Meditations on sudoku puzzles

Previously I remarked that the puzzle is a closed system and all the knowledge you need to solve it is within itself.

If you are stuck on a certain part you can work on an entirely different part because they’re all connected and sorting out one part will automatically sort other  parts so I believe that with this virus I might be wrong.

So we could compare that to human life and if you can’t solve a problem in one part of your life leave it alone for a time and work on something else that you can change or improve or that will make you feel happier and when you go back to the original problem you may find that it’s disappeared or it’s easier to do with

Of course you can’t compare the complexity of a human life to this  simplicity of these puzzles but nevertheless one can meditate  and learn from them. After all they’re not much use in other ways.

I don’t like things that are not much use unless they are ornamental and beautiful and I don’t really think I could say that about these puzzles.

Meanings associated with  puzzles in my mind

A sudoku puzzle also has  other meanings for example although you can’t see it when you first look at the puzzle every single number in there is connected to every other number so if one of those numbers is it the wrong place then at least some of the others will also be in the wrong place ultimately leading to impossibility of solution.

A mystical way of looking at the world might see the world in the same way that every being in the world is connected to every other being in some way and if one dies it’s affects all the others that are connected. Remember the lines written by that famous English poet John Donne

Ask for not for whom the bell tolls

It tolls for thee.

Even two other people we don’t read the newspapers or look at the news on the television we are affected by what is happening to others.

So why can’t we make the world more peaceful?

Someo say we can’t even make our own hearts more peaceful.

Soon somebody will put tariffs on the trees and charge them for every leaf they drop…

A leaf falls from the tree and someone drowns in the Pacific.

Secret or hidden knowledge

I’ve been laid up recently with a virus and it’s only that that’s made me try to do some Sudoku puzzles. They don’t really help me to feel better but it’s interesting doing them on a tablet rather than on paper in fact I’ve even done one on my phone

What I have realised is unless there’s a misprint or an error all the knowledge that you need to solve the problem is there already it’s just that we can’t see it.

So we’re trying to find the hidden knowledge but the hidden knowledge is determined by what you can see this is not something where you have to use guesswork or creativity

Then I was wondering if some people are better at seeing the hidden knowledge or the implicit knowledge than others are.

It may happen because you’ve done a lot of puzzles and you begin to build up a lot of information or it may be that just immediately you can see connections on missing numbers that most of us can’t see immediately.

It’s tempting to try to do it in one big sweep

But even with the toughest ones it seems for a beginner better to go step by step in some order which you can then repeat because every time you add one number to a line it changes the whole problem.

And that’s interesting as well

One little change can change many things and this may be true in the more general sense in life itself.

Even something that seems trivial like washing your hair can sometimes have a big effect on your life if you happen to meet someone when your hair is looking beautiful so if your hair was dirty and uncombed you will not feel so confident maybe you would not smile as much and so you are not appeal to other people as much

On the other hand the same women get so fed up from attention they deliberately don’t wash their hair or do glamorous things with it

I must say though I find the sudoky puzzle really irritating on the whole but still you can learn from them. I suppose that’s my desire to learn something more general.

But they’re also very limited because you don’t need anything outside that box to fill the squares in unlike a crossword

Crosswords may improve our variable skills and vocabularies and that helps us to relate better to other people. Crosswords are better for you in my opinion yet sometimes I feel drawn to the puzzles.

What ultimately they may be boring because they are a closed system

I suppose some branches of Christianity or indeed all of Christianity attempts to be a closed system but there’s always a new virtue to be discovered and there’s always a new way to realize that we are weak and even sinful at times.

I suppose that’s why humility matters. If you don’t admit you’ve got a crack the light can’t get into you

Steering our boats

Cracks in the payment by author.

The hand upon my tiller

The mystery of the dark

The unknown one who lives in me

And harmonies does spark.

