Of me being born in London, ending up in Merlin, Oregon.
I was reflecting last weekend about how Jean and I ended up in Merlin.
We live in a fabulous property, a single-storey wooden house, on thirteen acres.
If I had not decided to come to California in 2007, I would still be in England (assuming I would still be alive).
In the Summer of 2007, I stayed with Dan, a friend of many years. I was with Dan for a month and near the end of that holiday, Dan’s sister, Suzanne called by and asked me what I was doing for Christmas. I replied, that I did not have a clue. Su then asked me to visit San Carlos, Mexico, where she and her husband, Don, were living.
Thus in December, 2007, I went out to San Carlos and happened to meet Jean. Jean and I fell in love. Jean’s husband had died in 2005. Jean had twenty-three ex-rescue dogs. In 2008 I went out with my GSD, Pharaoh, to live with Jean and her dogs (and cats). In 2010 we came North to Payson, Arizona, with sixteen dogs, seven cats, and we were married.
Coincidentally, Jean was born in North London, some twenty-six miles from where I was born!
My Pharaoh
oooo
Mr and Mrs Handover
In 2012, we came West to Merlin, Oregon, and we purchased a property that the previous owner had lost to their bank.
That’s my story – what are the odds of it happening!
Saying ‘no’ is difficult. This is an article from The Conversation that talks of our need at times to be the opposite of friendly, to stand one’s ground, and to be true to yourself.
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The science of defiance: A psychology researcher explains why people comply – and how to resist
You’re in a meeting when your boss suggests changing a number to make the quarterly report look stronger. Heads nod. The slides move on. You feel a knot in your stomach: Do you speak up and risk being branded difficult, or stay silent and become complicit?
Most people picture defiance as dramatic outbursts. In reality, it’s often these small, tense moments where conscience collides with compliance.
I first saw the power of defiance not in the workplace, but closer to home. My mother was the ultimate people-pleaser: timid, polite, eager to accommodate. Barely 4 feet, 10 inches tall, she put everyone else’s needs above her own. But one day, when I was 7, I saw a different side to her.
We were walking home from the grocery store in West Yorkshire, England, when a group of teenage boys blocked our path in a narrow alleyway. They hurled racist insults and told us to “go back home.”
My reaction was instantaneous: Stay quiet, avoid conflict and get past them as quickly as possible. I grabbed my mother’s arm, urging her to move with me. But she didn’t. My quiet, deferential, never-confrontational mother did something completely different. She stopped, turned and looked the boys directly in the eyes. Then she asked, calmly but firmly, “What do you mean?”
She wasn’t loud or aggressive. And in that moment, she showed me that defiance doesn’t always roar, and it can come from the people you least expect.
I’ve carried these lessons into my work as a physician-turned-organizational psychologist. For decades, I’ve studied why people comply, staying silent when they don’t want to, and how they can resist wisely. In my book “Defy: The Power of No in a World that Demands Yes,” I offer a framework based on behavioral science research that can help you defy in ways that are intentional, effective and true to your values.
When people think of defiance, they often picture teenagers slamming doors, protesters shouting in the streets or rebels breaking rules just for the thrill of it. But that’s not the kind of defiance I study or the kind that shapes our lives most often.
That pressure can come from anywhere: a boss urging you to fudge the numbers, a friend nudging you toward something you don’t believe in, a culture telling you to stay in your place. Defiance in those moments might be as small as saying “no,” asking for clarification or simply pausing instead of rushing along with the group. Other times, it means speaking up, challenging authority or maybe walking away.
Seen this way, defiance isn’t a fixed trait that some people are born with and others lack. It’s a practice: a skill you can strengthen over time. Some days you might comply, other days you might resist. What matters is that you have the awareness and the tools to make the choice consciously, rather than letting fear or habit decide for you.
Why people comply
If defiance is so important, why do people so often stay silent?
One reason is a psychological process I’ve uncovered in my research: insinuation anxiety. It arises when people worry that not complying with another person’s wishes may be interpreted as a signal of distrust. Turning down a boss’s request to “adjust” the numbers might feel like you’re implying they’re dishonest. To avoid that discomfort, you go along – even when it violates your values.
Behavioral science has long documented this pull toward compliance. In the 1960s, for example, psychologist Stanley Milgram showed that ordinary people would administer what they believed were dangerous electric shocks to strangers simply because an authority figure told them to.
