Following thirteen months behind my only sibling’s academic footsteps was hard. From elementary school on, she was a glowing student; absorbing, digesting, and understanding information seemingly by osmosis. She maintained straight A’s throughout her academic career and earned a college scholarship. I, on the other hand, struggled to maintain a C average and ran away from home at the age of fifteen.

Let’s take a moment and rewind…

I thought I was stupid. Compared to my sister, it certainly appeared that way. However, it wasn’t until many years later I discovered that I learn differently from how I was being taught.

There are three recognized learning styles:

• Auditory learners grasp things by hearing—the worst type of test for them involves reading passages and writing answers. They’re best at writing responses to lectures they’ve heard, and are also good at oral exams.
• Visual learners comprehend through seeing—the worst test type for them includes having to listen and respond. They’re best at diagramming, reading maps, essays (if they’ve studied using an outline), and showing a process.
• Tactile (kinesthetic) learners understand through experiencing/doing—the worst test type for them usually has lengthy tests and essays. They’re best at short definitions, fill in the blanks, and multiple choice.

When I was in school, the general teaching population were auditory teachers. A heavily tactile learner—with a smidgen of visual thrown in for good measure—I was missing the boat!

Fast forward…

Not having done any planning before running away, I didn’t know that if you leave high school before you graduate, you can’t test for a GED—General Education Diploma—until two years after your graduating class.

Biding my time, I went to work for a large, everything-under-one-roof store. Over the next few years I worked my way up to managing the women’s wear department, then added men’s wear, and topped it off with housewares and furniture.

I gained valuable life experience during that window of time. Part of this seat-of-the-pants wisdom was learning to say, “I don’t understand. Can you please explain that differently?” And that’s when I noticed that no matter how many times someone “told” me, it wasn’t until they “showed” me that I got it! When shown, I not only met, but exceeded what was expected of me.

I left high school as a sophomore in 1973. For four long years I waited and prepared to take the GED examination. On a hot day in late June of 1977, with the cut-grass tang of summer in the air, I slipped into a front row seat at the testing center; one of about twenty other people enveloped in the sterile classroom setting.

The all-day test was given in seven parts: Language Arts (writing), Language Arts (reading), Social Studies, Science, Math (calculator allowed), Math (calculator not allowed), and United States Constitution.

Hours later—head held high with a face-splitting grin—I left the facility with every confidence that I’d aced the test. Six weeks later I received my GED certificate, and that was just the beginning. Over time I earned my associate degree, then bachelor’s, followed by a master’s degree. Finally, two weeks before my fiftieth birthday, I sat and defended my Ph.D. thesis.

Hard-wired for buoyancy and tenacious as a terrier, when I set my mind on something I go after it with tremendous resolve. It took a while, but I eventually went from GED to Ph.D. And while I’m Ph.inisheD with brick-and-mortar academia, I’ll never be done learning.

Islamic calligraphy isn’t just a gorgeous style of art, but a symbol for how rich and diverse the Islamic world truly is

For all of the artistic forms the Islamic world has produced, calligraphy seems to be the most pre-eminent. It is entwined in the popular consciousness with Islam itself; mosques around the world proudly display the shahada and the bismillah, and these are featured – in calligraphic script – on the flags of many Muslim countries. Calligraphy has travelled across the Muslim world, transliterating many languages and morphing into many different schools of styles; it has even influenced Western styles of illustrated books and penmanship. This article does not focus on calligraphy entirely, but rather will show how the religious, historical, and cultural backgrounds of the different Islamic cultures informed the development of calligraphy – from the way the Qur’an and the Sunnah view art, to the history of the Arabic script and its transmission, to the way calligraphy travelled around the Middle East, and finally to how the actual production of calligraphy and the training of calligraphers influences its style.

Essentially, the ubiquity of calligraphy in the Islamic visual arts can be traced to the fundamental religious concepts of shirk – that it is forbidden to associate any other entity with Allah, thus risking tawhid, or the “oneness of God.” These other entities can be anything – from the “little gods” (ilah) of greed, capriciousness, and atheism, to the polytheistic deities displaced by Islam at its birth – but for the purposes of this essay, shirk is synonymous with idolatry. To humans, God cannot be comprehended with our own senses or mentality; it is only possible to see the results of His work on Earth and infer His qualities from that. Since God is fundamentally beyond the scope of the human, any attempt to reduce Him to a visual representation is heretical. Idols and icons of God detract from tawhid – that is, it places an intermediate entity between the worshipper and God – and “nothing must stand between man and the invisible presence of God” (Burckhardt, 1976 : p.34).

Within the Qur’an itself, there are many verses dealing with proscriptions in producing images of the divine – in particular, the story of Abraham destroying the idols in 20:52-7. As well as this, many hadith tell of the Prophet Muhammad’s disapproval of not only the makers of religious idols, but any visual depiction of animate beings like humans and animals. This again is to do with shirk – humans acting with arrogance and equating their creations with the creations and creatures of God.

Artists were encouraged to draw plants, landscapes, and abstract pictures instead. Historically, this prohibition against animate figures can explain the flowering of abstract design, calligraphy included, across the Islamic world; it also shows why mosques and other Islamic religious centres lack the anthropocentric art that is usual in their Christian counterparts (e.g., Jesus’ crucifixion, icons of the saints, etc.). Visual depictions of humans and animals do exist in the Muslim world on a smaller scale – murals and frescoes were painted in liberal enclaves like al-Andalus and ‘Abbasid Baghdad, and both Persia and Turkey have supported robust traditions of miniature painting and illustrated books since the 13^th century (Eastman, 1933 : p.22-3). However, the common theme underlying all these works is that they were usually small and for private viewing only; murals were not found outside the palace walls, and illustrated books and paintings were hobbies for nobles, and not for mass consumption. Calligraphy, with its abstract, non-representational style, and the general veneration of language and writing in Islamic culture, became the dominant art form within the Muslim world.

To adequately explain the first appearance of Islamic calligraphy, two distinct questions should be asked – what sort of script did the first Muslims write in, and where did it come from? And what is the history of the written, illustrated Qur’an that actually used calligraphy?

Answering the former question, Arabic script evolved from Nabatean, which in turn came from a script termed Proto-Sinaitic. Only a few examples of Proto-Sinaitic have been found, all dated to c.1900 BCE (Man, 2000 : p.189), but it is postulated that Proto-Sinaitic was one of the first alphabetical scripts developed (rather than ideographic or “symbolic” scripts, like Chinese). Since the actual spoken languages across the region all belonged (and for the most part still belong) to the Semitic language family, it was relatively easy for one script to be adapted to many languages; an archaic form of the Arabic script was known to the first Muslims, even if they were for the most part illiterate. The production of copies of the Qur’an was the first step to greater literacy in the Muslim community (the umma).

