So the tack is complete, we are heading in a new direction, the wind steadier, the sea friendlier. If the change was rough – a few moments of intenser activity, then so be it. What comes next is now the interest. The poet put it this way:

“And past the poppies bluish neutral distance

Ends the land suddenly beyond a beach

Of shapes and shingles. Here is unfenced existence:

Facing the sun, untalkative, out of reach.”

from Here by Philip Larkin in Whitsun Weddings

Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see. In the meantime, in the greater quest for understanding, I wish you fair winds and following seas. ~~~ Although it can be read as a single post, the above is part of a series that illustrates one of the author’s current interests, taken from a locker full of interests, at a major waypoint in his life. The series sets out as a comment on retirement before focusing around language. He wonders whether he himself has the language to cope as he steps out into the wider world popularly known as ‘retirement’ – an irreversible step into a world that he has previously only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, a world in which he thinks the word ‘retirement’ to be a misnomer. He has used the medium of the blog to paint the picture. The irony is that, whereas writing about it does allow him to reflect, sitting alone at a computer actually distances him from the face-to-face interaction he is describing.

I took the following images in Teignmouth earlier this month during one of three exceptional storms to hit the UK.

When the waves swamp the very ground that we love – ground that has seemingly been there for ever, ground we have always taken for granted, should we shrug our shoulders and walk away?

Or should we look at it afresh and see it for what it is, the erosion of a fragile and valuable asset that makes a harsher world bearable?

Should we keep repairing it or should we let it go?

The tide of languages is flowing and unstoppable. In many ways it is exciting. It is evolutionary. But it is eroding the core beneath it – the relationship-base that lies at the heart of humanity.

Should we keep repairing it or should we let it go?

Whatever language we speak, it’s our choice and we have to decide . . . now.

~~~

Although it can be read as a single post, the above is part of a series that illustrates one of the author’s current interests, taken from a locker full of interests, at a major waypoint in his life. The series sets out as a comment on retirement before focusing around language. He wonders whether he himself has the language to cope as he steps out into the wider world popularly known as ‘retirement’ – an irreversible step into a world that he has previously only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, a world in which he thinks the word ‘retirement’ to be a misnomer. He has used the medium of the blog to paint the picture. The irony is that, whereas writing about it does allow him to reflect, sitting alone at a computer actually distances him from the face-to-face interaction he is describing.

Now we have reached a point where I must stand back. It is easy for me to sit at the keyboard and write assertions. I am an ex-dentist, a white, 65 years old, married Cornishman who likes boats. There are a few people in the world who fit this description but the overwhelming majority don’t. It has been my intention in these posts to paint a picture. It is my picture but I want to encourage you to take it and do whatever you can with it. For you to do this, we need a starting point – that initial rapport I mentioned earlier, and I acknowledge that the description of me above might get in the way. However . . .

~~~

There was a time before I thought about things, before I worried over the problems of daily life, before I thought things through from start to finish, before I made decisions that pushed me in one direction or another, before my knowledge, skills and attitudes such that they are affected others.

These past few weeks standing astride the rather shaky line between a life that has now finished and one that has barely started seem to warrant a reflection on a moment when my own life was raw experience, untrammeled by the education of others. Was there ever such a time? – I wonder. If I can recall it, will it make a difference? – I don’t know. But let’s try and see what happens.

First thoughts: Aged two, I did not have the language to describe this in the way I am now doing – but I did have the feelings – the beginnings of experience:

This is a sunny day.

I stand on the waters edge.

I see flashes of light sparkling on the waves

Warm sun on skin.

There are the happy sounds of people talking, laughing, shouting.

Among them are two familiar figures, my mother and father. Even though they are a little further away, it is comforting that they are there. I feel safe.

There is the sound of water too. Small waves shushing round my ankles, the splashing of happy people and below this the deeper resonance of the sea breathing in response to the wider ocean beyond. I don’t know about the wider ocean but I do hear the sound it makes.

