Showing posts with label sense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sense. Show all posts

Sunday, June 10, 2018

Before the storm.


Early June.




Storm days, follow storm days.

Between the downpours,

Venturing out,

Light nature saturates,

Junk colour vibrates.



Temperature alternates,

Oppressive heat,
Cool breeze,
Airlessness,

Rain again.

Breathe again.

Rumbling far.

Thundering close.

Electricity in the air.

Lightning overhead.


Monday, November 13, 2017

Juggling.

I am up too early in the morning, juggling
in my head.

This is what researching complexity does to you  - you find yourself with two many balls spinning around in your brain.





Fuck it.

I dropped an F word.

I have diminished responsibility.

Sorry.

Some of those balls have been thrown into the air by others.

Stop it, stop it, bloody stop it.

There it is.

I dropped a B word.

It's your fault.

There are too many of them now.

All at once.

Damn.

I dropped a D word.

I keep trying, but I need to practice more to keep it up.

"Cheers."

Damn that Nietzshe.

What was it Sarah was saying the other day?

She had dream dialogues with a dead German philosopher.

Well as long as he left her to sleep and he didn't wake her up.

I am beyond dreaming.

I am regretfully awake.

At half past four in the morning.

I woke up to go and paste the juggling photo on a conference presentation.

That's what was keeping me up.

Up till midnight transcribing a conversation with a young teacher in a bar.

What was it that he said at the beginning of the dialogue?

"Cheers."

Then the conversation went on for another fifty two minutes.

"Cheers."

I have done eleven minutes of transcription.

It took me an hour.

"Cheers."

So here I am.

I have all these bloody balls in my head.

Some of them are nodes on networks - people, stories, discourses, smartphones, classrooms.

Others are spread out over time.

Others you need a zoom lens to see and study.

I have turned into some sort of biologist with a microscope.

I have turned into some sort of naturalist in a hide listening to bird song, watching a fox, watching an owl, watching a boar eating acorns, watching me, watching me.

I keep my head low, I wear camouflage for fear that I will disturb the wildlife.

Is this my bloody hide?

It will get me skinned.

Touches of sense?

Touches of madness rather.

It was Waldrop that set it off.

Well he dropped a bloody ball.

Well God...you have to blame somebody.

And muggins here picked it up.

And now it's spinning around in my head.

At dawn.

At.

At.

"The edge of chaos, the constantly shifting battle zone between stagnation and anarchy, the one place where a complex system can be spontaneous, adaptive and alive."
Mitchell Waldrop.

That's where I find myself at four forty eight in the morning.

At the edge of chaos.

I size it up.

I keep my eye on the ball.

I am clearly alive.

This is spontaneous.

I suppose this is some sort of  adaptive action.

I am alive.

But uncomfortably awake.

But, Mitchell did say "battle zone"... 

Desperation.

November 13th 2015.

Some die.

I am missing them.

I am missing them.

I am missing my friends out there.

In no particular order.

They keep popping up in my head.

Where's that juggling gif that I made?

There it is.

I thought it would come in some day.

It's a bit rough.

It will do.

Blimey, why did I choose those pictures?

I can't remember.

I am missing my friends out there.

In no particular order.

Terry, Kevin, Sarah, Wendy, Maha, Mia, Ken, Keith, Ron, Alan....uncle Tom Cobbley et al.

I could go on.

I'll be back.

Online....Offline, I have been juggling.

Incommunicado.

Concentrating on getting those balls up.

I have been juggling.

Stop throwing me bloody balls!

I already have too many.

I know they are juggling too.

My friends...that is.

I have been juggling.

But not here.

Not visibly.

I am juggling now.

On paper.

In my head.

Silently.

I am looking forward to having more play time.

No. I am looking forward to less solitary games.

Too many balls in my head.

I have been quiet quite a while.

The conference presentation is almost ready.

I am almost ready.

Learning on the edge of chaos...

