|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Bring Our People Home From Afghanistan | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Iraq BLOG Count | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "The Outpost: An Untold Story of American Valor" by Jake Tapper At 6:00 a.m. on the morning of October 3, 2009, Combat Outpost Keating was viciously attacked by Taliban insurgents. The 53 U.S. troops, having been stationed at the bottom of three steep mountains, were severely outmanned by nearly 400 Taliban fighters. Though the Americans ultimately prevailed, their casualties made it one of the war's deadliest battles for U.S. forces. |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Just Another Soldier" by Jason Christopher Hartley A year on the ground in Iraq |
"A Nightmare's Prayer" by Michael Franzak A Marine Harrier Pilot's War in Afghanistan |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Worldwide Online Newspapers BBC/Iraq The Sandbox -- Military Blog List of Newspapers that reprinted the Jyllands-Posten's Muhammed cartoons |
The Official Doonesbury Website The Official Peanuts Website The Official Dilbert Website Face of Muhammed -- Drawings
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
"In for a penny, in for a pound"
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
This came to me in a dream: I saw space fractured into a zillion pieces. And not just random shards laying on the ground like a smashed crystal wine glass, no, they were ordered, all the diverse sizes and shapes imaginable intricately arranged.
So we have simplex equals cell equals manifold. By the use of barycentric coordinates we can further sub-divide the cell into simple quotient spaces to create a polyhedron of space. With each factoring we create a composition series, further refining the cell's detail. The cell, it may be pointed out, is susceptible to continuous deformations. In the process its interior morphology rearranges its play of symmetries in a dynamic and self-organizing manner. And as the interior of a cell is sensivitve to its boundary shape, it is said to be shape-aware, analogous in regulatory capacity or methodology to the morphogenetic field of a biological cell. An important point that shouldn't be underestimated concerns the orientation -- spin -- imposed on a simplex, infusing it with a causal asymmetric tendency effecting ripples and contours. This feature eliminates random inconsistencies.
point = a1v1 + a2v2 + a3v3.
For example, an electron can correspond to a factored network of quotient spaces in a fluctuating state, stuck in a loop due to the particular configuration, compressed into a bounded condition. Increasing and decreasing refinement within a certain range corresponds to its everchanging position and momentum. As the space of that cell increases in detail due to fluctuating factoring, a photon is absorbed. As it decreases, a photon is expelled. This represents a probability distribution as a result of, or corresponding to, the quantum partitioning. The electron can be localized by the barycentroid (or multiple barycentroids) of the cell, insensitive to noise and deformations.
Looking at our cell-complex from another perspective, continually varying spatial vortices collectively forming an ever-shifting strange attractor, an emergent phenomenon, manifests in the macro-world as spacetime, the fabric of it, to use a hackneyed mataphor. Piecewise, a strange attractor renders the overall appearance of the cell as it goes through its fluctuations, fractalizing space. A collection of these cells (simplex, node), interfacing at their boundaries (face, surface), on any required dimension, induces neighboring individual -- quantum level -- cells to arrange their interior structures in sympatico, either by means of extensions of partitioning lines from the source point crossing respective boundaries, or through resonation of sub-vortical frequencies.
Onion-skin slices superimposed on one another, interconnected and interrelating, subject to positive amplification and negative feedback constraints. Layers of spacetime embedded within each other -- concentric spheres -- yet separable along an imaginary axis. Viscosity thickening towards the bottom or center, bubbling up new micro-states from nano-moment to nano-moment, evolving fresh pseudo-stable surfaces through some kind of force convection.
Furthermore, thinking of space as a fluid medium allows us to forgo the associated notions of rigidity and flatness of space inherent in our concept of manifold. It bends and twists and can reform into any conceivable topologically valid shape. Time and motion are thus seen as effects of this constant partitioning. Particles as constricted loops, trapped in a web of symmetrically bound energy. Forces as changes in the loop structure due to fluctuation of the spatial components -- the factors.
As John D. Barrow writes: "Space and time can be born and thus can die."
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
The Day I Died
It's not easy for me to take corporeal form. I can only do it for a brief period of time; the energy outlay is enormous. But I'll try to maintain stasis for as long as possible so I can tell you what I've discovered. Two hundred and fifty seven years ago, I died, or at least it seemed so. Let me attempt to recount the events leading up to it, and those that followed.
Tea helped bring me back to some semblance of life, although, strangely, my mind seemed rather clear, almost sharp. Heavy socializing often had this effect after the doldrums of aloneness. Too much time spent thinking is not good for you. Curiously, while having tea in the garden, I found myself reading a yellowed pamphlet I discovered -- hidden in my bookcase -- on Blaise Pascal's speculation that a vacuum existed above the atmosphere -- in outer space, no less. I had no idea what to make of it. How could he know? In the midst of pondering this I left my apartment and proceeded to breakfast, clearing my head in the doing, with an old friend of university days, or at least, I thought he was, at that time.
We'd bumped into one another the previous evening as I left Marie's salon west of the canal. It was drizzling so we both had our heads bowed and almost collided right there on the street. It was far too miserable to chat, and I was far too drunk, so we arranged to meet at Cafe Leboeuf, my favorite retreat. As I walked, thoughts of the vacuum of space gave over
As I crossed streets and navigated absently through carriages and people, I ransacked my brain for proof, a single shred of experiential evidence to corroborate my inclination. He certainly considered us friends and remembered me almost instantly. In fact, it'd been on his insistence that I willingly -- out of loneliness? -- concurred. My emotional state had been rather dry for some time, perhaps I was merely wishing it to be true.
***************************
*************************** |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Astronomy
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
For more Astronomy websites, go to the NASA/Astronomy Page in the library.
Comet ISON's Current Status As we gaze into our crystal ball | The Future of ISON
Mars Science Laboratory - Curiosity Rover
Exoplanet Exploration
Three planets in habitable zone of nearby star: Gliese 667
Another Earth Just Twelve Light-Years Away?
