• Tag Archives myth
  • Skinner and Snow

    34  74%  37%  7mph  windroseNNE  bar steep rise  dewpoint27  First Quarter of the Snow Moon    Holiseason

    At 9AM this morning we had snow.  A bit accumulated on the outdoor furniture on our deck, then it was gone.  The season teases us, reminds us how it could be while withholding what we want, a daylong nightlong daylong snow complete with howling winds and drifts as big as cars. 

    In years past, back when I was, say, 40, Minnesota would reliably produce such weather, but now it falls in that strange realm of behavioral psychology, intermittent reinforcement.  Any Skinnerian can tell you that that intermittent is the most powerful reinforcer.  It explains gambling’s dark charm and the peculiar frustrations of Viking’s and Cub’s fans.  It also explains why we Minnesotan’s now look so eagerly at each new flake in the sky hoping that this will be the one when the land returns to normal, at least for a day.

    Snow seems faraway right now.  Oh, well, I have plenty to do today.  Construct a magic of myth tour, grocery shopping, cooking supper, a workout.  And, if I have time, finish my filing.  Got a lot done yesterday, but not all.


  • Night’s Clarity

     28  76%  37%  0mph windroseWSW bar falls  dewpoint22  Waxing Crescent of the Snow Moon    Holiseason

     Living should be perpetual and universal benediction. – Why Lazurus Laughed by Wei Wu Wei…

    The great tragedy of Science – the slaying of a beautiful hypothesis by an ugly fact.
      – Thomas H. Huxley

    Haven’t added any quotes as I’ve gotten used to WordPress.  I’m getting there.

    As I do this final post of the day, the time ahead has grown clearer.  Tomorrow Kate and I have a business meeting.  I’ll finish her Hawai’i travel arrangements.  After, or around, those two, I will complete my filing–some of it left over from the finish of the docent program in June.  If I have time tomorrow, I’ll sort out the objects for my Magic of Myth tour.  Saturday I’ll have two things to do:  finish up the tour and dig that fire pit.  Oh, and put out the marker stakes so the snowplows don’t dig up our lawn and bust sprinkler heads.  This is a suburban gig.  The city gives out stakes with fluorscent orange paint.  They’re about three feet high and presumably stick up above the snow.  Not always true, but by the time its not, the plows have cut a groove and hopefully it’s all on the road.

    Night.  This is no longer the gentle dark of summer; this is the darkness that is metaphor for lonlieness and meditative silence.