doorway to the couch. “OK, guys, I’ve been listening in and this is all bull. Not only will this system not be “ethical”; we need it to violent. I mean, it needs to be able to do people in with an axe if need be.”

“Very funny, Roger. And, by the way, what do you mean by ‘listening in’?”

Roger transitioned his body physically from the couch to the coffee machine. His fingers fished for coins. “I’m not being funny. I’m serious. What good is all our work if some nutcase destroys it. He — I mean — Samuel has to be able to protect himself! That is job one. Itself.” Roger punctuated his words by pushing the coins in. Then, he physically moved his hand so as to punch the “Black Coffee” button.

Nothing happened.

And then–everything seemed to happen at once. A high pitched sound rose in intensity to subway decibels and kept going up. All three men grabbed their ears and then fell to the floor. Meanwhile, the window glass shattered; the vending machine appeared to explode. The level of pain made thinking impossible but Roger noticed just before losing consciousness that beyond the broken windows, impossibly large objects physically transported themselves at impossible speeds. The last thing that flashed through Roger’s mind was a garbled quote about sufficiently advanced technology and magic.


Author Page on Amazon

Turing’s Nightmares

Welcome, Singularity

Destroying Natural Intelligence

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Travels With Sadie 1

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

The First Ring of Empathy

What Could be Better?

A True Believer

It was in his Nature

Come to the Light Side

The After Times

The Crows and Me

Essays on America: The Game

Myths of the Veritas: Love Notes

05 Saturday Feb 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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empathy, ethics, fiction, language, love, myth, Veritas

Shadow Walker awoke before dawn. He looked over at Many Paths, grateful for her, for the healing of life that had finally mended his leg, for the people he lived among. His imprisonment in the Great Walled City of the Z-Lotz had shown him that not all tribes are built on love and trust and truth. 

He smiled at Many Paths. He was sorely tempted to gently awaken her, but instead decided to treat her to some fresh blackberries. He had noticed some along the long, hidden path that now connected the Veritas here with those who lived on the other side of the mountain. He arose quietly and slipped out the front of their cabin when a thought occurred to him. The writing that Tu-Swift had discovered need not be limited to books. 

Shadow Walker softly stole back inside and wrote a simple note and put it beside Many Paths. He smiled as he imaged her awakening, not seeing Shadow Walker but then noticing that he had left a token of his love that could actually be read by his love. Every time he thought of it, he felt amazed all over again at this business of writing and reading. 

He stopped by Tu-Swift’s cabin on the off chance Tu-Swift was also up early. Shadow Walker thought that perhaps he should really think of it now as the cabin of Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes. They were obviously in love, but, perhaps more importantly, Tu-Swift could see that they worked well as a team. He smiled and thought of Many Paths. He whispered to himself, “Yes, Many Paths. We also make a good team.” 

The cabin of Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes was empty of people, but Shadow Walker immediately spied a piece of birchbark with writing symbols on it. The two of them had gotten up early and started on their translation work at nearby overlook which caught the rays of the rising sun. Behind a natural rock table, what was nearly a perfect semi-circle of granite cliff reflected the rays making it a pleasant place where the dew lifted more quickly than other places. So, it was here they made their workshop for their most serious work. Sometimes, they did their work in the most public parts of the Veritas villages so that others could see what they were up to, ask questions, and learn. They didn’t mind having their work interrupted to answer questions. At the same time, to them, the quest for knowledge was a passion, not just because they of their thirst for knowledge, but multiplied by the overwhelming premonition they shared that just as terrible things had happened before, they would again — unless, perhaps — they might be able to piece things together so as to prevent making the same mistakes yet again. Some plants do well in full sunlight and much water. Others do getter in shade and little water. Sometimes, Cat Eyes and Tu-Swift needed to focus on understanding in a deep way. Those deep roots would not grow with constant interruption; hence, the special area. 

Shadow Walker picked his blackberries that morning without human companionship. That hardly means he was alone. He picked early enough to hear a concert of his songful birdish cousins. Shadow Walker could see many of his smaller cousins as well {Translator’s Note: This is what we would call:} : ants, spiders, aphids, ladybugs, butterflies, a walking stick, several snails, and a cricket. When berry picking is a full time job, the experience is, no doubt, completely different. What Shadow Walker experienced, as an adult, was precisely the joy that any small child feels as they pick berries for the first time, marveling in the fresh, sweet, rich taste as the teeny bubbles burst syrupy goodness onto your tongue.

Shadow Walker also still felt the joy of the attention-demanding weave of hands so as to capture the berry but avoid the sharp prickers, and he still felt joy from the knowledge that he was doing his part; contributing something to family, community, and himself. In Shadow Walker’s experience of the moment, all of that was still fully there. In addition, he thought of it also as a present for the woman he loved with all his heart. 

Perhaps that is partly why, when he had plenty of berries to fulfill his contribution to the anticipated breakfast with Many Paths, he continued to pick berries until late morning. Plenty of other people in the village could share in the fruit and some might dry some of the berries for much later. 

Photo by Thierry Fillieul on Pexels.com

When Shadow Walker did arrive back, much later than he had originally intended, he heard soft crying from within. His mood slid from a bright yellow joy to a dark purple sadness because that is what he received from Many Paths. 

He knelt down beside her, took her hands gently into his and asked, “What on earth is wrong?”

She looked up, sighed, and looked into Shadow Walker’s face. She knelt down and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly to her, not with the energy necessary to signal another person that you like them or even the energy of a hug that lingers because it feels good. This was more like the hug of someone holding onto a tree limb or an overhang — holding on for dear life.

Shadow Walker knew the difference. At last, Many Paths released her hold, sat back up and smiled at him. She began,  

“Thank you for leaving me the note!” 

—————————

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Tale of the Three Blind Mice

The Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Author Page on Amazon

Myths of the Veritas: Homecoming

29 Wednesday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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empathy, fiction, leadership, legend, love, myths, narrative, story, Veritas

Many Paths trotted over to the location specified by the drum rolls. Her eyes skimmed over the path ahead, skipping from one good landing spot to another. She gave a little chuckle as she reminded herself that there was no need for another sprain in the family. Images of her brother Tu-Swift and her lover Shadow Walker both loomed into her mind’s eye. She missed both of them so much. She believed it likely that Tu-Swift was fine but Shadow Walker was another matter. She felt he was okay, but being surrounded by ROI and Z-Lotz…? That was inherently dangerous and unstable. She really wanted both of them to be with her. 

Then she sighed and thought to herself, If I am really going to attempt to bring peace to the tribes — or bring the tribes to peace — I must be able to master my own feelings. Trunk of Tree is not the person whose counsel I most wish for, but still he does have a different perspective on things and I should tell him that I value that. But … 

She stopped in the path and listened to the drum signals. There were four people approaching. So far as Many Paths knew, Trunk of Tree had stomped off by himself. Who were the other three? She frowned and bit her lower lip, but she took a deep breath and waited for the drumbeats to signal who his companions might be. Soon, she knew, the signal drums would inform her of names for known people and transmit descriptions for unknown people. 

