Why Do Bears Sing?

Surely the most pertinent question for the inhabitants of Planet Earth right now and the one most deserving of a straight answer is not strictly to do with national determination, the rise of populism, religious/sectarian strife, cynical capitalist machinations or even one's favourite festive food (from a supermarket your choice). The big concern ought to be global warming  - although it informs and is impacted  by several of the afore-mentioned issues.

That global warming is happening is an undeniable fact - unless you're unfortunate enough to have a head like a trumpkin. The questions (actually a multiplicity) and eagerly sought answers relate to causes, effects and potential remedies. Here, then, a bit of a rhetorical Q&A; nothing that hasn't been said before, but I feel it's worth re-iterating in light of the most recent warnings from the IPCC (the UN's Inter-governmental Panel on Climate Change) of imminent environmental catastrophe unless behaviours change.

Q: Is the steady rise in global temperatures that we have witnessed in the last fifty years due mainly to the actions of mankind?
A: All the informed scientific evidence is that this is the case and the principal catalyst has been the rapid increase in 'greenhouse gases' around the world from fossil-fuel burning factories, power-plants and motor vehicles.

Q:Is the rise in temperatures triggering climate change as a result?
A: Again, this appears to be irrefutable. Ice-caps are melting, sea-levels are rising, flooding of low-lying areas is becoming more prevalent. Wind and rainfall patterns are changing as the oceans warm, leading to an increase in arid deserts in some parts of the globe and more extreme weather conditions (hurricanes, typhoons) in others.

Q: Is any of this necessarily dangerous?
A: It certainly is for low-lying or arid regions which will become uninhabitable. Human suffering and population migration on a mass scale are likely to result. It could also mean that lands that are currently prime food-producing areas cease to be so or to be as productive as they currently are.

That UN IPCC report warned that we've only got just over a decade in which to act decisively in order for global warming "to be kept to a maximum of 1.5C, beyond which even half a degree will significantly worsen the risks of drought, floods, extreme heat and poverty for hundreds of millions of people... But the greatest difference would be to nature. Insects (which are vital for pollination of crops) and plants could lose half their habitat if temperatures rise by even 2C."

The latest informed estimates from climatologists is that average temperatures could rise by as much as 5C over the next fifty years if the targets of the Paris accord are not met. The implications are truly frightening.

Q: Is everyone but the scientific community and the 'green' think-tanks and pressure groups still under-estimating or dismissing the severity of the problem?
A: That would appear to be the case and is the most worrying aspect of the issue. At a governmental level there is a collective dragging of feet, even to conform to the agreed to legislation and the agreed-to timetable to implement it to reduce carbon emissions and reliance on fossil fuels... and then there are the governments that appear to be paying lip-service to agreed limits or are threatening to renege on agreements they signed.

Q: Is there any difference that individuals can make?
A: Of course we can all try and be good citizens by recycling waste, reducing our own energy use and influencing the markets in the way we shop (avoid air-freighted produce, buy local etc). Any initiative is better than none - but the quantum changes will only happen when green policies become mainstream - so maybe that sort of seismic political change is the next logical development, the greening of the political climate, a burgeoning Green Party, something to be actively encouraged and signed up to? (I'm just thinking out loud now.)

Anyway, my head hurts. Time for a poem and to answer the question about bears singing. Last week's effort was a bit on the bleak side and so although the issue of global warming is mighty serious (and no mistake), I've tried to leaven the poetic baguette with the yeast of humour. (Warning - this is a work in progress and definitely not yet in its final form.)

Sleeveless In Seattle
No wonder
all of nature's got its knickers
in a twist - it's December
and we're sleeveless in Seattle
for fuck's sake;
while down the coast
swathes of California are toast
and across the continent
low-lying lands are sinking
under ice-melt.

Time to rewrite the book of lore -
those country saws
mean nothing anymore.
Ne'er cast a clout?

