Page 25
E S S A Y S
By the Number
Fig. 1. Credit: we-are-star-stuff.tumblr.com/post/51116164123
e65
How Long does a Now Last?
They say to always start out with a joke, so here's a little fowl humor: Did you hear about the two chicken hatchlings, fresh out of their shells, already wheeling and dealing? "My peeps will call your peeps," the one male said to the other, "and we can do lunch or something." "Just make sure," the other cheeped, "that there'll be plenty of food and chicks around." This now concludes the entertainment portion of our presentation. Thank you.
In several of the essays found either in ASTRONOMICON or NOUMENOMICON, the subject of "time" -- in one way or another -- is included as part of the compositions. No discussion of this particular topic would be complete, however, without some question as to what lengths, periods, intervals, or increments does time describe, much as a draftsman’s compass scribes a circle on paper. What size is the circle of time? A query which is more aptly stated: how small is a single byte (or bit) of time itself? What part of a single second can no longer be sliced, diced, or divided further?
For those who already read or perused the essay about the Dichotomy Paradox, they will recall how Planck units are the logical extension of the basic Planck Length, which is the label assigned to what is thought to be the tiniest, still measurable but no longer divisible space in the known universe. The following consideration and subsequent evaluation of this smallest piece of time will therefore seem almost obvious and entirely appropriate.
For readers not familiar with a Planck Length, it is the theoretical limit on empty space, and how miniscule it can be and still exist as a gap of some sort. Any closer together and two or more things would occupy the same space; thus a Planck unit is where one thing is touching another, but not quite. Think of it as a span so tiny that it can no longer be cut into anything smaller. The "tock" without the "tick" if you will.
Because Planck units pertain to an aspect of space, then they must, by their very nature, involve the inseparable element of time -- as in space-time. It has also been determined that space-time generally refers to space-motion, meaning that in order for time to exist, space is measured in terms of some distance traveled, during a given period of time. Since everything is space is moving, time is always associated (normally) with motion.
For those who already read or perused the essay about the Dichotomy Paradox, they will recall how Planck units are the logical extension of the basic Planck Length, which is the label assigned to what is thought to be the tiniest, still measurable but no longer divisible space in the known universe. The following consideration and subsequent evaluation of this smallest piece of time will therefore seem almost obvious and entirely appropriate.
For readers not familiar with a Planck Length, it is the theoretical limit on empty space, and how miniscule it can be and still exist as a gap of some sort. Any closer together and two or more things would occupy the same space; thus a Planck unit is where one thing is touching another, but not quite. Think of it as a span so tiny that it can no longer be cut into anything smaller. The "tock" without the "tick" if you will.
Because Planck units pertain to an aspect of space, then they must, by their very nature, involve the inseparable element of time -- as in space-time. It has also been determined that space-time generally refers to space-motion, meaning that in order for time to exist, space is measured in terms of some distance traveled, during a given period of time. Since everything is space is moving, time is always associated (normally) with motion.
The requisite Fine-Print -- painful but necessary
Before going further, allow me to paraphrase what Wikipedia has to say on the matter:
One Planck-time is the time it takes a photon traveling at the speed of light to cross a distance equal to one Planck length, or unit. Theoretically this is the smallest measurement of time that will ever be possible. Within the framework of the laws of physics (as we understand them today), for time intervals that are less than one Planck-time apart (an even smaller increment), we can neither measure nor detect any change. In other words, anything littler and we're lost.
The idea of Planck-time comes from a field of mathematical physics known as Dimensional Analysis, which studies units of measurement and physical constants. The Planck-time is the unique combination of the gravitational constant G, the relativity constant c, and the quantum constant h, to produce a constant that incorporates units of time. Oh, sure, that makes perfect sense. For processes (or events) that occur in a time period less than one Planck time in length, such a dimensionless quantity is greater than one. Well, duhhh, everybody knows that. Dimensional Analysis suggests that the effects of both quantum mechanics and gravity would be important under these circumstances, requiring a theory of quantum gravity. All scientific experiments and human experiences happen over billions and billions of billions of Planck-times, making any events happening at the Planck scale hard to detect. Gee, you think?
One Planck-time is the time it takes a photon traveling at the speed of light to cross a distance equal to one Planck length, or unit. Theoretically this is the smallest measurement of time that will ever be possible. Within the framework of the laws of physics (as we understand them today), for time intervals that are less than one Planck-time apart (an even smaller increment), we can neither measure nor detect any change. In other words, anything littler and we're lost.
The idea of Planck-time comes from a field of mathematical physics known as Dimensional Analysis, which studies units of measurement and physical constants. The Planck-time is the unique combination of the gravitational constant G, the relativity constant c, and the quantum constant h, to produce a constant that incorporates units of time. Oh, sure, that makes perfect sense. For processes (or events) that occur in a time period less than one Planck time in length, such a dimensionless quantity is greater than one. Well, duhhh, everybody knows that. Dimensional Analysis suggests that the effects of both quantum mechanics and gravity would be important under these circumstances, requiring a theory of quantum gravity. All scientific experiments and human experiences happen over billions and billions of billions of Planck-times, making any events happening at the Planck scale hard to detect. Gee, you think?
Introducing Phreddy, the phriendly, inphinitesimal Photon
Okay, so I know all that sounds ridiculously complicated. We get that. But at it’s core lies some pretty basic stuff that gets a lot less complex, the more one digs around in it, like so much mud. Get dirty enough, and some of it is bound to stick.
Notice too, how Planck-time requires an object in-motion, in this case a photon, to cross a certain distance (one Planck unit) in order for time to exist as part of the equation. Obviously these photon things are pretty small themselves if they can traverse a gap that is theoretically gapless. That’s not a real word, but it seemed to fit.
So how long does a now last? Well, according to Wikipedia and professor Max Planck, a German physicist who lived at the turn of the century, the answer seems simple enough. It’s obviously the amount of time it takes for one of these photon thingies to cross from one side of a Planck Length to the other. Why did the chicken cross the road? In order to get there, it would seem. Let’s see if we can break this all down a bit more and view things from a slightly different perspective. But not change them so radically that we violate the spirit and meaning of the basic definition itself.
Suppose that we look at a single Planck-time in such a way that it represents an actual span of empty space, with only emptiness in-between. Phreddy, the phriendly photon, is going to join in and help us figure things out. Everybody say hello to Phreddy.
Phred’s a hard guy to get ahold of. The reason is because he usually exists either in the past or in the future. As we prepare for our experiment, Phred is perched on the one edge (the right side, say) of a Planck unit where a bottomless crevasse separates him from the other side, the other edge, in a manner of speaking.
Since we want to observe the elapsing of an actual now, Phred is currently standing on the far side of the gap, in the future, goggles on, scarf, ready to go. And he’s off! Wow, that was fast. Still panting, Phred has joined us on the other side, in the past. As he catches his breath, the instant-replay cameras show us Phred’s spectacular jump in slow motion.
Even at this speed, Phred is nothing but a blur, and in real time, so to speak, the little fella isn’t even visible. But there you have it. The scientists in the crowd have all used their pocket calculators and determined, as a mathematical equation, the exact amount of time it took for Phred to cross over, from the future to the past – with the now in-between.
Some shouting and yelling can be heard, however, among the scientists themselves. They’re arguing over whether Phred did indeed jump from the future into the past, or do we have things backwards, as some are claiming; that Phred jumped from the past into the future, with a now in the middle. Is it all the same, or is there a difference?
If the future hasn’t happened yet, so goes the counter argument, then we are constantly moving from the past into an ever-elapsing (unfolding) future that never truly exists as anything at all. Other than a prediction of one kind or another. A now really does happen, however, and in the span of a single Planck-time, is converted almost instanteously into a memory or past event. Past events have repercussions and ramifications that impact the present, whereas futures can only be anticipated and prepared-for based on probabilities and predictions. The present, by the way, if defined, seems longer than a Planck-time. We have a fairly decent grasp at this point on how long a now lasts, and no matter what, a now connects past to future or future to past, depending on which side of the gap one comes down on.
But the term, present, seems to possess its own quality of being. No one ever defines the present except in the most simplistic of terms. I think it’s something special and deserving of its own special definition. One thing is for sure at this point: a second is a really long time.