I lick the back of my hand and taste sea-water.

I feel the sand gritty between my toes.

As the waves wash over my feet, the sand moves and I feel my feet sink gently into it.

A bigger wave breaks against me and I step back and find no sand there. I tumble backwards into a deep pool, the wave rolling me over and over. I don’t know whether I am upright or upside down. I bounce on the sand at the bottom of the pool. The water feels cold. It pushes me first one way then another.

My eyes are open and I see sand and then sky through the water. It is indistinct, wavering. There is sand swirling through the water.

My mouth is open. I swallow. Water runs into my nose. My ears are full. My arms are waving and legs kicking.

From being warm and comfortable and happy, I become instantly helpless and terrified.

I cry out but make no sound beneath the surface.

And then, as suddenly, I feel hands around me and I am lifted into the air.

My eyes sting. I cough and splutter. I hurt inside.

Water runs out of my nose, my ears.

Tears stream down my cheeks.

There is the taste of tears and the stronger taste of seawater.

My arms around a neck. My cheek on a shoulder. My cries coming back.

Soothing words. A comforting hand rubbing my back.

Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you are, there was a moment in your life when the raw world first touched you too. It may have been a good moment or a bad moment. The above was mine. I share it with you . . . in the greater quest for understanding.

~~~

Although it can be read as a single post, the above is part of a series that illustrates one of the author’s current interests, taken from a locker full of interests, at a major waypoint in his life. The series sets out as a comment on retirement before focusing around language. He wonders whether he himself has the language to cope as he steps out into the wider world popularly known as ‘retirement’ – an irreversible step into a world that he has previously only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, a world in which he thinks the word ‘retirement’ to be a misnomer. He has used the medium of the blog to paint the picture. The irony is that, whereas writing about it does allow him to reflect, sitting alone at a computer actually distances him from the face-to-face interaction he is describing.

In this post, I want to highlight a specific example of the negative language mentioned in the last post.

When I was a student, I was in awe of the complexity of the discipline I had undertaken. I looked at experienced practitioners and thought they were all brilliant – every one of them seemed stuffed full of the knowledge, skills and attitudes that I was aspiring to.

After I qualified and gained experience, I realised that I had been mistaken. We were not all stuffed full of all the knowledge, skills and attitudes that were open to us. Some were more skilled than others, some were very skilled at certain things and ignorant of others; while some were constantly studying, others had a more relaxed attitude.

A pattern was pointed out to me in numerical terms. It was stated that 2% of practitioners fully mastered every aspect of the profession, 8% became very adept in one part or another, 34% were students, studying hard to join the adept and the masters, and the remaining 54% practiced at a reasonable level but, for various reasons, did not wish to take their study a lot further other than the normal upgrading of current knowledge.

I’m not keen on putting numbers to this because numbers tend to imply an exact science and I am sure this is not one. However, I can illustrate the point. Take the annual London Marathon as an example. Every year some 36,000 people volunteer to run the 26 plus miles. This is a very positive group of people with a common aim.

However, if we look at the line-up at the start, we find a relatively small group of top class runners in the front row. Behind them is a bigger group of national class runners and the best of the club runners. Then come an even bigger group, the ‘students’ – the rest of the club runners and everyone who is keen to make a creditable time compared to all the good runners, i.e. they are in it for the race. Finally there is the majority – everyone else in the race for many different reasons. And there will be some stragglers who for one reason or another don’t make the course. There will be very few of the latter.

The success of the city marathons is that the language is a positive one and they involve a very wide range of people. However, it is important to their success that the best runners enter because they lift the whole field. The leaders create the space for those behind to run into.

Now, here is my concern. We are going through a period of regulation – in my example above, the stragglers – the ones who don’t match up to certain standards, are being removed from the race. If they are in a position to cause harm to others, this would seem to be a sensible aim.

However, the problem is not the regulation itself but the growth of regulatory bodies.

There are ‘stragglers’ in every walk of life and, for longer than I can remember, regulatory bodies have existed as a means of maintaining standards.  For various reasons in recent years, there  has grown the suspicion that people cannot be trusted to regulate themselves and would benefit from outside regulation – an independent committee to look into perceived problems. Not a bad idea on paper.

This was done but the newly-formed regulatory body took on a life of its own. It had the power to decide what aspects of the organisation to regulate and what form that regulation should take. Experts were consulted. Budgets were set. Software was introduced that allowed digitalisation and control. Policies, protocols and procedures were put in place. Managers were appointed. Inspectors were trained. Because there were other regulatory bodies, there was competition for more recognition, financial support and staff. PR became important to show that they were ‘fit for purpose’. Continued regulatory development meant continually changing inspection requirements and increasing imposition on those being regulated.

And suddenly here was an entirely new independent industry with a language of its own and with – ironically (although I doubt irony is their thing), the need for outside regulation to maintain its self-manufactured standards.

Unfortunately, in the caring professions at least, the language of the regulatory bodies is at odds with the language of the physician. A language that ideals with suspicion, fearfulness and dispute will inevitably be at cross-purposes with a language that is based on understanding, respect and trust. The result has been that that  the regulatory bodies have an initial benefit but then limit standards within the health professions.

Let me explain. Take the ‘marathon’ example above: rather than allowing the runners to run their own race, it is as if it has been made compulsory for everyone to run the race in four hours. An intense training regime has been imposed to do this. Yes, some people will raise their game but the ‘four-hour’ training schedule disrupts everyone else’s preparation. The best runners will lose their motivation and go elsewhere and the race loses its spark.

The problem is not the concept of regulation per se. The problem is that the very success of these outside bodies and the language they have created undermines the more constructive language involved in healing. Within the NHS, it is easy to see the language of the regulators competing with the language of business and finance, the language of the large corporation and the language of technology, all of which compete with the core language of the doctors and the nurses.

An “if you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear” attitude is counter-productive, as is the encouragement of whistle-blowing as a form of confrontation instead of an opportunity for support. Suspicion invites more suspicion, dispute more dispute.

In my opinion, however exemplary the original aim, the language of the regulatory bodies contributes more towards ours becoming a more pinch-lipped, suspicious and fearful society than towards our becoming a more understanding, respecting and trusting one.