We're sleeveless in Seattle
and from shore to sandy shore
it's springtime before Christmas.
The best exotic marigolds
will flower for New Years - in fact
they've not been out of bloom for seasons.

Non-hibernating bears sing loud for honey,
but the bees all got too hot and died
and so there isn't any...hear them howl.

Nor will there be fruit swelling
in those fabulous southern orange groves
nor any cereals soon
from the breadbin of the nation.
That old harvest moon
becomes redundant
once the dustbowl settles
and the hungry droves migrate out west
to overcrowd our temperate home.

Nature's clearly out of sorts,
severely out of synch.
Sure she'll get the reasons figured
in due course. Meanwhile,
rattled rightly to our very bones
we'll ration hope, do what it takes,
notch our belts more tightly
to stop the trousers
slipping off our skinny arses
and sleeveless in Seattle
out sing the howling bears
in praying this climatic nightmare
of our own devising passes.


Thanks for reading guys and gals, S ;-)

Read More

For Answers We Need Questions....

As mankind we are forever asking questions. That's how we've evolved, learned and experienced. Our minds are questioning as the norm. Answers are not always forthcoming...in fact answers are not always necessary.

When I find myself in a remote area I'm always "asking" in my head. I question the meaning of life (very profound). I often wonder who has been in that spot before me...has anyone actually stood on that exact sa
me spot in the heather? How come there are oak trees left here? Who lived in that remote croft? How many deer are on that fellside? Where does the cuckoo go when he leaves? The list goes on and on...my questioning goes on and on. I don't require a definitive answer. Often I muse over possible answers, possible outcomes. I imagine scenarios. I speculate. That's fine. I've  satisfactorily answered myself .

Silence isn't empty. It's full of answers....I read that somewhere.  For me - silence isn't empty. It's full of questions .

Many questions are purely rhetorical. We neither expect nor wish an answer. It's not necessary, serves no purpose anyway or there is no answer.

I've found two poems this week. The first was written  in March 1968.   The second in May 2015. They ask questions. I never got any answers as such. They are uncannily similar, given the years between.

To You

Shall I give my hand to you ?

Perhaps you will take offence and shun me ?

I don't know.

I wish I could make you understand -

My intentions are good. I am sure of that.

If you were to give your hand to me

I would accept it without a second thought.

I cannot change. Accept me for what I am

And I shall give you my hand.

Shall I?

Shall I open my heart to you, or will you reject me and turn away ?

Shall I open my arms to you, or will you shun me and go on your way ?

Shall I open my eyes and see you, or will you be gone for ever and a day ?

Shall I open my door to see you standing there, or will you not be there and I am fay ?

Shall I open my mind to your love, or will you desert me and go astray ?

I'll keep a tight closed heart.

My arms crossed over my chest.

My eyes focused on the future.

My door firmly shut,

And my mind set !

I shall not open up for you,

You must earn your way to my love !

     

Thanks for reading today,  Kath.

     

Read More

Question The Answers

"There are two different types of people in the world, those who want to know, and those who want to believe."                                                                                                                                                           Friedrich Nietzsche

When it comes to finding answers, the human mind becomes restless especially around uncertainty and ambiguity. Consequently, when seeking clarity to troublesome questions, one response is to spontaneously generate plausible explanations. Once generated, we then tend to hold onto these invented explanations, in a way of making them become real. Once we have them, we really don’t like to let them go. Consequently we can eliminate the distress of the unknown and achieve ‘cognitive closure’ (Kruglanski, A. 1996).

In 1972, the psychologist Jerome Kagan, in (1972) suggested this ‘uncertainty resolution’ was one of the foremost determinants of human behaviour. Therefore, when we struggle to immediately gratify our desire to know the answer, we become highly motivated to find solutions to develop some kind of firm explanation. The ‘motivation principle’ in this hypothesis, remains central to many of our common motives: achievement, affiliation, recognition etc.