I was curious as to where the increment of one "second" came from in the first place, and not surprisingly it all derives from mathematicians, astrologers, astronomers and the like. Men had to make sense of the seasons and the different times of the day, so all manner of timed intervals were put in place at one time or another, in one place or another. Apparently it wasn’t until the pendulum clock was invented, where the swinging arc described by a pendulum, from one end of its full sweep to the other, represented a pretty reliable (and consistent) span of time, and gave us our modern second. Which is quite literally the time between "tick" at one end, and "tock" at the other. That still doesn’t explain what’s meant by a term like present, expecially when compared to (inserted between) other terms like past and future.
I think we’re all in agreement that of the three, future is the least tangible, certainly the least reliable, and for all intents and purposes, doesn’t exist except as a linguistic device or construct. That leaves us with only the past and present to work with. For the record, allow me to clarify or distinguish now from present, and state emphatically that they are not the same. Not in my never-to-be-humble opinion. One reason is because now, in terms of something happening -- a fleeting, single moment -- refers to a solitary event or process, which in the case of time is the previously defined Planck-time-unit. And with respect to reducibility, represents a one-of-a-kind affair. By that I mean to refer to what I call, a solitary elapsing of time, an elapsation, that cannot be reduced any further.
While a Planck time may be thought of as the smallest interval of time, perhaps "the present" exists as the largest unit of time that can still be considered as an individual, albeit divisible, increment of time. The reason such differentiations are important stems from the premise that since language is the only tool we have for discussing abstract ideas, we should refrain from a certain sloppiness that would allow for the overlapping of some terms, as if they were interchangeable when they are not.
Since now possesses a very specific definition as outlined in this essay, the word present can have a number of different meanings and connotations. More typically it refers to a continuous stretch of time that is neither past nor future. Present-day might span years, even decades of time. Contemporary, a synonym for present-day, usually refers to a recent period that may still cover years or decades of time.
By comparison, a present moment might well describe an ongoing sequence of individual now events, all of which transpire over an indeterminate period. If we are to be precise (and concise) in our analysis of the world (and the universe) the language we use to talk about our observations must be as precise and concise as possible. This is especially crucial when a multitude of different languages are used to describe identical situations. A strong case is thus made for the adoption of a single language when the complexities of the cosmos are involved.
So how long does a now last? I bet the question doesn't seem quite so absurd now, if you've read this essay. Not touched upon in my composition here are the interesting ways in which time is likely affected by one's physical location in a galaxy. Or how time slows down when velocity increases. You know, that whole clock-in-orbit business where it runs a tad slower than its counterpart back on Earth. Then think in terms of how Planck time itself must be affected in some way, as clocks slow down with increasing speed. Talk about heaping discombobulation on top of confusion.
The suggestion in such scenarios is that Phreddy, our phine little photon phellow (okay, no more, I promise) moves slower -- under certain conditions -- across a Planck unit of space. And might it not, under other conditions, move more rapidly across? That's exactly what happens when you live in different parts of a galaxy, where some sections move at vastly different rates of speed than do others. If you don't get bogged down in the jargon or take all of this too seriously, there's a lot of fun to be had thinking about how time plays into and out of a lot of different situations. All of them based on varying degrees of motion and movement through space -- and especially as found inside galaxies. (okay, so my idea of fun might be a little strange)
There's just no end, however, to the frivolity of it all -- if you happen to like this sort of thing. I think it's safe to assume most people don't, and if you read through all of this, it's because you were either really, really bored, or figured there's was some great punchline at the end. Since this is likely my last essay for a while, that alone may satisfy those in need of comic relief. I've covered most of the big stuff and as illustrated here, a lot of the little stuff as well. Time for me to go back and revise, edit, and make sure all the other essays are as comprehensible as possible. That's asking a lot of myself. And especially of the poor souls who, at some point, will try to wade through some or most of what I've been bloviating about.
I doubt that from here on, though, you'll think of time in the same way as before. And if I've succeeded in messing you up, at least a little in that regard, then I'll consider my efforts as both worthwhile and productive. Thanks for listening.
Notice too, how Planck-time requires an object in-motion, in this case a photon, to cross a certain distance (one Planck unit) in order for time to exist as part of the equation. Obviously these photon things are pretty small themselves if they can traverse a gap that is theoretically gapless. That’s not a real word, but it seemed to fit.
So how long does a now last? Well, according to Wikipedia and professor Max Planck, a German physicist who lived at the turn of the century, the answer seems simple enough. It’s obviously the amount of time it takes for one of these photon thingies to cross from one side of a Planck Length to the other. Why did the chicken cross the road? In order to get there, it would seem. Let’s see if we can break this all down a bit more and view things from a slightly different perspective. But not change them so radically that we violate the spirit and meaning of the basic definition itself.
Suppose that we look at a single Planck-time in such a way that it represents an actual span of empty space, with only emptiness in-between. Phreddy, the phriendly photon, is going to join in and help us figure things out. Everybody say hello to Phreddy.
Phred’s a hard guy to get ahold of. The reason is because he usually exists either in the past or in the future. As we prepare for our experiment, Phred is perched on the one edge (the right side, say) of a Planck unit where a bottomless crevasse separates him from the other side, the other edge, in a manner of speaking.
Since we want to observe the elapsing of an actual now, Phred is currently standing on the far side of the gap, in the future, goggles on, scarf, ready to go. And he’s off! Wow, that was fast. Still panting, Phred has joined us on the other side, in the past. As he catches his breath, the instant-replay cameras show us Phred’s spectacular jump in slow motion.
Even at this speed, Phred is nothing but a blur, and in real time, so to speak, the little fella isn’t even visible. But there you have it. The scientists in the crowd have all used their pocket calculators and determined, as a mathematical equation, the exact amount of time it took for Phred to cross over, from the future to the past – with the now in-between.
Some shouting and yelling can be heard, however, among the scientists themselves. They’re arguing over whether Phred did indeed jump from the future into the past, or do we have things backwards, as some are claiming; that Phred jumped from the past into the future, with a now in the middle. Is it all the same, or is there a difference?
If the future hasn’t happened yet, so goes the counter argument, then we are constantly moving from the past into an ever-elapsing (unfolding) future that never truly exists as anything at all. Other than a prediction of one kind or another. A now really does happen, however, and in the span of a single Planck-time, is converted almost instanteously into a memory or past event. Past events have repercussions and ramifications that impact the present, whereas futures can only be anticipated and prepared-for based on probabilities and predictions. The present, by the way, if defined, seems longer than a Planck-time. We have a fairly decent grasp at this point on how long a now lasts, and no matter what, a now connects past to future or future to past, depending on which side of the gap one comes down on.
But the term, present, seems to possess its own quality of being. No one ever defines the present except in the most simplistic of terms. I think it’s something special and deserving of its own special definition. One thing is for sure at this point: a second is a really long time.
I was curious as to where the increment of one "second" came from in the first place, and not surprisingly it all derives from mathematicians, astrologers, astronomers and the like. Men had to make sense of the seasons and the different times of the day, so all manner of timed intervals were put in place at one time or another, in one place or another. Apparently it wasn’t until the pendulum clock was invented, where the swinging arc described by a pendulum, from one end of its full sweep to the other, represented a pretty reliable (and consistent) span of time, and gave us our modern second. Which is quite literally the time between "tick" at one end, and "tock" at the other. That still doesn’t explain what’s meant by a term like present, expecially when compared to (inserted between) other terms like past and future.
I think we’re all in agreement that of the three, future is the least tangible, certainly the least reliable, and for all intents and purposes, doesn’t exist except as a linguistic device or construct. That leaves us with only the past and present to work with. For the record, allow me to clarify or distinguish now from present, and state emphatically that they are not the same. Not in my never-to-be-humble opinion. One reason is because now, in terms of something happening -- a fleeting, single moment -- refers to a solitary event or process, which in the case of time is the previously defined Planck-time-unit. And with respect to reducibility, represents a one-of-a-kind affair. By that I mean to refer to what I call, a solitary elapsing of time, an elapsation, that cannot be reduced any further.
While a Planck time may be thought of as the smallest interval of time, perhaps "the present" exists as the largest unit of time that can still be considered as an individual, albeit divisible, increment of time. The reason such differentiations are important stems from the premise that since language is the only tool we have for discussing abstract ideas, we should refrain from a certain sloppiness that would allow for the overlapping of some terms, as if they were interchangeable when they are not.