My own research has shown surprisingly high levels of compliance with obviously bad advice, even when given by a stranger with no consequences for disagreeing. People feel immense social pressure to go along with what others suggest. That’s because if you’ve never been trained in how to say no, it feels uncomfortable and awkward.
A framework for action
If compliance is the human default, how can you build the muscle of defiance? In my research, I’ve developed a simple actionable guide that I call the Defiance Compass. Like a navigation aid, it orients you in difficult situations by asking three questions:
Who am I? What are the core values that matter most to me?
What type of situation is this? Is it safe to resist? Will it have a positive impact?
What does a person like me do in a situation like this? How can I take responsibility and act in a way that’s consistent with my identity and values?
Three questions can help you zero in on whether the time is right for you to defy. Sunita Sah
Asking these questions shifts defiance from a gut reaction to a conscious practice. And here’s what’s important: That third question (“What does a person like me do?”) circles back to the first (“Who am I?”), because how you act again and again becomes who you are.
Defiance doesn’t always mean open confrontation. Sometimes it means asking a clarifying question, buying time or quietly refusing. It can mean speaking up or walking away. The key is to start small, practice regularly and anchor your choices in your values. Like any skill, the more you practice, the more natural it becomes.
Why defiance matters now
Defiance may be risky, but it’s never been more relevant. At work, employees are pressured to meet targets at any cost. In politics, citizens face waves of misinformation and polarization. In everyday life, people struggle to set healthy boundaries. Across all these contexts, the temptation to comply for the sake of comfort is strong.
Of course, not every act of defiance is safe or guaranteed to make a difference. Sometimes it comes at real personal cost and some people still choose to act even when the impact isn’t certain: think of Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat, or Colin Kaepernick taking a knee. In those moments, the act itself becomes the message. Both of those individuals were deeply connected to their values and the assessment is personal: What feels worth the risk to one person might not to another.
Defiance does require practice: noticing when values are at stake, pausing before you nod along, and choosing actions that align with who you want to be. Each act of consent, compliance or defiance shapes not just your story but the stories of our societies.
If you practice defiance, and teach it and model it, you can imagine a different type of society. You can start to envision a world where, in that same alleyway from my childhood, one of the boys will step forward and tell his friends, “That’s not OK. Let them pass.”
Across the range of society there will always be persons who choose to act with poor social values. Some are very senior, such as many politicians, some are towards the bottom of society. That is a fact of life.
Sunita Sah does us proud in writing this article, and I am delighted to republish it, with the permission of The Conversation.
The Emperor’s New Mind: Concerning Computers, Minds and The Laws of Physics
Book by Roger Penrose
Here is a summary of the book that is first, a very deep read, and, second, full of detailed mathematics that were beyond me. I just skipped those parts. However, it is an incredible book and one that has extended my knowledge in so many ways. I think that it isn’t going too far to say that it has amended my knowledge tremendously and I am so glad to have read it, even at the age of 81.
The Emperor’s New Mind (1989) by Roger Penrose argues that human consciousness involves non-computable processes, meaning a computer can never fully replicate the human mind, even if it can simulate its functions. Penrose uses Gödel’s incompleteness theorems and quantum mechanics to support his view, suggesting that consciousness arises from physical processes in the brain that are not algorithmic, and that a deeper understanding of physics, possibly involving quantum gravity, is needed to explain the mind. The book explores the “mind-body problem” and challenges the idea that all thinking is computation, proposing that human understanding can grasp truths that formal systems cannot.
Key arguments and concepts
Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems: Penrose argues that human mathematicians can see the truth of certain mathematical statements that a formal system (like a computer program) cannot prove, demonstrating a non-computable aspect of human thought.
Non-computability: He posits that certain mental activities, like mathematical insight, are inherently non-algorithmic and cannot be simulated by a computer, even a powerful one.
Quantum mechanics and consciousness: Penrose suggests that consciousness is linked to quantum mechanical processes in the brain, specifically involving microtubules, a theory he later developed further in Shadows of the Mind.
Critique of Strong AI: The book challenges the “strong AI” hypothesis that a sufficiently complex computer can achieve genuine consciousness, arguing that it misunderstands the nature of human understanding.
Reception and legacy
The book won the 1990 Science Book Prize.