The first Qur’ans that still survive today were written in a thick, angular, straight style called Kufic, after the city of Kufa in modern day Iraq, a center for book production; most date to the 8^th or 9^th centuries. According to tradition, it was ‘Uthman’s successor, Ali, who first used and popularised this style over others (Schimmel, 1984 : p.3-4). Kufic was not cursive like modern Arabic script is; rather, five-sixths of letters were supposed to be straight against one-sixth of curved. This meant that the angular, thick lines of Kufic were very easy to chisel into metal or stone – the first Islamic coins and tombstones feature inscriptions written in Kufic (Schimmel, 1992 : p.4-7). A slanted subset of Kufic appeared around the same time, in copies of the Qur’an found in and traced back to the cities of Mecca and Medina. This style, called Ma’il, did not seem as popular as Kufic, but represented the first step towards the more recognisable cursive classical calligraphy. As Islam spread across the Middle East, different varieties of cursive script developed. This development was helped by the spread of sophisticated paper-making technology. Though paper had been known of and used since the start of the ‘Abbasid Caliphate in 751 (Coomaraswamy, 1929 : p.50), more durable vellum had been used to create Qur’ans up until the 10^th century. However, with the importation of high-quality Chinese paper, and the creation of royal paper mills in Baghdad, cursive styles began to appear in both the Qur’an and in official documents of the era; the first wholly paper book can be dated back to 870 (Schimmel, 1984 : p.16). The differences between each style of writing were studied and placed into groups: the “six cursive scripts” or al-aqlam al-sittah, as conflated by the master calligrapher and ‘Abbasid vizier, Ibn Muqla (885-940). These six groups were:

1. Nashk – everyday script; the precursor to the modern Arabic used worldwide. It is the most basic cursive hand; at first it was not used much to write Qur’ans or important state documents, but for everyday writing purposes. However, after the 15^th century, nashki underwent a “renaissance” and it appeared in many books across the Islamic world (Schimmel, 1970 : pl.IX).
2. Thuluth – “one-third” (named after the angle of the slant of its letters); the most common decorative script used in Islamic cultures. Ibn Muqla called it “the mother of the cursive scripts.” Thuluth is more extravagant than Nashki writing, with long, flowing lines and elegant curves, and it was often used in medieval times to decorate the veneers of buildings (Coomaraswamy, 1929 : 54).
3. Muhaqqaq – a script derived from thuluth and used by the Mamluk sultans of Egypt in the 13^th century, and Safavid Persia in the 15^th century; most of the sultan’s royal documents were written in this hand. It was considered to be drier than thuluth, with pointed letter endings and very high “tall” letters (Schimmel, 1992 : p.16).
4. Rihan – a less-extravagant version of muhaqqaq; it is distinguishable from thuluth by the pointed ends of its letters. After Ibn Muqla’s time, rihani writing fell out of favour and is not very well attested (Tabbaa, 1991 : p.122).
5. Tawqi’ – the official hand used by the ‘Abbasid caliphate under Yaqut al-Musta’simi, the successor of Ibn Muqla. The letters in tawqi’ are straighter than in other varieties, though it is still very much a decorative style, rather than an everyday one; it was mainly used to write out court documents and royal decrees (Schimmel, 1970 : p.7)
6. Riqa’ – a more informal, less “monumental” version of tawqi’, riqa’ is still used today as a secondary writing style. Like tawqi’, it flattens out elongated curves and high letters for ease of writing; it is known as the “copyist’s hand” (Shimmel, 1984 : p.23-4).

As well as these definitive styles that were used across the Islamic world, there existed regional variations that were used by specific cultures. The most well-known of these include:

1. Maghribi, which arose in North Africa sometime in the 14^th century, and owed more of its stylistic origins to Kufic than the cursive scripts; thick lines and tall, straight letters were emphasised (Schimmel, 1992 : p.32-3).
2. Ta’liq or “hanging,” that was used – from the time of its conquest – to write exclusively in the Persian language. It evolved into Nasta’liq in the 15^th century; Nasta’liq separated the letters far more than other styles did, and often wrote them on differing levels for artistic effect (Schimmel, 1992 : p.34-7). It was the preferred script for writing poems and for accompanying miniature paintings.
3. Diwani – the extremely elaborate calligraphy of the Ottoman Empire; it first appeared around the time of Suleiman in the 16^th century; Suleiman was apparently a master calligrapher himself. Diwani is extremely complex and difficult to learn – its rules were only taught to a select few, but exponents of the art could create images out of calligraphy (Coomaraswamy, 1929 : 58).

The basic method of production for all of these hands is essentially the same – the calligrapher uses a reed stylus/pen called a qalam, a supply of ink (hibr), and usually an inkpot as well (dawaat). The ink was collected from “lampblack”; that is, the remnants of oil found in burnt oil-lamps, though other methods existed, like burning tar or pitch (Schimmel, 1984 : p.40). At first, in the early days of Islam’s expansion, only black or brown ink was used; however, it is common to find manuscripts in which a later scribe has gone over their predecessors’ work with coloured inks, especially since not all the early Qur’ans used the same spelling. By the turn of the millennium, though, calligraphers could choose to write in many different dyes and inks, and color their books with such luxuries as lapis lazuli and gold leaf (Schimmel, 1970 : pl.XXII). The form of the calligraphy was also dictated by the material the words were written on; because only parchment was used to create the earliest books, cursive scripts would be too hard to write effectively on them.

The invention of paper directly led to the explosion of cursive styles. To prepare the paper for calligraphy, the artist had to first apply ahar, a conditioning mixture that consisted of rice powder, egg white, and starch, to make the paper smooth. Any further unevenness was smoothed out by a stone, traditionally an agate. Once the page was complete, sand was thrown over it, both to soak up the excess ink and as a blessing (Schimmel, 1984 : p.41-2).

The actual training of a professional calligrapher (khattat) was another matter entirely; though most Muslims of education knew how to write the basics of the nashki or riqa’ styles, the future khattat must seek the patronage of a master teacher (sheik). This idea of seeking guidance through a teacher comes directly from the influence of Sufism –  in fact, almost all master calligraphers were Sufis as well. Students had to train constantly, using a mashq (practice slate); on a given day, they would study only the permutations of one letter, though of course the style of training varied from teacher to teacher (Schimmel, 1984 : p.48). Most commonly the rules of form laid down by Ibn Muqla were the most studied. If the students were successful enough in their endeavors, the teacher would award them an ijaza (lit.,  “permission”), a certificate that showed that their sheik considered them adept enough to be a khattat. These ijaza were vital in showing the different lineages of styles across the Islamic world. One final, surprising feature of the calligraphers and their students was that so many of them were women – calligraphy was seen as a pious career for both sexes; many Ottoman princesses were considered master calligraphers in their own right (Schimmel, 1970 : 47).

In conclusion, Islamic calligraphy inherently shows the growth and development of Islam itself, through its aniconic styles of art, to the growth in usage of the Arabic script, and to the blossoming of distinct local variants of Islamic culture. Through all this, it is possible to trace the respect and awe Muslims held for writing, and calligraphy in particular, linking it with the heart of religion. An old Arabic saying puts it best by saying, “Purity of writing is the purity of the soul” (Schimmel, 1992 : p.1).