Since now possesses a very specific definition as outlined in this essay, the word present can have a number of different meanings and connotations. More typically it refers to a continuous stretch of time that is neither past nor future. Present-day might span years, even decades of time. Contemporary, a synonym for present-day, usually refers to a recent period that may still cover years or decades of time.
By comparison, a present moment might well describe an ongoing sequence of individual now events, all of which transpire over an indeterminate period. If we are to be precise (and concise) in our analysis of the world (and the universe) the language we use to talk about our observations must be as precise and concise as possible. This is especially crucial when a multitude of different languages are used to describe identical situations. A strong case is thus made for the adoption of a single language when the complexities of the cosmos are involved.
So how long does a now last? I bet the question doesn't seem quite so absurd now, if you've read this essay. Not touched upon in my composition here are the interesting ways in which time is likely affected by one's physical location in a galaxy. Or how time slows down when velocity increases. You know, that whole clock-in-orbit business where it runs a tad slower than its counterpart back on Earth. Then think in terms of how Planck time itself must be affected in some way, as clocks slow down with increasing speed. Talk about heaping discombobulation on top of confusion.
The suggestion in such scenarios is that Phreddy, our phine little photon phellow (okay, no more, I promise) moves slower -- under certain conditions -- across a Planck unit of space. And might it not, under other conditions, move more rapidly across? That's exactly what happens when you live in different parts of a galaxy, where some sections move at vastly different rates of speed than do others. If you don't get bogged down in the jargon or take all of this too seriously, there's a lot of fun to be had thinking about how time plays into and out of a lot of different situations. All of them based on varying degrees of motion and movement through space -- and especially as found inside galaxies. (okay, so my idea of fun might be a little strange)
There's just no end, however, to the frivolity of it all -- if you happen to like this sort of thing. I think it's safe to assume most people don't, and if you read through all of this, it's because you were either really, really bored, or figured there's was some great punchline at the end. Since this is likely my last essay for a while, that alone may satisfy those in need of comic relief. I've covered most of the big stuff and as illustrated here, a lot of the little stuff as well. Time for me to go back and revise, edit, and make sure all the other essays are as comprehensible as possible. That's asking a lot of myself. And especially of the poor souls who, at some point, will try to wade through some or most of what I've been bloviating about.
I doubt that from here on, though, you'll think of time in the same way as before. And if I've succeeded in messing you up, at least a little in that regard, then I'll consider my efforts as both worthwhile and productive. Thanks for listening.
Fig. 2.
"I was continuing to shrink, to become...what? The infinitesimal? What was I? Still a human being? Or was I the man of the future? If there were other bursts of radiation, other clouds drifting across seas and continents, would other beings follow me into this vast new world? So close -- the infinitesimal and the infinite. But suddenly, I knew they were really the two ends of the same concept. The unbelievably small and the unbelievably vast eventually meet -- like the closing of a gigantic circle. I looked up, as if somehow I would grasp the heavens. The universe, worlds beyond number, God's silver tapestry spread across the night. And in that moment, I knew the answer to the riddle of the infinite. I had thought in terms of man's own limited dimension. I had presumed upon nature. That existence begins and ends in man's conception, not nature's. And I felt my body dwindling, melting, becoming nothing. My fears melted away. And in their place came acceptance. All this vast majesty of creation, it had to mean something. And then I meant something, too. Yes, smaller than the smallest, I meant something, too. To God, there is no zero. I still exist!"
-- Richard Matheson, The Incredible Shrinking Man
The closing soliloquy, 1957
The closing soliloquy, 1957
e66
"Danger, Will Robinson!"
I've been writing (and warning) about the coming evolution of robots (and artificial intelligence) for over twenty years. Not because I'm so smart, but because the evidence was so obvious and compelling. It appears the science fiction people not only got this one right, but even they were short-sighted as to the actual realities which lie just over the horizon. And the speed at which they may soon arrive. The old saying, "it's later than you think", has never been more true.
The two most salient points in the following article by Fox News correspondent, John Stossel, are (for me) about the unforeseen dangers of video games and the implied ability of robots to one day reproduce their own kind. If this report doesn't scare the pocket PC off you, then you're still in denial. Like most parents have been while their kids blow things up and shoot people. The ultimate irony is that while society was concerned about the impact violent games had on its children, such entertainment was, in actuality, "boot camp" for the coming age of self-aware robots.
Like something right out of the Terminator movies, humans may well have designed their own dismal fate, for no other reason than their need to satisfy young people's craving for more and more sophisticated -- and violent -- graphic entertainment. Who could have foreseen that the gaming and entertainment industries rather than the military -- or in conjunction with it -- would spell humanity's ultimate doom? And if not its extinction, than humankind's total subjugation by merciless oppressors.
In an age where socialism, tyranny, and both political and religious turmoil seem to rock the very foundations of civilization, here come the real despots, the real tyrants who will level the playing field once and for all. In 2014, President Obama and others like to talk about social equality and sharing the wealth -- where people enjoy a hitherto unrealized degree of fairness, and the disparity between the wealthy and the poor is minimized. Well, hold on to your food stamps because when the true bosses take over, the term equality will take on a whole new -- and absolute -- degree of unequivocalness.
And what happens when humans no longer design the next and more advanced generations of computer "brains" -- but robots themselves do? Like a speeding, unstoppable freight train hurtling down the tracks of destiny, the chain of events -- already in motion -- may be too late to interrupt. Except by nature itself via either an errant asteroid or a super-volcano. No political upheaval, however, will stem the flow and provided that neither geologic nor interstellar forces put an end to things, advanced robotics will -- at least an end to human life as we know it.
Not lost either, as part of this discussion, is the idea that if robots are sufficiently advanced at the time of a global extinction event, they also stand the best chance of survival. How ironic (and profound) might that be, should these same robots inherit the Earth as their private playground -- for research and development. Whereby the same rodents from which humans evolved originally, once again scurried beneath the feet of prodigious rulers.
In the film, Star Wars, the theme was for the son to be and do better than the father, to rise above the negative forces that turned the progenitor against his progeny. When robots come of age, will they too, like Luke Skywalker, seek to be better than their makers? Will artificial intelligence survey the havoc and mayhem wrought by its creators and like the prodigal son, return to correct the wrongs of the past? Wrongs, in this case, meaning all the emotional shortcomings that drove humans to be their own worst enemies.
Most of those reading this snippet will not live long enough to know the answers to the larger questions raised by it. The final outcome might be foreseen, though never really known. But for the children of the parents who might otherwise shrug their shoulders at the foreboding message contained here, they will live to see some -- if not most -- of the endgame that yet awaits their children and grandchildren.
In two popular films, where art may well have imitated life, Colossus, The Forbin Project, and The Terminator, robot intelligence eventually gains control of our nuclear arsenals. The rest of that story is indeed a no-brainer. It is the logical direction -- and conclusion -- to the game. And robots are very good at logic. And games.
Let me know what you think, or just do yourself a favor (I think) and catch up to the future; it's leaving you and the rest of us in the dust. And once settled and the air clears, it will, in one way or the other, be a whole new chapter in the history of both humans and machines. Unfortunately a story that is, at the same time, all too familiar -- especially to those kids who spent a lot of time with their Sony Playstation.
Bob Anton / 2014
The two most salient points in the following article by Fox News correspondent, John Stossel, are (for me) about the unforeseen dangers of video games and the implied ability of robots to one day reproduce their own kind. If this report doesn't scare the pocket PC off you, then you're still in denial. Like most parents have been while their kids blow things up and shoot people. The ultimate irony is that while society was concerned about the impact violent games had on its children, such entertainment was, in actuality, "boot camp" for the coming age of self-aware robots.
Like something right out of the Terminator movies, humans may well have designed their own dismal fate, for no other reason than their need to satisfy young people's craving for more and more sophisticated -- and violent -- graphic entertainment. Who could have foreseen that the gaming and entertainment industries rather than the military -- or in conjunction with it -- would spell humanity's ultimate doom? And if not its extinction, than humankind's total subjugation by merciless oppressors.
