Metaphor, Supersymmetry and the Original Singularity

I lie in bed.

Birds serenade the sun.

The day begins.

I gather the thought carefully.

Deep within the center of my consciousness.

Molding each particle of power to Zen-like purity.

I fling the command into the universe.

“Coffee! Make thyself!”

Silence. Failure. Despair.

The semester begins and I fight a more than normal disorientation.  With the exception of teaching my online course, I have been pretty much "off the grid" for the last two months. We have been vacationing and visiting friends and family - West Virginia, Kentucky, Illinois, South Dakota. No doubt some Wall postings will spring from those rambles. But in the midst of them, often the richness of immediate experiences overwhelms any directly related musings.  Instead, when I drift off into Alternia - that cotton-swathed land that hovers somewhere between the sleeping and the waking world - my thoughts tend to be even less firmly tethered than usual to the reality churning before open eyes.  These are some of them. 

The third tenet of Distilled Harmony, Distill Complexity, derives from the assertion - based on my own observations and the far less subjective work of others in a variety of disciplines - that often what initially appears complex is actually far less so. Consider E=mc².  Einstein's five symbols fundamentally altered our perception of the universe. We most often interpret them as five symbols that point the way to comprehending the incredible complexity of the physical reality in which we exist. Yet, it strikes me that perhaps that notion results from looking through the wrong end of the telescope leading us to that conclusion: "E=mc² reveals the awesome complexity of the universe." A glance from the other end of the telescope may yield a more helpful perspective: "The awesome complexity of the universe points us to the refreshing simplicity of E=mc²." We should move from the complex to the simple, not the other way around.  Distill complexity. 

Reflecting on life from the perspective of “complexity distilled” leads to some interesting reflections. Consider, for example, the relationship between metaphor and reality. A colleague of mine used to warn against "getting stuck to the metaphor." It is a concern that grows naturally from the extensive use of metaphor in teaching. Because of our real world experience with spiders’ webs, using the "World-Wide-Web" as a metaphor for the Internet creates a powerful representation of the connectedness of the Internet. Similarly our experiences on highways allows the metaphor of "the information superhighway" to capture the dynamic notion of how information both flows over, but can also become congested on, the Internet.  These are indeed helpful metaphors.  But the warning not to get “stuck” on them grows from Korzybski’s general semantics assertion that "the word is not the thing, the map is not the territory."

Maybe so, maybe not.  Consider the extent to which the global positioning system - aka the gps - actually has become the territory. The little screen often takes precedence over the “real” world passing by outside the vehicle even when we know "she" (No, I don’t know why the voice always seems to be female.) is wrong.  The “reality” of the gps may signal a similar, more widespread rise in the dominance of the metaphor. This makes me wonder if the traditional idea that "the map is not the territory" aka "the metaphor is not the reality" may be giving complexity unwarranted precedence over a more distilled option. 

OK. It's going to get a little strange now. Bear with me as I consider the relationship between metaphor and supersymmetry.  Supersymmetry is a concept in theoretical physics.  More specifically in quantum mechanics, that posits a specific set of related particles. If you have particle A, supersymmetry demands that particle B must exist to "partner" particle A.  And that is really as far as I am going to go with supersymmetry in its normal world of particle physics. I am more interested in what supersymmetry may teach us about metaphor and "reality."  

Remember the reason for metaphor.  Metaphor, when properly constructed, distills complexity. It makes the complicated clear. I wonder if there is more to metaphor than that, something far deeper.  Just as the complexity of the universe points to E=mc², perhaps all the metaphors that clarify a particular reality, are also a part of that underlying reality. And that each of those clarifying metaphors, being an actual part of that underlying reality, can increase our understanding of the underlying reality. This asserts that a kind of supersymmetry unites those related metaphors, and that by "getting stuck" to any one of a group of supersymmetrical metaphors allows us to further distill the underlying reality - to approach the "E=mc²" - that unites that cluster of metaphors. So each metaphor can become an actual tool for understanding and utilizing the underlying reality. Just as the physics and geometry of various flying and gliding creatures aid in the design of planes, drones, gliders, etc., the "sticky" parts of each related metaphor help us to better understand the underlying reality of the supersymmetrical metaphor cluster. 

And that's not all! Stranger still! Don't forget entanglement! If we hop over to quantum mechanics for a moment, we learn that when two particles become "entangled," a change to any property of one particle is instantly reflected in the other particle regardless of the distance between the two particles - Einstein's "spooky action at a distance."  Chinese scientists recently demonstrated entanglement over a distance of some 1200 kilometers.  Look in one end of that telescope and the complexity is overwhelming.  I mean how can that be? How do the two particles know how to change? If the information regarding the change travels from one particle to the other “instantly” the information must be traveling faster than the speed of light and that is the Mother of all physics no-nos. 

