Sunday, May 6, 2007
I consider my mother wise.
This probably doesn't surprise any of my readers. What may surprise some of you is that I consider her no less wise in her traipsing through dementia than I did before her mini-stroke took a toll on certain of her brain functions. In some ways, I consider her wiser now than before; not because of her dementia, but because she's probably at least a decade older than she was when she mini-stroked and she's continued to be capable of allowing life to widen her focus, despite her dementia.
Thus, it is with much delight that I discovered that the online edition of today's New York Times features a quiz that purports to measure one's wisdom. My intention is, of course, today, to administer it to my mother and see where she falls on the following 5 point scale:
When I think about how I define my mother's wisdom, flexibility of outlook is certainly a factor. I think most cultures would agree with this, but, recently, while Mom and I have been reading some books on the development of Islam, particularly a valorous attempt at biography entitled Muhammad: A Prophet for Our Time written by Karen Armstrong, it has become apparent to me that flexibility of outlook is not always prized, nor considered wise, as it was not within nomadic, tribal societies for some centuries previous to Muhammad's birth. Specifically realizing this confers some circumspection on ultimate measures of wisdom at any time within any group of people. This week's New York Times Magazine also includes a long article about the nature of wisdom, which is being studied by scientists. The introductory blurb says, in part, "The trick lies not just in measuring something so fuzzy but also in defining it in the first place." I haven't yet read the article, although I will. It's likely that, after administering the wisdom test to my mother, I'll read it aloud for both of us so we can discuss it.
The subject of my consideration of my mother's wisdom is curious in itself. I have always considered her wise to some extent, primarily because I have always trusted her. I'm sure this is not a good objective measure of wisdom since kids tend to trust their parents, even when they learn a suspicious and fatalistic outlook from them. This trust of what can become a disastrous outlook is usually hardwired and difficult for thought or experience to change. Within the last few or more decades I've also become aware that my view of her wisdom is always through eyes that are 34 years younger than hers; thus, I've learned that whatever she's packed into those 34 years can be, at any particular time, unimaginable to me.
I'm curious, though, to know whether someone else's measure of wisdom will come to the same conclusion to which I've come in regards to my mother, especially after taking the quiz myself and wondering, as I read the statements, how my mother would apply them to herself and just how "wise" any of the 39 attitudes actually are, factoring for particular persons and societies. I was surprised to find that I can't predict how she'll answer...or, even, whether she'll find the test interesting and amusing enough to finish. It's possible that she'll laugh and say something like, "Goodness, child, I have no idea! What's the next statement?"
1330 will mark her 12-hour-night-sleep mark, not including the half hour she read to herself in bed before her light went out (she was wholly engrossed, last night, in our viewing of the Planet Earth series, and insisted on seeing it through to the end, except the episodes about the future). I will awaken her with news of the questionnaire and I'm sure she'll be intrigued enough to want to sample it immediately after breakfast, so I'm hoping to report on the results, including any attendant conversation, much later today, possibly past midnight, depending on how her day goes.
Which reminds me: Yesterday evening, immediately after her nap, she reported to me that she felt, "much better" than she's been feeling the last few days, which surprised me. In a recent post I reported that she'd seemed, over some days, hazier than usual, thus, I've been surveying her, almost to distraction, every hour or so when she's awake about how she feels, despite her ruddy physical appearance. She's been steadily answering, "Fine, just fine," sometimes giving me that sarcastic, "Why are you asking?" look. When she reported to me that she was suddenly feeling "much better", then added that she'd been feeling "lousy" over the last few days, I was beside myself.
"Why then, Mom, when I've been asking, have you been telling me that you feel fine?"
"Well, it didn't seem like I felt that bad."
"But, you're telling me," I continued, "that, now, looking back, you actually were feeling 'that bad.'"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"You know, Mom," I directed her, "when you're not feeling good and I ask, you need to tell me."
"I suppose so..." she responded, giving me a wary glance.
I laughed. "Okay," I said, "what was behind that glance?"
"I'm wondering what you could have done about it."
Good point. I was noticing something different, but I have to admit that nothing I was noticing was unusual for her, certainly not enough for me to worry or haul her into the doctor. I conceded to her on this. My experience tells me that it's more likely than not that, even if a doctor had "discovered" something, maybe lower than usual hemoglobin or, if some sort of brain scan was prescribed, activity that was a little different than usual, nothing of consequence would be done as a result and, within days, Mom would be "back to normal", doctor or no.
"For future reference," though, I said, "when I ask, and ask so often, let me know when you're not feeling your normal self, okay?"
Again, that wary glance. "What does that mean?" Her tone was challenging.