Thoughts

That is the last verse of a poem i wrote .I did not have the notion of another hand being on my tiller before I began writing.
Yet I feel it is very important.Clearly we don’t consciously make our own blood circulate and you can think of other things like that.If there is another hand steering me I need to cooperate with it.Maybe that hand is wiser than mine.I came to the conclusion that we can only cooperate with it if we are relaxed.
So becoming relaxed is necessary for good living and also for prayer, if we do pray.The best thing about many religions is that before God all souls are equal and all of us are valued unless we deliberately allow evil to overcome us.I think it’s always been hard not to to share the common view that our possessions or our our stupidity or brilliance determine our value.I have got more trust in humbler people if they can avoid bitterness in modern society.
I think working with the hands benefits the mind and heart.Intellectuals can be very cold sometimes.Maybe they were cold already and fled into the intellect to escape human feelings.Meanwhile let’s think about the other hand.

The holiness of the heart’s affections


People also ask

What did Keats say about love?

My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet. Nothing ever becomes real ’til it is experienced. I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination

Biro

There was an old lady from Cairo

Who wrote all her posts with a biro.

Until she got sick

She wrote with a bic

She’s someone you have to admiro.

Please don’t use ballpoints on screens

Ink is not quite what it seems

It’s hard to remove

And keep the screen smooth

If you do you will have nightmares not dreams

Getting to Orford

After Edna had gone home,her neighbours Mary and Annie had to vacuum the carpet where Edna had knocked over a box of biscuits of a crumbly nature and then trodden on them.
Edna is hard to relate to,said Annie nervously, her hands shaking with released  terror and humour
I wonder if she will get easier as time goes on?
You mean you are going to ask her again?
I’ve not decided,Mary told her.

It is a lot of effort in winter especially if the person  is boring.I prefer bad to  boring
I won’t ask you what you mean by bad  men.

Suppose she asks us over to her place,Annie pondered faintly
We’ll have to see how we feel.

I suppose it would be interesting to look at her furniture and see if she has any  books,Mary said softly
If we go and borrow a book, don’t pencil in your comments down the side of the page
As if I would! Mary said indignantly.I only do that to my own
Just sayin’ ,Annie replied, obviously feeling better
Did you like her purple coat?
I think it doesn’t go with red hair but who cares? I’d wear yellow even if I looked sick
That seem stupid,Mary cried anxiously
In the dark of winter it means drivers can see you Annie replied knowledgeably 
I suppose so.. yes, quite a wise idea.But one rarely sees a yellow coat in a shop.
I think you can get them in shops that sell sailing gear,Annie mumbled
Since we are right in the middle of England, there are none here.We’ll have to go to
Orford,Mary warned her
Where’s that,Annie asked rudely
Not far from Aldeburgh,Mary said knowingly
It’s too far to go in a day in winter,Annie decided immediately
How many miles is it?
About 159.468 each way
That is 319.435 miles altogether if my arithmetic is correct which it may not be, of course. Actually it’s wrong but only by a very small amount still using decimals and getting it wrong what a mistake for a mathematician to make in public.
So if we go at 60 mph it takes 5.3333 hours
And at 50 mph it takes 6.4 hours
40 mph would be 8 hours
10 mph would take 32 hours 
2 mph would be 160 hours

Stop, stop!

At 0.5 mph I think it’s 640 hours

Well that is that.We can’t go; it would be nearly 24 days nonstop

Just get a black coat and wear a yellow hat

After all that counting, they fell asleep until Emile came home with some mice for their tea.
And so shall I

God

When God came down , the rivers overflowed
Great trees were floating ,angled and exposed
The houses broke up like a loaf to crumbs
The hearts of humans trembled till they hummed

The winds deceived, the gusts unmeasured stung
The churchbells shuddered then untimely rang
The power was cut and all our screens were dark
Where were the rulers, where the saving Ark?

The women giving birth were paralysed
The babies in the womb took ill and died
Their cradles rocked the world, they swung so fast
And in a moment all of life had passed

In the void, God started his new world
Rich and strange, the grit and then the pearls

Little bits and pieces

Wittgenstein
Drank wine.
Liked 1 cat
To pat

Alfred North Whitehead
Was very shortsighted
He worked out with Russell
Their minds used to jostle.
Principia Mathematica?
I’d rather wear a catheter

Iris Murdoch
Drank dandelion and burdock
She wrote of the Good
Right where she stood!
In Oxford she dwelled
And all her thoughts jelled

Alfred relaxes and God steers

Photo0426

King Alfred

Lately I have been loaned by providence a graceful beautiful cat.Early on he was a shrinking, hunched and nervous creature who slept by the back door on the daily newspaper.He ate hungrily and drank water with a drop of milk.