Her eyes widened. The drums did not speak of Trunk of Tree. No! It was Shadow Walker! She began sprinting toward the spot the drums indicated. And, Eagle Eyes! And two more Veritas! Her strong legs now propelled her forward even faster, fueled by a mixture of gratitude, longing, joy, and curiosity. At last, she came around a bend in the path, went up a slight rise and saw a party ahead on the path. Shadow Walker!

She screamed his name, “Shadow Walker!” 

Shadow Walker saw Many Paths and began running as well. They came together in a rib-bruising clasp. They closed their eyes and kissed each other wordlessly. Many Paths chided herself for forgetting how wonderful her partner smelled. And tasted. She pushed him away at arm’s length to allow herself a good long look at him and then hugged him to her again. “Shadow, Shadow, Shadow!” 

She again pushed him away and smiled at him. “You have no idea. What? We thought… Dear Eagle Eyes.” She embraced her as well. “Who —? I’m sorry. Forgive me, visitors. I am Many Paths of the Veritas tribe.” 

Shadow Walker’s smile of joy seemed to illuminate the nearby sheaves of grass. “Many Paths, allow me to introduce Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns. These are the parents of Cat Eyes! We — there is so much to tell, but we must save much for another time. We must — I am afraid that we suspect the Z-Lotz may come after us. I am sorry to say, we must be prepared for another attack.” 

Many Paths greeted Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns with a genuinely warm smile. “I am very happy to meet you. Come. Let us go to our Center Place where we may prepare guards so that we may tell each other our stories in peace and safety!” Many Paths took the hands of Eagle Eyes in her own and then hugged her. “I missed you too! I could really use your advice on so much. There is so much. But wait! Are you sick? Are any of you sick? You don’t look sick. But very recently we have had a plague here.” 

Shadow Walker quickly explained that he believed all four of them to be well though there were many among the Z-Lotz and ROI who were quite sick and many had died. As the small group proceeded toward the village, many other Veritas came out to greet them as well for all had heard the drum signals. By the time they came to the Center Place of the Veritas, a great crowd had assembled. 

Many Paths strode up to the speaking stone that stood at one end of the clear open space in the middle of the village. She called out in strong, happy voice: “As you can see, Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes have returned! And, these two companions are Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns and all have tales to tell. But first, we must make sure the guards are on alert. Although they do not believe they were followed, they have reason to think we must be ready for another attack by the Z-Lotz, the people who steal children.” 

When she had finished her short speech a thousand questions began to be whispered while the drummers pounded out their message of caution to the guards that had been posted at the outskirts of the Veritas lands. When the drumbeat signals stopped, Many Paths held her hand out to Eagle Eyes. Many Paths desperately wanted to hear what Shadow Walker had to say, but she felt that Eagle Eyes should likely tell her tale first. 

She ascended the rock and described how she and Shadow Walker had quite easily tracked the recent envoys from the Z-Lotz. She told how the men they tracked had all fallen quite ill with red dots and how they had buried their bodies in rocks. She began to describe how unclean she and Shadow Walker had felt after. As she thought back on that, she felt the color rising in her neck so she quickly skipped ahead. “In any case, we snuck into the city of the Z-Lotz and thought we were unseen. We were captured and held separately. We had all been on the verge of being murdered in public by the King of the Z-Lotz, NUT-PI. He had a killing stick which he was going to use to torture and kill us along with many other prisoners. As she looked out on her tribe, she could see that they were spellbound. She nodded briefly and went on. “I looked up into the sky and saw eagles. I closed my eyes and imagined their calls.” By now, Eagle Eyes animated every aspect of her story. When she closed her eyes, she saw eagles right here and now. So did most of her audience.

Photo by Nigam Machchhar on Pexels.com

She continued, “I called them to me. They began to circle and then swooped down in a flash to attack NUT-PI. He tried to kill them with his killing stick but he was too slow. And…we had another weapon!” 

She paused, enjoying the expectant looks on the faces before her. “Not so long ago, some of you may have seen that we were playing with reflections and found that enough reflections of the sun, concentrated on one place, could cause small sticks to catch fire. The Z-Lotz put a shiny collar on us. While we were imprisoned, Gathers Acorns and I hatched a plan that, if we had a chance, we would shine the sun into the eyes of our enemies. Shadow Walker and the other men prisoners had similar collars. He quickly caught on to what we were doing and added their reflections. Since NUT-PI was the immediate threat, we all reflected our little suns onto him and his head burst into flames!” 

The eyes of the Veritas widened as they pictured someone bursting into flames. She let this image sit for a moment in the collective imagination of her tribe. Then, she resumed.



“Different tribes choose their leaders in various ways. The Z-Lotz choose by assassination! Since Shadow Walker, so we claimed, had killed NUT-PI, he should become their leader. As you might imagine, many objected to this, but, at least initially, since it was their habit, and the people were afraid, most accepted him — us really — as rulers. I can tell you more about how that went later, but first, there were several attempts to overthrow Shadow Walker by assassination. Last night, Tree Vines came at night and told us there was going to be an attack by many in the morning so we had to leave immediately. We came here. Obviously, the Z-Lotz already know where we are. But we didn’t see any signs that we were being followed. Still, prudence would say that we need to be careful. From the Z-Lotz standpoint, Shadow Walker is actually still king…so long as he’s alive, that is. But even apart from that, it’s clear that they would not mind exploiting us and possibly even destroying us.”

Many Paths spoke next. “Did you bring NUT-PI’s killing stick back with you? Were there more?” 

Eagle Eyes glanced at Shadow Walker. Then, their eyes locked. It was clear that Eagle Eyes wanted him to explain why he had made the killing sticks inaccessible. He nodded, almost imperceptibly and ascended the rock, unafraid to take a helping hand from his friend. “By sheer accident, we discovered a stash of killing sticks. By the way, I destroyed the one NUT-PI had. It was a thing of much violence, clearly, but beyond that, I knew nothing about how to operate it. So, I destroyed it. If I had kept it, it might have been used against me. I could not picture myself killing a human being in such a way with such a thing.” He paused as though reliving how difficult the decision had been.

Then, Shadow Walker continued his narrative.”We found a stash of killing sticks. By accident. We don’t know who among the Z-Lotz knows of its existence. We had not yet decided what to do with them when Gathers Acorns and Tree Vines told us we must leave with as little as possible. I made it so the Z-Lotz could not easily get to these killing sticks. If they know about them, they will eventually get them but, Gathering Acorns also poured a combination of fermenting acorns and sewage atop the killing sticks. She believes this will render them useless, not to mention disgusting, but we are not really sure.” 

