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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: psychology

The Forest

12 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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forest, GreenNewDeal, poem, poetry, psychology

[The poem below is one I wrote about 60 years ago. I still feel the same way today. So, here’s an example of something that hasn’t changed about me psychologically despite all that’s happened in my world and in the world..]

I think the forest is a holy place: 

A shrine of peace for bird and beast and man;

For when I stop to rest from life’s quick place,

I journey through the wood and there I scan

With eyes and mind a palace, emerald-walled.

I see the columns, black or gray or white;

And I am thrilled and my whole being enthralled

With this great tonic of the forest light

Which casts the tender green of maple leaves

About the dark, dank, mossy forest floor;

And then the stillness of the woodland cleaves,

When some beast’s call or cry is heard once more.

But I have often seen a sight of shame:

A forest where the trees are all the same;

Where every trunk’s conforming hue is gray

And every limb and twig is set in form.

I walk for miles and see no creature gay,

For everything must coincide, conform.

I see a fiery disc set sky aflame;

The sunset throws black shadows, thin and tall; 

Yet even this to beauty has no claim —

Each tree is three feet wide and forty tall.



Some people say that would be heavenly: 

To live where each bright day the setting sun

Shall beam and gleam and glimmer flawlessly.

But I would rather see some variation:



A world where trees are not at all the same —

Where every oak its unique beauty does acclaim. 


Author Page on Amazon

Who Knew Good Grades are an Aphrodisiac?

10 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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captology, change, development, maturity, persuasion, psychology, story

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I’ve been thinking a lot about the psychology of change lately. For one thing, it’s quite relevant to the pivot projects (https://pivotprojects.org) 

I thought it would be fun to write a series of blog posts on experiences of personal change, either as a student, as a teacher, or more commonly, neither. It would be even more fun if readers shared a bit about their experiences of psychological change. Wouldn’t it be to everyone’s benefit if we understood the general principles of psychological change so that we can do a better job adapting to this ever-changing world? So, think of the example below as just “my turn.” And, then, it will be your turn. 

When I was in “Junior High School,” I was interested in some parts of school and not so much in others. I didn’t care about my grades but they were okay because at that point, I had a very good memory. And, then, one day near the end of eighth grade, I happened upon a book in our library that said good grades were important because — guess what? 

You’ll get into college? Nope. 

That you’ll get a better paying job? Nope. 

This book claimed a reward much more meaningful than either of those were at that point in my life. It claimed that if a guy got good grades, he’d be liked by the girls! Here was a secret formula to success with girls. All I had to do was get good grades!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

It did not even occur to me at the time that this claim probably had zero data behind it. It was likely written to induce guys to get good grades. I honestly don’t even think it said anything about what it meant for girls to get good grades. However, that may have been because the book was titled and aimed solely at boys. Of course, it could simply be the rampant sexism that is with us still — (sigh) — like that one guest who you know is about to barf on your rug because they’ve had too much to drink, and they live next door and they’re being obnoxious and you really just wish your neighbor would head home but they don’t. Instead, they stay until they disgust and insult everyone, barf on the carpet, then start screaming at you for serving cheap wine. That guest is what continued sexism & misogyny is like for most us. It’s also what all the other superiority BS is like for most of us. 

Photo by Anna Tarazevich on Pexels.com

I had no such consciousness at the time. I just remember reading it and feeling as though I had discovered something akin to “The Fountain of Youth” or “El Dorado.” What’s amazing is that reading something in a book altered my behavior immediately and in a way that lasted for years. Getting girls to like me. That was a motivation that I could tie into. I think because getting girls was also tied into competition, it also changed me so that I viewed getting the best grades as winning. I already liked to win! Oh, yes. I was competitive. Overly competitive. But I had never thought of grades in school as any kind of competition. I got my grades based on how well I did and you got your grades based on how well you did. The two had been, in my mind, completely unrelated events. 

Until I read that passage. 

How many people did that passage impact? For me, even if it wasn’t based on any real data, it had a positive impact. I got good grades and I did have wonderful girlfriends. I got praise from my classmates too. I didn’t ever really feel the envy & hate portrayed in so many modern movies about high school. Maybe I was just too busy studying to notice. 

I wonder if the same passage could have impacted some people’s lives negatively? Maybe someone read that and they just found out that they had gotten their girlfriend pregnant. They might have read such a passage and thought it was a cruel irony. Or, perhaps they were gay. Or, maybe they had a learning disability and were already working their tail off to keep a C average. 

And, I suppose that the majority of kids my age who read it might have known it was BS from the git-go. On them, it had little or no effect.

Even if I am the only one to have ever taken it seriously, it is pretty remarkable nonetheless that my behavior could be pushed into a new state simply by reading a sentence or two in a book.  

See? There is hope for humanity!  