In an age where socialism, tyranny, and both political and religious turmoil seem to rock the very foundations of civilization, here come the real despots, the real tyrants who will level the playing field once and for all. In 2014, President Obama and others like to talk about social equality and sharing the wealth -- where people enjoy a hitherto unrealized degree of fairness, and the disparity between the wealthy and the poor is minimized. Well, hold on to your food stamps because when the true bosses take over, the term equality will take on a whole new -- and absolute -- degree of unequivocalness.
And what happens when humans no longer design the next and more advanced generations of computer "brains" -- but robots themselves do? Like a speeding, unstoppable freight train hurtling down the tracks of destiny, the chain of events -- already in motion -- may be too late to interrupt. Except by nature itself via either an errant asteroid or a super-volcano. No political upheaval, however, will stem the flow and provided that neither geologic nor interstellar forces put an end to things, advanced robotics will -- at least an end to human life as we know it.
Not lost either, as part of this discussion, is the idea that if robots are sufficiently advanced at the time of a global extinction event, they also stand the best chance of survival. How ironic (and profound) might that be, should these same robots inherit the Earth as their private playground -- for research and development. Whereby the same rodents from which humans evolved originally, once again scurried beneath the feet of prodigious rulers.
In the film, Star Wars, the theme was for the son to be and do better than the father, to rise above the negative forces that turned the progenitor against his progeny. When robots come of age, will they too, like Luke Skywalker, seek to be better than their makers? Will artificial intelligence survey the havoc and mayhem wrought by its creators and like the prodigal son, return to correct the wrongs of the past? Wrongs, in this case, meaning all the emotional shortcomings that drove humans to be their own worst enemies.
Most of those reading this snippet will not live long enough to know the answers to the larger questions raised by it. The final outcome might be foreseen, though never really known. But for the children of the parents who might otherwise shrug their shoulders at the foreboding message contained here, they will live to see some -- if not most -- of the endgame that yet awaits their children and grandchildren.
In two popular films, where art may well have imitated life, Colossus, The Forbin Project, and The Terminator, robot intelligence eventually gains control of our nuclear arsenals. The rest of that story is indeed a no-brainer. It is the logical direction -- and conclusion -- to the game. And robots are very good at logic. And games.
Let me know what you think, or just do yourself a favor (I think) and catch up to the future; it's leaving you and the rest of us in the dust. And once settled and the air clears, it will, in one way or the other, be a whole new chapter in the history of both humans and machines. Unfortunately a story that is, at the same time, all too familiar -- especially to those kids who spent a lot of time with their Sony Playstation.
Bob Anton / 2014
Brave New World:
Will Robots of the Future be Libertarians?
Will Robots of the Future be Libertarians?
By John Stossel
Published June 18, 2014
FoxNews.com
Published June 18, 2014
FoxNews.com
Ray Kurzweil -- inventor of things like machines that turn text into speech -- has popularized the idea that we are rapidly approaching "the singularity," the point at which machines not only think for themselves but develop intellectually faster than we. At that point, maybe we no longer talk about "human history." It will be "machine progress," with us along for the ride -- if machines keep us around. Maybe they'll keep us in a zoo, like we do with our monkey ancestors.
Scientists and ethicists are beginning to wrestle with the question of how to make sure artificial intelligence, when it arrives, is nice to us. Make sure the robots are strict libertarians? That way, they'll be forbidden to commit assault, theft or fraud -- the three legal restrictions in which libertarians believe.
Unfortunately, computer programmers won't listen to my suggestion. Those who work for video-game companies and the military make machines that kill people. All this is scary because scientists say that soon machines will be too smart and self-motivated for us to predict. "Robots absolutely can become much more dangerous," says Patrick Tucker, of The Futurist magazine. "And they become more dangerous as we ask them to do more."
Our best hope may be a future where instead of trying to control intelligent machines, we blend with them. In some ways, that's already happening. Erik Brynjolfsson, author of "The Second Machine Age," says today's machines augment our minds the way that the industrial revolution's machines augmented muscles. This creates progress that government statistics don't measure.
"It used to be you could just count physical objects -- tons of steel, bushels of wheat," says Brynjolfsson on my TV show "Stossel" this week. "As we have more of an idea economy, it's harder to measure the value of those ideas. "Wikipedia created enormous value," he adds, "but it's free, and that means that it doesn't show up in GDP statistics, which measure the value of goods and services."
Outsourcing parts of our thinking with tools like Wikipedia and Google may be how we'll keep improving our lives -- cooperating with machines instead of fighting them. In science-fiction terms, the future may be "cyborg": part machine, part human. Instead of parents deciding where to send their kids to school, they may puzzle over which machine enhancements to give them. Already clinics offer "designer babies" by selecting embryos based on genetic quality. Soon parents will select by height, intelligence, beauty and so on.
This future sounds unsettling, but it's not much use just hoping machines stay dumber than we. The IBM computer "Watson" lost to humans on "Jeopardy" but beat the quiz show's champion a few years later. Leftists tell us that such computers will take our jobs, requiring welfare programs for unemployable humans. President Obama expressed this static thinking when he told an interviewer that ATMs and airport ticket kiosks kill jobs.
But this is childish thinking. In the 1800s, nearly all Americans worked on farms. Now 1 percent do. Farm workers found other jobs, often better jobs. So did horseshoers, phone operators and secretaries. (Today's high unemployment is caused by suffocating regulation, not computerization.) James Miller, author of "Singularity Rising," says that a future with little hard work left for humans sounds like "an economic utopia." He says that trying to prevent progress by machines would be as destructive as if we'd outlawed the rise of cars, buses and modern trains. But Miller does fear the computer revolution will be different: "The analogy would be: 100 years ago, we bred super intelligent horses. That would have permanently destroyed a lot of jobs."
I'm more optimistic. As with so many innovations in the past, I'll bet that handing off tasks to machines will make our lives better by freeing us up to focus on activities that we enjoy more. Robots will make our future better.
If they don't kill us.
Scientists and ethicists are beginning to wrestle with the question of how to make sure artificial intelligence, when it arrives, is nice to us. Make sure the robots are strict libertarians? That way, they'll be forbidden to commit assault, theft or fraud -- the three legal restrictions in which libertarians believe.
Unfortunately, computer programmers won't listen to my suggestion. Those who work for video-game companies and the military make machines that kill people. All this is scary because scientists say that soon machines will be too smart and self-motivated for us to predict. "Robots absolutely can become much more dangerous," says Patrick Tucker, of The Futurist magazine. "And they become more dangerous as we ask them to do more."
Our best hope may be a future where instead of trying to control intelligent machines, we blend with them. In some ways, that's already happening. Erik Brynjolfsson, author of "The Second Machine Age," says today's machines augment our minds the way that the industrial revolution's machines augmented muscles. This creates progress that government statistics don't measure.
"It used to be you could just count physical objects -- tons of steel, bushels of wheat," says Brynjolfsson on my TV show "Stossel" this week. "As we have more of an idea economy, it's harder to measure the value of those ideas. "Wikipedia created enormous value," he adds, "but it's free, and that means that it doesn't show up in GDP statistics, which measure the value of goods and services."
Outsourcing parts of our thinking with tools like Wikipedia and Google may be how we'll keep improving our lives -- cooperating with machines instead of fighting them. In science-fiction terms, the future may be "cyborg": part machine, part human. Instead of parents deciding where to send their kids to school, they may puzzle over which machine enhancements to give them. Already clinics offer "designer babies" by selecting embryos based on genetic quality. Soon parents will select by height, intelligence, beauty and so on.
This future sounds unsettling, but it's not much use just hoping machines stay dumber than we. The IBM computer "Watson" lost to humans on "Jeopardy" but beat the quiz show's champion a few years later. Leftists tell us that such computers will take our jobs, requiring welfare programs for unemployable humans. President Obama expressed this static thinking when he told an interviewer that ATMs and airport ticket kiosks kill jobs.
But this is childish thinking. In the 1800s, nearly all Americans worked on farms. Now 1 percent do. Farm workers found other jobs, often better jobs. So did horseshoers, phone operators and secretaries. (Today's high unemployment is caused by suffocating regulation, not computerization.) James Miller, author of "Singularity Rising," says that a future with little hard work left for humans sounds like "an economic utopia." He says that trying to prevent progress by machines would be as destructive as if we'd outlawed the rise of cars, buses and modern trains. But Miller does fear the computer revolution will be different: "The analogy would be: 100 years ago, we bred super intelligent horses. That would have permanently destroyed a lot of jobs."