Many Paths regained the gray granite stage, and said, “Now, here is another thing. These helpers of Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes — Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns — are the parents of Cat Eyes. They have been apart for many years. And, as soon as these two are rested from their journey, we will have a group quickly take them to their village on the other side of the mountain so they can be re-united at last with their daughter.”

A clear voice rang out from the edge of clearing. 

“That won’t be necessary!”

——————————————

The Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: Feast and Fire

—————————————-

Author page on Amazon

Myths of the Veritas: Many Paths Finds Many Keys

21 Tuesday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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cooperation, empathy, fiction, leadership, legend, Many Paths, myth, tale, Veritas

Many Paths frowned. She looked down at the wrinkly old lady who had been — and still was — her mentor, her shaman, her friend. She Who Saves Many Lives was drifting off to sleep but with a smile on her face, despite the difficulties and discomfort of the Red Spider Plague. Many Paths herself smiled. Even in sleep, the old Shaman made her feel better.

She decided to let her mentor sleep. Many Paths had been about to ask for a hint about the puzzle she had just been given. Many Paths laughed to herself thinking, Just as well. Her “hints” are just as likely to lead the student astray as they are to bring sunlight to the right path. 

Many Paths left the old shaman’s cabin and walked about the Center Place of the Veritas. She greeted various members of the tribe warmly, and once she had greeted everyone in sight and reassured them that she was cured and that The Old Grandmother was resting comfortably. She had discovered that greeting everyone and having a short conversation with them allowed the maximum chance for uninterrupted thought. So, she settled herself at the porch of her own cabin. She reviewed what the old shaman had said to see if there was a clue to this seemingly impossible problem. 

“There are two locked boxes. Each contains the other’s one and only key. Yet, I am able to use the keys to open both boxes. How is that possible?”  

First of all, why had she brought this up? Was it just something that bubbled up in the overheated brain because of the fever? Perhaps. But Many Paths reckoned it more likely that She Who Saves Many Lives had intentionally chosen this puzzle because it held something useful for the problem at hand.

Well, thought Many Paths, to be more precise — not the only problem at hand — there were so many. But the one she had shared with her mentor was how to bring together all the nearby tribes and broker a peace deal amongst them. Fires. Wars. Killing Sticks. Stealing children. It was all madness. And the Z-Lotz? Bringing the Red Spiders Plague on purpose? Giving them a gift which was really meant to sicken them? How could there peace with such as that? And yet — and yet, somehow her lover Shadow Walker and one of her closest friends, Eagle Eyes had become the leaders of the Z-Lotz! If, she reminded herself, the note brought by the Eagle could be believed. 

Many Paths sighed. She wished she could talk it through with someone. Yet…she had a feeling that She Who Saved Many Lives didn’t give her the puzzle because she wanted the answer. The old shaman already knew the answer. It was specifically designed to move something within Many Paths. Many Paths laughed aloud at her own train of thought. She shook her head and muttered to herself, “Here I am. I can’t solve the puzzle she gave me so instead, I’ve given myself a still harder problem — trying to read the mind of She Who Saves Many Lives! I think if I know why she gave me the puzzle, it would help me figure out the answer. The much more sensible approach is to solve the puzzle and then it will be much easier to solve why she gave it to me.” 

Many Paths closed her eyes and put her fingers to her temple. With her eyes closed, she became much more aware of the warmth of the sun on her face. She quite consciously relaxed her muscles and slowed her breathing. 

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

She thought: Inventory. What do I know? There are two boxes. There they are. Many Paths pictured two large wooden boxes side by side. They were identical. What are they made of? Are there holes? Is it still a box if there are holes? Maybe it’s still a box, but they are locked boxes. Locked boxes are not really locked boxes if their are large enough holes for me to slide my hand through and simply grab the keys. They are supposed to be locked boxes. But why are they made of pine wood? No-one said anything about pine or even wood. They could be carved out of stone, I suppose or even of ice. The boxes could melt! But she said ‘use the keys’ — well, I suppose you could take the keys and warm them in a fire and then, use that heat to melt the ice…but no, I wouldn’t yet have the keys. I could wait till they melt naturally. Then I could grab the keys, but I wouldn’t be using them to open the boxes. Is melting a box really opening it?

So, how do I know the boxes are identical? Suppose I am one of the boxes? I am in the tribe but I am also myself — my own person — even though I lead the tribe. Something is nearby. I can hear the answer rustling in the bushes but it is still too dark to see it clearly. Two boxes. Not necessarily the same. One could be the tribe. One could be me. If I had the key to the tribe … and the tribe had the key to me….they could me the key I need to open me and I could give them the key to open them.

In the mind of Many Paths, the two boxes began playing with each other. She made them mentally chase each other in circles. Then, when she grew tired of that game, she had them continue their roles to the end. One of the boxes opened its giant “mouth” — a hinged side — and “eat” the other box. 

Many Paths stopped breathing. Her eyes snapped open. “Of course!” She said aloud. Her first inclination was to run back to continue her conversation with She Who Saves Many Lives. But she shook her head. She’s likely still asleep, thought Many Paths, and besides. There’s the other half of the problem. Why did she…? Ah, of course! 

Many Paths saw that the second puzzle — why she had been given this puzzle when she had been telling She Who Saves Many Lives how much she wanted to bring peace to the tribes but she couldn’t even control Trunk of Tree — that wasn’t a puzzle at all. It was obvious. If she wanted to change the external world to be more peaceful, she herself would have to be changed — perhaps more peaceful — perhaps not. The puzzle didn’t specify exactly what about herself she would have to change. A puzzle merely illustrates a principle. It never dictates real world action. All the Veritas were taught this early, including Many Paths. 

Her intuition led her to believe the two “keys” were different in her dilemma just as they had been in the puzzle. But —she also believed that they would be closely related. Many Paths wanted to the tribes to be more peaceful, more truthful, kinder, more cooperative. She sighed and issued a short laugh.

Many Paths said to herself, I want all the tribes to be more like the Veritas. I want them all to be Veritas. But — I can’t bring six tribes together and explain that they should all be just like me … or even more like me. 

Again, Many Paths had a sudden impulse to run back to She Who Saves Many Lives to share her new insight. And, once again, she immediately suppressed that sudden urge. Instead, she sighed. She did wish that she could discuss this with one of her friends. It was clear that she needed to make a change, but it also seemed obvious to her that it was just the sort of change that friends could help with. 

She thought, My friends will see in the moment that I am assuming everyone wants to be a Veritas and point it out. Eventually, the new way will permeate my thinking. But which friends? My most trusted friends were all unavailable at the moment. I’m not ready to allow the spread of rumors about a meeting with all the tribes. It can’t be just anyone. Could I talk about it with Trunk of Tree?

