Author Archives: Jacqueline Ashby

“Under the circumstances, I feel compelled to speak out. As health professionals, we are committed to humanity and must condemn and fight these crimes against humanity.” ~ Aron Troen, Director of Hebrew University’s Nutrition and Brain Health Laboratory

Israeli and Palestinian Doctors Speak Out: Medics and health workers describe how they have been affected by Hamas’ attacks on Israel and the response in Gaza via The Lancet.

What cannot letters inspire?
They have souls;
they can speak;
they have in them all that force which expresses the transports of the heart;
they have all the fire of our passions.
They can rouse them as much as if the persons themselves were present.
They have all the tenderness and the delicacy of speech, and sometimes even a boldness of expression beyond it.

~ Heloise in a letter to Abelard

“Do you know what’s extraordinary?” asked the girl.

“That we found each other,” said the bird.

Ice is like soil in the garden
A garden can’t grow without soil
and without ice, the polar ecosystems can’t survive.

Paul Nicklen via Human Nature, p. 94

But now if one receives someone as a friend on the basis that he is good, but then he becomes, and seems, a bad character, should one go on loving him? Or is this not possible, given that not everything is lovable, but only what is good, and what is worthless is neither lovable, nor something one should love (for one should not be a lover of what is worthless, nor become like it, and it has been said that like is a friend to like)? So should one break off the friendship at once; or not in all cases, only where the badness is incurable.

Aristotle Nicomachean Ethics, p.229, 1165b15

Even ending in the sense of “disappearing” can still have its modifications according to the kind of Being which an entity may have. The rain is at an end—that is to say it has disappeared. The bread is at an end—that is to say, it has been used up and is no longer available as something ready-to-hand.

Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, pg. 289.

I do not fear the existential risk of super-intelligent AI (artificial intelligence). It’s NS (natural stupidity) that scares the hell out of me.

~ Grady Brooch

“As a species, humanity, we have changed up our mobility infrastructure multiple times. In the early 1800s, it was steam trains. We had to do enormous changes to our infrastructure. We had to put flat rails right across countries. When we started adopting automobiles around the turn from the 19th to the 20th century, we changed the roads. We changed the laws. People could no longer walk in the middle of the road like they used to. We changed the infrastructure. When you go from trains that are driven by a person to self-driving trains, such as we see in airports and a few out there, there’s a whole change in infrastructure so that you can’t possibly have a person walking on the tracks. We’ve tried to make this transition [to self-driving cars] without changing infrastructure. You always need to change infrastructure if you’re going to do a major change.” ~ Rodney Brooks

Just Calm Down About GPT-4 Already: And stop confusing performance with competence, says Rodney Brooks via IEEE Spectrum

“Design also plays a role in shaping the algorithms that keep users on social media platforms considerably longer than they intended. Many teens report diminished well-being after spending an hour (or six) at the hands of such algorithmic rabbit holes. Though a teen may have initially gone to YouTube or TikTok to watch a single video, the algorithms that seem to know them so well kept them watching far longer than they had originally anticipated.”

~ Katie Davis, Technology’s Child: Digital Media’s Role in the Ages and Stages of Growing Up, 2023

“In the forest there are unwritten guidelines for tree etiquette. These guidelines lay down the proper appearance for upright members of ancient forests and acceptable forms of behavior. This is what a mature, well-behaved deciduous tree looks like. It has a ramrod-straight trunk with a regular, orderly arrangement of wood fibers. The roots stretch out evenly in all directions and reach down into the earth under the tree. In its youth, the tree had narrow branches extending sideways from its trunk. They died back a long time ago, and the tree sealed them off with fresh bark and new wood so that what you see now is a long, smooth column. Only when you get to the top do you see a symmetrical crown.”

~ The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben

Do trees appreciate beauty?

The Human Face
by Paul Eluard

 I.
 Soon 

Of all the springtimes of the world 
This one is the ugliest 
Of all of my ways of being 
To be trusting is the best 

Grass pushes up snow 
Like the stone of a tomb 
But I sleep within the storm 
And awaken eyes bright 

Slowness, brief time ends 
Where all streets must pass 
Through my innermost recesses 
So that I would meet someone 

I don’t listen to monsters 
I know them and all that they say 
I see only beautiful faces 
Good faces, sure of themselves 
Certain soon to ruin their masters 

II.
 The women’s role 

As they sing, the maids dash forward 
To tidy up the killing fields 
Well-powdered girls, quickly to their knees 

Their hands -- reaching for the fresh air -- 
Are blue like never before 
What a glorious day! 

