Scientist Yuan Longping, whose rice research helped feed people in many countries, dies at 91

By Huizhong Wu

Yuan Longping, a Chinese scientist who developed higher-yield(yēld) rice varieties that helped feed people around the world, died Saturday at a hospital in the southern city of Changsha, the Xinhua News agency reported. He was 91.

Yuan spent his life researching rice and was a household name in China, known by the nickname “Father of Hybrid(ˈhīˌbrid) Rice.” Worldwide, a fifth of all rice now comes from species(ˈspēsēz, ˈspēSHēz) created by hybrid rice following Yuan’s breakthrough discoveries, according to the website of the World Food Prize, which he won in 2004.

On Saturday afternoon, large crowds honored the scientist by marching past the hospital in Hunan province where he died, local media reported, calling out phrases(frāz) such as: “Grandpa Yuan, have a good journey!”

It was in the 1970s when Yuan achieved the breakthroughs that would make him a household name. He developed a hybrid strain(strān) of rice that recorded an annual yield 20% higher than existing varieties — meaning it could feed an extra 70 million people a year, according to Xinhua.

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https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/chinas-yuan-longping-father-of-hybrid-rice-dies-at-91/2021/05/22/ed13a29c-baf9-11eb-bc4a-62849cf6cca9_story.html

Meet America’s Newest Chess(CHes) Master, 10-Year-Old Tanitoluwa(tə) Adewumi

By Mary Louise Kelly

Tanitoluwa Adewumi, a 10-year-old in New York, just became the country’s newest national chess master.

At the Fairfield County Chess Club Championship(ˈCHampēənˌSHip) tournament(ˈtərnəmənt) in Connecticut(kəˈnedəkət) on May 1, Adewumi won all four of his matches, bumping(bəmp) his chess rating(ˈrādiNG) up to 2223 and making him the 28th youngest person to become a chess master, according to US Chess.

“I was very happy that I won and that I got the title,” he says, “I really love that I finally got it.”

“Finally” is after about three years — the amount of time that Adewumi has been playing chess. When he started, Adewumi and his family were living in a homeless shelter(ˈSHeltər) in Manhattan after fleeing religious(rəˈlijəs) persecution(ˌpərsəˈkyo͞oSH(ə)n) by the Islamist(ˈizlaməst) militant(ˈmiləd(ə)nt) group Boko Haram(ˈherəm) in their home country of Nigeria(ˌnīˈjirēə).

Now, Adewumi practices chess “every day” after school for “10, 11 hours” — and still manages to get some sleep.

His hours of practice have paid off. As a chess player, he describes himself as a bit of an every man, “aggressive(əˈɡresiv)” or “calm(kä(l)m)” when he needs to be, and always thinking ahead.

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https://www.npr.org/2021/05/11/995936257/meet-americas-newest-chess-master-10-year-old-tanitoluwa-adewumi

Not what it used to be!

By Derek Sivers

At music-business conferences, there are always panels(ˈpanl) of experts, talking about the current state of the music business, from their point of view.

They’re usually men over 50 who have been in the music business for 20 years, and they say things like:

“The music business isn’t what it used to be.”
“It doesn’t have any vision anymore.”
“Nobody knows what’s going on anymore.”
“It’s too big and bloated(ˈblōdəd) and corrupt(kəˈrəpt) now.”

My friend Clem Chambers(ˌCHāmbərz) said, “Have you noticed they’re just projecting their own decaying(dəˈkāiNG) health into things?”

They aren’t what they used to be.
Their vision is fading.
They don’t know what’s going on anymore.
They’re big and bloated and corrupt.

So of course that’s how they’re going to see the world!

Wouldn’t it be interesting to get a panel of under-20 musicians and entrepreneurs to talk about how the music business looks to them?

https://sive.rs/decaying

Tonal(ˈtōnl)

About Us

After struggling with his weight since childhood, Tonal founder Aly Orady finally discovered a solution that worked. Kind of. By strength(streNG(k)TH) training consistently for many months, he was able to lose(lo͞oz) 70 pounds. The problem was this schedule wasn’t sustainable(səˈstānəb(ə)l). Just getting to the gym(jim) ate up a sizable(ˈsīzəb(ə)l) chunk(CHəNGk) of his day. And once there, he constantly found himself waiting around for machines and equipment.