References

• Burckhardt, Titus (1976) Art of Islam: Language and Meaning, trans. French by Peter Hobson, London : Islamic Festival Trust.
• Al-Bukhari, Muhammad ibn Ismail (c.846) Sahih al-Bukhari, trans. Arabic by Muhammed Muhsin Khan, University of California (database) http://www.usc.edu/schools/college/crcc/engagement/resources/texts/muslim/hadith/bukhari/
• Eastman, Alvan C. (1933) Islamic Miniature Painting, Parnassus, vol.5 no.7, New York : College Art Association.
• Gruber, Christiane (2009) Representations of the Prophet Muhammad in Islamic painting, Muqarnas,  Necipoglu, Gulru & Leal, Karen (eds.), vol.26, Cambridge : Harvard University Press.
• Man, John (2000) Alphabeta, London : Random House.
• O’Connor, M. (1986) The Arabic Loanwords in Nabatean Aramaic, Journal of Near Eastern Studies, vol.45 no.3, Chicago : Chicago University Press.
• Denny, Frederick Mathewson (1989) Qur’an Recitation: A Tradition of Oral Performance and Transmission, Oral Tradition http://journal.oraltradition.org/files/articles/4i-ii/2_Denny.pdf
• Akram, A.I. (1970) The Sword of Allah: Khalid bin al-Waleed, His Life and Campaigns, Rawalpindi : National Publishing House (database)
• http://web.archive.org/web/20020224232028/http://www.swordofallah.com/html/bookhome.htm
• Schimmel, Annemarie (1984) Calligraphy and Islamic Culture, New York : New York University Press.
• Schimmel, Annemarie (1992) Islamic Calligraphy, London : Metropolitan Museum of Art.
• Coomaraswamy,Ananda (1929) Arabic and Turkish Calligraphy, Bulletin of the Museum of Fine Arts, vol.27 no.162, Boston : Museum of Fine Arts.
• Schimmel, Annemarie (1970) Islamic Calligraphy, Leiden : E.J. Brill.
• Tabbaa, Yasser (1991) The Transformation of Arabic Writing: Part I, Qur’anic Calligraphy, Ars Orientalis, vol.21, Michigan : Smithsonian Institution and Department of the History of Art.

Dream, Believe, Fly. These three words have a ring, a truth, a purity. As an author of books for teen readers, I gave these three words to one of my characters, and these three words became her mantra. She was sixteen; I am more. The motto works for both of us. My character had those words tattooed onto her skin; I have them tattooed into my soul. Dream. Believe. Fly.

The first step to achieving is to dream. You need to see, you need to dream, you need to believe. Faith and fervor result in the necessary work, and the work gives you wings. The wind beneath those wings is the dream, the belief, the need to achieve.

We are given one life. Some of us live soft; some live hard. Some laugh a lot; some cry. Some are brave; some are not. Some live many years; some live few. At the age of fifty-five, I’ve seen many friends leave this earth, and I’ve learned that we need to seize not only the moment, but our dreams. We need to seize our dreams, grab onto them, and never forget what we hope to accomplish in this world. We need to seize first, then to believe. We need to believe with all of our hearts, with all of our minds, with all of our very beings. We are each instilled with the magic to make things happen. We are resilient and we are strong and we have the power inside, if only we dream and we believe that we can indeed fly.

I’ve wanted to write ever since I can remember. My first memory of elementary school is that of the library, and of a pink Mary Poppins book that I reached up to pull from the shelf. Mary Poppins could fly, and this much I believed: So could I.

It would be many years, though, before I got my wings. There would be hardships and hurt, suffering and struggles. There would be days of hard work, and nights of worry. There would be dark nights when I could not see the stars; days when I tried to believe that life might get easier with time.

“When a man can observe himself suffering and is able, later, to describe what he’s gone through, it means he was born for literature.” A writer named Edouard Bourdet said that in 1927. Many years later, those words still speak to this writer’s soul.

1989 was a rough year. I was 31 years old, and my motto at that time might have been “Hang in there.” I was hit by a drunk driver in July. He left me by the roadside with injuries, a demolished car, and a shattered faith in mankind. He went to jail; I went home to heal.

Two months later, my stepson’s biological mother deposited him on our doorstep. He was six years old, and all he had in the world was a trash bag stuffed with his earthly possessions. He awakened sobbing every night. With my own six-year-old son from a previous marriage, I couldn’t comprehend how a mother’s heart could be so cold.

Two months after my stepson came to us, I unexpectedly became pregnant. I still had no car, and was undergoing treatment for persistent neck and back injuries incurred by the accident. We were poor. My stepson was aching and confused. So was I. Hang in there. Hang in there hang in there hang in there.

In the middle of the pregnancy, I contracted Fifth Disease, a form of the measles. There was an outbreak in the elementary schools of our area, and the medical community was unsure as to the effects of the illness in pregnant women. I was sent for a level two ultrasound, and told by the doctors that I could be “cautiously optimistic” for a healthy baby. However, I’d need a weekly ultrasound. If the fetus contracted the disease or showed signs of anemia, it would be necessary to undergo a blood transfusion in utero. The risks, I was told, were stillbirth and miscarriage. Oh, please, please. Hang in there.

On the day before our baby was due, my husband John came home from work, weeping. It was August of 1990, and the Gulf War and recession had resulted in a permanent lay-off from his longtime construction job. It was the first (and only) time I saw him cry. His heart was broken.

Our son was born: a perfectly healthy and beautiful baby boy. We were ecstatic, despite the fact that John didn’t have a job and we were living in a cramped mobile home with three children: his, mine, and ours.

“Maybe I should get a real job,” I said. “Give up this crazy dream of writing books.” I was an established newspaper and magazine writer, but had been attempting futilely to break into the competitive world of children’s books.

“Keep at it,” John said. “Don’t give up.” Don’t give up. Another three words to grasp onto. So I didn’t. I didn’t give up. I stayed home and wrote, raising our children and grasping tight to my hopes. I prayed for the strength to continue writing despite the obstacles and staggering odds. Don’t give up. Hang in there. Don’t give up.

Several weeks after our son Zach was born, John saw an ad in a local paper: “Old Barn: Free For The Taking-Down.”

John took the barn apart, piece-by-piece, and found that there was a market for the materials. The boards and beams, windows and doors and weather vanes were all sold. The barn would live on for another hundred years, in a hundred different places. It was

the beginning of John’s own business, but we still didn’t have much money. One writer and one self-employed Barn Saver plus three children is an equation that doesn’t always equal promptly-paid bills. Don’t give up. Hang in there.

When Zach was two months old, I began writing a novel for pre-teen children. Working on an ancient and clattering typewriter, I used the kitchen table for my desk. I plugged away on the typewriter as Zach dozed contentedly in his swing. Through the window of our mobile home, I could see the green Welsh Mountain of Pennsylvania. This mountain would be the setting of the book. The main character, Maizie, was a girl who’d been abandoned by her mother. She was hurting. Maizie had lots of wishes, but life was rough. I knew: I’d used bits and pieces of my own. But still, Maizie had hope. Someday, somehow, everything would be okay. Don’t give up. Hang in there.

