Science is not a collection of absolute truths. Scientists are delighted when we are wrong because it means we have learnt something.via Professor Brian Cox on elections: don't vote for politicians who say they have all the answers by Marcus Strom.
Showing posts sorted by date for query Science. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query Science. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
Science - Peter Cox / Marcus Strum (Tue 04 Apr 2017)
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Saturday, June 13, 2015
On Time and Patience - RoughType (Tue 09 Jun 2015)

RoughType on Time and Patience:
The greatest of works — in art, science, politics, whatever — tend to take time and patience both to create and to appreciate. The deepest experiences can’t be measured in fractions of seconds.
The seconds are just packed by RoughType.
Been paddling (Dragon Boating and Outrigging both OC1 and OC6) for just over 10 years now. I have had an amazing time and done things way beyond my dreams and capabilities. I have felt every extreme of paddling [and life and death], the highs and the lows, and everything in between. It does take time and patience and I still feel like I am Learnig to Fly.. The journey continues in a different way now, but I am still learning and hope I have more in me. To try and be the best I can for me and those around me.
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Saturday, February 9, 2013
On Performance - Drew Ginn (Mon 24 Dec 2012)
After a 16 year career of international performance, the recently retired Drew Ginn (*), made a summary of his personal views On Performance (*). He starts out with the a succient and general summary of his learnings (*):
to compete there needs to be a certain level of conditioning reached through quantity and targeted intensity while maintain integrity of movement effectiveness and harmony.From which he expands:
Now there is heaps in all that but suffice to say if you do the work, row effectively and are ready for the event then it becomes easier.Been following Drew's Blog (*) since March 2007 and through it I have watched him through two Olympic Games, three World Championships, back surgery after Beijing, a short and successful bike road racing career and his comeback to rowing.
Thats not to say its easy to do but rather the flow, process and deliver can be uncomplicated and then the depth of effort can be reached which can put athletes into that state. The state where it takes everything they have while the realisation emerges that it was less hard and not as difficult as previously thought or perceived.
So simply work to make it easier. Focus to help it flow and push to let it happen. Under do it and you feel guilty, over do it and frustration appears and so to get it just right is the key. The flexion point between effort and ease, tension and relaxation, concentration and letting go, its all a fine line and to learn & master is where art form meets science.
Finally then with out the work your not in the game. With out the efficient your unable to make the most of the opportunity. Then with out being ready for the nature of the big event all can be lost in the blur and intensity of what rises on the day. To seize the day requires all three elements to be developed, stimulated and firing.
For myself, he has inspired me through three World Dragon Boat Championships, two Asian Dragon Boat Championships, and three World Club Crew DB Championships and countless Local and National events. I think I have just about experienced everything in paddling, though I am not so sure (*) on that - which is something I have learnt from life and I think is a good thing.
His writings make sense to me and I can relate to much of what he has written and shared with us. In short, he is a role model to me and I think he has helped shape who I am as a paddler and a person. He has influenced me in how I train, race, and behave on and off the water. In fact, it was Drew's blog [along with Vern's (*), who is someone Drew can learn from as he moves forward with his coaching career] that helped me get started (*) here almost four years ago.
The above piece of writing at the end of his long and successful career as a rower, is a brilliant summary of what it is all about. He will take all of this into his new career as a coach. All the best Drew.
With thanks .. Geoff