~~~

Although it can be read as a single post, the above is part of a series that illustrates one of the author’s current interests, taken from a locker full of interests, at a major waypoint in his life. The series sets out as a comment on retirement before focusing around language. He wonders whether he himself has the language to cope as he steps out into the wider world popularly known as ‘retirement’ – an irreversible step into a world that he has previously only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, a world in which he thinks the word ‘retirement’ to be a misnomer. He has used the medium of the blog to paint the picture. The irony is that, whereas writing about it does allow him to reflect, sitting alone at a computer actually distances him from the face-to-face interaction he is describing.

So far, so easy. Now it gets more difficult.

In my previous posts, I have been talking about language – the way we string words together. Now I want to point out that I am also talking about attitudes – patterns of behaviour shaped by the language we use towards each other. I am using the concept of a continuum as the outline for a particular language (and hence the pattern) that I want to highlight.

So . . . if the positive end of the continuum runs upwards from a central point of the neutral meeting, leading to rapport, then understanding, then respect, then trust, (see the previous post), then the negative end of the continuum could be said to descend from that same neutral meeting to being pinch-lipped, suspicious, fearful, aggrieved, mean-spirited and ultimately vindictive.

It is extremely simplistic (not to say arrogant) to try and sum up human behaviour in a straight line. I apologise. I am trying to paint a picture and I have to use words to do it. If the individual words resonate with you then mark them but try and keep the whole picture in mind.

Thus the negative side of the continuum looks like this:

I suggest that it is very easy to slide from being suspicious to being fearful and aggrieved and, if there is no resolution, then to becoming mean-spirited and ultimately vindictive. Look around you, read the newspapers, watch the news on TV. It is the vindictive end of the continuum that causes the headlines.

