Two Coconuts and a Banana

This is a continuation of a previous post. Two of Something, and One of the other comes first, and then Two rotten eggs and a Jellyfish. I'm sorry it had to be this way - once I figure out how to mess with the order of posts, I'll do something about it.

Allright, so we seem to have reached an impasse. Science, at least, theoretical science, has had the dubious distinction of managing to shoot itself in the foot, given the last theory that we talked about. For every complete theory of everything, there will be at least one event that it will fail to explain, or perhaps, take into account. In addition, some theoretical postulates we will simply be unable to verify – the big bang, for example – although, if you want a fascinatingly interesting view of the world, Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series is a good bet. Not to mention, it’s fucking hilarious. However, I digress.

But wait a minute. Maybe the problem isn’t that there’s no way to prove what we believe we know; maybe it’s that humans, in their present condition, aren’t capable of it. I’m not talking about X-Men type mutations – having the ability to change your shape at will won’t do much to advance the store of human knowledge, just save a hell of a lot of money in Hollywood. As any class 10th/12th student will readily agree, there’s just so much to know, that not being able to prove something might just be a factor of not knowing something that someone, somewhere has already made use of.

I just reread that last sentence, and I’m as confused as a mouse faced with a choice of Stilton or Cheddar. Umm. Put it this way. Science has advanced so far, that proving something new, or hell, simply coming up with something new would require knowing everything that’s gone before, in that particular field. Picture yourself building a multi-storey building. Before you can tack on the tenth floor, you have to have built the previous nine, right? In a similar way, the newest links toward the Theory of Everything must tie in with everything that’s gone before. So the task for the chap in this particular rat race is to first assimilate everything we know, and then move from there (This is assuming, of course, that you’re not developing a new branch of science – building a new skyscraper, as it were).

One possible way around this would for us to develop something along the lines of perfect recall. No, not the Dell Computers way of handling buggered computers; simply the ability to remember everything that you’ve ever seen, read, heard, or thought of, down to the last, most minute detail. Aside from anything else, this would drive most people mad (which is a bad thing), and put most lawyers out of business (this is a good thing). Imagine remembering every single nasty experience that you’ve ever had, in perfect clarity? Not a pleasant thought. I’m sure there are ways around this – perhaps just having perfect recall would condition humans to pain differently, but I don’t put much faith in that. Pain is pain, whichever way you slice it.

Another possibility would be for humans to develop a hive mind – perfectly, or imperfectly. Bees have an interesting way of handling things – the arrangement of the honeycombs in the hive are apparently linked to the memory of the hive – that is, the way the combs are arranged has to do with particular events that have occurred in the hive’s life.

However, this would require some pretty drastic social restructuring.

First off, we’d have to get rid of the concept of equality. Is this a bad thing, I wonder? It’s certainly false, that’s for sure – humans are not equal, right down from genetically, to physically, to emotionally, to mentally, to spiritually. A lot has to do with what characteristics you were born with. Another big factor is the way you were raised. Nature and nurture, if you see what I mean.

Take me, for example.

I’m 5’6”, weigh about 60 kilos. Physically, not a very impressive specimen, considering that I’m male. If the prime requisite of a human was how much he could lift, or carry, or something along those lines, then I’m sure I’d be pretty far down on the social scale. On the other hand, my IQ (admittedly, not a complete judge of intellectual capabilities, but it’s arbitrary, and that suits my purposes for now) is around 145. That’s a pretty decent score, if you consider that that’s in the top 3% of all those tested where I had my exam. So, if the prime category were intellectual ability, I’d be pretty far up. Given that there’s ridiculously huge number of ways of categorizing people, suppose we were to take – say 5 characteristics – and classify humans on the basis of these (again, there’s another book I recommend – Brave New World, by Aldolus Huxley). Enter the quota system. Also, to simplify matters (and avoid treading on a lot of toes), lets consider a colony of ants.

Ants have an interestingly brutal caste system. Since they (at least, to the best of my knowledge) don’t have anything approaching human emotions, they find it simple to categorise among themselves. Worker ants, Soldier ants, so on and so forth, culminating in the Queen ant. A matriarchal system, where the task of the ruler, the queen, is to have thousands and thousands of babies. Ladies from LSR, what say you? Willing to accept the position of Top Dog – excuse me – Top Bitch, if it meant having kids for the rest of your life? Anyhow, cheap shots aside, ants have a good system. If humans were to develop a hive mind, it might not be such a bad thing to adopt a system similar to those used by insects…of course, this is all based on the idea that humans have reached the point where we can safely ignore emotions, have gotten rid of the present family structure, freely accept that there is a place for everyone in society, where everyone is satisfied, and so on.

Telepathic Utopia, or a terrifyingly numb existence?