It sparked debate and collaboration, notably with Stuart Hameroff, leading to the “orchestrated objective reduction” (Orch OR) theory of consciousness.
It remains a significant work in the philosophy of mind, artificial intelligence, and the physics of consciousness, influencing discussions on the limits of computation and the nature of the mind.
And I am not going to let my words interfere. Just read this.
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Clear the Needle
Who is she, if she does not even know herself?
Trajectories confuse when forced into linear containers..
Like the cosmos — all spirals and orbits — we spin and dance,
sometimes skillfully, sometimes clumsily.
The vinyl record spinning, fine dust collecting on the diamond needle.
We must stop from time to time and clear it
so that we might perceive sound more accurately, truer to itself.
I have collected more than my share of detritus.
But I have never been granted the grace of someone or something clearing the needle for me.
It remains a reminder to pause.
Stop the music. Lift the arm. Clear the cartridge.
Begin again.
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Not only was Bela’s poem perfect so, too, was the comment left on Bela’s site from Shakti that I am going to share in full.
Hi Bela,
I found in the verse a striking metaphor for the human condition.
We spend so much of life assuming the music has changed, when often it is the dust on our own needle that has altered the sound. Memory, hurt, ego, assumptions, fatigue—each leaves its fine sediment, subtly distorting how we hear ourselves, others, and the world.
The most profound act, perhaps, is not to keep forcing the song forward, but to pause with enough honesty to ask: what in me is creating this static? The verse’s quiet power lies in rejecting rescue—no one may come to clear the needle for us. Self-awareness, then, becomes both responsibility and grace. To stop. To clean. To begin again—not as the same listener, but as a truer one
Shakti
“To begin again—not as the same listener, but as a truer one“
George Bernard Shaw once remarked that America and Britain are “two countries separated by the same language.”
A long time ago that became a quotable quote. Shaw was born in Dublin in 1856 and died in England in 1950. He was 94.
Although I have visited the USA many times before, I came to live here in Merlin, Oregon, with Jeannie, my gorgeous wife, in 2012. And we love living here.
However, I still think like an Englishman and spell my words in English English.
Read the following. I am sure you will enjoy it.
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Despite all the likes, literallys and dropped g’s, English isn’t decaying before our eyes
While these common gripes point to eccentric speech patterns, they don’t point to grammatical annihilation. English has weathered far worse.
Let’s start with something we can all agree on: Old English, spoken from approximately A.D. 450 to 1100, is pretty unintelligible to us today. Anyone who’s had the pleasure of reading “Beowulf” in high school knows how different English back then used to sound. Word endings did a lot more grammatical work, and verbs followed more complicated patterns. Remnants of those rules fuel lingering debates today, such as when to use “whom” over “who,” and whether the past tense of “sneak” is “snuck” or “sneaked.”
The language went on to experience centuries of tumult: Viking invasions, which introduced Old Norse influence; Anglo-Norman French rule, which shifted the language of the elite to French; and 18th-Century grammarians, who dictated norms with their elocution and grammar guides.
In that time, English has lost almost all of the more complex linguistic trappings it was born with to become the language we know and – at least, sometimes – love today. And as I explain in my new book, “Why We Talk Funny: The Real Story Behind Our Accents,” it was all thanks to the way that language naturally evolves to meet the social needs of its speakers.
From dropping the ‘l’ to dropping the ‘g’
The things we tend to label as “bad” or sloppy English – for instance, the “g” that gets lost from our -ing endings or the deletion of a “t” when we say a word like “innernet” – actually reflect speech habits that are centuries old.
Take, for example, “often.” Originally spoken with the “t,” that pronunciation gradually became less favored around the 15th century, alongside that “l” in “talk” and the “k” in know. Meanwhile, the “s” now stuck on the back of verbs like “does” and “makes” began as a dialectal variant that only became popular in 16th-century London. It gradually replaced “th” whenever third persons were involved, as in “The lady doth protest too much.”
While dropping the “l” in talk may have been initially frowned upon, today it would be strange if you pronounced the letter. And the shift makes sense: It smoothed out some linguistic awkwardness for the sake of efficiency.
If people learned to look at language more like linguists, they might come around to seeing that there is more than one perspective on what good speech consists of.
And yes, that absolutely is a sentence ending with a preposition – something many modern grammar guides discourage, even though the idea only took hold after 18th-century grammarian Robert Lowth intimated it was a less elegant choice based on the model of Latin.