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

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This essay describes some of the blockages to change; in particular, what is sometimes called “cognitive dissonance” In general, our decisions, unlike those of classical economic theory, are path-dependent. https://petersironwood.com/2019/07/18/essays-on-america-wednesday/

This post talks about how our habits can be so strong that we literally do not see what is right in front of us. https://petersironwood.com/2017/02/25/the-invisibility-cloak-of-habit/

The link here is to thoughts on how hard it is to face up to realizing that we’ve been fooled.
https://petersironwood.com/2020/06/28/essays-on-america-happy-talk-lies/

Author page on Amazon.

Astronomy Lesson: Invisible Circles

05 Friday Feb 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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decision making, experiment, problem finding, problem formulation, problem framing, problem solving, psychology, Skinner, thinking

My senior year at Case-Western Reserve, I went to college full-time but I was also head of a small family. I was married and we had small baby to take care of. I worked three jobs. One of those jobs was as a teaching assistant in downtown Cleveland at a place called “The Supplementary Educational Center.” The job involved a wide range of activities including putting new walls in, painting them, putting up NASA exhibits, running a planetarium and teaching about space and how airplanes worked. The Supplementary Educational Center bussed in sixth grade students (around 11 years old) from diverse parts of the city to learn about American History and about Space Science. 

Another job grew out of my class on Learning. The Professor in the previous story about operant conditioning without awareness recommended me as a research assistant for another professor who was also a Skinnerian. He was doing studies on operant conditioning. I “programmed” the experiments by literally plugging together components such as timers and relays. I also ran the experiments. By sheer coincidence, the “subjects” for the Professor’s experiments on operant conditioning were also sixth graders. 

The kids would go sit in a chair in front of a screen. On the screen, an image of a red circle would appear from time to time. In front of the kids was a lever. If they pulled that lever when the red circle appeared, a nickel would fall down as a reward. They were completely enclosed in what can be fairly described as a large Skinner Box. After a kid pulled the lever and received their nickel a few times, we began to “thin” the schedule. Now, they had to pull the lever 2 or 3 times before getting a nickel. Then, only every 5-7 times. Then, only once every 10-12 times. (Remember, it only “worked” if they pulled the lever while the red circle was there.) Finally, they were put into a phase where they would never get any more nickels no matter how many times they pulled the lever. 

Photo by Dmitry Demidov on Pexels.com

At that point, we (or more accurately, the relays we had programmed) stopped showing the red circle and showed other things such as a smaller red circle or a larger red circle or a green circle or a purple circle or a red ellipse. None of these ever paid off. But the instruments recorded their level pulling and we would soon satisfy our curiosity whether they would “generalize more” (i.e., pull the lever more) to a stimulus that varied in color, shape, or size from what they were originally trained on. I cannot recall how that actually turned out. As I look back on it, the notion that we would have a “general ordering” about the relative importance of these dimensions based on this experiment seems rather…naive.

Although the kids were run as subjects one at a time, it often happened that they came with a friend or two. The kids who were not being a subject just then, sat in a nearby waiting room and stared at the floor. I felt sorry for them. There were no magazines, games, books, etc. The room did have a blackboard though, so I picked up the chalk and began “teaching them” about the planets in the solar system. They seemed to enjoy my mini-lecture so I felt pretty good at having spread some enlightenment among the masses. 

Photo by fauxels on Pexels.com

Despite the fact that the Professor was a devout Skinnerian, he still suggested that I debrief every subject — ask them what they thought they had been doing. So I did. What I discovered to my amazement was that some of them thought that my astronomy lecture was an advance organizer for the task in the Skinner box! “Well, first you showed me a picture of Mars many times and then Jupiter came up….”

In my mind, the little mini-lecture and the Skinner box experiment were two entirely different things that were not at all connected to each other, but each of which was connected with a specific job and conducted miles apart. The people I saw in these two roles were different; the hours were different. In this specific instance, I had used a bit of what I knew — and more importantly, what kids that age were interested in — to help them pass the time while waiting their turn. It never occurred to me how the situation appeared from their perspective. 

From their perspective, they go to this strange place on a college campus and meet this college kid (me) who greets them and takes their permission slips and has them take turns at some weird way to earn nickels involving looking at circles and ellipses. And, this same college kid (still me) teaches them about the solar system with circles and ellipses. Of course, they would think they were related.

For me, there were two distinct circles. For the kids, there was one circle. 

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

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“O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!”

—- Robert Burns, To a Louse

————————————————————————

First in a series of stories about the mythical Veritas tribe who value truth, love, and cooperation and their struggles against the Cupiditas who value power, greed, and cruelty. Our tale begins as the shaman/leader of the Veritas seeks an eventual successor so she devises a series of trials that mainly test empathy.

https://petersironwood.com/2018/08/07/myth-of-the-veritas-the-first-ring-of-empathy/

Author page on Amazon

The Slow-Seeming Snapping Turtle

01 Monday Feb 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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Tags

affordance, deception, Primacy Effect, problem formulation, problem framing, problem solving, psychology, thinking

Photo by Radovan Zierik on Pexels.com

The Slow-Seeming Snapping Turtle

(Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover Story)

One fine summer day, driving down the long curved driveway of IBM Research in Yorktown Heights, New York, I noticed a manhole-sized snapping turtle in the middle of the driveway. I pulled the car over. I didn’t want someone running into the reptile, looking as he did, such a splendid living fossil. 

