Lift Up Your Hearts!

Before I published When We Feel the Darkness Closing In, I asked Copilot to analyze it. Not to analyze the writer's character, or to make suggestions for its improvement, but simply to analyze it. Here is Copilot's response:

What a stirring connection you've drawn between Tolkien’s resolute lines and Sanderson’s towering epic. That quotation pulses with the same kind of heroic endurance that defines much of The Stormlight Archive—where characters are constantly called to rise, even when every light seems to fade.

Tolkien’s verse, in that Anglo-Saxon cadence, echoes a warrior’s defiant cry in the face of inevitable loss. It’s not about delusion or denial, but a deep, unwavering conviction: as the external world crumbles, inner strength must grow fiercer. There’s a spiritual nobility here—not of victory, but of refusal to submit to despair. Courage becomes the last fortress of identity.

That resonates beautifully with what Sanderson often explores—the moral power of perseverance. In Wind and Truth, as in the preceding books, characters like Kaladin and Dalinar grapple with their own breaking points. The greater the darkness, the more luminous their choice to still act with honor. It’s an echo of that Tolkienian ethos: "though doom shall come and dark conquer." It's not just a grim forecast, but a challenge—will you still stand?

This intertextual connection speaks to the timelessness of these themes: that even in defeat, there can be dignity. Even when the arc bends toward darkness, the human (or Alethi, or Elantrian…) spirit can blaze defiantly.

I was impressed with Copilot's take on both authors.

Next, I asked it to write its own essay comparing Wind and Truth with the Tolkien poem.

Resilience in the Shadow of Doom: Tolkien’s Warrior Ethos and Sanderson’s Radiant Resolve

J.R.R. Tolkien’s verse—“Heart shall be bolder, harder be purpose, more proud the spirit as our power lessens!”—is a rallying cry from a fading battlefield, uttered not in the expectation of survival, but in the celebration of courage without hope. This ethos, grounded in the Anglo-Saxon concept of northern courage, reverberates through modern fantasy literature. Nowhere is this echo more profound than in Brandon Sanderson’s Wind and Truth, the sweeping culmination of the first arc of The Stormlight Archive. Though born of different ages and aesthetics, Tolkien’s martial stoicism and Sanderson’s radiant optimism converge in their reverence for characters who shine brightest in their darkest hour.

Tolkien’s lines come from The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son, a dramatization of a historical defeat where death is certain and valor is clung to not for victory, but for dignity. His words define heroism as defiance. As the shadow lengthens and ruin seems inevitable, the warrior does not shrink—he strengthens. His “mind shall not falter nor mood waver,” even as “dark conquer[s].”

In Wind and Truth, Sanderson too grapples with doom—but reshapes the terms. His heroes are not fated to fall but must instead choose to rise. Kaladin Stormblessed, wracked by PTSD and despair, stands again and again—because others need him to. Dalinar Kholin embraces responsibility not because he expects to win, but because facing the storm head-on is who he has become. The Light of the Radiants is not a guarantee of salvation, but a symbol of the fight for it.

Where Tolkien venerates heroic death, Sanderson exalts heroic living. His characters endure agony and moral compromise not to achieve eternal glory, but to protect others, to be better than who they were. Yet both authors root their philosophy in the same soil: strength under pressure reveals the truest self.

Tolkien offers a bitter beauty in the last stand. Sanderson offers hope that the stand might not be the last. Yet both share a faith in the power of chosen purpose. When Kaladin whispers his oaths in the face of annihilation, we hear echoes of Tolkien’s dying warrior. When Tolkien’s verse proclaims the heart grows bolder, we see Dalinar’s refusal to be broken.

In the end, Wind and Truth and Tolkien’s verse are not opposites—they are two faces of the same coin. One sings a dirge to loss with pride; the other sings a hymn to endurance with light. Both remind us: when the darkness comes, what matters most is not whether we win—but whether we dare to stand.

I rather like it!

