out of the overflow

How we appear to others can be different to how we feel inside. That's why people's behavior sometimes seems strange and inexplicable - they're responding more to some inner drama than to what's going on around them, and we can't see that inner drama.

When people speak to us, especially people we don't know, they aren't really talking to us, they are talking to what we represent in their world. For Christians, other people should represent their neighbor or even Christ himself, and we should talk to them accordingly. 

The Bible talks about the fruits of the spirit - the qualities that the holy spirit will bear in your life: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (see Galatians 5:22-23). They aren't like KPIs, where you strive to meet the criteria. No, they are qualities that will grow naturally when you have a relationship with God and they are qualities that are reflected (or not) very clearly in how you speak to others. 

rules of trolling

One of the things kids do to troll is to talk in a way that sounds intelligent but doesn't mean much. They aren't very good at it though. To do that well, you have to have a solid grasp on language so that you can use words in a way that sounds like it makes sense but ultimately doesn't. That's what makes it funny. If you're just putting long words together randomly, it's not very effective trolling. Some people do this kind of trolling unintentionally when they're trying to actually be smart, like when Kevin Rudd used the term 'parametric specificity' and said we should aim to get more of it, and everyone laughed at him about it. 

moved

Björk said that she left London because 'everybody was trying to corner me off like some kind of elf'.

She has such a wonderful economy of language - saying so much in a few words.

the engine of the mind

This is a post that I originally published on April 12, 2016, which I've lightly edited. I retrieved it through the magic of the 'wayback machine'. 

Is artificial intelligence as novel as we think it is?

I found out recently that the words 'grammar' and 'glamour' are related and they both derive from a word that means magic. Think of the word grimoire, which is a book of magic - a book of spells. And the word 'spell'. We spell words and we cast spells.

The idea that words are magic is an old one. Wasn't that why Plato wanted to banish the poets - because they could use language to transform things, which is dangerous? But poets don't actually change things, they just seem to, which is probably worse.

In today's world, magicians perform tricks and witches cast spells. So, magicians are kind of like grammar and witches are like glamour. Witches and magicians are two different things, even though, if we take those words back to their original meanings, they ought not to be. Magic is trickery. Witchcraft is sorcery.

When I look up the etymology of the word 'sorcery' I find this: 'From Middle French sorcerie, ultimately derived from Latin sors ‎(“fate”), from Proto-Indo-European *seh₁- ‎(“to sort, lineup”)' To sort....interesting. So, 'grimoire', 'spell' and even 'sorcery' all had ordinary everyday meanings not associated with witchcraft. 

The etymology of the word trickery is really hard to find but I found a reference to trickery in the etymology of the word, 'engine'. Now this is really interesting, and again we are led back to systematic, concrete things, not esoteric, mysterious things. Engine.....around the year 1300, 'engine' meant a mechanical device (as it still does) but then it gets interesting because we can see from the other meanings that that word had, that it wasn't called that because of what we would regard as its 'engine like' qualities - how it's mechanical and systematic and concrete...no, it was called that because it was mysterious and kind of magical! And it's true when you think about it - new advances in technology are magical.

So, in the twelfth century, 'engine' also meant "skill, craft, innate ability; deceitfulness, trickery," It was derived from the Latin, ingenium, which meant 'inborn qualities or talent'. Ingenium to engine...amazing. 

What about the word 'machine'? The first thing that comes to my mind, before even looking at the etymology is the word 'machinations', which means plotting and scheming and has a slight connotation (I think) of deception. And again - very interesting - we find the word 'trick'. 'Machine' comes from the Latin Machina, which meant "machine, engine, military machine; device, trick, instrument"

......and now, it get's even more interesting:

'from Greek makhana, Doric variant of mekhane "device, means," related to mekhos "means, expedient, contrivance," from PIE *maghana- "that which enables," from root *magh- (1) "to be able, have power" (cognates: Old Church Slavonic mogo "be able," Old English mæg "I can;"....old English mæg! So there's a clear link between 'machine' and 'magic'. The old words 'magh' and 'mæg', meaning to be able to do something, represent the roots of both 'magic' and 'machine'. 

When I look up the etymology of the word 'magic' it says, among other things, that it 'probably derived from Proto-Indo-European *meh₂gh- ‎(“to be able to, to help; power, sorcerer”).'

When you think about how the word 'engine' and the word 'genius' are derived from the same source, it makes you realize that actually, artificial intelligence isn't as new as we think it is. It seems that, in the twelfth century, any kind of machine or mechanical device was regarded as embodying a kind of artificial intelligence.

a loan

A book can be the difference between writing and not writing, and what a difference that is. Only you can write what you write - that expression of thoughts and experience and inner-world that is yours alone. 

will to appear

I'm nearly finished reading The Vivisector by Patrick White. I really noticed, as I got further into the book, how at times, reading it stopped being an effort and became a kind of experience. It was so compelling and vivid that I wasn't aware of it as a text, and instead I just wanted to see what happened. 