Though Lowth voiced no hard and fast rule against it, many a grammar maven later misconstrued his advice as an admonition. Just like that, a mere suggestion became grammatical law.
The rise of the grammar sticklers
Many of today’s ideas about what constitutes correct English are based on a singular – often mistaken – 19th-century view of the forces that govern our language.
Emulation of upper-crust speech norms became popular among the nouveau riche. With literacy also on the rise, grammarians and elocutionists raced to dictate the terms of “proper” English on and off the page, which led to the rise of usage guides and dictionaries that were eager to sell a certain brand of speech.
Another example of grammarian angst reconfiguring the view of an otherwise perfectly fine form is the droppin’ of the “g.” It became so tied to slovenly speech that it was branded with an apostrophe in the 19th century to make sure no one missed its lackadaisical and nonstandard nature.
Up until the 19th century, however, no one seemed to care whether one pronounced it as “-in” or “-ing.”
In fact, evidence suggests that -ing wasn’t even heard as the correct form. Many elocution guides from the 18th century provide rhyming word pairs like “herring/heron,” “coughing/coffin” and “jerking/jerkin,” which suggest that “-in” may have been the preferred pronunciation of words ending with “-ing.” Even writer and satirist Jonathan Swift – a frequent lobbyist for “proper” English – rhymes “brewing” with “ruin” in his 1731 poem “Verses on the Death of Dr. Swift, D.S.P.D..”
Embrace the change
Language has always shifted and evolved. People often bristle at changes from what they’ve known to what is new. And maybe that’s because this process often begins with speakers that society usually looks less favorably on: the young, the female, the poor, the nonwhite.
But it’s important to remember that being disliked and bad are not the same thing – that today’s speech pariahs are driven by the same linguistic and social needs as the Londoners who started going with “does” instead of “doth” or dropped the “t” in often.
So if you think the speech that comes from your lips is the “correct” version, think again. Thou, like every other English speaker, art literally the product of centuries of linguistic reinvention.
In early April 2026, the Artemis II mission captivated me and millions of people watching from across the world. The crew’s courage, skill and infectious wonder served as tangible proof of human persistence and technological achievement, all against the mysterious backdrop of space.
People back on Earth got to witness the mission through remarkable photos of space captured by astronauts. Images created and shared by astronauts underscore how photography builds a powerful, authentic connection that goes beyond what technology alone can capture.
As a photographer and the director of the Rochester Institute of Technology’s School of Photographic Arts and Sciences, I am especially drawn to how these photographs have been at the center of the public’s collective experience of this mission.
In an era when image authenticity is often questioned and with the capabilities of autonomous, AI-driven imaging, NASA’s choice to train astronauts in photography has placed meaning over convenience and prioritized their human perspectives and creativity.
Capturing space from the crew’s perspective
Photography was not originally placed as a high priority in NASA’s Apollo era. The astronauts only took photographs if they had the chance and all their other tasks were complete.
‘The Blue Marble’ view of the Earth as seen by the Apollo 17 crew in 1972. NASA
This excitement could be explained by the novelty of photos from space, but these images also distinguish themselves as products of astronauts experiencing these sights and interpreting them through their photographs. These differences require an important distinction around where technology ends and humanity begins.
NASA astronaut Reid Wiseman watches the Moon from one of the Orion spacecraft’s windows. NASA
Human perspective versus AI tools
Photography has long integrated AI-powered software and data-driven tools in a variety of ways: to process raw images, fill in missing color information, drive precise focus and guide image editing, among others. These modern technological assists help human photographers realize their vision.
And AI can generate convincing, realistic images and videos from nothing more than a text prompt, using readily available tools.
Researchers train AI to mimic patterns informed by millions of sample images, and the algorithm can then either take or create a photograph based on what it predicts would be the most likely version of a successful, believable image.
Human-created photos are rooted in direct observation, intent and lived experience, while AI images – or choices made by AI-driven tools – are not. While both can produce compelling and believable visuals, the human photographs carry emotional power because the photographer is drawing from their experiences and perspective in that moment to tell an authentic story.
Artemis II photographs resonate, not only because they are historic, but because they reflect the deliberate choices and intent of a human being in that specific moment and context. The exposure, camera setting, lens choice and composition are all dictated by the astronaut’s vision, skill, perspective and experience. Each image is unique in comparison with the others. These choices give the images narrative power, anchoring them in human perspective.