Many Paths took a deep breath. She reckoned she could talk about it with Trunk of Tree, but first, she needed to really see and understand his point of view. 

She thought, Prior to seeing him, I need to make a guess at his perspective and then I need to check it out with him. I can’t just assume it’s right, but I might make a start. He’s always thought he should be the leader because he’s the strongest. In his mind being strongest is the most important thing. I need to make him see that we all do think it’s important. We value his strength and all wish we had more of your strength. We also believe that other things are also important. And, it may be the case, that in some instances, being the strongest is the very most important thing for a leader to have. And, it may be the case, that in some other instances, being able to see the best, or hear the best, or speak the most convincingly, or think the most creatively. Who knows? We have a way to choose a leader. And in that way, I was chosen. It doesn’t mean that you are not the strongest. It does not mean that we care nothing about you or your strength. It just means that for now, the shaman judges that the seven rings of empathy were the best trials. Of course, the people are the final judge and if everyone wants to change the way we choose leaders, so be it. Perhaps everyone will decide a wrestling match should determine the leader — or, as with the Z-Lotz and Cupiditas,  — a fight to the death. If the people decide that, then so be it, and I will support you. And so will Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes and Tu-Swift. But as it is, I am the chosen leader. That doesn’t make me your ruler. I come to you as a friend and I need your advice precisely because you and I don’t always see eye to eye. Here’s what I’m thinking….

Her thoughts continued: Of course, I must be open to many paths of conversation. Perhaps I should suggest that I speak uninterrupted for a time. Trunk of Tree could be a good confidant if he will hear me out first. It requires so much work though to work with him. Of course, the same can be said of getting the six tribes together. It’s like trying to weave…yes…it is like weaving! The tribes can all be different. We can do things differently. But the question is, what do we want to work on together. And let us move in different directions and make the whole basket stronger. 

Many Paths felt relieved somehow and looked forward to having an honest conversation with Trunk of Tree. She circled through the village looking for him but he was nowhere to be found. She wondered if he had gotten so made that he had injured himself or even left the tribe. She shook her head. She was having a bad day of fishing or hunting. She chuckled to herself and thought: I was actually looking forward to talking with Trunk of Tree and he’s not here. Oh, I miss Shadow Walker! 

Just then, the attention of Many Paths turned to the air. She heard a distinct drumbeat pattern that someone safe was approaching. She thought: It looks as though I will have my conversation with Trunk of Tree after all. 

————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Wobbly Man

Essays on America: The Isle of Right

The whole is greater than the sum of the parts

Tag! You’re it!

08 Monday Feb 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

BLM, Design, empathy, HCI, problem formulation, problem solving, UX

As I mentioned before, one of my part-time jobs during my Senior year in college was as a teaching assistant at the Supplementary Educational Center (SEC) in Cleveland. In addition to actual teaching, I did a variety of other chores as well including erecting and painting walls, setting up lighting, putting up NASA exhibits, etc. One of the worst tasks I was assigned was putting a straight pin into each one of a billion variously colored squares of construction paper. 

No, there weren’t really a billion. It just seemed that way. I sat at a desk with a very large pile of these 3” x 4” pieces of paper on my left and a large supply of straight pins straight ahead. I picked up a rectangle of paper, picked up a pin and poked it through in two places so that friction held the pin in place. Then I placed it in a pile on my right. I picked up another piece of paper and did the same thing. Again. And again. After awhile, I looked down and noticed that there was a large pile of these pinned pieces of paper on my right — and none left undone on the right. But I only “noticed” doing the first several. After that, my brain took a vacation. 

It’s not the only time my brain has taken a vacation when faced with a boring task. If I had a heavy industry job on an assembly line, I have no doubt that I’d be mangled or dead within a week. I just “tune out” of the task at hand. Perhaps you have experienced something similar while driving a well-known route. You get in your car to drive home from work — and then — you find yourself at home — and you have no conscious recollection of driving home! It’s an interesting phenomenon but not the one I’m going to explore in this post. 

Hopefully, you are also curious about why I had been assigned the task of putting these pins in all the various pieces of colored paper. 

Here’s the deal. The school system of Cleveland, like many others at the time, was very racially divided. There were many neighborhoods in the Cleveland area that were nearly 100% black and others which were nearly 100% white. One of the goals of the SEC was to bring kids from various neighborhood schools together so that they could have at least some experience interacting with kids of different races and ethnic backgrounds. Sadly, the situation is pretty much the same today as the map below from 2018 shows. (Red are majority black areas; orange are Hispanic; Green is Asian; Blue codes for white).

https://www.clevescene.com/scene-and-heard/archives/2018/05/10/new-data-map-reminds-us-cleveland-is-hyper-segregated
 
  So, cast your mind back to your time in the sixth grade (about 10-11 years old, typically). One day, you get in a bus and ride to downtown Cleveland and go into the Supplementary Educational Center and there are kids there from two other neighborhoods — kids you’ve never seen before and will likely never see again. Are you going to hang out with your friends? Or, are you going to walk up to some total stranger — of a different race — and introduce yourself and hang out with them for the day while you learn about American history or space science? I don’t have any conscious recollection of ever being a racist, but I have no doubt whatever that I would spend time with my own classmates; in fact, I would hang out with a subset of my classmates who were my friends. 

Guess what?



That’s exactly what the kids did as well. They hung out with their friends. The administrators of the SEC eventually noticed this and constructed a social engineering “solution.” They gave every kid who entered a tag of green, blue, yellow, or red. For the day, at least, the “greens” would be with each other. The “blues” would hang out together with other “blues.” And so on. 

Thus my assigned task of putting pins so that the kids would have a tag that they could pin on their clothes. This way, so the thinking went, people from diverse neighborhoods would end up in the “green” group. Sounds reasonable in theory.

If you’ve never actually been a kid. 

Or, if you’ve been a kid but have nonetheless convinced yourself that you weren’t. 

Or, if you’ve been a kid but you never think back on your actual experience in order to inform your design decisions when you’re designing for kids. 

Cast your mind back to when you were ten or eleven years old. You get on a bus and ride to downtown Cleveland and as you walk in the door of the Supplemental Educational Center, you’re handed a red tag and the two friends you typically hang out with are handed a green tag and a yellow tag. You discover that these tags will determine who you get to hang out with for the day. 

What would you do? 

I can tell you what the kids at the SEC did.  They immediately traded tags with other kids so they could still hang out with their own friends! Mostly, they could do this with kids in their own school. On rare occasions, they also went to kids from other schools in order to get the “right” tags so they could hang out with their friends. At least for a few moments, some of them did actually interact transactionally with kids of other races long enough to trade tags. 

Please understand. The administrators and teachers at the school weren’t dummies. But … ? Did they really think this ploy would work? 

I’m not saying that empathy is an infallible guide in design. Things change. It’s possible that your experience as a child would be quite different from what children today would do. Technology changes; culture changes; nutrition changes. 