It's like with art how I forget what my hands actually do to create and it's as if I'm just mentally willing the image to appear. 

on the floor

But the problem - the frustrating thing - is not the flaws themselves. The problem is the toll the flaws take on us. The problem is that these flaws cause damage.

exploration

There are certain things that it's good to think about. It's good to think about goals and values. It's good to think about your direction in life because you are the only one who can think about that - it's ultimately your responsibility and yours alone. But the way we think about these things has to change and evolve.

Thinking is hard work. Your mind will always go in the direction it knows - the direction it has gone in the past - the habitual direction you have trained it to take. You can't really see places that you haven't been in your mind. You can't really grasp possibilities that are nothing like the possibilities you've already encountered. You can't learn new things unless there's some link to what you already know - you just won't understand them.

ironic lessons

I've always tended to think that, if I do a good job as a teacher, that's the best thing I can do for my students' learning, and generally I'm sure that's true, but at times I've also thought that, actually, sometimes it may help my students succeed if I fail in some way. Like, if I don't have all the best answers to all the questions. Sometimes if you can struggle and allow students to help you - not just as a pretense, but for real - that's a far better lesson than you lecturing them and seeing yourself as the fount of all wisdom.  

lines and curves

There are few straight lines or uniform curves in nature, but most things that are made by humans are mostly straight lines and uniform curves. That’s a requirement of mass production, but not when God is the creator. God mass produced trees and, though there’s a uniformity about them, no tree is exactly the same as another. The beauty of ruins or their more modern variant — abandoned places — is that they are a collaborative effort between nature and humanity. Humanity builds something with lines and defined edges and then, over time, nature goes to work, eroding the hard lines and introducing an element of chaotic life. 

post hoc ergo propter hoc

I like learning about things in a non-systematic, haphazard way. I do that with programming languages. I'll decide on a particular language and then I'll watch a series of YouTube videos or a course on Udemy or whatever, and even if I've been through that course before I generally start at or near the beginning and rather than follow each lesson through I'll try to anticipate and see if I can figure out how to do the thing. Same with learning about philosophy, which I've been doing for a few months now. I have different books and I watch videos, but I just follow my interest, I don't work systematically. 

consolation

The comfort you seek becomes your discomfort, and the discomfort you face becomes your comfort. Your refuge becomes your prison and the world outside your door becomes your liberty. 

writing is like teaching

Just because someone knows how to do something or they’re knowledgeable about a topic doesn’t mean they can teach it. There’s a lot of explanation that seems obvious to someone who already knows how to do something that is necessary when teaching others how to do it. Also, you have to work through the material gradually and systematically, not making any quick moves. Sometimes we think that those ‘quick moves’ display our expertise, but they don’t — they just confuse those we are trying to teach. A similar principle applies to writing. To really get your message across, you have to include a lot of ‘signposting’ and explanation that you, the writer, don’t need but which helps the reader to understand what you’re trying to convey. 

determinations

I think that temperature can be a good analogy for depression. Severe depression is like being permanently cold and having no way to warm up. You’re not free and flexible. Over many years, through catering to my own anxiety and depression, I had cultivated a cold world in my mind. Interest begets warmth, but the problem with depression is that you don’t feel interested in anything. But that’s also something that can be cultivated. Through following my interests, I can build refuges in my mind. 

I’ve written before about the 3 crucial conversations I had in 2022. The one I had with the nurse in detox was about how, through catering to my anxiety, through withdrawal and rumination, I had built my anxiety into something all-consuming, like a toxic plant or a monument to terror that requires all my attention. She said, imagine what you could do if you engage in life. You could cultivate a health-giving plant or a monument that celebrates character, spirit, joy, beauty. It’s not just about being physically active — like doing exercise — or being socially active — doing stuff with people — although it is about those things, but there’s a kind of mental activity that is the opposite of rumination and withdrawal. 

NF’s song Mansion is about the dwelling we build for ourselves when we take refuge in fear and doubt. That’s a mystery that really interests me — how, with depression especially, what we fear and loathe becomes a refuge that we seek. We take refuge in the thing that we are taking refuge from. It’s like a recursive function. I think it’s about control. We want to tame and domesticate our fear. We serve it, thinking that we will be rewarded by its subservience when what we actually get is our subservience. 

When I think in general about all the mental vicissitudes I’ve been through in my life, it’s with a sense of regret, even bitterness. If I wasn’t so messed up mentally, I would have been more successful, more normal, happier, nicer to people. I would have been able to make a meaningful, positive contribution to the world. But for some reason, when I think about the actual experience of those struggles — like, thinking about particular battles rather than the whole war — I feel a sense of appreciation that I went through those things. I see some value that I didn’t see at the time.