The book Maizie would be published five years later, in 1995. In the meanwhile, I wrote a picture book based on John’s work of dismantling and recycling old barns. The book – Barn Savers – was published in 1999 and was honored by the American Library Association’s Booklist Journal by being named Top Of The List, Best Picture Book of 1999. It was also lauded as a Notable Book in the Language Arts by the National Council of Teachers of English, as well as short-listed for the Bill Martin Jr. Picture Book Award in Kansas and the Keystone State Reading award. A mention of the book appeared in the pages of People Magazine.

Since then, I’ve written about twenty more books. I went back to college at the age of fifty, and earned an MFA in Writing. I got to travel to Italy, because of my writing. I taught on cruise ships, and I taught in a medieval castle on a hilltop in Tuscany. I was honored in England in 2012 with a short story prize, and I got to travel to the U.K. for the first time, staying in the dorms of Oxford University. Dream, Believe, Fly.

Somewhere around the time that I changed from forty-nine to fifty, somewhere around the time that I applied to Vermont College and was accepted, that was the time that I changed my motto for life. I still believe in “Hang In There” and “Don’t Give Up.” But those words never held the power, the faith, the magic that my new motto does.

I had to get a student loan in order to go to school, and that was scary. I kept repeating my motto, though, as I waded through the mounds of paperwork and forms and red tape. “Dream. Believe. Fly. You are Linda Oatman High and you love to write. Dream, believe, fly. You only get one life. Now is the time. Dreambelievefly.”

Our youngest son went through some struggles in his teenage years. We got through them. He’s still finding his path in life, at the age of 23. As long as he dreams, as long as he believes … he will indeed fly.

The kids are now grown, and I’m on my way to growing old. I’m fifty-five. I love my life. It’s hard at times; it’s fun at others. But it’s always mine, and we only get one life.

I’m now a grandmother, and I hope to instill the things that I’ve learned in my grandchildren. I hope that they find the strength and the courage and the faith to dream. I pray that they believe.

And I know, I know, I know in my soul … they will fly.

Linda Oatman High is an author/playwright/poet/journalist (www.lindaoatmanhigh.com) who lives in Lancaster County, PA and teaches everywhere.

When will I learn to embrace every moment,
to surrender everything to God?

I hear you waiting for an answer.
Perhaps when waiting
has also been surrendered
and there is only one
person writing and reading these words,
my Love will be complete.

Multiple factors shape thought, but communication is especially heavy-handed. Communication not only restructures the contents of the mind,; it re-configures the brain’s very neurological patterns (Rotman 2008: 51-52). Brian Rotman explains four ways people communicate selfhood: self-pointing, a spoken “I,” an alphabetically written “I,” and “self-enunciation within contemporary media” (Rotman 2008: xxxiii). The written “I” is the only disembodied method, but this separation subliminally trickles beneath conscious awareness. Writing has been a major component of communicating theological concepts because writing has been the easiest form of mass communication for centuries. Theologians 1,000 years ago probably did not ponder the disembodiment of writing any more than landing spaceships on the moon. Television – which mediates communication through bodies – was not on their radar. But contemporary theologians have options. Gunther Kress is clear that, “The former constellation of medium of book and mode of writing is giving way… to the new constellation of medium of screen and mode of image” (Kress 2003: 9). These moving constellations have forced a fundamental shift in the way social brains engage thought. Theology that fails to take this into account will find itself hopelessly outmoded and no longer equipped to engage the study of God in fresh situations.

This article addresses the cognitive and neurological effects stemming from shifts in “culturally mediated systems of external memory” (Rotman 52) – such as writing and images – and how theological communication could expand in response. Writing reinforces left-brain, systematic, and linear thought (Armstrong 1995: 115). Images, on the other hand, encourage more right-brain, intuitive, and spatial reasoning. It would be simplistic to hold that writing is only mediated through the right hemisphere and images only through the left, but communicative modes create lateral biases. Theological minds emerge, – not only from the “linear, logical, detail-oriented left hemisphere”, – but from embodied, whole brains. The first section of this paper shows writing’s left-brain bias. The second section turns a corner by examining emotion as altered body states and how this leads to a right-brain bias. Visual mediums are the most direct way to communicate right-brain thoughts, so the last step is to show how visual mediums could add a holistic, embodied element to theology.

WRITING AND A DISEMBODIED, LEFT-BRAIN BIAS

Writing forces neurons to march in line with time (Kress 2003: 2). The left hemisphere attributes meaning to words and strings those words together to form sentences, paragraphs, and full discourses (Hogue 2003: 87). In a sentence, one… word… follows… another, so the brain follows a preset “reading path” (Kress 2003: 3). A dog bit Karen means something entirely different than Karen bit a dog. Reading paths necessitate choices about which words make the most sense in which temporal order (Kress 2003: 3), so writing creates “the subliminal appeal of reducing wholes to constituent parts” (Jahandarie 1999: 57-58). It entrenches linear (temporal) neurological patterns through the repetitive, reductive decision-making (Jahandarie 1999: 54).

This leads to what could be called: alphabetic reasoning. Daniel Siegel explains that the left hemisphere is responsible for “more slowly acting, linear, sequentially active, temporal (time-dependent) processes. Verbal meanings of words… are a primary mode of processing for the left side” (Siegel 2001: 179). The left-brain deals in “monosemantic ‘packets’… which are then processed in a slower, linear mode” (Siegel 179). Writing strengthens linear thought patterns in the left hemisphere. Siegel holds that, “Repeated activation of specific neuronal pathways reinforces the strength of connections between groups of neurons” (p. 194), so neurons fire in similar patterns in the future (p. 24). The brain functions like a malleable muscle, but writing only exercises the left-brain. The brain is sculpted like a bodybuilder who only lifts with one arm. That arm ripples, but the other atrophies. Plastic makes perfect.

The “linear, logical,” and “linguistically-based” left-hemisphere (p. 161) evaluates the contents of written words through syllogistic reasoning (p. 197), prejudicing the brain to evaluate their contents through the brain’s semantic operator. The semantic operator deals with “propositional representations – symbols of external or internal facts that can be… assessed as ‘true’ or ‘false’” (p. 35 [emphasis mine]). In alphabetic reasoning, ideas are filtered into categories of: right or wrong, – fact or fiction. Then, alphabetic reasoning reinforces the brain’s quest for causation through sequencing. Reading paths communicate meaning through cause-effect relationships, so the ensuing left-brain thought patterns in the semantic operator create a syllogistic lens. Wholes are eliminated in the effort to snap details into linear, cause-effect relationships. Meaning is confined to these necessary but limited ways of processing information.

THEOLOGY AND LEFT-BRAIN BIAS

As writing has become increasingly more accessible in punctuated bursts over the past few millennia, theologians have become more and more linear and syllogistic in thought. But neurons fire in strikingly complex and highly plastic patterns (Bennett and Hacker 2008: 137). Linear rules for systematic theology are only engrained through repetition. The dark side of alphabetic reasoning is that it can produce theologians who tend to exercise linearity while alternative methods atrophy. Recall that the semantic operator can only qualify concepts as right or wrong. Linear patterns do not leave cognitive space for multiple details to be processed simultaneously. In the study of God, this cognitive capacity is absolutely necessary.

