INTUITION AND INFORMATION

I was in London the other day, at the New Designer's exhibition in Islington. It was held at the Business Design Centre, which has a wonderful arching roof like a Victorian railway station. There were hundreds of exhibitors, all designers exploring the boundaries of what is possible, using processes whose limits are not fully understood.

My good friend's exhibit included a beautiful red bowl, made from material squeezed out from a special machine called an extruder. If you can imagine a giant toothpaste tube being squeezed, and the contents being teased into a large bowl-shape before the material dries, then you have the idea. No one has done this before, so the product has the great attraction of the new, combined with tremendous aesthetic appeal.

She told me about other ideas that have been explored. They had traced the journey from Manchester to Milan on a map, and then programmed the shape into a computerised 3-dimensional printing machine, which can build up a 3-D structure in layers. What they discovered was that information (here in the form of map information) has a definite aesthetic feeling about it when transformed into another medium. The road from Manchester to Milan will have its own special shape, as will all journeys.

As I listened, many psychological parallels struck me. Our intuitive response to experiences, for example, rely on receiving a great mass of sense information, and then somehow processing it into a whole result which gives us a gut feeling in our stomach. For example, music can be written as a complex web of information; but the resulting song can have a recognizable identity all of its own. So that when we play a song, we are immediately taken to an emotional place which we recognize.

I would go further, and say that emotion acts as a mediator between the raw information and the intuitive response. This allows us, through feelings, to deal with masses of information all at once. So, for example, we can tell if a situation feels right, just by being there for a few seconds. We do not know what information we are processing, but we are aware of the emotional result. Music, fashion, and most art work on this level - without an emotional response, we might as well not bother with art. Everything has a mood, and that mood is what we use to organize our response. Without it, we have no sense of preference or priority.

But the response, to be effectively organized, has to be within normative limits. When our sensitivity is too high, for instance, we react to everything with extremes of fear, apprehension or suspicion. This is the world of phobia and paranoia, where our past experience has conditioned us to be so alert that we lose all proportion. In emotional situations of this kind, our friends often suggest to us that we get some distance, to regain a sense of proportion, of balance.

As we sat outside on the pavement, watching the Islington crowds go by, it was a chance to recharge the spiritual batteries, and to recalibrate the emotional sensors. When life becomes very dramatic, it is easy to forget proportion, easy to react with fear and distrust of the world. But by exploring together, by trying out new techniques, by trial and error, and by comparing notes with our friends, we can rediscover a sense of proportion and beauty. Instead of being reactive and afraid, our intuition returns to harmony with the information around us. And we can then drop our excess fear, rediscover our inner peace, and find comfort again in those closest to us.

DISAPPOINTMENT AND HOPE

Yesterday, in the sunny evening of a beautiful day, as the shadows were lengthening, I was walking through a garden with little Poppy.
It was the end of a long day at a theme park, and my friend's daughter was disappointed. She had trekked across the park to have a last go on her favourite ride, only to find that it was closed for the day.

"That's it," she said. "There's no point in anything any more."

All suggestions were met with the same response. No food would taste right; no activity would match up to the swing ride she had wanted to go on; there was no hope in the world!

I noticed in her a little version of what comes to us all when we are disappointed. We let the disappointment move outwards, until, quick as a flash, it has affected all aspects of our life. Nothing feels right, so nothing can be right. The happy past does not exist. The future is bleak. Poppy wouldn't even be comforted by a plan to make that ride the first one on the next visit.

"It's a year until then," she said.

"You know, the thing I like about your attitude," I said, "is that you haven't given up yet." (I guess she had given up a little, but I wanted her to see the hope that remained and believe in that!)

We all looked aroung the gift shop. As closing time arrived, with a minute to go, she hadn't found anything to cheer her up. Finally, with seconds left, her mum, held a furry polar bear up in the air in front of her.

Poppy looked at it.
You could see that she was feeling the pull of pessimism; hearing a little voice that said happiness had ended, so why should she try to find it.
But then a little smile came to the corners of her mouth.
Suddenly her posture changed, she took a deep breath, and nodded.

"That's the one!" she said, shining with a new humour and confidence.

After all the disappointment, she had caught the important lesson that there is always something happy around the corner, if we just smile and reach out a bit.

HOSPICES AND HOSPITALS

Very sadly, a family friend died the other day after a long illness. There was so much gratitude, though, for the care and support of St Joseph's Hospice in Hackney - for giving care with kindness, effort and dignity. I remember, when my sister died, the dedication and flexibility of the Macmillan nurses. Where the hospital nurses had forgotten things, and been so rushed they could hardly cope, the Macmillan nurses took time to make sure that all the family were treated with great respect.

Maybe we could all ask ourselves whether we are like a hospital or a hospice. Perhaps, like some hospitals, we are busy, at the limit, worried, defensive and urgent, fighting battles, pushing people around.

But perhaps we could take the time to be more like a hospice, trying to take care of each other with dignity and respect, listening to each other's needs, and making sure we respect each other's right to a life free from fear and pain, and full of dignity. It's only a short life really. And what does it cost to be kind? A little time, a little less urgency, and a generosity of spirit. Those extra things make life worth it, feed the soul, and give hope.