Trying to map a route with/through complexity ain't easy.

It ain't easy.

It won't go in straight lines.

There are too many curve balls to catch.

Sod it.

That's my limit.

There's those students to throw a few balls to.

They can juggle too.

For me, for them, for you.

We all drop off eventually.

I am hoping this will help me drop off.

For an hour and forty minutes.

What was it that Nietzsche was saying?














Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Knot for nothing.


What started as a comment from Wendy Taleo to "Speaking their Language"* took on a life of its own and then Kevin tied us in knots...

As they say in Yorkshire "there's nowt as queer as folk." 


Friday, March 11, 2016

In memorIam.



This is a terrible review.  I am writing it from memory. I don't have any notes in front of me.

Sorry.

My memory is full of wholes (unexpected spelling error, I shall leave it there for reflection).

It's all I've got.

It will have to do.

I am not going to waste my time.

So here it goes.

In memorIam

I really enjoyed reading Frances Bell, Marianna Funes, and Jenny Mackness' article on rhizo14 entitled: "The rhizome: A problematic metaphor for teaching and learning in a MOOC.

The enjoyment came from interacting with the piece using hypothes.is.  (see Learning in the wings.)

My reflection came after the enjoyment.

I enjoy reflecting too.

This is what I thought:

It brilliantly succeeds in illustrating for me how problematic the rhizome is when used as a metaphor for teaching and learning in a MOOC.

One of the key takeaways from the article:  (filtered through my faulty memory)

it suggests that we should engage with the "rhizomatic learning theory"
(I assume this means Deleuze and Guattari and academics who write about the rhizome as exemplified by the article's well-researched bibilography).

We should (I understand from my faulty memory) engage with the theory before venturing into "rhizomatic learning" if we want to avoid "negative consequences".

I remember that term "negative consequences."

"Negative consequences" sound serious.

I think "negative consequences" mainly concern upsetting people.

I think they use the word "vulnerable" a number of times.

We are vulnerable.

Interacting with others that we know or don't know can reveal these vulnerabilities to ourselves and to others.

Learning and living tests our vulnerability.

I know no other resolution for vulnerability than honesty, forgiveness, caring and love.

I read with interest the authors' literature review but I can't remember much now without notes.

Sorry.

I remember reading an idea that we should engage with "rhizomatic learning theory".

I am not at all too sure whether such theory exists or what it entails.

On reading the article, I learnt that Gilles Deleuze formed many of his ideas working in a psychiatric clinic with Félix Guattari.

This will be news to Félix.

Where was Gilles hiding?

Perhaps he pretended to be one of the patients.

Perhaps he was one of the patients - that would explain everything.

I learnt from the article (though I remember this from reading Mille Plateaux in French and listening at length to Deleuze go through his ABC, D, E, F etc in French) that for Deleuze the rhizome was NOT a metaphor but a concept or a metamorphosis.

I remember that.

I annotated the article vigorously with:

IT IS NOT A METAPHOR. 
IT IS NOT A METAPHOR. 
IT IS NOT A METAPHOR.

The authors of the article: "The rhizome: A problematic metaphor for teaching and learning" mention this and then totally ignore it.

It WILL be a METAPHOR. (if Deleuze thinks it or not)

The research will concern asking people about the rhizome AS A METAPHOR.

Not surprisingly, after only six weeks of not studying "rhizomatic learning theory", the research subjects are not all very clear about the rhizome METAPHOR.

Dave Cormier's suggests that his take on the rhizome for the purposes of his "rhizomatic learning" experiment is that it is NOT a metaphor but a STORY.

Dave Cormier doesn't spend much time talking about the rhizome, he records six short videos and leaves the learners make up their own Curriculum.

There is implicit (perhaps explicit) criticism that the course title for rhizo14:
"Rhizomatic Learning the Community is the Curriculum."
(if my memory is correct)
might lead learners to assume that they will be 'engaging with rhizomatic learning theory'.