Somehow, I seem to have reached a point ridiculously wide of where I was aiming. Ah well, it was a fun ride. More to come, soon enough. But since I’m here, I might as well finish it. Dave Matthews, Ladies and Gentlemen!

He wakes up in the morning
Does his teeth, bite to eat and he's rolling
Never changes a thing
The week ends, the week begins

She thinks, we look at each other
Wondering what the other is thinking
But we never say a thing
And these crimes between us grow deeper

Take these chances
Place them in a box until a quieter time
Lights down, you up and die

Goes to visit his mommy
She feeds him well, his concerns
He forgets them
And remembers being small
Playing under the table and dreaming...

Take these chances
Place them in a box until a quieter time
Lights down, you up and die

Driving along this highway
All these cars and up on the sidewalk
People in every direction
No words exchanged,No time to exchange when
All the little ants are marching
Red and black antennae waving
They all do it the same
They all do it the same way.

Instinct

‘Trust your instincts,” goes the popular refrain, “and all will be well.”

Strangely enough, this sentence seems to be true. There’s a lot we don’t know about ourselves – mostly because it’s impossible to step outside ourselves to observe ourselves. Science is predicated on evidence through observation – and as a recent argument that I had with a couple of friends concluded – we’ve already reached the limits of observation, at least in the theoretical sense, and at least using the five senses that we presently employ.

Let’s talk about these five senses for a bit. Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch, and Hearing. That takes into account the eyes, the nose, the tongue, the skin, and the ears. Pretty much the whole nine yards (or whatever your particular dimensions may be), yes? However, it still feels like we’re missing something. What about Thought? Is that not a sense? It responds to stimuli, it sends messages to the brain; it makes use of the spinal cord to send it’s messages to the body – ever felt a rush of goose pimples when you have a frightening thought?

All this, though, is so much chaff thrown to the wind. I’ll never be able to prove any of this – as with all the rest of my posts, it’s just a number of random thoughts brought on by too much reading too late into the night. If you’re interested, though, there’s this fantastic book by Arthur C. Clarke called Childhood’s End – very, very thought provoking. And humbling too, for that matter – but read it for yourself, would be my suggestion.

To get back to the point, though – what is instinct? A general definition might be that it’s a bunch of stuff that we don’t really understand, which have therefore been lumped together under this title. For example, it encompasses something as everyday as catching a ball – which if you think about it, involves some pretty hefty three dimensional calculations, in addition to simultaneously firing just the right neurons at just the right time to get your hand in place. On the other hand, it also encompasses the life cycle of the Salmon – when it comes time for them to lay eggs, they somehow manage to find their way back to where they were hatched, no matter that it may be a few hundred kilometres away, and up a couple of waterfalls, for that matter. Impressive stuff, when you consider that another member of the fish family, the goldfish, has a memory span of five seconds.

Hmmm.

One school of thought says that instinct is just the final solution of a mind bogglingly complex bit of calculation done subconsciously, presented to the active part of the brain without the accompanying user manuals. Take it or leave it, seems to be your only choice in the matter. But you ignore it at your own peril.

Another school would scathingly comment that no, it’s your immortal soul responding to cosmic vibrations, or some other stimuli which we cant comprehend, and it’s making itself felt in a way which you can’t quite explain.

When it comes down to proving which of these theories are true – or for that matter, any of the thousands others out there which I’ve conveniently left out – I think the best judge, as ironic as it sounds, is again, your instinct.

Wotsay?

Two of something, and One of the other

Strange events should have portentous beginnings, shouldn’t they? One always expects the abrupt flash of lightning and eerie howl when one spots the castle on top of the hill – not a smiling, liveried butler politely asking if he can take your coat. On the other hand, perhaps it wouldn’t be a portentous even if there was a castle on top of the hill, merely a third rate horror movie. Anyway, you be the judge.

First off, an apology.

I should have posted this particular piece before the Two rotten eggs and a Jellyfish, since it puts that post into context, and a number of future posts as well. Basically, the plan goes this way:

A month or so ago, I had the mother of all random conversations with two of my oldest friends (Madhav and Gaurav), which led to an oodleplex of bizarre ideas floating about. Unfortunately, it was two in the morning when it began, and we were sozzled to the gills too – which might explain the randomness of the ideas somewhat.

At any rate, in an effort to capture some of what seemed like the funkiest ideas in existence, I decided to put them down in shorthand, and work them into a partially presentable format the next morning. For those of you who don’t know me, this is usually the beginning of a hell of a lot of procrastination, and the eventual canning of the idea itself. Thankfully, this time, I had an irate friend on my back, insisting that I complete the job – so here it is, piecemeal.

If you notice a post with the title somewhat similar to Two of something, and One of the other, it’s probably a continuation of the writeup – the argument was just too incredibly far ranging for me to even try and compress it into one post.

