Excerpt: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." - John 1

Starting this chapter, even with no religious intent I fell upon the intriguing first line of the Book of John in the New Testament. There are interpretations of it and it invites interpretation. The first rule of interpretation is to go to the original, and the original was not English but Greek and so it was not Word but Logos, which presumably roughly means "word". Then we should look whether it is intended literally, or figuratively. 

I would like to write, with words no less, on the literal understandings of words. Words are such a part of our world and thinking that it is hard to remove them from our thinking or even in our sight. One of the reasons for my need to approach this early in my writing is that I have only recently begun to have genuine suspicion about words, generally thinking that while useful, they must be used very carefully and with an understanding of their limitations in any particular situation. Any situation or thing cannot be just words; words can only hold a few fields of information on anything, as all things are boundless in their complexity. Words are bluntest of tools, for which we sometimes think we are able to sculpt David; and when we see someone else's sculpted prose we must take on a lot of faith that there is some similarity with the actual King David. If there is a God, it must be before the "Word". Words are just an attempt to write the detail of reality, and as anyone know the Devil is in the detail. Or rather, the reality is in the unwritable detail.

Probably one of my greatest hatreds is the simplification of something organic into something textual. It is the degradation of something four dimensional into something that is less than a single dimension, words. Words can only capture something incontestable, or something oversimplified or, worse, misleading. And that is for almost anything that can be put into words. 

For a good many years in my twenties I labelled myself a philosophical Daoist, a conceit that could only come from those precious years of youth. I really did have an intellectual interest in the ideas of Zhuangzi and Laozi, and understood them in my own way. Whether I naturally thought or acted in accordance with them would be debatable. Some ideas are like seeds though and may of those seeds are reflective in many of my instincts and reactions now. 

Zhuangzi (Chuangtzu) in particularly was skeptical about words, with plenty of wordy quotes to demonstrate: “The fish trap exists because of the fish. Once you've gotten the fish you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit. Once you've gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning. Once you've gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so I can talk with him?” Nice, right? The most apt part of that is the subordination of language as a mere tool that could be disposed of once the truth is apparent. 

The problem though is that the mediation role that words have taken in our perceptions has led us to only see them. We only see the agents and forget the product they are selling. Laozi (Laotzu) said: "The truth is not always beautiful, nor beautiful words the truth" and there is more than an element of that in the exaggerated field of real estate. 

Both Daoists quotes, themselves, are undoubtedly beautiful. The first talks about words as a disposable means to an ends, that ends being to have a clear understanding of meaning. The second that they play on our senses and truth is not necessarily a pleasing, acceptable thing. My current feeling is that words are almost always inadequate to show meaning, approximations at best; and at worst, they damage meaning in the snaring, trapping process to the point that it leads to wrong understanding or self-deception. Be that as it may, I concede that they are probably the best we have to communicate. 

Words, being mere tools, can be misused or abused to create impossible artworks akin to Escher paintings. As we think in words, it is easy to be caught in an infinity loop created by them, unless you constantly subordinate the lingual meaning to a limited aspect of a non-lingual reality. The Chinese word for contradiction 矛盾 (máodùn) comes from the story of a man selling two different products: 矛, a spear that was described as capable of piercing any armour or protection; and 盾, a shield which in this case is absolutely inpenetrable. In the story, of course, a stander-by asked that obvious question: what happens when his two products are used against each other. Clearly there is a contradiction there but it is only an intellectual word game at the end of the day, because two physical objects can be speculated about but at the end of the day the theory can be tested and one object will win. And in it winning, it might only mean that it wins now - can one really know about something being the most of anything without an impossibly omniscient perspective. 

Words can only show a few dimensions of any idea, object, person or place, when there are countless others. Take our hypothetical spear. Actually, don't. It is hypothetical and is literally only words. I do not know if you have ever seen a spear before so please hold in your mind the conception of the sharpest knife you actually have in your cutlery drawer. This is your 矛. Unlike a word spear with extraordinary word powers, your knife is, well, your knife; only you know it. Imagine the feeling of holding the material of the handle; its weight and dynamics in the hand when you want to use it; recall the age, how it came to be your knife; recall what you have eaten with it, or the foods you have prepared with it; though you probably cannot be sure, imagine its production; the origins of each of its components; then look at any grooves or any imperfections on it; do any of those scars have a story? As for whether it is sharp enough to slice through your bulletproof chopping board, or whether the blade will snap upon the first, second or third attempt, let us leave that to our imagination. 

I would aver that the knowledge and the actuality of the knife that you have in your mind, after this mental probing of the knife ,cannot be adequately reflected in text. Even if you write answers to the questions above in text, it is still a mere shadow of the actuality with plenty of scope to underrepresent or misrepresent. And there are far more so for things more complex than an inert kitchen object. All of which means that we should treat meaning and truth represented words bring as approximations, and definitely cast the words away when the obscure sight of what you are trying to see.

In terms of my own growth, especially in the last ten years, it would have been towards leaving linear thought, perhaps a sign that the seeds from my twenties are bearing fruit. Linear thought is a product of the oversimplicity that word thinking can instill. For me linear thinking is the kind that is pure, reasonable, on-paper analysis without any dimensions of rough-and-ready reality. It is what I have an innate ability to do and regrettably has been one of the biggest obstacles for understanding the nuances of the real world. 

What I am calling linear thought is best shown by obviously reasonable but clearly wrong conclusions:

- A smart couple will have smart children.

- He is the smartest so he will be the most successful.

- He is successful so he must be happy.

Similar certainties are commonly heard. Anyone with any worldly experience knows these are reasonable possibilities but definitely nowhere near the certainties logical, linear thinking should dictate. The sentences should clang in the ear in their arrogant certainty; so many truisms have this kind of reasonability about them that almost certainly recalls Laozi's observation about beautiful words not being true; and true words not beautiful. A smart couple could have a range of children with different intellectual talents; they may have one on the autistic spectrum, a child with Downs Syndrome and a rebel who distains learning and resents the expectations of their parents. Our own experiences of real people will show the linear thoughts to be clearly wrong about success and happiness: Anthony Bourdain, Michael Hutchence, Heath Ledger and Greg Boyd were all smart successful people whose lives ended by their own hands probably in lives where true happiness was a rarity and the agony of being was beyond belief. Linear thinking would not make sense of these people, and to be clear a lot of people still cannot understand their acts of suicide. 

Yet for most of my life I have thought this way. Being someone with a strong affinity to words, I would write down my ideas and draw conclusions. When things did not go according to logic, I would say that it happened incorrectly, rather than to see that I had an inadequate tool for understanding why things happened the way they did. It might be an age thing - we see so much and realise that the inherent complexities in things and people are much more than can be perceived.

Apparently F. Scott Fitzgerald was the first to say the line: "The sign of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function." When I heard it it nailed a notion that I have enjoyed pondering for some time:  If one statement is 80% likely to be correct to a degree of 80% or more and a completely contradictory second statement is 80% likely to be 80% correct, it is entirely possible that both seem correct and consistent with most of the evidence. Therefore, if you negate one on the basis of another, you are in jeopardy. I would like to stand up and bear witness to holding two contradictory thoughts. Yet, I am sure it would not be understood.

Words fail in just the same way that numbers do. A staff headcount, something that is always lurking at the background of my managerial life, counts each person as an identical unit, whereas they are all different people with respect to ability, productivity, legacy and fit, not to mention the importance of their ongoing employment to their financial viability. The headcount could be a proxy for an accountant for the cost of salaries, which is only a financial perspective, whereas it loses relevance for the operation in the business and the human side of a working staff. Death tolls are the same, counting each person as an equal unit, which for public health monitoring may be useful but from any other angle had blinders towards the age, family impact of loss, contribution to society, etc. These two counts of human bodies is equal but not equitable and, more to my point, only ever meant to be taken as one dimension because there is no true way to count absolutely. Words are no different. 

Clearly I've rambled for quite some time in words. Obviously the suspicion of words has not stopped me being prolix in my elaboration. I do not find it discouraging for my use of language, but it rather pushes me to try better to touch the concrete, the real and ask the questions without prejudice or prejudgement.  

Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so I can talk with him?

Excerpt: Non-dualism

There were three weird moments in the first half of my life that I sometimes reflect on. I remember the experiencing them at the time, and also reflecting quickly on the experience. But since then there was recollections of these moments, and who knows to what degree they have changed in nature. They may have been qualitatively different but even through the innocent categorising of them together here, I might be mentally drawing them in to one section to make a point. Dear Reader, I hope you read the below and consider whether anything similar has happened in your life. I will describe them below and leave my own understanding of it to the end.