The Extrasolar Planets Encyclopedia
NASA -- Planck ESA Science & Technology: Planck Mission Home BBC News: Planck Telescope reveals ancient cosmic light
Scientists release first taste of data from Planck mission
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Hubblesite
The Chandra X-ray Observatory Center
NASA's Chandra Sees Brightest Supernova Ever
DARK ENERGY FOUND STIFLING GROWTH IN UNIVERSE Astronomers Discover Largest Star On Record The Largest Galaxy in the Universe: IC 1101 | VIDEO 12/05/11: NASA's Kepler Confirms Its First Planet In Habitable Zone Dec. 7, 2011: First Habitable Planet Discovered
Hayden Planetarium
LHC -- Welcome to the Large Hadron Collider
'Observation of New Particle' Presented at Historic CERN Seminar by Professor Joe Incandela
Universe | Alexandria Digital Library
History of Astronomy
Windows to the Universe
An Atlas of the Universe
Universe Today
Open Questions: Physics and Astronomy
Cosmos Portal
COSMOS Magazine | the science of everything
Science News
SpaceRef -- Space News as it Happens
The Worlds of David Darling
Cosmology and Astrophysics E-Print Archive
Encyclopedia of Astronomy and Astrophysics
 Globular Star Cluster Omega Centauri & Other Star Clusters | Hubblesite Newscenter
************************** |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Astrophotography
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Earth Life Likely Came From Mars August 28, 2013 - Space.com Maybe Mars Seeded Earth's Life, Maybe It Didn't August 29, 2013 - Scientific American Blog 'We are all Martians': Chemist's otherworldly claim stirs debate August 28, 2013 - NBC News |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Nomad His back was ruined from digging post holes, a condition he'd grown accustomed to. And his hands were a mess. He had little experience working with barbed wire and they paid the price. He thought of this job as his last, his very last. Age and a painful weariness from having to deal with people had brought him to this place in his mind. He could tolerate certain folks for brief periods of time, but did not seek them out; socializing was not his habit. When the boss threw parties at the ranch, he never attended, always finding an excuse to go out on the range, to fix something needed fixing. He was quiet and left to himself by the rest of the crew. The younger ones made fun of him, sometimes to his face. He'd just snicker, shake his head and walk off. The older ones, closer to his age, would warn them: Don't poke a bear with a sharp stick. But, being young and full of themselves, they'd laugh it off.
He'd been working at the Circle 'M' Ranch for close to three months. As with all new arrivals, the others asked many probing questions, wanting to know just who they were sharing their lives with, and who might be a danger to them. He was vague about where he came from and what he'd been up to. Vague to the point of secretive. After awhile, the men gave up, believing, at least, he was no threat. Pretty much all they knew, and all they needed to know from his perspective, was his name. He called himself Nomad, the name given him long ago by a gypsy woman. He liked it so it stuck. The day wore on in typical fashion. It was getting close to July 4th and the boss always held a big party. At dinner, the men talked of nothing else. They spoke of the fireworks and food and what musicians were coming, but mostly about the other ranch women, and especially those from town. The signs of fights over certain ones already brewed from the sound of their talk, and it would only get more intense as the day grew closer. Nomad ate in silence. Such conversation bored him, he'd heard it all before in a hundred towns, in hundreds of bars. The men could fight to the point of death, it mattered not, it was always up to the woman to decide in the end.
Life had shifted gears some time in the distant past for him as well. In spite of himself, his mind would always fall into that hole, a roullette ball finding home. He sat and smoked and watched the horses -- and thought. Xavier, the Mexican cook, climbed the rails and sat beside him. He was the only one Nomad bothered with. He played dumb, mostly because the crew expected him to, but Nomad could see he was far from it. Xavier hedged a question, "How goes it, amigo? You see anything in that crystal ball you're always gazing into?" Nomad spat, then forced a smile, "Nah. It's the same story over and over. I keep looking for a break in the action, but there isn't one. It goes all the way through to the bottom, and stops dead." "Maybe you should try sitting on another rail." "Might work. But then, the horses wouldn't recognize me." "Re-introduce yourself, change your name." "You mean, start at the bottom and work up?" Their conversations usually went this way. It seemed to make sense to them, but any of the others eavesdropping had no idea what they were talking about. The next morning Nomad was scheduled to go into town with two of the younger ones, take the wagon and get supplies for the upcoming bash. The cargo would include whiskey, which would be held under lock and key by the foreman, a tough bastard of no nonsense disposition who knew firmly on which side his bread was buttered.
********************** To Be Continued... ********************** |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
The Unusual
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Brought to you by the National Earth Science Association Well done and worth the time
|
Hosted by Morgan Freeman Math and Science sections, spectacular photos, and much more... An Online Service of Florida's Educational Technology Clearinghouse. Michael Quinion writes on international English from a British Viewpoint. A Peer-Reviewed Academic Resource
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
The essay contest of June, 2008 offered by FQXi on The Nature of Time drew a lot of attention from the world's TIME enthusiasts. The times they are a-changing, or that is to say, the notion of time is undergoing severe scrutiny. As Einstein examined our assumption about time's nature and overthrew its Newtonian hold on our psyches, a similar questioning is currently going on. There is no definite understanding as to the origin or essential characteristics of time. The rush to derive a comprehensive theory of gravity towards a hoped-for unified field theory to replace or supplement the Standard Theory has to stop to take a breath, back-up, so to speak, in order to first address this major conceptual hurdle. What exactly is time?
Almost forty years ago I was living in Santa Monica. One day I wondered into a used book store, my favorite places to explore. Way back in a far corner I came across a little yellow hardback book entitled Fingers Pointing Towards The Moon by Wei Wu Wei. I still have it. At the time, I was looking for something to grab onto, as a guide of sorts, some line or course that cut through the trappings of religion and western philosophy and got right to the heart of the matter. Having a scientific or mathematical bent, this book satisfied that search, at least as an anchor in what was then a very confused individual.
