Thursday, 23 May 2013
Wednesday, 8 May 2013
Thought for the day
http://cbsg.sourceforge.net/cgi-bin/live
Thoughts for many days. A good fix especially for some days.
Cheers!
Thoughts for many days. A good fix especially for some days.
Cheers!
Saturday, 2 March 2013
Not an original post of thoughts..
But significant enough. Ted Hughes letter to his son - or rather an excerpt I found at brainpickings.org.
Here goes....
When I came to Lake Victoria, it was quite obvious to me that in some of the most important ways you are much more mature than I am. . . . But in many other ways obviously you are still childish — how could you not be, you alone among mankind? It’s something people don’t discuss, because it’s something most people are aware of only as a general crisis of sense of inadequacy, or helpless dependence, or pointless loneliness, or a sense of not having a strong enough ego to meet and master inner storms that come from an unexpected angle. But not many people realise that it is, in fact, the suffering of the child inside them. Everybody tries to protect this vulnerable two three four five six seven eight year old inside, and to acquire skills and aptitudes for dealing with the situations that threaten to overwhelm it. So everybody develops a whole armour of secondary self, the artificially constructed being that deals with the outer world, and the crush of circumstances. And when we meet people this is what we usually meet. And if this is the only part of them we meet we’re likely to get a rough time, and to end up making ‘no contact’. But when you develop a strong divining sense for the child behind that armour, and you make your dealings and negotiations only with that child, you find that everybody becomes, in a way, like your own child. It’s an intangible thing. But they too sense when that is what you are appealing to, and they respond with an impulse of real life, you get a little flash of the essential person, which is the child. Usually, that child is a wretchedly isolated undeveloped little being. It’s been protected by the efficient armour, it’s never participated in life, it’s never been exposed to living and to managing the person’s affairs, it’s never been given responsibility for taking the brunt. And it’s never properly lived. That’s how it is in almost everybody. And that little creature is sitting there, behind the armour, peering through the slits. And in its own self, it is still unprotected, incapable, inexperienced. Every single person is vulnerable to unexpected defeat in this inmost emotional self. At every moment, behind the most efficient seeming adult exterior, the whole world of the person’s childhood is being carefully held like a glass of water bulging above the brim. And in fact, that child is the only real thing in them. It’s their humanity, their real individuality, the one that can’t understand why it was born and that knows it will have to die, in no matter how crowded a place, quite on its own. That’s the carrier of all the living qualities. It’s the centre of all the possible magic and revelation. What doesn’t come out of that creature isn’t worth having, or it’s worth having only as a tool — for that creature to use and turn to account and make meaningful. So there it is. And the sense of itself, in that little being, at its core, is what it always was. But since that artificial secondary self took over the control of life around the age of eight, and relegated the real, vulnerable, supersensitive, suffering self back into its nursery, it has lacked training, this inner prisoner. And so, wherever life takes it by surprise, and suddenly the artificial self of adaptations proves inadequate, and fails to ward off the invasion of raw experience, that inner self is thrown into the front line — unprepared, with all its childhood terrors round its ears. And yet that’s the moment it wants. That’s where it comes alive — even if only to be overwhelmed and bewildered and hurt. And that’s where it calls up its own resources — not artificial aids, picked up outside, but real inner resources, real biological ability to cope, and to turn to account, and to enjoy. That’s the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when they’re suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world. That’s why the things that are worst to undergo are best to remember. But when that child gets buried away under their adaptive and protective shells—he becomes one of the walking dead, a monster. So when you realise you’ve gone a few weeks and haven’t felt that awful struggle of your childish self — struggling to lift itself out of its inadequacy and incompetence — you’ll know you’ve gone some weeks without meeting new challenge, and without growing, and that you’ve gone some weeks towards losing touch with yourself. The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn’t live boldly enough, that they didn’t invest enough heart, didn’t love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.
Here goes....
When I came to Lake Victoria, it was quite obvious to me that in some of the most important ways you are much more mature than I am. . . . But in many other ways obviously you are still childish — how could you not be, you alone among mankind? It’s something people don’t discuss, because it’s something most people are aware of only as a general crisis of sense of inadequacy, or helpless dependence, or pointless loneliness, or a sense of not having a strong enough ego to meet and master inner storms that come from an unexpected angle. But not many people realise that it is, in fact, the suffering of the child inside them. Everybody tries to protect this vulnerable two three four five six seven eight year old inside, and to acquire skills and aptitudes for dealing with the situations that threaten to overwhelm it. So everybody develops a whole armour of secondary self, the artificially constructed being that deals with the outer world, and the crush of circumstances. And when we meet people this is what we usually meet. And if this is the only part of them we meet we’re likely to get a rough time, and to end up making ‘no contact’. But when you develop a strong divining sense for the child behind that armour, and you make your dealings and negotiations only with that child, you find that everybody becomes, in a way, like your own child. It’s an intangible thing. But they too sense when that is what you are appealing to, and they respond with an impulse of real life, you get a little flash of the essential person, which is the child. Usually, that child is a wretchedly isolated undeveloped little being. It’s been protected by the efficient armour, it’s never participated in life, it’s never been exposed to living and to managing the person’s affairs, it’s never been given responsibility for taking the brunt. And it’s never properly lived. That’s how it is in almost everybody. And that little creature is sitting there, behind the armour, peering through the slits. And in its own self, it is still unprotected, incapable, inexperienced. Every single person is vulnerable to unexpected defeat in this inmost emotional self. At every moment, behind the most efficient seeming adult exterior, the whole world of the person’s childhood is being carefully held like a glass of water bulging above the brim. And in fact, that child is the only real thing in them. It’s their humanity, their real individuality, the one that can’t understand why it was born and that knows it will have to die, in no matter how crowded a place, quite on its own. That’s the carrier of all the living qualities. It’s the centre of all the possible magic and revelation. What doesn’t come out of that creature isn’t worth having, or it’s worth having only as a tool — for that creature to use and turn to account and make meaningful. So there it is. And the sense of itself, in that little being, at its core, is what it always was. But since that artificial secondary self took over the control of life around the age of eight, and relegated the real, vulnerable, supersensitive, suffering self back into its nursery, it has lacked training, this inner prisoner. And so, wherever life takes it by surprise, and suddenly the artificial self of adaptations proves inadequate, and fails to ward off the invasion of raw experience, that inner self is thrown into the front line — unprepared, with all its childhood terrors round its ears. And yet that’s the moment it wants. That’s where it comes alive — even if only to be overwhelmed and bewildered and hurt. And that’s where it calls up its own resources — not artificial aids, picked up outside, but real inner resources, real biological ability to cope, and to turn to account, and to enjoy. That’s the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when they’re suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world. That’s why the things that are worst to undergo are best to remember. But when that child gets buried away under their adaptive and protective shells—he becomes one of the walking dead, a monster. So when you realise you’ve gone a few weeks and haven’t felt that awful struggle of your childish self — struggling to lift itself out of its inadequacy and incompetence — you’ll know you’ve gone some weeks without meeting new challenge, and without growing, and that you’ve gone some weeks towards losing touch with yourself. The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn’t live boldly enough, that they didn’t invest enough heart, didn’t love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.
