The occupational hazards of being expat

‘Winding up the week’s travel here in Maastricht, a day to catch up around town and then a ferry back to the UK.  The autumn leaves are beautiful this year, the rains really make the colours glow.

Traveling, I’ve reading the WSJ Expat, my best source of news and commentary for working American nomads. The blog publishes often, featuring a variety of experienced voices.  All of the articles are free, relevant, and timely, addressing finances and taxes, implications of legal and political decisions, and personal stories from people living all over the world.

Three recent articles dealt with personal questions of expat identity, and how people can be changed by their overseas experiences. Each bears some caution for long-term expats, and resonate deeper than the expat / repat surveys that dominate our literature.

Jessica Scott wrote a thoughtful piece asking whether Living Abroad Changes Your Personality.  Faced with conversations in unfamiliar languages and cross-cultural social / business situations, most expats lie back a bit and watch, learning how things are done before jumping in.  The natural extroversion required of a successful expat gets tempered by a more thoughtful practice of reflecting before acting.  In the long term, which the author suggests that this leads people toward being more introspective.

For me, it’s a mix. I always tended towards being more reflective and analytic, something that I needed to overcome as I became an expat and entrepreneur.  The year at Cambridge definitely helped: we were placed into daily presentation and networking situations where we needed to stand out.  Rehearsal builds skills; Success builds confidence.  I become more assertive and outgoing (hopefully without becoming controlling and arrogant).

But I’ve also made a lot of mistakes, big and small, omission, commission and ‘not my fault along the way.  Hard truths and life lessons change how I approach business and social situations.  It could also be the wisdom of age, or a greater reliance on non-verbal cues in a Dutch environment.  But I know that I am more measured and gentle in my approach; I listen for different views and signals, read intent and motivation more clearly than previously.

On balance, I do think that I have become more introspective as a result of my decade of expat experience.

Expats and Alcohol is explored by Malia Politer: Do we foster an abnormal culture around drinking when overseas?  Certainly there are countries where drinking is a bigger part of social and business life than it is in the (post 50’s) US.  Tight expat communities define themselves by evenings at the bar and parties in resort towns.  Boredom, alienation, stress and loneliness all factor in, coupled with the natural tendencies of the high-performance / risk-taking / adrenaline junkies who frequently become global nomads.

This is one that I’ve certainly noted as a risk in others and have taken conscious steps to avoid for myself.  I think that the UK guidelines are a bit tight, and reject recent recommendations that folks over 55 cut even those in half,.  Nonetheless, I do avoid hard liquor, and I moderate  beer and wine to two well spaced glasses most evenings.  If there is a period of particular stress or sadness, I keep closer contact with positive and constructive people so that I’m not alone with thoughts and temptations.  And I am strict about limiting  if I’m at a business event or will be driving back from a social evening.

Finally, Jessica Scott again on Expat Guilt. Life as a global nomad means accepting a distant and disconnected relationship with family, friends, and colleagues back home.  Skype, email, and ‘home tours’ can keep us somewhat in sync, but we remain largely apart from everyday life in our native country.  When a life event happens, good or bad, it raises questions: Should we stay here, should we go back, how do we participate or give support?  A decision to remain overseas is a guilty choice, giving the appearance of being selfish or indifferent.

This is really a tough one.  Living in Europe is a wonderful opportunity, and I don’t regret decisions to build a business and a life here.  Still, it’s an all-in commitment, one that necessarily becomes more binding even as connections home weaken.  So I don’t get back to see family as often as I like, we don’t arrange the exchanges.  I’m aware of seeing people’s lives in glimpses, as news exchanged over an evening’s conversation a few times a year. 

And when something really happens, as with William’s death, there is guilt, and there are questions about how long it can continue.  Can the next ten years be like the last ten?  No, and I’m making adjustments after this summer’s experiences.  At the same time, this is all so remarkable, and the rewards can be so great, that I can’t imagine backing away.

Intuition

An outdoor café, a September afternoon along the Maas, is an ideal venue for close conversation, but also for people-watching, guessing attachments and professions of  passers-by.  It’s a game I seldom win.

Still, I think about people more, and differently, than I once did. 

And I take greater note of my intuitions about them. 

“Intuition” is not well defined, but can be approximated as The capacity for direct, immediate knowledge before rational analysis, reaching a conclusion based on  previous experiences and emotional inputs’ (Dane, 2007).  It’s not the result of a rational process, but a realization that comes from the heart rather than the head, or the left brain rather than the right.