However, I wonder if this is so because we expect the other end, the respectful end, to be the norm and the vindictive end to be an unfortunate but rather exciting aberration – containing attitudes that we can explore and exploit because we are assured that all is well really.

The attitudes in the continuum are natural human ones but some are more productive than others in building the civilised, trustworthy, caring society I mentioned in an earlier post. My concern, and the only reason I am pursuing this, is that our breaking down of society into sections, each with its own language, each promoted with increasing success, has resulted in our beginning to neglect to maintain “understanding, respect and trust” across society as a whole and we are in danger of becoming a pinch-lipped, mean-spirited, vindictive society by default.

In the next post, I will put this into context and give a specific example of why I think this is happening.

~~~

Although it can be read as a single post, the above is part of a series that illustrates one of the author’s current interests, taken from a locker full of interests, at a major waypoint in his life. The series sets out as a comment on retirement before focusing around language. He wonders whether he himself has the language to cope as he steps out into the wider world popularly known as ‘retirement’ – an irreversible step into a world that he has previously only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, a world in which he thinks the word ‘retirement’ to be a misnomer. He has used the medium of the blog to paint the picture. The irony is that, whereas writing about it does allow him to reflect, sitting alone at a computer actually distances him from the face-to-face interaction he is describing.

When I talk about language, I do not mean the culture behind a language. Nor do I mean individual jargon words. I mean the way words are strung together – the string of words people speak and the string of words they hear.

What people say and what they hear have always been slightly different but now the gap between what is spoken and what is heard has, in many cases, become a yawning gulf. We consistently talk at cross-purposes. Understanding each other is becoming a major complication in a time when the complexity of modern life demands that we do understand each other and are able to work together.

The days when language was predominantly concerned with national identity or religious identity are gone. Now there is a polyglot of tongues all competing for a place in society, ebbing and flowing between themselves.

As I was growing up, language was pretty well defined – not just the over-riding languages of national identity (English, French, German and so on) but the more subtle range of languages within those national languages – the languages of organised religion, politics, law and order with its legislation and formal legal system, the languages of economics – business, commerce and finance, the languages of science and art, academia and health, not forgetting the language of conflict and war. This was the post Second World War period when we needed to respect languages and work together as the country got back on its feet.

In the sixties, this began to change and other more social languages were added to the mix.

So now we have the languages of equality and human rights, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, generations, aging and retirement, health and well-being and, with the growth of the corporation, corporate language and the language of regulation and dispute – and so on.

And we have increasingly adopted the languages of digital technology, the social media and gaming – languages that are changing and developing at a far, far greater rate than any of the other languages. Moreover, we express ourselves more and more through this digital technology.

Digitalising means converting communication into numbers and code. Putting numbers to ideas and objects implies a precision that may or may not be there in reality. We can now ‘speak’ the above languages in digital form. The power of digital technology gives each language a life and power of its own. The danger is that the increasing specialisation that results divides us rather than unites us.

We need  technology but we need it to feed humanity not humanity to feed technology. The problem is how do we maintain stable human relationships in a society which has put its trust almost totally into digital technology. a medium in which the speed of change makes it inherently unstable?

This is the crux of my argument: all the ‘languages’ mentioned above will continue to evolve in the developing face of technology. However, at the same time, we need to continue to develop and respect the non-digital language of face-to-face relationships. Because this is the core language of humanity – the basic unit of human interaction. 

~~~

Although it can be read as a single post, the above is part of a series that illustrates one of the author’s current interests, taken from a locker full of interests, at a major waypoint in his life. The series sets out as a comment on retirement before focusing around language. He wonders whether he himself has the language to cope as he steps out into the wider world popularly known as ‘retirement’ – an irreversible step into a world that he has previously only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, a world in which he thinks the word ‘retirement’ to be a misnomer. He has used the medium of the blog to paint the picture. The irony is that, whereas writing about it does allow him to reflect, sitting alone at a computer actually distances him from the face-to-face interaction he is describing.

