Feeds:
Posts
Comments

From here to here

single hollyhock seed

Let’s start here. This is a single seed. It looks like a little shell, or a fossil. Look closely and you’ll see a wee notch which makes it look almost as if it has a mouth, or a beak. Where did this come from?   Hollyhock seed head

It came from here. When you peel back the covers of this seed head, the little seeds spill out very easily.

Look carefully at the middle. Can you see that ring of little hooks? Well each hook holds a single seed – right where that little notch was that we saw in the previous photo. Isn’t that incredible? How delicate, and how exact!

Would you like to see what it looks like before all the seeds spill out?
full hollyhock seed head

There you are. Wow! It’s like a bracelet, or a necklace. Densely packed seeds just bursting with life. What will they be when they grow up?

  tall hollyhock

A flower as big as a house!

These hollyhocks, or “rose trémière” as they are called around here (I think I prefer the sound of the French name) are everywhere in this part of the world. And look how high they grow! They are really stunning.

We’ve gathered a few of the seeds this week and we’ll see if we can have even more flowers next year.
Hollyhock seed harvest

Could you have imagined such a tall, beautiful flower could grow from one of these tiny seeds?

What’s better?

To look up close……
IMG_2922

Or to look far away……

clouds   

Ok, so it’s a trick question. 

It’s great to look at something like that mulberry leaf really close up – I mean, look at the veins and the structure of the leaf! Look at the stomata! What an incredible pattern! Then look at the colours, the shades of green….

But then, look up at the sky and see the clouds, layer upon layer with such rich shades of grey and blue….

The thing it, its best just to LOOK. 

We spend so much of our lives on autopilot (zombie mode), that the world can literally pass us by, and in so doing we miss all these opportunities to be amazed at just how incredible it is to be alive, here and now, on this Earth.

 

Flower meditation

hollyhock

It would be easy to get lost in the petals of this flower.

Isn’t it just astonishing?

The curving shapes, the layers, the shades and tones of colour, the light and the shadows.

Sometimes, in our busy, bustling lives, it’s good to stop for a moment. Still the mind by focusing on just one small part of the world – in this case a single flower, close up. Just let yourself take the time to gaze, to explore, to wonder.

Flower meditations are easy to practice – you can do them just for a few seconds, or you can take a few minutes. It’s up to you.

Try it and see how you feel. Because as well as the flower itself being a great wonder, the engagement of your focus and attention changes what’s happening inside you as well…..and that’s the extra bonus of a flower meditation….becoming aware of what’s changing inside you.

hollyhock

What makes this rose special? (Ah, some of you will be looking at this saying, “that isn’t a rose, it’s a hollyhock!” But a hollyhock in France, and there are masses of them here in the Charente, is a “rose trémière”).

Well, it’s special to me, because it’s growing in my garden and I’ve become pretty fond of all these incredible flowers in this garden.

When I think of roses now I think of the story of the Little Prince, and in particular, the section of the story where he meets the fox, and learns the secret the fox has to tell him.

The secret, apart from the much quoted “what is essential is invisible to the eye”, is that we make individuals special to us by creating relationships with them. In the story, the fox asks the Little Prince to “tame” him, and I tripped up over that word a few times (even checked out all the possible means of the original French word “apprivoiser” that I could find). I don’t really like the word “tame” as it seems to include changing the creature which is “tamed” to make them docile, and subjugated in some way. However, in the context of the story, it is clear that what is meant is how we create special bonds by paying attention, caring for and looking after another, and that when we do that, that person, or animal, or plant, becomes special to us. He, she or it becomes unique.

That might not seem that comfortable a thought at first. After all don’t we like to think of ourselves as compassionate and caring, so we should be able to “care for” or “care about” pretty much anyone? Well, that may be true, but any potential we have to do that remains just that – a potential – until we create actual, real bonds with actual, real individuals.

In the story, the fox explains to the Little Prince that the garden full of roses shouldn’t make him sad that his rose is not as unique as he thought. His rose, in fact, is still unique, and how the Little Prince feels (or doesn’t feel) about all the roses in the garden even emphasises that point.

Here’s a nice reflection on this whole issue.

So, as we create a relationship with the particular – with this rose, with this creature, or with this person – we reveal their uniqueness. And as we continue and develop that relationship, they become even more unique, even more special to us. That’s one of the essential kinds of bonds we have to make to deepen our experience of living in this world.

And it takes nothing away from the fact that, potentially, any person, any flower, any creature can become special to us.

I live in a typical Charnetaise house –

Can you see those two little arch-shaped holes/windows up on the top left? Well, there’s been such a lot of hissing coming from there in recent nights, and a bit of research revealed that the noise is the sound of barn owl chicks (barn owls don’t hoot, they hiss!)