But if we look in the other end of the telescope - distilling the complexity - a different reality comes into focus: there aren’t really two particles.  There is only one particle connected in ways we do not yet understand. We will understand how eventually, and scientists of that future will wonder how we overlooked such a simple connection. 

Perhaps the same kind of simple connection underlies the supersymmetrical metaphor cluster. There is only one reality being described by the cluster. We fail to recognize it because looking in the complexity inducing end of the telescope reveals what appears to be a complicated scattering of metaphors. It is only when we peer through the distilling end of the telescope that we see the unified reality. And, that takes me to the last, and perhaps most outrageous conjecture of this post. 

Again, bear with me. We fail to see that what we believe to be two entangled particles are really one particle because we can manipulate their physical properties in such a way that our measuring devices report the existence of two particles which nevertheless act as one. Metaphors also appear to describe varying realities that nonetheless appear to act as one. In both situations we appear to have identical realities that somehow became separated.  

But what if they haven't really become separated - but rather have been stretched to such an extent that they appear to us as separate? And where might they have been originally unified - upstretched?  At what where/when point of compression of information was the underlying reality and all its related metaphors “unseparated,” “unstretched?” Yes, I'm afraid that is where I am heading. Back to the original singularity before the Big Bang.  It was the Big Bang and the resultant instant of inflation of the universe that drove everything, particles, the realities underlying metaphors, everything apart. So, it was the birth of the universe that created the illusion of separateness, and the resultant mask of complexity. 

And what was the reason for the instant of the inflation of the original/ singularity? And will the universe continue to expand? Or will the expanding universe eventually meet the expanding edges of other universes and coalesce into new more informed singularities that continue to compress until some concentration of information demands a new inflation? And again and again and again, universes without end. 

So what? I hate it when I go rushing through this torrent of suppositions and come to what seems a logical insight only to be faced with the wet towel of "So what?"  I have a bit of an answer that seems to fit with the current torrent: Things are not as complicated as they seem. Look for what makes reality - people, ideas, beliefs, philosophies, facts - the same. Look for commonalities, not differences. Distill Complexity. 

Egocentrism: The Stage Piaget Forgot

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Jean Piaget's inclination to base his theory of cognitive development on the progressive stages he observed in the behaviors of his own children pretty well guaranteed that everyone past "a certain age" would get passed over by his system.  Not only was he never able to observe his kids when they were older than he was - a bizarre but interesting notion - but, in addition, back in the early 1900s, there weren't many people old enough to have entered this proposed fifth stage as part of a natural developmental progression.

I began to become increasingly aware of the "egocentrism stage" as my own father moved through his 80s and 90s on his way to the century mark.  The egocentrism stage is marked by an increasing certainty that you are right about everything. But, unlike politicians and religious fundamentalists who often make these claims regardless of age, "egocentrists" don't make their claims in the absence of data. Rather their claims are based on the notion that their own longevity has exposed them to all the necessary data to support whatever claims they chose to make. No further data is required. Been there, done that. My unique data is sufficient to support my assertion.

A couple of examples:

When Dad was into his eighties - maybe even a touch older - we were playing golf.  The foursome behind us drove a ball fairly close to our position. Golf etiquette calls for a glance back at the following group, who usually wave and non-verbally indicate "Sorry!" And the game goes on. That tradition was observed. But after we teed off on the next hole and the following foursome of middle-aged business types approached Dad remarked in his finest professorial voice, "Hit that one a bit close, eh, boys?"  Sort of a "tradition be damned, I'll decide when comment is necessary" perspective. Under ideal conditions I would have invited them to play through, but the course was already pretty crowded so it wouldn't have made any difference. Instead, I just quickly waved, and as I was driving the cart, sent us scurrying down the fairway. 

Around that same time my wife and I took Dad to one of our favorite galleries, sadly now much altered, in Long Grove, Illinois.  Dad seemed to be enjoying himself amidst the paintings, sculpture and jewelry.  But then he paused before an admittedly rather strange contemporary piece hanging on the wall. After a moment of reflection he announced in a voice that easily carried to the owner at the front desk - and anyone in between: "Well. I wouldn't hang that in my toilet!" His notion seemed to be that if you hang it here, I have every right to tell you what I think of it. And loudly.

But the egocentrism stage rests not so much on intentional rudeness, as it does on an inclination to give the knee-jerk certainties in our head free access to our vocal cords.  And at the same time, giving little if any thought as to how our words might impact others. Most often it is not a good thing.

Toddlers, as they move blithely through Piaget's earlier stages, have to be taught how to be civil in society - another concept that currently seems sadly much altered. But as adults, who are all hopeful of reaching the age when egocentrism rears its unpleasant head, we need to consciously confront looming egocentrism. At mere months shy of 69, I occasionally feel its early stirrings. I mean, I'm right. Right? :-) The challenge, as implied in the previous paragraph, is to not give those egocentric certainties unfettered access to your vocal cords.