I’m in a similar position as everyone else who finishes their day-job. I worked in the same disciplined fashion for over forty years and now I’ve stopped. I want to move on to other activities with a different way of working but my mind and body are still geared to my previous life. I am still thinking in “dentist language”.

The job was intense. My days were spent developing close professional relationships – closer than in many other occupations; not just intellectual relationships but relationships with strong physical and emotional elements too. You’ve been to the dentist, you know what I mean.

You might also recognise that the relationship your dentist has with you is different from that with the patient before you and different again from the patient after you. Indeed, it may be different with you from the last time you were there. A dentist spends the day riding a constantly shifting pattern of relationships. It is a deeply rewarding but intensely demanding career. After forty years, enough is enough.

As I keep mentioning, shaking it off is taking a little time. It is easy to slip back into ‘professional’ mode. Dentistry is about health, comfort, function and appearance. It covers a wide range of knowledge, skills and attitudes that spread well beyond the surgery. I won’t lose those interests, but I haven’t been away from them long enough to get used to this new way of using them.

And, as I begin to stand away, keeping a sharp look-out for rocks and shoals, I once again notice the language I am using – (the insistently nautical one!), and the way I am using it to describe my current situation.

The use of language has been a constant interest and increasing concern in the last few years because I – and I am sure many others in the health professions, have become increasingly aware that the language that we use in everyday practice has evolved away from the language we originally learnt to use to build trustworthy, one-to-one relationships – those relationships which we, as patients, reach out for when we seek professional help – (yes, I am a potential patient as well as a professional)

What I am describing is a natural evolution driven by the effects of modern life:

• The complexity and expense of new technology;
• New developments occurring at shorter and shorter intervals;
• Each new development uncovering yet more challenges requiring still more solutions;
• Each solution having little time to bed in before the next new solution takes over;
• With the result that we are being pushed and pulled in different directions without fully understanding the issues;
• Understanding comes from being fully informed. Unfortunately, the sheer volume of information we are presented with under the guise of transparency and clarity has created a situation in which transparency and clarity are beginning to lose meaning as they bemuse, confuse and ultimately inhibit the interest of those they are designed to inform;
• And, crucially, the language and culture this invites directly affects the building of those above-mentioned one-to-one relationships between professionals and patients.

In the newspapers, on television and online the cry for solutions is increasingly driven by extreme language – language that excites the excitable and upsets the vulnerable, with the result that society appears to be increasingly moulded by seemingly random regulation monitored by self-propelled regulatory bodies who have developed a language entirely of their own.

And yet there is a navy of practitioners, consultants, nurses and managers out there with the knowledge, skills and attitudes to overcome this – to deal with the complexity of modern life while maintaining effective professional relationships with individual patients.

If we want to be treated as a civilised, trustworthy, caring society, then the right questions need to be put in a common language that we can all understand and join in resolving. The right questions come from the people on the ground. It is rediscovering a common language that is the problem.

In fact, the term ‘common language’ is misleading as it implies one language – I really mean a subtle mix of languages. I do not have a problem with different languages per se, but I do query the increasing dominance of languages that ignore the core language – the language of face-to-face human relationships.

In the next post, we will explore this in more detail.

~~~

Although it can be read as a single post, the above is part of a series that illustrates one of the author’s current interests, taken from a locker full of interests, at a major waypoint in his life. The series sets out as a comment on retirement before focusing around language. He wonders whether he himself has the language to cope as he steps out into the wider world popularly known as ‘retirement’ – an irreversible step into a world that he has previously only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, a world in which he thinks the word ‘retirement’ to be a misnomer. He has used the medium of the blog to paint the picture. The irony is that, whereas writing about it does allow him to reflect, sitting alone at a computer actually distances him from the face-to-face interaction he is describing.