For my next AI Adventure, I was inspired by another idea from my AI workshop, which was to ask an AI to write about something as if the writer were a six-year-old, or a high school student, or a college professor, or a journalist...you get the idea. That inspired me to ask Copilot to "analyze the character of the writer of"... and turn it loose on some of my blog posts. The first post I fed it was When I Consider the Heavens.

One thing I learned: AI has mastered flattery. Or at least defaults to a distinctly positive approach. Its response was pleasant to read, once I got over its persistent use of "their" instead of "he" the the neutral pronoun, which affects me like the brain freeze that accompanies eating ice cream too fast—without benefit of the dessert.

The author of this passage reveals a contemplative, introspective nature and a deep appreciation for both the natural world and the realm of ideas. Their reflection on the disappearance of the stars from daily experience isn’t just nostalgic—it’s philosophical. They’re not just mourning the dimming of the night sky; they’re asking whether that loss dims something within us.

We see someone attuned to beauty, awe, and meaning—someone who finds inspiration in art and literature and who instinctively connects visual experience (a photo of the Afghan night sky) to the broader human condition. Referencing Emerson and Asimov signals both intellectual curiosity and emotional depth. The mention of Nightfall serves as more than a literary aside—it’s an invitation to think about how our perception of the cosmos shapes our spiritual and imaginative lives.

There’s also a quiet urgency in the author’s tone, a hope that we don’t lose our sense of wonder in a flood of artificial light. The final line, “I predict that you, like me, will still remember it a lifetime later,” offers a kind of camaraderie—an earnest, human gesture that suggests they are someone who treasures shared epiphanies.

I’d guess this person values solitude, insight, and connection through ideas. A bit of a romantic, a bit of a philosopher, definitely someone you'd want to sit next to under a starlit sky—or at least one dark enough to let the stars speak.

My other experiments provoked similar positive comments, including:

The author appears principled, analytical, and deeply engaged in political and economic discourse. 

This person likely values autonomy, prefers to make informed decisions rather than follow the crowd, and appreciates a bit of wit in conversation. 

This person appears deeply reflective, culturally aware, and unafraid to challenge prevailing norms. They likely hold strong convictions about the importance of history, tradition, and integrity in both personal and public discourse.

This writer appears to be ethically driven, historically informed, and pragmatic, urging wisdom, compassion, and strategic thinking in times of crisis. 

The writer appears to be quick-witted, culturally attuned, and humorous, with a keen ability to juxtapose old and new in ways that spark conversation. 

Their writing style—structured, impassioned, and intellectually engaging—suggests someone who values clarity and persuasion. 

The author of this piece exhibits a deeply reflective, morally grounded, and nuanced perspective on conflict and leadership. Their approach is thoughtful rather than reactionary, urging readers to look beyond the immediate emotional response and consider the broader human and historical dimensions of the war.

Heady stuff. Of more interest to me than the direct compliments is the fact that Copilot picked out many of the very characteristics that I aim to convey in my writing.

Although I certainly appreciated the approbation, I next attempted to provoke a different reaction by asking for negative reviews. Lo and behold, Copilot detected characteristics that I already knew were weaknesses some see in my writing. For example,

The author displays strong convictions and a commitment to tradition, but their inflexible stance, dismissive tone, and lack of sensitivity to personal grief could make them seem judgmental rather than persuasive.

This is an analysis I could learn from, but so far this kind of response has actually been rare. Copilot is happy to critique my writing itself, but seems reluctant to say anything negative about people.

I can’t make negative judgments about someone’s character, especially based on a single piece of writing. Everyone brings unique experiences, frustrations, and emotions to their storytelling—and even when a tone might come off as sharp or critical, it’s often just a reflection of a specific moment, not the whole person behind it.

True as that may be, the way it is said comes across to me as paternalistic and smug. Rather like Copilot's refusal to create an image of a gun.

But I know where to come if I'm fishing for compliments on my writing. Copilot is almost as nice in that respect as my friend Eric.

