YG8: World Economics

Alex Tabarrok
"One idea, one world, one market.
Larger markets save lives.
How else can we create new ideas? That's one reason. Globalize, trade. Well, more idea creators.
Globalization is increasing the demand for ideas, the incentive to create new ideas. Investments in education are increasing the supply of new ideas.
So growth can wash away even what appears to be a great depression.
So my view is be optimistic. Spread ideas. Spread the light."









Geoff Mulgan

"I've always wondered why it is that capitalism is so amazingly efficient at some things, but so inefficient at others, why it's so innovative in some ways and so uninnovative in others.

Now, since that time, we've actually been through an extraordinary boom, the longest boom ever in the history of this country. Unprecedented wealth and prosperity, but that growth hasn't always delivered what we needed. H.L. Mencken once said that, "to every complex problem, there is a simple solution and it's wrong." But I'm not saying growth is wrong, but it's very striking throughout the years of growth, many things didn't get better.

Surely, just as we invest in in R and D, two, three, four percent, of our GDP, of our economy, what if we put, let's say, one percent of public spending into social innovation, into elder care, no kinds of education, new ways of helping the disabled?

Why boost our consumption, rather than change what we consume?"

Invest in the future. Experiment with society.



KI's, experienced in design practice, Paul McKone: Style to Substance
Discovery
Invention
Innovation: What we had worked, but there was a better way
Novelty: New, improved and more shiny than ever before

Design: Function: evolution, innovation, problem solving
Style: Form: trend, fashion, appearance

8 Es of Fixing things: Enjoyable, Empowering, Equitable, Environmental/Ecological, Economical, Engineering, Educational, Engaging

You can't value what you don't understand.

Chinchorro

          Había una noche negra y no habían estrellas en el cielo. Estaba lloviendo poco. Conduje a mi casa de la universidad, donde asistí a una clase de noche, antropología. Esa clase, el profesor nos habló de una momia de América del Sur, el Chinchorro. Mientras pensaba en la clase, ¡algo corrió por la calle! ¿Un gato? ¿Un perro? Perdí el control del carro y casi choco con un árbol pero paré el carro justo a tiempo. Tenía miedo. Estaba sola en un bosque en una carretera en el campo sin un casa a la vista.
          Cuando mi corazón se desaceleraba, comencé a conducir, pero el motor del carro no funcionaba. ¡El carro no arrancó! Utilicé el teléfono celular para llamar a mi hermano para pedir ayuda. Sonó uno, dos…
<< ¿Hola? >>
<< Hola, Justin. ¡Es urgente que me ayudes! ¿Hola? ¿Hola? >>
          Pero el celular se apagó por que la batería se agoto. Entonces, oí un sonido… Fue un sonido de miedo del baúl. De repente, la luz del coche se apagó. Entonces, sentí algo en mi brazo, algo caminó lentamente arriba mi brazo. Cuando miré en el espejo, la mano de la momia agarró mi garganta. ¡Yo grité! Pero, llevaba mi collar y tan pronto como la momia me tocó el collar, que se convirtió en polvo. La luz del coche se prendió, y el coche se arrancó como nada ocurrió. Por eso conduje a mi casa. También, por eso, siempre llevo mi collar y por eso hay una aspiradora en mi carro.

           Es imposible pero es verdad, y se dice que la momia esta en el bosque todavía…

Esta foto es de http://saladehistoria.com/wp/2009/05/02/momias-chinchorro-2/

Tck Tck Tck - English

Copenhagen update

“Tck Tck Tck Time for Climate Justice”
TEMA
“EL TIEMPO ES HOY”

Canción original: "Beds are burning" de Midnight Oil
Adaptación al español: Milagros Salazar y Cynthia Galicia