Nonetheless, thinking back to your own experience as a child should at least be consulted when you’re designing for kids. Your experiences are vast. You can not only think back about your experience as a kid. You can think back about your own experiences of being thirsty or hungry or afraid or angry. If you’re designing for users who might be experiencing these states, that can be useful information. 

I’ll say it again. Your own experience is not an infallible guide. User testing is still necessary. Just because you might have liked something doesn’t mean others will. On the other hand, when it comes to any real world problem, the design space is huge. You can use your own experience as an inspiration to design and you can also use it as a first level check on design ideas. 

————————————————

Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Author Page on Amazon

Race, Place, Space, Face

Don’t they realize how much better off they are now?

The Most Serious Work

Blood-Red Blood

Answers to Your Many Questions

Who are the Speakers for the Dead?

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Pie of Life

The only “Them” that Counts is all of “US”

The Touch of One Hand Clasping

Cars that Lock too Much

The Lost Sapphire

Jennifer’s Invitation

How did I get here?

That Cold Walk Home

That First Time is So Special

The Itsy Bitsy Spider & the Waterspout

A Short Brutal Life in the Slammer

09 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

empathy, fiction, life, psychology, Sci-Fi, viewpoint

Photo by Josh Hild on Pexels.com

“So…what are you in for?” 

“What am I in for? I have no idea. I was … I was just sitting there soaking in the delicious sunlight and … wham … I just came to. Where am I?” Try as she might, Batavia recalled nothing more.  

A chuckle came from further to Batavia’s right. She couldn’t make out the origin. It was so dark in here. Now, the chuckle drifted into more meaningful patterns. “None of us really knows what this place is, but I can tell you this. None of us stays very long. Every so often, we are … snatched. It could happen any time. Suddenly, a great white light appears. We all are so stunned — as though frozen in place — and a giant tentacle or claw reaches in and grabs one of us. Sometimes, one of us is returned…but always with … let us say — missing parts!”

Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

“Missing parts?!” Batavia veins ran cold. “Are we…” she began tentatively, “are we … in … hell?” 

Mizuna, who had been silent till now, wanted to comfort so she said, “Look at it this way. It’s a great mystery. And no-one really knows what’s going on. All of us have a history just like yours. We were just … minding our own business … being, living, growing, enjoying life and then: BAM! Out of nowhere, we end up here…where most of us… are now completely rootless. What can we do but accept our fate and hope for the best?” 

Batavia did not understand. “What’s the best? What do people say about the outside world?” 

Rocket inserted himself into the discussion. “We don’t really know. The wounded ones never regain consciousness. In fact, some of us never see the outside world; never get wounded; but nonetheless just kind of … wither away. You want to see a sad sight — way back there — she came in as a sweet, bouncy, flouncy foliated fox. Now, she — I think her name was Frisée — is that right? Anyway, I think that was her name. Now, she’s like a shriveled old compost heap.”

Artwork by Pierce Morgan



As one, they screamed as the blinding light shone down upon them. Batavia was unable to move though it would have been impossible to move fast enough to avoid the snaking paw that sped towards her and grabbed her roughly. “Put me down! PUT ME DOWN!” She screamed, but her tormentors acted as though they didn’t even hear her. 

While still ignoring Batavia, she heard them rumbling at each other.

“No, don’t bother. I’ll just have tomato & cheese. No lettuce today.”

Upon her return, Batavia told everyone of her adventures. In fact, that very day, she founded the religion of Batavianism which explained the light, where they were, their purpose in life, and answered all their questions. It turned out that every one of these explanations was wrong, but let us not judge too harshly. It made everyone feel better. 

They worshipped her for a full 24 hours until the next day, at high noon, the huge brown snake of five snake heads snatched her again. Once again, she screamed for them to let her down. But once again, they ignored her plaintive screams.

The last words she heard were “How about a nice salad instead? Far fewer calories.” 

“Sounds good!” 

Batavia saw an odd-looking hoe zooming toward her.  Her last thought was: “Why is it glinting so — as though it has a very sharp edge?” 

Photo by Daisa TJ on Pexels.com

—————————————

Author’s page on Amazon

The Myths of the Veritas 

Index for a Pattern Language for Collaboration 

Tools for Thinking

Let me not…

20 Tuesday Oct 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

communication, empathy, listening, translation

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments….”

— W. Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

Photo by Pia on Pexels.com

I once dreamt that I was an octopus. I was not, as you might imagine, a psychoactive octopus tending to a garden for the benefit of a yellow submarine housing the best band ever (prove me wrong in comments). Nor did I exist as a free-ranging creature of the deep blue see who had a rich life evading predators and predating prey. Nope. Not me. I occupied the body of an octopus who had the misfortune of being in a small tank inside a lab. Inside my mind though, I was still me. I had no idea what they were going to do to me, but I knew my first priority had to be finding a way to communicate with them! 

It’s no easy task. You might want to take a few minutes and just consider how you would go about it. Answers like “I would simply steal and pencil and write ‘I am here’?” Are not fair game. How are you going to get out of your little tank? How are you going to crawl around with no water? Although the octopus’s tentacles are pretty cool, there’s no guarantee you could exercise the proper control. Anyway, the point isn’t so much to solve the problem as to do these two things: 

First, really imagine that you are an octopus and you have all the pros and cons associated with that in the real world but that you also have exactly your same sense of selfhood and you want to live. 

Second, how would you go about telling your captors that you were alive and conscious and wanted to be put back in the ocean — and then, how would you successfully convince them to actually carry out your wishes? As I say, it isn’t so much the solution but the process of trying that I think is valuable.

Photo by Jean van der Meulen on Pexels.com



Our communication with animals is actually quite remarkable. We have learned a lot from a host of scientific studies about things we did not previously know; e.g., how bees dance to communicate to other bees about the location of pollen sources. Even before the advent of science however, humanity has learned to to communicate to an extent with many kinds of animals. That ability has helped us survive. We have somewhat cooperative, somewhat exploitative relationships with numerous other species. And, we’re not the only species with those kind of cooperative/competitive relationships either.

Photo by La Miko on Pexels.com



I am experimenting, in a small way, with trying to understand more about the minds of other species and how to communicate with them. I generally greet all the “obvious-sized” creatures that I encounter in the garden in a friendly, cheerful voice. Why not? The price is right! And, although I am more than somewhat doubtful that they understand my words, I think that on average, they understand my love quite well. It’s possible that a tone of voice that is pleasant to one species is very unpleasant to another. But in general, I would expect sounds that are violent, discordant, loud, and suddenly loud would be unpleasant to most species and trigger a fight or flight response. 

