A Mini-Wall - Poetry

A Mini-Wall - which is a mind worm that will not let me sleep until I write it down, 

Poetry

Poetry is less  

a depiction of a reality  

perceived by the eye,  

and more  

the creation of a reality  

conceived in the mind.  

There, in the  

nooks and crannies  

of the cerebellum,  

lives a world of  

aching beauty  

wanting only the  

liberating touch of 
language. 

Metamorphosis

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I had a question from out there on the Schrag Wall blog about the Distilled Harmony perspective on an Afterlife, specifically: "Does Distilled Harmony advocate something like reincarnation?"  Interesting question. Here are my thoughts: 

First, Distilled Harmony doesn't advocate any specific series of conclusions. Rather it seeks to define a harmonious framework within which each of us can explore a variety of questions and reach our own conclusions about living a harmonic life.  So Distilled Harmony defines a path, not a destination.  Hence, all I can really share are the places that I encounter along my own path. 

That being said, do I believe in reincarnation?  Not so much reincarnation in the sense of being born into a new life in this locale, even though some intensely harmonic relationships present an emotional/intuitive argument for “having known you in another place and time.” But I am a bit uncomfortable with a rebirth that seems tethered to this third rock from the sun, or a heaven or paradise similarly linked to our current existence. If, as the chord theory extension of string theory implies, our physical being, our essential chord, is comprised of infinitesimal strings, tuned as best we can to the overarching music of the universe, it seems rather short-sighted to restrict any subsequent expression of that chord to our little tiny corner of the Milky Way.  

Rather, I am inclined toward the notion of a metamorphosis, a transition from our current existence to another. Again, to point to String Theory, a kind of phase transition. The analogy of a moth or butterfly arising from cocoon is helpful: this life - while precious in its own right - is also preparatory to other existences to come, existences not necessarily tied to our current cosmic here and now.  We might well emerge from our mortal cocoon anywhere in the universe and in forms - that while quite “normal” in that "post-emergence reality" - would be inconceivable to us in our current existence. 

I was listening to the National Gallery of Art Podcast “Flights of Angels: The Heavenly Orders in the Renaissance" the other day.  I was fascinated to learn of the hierarchical intricacies that Renaissance artists brought to their depictions of angels - their attempts to visualize entities they had never seen from a place they had never experienced. We are, I would hazard, equally hard pressed to imagine a post-metamorphosis existence. That does not render such an existence impossible, or even improbable.  Again, if we peek at the notion of metamorphosis through the lens of physics we still see nothing to remove metamorphosis from the realm of the possible. The first law of thermodynamics argues against the destruction of matter, but does allow for its transformation - at least within a closed system like the universe.  So shuffling off the Bard's "mortal coil," certainly allows for the notion that we may be shuffling onto another, transformed, coil.  Given the total lack of any scientific data for or against an afterlife; that's my harmonic stance of the moment. 

So, if that is my position, I need to treat it as reality, and consider the issues it raises. One of obvious significance is consciousness. Can we be conscious of previous existences? Or is that not possible in this current "cocoon"? But might we, however, acquire such "multiple-existence consciousness" as a post-metamorphosis butterfly?  Or are some folks - those who have attained "grace" or "enlightenment" or whatever - already able to exercise "multiple-existence consciousness?”  It is a capability some cultures ascribe to shamans, and other “holy figures." 

A less obvious, and somewhat stranger consideration, derives from our current search for "life" in the universe. We seem to be focusing on chemical signatures that indicate either the potential for life, or its presence. But what if "evolved consciousness" is a more accurate measure of meaningful existence in the cosmos than any physical traces of "life as we know it?"  What "signatures" would reveal such consciousness? How would we look for them? And would the ability to find them constitute a kind of time travel, as we might encounter entities that had been cocoons here, but had already emerged as evolved consciousnesses elsewhere and "elsewhen?" 

I don't know.  But then I didn't promise answers; but rather a consideration of the issues that lie along my particular harmonic path. So I'll just keep plodding along. Should I encounter any promising answers, I'll let you know :-)

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What It Means to be Human

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I was watching a National Geographic program last night while cleaning the kitchen. With hushed narration, it contemplated the future of a brave new world that included androids whose neural net processors would blur, if not erase, the line between natural and artificial intelligence; between humans and humanlike machines. The program went on to pose the question, almost fearfully, of “What does it mean to be human?"

The question stayed with me as I wiped off the counters, put the leftovers away, and turned off the TV.  The images of IBM’s Watson beating the best chess and Go players in the world, and a beautiful, helpful, but still kind of creepy android named “Bina48” who self-identifies as “human,” stuck with me throughout the evening, and not in a pleasant way.

But now, at 2:54 AM - according to my very helpful, but not at all human, iPad - the question of what it means to be human seems far less daunting. The answer, in fact, is rather prosaic. Being human is not programmable, because “human-ness" is neither a process or a product. Being human is a feeling. We will never learn to program "compassion." We may well be able to program androids like Bina48 with "artificial compassion," able to mimic compassionate behaviors. And it will be easy to anthropomorphize such creations, as a child imbues a beloved stuffed animal with human qualities.  But, until The Velveteen Rabbit actually becomes "real," draws breath, hops about, and feels human emotions all on its own, even the most wondrous of our creations will remain but pale imitations of the glorious entity enclosed within the fragile wrappings of our skin. 