As unique individuals we tend to interpret the world around us, continuously. If we are not able to understand something, it scares us. Having answers to questions allows us to make sense of our surroundings, thereby giving us a sense of safety and security, a recognise core needs when we consider Maslow’s hierarchy. The human brain, more specifically the ‘amygdala’ becomes active in the face of ambiguity. Our drive to gather factual, biographical data in the hippocampus drives our conscious thoughts to find the right information, whereas the amygdala deals with the emotional responses to situations, therefore why we become restless in the face of uncertainty. 

In conclusion, when faced with heightened ambiguity and a lack of clarity of answers, our need to know—as quickly as possible becomes paramount.

 

 

Considering this concept of the need for answers, I wanted to share with you an abridged excerpt from one of the most bizarre but ultimately most creative authors in science fiction. Douglas Adams most famous piece of literary success has got to be the first novel in a five book trilogy (I said he was bizarre), The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Towards the end of the book there begins a monumental story of how a race of ‘hyperintelligent pandimentional beings’ decided to build a computer to find out if there was such an answer to the question of the meaning of life, the universe and everything. Without wanting to spoil the outcome I have included the important passages (in Douglas’s original words) to help explain a little more.

The Following Passages are taken from “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” by Douglas Adams.
There are of course many problems connected with life, of which some of the most popular are, Why are people born? Why do they die? Why do they want to spend so much of the intervening time wearing digital watches? Many many millions of years ago a race of hyperintelligent pandimensional beings (whose physical manifestation in their own pan-dimensional universe is not dissimilar to our own) got so fed up with the constant bickering about the meaning of life which used to interrupt their favourite pastime of Brockian Ultra Cricket (a curious game which involved suddenly hitting people for no readily apparent reason and then running away) that they decided to sit down and solve their problems once and for all. And to this end they built themselves a stupendous super computer which was so amazingly intelligent that even before the data banks had been connected up it had started from I think therefore I am and got as far as the existence of rice pudding and income tax before anyone managed to turn it off.

On the day of the Great On-Turning two soberly dressed programmers with brief cases arrived and were shown discreetly into the office. They were aware that this day they would represent their entire race in its greatest moment, but they conducted themselves calmly and quietly as they seated themselves deferentially before the desk, opened their brief cases and took out their leather-bound notebooks. Their names were Lunkwill and Fook.

Fook composed himself. ”O Deep Thought Computer,” he said, ”the task we have designed you to perform is this. We want you to tell us ...” he paused, ”...the Answer!” ”The answer?” said Deep Thought. ”The answer to what?” ”Life!” urged Fook. ”The Universe!” said Lunkwill. ”Everything!” they said in chorus. Deep Thought paused for a moment’s reflection. ”Tricky,” he said finally. ”But can you do it?” Again, a significant pause. ”Yes,” said Deep Thought, ”I can do it.” ”There is an answer?” said Fook with breathless excitement.” ”A simple answer?” added Lunkwill. ”Yes,” said Deep Thought. ”Life, the Universe, and Everything. There is an answer. But,” he added, ”I’ll have to think about it.”