The fourth tenet of Distilled Harmony - Oppose Harm - speaks to this issue. When we consider opposing harm, we most often think about confronting the "bad guy."  However, in this instance - to quote Walt Kelly's famous 1971 line from Pogo - "We have met the enemy, and he is us!” Hence, in this instance, opposing harm can benefit from an ancient concept, now often attributed to Thumper the rabbit in Disney's 1942 classic Bambi: "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all." 

Being pleasant isn't always easy, and apparently it becomes more difficult when the "certainties" we acquire over an increasingly long life come into conflict with the differing perceptions of others. We all have a friend or acquaintance deep in the throes of egocentrism. My advice is to keep them in mind, listen to the words that come out of their mouths, especially the ones that bruise. Do not speak those words.  Do not become that person.

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Beauty Part 2

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I have been thinking about the word "eustress" for awhile.  It is one of those words that almost never comes up in conversation, but for which you can imagine lots of possible uses:

"While excavating a new subway line in Rome, workers were stunned to encounter a remarkably well-preserved 3000 year-old Eustressian Temple.”  or

"Scientists at NASA discovered that when placed under extreme pressure between diamond plates, eustress will form precise layers of crystals with unique characteristics."

In reality it has a very different meaning: eustress is "good" stress. Stress that makes you feel good, even exhilarated.  I have a friend whose daughter is an accomplished  "rock climber." I have seen videos of the teenager hanging by her fingertips above empty spaces that make me more than a little queasy. But the youngster is obviously delighted. Hence, the same situation engenders polar opposite reactions in two individuals - eustress for the young climber, distress in me.  

So it seems to me that I had short-changed the notion of beauty in my previous post about "enable beauty."  I would still assert that beauty is the stuff of dreams, while a variety of artists create "art" more suited to our nightmares.

But I would short change beauty if I were to ignore the fact that beauty also can be divided into two parts: tranquility and exhilaration.  And exhilaration is where eustress comes in. My own strong inclination to tranquility makes it more difficult for me to imagine an artwork that I find "eustressian" - exhilarating.  In the world outside of galleries the examples are rampant - thunderstorms, waterfalls, fireworks, and for some, I understand, roller coasters.  So, as I think about it, it strikes me that I have missed some of these exhilarating works within the traditional realm of the arts: Architecture -  Frank Gehry’s works.  The Anasazi constructions in the four corners area of the American Southwest.  Sculpture also springs to mind. The Winged Victory of Samothrace and Michelangelo's David.  Music - well, of course. The myriad of works that set our feet tapping, or move us to some "air guitar," or even "air conducting." Yes, eustress lives there.  Another yin-yang duality circling within the yang of beauty proposed in the previous post. 

I'll continue to think about it.  Your suggestions are always welcome :-)

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I'll have Beauty - Hold the Beast

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The second tenet of Distilled Harmony is "Enable Beauty."  I occasionally need to point out - to myself as well as others - that it is not "Enable Art."  

I am on a wide variety of “art” lists, so, throughout the day, dozens of images of “artworks" vie for attention upon my screen.   

The images reflect an incredibly “yin yang” perception of the world.  And if you want to fall into a really deep rabbit hole, google “yin yang.” I did.  When I came up for air, the definition that seemed to stick with me was one that asserts that the concept grew out of observations of nature in which '"Yin" originally referred to the shady side of a slope while "yang" referred to the sunny side.”  Both were necessary for a balanced existence.  The Star Wars catalogue sharpens the divide somewhat, splitting "The Force" which drives existence into the Jedi’s Light or Good side, and the Dark Side of the Sith which reflects Evil.  But that is another rabbit hole for another time. The point is that “art” can focus our attention on either the light or the dark side of existence with equal facility.  

If one aspect of my psyche has remained relatively constant as I approach the beginning of my 70th year [for those of you who know me well and are scratching your heads, technically, you begin your 70th year when you turn 69] it is that I do not “do" dark.  This is a characteristic - perhaps genetic, if my older daughter can be used as evidence - born of a belief that “real life" provides more than enough evidence for the Dark Side.  Hence I have no need to explore its artistic representations. That attitude reflects a kind of hypersensitivity to those narratives that depend upon the existence of violence, hatred and evil to make the protagonist necessary - but then strangely allow the protagonist to behave in precisely the same manner as the villain, the sole difference being that the protagonist is on “our side.” So violence and mayhem are acceptable if exercised in the name of “good.”  Unless, that is, you just don’t do dark. 