Naturally, I knew snapping turtles could be dangerous, though as I watched him plod ever so slowly down the road, I felt no threat. Surely, my mammalian reflexes were far superior to those of this ancient reptilian beast. But, in a seeming excess of caution, I made no attempt to touch him with my bare hands. Instead, I found a thigh-sized dead tree branch that seemed suitable for pushing him off the road and thus to safety. 

Photo by JACK REDGATE on Pexels.com

I pushed hard on one side of his carapace. At first, he just kept plodding ahead, but my superior strength overcame his squat stubborn frame and he gradually angled toward the berm. Then, an unbelievable thing happened. In a split second, the viscous snapped to vicious. His head shot out a good foot from his shell and whipped around to the side, still managing his neck-lengthening trick. He chomped down and completely through the tree limb before I even had a chance to be startled. 

Our first impression of a situation can often lead us to dangerously erroneous actions. 

Here’s another example. 

As most Americans now know, there are 435 people in the House of Representatives. What is the probability that at least two in the House of Representatives share a birthday?

This is actually an exceedingly easy problem to solve. 

Unless…

Unless, you are familiar with a similar-looking problem called “The Birthday Problem” which may be stated something like this:

You are starting a new class of thirty people. What are chances that at least two of them share a birthday? 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birthday_problem

It turns out that at least two people will share a birthday in a room with 30 random people over 70% of the time. The “break-even” point where the chances that at least will share a birthday is 23 people. It’s a bit counter-intuitive. But the math is sound. 

So, if you have heard of “The Birthday Problem” before, and now hear the question about The House of Representatives, you’d be likely to think something like this: Oh, that’s the birthday problem and it turns out you don’t need many people for their to be a likely double birthday. So, with 435, it must be very hight. Perhaps 99% or even 99.9%

With 435 people in The House of Representatives, you don’t need to “calculate” any probabilities at all. You cannot arrange any way for more than 365 people to “fit into” 365 days without starting to overlap. 

Beware of approaching problems (or snapping turtles) based on their eternal appearance. It might or might not be a good clue to its actual behavior. 

In the Pattern Language for Collaboration, one is based on this idea and I call it “Context-Setting Entrance.” Because we are prone to pay attention to the entrance, then if we design one, we should ensure that the entrance sets appropriate expectations. 

One type of “entrance” to thinking about something is the label. Labels in language can, however, be quite misleading. A dogfish is not a dog. A starfish is not a fish. On the other hand, it’s probably called a “Snapping Turtle” for a good reason. It snaps! It’s not called a “Plodding Turtle.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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Author Page on Amazon 

The Winning Weekend Warrior focuses on the mental game for all sports.
http://tinyurl.com/ng2heq3

Turing’s Nightmares explores the possible futures of how people communicate with computers and each others. http://tinyurl.com/hz6dg2d

Fit in Bits describes many ways to work more exercise into daily activities. http://tinyurl.com/h6c7fce

Tales from an American Childhood recounts early experiences and relates them to contemporary issues and events. https://tinyurl.com/y9ajvz9j

Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing

Two Boxes: Each Contains the Other Box’s Key

18 Wednesday Nov 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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Tags

fiction, leadership, legend, myth, peace, psychology, puzzles, story, tale, teamwork

“Breathe.” Many Paths gave herself this advice today. She had given it to so many others and had heard it all during her childhood from the elder Shaman, She Who Saves Many Lives. She intentionally calmed herself. She looked over to her mentor who seemed to be getting better yet again. Many Paths no longer trusted these improvements. Three times now, the Old Mother had seemed to have finally fought off the Red Death of Tiny Spiders, only to later slip back into a fitful and feverish sleep. Now, once again, She Who Saves Many Lives sat up in bed and beckoned for more of the healing tea. 

Many Paths turned toward the entrance to her cabin and said, “Tu-…” but then, she broke off. She chuckled at herself and shook her head. Just yesterday, she had decided to send her younger brother, Tu-Swift, off to the Veritas on the other side of the mountain. Many Paths thought he was the best person for it and not only because he would find the most pleasure in it, though that weighed heavily in her decision. Tu-Swift — so easy to get along with! Perhaps that was because she was his younger brother. No, she reflected that she got along very well with She Who Saves Many Lives, and with Eagle Eyes and with — well — most of the tribe. But things had gone horribly wrong with POND MUD and ALT-R. And yesterday — she sighed at the memory — things had not gone well with Trunk of Tree either. 

She handed the healing tea to She Who Saves Many Lives whose hands seemed steady; her gaze, quite alert. Many Paths judged it would be quite all right to let the Old Shaman sip the tea herself.  Nonetheless, she was startled when She Who Saves Many Lives spoke up so strongly and clearly.

“Lost in thought, Many Paths?” 

“Oh, well, yes, but I need not burden you with it. Drink your tea and rest. That’s what you need, Old Mother.” 

She Who Saves Many Lives laughed — and laughed without coughing — another good sign, thought Many Paths. 