Today I thought I could just make them out when I stood under the mulberry tree, and with a lot of patience, a camera on full zoom maxed up to a 3200 ISO setting, I managed to get these photos –

and

Wow!

I mean – wow!

OK, not exactly nature photographer of the year material but WOW!

This is just the kind of thing which makes an ordinary day an extraordinary day!

DSCN4108

In my twelve monthly themes, August is the month of travel.

I came up with this as the theme for this month because in France every August is the month of the “grand depart” – it’s the beginning of the annual holidays for thousands and the roads, airports and ports become very, very busy this month (starting this weekend)

I am a great believer in travel. I love to visit other places, encountering other cultures, traditions, foods, architecture, art and history, as well as other natural environments from the one I happen to live in. Where I live now is vine country and to visit a forested area, a mountainous region or the coast can be a stimulating change.

I think most of us also need a break now and again. We need to step out of the routines and habits and demands of our daily lives to be able to see them from “on high“. And we also need to rest.

I was taking photos of clouds the other day (as I do!) and I noticed this plane’s trail with a strange and clear break right in the middle of it and I thought – what a brilliant visual metaphor for August – travel AND taking a break!

So, where are you going to go? When are you going to take a break? Even if it’s just for a day, or a weekend, I think it’s important.

What I was taught

I graduated from Edinburgh University, with my medical degree, in 1978. The next four years were my foundational training to become a General Practitioner (I still think “Family doctor” is a nicer title).

Here’s four of the core teachings which I received.

Don’t practice “a pill for every ill”.

There was an assumption that drugs should only be prescribed if you thought they were really necessary. If you issued a prescription at the end of every consultation you weren’t practising good medicine.

Underlying this teaching was to prescribe as sparingly as possible.

If you refer your patient to a man with a knife, he’ll use it.

There were two aspects to this teaching – firstly, that you shouldn’t refer a patient to a hospital consultant unless you expected that doctor to treat the patient with their particular specialist skills. Secondly, a specialist was likely to try to treat your patient using only the particular specialist skills they had.

Underlying this teaching was to refer to secondary care as sparingly as possible.

Don’t arrange an investigation/test unless you think the results are likely to change what you otherwise propose to do.

I was taught that most diagnoses could be made on the basis of a good medical history supplemented with relevant clinical examination. Tests were only for when you couldn’t do that.

Underlying this teaching was to test as sparingly as possible.

The doctor is the drug.

This was a big one. Back in the 1980s Balint’s teaching still influenced General Practice, and Balint proposed that one of the most powerful therapies a doctor could offer was him or herself. The doctor-patient relationship was the most important part of therapy. Active listening, understanding, compassion, care and good communication were the core daily tools, employed with a sound knowledge of the natural history of diseases, the risks and harms of various potential treatments, and the ability to help patients to understand what they were experiencing, what this illness meant in their lives, and what they might do cope and to become well.

Underlying this teaching was to pay as much attention to, and to spend as much time with, each and every patient as was possible.

The movie version of “Le Petit Prince” has just been released in France and, perhaps because of that, I stumbled on what turned out to be a French translation of an English language article in “The American Interest” last year – in it the author compares the two princes – Machiavelli’s and Saint-Exupéry’s.

The key difference lies in how the two books present the social urge that drives human political interactions. Machiavelli penned the incipient modern view that puts fear at the center of political order, turning politics into the craft of fear management. And it is a craft, properly speaking, not a science; yet the flavor of early modern times helped give rise to what we optimistically call today political science. The French aviator’s short book, on the other hand, describes the deep human desire to be social out of love toward others, not from fear of them. For the former, fear of others is the source of social cohesion; for the latter, the source is the need for others. The former would repel others, the latter attract them.

What the author is highlighting is the acute difference between these two authors in their view of their fellow human beings.

The modern approach to politics—one given to us in distilled form in The Prince and more elaborately in the Discourses, and is then expanded by later authors such as Thomas Hobbes—starts from the assumption that we humans do not enjoy each other’s company. Rather, we relentlessly compete with each other for things and for thoughts, for safety, and for status. It is a dim view of men, “ungrateful, fickle, pretenders, evaders of danger, greedy for gain” (The Prince, XVII). The outcome is a constant clash that often degenerates into the war of all against all. As Jean-Paul Sartre wrote in Huis Clos (“No Exit”) in the same year that Antoine de Saint-Exupéry plunged into the sea: “L’enfer, c’est les Autres.”

Well, this certainly rings a bell. We are force fed a daily diet of fear – fear of terrorism, crime, disease, immigrants…..you name it!