So far, I have examined several important consequences of alphabetic writing: it is inherently linear; in committing to using particular words in particular sequences it automatically eliminates other options; it coerces thought into cause-effect analysis, and it externalizes, or disembodies, thought. Of these consequences, the disembodied nature of theological writing is the most problematic.

EMOTION AS ALTERED BODY STATES

Emotions are physiological changes in a person’s body. These are mediated through combinations of gestures, postures, and behaviors (Damasio 2003: 63). External images – or stimuli – are mediated to the brain through the senses, and internal body and brain states refract the external world (Damasio 195). Marshall McLuhan writes, “The use of any medium or extension of hu/man/ity alters the patterns of interdependence among people, as it alters the ratios among our senses” (Jahandarie 51). The higher cognitive processes involved in developing theological concepts are pushed and pulled by the body’s constant emoting (Siegel 143).

The signals passing in and out of bodies generate emotion, so change signals can make emotions contagious (Siegel 143, 50). Siegel explains that, “Complex neural/bodily aspects of emotional processes are not easily translated into words. Nonverbal expressions, including those of the face, tone of voice and gestures, can transfer information about internal states more fully to the outside world than words can do” (Siegel 150). When it comes to altering the emotions correlated with belief – belief that can override higher cognitive functions – bodily gesture trumps writing.

Because this emotional processing is primarily non-conscious, people do not qualify intuition as true or false by sequencing details into rational arguments. For example, anger is typified by “dilated pupils, widened orbital area, raised eyebrows, furrowed brow, and pursed lips” (Siegel 128). The brain absorbs all of these signals at once when someone unexpectedly sees this:

Through non-conscious processing, faces can change emotions and minds in a flash.

Intuition of other people’s emotions occurs within the Mirror Neuron System (MNS). This system draws most heavily from facial expressions (Siegel 290), and it tells the viewer’s brain to respond to the viewed face in kind (Siegel 129). The MNS non-consciously indicates: whatever is happening in that person is also happening in me. This is why people constantly imitate the “motor acts, postures, and gaze of their co-citizens” (Kanwisher and Duncan 2004: 463-64). When people talk, their body language loops without their awareness as emotions harmonize. Yawning becomes contagious. When the MNS causes altered body states and facial expressions, people influence each other’s emotional-cognitive looping, and thought itself is steered.

There is scientific evidence that the entire body is engaged in understanding and remembering. James McGaugh demonstrated that the Vagus nerve – which connects the brain stem to the stomach – directly unites visceral and emotional experience with mental processing. McGaugh presented subjects with two stories containing similar amounts of data. One story had high emotional content and the other had low emotional content. People with functioning Vagus nerves recalled more data from the stories with high emotional content than from the stories with low emotional content. People with damaged Vagus nerves had identical recall from both stories. This suggests that certain types of thought are crippled by the absence of full-bodied emotion. Siegel explains that, “conceptual representations are nonverbal. They form the fundamental building blocks of our thoughts, beliefs, intentions, and aspects of our explicit memories” (Damasio 167). Written theological method is often left wanting embodied communication to close the cognitive loop.

EMBODIED COMMUNICATION AND RIGHT-BRAIN BIAS

The body’s indicators of emotion – somatic markers¬ – interface with the right hemisphere more than the left (Damasio 144, 82). The right-brain simultaneously correlates multiple details rather than sequencing them in cause-effect relationships. Siegel describes how the right-brain deals with nonverbal communications through “fast-acting, parallel (simultaneously active), holistic processes” (Damasio 179). This means that the right-brain is the default processor of metaphor and paradox. Imagistic representations in the mind do not force choice, categorization, or analysis. They exist simultaneously without being truncated by “top-down” processing as emotions ebb and flow (Siegel 165).

Kress calls this type of right-brain embodied thought “spatial reasoning,” and he places it in opposition to the “temporal reasoning” sublimated by alphabetic thought (Kress 45). Spatial reasoning portrays multiple details simultaneously, so spatial reasoning is correlational rather than sequential. This opens up possibilities for theologians by beginning with building blocks of thought before they are sequenced into categories of justified and true, fact or fiction.

The right-brain is functionally nonverbal, so its contents have to be externalized in “non-word-based ways, such as drawing a picture or pointing to a pictorial set of options” (Siegel 327). Alternative mediums, such as video and visual art, could generate entirely new forms of theological thought.

MEDIA’S ROLE IN SPATIAL REASONING

Video and visual art are viable possibilities for developing a right-brain, spatial reasoning into theological method. Jahandarie poetically explains, “Electric media are extensions of our central nervous systems and thus put us in touch with the totality of experience” (Jahandarie 99). Jahandarie overstates his case; – for example, video does not communicate through odors, for example, – but his intended meaning is helpful. New technologies make it possible to create right-brain mass communication. The MNS is 80-85% as effective at influencing emotion through video as it is in person (Kanwisher and Duncan 469), so gestures captured on video have a startlingly high ability to steer the emotional side of the cognitive loop. Emotions can be altered and details can be expressed simultaneously if theologians were to use a wider set of cognitive and communicative tools.

Rotman explains that people listen, “not to speech sounds as such… but to the movements of the body causing them; we focus on what happens between the sounds, to the dynamics of their preparatory phases, pauses, holds, accelerations, fallings away, and completions” (Rotman 23). Through the MNS, we get hunches, – not only about what another person is thinking, – but how the person is thinking and feeling. The dynamics of gesture in film add an intuitive, interpretive element to its communicative ability. In split-brain studies, the left-brain cannot even register facial expressions or emotional states (Rotman 151). While the left-brain might be incredible at reading and writing books, it is inept at spatial reasoning. Siegel writes that the left-brain’s “monosemantic ‘packets’” operate through neurological patterns and processes “quite distinct from the analogic representations seen, for example, in an artist’s painting or in a photograph,” so “the right hemisphere more fully ‘sees the world for what it is,’ whereas the left hemisphere must reduce the world much more into mentally defined, often socially constructed chunks of information” (Rotman 179). The right-brain’s holism and simultaneity could be invaluable to theologians, but it is too often dampened by the limitations of past technologies.

WHEN THEOLOGY IS EMBODIED

Siegel mentions the “theory of nonlinear dynamics of complex systems” in regard to personhood (Siegel 7). The firing of every synapse in every thought exponentially complexifies what it means to be human. Perhaps God is not only linear, either. Images are not filtered through the linear critiques applied to writing because they function differently in the brain. This does not make imagistic, spatial reasoning irrational. It makes spatial reasoning non-rational, and theologians desperately need non-rational ways to discuss a nonlinear God. Spatial mediums are not able to comprehensively encapsulate God’s personhood any more than writing, but they could generate new perspectives to better triangulate theological depth in conjunction with it.