In the spirit of the ongoing debate over the nature of time with respect to devising a theory of gravity or spacetime, I include a few excerpts from it below. I find that expousers of their beliefs as to time's reality often repeat or reformulate, in diffferent clothes, ideas that have been around for centuries or are paraphrases of others, parallel constructs. String theorists, loop quantum gravity supporters and those involved in developing what's called, Causal Dynamical Triangulation (CDT) [my choice] have been grappling unsuccessfully, it seems, to come up with a suitable definition for time as a fundamental footing in their theoretical constructions.
It's not enough to say that time doesn't exist or that it's not fundamental, for where does that leave us? Those are negativities, what we need to hear is a positive description: what is it? And how does it differ from previous concepts? Most people who bother to think about it understand Einstein's notion of time as expressed in his Special Theory. Time in quantum mechanics is less clear, at least to me. In any event, they don't gibe, and in order for them to come together somehow, this TIME idea needs to be straightened out.
Research in science has moved on and left the basic assumptions on which it's based lagging behind. A reassessment is in order. It's like the Tower of Babel, scientists and philosophers debate conjectures and speculations as to the nature of the universe and reality, imagining as they do that a certain understanding of time is shared. I believe there is a notion of time to be found that underlies these two, a deeper notion possibly dredged up from the past and refashioned according to the present scientific and philosophic contexts, or else something brand new, created out of thin air, a firm, solid, clear understanding all can agree on.
To state that it is an emergent phenomenon doesn't satisfy for the reason that it's simply too general and vague. Emerging from what and where? I read a lot of this kind of stuff and get glossy-eyed trying to see beneath the surface of their generalities. It's as though someone gave you directions in a big city to "go north a ways and then turn east." Well, wait a second. I want to know just what streets I'm to go down, what landmarks to look for, and how long will it take me. You know -- specifics, something concrete. EMERGE is a wonderful concept and I understand its meaning regarding phenomena -- a collection of parts on an elemental level that have an affinity for each other -- self-organizing, perhaps -- emerges into a separate interrelated and irreducible complexity, a whole on a higher level the global properties of which cannot be deduced by studying the parts, and so forth. But, if time is emergent, how does it emerge? Is it a process? A field of force? We conceive it as a dimension of space with characteristics all its own. But what does that mean? What is it?
Kant tells us that, "We create Time ourselves, as a function of our receptive apparatus." I used to imagine I knew what that meant exactly, but not anymore. It doesn't tell me what it IS but only that it's produced by filtering -- prism-like -- through my brain, my receptive apparatus.
In Fingers Pointing Towards The Moon Wei states, or reiterates: "A phenomenon is something that occurs in three-dimensional space interpreted with the fourth dimension seen serailly as time. Reality (noumenon) is motionless, ubiquitous, and permanent." And elsewhere: "Our concept of Time, but not our percept, as of something in flux, is probably mistaken. Differentiation may be a property of the Time-dimension as experienced by us. The fourth-dimension, when seen by us serailly as time (as opposed to its total aspect which is eternity) produces the illusion of phenomena."
With regard to space, he writes: "Our psyche exists in the fourth-dimension. What we see of one another are three-dimensional segments of a four-dimensional totality. The next dimension is Eternity (in its time-aspect) and Infinity (in its space-aspect) in which everything exists immutably or is infinite variation at one point." [Does that last sound a little like the idea of superposition?] "This is the fifth dimension or the second dimension of time, but Ouspensky states that each higher dimension is infinity for the dimension immediately below it. The sixth dimension is that in which every possibility exists."
And with respect to Eternity and Passing Time he says: "Duration (or Eternity) is the necessary point of Immobility from which Passing-time is seen as such. We could not be aware of Passing-time if an element of us were not situated in Duration.
"Light would seem to be using a dimension at right-angles to those of the observer." [Michelson-Morley]. "The fact that light is found to be two separate and incompatible things -- an undualtion and photons -- might mean that its four-dimensional form is undulatory whereas it manifests tridimensionally as a shower of particles."
Ultimately, however, Fingers Pointing Towards The Moon is about the nature of self. And here's where we enter the jungle of clinging vines and treacherous undergrowth. It seems to me that in order to come to a clear understanding, or at least a solid intuition, of the notion of TIME, we have to simultaneously reexamine other concepts intimately associated with it.
As Callender writes at the end of his article, quoting the French philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty: "... time itself does not really flow and its apparent flow is a product of our 'surreptitiously putting into the river a witness of its course.' That is, the tendency to believe time flows is a result of forgetting to put ourselves and our connections to the world into the picture. Merleau-Ponty was speaking of our subjective experience of time, and until recently no one ever guessed that objective time might itself be explained as a result of those connections. Time may exist only by breaking the world into subsystems and looking at what ties them together. In this picture, physical time emerges by virtue of our thinking ourselves as separate from everything else."
Both in special relativity and quantum mechanics we've accepted the role and significance of the observer, but only as perceiver and measurer; that is, in the biological sense, not as a separate self experiencing the world and thereby humanizing the universe. Scientists shy away from the idea of the psyche, relegating it to the domains of psycholgy, cognitive science, theology, and philosophy. Defying empirical analysis, it's difficult to put your finger on its elusive character. Carl Jung has probably done the most definitive work, certainly the most groundbreaking along with William James, on its description and purpose, how it functions and, most importantly, its source.
Time and self are connected, interdependent, and inextricably entwined, working in tandem to create the world we see around us, and may have a mutual origin, a cosmic progenitor. In fact, it may prove essential to recast both concepts with an eye towards discovering their mutual juncture, their unifying field on some level of physical reality or inner dimension, much the same as electricity and magnetism have been joined at the hip.