Look at their hands, the dead 
Look at their liquid eyes 

This is the toilet of transience 
The final toilet of life 
Stones sink and disappear 
In the vast, primal waters 
The final toilet of time 

Hardly a memory remains 
the dried-up well of virtue 
In the long, oppressive absences 
One surrenders to tender flesh 
Under the spell of weakness 

III.
 As deep as the silence 

As deep as the silence 
Of a corpse under ground 
With nothing but darkness in mind 

As dull and deaf 
As autumn by the pond 
Covered with stale shame 

Poison, deprived of its flower 
And of its golden beasts 
out its night onto man 

IV.
 Patience 

You, my patient one 
My patience 
My parent 
Head held high and proudly 
Organ of the sluggish night 
Bow down 
Concealing all of heaven 
And its favor 
Prepare for vengeance 
A bed where I'll be born 

V.
 First march, the voice of another 

Laughing at sky and planets 
Drunk with their confidence 
The wise men wish for sons 
And for sons from their sons 

Until they all perish in vain 
Time burdens only fools 
While Hell alone prospers 
And the wise men are absurd 

VI.
 A wolf 

Day surprises me and night scares me 
haunts me and winter follows me 
An animal walking on the snow has placed 
Its paws in the sand or in the mud 

Its paws have traveled 
From further afar than my own steps 
On a path where death 
Has the imprints of life 

VII.
 A flawless fire 

The threat under the red sky 
Came from below -- jaws 
And scales and links 
Of a slippery, heavy chain 

Life was spread about generously 
So that death took seriously 
The debt it was paid without a thought 

Death was the God of love 
And the conquerors in a kiss 
Swooned upon their victims 
Corruption gained courage 

And yet, beneath the red sky 
Under the appetites for blood 
Under the dismal starvation 
The cavern closed 

The kind earth filled 
The graves dug in advance 
Children were no longer afraid 
Of maternal depths 

And madness and stupidity 
And vulgarity make way 
For humankind and brotherhood 
No longer fighting against life -- 
For an everlasting humankind 

VIII.
 Liberty 

On my school notebooks 
On my desk, on the trees 
On the sand, on the snow 
I write your name 
On all the read pages 
On all the empty pages 
Stone, blood, paper or ash 
I write your name 

On the golden images 
On the weapons of warriors 
On the crown of kings 
I write your name 

On the jungle and the desert 
On the nests, on the broom 
On the echo of my childhood 
I write your name 

On the wonders of nights 
On the white bread of days 
On the seasons betrothed 
I write your name 

d'azur On all my blue rags 
On the sun-molded pond 
On the moon-enlivened lake 
I write your name 

On the fields, on the horizon 
On the wings of birds 
And on the mill of shadows 
I write your name 

On every burst of dawn 
On the sea, on the boats 
On the insane mountain 
I write your name 

On the foam of clouds 
On the sweat of the storm 
On the rain, thick and insipid 
I write your name 

On the shimmering shapes 
On the colorful bells 
On the physical truth 
I write your name

On the alert pathways 
On the wide-spread roads 
On the overflowing places 
I write your name 

On the lamp that is ignited 
On the lamp that is dimmed 
On my reunited houses 
I write your name 

On the fruit cut in two 
Of the mirror and of my room 
On my bed, an empty shell 
I write your name 

On my dog, young and greedy 
On his pricked-up ears 
On his clumsy paw 
I write your name 

On the springboard of my door 
On the familiar objects 
On the wave of blessed fire 
I write your name 

On all harmonious flesh 
On the face of my friends 
On every out-stretched hand 
I write your name 

On the window-pane of surprises 
On the careful lips 
Well-above silence 
I write your name 

On my destroyed shelter 
On my collapsed beacon 
On the walls of my weariness 
I write your name 

On absence without want 
On naked solitude 
On the steps of death 
I write your name 

On regained health 
On vanished risk 
On hope free from memory 
I write your name 

And by the power of one word 
I begin my life again 
I am born to know you

To call you by name: Liberty!