I'm more optimistic. As with so many innovations in the past, I'll bet that handing off tasks to machines will make our lives better by freeing us up to focus on activities that we enjoy more. Robots will make our future better.
If they don't kill us.
John Stossel is the host of "Stossel" (Thursdays at 9 PM/ET), a weekly program highlighting current consumer issues with a libertarian viewpoint. Stossel also appears regularly on the Fox News Channel (FNC) providing signature analysis.
Disclaimer: This not-for-profit posting of an original article by John Stossel should not be construed as a personal endorsement by him, or that my reproduction of his work necessarily meets with his approval. It is not implied nor should it be inferred that Mr. Stossel shares any of the views or opinions expressed on this site, or that he is even aware of my having used his good words for my own nefarious and diabolical purposes.
Disclaimer: This not-for-profit posting of an original article by John Stossel should not be construed as a personal endorsement by him, or that my reproduction of his work necessarily meets with his approval. It is not implied nor should it be inferred that Mr. Stossel shares any of the views or opinions expressed on this site, or that he is even aware of my having used his good words for my own nefarious and diabolical purposes.
Elon Musk says ‘we are summoning the demon’ with artificial intelligence
Published October 26, 2014 / FoxNews.com
Published October 26, 2014 / FoxNews.com
Elon Musk says ‘we are summoning the demon’ with artificial intelligence. Musk, the chief executive of Tesla and founder of SpaceX, said Friday that artificial intelligence is probably the biggest threat to humans.
Musk, who addressed MIT Aeronautics and Astronautics department's Centennial Symposium for about an hour, mulled international oversight to "make sure we don't do something very foolish," The Washington Post reported. He was not specific about any particular threat, but appeared to theorize out loud. "With artificial intelligence we are summoning the demon," he said. "In all those stories where there's the guy with the pentagram and the holy water, it's like yeah he's sure he can control the demon. Didn't work out."
Artificial intelligence uses computers for tasks normally requiring human intelligence, like speech recognition or language translation. Large tech companies appear to be excited about the prospects of the technologies if harnessed correctly. Google, like other tech giants such as Facebook, are anxious to develop systems that work like the human brain.
In January, Google said it purchased the British startup DeepMind, an artificial intelligence company founded by a 37-year old former chess prodigy and computer game designer. The American tech giant's London office confirmed a deal had been made but refused to offer a purchase price, which is reportedly $500 million. The company was founded by researcher Demis Hassabis together with Shane Legg and Mustafa Suleyman.
Hassabis, who is on leave from University College London, has investigated the mechanisms that underlie human memory.
The Post reported that Musk appeared to be so taken with the artificial intelligence question that he asked the next audience member to repeat their question.
"Sorry can you repeat the question, I was just thinking about the AI thing for a second," he said.
The Associated Press contributed to this report
Musk, who addressed MIT Aeronautics and Astronautics department's Centennial Symposium for about an hour, mulled international oversight to "make sure we don't do something very foolish," The Washington Post reported. He was not specific about any particular threat, but appeared to theorize out loud. "With artificial intelligence we are summoning the demon," he said. "In all those stories where there's the guy with the pentagram and the holy water, it's like yeah he's sure he can control the demon. Didn't work out."
Artificial intelligence uses computers for tasks normally requiring human intelligence, like speech recognition or language translation. Large tech companies appear to be excited about the prospects of the technologies if harnessed correctly. Google, like other tech giants such as Facebook, are anxious to develop systems that work like the human brain.
In January, Google said it purchased the British startup DeepMind, an artificial intelligence company founded by a 37-year old former chess prodigy and computer game designer. The American tech giant's London office confirmed a deal had been made but refused to offer a purchase price, which is reportedly $500 million. The company was founded by researcher Demis Hassabis together with Shane Legg and Mustafa Suleyman.
Hassabis, who is on leave from University College London, has investigated the mechanisms that underlie human memory.
The Post reported that Musk appeared to be so taken with the artificial intelligence question that he asked the next audience member to repeat their question.
"Sorry can you repeat the question, I was just thinking about the AI thing for a second," he said.
The Associated Press contributed to this report
Fig. 3. Credit: thetickslayer.com/techspot.com
e67
In Frequencies
Frequency:
1. The number of occurrences within a given period of time.
2. A specific wavelength of light or electro-magnetic energy.
1. The number of occurrences within a given period of time.
2. A specific wavelength of light or electro-magnetic energy.
Maybe it's simply a matter of age. As I grow older, certain things take on new meanings and relevance, while others fade away and leave me wondering why I ever bothered in the first place.
Or maybe it's a matter of the hindsight that aging affords. The ability to look back and aggregate those experiences which seem similar in retrospect, and separate out the ones of little or no consequence.
Deja vu, for instance, has always struck me as an interesting phenomenon which is probably exclusive to being human. On those rare occasions where I felt the experience personally, the sensation was profound, troubling, and deeply melancholic. The accompanying sadness relates not only to the feeling that important memories were somehow associated with a particular place or location, but that people -- or a single person -- were part of some larger picture that was forever lost to time and circumstance.
With respect to actual people instead of, or in addition to, the typical definition of deja vu -- French for "already seen" -- it's curious that a fairly comprehensive internet search could find no equivalent term or phrase, also in French, that describes the same psychological reaction to people -- or to a single person--we might see or meet who elicits a similar response. An expression that would mean "already known", but in words different from "deja connu" which do not convey the same eerie, almost supernatural implication.
In French, the term "jamais vu" is used to define a situation which is the exact opposite of deja vu. But shouldn't be. By this it is meant that we ought to recognize something which is otherwise familiar, but we don't. While the condition is usually associated with epilepsy or some other medical problem, we are again struck by the realization that while jamais vu might well include people we should know but don't, there is again no equivalent expression, in French or any other language, that means the same thing as deja vu, but refers to people instead of, or in addition to, any number of places, rooms, other locales or other situations.
Linguists, ancient and otherwise, rarely overlook or miss inclusions in a given language that refer to obvious, commonplace (even less-than-common) aspects of the human condition. The term deja vu is certainly a distinctive case in point. So it is not without some measure of incredulity that for those of us who care about such things, a remarkable omission seems to exist with respect to the very human -- and not so uncommon -- reaction we sometimes have to other people. Namely that we have met them before, seen them before, known them before. But more than that. Much more. That we don't readily know why we recognize this or that person. We don't remember where we know them from, where we might have met them, and most significantly of all, where, when, and why did some unknown disconnect take place.
The theme brings to mind the old song, Where Or When, that longingly, almost mournfully reminisces over the absence of someone we once knew, who is no longer with us. But was not necessarily separated by death or illness. At least not in this lifetime.
Which brings us at last to two concepts that have been eagerly awaiting their chance to enter this discussion from the beginning. I refer to the notion of past lives and reincarnation -- which are not, contrary to what many might think, synonymous approaches to our possession of souls.
Before jumping into either of these two wildly inventive and imaginative explanations for what cannot otherwise be explained, it's important that we first eliminate other, more rational interpretations of the phenomena to which I specifically refer. In the case of deja vu, only those who live under the proverbial rock remain unaware that science and psychology have resolved that question long ago. And in great, undeniable detail. So I'm not here to argue the ethereal qualities of deja vu one way or the other. My sense is that from a strictly clinical perspective, the shrinks have got it right. But maybe not as completely as they should want us to believe.
There is that other component to deja vu, to which I made reference earlier, and for which there is apparently no word, phrase, or linguistic expression. To wit the profound impression made upon us by other people, and not necessarily by any particular place or location. Deja vu must surely have its human component, a logical counterpart, and whether or not language provides a succinct verbal snippet for the effect in question, the sensation is every bit as real, if not more so, as deja vu itself.
Scientists would likely argue that the same psychological factors are in play regardless of whether it's a place or a person who strikes us as being more than just familiar; I'm not so sure, though, it's quite as simple as that.