The first and the most wondrous was during a trip to Surfers Paradise in Australia. At this time I cannot be certain of my age but probably around 10 years old. It is also the sketchiest of the three to include. There is a Ripley's Believe It or Not "Odditorium". To unpack that, many people my age or older will remember there was a show on television, Ripley's Believe It or Not?, where strange but real stories are presented. This show, and anything with the name Arthur C. Clarke, or supernatural stories, I was crazy for. So to find this "Odditorium" (i.e. a specialised exhibit venue of odd things) was like going to heaven. It had visual illusions, stories and artefacts to see. The route was a loop through one floor, with panels on either side of the route. Being ten or thereabouts and in an overstimulating sacred venue, I imagine I probably ran around on my own. At some point though somewhere between the middle and the end, I lost myself. I just remember at the end that for a time I felt as if in a timeless dream, but nevertheless everything in the dream was actually there, just nothing more than the material substance. The final exhibits were just what they were without the expectation that I would have layered on top. It was just what it was. And it felt timeless, it felt like over an hour but it was probably no more than ten minutes. At the end my family caught up with me and we went on.

The second was after we moved to Hobsonville. We had a PC in the so-called "Pool Room" that I was increasingly hogging it for my own personal interests of computer games, philosophy, computer programming and English or Japanese BBS ("bulletinboards", a form of online chat boards). Again I cannot put a year on this but likely 17 or 18 years old. I was thinking about non-dualism - probably when I was new to the idea - and for a moment looked away and briefly again lost myself. I cannot say for how long, but for that time things just were. I just was. And then the spell ended and I went on writing, albeit with a new perspective.

The third I can definitely place in a time: The AIESEC Weekend Away conference in 2001 where I was on the OC (Organising Committee). For context, I had returned from Taiwan in September 2000 and felt something of a change in my being; I supported the OC with an Asia Pacific AIESEC conference in Auckland in January of 2001 and felt unconstrained socially and started challenging my boundaries; and then the university resumed in March, new members joined and it was part of the calendar to have an early conference with new members as part of the education process and planning for the year. I remember bringing the same mind and energy to this that I had at the Asia Pacific conference in the little moments. The only duty I can recall at this time twenty years later was one of my menial roles, washing dishes, and it was there that for periods I would just lose myself again. I would be there but without thought. Just doing. 

Now, others may have these feelings regularly; I might be impoverished and treat these meagre shiny experiences as sacred, while similar may be a dime a dozen for meditators, or available with a tab of Ecstasy. But each moment I think grounded me and opened my mind. They felt akin to a religious experience. I have meditated for periods of my life without every coming close to this, even though you would think that was the most appropriate technique to achieve it. Only one of them was while contemplating something, the other two could have been while in "flow" dissociating from self and only on existence. Without any strict guidance in my own naming of things, I consider these moments when I dipped into a mindset of non-dualism where there is no division between mind and body; no right or wrong; good or bad. It was just is; no subject; no object; no predicate; just verb.

Heart of Darkness

Is there anything better than the Easter break? Four days is just the perfect break length. I'm writing this on the start of the first day and I feel like I've already had a great rest and now I have a full two days to do things. But isn't there anything worse than a four day week, two of which flank the Easter break. 

It has been four weeks since I sprained my ankle but the last week I've started to push it by starting to jog. So far it seems to be therapeutic but I bears some risk. Every sprain is different, the result of a very specific incident with its own torques and forces to an ankle with its own idiosyncratic strengths and weak points. There are three grades of sprain. The ultrasound which revealed five partial tears was sufficient to show I had a grade two sprain, and a 4-8 week recovery time. Easter has been a time to make sure I do my exercises and focussing on the exercises to recover.

I thought the injury would have opened a lot of writing time but I have only done a few bursts of creativity and production. I have been thinking about and listening to many things which sometimes is related to what I am writing and sometimes something parallel. One person I have listened to a great deal is Ramani Durvasula, a psychologist with an interest in pathological narcissism (AKA narcissistic personality disorder, NPD). As a complete layperson in matters psychological, the idea that there is that there are personality disorders at all; I understood mental disorders of various shades, but personality disorders are different in essentially they are strictly about the personality, and not a mental condition. I would be suspicious about a personality described as a disorder, and though I have known my fair share of people I regard narcissists, I would have not considered it necessarily as a condition.

For example, if narcissism were a disorder, it would be something that narcissists would be in all aspects of their lives. For whatever reason, I may have mistaken thought that narcissists acted narcissistic with particular people, or in specific situations. (To be clear, I had not really thought about the subject.) I could imagine someone being a narcissist in a relationship but who works fine as a colleague and does not manipulate the boss; or someone who grows up as a narcissistic child in a family but at school is not abusing others for their own aggrandizement. That may be because there is a borderline between something pathological (NPD) and just the everyday selfishness or our innate tendency of egocentrism that we all exhibit at times, or during phases of our lives. Or perhaps I did not know whether those nasty pieces of work are as nasty in the other environments and with the other people in their lives. Apparently based on the evidence, they are, or can be so, thus NPD is in the DSM (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders-Fifth Edition).

Ramani spends time distinguishing psychopaths, sociopath and narcissists, and estimates that narcissists are different from the other two, and are much more common. Some of the typical phenomena outside of those in a relationship are the berating the customer service staff; they are also the ones who have hugely selfish (and hypocritical) driving habits and attitudes; they are the ones who if another person does not feed their self-esteem or give them their needs will tend to cut off and treat coldly. 

If it were a common personality disorder, I would be able to spot many within my sphere. In my working life, I think I have only met a few that I would be able to state with any confidence, and without any psychiatric credential, are likely NPD candidates. For past colleagues, EG seemed to be one. SB another. Back in China, LB and RG were probable. But that was from my own experiences with them, in a professional capacity. But if they weren't NPD sufferers, then there aren't too many others to choose from. It could be that now that I deal with more people in lower positions than me within my small professional pond so fewer people in my working life can afford to show me their darker side. Not that I want to have such a person acting out and affecting my peace of mind. 

How well we know others, how well we know ourselves and how perceptions of the world are a big interest to me and disorders that affect perception are curious. 

Another blog about not running (any more)

"I've been pleased enough with things to want to blog about it for quite some time except for the fact that I'm superstitious and don't want to jinx myself." - Saturday, 6 March.

"I think I've sprained my ankle." - Sunday, 7 March.

Well, that lasted long. In various forums on Saturday and before, I mentioned not wanting to jinx myself. Apparently voicing the idea of avoiding jinxes is a jinx in itself. Best not to talk at all. Saturday's run was a landmark run, Sunday's run was going to be an easy run where I could try more trail run-like terrain. I was aiming to go for a 12 km run so to get past that 100km mark for the week. Weather conditions were excellent although rain over the weekend had made it just a little moist. 

I started by going through the trails around the side of Mt Eden and then crossed Khyber Pass to the Domain. The Domain is great for runners in that it has a plateau area with a nice one mile loop, as well as a reasonable few hilly loops through bush and park area even with a small stream waterfall. Despite the 30km's on the previous days, I felt pretty good, perhaps as a reflection of my fitness. As I was mainly aiming to finish 12km, I was always part navigating a route while calculating a distance. Once I left the Domain I felt I just had to return basically the same general distance as I took to get to the Domain, so I decided to go through the Mt Eden tracks again, but via a different route. I went up via "The Stairs of Doom" (a set of stairs up to the summit road from Glenfell Place) and went along the road until the goat track down the mountain. It was basically just downhill to Mt Eden Rd and home. 

But it wasn't to be so easy. I don't believe I was careless or distracted. I had my eyes focussed on the track looking for dangers ahead. But while my eyes were checking a metre ahead, my left ankle was quickly bending inwards on a danger underfoot. Benign ankle rolls do happen from time to time and you can usually "run them out". This one did not feel benign and a few more strides made it clear that it was a sprain of some degree. 

I RICE'd and the following day I went to the physio for treatment and had an ultrasound to find my five partial ligament tears. Three days later I was rather surprised to be mobile enough to get around, and movement is part of the treatment. But now at the one week now mark, there has only been very small incremental improvements. I have kept my entry to The Dual active although I will probably not do much of any training before it.