LEJOS EN LOS ANDES VES

TIERRA SECA POR DOQUIER

CAMPOS MUERTOS, SOL QUE QUEMA

YA NO HAY LLUVIA…HAY DESOLACIÓN



EL TIEMPO ES HOY

ES LA VERDAD

CORRE EL RELOJ

NO HAY MARCHA ATRÁS



EL TIEMPO ES HOY

DEFIENDE TU LUGAR

TOMA UNA ACCION

NO HAY MARCHA ATRAS



CÓMO DORMIR FRENTE A ESTE PROBLEMA

LAS CAMAS ARDEN, LA TIERRA QUEMA

CÓMO ENFRENTAR ESTA INDIFERENCIA

PAGA LO JUSTO Y TOMA CONCIENCIA



EL TIEMPO ES HOY

ES LA VERDAD

CORRE EL RELOJ

NO HAY MARCHA ATRÁS



BOSQUES DE LA AMAZONÍA

FLORA Y FAUNA EN AGONÍA

TODO EL AIRE RESPIRADO

A CUARENTA Y CINCO GRADOS



EL TIEMPO ES HOY

ES LA VERDAD

CORRE EL RELOJ

NO HAY MARCHA ATRÁS



EL TIEMPO ES HOY

DEFIENDE TU LUGAR

TOMA UNA ACCION

NO HAY MARCHA ATRAS



COMO DORMIR FRENTE A ESTE PROBLEMA

LAS CAMAS ARDEN, LA TIERRA QUEMA

COMO ENFRENTAR ESTA INDIFERENCIA

PAGA LO JUSTO Y TOMA CONCIENCIA



EL TIEMPO ES HOY

ES LA VERDAD

CORRE EL RELOJ

NO HAY MARCHA ATRÁS



EL TIEMPO ES HOY

DEFIENDE TU LUGAR

TOMA UNA ACCION

NO HAY MARCHA ATRÁS



imaynataq puñusun kay sasachakuypi

CÓMO DORMIR FRENTE A ESTE PROBLEMA

puñunapas rawurachkan, allpapas rupachkan

LAS CAMAS ARDEN, LA TIERRA QUEMA

Imaynataq kawaq rumi qunqu

CÓMO PUEDES SER DE CORAZÓN DURO

Allinta pagay, hinaspa yuyaymanakuy

PAGA LO JUSTO Y TOMA CONCIENCIA



Traducción al quechua: Igidio Naveda

http://eltiempoeshoy-justiciaclimatica.blogspot.com/

YG8 Projet Posters

Get it?

Change: short story

Change

     Today I spun in 5 circles, my eyes blurred, my head swam in only the way vertigo takes over. Then I spun in 5 circles more. And each revolution, each full circle renewal, the world changed.
The world, that big blue ball always spinning, always changing. Blink once and notice all the changes, this moment will never happen again. Did you miss it? Did you let it slip by or did you reach out your gnarled fingers and claw away at the fabric that holds together your space and time? What if you lied and didn’t blink at all, but kept your eyes wide with amazement or fear or indifference or arrogance? It doesn’t matter, everything already changed. And it just did it again, and again.

     That little nugget, niche, bubble where you curled the world around your finger, the little finger, the one most powerless to show the ease at which you control that little nugget, niche, bubble of your world, you don’t have control of anything. There are forces beyond your conception that shape the environment around you, from the movement of air due to changes in pressure inside your cozy house and the outside where a storm rages, the bacteria floating on that air current, the mouse lifting his nose to sniff your dinner as the air wafts by.

     You have no control. Not even of yourself. You are a bundle of chemicals that respond to other chemicals that are responding to the bacteria that just flitted into your nasal cavity, escaped the cilia that sweeps pathogens into mucus and down your throat. Your bundle can change with the release of one hormone, or the lack of another hormone. Maybe that’s just your physical body. We humans are sentient beings, our minds are above our mere chemical bodies. Ah, and what if you were injected with heroin or a thousand other chemicals, your mind is as lost as a mouse in a maze without the sense of smell.

     So you have no control, of yourself, of your environment, of the world. You are reactionary. And so you react. And you fall into the loops, positive and negative feedback, perpetuate the stimulus or shut it off. Eventually anticipatory, shut it off before the stimulus begins or starting before there is something to start with. This is chemical, this is responsive and yet revolutionary, you’ve changed something from that chemical self through reaction to make a significant difference. One revolution, one blink, one chemical, and the whole world changed from your one little nugget, niche, bubble. Butterfly flapping its wings, hurricanes rage, pressures change, air currents form, bacteria floats, internal chemicals recognize pathogens, you either live or you die.

