Mobius: where time becomes a loop


Mobius tattoo

I have been thinking about Mobius Strips lately.   These tricky little mathematical shapes are described in Wikipedia as:


The Möbius strip or Möbius band (UK /ˈmɜrbiəs/ or US /ˈmoʊbiəs/; German: [ˈmøːbi̯ʊs]), also Mobius or Moebius, is a surface with only one side and only one boundary component. The Möbius strip has the mathematical property of being non-orientable. It can be realized as a ruled surface. It was discovered independently by the German mathematicians August Ferdinand Möbius and Johann Benedict Listing in 1858.


(Hmmmmm.  So it really could have been called “The Listing Strip” and then we all wouldn’t have to feel bad about not having umlauts on our keyboards.)


But a written description can’t possibly give you the full strip experience, so those of you who have never actually made one yourself, here is a video that will have you running for a piece of paper, tape and scissors (no, please don’t run with the scissors!)  so you can prove to yourself that there really is an object that has only one side…and dazzle others who may be uninitiated.


I first encountered this phenomenon, when I was in high school although Mobius Strips were not in any curriculum of my formal education at Earl L. Vandermeulen High School in Port Jefferson, New York.  No, it was when I was doing a little part time work for a famous sociologist, Dr. Benjamin Nelson, who at the time was on the faculty of the New York State University at Stony Brook.  My mother, Rose, worked for him in his home office as his secretary.  She was soon joined by her very dear friend Elsie in support of Dr. Nelson’s accounting, and over the years I, my sister Barbara, and my soul-siblings, twins Carol and Jim Winkler, who are Elsie’s children, all found ourselves in the Nelson home office, editing, organizing, filing, and having lunch with Dr. Nelson.  He was a fascinating person, professor, social science researcher, author and mentor.  I still clearly remember him telling me one day over dessert that there was blood in my tea which was pretty horrifying to my naïve self as he drew the longitudinal connection between my teabag and tyranny in developing countries. So, then there was an article he asked me to edit (by this time I might actually have been in college at Stony Brook,) for the Journal of  the American Psychiatric Association called ”The Onion and the Mobius Strip” (I am sure they had an umlaut.)  I have realized that there are limits to our searches on the Internet because although I have found many other journal articles and books by and about Dr. Nelson, I have yet to mine this one.  I do believe the article was about two conflicting models of personality studies, but it has been a pretty long time.  I, however, clearly remember looking up Mobius Strip in his (you won’t believe this but it is true) Encyclopedia Britannica.  (Just to give you a time reference on all of this Dr. Nelson died in 1977, in his sleep on a train in Italy.)


So why have I particularly had Mobius Strips on my mind?  It’s the US government shut down.  Here’s how that is going:


(If you want to read the most current details, here’s an article in Forbes )

In short, because the Democrats support President Obama’s Affordable Care Act, the Republicans are refusing to approve the United States budget which expired on September 30.  And the Democrats won’t negotiate. Since the budget isn’t approved, federal employees who are considered “non-essential” are out of work and some of them actually would be providing health care but can’t because the agencies they work for are shut down.  Here are a couple of examples from an article in the Washington Post


Health: The National Institutes of Health will stop accepting new patients for clinical research and stop answering hotline calls about medical questions. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention will stop its seasonal flu program and have a “significantly reduced capacity to respond to outbreak investigations.”


Women, Infants, and Children: The Department of Agriculture will cut off support for the Women, Infants and Children program, which helps pregnant women and new moms buy healthy food and provides nutritional information and health care referrals. The program reaches some 9 million Americans. The USDA estimates most states have funds to continue their programs for “a week or so,” but they’ll “likely be unable to sustain operations for a longer period” — emergency funds may run out by the end of October.


So here’s the Mobius loop of the Affordable Care Act based on people needing health care looping back on itself to people needing health care while our government fights with itself.