Aly refused to believe he had to sacrifice(ˈsakrəˌfīs) his life to keep his body. So when he couldn’t find a better solution, he invented one. By using electromagnetics(əˌlektrōmaɡˈnetik) to create electronic resistance he found (and patented(ˈpatnt)) a way to replace all the equipment he used in the weight room with a single digital weight machine.

And Aly didn’t stop there. Digital weight unlocked endless possibilities. A machine that knew what you were doing, could respond if programmed. It could actually coach the people using it! This was where the idea for Tonal really took off. Aly envisioned(ənˈviZHən) a connected system that assessed(əˈses) what you needed to do, told you how to do it, and let you do it from home, in record time. And then he assembled a team to create it.

https://www.tonal.com/about/

Why We Speak More Weirdly(ˈwirdlē) at Home

When people share a space, their collective(kəˈlektiv) experience can sprout(sprout) its own vocabulary(vōˈkabyəˌlerē), known as a familect.

By Kathryn Hymes

I celebrated(ˈseləˌbrādəd) my second pandemic birthday recently. Many things were weird about it: opening presents(ˈprez(ə)nt) on Zoom, my phone’s insistent photo reminders from “one year ago today” that could be mistaken for last month, my partner brightly(ˈbrītlē) wishing me “iki domuz,” a Turkish(ˈtərkiSH) phrase(frāz) that literally(ˈlidərəlē) means “two pigs.”

Well, that last one is actually quite normal in our house. Long ago, I took my first steps into adult language lessons and tried to impress my Turkish American boyfriend on his special day. My younger self nervously(ˈnərvəslē) bungled(ˈbəNGɡəld) through new vocabulary—The numbers! The animals! The months!—to wish him “iki domuz” instead of “happy birthday” (İyi ki doğdun) while we drank like pigs in his tiny apartment outside of UCLA. Now, more than a decade later, that slipup is immortalized(i(m)ˈmôrdlˌīz) as our own peculiar(pəˈkyo͞olyər) greeting to each other twice a year.

Many of us have a secret language, the private lexicon(ˈleksiˌkän) of our home life. Perhaps you have a nickname from a parent that followed you into adulthood. Maybe you have an old joke or a shared reference to a song. Sometimes known as familects, these invented words, pet names, in-jokes, and personal memes swirl(swərl) and emerge from the mess of lives spent in close quarters(ˈkwôrdər). During the pandemic, we’ve spent dramatically(drəˈmadəklē) more time in those quarters, and our in-group slang(slaNG) has changed accordingly.

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https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2021/05/family-secret-language-familect/618871/

Death Isn’t the End

By Leo Babauta

Recently a couple of our loved ones died, and my family has been hit by grief(ɡrēf) and loss(lôs). I’ve been letting myself feel it as much as I can, and letting it bring our family closer together.

It’s not the only time death has hit our loved ones in recent years — aside from my father and Eva’s(ē) dad dying, we’ve had other close relatives and friends die as well. It can hit you pretty hard.

I’ve been coming to see death differently as I’ve been studying as a Zen student, and while it doesn’t take away the grief, I’ve been finding it helpful:

Death isn’t the end.

I don’t believe in an afterlife, not in the traditional religious(rəˈlijəs) sense of heaven or hell. But I do believe that what we think of as death is just a continuation(kənˌtinyo͞oˈāSH(ə)n) of an ongoing process.

Let’s think of an apple: it is formed from water from the apple tree’s surroundings, sugar and other materials the tree gathers from the ground and air and sunlight … so before the apple was an “apple,” it was the world around it. The world came together to make an apple — it’s not like it just appeared from nowhere. The apple grows and continually changes, and then falls and becomes the earth again. There was never a start or end to the process, it was just continually ongoing.