He was reluctant for a couple of weeks to venture further but as the tranquil peaceful time went by he began to sleep on a towel by the hall radiator and eventually on my knee.

The most striking change was in his size.As he ate more and was petted more he relaxed so that when stretched by the fire ,more of his body was in contact with the floor and he looked larger all over.He was loosened up and comfortable.

If he were human I might say he had a good mother.He is affectionate and initially I feared his demands might be excessive.When he came onto my bed I was concerned.But after five minutes of being stroked he went off to his own place again.

Sometimes when he’s been out in the garden he reappears with an air of humorous triumph as if he has worked a miracle to enter through his door.Another time when I was reading in a different room from the usual one he appeared mid morning with a face full of more expression than I can easily put into words.

He was anxious and relieved,puzzled and afraid,happy and a touch angry with me.How can you do this to me? was his query.Suppose you had gone altogether?Oh,the insecurity of being a tame cat.

I wonder why cats do not miss their own species.Or maybe they meet them outsi

books

de.Often though they fight to defend their territory but fortunately they have no WMD as yet.I like to read and stroke him as I muse over my book,

Tenderness

Made from photo

Let your lips meet gently, the top one resting against the lower touching with tenderness your own skin to skin.

Forefinger propped on chin, I let the others dangle, like leaves on a branch; how softly gravity tugs them downwards.

Let heart beat quietly,slowly as the blood circulates carrying its music; a river,following the path of least resistance.

How the blood vessels receive willingly this flow, touching it kindly as with tiny open fingers, helping and being helped.

How the hair on the head floats on the breeze,like tentacles of an octopus waving goodbye.

Top eyelid loves the lower one; as we blink they touch like lovers kissing swiftly behind a tree. and how the light comes in we see a world

Mine may not be yours, but the blink of my eyelid sends waves through the air, so we’re all touching and being touched, lips kissing each other, kiss all living creatures. skin to skin air to air.

And inside us,the rich darkness of creative night transforms in turn these touches into visions and dreams

By the river

Scattered pools of rainwater gleam on the dark paving stones

The road disappears under an arch

A family approach smiling : conversation occurs

The dog jumps with delight

By the river, a cat hides looking for water rats on the bank

The terraced houses by the water look contented and prosperous

The third one has new curtains.

A man walks by seeming nervous, nothing to do on Sunday.

Turning the other way, I see the huge tree by the large end house

Then a sharp turn on to the bridge

Small bridges here remind me of Thames bridges

These are secret hidden and beautiful like little treasures.

Here comes someone on a bicycle, better step back.

Now we walk towards the pub with another bridge in front

But I forgot, you are not here. The last time I drank grapefruit juice.

I have not had any since then.

Last night I dreamed I was in the garden with a big hedge on my right

The shrubs were leafless and as I pressed my ear against them I could hear laughter and I knew that it was you.

The secret garden that we never enter

Then you cried hello, hello. You sounded merry

That was a small heaven

And always the river flows down the contour lines as it was designed.

And the people change but everything is still the same

Anne Lamott’s writing tips

rosaalchemyst2019https://writingcooperative.com/anne-lamotts-top-13-writing-tips-7577eb5d5c24

 

8. Writing is fueled by hard work rather than innate talent.

“I know some very great writers, writers you love who write beautifully and have made a great deal of money, and not one of them sits down routinely feeling wildly enthusiastic and confident. Not one of them writes elegant first drafts…For me and most of the other writers I know, writing is not rapturous. In fact, the only way I can get anything written at all is to write really, really shitty first drafts.” -Anne Lamott

Lamott’s line about “shitty first drafts” has gotten a lot of airtime in the writing community. Many writers seem to use it as a rallying cry.

To me, this quote is a great reminder of the fact that authorship is not a land of “haves” and “have-nots.” The world population has not been divided into capable writers and hopeless wannabes.

If even the best writers in the world struggle to write beautiful prose, we know that writing is a learned craft — one in which we can all improve over time.

We earn the blessing of the Muse by putting in writing time — not by being born with a golden ink pen in our hand.

