Dust to Dust

One of the great parts about blogging is the fact that while many of us often deal with the same pressing issues and difficult questions, we're still able to take our own style and approach to the subjects and frame them in our own unique ways.  Some bloggers openly declare their intention to hurt their reader's brains. Some bloggers tear at the scabs of people's complacent sensibilities.  My friend Vincent just likes to take walks.  His blog A Wayfarer's Notes has a premise which is beguilingly simple, while it's execution is prolific in its complexity.  It doesn't hurt that he's a damn good writer either.  He goes where his feet take him, and he lets his mind wander in a similar fashion, and on his blog he shares with us the results of these physical and mental ramblings.  His reveries aren't always confined to his walks.  Sometimes he's in bed half asleep; sometimes he's hanging the wash out to dry.  But one of the charms of his blog is that he often organically incorporates the physical details of his surroundings with the abstract musings of his ideas.  This has the sublime effect of placing thoughts in the context of life.

His latest post is a fine example of this.  He not only tells us of an epiphany that he had, an intuition of immortality, but he also describes exactly where he had it and even provides a picture of the spot.  Of immortality he says, "Normally, when we speak of being immortal, we refer to the notion of the 'I' not dying when the body dies. But I saw, in that moment, that the 'I' is nothing more than the body’s mechanism for looking out for itself. It dies and unravels, but consciousness is all-pervasive, in all beings, in all matter. Call it awareness, call it an indwelling intelligence in everything, if you like."  As usual with Vincent's post, this gave me a lot to think about.

It seems to me, if he wanted to pursue this idea (assuming even that he's interested in treating it as an idea.  He might be content to take it as a moment of awe and wonder, and leave it at that without further questioning.  He and I are of somewhat different temperaments.) ...but suppose he wanted to look deeper into this notion of consciousness being something larger than the finite existence of the ego and the individual.  Then, I would suggest that to find a clue to how it all ends, one needs to look at how it all begins.  If "our" consciousness, his and mine and yours and whoever's, returns to some universal mind upon death, then it seems to follow that they arose up out of that universal mind at birth.  If consciousness transcends the individual, mustn't it do so in both directions in time, mustn't it precede life as well as succeed it?

For instance, under that post I left a comment speculating about immortality on the basis of the Law of Conservation, the question of "Where does it all go?  Where does a lifetime of knowledge and my knowing of that knowledge...how can it all just vanish without a trace?"  This is, of course, an entirely different point from the one Vincent was making, and yet it proceeds from the same principle that consciousness is part of something larger than the individual life, in this case, part of the general substance of the universe, a transubstantiation of matter and energy and thought that somehow endures in some form.  To insist that it must return to something, is to insist likewise that it must have come from this something.  Arguing from Conservation requires a persistent continuum from which the individual rises and falls.

I'm reminded of Adam from the Bible, and I'm struck once again by the metaphorical insight of those ancient writers.  Adam was formed from the dust of the ground to which he would someday return, life rising up out of the very substance to which death would eventually return it.  Or as Mark Twain once put it, "I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it."

But yet, we can't simply return consciousness to the shelf where we found it.  It's a used item, changed and worn and broken in by passing through a lifetime of our experiences.  It began for me as a crack of awareness in the world as I first opened my eyes.  I knew nothing beyond the most natural of bodily functions, breathing, sleeping, crying and so on.  As time went on, that crack of awareness has grown.  It has become a repository of information and experience.  It has gathered the dust of my life to complement the dust of the Earth.  When the one returns to the ground, what becomes of the other?  It has blossomed, grown in complexity and substance.  Isn't it made of something?  Where do it go?  Is it disseminated through-out this universal mind like fertilizer, enhancing its general growth and vitality?  Does that flash of memory in my mind, my foot making cracks in the ice...will that someday be part of a stream flowing over a rock?  Will the algebraic equations I learned somehow fall from the sky with the rain?  Will my laughter grow from the ground?  Where does it all go?

We're not done with this subject.  Not by a long shot.  It's one of the most important, most enduring questions of the human race.  It's also probably the most difficult to answer.  What happens to us when we die?  Only the dead know for sure, and they're not giving up any of their secrets.  So it's up to us.  I'll chip in.  I'll do my part, and I'll do my best to give you a headache in the process.  That, for what it's worth and while it lasts, is my "individual" perspective and contribution to the whole cosmic mess.       