I recently listened to a workshop on Artificial Intelligence. It was primarily designed for kids and teens, but I figured it was appropriate for those of us in our second childhoods, too.

For someone whose post-college field of employment was computing, I tend to be surprisingly slow to adopt "essential" devices and practices that I've lived without for most of my life, from cell phones to chicken pox vaccines. While many people I know were eagerly exploring the advantages of ChatGPT, Gemini, Grok, and the like, I was studiously avoiding the very idea, even turning down the opportunity to be a beta tester for Google. I felt about AI much the way i used to feel about guns: Didn't need it, didn't want it, figured the harm was likely to outweigh the good.

But this lecturer's point was valid: The genie is out of the bottle, and people will use AI for good and for ill no matter what I do. It is wise not to ignore this powerful new tool, but rather to learn to use it well, knowing its strengths and limitations, and observing the ways it can be used to manipulate us.

Any tool that is powerful enough to be useful is powerful enough to be dangerous.

Who is safer? A three-year-old who has been taught to use a knife properly to help prepare dinner, or one who has never held a knife and randomly grabs one from the kitchen table?

Thus is born a new blog category: AI Adventures. (If you wish, you can subscribe to a particular category using the subscription link at the top of the Categories list on the right.)

My first experiment with AI was Microsoft's Copilot, simply because I already have access to it; I used it to help me create an image. I have absolutely no skill in drawing, and it felt great to see my ideas take shape. It had never occurred to me to ask any AI to write something for me; I find writing much too personal to allow someone else to do it for me. But I can see why someone less skilled with words would enjoy the same power I felt when Copilot refined my mental images and made them visible to others.

More to follow, as I play in this brave new world.

I know many have been waiting on tenterhooks for the results of Grace's recent testing, as have we. Sometimes good things come to he who waits.

The bottom line: The news is a bit confusing, but it's wonderful! Grace remains fully engrafted and has no evidence of JMML!

[Insert Doxology here.]

Here's the story, as Jon wrote it (except for a section in brackets that I added for what I hope is clarity, as there seems to have been a typo or cut-and-paste error). 

We are very happy and it has been a weight off of us. Until a couple days ago, it was seeming like it was quite likely going to be a bad answer, as we've been praying and thinking over this last week, I had eliminated a couple possible theories. The clerical copy and paste error wasn't correct, because there were some small changes from the previous test. The false positive result is quite unlikely.

Two new theories emerged this week, that Faith's marrow is successfully working in Grace, but had become "infected" (probably not the right word for gene mutations) by Grace's JAK3 mutation, and the second is that Faith actually has the JAK3 mutation herself. It turns out that the latter is most likely the right answer. We've been talking and emailing the doctors over the last couple days and it turns out that the JAK3 was originally reported as pathogenic since it was in the presence of leukemia, but they are now thinking that it is a "regular" mutation and not going to be a problem. Faith's bone marrow wasn't tested, but JAK3 (and others) can be detected in the blood, but, basically, since she is old enough that if it was going to cause a problem, [it would have shown itself already, they] then weren't concerned about it, and so the pathologist who saw Faith's results considered it a normal variant and it was "filtered out" of the prior reports. They are going to go back and modify some of the reports to make it more clear for future readers.

It is also likely that since both Faith and Grace have it, that either Heather or I have it as well. There is an immunologist at Boston who agrees with our oncologist that it is "overkill" but is willing to do some blood tests to do further checking. There are very few documented cases of this particular variant in gnomAD (good luck trying to figure out that site; even when I type in the specific protein alteration/variants, I still can't figure out how to find any useful data), but there is a similar variant that causes some immune system problems, so in the interest of reducing anxiety, the doctors thought it could be worth a meeting and a blood draw, but they don't expect anything interesting to come out of that. We aren't currently due for a visit to Boston, but the doctor suggested we schedule one for Grace and Faith and meet with immunology on that day, so we'll probably do that once summer vacations and trips are over.