In the syllogistic line that runs from rational to irrational, the concept of a trinity is inherently problematic. The semantic operator only deals with logical, sequential coherence, so the multiple, simultaneously existing details involved in conceptualizing the trinity do not get cognitive space. In this case, it might be advantageous to take a right-brain, imagistic approach to theology.

Depictions allow for multiple details to coexist without sequence. Images can be worth far more than 1,000 words. Imagistic reasoning allows space for entire persons to subject themselves to concepts. The “events and actions” lost in writing’s “principles and concepts” could be filled out through images (Jahandarie 17). Instead of only understanding theology in terms of right and wrong, the theologian could also trust a Vagus nerve when it communicates that an image or gesture is good or bad. The details could remain simultaneous in the right-brain without being sorted, and persons could experience theologies to a fuller degree in addition to critically evaluating them.

CONCLUSION

As neurological patterns become more spatial and less linear, theologians have the opportunity to construct new theological paradigms by diversifying their communicative tools. Creating theology through imagistic mediums would be bounded by its own “epistemological commitments,” (Kress 57) though. Critical thought is a crucial element in theological conversations, for example. This suggests that – when used in isolation – either alphabetic or imagistic methods are reductionistic. Theology has to be alphabetic, linear, and critical to be constructive, but it also needs to be imagistic, embodied, and holistic to avoid reductionistic sequencing of nonlinear concepts. The multiple natures of cognition cannot be mixed or separated. Language and experience, left-brain and right-brain thinking, knowledge and belief, are locked into cognitive loops (Eichenbaum and Bodkin 179), and it is impossible to have a one-sided loop.

The advent of new mediums makes the creation of an embodied theological method – complete with shifting neurological patterns – a mandatory opportunity. The next step is to synthesize multimodal theologies with alphabetic reasoning. A critically holistic methodology would emerge as gestalt. Full-blown theological paradigms could materialize if both hemispheres were used in conjunction. However progressive, however gestalt, and however critically holistic theological method becomes, it can never be comprehensive or complete. Theologians must do theology at all times. When necessary, they should use words.

Jonathan Camery-Hoggatt is a freelance writer in Seattle. He has MA in divinity from Princeton Theological Seminary.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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• Damasio, Antonio R. Looking for Spinoza : Joy, Sorrow, and the Feeling Brain. 1st ed. Orlando, Fla.: Harcourt, 2003.
• ———. The Feeling of What Happens : Body and Emotion in the Making of Consciousness. 1st ed. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1999.
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Original Article: Ramirez G. et al., Science 331, 211 (2011).

We have had to deal with tests and exams in academic and professional life from childhood on. Though we are motivated to perform our best, the pressure-filled situations generally cause us to perform below our abilities. University of Chicago researchers were interested in finding an intervention that would improve performance under such conditions, especially for those students who do not do well on exams because they are blocked by anxiety. Their study showed that simply writing down our thoughts and concerns immediately before a high-stress event can increase performance from 5–12 percent when it matters most. The simple brain-focusing exercise of writing down feelings for ten minutes before an exam reduces anxiety and increases exam scores significantly. The researchers concluded that writing allows individuals to reexamine the situation and revaluate concerns, reducing anxiety and increasing one’s ability to focus. This type of writing may help people perform their best not only on tests but also in variety of high-stress situations—a big presentation to a client, a speech to an audience, or even a job interview.

2- Life Without Starlight

Original Article: Hooper, D. & Steffen, J.H. (arXiv:1103.5086v1).

Liquid water is considered the common solvent to catalyze carbon-based life on planets. This assumption defines a rather tight region around stars, which is called the “habitable zone.” The energy absorbed from the host star through its light allows planets in the habitable zones to melt water into liquid. Water would either evaporate or remain ice if the planet is too close to or distant from the star. A recent study suggested that starlight may not be the only energy source that can convert ice into liquid water and maintain it in that state. Dark matter annihilation may produce enough heat in special circumstances for planets that may not be sufficiently heated by their host star. Ordinary matter constitutes only about 20 percent of the matter in the universe, while dark matter makes up about 80 percent of all matter. It is believed that dark matter weakly interacts with atomic nuclei. Therefore, one of the leading models for dark matter is called “weakly interacting massive particles” (WIMPs). In cases where dark matter interacts with nuclei, WIMPs can transfer momentum to the nucleus. Then they can get gravitationally captured and subsequently decay as energetic particles. This process can produce heat as a consequence. On Earth, the concentration of dark matter at its center is not sufficient to produce observable contributions to the planet’s total heat budget. However for planets around stars that are closer to the centers of their galaxy, where the concentration of dark matter is significantly higher, just enough heat may be produced by gravitationally captured and annihilated dark matter. The abundance of planets detected by NASA’s satellite mission-Kepler suggests that perhaps life in the universe might be more abundant than we thought.

3- How Much Digital Information Can Mankind Store?

Original Article: Hilbert, H. & López, P., Science 332, 60 (2011).

Have you ever wondered how much total information is stored by human beings? We store information in two different forms: analog storage such as books, printed photos, and audio cassettes, and digital storage such as hard drives, CDs, DVDs, and the like. A recent paper analyzed how the total information storage and processing ability of human beings changed between the years of 1986 and 2007. The study estimated that the total information stored as of 2007 is 295 exabytes. An exabyte is equal to one million terabytes or one billion gigabytes. If all this information was stored on CDs, this stack of CDs would reach beyond the moon. If it was stored in books, it would be enough to cover the entire United States with 13 layers of books. Interestingly, the information stored by DNA in one single human body is about 300 times larger than the entire amount of information stored by humanity. In 2000, only 25 percent of known information was stored in digital form; this ratio increased to 94 percent in 2007. The area in which the “information revolution” is most evident is computation. The study found that the global computing capacity increased by 58 percent per year during this time. But even at this fast rate of growth, in 2007 the total instructions per second that humankind can carry out on its general-purpose computers were about the same as the maximum number of nerve impulses executed by one human brain per second.

4- Tricking the Brain to Attack Alzheimer’s Disease

Original Articles: Atwal, J. K. et al., Science Translational Medicine 3, 84ra43 (2011) & Yu, Y. J. et al., Science Translational Medicine 3, 84ra44 (2011).

Alzheimer’s disease affects many people, especially in later stages of life, and as the lifespan of humans increases, it becomes much more prevalent everyday. The primary cause of Alzheimer’s disease is unknown, but scientists generally associate the disease with the appearance of plaques and tangles in brain cells, often caused by a protein called amyloid. Hence, a natural strategy would be to attack these proteins that form these plaques. Yet, the biggest obstacle in our brain is the blood-brain barrier, which prevents viruses and other unwanted visitors from entering our most delicate organ. Scientists have tried to overcome this barrier with many different drugs and strategies, but there is no clear winner yet. Two recent studies reported in Science Translational Medicine journal give us a new hope in our fight against Alzheimer’s disease. Scientists devised a clever strategy to trick the gatekeepers of the blood-brain barrier into escorting antibodies against the Alzheimer’s-associated proteins. This method reduced the levels of amyloid by up to 50 percent inside mouse brain cells. Designed antibodies had two arms—one arm to target the enzyme, BACE1, which produces the amyloid, and the other arm to bind to the transferring receptor, which in turn deceived the endothelial cells from the blood-brain barrier to internalize the antibody. There are many other brain disorders that we have a limited arsenal against because of the blood-brain barrier. Hence this new method can be used for these diseases, which opens up a whole new venue of targeting strategies.