A sudden commotion destroyed the moment: the door flew open and two angry men wearing the coarse faded-blue robes and belts of the Cruxwan University burst into the room, thrusting aside the ineffectual flunkies who tried to bar their way. ”We demand admission!” shouted the younger of the two men elbowing a pretty young secretary in the throat. ”Come on,” shouted the older one, ”you can’t keep us out!” He pushed a junior programmer back through the door. ”We demand that you can’t keep us out!” bawled the younger one, though he was now firmly inside the room and no further attempts were being made to stop him. ”Who are you?” said Lunkwill, rising angrily from his seat. ”What do you want?” ”I am Majikthise!” announced the older one. ”And I demand that I am Vroomfondel!” shouted the younger one. Majikthise turned on Vroomfondel. ”It’s alright,” he explained angrily, ”you don’t need to demand that.” ”All right!” bawled Vroomfondel banging on an nearby desk. ”I am Vroomfondel, and that is not a demand, that is a solid fact! What we demand is solid facts!” ”No we don’t!” exclaimed Majikthise in irritation. ”That is precisely what we don’t demand!” Scarcely pausing for breath, Vroomfondel shouted, ”We don’t demand solid facts! What we demand is a total absence of solid facts. I demand that I may or may not be Vroomfondel!” ”But who the devil are you?” exclaimed an outraged Fook. ”We,” said Majikthise, ”are Philosophers.” ”Though we may not be,” said Vroomfondel waving a warning finger at the programmers. ”Yes we are,” insisted Majikthise. ”We are quite definitely here as rep- resentatives of the Amalgamated Union of Philosophers, Sages, Luminaries and Other Thinking Persons, and we want this machine off, and we want it off now!” ”What’s the problem?” said Lunkwill. ”I’ll tell you what the problem is mate,” said Majikthise, ”demarcation, that’s the problem!” ”We demand,” yelled Vroomfondel, ”that demarcation may or may not be the problem!” ”You just let the machines get on with the adding up,” warned Majikthise, ”and we’ll take care of the eternal verities thank you very much. You want to check your legal position you do mate. Under law the Quest for Ultimate Truth is quite clearly the inalienable prerogative of your working thinkers. Any bloody machine goes and actually finds it and we’re straight out of a job aren’t we? I mean what’s the use of our sitting up half the night arguing that there may or may not be a God if this machine only goes and gives us his bleeding phone number the next morning?” ”That’s right!” shouted Vroomfondel, ”we demand rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty!” Suddenly a stentorian voice boomed across the room. ”Might I make an observation at this point?” inquired Deep Thought. ”We’ll go on strike!” yelled Vroomfondel. ”That’s right!” agreed Majikthise. ”You’ll have a national Philosopher’s strike on your hands!” The hum level in the room suddenly increased as several ancillary bass driver units, mounted in sedately carved and varnished cabinet speakers around the room, cut in to give Deep Thought’s voice a little more power. ”All I wanted to say,” bellowed the computer, ”is that my circuits are now irrevocably committed to calculating the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything –” he paused and satisfied himself that he now had everyone’s attention, before continuing more quietly, ”but the programme will take me a little while to run.” Fook glanced impatiently at his watch. ”How long?” he said. ”Seven and a half million years,” said Deep Thought. Lunkwill and Fook blinked at each other. ”Seven and a half million years ...!” they cried in chorus. ”Yes,” declaimed Deep Thought, ”I said I’d have to think about it, didn’t I? And it occurs to me that running a programme like this is bound to create an enormous amount of popular publicity for the whole area of philosophy in general. Everyone’s going to have their own theories about what answer I’m eventually to come up with, and who better to capitalize on that media market than you yourself? So long as you can keep disagreeing with each other violently enough and slagging each other off in the popular press, you can keep yourself on the gravy train for life. How does that sound?” The two philosophers gaped at him. ”Bloody hell,” said Majikthise, ”now that is what I call thinking. Here Vroomfondel, why do we never think of things like that?” ”Dunno,” said Vroomfondel in an awed whisper, ”think our brains must be too highly trained Majikthise.” So saying, they turned on their heels and walked out of the door and into a lifestyle beyond their wildest dreams.    

Seven and a half million years Later…

A man standing on a brightly dressed dais before the building which clearly dominated the square was addressing the crowd over a Tannoy. ”O people waiting in the Shadow of Deep Thought!” he cried out. ”Hon- oured Descendants of Vroomfondel and Majikthise, the Greatest and Most Truly Interesting Pundits the Universe has ever known ...The Time of Waiting is over!” Wild cheers broke out amongst the crowd. Flags, streamers and wolf whistles sailed through the air. The narrower streets looked rather like centipedes rolled over on their backs and frantically waving their legs in the air. ”Seven and a half million years our race has waited for this Great and Hopefully Enlightening Day!” cried the cheer leader. ”The Day of the Answer!” Hurrahs burst from the ecstatic crowd. ”Never again,” cried the man, ”never again will we wake up in the morning and think Who am I? What is my purpose in life? Does it really, cosmically speaking, matter if I don’t get up and go to work? For today we will finally learn once and for all the plain and simple answer to all these nagging little problems of Life, the Universe and Everything!”