I had a spirited debate recently about whether the heart learns, thus whether intuition can be developed.   No question that our rational nature is informed by facts and improves with practice.  While the heart is often thought of as constant and true, I suspect that it, too, can change with experience.  The ‘bad feeling’ that we get about some people or situations reflects earlier misfortune.   Attractions should similarly connect to positive times of  joy, comfort, or security.

The linking of experience  and emotion to produce an intuitive feeling of gratitude is nicely illustrated by two recent authors.

David Brooks’  essay observes that Gratitude happens when kindness exceeds expectations, or when it is undeserved.  Life may not surpass dreams, but it can nicely surpass expectations.  This is a lovely thought: I have expectations of people, probably moreso of those who I know well or have close ties to.  Paradoxically, I may also feel disappointed by them more often, while being delighted by the occasional stranger who goes out of their way to help.

The Sage writes that many human emotions involve judgments.  We are angry because someone behaved badly, disappointed because we misjudged events. We would feel differently if we judged differently. Reciprocally, then, foreboding likely attaches to a nagging doubt,  anger to a thwarted desire?  We can help the way we feel, if the way we feel flows from a mistaken judgment that we can correct.

Once identified as a skill with management utility, the academic community produced guidelines for developing intuition as a skill, of course (Sadler-Smith, 2004):

 

1. Open up the closet.  Trust your feelings; count on intuitive judgments; don’t suppress hunches.

2. Don’t mix up your I’s.  Distinguish your instincts, your insights, and your intuitions.

3. Elicit good feedback.  Seek feedback on your judgments and build confidence in gut feel.

4. Benchmark your intuitions.   Get a feel for your batting average. 

5. Use imagery.  Visualize potential future scenarios that take your gut feelings into account.

6. Play devil’s advocate.  Probe how robust gut feel is when challenged.

7. Capture and validate your intuitions.  Log them before they are censored by rational analysis.

Maybe.  For me, I (do try to) spend more time listening and watching than I used to, and to be skeptical of whether my beliefs about people are in line with their reality.

Especially when lessons can be learned in a café.

Health, Longevity, and Finger Pointing

The photograph is from Lyme Bay at low tide, taken by Richard Marchant for the Dorset Landscapes group.  the jumble of boats is evocative of my week: Mind cluttered during  travel, driving up and down England to get business matters settled ahead of a week’s vacation. 

Three ideas in particular stayed with me, the topic of todays essays.

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Jeff Gordinier offered 12 Tips for Living a Longer Life in the NYTimes this week.  It centers on healthy eating habits, ranging from Drink more coffee (Yay!) to Hold the butter (Boo!).  My favorite, though, is the last suggestion:

Eat in good company. It’s not just about what you eat, but how you eat, and how much you and your friends enjoy a meal together.

It has taken me a long time to appreciate a meal taken at leisure, interspersed with conversation, wine, and trips outdoors for a breath between courses.  A break for lunch and a talk is normal now; a three hour dinner is no big stretch, it’s a leisurely and thoughtfully fun evening to savor.

And, if you haven’t explored your probability of living five more years, check out the UbbLE Risk Calculator.

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The Shrink and Sage tackled How do we live with our mistakes? last weekend. 

The Shrink counseled Recognize that we all make a mess of things sometimes. Make sure you do this with kindness and compassion towards yourself. Then carry on living.

The Sage suggested (paraphrasing)  Often we can’t know what the ‘right’ choice is, and, in hindsight, we will often get it wrong.  Still, we must suspend judgment and commit, simply putting aside doubt and acknowledging the possibility that we might have chosen badly.

Along the way, the Shrink commented An approach I find helpful and refreshing is acceptance and commitment therapy, which is part of the “third wave” cognitive-behaviour-therapy stable. 

“Third Wave” is an agreeably modern dialectic, perhaps first popularized by Futurist Alvin Toffler as the Third Wave of Economic Development (Agrarian, Industrial, Information), separately adopted by Third Wave Feminists (Legal rights, Institutional rights, Identity rights). 

In Cognitive Therapies, it is the third step in progression from operant behavioral conditioning (desensitization) through rational ’talking’ therapies, to building healthier behavioral skills.  Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), for example, preaches Accept your reactions and be present, Choose a valued direction, and Take action. 