For a minor introduction, though, here’s the perspectives from which the argument was conducted.

Goosey (Gaurav) will take the question apart bit by bit, requiring watertight, titanium encased definitions of each word used in the sentence. Nitpicking has been raised to an art form by this particular fowl – perhaps because he’s deathly afraid that otherwise, someone might actually ask him for an opinion.
Pig (that’s me) will constantly throw out completely unrelated comments, and when one of them strikes him, will come up with endless, and increasingly far fetched arguments to support what he’s saying. Bullshit has been raised to an art form by this particular barnyard animal – for the simple reason that since these arguments are doomed from the start, there’s no real reason to involve his brain in it.
Moose (Madhav) will, increasingly upset by the bullshit on one side, and the verbal diarrhea on the other, resort to pointlessly heckling both the others, since his initial point has been perverted beyond recognition right at the start.

So, there you have it. The Realist, the Visionary, and the Mediator, in that order. With a starting lineup like this, it should be pretty easy to see why we never get anywhere with these arguments. And why they’re absolutely brilliant fun.

So there it is. Play safe, now.

Two rotten eggs, and a Jellyfish

Okay, I have a question for you.

Why are creative people rebellious?

First off, let's define creative people. From dictionary.com - one who displays productive creativity. Hmm. Remarkably unhelpful. Let's wing it, shall we?

A creative person is one who brings out an original idea - whether it be a concept, a product, a thought, or simply a random comment. Something previously unseen, or a different perspective on the whole deal. Or, if we decided to get excited and start rambling, an amalgamation of a number of previous ideas, fused into an original overview.

From the last one, a creative person sounds suspiciously like an intelligent scientist - perhaps a contradiction in terms, at least when it comes to IIT-ians (I just KNOW I'm going to pay for that one, but I'm weak, I couldn't resist). Okay, so where are we so far?

Why are scientists rebellious?

For the past few centuries, science has consisted of shoving a crowbar into what seems like a weak point in reality, and heaving back, in the hope that something interesting decides to pop through. Take that chappie with the first telescope, for instance, the one who the Church did nasty things to using a red hot poker, for insisting that the world wasn't a plate, it was an orange. Daft bugger, of course, everyone knows that the Earth is an Oblate Spheroid. Nonetheless, when Galileo came out with that thought, the whole civilized world (consisting of one city, and a small sausage factory on the east coast of Tanganyika) thought he was mad, and therefore, no one was really upset when the aforementioned nasty things happened with the poker. Except, that is, Galileo himself.

So here we are. Scientists, and therefore, by extension, creative people, are rebellious because they challenge the store of knowledge that presently exists. Perhaps it’s the rebellious nature that causes them to find out things that challenge the store, but nonetheless, it seems to be a one to one relationship. The interesting thing is this – they only get vindicated if they manage to prove that what they found out is actually true. In other words, what the chap says might be completely true, but nonetheless, it might get sidelined in favour of an opinion that’s complete bollocks, if they can’t prove it. Seems shady, doesn’t it?

There’s a book by Isaac Asimov, the New Guide to Science. If you haven’t read it yet, Madhav (a tall bespectacled twerp of my acquaintance) insists that you get your paws on it as soon as possible. I haven’t read it myself yet, but this chap is usually sound when it comes to things of a literary nature. Just don’t pay him any attention if he starts talking about things to eat. Anyhow, the New Guide to Science. Apparently, this book takes you through the last few hundred years of scientific thought, in an interestingly concise manner. Boys and Girls studying for the bored (sic) exams, take note. This chap managed a 90 something (with science, at that), so it might be worth a shot.

Back to the point, though.

The vindication of these scientists, as we were talking about, arrived only after the final proof of their theorems was analysed, and found to be true. At present, the race (flagged off by Newton, and more recently, Einstein), is to create a grand theory of everything, a set of mathematical equations that explain every phenomenon in the known universe – although perhaps explaining women’s foibles might be a bit more daunting. Nevertheless, here’s the bugger.

A recent theorem, has this to say on the topic – If ever a theory of anything is created, it will explain every single phenomenon, except one. In other words, there will always be one unexplained event for every complete theory, regardless of the completeness of this theory.

Bugger.

It’s a bit like this short science fiction story by Isaac Asimov, Alexander the Great.

It’s about this boy, Alexander, who creates this supercomputer which he uses to dominate the world. Basically, this computer is linked to every bit of data that the world can generate, and analyses this data to locate patterns of stability out of the seeming chaos of the world’s events. This lets this Napoleonic twerp to corner the world stock markets, making him the most powerful man in the world. He fails in his final task, however, to control the world, when the computer (Bucephalous) notices one completely random, inexplicable event in the world – its own existence. I’ve completely ruined the story in trying to compress it, but I hope you see what I mean. In any case, I strongly recommend reading it, Asimov usually has something interesting to say.