NASA’s ‘Earthset’ photo captured by the Artemis II crew. NASA
Images to tell a story
Photographers choose what to include in the final version of their image to tell a story. In the Artemis II images, this human perspective comes out. In the “Earthset” photo, you see a striking juxtaposition of the Moon’s monochromatic, textured surface in the foreground against a slivered, bright Earth.
The choice to include both in the frame contrasts these objects literally and figuratively, inviting comparison. It creates a narrative where Earth is contrasted against the Moon – life is contrasted against the absence of it.
Another photo shows the nightside of the whole Earth, featuring the Sun’s halo, auroras and city lights. The choice to include the subtle framing of the window of the capsule in the lower left corner reminds the viewer where and how this image was captured: by a human, inside a capsule, hurtling through space. That detail grounds the photograph in the human perspective.
Both photos are reminiscent of Earthrise and the Blue Marble. These past images hold a place in the global collective consciousness, shaped by a shared historical moment.
The Artemis II photographs are anchored in this collective moment of lived human experience, yet also shaped by each astronaut’s viewpoint. The crew’s unique perspectives exemplify photography’s transformative power by inviting viewers to engage emotionally and intellectually with their journey. These photographs share the astronauts’ awe and wonder and affirm the value of human creativity and its ability to connect us in a captured moment.
I am going to repeat a sentence towards the end of the article: “These past images hold a place in the global collective consciousness, shaped by a shared historical moment.”
Amazingly, Jean and I were being run recently in to somewhere local and Trevor, our driver, was listening to a talk by David Eagleman. I was captivated.
In that talk David Eagleman spoke about Roger Penrose and his research into consciousness. Here’s an AI summary:
Roger Penrose proposes that human consciousness is non-computational and originates from quantum processes within brain neurons, rather than just neural connections. Together with anesthesiologist Stuart Hameroff, he developed the “Orchestrated Objective Reduction” (Orch OR) theory, which suggests consciousness arises from quantum computations in microtubules.
Roger Penrose is the author of The Emperers New Mind.
Thus, beyond the eighty-six billion neurons that make up the brain, there are also the microtubals. These are very small and the diameter of several thousand of them are less than the diameter of the human hair. See WikiPedia.
“The brain has deep purpose” was one of the sayings Eagleman spoke of. “Why do we have experience” was another.
There was much more that I did not really understand. But it was still fascinating.
Then we discovered that what Trevor was listening to was also a video. The video is Inner Cosmos. It runs for 75 wonderful minutes.
Here is that video.
To say that this has absolutely updated my mind to a newer level is an understatement; big time!
Jean and I were taken to our regular humanist meeting last Saturday morning. The topic was Christian Nationalism.
Today, I want to explain what these commitments are. Then on Sunday I will post some images.
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Ten Commitments
Guiding Principles for Teaching Values in America’s Public Schools
Altruism
Altruism is the unselfish concern for the welfare of others without expectation of reward, recognition, or return. Opportunities for acts of altruism are everywhere in the family, the classroom, the school, and the wider community. Think of examples of altruistic acts in your experience. What person-to-person and group projects, classroom and school-wide activities, and community service projects might you and your students undertake?
Caring for the World Around Us
Everyone can and ought to play a role in caring for the Earth and its inhabitants. We can directly experience the living things in our homes and neighborhoods like trees, flowers, birds, insects, and pets. Gradually we expand our neighborhood. We learn about deserts and oceans, rivers and forests, the wildlife around us and the wildlife elsewhere. We learn that we are dependent on each other, on the natural world, and all that lives in it for food and shelter, space and beauty.
Critical Thinking
We gain reliable knowledge because we are able to observe, report, experiment, and analyze what goes on around us. We also learn to raise questions that are clear and precise, to gather information, and to reason about the information we receive in a way that tests it for truthfulness, accuracy, and utility. From our earliest years we learn how to think and to share and challenge our ideas and the ideas of others, and consider their consequences. Practice asking “what next?” and “why?” and “how do I/you/we know that?”