I like the mindfulness aspect of suspending context and focusing on the present, but dislike the accompanying suspension of judgment.  I’m somewhat more attracted to the related approach of Morita Therapy:

One of the primary goals in Morita therapy is to reach the state of arugamama (acceptance of reality as it is). This state includes accepting one’s feelings and thoughts without trying to change them. Morita therapy encourages people to focus their efforts toward living life well rather than to direct attention and energy to changing emotions, accomplishing what is important in life even as unpleasant feelings coexist.

The similarities with many of the ACT techniques, including mindfulness, acceptance of emotions, committed action, value-based behaviors, and the use of metaphors, are striking.  Hoffman, 2008

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While driving up to Oxford, I chanced to see a woman arrive at the bus stop,  running her finger over the schedule as she looked for the next bus.

Why do we do that?  The finger itself doesn’t read the words, and there was no companion present that she might be pointing something out.   My guess is that the finger must help in directing visual focus and acquisition of sequential text?

Reflecting, I usually point at text when finding something in an ordered list (as opposed to a searching for a word in free text).  I also do it when tracing information in a picture, as a route across a map.  Speed readers use a finger to pull the eye along text, and maybe this is the point in all cases. 

Researchers note that finger pointing is a human universal; it transcends culture and invariably is associated with the index finger.   While apes also do it, it is thought to be a gesture of language, variously and innate component of language acquisition, a basic component of non-verbal communication, and the ‘royal road to language for babies’ (Wilkins 2003).

It would be interesting to see whether people locate information more quickly when allowed to use their finger, vs. not.  I’m sure someone must have done the experiment, but I’m still looking for a reference (some day when I have time, it would be easy to try….)

Habits and rituals

I’ve decided to change how I approach mornings.

Too often I wake with the sunrise, my head full of ruminations and worries.  Invariably I toss a bit, then read a little, finally make a pot of strong coffee and check the overnight email.  Those urgent messages become my emotional focus, coloring the start and driving the day’s plans.

‘It starts with your sleep patterns, suggests a counselor, offering a prescription. “It starts with my bad habits,” I counter.  I’ve spent two years problem-solving, self-reflecting and adapting.  It sets a pattern, no longer a choice. 

Perhaps mindfulness?  I shrug, skeptical of open awareness, instantaneous focus, non-judgmental thinking.  The practice is just wrestling with myself for control of thought and emotion.

An essay advocates conscious adoption of rituals, regular practices that connect people to things outside of themselves rather than inside.   I’m well along the 16 suggestions already, so perhaps all I need is a more forceful physical separation from the settings that feed habit’s wolves 

The café up the street offers live music every Wednesday night, light organic dishes: it seems a good place to start.  I’m greeted by vegetable burgers, Dorset craft beer, and a decent guitarist, tucked into a corner amidst (and barely distinguished from) the plants.

I took my tablet, pad, and notebook along with me though.  Naturally,  I scribbled off a few thoughts and transcribed work notes while waiting for dinner.

It kind of negates the benefit.

‘Another habit to drop.

 

When I woke this morning, I walked out the door (hands empty) instead of into the kitchen.  ‘East to the cliffs, then down for a long stroll among the joggers, seagulls, and dog-walkers along the Bournemouth seafront.  Building crews prepared shops for summer; waiters swept away the sand on terraces.  I cradled a camera and a cup of coffee.  I listened to the waves,  I put the workday aside to ripen a bit.

I looked for my new morning ritual.

  

It takes (a mythical) 21 days to form (or break) a habit.  It’s probably the same whether focused outside or inside. But this feels like a constructive step forward.

Ironically, the house-mom has been hovering worriedly as I write.  You need to be more Greek, enjoy life. Not so tense, more deep breathing, go drinking coffee by the sea.

Good advice, except that it’s followed with a smile, That’s why the Greeks are bankrupt.

The World’s ‘State of Happiness’

Gorse and heather are blooming along East Cliffs, luminous against the sea.  Beyond, the Isle of Wight shines at the mouth of the Solent.  It’s a warm, windy evening near Bournemouth, perfect for a walk, a coffee, and a bit of scribbling.