This is what Osman Sahin does to relax. Dance. But he is no choreographer, he is a calligrapher-one who has mastered the art of Classical Turkish-Islamic calligraphy for over twenty-five years. He calls his calligraphy style “the dancing of the pen.”

His eyes, eagerly glued to the paper, anticipate his next move. His hands lift with each pen stroke, gliding to the rhythm of his breath, rising with every new thought and slowing to the pace of his heartbeat.

To many of us, calligraphy is merely fancy handwriting used to record information, but to a Turk calligraphy is much more. It is an art-a grand form of art-with its origins dating back many centuries. The Turks refer to calligraphy as Hat (pronounced like “hut”). In its literal sense, Hat means beautiful writing practiced and perfected throughout time as a way to combine spiritual and functional writing with the medium of art.

It is however the spiritual element of Hat that is most striking to viewers. Because the drawing of human figures is not favored in Islam, Muslim artists throughout time have channeled their talents toward the art of calligraphy.

“Hat is all about symmetry, harmony and measurements,” explains Osman Sahin. “It is the dance of the pen and paper. It’s music to the eyes. Hat is like composed music that soothes and refreshes the spirit and brings peace and harmony to the soul. It enables the person to reach inner tranquility.”

The origins of Hat date back to the early Islamic era when manuscripts of the Qur’an were being recorded and handwritten. However, at that time there was little emphasis on the style of writing but greater emphasis on the message being revealed. It was centuries later, during the Ottoman Era, that Turks focused on the style of writing.

It is a common saying among Muslims that “the Qur’an was revealed in Mecca, recited in Egypt and written in Istanbul.” The Ottoman Turks produced and perfected various styles of script that were passed on throughout the Muslim world.

They loved and respected the art of Hat as it flourished in the great city of Istanbul, which was at the time the focal point of the Ottoman State, and it was there that history’s finest works were produced.

Hat has been used throughout Turkey in enchanting ways to decorate palaces, mosques, museums and fountains for many centuries. The renowned Spanish artist Pablo Picasso, referring to the art produced by Muslim calligraphers during the Andalusian period, said, “Muslim calligraphers five hundred years ago reached where I want to reach today.” In present-day Turkey, there are over twenty million artwork treasures that bear witness to this history.

The beauty present in Islamic-Turkish calligraphy is said to be a direct reflection of the inner soul of the calligrapher. As Osman Sahin himself says, “Whenever I am stressed, I pick up my pen and draw. This is because the art of Hat has a therapeutic aspect to it. During the Ottoman era, some of the sick were treated by using fine arts like Hat together with soothing Sufi music and the art of Ebru (water marbling) drawing.”

This extraordinary art form can only be executed with the use of pens made of bamboo cuttings, preferably Balinese bamboo. “The bamboo is cut at a thirty-degree angle and split in half from top to bottom,” demonstrates Osman Sahin. “Even with the technology present today, it is not possible to write better or more beautifully using anything other than bamboo. The squeaking sound you hear when using the bamboo pen is said to be the weeping of the pen. It is said that the pen weeps so as to not fall into the hands of the ignorant.”

It is no surprise that there is wonder and magic in Turkish-Islamic calligraphy. It is almost as if the art moves and comes alive. Sweet appearance follows a slow, inner flow. There is silence, yet harmonious and metaphysical music echoes. However, this music cannot be heard by the ears but must be heard within.

He breathed in and leaned back comfortably in his chair, looking deep into his finished calligraphy as it stared back at him. The dance was over, the rhythm ceased, and the music was muffled. The bamboo pen lay there on the table, weeping with heartache, unaware of when the next dance will be.

Reductionist, their next-door neighbor, was editor-in-chief of a highly recognized magazine. He was kind of older, and so had rather a fatherly attitude toward them. Not surprisingly, each of the three writers had one thing in mind-to catch the attention of their next-door neighbor, which was a really tough job. Having seen thousands of different articles in his life, and still editing several of them every day, Reductionist had become very good at categorizing ideas and pieces of writing. So, it was really difficult, if not impossible, to come up with something that he would call original. This state of Reductionist caused competition, and sometimes jealous actions, among the three writers.

Reductionist used to invite his neighbors to accompany him whenever he was invited to a program related to writing. Rational especially liked them because he learned new things from different people. Romantic loved staying alone, but doing this in different settings opened ways for new inspiration. Regular, on the other hand, was not very thrilled at the idea of traveling because it disturbed his daily schedule. But he thought it was OK being with friends as part of a bigger schedule that spans a larger time.

At the end of one of those trips, they were traveling back home on a dark and rainy night. As they covered each mile of the road, they talked about various topics. After some random ones, they started talking about a topic that really interested all of them: writing. They discussed different issues surrounding the main idea of writing, such as how to start writing, how to write well, how to make your words carry meanings that would satisfy the mind and the heart, and so on. When it came to the issue of inspiration and new ideas, Romantic told a short story:

“A farmer had two fields. He started cultivating both. After the first season, he saw that one of the lands was yielding produce but the other one didn’t. Several consecutive trials only confirmed the quality of the fertile one. The more trials the farmer made, the faster he received the produce and the more he reaped. Then the farmer decided not to use the barren field anymore.

“The inspirations are gifts from God. He plants seeds in our hearts in that way. People who value and pay due respect to inspiration are like the fertile field in the story. The farmer enjoys the produce and uses that field more. People who ignore inspiration or postpone dealing with it are the barren land. They don’t foster the seed, and the farmer ceases using them.”

After the apt parable, everybody was submerged in silent thought for a while. Then Romantic suggested, “Why don’t we pull over and talk about this all together with peace of mind? I’m really enjoying this.” But Rational did not share her perspective: “You know, I really would love to, but we have a long way to go. It is not wise to stop and forget about our trip. What are you going to do when we are all sleepy and not able to continue on the way? And what is wrong with talking while traveling, anyway?”

At the words of Rational, Romantic started crying: “You never listen to me; you always want me to forget my heart. I feel like I am among friends who are like dead statues.” Irritated by the words of Romantic, Regular took a turn, but talked in a way so as to manage the feelings of everybody: “Hey, umm… I think focusing on the discussion is a good idea, but it is not what we usually do. We are not near a lake or on top of a hill. It is neither sunset nor nighttime in a café. So, it may be better to wait until tomorrow.” Although these words were as neutral as they could be, Romantic still felt neglected: “I don’t think you are going to give yourselves to the matter if we keep going and talking at the same time. Instead, you are going to exploit and consume this lovely talk as a means to keep awake. This is a clear betrayal; it is hypocrisy toward your heart.”