Le Petit Prince presents a very different picture. The Little Prince from a distant asteroid is also a keen observer of human affairs, but less jaded than the retired Florentine diplomat and his modern followers. He is a gentle soul in search of others whom he can befriend and love. In one of the many moving moments in this quirky little book, the lonely and somewhat sad Little Prince who had just landed on earth screams from a mountaintop: “Soyez mes amis, je suis seul.” Deriving apparently little pleasure from his loneliness, the Little Prince seeks others, not to dominate them but simply to be with them and engage them in conversations. As he says to a fox, “Come and play with me. . . . I am so sad.” (Ch. XXI).No Principe, no man in Machiavelli’s world, can fathom the idea of seeking others simply to enjoy their company. La tristezza of the Prince leads him to fear others; la tristesse of the Little Prince leads him to seek others.

If one of the key differences is the creation of a society based on fear vs one based on friendship, then the other key difference this author notes is between the quantitative and the qualitative.

Another crucial and related difference between the two Princes revolves around a question that is apparently limited to epistemology, but that has significant political consequences. The Little Prince observes that human interactions are not, and cannot be, based exclusively on visible, calculable features. As Saint-Exupéry famously puts it, “L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.” For Machiavelli instead, “Men in general judge more by their eyes than by their hands, because seeing is given to everyone, touching to few. Everyone sees how you appear, few touch what you are” (The Prince, XXVIII). Measurable appearances are more important in the life of the Prince than what is invisible to the eyes, but they are useless for the Little Prince. In anthropologist James Scott’s words, in order to function the modern state requires its citizens to be “legible”: to have a clutch of numbers citing address, age, and income, coded and used to place individuals in various categories. The Little Prince would find the very idea of legibility puzzling and inhuman, and Saint-Exupéry himself would not have been the least surprised to learn, had he lived long enough, that the Nazis tattooed numbers on the arms of their victims. The Little Prince’s criticism of the grown-ups, or us moderns, is that we approach others by focusing on calculable appearances. To know something or somebody, we measure it. When we introduce a friend to an adult, he asks: “How old is he? How many brothers does he have? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?” Similarly, when we try to describe a house, its price is one of the first features that we use to convey its beauty. “You have to tell them [grown-ups], ‘I saw a house worth a hundred thousand francs’. Then they exclaim: ‘What a pretty house!’” This is our scientific approach, another essence of our modernity: By counting and measuring, we think we assess the other side as rival or friend, we think we grasp his potential behavior, and, above all, we think we can manufacture benign social arrangements on this basis.This is not real knowledge, and consequently it cannot generate real order. The questions one ought to ask are different. Knowing the price of a house pales before a description of it as a “beautiful red brick house with geraniums at the windows and doves on the roof.” Similarly, if you want to get to know somebody, ask: “What does his voice sound like? What games does he like best? Does he collect butterflies?” Only by asking such questions can one start the long process of “taming.” The development of true social bonds is possible only when based on this deeper, yet far more elusive kind of knowledge. Knowing how much money one makes may be helpful to manage the Prince’s mechanism of fear, but it does little to develop true friendship and lasting order.

I’ve quoted pretty extensively from Jakub Grygiel’s article but I do think it really merits a full read – you can find it here.

Maybe this will whet your appetite to either go out and buy a copy of “The Little Prince” by Saint-Exupéry, or to go see the movie. Delight, pleasure and food for thought if you do!

I read an article yesterday about the spread of sharing technologies and how they were beginning to challenge what we think about work.

It’s a hot topic here in France with authorities acting against the company, Uber, which was letting anyone with a car and the Uber app get paid for giving lifts to strangers. French taxi drivers protested vehemently (and sometimes violently) against this service which they saw as undermining their way of making a living. Taxi driving is a highly regulated job and the drivers have to pay a lot of money to get and keep their licences. It’s no wonder that technologies which underpin the likes of Uber are called “disruptive technologies”!

Whatever you think about the struggle between Uber, the taxi drivers and the State authorities, the service is a good example of how the nature of work might change.

The article I read (in a French magazine) pointed out that someone might earn some money driving their car using “Uber” in the morning, trade some antiques online using “leboncoin” in the afternoon, and welcome guests to sleep in a spare room using “AirBnB” in the evening. None of this makes the person a taxi driver, an antiquarian trader, or a hotelier.

So, maybe in such an example, this person would not define themselves by their work. They would also be experiencing a lot more freedom than any employee of a company, choosing not just their working hours each week, but the nature of their work, almost task by task.