In an undifferentiated universe, there is no separate selfhood. Does the act of differentiation -- perception and consciousness -- create both Time and Self as manifestations of some deeper reality? I believe so, but, how do we disentangle ourselves? At the moment of perception and understanding, we necessarily distance our minds from that which we perceive, thereby artificially creating a sense of self and other. How do we get around that?
We evolve: From SELF to self to SELF/self.
As An Aside: Philosophical analyses and speculations on the nature of time are thousands of years old. Witness the Mayan obsession with it. So, I'm not saying this as a criticism of what's going on currently, but, these ideas are not new.
As I mentioned above, forty years ago I bought the book Fingers Pointing Towards The Moon by Wei Wu Wei. I've read it many times, often randomly opening to a page. In it there are several chapters devoted to Time and Space.
Time is an illusion, it says. An ancient Buddhist and Taoist understanding which is elaborated on in great detail in Fingers and elsewhere, of course. And now, here I am, or we are, reading in reputable scientific magazines and essay contests about that very same idea; presented, however, as though new, as an original speculation complete with reasonable [scientific, even] explanations as to why it is illusory.
An old idea cast in a modern frame, dressed in sophisticated clothing. A recycled idea reemerging to take hold the imagination. Maybe this time it'll stick.
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
************ 
Three teams of astronomers poured over sections of a picture of the deepest view into the universe ever seen, taken by the Hubble Space Telescope over what amounted to four days of exposure on a single location -- a point, actually -- far off in the distance. Six scientists to a team, half sitting, the rest standing or pacing in front of a long pop-up table, covered with papers, spectrographic analyses, small pictures, pencils, rulers, hand-held calculators, styrofoam coffee cups, bottled water, and one ashtray. Jackets draped over backs of chairs, each team's excitement and astonishment was palpable in the close-knit setting. Above the table were two rows -- one stacked on the other -- of three 27-inch monitors showing different regions of the overall exposure at varying magnifications.
I only just arrived, my plane had an engine go out coming into Baltimore. After convivialities with the administrative team -- some small talk, dinner invitations -- I was assigned to Doctor Zeingelder's work-group in theatre "C". I had never worked with him before but was looking forward to the meeting. He greeted me as a colleague, warm and personable, enjoying himself too much to be concerned about unintended tardiness -- Nobel Laureates can be testy at times.
Introductions to the rest of the team were postponed; the atmosphere verged on a shark frenzy. I took my post at the back, slowly walking the length of the monitors, taking it all in. When I found a particular orientation, a certain angle of perspective, I stopped, focused without strain, then let it happen.
************************ ************************ |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Planet Earth
Global Digest has a section on: Environment|Conservation|Endangered Species. [For Geosciences websites, go to the Geosciences/Environment Page in the library.]
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Will Steger Foundation formerly: GlobalWarming 101
IPCC
World Wildlife Fund
Animals -- Pictures -- Wild Animal Facts
|
Living on Earth Sound Journalism for the Whole Planet
FOREST TRENDS
World Rainforest Movement
International Rivers Network
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
United Nations Environment Programme [UNEP] UNEP -- Great Apes Survival Partnership [GRASP] UNEP -- World Conservation Monitoring Center Great Apes work at UNEP-WCMC
Antarctic Research Centre
Polar Field Services
Public Library of Science
Open Questions
Living Reviews
Earth Science
The Periodic Table of Videos
Encyclopedia of Earth
Living Things: Habitats & Ecosystems
Ecosystems of our World
Internet Resources for Ecosystems: compliments of Berkeley
Plate Tectonics
USGS Publications Warehouse
LiveScience: Science, Technology, Health & Environmental News
"One Man's Wilderness" -- An Alaskan Odyssey
*************
************* |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Paleontology/Biology Animals Then And Now |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Global Digest has a section on: Environment|Conservation|Endangered Species,
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The Paleontology Portal: Home |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 The Jaws of the Leviathan
Discovery in Desert of Peru
[July 1, 2010]
|
Discovering a New Dinosaur in Northern Alaska-November 09, 2011- |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| New Fossil Primate Suggests Common Asian Ancestor -- June 30, 2009 -- Science Daily -- |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
"Textbooks say Archaeopteryx (right: a fossil cast), which lived some 150 million years ago, was the first bird (left: an illustration by the ornithologist Roger Tory Peterson). But some paleontologists now say it may have been a feathered non-avain dinosaur." (Compliments of Smithsonian magazine, December, 2010)
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The Strangest Cambrian Creatures Ever Discovered Images: The Cambrian Explosion The Cambrian explosion was far shorter than we thought | Natural History Museum
Dawn of Animal Life
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Everything Fossils... Fossil Information for Education, Collection and Fun
Paleobiology: Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History
The World of Charles R. Knight -- Gallery
Evolution | PBS
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 Karen Carr Studio |  John Sibbick Illustration | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 The Complete Works of Charles Darwin
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
 |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
ML: Macaulay Library - Cornell Lab of Ornithology
Biology Online: Life Science Reference
History of Life -- 5th edition
Encyclopedia of Earth
The Census of Marine Life Portal
Microbes may account for as much as 90% of the mass of all ocean life.
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Catalogue of Life: 2010 Annual Checklist
ITIS: Integrated Taxonomic Information System
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Extreme Science There are 350,000 species of beetle -- one-fifth of all species on Earth. "... the most complete collection of science and technology information and resources available on the Internet, including resources for students working on science fair projects and teachers needing content for science lessons."
