20160127 (sendep)

Floating, heavenly, peaceful, blissful--for just one hour.

Solitary Confinement--this prisoner is under suicide watch.

Sensory deprivation has a Jekyll

& Hyde reputation. I might be 

Tempted to do a “float” at a hip

Health center which I understand

Is getting a lot of positive buzz

After a short stint in ignominy.

Basically you will be lying in

An enclosure in a liquid of one 

Part water, nine parts Epsom

Salts at body temperature, naked

As a jaybird (you shower before

Entering) and you float easily,

Bouyed by this concentrated

Fluid. The agent, nurse, owner

Closes the clamshell-like tank

Shutting out all light, most of

The sound except muffled air

Supply and the inside speaker

System which they attenuate

To zip once you’re comfy. You

Have a mic in the box to summon

Them if you need. Then for an

Hour you’re in there alone with

Your thoughts and the quiet.

Many people say it’s quite

A pleasant place—they rest,

They fall asleep, they dream.

The music comes on again to

Signal time’s up. Another 

Shower, you get yourself

Presentable, and leave. Many

People complaining of stressful

Jobs swear by it. You’re not

Really weightless, though you

Might be tempted to say so.

Actually your innards are 

Weighing one on another 

Unlike in Zero-G flights or

Orbiting space stations. The

Hyde part of SenDep comes

When it’s not voluntary, when

It’s extended, and when it’s

Totally anechoic—no sounds

Whatever, and absolutely no

Light. Thinking processes

Deteriorate. You can’t keep

Problems or thoughts in order.

Hallucinations, some tolerable,

Some otherwise, set on without

Ceasing. Hallucinations can be

Auditory, tactile. You lose the

Concept of where you end and

Something else begins. You

Blend into the blackness. You 

Might even panic. In the ‘50s

Psychologists tried to build 

From the disorientations a 

Method of extracting information

From captive enemy while

Claiming they were developing

Methods to help our guys resist

Mind-bending treatment. No,

Prisoners were not floated in

Epsom salts comfortably. The

Affordable quarters turned out

To be solitary confinement in

Uniformly white cells with 

Bright lighting to remove the

Sense of the passage of time.

Soundlessness, harder to achieve,

Was replaced with loud white

Noise or eardrum piercing

Constant heavy metal. SenDep

Leaves no marks, skirts

The torture requirement of

Bodily damaging stress, and

What the hell, in the first

Moments may actually

Serve to reduce tension,

Like in the chi-chi clinics.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20160126 (modern promise)

Study what you want, when you want, where you want, for as long as you want, or go play.
Cheap, easy, fun. From preschool through Med School or Ph.D. What went wrong?

One of the texts I used in my

Brief stay in graduate school

In psychology at Indiana was

Drafted as an illustration of 

Programmed Learning after

The principles known at that

Time of how learning occurred.

The early Pavlovian model of

Relating a stimulus to a reflexive

Response—the classic dog

Learning to salivate to the

Sound of a bell—could not 

Be adapted to the book’s

Parameters, so they left that 

Method out. The behaviorist

Model—classic dog exhibits

Behavior when rewarded—

Allowed for some illustration.

You, Reader, were the dog.

Learning was the knowledge

Of behaviorist principles

You acquired as you proceeded

Through the book. Whether you

Noticed or not, you were being

Rewarded by compliments as

You proceeded. If you didn’t

Demonstrate you had learned 

The concept, you were instructed

To return to an earlier page and

Could get the compliment only

After relearning showed you

Had gotten the concept—that

Is finally given the right  answer.

Then, competent fellow, you

Were allowed to continue. Sounds

Dumb as dirt as I describe it but

It actually had been used in 

Military training manuals for

Years. The notion, though, was

To revolutionize education, make

It independent of a teacher,

Allow students to proceed at

Their own pace, and serve

In future years in powerful

Audio/Visual formats on

Computer screens all over

The world.  Mind you what

Foresight—these were years 

Before computer screens were

Filled with Pong and Radio

Shack was a major supplier.

Aside from the death of the 

Schoolhouse as a building and

Ending the tyranny of teachers’

Unions, the new method

Promised education for all

At reduced costs. Imagine

Sequestering your child in

A quiet corner of the house

Where his/her sight and hearing

Are magically captive to

Fascinating subjects presented

In superior formats and he comes

Away a master of the topics.

I remember these were the

Promises of cable-TV in schools

A couple decades earlier. You

Remember how well that turned out.

But unlike the cable model

Ritual computer learning has

Triumphed though not exactly as

We sought. Today our children 

Cannot be torn away from their

Screens. The artificial adventures

Of military slaughter, gangland

Mayhem, pornography, and

Teenage social development

Are far more powerful instructors

Than any bells and whistles we

Could have conceived to help

Them differentiate species,

Conjugate verbs, or speculate

On the meaning of the great

White whale. Where o where

Did we go wrong?

