This question I asked in reference to his development of the Ross Procedure:
Misha Somerville: Ehhh, I mean this field is obviously lead by science, but looking back at seminal figures in history it almost seems like the great scientists are explorers, the great exporers are athletes and the great athletes are mathematicians. This might be science, how often do you work with your instinct waiting for the science to catch up?
Magdy Yacoub: I think that is an excellent question ..ehhh… in science you have to be guided by instinct as well, because the progress in science, which is defined as the search for the truth, starts as a leap of imagination …and these leaps of imagination, called theories or conjectures, and that’s, that’s where things start – it’s like a leap – and then the reasoning starts to either prove it or refute it, and if you can’t refute it then you are are nearer to the truth and science advances … what does science do? it is in service of humanity, and the difference between science and humanity is ill defined if you like – science and humanity are intermingled.
To the small fire that never leaves the sky.
To the great fire that boils the daily pot.
To all the things we are not remembered by,
Which we remember and bless. To all the things
That will not notice when we die,
Yet lend the passing moment words and wings.
So fanfare for the Makers: who compose
A book of words or deeds who runs may write
As many who do run, as a family grows
At times like sunflowers turning towards the light.
As sometimes in the blackout and the raids
One joke composed an island in the night.
As sometimes one man’s kindness pervades
A room or house or village, as sometimes
Merely to tighten screws or sharpen blades
Can catch a meaning, as to hear the chimes
At midnight means to share them, as one man
In old age plants an avenue of limes
And before they bloom can smell them, before they span
The road can walk beneath the perfected arch,
The merest greenprint when the lives began
Of those who walk there with him, as in default
Of coffee men grind acorns, as in despite
Of all assaults conscripts counter assault,
As mothers sit up late night after night
Moulding a life, as miners day by day
Descend blind shafts, as a boy may flaunt his kite
In an empty nonchalant sky, as anglers play
Their fish, as workers work and can take pride
In spending sweat before they draw their pay.
As horsemen fashion horses while they ride,
As climbers climb a peak because it is there,
As life can be confirmed even in suicide:
To make is such. Let us make. And set the weather fair.
By Louis MacNeice
Click the image to link through to an Xlr8r post and Yosi Horikawa‘s ‘Wandering’ >
[ it would seem that I’m fully disappearing into a Autumn Poetry place ]
LIGHT OVER WATER
Myriad instantaneous alighting raindrops on the stream
That has run unbroken down and on
Since this once familiar place was home,
Each in its alighting flashes sun’s glitter and is gone
As another, and another and another come to meet me,
Always here and now,
The same bright innumerable company arriving,
Anew the present always absolving from time’s flow.
Old, I know
How many, many, many of the epiphanies of light.
And yet now as I write
They are only memories,
Those bright arrivals of the travelling light,
Now nowhere,never again.
No Road or bridge or gate
Into the past, once now, once here,
Nor farthest star comes near
Where they are gone, who once were dear;
For memory is Hades’ house
Where none is present, where none meet.
And yet again, always
Those presences come to us, are seen, are known,
Messengers of meaning, sacred, indecipherable,
Present everywhere, to all.
Inaccessible as life their source;
We know untold, untaught
Who they are, what holy truth proclaim
The know a mystery, a mystery the known,
Forms of wisdom in perpetual epiphany, they and we,
Sun and eye, seer and seen,
Daily angels, sun and stars, river and rain.
by Kathleen Raine
whether I hope To be blessed, or despair With the lost, on the last Or any day. Enough to be Part and particle Of the whole Wonder and scope Of this glory. Cannot even The condemned rejoice That the presence Is, and is just? Kathleen Raine Notes: i. Kathleen Raine wrote the poem ‘Ring of Bright Water’ – a title that was later used by Gavin Maxwell for his book about raising Otters at Camusfearna on the West Coast of Scotland. From as much as I can tell Raine and Maxwell did have a relationship – Raine was later to say Maxwell was the love of her life. The first of the Otters actually came from Iraq – where Maxwell had been travelling with the hard-as-nails English gentlemen traveller – Wilfred Thesiger – and the death of this Otter has been cited as the reason for the breakup of Maxwell and Raine’s relationship. [ Before The Otters and Tex Geddes’ shark fishing days, Maxwell had actually started the shark fishing station on the Island of Soay – just off the South of Skye. ]
I had MacCaig on my mind before leaving for Egypt. I wondered what he would’ve made of it – Tahir, The Revolution. Perhaps I have my answer. The original pics are here