In the spirit of full-disclosure, I need to confess that I have come to enjoy some “dark side” narratives, both in terms of mystery novels, detective TV shows, etc.  But only those in which the “fiction” is completely obvious.  When the darkness begins to seem “real,” asserting that evil really does lurk around every corner - or when children or dogs are put in harms way - I tune out, usually literally.

OK, to circle back to Enable Beauty.  When you encounter artistic representations of the dark side you can simply put down the book, walk out of the movie, or turn off whatever “digital device” you employ to stream your entertainment. But the artifacts - the pictures, paintings, sculpture, etc., with which you choose to surround yourself - on your walls, table tops, bookcases, etc.,  - these create the world in which you live.  I simply cannot understand why one would choose to “do dark” in that self-constructed world. Therefore, I find it remarkable that any of the dark images that parade across my screen in the name of art find a home anywhere. Perhaps the very wealthy would purchase those dark works in the spirit of social or political solidarity and put them in a closet somewhere. But display them so they would greet you everyday? More than a little creepy.

It is undeniable that the “beast” side of art as a medium for social protest has a long and storied history.  One of my "art sites" - Artsy.net - recently ran an editorial discussing why Picasso's Guernica retained its powerful anti-war message 80 years after its creation. Critics continue to explore the bizarre imagery of Hieronymus Bosch 600 years after the artist's death. I am not about to fling myself into either of those discussions. My question is far less complex: Would you want to hang Guernica or Bosch's The Garden of Earthly Delights in your home? Assuming, of course, that you had the significant amount of wall space they both require? 

The question is not one of the works' place in art history. The question is the place of the images' place in your head.  These are dark works. To shoehorn them into a definition of "beauty" would require significant intellectual contortions.

The second tenet - Enable Beauty - is closely tied to very measurable reactions when viewing the artifacts: your pulse eases, blood pressure drops, you smile. You become calm.  Your interaction with the work is pleasurable. Allowing yourself time and space for these observations, surrounding yourself with such works, is to enable beauty.

There is, of course, the other side of the equation: the role of the artist as creator as opposed to consumer.  When we doodle or draw or paint or sculpt or write, we do so with some intent.  Again yin and yang provide alternate pathways. Yin may well “rage rage against the dying of the light!”  But remember that Dylan Thomas also wrote in Under Milkwood: "It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobbled streets silent and the hunched courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea.”  

It is easy to imagine Thomas raging his way through a bottle of single malt as he crafted Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night. But the same artist would, it seems, experience a significant drop in blood pressure when penning Under Milkwood or A Child’s Christmas in Wales. 

The point is simply this: The second tenet of Distilled Harmony points to beauty, whether we are the creator or the consumer. Like everything in Distilled Harmony the objective is harmony, not discord.  Distilled Harmony does not advocate a gullible, "Pollyanna-esque"  view of the world. Rather it acknowledges the sad fact that in our culture, politics, art and literature, the Dark Side often overwhelms the Light and needs no succor from us.  We choose the nature of our personal environment and the themes of our creations. So, to maximize harmony in my life, as I said, "I’ll have beauty - hold the beast."

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Life is a Beach

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I sleep, and in that sleep I dream. 

A dream that stacks days of lifetimes 

Scattered like shells across  

The seemingly vast beach  

Of my existence. 

The pretty pebbles of childhood 

Riddled with veins of laughter and tears. 

A tangled weir of driftwood  

All roots and polished branches 

Drifted in from someone else's shore. 

I wonder how it came here. . . 

Lover's shells, pearlescent spirals. 

Their gleaming chambers glow 

And echo the roar and murmur  

Of the waves that break all round. 

Shorebirds dance in the sparkling foam 

Knit up of remembered laughter and 

The scattered remain of some small creatures, 

Lost and forgotten plans or unmet aspirations. 

Victims of an unfortunate shift of the tide. 

The breeze flirts with becoming a wind. 

Threatening to send my hat aloft, 

It carries a tang of salt, a sigh of memory, 

And yet a hint of promised tomorrows. 

I make my way across an arch of beach 

That fronts dunes anchored by sea grass. 

Fragile tracks that etch the sand  

Mark the paths of vanished creatures 

With better claim to this mythic space than I. 

Gulls stitch the sky, 

Raucously declaring a synthesis  

Of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. 

I chance upon an unexpected pine 

Whose twisted trunk and wind-sculpted 

Shadow o'er reach all three. 

Beneath its sheltering boughs 

Silken sand invites me to recline 

So I stretch out, again to sleep, 

Perchance, once more, to dream. 

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Talking the Talk - or Fostering Harmonic Language

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The first tenet of Distilled Harmony is Foster Harmony. It is important to realize right up front that “fostering harmony" is inextricably woven together with our use of language. You cannot manifest harmony while using the language of anger or hatred, suspicion or fear. Harmony demands the language of caring, of affection - the language of love, if you will - since those vocabularies articulate harmony while blunting the discord of anger, hatred and fear.