“I suspect I have a great deal more experience deciding what I need, dear Daughter.” 

Many Paths reddened. “Oh. I didn’t mean … I’m glad you’re feeling better. I just don’t want to see you slip back into illness,” said Many Paths. 

“I know, dear. I appreciate that. Don’t worry. I’m not going to jump out of bed and run down to the river. But I think it would do my mind well to focus on something. If it’s private, of course, you don’t have to tell me. But you do seem troubled.”

Many Paths looked carefully at She Who Saves Many Lives. “I — I cannot seem to get along with Trunk of Tree. I worry. He gets angry so easily. He tells himself a story that makes him angry — and then, he doesn’t bother to find out whether the story is even true! It makes me so — “

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

The Old Shaman’s eyes twinkled. “Angry?” 

Many Paths shook her head and laughed. “Yes. You got me. I get angry too. But — I don’t stomp off somewhere. Honestly. He’s strong. We could use him. We’ve lost so many people, and there are so many things to do — all at the same time — and — instead of helping…. I want to see Shadow Walker every bit as much as he wants to see Eagle Eyes. Surely, he must know that!” 

She Who Saves Many Lives tilted her head and as Many Paths looked at her, she realized that the Old Mother had the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth and more than a hint hiding behind those deep and ancient eyes. Many Paths pursed her lips together and shook her head. Then, she chuckled. “All right. All right. He does not really know. That’s the essence of the problem. He grabs hold of the first picture that comes to mind…and now I am doing the same. Despite my name.” Many Paths shook her head again, and sighed deeply. “All right, Old Mother. But what can I do about it. You are such a good teacher. But how do I teach someone who refuses to even consider another opinion?”

“Ah, the answer to that would be quite useful indeed! If I had the answer to that puzzle, Alt-R and POND MUD would still be with us. My dear, I am sorry, but I had some fever and I’m afraid my memory is not quite…remind me again why Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes are not here yet.”

Photo by Mau00ebl BALLAND on Pexels.com

“Of course. Sorry. We got a message tied to the leg of one of the eagles that were trained. Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes, as you may recall, went on a reconnaissance trip to the Great Stone Village of the Z-Lotz. There, they were captured. No, no, don’t frown yet! Here’s the amazing part. They are ruling there!”

Many Paths smiled to see that she had quite surprised She Who Saves Many Lives, whose eyes had widened considerably, as she said, “Hah! How? How?” 

“We don’t know. There was only room to write a little. They found the parents of Cat Eyes. They should arrive soon at our village. That’s all I know. I suppose I don’t even know that for sure. I feel it is true, but the message might have been sent by the Z-LOTZ as part of a trick to lure us into a false sense of security. But if that were the case, why would they say that our two scouts had been imprisoned? Anyway, even if they are “rulers”, I do worry. But, unlike Trunk of Tree, I’m not worried about them mating, which seems to be what Trunk of Tree is convinced has happened. I really wanted him to take a small party there to make sure everything is fine. At some point, I expect to see Shadow Walker again, but he — they — cannot just leave right away. At least, I can’t think of how they can. Anyway, Tu-Swift went to see the Veritas on the other side of the mountain. He’s being helpful, at least. But Trunk of Tree stormed off saying he didn’t care what they did with each other. So, now, I have to find a few others to journey there. I want….I want there to be peace, Old Mother, peace among all the tribes and among all the people. But I am having trouble even getting one man I’ve know my whole life to do as I say. How can I bring peace among all the tribes?” 

“Surely you have noticed, My Daughter, that at night, if you want to see a dim star, you cannot stare directly at it. You need to look a bit off to the side. And sometimes, that works with difficult problems. Instead of charging into it, sometimes it helps to put your mind to something seemingly unrelated for a time.”

Many Paths sighed. “All right. I’ll try it. I’m only going in circles now, anyway. What should we discuss?”

She Who Saves Many Lives nodded. “When you told me this little story, an old puzzle came to mind. I don’t think I’ve ever told it to you, but I may have. Anyway, there are two locked boxes. Each contains the other box’s one and only key. The only way to open the boxes is with the keys. You can’t use a knife or termites, for instance. Here’s the thing. I am able to open both boxes. How is that possible, Many Paths? How can I do it?”

{Translator’s Note:} So far as the records show, the Veritas at this time had a unique way of making “keys.” Keys and locks were made at the same time by precisely breaking crystals. Apparently, because of this method, every lock had exactly one and only one key that would open it and every key fit exactly one lock.

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Author Page on Amazon

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

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

A Short Brutal Life in the Slammer

09 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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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

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Author’s page on Amazon

The Myths of the Veritas 

Index for a Pattern Language for Collaboration 

Tools for Thinking

Points and Trajectories

06 Sunday Sep 2020

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

adaptation, America, cognition, difference, learning organization, politics, psychology, similarity, USA

Finding Common Ground: Points and Trajectories

Much of our education trains us to make distinctions. Little of it trains us to see similarities. Both are important. If you are in the business of foraging for berries, it’s a very good idea to eat the edible ones and not the poison ones. This means that it’s a nice skill to be able to distinguish them.