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Friday, December 14, 2012
On Photography - on the edge of meaningless - Mark Cohen (YouTube)
Mark Cohen (*) On Photography (*):
It is not some kind of exact analytical science going on here.via Mark Cohen - Street Photographer (YouTube) (*).
It's right on the edge of meaningless, but it's in there and that is what makes it so fascinating.
Definitely one of my favourite photography related quotes (*) so far - something I can empathise with and relate to, which probably says something about me and how I view the world.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Mark Cohen - Street Photography (YouTube)
A bit of a preamble to this but it is worth the wait in order to see his working method on the street and the ensuing interview of which there are many great quotes On Photography (*). I have scribbled a few down here:
[..] They are snapshots and they are made in a very simple way. But the thing they see when they continue to look at the pictures, they start to see the closeness is one of the things they see. Some one is making pictures that are really close on the street and its that kind of taking the camera so close to the subject and making pictures and not in a studio way. in a flow of life on the street or field kind of way. And they see that closeness and that is the thing that gives the pictures there uniqueness and their agressive sort of character.A copy of Grim Street (*) is on the way.
When you make an exhibit of this work, you walk around in a room filled with it and you see all these strange pictures. You know there is a certain excitement to it, There is a certain quality in that room about an artists mind, and an artists work that comes from the pictures and touches the viewer in some way. That's why it works. I don't know why exactly it works. A lot of physcological reasons, sexual reasons. A lot of things are going on in those pictures.
It is not some kind of exact analytical science going on here, its right on the edge of meaninglessness, but its in there and that is what makes it so fascinating.
It feels awkward for me to try to talk about my work, frequently. Once in a while I do it. I do a slide show and I describe how I take the pictures. Describe how I think they fit into things socially and formally, in the context of photography in America. Different kind of things.
You usually don't think about that kind of stuff. You dont think about that. You think about when you are taking pictures the most important thing is to get new pictures.
The pictures you already took, you already took those pictures. My main drive is to do something new. To make some new kind of picture. [..]
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Intersection - S Ashley St / Tampa (Mon 08 Aug 2011)
Walking back to the Hotel at the end of the last day of the Regatta, I saw this scene and captured this photo. To me it marked the end of the campaign (*) and maybe the directional arrows on the road meant something to me as I pondered the reality of my experience in Tampa.
Almost 3 months later I have had plenty of time to reflect on my - our - experience and I move forward enjoying my paddling.
I just read the following quote by Kirk Tuck (*) in a great article (*) about doing the things you love ..
Intention? That has to come from you. But I would suggest that, as a functional person, you no doubt find things in life that spark you up. Give you pleasure, satisfaction, happiness. That inflate your will to live. Distill down to those things and make them the base of your art. Then the intention will drive everything else.From Developing muscle memory and fluid technique is almost as important as developing a sense of purpose (Kirk Tuck - Wed 28 Sep 2009) (*).
It is a great article (*) from a great blog - The Visual Science Blog / Kirk Tuck (*). Not a bad way to look at things.
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Monday, March 8, 2010
The night before brain surgery ..
Another extract from Lance Armstrong's book entitled "Its not about the bike". Some parts of the book really connected with me. Here is the one that resonates the most ..
How do you confront your own death? Sometimes I think the blood-brain barrier is more than just physical, it's emotional, too. Maybe there's a protective mechanism in our psyche that prevents us from accepting our mortality unless we absolutely have to.