     Maybe I should spin more often, or not. It doesn’t matter, everything will still change.

The Song of the Dodo

Charles Darwin and Alfred R. Wallace

The Song of the Dodo: Island Biogeography in an Age of Extinctions by David Quammen

Ecosystem Decay
Natural Selection
Evolution
Biogeography
Adaptive Radiation
Niche

Inspiration

1. Everyone has a story.
2. Life isn't fair, but it's better than the alternative.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
5. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
6. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
7. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
8. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
9. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
10. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
11. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
12. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
13. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
14. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
15. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
16. What other people think of you is none of your business.
17. Believe in miracles.
18. The best is yet to come.
19. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved

Reflections

You began when you told me that you had to leave. We were too much of a twisted tree, sprung from two grasses and twined at the neck. We choked each other till our chlorophyll leaves fell from our arms.

So you began.

You’ve been transplanted and you re-sprouted your lovely roots exploring your new dark, rich soil. You’ve been trellised and been shot up on phosphorous, and now you’re strong with thick bark. I guess

I’m glad for you. 

Glad that you have birds flitting through your branches, that you are able to smile and flirt. I should be glad.

Should. But my heartwood aches, with cracks to the pith. 

It’s not so much you, you is an abstraction now, you can be the sense of love itself, it doesn’t have to be you, though it is you who I am addressing. And to the one I’m addressing, I don’t miss you. I miss the other you, the sense of belonging and joy, passion and growth towards the ideal light. While your leaves grew back with the spring, mine shriveled, my branches remain black etches on a grey sky. I want to find a passion again, a chance to leave the earth and fly or float down a river and 

scream with life.

I lie: a short story

I lie

     Maybe its because I’m a writer. Maybe I just want the story to sound a little better. Maybe not. My life becomes sparkly when I add a word, one word for you, one for me. Sparkly like the reflection off the face of a watch when the sun shines off of it and I redirect it to form a circle just below your eye, just enough to get your attention, maybe scare you a bit, but in the end, not harmful at all. And certainly not the sparkle of a drop of shiny red, defined by the stark, swinging, overhead bulb, on the tip of a sharp and pointed knife. Such a high lying life would surely make my testimony untrustworthy. If you think I am lying, I will never discover your truths, and if I never discover your truths, I will never be able to tell your story. I have great, the greatest, respect for the truth, holding it at arms length lets me admire its beauty from afar and then examine it like a seasoned coroner examining a victim.
     Now you expect me to tell a story, and invite you to determine the truth and the lies within. Maybe you need me to tell you the true story of that little part of town where you grew up, but can no longer remember because the details have drifted away from your memory, hiding behind your present, chaotic life. Maybe you need me to lie to you about that time when you were 8 or 9, playing in that abandoned house with the neighborhood kids and how you left Milly, three whole grades below you, in the basement, all alone.
     Maybe you don’t need my stories. You wouldn’t be able to determine truth from fiction, not like this, not merely through the untrustworthy black pixels dancing on your screen, capable of changing with a simple click of your mouse and a tap of a key. And to you, the skeptical one who wouldn’t believe the truth if I etched it into the monolith of granite standing three stories high in Earth Sciences, and yet wouldn’t believe the lies either, to you, I will only lean forward and whisper in your ear the words you have been waiting your whole life to hear. And as I take a step back, you will look at me first with confusion, then anger when you will banish me from your life.
     Maybe days, maybe years later, you will be reading the news online, smiling smugly to yourself, and then you will remember my words. That is the moment you have a choice to earn redemption or forever be dammed. And in that moment, you won’t think about whether I had lied to you, shining light in your eye, or whether I had discovered the truth and shared the sparkle with you, because it doesn’t matter, my lying or not. It matters only that you believe me, and at that moment, you will believe me, and you will tell me your truths and I will tell your story and we shall see how many people believe you.

     Now come close because I will only whisper it once.

First draft: March 20, 2010
Inspiration: INTEG 221: Social Epistemology and Testimony and maybe some other ideas floating in the air