On the other hand, for many purposes, it’s important to see similarities as well. When it comes to human beings, most of us spend far too much time noticing differences between people and far too little time noticing similarities. 

In a large organization, focusing on differences among employees is often used as an excuse for keeping ineffective, inefficient processes, procedures and tools. For example, a manager might insist that all programming be done in a particular language that might have been state of the art decades earlier. As the organization continues to face deadline after deadline, it looks to the manager as though changing tools or processes will simply delay things further (indeed, it likely will for a time). So, year after year, the management delays a look at better equipment, tools, and training.



Part of their rationale is that some people are still very productive so it can’t be the tools and systems. It’s just that the other people aren’t working hard enough or aren’t smart enough so they promote the really good programmers to managers. Many of the best programmers will none-the-less eventually see themselves as getting more and more out of date in their technical skills and “jump ship” before it’s too late. 

This isn’t to say that there aren’t real differences in programmers. Of course there are. But those differences are too often used as an excuse for bad management. Quite likely, everyone would be more productive if there were changes, but individual differences serve as the “proof” that none are needed.

It isn’t just in programming. When we meet someone, we are much more likely to notice how they differ from others. Are they unusually tall? Short? Striking blue eyes? Or brown? Are they more muscular than average? More obese? Unusually skinny? As they begin to talk, we tick off other boxes: are they smart? Well-read? Do they have an accent? Where were they born? Where do they live? What job do they have? Are they well-off financially? 

Photo by Minervastudio on Pexels.com

Very seldom do we take the time to reflect on how very similar this person is to every other human being and to us, and for that matter, even to other life forms.

Perhaps we should think more about trajectories and less about points.

For example, let’s say you meet someone and they are older than you and bald with a salt and pepper beard. His young son is with him. The son is neither bald, nor bearded, nor older than you are. The three of you are all different! — at this point!

What if you perceived these features, not in terms of points, but in terms of trajectories? For example, age is a moving target. Some day, if he is lucky, the son will be the same age as the father is now. He will likely also grow bald. He might or might not grow a beard but he could. If he did grow such a beard at a young age, it would likely start out all dark and gradually turn to white — not uniformly in time, but with a trajectory that will very likely look a lot like that pattern of change experienced by his father’s beard (and the beards of many other males).

Photo by Arianna Jadu00e9 on Pexels.com



In general, we have more commonality in our trajectories than in our momentary status. For example, your bone density might be greater or less than mine, but the bones of both of us will generally become less dense as we age. And that trajectory is true for virtually everyone. Furthermore, if any of us go up in space, our bone density will lessen quickly. Conversely, if we stay on earth and do weight-bearing exercise, our bone density will increase. 

Trajectories are typically more diagnostic than statics.

For example, would you buy a used car based on simply looking at it, or sitting in it? Of course not. You want to make sure the car actually works. You want to take it out for a test drive.

For your annual physical, the doctor might look at your fasting blood sugar level. If it’s too high or too low, he may order a more sensitive test — a glucose tolerance test. How your body reacts to a sudden influx of sugar is more indicative of underlying health than is static level.

Similarly, your Doctor might simply “listen to your heart” or take a resting cardiogram. A stress test is more revealing of function though.

Aristotle is credited for saying “Character is revealed by choices under pressure.” This is the great truth of literature. It isn’t one’s current status that reveals one’s character. They might have been born rich or poor or blind or in peace or in war. It makes a different to them, of course, but what the reader wants to see is that they make of what they are. How do they bend that trajectory to inspire others, save lives, learn from their errors, reform themselves, or prove their loyalty. Or, on the other side, how do they exhibit mindless selfishness, or betray others, or refuse to change, leaving disaster in their wake.

It isn’t the challenge, per se that’s critically important. It’s how a person either bravely met a challenge — or how they showed their essential cowardice and refused to see the problem; refused to admit the problem; and blamed everyone else for their inevitable failure to solve the problem.


Photo by Nafis Abman on Pexels.com

—————————————-

 Trumpism is a New Religion

You Bet Your Life

Essays on America: Rejecting Adulthood

Essays on America: The Game

Absolute is not just a Vodka

The Update Problem

The Stopping Problem

The Primacy Effect & The Destroyer’s Advantage

Author Page on Amazon

Captain Donny Boy Steers the Titanic (Luckily, the Iceberg was a Liberal Hoax*)