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 Hercules Beetle Can carry 850 times its own weight. |
 Lightning Beetle |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The Incredible Journey of the Butterflies
|
IUCN - The International Union for Conservation of Nature
[Threatened butterflies, beetles and dragonflies] |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
The Adventures of Jethro, the Frog
During this brief time of year the following events took place, Jethro had been very busy. He'd reached maturity and was expected to behave accordingly; however, he didn't understand what that meant. He saw life differently than most of his peers. They had rules they lived by; for instance, grown frogs fraternized only with other frogs and gathered at the south end of the pond at dusk during the warm time to listen to speeches by the bigger, tougher frogs. Jethro rejected that whole lifestyle and went his own way. Life was a celebration of life, he believed, and submission to rules was simply not for him.
********************** ********************** |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
MONSTER 
It was a dark and moonless night. Quiet prevailed in the rough-scrabble town; its hard-working residents either fast asleep or huddled in the few bars that spotted Main street, their neon lights beacons of refuge from the damp chill. None could have been even remotely aware of what was about to take place.He sat stolidly in the one chair allotted. The room was dark and smelled faintly of pine oil and old curtains. He'd put it off long enough; the moment was nigh. The image formed in his mind, tentatively, delicate as gossamer, then slowly coalesced, its contours sharpening, turning vivid and pronounced. Still, at first, as though fearful, its five eyes dared to glance about at the space of its making, furtively, amazed and curious. Breath expanded its massive thorax. Exhaling smoothly as though tasting, its frame shrank back to a gnarled carapace, black as coal. Surrounded by shards of fluctuating photons, it breathed in again, taking the illumination with it. With that, the image faded into shadow, dimly sparkled like a distant nebula, then shone brighter than before, stronger. Its circular mouth opened showing jagged serrated teeth. Its eyes glared with malevolence. Confidence building, though newborn and unsure, it moved, cautiously, flexing its jointed scale-encrusted tentacles, each ending in a razor sharp pincer. Opening its mouth, it ambled forward, though direction had no meaning in this universe of pure thought. The man held firm to his emotions, determination to carry through uppermost in his mind. Previously, when experiencing this apparition he'd been afraid. Fear overwhelmed him and the image quickly dissolved into black emptiness. But not this time. He had resolved to bring it forth into reality as he'd been taught when a child on Baraxus, his home world, now far away in time and space. He'd been instructed by the elders and knew of his power. However, after coming here to planet Earth, taking on human form, he'd been influenced by its people and made uncertain. But not anymore. He knew what he must do; they had given him this mission; and he would not fail. The creature he was about to bring into the world was only the beginning. An entire legion of the same and others far more terrible would he create. Now was the time of completion. Creatures of thought, they were, nonetheless, able to constitute physically at will, a 3-D hologram projection of a network of engrams. They could therefore move through all force fields as though they simply did not exist, while yet maintaining their original shape, altering mass piecemeal throughout their bodies as needed. They could not be harmed except by counter-thought, a force of nature the humans had not yet discovered. Essentially, they were invincible. They came from the depths of the psyche of those who dwelt therein. A failsafe did exist however, lest they might at some time turn on their creators. A backdoor, so to speak, which not everyone knew. He closed his eyes to focus all his energies. The end of humanity would commence in this pitch black room at the edge of a small town whose name he could never remember. It didn't matter. Soon, his kind would arrive in their countless ships and the dominant species on this planet would be gone, a new home to replace the devastation of his own. He had but to say the words, the incantation, and the abomination would project from his mind into the room. Small though it be, it was still sufficient to contain it. As he was about to utter the final pronouncement, there was a knock on the door.
************* ************* |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
ECONOMICS
When it comes to the recent collapse of the financial market -- what with bailing out AIG, Goldman Sachs and others -- and current repercussions, I confess to being at a loss when it comes to understanding the particulars. And I don't believe we're getting the straight skinnies from Congress. [When do we?] They pick and choose facts -- true or questionably so -- and ignore others or misstate them [or just plain lie] in order to put forth their respective agendas. Regulation is obviously necessary but the Republicans insist that's not the case. Let the market regulate itself, they say. Well, we've all seen where that strategy has led. Without oversight enforcible by law, we end up with corruption, greed, fraud, cheating, stealing, and the door wide open for con-men of every stripe.
If you're in the same boat as I, or one nearby, check this out. It may be helpful. If they're not going to oversee the financial sector, then at the very least we need to have some kind of clue as to what the hell they're talking about.
************* Financial Bubbles, Real Estate Bubbles, Derivative Bubbles and the Financial and Economic Crisis
Financial Bubbles, Real Estate Bubbles, Derivative Bubbles and the Financial and Economic Crisis
YouTube -- Financial Derivatives -- What are they? -- Housing Bubble Collapse -- Unregulated Insurance
NOVA | Mind Over Money | PBS --
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Bubble Economics: The Illusion of Wealth | August 12, 2009 - Doug French A Glossary of Political Economy Terms | Dr. Paul M. Johnson Economics and Politics | Paul Krugman Blog -- NY Times The Economics Blogs Resource Page
|
Tim Harford's Top Ten Undercover Economics Blogs The Ten *Really* Best Economics Blogs Top Ten Economics Blogs You're Not Visiting (But Should Be)
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
********************** For more information on Economics, Global Digest has a section on Corporations | Watch Groups | Economics
********************** |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
**********************
********************** |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Second Chance
He felt like a fraud and a coward. Biting his tongue for the sake of,..., what? Until it all came crashing down like the card house it was. He wanted to die. Didn't care how, not really. Painlessly would be nice, but, as long as it was quick, he didn't care. When asked how things were going, he'd always reply -- fine. Fine. Right. He wanted to tell the truth; he wanted to say he felt like hell, that life meant nothing, less than nothing. Where he got the energy to go on, he had no idea. Thoughts of suicide were his constant companion, but something always held him back; he figured it was her. It certainly wasn't fear of the unknown; of that, at least, he was certain.
