The universe positively crackles with creativity. What's underneath--on one end of the spectrum, intelligence, with blind forces and particles on the other. Physics dictates the impossibility of perpetual motion, but the Universe feels pretty much like a perpetual motion machine, with a rediculous scant number of physical forces accounting for the Great Ongoing Unfolding of Everything.
I can accept that from these basic motivating forces everything comes. What is impossible for me to conceptualize is what "wound up" those forces. Where does gravity come from?
This lends itself to a degree of uncertainty in my aetheism.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Doing the work of life is hard. I am not a young man anymore, biologically speaking. My thought patterns tonight--it's a jumble in here. I know we are here to work and to help and to be with each other. There is nothing so challenging and nourishing to the brain and psyche as to continually ply that sea of ambiguity and nuance that is human interaction. This is the particular strength of our human intelligence. We are not expressing our fullest talents and experiencing true growth unless we are daily immersed in our particular current of humanity, our mix of family, friends, and strangers.
We must also do our work. We must find our expression, connect and build, improve what we find.
Produce more than consume. Oh the clear sadness of mere consumerism at this juncture in mid-life.
I must produce words at this moment because my gut is twisted and blocked. I must produce something with my brain, because I have a strong hunch it is part of the cure for physical discomforts. I can feel this work of production easing my pain, literally prompting gurgling from my guts, lessening pressure. I confirms what I'm afraid to confront--that I am not really producing and doing the right work in my life at this moment.
I have lately been thinking I should have followed a path more centered on the act of writing. It was a natural and enjoyable part of my life as I grew up. I somehow have landed here in the upper echelon of the computer animation industry, but standing here at 50 I feel I have not done the work to truly have earned the spot as a pure artist. Now I am required to to the work of artisitc leadership, yet I have so much to learn from my cohorts that I should rightfully start over again. Then there is the shame of not earning a good living for my family, and losing our place, and failing to secure a good and stable upbringing for my child. It is everyman's dilemma.
We must also do our work. We must find our expression, connect and build, improve what we find.
Produce more than consume. Oh the clear sadness of mere consumerism at this juncture in mid-life.
I must produce words at this moment because my gut is twisted and blocked. I must produce something with my brain, because I have a strong hunch it is part of the cure for physical discomforts. I can feel this work of production easing my pain, literally prompting gurgling from my guts, lessening pressure. I confirms what I'm afraid to confront--that I am not really producing and doing the right work in my life at this moment.
I have lately been thinking I should have followed a path more centered on the act of writing. It was a natural and enjoyable part of my life as I grew up. I somehow have landed here in the upper echelon of the computer animation industry, but standing here at 50 I feel I have not done the work to truly have earned the spot as a pure artist. Now I am required to to the work of artisitc leadership, yet I have so much to learn from my cohorts that I should rightfully start over again. Then there is the shame of not earning a good living for my family, and losing our place, and failing to secure a good and stable upbringing for my child. It is everyman's dilemma.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Feeling like I'm being guided by a small synchronicity toward a small realization. This realization is given the focus by the synchronicity of reading two passages in different e-books I purchased for my Kindle, and also perhaps the heightened mode of perception brought on by the novelty of the Kindle experience to me.
As I recall, the first notion which stuck was the concept that animals should be considered to have some sophistication to their inner lives. The memory and associations express themselves, however, without the benefit of language. The modality of animal intelligence is sensory in nature: visual, tactile, auditory. This came from one of Temple Grandin's books on animal intelligence that I had on my Amazon "wish list" and being that I now have a Kindle I just went and impulse bought the e-book version.
Just this moment I was reading the ebook version of Oliver Sach's latest book, in which he recounts a number of cases of aphasia in medical professionals who go on to produce quite erudite and insightful first person accounts of this particular neuropathology. The synchronicity that struck me was that these people described having full retention of their mental capacity despite temporarily lose the ability not only to speak and understand speech, but to even use speech in their thought processes. It would seem these two writers have taken a moment to support each other in communicating the idea of non-verbal intelligence and its continuity up through the animal kingdom. Perhaps aphasics in one sense have been given an opportunity to live mentally as our animal brethren. Grandin posits as much with her claim that her own particular neurologic deficit, autism, gives her insight into animal thought.
As I recall, the first notion which stuck was the concept that animals should be considered to have some sophistication to their inner lives. The memory and associations express themselves, however, without the benefit of language. The modality of animal intelligence is sensory in nature: visual, tactile, auditory. This came from one of Temple Grandin's books on animal intelligence that I had on my Amazon "wish list" and being that I now have a Kindle I just went and impulse bought the e-book version.
Just this moment I was reading the ebook version of Oliver Sach's latest book, in which he recounts a number of cases of aphasia in medical professionals who go on to produce quite erudite and insightful first person accounts of this particular neuropathology. The synchronicity that struck me was that these people described having full retention of their mental capacity despite temporarily lose the ability not only to speak and understand speech, but to even use speech in their thought processes. It would seem these two writers have taken a moment to support each other in communicating the idea of non-verbal intelligence and its continuity up through the animal kingdom. Perhaps aphasics in one sense have been given an opportunity to live mentally as our animal brethren. Grandin posits as much with her claim that her own particular neurologic deficit, autism, gives her insight into animal thought.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Flare Up
I've got the radio on yesterday, and I'm ticked I can't clearly hear the NPR story that's playing. WNYC at 93.9 on the spectrum, always comes in clean and strong. The fact that I'm hearing regular bursts of other broadcasts coming through means something new has happened. As I listen on, trying to parse the now hard-to-decipher audio, part of my mind muses on what could be the cause.
