Category: poetry

Multiple Intelligences

Posted in intelligence, language, maths, music, nature, perception, philosophy, poetry, politics, power, psychology, societyTagged , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

I engaged in a nice debate recently. Someone suggested that because some executives are smart, they can figure things out. Specifically, she posited that a CTO, Chief Technology Officer, should understand communication and diplomatic skills when interacting with a corporate board because they have the technical skills to get into their current C-level position. I disagreed based on the multiple intelligence theory.

Howard Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences theory posits that intelligence isn’t a monolith, but rather a nine-dimensional construct:

1. Existential (philosophical pondering; questioning the questions of why we live and why we die)

2. Inter-personal (reading people; sensing people’s feelings and motives)

3. Intra-personal (self-awareness; understanding yourself, what you feel, and what you want)

4. Kinaesthetic (mind-body coordination; coordinating your mind with your body)

5. Linguistic (wordsmithing; finding the right word(s) to express what you mean)

6. Logical-Mathematical (quantifying and proving; quantifying things, making hypotheses, and proving them)

7. Musical (discerning sounds; their pitch, tone, rhythm, and timbre)

8. Naturalist (understanding nature; understanding living things and reading nature)

9. Spatial (3D/4D visualisation)

For a deep dive, check out Gardner’s Frames of Mind: The Theory of Multiple Intelligences.

Here’s the rub: a CTO with off-the-charts technical skills might be rubbish at diplomacy (interpersonal) or communication (linguistic). It’s like expecting every pro athlete to be a concert pianist – it’s not on.

Assuming every “intelligent” person can max out all intelligence dimensions is bollocks. It’s as likely as training every smart CTO to be the next Shakespeare or Machiavelli. Language and diplomacy are distinct skills, mate.

While we all love a Renaissance man (or woman), peaking in all these dimensions in one lifetime is a pipe dream. It’s not inherently bad, though. When building teams – be it a corporate board or an exploration party – ensure you’ve got a good mix of skills. I’m not saying you need a bard, a philosopher, and LeBron James on every team, but make sure you’ve covered the bases necessary for success.

If you think you don’t need a particular dimension, ask yourself: is it because you’re weak in that area and can’t see its importance? Don’t let your blind spots become your downfall.

In the end, it’s about recognising and respecting diverse intelligences. So, next time you’re tempted to think your brilliant CTO should just “learn to be diplomatic”, remember: they might be better off focusing on their strengths and leaving the smooth talking to someone else on the team.

Hi Ren

Posted in art, music, philosophy, poetry, psychology, videoTagged , , , , , , Leave a comment

When I was 17 years old, I shouted out into an empty room into a blank canvas that I would defeat the forces of evil. And for the next 10 years of my life, I suffered the consequences… with illness, autoimmunity, and psychosis.

As I got older, I realised that there were no real winners or no real losers in physiological warfare. But there were victims, and there were students.

It wasn’t David verses Goliath; it was a pendulum eternally awaying between the dark and the light. And the brighter the light shone, the darker the shadow it cast. It was never a battle for me to win. It was an eternal dance.

And like a dance, the more rigid I became, the harder it got. The more I cursed my clumsy footsteps, the more I suffered.

And so I got older and I learned to relax,
and I learned to soften, and that dance got easier.

It is this eternal waltz that separates human beings from angels, from demons, from gods. And I must not forget, we must not forget that we are human beings.

Hi Ren provides personal insights into the struggle between one’s self and shadow self through performance art, music, and poetry.

Furious Furries

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I’m working on more serious content, I swear, Meantime, ChatGPT has me distracted with furious furries.

Bry Willis

Write a poem about furious furries in iambic pentameter.

Furious furries, with their teeth all bared, 
Their paws clenched tight with fury and with hate, 
They snarl and growl and pace, not yet aware 
Of the cold reason that might dissipate 
Their rage. They are a force to be reckoned with, 
These creatures of the wild, with primal might 
And strength. They are a force to fear and fear 
Again, a force that few would dare to fight.
But even furries, in their wildest rage, 
Are still just animals, with hearts that beat 
And minds that think and feel. And so, perhaps, 
We ought to try to understand the heat 
That drives their fury, and to seek to find 
A way to calm the storm that rages in their minds.

Write a haiku about furious furries

Furiously they pace, 
Fierce and wild, their eyes ablaze 
Furries in a rage.

Write a postmodern poem about furious furries

Furries, oh furries, 
Fierce and wild and in a rage, 
They pace and snarl and growl.

But wait, what are these furries? 
Are they real, or just a guise? 
A mask to hide behind?

Perhaps they are a metaphor, 
For something deeper, something true. 
A way to express the rage

That lies within us all, 
The primal, animalistic force 
That drives us to lash out.

Or maybe they are just furries, 
Fierce and wild and in a rage, 
Pacing and snarling and growling,

Unapologetic in their fury, 
Unwavering in their rage.
Furries, oh furries, 
A mystery wrapped in fur, 
A symbol of the fury

That lies within us all.

Ecrire un poème sur les furries furieux en conflit avec les fées françaises

Furieux furries, aux dents découvertes,
Leurs pattes serrées de colère et de haine,
Ils grondent et rugissent et arpentent, pas encore conscients
De la raison froide qui pourrait dissiper
Leur rage. Ils sont une force Ă  ne pas sous-estimer,
Ces créatures de la nature, avec leur puissance primitive
Et leur force. Ils sont une force Ă  craindre et Ă  redouter
Encore une fois, une force que peu oseraient affronter.

Mais mĂŞme les furries, dans leur rage la plus sauvage,
Ne sont encore que des animaux, avec des cœurs qui battent
Et des esprits qui pensent et ressentent. Et donc, peut-ĂŞtre,
Devrions-nous essayer de comprendre la chaleur
Qui alimente leur fureur, et chercher Ă  trouver
Un moyen de calmer la tempĂŞte qui fait rage dans leurs esprits.

Féeriques françaises, de grâce et de beauté,
Leur magie scintillante et leurs ailes brillantes,
Elles se tiennent face aux furries en colère,
Un affrontement de deux mondes diamétralement opposés.
La rage contre la grâce, la sauvagerie contre la délicatesse,
Un conflit sans fin, une guerre sans merci.
Qui triomphera dans cette bataille Ă©ternelle?
Seul le temps nous le dira.

Write a sonnet about furious furries in conflict with French fairies

The furious furries snarl and growl with rage, 
Their paws clenched tight, their teeth bared and sharp. 
They pace and seethe, a primal force engaged 
In conflict with the French fairies, who hark 
Back to a time of grace and chivalry.

But even in their wildest, most ferocious state, 
The furries are still just animals, with hearts 
That beat and minds that think and feel. It's late 
To try to understand the heat that imparts 
Their fury, but perhaps it's not too late 
To find a way to calm the storm that rages 
In their minds, and bring some measure of peace 
To this eternal battle, this never-ending war.

The French fairies, with their delicate wings and charms, 
Stand against the furries, a clash of two worlds, 
Diametrically opposed. Who will emerge victorious? 
Only time will tell.