The Microcosm

As another month draws to a close here at nuclearheadache, I figured that I'd leave you with a very old, half-baked idea of mine.  It's a little crazy, more than a little stupid.  I'd say that it would make you think, but seriously....Anyway:

Okay, so picture yourself in a smokey, dimly lit room.  You focus in and look closely at the smoke.  You see that it's denser in some areas than others, forming clusters and clouds here and there.  You zoom in closer until you see the atoms and molecules that the smoke is composed of.  The nuclei of these atoms are like bright little points of light, and the clouds are composed of billions and billions of them, clustered into different shapes, some round, some spiral swirled.  You focus in on a single atom that lies along the outskirts of one of the spiral clusters.  As you draw in, you can see the electrons orbiting around the brightly lit nucleus.  One of the electrons looks interesting.  You zoom in for an even closer look, and to your amazement you find that there is life on this electron.  It's absolutely teeming with life...intelligent life even.  They've established an entire civilization of this electron.  They have roads, and buildings, and technology.  The subatomic beings on this electron are full of questions.  They wonder how and why they've come to be.  They struggle and strain and make the most of their lives on this fragile little electron.  You zoom in closer to the towns and cities and neighborhoods.  You descend towards the roof of a familiar looking house.  You open the front door, go into the house and up the stairs.  You find a room with smoke coming from behind the door.  You go inside and find someone who looks exactly like you sitting in a chair by the lamp.  Your duplicate looks up, blinks and chokes for a moment and then tells you, "This is some good stuff."

See you next month.   

Entrapment Logic

There are a number of rhetorical techniques in the repertoire of persuasion that are not quite on the level, and some of them are downright dishonest.  Some people employ these techniques deliberately as a means of devious manipulation, while others resort to them more innocently without even realizing it.  They are techniques which rely not on the establishment of facts or the weight of reason, but instead play on people's weaknesses and insecurities, the things they often don't even admit to themselves.

There is the Ad Hominem tactic.  This is where someone tries to refute a claim by undercutting the character of the person offering evidence or argument supporting it.  The hallmark of the Ad Hominem is that the character assault has nothing to do with the claim in question.  For example, if someone says, "Sally heard that there was a bad snow storm coming.", and someone replies, "Well, Sally's a crazy lady who lives alone with fifteen cats, so what does she know?", then that would be an Ad Hominem argument.  A fairly obvious one, of course.  Usually it's used with at least some appearance of relevancy, and usually over claims a bit more controversial than the weather.  It's far more common than you might think, and most of us are probably far more guilty of it than we realize.

Then you have good old classic intimidation.  In terms of an argumentative tactic, intimidation is like a preemptive Ad Hominem.  This is where someone suggests that there's something wrong with someone who holds such and such a position.  Like the Ad Hominem, there is again no connection between the character defect suggested and the position in question.  The intention here is to try to chase people away from something with blatant insults.  "Anyone who likes that band is an asshole."  It's usually that crudely obvious, and yet it's also surprisingly affective on many people.  "Oh dear.  I don't want them to think I'm an asshole."  And so it goes.  Brute aggression takes the place of reasonable persuasion.

I bring these familiar tactics up in order to add a third to the list.  It's something I've noticed here and there recently, although it's probably been around since the dawn of time.  For lack of a better term, I'll call it "entrapment logic."  This is similar to the intimidation tactic, but it's a bit more subtle and sophisticated.  It's a kind of rhetorical catch-22.  It's the loophole that lands you right back in the net.  You're damned if you do, and you're damned if you don't.  To put it simply, entrapment logic is where someone sets up their argument in such a way that disagreeing with them proves their point.

There's a gag that comedians commonly resort to that employs this technique.  They'll say something like, "Every neighborhood had a kid that was such and such, and if you don't remember having a kid like that in you're neighborhood, then you were that kid."  It's that little clause on the end, that little provision made for your disagreement.  Or maybe someone will say something like, "People that smack babies always deny it."  There's really no good answer after that.  Sometimes it's just a matter of putting you in position where your disagreement doesn't necessarily prove their point; they just set it up so that your protestations to the contrary ring hollow.  "Only people with no sense of humor don't think that movie is funny."  Here we're basically back to the intimidation tactic, but there's that extra added twist.  The more you protest, the more it looks like you're digging yourself deeper into a hole.