Let’s review, shall we?

Creative people, a subset of who are scientists, are rebellious because they challenge the store of accepted knowledge. They are only vindicated when their statements are proved to be fact, using mathematical proofs (I say mathematical, because everything, at the end of the day, comes down to math). Their theories, at the end of the day, come to naught, because of a new theory that states that no theory of everything can exist; rather, that one contradiction to every theory of everything always exists. Either that, or the theory simply can’t be tested. For example, there’s no way to test a theory on the big bang without being there, which isn’t possible, given what we know. It’s like water at the end of a river creating theories about the glacier that gave birth to it. Interesting speculation, but at the end of the day, impossible to test.

Where do we go
Where do we go now
Where do we go
Sweet child o' mine?

We’ll be back after these few messages.

Yoga Bonito

Today, I went for my second Yoga class at the Sivananda Ashram in DLF.

My spine is on fire, but my mind is at peace.

It's amazing how this sort of a way of life could develop - the basic idea is to stretch whatever can be stretched, and compress what can't. That, apparently, is the way to inner peace. Even more bizzare is the fact that it works.

Take, for example, this one asan.

Lie on your back, with your arms palm downwards on the ground, parallel to your body. Feet touching, mind. Then lift your lower body upwards, supporting your back with your palms, so that your feet are pointing toward the ceiling. Basically, a shoulder stand. By now, you should be minor agony, every nerve complaining about the falling standards of verticality.

Now here's the tricky bit.

Extend your legs further backwards, so that your toes are touching the ground behind your head. Got it? Yes, I know, it hurts. Keep at it, the best is yet to come. Start inching your toes closer and closer to your head. This is where the fire begins (and where the people of a larger diameter spring back to rest position with odd popping sounds, and a look of surprised relief on their faces).

I don't quite know what this one's called, but it sure as hell looks funny. Kind of an odd way to pray to a higher spirit, with your arse on top of your head. Maybe the point is to see things from the bottom upward. Okay, okay, I'm sorry, that one was extremely lame. And contrived. I'm ashamed. Not too much, though, cause I managed that asan, and even held it for a bit before unintentionally somersaulting backwards. Some people are mean - there's no reason to laugh at the new chap if he messes up. Spiritual enlightenment, my arse. Or a roomful of arses, at any rate.

I wonder what tommorow will bring.

A quack in the darkness

I contend that we are both atheists. I just believe in one less god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm back. It's been a long sabbatical, and...wait, what do you mean"when did you leave"? Bastards, the lot of you.

Anyhow.

To bring the blog up to date - its been a couple of weeks since my exams ended - the most irritating, stifling, mind numbing set of papers that I've ever had the misfortune to try and cook up answers for. Yes, I know, it was more like 'cock up answers for', but nonetheless. Time will tell, and with any luck, it'll whisper.

I've had a bunch of crazy thoughts in the past few weeks - unfortunately, none of which I seem to be able to work into a complete post. It's INCREDIBLY aggravating, when after a good three hours or patiently reconstructing the previous night's drunken conversation, you realise that that incandescently brilliant thought you were having was just a lightbulb messing with your head. Here's what I mean.

Can you remember the point where you fell asleep? (Wait, wait, before you wet yourself with indignation, Moose, I fully admit, this was your idea to begin with. Read on, though, I got a googly for you.) Anyhow. Unless you're just trying to be plain aggravating, or, for that matter, Goosey, the answer is no. You remember the run up to it, might remember a few of the fragmented thoughts just before takeoff, but the actual point where you go from being awake, to being asleep, is not really one that you can pick out of a lineup.
So, there must be some sort of switch that...err...switches us between these two states. There's the aware state, which I suppose is the higher mental state (unless there are some of you buggers out there that do more intelligent thinking while asleep than awake), and then there's the asleep state, where the brain is doing it's own thing, the metaphorical example of a really good piss up after a hard days work. Here comes the twist though. What if someone was to fall asleep, and then have the switch short itself out? Are you alive or dead? Yes, yes, you supercilious bastards, I know it's called a coma. Nonetheless. Okay, add another twist to it. What if the switch is working fine, but the higher brain dies? Now are you alive, or just a carcass waiting to stop breathing?

See what I mean about the lightbulb? It's a fascinatingly interesting idea, until you realise that it doesn't really go anywhere. Makes you wonder about evolution, though. What in the name of all that's small and twinkly, did the brain go through on it's way from there to here? Why would it need a separate state of existence? Sounds kinda suspicious to me. Can one sue their own brain for misrepresentation?

For all those of you who object to my nonsense, I'd like to invite all of you to reread the title of my blog.

Anyhow.

Now that we know one another a little better, I'm sure we'll be meeting more often. No, I don't kiss on the first date. Goodnight.