I'm now quite calm about injuries and set-backs as I've had plenty. I'm sure the near-misses for injuries I've had in the past in the good times are compensated by the occasional direct hit. It could have been worse for example, a sprain or worse just days before or on the run itself (which does happen to the occasional runner). 

So we'll see how the next four weeks treat me and my ankle. Fingers crossed I can get moving to retain some of the fitness I've gained.

Another blog about running

For me, the first stanza of this year has been dominated by two things: one of our school's educational audit and my resumption of running. The two things were a tough act to balance both.  

In the preparation for the audit, there were late finishes, and meetings at any time of the day. Those lead to evenings that I couldn't run, and usually sleeping later, a harder wake-up and sleep deprivation to get runs in. Then the week of the audit, there were requests for information, usually that could not be simply extracted, leading again to late nights.

That all being said, things have been surprisingly smooth on the running front, I'm tracking ahead of my best year, 2019, in terms of mileage at the same point although my pace seems a bit slower. Yet I'm still knocking on wood before every run. In 2020 for every start, every moment of overcoming, came a niggle, recurrence or injury. So far, with reasonably regular supplementary strengthening exercises, I have managed to get by without much worry that the machine will breakdown. I've been pleased enough with things to want to blog about it for quite some time except for the fact that I'm superstitious and don't want to jinx myself.

2019 is turning out to be a useful measuring stick as it was the best build-up and culminated in a good Rotorua Marathon time (early May). This year I'm running The Dual (a trail marathon on Motutapu and Rangitoto) on 10 April so while a little earlier in the year, I can know how I can continue to raise my game from how my fitness has improved in the past. 

The Dual is linked to 2019, too. It was on conclusion of the Auckland Marathon that year, with my fitness truthfully the highest it has ever been in my life, that I wanted my next marathon to be on trail, and the idea (and convenience) of a Hauraki island trail marathon was too good to give up. And after registering there was injury. There was Covid. And there was the entire frustrating 2020.

Now in early March, I am one run away from completing my first 100km week of the year (another echo from 2019). 100km is recognised as something of a sweet spot for marathon training and I intend to stay in the 100s for the next two weeks before tapering. 

This morning I finished my first run over 30km since the 2019 Auckland Marathon and I'm pretty satisfied with how it went. Five weeks to go to The Dual, I hope these good times can keep rolling!

Fourth Uncle

An anniversary is the turning of a year, and this turning for us happened on 2 February 2020 when we through luck and perseverance boarded a flight and returned to New Zealand from the virally Problematic Republic of China. The memories of this time were interesting because we were really concerned about whether New Zealand would close its borders even to citizens and residents. For all the lost enjoyment and quality time in rush to find an earlier flight back, our original flight was cancelled and we were put on an earlier flight as a matter of course. We arrived back to pre-lockdown Auckland and enjoyed the limbo of self-isolation, the delivered groceries, the walks and drives around the block, the reading and watching from afar.

That trip back was only with immediate family of in-laws and I did not get to see or spend time with any of the uncles. Fourth Uncle had been unwell just before our trip back in 2019 but had gotten partially back to health by the time we visited. He was my Qingyuan favourite uncle because he was always so positive and curious, greeting me warmly from the start and asking questions and engaging. He died last month. It was a brief illness, which the doctors could not really diagnose yet asked for a pile of money for treatment for. There was the Chinese equivalent of give-a-little. Then the message not long after that it had gotten much worse. Then it was the rush to get him home to at least say goodbye. But even those in the neighbouring villages, let alone us, would have got there in time. 

I still recall the first time I met him in 2011: my brother-in-law was getting married with a multi-day festivity of food and wine. I got to know all the aunties, helped with peeling the lotus roots, watched the geese getting slaughtered and generally drank in each round of the banquet. I had gone up stairs to accompany the awkward parents of the bride - I only understood why they were awkward later, a tale for another time - but mainly to cool off after drinking so much. After a stilted conversation, my wife came up and mentioned relatives from her family had come and wanted to see me. It was Fourth Uncle and his three nephews, my cousins-in-law, and upon my arrival they spoke quickly and keenly in the accent of a village one hour walk away, a form of Cantonese I still cannot follow well. But Fourth Uncle was smiling and fine to surmount any language barriers to make a friend. And pour that friend a full glass of moonshine rice-wine and drink it till it was empty and fill that glass back up again.

There have been plenty of stories of the people dying alone, or families not being able to see their loved ones' last hours, or the dread of not being able to fly in and/or out to spend precious time. I am lucky that besides a brief family health emergency, Fourth Uncle is the only one that I have had that horrible feeling for. We couldn't see him last year. And we couldn't see him at hospital for his end. All I can do is remotely raise a glass and drink in his memory. And just writing that I think perhaps I should follow custom and cast some alcohol on the ground to return his previous kindness in his afterlife.

A running start

And so it begins. The dreams. The doubts. And the planning. 2020 was a terrible year for running. It was hobbled by a November 2019 mystery strain and even though I managed to pull myself together for a few stretches of training, and competed in a few races, it was dismal. Every time I gained some momentum a niggle would appear. Every time a niggle appeared, I would wind it back, rehab and then cautiously build back up till the next set back. 2020 though was a year of uncertain events. I had two events converted into virtual runs. Major events fell off the calendar with all the Covid fears and precautions stripping out much to train towards. 

It began well with a New Years Day run, and the first 24 days of the year have accrued over 125km (2021 it took April to get so far, but incidentally in my best year, 2019, it took me 24 days to get to the same mark). 

Anyway, the planning begins and these are the events I'm currently lining up:

- Coatesville Half Marathon (14 February)

- The Dual trail marathon (10 April)

A Cultural Revolution

 As part of my own personal revolution to audio-books (yes, it did not end at one book), I revisited the Chinese sci-fi novel Three Body Problem, but this time in English audio. So fascinated by it, I have already given the paperback to a few people as a gift. Each time before I give it, I usually give it a little flick through. It is an odd translation in that it has re-ordered the sequence for the audience starting with what in the book is a historical flashback in the middle of the book. It's an interesting choice: a flashback does occur chronologically first so it doesn't really hurt, I guess, but the sequence is set in the late 60s in a very critical moment of Chinese history, the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, usually abbreviated to the Cultural Revolution, is in full swing. However, if you do not know much about the context of the time I can imagine many readers feeling removed from it. 

What is the Cultural Revolution? I'll explain in my own gathered understanding because as the narrative again flooded into my ears via the audiobook I realised a very modern analogue. 

Most people know Chairman Mao as a dictator, near de facto emperor over China. His early story is subject to a lot of contention but struggled successfully to become the leading Communist when the Red Army prevailed over the Nationalist Party (KMT) in 1949. After a brief honeymoon period, his poor economic understanding resulted in the ironically named Great Leap Forward, which starved millions to death. It and other setbacks relegated him to a figurehead with the actual controls of the country in the hands of other capable officials. Things picked back up almost immediately with more liberal policies. Whether it was the resentment of other people leading well or that they were liberal methods, he and his enablers in the government triggered massive demonstrations of support for him. His people in the media turned the tables on the more liberal leaders and the masses rose against them and any others who had supported them. Everyone with any connection to liberalness was a target and people meted out their own justice on university professors, artists, the former landlords and former officials. The whole system of the country effectively fell into anarchy. Similar to the killing fields of the Khmer Rouge, the youth were the biggest tools. They organised in groups called Red Guards. They were given weapons to carry out the revolution; but in a twist they also turned against each other to show the fervor of their passion for Mao. 

The book begins in this twisted situation of militarised students fighting a battle, and then a "struggle session" with a professor. (Where they essentially torment an academic until they admit they are bourgeois and confess to all their sins.) It would seem to be another world that the leader of a country launches a revolution against itself to purge enemies and regain power, but Donald Trump ten days ago managed to trigger something similar to Mao. There are moments like this that you just have to laugh.

Dumb as a rock

Our of all the technology that has flowed into our lives, I had only read traditional paper-based books until very recently; never have I read a full story on an e-reader. (One of the few technological firsts that my wife beat me to.) I also have not listened to a modern downloadable audiobook. (I had to qualify that as I have listened to science fiction stories on cassette tapes in my teens.) It is not that I am averse to it, I just had no desire to read non-book books. And this is despite the fact that I listen to copious podcasts.