Harmonic speech is a type of artistic expression. And like any other art form, it requires attention and practice - especially if your personal or cultural experiences have been rooted in a language of confrontation or conflict, a reality which is, unfortunately, rather common. Dealing with dysfunctional relationships - including the language employed in those relationships - keeps thousands and thousands of therapists in business! Not all that surprising given that, for the most part, we live in a competitive culture. We tend to focus on winners and losers. There are certainly benefits to be derived from this "meritocratic" perspective. Ideally, it leads to a general improvement in the culture, better education, better science, consumer products, medicine, etc. But there is a dark side to the meritocracy. And the Dark Side sees people as winners and losers as well.  And the language of “I win, you lose” leaves at least half of the conversation feeling anything but harmonic. And, of course, bullying and internet trolling both rest firmly on the use of discordant language. 

Stay with me here on what may seem an unrelated diversion. Crafting a harmonic vocabulary, springs from a harmonic view of life. Both require a delicate existential balance. To over-compensate for the often harsh vicissitudes of life by declaring that everybody is a winner results in "participant ribbons" and the distortion of the very real line between ordinary and exceptional.  Better, I think, is to realize that we are all “differently-abled.”  I like to think of life and our place in it as a jigsaw puzzle. We are each a unique piece of the puzzle.  Our abilities and inabilities form the contours of our individual puzzle piece.  In a perfect world, we blend with all the other pieces of the puzzle to create the picture on the front of the box.  And that would be lovely - but we see little evidence of such a global harmonic consolidation. A less intimidating objective might be to try to fit with the pieces in our immediate vicinity. And this implies dialing down the notion of individuals as winners or losers, and focusing instead on the value of our differing abilities. I mean its not much of a puzzle if all the pieces are square, right? But I’m letting the analogy steer the ship here. So let’s back up a bit. 

The challenge in Fostering Harmony is to explore the ways in which our real and very valuable differences can fit together to create a harmonic whole that is truly greater than the mere sum of its parts.  And that is where harmonic language plays its part. Prayer and its secular cousin, poetry, are the most obvious forms of consciously harmonic speech, but outside of a religious institution or a Shakespearian play, they are rarely used in everyday conversation. Try conversing with someone on the street in prayer or iambic pentameter and folks begin to edge away from you or fake a call on their cellphone. However, there are other ways to practice harmonic speech that will not only increase your skill in the art form, but will also allow you to more successfully Foster Harmony.

Here, again, we find ourselves on a bit of a balance beam.  Harmonic language, and harmonic conversation in particular, is driven by a legitimate interest in and at least a potential agreement with the other.  Unfortunately, politicians, salespeople and advertisers have discovered that appearing to be interested in, and in agreement with, voters or customers is also the most effective way to achieve personal and often selfish goals. Honest harmonic language rests on a foundation of actual interest in, and a sincere desire to seek agreement with the other.  And both of those characteristics rest on a genuine curiosity about the other and a willingness to accept that the other may know more than you about a given topic. 

Pragmatically that means that in the course of a conversation words and phases like, “Yes” and “That’s interesting” and “What do you think about .  . “ need to come out of our mouths more often than “No” and “What you need to do is . . . and, “Well, I believe .  .  .“  That does not mean that you simply abdicate your beliefs, values or attitudes. Rather, part of the artistry of harmonic speech is exploring how your beliefs, values, and attitudes can find common ground with the beliefs attitudes and values of the other. And that brings us to a consideration of the aesthetic component of harmonic speech. 

In an earlier post, The Wonder of Words, I wrote about how “long form” compositions were far superior to texting,  SMS posts and Tweets because they allowed for a more complete expression of a thought. It is probably worthwhile to note that it is not simply the number of words that informs harmonic speech, it is the aesthetic quality of those words.  In that post I point out that when we had "art" in 3rd or 4th grade we would pull out our trusty Prang water colors - 8 basic colors in a shiny black metal tray.  And that was the extent of our "palette." Nowadays, in the bright digital world of Photoshop et. al., we have come to expect millions of colors to be available at the beck and call of a clicking mouse. An examination of language reveals the same variation of breadth and depth.  This aesthetic component of harmonic speech draws upon the second tenet of Distilled Harmony - Enable Beauty.  It is patently obvious that there is a universe of difference between “Me Tarzan. You Jane.” and “My Love is like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June.”  Yet both articulations are driven by the same emotion. The difference is that Tarzan is working with Prang’s eight color palette, while Robert Burns is speaking Photoshop. 