Now, at the risk of getting tangled up in yet another debate on the subject, I can't leave this topic without mentioning one of the most common cases of entrapment logic there is.  For the record...again, I have no problem with homosexuals, neither personally or morally.  What they do is their business, and not mine.  If they want to get married, fine.  I was happy the other day to see that "Don't Ask...Don't Tell" has been done away with.  If someone wants to pick up a gun to defend my freedom, I think they deserve a little freedom of their own.  However, all that being said, I do have a problem with the concept of homophobia.

To be sure, there are people that are excessively antagonistic to homosexuals because they are insecure about their own sexuality.  I'll admit that this happens quite frequently even.  We all know the stories about some senator or congressman who voted against gay legislation getting caught in a public restroom with his pants down, or having some embarrassing emails surface.  We all know someone who gets just a little too upset about the issue; they take it all just a little too personally.

However, there are people who get carried away with the idea and label anyone opposed to homosexuality as homophobic.  They don't allow for the possibility that some people just think it's wrong.  Still others might just find the whole idea repugnant, and they take that as reason enough for moral condemnation.  I'm not here to defend these people, but I don't think it's fair to insist that they're homophobic.  It's entrapment on two levels.  First, it characterizes their opposition as a "phobia."  Secondly, it suggests that they have some kind of hang-up about the issue, strongly implying that they must be in the closet themselves.  It's the across-the-board, flippancy with which the idea gets thrown around that bothers me.  I don't like to see even those people I disagree with treated unfairly.

Anyway, I don't bring that in to cloud the issue, or smuggle in some agenda.  I wrote this to shed some light on entrapment logic in general.  I mention it as a sort of public service, so that you won't fall into the trap, and perhaps so you won't find yourself employing the tactic.  If someone pulls this on you, you can call them out on it and keep them from using your own disagreement against you.  Alright, now bring on the griping...          

Trying to Understand Relativity (part 10)

If the flow of time can be affected or altered by a physical phenomenon, then it seems necessary to establish some point of contact between time and physical matter.  For instance, if we say that the weight of an object here on Earth would be 1/16th of that weight if we were to move that object to the Moon, we are able to state this with the utmost confidence because we understand precisely how weight is a physical property of the object, and because we understand precisely how this property expresses itself through the object.  We understand that weight is a measurement of the force of gravity's interaction between the mass of the object and the mass of the Earth or the Moon.  Likewise, if we are to stake the claim that an object's duration can be affected by its velocity, then in the same manner, we need to either understand time as a property of the object, or understand how time can be affected by the object.  In either case, some connection between time and the object needs to be established.

Relativity addresses this problem by tying time to space, forming the unified concept of space-time.  According to Relativity, the mass of an object warps the space around it, and other objects caught in this curvature fall towards the object, creating the appearance of attraction which we call gravity.  Since time is interwoven with space, this warping of space causes a warping in time as well.  In the special circumstances of Relativity this seems to make a certain amount of intuitive sense.  We picture space as a flat plane, and time as a perpendicular dimension to that plane, represented perhaps by an arrow.  Normally, they pass at right angles to one another without disturbing each other, but when there is a warp in the plane of space, it causes a warp in the passage of time as well.

Evidence backs up the facts of this as well.  The warping of space was proven by taking photographs of the stars surrounding the sun during a solar eclipse.  The stars appeared to be slightly shifted in their positions because their light was passing through the warped region of space around the sun.  From the warping of space follows the warping of time.  The Earth is certainly a massive object, and as such, it warps space to a considerable degree, fortunately holding us and the atmosphere snugly to its surface.  In addition to warping space, it also warps time to an almost imperceptible degree.  The GPS satellites in orbit have to be recalibrated on a daily basis to account for the discrepancy.  These aren't just formulas on a chalkboard; these are genuine realities.  Due to the mass of the Earth, time really does run slightly slower here than it does out in space.

So where does this leave us?  In the previous post I brought the wave model to bear on all of this.  With this wave model I proposed that time existed entirely in change and motion.  I went on to speculate that the time dilation effect predicted by Relativity was really a uniform slowing of all motion.  Relativity, however, seems to have returned us to the notion that time exists independently of matter, as something aloof, as a dimension or medium through which change and motion occurs, rather than arising out of the change and motion itself.  Relativity couples time with space, rather than with the matter occupying that space, and there is plenty of evidence to support this union.