Everything is like this: part of an ongoing process, without a real beginning or end. People included. In fact, what we think of as a person is just a part of the ongoing process of the world.

And when a person dies, they aren’t gone. They become the earth. They grow into apples, and mangos, and breadfruit(ˈbredˌfro͞ot), and water buffalo(ˈbəf(ə)ˌlō) (what we call “carabao(ˌkärəˈbou)” in Guam).

That’s just the person’s body. Their personality doesn’t end either — we remember them, and laugh about jokes they made, and retell their stories, and live lives inspired by them. Their legacy(ˈleɡəsē) becomes a part of us, of our families. A part of all of humanity, just as they were a continuation of the legacy of the people who shaped them.

The loved ones who died are not gone. They are in all of us, in their kids and grandkids. In the culture and society they helped to shape. In the work that they did, the DNA they passed on, the spirit that they instilled(inˈstil).

My loved ones are in me, and I honor them with every act.

….
https://zenhabits.net/death-isnt-the-end/

Think yourself younger: Psychological(ˌsīkəˈläjək(ə)l) tricks(trik) that can help slow ageing

How old you feel matters for how long you will live. Here’s how you can reduce your psychological age

By Graham Lawton

“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”

This nugget(ˈnəɡət) of wisdom, often attributed(əˈtriˌbyo͞ot) to Mark Twain, has been turned into many an inspirational(ˌinspəˈrāSH(ə)n(ə)l) internet meme(mēm) over the years. As a 51-year-old who is starting to feel the gathering momentum(mōˈmen(t)əm) of the inevitable(inˈevidəb(ə)l) slide, it strikes(strīk) me as little more than a platitude(ˈpladəˌt(y)o͞od) that makes people feel better about getting old.

But according to a growing body of research, there is more to it than that. Subjective age – how old we feel – has a very real impact on health and longevity(lônˈjevədē). People who feel younger than their years often actually are, in terms of how long they have left to live.

The question of what controls our subjective age, and whether we can change it, has always been tricky(ˈtrikē) to address scientifically. Now, research is revealing(rəˈvēliNG) some surprising answers. The good news is that many of the factors that help determine how old we feel are things that we can control to add years to our lives –and life to our years.

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https://www.newscientist.com/article/mg24933260-700-think-yourself-younger-psychological-tricks-that-can-help-slow-ageing/

Pushing Yourself

By Steve Pavlina

This morning I went for my usual run, starting before dawn(dôn). Lately I’ve been going for 45-50 minutes. This time, however, I was listening to the audiobook Can’t Hurt Me by David Goggins. After hearing the part about his 100-mile run and how he had to push himself to get through it, I felt like I should push myself more as well. So I kept running for an hour, then 75 minutes, and finally decided to stop at 93 minutes.

This was hill running since my neighborhood is very hilly(ˈhilē), so almost all the running I do nearby is either uphill or downhill.

Normally after a morning run, I feel pretty good. It gives me a sense of accomplishment early in the day and gets me off to a good start. I see a strong link between focus and productivity and cardio(ˈkärdēō) exercise. No matter how much I’ve experimented with other types of exercise, nothing takes the place of cardio in terms of the mental and emotional benefits.

This morning instead of feeling a modest(ˈmädəst) sense of accomplishment, it felt way better to run twice as far as I normally would. I’ve done many 90-minute runs before, but not lately and not this year. It felt so nice to stretch beyond what I’m used to. It wasn’t physically difficult, but I had to nudge(nəj) myself mentally to go beyond what feels normal to me now. Running for 45 minutes feels pretty routine(ro͞oˈtēn). Running 90 minutes feels different though, somehow beyond normal. It makes the whole day feel special.

There’s something magical about pushing beyond normal, going outside of the usual zone of comfort. The barrier(ˈberēər) is usually mental or emotional. Even if it’s a physical challenge, the mind wants to stop before the body needs to.