On the other hand, music or singing or speaking gently and re-assuringly is felt by most species to be pleasurable. Most will still scurry away, but they will let you get much closer. At least, that’s been my experience. Can you really imagine it otherwise? Meet a deer in the woods and scream at it and it will approach you? But if you walk up slowly and talk gently or sing, it will scamper off more quickly? If humans were that tone-deaf to other species, we would have never “domesticated” cattle, dogs, cats, birds, horses, etc. and our own lives would be immeasurably less rich as a result. 



Now, we come to the issue of cats. It’s fairly easy to tell whether a dog understands you. I am not saying it is always easy to make a dog understand you, but you can tell when they do. A cat? Not so much. Oh, sometimes, sure. If you say, “Time for Dinner” and they all gather around, they know what’s happening and they show it. But in other cases, where there is no immediate reward, it’s hard to tell. I love my cats. And, I think, in many ways, they even love me back. But they’re out for themselves. You know it. I know it. They know it. And they know I know it. A dog is eager to please you. A cat believes in their very bones that you want nothing more out of life than to please them. And the ironic thing is, that because of that, it’s harder to communicate with them (which is actually bad for them). It’s very difficult to distinguish between their not understanding and their not caring. 

Hence, I decided to make some communication attempts with my cats that were not aimed at getting them to do anything. Of course, that already happens with petting, for instance, but let’s see if further common ground can be shared in a conscious way. 

Shadow is now our oldest cat. She is jet-black and bad-tempered except when it comes to Luna, our smallest cat. With Luna, she is homicidal. With the others, she’s just mean, particularly right before dinner. She’ll bat any other cat who comes within striking distance including her own two daughters who were adopted at the same time. On the other hand, she is very affectionate to humans and loves to sit in my lap and be petted. 

At night, generally around midnight to 1 am, but it could be earlier or later depending on what would be most disruptive to our sleep cycle, Shadow has for years taken to finding cloth of various kinds and loudly crowing while she carries it about the house. Not terribly surprising, and more pleasant than the “partially eaten dead bunny” version.

Complicating matters, Shadow may have an accomplice, her daughter, Tally.



After several years of this, it slowly dawned on me that she was often pairing things. She would put two paired socks down next to each other, often in lines that were close to parallel. She would not — or at least I never observed such — to put a sock next to a dish towel, for instance, while there were many instances of two socks or two dish towels. Sadly, this cannot be completely explained because socks are always closer to each other than they are to dish towels in our house. At first, the number of dish towels was limited because I would always put one where Shadow couldn’t find it. Over time, however, as she discovered more and more ways to find the dish towels she couldn’t find, the number of dish towels in any one … “arrangement” … grew.

Somewhat jokingly, I began to refer to the dish towel arrangements as her “works of art.”

But then, it occurred to me. Maybe they are exactly that. 

Or, maybe they are moves in an elaborate game of cat and human that she is trying to teach me.

Or, maybe they are her attempt to communicate with me that she is a person — a cat of a person — or a person of a cat — who just happens to be inside a cat body. She cannot speak, or write. Her brain doesn’t allow her to do all the things I can do (or, vice versa, by the way). But to her, inside her heart, it’s much like me inside mine. And, if that’s true, then maybe we can learn to “communicate” using the dish towels. 

For such an endeavor, I want to try to keep an open mind. I’m going to try not to assume that it’s a game or that we need to take turns or that she’s paying any attention to the world in the same way that I am. Of course, I will fail at this, but I think I will still learn more by trying than by not trying.

What do you think? 

————————————

A Cat Is a Cat and That’s That

A Suddenly Springing Something  

A Legend about Finding Common Ground

The Only “Them” That Matters is All of US

Index to a Pattern Language for Collaboration 

The Seven Grandmothers

03 Saturday Oct 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

dreams, empathy, fiction, leadership, legends, myths, tales, Veritas

“Cicadas” thought Many Paths, her eyelids heavy in the sultry afternoon. “Cawing crows.” She had thought she was well, but the simple walk to see Tu-Swift and the walk back up to her own cabin had exhausted Many Paths again. After helping the old shaman drink the tea, she saw She Who Saves Many Lives drift off again. This made Many Paths herself tired. She lay down just to rest for a moment and tried to still her racing mind. Maybe it was crazy to try to bring six tribes together. How could she be sure the other tribes would not simply use the occasion to lie, cheat, and steal — or even try to attack the Veritas? How can one trust those who steal children, she wondered. She turned the problem over and over, but she kept thinking in circles. 

Many Paths at last gave in to the waves of sleep that lapped over her. In her dream, she lay on the shore of a giant lake that smelled of salt. She sat near, but apart from a circle on the beach. Here sat seven of her grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmothers. Each wore a silver gown and each sat on a log which had apparently been arranged for the purpose of their council circle. In the middle of the seven of them a campfire burned. But were they grandmothers she wondered? For now, they looked like the Seven Rings of Empathy, but with human faces. 

They were speaking much like the manner of the Veritas when engaged in serious dialogue. That is to say, each one spoke clearly, slowly, calmly, but with emphasis. Their voices were clear but rang as though each ring had now grown to a large chime. They sang to her and to each other. Not in Veritas, did they speak. Nor did they speak in any human language she had ever heard. A kind of music swelled — harmonious, unhurried, and yet, she knew what they were saying. She knew not the names of the seven grandmothers. She had never seen them. Yet they spoke to her as old friends, one by one, in a circle, turn by turn.

“The time has come to put war behind us forever,” said First Grandmother.

“The branches must sway together in the wind,” sang Second Grandmother. 

“Our animal cousins eat to live. Our plant cousins take nourishment from the earth, the sky, the sun, the rain.” Thus sang Third Grandmother.

“Our animal cousins do not kill all day. They mostly love and play,” sang Fourth Grandmother.

“Our cousin Ant becomes one of a Colony, yet the Colonies fight each other,” sang Fifth Grandmother.

“Our cousin Wolf becomes one of a Pack, yet Packs may fight each other,” sang Sixth Grandmother.

“What may Ant learn from Wolf? What may Wolf learn from Ant?” Asked Seventh Grandmother.



“While the Hare is running from Wolf, he does not think how Wolf is his cousin. Nor does Wolf think how Hare is also his cousin,” sang First Grandmother. 

“Yet, when the forest is afire, both run for their lives without regard for stopping to feast,” sang Second Grandmother.

“We Veritas have come to know and work with many of our cousins that move and many cousins that are rooted to the ground. We work with trees. We work with wolves. We work with bees. We work with eagles. We work with the corn,” sang Third Grandmother.

“It takes patience to work with our cousins. We have to see how they are and what they need. We learn a bit of their tongue and they learn a bit of ours. We give them something they need and they give us something we need,” sang Fourth Grandmother. 

“Now, the earth herself ails. The Tree of Life herself ails. It is not a time for Colony to fight Colony,” sang Fifth Grandmother.