I broke this streak on a recommended app Libby, with which you can borrow e-books and audiobooks, like an e-library, if you will. Everything I wanted to read was out but just like a real library you can put out a hold, but one search brought up a curious short e-book so I thought I would give it a go while I was on the road. The book, The Basic Laws of Human Stupidity by Carol M. Cipolla, was the book, and I only chose it because I knew the author who wrote the foreword. And it was a curious thing. 

Its most interesting point is an objective definition of stupidity, which fits into a simple xy set of axes. Imagine an evaluation of someone's actions with the x axis measuring the net benefit to you, and the y axis measuring the net benefit to others. Actions in the top right hand quadrant are defined as intelligent actions because they don't just benefit yourself, but others, too, whereas the bottom left quadrant refers to stupid actions. They are actions where you don't just hurt yourself, net, but also harm others. As the book defines: "A stupid person is a person who causes losses to another person or to a group of persons while himself deriving no gain and even possibly incurring losses."

From this, you need to know that stupidity and intelligence are not about IQ. The author in fact posits that there is a ration akin to pi which indicates that if you grab any subset of people, that ratio will be stupid, always. It doesn't matter if you are black or white; professors or drop-outs; women, men or undefined. The corollary of this is that people who are well-educated are equally populated by people who make decisions that harm themselves and others, as the uneducated. (And vice-versa.)

Going back to the axes, the top-left quadrant, i.e., benefiting others but not yourself, your action is defined as helpless; and the bottom right-hand quadrant is that of the bandit. The author even refines this further by defining someone who gets lets benefit than the deprive others by as stupid bandits; and those who get more benefit than how much they harm someone as an intelligent bandit. Similar terms are available for the helpless.

It is the kind of earnest yet nerdy dissertation that you could have over a cider. There is a certain logic to it. And also one where you think about exceptions. For example, are all charitable people "helpless" or is their contentment in giving, which must be higher than the pinch of the financial cost, enough to make it an always intelligent thing to do. If we are taking into account contentment, then there are many horrendous things that could be done without being "stupid", such as a revenge on a bandit. 

More critically, it fails to take into account probability and the effect of iterations. Is an action only intelligent if it benefits others and yourself on the occasion you do it, when actually there was a chance that it could harm both. Going 110km an hour routinely on highways is stupid, but on a single occasion might be intelligent because of the benefits of extra time to you and your passengers, and the realistic low chance of a significant accident or a traffic fine on a single journey. 

That aside, it is useful to think about. The author structures it with some principles:

1. Always and inevitably everyone underestimates the number of stupid individuals in circulation
2. The probability that a certain person is stupid is independent of any other characteristic of that person.
3. A stupid person is a person who causes losses to another person or to a group of persons while himself deriving no gain and even possibly incurring losses.
4. Non-stupid people always underestimate the damaging power of stupid individuals.
5. A stupid person is the most dangerous type of person. And the corollary: A stupid person is more dangerous than a bandit.

Now let us talk about the American political situation...

Travelsplaining

I do not know why anyone would trust my powers of travel itinerary planning and implementation. Back in 2000 when my friend Justin and I were touring around China, we discovered very late that the day we were going to stay in Hangzhou did not exist. Somehow we had miscounted days and we literally pulled into the station, waited several hours (in which I had a memorable stomach upset...) and then got on the train again and left. In 2012, when we arrived in Queenstown I found that I booked November instead of December and had to rebook at the front desk.

The theme recurred on our summer trip this year twice when somehow I booked our Dunedin accommodation for November instead of December AND when we arrived in Ashburton I discovered that we had not arranged for the following evening of accommodation (I thought we had accounted for every night). Fortunately, the Dunedin hotel was understanding and moved the booking even though it had effectively passed; and in the second case, in the border-closed summer that it has been, there was still a lot of free rooms in other towns, and we chose Oamaru for an evening.

Oamaru rates a mention not just for its spontaneous appearance in our schedule. We had planned to go straight from Ashburton to Twizel but early in our planning Oamaru was an option instead of Twizel. Now we would be doing both. Oamaru was one of a twin pair of dots on a map to me for most of my life, Timaru and Oamaru. They are like our Paraguay, no, no, Uruguay! 

Timaru is a stop on the way to Oamaru and was much more substantial than my imagination. It had a huge bay and port. But we barely stayed there more than an hour. Oamaru was the gem, though. The appeal of it was its proximity to Moeraki boulders, penguins and Whitestone Cheese. What I didn't know before hand was the Whitestone wasn't just a name: The Oamaru area was regarded as "whitestone" country, because of the abundance of limestone. And the Victorian quarter shows it, with almost every building in a stunning white. The limestone was laid down through an era when the land was submerged and an age of microorganisms that died and calcified. (Higher up the valley in Duntroon there is a fossil museum for the area where they will say how fossils have been found as they were cutting out the bricks for the buildings.)

We ambitiously wanted to see the boulders and penguins before dinner. The penguins, yellow eyed penguins, were not up to it when we were there but at least got to walk around the boulders. According to Gavin Menzies, in his book 1434 which speculated that Chinese explorers may have got as far south as New Zealand, the Moeraki boulders may have been anchors for their boats. They are certainly curious stones but apparently there are natural processes that may have formed them.

Whitestone Cheese tour was a lark. We were led around by Jim, a raconteur of old. He could roll out his favourite lines, roll in the stories of those on tour and generally have a rollicking time of it. At the end was the key part: cheese tasting. There were two options, with or without wine matching and beforehand I chose with, only to find that I was the only one! (Not surprising since it was before noon, but clearly all other men in the group had their wives or others do their bookings because they were quite surprised that that could be done, and were envious.) 

Then it was up the valley to Omarama and then Twizel on a beautiful highway with plenty of rocks and a series of lakes. Twizel has another one of those evocative names, like Methven and Haast. Twizel was apparently a designed town in the Scandinavian mould, with schools and facilities in the centre and ring roads around it. The town was small but was more of a launchpad for Aoraki Mt Cook National Park. We could have stayed in Mt Cook Village but I was worried about the chances of bad weather and thought a more central base gave us more options.

The trip to the trails in the park was stunning with Lake Pukaki on the right, snowy mountains peering from the end of the valley in front and massive hills on the left. At the end of the valley road, you have two choices: The village side or the Tasman side. The Tasman side of it had tracks going to the Tasman Glacier viewing points and also the lake and river flowing from it. I probably had the wrong expectation of the Glacier track; Tasman Glacier terminal point was far away and it was just the lake to see, really. But another track took us to the Blue Lakes, which had turned green because of the amount of rainfall. On the village side, there were more significant tracks and we went on a route up to "Kea Point". It was a pleasant walk although regrettably shorter than I would have wanted.

Then it was the long drive to Queenstown. I had been there so many times but this was the first time with a rental car. The joy of driving between towns inland in this area made it all the worthwhile. Lindis Pass and surrounds were epically beautiful and then the Kawerau River Gorge again was breathtaking. It made a long drive simple. There were a lot of places I had wished for more time to investigate, such as Bendigo. 

We eventually pulled into the Ramada on 31 December, recalling eight years previously being in Queenstown on New Years Eve. We shot over to Arrowtown to celebrate, but just prior checked out the sites, including the restored Chinese Mining Settlement. The story, and this was a much repeated story in Otago mining towns, was of Chinese workers in the late 1800s invited over (men only allowed) to mine the spent patches to sustain the economy, but excluded from much integration into the Pakeha world. The courage for the original British settlers was huge; imagine it for a Chinese person in that era to come to these distant isles. Some of them had already done mining in California and Australia but many were direct from the farm. I could imagine them as my in-laws from the village coming to this frosty foreign place. We walked around reading plaques and going into the restored "homes". Christy cried at one point reading the story of a boat taking the remains of the Chinese who perished in New Zealand sinking in the Hokianga Harbour. In Chinese tradition it was important to be buried in your home and to think a whole boatload of souls were permanently interred still on the wrong side of the world was a bit too much. 

After dinner, it was New Year. Christy had hardly ever stayed up for New Years before but after fading earlier in the day picked up after 11pm and we went down to Queenstown Central where it was crowded and pumping with sound. It was a time for Covid-thoughts. People had lost any vigilance and there was no hope of social distancing, and we, as with others, were not wearing masks. It was a potential story: outbreak in Queenstown, but fortunately it didn't come to pass. What did was some of the best fireworks I had seen. 

I celebrated New Year Day by running my longest run since 14 November, seemingly without any issues to speak of. I followed it up two days later with an even longer run. It is a good omen for 2021!