The UN ranking of the world’s happiest countries is out – the Dutch have fallen to seventh from fourth, overtaken by Norway, Canada and Finland.  The US is 15th; the UK is 21st.  There are lots of interesting sub-statistics: In general, younger people are angrier, middle-aged worry more, and older folks are sadder (all to a slightly greater extent in women than in men).  Stress and income drop with age; generosity and pain increase.

The report concludes that there is a growing body of evidence on the importance of building social capital to build national happiness (well-being and economic success).  They speculate on the policy implications: how virtues  might be nurtured among citizens to achieve better outcomes for society as a whole.  Their (somewhat scary) list is:

1. Life- and social- skills training in schools
2. Universal access to education
3. Specialized training in compassion
4. Professional codes of ethics that are socially constructive
5. Effective state regulation of dangerous anti-social behaviors
6. Focused efforts to reducer public-sector corruption
7. Public policies to narrow income and wealth inequalities
8. Adoption of strong social safety nets and universal social benefits, without means-testing
9. Recovering ethical voices who lead moral discourse in society
10. Strengthen deliberative democracy
11. Accurate reporting of pro-social behaviors and correcting falsely pessimistic views

I like 2,4,6,7,8,10, and have significant doubts about 1,3,5,11 – the latter seem ripe for creative division if people disagree about basic moral principals or manipulate the system.

and the value of sunset walks along windy ridges should not be underestimated…

By the numbers

It’s a working week from the road, ranging from Braintree to Poole, London to Reading.  I need to moderate work and travel,  getting back into healthier habits by February.  So I’m making an effort to stay off email before 9, on the bike after 5, and to cook regular meals in the evenings.  I’m reading again, catching up with articles pushed into Pocket during my travels and popping Baldacci spy novels downloaded from the library at bedtime.

‘Among the interesting bits bobbing up so far:

HIIT Training:  The New York Times has been advocating High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT), periods of extremely intense activity alternated with brief periods of recovery.   The workout is supposed to promote strength and endurance – I would hope to be able to use it as a travel-friendly routine that accelerates my (re)conditioning

I’ve adapted it midway into my hour’s biking as 30 seconds on / 1 minute off, repeated ten time.  It boosts my heart rate towards 160 and the calories expended by 20% during a 50% increase (60 –> 90 rpm) in effort.  I wish that the bike could show how progressive and sustained the bursts are: I can only gauge that it’s difficult to maintain the intensity by the seventh rep.

And no, that’s not me (yet) in the graphic.

Keeping Friends:  Gerald Mollenhorst, a social psychologist in Utrecht, reported five years ago that while the size of people’s social networks are remaining constant, the composition of their close relationships are changing more quickly. On average, half of a person’s close friends would likely be replaced by new ones within seven years, mostly driven by a lack of meeting opportunities.

In particularly Dutch context, Mollenhorst also looked at implications for neighborhoods, finding that “locale has not lost relevance to its residents”.  Neighbor networks have changed, becoming more superficial, contacts more about holding a ladder than discussing important personal matters.  But for the Dutch elderly, non-movers and home-owners, neighbors are more, not less, important parts of their voluntary personal networks.

The flip side would be that tumbleweeds and expats would tend to become more isolated by their lifestyles.  So, as practical advice, here are pointers for Dutch friendships.

Forming habits: Conventional wisdom holds that actions repeated for 21 days become habitual.  That’s actually a distortion, derived from 1950’s research that surgical patients accepted their new self-image within three weeks.  A recent study suggests that new habits actually set over 84 days, with lots of individual variation averaging to 66 days.  Happily, an occasional lapse in maintaining a new habit didn’t affect its consolidation.

Business self-help writers are breaking this into a series of tasks and milestones.  I find that it’s more just simple practice: do it regularly until it becomes second nature, then celebrate with a good shared reward when its taken hold.

Finding perfection:  Many activities in life involve searching, for a best product, solution, maybe a partner.  How much must you search, and how do you know when to stop?  The BBC asked mathematician Matt Parker for a suggestion, and he advanced one from probability: the Optimal Stopping Problem.

Suppose that you figured that you could get to know 100 potential partners and wanted to decide when to stop and have a long-term relationship with a likely ‘best’ one.  (Note: this is his example, not mine). 

Start with a sample of the whole (n) people, sqrt(n), therefore consisting of 10 of the 100.  Date them, and rank them so that you know who was best in that group.  The optimal strategy would then be to continue meeting people until the first one came along who was better than that, then stop.