Who’s the one you cannot meet on Zoom?

When yet another lover flees my bed

And runs out without breakfast or hot tea

I wonder what it was I should have said

And realize they never did love me.

We fear the loneliness of later life.

Then quickly accept anyone at all

No wonder then our hearts are pierced with knives

Our guts are wracked like ships on a wild sea.

Look for no new saviour in this life.

It’s better to be lonely and be free

When lovers flee our beds we will be pleased

Grateful that machines can wash and beat

Invite no one but God into your room.

He is the one you cannot meet on Zoom

The broken chair

“Your eyes are like deep pools in the Indonesian ocean” Stan murmured into his mistress Annie’s ear.He gently took hold of her and pulled her down onto his thin knee.
Just as he did , his new Habitat chair collapsed and they fell onto the floor.,the chair in many bits around them like a jigsaw puzzle in three dimenstions,
Have you got your smartphone,my sweetheart “he whispered romantically
“I think you’ll have to ring 999.
“OK,my angel” Annie prattled,
” Operator,it’s my lover’s chair .It keeps collapsing;can we bring into A and E to be fixed? Well he can’t get into to bed anymore as he is 107,so we really need this”
Just then a pebble hit the window,it was his wife coming back from Sainsburys” She’s lost her keys in her book bag yet again
Oh,wonderful,just at the right moment” he shouted,”Hello,Mary,here is Annie,she’s a chair surgeon!”
“Oh,that’s good”,Mary muttered enigmatically.
” Do you ever fix beds?”
“Why do you ask?” Annie cried sweetly
“Well, ours is always collapsing’it’s yet another of life’s mysteries.”
“Why,you are so beautiful, Mary.You are mesmerising.Come and show me your bed.We’ll leave Stan here.He’ll soon be in that ambulance”
“Annie,your eyes are like deep salty pools in the Dead Sea .”
“Have you both been on the same creative writing course?” Mary spouted satirically.
“I aim for satisfaction.Here’s my gun.I’m going to shoot you” Annie called
“But we have no guns in the UK” Mary whispered under her breath
“Well you have now.” Annie said logically.
Just then the emergency ambulance arrived with its siren scaring the cats nearby but not Emile as he heard it so many times.
“OK. which chair is it this time” the trisexual paramedic Dave enquired foxily.
“Have you ever thought of making it in the bath?We’re getting really worried about you in Casualty,at your age.”
“Worry no more” Anne screamed emphatically, firing the gun repeatedly into the chair’s remains.
“I’ll make sure he never sits in it again.And now Habitat’s gone bust,he can’t buy another.’”
“Cheers ,mate!”whispered the paramedic dramatically.
“Has anyone ever told you,your eyes are like deep pools in the Sea of Tralee”.
“Oh,no not another one!”Anne moaned tentatively,”You need to raise your whole game,not just change the name of the sea”
“You’re so intelligent too,lady.Can you teach me truly creative writing?” He yelled quietly,by the way I am Trisexual.
” What a funny name.Come upstairs” she murmured in reply, “and we’ll see what sea we can see up there,tonight”.
“Thank you so much and please send me home in a stamped addressed envelope when you are done with me.” he responded quixotically
“Whatever” she sighed spontaneously.”Let’s get on with it or you’ll be here all night”
Does it matter? he called.”I am paid by the flower”
Emile the little black cat who had hidden in the wardrobe was disappointed that the light went out as he hoped to take a photo.
And so did all of us

With dusty shredded leaves.

The gravity of loss brought me to earth
Beneath the rotting leaves, I lay with worms.
I wondered if I were of any worth

No more to be enchanted by love’s mirth,
I  with unnamed particles was turned.
The weight of loss bears down the heart to earth.

The weight of  love has readied us for birth
The fragments moulded with the love that burns.
I learned we need  not wonder  over  worth

My sorrow brought no guilt nor fear of wrath
I am both  sharp eyed eagle ,twisted worm.
In my little grave, I  loved the earth.

Like the adder, shocked into rebirth.
I from silent underworld had learned
Not to judge my soul nor think of worth.