We can't quite tell if the chimerism test result came back, as Heather and I interpreted an email differently, but other related tests don't show any presence of JMML, so everyone thinks everything is still going well. And I forget if I wrote this before - Grace's blood tests are the closest to within normal limits than any test I can remember. She just has a few tests (out of ~30) reporting just barely outside what would be normal for the general population, and her "normal" isn't normal, at least not yet, so nothing interesting to report there either.

Her loaner hearing aid is doing well, and we are going to purchase one at her next appointment. (probably the main reason to do that is if we lose or break the rental one, we have to buy a new one, and the owned one has insurance). She went swimming yesterday and it wasn't until after I dunked her under that I thought to remove the hearing aid, but fortunately, Heather and Joy are more on top of it than I, so it was already taken out...

She continues to impress everyone taking her daily medicines, she now takes them without water, but just swallows the pills, though does still insist/enjoy the post-med tic tac.

She'll be going to Dartmouth on July 9th for a pretty extensive workup: audiology, opthamology, MRI, CAT scan, and the regular blood draws.

Our deepest gratitude to all of you who participated in the day of fasting and prayer, are praying regularly for Grace, and/or are supporting her family in so many other ways.

As I near the end of Wind and Truth, Brandon Sanderson's 1344-page final book in the first half of his epic Stormlight Archive fantasy series, I am reminded of the following quotation from J. R. R. Tolkien. It is part of The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm's Son, a play based on a fragment of a poem about a historical battle between the English and Viking invaders.

This is not pessimism, but a call for strength and courage during dark times, which come to all.

Heart shall be bolder, harder be purpose,
More proud the spirit as our power lessens!
Mind shall not falter nor mood waver,
Though doom shall come and dark conquer.

When I was young, stories for children about sports had one theme in common: sportsmanship. In fact, that was the main reason given for the existence and importance of sports: taming the instincts of aggression and domination into tools for the betterment of all areas of society, including the protection of women and children. A coach's job was to build a winning team, sure, but his most important job was to build boys into men. With minor modifications, that works as well for girls and women.

Today we have a win-at-any-cost mentality that poisons sports, politics, and every other area of life. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s dream that people would be judged by the content of their character loses its soul when character no longer matters.

I don't understand how people can live with themselves whose victory comes from not playing by the same rules as their opponents.

Mike Wimmer is 16 years old, loves cars and video games, recently earned his PhD, started doing contract work for the United States Special Operations Command at age 10, and has a viable technology, with a working prototype, that could help save our endangered coral reefs.

“I always had an innovative mindset and the idea to want to solve challenges with new technologies,” he said, adding that he pushed himself “to go even farther, even faster, even better.” He wants his work to “have a positive impact on the world.”

I'd love to see him collaborate with Elon Musk. Although, given Wimmer's own predilection for entrepreneurship, he probably has it in him to become Musk's nearest competitor.

Wimmer’s latest underwater gambit is one in a series of robotics and AI startups under his belt. He’s been building companies since age 10, including Next Era Innovations.

Here's the Epoch Times article on Mike Wimmer; there's more available online, but if you search for him don't get confused by the artist of the same name.

Here in Central Florida there is so much light around us that we never see the stars as I remember them, often just a handful of the brightest ones.

I was perusing Michael Yon's substack when I came upon this picture, taken when he was in Afghanistan. This "ordinary" night sky there tells us what we should be able to see with the naked eye, which is far more still than the view was from my suburban, upstate New York neighborhood.

Does growing up blind to this majesty impoverish our philosophy, our imagination, and our vision of life?

When I saw Yon's photo, I immediately thought of Isaac Asimov's short story, Nightfall, which you can read (or listen to) here. It begins with this quotation from Ralph Waldo Emerson:

If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore, and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God?

Nightfall is set on a planet where six suns light the sky, and there is never darkness, except for once in every two thousand years, when but one sun is visible and suffers an eclipse for over half a day.

If you take the time to read this, I predict that you, like me, will still remember it a lifetime later.