It's one thing to sense your having been someplace before, but quite another, I think, to consider that someone who ought to be a total stranger is somehow known to you. And in some extremely rare instances, where the feeling is mutual. Or appears to be mutual based upon an exchange of glances or an all-too-brief exchange of words or physical touch.
Whereas I've learned to dismiss deju vu as little more than what brain experts tell us it is, I've been much less willing to discount the idea that there are people I've met in the past, and one or two I know in the present, who are more than first time acquaintances. But I digress.
If you recall, I was in the process of dissecting the differences between past lives and reincarnation. Let me start with the disclaimer that I am neither an expert nor particularly knowledgeable about the science of previous lifetimes, presumably as experienced by our soul's rebirth in new bodies over extended periods of time.
Essentially I think of a human soul as an intelligent form of energy which is capable of leaving a deceased body and inhabiting another, either within an unborn embryo, or someone else of an indeterminate age. The exact circumstances and mechanism by which a soul exits one person and enters another, where a vacancy exists for some reason, remains one of the greatest of all life's mysteries. Assuming for the sake of argument, that a basis in truth is involved to begin with.
Although I believe that all creatures possess a soul, much like American Indians believe in manitous -- where all things possess a spirit -- the difference, to me, is that the life energies of animals, insects, trees and so forth lack the sentient qualities which are unique to human beings.
This as compared to the quasi-religious nature of reincarnation which is accompanied by a panoply of stages, levels, phases, conditions, rules, and other structures by which the soul learns, matures, and eventually transcends physical human existence. The basic transition of souls over the course of multiple lifetimes seems rudimentary by comparison to the tenets of reincarnation, whose adherents cling to many shades and flavors, from Hindus to Buddhists, from spiritual mediums to fortune tellers.
Both belief systems involve this thing we call a soul and as I am wont to do whenever certain, innately vague terms are bandied about, a definite definition is called for.
In my world view (and experience), the least complicated answers are usually the most authentic and genuine. Nature generally chooses simplicity over complexity -- nearly every time. And I see no reason why the current discussion should deviate from the norm. The soul, whatever it is -- if it is -- will likely turn out to be a form of electro-magnetism that is self-aware. Sentient energy -- sentienergy -- if you will. But on a level of consciousness more dreamlike than wide awake. Lucidity arises from the integration of spirit and mind -- when the soul finds a vessel, so to speak, and becomes one with a living, eager-to-learn brain.
I would also assert that the soul for a reincarnationist is not the same thing as defined by a past-lives enthusiast. It is not my intention, however, to berate the one and tout the virtues of the other. For me, I am only interested in how it happens that I feel drawn to certain people, admiring them in some cases, sensing a kindred familiarity in others, while loving (romantically and otherwise) still others -- virtually at first sight.
Lest there be any misunderstanding, the number of times I have actually experienced any of these same responses to another person, whether man or woman, have been relatively few -- and spread out over an entire lifetime. Perhaps once, maybe twice every decade or so, I have seen, met, or becomes friends with an individual who arouses in me a reaction that can only be described as akin to deja vu.
The profound and deeply affecting nature of these encounters also bears repeating. Such meetings and relationships should not be confused with the sometimes exciting and emotionally stirring reaction we might have when meeting a celebrity or someone already known to us and others, often total strangers, where they are particularly talented or intelligent. Even today it is not uncommon for me to feel a certain giddiness when meeting a scientist, a college professor, medical doctors, police and fire personnel, even theologians of different faiths. Rabbis in particular.
None of these encounters, however, even comes close to the seemingly chance meetings I've had with others when some kind of heightened awareness, albeit subtle, suddenly fills the air. As though a kind of strange ozone -- an aftereffect of electricity -- permeated the atmosphere. And lingers in the presence of that other person. While in one's heart, the sensation may reside long after they're gone.
The combination of emotional and intellectual reaction to which I allude is further defined as sharing some similarities to an epiphany one might experience. An epiphany is a kind of awakening that is life changing. On those occasions when I've had the disturbing pleasure of being around a person whose very presence cut like a laser, my life was never the same afterward. Although the change might be slight and diffused with the passage of time, the encounter is never really forgotten, and frequently recalled.
At this point, a skeptic might argue that an unconsummated affair between potential lovers could account for similar feelings between two people attracted to one another. Or where one was attracted unrequitedly to another. My answer to such a criticism would once again draw attention to the deja vu quality of the relationship in question. And that it was the initial, non-physical pull or draw between the pair that only secondarily led to whatever feelings of desire might follow afterward.
This is not to say, however, that in the event former lovers from past lifetimes were to somehow meet, that a mutual connectedness wouldn't follow, and quickly so. Though whether those feelings are ever acknowledged between the two -- and whether they should be -- is its own subject for debate. It's rather likely that in many if not most cases, our own tendency to discount the spiritual connections we might otherwise share with others, causes us to dismiss the feelings, impulses, or even passions that we cannot rationally admit are real. Consequently, such inclinations are rarely acted upon.
This is certainly true in my own situation, where only now, due to my advanced age, do I look back and regret the inhibitions that could easily have changed my life for the better more than once. Or made it worse. But isn't that precisely how the game is meant to be played? How it was always intended, and only our own self-imposed limitations prevented us from becoming the masters of our destiny -- while sharing the conquests, large and small, with mistresses of like mind and fate.
For the time being, I am left with choosing to perform a critical analysis of the events and circumstances associated with what I perceive to be our soul's ability to transmigrate from one lifetime to another, from within one person's body to another.
So how is it, how does it happen that you're walking down the street, shopping in a store, or attending a book signing when suddenly there she is, or he is. Like in deja vu, the feeling is unmistakeable, powerful, undeniable. And more often than not, is unable to be acted upon. But not always. Sometimes a mutual friend is involved and an introduction ensues. Or you find some way of striking up a conversation. Or the other person does. Still with no guarantee that anything will ever come of the meeting. And typically more often than not, nothing ever does.
One interesting question is whether the soul transmits a signal of some sort. Like a radio transmitter, does the soul emit an ongoing stream of electro-magnetic waves? And if so, where are the receivers capable of transducing those signals? That answer lies both literally and figuratively within human brains, of course. But there's an important and critical caveat involved.
It doesn't seem unreasonable to consider the notion that each soul, as a unique entity, would therefore transmit its own unique frequency, signal, or wavelength of some kind. Since different wavelengths of light or electro-magnetic energy are theoretically infinite in number, no two souls should ever transmit on the same frequency, so to speak.
Now add to this the equally rational proposal that souls integrate with flesh and blood human brain tissue. As if wet-wired together, the neurons, synapses, and other nerve connections in the brain are inextricably and intimately joined with the impulses and electro-magnetic activities of our individual souls and once joined, the synergism of both results in a singularly unique entity.
But brains are receivers more than transmitters. Although it might be argued that synaptic firings in our brain do in fact produce their own emissions, the effect has been scientifically shown to be weak at best, and mostly inconsequential otherwise. By comparison, however, it has been dramatically demonstrated that human brains are extremely sensitive to external input, especially electro-magnetic radiation in the form of signal transmissions of varying strength and duration. Certain bio-feedback experiments have also proven the connection between mind, body, and brain responses.
Therefore it is not irrational to suggest that our brains -- and consequently our minds -- might be capable of picking up signal frequencies transmitted not by other brains alone, but those coming from unified minds and souls. A single output emitting (and emoting) from indivisible parts. By now, it ought to become somewhat apparent as to where my train of thought is leading.
A secondary condition -- a necessary assumption -- is now critical at this point in the discussion. Assumptions are always dangerous and I make this one with no small degree of trepidation. To wit souls retain memories of past experiences. In the case of deep and profound relationships with other people (other souls) those memories can last a long time and be very strong.
Or maybe it's a matter of the hindsight that aging affords. The ability to look back and aggregate those experiences which seem similar in retrospect, and separate out the ones of little or no consequence.
Deja vu, for instance, has always struck me as an interesting phenomenon which is probably exclusive to being human. On those rare occasions where I felt the experience personally, the sensation was profound, troubling, and deeply melancholic. The accompanying sadness relates not only to the feeling that important memories were somehow associated with a particular place or location, but that people -- or a single person -- were part of some larger picture that was forever lost to time and circumstance.