While in Queenstown we visited Glenorchy briefly and then went forward onto our next destination, Dunedin. Again though the trip was quite "a trip". The scenery road from Alexandra toward Dunedin was rock-strewn, probably used in Lord of the Rings. The flooding of previous days was also clear in the murky rivers. Along the way we stopped at Lawrence where gold was first discovered in Otago. There was a Chinese settlement and the site of it was well done with the stories of the miners, well recorded. There was a house that had been retained too:

Once in Dunedin, and aafter a quick scout around, we were off to the tip of Otago Peninsula to see Royal Albatrosses and Little Blue Penguins. (Along the way we also passed Otakou, the misheard, misapplied name that became Otago.) The one key story of a lot of New Zealand's wildlife is that what we have is a blessing that sometimes we don't deserve. This point used to have plenty of birdlife but human occupation pushed it the edge. It was only modern conservation ideas and the protection of the iwi that allowed animal life to bounce back. The birdlife is dense: I have never been so scared of a seagull horde; there was a whole community of cormorants; I spotted my first Royal Spoonbills ever; but of course we were there for the extraordinary albatrosses.

Then there were the less breathtaking but exceptionally cute penguins. The real spectacle for me was to witness them grouping offshore into "rafts" and then storming the beach en masse before their eager waddle up to their homes. It is a brilliant function of nature that you can imagine that independent penguins returning from their feeding in different places all gather, swimming about, and then once critical mass is reached, they flock ashore. Some of them have long walks home - one curious one was in advance of us as we went back to our car, climbing a flight of stairs before getting to his high hill burrow.

The next day was a wet day but we still got to Dunedin Botanic Gardens for the Kaka and plants; and to Baldwin Street that I had always wanted to run up. After some time in the museums and then to St Clair Beach, it was almost time to go to the airport but I snuck in a stop along the way to Tunnel Beach. This now not-so-secret beach one of the city founders had cut a tunnel to an isolated beach with high cliffs. The beach, stunningly set. It had a waterfall, steep cliffs, a seal lolling in the centre and a ton of other people.

And then it was the airport in the middle of nowhere and back. This trip only happened as a result of the pandemic, so I guess we can be thankful for it.

Onwards 2021

2020 had a fast and furious working end to get everything in its right place before holidays were started. Despite not publishing a blog in the month of December, I did start writing extensively for two projects of my own, one of my memoirs and one of my thoughts. 

Memoirs might sound like a premature thing to be writing, especially as I have a blog which acts as a diary and has quite faithfully recorded my life and moments since 2004. But I am now in a period of my life where I am more aware of the loss of my memories. It is also well known that a memory remembered is a memory recreated and thus more liable to error. The use of a good diary or memoir is to freeze it in its earliest iteration before much confabulation enters into it. 

The writing on my thoughts I wish to have a clear arc of how I think and value things at this time, purely descriptive but hopefully help me think through what I think and how I got to where I am philosophically.

My blog will be just a journal of the day and what I see, experience and think at the moment, but may also have some writing that don't work in the two projects, and also once any part of the two projects are how I want them to be, I might publish them here.   

Mainsdreaming

The number is astonishing to the mind: 70,686,229. As at 5pm 8 November 2020, that is the number of people who, presuming no fraud on the part of his campaign and supporters, cast their votes for Donald Trump in the US 2020 Presidential Election, very close to half of the votes cast. Although one could attribute it to "echo-chambers" (which we should be self aware enough to know that we are also in), partisan media and political tribalism, there can be little glossing over his belligerence, his contempt for others, his lack of consideration of the value of truth and facts. The 70 million have two eyes and two ears to appreciate the unveiled ugliness of this individual, yet they voted for him, rather than the other bloke. It boggles the mind that they collectively assented for the continuation of his quite obviously corrupt reign. But they did. In the 2016 campaign, Hillary Clinton was chastened when she called his supporters "deplorables", and so she should because, while there are many deplorable aspects to Trump the man, his supporters rationally have chosen him as their preferred leader.

If only as a post-mortem of an ugly chapter in global politics, it is interesting to think about how it happened that they chose him in such numbers this time round. 2016, his initial election, we can put to one side as it was clear he had a successful image and without a political track record. 2020, he was very well known by his words and actions in the political sphere. His voters would know some of these. It might not be a unique thought but I would say that what they were voting for was not him as a person, but his force to restrain the change towards pluralism in a country that was evolving towards recognising its own diversity and giving the required seats at the table to address it. 

It is an ugly thing that his side took the national symbols of flag, the name America, the anthem, and even the chant "USA" as a partisan weapons. But it is emblematic of a war to define what is American, and to exclude others from being so. If I were free to muse I'd say that like any entity or individual, that has had a good run of it, there is a feeling of Providence, of their own personal superiority that led to them being great. The United States has had quite the run, and as of today is still likely to be running for quite some time into the future. The America that was "Great" has been interpreted as that built by apparently capitalist, white protestants and their innate virtues (but without adding the introspection of the vices). This is embedded in the programming of the way they speak, make TV and movies and interpret events. That does not mean it is racially oriented, although it is easy to manifest itself or be perceived in that manner. There are plenty of people of all races that aspire for these values, and identify with Trump.

Previous presidents  tended to actively profess the need for inclusion, even if tacitly indicating that the minority voices needed to follow terms of inclusion. Trump verbalised this explicitly, though, often in racial terms: black people should be grateful to "America" and not protest; children of immigrants can go back to "their countries" if they are unhappy, as those countries aren't as "great" as America; judges of non-white ethnicities cannot be trusted to judge fairly (as if white judges have no prejudices). This could be heard by those 140 million ears but in a way where Trump was the one defending the founding principles of the "Great America" from adulteration. They might even agree with statements with racist premises, such as that black sportspeople owing the country, even though not seeing it as a double standard. Or that white people have the Second Amendment right to carry a gun, but a black person with a gun could be shot because they are a danger. Trump stood up to defend these principles that they have been told are the secret sauce of American strength.

He pressed the "socialism" button, too. Since its take on capitalism (forgetting all the socialistic aspects) is another thing that made "Great America", standing up for capitalism, or portraying those "coming in" as being socialists, or framing the opposition as controlled by socialists is another way to tap back to that threat to the mainstream. 

Nationalism as a response to pluralism isn't necessarily an evil thing, just a naive one: some without a scope of history might feel they were never consulted, or fully informed, about the changes that globalisation, modernisation and immigration would bring. When Trump talks about how China has "taken away" the jobs from people, it is a pain that is felt; they were sacrificed for a reward for the whole (of which Trump inherited). No-one wants to be sacrificed. There is no room for some utilitarian thought that for every American losing a job, ten Chinese were lifted out of poverty. Or the long term view that the prosperity of the nation was enhanced by turning those ten Chinese into consumers, or cheap technicians that allow them to have cheaper products that enhance their lives. Their nation gained prosperity in the 1800s collaborating with other empires to bring imperial China to its knees, driven by the same capitalist, white protestant values, causing untold suffering that is still remembered today.

The same core mainstream existed in New Zealand, too. Don Brash was the obvious one, where he very uncharismatically, and much more politely, did basically did the same as Trump. Maori people had to agree to the terms of inclusion, to something they should never have been excluded. But the mainstream still felt his call to the core of what they thought New Zealand was as a strong attraction. The vague analogy is that the mainstream was averse to Maori tino rangatiratanga, and no real compunction that they hobbled iwi from the time of the Treaty, in the same way that African Americans had been hobbled from slavery, to Reconstruction, to the Jim Crow era to even present times. (Any racists should be amazed that inferior people can get through all these and still be strong, smart and push for their betterment.) 

It's an understandable desire to hold that mainstream view, a stable worldview that apparently lead to something great. But the times have changed to the complexity of pluralism, local and global, and they need to know that the greatness is but a dream.

On the line

Back in my late China years, 2014-2016, I got a certified monkey off my back by completing a Post-Graduate Diploma in Teaching English to speakers of other languages (DipTESOL). Prior to that I just had a very much entry-level qualification, and of course an abundance of experience. One of my previous Directors of Studies had given me the good advice that if I ever want to be a Director of Studies, and manage and give teaching guidance to more highly qualified teachers, I would best have "a piece of paper" to allay any concerns that I have no basis for my thoughts; and I might learn something new in the process of getting a Diploma.

And I did learn something. It was an overall beneficial process and I'm thankful for it. It was also my first qualification with a significant portion distance and online: Every week we would have tasks to do, readings to complete and comment on. The main assignments were handled through correspondence with our teacher. The cherry on top was a practicum where all students came together, though, in Shanghai, where we our own classes to teach and also some very specific lessons that were taught in person.