I am aware of another more local Mobius Strip health loop.  Flu season is almost upon us and the New York State Department of Health has mandated that all health care providers receive the flu vaccine (or wear a mask in the presence of patients and other health providers.)  There are some health providers, the lowest paid who provide direct care but don’t have health benefits themselves from their employers.  Their employers will not pay for the vaccinations so they have to pay for the vaccine themselves.  If they can’t afford it they will be removed from their jobs and then they really won’t be able to afford the vaccinations and won’t be able to go back to work…well at least not until flu season is over.  And they may very well get sick and require the health care they can’t afford because they are out of work.  Dr.  Mobius, I presume.


And here is a more personal health Mobius.  A friend of mine works for a health care company.  She is required to work long days often into the evenings and on many weekends.  She has been very stressed and not feeling well and so has been seeing her doctor and a therapist who both have advised her to work shorter  (normal) hours and have some time for her health care, recreation and relaxation.  She however, can’t do this because of the requirements of her job.  And she often misses the therapy because she has to stay late at work, making her more stressed.  Here’s the Mobius one sided one edge shape: the health care company she works for is also her health insurance provider paying for her health care.  So, it’s a one-sided shape, the deterioration of her health is being caused and paid for by the same company!  Loop de loop.


None of this should be so complicated, convoluted and twisty.  In spite of all of this the health exchanges sites are so busy with people registering and buying affordable health care insurance that there were some crashes the first day.  There is a clear straight line between health care and the health and well being of individuals, communities, populations, the people of the United States.  The Affordable Care Act is a pretty simple straight line.


Getting back to the government shut down, a twist in the fabric of space where time becomes a loop.  It does seem that this isn’t quite a Mobius Strip, after all there are two sides, the Democrats and the Republicans.  But actually as the strip loops around, until these two sides get it together, there really is only one side to this situation:  everyone is losing.


If you need some cheering up after that, watch this and have a healthy, happy heart:


Empty Chairs and Empty Tables

I have been looking forward to the release on Christmas Day of Les Miserables, the movie.  I loved the play and all those revivals of accumulated casts typically televised on PBS for fund raising events, with Colm Wilkinson in the lead.  For years I listened to the CD in my car, usually singing along, plaintively vocalizing the sad song of Fontine, or the righteous ballad of Javert, or belting out “Can you hear the people sing, singing the songs of angry men….,” harkening back to the passion of my old college Viet Nam War protests.

So on New Years night, I decided it was an auspicious moment to take myself to the movies and just allow myself to wallow in the music and the drama, the protests and love and tragedies, the Les Miz Experience.  I was in total swoony love with Hugh Jackman as Jean Valjean.  I was worried about Russell Crowe who looked terrified every time he had to sing.  Amanda Seyfried was a little annoying with her high pitched squeaky voice.  And Anne Hathaway sang her heartwrenching song in a performance that The New Yorker movie review noted she would probably parody herself in on Saturday Night Live.  But I overrode these little criticisms, and was completely engaged in the lavish sets and costumes and, of course, the music.  When Eddie Redmayne sang the beautiful “Empty Chairs and Empty Tables” I was totally entranced.

So entranced was I during his passionate rendition of the song Marius sings after his friends have died in the battle on the barricade, that I didn’t realize until the elderly man sitting next to me handed me a handkerchief (a real cloth handkerchief, not a tissue) that I was quietly sobbing.  For me, the singer was not an idealistic university student during the French Revolution, he was a little boy in an elementary school in Connecticut.  “There’s a grief that can’t be spoken, there’s a pain goes on and on, empty chairs and empty tables, now my friends are gone.”  Empty desks, empty cubbies, empty playground swings and empty monkey bars.

I have found during the past few weeks since December 14, 2012, that the grief has not been spoken; it is too tragic, too horrible and too frightening.   We had all talked ad infinitum about Super Storm Sandy, the deaths, destruction, unpreparedness, power outages, Global Warming, subways under water, boats in the streets.   But in various social settings, in conversations with friends or colleagues, I found no one wanted to bring up the deaths in Connecticut.  I talked to my daughters, desperate to assure them how much I loved them, wanting to be sure I could console them.  Our ritual “I love you”s at the end of every phone call, xoxoxo’s at the end of every email took on deeper meanings as I thought of the last goodbyes of so many parents and their children.  But most of my grief was silent, unspoken.

