Neuroscience is discovering that, up to 90% of human decisions are made by brain activity that we are unaware of – subconscious. It seems that a whole ‘parliament’ of different voices and memories feed into an invisible ‘control module’ in our psyche which shape the decisions that define our lives. We can still say that we ‘chose’ our path, but most of the choices were unconscious. If it’s true that brain science contradicts free will, this feels like a loss to me – but I suppose it’s better to know.
Aged 81, my subconscious ‘control module’ will be reviewing complex, end-of-life priorities; I want to get to know it, become as informed as possible. My unconscious is aware of the threat of a ‘complete end’ – what is its response? – what messages is it sending through my impulses? As expected, my inclination to be a ‘player’ in the ‘external’ world diminishes – boring. Solitude is mostly enough – the garden, a book, scribbling. Surprisingly, my impulse to withdraw, is being matched by a new appreciation (and gratitude) for mundane, day-to-day trivialities: small becomes more beautiful.
Each week, when I’ve got my blog done, I reward myself with a treat. I drive (accompanied by Frank Sinatra) 45 minutes to a country restaurant, which sources the finest haddock from Scrabster and fries it in their special batter; then I have apple pie and custard and espresso; the kitchen and waiting staff know and look after me. Mighty Caesar, in all his glory, did not fare better.
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I was a community worker for many years and, although the focus of this blog is less specific, the third sector is still my first loyalty. Although not mentioned in her extensive portfolio of social justice, housing and local government, it seems that Shona Robison is our new ‘incognito; minister for the third sector; there are two junior ministers to assist, but again, no mention of us. Even if only a ‘muddle’, this represents a remarkable downgrading by the SNP of the status and importance of our sector; from a full minister for ‘communities’ to ‘not a mention’ – in one jump. This interview with Robison suggests someone who understands and is well disposed to our work – if only she can find the time.
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You might think this week’s IPCC Report on climate change removed any final doubts – but some newspapers, controlled by the corporate lobby, cling to economic growth. I like this proposal by Mike Small of Bella Caledonia, to create a ‘Bad Climate Journalism Award’. His four contenders this week are: The Herald (Iain Macwhirter); The Times (Alan Massie); The New Statesman! (Chris Deerin) and, the winner, The Scotsman, for publishing a disgraceful promotion for the Cambo Oilfield.
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I recently read (again) ‘All the Pretty Horses’ by Cormac McCarthy which is the best (fictional) exploration I know of the potential empathy between a person and a horse. This Guardian (non-fiction) article is about a stable in rural New York, where traumatised soldiers and horses teach each other, through relationships, how to leave the past behind.
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Although our First Minister is a ‘commando’; her government lacks vigour and inspiration; I really hope co-operation talks with the Greens bear fruit; we could even get a new minster for the third sector – effectively a vacancy. This historical article (Oct 2020) describes the New Zealand power sharing arrangement: two ministries for some shared policy priorities.
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The NHS is the greatest achievement of the British people; the metaphor for a society of justice, compassion and equality. But over the last decade, I’ve become aware that we need to lower expectations and, in the ranking of a Washington Thinktank, we’ve dropped from the best of 11 rich countries, to the fourth best health service. Sadly, not a surprise.
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In 2007, at the age of 88, the late Doris Lessing was awarded the Nobel prize for literature; this is from her speech.
“The storyteller is deep inside every one of us. The story-maker is always with us. Let us suppose our world is ravaged by war, by the horrors that we all of us easily imagine. Let us suppose floods wash through our cities, the seas rise. But the storyteller will be there, for it is our imaginations which shape us, keep us, create us – for good and for ill. It is our stories that will recreate us, when we are torn, hurt, even destroyed. It is the storyteller, the dream-maker, the myth-maker, that is our phoenix, that represents us at our best, and at our most creative……Ask any modern storyteller and they will say there is always a moment when they are touched with fire, with what we like to call inspiration, and this goes back and back to the beginning of our race, to the great winds that shaped us and our world”.