At our school in China, our students were also learning online; they had to do enough online learning in order to get tokens to take live classes. This online learning was a lot about the English fundamentals, vocabulary and grammar practice, as well as reading and listening practice, but was not with a live teacher interacting with them. It was completely pre-set course work. The motto at the school was Learn, Try, Apply, Certify, where Learn is the online learning and then that means that classroom is a place for trying to use language actively rather than waste precious time with the teacher doing "what you could have done at home". Some students liked this. Others disliked it, perhaps only really focussed by having an instructor in front and classmates at their sides. 

Our school now has a course that will be formally online, delivered to students abroad from next wee. Due to our current tight staffing I'm one of the main content creators and it's rather amazing how much time it takes to make good content. (Actually, I cannot even comment that it's good content because barely anyone has seen what I've done.) It's been quite an enjoyable process though, but one of the hardest things about having others produce content, and my actual, much bigger job of having our whole organisation produce more online material is that it seems, even in 2020, very few of the teachers have learned online in a useful way to the potential that online learning can reach. One of the main reasons I've committed so much time to creating content is that I want to know what is required, and I want a model available for people to come and hopefully say: "Oh, that's what it can be!"

Unfortunately, it's not meant to be part of my job and I have been getting pressure because the things I should be working on are falling behind. I have argued that modelling the expectation is one of the best ways to trigger more initiative in creation. 

Anyway, Covid-19 has always been a convenient intellectual distraction for me. What a privilege that it is merely an intellectual distraction and not a practical threat to the well-being of the people around me! It is fascinating, although depressing, to see how the different countries have "gone". The interesting things to me have been whether there would be a fall "second wave" in the Northern Hemisphere. Scarily, it does seem to be picking up on cue, and it doesn't take much to really understand why with an aerosolised, airborne virus. 

In my own mind there had been the contradiction of what I understood of the Wuhan outbreak, that which caused the central government of China to pull a national circuit breaker to suffocate the outbreak there, and the situation of other countries from May to September. Even though China's "official" numbers from the time don't sound like much compared to other countries now, there were  horrendous scenes of people clogging hospitals and queuing outside in the cold, and being sent away due to an as yet negative test, hasn't quite been seen except perhaps in Lombardy, Italy. Although there was a steep track of people catching it and dying from it around the world in March-April, it hasn't really shown anything more than a "slow burn". 

My prediction has been that autumn winter would be a worse time isn't novel, but has made sense to me based on the aerosol nature of the virus. Aerosols are just like the fly spray you put into the air. Even an hour after you might still smell it because it's in a cloud that sometimes just hangs there. The particles are so light that gravity doesn't have as much sway as the air direction. For an infectious disease this is quite a useful trait. The infect person goes into a lift and coughs, leaves, another goes into the lift and into the cloud. But warmer, airier environments suit the dissipation of aerosols. Imagine a summer restaurant: there will be doors and windows open. People might prefer to eat outside, too. An aerosol cloud once produced is dispersed and people might breathe in a little but at least it's not much. Now shift that too any indoor space when it's cold. The doors and windows are shut and people stay for longer. Then there is a multiplier effect: as people are more infected, the number of people in any one space might have a higher chance of being infectious; and also a person might be get multiple infection events before their body reacts. There were young doctors in China who died mainly because of the constant exposure. Well, that's how Wuhan makes sense, as well as another wave of Northern Hemisphere epidemics.

One interesting them in this is also the difference in the geography. Though it was a good effort, China has had a much easier task than the UK and the States because their was only one significant outbreak: Wuhan. They could trace almost every case nationally back to Wuhan. Almost every country had outbreaks "seeded" throughout and if they chose to suppress it had to play "whack-a-mole" with contact tracing on multiple fronts. But, still most countries were also fortunate that it only seeded in a few places. Italy had their Lombardy. Spain had their Madrid. England had London. 

Probably the most negative aspect of this next wave for the northern hemisphere countries is that it is not just a few places - there are cases everywhere, and not just the places with strong health infrastructure. It could be, especially in the States, that there could be multiple cities or states Lombardymised, i.e., have overwhelmed medical services and have to triage. 

Perhaps the most depressing thing about it all is reading the commentary, especially with respect to people's ability to interpret and contextualise numbers and statistics, or the wilful misuse of numbers to make ideological points. But I might leave that to another day to write about.

 

 

Mahuru Māori

Dry July, Sober October, Movember, there seems to be more ways to theme your months to add a bit of texture to the years, ironically as time goes by. I've never partaken in the forementioned focussed moons, but I have made a move on the latest one I've become aware of, Mahuru Māori.

Māori here refers to te reo Māori, the Māori language, and September has Te Wiki o te Reo Māori, AKA Māori Language Week so it is close to a time that might be celebrated in a school like ours. Previous to working where I do, even though I had an interest in language and more than a modicum of respect for the native language of New Zealand, that week had usually passed me by without any sense of observation. Matariki, on the other hand, I had often had pause to celebrate because stars are STARS! Just like an eclipse, or a rainbow, the emergence of the Matariki (AKA the Pleiades, Subaru, the Seven Sisters) before the rising sun, after a new moon, in the depth of winter was something to look out for, to allow one's wonder to seek. And that is before introducing a antipodean dimension of our own turn towards the southern hemisphere Spring, or the cultural aspect of the Māori new year and rebirth. Te Wiki, in comparison, felt a little forced and even a bit hollow - why September, why an only temporally segmented treatment for a language? But perhaps there was always a reason why September was chosen.

Mahuru is the fourth lunar month, from Matariki, approximately equivalent to September. In the naivety that pākehā might have as colonisers, it might intrigue some that a calendar wasn't introduced to te tangata whenua; there was already a calendar here, in fact, calendars, as there were regional varieties. It shouldn't surprise that there was a calendar but it is easy to mistake a "stone age" culture for an uncivilised culture. As an agricultural society with some very clear seasonal rhythms, time keeping and awareness of the cycles that fish and other animals keep in relation to the moon meant the difference between prosperity and struggle for the Māori. Mahuru itself is a star, Alphard, which reappears in the dawning morning around now. I'm quite looking forward to acquainting myself with it as it's in Hydra, not one of those celebrity constellations, and I will need it to rise a bit further to have a better acquaintance with him.

Mahuru Māori is a month to commit to learn or use more te reo in one's daily life. Fortunately, one of the managers under me was brought up in kōhanga reo (immersion preschools) so I can try my hand to use te reo and our organisation is supportive of the use of te reo and is self-consciously trying to implement some elements of tikanga in our practices, such as mihi whakatau (official greetings for a new employee) and I have quite a few karakia up my sleeve to open and close meetings. 

While I'm not conversant in te reo, I have a few gifts that are useful for this kind of environment: I am a proficient language learner: I know how to learn pronunciation. I can learn a lot of vocabulary in a little time. I rote learned three karakia in a weekend (beginning a meeting, blessing the food, and ending the meeting). I have all the tricks and tools that other people might not even tap into. But that was before I learned about Mahuru Māori and was struck by some inspiration for my own commitment to te marama nei (the current month/moon). I intend to do an ambitious short circuiting to my mastery of a language: I'm going to read a novel. This might seem like the deep-end approach, but it is pitching for my strength to make an overwhelming support for the building of my speaking and listening. Reading has its virtues as a main strength: constant exposure to useful vocabulary; the requirement to grammatically rewire one's brain to understand the gist; the interest value that only a narrative arc can bring to motivate. Te pukapuka (book) that sparked the interest was Te Tohorā Kaieke, the translated version of Whale Rider by Witi Ihimaera, which was ironically a Māori story written in English. 

Corona-Chameleon

Saturday night, set the alarm for 6:30. Sunday morning, wake up naturally at 7:25am. Apparently a little care is needed with setting one's alarm: there is a setting that you need to watch out for if you are planning to be startled awake on a Sunday. Some pre-set alarms are set for weekdays, so setting my alarm for 6:30am wouldn't have woken me till Monday 6:30am. 

Sunday 6:30am was to be my wake up to slowly prepare and gear up for a 10km race at Waiatarua reserve. For things I care about I'm usually hours earlier. For running I'd like to eat at least 2 hours before. Get my gear sorted. Have as many trips to the bathroom. Get to the venue and have as many trips to the bathroom. Warm up for myself, then do the group warm-up with the other competitors and then run without a care. 