Will this kind of working spread? Is this the new kind of “portfolio” work? What does that mean for regulators, tax inspectors and the State? And what does it mean for established tradesmen and professionals who are currently subject to the bureaucracy of employment and licenses etc?

In some ways this is a very libertarian version of utopia – each individual working for themselves without huge barriers in the form of regulations and the powerful interventions of the state. But this article referred to quite another interesting version of utopia – that of communism described by Karl Marx in “German Ideology” –

In communist society, where nobody has one exclusive sphere of activity … society regulates production and thus makes it possible for me to do one thing today and another tomorrow, to hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticise after dinner, just as I have a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, shepherd or critic.

I don’t think there are apps for hunting, fishing, or looking after sheep yet, but there are certainly lots of opportunities for critics!

So, what do you think? Are these new technologies the vanguard of change in the nature of work? Are they the place where libertarians and communists find something to agree about? In fact, are they challenging not only the nature of work, but the role of the State and the old labels we applied to political groupings?

Sunlit raindrops on hollyhock
Ever since I was a child I’ve had a fascination with science. For me, science was, and still is, a form of exploration. It’s about learning and knowledge. Finding out how something works, how a creature lives, or learning the names of clouds, constellations, trees and birds. I’d say science is about wonder and curiosity.

Many, many years later I came across the writings of the French philosopher, Gilles Deleuze, who wrote that there were three ways to think – science, philosophy and art. I was a bit surprised when I first read that, but the more I came to understand it, not only the more it made sense, but it became, for me, a basic tool.

Briefly, he said that science was thinking about function – how something worked; philosophy was thinking about concepts – our frameworks and our world views; and art was thinking about percepts and affects – what we perceive and what we feel. I took all of that into my daily medical practice, figuring out what wasn’t working in somebody’s body, mind or life; developing my concepts of health, illness and disease; and working with both what I perceived and what I felt in a consultation.

A couple of years ago I had an experience on my daily commuter train which really woke me up – you can read about it here – but, let me just rehearse it for those of you who don’t want to diverge off down a link – I was sitting next to a student who seemed to be revising notes (I presume for an exam. Her subject was “clinical research” and what struck me was her key points about the “scientific method” – they were – Observation, Description, Explanation, Prediction and Control.

Well, I am very, very keen on observation and I like to describe what I observe. I’m also very keen on finding explanations for things (I think one of the definitions of a doctor’s job is “a person who tries to understand” – but that’s another story!). I also know that I was taught how to diagnose (which I see as a level of understanding) and to prognose (predict).

To be honest, neither diagnosis nor prognosis are nearly as simple as they are often taught. The older and more experienced I became the more I came to realise that diagnosis is never complete (you can always understand more deeply and/or more widely), and that prognosis is about possibilities and probabilities not about certainty.

So I was particularly surprised to find the student’s notes on “clinical” research describing the final step of the “scientific method” as “control”.

Since then, I’ve come to see that for many science is exactly about this – control. Scientism, the belief that everything can be explained using science, seems to be about power. This way of understanding and approaching science seems to be what has been adopted, not only by the industrial-commercial-military complexes, but by all those who seek control over others and over the world. It seems to be based on an understanding that if we take enough measurements, collect enough data, analyse it with statistical and computing tools, then we will be able to make accurate predictions which allow us a high degree of power to control.

Well, for some reason, I woke up this morning with this phrase in my mind – “The Power OR the Glory – two approaches to science” – and so, this post!

I’d like to re-state the case for a science based on wonder and curiosity instead of one based on power and control. For me, the joy of that scientific method is the revelation of, and the revelling in, the GLORY of this Universe and of our lives.

I was looking for some paper to start to jot down some thoughts about this and stumbled across an old notebook where I’d made some notes about the book “Planet Narnia” by Michael Ward (haven’t even thought about that book for a long, long time) – and here’s what I read –

The glory of science is to progress as new facts are discovered to be true, and such progress meanest that ‘factual truth’ is a provisional human construct. Which is why the wise man does not think only in the category of truth; the category of beauty is also worth thinking in.

Wow! How does that happen? How do I stumble across exactly the phrase “the glory of science” in a notebook stuffed away in a drawer full of scrap paper on exactly the morning I wake up with the phrase “The Power OR the Glory – two approaches to science”? In fact, who on earth wakes up with a phrase like that in their heads anyway? OK, I do!

Seriously, there’s way too much to explore there than I can write a post about this morning, so let me just finish with what I wanted to say in the first place –

There are two approaches to science – power (what I’d say is our current dominant model) OR glory – based on a humble curiosity and a joy in the awe and wonder of this life.

My hunch is, we could do with cultivating more of the latter, and less of the former!