I wanted to call my friend and colleague Teri Covington, Director of the National Center for  Child Death Review.  We had worked together on the review of child deaths in Nevada, a public health initiative to analyze each death and the circumstances, to make recommendations, to prevent future deaths, to “Keeping Kids Alive” as the Center’s tag line reads.  But what was the analysis of these child deaths?  It was all too simple:  innocent children, a violently disturbed young man, semi automatic fire arms.

“Oh, my friends, my friends don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for.

Empty chairs and empty tables.”

I didn’t call.  I quietly grieved.

On the website,, sponsored by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, the phrase Public Grief is used and explained.   It is that pervasive grief that impacts an entire population:  the aftermath of 9/11, the massacres in Rwanda, the killings at Columbine, the shootings and deaths in a movie theater in Colorado, Gabrielle Giffords shot and members of her staff and constituency dead.  Through the media or direct contact with those affected, we are all affected.  Public grief is like any other public health epidemic, it ravages our bodies and emotions, impacts on our abilities to function, disrupts sleep and eating, it causes literal heartbreak.  But there is no typical arc of a disease outbreak.   And, there is no vaccine to prevent the damage, or surgery to correct, or medicine to treat.  The outcomes are as varied as each individual’s fingerprints.  Some will be energized to enact changes in laws or policies.  Some will sink into deep depression.  Some will reach out to the victims with love and tokens and memorials.  Some will find an artistic expression.  Some will provide counseling; some will receive it.  Some will advocate for teachers and school personnel to have guns.  Some will seem unaffected and will suffer emotional pain in years to come.  Some will advocate for the mentally ill and the disabled so that these do not become labels of fear or mistrust.  Some will grieve and join together with others and heal.  Some will quietly privately grieve. The pain goes on and on in a myriad of ways.

But I wonder what is grief? One definition is:  grief is a profound emotional process with very real biological symptoms that can endure for months.  But there is disagreement as to whether or not it is a “disease.”  The argument continues in regard to grief’s inclusion in the 2013 DSM:

Is grief a disease? That is one of the crucial questions psychologists are asking as the American Psychiatric Association revamps its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), used by millions of mental health professionals to diagnose patients, for a fifth edition due out in 2013.

A group of psychiatrists have spearheaded a movement to include ongoing grief as a disorder, to be labeled “complicated” or “prolonged grief.” Others have proposed, separately, that a mourner can be labeled clinically depressed only two weeks after the loss of a loved one. The problem with both potential changes is that more people’s grief will be diagnosed as abnormal or extreme, in a culture that already leads mourners to feel they need to just “get over it”. (

The psychiatrists and psychologists can argue on, but I don’t know, is grief a disease? An epidemic? A private emotional struggle?  I am not sure this research helped me at all to know what grief is, I only know how it feels.  But I do know what grief is not.  It is not despair.  It is not revenge.  It is not blame.  It is not a justification for violence.

I don’t know how it is that someone who suffered such a great loss could also give all of us a great gift.  It is as though the person with the most extreme pain is also the person able to provide a healing process for the rest of the population.  Robbie Parker, Emilie Parker’s father, was able to speak of grief, his grief, his family’s grief, the grief we all feel.  He spoke of his daughter’s beauty and generosity of spirit. He spoke of kindness, humility and compassion, and the inspiration for us to love each other.  He gave us a very public message from his own heart to help all of us begin to heal from our public grief and our own private broken hearts.  And as I think of his words I am reminded of a card I keep on my desk that says:

“…I swear I will not dishonor my soul with hatred, but offer myself humbly as a guardian of nature, as a healer of misery, as a messenger of wonder, as an architect of peace….”*

The chairs and tables will remain empty forever.  All we can do as we grieve is to try to be architects building a kinder, more compassionate, more loving world around them.

And to never forget to tell our children how much we love them.




*from a poem by Diane Ackerman; cards and posters produced by and available from Syracuse Cultural Workers, Box 6367, Syracuse, NY   13217