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20160125 (decisions)

Sometimes science is very far

Away as when Brian Greene

Speculates on eleven-dimensional

Strings wobbling on an unevisionable

Membrane adjacent to an infinite

Number of other equally unimagineable

Planes which periodically crash into

Each other birthing big bangs as 

They go. Sometimes it’s so close

As the matter of deciding who is

Really deciding when we decide

Something. To wit, a Cherokee 

Elder told his grandson:

“My son, two wolves battle

Inside us. One is evil—anger, 

Jealousy, greed, resentment,

Lies, and pride. The other is 

Good—Joy, peace, love, 

Hope, humility, kindness, and 

Truth.” The boy asked, “Which 

Wolf wins?” The old man replied,

“The one you feed.” Sounds

Eminently reasonable if not

Just so pat and cute, but no

More explicative than the

Story we got in childhood

About a devil in our left ear

And an angel on our right.

Comedian Flip Wilson built

His national fame with his

Outrageous cry, “The DEVIL

Made me do it,” shoving

Responsibility onto his left

Shoulder to avoid blame. 

Yet, however widely this

Decision model was adopted,

No one ever shouted, “The

ANGEL made me do it,” when

It came to good deeds. Just

Keep pouring that honor on!

It was me, just little ol’ me.

What it all comes down to

Is whether our thinking is

A physical process, solely

Dependent on how those

Brainy molecules are 

Knocking about like billiard

Balls or whether thinking

Is free of cause and effect.

Whether we, independent

Of bodily processes, can

Manipulate images and

Intentions to use reason’s

Rules and select a course

To enact. Determinism

Certainly ends the squabble,

But it hasn’t the feeling we

Experience in our deciding

Of being free to elect another

Choice. Wisdom granted from

Above, “. . . moved by the 

Spirit,” is as much artifice as

“Moved by the spirits,” bespeaks

Control by substance. I’d

Prefer if God were speak to

Me He’d use the full monty

And like Paul, knock me flat

On my ass so there’d be no

Confusion as to Who was 

Telling whom to do what.

Lacking the flash and the 

Thunder I’ll have to assume

The responsibility’s mine,

Or for the determinist’s

Sake, that recent dinner of

General Tso’s Chicken

Extra spicy.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016

20160124 ( public libraries)

People sleeping (it is said snoring) in the Arcadia CA library

Anchored to the brick patio

At the front of the Carnegie

Branch of the Cleveland 

Public Library on Fulton

In my neighborhood are

Two sets of chairs and tables

Inset with checkerboards 

For the casual play of chess

And checkers fans in the area.

Granted it was far more

Pleasant before the nearby

Trees were removed which

Kindly shaded the tables

In green from the hot summer

Sun. They look forlorn in

The snowy cold of ten to

Twenty degree weather today

Not being used for games

By the library habitues of

Homeless, beggars, and

Drunken itinerants gathering

For raucous obscene shouting

Matches, scaring young 

Mothers bringing their kids

To story hours, other programs.

Despite the disturbance

They’re generally harmless,

Devoting their catcalls to

Each other, to the sky, or

Just to trying to find their

Next cigarette. Waste barrels

Near the tables are generally

Filled to overflowing with

Fast food schmattas and

The seats home to stuffed

Bags (of bag ladies). Summer

Offers a comparable scene

Except they’re going into

The library to sleep in air-

Conditioned comfort, use the

Free computers, restrooms, 

Outside is for smoking. One 

Of my earliest jobs was page

In my local library. It wasn’t

Home for street people, didn’t 

Need guards to walk the

Interior to quell patrons’ fears

Of unkempt visitors. We had

No chess tables, sadly soon

Lost the pleasant trees that

Shaded the steps and the 

Windows. Were there fewer

Desperate homeless then or

Did we hide them better? If

Anything my childhood

Neighborhood was much

More homogeneous, definitely

Better off. My friends’ fathers

All had jobs. Retired people

Shopped, they didn’t read

Books. They played checkers,

A few chess, but mostly at

Home with relatives, school

Kids. Rarely did you encounter

An alkie. When we did my mom,

Who always held my hand

When we walked somewhere,

Crossed the street to avoid them.

Today the library interior warms

Them up for periodic smoking

Expeditions. It’s useless to

Complain of the nuisance—

Seems hard-hearted in the cold

Of winter, however obnoxious

They get. Were the police to

Urge them on, they’d soon

Reassemble at the playground

Across the street and return

When the officers, who should

Be out catching crooks, have 

Left the scene.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016