Apparently, they presumed he hadn't the capacity or the heart to do otherwise than accept this treatment. Or perhaps they were just oblivious themselves, most people are. But he knew why he bit his tongue and allowed it to go on. For his love and their life together. For their home and the happiness they knew. He wanted to get along with everyone; be accepting and show the world his friendly side. When he was with her -- just the two of them -- he could be his true self, with all his foibles and gentleness and idosyncrasies, openly and easily. That was the beauty of their relationship, their friendship.
But when she died, the walls came tumbling down. Everything changed. He no longer had any reason to hold back. None. And in his grief, he found he hated those people, those friends. In fact, he fantacised about killing them for belittling his relationship in that macho demeaning way some men have. Off-hand things they'd say. He-men, he'd grumble to himself and shake his head dismissively; punks and childish bastards.
It was strangely liberating -- this deep-rooted anger. The irony didn't go unnoticed. And this anger turned towards him. After all, he set the stage. Mollifying, placating, allowing shit to go on that chipped away at his character, indirectly affecting his relationship, not only with her but with the world at large. He held back; it was how he'd become. He knew full well his abilities; he knew he could do something about his living situation, improve on it. But the goddamn status quo, maintain the staus quo. He felt guilty whenever he went against it, like he was blowing what he had, jeopardizing everything important. Now, it was too late and he no longer cared to maintain anything.
He felt a strength he used to know when young and it was religion to stand up for himself, for what was right, when nothing else mattered. It felt rough and strained at first, like muscles gone unused for far too long a time. Where did that go? he wondered, over and over. Trying to feel it again in his bones; followed by musings of if only. He felt vulnerable, untrusting of his instincts. But, vulnerability and self-doubt were what got him into this hell in the first place, so he brushed it aside with contempt for himself, for his weakness and excessive caution, for what he saw as his cowardice.
He'd drawn a cage around his freedom, a web that went around and through him, nullifying channels not prescribed. He'd forgotten, somewhere along the line, to take those paths. He'd forgotten that they led to control of one's life. Now, the cage had dissolved into the imaginary space it always was.
He became obsessive about his home, their home, kept it in order, thumbtacked Christmas and birthday cards to the walls, would stare around carefully studying the details, stilling the moment, taking everything in. If he could only concentrate hard enough in just the right way, she would appear. He looked at every little thing as though for the first time, examining momentoes with a reverance he rarely felt before. Reaching for her. For that person the two of them were together. That feeling of life. Wanting to feel that sense of home again, yet it faded into the background, just out of reach, elusive, like a shadow or a distant sound he could barely hear. Trying to remember how it'd been when she was there. Where she preferred to sit, how she sat,..., and stood and moved.
He drank almost every day. When he'd get drunk he'd rant, loudly, angrily, to his woods; railing at God in whom he no longer had any faith. To hell with you, God, he would yell. And much worse. His nearest neighbor was a good mile away, not that he gave a damn. He drank and cried and thought of suicide.
And how empty and quiet the woods were. The silence struck him, appalled his soul, threatened to rend him apart from within in a violent explosion, a supernova. Not the quiet of simply being alone, he'd been alone before when she was gone on errands in town or visiting friends. It was a strange sad quiet, like a children's playground with no children in it. It went right to the bone.
A few drunken crazy nights he ran around calling her name, looking for her, close to hysteria with anguish and loss. His sadness drenched him and stole his heart away. He refused to accept it, and blamed himself, over and over again -- she was dead because of what he'd become.
********************** ********************** |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
The Anatomy of a Differential Equation
Any equation in two variables of the form: f (x,y,c) = 0,
Now, let's consider a differential equation of the first order in three variables.
The surface equation (1) f (x,y,z,c) = 0 satisfies a differential equation of the form: (2) P dx + Q dy + R dz = 0,
The reason is that from equation (1) we have (3) ∂f/∂x dx + ∂f/∂y dy + ∂f/∂z dz = 0,
Geometrically we may say that the coefficients P, Q, R determine a vector (4) P i + Q j + R k. (5) dx i + dy j + dz k.
****************** ****************** |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
I was sitting alone at a bar drinking bourbon and coke on the rocks, mesmerized by the whirligigs of leaves and trash dancing on the street. My thoughts were grim; desolation lined my wheels; lights flickered on my dashboard. I could've been having an out-of-body experience but I had no way to tell, the cocoon of inebriation held me in its thrall. The world had thumbed me into the earth like a push-pin. I protested not.I had enough cash left for one more good drunk and that was the end of the bloody rainbow. As I eyeballed the keeper of the booze, nodding and pointing for another drink, I accidentally glanced in the mirror behind the bar and couldn't help but think of Armageddon. I don't know if it was the bleary woebegone grimace I barely recognized or if the roulette ball of depravity had finally found a home. The near shock peeled the scab off my buzz like sandpaper over a rough knot. I lit another smoke and waited. Sooner or later, I thought, it'll come to pass -- Armageddon.
****************** ****************** |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Infinity
The Irrational Numbers (Irrationals) are of the second order. They are uncountable and in some way denser, more compact, than the Rationals.
The Real Numbers (Reals) are composed of both the Rationals and the Irrationals and are therefore uncountable as well.
The Reals represent an Uncountable Continuum.
********************* *********************
Let a Rational number stand for a real particle -- like a quark or an electron -- defined minimumly as a detectable excitation of some underlying field, a quantum fluctuation that brings with it the property of permanence in the sense of continuity of identity.
The Irrationals can then stand for virtual particles. Virtual particles also considered as excitations of this underlying field from which the real particles emerge, but manifested as the forces operating between real particles; that is, acting as intermediaries -- the mesesenger particles.
Here is where I have a problem: In the literature, virtual particles play two different roles. One: force-particles and the field supporting their existence. And two: emerging as matter/antimatter pairs from the vacuum [e.g., quark-antiquark pairs], borrowing energy for a Planck time, then dissolving back into the morass of potential quantum energy. In any event, each virtual particle model shares the concept of virtual particles emerging from the vacuum of pre-space.