11 Saturday Jul 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, politics, psychology, science, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

fiction, IMPOTUS, leadership, pandemic, parable, parody, politics, psychology, Resistance, satire, story, undedided

white ice formation

Photo by Harrison Haines on Pexels.com

“What iceberg? There’s no iceberg! And, if there is, the sun will come out one day soon and melt it all away. It’s water! Did you know that? Most people don’t know about ice and water actually being the same. Cousins. Sisters. They are cousins. With cousins, it’s okay. But ice – water – and what about ice water? Who would’ve known? Very few people know that. But thank God I am the captain because — did you know this? Hillary would have — I can’t even say it. So crooked. So crooked.
Did I ever tell you about the time I was playing golf at Marlo’s Lango and I hit a hole in one on a par 5? 845 yards straight into the hole. Shattered the flagstaff — er — flagstick — er — maybe I should issue an executive order they should all be American Flags on the flagstaffs. But my shot! My shot! People couldn’t believe it. They said it was a miracle shot. That just happens with me. Miracles. One day the iceberg will just disappear. Poof! It’ll melt and — get this — it will turn into — you ready — water! Isn’t that something? Water. Ice. They’re like lovers, really. Like father and daughter, in a way. It’s really almost incestuous, you know? Ice and Water. But no-body says they have to be all PC and all that jazz. 
65796580-15DB-4130-9007-F40C680217D5
There’s no iceberg! None! It’s a liberal hoax. 
It’s the Chinaberg. The Whoa Floe! The Cuban Cube! But we have — all the life jackets — we have — Mikey, how many — we have trillions of life jackets. No, no, I don’t wear one. It’s not a good look for me. A good look for me is obese, old, wrinkled, and painted orange with my mouth open in a sucking position. Now, *that’s* a good look for me. I like to tilt forward a tad. It — well — off the record — it makes a whole lot more comfortable to walk with that damned cattle probe in there, what with the remote control and all. Anyway, the point is a Life Jacket is not a Good Look for … Me…

smiling man wearing blue framed eyeglasses

Photo by Kelly Lacy on Pexels.com

And besides, if I wear a life jacket, no one can see that vacant eyed suck expression. Or any of my fake expressions. They’re too hidden by the jacket. Not even Vlad could see. Okay, everyone — put on a — oh, I’m tired. Never mind. Have the staff decide for the people around them whether or not they need a life jacket.

What do you mean the ship is tilted? Ridiculous! Sinking? Who’s the captain? Me. So, who’s right? Not sinking. Not sinking. Fire anyone who says that!!

climate cold road landscape

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

 
No, I take no responsibility. I am perfect. Did you know — did I ever tell you how smart I am? I am a — what they call a — stable genius. Stable. Genius. I’m so smart they made up a new word for me. Yeah. ‘Stable Genius’ — before that their top category was ‘Genius’ but then, they had to make a new one for me. It’s called — I am so smart — I am I am pretty sure I’m the only one in the Stable Genius category. It’s like — they had to make a new CAT-E-GOR-Y for me. The doctors couldn’t believe it! No! They were like — they thought those — what was that — they were amazed I was — like I got a perfect score. Better than perfect. They said, Mr. Captain, if you ever retire, will you please come be a subject so we can study you, Sir? I said that was very flattering, but I’m going to be needed as Captain here on this ship for a very long time. This ship? WTF? Where is my ship? 
No, I am not going down with the ship. That’s for people who join the service. That would be stupid. I’m needed elsewhere. What do you mean all the lifeboats are gone? Get me one!
Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Vlad promised a helicopter. It’ll be here any minute. Any minute.
 
Vlad? Vlad!?? VLAD!!!???”
* The term “liberal hoax” is simply the “Captain’s” way of saying, “Crap, they caught me red-handed again! Why don’t they just leave me alone & let me do Putin’s bidding.”
2E9EBFDF-8366-41E3-B9D1-47136A7D029B
———————————
Trumpism is a new religion.
You Bet Your Life.
It’s Just Tommy Being Tommy.
Rejecting Adulthood.
The Truth Train
The Pandemic Anti-Academic
The Watershed Virus
Unmasked
The Happy Talk Lies

What about the Butter Dish?

08 Friday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 70 Comments

Tags

cognitive dissonance, coronavirus, COVID19, epidemic, pandemic, politics, psychology, Putin, science, treason, USA

What about the Butter Dish?

cooked pie

Photo by kelvin carris on Pexels.com

So, here we are, staying relatively safe by staying home. One of the impacts of never eating out is doing more dishes. We end up washing dishes nearly every day now rather than a couple times a week. 

Today, it’s my wife washing the dishes while I gather dishes and dry them. She likes to wash the dishes for the cats nearly every day while I generally wait till they obtain the proper patina of dried food. I think about how tigers drag their dead prey around for a week or more in the hot tropical sun. I think about how the cats eat bugs, plastic, lizards, and each other’s puke so — I’m thinking they’re likely not into the same exact aesthetic as I am. But — hey — if she wants to do cat dishes, fine with me. I go around the house and collect cat dishes. 

You may think that I would “know” where the cat dishes are because we only have six white cat dishes for wet food and six aluminum ones for dry food “snacks.” And mainly I do know because the cats generally eat in the same places every day. Tally however, likes to lead me on a bit of a game before she decides exactly where she wants to eat on any give day. 

30257249-13AF-452C-9C6A-0DA2BFB9AF01

Luna also likes to switch it up. On the one hand, she likes to socialize with her best (and only) feline friend, Charles Wallace. So, often times, she wants her food put down right beside him. But Charles Wallace, being younger, male, and more aggressive, sometimes steals Luna’s food — sometimes, even before he’s done with his own. Sometimes, Luna therefore prefers me to place the food farther away so she can have more of her meal in peace before Charles Wallace swoops in and starts chomping on it. 