Enriching our aesthetic linguistic palette requires effort, especially in the popular digital environment that seems to privilege compositions of 140 to 160 characters - a convention that would seem to advantage Tarzan: "I ❤️ u J!” while leaving Burns struggling to decide which words in his poem are - after all - superfluous: "My ❤️ is a nu flr” ? Definitely something lost in translation there.  To construct a rich linguistic palette, it is perhaps best to leave the struggles with emojis and phonetic truncation alone, and return to three dependable, though time-consuming, strategies: read, listen, perform.

Reading is the first among equals.  To use a word, you have to know the word, and while you can come to know a word by hearing it, or speaking it, reading the word has a significant advantage: the word does not move. The experience of hearing a word ceases when the sound waves no longer strike the ear to be carried to the brain. Speaking the word ceases when your vocal cords lie still. The written word, lines and curves, or bumps on a page stay there, allowing you to reflect upon it. Study it in the context of the other words that encircle it. Speak it if you choose to do so. Absorb it.   

So read and read widely. My biases? For power and precision read Hemingway from the 1920s and 1930s. For linguistic complexity, Jane Austin and Charles Dickens. For American brashness and humor - Mark Twain, and not just the novels.  For words and attention to scene that are rarely present in contemporary works try popular novels from the late 1800s and early 1900s: James Oliver Curwood, Gene Stratton-Porter, Louis L’Amour, Zane Grey. None of this last group are ever seriously considered for inclusion in the canon of great American novelists - except maybe if there is a sub-category for Westerns where both L’Amour and Grey should get a nod.  Also, if you are unable to separate the novels from the time in which they were written, you will find them chock full of “cultural insensitivity” - as was the world in which they lived - so parts of the works may make you uncomfortable. But if you simply ignore them because of those chronological foibles, at least part of your palette gets short-changed.  And then read everything. Magazines, fiction, non-fiction, news sources, blogs, poetry.  Stuff as many colors into your palette as you can.  You probably noticed that my reading recommendations are from days gone by.  That is intentional.  I remember when I was young, if I wanted to learn how to write or speak “proper English” I would go to a book. I didn’t know it then, but I was trusting the editors to make sure that the basic rules of grammar, spelling, etc., were being followed. If there were intentional deviations, our attention would be drawn to them by quotation marks: “quittin’ time, y’all!” or something like that.  While I’m sure today’s editors still struggle to protect the language from flagrant abuse, I am “a’feared” that with the flood of self-published works they may be fighting a losing battle.

Listening is the easiest palette builder in the 21st century.  With streaming video, audio books and podcasts available on our computers, tablets and phones, it would seem that we need never listen to the sounds of silence or another commercial.  But with all this linguistic wheat out there, it is inevitable that there is even more chaff.  Remember, we are trying to augment our aesthetic harmonic linguistic palette.  The purveyors of digital content realized long ago that as a culture we will still listen to the commercials if they are embedded in content we find entertaining or informative.  In May of 1961, Newt Minnow, then Chair of the FCC said, "When television is good, nothing — not the theater, not the magazines or newspapers — nothing is better. But when television is bad, nothing is worse.” The same holds true for today’s Internet and video streaming options.  And unfortunately it is mindlessly simple to find the linguistically discordant. Ranting podcasts, “self-help” shows that are the audio equivalent of cage wrestling, “news" programs built along the same lines, endless dramas featuring dysfunctional families, and of course, crime dramas each episode of which places the world as we know it danger from the “terrorists d’jour.”  Hard to bake good bread from all that chaff. 

Still, almost all those good options I listed up there under “reading" exist in audio versions. Our public library has a wide variety of audio offerings that you can download to phones, tablets, etc.  Great for trips. In addition there are wonderful podcasts available in the both the arts the sciences.  They may not be the first options you stumble across, but they are out there if you look for them - so look for them. Listen for the words, listen for the sounds of cooperation, of harmony.

Performance is an option we often tend to ignore.  I came to it quite early, and I am not really sure why.  However, my sister has provided me with photographic evidence of my playing Peter Pan to a Captain Hook played by a girl much taller than I. Beverly C something? Copenhagen? Nah, couldn’t be. Anyhow, 2nd grade? Maybe 3rd?  I recall similar photos from a 1950s Wittenberg College production of Mrs. McThing - in which I played the dual role of “Howay” and “Boy.”  Casting for which I hold my father responsible.  However, I have to take responsibility for my choice to recite - in maybe 4th grade?- Stephen Vincent Benet’s very long poem “The Mountain Whippoorwill: Or How Hillbilly Jim Won the Great Fiddler’s Prize,” which was at least partial inspiration for the Charlie Daniel’s hit "The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” The poem was the inspiration - not my recitation of it, which, no doubt, bored my classmates past all understanding.  