”Seventy-five thousand generations ago, our ancestors set this program in motion,” the second man said, ”and in all that time we will be the first to hear the computer speak.” ”An awesome prospect, Phouchg,” agreed the first man, ”We are the ones who will hear,” said Phouchg, ”the answer to the great question of Life ...!” ”The Universe ...!” said Loonquawl. ”And Everything ...!” ”Shhh,” said Loonquawl with a slight gesture, ”I think Deep Thought is preparing to speak!” There was a moment’s expectant pause whilst panels slowly came to life on the front of the console. Lights flashed on and off experimentally and settled down into a businesslike pattern. A soft low hum came from the communication channel. ”Good morning,” said Deep Thought at last. ”Er ...Good morning, O Deep Thought,” said Loonquawl nervously, ”do you have ...er, that is ...” ”An answer for you?” interrupted Deep Thought majestically. ”Yes. I have.” The two men shivered with expectancy. Their waiting had not been in vain. ”There really is one?” breathed Phouchg. ”There really is one,” confirmed Deep Thought. ”To Everything? To the great Question of Life, the Universe and Everything?” ”Yes.” Both of the men had been trained for this moment, their lives had been a preparation for it, they had been selected at birth as those who would witness the answer, but even so they found themselves gasping and squirming like excited children. ”And you’re ready to give it to us?” urged Loonquawl. ”I am.” ”Now?” ”Now,” said Deep Thought. They both licked their dry lips. ”Though I don’t think,” added Deep Thought, ”that you’re going to like it.” ”Doesn’t matter!” said Phouchg. ”We must know it! Now!” ”Now?” inquired Deep Thought. ”Yes! Now ...” ”All right,” said the computer and settled into silence again. The two men fidgeted. The tension was unbearable. ”You’re really not going to like it,” observed Deep Thought. ”Tell us!” ”All right,” said Deep Thought. ”The Answer to the Great Question ...” ”Yes ...!” ”Of Life, the Universe and Everything ...” said Deep Thought. ”Yes ...!” ”Is ...” said Deep Thought, and paused. ”Yes ...!” ”Is ...” ”Yes ...!!!...?” ”Forty-two,” said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm.

It was a long time before anyone spoke…

By way of concluding this guest blog on the topic of answers, I thought it would be only right to go back to our opening quote by Nietzsche and offer you my simple limerick that tries to capture the complexity of this subject in five lines. I hope you like it...

Answers
A young philosopher called Nietzsche
Aspired to be a wise teacher.
Exploring answers to the meaning of life
All he found was trouble and strife
So concluded 'we are unfathomable creatures'.

Thanks for reading, Steve McG,

Read More

Ask The Right Question And You Get The Right Answer

When I perform today's poem I always preface it by saying that when I was a kid there were plenty of protest songs on the radio. Now there are none so I wrote one. Then I read the poem. Of course, there is what we might call a problem with what I will call 'Now' poems because they go out of date almost overnight. I’ve written stuff that’s gone out of date quickly before.

There are plenty of things in this poem I am still pleased with but none the less it is now history. I guess you have to strike while the pen is still hot. What I am trying to do with poems like "The Eve of the Summit of Nations"  is put down how I feel that makes the point but is written is such a way that there are language features that repay further readings that are not necessarily to do with the main point of the poem. I like the imagery amongst others in the section about the food bank where strong women are described as having the roaring pride of lions, and of course, later in the poem they swallow their pride that takes the form of food from the food bank.

