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Examiner article: The gift of conflict

December 23, 2015

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http://www.examiner.com/article/the-gift-of-conflict

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Scenes from a Pandemic Volume 9 – Exhaustion and executive functioning

"Tired Cairns Koala-1=" by Sheba_Also 17,000,000 + views is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 I have been feeling exhausted by the pandemic, and I suspect that I am not alone in this. It’s an odd kind of exhaustion, too, and it took some work to even figure out that this is the feeling. It’s starting to make sense, and though I don’t know what the solution is, the first step is always to identify the problem. According to new research by Xie, Campbell, and Zhang (2020), coping with the demands of protective measures during the pandemic creates demands on working memory. Let’s start with a definition of working memory, then move to an example, and connect all of it to this latent, pervasive, creeping feeling of exhaustion. Working memory , and we will focus on auditory rather than visual working memory, is short-term memory. You hear or read something (yes, reading is auditory, because you hear the words in your head) and store it briefly before

God speaks through dead car batteries

"Recharging car battery" by D Coetzee is marked with CC0 1.0 If the title of this post sounds crazy, that’s OK with me. I would think the same thing. If you actually know me, though, then you might expect a good story. I have a few of those to tell. I am a psychological scientist and a trained researcher. I will spare you the rest of the details. It’s enough to know that science is one of the ways that I find truth, and that I see no conflict between that approach and my faith, another way that I find truth. I need both, and lately I have been praying for more faith. It’s been hard for me to find the Light in recent days. Maybe you are having the same problem. I know that I can’t bridge the gap to God, that God has to do it, met by the feeblest effort of my will. I also know that God communicates in ways that will make sense to me, in ways that are familiar across my life. It often takes the form of Weird Stuff. I’m a big fan of Weird Stuff, the improba

A promise to my brother

Tim Hickey atop Mt. Washington Most of the time these days, when I use the word brother , I refer to a fellow Mason. Any time that I use this word, it’s a term of affection and respect. Today I want to tell you about my sibling, Tim. I finally kept a promise that I made to Tim ten years ago, at his funeral, and I have been thinking about him a fair bit lately. Before I tell you about my promise and his death, I want to tell you about how fully Tim lived. He went all-out, left nothing on the table, burned rather than rusted. I have thought about this for a long time. I wish that I could break this post into clean, discrete sections and write only about Tim, but I can’t. I see that I can only tell you about him as I saw him, and that I can’t talk about him without talking about our connection. This post will meander a bit. How he lived Tim was a wild man, strong in many ways and smart in many ways, and a natural adventurer. He hiked the Appalachian Trail and

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Examiner article: The gift of conflict

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