So, we have quantum fluctuations, both real and virtual, underlying the reality of and giving substance to quantum space.
The real particle fluctuations -- corresponding to the Rationals -- are discrete (quanta) and may be considered as nodes of a network. Topologically, each node is compact in Hilbert space [infinite dimensional] and surrounded by a neighborhood of energy.
One could argue that the particles and their interactions arise simultaneously, thereby occluding the logic of cause and effect. Nonetheless, the point is that their joining as continuous process produces the space we're familiar with.
Gravity, residing as potential only in quantum space, is an effect of this interaction and as such is not fundamentally a quantum phenomenon and cannot therefore be a gradient of the underlying virtual quantum field. With time it forms a hypersurface or multi-dimensional manifold -- the creation of the continuum of spacetime -- comprised of families of curves -- pathways, trajectories, histories -- in space. It acts to cohere and maintain the integrity of the quantum world, to give it sense and definition, as does an envelope of a tangential family of curves on an ordinary surface.
But for the sake of argument, if virtual gravitons -- the force-particles of a gravitational field -- can be construed as points (quanta) of those curves, then the manifold/field thus generated would be of the second order, the order of acceleration.
But is that necessary?
** Electrostatics, dealing with point-masses at rest relative to each other and to the coordinate system, is contained in Electrodynamics, the field-equations of Maxwell.
************* Some Algebraic Rules of Transfinite Numbers Aleph-Null (ℵ) is the cardinality of the set of positive integers -- the counting numbers.
ℵ + r = ℵ ℵ + ℵ = ℵ r × ℵ = ℵ ℵ × ℵ = ℵ ℵ r = ℵ
************* |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The boundary, or surface, of any figure of any dimension represents the limit of what may otherwise be considered unlimited [The two end-points of a one-dimensional line segment are its boundary, for instance.]. This limit acts to give definition to the unconditioned.
A simplicial complex (to be defined later) may be thought of as the rational reflection of differentiated images perceived by the brain as it attempts to sort out its surroundings. This complex 'rests' on the surface of reality, mapping it, and this surface, or boundary, although of the underlying spacetime itself, nonetheless has a reality all its own, separating, as it does, interior from exterior.
The human being reflects or expresses this idea. As grain in wood we represent the same idealized pattern, the same archetype, indelibly etched into our cosmic genes. Our psyche functions through the tension effected by the interplay of the conscious/unconscious dichotomy. On the one hand, content fills the agent of order as raw material upwells from within. And on the other, Mind, enclosing and interpenetrating from without, filters through the interface separating individual conscious ego from universal unconscious reality, the great sea of creativity. By so doing, we consciousize the Unconscious as we identify with it.
The idea of a simplex is easy to visualize. They're dimensional. A 2-simplex can be thought of as a closed triangle with three vertices and three line segments -- or edges -- acting as its boundaries connecting the vertices. But, topologically, it can take any cell-shape, a cell being a generalization of a simplex. Each cell is homeomorphic -- maps invariants to invariants -- to a Euclidean space. In that sense, they resemble a manifold. Now, the term manifold is oftentimes generalized to mean any flat surface, but its significance lies in the fact that compared to a polyhedron, it is all of one piece. It has no sub-partitions joined together as does a polyhedron. In that manner, each manifold corresponds to a local flat Euclidean plane. 
Think of a cone made from a sheet of paper as you twist its pointed-end tighter and tighter. That is the space, or the simplicial complex, of gravity, barycentric coordinates standing for centers of mass [barycenter means center of mass or gravity]. Space, taffy-like, creates the surface appearance of curvature due to its contraction and stretching, to its folding and squeezing. The underlying cause may be attributed to the increasing refinement -- or factoring -- of the sections of simple quotient spaces -- factor groups of denser symmetry -- spontaneously generating, and nested in a hierarchy of sub-domains. Three-dimensionally, we can think of a tetrahedron as homeomorphic to a solid ball, an image that seems to be more agreeable for its natural symbol of centering.
Simple refers to non-divisibility. Each factor group -- each sub-domain of compacted space -- is a whole unto itself, locked in a preferred arrangement or quantized set of arrangements. The mesh size of any specific simplex net varies relatively, but must be no greater than a suitable Planck designation or limit based on the compact nature of the associated Lie group in Hilbert Space. An appropriate distance-metric can be imposed from without but understood only as an artifact for purposes of calculation. Being topological, the underlying field has no inherent metric; in a topological space distance has no meaning. Objects exist in and of themselves without reference to any background coordinate system.
I awoke that morning later than usual; the ramifications of copious amounts of champaigne rumbling through my head like a herd of elephants. An artist friend had fortunately established himself in the real world; after years of struggling with low-rent galleries, a well-known critic finally touted his paintings. Only days after the review appeared in the paper he was contacted by the owner of an upscale gallery, one where people actually bought works instead of just looking and leaving, eating the cheese and drinking the wine. I've done that, many a time, it's a way to spend a sunday with a lady friend. Yesterday, or the previous day, to be more accurate, was the first of his showings -- to last two weeks. So, a celebration was in order.
to thoughts of this friend from school. Just as suddenly I found myself entertaining a shadow of doubt brought on by the murkiness of aged memory; it had been years ago, after all. Had he really been a friend? How close? Or had we only shared a few classes together, the familiarity of a face from that richer and happier period in my life giving our relationship an unwarranted significance?
It was getting towards evening, the light clouds filtering the waning daylight. He'd had enough, anyway. Saddling his horse he rode due west for the ranch and the comfort of his bunk. He barely had the strength to remove his boots, then fell quickly to sleep. The dinner bell would wake him. The rest of the men milled about, coming and going, ignoring his presence as they always did. His bunk was over in the far corner, away from the others. He hid a bottle of whiskey in his duffel under the bunk, but none had ever seen him drink. Nor had any ever seen him drunk. After dinner, he'd sit outside on the toprail of the corral smoking. That seemed to be his one pleasure in life.