I shall not  fear the flames of hell that burn.
When blackness is accepted, may one learn?
The weight of loss breaks down the soul to earth
With dusty shredded leaves, we then converse

Timeless, beautiful the living mind

There is no time in our unconscious minds

Like god it’s always present, undefined

The wisdom that’s inside us lives down there

As we move through life, it helps us steer.

Larger than the sun,as small as tears.

The mystery of the universe dwells here

Every day our souls are being refined

We cannot love the world if we are blind

The inner sea will comfort me

Inside my shell, I dream of pearls,
Caterpillars, snails with whorls.
I dream contented, all enwrapped
With reverie and dream, I’m lapped.
The inner seas will comfort me,
While gods allow my eyes to see

Oh, sweeter than confectionery
Is my worn old dictionary.
The words whirl round and fall to shape
The sentences, which my world drape.
This furnishing is rich and strange
Yet magically self-arranged.

Oh, sweeter than the love of man
Is reading works of poets long gone;
And feeling deeply their dark tides,
Upon which our boats may glide.
The sea infinite we float on
Is the same warm sea that ancients swam.

Sweeter still is this spring air
And the blossom spreading fair.
We’ll drown ourselves in deep green fields
To the gods of poetry yield.
We’ll rise again and spring up tall
To grow more rich until we fall.

Sweet it is to live and die
And to write my poetry
Touch me with your ardent souls
My mind and yours shall all be whole

A crack, a loud smack

I know that's how death will come, 
Suddenly flying into another orbit when I am photographing flowers
 It's not a gentle transition.
 No-one will know where I've gone. 
One step wrong and I'm off the high wire
 And plunging into the no safety net.
 Flying for a while 
Jumping into hyperspace,spinning electrons 
Startle my wide eyes. 
Transiting the new black sun 
I'm on a double gold helix, 
Spider on her web,
 Knitting furiously
 Into the future heaven on gossamer wings. 
Butterfly goodbye,
I'm off to see the stars.
 And the black holes.
No one will come with me.
 I'm shaking off,evaporating into mist.
 I'm a flying saucer on a circus mission.
 I can't say no to a new invitation. 
Make it fast and break with tradition.
 Time is passing smoothly till that break In the music,
I've been transmuted into a different key 
someone else will play me on their violin
 I'm a tune, I'm a thought, I'm a whisper in your vision. 
Goodbye,darling.
I'm under orders Ready to leave for my performance
 On the electric carpet.
 Death dancing to a tune on a violoncello,
 Arpeggionne sonata 
I'm playing your words upside down
 In a new foreign translation,
 Accompanied by solo artists,ice cracking 
I'm going in.
It's too sudden. 
I'm flying. 
Spinning faster to amuse the clowns, 
too many ups and no downs. 
I'm going right out of orbit
 I've broken the pull of gravity,
 And fly with pure equanimity
 Into my future life,
 I'm off at some moment
An instant,a crack,a loud smack
That was me passing

v

The world’s hollow like a shell

I’m in deep now,never been this deep before
The world’s hollow like a shell and I’m out its door.
In so deep, the ocean has its own startled floor.
I’m down,down.down.never been so dark , so more

I can’t rightly tell how I got where I am
I think I had an accident,fell over, then I swam.
Sometimes it’s a loss, be times it’s my man.
I guess I only do it cos I know some folk can.

I don’t know if the joy is worth the pain
Would I choose to relive if, I was born again?
The deep joy is the amazing gain.
But the sorrow is damn sad, let’s admit it plain.

I’m in deep and it’s over my head
What was I thinking of,when I fell out of that bed?
I look up and the sea’s so turquoise like that mist is red
When we get good and mad and wish some loon was dead.

At first, it was all just black,black pain
But from the bottom of the well, I looked up with awed love again.
That’s when I recalled,feelings are deep and sane
Joy is much greater when we’re in the deep,deep zone.

I dunno if I’m ever comin’ out.
We can’t control it,ain’t that what life’s all about?
I’ll never love with innocence again,nor not feel doubt.
But I’m no teapot and the devil ain’t got my spout.

I’m swimming and the ocean’s so mysteriously bright
Down here we don’t have no day nor no night
Fish nudge me with big grins and teeth white
Sea flowers fondle me and whisper,turn off that light