There are other strategies that might be tried, and there was a lively discussion on Radio 4 about whether there could be any general mathematical rules governing human relationships. 

The opposite of victim

Beneath the crime story in Gone Girl is an exploration of power balances within relationships.  An outwardly respectable marriage hides the underlying struggle going on, the alternating roles of victim and aggressor, the way each manipulates the other in order to dominate the couple. 

I don’t believe that this dynamic is as strong or as universal as Joshua Rothman writes in the New Yorker.   I’ve always been a believer in (if not always a good practitioner of) equality and balance in relationships.  

But his essay is provocative, especially in the way he defines losers as victims.  They aren’t always so.

What is a victim?  For me, it is someone who suffers, whether from physical, emotional, or social pain.  I also associate victims with injustice, implying a cause behind their anguish.  When another person is at fault, we have lot of words to describe them: aggressor, persecutor, oppressor.

But consider everyday suffering, perhaps caused by natural events, disease, or accident.  Perhaps a friend or partner has been misunderstood, has failed to act, or is unaware of what they have caused.  The pain could be entirely in the victims own head, with an external focus that is not actually the cause.

We still think of these people as victims.  They have the same need for acceptance and support from those around them.   And, often, their pain has a cause, even if an innocent one.

What word do we have for an innocent agent that causes suffering?  They aren’t naturally an aggressor?

Is ‘victim’ even the right word for suffering that is unintentionally inflicted?

I don’t think that we have words for that pairing, and I can’t think of a good one.  Sometimes the Dutch see things more clearly, but their words, slachtoffer/dader, also pair victim with perpetrator.  It’s almost as if the two roles form an inevitable dual, where the existence of either one necessarily implies the existence of the other.

The drama thus plays out once a rescuer enters the mix, with default construction of a ‘Power Triangle’ (Karpman 1968).  Characterizing the sufferer as a Victim, the comforter as a Rescuer, can result in the unjust demonization of  the person seen to be at fault.  This casts unwitting bystanders into willful roles, framing their (in)actions as intent, neglect, and (for Nature) Acts of God.

The novel and movie play with our sense of who is the victim, who is the aggressor.   I wouldn’t hesitate to apply the word dader to people who inflict willful suffering onto others by intention or abuse, without guilt, regret or remorse.

But, in real life, when suffering people are cast as victims, however well-intended, there are consequences.  Comfort leads to rescue, balance to identifying a cause, and justice to a judgment. 

And, too often,  that can create more victims.

Perhaps only for lack of a word?

Winding down the week

I’ll be pitching in London on Monday, clinical and business meetings scattered at various locations through the rest of the week, so its shaping up as a busy period again.  But a series of late afternoon storms rumbled through Parkstone, breaking the heat along with my concentration.  ‘time to gather my notes and move down to the beach for the afternoon, start to plan a weekend that is genuinely ‘off’.

The circus is in town, there’s a regatta in Swanage: the festival schedule has abated as school term ends and people leave for summer holidays.  I’d rather be boating but need to finish my qualifications before I can charter out with the dinghy.  In vino veritas, In wine, there is truth: I settle in with a glass and collect thoughts.

-- I’m planning a dinner, building out into my social circle, so there’s the menu to think through.  The butcher has some great ideas for a lamb loin, and veg and wine selection is easy.   I’ve finally mastered the varieties of potatoes to make good accompaniments.

But my go-to summer desert, panna cotta with a fruit coulis, has fallen from favor because I use animal gelatin.  I’ve ordered agar and xantham gum alternatives, and have got a series of experiments setting in the ‘fridge this morning.  There’s no good leaf-to-powder equivalent, so I’ll see what amount strikes a balance between mushy and rubbery.

If it all fails, I’ll move on to spuma foams.

-- The Shrink and Sage reflected on Wisdom last weekend, it’s still on my mind.  ‘Grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can’, so the Shrink counsels that Wisdom lies in knowing the difference.  I think that’s perfectly horrible advice: I always envision the good possibilities, cannot accept the bad ones, and so I always see opportunities for change and redemption.  My life is not simply accumulating a  sum of days and accepting what comes; it is actively observing the good and the bad, understanding alternatives, and making wise choices while holding others accountable for theirs. 