Jenny - 'A little tidy up of Jenny's hair - it was always my job to do this.' - Kirrawee - 16 Jun 2009 (picasa)
The night before brain surgery, I thought about death. I searched out my larger values, and I asked myself, if I was going to die, did I want to do it fighting and clawing or in peaceful surrender? What sort of character did I hope to show? Was I content with myself and what I had done with my life so far? I decided that I was essentially a good person, although I could have been better—but at the same time I understood that the cancer didn't care.

Jenny and Geoff - 'off we head to the Hospital' - Tue 16 Jun 2009 (picasa)
I asked myself what I believed. I had never prayed a lot. I hoped hard, I wished hard, but I didn't pray. [..]
I believed, too, in the doctors and the medicine and the surgeries — I believed in that. [..]

Jenny Collage - The Night Before Brain Surgery - The White Markers were placed on Jenny's head before an MRI - they would be used by the Nuerosurgeon to assist in precisely locating the Tumor from a digital scan of the MRI. - St George Hospital - Tue 16 Jun 2009 (picasa)
Beyond that, I had no idea where to draw the line between spiritual belief and science. But I knew this much: I believed in belief, for its own shining sake. To believe in the face of utter hopelessness, every article of evidence to the contrary, to ignore apparent catastrophe— what other choice was there? We do it every day, I realized. We are so much stronger than we imagine, and belief is one of the most valiant and long-lived human characteristics. To believe, when all along we humans know that nothing can cure the briefness of this life, that there is no remedy for our basic mortality, that is a form of bravery.

Jenny with the Flowers from Julia and Todd (photo to come), and Pacific Dragons - St George Hospital - Tue 16 Jun 2009 (picasa)
To continue believing in yourself, believing in the doctors, believing in the treatment, believing in whatever I chose to believe in, that was the most important thing, I decided. It had to be.
Without belief, we would be left with nothing but an overwhelming doom, every single day. And it will beat you. I didn't fully see, until the cancer, how we fight every day against the creeping negatives of the world, how we struggle daily against the slow lapping of cynicism. Dispiritedness and disappointment, these were the real perils of life, not some sudden illness or cataclysmic millennium doomsday. I knew now why people fear cancer: because it is a slow and inevitable death, it is the very definition of cynicism and loss of spirit. So, I believed.

Jenny, Joanne, David and Geoff - "Jenny takes a photo of us all just before she heads out to have a 4cm brain tumor removed. She had no fear and looked forward to quickly recovering to resume the treatment of the tumors in her liver." - St George - 6:30am Wed 17 Jun 2009 (picasa)
Will try add some more photos (partly done now - Geoff 10 Mar 2009) and maybe some of my own recollections and thoughts on Jenny's Night before brain surgery. There is a bit of story here if I can find the strength to write about it.

Jenny - 'Just before heading out for surgery.' - St George Hospital - 7am Wed 17 Jun 2009 (picasa)
How do you confront your own death? Sometimes I think the blood-brain barrier is more than just physical, it's emotional, too. Maybe there's a protective mechanism in our psyche that prevents us from accepting our mortality unless we absolutely have to.

The night before brain surgery, I thought about death. I searched out my larger values, and I asked myself, if I was going to die, did I want to do it fighting and clawing or in peaceful surrender? What sort of character did I hope to show? Was I content with myself and what I had done with my life so far? I decided that I was essentially a good person, although I could have been better—but at the same time I understood that the cancer didn't care.

I asked myself what I believed. I had never prayed a lot. I hoped hard, I wished hard, but I didn't pray. [..]
I believed, too, in the doctors and the medicine and the surgeries — I believed in that. [..]

Beyond that, I had no idea where to draw the line between spiritual belief and science. But I knew this much: I believed in belief, for its own shining sake. To believe in the face of utter hopelessness, every article of evidence to the contrary, to ignore apparent catastrophe— what other choice was there? We do it every day, I realized. We are so much stronger than we imagine, and belief is one of the most valiant and long-lived human characteristics. To believe, when all along we humans know that nothing can cure the briefness of this life, that there is no remedy for our basic mortality, that is a form of bravery.

To continue believing in yourself, believing in the doctors, believing in the treatment, believing in whatever I chose to believe in, that was the most important thing, I decided. It had to be.
Without belief, we would be left with nothing but an overwhelming doom, every single day. And it will beat you. I didn't fully see, until the cancer, how we fight every day against the creeping negatives of the world, how we struggle daily against the slow lapping of cynicism. Dispiritedness and disappointment, these were the real perils of life, not some sudden illness or cataclysmic millennium doomsday. I knew now why people fear cancer: because it is a slow and inevitable death, it is the very definition of cynicism and loss of spirit. So, I believed.
Will try add some more photos (partly done now - Geoff 10 Mar 2009) and maybe some of my own recollections and thoughts on Jenny's Night before brain surgery. There is a bit of story here if I can find the strength to write about it.
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