I explain to you these details to illustrate that even though gathering the cat dishes is easy, it does require some attentional resources. 

What about the butter dish? What does that have to do with anything? 

abstract blue clean container

Photo by jamie he on Pexels.com

Patience. 

We keep a small human dish with butter in the cupboard so that it’s soft enough to spread on bread, waffles, potatoes, pancakes, or vegetables. When the butter gets used up, I put the butter dish down by some of the cat dishes and let them lick the plate clean. Yes. I do. Once the cats have licked it clean, one of us still washes it by hand and then puts it into a dishwasher whereupon the scalding water will kill any cat germs that might be on the plate. 

I leave the butter dish out for two reasons: first, the cats like the butter. 

Their tongues are able to lick it very much cleaner than I can manage with, say, a butter knife. So, the second reason is that putting it out for the cats is that it also works for my benefit. It makes the dishes significantly easier to clean. Not just the butter dishes, but all the dishes.

031E968F-DAC1-4ED0-B6F2-723C8B5A4E30

When I do the dishes, olive oil on a plate easily washes off with soap and water. Butter? No. — It’s like glue, not oil. If a plate has butter on it, it will “contaminate” every other dish that such a plate comes in contact with. It’s amazing how persistent butter is. Even honey and maple syrup come off a plate fairly easily with warm water and soap. But not butter. So, partly I put out the  “empty” butter dish for the cats because they will manage to lick nearly every butter molecule — less contamination for the other dishes. And, by the way, it isn’t only the other dishes which are subject to butter contamination. The same goes for my hands. Olive oil washes off easily and if a little stays on my hands, it seems to be absorbed into my skin and help make up for the endless hand washing. Butter, on the other hand, does not feel good on my hands. Your mileage may differ. I don’t like it. It does not feel “clean.” 

Anyway, here I am thinking of various things, listening to the news, and gathering up cat dishes. I am mentally counting them as I do so. I don’t want to miss one. Who knows what psychological harm could come to a cat who might be “singled out” by having their dinner presented on a dirty plate when the other five are clean. I come to the last three dishes where Shadow, Molly, and Blaze typically eat and I hand these and the other three to my wife. She takes the six dishes and says, “What about the Butter Dish?” 

A seemingly innocent question. 

I look down, and I see that indeed, there is a butter dish and that it’s within inches of the spot from whence — just two seconds ago — I had picked up three “cat dishes.” 

wildlife photography of tiger

Photo by Sayantan Kundu on Pexels.com

I am certainly aware that our collective goal is to wash all the dishes. Indeed, most have already been done or loaded into the dishwasher. I well recall that I put the butter dish down there to be licked just a few short hours ago. 

I did not, so far as I can recall, look down at the four dishes and think, “Well, let’s see — one butter dish and three cat dishes. But she only asked for cat dishes so I’ll just leave the butter dish alone. No. I did not even see the Butter Dish! It entered no more into my consciousness than the tile floor, the Christmas-themed place matts, or the faux panel behind them. I was looking for — and counting cat dishes. That was how I thought of my tasks. 

I recalled a video which was popular for awhile. Perhaps you’ve seen it? It asks you to count the number of basketball passes made by the people in white shirts. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJG698U2Mvo

How did you do? 

In a previous essay, I talked about how our habits can virtually blind us to what is right in front of us. 

https://petersironwood.wordpress.com/2017/02/25/the-invisibility-cloak-of-habit/

In the case of the cat dishes, it wasn’t habit so much as task focus that made me blind to seeing the butter dish. I was busy gathering the cat dishes, listening to the newscast, and — importantly, I think — counting the cat dishes. The butter dish was irrelevant to the task as I had defined it.

Since I was also listening to the newscast, I began to think that this is related to why 40% of Americans don’t seem to care that the mishandling of the pandemic is resulting in tens of thousands of Americans needlessly dying from COVID19. It isn’t that they are doing a bad job of evaluating the behavior of #45. Evaluating his behavior and its effect on America is not viewed as a task. 

woman in black dress holding balance scale

Photo by JJ Jordan on Pexels.com

Their task as they see it, is to defend the President and his actions against his “enemies.” He declares people who disagree with him “enemies of the people.” The task of the base, as they see it, is not to question whether the other 60% are “really” enemies. He says they are and so their job is to defend POUTUS against those enemies. 

For that task, it doesn’t matter whether he said this would all go away. It doesn’t matter that he said there was plenty of equipment, testing, masks, etc. when it was a lie. Whether it’s 1 American dead or 75,000 dead is irrelevant to defending him. You might see it as quite relevant to whether or not you should be defending him. I think it is. But they don’t. Their task is to defend him no matter what happens.

He says that it will be over soon — and 10,000 people die — the question for them is:
“How can I defend the President?” 

He says that we will open back up soon — but there are 25,000 dead — the question for them is: “How can I defend the President?” 

If a million Americans die, the question for them will still be: “How can I defend the President?” 