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La Belle Epoque Americane

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First let me admit to being a devoted fan of the Woody Allen movie Midnight in Paris, starring Owen Wilson.  I will not spoil the plot for you except to note that through a bit of time travel - that seems entirely plausible to anyone who has wandered through the misty midnight streets of Paris - our protagonist, a present day frustrated novelist [Wilson] and Picasso’s mistress from sometime between the World Wars [played by Marion Cotillard] debate which of Paris’s artistic eras really defined La Belle Epoque - the golden age of French art and culture.  Rent it, watch it, love it.  But realize that Woody has borrowed his plot from a common activity from an earlier age. 

During the 1700 and 1800s the youth of England's elite would travel around what is now the European Union and the Middle East seeking the roots of Western Civilization. By the early 1900s they were joined in this "Grand Tour" by the scions of America's emerging 1%, the Rockefellers, Vanderbilts, Morgans, etc. These tours, which could stretch from several months to over a year, were often made in the company of a tutor versed in history, languages, architecture and the arts.

It is informative to consider what these "best and brightest" young people observed on this grand tour - which has been defined as a finishing school for the elite. To what did these future leaders of America and Europe attend?  Well, they were young people in their early 20s so, no doubt, the cafes of Paris and the clubs of Monaco were part of the itinerary. But more important were the high points of European music, art, literature and architecture; the ruins of Ancient Greece and the Holy Land, the pyramids of Egypt.  For a lucky few with a longer reach and even deeper pockets, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall, and the Imperial City of China.

The point is that even these scions of America’s first Robber Barons, children of unimaginable fortunes didn’t seek out the counting houses of London, the bank vaults of Switzerland, or the treasure troves of Venice. Rather they flocked to the artistic and the cultural manifestations of the Hapsburgs, the Greek city states, the Doges, the Pharaohs, the Chinese Emperors.  

We like to assert that this is America’s Belle Epoque. And there is plenty of evidence. A representative democracy, first human being to set foot on a celestial body other than earth, first nuclear power, home to world’s largest and most valuable corporations, etc., etc.  But for some reason, we still head off around the world to immerse ourselves in the cultural manifestations of the Old World.

And maybe that is part of the problem. We are a “baby nation” when compared to Europe, Greece, Rome, Egypt and China. We are not far removed from citizens who could actually recall the birth of our nation, and when I was born there were still living veterans of the Civil War.  We are a young nation, certainly when we consider our cultural and artistic heritage. We seem to have a great start in music - jazz, musical theater. Some excellent photographers and film makers.  In short we can be proud of our efforts in those media that have grown up along with our nation. But despite some awesome artists - O’Keeffe, RC Gorman and the Hudson River School are among my personal favorites - we cannot point back across the dusty eons to our ancient artistic icons because, well, our eons aren’t all that dusty yet.

We need to learn from those dustier times.  For the most part those awe-inspiring artifacts of the past were state-sponsored.  We lose sight of that because, until our baby nation came toddling along some 240 years ago, the “state” was often a single individual or family. The king or queen, emperor, doge, or pharaoh sponsored the art that came to represent their era - palaces, pyramids, monuments, temples to the gods, celestial ceilings - all these were paid for by the ruler of a “singular head state."  Artists who works became iconic of an age rarely competed on the “open market.” Royal, or wealthy, or privileged “taste makers” decided what artists of every stripe would create.

Our baby nation has taken some brave steps in a new direction. Certainly today’s quasi-royal taste-makers; tech billionaires, celebrities, hedge fund moguls, those still among the economic 1%, can elevate a particular artist by buying, wearing, singing or collecting that artist’s work. And, who knows, maybe big bucks can equate to aesthetic sensibilities, the jury is still out on that.  More comforting is the fact that the boards of the nation’s top tier of galleries also weld considerable taste-making power.  Yet, we need to remember that the Paris Salon turned up its nose at the Impressionists until the late 1800s.  

So perhaps most comforting and far-sighted endeavor of all has been our baby nation’s wisdom in pursuing a more democratic support system for artists. The National Endowment for the Arts and for the Humanities undertake the staggering task of lending support to America’s artists who may not yet have caught the eye of today’s big galleries, celebrities, or the super-wealthy collectors.  These, and other tax support initiatives in the arts and humanities, are our best - new and democratic opportunities - to approach and surpass the ageless art of the ancients, to truly create Le Belle Epoque Americane.

Our elected officials seem a bit conflicted in this area.  The President espouses doing away with these national endowments - at least that is his position as I write this.  Yet, the recently released Consolidated Appropriations Act of 2017, a bipartisan Congressional budget proposal for the rest of this year, advocates a 2 million dollar boost to the National Endowment for the Arts’s budget. Perhaps Congress is looking for our guidance. I firmly believe the national endowments are the way to go, and have written my representatives encouraging them to follow the lead of the Consolidated Appropriations Act and to continue funding those endowments.  I encourage you to do same.

Now, I have to go find a misty, cobblestone street winding along a lamplit river that I can wander along.  No telling who I might bump into, and from what century?

What say Mr. Twain? Vive la belle époque Americane!

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