Afterwards he retired to his rail by the corral, studying the horses as they walked and occasionally galloped from one end to the other. A curiosity he never could fathom. Flies, maybe; or just the sudden urge to be let out to run, to be free on the high range where they came from. Breathing the cool crisp air off the ridge instead of down here in the dry dust working for meals.
Lately there seems to be a convergence of minds -- physicists and philosophers -- centered around the question of the validity of the time concept. Things are coming to a head. This month's (June, 2010) issue of Scientific American has as its lead story: Does TIME Really Exist? by the University of California, San Diego philosophy professor, Craig Callender [funny, his name's Callender and he's writing about time]. Mathematician John D. Barrow writes in his book PI In The Sky "Spacetime is but a large-scale manifestation of some more fundamental entity." From what I've read, this seems to be the general consensus.
With regard to Motion (intimately connected to time) he writes: "The dynamism we know as Life and Consciousness thereof are and remain four-dimensional. Science is built on the arbitray assumption that the universe exists in Time and Space. There is no BECOMING. ALL IS. The illusion of motion is due to our inability to see every thing at once, to the fact that we see one thing after another. The motion is in our psyche. Rhythms, undulations are perhaps the curvature of Time. Time is the measure of Motion. Three-dimensionality is a function of our senses. Time is the boundary of our senses."
Once upon a time, a frog named Jethro lived on the fringe of a pond near the top of a tree-covered mountain. It wasn't a very deep pond, but it was wide and fed by a tall waterfall of cold clear mountain run-off. Surrounded by miles of forest, Jethro lived a peaceful, quiet life devoid of humans. On hot days, one of his favorite pastimes was to curl up in the mud on the bank of the pond, then at nightfall, come out and croak for hours with all the other frogs in the neighborhood. He lived with his parents and sister in a mud and stick cottage tucked into the hollow of a tree. In the fall when the leaves fell and the wind blew cool, he stayed near the water's edge, anticipating the big freeze. When winter finally arrived--always too soon for him--the pond iced over almost to the bottom. Along with his family, he'd bury himself as far beneath the pond mud as he could squirm, where he felt safe and content, his body slowed way down to almost death, waiting for time to go by. He'd wait and sleep and dream.
Live and let live had been his motto. But for years he'd worked hard to suppress his anger, to keep it under wraps, his protests against being treated with contempt and disrespect by people pretending to be his friends, to have his interests at heart. He put up with it; believed he needed their good will, for one reason or another. He wanted to get along. To maintain the status quo. To maintain a level of existence that proved satisfactory. His friends weren't all that bad, they'd help out when needed, but he noticed it was always on their terms.
He refused to let go, had no idea what that meant. It hadn't been just her and him, it was them, what they had, their relationship and the life they were living. And now that was gone; there was no them. He thought about her every day, could sit in the backyard for hours without moving, thinking about her, talking to her as though she were there, her chair still next to his. He lived alone; it made it easier and yet harder at the same time. What was worse, what he couldn't get passed and probably never would, was that he was convinced it was his fault. He searched his mind trying to find others to blame, but it was no use. He knew, was sure, without doubt -- it was his fault she was dead. It was as though he'd killed her, plain and simple.
The Rational Numbers (Rationals) are of the first order of infinity. They are called countable because the set of all Rationals has the 'same number of elements' (cardinality) as the set of integers, or even just the positive integers -- the Natural or Counting Numbers. That is, the Rationals can be put into a one-to-one correspondence with the counting numbers.
Sandwiches in hand, we went exploring about the site. All the out-buildings were locked. We tried to peer through the windows but they were so dirty it was impossible to see anything inside. We went back to the storage room and behind some crates found a door leading to the rest of the building. The knob wouldn't turn; it too was locked. We looked at one another in that way two old friends do who've done some shady things in their lives together, and decided, what the hell, let's break in and check it out; we could fix it later so no one would know. That was a mistake, as it turned out.
"Tom, you know you have an early meeting tomorrow, don't you?" cooed the machine voice, tinged with smothering femininity, lilting in all the right places, but slightly dissonant as though pieced together. Tom had tried to open the front door; he wanted to go to the bar down the street for a nightcap and some socializing. But the Guardian wouldn't hear of it; all the doors had been locked.
He laid on top of the thin microthermal covering and stretched out, holding his head in both hands, trying not to feel the effects of the drug. Once he'd tried to fool the machine by placing the pill in his pocket; but it knew, it always knew; from sensors located all through the house it could read his biochemical profile constantly, gauge his mood and, he believed, probe his secret desires. It knew, and would not let him rest until he complied.
An imposing man with bushy eyebrows and a stern face, his voice was nonetheless disarmingly cordial and engaging. His large hands resting on either side of the podium, he casually scanned the roomful of reporters. Then, he began: "I would first like to thank Doctor Tolstoy for his leadership during this time. For, what we have discovered thus far has been, ..., deeply disturbing and profound." He turned to nod towards Doctor Tolstoy, who nodded back. We were waiting; but not for long, he started right in.
Megan put her drink down hard on the glass-topped coffee table. Nobody moved in the hot stuffy parlor. Through the sliding screen door, the fading light outlined the mountains far to the southwest, dark clouds menacing their jagged ridges and peaks like a pack of hungry hyenas ready to pounce. She wanted desperately to go out onto the veranda, but the mosquitoes were thick and fierce, thirsty for blood. This whole damn country seems like that, she thought. What the hell are we doing here?
So dramatic, so theatrical, the whole family was rather like that. It was his turn then, he felt obligated, he needed to be here, in spite of the gout, the voracious insects, the horrid company, and his wife's illness, at least that's how he thought of it, her condition, that is.