Once again, I'm thrown for a loop.  The wave model seemed to neatly provide the point of contact mentioned above.  If time was in the motion, then it seemed to make sense that accelerating one frame of reference to near the speed of light relative to another would cause a uniform regress of motion within the frames to account for the constancy of light.  The next step was to try and figure out exactly how this uniform regress could be caused by acceleration.  It seemed to a matter of calculating how the external and internal velocities balanced to compensate for the speed of light, and then time dilation would arise up out of this balance.  It would all be an adjustment of motion.

It all has an appealing simplicity, but that doesn't necessarily make it right.  I can't deny the connection between space and time.  It has been demonstrated clearly in theory, and in practice, and I'm not here to rewrite Relativity, but rather to understand it.  At the most, I would only propose a reinterpretation of the conclusions drawn from the theory.  So I pose the questions to you, the reader.  Does the space-time concept invalidate the wave model?  Is the hypothesis still worth pursuing anyway?  Is it possible that instead of space stealing time away from matter, perhaps space exists through matter in a similar way as I've proposed that time exists through matter?  The wave model suggests that change doesn't pass through time, but rather that time passes through change.  Likewise, is it possible that objects don't exist in space, but rather that space exists in objects?  Can space and time be unified on the ground of physical matter, as properties of that matter?  In other words, where do we go from here?

Myth of the Albatross

Prior to taking Rachel Hoyt up on yet another one of her Smiley Sociology Studies, I knew almost nothing about the albatross, although the bird has long held a prominent place in my imagination.  I wasn't even sure if it was an actual, real bird or just a mythical creature.  Certainly the bird that I had cultivated in my mind's eye was the stuff of legends.  I imagined a huge, dark bird with a vast wingspan, an extremely solitary bird that flew alone over vast miles of ocean.  There was something haunting and melancholy about this bird, and yet something enchanted, as though it were a piece of medieval lore.  I had the impression that the bird's habitat was far, far south, traveling over the oceans surrounding Antarctica, far from any civilization.  Ships straying into those distant waters might spy the bird through the fog and the mist, and the sailors would be shaken to the core by the dark apparition, crossing themselves superstitiously to ward off the bad omen.

This impression of mine was generated mostly by references to the bird in popular speech.  In doing what, for me, passes for research, I learned that a Coleridge poem called The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is responsible for the metaphorical and symbolical attachments that the bird has acquired.  In the poem the mariner of the title shoots the bird for some reason, and the crew of the ship forces the mariner to wear the bird around his neck, because they feel that he has cursed the crew by killing the bird.  Turns out that the bird is actually considered good luck.  It was killing the bird that turned the good omen bad.  I got the Antarctica part right, though...sort of.  In the poem the crew is lost near Antarctica and the bird arrives to lead them back on course...well, until the mariner decides to use it for target practice.

Oddly enough, I'd never heard this poem before.  The references to it had worked their way down to me fourth or fifth hand.  From the poem, the idiom of having "an albatross around you neck" came to mean having some kind of burden or curse, but by the time it got to me, people weren't even wearing the bird as a necklace anymore.  They were just talking about this heavy, burdensome bird that caused everyone sorrow.  I think this is how the bird came to loom so big in my mind.  A heavy bird that dragged you down seemed to be a bit of a paradox to me.  It grew and grew in my mind as a perpetual struggle against its own gravity, like a natural, avian version of the Spruce Goose.

The albatross actually is a large bird, and they actually do have the largest wingspan of any living bird.  They are not however, the dark, mournful creatures that I had imagined.  They look like the picture above.  They look a bit like an exotic duck.  They're kind of cute with pretty colors.  I don't know if I'd want to wear a dead one around my neck, but I'd consider keeping a live one as a pet.

This dreadful bird of my fantasy was one of the last enduring myths in my mind, destined to go the way of Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy.  It was cobbled together out of hearsay and snatches of fact, and stitched together with poetic conjecture.  It's funny how close I came to accuracy, only to end up missing it by miles.  I'm glad that I've now learned something about the substance of its overbearing gravity, but I'll miss that majestically ugly bird soaring over the lonely miles of open sea.  I've returned the name "albatross" to its rightful owner, and that ugly bird flies off nameless into the dim green mist.