Day: February 10, 2016

Signs and bareness.

 

Mathematics is full of signs which are often used as metaphors by non-mathematicians.My husband, for example, used to say: The distance from zero to one is bigger than that from one to two.I fully agreed with him, realising what he meant.However, I refrained from saying that was why he could not learn maths at school.But it would be a good thing if maths teachers realised that some children live in rich worlds and find it hard to strip down to  the bareness of mathematical signs and equations.

A student once told me she saw Zero with a  lot of tiny numbers floating around it  like butterflies which showed  possibly great insight into infinitesimals but which would not  aid her in learning Econometrics or any other such  nonsensical stuff hich was her  chosen destiny.

And the precision and clarity [up to  a point] of mathematics does not do well when applied to broader issues as a “friend” kindly pointed out to me before being very rudeNow we mathematicians criticise each other’s  methods but we are rarely rude as it does not aid the mind.And it’s in the mind we live.Which is not a good idea but maybe we went there as a safe place when life was too much to bear.

For life is much harder than Mathematics,as King Lear might have said.

Underneath cares, we find peace

Deep in a  sad and  nervous state,

Relaxation is hard to create

I feel so tense I can’t sit down

My eyes glare out and  then I frown.

I talk too fast ,I lack patience

I lose touch with my common sense.

To follow instructions from a book

Seems hard when I feel  my brain’s been spooked.

So what to do to help ourself,

Not to mention  soul and health?

I discovered that very deep inside

A pleasant silence often abides.

To  be tranquil, we need to sit

And to consciousness  peace admit.

Deep down inside we are at rest

And with love the soul is blessed.

All we have to do is wait

To get in touch with this sweet state.

Our own deep peace is always there

Too often hidden by common cares.

Pretend the chair is full of glue

We have some here called UHU.

I pretend  that I can'[t  get up,

An elephant sits gently on my lap.

Gaze  in wonder at a   tree.

Discover what we rarely see.

So let your thoughts float by like clouds

Your mind will  slow down when allowed

 

Trees in sunlight

Your angel

 

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Your angel was near you today

I saw her but I couldn’t say.

You were tied up in a network of thought

On that smartphone   you have just bought.

An angel was  by you today

But your mind was  too far away.

You didn’t  even glance ay  this  sight

Your eyes were entranced by screen light,

If we could abandon our cybernetic romance,

If we weren’t all so deeply entranced,

If we could all look up  even  once

Our angels might teach us to  dance

Pick out the words I have just invented

His writing is over full of invented commas.

He came to a full stop when his paper blew away.

His writing has no compasses and yet goes round in squirkles

She gave him full squarks for detrying.

She gave him a quotation to park.

She likes inverted comas but  he didn’t.So they split at 45 degrees.

His colons were semi-detached.

What a narragraph!

He writes like a narrative.

Life is full of stories without punctuation, beginning or blend.

His fiction caused friction as it was clearly debased on  the facts of wife.

Her poetry was full of forms but bereft of feeling.

What, a stunner, what a formata.

Just write and add the commas when you flirt

Your writing is so deft it seems unpeeled.

A capital letter? Das Kapital, ok?

Marx was keen on literacy and strangluage.

Can your feelings fill a form? If so, you cannot be published till you freeze them

Take it or weave it.You have my words.

Odious grammar deters the readers.

Hope of spring

The wind is gently swishing round

And now the soft-breathed breeze has found

Some old leaves resting on the ground

And piled  them up into a mound

Against our red brick wall.

 

The sun is shining here today.

I hope its light is here to stay

I want the summer now, always.

Azalea blooms  to bless my way

No more frost at all.

 

But yet  the wind has gathered force

The weather shows  us no remorse

We  must submit to Nature’s course,

Yet listen for that still, small voice.

For God, it is, who calls.

 

 

 

Stan polishes the doorstep

 

Stan was outside polishing the brass doorstep.”My, these microfibre cloths are wonderful” he thought resentfully.Mary was out taking a load of stuff to the Oxfam Shop.Suddenly he heard a loud cry., then he felt a pair of hands fondling the top of his bald head.”Eeh, no rest for the wicked, even at 81,” he screamed.He staggered to his feet and rubbed his knees.”

.”Just give me a hand” , he said,”I’ll have to stretch my hamstrings.They tighten  up so.”
“I’ll stretch them for you!” Annie whispered roguishly.Stan leant forward  to touch his toes  and she could not resist the temptation to give his bottom a hearty slap.”

“For Pete’s sake, Annie” he shouted faintly.”Someone might see that.””

“Don’t worry , there’s no-one around at this time of the day” she tittered.
“Oh, yes there is!”
It was Dave, the paramedic.He had been lying behind the wheelie bins, all three of them standing plaintively in the tiny front garden.”

“I’m an MI5 spy ,and I’ve been reading your blog, Mr Brown.”
“I’m not called Brown” ,said Stan nerdishly.

“Refuses to accept reality, “Dave wrote in his little notepad with some blood he had taken from himself earlier.

“Jesus Christ!”, said Stan.”

“Now,now”  said Dave,”that’s not your name,

“No my name is Tan, not Brown, you’ve been reading the wrong blog!” “Stan Tan!”
Dave appeared crestfallen,” Any chairs need mending today?”
“My what beautiful ears you have , sweetheart,” he said to Annie,
“They look like sea shells.”

“Your eyes are like shallow pools in Lake Windermere during a thunderstorm.”Annie replied womanfully.”Are you still a transvestite?” she faltered on  incoherently.

“No, I had a mystical experience and now I’m a Zen Buddhist”
“How did that happen? ” demanded Stan querulously.
“Well , I was knitting myself a Shetland lace sweater in pale blue mohair, and I suddenly had the feeling that everything was interwoven.Going forward or backwards, sideways or straight ahead, it is all part of the warp and weft of life.”” mistakes don’t matter” he continued idly.”Oh,yes,they do,”Annie said pouting her full lips., cherry pink by

“Oh,yes,they do,”Annie said pouting her full lips., cherry pink by courtesy of L’oreal of Paris and New York, lip balm by Yves St Laurent, peach foundation by Lancome also of Paris, toning smokey grey mascara by Max Factor, handbag Annie’s own,deep burgundy 70 denier tights by M&S. Grey pointed ballet slippers by Bally of Switzerland.[also available in black, red and teal].Raspberry lingerie by, strangely, M&S.
“As I was saying..,”
Dave dived back behind the wheelie bin.
Stan polished the brass  vio;ently and Annie disappeared in a puff of smoke.
It was Mary’s famous imitation of a bicycle bell that had alerted them to her imminent return from the Oxfam shop.
“Don’t they make bike bells anymore?” Dave boringly wondered as he carried on reading the new life of Emily Dickinson”A loaded gun.” He  had thought it was an  army training manual, but, hey, mistakes don’t matter!Or do they?Read the next instalment  soon at your local newsagent’s or here.