No doubt a number of learners assumed that it would be an objective of the course to investigate one of the inspirations for Dave Cormier's rhizo14 - namely Deleuze and Guattari and notably Mille Plateaux.

A number of learners suggested that it was necessary to engage with Deleuze and Guattari.

Dave Cormier, naturally will not stop people who want to study theory study theory or otherwise.
(that is his explicit objective that there will not be course objectives)

I suspect his unsaid (but written) objective is that people EXPERIENCE rhizomatic learning within the educational confines of a forgiving COMMUNITY.

Dave Cormier's educational project concerns COMMUNITY.

I suspect that this is his bugbear with connectivism - that it is NOT an educational project.

"Rhizomatic Learning", I suspect is NOT a learning theory.

"Connectivism", I understand, is pushed as a learning theory.

I return to thinking about Mille Plateaux.

Speaking personally, I felt no obligation to read the book.

I was curious. I am curious.

I bought a copy of the two volumes of Capitalism and Schizophrenia in French, found an English version in PDF and bought a biography of Deleuze and Guattari.

I spent the next two years with friends and colleagues engaging with Deleuze and Guattari and having a laugh.

I haven't just been engaging with Deleuze and Guattari as that would be for me at least tanatamount to nihilism.

I am NOT nihilistic.

I have hope.

I would like to thank Frances, Marianna, and Jenny for their work which has helped me understand much, which has helped me think, which has helped me play, which inspired a blog post controvesial (OMG I am thinking in French - sod it I shall leave it like that) "Submission" which inspired a controversial article in Hybrid Pedagogy entitled Insoumis.

I look forward to reading their article on Community.

I have discussed much with Frances about community.

I have gained so much reading their work.

I still would like to find time to engage with them orally when we find the time.

I feel under no obligation to do so.

We all have just as good or better things to do.

I am open to all but wrangling - that's boring.

It is unfortunate that the vulnerabilities of people lead to them reacting negatively to others.

We are human damn us all.

I can engage with Deleuze and Guattari...up to a point.

I can no longer engage with Jenny Mackness on Twitter as she blocked me.

That's sad or perhaps its not.

I have to accept that I am considered perhaps a troll..such is life.

I have been called much worse.

I suppose those are some of the negative consequences which come from learning together and misunderstanding each other.

I return to the article.

There is implicit (explicit) criticism of Dave Cormier's teaching ethics.

I am sure he, like all of us may be clumsy or sleep sometimes, he like us all will have to face the fact that not even big data will save us from our human failings.

I have no doubt that he cares...he cares about education.

I have respect for someone who puts his neck out like he has with the Devil of complexity that is Deleuze and Guattari as bed-fellow.

Rhizomes are uncomfortable...Deleuze and Guattari are borderline.

I don't believe that "rhizomatic learning" (if that is a concept that we will use) requires one to read Deleuze and Guattari or their biography..or the work of other philosophers.

I am still struggling manfully with describing what such a concept might be.

I do believe that it is important that we work with philosophers, artists, academics, clowns, children, cats, sheep, cows, vagabonds, and politicians, if we are to be serious about thinking about education.

We also need to talk with trees and mushrooms.

Trees and rhizomes are not in opposition they are interdependent.

This work is interdependent with the work of my friends, colleagues, dog, cats, children, wife, the weather, the time of year, what I ate for breakfast, the grasss, and Frances, Marianna and Jenny's work.

We are all struggling to make sense of the world while too often ignoring trees living in harmony with lichen.

I would like to thank Frances and Marianna and Jenny for enabling me to understand that the rhizome is NOT a metaphor, that Mille Plateaux is NOT an educational theory and that academic writing doesn't have to be right or well-researched to be of some use in advancing our thinking.

My favourite quote from Frances and Marianna and Jenny's article:


I do think that Gifs have an important role to play in understanding our lot, I left a few in my annotations which I can't remember in detail now.