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https://stevepavlina.com/blog/2020/05/pushing-yourself/

Magic Tree House Book 1: Dinosaurs(ˈdīnəˌsôr) Before Dark

By Mary Pope Osborne

1
Into the Woods

“Help! A monster!” said Annie.

“Yeah, sure,” said Jack. “A real monster in Frog(frôɡ) Creek(krēk), Pennsylvania(ˌpensəlˈvānyə).”

“Run, Jack!” said Annie. She ran up the road. Oh, brother.

This is what he got for spending time with his seven-year-old sister.

Annie loved pretend(prəˈtend) stuff. But Jack was eight and a half. He liked real things.

“Watch out, Jack! The monster’s coming! Race(rās) you!”

“No, thanks,” said Jack.

Annie raced alone into the woods.

Jack looked at the sky. The sun was about to set.

“Come on, Annie! It’s time to go home!”

But Annie had disappeared.

Jack waited.

No Annie.

“Annie!” he shouted again.

“Jack! Jack! Come here!”

Jack groaned(ɡrōn). “This better be good,” he said.

Jack left the road and headed into the woods. The trees were lit with a golden late-afternoon light.

“Come here!” called Annie.

There she was. Standing under a tall oak(ōk) tree. “Look,” she said. She was pointing at a rope(rōp) ladder(ˈladər).

The longest rope ladder Jack had ever seen.

“Wow,” he whispered.

The ladder went all the way up to the top of the tree.

There—at the top—was a tree house. It was tucked(tək) between two branches.

“That must be the highest tree house in the world,” said Annie.

“Who built it?” asked Jack. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“I don’t know. But I’m going up,” said Annie.

…
https://www.amazon.cn/dp/B003QMLHUG/ref=sr_1_1?__mk_zh_CN=亚马逊网站&dchild=1&keywords=magic+tree+house&qid=1620716203&sr=8-1

‘Self-confident yet selfless’: Yale’s(yāl) David Swensen dies at 67

David F. Swensen ’80 Ph.D., whose revolutionary(ˌrevəˈlo͞oSHəˌnerē) approach to managing Yale’s endowment(inˈdoumənt), warmth of spirit, and personal integrity(inˈteɡrədē) made him one of the world’s most admired(ədˈmī(ə)r) institutional(ˌinstəˈt(y)o͞oSH(ə)n(ə)l) investors and a beloved member of the Yale community, died May 5 in New Haven(ˈhāvən), after a long battle with cancer. He was 67.

Self-confident, selfless, spirited, and guided by a finely tuned(t(y)o͞on) moral(ˈmôrəl) compass(ˈkəmpəs), Swensen assumed management of Yale’s endowment in the mid-1980s, when he was in his early 30s and the endowment stood at $1.3 billion. In the decades to come, he won(wən) international renown(rəˈnoun) for an approach to institutional investing that emphasized(ˈemfəˌsīz) diversification(dəˌvərsəfəˈkāSH(ə)n) beyond publicly traded stocks and bonds, especially with illiquid(ˌi(l)ˈlikwəd) and alternative(ôlˈtərnədiv) assets(ˈaset), for his commitment to ethical(ˈeTHək(ə)l) action in work and life, and for financial results.

Over Swensen’s 35-year stewardship(ˈst(y)o͞oərdˌSHip), the Yale Endowment generated returns of 13.1% per annum(anəm) through June 30, 2020, outperforming the Cambridge(ˈkāmbrij) Associates mean by 3.4% and a traditional 60% stock/40% fixed income portfolio(pôrtˈfōlēˌō) by 4.3% per annum.

…

Widely celebrated outside the university for his pioneering(ˌpīəˈniriNG) and influential(ˌinflo͞oˈen(t)SH(ə)l) work as an investment manager — and as a mentor(ˈmenˌtôr) for other future top investment leaders — Swensen was also known within Yale as an engaged teacher, a wise and candid(ˈkandəd) counselor(ˈkouns(ə)lər), and an enthusiastic(inˌTH(y)o͞ozēˈastik) university citizen.

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https://news.yale.edu/2021/05/06/self-confident-yet-selfless-yales-david-swensen-dies-67