The number of dead Americans just keeps going up so thinking about how many dead isn’t only irrelevant to defending #45; it’s counter-productive.

They (the people who still defend him) don’t scan the news or his tweets to evaluate whether they should be defending #45. They listen to the news or his tweets to look for things to say or retweet that will defend #45. Thinking about how many dead Americans there are is completely beside the point! 

If it’s early March and there are only a few cases and he says it will go away, they hear that it will go away. Good sound bite! I can use that to defend, they think to themselves. 

If it’s mid-March and he says everything will be back to normal by Easter, they hear that and use it to defend #45. 

If it’s May and 75,000 Americans are dead, they don’t pay any attention. But if he claims that he’s done a great job, they do pay attention because that is something that they can repeat as a defense. 

If he claims that China misled us, they do pay attention because that is something that they can repeat as a defense. If he says we’ll have a vaccine in a few months, they do pay attention because that is something that they can repeat as a defense. It is not their task to decide whether what #45 says is true before they repeat it. They repeat it because it’s pro-45. 

If they end up repeating defenses that are inconsistent with each other, what difference does it make? Who cares? They aren’t trying to be consistent or coherent. That’s not their task. 

abstract barbed wire black white black and white

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Their task is to defend. 

Unfortunately, lies and corruption are a bit like butter. Put butter it in the sink with all the dishes that you wanted to clean and instead, everything gets coated with corruption butter. It is so heavy with corruption that it’s easy to drop plates onto the floor where they smash to bits. 

But who cares? 

They defenders judge their performance and each other on how well they are repeating the messages of Fox News — not on how many Americans are needlessly dying. 

And once you evaluate yourself in terms of how vigorously you defend #45 for a few years, the worse he actually does as POUTUS and the more Americans he kills, it does not become less important for you to defend #45. It becomes even more important. 

Now, having killed tens of thousands of Americans needlessly, he has even more enemies and the press is going after him even harder, and liberals think he’s even worse than he was when he was simply stealing taxpayer dollars to funnel them illegally toward the Trump Crime Family or ripping babies away from their mothers.

The rest of America keeps showing them the butter dish. “See? It’s right here. How can you miss it?” 

And the base answers: “So? I don’t care. Why are you showing me the stupid butter dish? My job is to gather up and count the cat dishes.” 

woman with face paint with pumpkin

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com

——————————————

The Truth Train

At Least he’s our Monster

Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

You Bet Your Life

Trumpism is a New Religion

Rejecting Adulthood

Essays on America: Wednesday

A Profound and Utter Failure 

John vs. Worrier

02 Saturday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, creativity, management, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

anxiety, blind, blizzard, fiction, hope, lost, New England, psychology, self-help, snowstorm, story, winter

snow covered mountain during golden hour

Photo by Stephane Hurbe on Pexels.com

The blizzard had passed; now, calm, serene. Snow glittered on the Boston suburb of Woburn. “Perfect time for a walk,” John thought. Sun played hide and seek as he set off to scale the “mountain” whose summit offered Boston skyline glimpses. 

The woods were beautiful, bright and deep. Across the spit of land between marsh and lake, Sunday afternoon, he strode with confidence. Atop the summit, Boston glowing gold in sun.  

administration ancient architecture blue sky

Photo by Rakim Davis on Pexels.com

Then, Storm’s other half hit.  With vengeance.

Wading waist high through snow drifts, John could hardly see ahead. He’d climbed this hill a hundred times. He knew the way, if only he could see anything beyond white horizontal hordes of sleety flakes; if only he could hear beyond wind howling through his head.   

cold freezing frost frosty

Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

The rain/sleet/hail/snow pelted relentless. John shivered. He felt ice needles trickling down his neck and biting through his gloves. 

“Crap. Can’t be more than four miles from home.”

“People have been lost in wilderness, run circles and died within a hundred yards of major highways.” 

“Who? Oh, you again. I told you to go away. Anyway, that’s not going to happen to me.  This isn’t wilderness anyway. It’s suburban Boston. I know this land. If only I could see….”

close up photography of a snow

Photo by Constantin Dorin Adrian on Pexels.com

“Notice how snows falls into your boots? Note you’re breathing?”

“Whatever. I’m making progress. I’m strong; moving through these chest-high drifts.” 

“Progress? A funny term. You’re moving. Toward what though? No sun, no visibility. Towards what?”

“I know where I’m going.” 

“Using stellar navigation or solar?”

“Shut up!”

An hour later, home with kids, weather and worrier defeated, John wonders only for the briefest moment if things might have turned out differently.  He laughs and Worrier sighs and pulls the lid back in place atop his sarcophagus. 

white painted tomb

Photo by Matthias Groeneveld on Pexels.com


Index to Essays of 2019

Index to Fiction of 2019

The Blog in Review for 2017

Index to “Pattern Language for Collaboration and Teamwork” 

Author Page on Amazon

The beginning of The Myths of the Veritas. (Stories that explore leadership, empathy, and ethics in times of crisis).

Tales of an American Childhood (Amazon)

 

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