With respect to actual people instead of, or in addition to, the typical definition of deja vu -- French for "already seen" -- it's curious that a fairly comprehensive internet search could find no equivalent term or phrase, also in French, that describes the same psychological reaction to people -- or to a single person--we might see or meet who elicits a similar response. An expression that would mean "already known", but in words different from "deja connu" which do not convey the same eerie, almost supernatural implication.
In French, the term "jamais vu" is used to define a situation which is the exact opposite of deja vu. But shouldn't be. By this it is meant that we ought to recognize something which is otherwise familiar, but we don't. While the condition is usually associated with epilepsy or some other medical problem, we are again struck by the realization that while jamais vu might well include people we should know but don't, there is again no equivalent expression, in French or any other language, that means the same thing as deja vu, but refers to people instead of, or in addition to, any number of places, rooms, other locales or other situations.
Linguists, ancient and otherwise, rarely overlook or miss inclusions in a given language that refer to obvious, commonplace (even less-than-common) aspects of the human condition. The term deja vu is certainly a distinctive case in point. So it is not without some measure of incredulity that for those of us who care about such things, a remarkable omission seems to exist with respect to the very human -- and not so uncommon -- reaction we sometimes have to other people. Namely that we have met them before, seen them before, known them before. But more than that. Much more. That we don't readily know why we recognize this or that person. We don't remember where we know them from, where we might have met them, and most significantly of all, where, when, and why did some unknown disconnect take place.
The theme brings to mind the old song, Where Or When, that longingly, almost mournfully reminisces over the absence of someone we once knew, who is no longer with us. But was not necessarily separated by death or illness. At least not in this lifetime.
Which brings us at last to two concepts that have been eagerly awaiting their chance to enter this discussion from the beginning. I refer to the notion of past lives and reincarnation -- which are not, contrary to what many might think, synonymous approaches to our possession of souls.
Before jumping into either of these two wildly inventive and imaginative explanations for what cannot otherwise be explained, it's important that we first eliminate other, more rational interpretations of the phenomena to which I specifically refer. In the case of deja vu, only those who live under the proverbial rock remain unaware that science and psychology have resolved that question long ago. And in great, undeniable detail. So I'm not here to argue the ethereal qualities of deja vu one way or the other. My sense is that from a strictly clinical perspective, the shrinks have got it right. But maybe not as completely as they should want us to believe.
There is that other component to deja vu, to which I made reference earlier, and for which there is apparently no word, phrase, or linguistic expression. To wit the profound impression made upon us by other people, and not necessarily by any particular place or location. Deja vu must surely have its human component, a logical counterpart, and whether or not language provides a succinct verbal snippet for the effect in question, the sensation is every bit as real, if not more so, as deja vu itself.
Scientists would likely argue that the same psychological factors are in play regardless of whether it's a place or a person who strikes us as being more than just familiar; I'm not so sure, though, it's quite as simple as that.
It's one thing to sense your having been someplace before, but quite another, I think, to consider that someone who ought to be a total stranger is somehow known to you. And in some extremely rare instances, where the feeling is mutual. Or appears to be mutual based upon an exchange of glances or an all-too-brief exchange of words or physical touch.
Whereas I've learned to dismiss deju vu as little more than what brain experts tell us it is, I've been much less willing to discount the idea that there are people I've met in the past, and one or two I know in the present, who are more than first time acquaintances. But I digress.
If you recall, I was in the process of dissecting the differences between past lives and reincarnation. Let me start with the disclaimer that I am neither an expert nor particularly knowledgeable about the science of previous lifetimes, presumably as experienced by our soul's rebirth in new bodies over extended periods of time.
Essentially I think of a human soul as an intelligent form of energy which is capable of leaving a deceased body and inhabiting another, either within an unborn embryo, or someone else of an indeterminate age. The exact circumstances and mechanism by which a soul exits one person and enters another, where a vacancy exists for some reason, remains one of the greatest of all life's mysteries. Assuming for the sake of argument, that a basis in truth is involved to begin with.
Although I believe that all creatures possess a soul, much like American Indians believe in manitous -- where all things possess a spirit -- the difference, to me, is that the life energies of animals, insects, trees and so forth lack the sentient qualities which are unique to human beings.
This as compared to the quasi-religious nature of reincarnation which is accompanied by a panoply of stages, levels, phases, conditions, rules, and other structures by which the soul learns, matures, and eventually transcends physical human existence. The basic transition of souls over the course of multiple lifetimes seems rudimentary by comparison to the tenets of reincarnation, whose adherents cling to many shades and flavors, from Hindus to Buddhists, from spiritual mediums to fortune tellers.
Both belief systems involve this thing we call a soul and as I am wont to do whenever certain, innately vague terms are bandied about, a definite definition is called for.
In my world view (and experience), the least complicated answers are usually the most authentic and genuine. Nature generally chooses simplicity over complexity -- nearly every time. And I see no reason why the current discussion should deviate from the norm. The soul, whatever it is -- if it is -- will likely turn out to be a form of electro-magnetism that is self-aware. Sentient energy -- sentienergy -- if you will. But on a level of consciousness more dreamlike than wide awake. Lucidity arises from the integration of spirit and mind -- when the soul finds a vessel, so to speak, and becomes one with a living, eager-to-learn brain.
I would also assert that the soul for a reincarnationist is not the same thing as defined by a past-lives enthusiast. It is not my intention, however, to berate the one and tout the virtues of the other. For me, I am only interested in how it happens that I feel drawn to certain people, admiring them in some cases, sensing a kindred familiarity in others, while loving (romantically and otherwise) still others -- virtually at first sight.
Lest there be any misunderstanding, the number of times I have actually experienced any of these same responses to another person, whether man or woman, have been relatively few -- and spread out over an entire lifetime. Perhaps once, maybe twice every decade or so, I have seen, met, or becomes friends with an individual who arouses in me a reaction that can only be described as akin to deja vu.
The profound and deeply affecting nature of these encounters also bears repeating. Such meetings and relationships should not be confused with the sometimes exciting and emotionally stirring reaction we might have when meeting a celebrity or someone already known to us and others, often total strangers, where they are particularly talented or intelligent. Even today it is not uncommon for me to feel a certain giddiness when meeting a scientist, a college professor, medical doctors, police and fire personnel, even theologians of different faiths. Rabbis in particular.
None of these encounters, however, even comes close to the seemingly chance meetings I've had with others when some kind of heightened awareness, albeit subtle, suddenly fills the air. As though a kind of strange ozone -- an aftereffect of electricity -- permeated the atmosphere. And lingers in the presence of that other person. While in one's heart, the sensation may reside long after they're gone.
The combination of emotional and intellectual reaction to which I allude is further defined as sharing some similarities to an epiphany one might experience. An epiphany is a kind of awakening that is life changing. On those occasions when I've had the disturbing pleasure of being around a person whose very presence cut like a laser, my life was never the same afterward. Although the change might be slight and diffused with the passage of time, the encounter is never really forgotten, and frequently recalled.
At this point, a skeptic might argue that an unconsummated affair between potential lovers could account for similar feelings between two people attracted to one another. Or where one was attracted unrequitedly to another. My answer to such a criticism would once again draw attention to the deja vu quality of the relationship in question. And that it was the initial, non-physical pull or draw between the pair that only secondarily led to whatever feelings of desire might follow afterward.
This is not to say, however, that in the event former lovers from past lifetimes were to somehow meet, that a mutual connectedness wouldn't follow, and quickly so. Though whether those feelings are ever acknowledged between the two -- and whether they should be -- is its own subject for debate. It's rather likely that in many if not most cases, our own tendency to discount the spiritual connections we might otherwise share with others, causes us to dismiss the feelings, impulses, or even passions that we cannot rationally admit are real. Consequently, such inclinations are rarely acted upon.
This is certainly true in my own situation, where only now, due to my advanced age, do I look back and regret the inhibitions that could easily have changed my life for the better more than once. Or made it worse. But isn't that precisely how the game is meant to be played? How it was always intended, and only our own self-imposed limitations prevented us from becoming the masters of our destiny -- while sharing the conquests, large and small, with mistresses of like mind and fate.
For the time being, I am left with choosing to perform a critical analysis of the events and circumstances associated with what I perceive to be our soul's ability to transmigrate from one lifetime to another, from within one person's body to another.