The only way in which poetry like this can survive beyond a brief time is for it to have aspects of something that could be described as universal. Those of us who campaign against Global Warming talk about starting 'global' and going 'local'. In a sense poems like this- perhaps indeed all poems - so that we can relate to them, work the other way round, start local and go global. Ultimately the real test is the "message" of a poem like this, if the reader can relate to it and interact with it. I don’t think that I have to spell out what the message of this poem is. You only have to walk the streets of any city, or look around as you leave the supermarket. The question is "Why?" and maybe that’s a silly question.

The Eve of the Summit of Nations
(After Shakespeare’s Henry V,  Act 1V Scene 1)
 
In the Grand Hotel, on the eve of the summit of nations
before our leaders slide into the luxury of sleep,
after fine wine and a seven course meal,
they are roused by the moon, borrow the garb of lesser folk,
don drab disguise and wander the city to listen
to the voices that linger in the midnight streets.

It smells like piss and tastes like piss.
Don’t be fooled by the Costa coffee cup. It is piss.
And if the cup overflows they’ll piss on you.
We are stubbed out in the streets like fag ends.
We huddle to keep warm in cardboard duvets.
We lie on the pavement one step away from the gutter,
the unemployed, the mentally ill, army veterans, self-abusers and more.
There are thousands of us in each and every county.
We are the dregs of society and if our leaders were here,
we would tell them. We would say,
“How can you sleep at night when you know we are homeless?”

At the food bank we queue in silence.
Don’t be fooled by our blank faces. Inside we are seething.
At the counter we trade our dignity for bread.
We have angry tongues that burn with scorn.
We have the roaring pride of lions.
We have worked while others have got rich at our expense.
The zero hours contract workers, the below the living waged and more.
There are thousands of us in each and every county.
We have swallowed our pride and if our leaders were here,
we would tell them. We would say,
“How can you sleep at night when you know we are hungry?”

Back in the Grand Hotel the leaders mumble vague promises,
drink whiskey nightcaps, pray and retire to bed.
When morning comes they eat a full and hearty breakfast.
Then cloaked in power and the great ermine robes of state,
our strong and stable leaders attend the summit of nations
to sing the praises of our country and the unity of our people. 
But the homeless and the hungry have no desire to sing.


Thanks for reading, Bill Allison

Read More

Answers - Who Am I?

Over the last few evenings I’ve been searching my ancestry for possible answers. I was able to confirm to another family member that the details he’d passed on to me of a young man killed in action during WW1 was one of us, but I couldn’t leave it there. My ancestors had massive families and there are many brothers and cousins likely to have been involved in the conflict.  It is on-going and taking me in many directions, enough to give me a headache and a fear of forgetting what my hand-written notes mean. And, to keep me on my toes, eldest sons are often named after their father.

With the use of websites I started to research my family tree in 2004 when I was housebound, recovering from illness.  It gave me something to focus on and took me on a fascinating journey of discovery. I’ve learnt a lot about my background through the lives of past generations.  I wish such information could have been so readily available thirty-plus years ago when my father was alive.

Dad knew very little about his mother’s family. My Nanna Hetty was orphaned when she was a baby. I’m still unsure if she was formally adopted or just taken in by the people who raised her, it was 1896, but I have found details of her birth family and obtained marriage and death certificates for her parents. I have the answers my father always wanted.

Up to now I’ve been able to track my ancestry back to around 1810, some of which is backed up with birth, marriage and death certificates and information from census records. I know who they were, where they lived, what they did and how they died. If only I could find out what their personalities were like or what made them tick.

 

I found this poem by Sandra Osborne:

Answers

How many souls
Have come and gone
Before me?

How many had
The same questions?
How many
Found the answers?

And if they found them,
Then why does my soul
Long for the reasons
For their deaths,
For their lives,
The reasons for mine.

And if I should find them,
Will I have the wisdom
To know them as answers,
Or will I lack the understanding,
And see them as questions.

 

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x

 

Read More