TRUTH AND COMFORT

In recent weeks, I've seen some situations where I've struggled to understand what is happening. It's seemed as if the world has turned upside down and lost its senses. But I've found one quote from C.S. Lewis a big help:

"If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair."

It's so true. It seems that, sometimes, when we reach for comfort, the world isn't ready to give it. But if we keep strong in the knowledge of who we are, and keep our intentions happy, and hold to what is true and good, then comfort may come in the end. Sending a big hug to anyone under pressure, or feeling unhappy, confused or alone. Keep being yourself, try to live as openly and truthfully as you can, and keep helping others, even when it seems hopeless. Even in confusing times, there is still good in the world!

CHILDREN, WISHES AND DECISIONS

A friend asked me how we can introduce children to the idea of limited resources, but without spoiling their enjoyment. Perhaps it's all about who makes the decisions, and when.

Often, when we give children limitations, we do it from a confrontational perspective, and at the time of most "need". For example, we may say, in front of a funfair ride: "I have no money left, so you can't go on any more rides!" A passionate argument follows. The parent is seen as the sudden resource-restricter, and the child sees themselves as a frustrated freedom fighter!

The child hasn't has a slow and timely introduction to the decision, hasn't seen the process of arriving at the decision, and hasn't participated in the decision-making process.

Maybe there are three things to bear in mind:

1. Introduce the idea of resource restriction early
2. Make the decision process a visible one, so that the child can see what's going on
3. Make the decision process participative if at all possible

For example, if you want to spend only £25, get hold of 25 £1 coins, and a little bag. Sit with the child before you go, show them the coins and the bag, and explain that all those coins are for the outing! Let them put the coins into the bag themselves. The decision has now been shared early, is entirely visible, and the child is participating - they even have their own bag of money!

One more suggestion - try to use "we" instead of "you", and show shared feeling. Instead of saying "I haven't got any money left, so you can't do any more!" - try "Oh dear! We haven't got any money left, so we can't do any more!"

Just some ideas, but hopefully helpful ones.

VECTOR STATES

There are two parts to any mental state: the factual position we find ourselves in, and any connected emotional state. The two can become interwoven in an unmanageable way. We tend to say things like: 'That person/thing drives me up the wall'.

To help, we might borrow the idea of vectors. A vector is a kind of 'separating label' that contains two or more pieces of information. For example, velocity is treated as a 'composite state' and split by scientists into two pieces of information, one about magnitude, and one about direction.

An uncomfortable reactive psychological state could be split into two: rational situation and emotional reaction. For example, you might feel uncomfortable, and diagnose your rational situation as 'rejected', and your emotional state as 'angry'. Rejected is not an emotional state in itself - you can be happy and rejected if you want! Conversely, angry is not a rational situation, it is an emotional state. So you could describe your 'vector state' as rejected/angry. The advantage of this kind of analysis, is it helps the self-analyser to disentangle the situation from their response. Behaviourally, the act of analysis itself is at the very least likely to calm the emotion identified.

It's true that complete dissociation of emotional response from situation is one symptom of what we might consider madness. But analysing the pairing of situation and emotion doesn't remove the normative association, it just gives the chance of bringing the emotion, if uncomfortable, within the bounds of comfort and manageability.

So, next time you're uncomfortable, try the old good-friend trick on yourself, of asking yourself two questions: (1) What's happening, and then, SEPARATELY, (2) How do you feel? Don't say 'How do you feel about it' - '...about it' just asks for a reinforcing of the connection. Keep the questions separate. First, what's happening. Second, how do you feel?

The result of the separation of the 'vector state' into two separate components can be that your response becomes more manageable. Just as scientists get more control over matter, so we can get more control over mind, by defining separable components.

EMPATHY AND ASSERTIVENESS

Yesterday I read an article about empathy. It suggested that some people have too much empathy, and this can result in them over-prioritizing other people's needs. I disagree. I think it is lack of assertiveness that causes the problem, not high empathy.

We exercise empathy when we understand and share others' feelings. Many forms of meditation encourage this - putting yourself in another's position, so you can experience how life feels for them, and accommodate that in your mind. The capacity to see and take others' perspectives is key to living a fair and just life. In particular, it enables us to take other people's suffering into account.

However, it is unlikely we will eliminate all the suffering in the world with today's actions. Therefore, even though we might see a lot of suffering, we must decide how to use our limited resources. There will be some suffering we choose to actively reduce; and there will be some suffering we decide not to attend to.

Hence, several people might each have the same high level of empathy - but they might decide to behave very differently. One might fall on the floor with grief all day at the world's suffering; another might neglect their own health and security to help others all day; another might be seen living an apparently normal suburban life. It is what they do with their empathy which makes the difference.

If empathy involves feeling, then it becomes relevant to decide how we manage that feeling. Empathy - the ability to sense others' feelings - can be a good perceptual tool, just like the ability to discern colour, or the ability to solve problems.

But empathy need not dominate the social proceedings. In fact, logically, it can't... If two high-empathy people sit there experiencing each others' feelings, then what are they experiencing? Nothing but their own reflection in the other person. They might as well be two mirrors looking at each other.

A good way to manage high empathy is to work on assertiveness - in other words, if you have an ability to sense suffering, match that with a realistic confidence about what you will and will not do to help. You'll still worry about others, but you have a better chance of sleeping at night. There's an awful lot of suffering in the world, and only one you.