In this, I am much closer to the Sage: Wisdom is the capacity to see which problems matter in life, and what aspects are crucial to solving them.  Work, living, relationships: it means putting one’s life experiences to good use while still being open to learning.  It is about making the most of my capacity to make and to acct on choices.

-- I go back to thumbing articles on my tablet, one eye towards the ‘boarders paddling past.  My brother alerts me that Cambridge has fallen to #4 on a league table, behind Harvard, Stanford, MIT.  No worries, we’re ahead of Oxford at #5, and with an 800-year history, we take the long view of these things.  Amazon is starting a book subscription service, not yet available in Europe unfortunately, but a promising idea.  I hope that it doesn’t undermine libraries, though.  The Times reports on new language learning apps, promising, but no substitute for the immersion of just plunging in with courage over a newspaper, a dictionary, and good friends over coffee.

-- Must increased happiness correspond to decreased unhappiness, or can both increase together as cheerful melancholy, asks Arthur Brooks in the Times?   Brooks argues that the two opposites can co-exist because of a discordance between extrinsic and intrinsic goals, things we do for public or private purposes.  But the two intermingle, as on social media: ‘How could it not make you feel worse to pretend to be happier than you are, while seeing how much happier others seem to be than you?’

That seems simplistic, even though true.  Private thoughts can certainly be a blend. I can be happy on a se-cliff walk while being unhappy that I am not sharing it; my contentment in the moment is accompanied by regrets and worries about past and future.

I’m half-way through Lesser’s book, Broken Open, where she writes that when we try to appear happy and consistent, we suppress expression of our failures and longings. 

Publicly, then, we live with only half our lives.  Echoing Brooks, we try to be as happy as we think others are, as confident as they want us to be.  We cut ourselves off from other’s wisdom and compassion, from being able to offer any perspective or tenderness in return.

It all sounds soft and could easily be overdone, but I think that there is a truth here: that we need to be able to participate with our full selves in social relationships, both committed and vulnerable, aspirational and longing.

In the end, after discussing materialism as a route to happiness, Brooks also comes full circle back to the importance of people in our lives.  He concludes simply that the only key is to Love People; Use Things.

I agree, noting that we should never, ever, to invert the two.

Four for a Sunday evening

Its been a very full weekend.  There was lots of travel and cooking, up the coast and around the kitchen.  Bunches of sunshine, my coriander soaking it up even as the basil wilts.  I did take time away from work, walks along the beach, sampling rich Dorset Honeycomb ice cream, dipping toes in the sea, watching the ferries glide out of the harbour, dreaming of new adventures.

1)  Bridport’s Spring Tide Food Festival was lovely.  There was an amazing variety of local food and produce on offer, from beers and sausages to cheese and preserves.  And, of course, a Punch ‘n Judy show.

And cider.  So much cider.

   

An added bonus was the recreation of a bronze-age campsite, complete with a primitive still.   ‘ever more ready for the Life in the UK test…

  

2)  It’s been pointed out that my social environment has become entirely female.   From housemates to friends, correspondents to chats, there are few men in conversational earshot these days, and I can count the men that I regularly talk with on one hand.  While this is probably not something that I could have achieved if I tried (and, as a sensitive soul, there are good reasons to try), it’s a bit disconcerting.

3)  The Shrink and Sage argued the nature of  Wellbeing this weekend.  It’s a thoughtful debate: the psychologist holds that it is connect, be active, take notice (or be aware of yourself and the world), keep learning and give, the philosopher advocates for a grown-up debate about what we value, rather than simple observable measures of happiness. 

This week I side with the Sage (I generally do): as a believer in the value of experiences over things, people over places, it’s all about what matters.  Together.

4)  David Brooks wrote a wonderful essay describing the Stairway to Wisdom, addressing the problem of how to move from a statistical understanding of a problem to a rich, humane one.  Data, literature, psychology, and journalism each have their role as revealing ever deeper truth about human aspirations and motivations.  But to really understand a human condition requires intimacy: joining another individual’s human life, walking alongside them, thinking as they think, feeling what they feel, smelling their fears.

Arthur Danto once asked whether any data recorder could truly explain the flowering of plants in a garden.  it could measure sun and rain, time and temperature.  But could it understand the cause and effect of planting a seed, the irrelevance of a dog wandering through, the motivation of the gardener’s selection of this particular plant, this special position.

He convinced me of the value of narrative, of human stories, in understanding history.  And, it extends, with Brooks, to everyday life.