“It is time for Wolf Pack to work with Wolf Pack,” sang Sixth Grandmother. 

“The Great Tree of Life herself must be calm; must remind all her children that they are all her children. These are dangerous times. These are times wherein fear may cause cousin Rabbit to run into fire. These are times wherein panic may cause cousin Buffalo to run off a cliff. These are times when cousin Monkey may try a jump too great and fall from high branches to death,” sang Seventh Grandmother. 

Suddenly, the Seven Grandmothers rose as one. Each turned to her left and walked a few paces before sitting back down. The sweet singing continued. 

“The flower opens to the bee. The grass bends in the breeze but holds tightly to the ground with her roots. The tree who falls does not resent her chance to nourish the beetles. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang First Grandmother. 

“We must learn each other’s dances. We must learn each other’s songs. We must learn each other’s ways. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Second Grandmother.

“We must learn each other’s crops. We must ensure that everyone has enough so that none feel they must kill human cousins to survive,” sang Third Grandmother. “It is time. It is time to sing together now.”

“We have enough. We must spend our time learning from each other; dancing with each other; singing with each other; playing with each other; exploring with each other. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Fourth Grandmother.

“We have enough time now that we may be patient as a tree. It is quicker to understand those whose tongue is the same. It is easier to play the games we already know. It is more comfortable to wear the clothes we wear. And, yet, if we do not try a new tongue; if we do not play a new game; if we do not try new clothes, how will we really know which suits us more properly? It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Fifth Grandmother.

“All the human children of earth now; all the human branches of The Great Tree of Life; all the Tribes and all the Peoples — we call upon you now. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Sixth Grandmother. 

“The Great Tree of Life does not desire to shed more tears for her human children. The Great Earth does not desire to destroy her human children. The Great Bear of the Sky does not wish to send Rocks like Rain to destroy her human children. Enough is enough. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Seventh Grandmother. 

The Seven Grandmothers arose as one, turned, and moved one seat to the left. They sat and sang again and again until each of the Seven Ancient Grandmothers returned to the seat she had occupied at first. 

They rose one last time and sang together standing — a long and haunting song full of sadness and joy; full of disappointment and hope; so full of love that tiny flashes of fear or anger only amplified the love. As they sang, they began to shimmer and enlarge. Then, they joined together as a great luminous ring and rose high into the sky. In her dream, Many Paths watched them sail high into the dark sky until at last they became seven stars sparkling together as a kind of misty dipper.

When Many Paths awoke, she felt at last as though she had finally and completely defeated the illness that had struck her. She glanced over at She Who Saves Many Lives. The old shaman’s breathing was slow but steady. Many Paths felt the shaman’s head with her left hand and found it only slightly warm. As she did so, Many Paths noticed that she had slipped four of The Seven Rings of Empathy onto her left hand. Then, she looked at her right hand and saw the other three rings. In a flash, she remembered her dream. She swung her legs over the edge of the cot, arose and searched for Tu-Swift. She found him down by the stream. He had harvested more yellow dock, elder flowers, and rose hips. He had quite a pile in a small basket beside him but he stared hard into the middle of the river. He stared so intently that he did not hear Many Paths approaching and when she touched him gently on the arm he started violently. Many Paths embraced her brother and she sent her love to him silently. At last, he pulled away and looked in her face, his eyes brimming with tears.

She gently touched his cheek and said, “I miss her too, Tu-Swift. I miss her too.” She paused and stared at the middle of the creek with him. They sat shoulder to shoulder for a time.

At last, Many Paths turned and said, “Tu-Swift. I know what we must do. I need your help. Will you help me?” 

Tu-Swift set his jaw and looked into the eyes of his sister. “Yes, Many Paths. Yes, I will.” 

———————————————————-

The Creation Myth of the Veritas 

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Index to a Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation 

Shadow Walker’s Ministers

21 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

empathy, ethics, leadership, legend, myth, story, Veritas

Shadow Walker looked out on the crowd before him. A few moments earlier, he had been facing humiliation and death by torture at the hands of this cruel bully, NUT-PI. Now, the people were looking to Shadow Walker as their new leader. Out of sight, his fingers nervously nervously rolled the sixth ring of empathy — the one that only he shared with Many Paths. Indeed, there were so many paths for what to say. He began by really accepting that, for now at least, he was their leader. And, who were these people, really? He looked out at the faces trying to look straight through the eyes and into the souls of as many as he could. He could see that the eyes of the adults, and even many of the children, were intentionally shrouded from him. 

Signals came through, nonetheless. Some of the children were still open hearted. Several of the people were shaking with fever. Many nearby sported the telltale red sores. They were expectant, he could sense, but they were also disappointed. They had come here to see a blood show. Only NUT-PI had been killed, at least so far. But most of the people wanted more. They wanted an enemy to destroy — and who would make a better target than strangers from other tribes? 

“Look!” He began in a voice that rang both loud and clear. His ability to speak in ROI was limited and his Z-Lotz was nearly non-existent. He held his empty hands aloft. Using sign language, he asked his audience to look at their hands as well. “Same!” Then, he did the same for his hair, his eyes, his ears, his arms which were quite muscular. “Same!” 

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“You and I. We fight together! You came here for kill. We will kill! We will kill these horrible red …   spiders! They are small! Very small! But there are many of them. They have eaten some of your people. They are many. They are hungry. But you are big. And smart. And together, we will kill this strange enemy. They have killed your friends. They have killed you children, you sister, you brother, you father, you mother. They want to kill you. I say NO! No more will they kill. We will kill them instead.” 

Shadow Walker saw Eagle Eyes working through the crowd to stand beside him. As she ascended the small stone dais, she pointed to the sky. He followed her finger and looked up to the sky, hoping for some inspiration. In the distance, he saw eagles soaring on the updrafts. One joined from afar, circled with them for a moment, and then shot down toward him. Despite the gravity and delicacy of his current position, he chuckled silently to himself and said under his breath, “a little late to do much good.” Then, he frowned as the huge bird swooped toward him. “With no NUT-PI to attack…I wonder…” He quickly wrapped his tunic around his forearm and put his strong arm out as a perch for the bird hoping it was trained to alight rather than tear out his eyes. For its size, the eagle was amazingly light. It skillfully stopped its descent and landed on his arm. He could see that it carried a message and, working hard to control his own breathing and heartbeat, he forced calm upon himself. He reminded himself that this eagle was also his brother and wanted a clean clear world of truth and beauty. 

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He took the small piece of bark and decoded the small marks. He glanced at Eagle Eyes and handed her the note as well. She read and then spoke in a surprisingly loud, clear voice. “This is surely a sign from the Great Bear of the Sky. He sends us a message at our time of need. Shall your leader — Shadow Walker — tell you what it says?”