Fortunately everything else fell into place and I pretty much succeeded to do everything listed above and be ready for the benefit of 55 minutes extra sleep. Win! This was the second time I'd run Waiatarua out of my four entries. The first two were flooded cancellations. Last year was a relatively flooded non-cancellation. If you're planning to run around a wetland in winter you clearly need to be ready for the occasional inundation and a smattering of mud. It's a rare flat track, too; but that's a trap. Run flat tack on a flat track, you risk going too fast too early. It happened last year. And 2020 was a redux. The only solace was that I had a second wind in the last quarter that saw me through. It was still a disappointment after a pretty good cycle of preparation.

I'd put my poor performance to poor pacing, using my 2019 instincts to overestimate my 2020 fitness. But later in the day something stirred at the back of my throat that could give me an "out". I was coming down with cold symptoms by the afternoon. My wife had been unwell since Thursday evening so it wasn't a surprise. A couple of days on I didn't feel that bad - just more easily tired. I masked up for the few required work engagements on Monday and Tuesday and was generally "well" by Wednesday. It was this morning, Friday morning, that I thought I'd give running a go and didn't feel too bad. My wife had a Covid test on the Tuesday and we learned on Wednesday she definitely didn't have the virus. In the contrast of Auckland to Melbourne, you want to make sure you do your part to make sure that the viral genie stays in the bottle.

Melbourne is a fly in the ointment. To quote myself from a month ago: "Back in the early stages I remember being quite proud of the approach taken because it made sense and was clear. But there was immediate criticism of New Zealand's approach because of Australia's apparent success with a lighter lockdown. But no-one could tell which approach would work best. If there was one thing about the "strictest measures in the world" in NZ, it was a path to elimination. We still have a theoretical probability of another case, to be clear, but anything less that a stringent lockdown leaves a probability of further cases in the non-lockdown state both Australia and New Zealand are in." It didn't take an expert to spot that the less stringent the approach the more likely there was to be another outbreak and although other places in Australia had the odds on their side, Victoria rolled snake's eyes. With over 400 cases in one day, Melbourne with its four million population has quite a spike. For reference, New Zealand on its worst day had 146 cases. The only way to be safe is another lock-down. Any benefit in having a less than stringent lockdown has been lost when another 6 weeks of suppression is the best you can do.

The United States have raging outbreaks with most states not even thinking of lockdowns. The extent of the burn when it went this high in New York was only held back the tsunami was a lockdown. A few states have finally gone for masking up. It will be interesting to see if this almost laissez faire approach will somehow work. My intution would suggest that they've done well to hold the official death figures down but that it's not likely to stay that way. Even with the improved treatments that were learned since Italy and New York, if there aren't enough beds, ICUs, doctors and nurses, the health system will collapse and it will go from a seething pot to a boiled over oil fire.

One foot in the door

It is strange to make the purchase of a pair of running shoes as a landmark in 2020, but it context it is probably one of the two steps that would signify confidence in my recovery from injury. I had been very judicious with spending for the first half of the year. With the dread of this unshakeable niggle, I started to doubt whether I'd be training let alone racing.

It started in November and after some testing, and trying various exercises, scanning with x-rays and ultrasound, I decided to give it three months to recover. But it didn't. If constant quarantine did something though it gave me regular walking and the time to dabble with run/walk. With that came successes as well as frustrations and, at the end of the day, progress. My running picked up in April and May and then in early June I got an unexpected reminder: I had a race in two weeks.

Run Auckland events have been a very regular annual series for me, moreso than the Mizuno Half Marathon series which I wish I were doing more of. Run Auckland is cheap, local and social; an event every three weeks leading up to the Millwater Half (where I have done my second and third fastest halves). It should have started in April but the organisers took a punt in March to have re-organised to start in June. And the pitched it to perfection, as if they knew that Level 1 would start when it did.

The rejig put the punishing Sanders Reserve 10km first and yesterday I ran it. It was my second time on this particular course: I missed it due to travel one year, and deliberately chose not to do it another year. It is two laps over a mountain bike course with constant undulation. I'm no afraid of hills but in my very first year my lack of aversion cost me when I wiped out at the bottom of clay slope. Fortunately I lost skin, had some dramatic stigmata-esque palms but I still managed to keep going and finish. That year I didn't pace it right struggling toward the end: the first lap I did at 23:19, the second 24:03. I thought I'd learned this time and felt I took it more moderately and up the hills really slowly and my lack of fitness still bit at the end. Surprisingly I pretty much got the same times, just slower at the end: 23:21 and 24:42. I didn't really feel any niggles. So I bought some shoes.

The only other thing that can top this as a sign would be my entry into the Auckland Marathon in October. We'll see.

The monk, part 2

Did I say that Chuangtzu was a monk? I hope I didn't imply it with these titles. It's what happens when a random working title that came to mind when thinking about lockdown life had a cross-over meaning to someone in philosophical reflection.

Anyhow, in the first part I spoke how the title of my favourite chapter of Chuangtzu (Zhuangzi) was The Equality of Things in the version I read when in university but for the translation that I'm using for the purposes of this blog had it as The Adjustment of Controversies. The below is the immediate next text following the part from part 1 with nothing left out. I'd say that this particular section has it moving from controversies to the equality of things. Here it is (with small edits by me) with commentary below.

Were there no other, there could be no I. Were there no I, there could be nobody to do the apprehending.That is close to the truth, yet I do not know what runs this process. It seems that there is a true ruler, and yet there is a singular lack of actual evidence of its presence.

Given the body, with its hundred parts, its nine openings, and its six viscera, all complete in their places, which do you love the most? Do you love them all equally? Or do you love some more than others? Is it not the case that they all perform the part of your servants and waiting women? All of them being such, are they not incompetent to rule one another? Or do they take it in turns to be now ruler and now servants? There must be a true ruler among them whether by searching you can find out his character or not; there is neither advantage nor hurt, so far as the truth of his operation is concerned. When once we have received the bodily form complete, its parts do not fail to perform their functions till the end comes. In conflict with things or in harmony with them, they pursue their course to the end, with the speed of a galloping horse which cannot be stopped — is it not sad? To be constantly toiling all one's lifetime, without seeing the fruit of one's labour, and to be weary and worn out with his labour, without knowing where he is going to — Is it not a deplorable case? Men may say, 'But it is not death;' yet of what advantage is this? When the body is decomposed, the mind will be the same along with it — Must not the case be pronounced very deplorable? Is the life of man indeed enveloped in such darkness? Is it I alone to whom it appears so? And does it not appear to be so to other men?

If we were to follow the judgments of the predetermined mind, who would be left alone and without a teacher? Not only would it be so with those who know the sequences of knowledge and feeling and make their own selection among them, but it would be so as well with the stupid and unthinking. For one who has not this determined mind, to have his affirmations and negations is like the case described in the saying, 'He went to Yueh today, and arrived there yesterday.' It would be making what was not a fact to be a fact. But even the sage like Yu could not have known how to do this, and how should one like me be able to do it?

But speech is not like the blowing of the wind; the speaker has a meaning in his words. If, however, what he says, be indeterminate, as from a mind not made up, does he then really speak or not? He thinks that his words are different from the chirpings of fledgelings; but is there any distinction between them or not? But how can the Tao be so obscured, that there should be 'a True' and 'a False' in it? How can speech be so obscured that there should be 'the Right' and 'the Wrong' about them? Where shall the Tao go to that it will not be found? Where shall speech be found that it will be inappropriate? Tao becomes obscured through the small comprehension of the mind, and speech comes to be obscure through the vain-gloriousness of the speaker. So it is that we have the contentions between the Literati and the Mohists, the one side affirming what the other denies, and vice versa. If we would decide on their several affirmations and denials, no plan is like bringing the proper light of the mind to bear on them.

All subjects may be looked at from two points of view from that and from this. If I look at a thing from another's point of view, I do not see it; only as I know it myself, do I know it. Hence it is said, 'That view comes from this; and this view is a consequence of that' — which is the theory that that view and this opposite view — produce each the other. Although it be so, there is affirmed now life and now death; now death and now life; now the admissibility of a thing and now its inadmissibility; now its inadmissibility and now its admissibility. The disputants now affirm and now deny; now deny and now affirm. Therefore sagely man does not pursue this method, but views things in the light of his Heavenly nature, and hence forms his judgment of what is right.