I wanted to leave the annotations to ferment before writing a post here.

They are of no importance.

This article is of no importance.

An article in a journal is of no importance...other than it reflects desire for learning.

Articles like gifs are open to interpretation, misinterpretation and may be wrongly ignored.

I do think that Dave Cormier will reflect on how he can usefully move the attention of learners AWAY from Deleuze and Guattari as supposed theory and the rhizome as metaphor without giving up the extraordinary quality of his "pedagogical experiments".

In that way, those who want to spend their time contemplating Mille Plateaux can do it in peace.
I note that there are now different spaces for people thinking about theory or anything goes on Facebook.

Facebook, Twitter, G+, et al are what they are...

This is a course which was supposed to last six weeks which started (if my memory is correct) in January of 2014 and we are still talking and writing about the bloody thing (NOT a thing).

We are still engaging with the concepts, the philospophy, the approach, the sillyness two years later.

There is absolutely no question in my mind that that is a successful pedagogical experiment.

There are some that consider that Dave Cormier's cMOOC "Rhizomatic Learning The Community is the Curriculum." is simply a connectivist cMOOC.

I beg to differ.

There is a key difference between connectivist cMOOC's and this rMOOC (if this is what we will call it)  which I am struggling to put into words here.

I suspect that in a connectivist theory the learning is in the network between nodes.
(I shall have to go back again and read and listen to Downes/Siemens etc).

Forgive me my ignorance but I am learning and thinking aloud here.
(Thank you for your feedback)

I suspect that learning is more personal, personalized even in a connectivist MOOC.

I suspect that in a rMOOC (if that is what we will call it) the learning is in the ever mutating community connections.

I suspect that learning is personal but not personalised but it is more than personal.

In an rMOOC the most spectacular learning is swarm-like, emergent, unpredictable, complex and challenging of the personal - of the self.

In an rMOOC the community acts as a tree of solidity in an apparently chaotic ecosystem.

The community is the person like Deleuze and Guattari become a person and then multiple.

It is perhaps that movement between unity and multiplicity and sense and nonsense which is so upsetting for some.

One has to be resilient to give up oneself to become one with the other, to become one with all and nothing.

Torn Halves has been talking, banging on even,  about values, values in education.

I coming to the conclusion that "rhizomatic learning" as an educational philosophy (dangerous word philosophy Simon - approach?) is an education for hope.

Hope in that we are more than ourselves and less than our self.

Hope in that we are nothing without the others.

Hope in that we are led to accept alienation and simultaneously our wholeness with the senseless universe.

We are patternseekers, we are sense makers.

There is no sense if there is no love.

There is no education if there is no love.

There is no learning worth learning if there is no love.

"The reduction of the universe to a single being, the expansion of a single being even to God, this is love."

Victor Hugo

I see that Dave Cormier is wanting (for the moment) to run a MOOC (cMOOC? rMOOC? other?) in May on/around/about? Resilience.

Deleuze's concept of the rhizome is resilient... it is not a metaphor.

Nihilism may be the only sustainable, rational, philosophical position to have when faced with chaos (Careful what you are saying Simon - I shall say it and then reflect) but it is not a sustainable human condition, economic or educational framework.

Nihilistic neoliberal capitalists, fascists of all colour need to be fought with love.

Faced with nonsense we can only make sense...that is our lot.

We are by nature...resilient...that is our lot.

We have no hope if we don't understand that we owe our resilience to a sustainable relationship with nature.

As far as I can see the only sense that I can make of our resilient lot is through Love.

The rest is NOUT.

We don't need philosphers to know.

"I believe strongly that philosophy has nothing to do with specialists."
Gilles Deleuze



Let us choose love rather than war.




Wednesday, July 1, 2015

See me. Feel me...