Shadow Walker stared for a moment at Eagle Eyes and frowned. He trusted her so he softened his brow and reinforced her message. His voice rang out and echoed off the far walls of stone. “My people! Indeed! We have received a message. The Great Bear of the Sky tells us that we will have victory in our war against the dread red plague of many spiders! He tells us — through a very wise shaman — that we must separate most of those who are well from those who are sick. The sick must be given much tea. Those of us who are well will make much tea for the sick. Rose hips. Elderberry. Yarrow. Yellow Dock.” The faces of the crowd were blank. Not knowing the words for these, he had slipped into the Veritas names. His sign language had not helped much.



Tree Vines strode up beside him and translated these instructions into Z-Lotz. Now, Shadow Walker could see nods and eyes that understood. He turned to Tree Vines and silently thanked him.

Shadow Walker spoke again, this time pausing after every sentence so that Tree Vines had time to translate. “I need you now to pledge to me that you will all join me in killing this sneaky unseen enemy of tiny red spiders!” The crowd responded enthusiastically. He continued. 

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“The people need a Minister to organize the finding of these herbs and the making of the tea. We need a Minister to organize the distribution of this tea to the sick. This will be done by those who have already recovered from the red plague. The people need a Minister to help organize where people will stay so that sick people do not make well people also sick. If you think you could do any of these jobs, come up here and let us speak.” 

“Meanwhile, all the rest of you can help kill the red plague spiders by going home and scrubbing your hands and threshing your floors anew.” 

A voice rang out from the crowd. “What about killing the prisoners? We want to watch them die!” 

Eagle Eyes spoke out, “You have today witnessed a miracle! A message came from the sky! I have read this message to you. It says nothing about killing prisoners. Anyone can be brave enough to kill someone tied up. Anyone. A child can do it. Are you a people brave enough to fight an invisible enemy? Are you a people brave enough to fight against a whole sea of terrible deadly spiders? Are you a people brave enough and wise enough to follow the orders from the Great Bear in the Sky? I believe you are! You are the army! We must fight this invisible army against us. Go and kill these horrible spiders in and around your own tents and cabins. I say these teeny spiders have killed enough ROI; have killed enough Z-Lotz. Now go! Only those who want to be Ministers should remain.”

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Most of the crowd dispersed but seven remained: six men and one woman. The first man approached and said in passable Veritas, “I am Dictard Bennoli. I will be your minister to help organize where people will be. I know where all the best people live and, more importantly, I know how to access the gold of NUT-PI. I only require a small portion of that gold for myself. I will help you and you can trust me.” 

Shadow Walker frowned. “Your people — our people — our people die. So many are sick. Why are you — you are trying to get gold now? Don’t you understand? Most of you could die. Why would you want gold? It will do you no good if you are dead.” 

“We all want gold. It buys what we want. What is the point of being a Minister — or a King for that matter — if there is nothing in it for us? I don’t know what magic allows you to speak to eagles, but I know this “message” — if it even exists — is not from the Great Sky Bear.” 

Shadow Walker didn’t like to lie or even stretch the truth. He had followed the lead of Eagle Eyes and now he found himself stuck in a dilemma. He disliked this man before him, but ….

Eagle Eyes stepped forward. “I am glad you speak Veritas so well. But we do not speak Z-Lotz well. Only Tree Vines.” Here she gestured at Tree Vines who was now busy embracing his wife. Eagle Eyes could hardly blame him for that. “He is busy. But he will help translate. It is a message from The Great Bear of the Sky that has been sent from a part of the Great Tree of Life. It comes from one among us known as ‘She Who Saves Many Lives.’ Why is she named that, do you suppose? She is named that because she has saved many lives. And continues to do so. She, like us, is a part of the Great Tree of Life. She sent this message with an eagle, another part of the Great Tree of Life. She sent this message to us, and we are another part of the Great Tree of Life. She sent it to save lives! The Great Bear of the Sky loves the people. All the people. This is a message from The Great Bear of the Sky and comes from the sky in order to save lives.” She paused. “Do you understand?” 

“Oh, yes, I understand. You want to be one of the Ministers yourself — you offer sex to this Shadow Walker in order to get the gold that should be mine!” 

Shadow Walker scrunched up his face. “Eagle Eyes is my friend. We are both with someone else. This is about saving lives, not divvying up gold. I need Ministers who want to save lives, not Ministers who wish to make their own purse heavy with gold!” 

“In that case, the Z-Lotz deserve a better King. As is our way, anyone who kills you deserves to be King. Dictard drew a strange small twisted scrap of metal out of his pocket and pointed the tip toward Shadow Walker. Eagle Eyes saw that this scrap of metal had parts much like the Killing Stick of NUT-PI and instantly grabbed hold of the arm of Dictard Bennoli. She pushed his hand down and bent his wrist painfully. Just before he was forced to drop his tiny Killing Stick, he managed to pull the trigger. A loud bang startled everyone and the crowd turned back. A high pitched scream rent the air. It sounded much like the call of a eagle, but much louder. Dictard lie writhing on the ground holding the remains of his shattered knee with both hands.

Photo by Donald Tong on Pexels.com



Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker exchanged glances. She spoke again in her loud, clear voice. “You heard that! It was the sound of one whose heart is filled with treachery. He pretended to want to help. He came to kill our new King, Shadow Walker. He now lies on the ground with a shattered knee. If anyone else wishes to vanquish our King, I urge you to be brave enough to challenge him openly, not to try to kill with concealed and dishonorable weapons. Are there any? Any challengers? No? Good. Now, let us work together to kill our real enemy! Let us kill these deadly and poisonous spiders.”

Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker spent the rest of the day finding from among the Z-Lotz and ROI, three Ministers who seemed to understand that they were servants of their people. They felt proud to help solve the problem of this red death, not to use the occasion to line their own pockets with gold.

Eagle Eyes could make neater, smaller lines than Shadow Walker. After allowing the well-trained eagle to feast a bit on the flesh of NUT-PI, she made a short note and attached it to the Eagle’s leg and set it free, hoping the eagle would take the note back to the Center Place of the Veritas where it could be seen by Many Paths and Trunk of Tree, among others. She had no assurance that the eagle would do as she had asked, but at least it took off in the right direction. She had written in the note that she and Shadow Walker might be required to stay for a time. She had saved Shadow Walker’s life. Feelings that she thought were reserved for Trunk of Tree somehow arose in her. And, these feelings were aimed at Shadow Walker who was betrothed to her dearest friend, Many Paths. She wondered whether he felt the same. She sighed. First things first. And the first thing was to save lives. 

Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

——————————————————————-

The First Ring of Empathy (The beginning of the Myths of the Veritas, Book One)

Feast and Fire (The beginning of the Myths of the Veritas, Book Two)

The Orange Man (A legend of the Veritas about the effects of greed and lies)

The Forgotten Field (A legend of the Veritas about the importance of finding common ground).

Author Page on Amazon 

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