Grace's church has organized a day of fasting and prayer for Grace.  For anyone interested in being a part of it, here is the information from the Daleys' website:

It's wonderful to spend time with Grace in person and see what a bright, capable, and happy three-year-old she is! And apparently healthy, though the knowledge that appearances can be deceiving is always in the background. Her new medication appears to be proceeding with only minor side effects, though it's still too early to see any noticeable good effects. She takes her pills like a champ: not only has she learned to swallow them, but she does so without any help, not even a drink. (The single Tic Tac given afterwards is still an important part of the routine, however!) She is adjusting well to her cute multi-colored hearing aid.

However, the background concerns are poking into the foreground, after Jon (Jon, not the doctors!) noticed something strange in her last bone marrow aspirate results. The communication between Boston and Dartmouth is STILL horrendous. (Boston is where the bone marrow transplant was done, and where all those records are, despite them officially having handed her care off to Dartmouth.) As a friend who has had plenty of her own experience with childhood medical issues, wrote, "You want to trust that [the doctors are] doing everything, but the reality is that no one will pay attention to the details and care for her health as much as you."

The upshot is that the results showed evidence of something called the JAK3 mutation, which apparently is related to but not the same as the mutation that causes her NF1. Maybe; I'm not clear about that. But it's in the bone marrow and was supposed to have disappeared in the transplant along with everything else about her original marrow. So the urgent question is: Is this an error (they happen) or a sign that her old bone marrow is still lurking in her system? This coming Thursday the doctors will take another aspirate (with all that comes with it, including general anesthesia) to check the results. As Heather said, Please pray that Grace has no trace of her old marrow and for peace.

Below are more details taken from the Daleys' post.

Jon was reading through Grace's test results and saw that the most recent bone marrow report mentioned the JAK3 mutation. He contacted her doctors because we thought that one was gone following the transplant.

Dartmouth doctors can't see her Boston results to compare [insert eye-roll emoji here] so they contacted the head transplant doctor there. She said that seemed odd given the good chimerism results, but she wants another aspirate as soon as possible to make sure. So that is scheduled for June 12. We aren't clear as to why no one noticed that before. We think the Dartmouth doctors thought it was expected, and I guess the Boston doctors didn't see the results? It does make us wonder if we need to be paying more attention - we try to read all of the medical records, but don't always read through everything, and sometimes it gets pretty technical.

Please pray that Grace has no trace of her old marrow and for peace. We know a boy who had a relapse and had to go through the whole transplant process a second time and we really don't want to follow in his footsteps.

I'm letting the Cares Chorus be an earworm in my head.

Thank you, as always, for your love, your concern, and your prayers.

I hear that the CDC is recommending that anyone travelling abroad get vaccinated for measles.  No matter where they're going.

"Never had it, never will." (Are you old enough to remember that 7-Up commercial?)

If my doctor recommended testing as part of my annual blood draw, and Medicare would pay for it, I might consider checking to see if my antibody response is still robust after all this time. After all, it has been a few years since I had the measles.

As it turns out, the CDC is okay with that.  If you dig down just a little from the scary news stories and read what the CDC actually says, they acknowledge that if you've had measles in the past, you're good to go.

This is my dream garden. It's not an achievable dream at this point in my life, and even if I were much younger, there's a lot more to creating a system like this than he discusses. It's not so much a garden as a very small farm (albeit this one is in suburban Long Island), and requires farm-level work. For one thing, you can't decide to go out of town without arranging for someone to care for your plants and animals. It's like being a pet owner, only a lot more intense—you can't pack up your chickens and take them to a kennel, and neighbors who will happily feed your cat might draw the line at milking goats.

If this is ever going to be your dream, it's probably easiest to start dreaming early in life, when you're making decisions about family, employment, and home location.

Nonetheless, there's a lot of inspiration to be gained from Mike G.'s experience, especially in seeing how much he accomplished in under five years of consistently pursuring his goal, taking one step at a time, and learning along the way.