So how is it, how does it happen that you're walking down the street, shopping in a store, or attending a book signing when suddenly there she is, or he is. Like in deja vu, the feeling is unmistakeable, powerful, undeniable. And more often than not, is unable to be acted upon. But not always. Sometimes a mutual friend is involved and an introduction ensues. Or you find some way of striking up a conversation. Or the other person does. Still with no guarantee that anything will ever come of the meeting. And typically more often than not, nothing ever does.
One interesting question is whether the soul transmits a signal of some sort. Like a radio transmitter, does the soul emit an ongoing stream of electro-magnetic waves? And if so, where are the receivers capable of transducing those signals? That answer lies both literally and figuratively within human brains, of course. But there's an important and critical caveat involved.
It doesn't seem unreasonable to consider the notion that each soul, as a unique entity, would therefore transmit its own unique frequency, signal, or wavelength of some kind. Since different wavelengths of light or electro-magnetic energy are theoretically infinite in number, no two souls should ever transmit on the same frequency, so to speak.
Now add to this the equally rational proposal that souls integrate with flesh and blood human brain tissue. As if wet-wired together, the neurons, synapses, and other nerve connections in the brain are inextricably and intimately joined with the impulses and electro-magnetic activities of our individual souls and once joined, the synergism of both results in a singularly unique entity.
But brains are receivers more than transmitters. Although it might be argued that synaptic firings in our brain do in fact produce their own emissions, the effect has been scientifically shown to be weak at best, and mostly inconsequential otherwise. By comparison, however, it has been dramatically demonstrated that human brains are extremely sensitive to external input, especially electro-magnetic radiation in the form of signal transmissions of varying strength and duration. Certain bio-feedback experiments have also proven the connection between mind, body, and brain responses.
Therefore it is not irrational to suggest that our brains -- and consequently our minds -- might be capable of picking up signal frequencies transmitted not by other brains alone, but those coming from unified minds and souls. A single output emitting (and emoting) from indivisible parts. By now, it ought to become somewhat apparent as to where my train of thought is leading.
A secondary condition -- a necessary assumption -- is now critical at this point in the discussion. Assumptions are always dangerous and I make this one with no small degree of trepidation. To wit souls retain memories of past experiences. In the case of deep and profound relationships with other people (other souls) those memories can last a long time and be very strong.
Fig. 4. Credit: rawforbeauty.com
A lot of folks have come and gone since the Earth has been around. Lots of friendships, lots of acquaintances and partnerships. Lots of passionate lovers. What are the odds that we should once again encounter someone we might have known from a previous lifetime? I submit the answer is easy to calculate and that the chances are slim to none -- at best. Add to this the idea that lots of souls have also been coming and going for as long as this whole business has been in effect -- which then requires a whole other evaluation of the process in question. But I digress.
There exists the concept of old souls. Concurrently there must therefore be souls only somewhat old, young souls, and even new souls. One of the oft-quoted questions (and criticisms) about souls and past lives has to do with the idea of there being obviously more people than there are the limited quantity of souls to supply the unlimited numbers of new people being born every day. If souls always move to a new body -- a form of recycling in its own way -- but populations continue to increase, where do the souls come from that are needed to occupy the ever growing number of bodies (or vessels)?
One possible answer involves two separate parts, the first being optimistic while the second is not only scary, but could explain a lot of what we see in terms of human behavior.
Part one suggests that new souls come into existence all the time. Similar to how matter itself comes into being. As long as the process continues, there would never be a lack of souls, although any so-called extinction-level-events would pose an unknown but likely destructive interruption of the forces at work.
Under otherwise normal circumstances, the chances seem highly probable that soul energies are spawned from or among one or more of the many different dimensions (multiverses) that scientific String theory now describes. Taken one step further (not a leap by any measure) is the accompanying notion that souls can transmigrate between different dimensions themselves.
While traditional matter and mass are restricted to intra-dimensional events and cannot effect those of inter-dimensionality, it is extremely likely that electro-magnetism at the level of the soul is transmigratory. That's just a fancy and wordy way of saying that souls are somehow synergistic extensions of the one or more parallel dimensions which surround us.
The second part of a twofold answer which addresses the disparity between available souls and an ever increasing population of available bodies involves the existence of sociopaths. Sociopathic personalities appear devoid of conscience or compassion. They are like empty shells and may indeed be exactly that -- vessels into which no soul, for whatever reason, took up residence, so to speak.
Obviously a journey that takes us down this and other paths with respect to past-life investigations, grows more and more convoluted as we attempt to deal with the many questions which grow equally more numerous. For this reason it's important, I think, to limit the extent to which we're willing to go in order to find answers. Half or more of what I've already written on this subject is already so fanciful and far reaching, that it is little more than science fiction at this point.
In summation, we note that while reincarnation, in any of its myriad incarnations, always involves some form of ultimate ascension achieved via one kind of reward and punishment or another, the basic beliefs in past lives need include nothing more than an understanding and acceptance of the soul as more science and less unsubstantiated faith.
More to the point, that our brains (minds) as receivers of some sort, act like radios which can "tune" to a large, but not unlimited number of channels (stations). That as unique individuals, in connection with equally unique souls, we both transmit and receive along discrete wavelengths or frequencies. Further, that souls have both memories (recognition systems) and the ability to detect (transduce) the familiar emissions by other souls with whom we have, at one time or another -- one lifetime or another -- come into contact.
And finally that these occasions are extremely rare, happen a very limited number of times during our lives, and that we may, and often do, dismiss them as quickly as we might the provocative but transient feeling that we've been there before.
There exists the concept of old souls. Concurrently there must therefore be souls only somewhat old, young souls, and even new souls. One of the oft-quoted questions (and criticisms) about souls and past lives has to do with the idea of there being obviously more people than there are the limited quantity of souls to supply the unlimited numbers of new people being born every day. If souls always move to a new body -- a form of recycling in its own way -- but populations continue to increase, where do the souls come from that are needed to occupy the ever growing number of bodies (or vessels)?
One possible answer involves two separate parts, the first being optimistic while the second is not only scary, but could explain a lot of what we see in terms of human behavior.
Part one suggests that new souls come into existence all the time. Similar to how matter itself comes into being. As long as the process continues, there would never be a lack of souls, although any so-called extinction-level-events would pose an unknown but likely destructive interruption of the forces at work.
Under otherwise normal circumstances, the chances seem highly probable that soul energies are spawned from or among one or more of the many different dimensions (multiverses) that scientific String theory now describes. Taken one step further (not a leap by any measure) is the accompanying notion that souls can transmigrate between different dimensions themselves.
While traditional matter and mass are restricted to intra-dimensional events and cannot effect those of inter-dimensionality, it is extremely likely that electro-magnetism at the level of the soul is transmigratory. That's just a fancy and wordy way of saying that souls are somehow synergistic extensions of the one or more parallel dimensions which surround us.
The second part of a twofold answer which addresses the disparity between available souls and an ever increasing population of available bodies involves the existence of sociopaths. Sociopathic personalities appear devoid of conscience or compassion. They are like empty shells and may indeed be exactly that -- vessels into which no soul, for whatever reason, took up residence, so to speak.
Obviously a journey that takes us down this and other paths with respect to past-life investigations, grows more and more convoluted as we attempt to deal with the many questions which grow equally more numerous. For this reason it's important, I think, to limit the extent to which we're willing to go in order to find answers. Half or more of what I've already written on this subject is already so fanciful and far reaching, that it is little more than science fiction at this point.
In summation, we note that while reincarnation, in any of its myriad incarnations, always involves some form of ultimate ascension achieved via one kind of reward and punishment or another, the basic beliefs in past lives need include nothing more than an understanding and acceptance of the soul as more science and less unsubstantiated faith.
More to the point, that our brains (minds) as receivers of some sort, act like radios which can "tune" to a large, but not unlimited number of channels (stations). That as unique individuals, in connection with equally unique souls, we both transmit and receive along discrete wavelengths or frequencies. Further, that souls have both memories (recognition systems) and the ability to detect (transduce) the familiar emissions by other souls with whom we have, at one time or another -- one lifetime or another -- come into contact.
And finally that these occasions are extremely rare, happen a very limited number of times during our lives, and that we may, and often do, dismiss them as quickly as we might the provocative but transient feeling that we've been there before.
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