“Wait a minute. I don’t think being wise is the same thing as hypocrisy. Do you have a really good reason to forget about everything else for the sake of this topic? I mean, what makes this topic so important that you want us all to sacrifice everything for it?” rebutted Rational.

Romantic could not answer this question, and turned her face outward into the darkness veiling the fresh green of the trees. She thought, “I am just like those trees and flowers that suffer from not being able to display their beauty because of the darkness.”

Reductionist, who was driving while listening to all the talk, said, “What is it that you are aiming to get from this talk, whether we do it now or later? I don’t want to be discouraging here, but isn’t this another hay-fire that is going to give a burst of heat and light, but will prove ordinary and transient in the end? This is just another emotion-provoking breeze about inspiration. I have experienced several of those, and yet here comes another. What difference is this going to make when we already have thousands of them out there? What is the point in discovering America over and over?”

Hearing all these arguments, Romantic, Rational and Regular all shut their mouths. Although the three roommates wanted to talk about the new perspective that Romantic had presented, their dispute about how to do it had weakened them in the face of Reductionist’s arguments. Nobody could say a word after Reductionist had spoken, and silence covered the quartet like the night.

Although she had been upset by the rest of the group, Romantic was still awake and happy in her mind. She decided to daydream about previous inspirations she had received. That way, she lived again the exhilaration and joy that came along with them. Triggered by that energy, Romantic gave a giggle that disrupted the increasing weight of the dark and silence. Rational, who was sorry to have upset Romantic, used this as an opportunity: “I have an idea. By going slower, we can sincerely concentrate on each other and on Romantic’s inspirations. That way, we can convert our trip into a journey toward the making of an article.” This suggestion triggered Regular to say: “Yeah, depressed nights, too, are part of our custom for in-depth talks.” Now everybody was waiting for Reductionist to approve the idea. Reductionist first slowed down. The reduction of the noise from the engine strengthened the silence. In the tense atmosphere, Reductionist laughed like a thunderclap, and said, “I am going to tell you guys a little story. A writer had three pens. He picked the first one and wrote an article with it. After finishing it, the pen said, ‘I wrote this article for you. Do you like it?’ The writer smiled back and said, ‘Yes, thank you.’ Then the writer put that pen in his office so that it could do things for him. Another day, the writer used the second pen to write a piece. After he finished it, the pen turned to him and said, ‘I wrote what you told me. Do you like it?’ The writer smiled back and said, ‘Yes, thank you.’ Then the writer put that pen in his bag so that it would write things as he wanted. And finally the writer used his third pen to write another article. After finishing it, the pen turned to him with a smile and said, ‘Thank you for using me.’ The writer smiled back at the third pen and put it in his pocket right next to his heart. He carried it everywhere he went, and whenever he had an original idea, he welcomed it with the help of his third pen.”

By that time, the rain outside had turned into a rain of smiles inside the car. Motivated by the unexpected story Reductionist had told, everybody engaged in an effort to welcome the inspiration that came through the one next to the heart. Romantic was not late taking her turn: “You know, for everything there is a season. You have to sow your seeds in the fall and wait until summer to reap. If you sow any time else, you not only waste your time but also lose your seeds. So, I guess the best time to work on an idea is when it first descends from the heavens to your heart.”

Both Regular and Rational looked at Romantic with wide open eyes. Regular said, “You have an important point there.”

“That is absolutely right,” concluded Rational.

Seth Mette has a PhD in Aerospace Engineering and is currently working as a postdoctoral fellow at West Virginia University. He has a special interest in psychological fiction.

The events of November 2008 will definitely remain in the memory not only because of the American elections, but also for the hopes that arose almost simultaneously from a successful international conference at Georgetown University-Islam in the Age of Global Challenges: Alternative Perspectives of the Gulen Movement. Participants from different parts of the world discussed for two full days how to deal with problems from poverty and education to gender issues, problems that are posing ever greater and more global threats to humanity. With schools and cultural centers over 110 countries as well as relief and charity organizations with a global outreach, the Gulen movement offers an interesting field of research for social scientists. I would like to draw readers’ attention to an essay in this issue by Farid al-Ansari of Morocco, who presents an insightful portrayal of this movement with which the author reveals he has deep resonance himself.

We are also proud to present in this issue an exclusive interview with Professor Ahmed Zewail. Conducted by Dr. Nuh Gedik, this wisdom-filled interview gives analytical insight into the decline of Muslims from the pinnacle of human civilization which they achieved and maintained for long centuries.

For The Fountain, this past November was also exceptional for something that happened for the first time: a women writers workshop. In order to encourage more female writers to activate their potential or blow the dust off their writing skills, a writing workshop exclusive to women was organized jointly by The Fountain and volunteers in Pittsburgh. Eighteen authors from different states participated. They brainstormed on various issues, ranging from how to be an effective writer to the aspects in which The Fountain is different from other periodicals. Former contributors shared their writing experience with beginners, while previous issues were comprehensively evaluated and analyzed. We are very grateful to the organizers, and we hope this volunteer spirit, without which The Fountain would not have become what it is, will continue to generate quality material for our readers across the globe.

Establishing peace between people of different religions, backgrounds, and nationalities has always been a primary concern of civilized nations. Such a goal cannot be achieved overnight, of course, for it requires that all people become aware of the need for understanding and appreciating various religions and cultures through peaceful dialogue. The Fountain attaches great importance to such values, and strives to bring our readers’ articles that embrace this concept. To ensure a peaceful and productive future for everyone, it is vital that all societies incorporate and abide by these values.

In this issue, we present two articles that discuss this goal. The first article emphasizes the importance of interfaith dialogue and shows how misunderstanding other people’s religions actually veils many common beliefs and practices. Only dialogue can bring about a mutual understanding and appreciation of differences.

Thee second article focuses on the two largest religions today: Islam and Christianity. Interesting facts are brought forward about Islam’s respect for Christianity, and how the respect was implemented from the days of Prophet Muhammad and on into the Ottoman era. For instance, after Jerusalem was conquered during the Caliphate of Umar, all people, regardless of race and religion, were guaranteed their rights to life, property, and religion, as well as the rights to pray and keep their churches and synagogues.

As The Fountoin always strives to keep our readers up-to-date on current issues and developments in various fields of technology and science, we present an article on the energy market’s current situation and short-term future trends, as well as one on the increasing computerization of motorized transport.

On the more spiritual side, one article sheds light on our pursuit of and path to happiness and perfection. We have been created perfectly; we have all the faculties and senses we need. But are all of our amazing capabilities meant to be used here alone? After all, we are here only for a while and then enter the grave. According to the author, our eternal life starts at that point. While we are in this world, we are supposed to prepare ourselves our eternal life by using our senses, intellect, and feelings, not to mention worshipping God, to realize our full potential and achieve all kinds of perfection. The author describes and shares two analogies to explain his views.

Thank you to all of our readers who participated in our Writing Competition 2000! The deadline for writing submittals has passed, and we look forward to announcing the winners in our October 2000 issue. Keep an eye out to see if you’re one of them!

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