Maybe a powerful new station has commenced broadcasting on a neighboring frequency in the last 24 hours. This kind of direct blow to the livelihood of a major enterprise like WNYC doesn't seem likely to happen ex-nihilo.
Maybe there's some weird weather somewhere messing with the radio spectrum, like the crazy lightning storms we had in VT.
Turns out what happened was reminder of the tenuous nature of our seemingly routine existence. Due to the fact we all live next to insanely huge and chaotic nuclear monster called the Sun, which is thankfully held in thrall by gravity, but sometimes quietly wiggles it's little toe and says "look what I can do if I wanted to".
It was a giant solar flare.
From today's WIRED SCIENCE blog:
The primitive in me cowers at how nakedly we seem to be exposed to
the Sun immensely powerful and God-like vicissitudes.
Uni
Maybe a powerful new station has commenced broadcasting on a neighboring frequency in the last 24 hours. This kind of direct blow to the livelihood of a major enterprise like WNYC doesn't seem likely to happen ex-nihilo.
Maybe there's some weird weather somewhere messing with the radio spectrum, like the crazy lightning storms we had in VT.
Turns out what happened was reminder of the tenuous nature of our seemingly routine existence. Due to the fact we all live next to insanely huge and chaotic nuclear monster called the Sun, which is thankfully held in thrall by gravity, but sometimes quietly wiggles it's little toe and says "look what I can do if I wanted to".
It was a giant solar flare.
From today's WIRED SCIENCE blog:
At 12:11 p.m. EDT, the flare began unleashing about a billion hydrogen bombs’ worth of energy. Radiation temporarily jammed some radio frequencies for about an hour.
Source: weather.com via Weather on Pinterest
I am thankful that Earth's thick atmosphere offer's so much protection that exposure to "a billion hydrogen bombs worth of energy" only results in some small frustration with the normally reliable reception of my favorite radio station. But at the same time, even though it ranks a 1 on a scale of 1-10, the Sun flared up and effed with our planet. And effed with me. I don't wan't to see how much worse it could get if Sol decided to get a little more frisky.
The primitive in me cowers at how nakedly we seem to be exposed to
the Sun immensely powerful and God-like vicissitudes.
Universe
"Jim, we've got something unusual for you today. You've going to be
"Jim, we've got something unusual for you today. You've going to be
hit with one billion hydrogen bomb explosion from your local star."
Me
"Great. I will get ready to be dead."
Uni
"Not so fast. I'm giving you some tools to protect yourself. First, you'll have distance "
Me
"Well, if it were one hydrogen bomb, I'd want to be at least 10 miles
away. So for 1 billion hydrogen bombs I'd want to be...a lot of miles away"
Uni
"You'll have 93 million miles."
Me
"Not bad, but the math doesn't work. I believe I will still be toast."
Uni
"There is no air pressure in space, so don't worry about a blast wave;
it's more about the electro-magnetic energy that can scramble the
atoms in your body. For that you have a gigantic magnetic field to
deflect the energy. Also, there's a huge sea of air around you which
will help absorb any effects.
It's just like a little rain on a big transparent umbrella."
Me
"So with all that, what will I feel from the one billion bombs?"
Uni
"You will feel nothing. But nice clean radio waves in the air will get
bounced around a bit, which means your atoms also got touched below
the threshhold of feeling."
Me
"Still, that's a good day for me. The Sun can't get me with one billion
bombs. What is the most billion bombs the Sun can ever throw out?
What is the most billion bombs the invisible umbrella can stop?"
away. So for 1 billion hydrogen bombs I'd want to be...a lot of miles away"
Uni
"You'll have 93 million miles."
Me
"Not bad, but the math doesn't work. I believe I will still be toast."
Uni
"There is no air pressure in space, so don't worry about a blast wave;
it's more about the electro-magnetic energy that can scramble the
atoms in your body. For that you have a gigantic magnetic field to
deflect the energy. Also, there's a huge sea of air around you which
will help absorb any effects.
It's just like a little rain on a big transparent umbrella."
Me
"So with all that, what will I feel from the one billion bombs?"
Uni
"You will feel nothing. But nice clean radio waves in the air will get
bounced around a bit, which means your atoms also got touched below
the threshhold of feeling."
Me
"Still, that's a good day for me. The Sun can't get me with one billion
bombs. What is the most billion bombs the Sun can ever throw out?
What is the most billion bombs the invisible umbrella can stop?"
Sunday, July 1, 2012
July 1st, 2012
Heading up to Neal Pond for our traditional July 4th vacation. Annabelle looking fwd to being back at the lake; I am glad the place has become special to her. It's important to have a special getaway place that kind of gets into your veins. So that Leslie can enjoy the trip in her way, we've booked three nights at the Mountain View hotel in Whitefield, NH. A bonifide destination hotel in the midst of tree and mountain country. That's how we our great outdoor get-aways work for everyone, and I'm glad to do it for Leslie. Her heart is pulled toward Boca style shopping and pampering vacations, although she's been very vocal about how much she's looking foward to out big trip to Ireland next month.
July 1st, 2012
Heading up to Neal Pond for our traditional July 4th vacation. Annabelle looking fwd to being back at the lake; I am glad the place has become special to her. It's important to have a special getaway place that kind of gets into your veins. So that Leslie can enjoy the trip in her way, we've booked three nights at the Mountain View hotel in Whitefield, NH. A bonifide destination hotel in the midst of tree and mountain country. That's how we our great outdoor get-aways work for everyone, and I'm glad to do it for Leslie. Her heart is pulled toward Boca style shopping and pampering vacations, although she's been very vocal about how much she's looking foward to out big trip to Ireland next month.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
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