Monday, 24 December 2012
Did I just invent a new - BS - term that just might have some meaning... tell me
In a response to a sales rep of a company whose sftware I just downloaded, I said this - "...
Thanks for you email. I need to, while doing my day job, find time to understand how to use Neo4J for things such as poly-variate types of nodes and edges. Please give me a few months while I try to manage to come on board. ..."
Poly-variate Types....? Please help me my geek friend who still have the patience to read my rants.
Thanks
Governance in contemporary India
Wonderful ... the Esteemed His Honorable Home Minister is concerned about the image projected to the visiting Putin and globally by the protests. Somehow this falls into the same category of mind-set that I had questioned in a debate/discussion in which I represented my school in 9th Std (I think; somewhere in Kandivali, M'bay) where I asked whether (can't type this in Devnagari) ".... hazaro saalo ki parampara hain..." --- "Did one of the most populous regions of the world manage to have its populace stop thinking...?". I was immediately 'asked' by the judges to leave the podium and then escorted out of the venue :) I have since realized that the event was sponsored by groups who would be considered now to be affiaited with those in the parliamentary opposition.
Hence some of my earlier statements (on other media - need to figure out a good cheap way of integrating) about having a forum for rational discourse - non-partisanship is implied. I am still surprised with the aversion to even refer to charged topics in India ... with the reason being given "... please let us not discuss politics...", when the issue is with basic governance and trust of the populace.
It seems that all political parties have used that and the state of governance here has been no different from the days of the Raj - the machinery and hence its mindset remains the same.
Hence some of my earlier statements (on other media - need to figure out a good cheap way of integrating) about having a forum for rational discourse - non-partisanship is implied. I am still surprised with the aversion to even refer to charged topics in India ... with the reason being given "... please let us not discuss politics...", when the issue is with basic governance and trust of the populace.
It seems that all political parties have used that and the state of governance here has been no different from the days of the Raj - the machinery and hence its mindset remains the same.
Monday, 17 December 2012
On the Newtown, CT horror .. or why should our children fear.
At the risk of coming off in an unpleasant light, here are my two or five cents. I have not seen any discourse in public about what motivated such maniacs. The public discourse has rather veered towards, too immediately IMO, abstract public policy issues.
As had already been pointed out earlier in many public discussion threads, such incidents are rare. The fallout, though limited, is very profound in the lives of the individuals affected. It seems unlikely that gun control, or 'bullet control' as a recent article in The Atlantic proposes (have not bothered to read it, might just be satire) get to the root to even be practically effective.
I was part of school, which then was considered to among the best (around my class both academically and in sports) in a city of over 10 mil, which perhaps had the best educational infrastructure in India. When I was in 9th standard, it shocked the staff when the 'geeks' applauded one of the 'ruffians' who went into the staff room and held a knife to one of the teachers and asked him to lay off insulting us. While I do not have clarity on anger or frustration, or its causes, I do wonder what triggered the rage.
Should our schools be prisons or should we incur the impossible cost of trying explain to our children why we should not fear?
As had already been pointed out earlier in many public discussion threads, such incidents are rare. The fallout, though limited, is very profound in the lives of the individuals affected. It seems unlikely that gun control, or 'bullet control' as a recent article in The Atlantic proposes (have not bothered to read it, might just be satire) get to the root to even be practically effective.
I was part of school, which then was considered to among the best (around my class both academically and in sports) in a city of over 10 mil, which perhaps had the best educational infrastructure in India. When I was in 9th standard, it shocked the staff when the 'geeks' applauded one of the 'ruffians' who went into the staff room and held a knife to one of the teachers and asked him to lay off insulting us. While I do not have clarity on anger or frustration, or its causes, I do wonder what triggered the rage.
Should our schools be prisons or should we incur the impossible cost of trying explain to our children why we should not fear?
Thursday, 13 December 2012
On Simplicity
I adore simplicity in design, but am sceptical when the road to such simplicity is deigned to be simple as well.
This probably holds true in other facets of existence, living included.
This probably holds true in other facets of existence, living included.
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