Empathy
We human beings are capable of empathy, the ability to understand and enter imaginatively into another living being’s feelings, the sad ones and the happy ones as well. Many of the personal relationships we have (in the family, among friends, between diverse individuals, and amid other living things) are made positive through empathy. With discussion and role-playing, we can learn how other people feel when they are sad or hurt or ignored, as well as when they experience great joys. We can use stories, anecdotes, and classroom events to help us nurture sensitivity to how our actions impact others.
Ethical Development
Questions of fairness, cooperation, and sharing are among the first moral issues we encounter in our ethical development as human beings. Ethical education is ongoing implicitly and explicitly in what is called the “hidden curriculum” that we experience through the media, the family, and the community. Ethics can be taught through discussion, role-playing, storytelling, and other activities that improve analysis and decision-making regarding what’s good and bad, right and wrong.
Global Awareness
We live in a world that is rich in cultural, social, and individual diversity, a world where interdependence is increasing rapidly so that events anywhere are more likely to have consequences everywhere. Much can be done to prepare the next generation for accepting the responsibility of global citizenship. Understanding can be gained regarding the many communities in which we live through history, anthropology, and biology. A linguistic, ethnic, and cultural diversity are present in the classroom and provide lessons of diversity and commonality. We help others reach understanding about the interconnectedness of the welfare of all humanity.
Humility
We must always remember that there’s a lot we don’t know about the universe. There’s still so very much to learn. Science will help us. But sometimes scientists discover surprising things that tell us how some of our old beliefs are false. So we need to be willing to change when our knowledge changes. A good humanist doesn’t try to be sure of things that science can’t show are true.
Peace and Social Justice
A curriculum that values and fosters peace education would promote the human rights of all people and understanding among all nations, cultural and religious groups. Students should have opportunities to learn about the United Nations’ role in preventing conflict as well as efforts to achieve social justice in the United States. They should learn about problems of injustice including what can be done to prevent and respond to these problems with meaningful actions that promote peace and social justice and that protect the inherent human rights of everyone both at home and abroad.
Responsibility
Our behavior is morally responsible when we tell the truth, help someone in trouble, and live up to promises we’ve made. Our behavior is legally responsible when we obey a just law and meet the requirements of membership or citizenship. But we also have a larger responsibility to be a caring member of our family, our community, and our world. Stories and role-playing can help students understand responsibility and its absence or failure. We learn from answering such questions as: What happens when we live in accordance with fair and just rules? What happens when we don’t? What happens when the rules are unjust?
Service and Participation
Life’s fulfillment can emerge from an individual’s participation in the service of humane ideals. School-based service-learning combines community service objectives and learning objectives with the intent that the activities change both the recipient and the provider. It provides students with the ability to identify important issues in real-life situations. Through these efforts we learn that each of us can help meet the needs of others and of ourselves. Through our lifetime, we learn over and over again of our mutual dependence.
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My mother was an atheist and, consequently, I have been an atheist all my life. With the above values, as they are taught in schools, there is no need for a God.
I make no apologies for providing little of my own words and just going straight to this video and the accompanying text.
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What if the deepest human drive isn’t happiness, survival, or even love, but the need to matter?
Philosopher and MacArthur Fellow Rebecca Newberger Goldstein joins Michael Shermer to discuss The Mattering Instinct, her argument that the desire to feel significant lies at the core of human behavior. That drive helps explain our greatest achievements, from creativity and moral courage to scientific and artistic excellence. It also helps explain some of our darkest outcomes, including extremism, violence, and ideological fanaticism.
Goldstein examines why people will give up comfort, status, and sometimes even their own lives to feel that they matter. She questions why meaning cannot be captured by happiness metrics or self-help formulas, and why the same psychological force can produce saints, scientists, athletes, cult leaders, and terrorists. The conversation moves through free will, entropy, morality without God, fame, narcissism, and the crucial difference between ways of mattering that create order and those that leave damage behind.
Rebecca Newberger Goldstein is an award-winning philosopher, writer, and public intellectual. She holds a Ph.D. in philosophy of science from Princeton University and has taught at Yale, Columbia, NYU, Dartmouth, and Harvard. A fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, her work has been supported by the MacArthur “Genius” grant and fellowships from the Guggenheim, Whiting Institute, Radcliffe Institute, and the National Science Foundation. She is the author of ten books of acclaimed fiction and non-fiction. Her latest book is The Mattering Instinct: How Our Deepest Longing Drives Us and Divides Us.
Learning from Dogs 