"Hmmm..." I said. "Maybe that means that I need to be a little more specific in my prying."
"Good idea," she agreed.
Maybe that's some of what wisdom is.
Later.
Thus, it is with much delight that I discovered that the online edition of today's New York Times features a quiz that purports to measure one's wisdom. My intention is, of course, today, to administer it to my mother and see where she falls on the following 5 point scale:
- 1-3: relatively low wisdom
- 3-4: relatively moderate wisdom
- 4-5: relatively high wisdom
When I think about how I define my mother's wisdom, flexibility of outlook is certainly a factor. I think most cultures would agree with this, but, recently, while Mom and I have been reading some books on the development of Islam, particularly a valorous attempt at biography entitled Muhammad: A Prophet for Our Time written by Karen Armstrong, it has become apparent to me that flexibility of outlook is not always prized, nor considered wise, as it was not within nomadic, tribal societies for some centuries previous to Muhammad's birth. Specifically realizing this confers some circumspection on ultimate measures of wisdom at any time within any group of people. This week's New York Times Magazine also includes a long article about the nature of wisdom, which is being studied by scientists. The introductory blurb says, in part, "The trick lies not just in measuring something so fuzzy but also in defining it in the first place." I haven't yet read the article, although I will. It's likely that, after administering the wisdom test to my mother, I'll read it aloud for both of us so we can discuss it.
The subject of my consideration of my mother's wisdom is curious in itself. I have always considered her wise to some extent, primarily because I have always trusted her. I'm sure this is not a good objective measure of wisdom since kids tend to trust their parents, even when they learn a suspicious and fatalistic outlook from them. This trust of what can become a disastrous outlook is usually hardwired and difficult for thought or experience to change. Within the last few or more decades I've also become aware that my view of her wisdom is always through eyes that are 34 years younger than hers; thus, I've learned that whatever she's packed into those 34 years can be, at any particular time, unimaginable to me.
I'm curious, though, to know whether someone else's measure of wisdom will come to the same conclusion to which I've come in regards to my mother, especially after taking the quiz myself and wondering, as I read the statements, how my mother would apply them to herself and just how "wise" any of the 39 attitudes actually are, factoring for particular persons and societies. I was surprised to find that I can't predict how she'll answer...or, even, whether she'll find the test interesting and amusing enough to finish. It's possible that she'll laugh and say something like, "Goodness, child, I have no idea! What's the next statement?"
1330 will mark her 12-hour-night-sleep mark, not including the half hour she read to herself in bed before her light went out (she was wholly engrossed, last night, in our viewing of the Planet Earth series, and insisted on seeing it through to the end, except the episodes about the future). I will awaken her with news of the questionnaire and I'm sure she'll be intrigued enough to want to sample it immediately after breakfast, so I'm hoping to report on the results, including any attendant conversation, much later today, possibly past midnight, depending on how her day goes.
Which reminds me: Yesterday evening, immediately after her nap, she reported to me that she felt, "much better" than she's been feeling the last few days, which surprised me. In a recent post I reported that she'd seemed, over some days, hazier than usual, thus, I've been surveying her, almost to distraction, every hour or so when she's awake about how she feels, despite her ruddy physical appearance. She's been steadily answering, "Fine, just fine," sometimes giving me that sarcastic, "Why are you asking?" look. When she reported to me that she was suddenly feeling "much better", then added that she'd been feeling "lousy" over the last few days, I was beside myself.
"Why then, Mom, when I've been asking, have you been telling me that you feel fine?"
"Well, it didn't seem like I felt that bad."
"But, you're telling me," I continued, "that, now, looking back, you actually were feeling 'that bad.'"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"You know, Mom," I directed her, "when you're not feeling good and I ask, you need to tell me."
"I suppose so..." she responded, giving me a wary glance.
I laughed. "Okay," I said, "what was behind that glance?"
"I'm wondering what you could have done about it."
Good point. I was noticing something different, but I have to admit that nothing I was noticing was unusual for her, certainly not enough for me to worry or haul her into the doctor. I conceded to her on this. My experience tells me that it's more likely than not that, even if a doctor had "discovered" something, maybe lower than usual hemoglobin or, if some sort of brain scan was prescribed, activity that was a little different than usual, nothing of consequence would be done as a result and, within days, Mom would be "back to normal", doctor or no.
"For future reference," though, I said, "when I ask, and ask so often, let me know when you're not feeling your normal self, okay?"
Again, that wary glance. "What does that mean?" Her tone was challenging.
"Hmmm..." I said. "Maybe that means that I need to be a little more specific in my prying."
"Good idea," she agreed.
Maybe that's some of what wisdom is.
Later.