I was in a number of plays in my high school which was blessed with an excellent drama department, and went on to major in Theater in college. While there I performed in - which, remember, meant both memorizing and performing the words - a variety of roles from Arthur Miller to Shakespeare.  And I have come to realize that the process of memorization and performance is perhaps the best way to add entire new families of colors to your aesthetic linguistic palette.  So give it a whirl. Community theater, your local version of TED talks, storytelling.  Or just read Shakespeare aloud - probably at home, by yourself.  “Gather ye palettes while you may.” 

In conclusion, If we were to pull the third tenet of Distilled Harmony - Distill Complexity - into this rambling discussion of talking the talk of harmony, we might well compress the whole post into a slightly edited version of an aphorism that we have all encountered: If you can’t say something nice, and nicely, then don’t say anything at all.

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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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Relationships in Suspended Animation

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I have been reading about intimacy and relationships in the Dalai Lama's "Art of Happiness." In the work the Dalai Lama asserts that compassion is the primary underpinning of all human relationships. That compassion forms the gentle and understanding foundation that supports all positive interactions. In many ways it is the "walk a mile in my shoes," "see the need in the other's life" perspective. As the primary tenet of Distilled Harmony - Foster Harmony - is essentially the same idea, I read along in a "right on!" frame of mind.

The chapter focused primarily on how one should bring a compassionate and open attitude to new or existing relationships. Lovely insights there that I need to mull over a bit more. I’m afraid that may result in some "point the finger at thyself” moments. But I'll put that off for another day.

However, the reading got me thinking about a rather unique set of compassionate relationships that play unique but vital roles in my life. They are what I think of as "relationships in suspended animation" or RSAs.

Back in 1975 Paul Simon wrote a song called "Some Folks Lives Roll Easy." Part of the lyric goes like this:

And here I am, Lord

I'm knocking at your place of business

I know I ain't got no business here

But you said if I ever got so low

I was busted,

You could be trusted

RSAs are the those unique and precious relationships where we can go “knocking" when we are "so low we are busted," even if we "ain't got no business" there.

They are not simply old relationships. We were watching an Midsomer Murders" rerun last night in which the protagonist's daughter engineers a reunion of her "dearest school mates," whom she has not seen for a decade. Not positive how that scans out in the US school system - but these folks seemed to be early 20s. Well, I hope it was storyline considerations that mandated the conclusions, but the reunion was a total disaster in the Midsomer tradition of multiple murders.

RSAs are quite different. We may still be in touch with these suspended animation connections, especially in these days of casual, almost unavoidable, social media connections. We may see their partners, kids, cats and dogs. We may respond with a desultory thumbs up, a like, or a cleverly pre-designed emoticon. Very 21st century. Very McLuhan hot media. Those kinds of interactions do not warrant hitting the "suspended animation" reset button. Remember the rest of Simon's lyric: "You said if I ever got so low I was  busted, you could be trusted." 

Usually we reach out to our RSAs after exploring a pressing issue with our most valued, but everyday, vital sounding boards - spouse, partner, valued colleague, BFF, etc.  Somewhat in contrast to Simon's lyric, I would assert that the issues that prompt us to reach out to our RSAs, need not be driven only by the "so low I was busted" times, they can also be just the opposite - seeking affirmation in a great new opportunity or choice. The important part of the lyric is "you could be trusted." The important aspects are significance and trust. We reach out to our RSAs when we really want additional trusted advice on some important issue in our lives. But we definitely do NOT want to crowd source it to Facebook or whatever bot is crawling our webpages.

So we set aside our lingering fears of rejection and remember that this was, and hopefully still is, a person "who could be trusted." And we begin the search for email addresses, physical address, phone numbers, etc., that will allow us to start the process of "knocking at their place of business."

There will be anxiety associated with waiting to see how, or even if, someone answers the knock. But I truly believe that most often the response will be worth the risk. And the Dalai Lama agrees. Oh, yes, the Dalai Lama and I very, very close .  .  .  .  . Or at least I think we might be, were I to ever actually meet him .  .  .  :-)

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Future Tense

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Worrying about the future 

Makes it quite difficult  

To be happy today.  

That is not to say  

We should not have dreams. 

But too often  

Our slavish pursuit of dreams  

Turns them into nightmares.  

It is difficult to smell the roses  

If we spend our hours in the garden  

Spreading manure and  

Dusting to kill the aphids. 

We must learn to say: 

Today is sufficient. 

This I can appreciate.  

I do not need  

A chorus of angels to sing for me.  

A single mourning dove will suffice.  

I do not need  

The applause of the masses.  

The smile on the face of a friend  

Is affirmation enough. 

I do not need 

To turn the world  

To my way of thinking. 

Understanding my own path 

To peacefulness will do.  

And all this fits comfortably  

Within the soft blanket  
Of today. 