Feeling through text.
Feeling through speech.
Feeling through format.
Feeling through sharing.
Feeling through appreciation.
Feeling through recognition.
Feeling through connection.
Feeling through dialogue.
Feeling through gesture.
Feeling through texture.
Feeling through symbolic.
Feelling through lens.
Feeling through motion.
Feeling through juxtaposition.
Feeling through association.




See me. Feel me.

Feel me. Touch me.

Touch me. See me. Feel me.













Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Because they are there.

Time has passed. Colours fade. Peaks are planed.

Now, viewing this picture, I see a summit of chaos, aburdity, madness.  I could never have got there on my own.

There were gale-force winds, below-zero temperatures, exhaustion.


"What the *uck am I doing here?"

I am standing on top of an enormous heap of rubble.

I felt pure exhilaration.

I was at the top. A dream had been realised. Nothing had changed.

I wept.
The tears froze and bit into my skin.

Nothing would undo the past.
It had brought me here, I had followed, I was, despite the presence of my fellow mountaineers, alone, vertically challenged,  feeling existential vertigo.

Childhood dreams
I must have been about five years old. I was barely tall enough to see the display of mountain boots in the shop window without assistance.

My father lifted me up.

A pair of enormous, technically advanced boots took my attention.

That was it.

I was hooked. I would be Edmund Hilary.  I already saw myself struggling over glaciers, with attendant sherpas planting union jacks.

That my hiking boots were sufficiently robust for doing the Pennine Way was enough to spark my imagination.  Weren't the Pennines just south of the Himalayas?

I would certainly be part of a major expedition.

I would need sophisticated bottled oxygen and breathing equipment to get as far as the Buddhist temple somewhere near Leeds.

Rabble, in a room
I had refined my plans. With little personal finance, a mountain guide or a paid trip to the summit of the Mont Blanc was beyond my means.

Divorce was costly.

This rabble, or to give them their official title: the Club Alpin de France would be my path to that summit. And the following year perhaps to further peaks in the Hindu Kush.

On opening the door, I was met with a hive of people who took absolutely no notice of the stranger who had ventured into the room.  There was no welcoming party, no apparent organisation, just a bunch of people buzzing around.

In my fragile state, only those child-remembered boots drove me forward. This was to be my approach march.

I just picked a straggler on the outside of the crowd and started a conversation. It was clearly too difficult for me to venture straight into the centre of some close-knit group who clearly had advanced plans about what they would be doing for the next season.

The first visit to the rabble mulling was inconclusive. I had sort of figured out that there appeared to be a number of separate but interconnected groups who were involved in different activites. There seemed to be a keen rock-climber group, a ski-mountaineering group, a mountain-biking group who would hang around a particular table in the room.  This was starting to make some sense.

Gradually, after a few weeks of lurking, I began to discern familiar faces, identify cliques, spot groups. After about a month, there were even nods of recognition when I appeared on the outskirts of some community.  I joined the climbing group, discovered about weekend trips to the Alps, noted meet-ups in bars.

I became a member, a curiosity, someone that they could introduce:  the token English guy with a toddler. I became a character in their plots.

Becoming grounded
However high you get, however recognised one becomes, there comes a time when one has to face a series of irritating questions.


  • What the hell are you doing all of this for? 
  • Why are you putting yourself through all of this? 
  • Who is it for? 
  • What counts for me? 
  • So what?


No pain, no gain.
I am fortunate in my lack of ability, in my down-to-earth, no-nonsense appreciation of the unsense of our existence.  There are so many tales of Icarus-parodies.  The pythonesque mountaineer who gets to the top of  his Everest, loses his hands, his feet, his nose to frost-bite only to realise that what really counts for him are his family, his friends, his life.

I have been lucky. I can write this without a hook.

Because you are here, because my family are there, I can take my time to address the summit of absurdity and how to get down from it.

We are driven by dreams, we can get our wings frazzled too late...

Our lives are grounded in little groups of familiar faces making sense in an anonymous rabble. Sometimes, we can live to share stories of our exploits.