This view is the same as that, and that view is the same as this. But that view involves both a right and a wrong; and this view involves also a right and a wrong — are there, indeed, or are there not the two views, that and this? They have not found their point of correspondency which is called the pivot of the Tao. As soon as one finds this pivot, he stands in the centre of the ring of thought, where he can respond without end to the changing views — without end to those affirming, and without end to those denying. Therefore I said, 'There is nothing like the proper light of the mind.'

By means of a finger of my own to illustrate that the finger of another is not a finger is not so good a plan as to illustrate that it is not so by means of what is acknowledged to be not a finger; and by means of what I call a horse to illustrate that what another calls a horse is not so, is not so good a plan as to illustrate that it is not a horse, by means of what is acknowledged to be not a horse. All things in heaven and earth may be dealt with as a finger; Each of their myriads may be dealt with as a horse. Does a thing seem so to me? I say that it is so. Does it seem not so to me? I say that it is not so. A path is formed by constant treading on the ground. A thing is called by its name through the constant application of the name to it. How is it so? It is so because it is so. How is it not so? It is not so, because it is not so. Everything has its inherent character and its proper capability. There is nothing which has not these. Therefore, this being so, if we take a stalk of grain and a large pillar, a loathsome leper and a beauty like Hsi Shih, things large and things insecure, things crafty and things strange —they may in the light of the Tao all be reduced to the same category of opinion about them.

It was separation that led to completion; from completion ensued dissolution. But all things, without regard to their completion and dissolution, may again be comprehended in their unity — it is only the far reaching in thought who know how to comprehend them in this unity. This being so, let us give up our devotion to our own views, and occupy ourselves with the ordinary views. These ordinary views are grounded on the use of things. The study of that use leads to the comprehensive judgment, and that judgment secures the success of the inquiry. That success gained, we are near to the object of our search, and there we stop. When we stop, and yet we do not know how it is so, we have what is called the Tao.

Zhuangzi builds from the duality of thoughts and perceptions, that if you are alone, or your ideas are in a vacuum, you cannot know what you are, or what your ideas are. Until someone else apprehends them, they are formless. Then onto plurality of elements within a system, but whether singularity, duality or plurality, that there is no "ruler" no supreme being or standard which can absolutely rule over them and define what is high and low, right or wrong. Of all the major organs in the body which do you love them most? Any love or preference is for nought because without any one there cannot be the other. And from the analogy of viscera, you can analogise back to people. Your organs might be your "servants" but servants in real life should be no less noble than their masters. And the pluralism of organs is like the plurality of society, where we all have different roles; or the plurality of ideas in contention, where ideas only gain their form through the challenge of others. Yet at the end of the day, there is a cloud of uncertainty over them - which is king and which is true. There is always a heart of relativity despite the veneer of absolutism. Every idea is equally not quite right.

While he might not delve into the rights or wrongs of ideas, he does see superior ways for which ideas and things can be perceived. The true light of mind must hold both something being true, yet possibly false. It must stand back to see the unity of the issue, and not just a part. It should not be swayed by "judgements" but rather what it actually is and does - "an ordinary view" as it is translated. It sounds like a dispassionate, objective approach. Just like pressure points, everything has its own pivot point, where you can go to best consistently view the reality of things, regardless of the changes about it. That's the place to occupy. That's the place to be.

Even though this section didn't have the same groovy characters as the first part, there will be more later in the chapter.

Some brief Level 1 thoughts

I'm going to do blogs on all parts of The Equality of Things, perhaps one blog per week. In the meantime, my mind hasn't left the pandemic. It had a period of fatigue but I can't help but look. It's the trainwreck that keeps on giving. Also, some of the voices in my virtual vicinity are still musing the rights and wrongs of the now very much concluded lockdown and re-opening of New Zealand's economy, usually with comparison to the effects of other countries, and also the suggestions of an earlier opening of the border. I haven't engaged any of the people in discussion but I really think people generally either engage in false equivalencies and/or don't think through probabilities.

The obvious point is that before any approaches used in different places are compared, you have to take into account the differences use there. Everyone likes to think the comparisons of, say, New Zealand and Australia, or NZ and the UK are fair, but there is no such thing. If I, as a complete non-epidemiologist, were to list the different factors that would affect how different states/countries experienced this outbreak:
- how many infected people were in the country before measures were taken
- how long before measures were taken
- the cultural and environmental background of each places (close living conditions, mask-wearing habits, outside vs. inside lifestyles and working environments)
- the adherence to measures
- the relative effect of seasons
All of these radically change how appropriate different measures would be and also what "success" and "failure" would look like.

New Zealand dodged bullets prior to the 3 February blocking of Chinese citizens (without NZ residency) into New Zealand, and the self-isolation of residents and citizens from there. If cases did arrive, they didn't spread it. There is evidence that infected people got to France, the United States and England well before the virus was even widely known in China. To my knowledge none of our cases or community spread originate back to an imported case from China. The UK and the US with their international hubs of London and New York were always odds-on to get cases or to have already gotten significant cases both before and after taking measures.

But Italy, Belgium and Iran were the famous early examples that were the first outbreaks outside of China. They were essentially ambushed by stealthy outbreaks that were already of scale well before testing was set up. I do not know if anyone can tell you the sequence of events or exactly why those two countries in particular felt the burn before other more likely countries to be epicentres. From a complete layperson, I'd say that it was all in the realms of "probabilities". Think about it: according to the presumed narrative of the virus, either by error or evolution, this novel coronavirus started spreading in Wuhan in late 2019. Not everyone had it. Nor would everyone have it. Only a relatively small proportion of the people infected would have had the plans on an international flight; but even if they weren't, they might be meeting other people who are or, more likely, travelling domestically and then giving it to others who might be travelling internationally. In the realms of the odds, all countries were rolling the dice with their open borders and international flights. Italy and Iran rolled snakes' eyes.  

Sweden was often raised as a counterpoint to the lockdowns implemented by most of the western world and initially had lower cases and deaths than some of the others above, but they were incidentally less exposed to imported infections. There were no land borders with hotspots. Stockholm, the largest city, is not a travel hub. Even though you'd think it was as likely as say, Iran, to get infectious Chinese cases. Their first case was well before New Zealand's arriving in Sweden on 24 January, but it was over a month before the second case came. Sweden is slowly having it burn through: its morality rate per million has eased passed France. Given another month, and presuming the continued trend, it may overhaul Italy and Spain.

Mortality is also probabilistic. New Zealand's mortality rate is pretty dismal but is overrepresented by two nursing homes. Basically, a western country's numerical success with controlling the virus is really just shown by your ability to keep it out of nursing homes. What was the realistic odds on two having substantial outbreaks? Maybe it was most likely one, but with chances of zero and two. Two countries with the same approach and background, through probability alone might have zero and two nursing homes hit and a huge disparity in their mortality. It would be ridiculous to make comparisons unless one was more blaise about regulations for those facilities.

Hindsight is still a source of conceit for many, forgetting that when the decisions were made, it was not done with supernatural foresight. It was done by leaders with skin-in-the-game. If they get it wrong, they would be pilloried. Experts out of government or leadership are liberated to choose the approach that suits their own analyses; and progressively change their prescriptions and critiques as more information comes to hand. Back in the early stages I remember being quite proud of the approach taken because it made sense and was clear. But there was immediate criticism of New Zealand's approach because of Australia's apparent success with a lighter lockdown. But no-one could tell which approach would work best. If there was one thing about the "strictest measures in the world" in NZ, it was a path to elimination. We still have a theoretical probability of another case, to Tbe clear, but anything less that a stringent lockdown leaves a probability of further cases in the non-lockdown state both Australia and New Zealand are in. Yesterday there were 12 more new cases, and today 18 new cases, including a GP who acquired it from the community. And if you want an analogous transtasman contrast this podcast talks about a Black Lives Matter demonstration in Melbourne who tested positive. 

A lot of the Plan B'ers had assumptions that a lighter approach would keep more economic activity, but it has always been a difficult prediction to make. If we, and the rest of the world, had an ongoing outbreak, would we have any tourists even with the border open? Would International students still come? In some ways, Covid or no Covid, our economy is going to be hammered. But perhaps the benefits of elimination were not accentuated: Whereas other countries are playing sport without crowds, New Zealand is having its games with packed stadiums, and the benefits for the economy that brings. As I have stated pre-lockdown, New Zealand could get a positive boost as a clean educational destination as we could scoop learners seeking a safe place to study once the border is open. Now all we need is some pragmatism with the border...