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Schrag Porch: More Selected Oldies

Schrag Porch: Still around 2001, maybe ‘02

Preference Tracking

Contextual information, a la Amazon et al, is a problematic "product." We now allow software engineers to define the links in our personal conceptual space. Imagine sending a poem to your lover using e-mail. The poem appears on her screen surrounded by messages that begin: If you love this man, then you might also enjoy these other guys. . . ."

[A 2017 Update – regulations that would have limited the amount and kinds of personal information various online entities could gather and sell have just been struck down by The White House.  “Everything old is new again .  .  . “]

The “Good” Heartbreak in Love Songs

The heartbreak in love songs is not my heartbreak, and therein lies their beauty. When Eva Cassidy sings "Along the winter shore, all your fickle friends are leaving. But then you know that it was time for them to go," there is a purity of loss that just "hurts so good." 

Certainly loss is loss and empty can be incredibly painful; yet out the other side of loss is a positive empty, because only that which is empty can be filled again. The refilling of a heart made deeper and emptier by loss is just about as close as we can get to grace/nirvana/heaven/peace - chose your own inadequate word. So love songs remind us that the beauty of heartbreak is the promise of the refilling that will follow loss.

The Voice as an Instrument

Today  on  my  walk,  I  listened  to  Elvis: The  Number  One Hits.  A couple  of things occurred to me. First, the man had a simply incredible voice - range, power, fabulous control. Not obvious on songs like "Hound Dog," but on works like "Don't" and "It's Now or Never," the range is operatic. 

Parallel thoughts: The voice is an instrument - not terribly profound, I realize, but the way in which that particular instrument is employed in a work makes important differences. Instrumental works have no vocals so the work is instrumentally structured and communicated. Elvis, Bocelli, Streisand, and Sinatra all foreground the voice as the dominant instrument, hence the lyric is also dominant. 

Much contemporary music seems unable to decide between the need for loud instruments or dominant vocals. Unfortunately the result is often a discordant competition between the two. "Vocalists" hollering over loud instruments. A bit of linguistic evidence: bands have been "bands" both before MTV and after MTV. But before MTV we used to identify the individual members as either musicians or vocalists. After MTV it became quite common to refer to mainstream band members as "performers." Neither musician nor vocalist, they "act" in music videos or choreographed concerts.

[Another 2017 update, I have rediscovered John Denver’s voice. OK, some of the lyrics do lean toward trite, but listen to the voice. Headphones. Just lovely.]

Schrag Porch : An Introduction

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I started posting to Schrag Wall a decade ago. I don’t know how many of you have been along for the whole ride, but even if you have been here for that ride, it isn’t really the whole ride. The composition you see as Schrag Wall actually began back in 2001 or so when I began writing the book The God Chord: String Theory in the Landscape of the Heart. [Drop me a note and I’ll send you an e-copy. It provides some vocabulary that makes the early posts easier to understand.] The note-taking system I used back then was to write a phrase or sentence that I felt should go in the book somewhere on a sheet of paper and I would tape it onto the wall - hint, hint - above my computer monitor.  Many of those notes eventually became the blog Schrag Wall - but the blog didn’t start until 2006. So there are 5 years of notes floating around here on my hard drive or up in The Cloud somewhere which never - or at least probably never - made it onto the blog.

A few entries have appeared on Schrag Wall over the years that reveal my perhaps exaggerated fondness for the front porch of my childhood home. I wrote, not long ago, about never having found the place where I felt completely at home.  The porch is probably the exception. However, a bright red 8 x 12 foot [maybe?] slab of concrete doesn’t quite seem to fit the mystic notion of “coming home to a place you’ve never been before.”  It was more like a place I had always been - maybe a launch pad to that mystic home that still eludes me? Anyhow, I feel a digression coming on, so let me rein in a bit.  If you see a post that is labeled Schrag Porch instead of Schrag Wall, it means that I have wandered back into the “lost years” between 2001 and 2006 and pulled a "feels like home" golden oldie off of the front porch for you.  If I can find a specific date, I’ll post it. Otherwise just think “old stuff.”

I notice that many of the earlier works were much shorter than the current Wall posts. You may find a good thing :-)

Here are a few very early ones from 2001:

Rescuing

A surprising number of rescuers are pulled under by those they would save. The lesson is not "let them drown." The message is "Throw them something that floats, but keep to the shore.”

Possession

Implies maintenance.

Awkward Neighbors

Genius and insanity live in the same building. Sometimes they wander into the wrong apartment. If you love those chats with genius, you must also learn to tolerate the occasional bouts with insanity.

Emotion and Passion
Passion is not an emotion in its own right. It is rather a degree of intensity that can be brought to any emotion. Unmodulated passion dominates any chord of which it becomes a part. Unmodulated passion draws notes, situations, and people into a composition that is dominated or defined by the emotion that unmodulated passion has hybridized. Modulated passion intensifies the chord but does not overwhelm it.

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