Back to the Drawing Board

I was walking through the parking lot to my car after work when I started daydreaming about all the people who had been there before me; earlier the same day, or perhaps a month or a year ago, meandering to their cars, stopping to check messages, and standing, talking to coworkers. Science fiction writers love to explore this “space” when they write about time travel. Michael Crichton, for one, tended to incorporate more science in his sci-fi than others, introducing the idea that while time travel is not possible, travel to other dimensions might be. In H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine, the notion of being able to journey to another time in the future or the past was first popularized. In his story, the Time Traveler was able to travel to a very distant future version of earth, while staying in the same geographical location. Aside from Doctor Who, most other time-travelling narratives stick to this point. And so, as I perambulated and wondered about the past lives that, if only on the same timeline, would have crossed my path, or bumped into me if I weren’t looking.

But while it’s proper to consider that time travel, if it were possible at all, would limit the voyage moving in time, it is not reasonable to assume the traveller would also change position, geographically. Or is it? As my daydream began to mutate (as they often do), it dawned on me that if I were to travel backward one year, I might end up somewhere else. You see, 365 days ago was not 19 September, but instead 20 September 2015. But ignoring the very predictable results of Daylight Savings changes in the Gregorian calendar, we must shift our attention to the fact that where you are, right now, in space is unknown.

The earth is currently orbiting the sun at a speed of 108,000 km/h, or about 30 km/s. Therefore, if you travelled instantaneously to 1 second in the future, and you didn’t change your location, you would be 30 kilometers away from your current position. You would have teleported on top of travelling in time. Also, consider that the sun is moving around the center of the Milky Way, around 800 km/h. So, if you wanted to travel in time, but you didn’t want to move, you would have to predict where the earth would be at that time. Since the earth and the sun and the galaxy are all moving at the same time, this would require some awesome math. Now, considering that we are already in the possession of some awesome mathematical principles, created by some equally awesome mathematical geniuses, we could extrapolate and get a pretty accurate calculation of where you might end up. But it wouldn’t be perfect, and so you could still end up in the middle of a mountain or floating in space, but within tolerance (inside the orbit of most satellites.) This is assuming we have a good idea of what a fixed point in space looks like.

If you wanted to travel forward in time to 2150, you would need to know just where the earth and the sun would be at that time, that second. But assuming we could overcome this obstacle, there are other problems to consider, like exposure to pathogens that do not exist in our time, or the increase in pollution, or incomprehensible dialects. Naturally, not having nearly enough money to get around would pose a serious problem (someone from the late 1800’s would be absolutely shocked at the idea of spending $40 on a meal). No doubt, the increase in population and significant lack of privacy would be disturbing to our time traveller, not to mention being completely ignorant of 130 years of history. In the Back to the Future series of films, several characters move backward and forward through time with very little difficulty, aside from having to fuel the time machine, but it would most likely be traumatic.

Of course, time travel is not a reality, except for the slow, day-to-day type with which we are all familiar. That’s alright with me. Gradual change is much easier to accept. The changes we face now are quite dramatic enough, and most of us are barely able to keep up. History reveals that civilizations have embraced change, and then violently rejected it. Swings in public opinion seem to come back to their starting point after a generation or two, or a millennium. But before we presume we have come so far in our modern civilization, we should look at our current form of entertainment and make sure it is not worse than gladiators fighting to the death. It may look truly bizarre to future historians, our taste for pugilism might be horrifying, or charming, whichever the case may be.

I guess we’re fortunate that there are things that are beyond our ability to comprehend. Otherwise, we would have very little in the way of fantasy. Science fiction would be nonexistent, and our daydreams would be pretty dull.

 

The Bitter Pill

I don’t have very many health-related issues. In fact, it is rare for me to suffer in a physical way. I don’t get headaches; I don’t have joint pain. And my regular check-ups are pretty good for a guy my age. However, I do have an acute allergic response when it comes to pollen, specifically ragweed. Over the years, my reaction has become predictable; you could set your watch by the way my eyes water, the sneezing becomes uncontrollable, and my face gets puffy and begins to itch.

I had an appointment with my new doctor already scheduled, so I talked with him about my seasonal allergies. I was worried I might be developing a sinus infection, and my whole head was stuffy, and I couldn’t hear very well through my left ear. He recommended a steroid injection. I’ve had them in the past, and I was willing to put up with the mild side-effects, such as they were in the past.

But this time was different. I was given a commonly-used steroidal treatment, like prednisone, combined with a longer-acting version, which may be in my system for weeks. The fast-acting form, as some may be aware, has certain undesirable side-effects, like heartburn and difficulty sleeping. In addition to these, I also experienced some depression, and for me, unusual cravings (which may have been a sign of changes in blood sugar levels). Specifically, I had an intense craving for soft-baked chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, like Pepperidge Farms Captiva. I had a couple with some Earl Grey, and it was extremely satisfying. Strangely and immediately, the craving vanished.

The depression was more intense – if you can use that word to describe an overall numbing sensation and complete loss of interest in the world around you – than times past, so I suspect that this was a stronger dose, or I am becoming more sensitive to the effects of the drug. Whichever the case may be, I know I need to be better prepared for the next time I may require such treatment. That said, it is entirely up to me whether I submit myself to steroids in the future, but given the alternative, I definitely must consider it, even knowing the consequences.

Since the Wednesday evening injection, I experienced wild swings in energy levels, both physical and emotional. I slept 3 1/2 hours on Wednesday night, followed by little sleep and acid reflux on Thursday night. Friday night, I dreamed I was throwing up, and I woke up with stomach acid churning up – not a pleasant experience. And Saturday, I felt like staying in bed for a few years. People often characterize depression as feeling sad or “blue.” Anyone who has experienced it will tell you that it’s more about not feeling than feeling. Instead of wanting to curl up and listen to George Michael, you actually don’t want anything. You don’t want to go anywhere, and you don’t want to stay where you are. You just don’t want anything. It’s hard to explain unless you’ve been there, but I strongly encourage anyone to avoid getting that low.

Now that I can recognize the signs, I am better off because I can warn others, mainly my wife (who, by the way, is verifiably psychic, so she already knew.) Others may not appreciate the forewarning. Besides, I stay clear of people when I get this way, so it’s a win-win, if you can call it that. I’ll be back at work tomorrow – actually, I am working as I compose this. I hope things will get back to “normal” soon, and I start seeing through unclouded lenses again. The allergy symptoms have completely disappeared, and I am able to sleep without being woken up half-way through the night with terrible heartburn. I’ve considered moving to another part of the world, one where I am not allergic to the earth’s atmosphere. I honestly don’t know where this place is, or if it even exists.

Married to a Medium

My wife is, for lack of a better term, a psychic.

Unlike Allison Dubois, the main character in the long-running CBS television series “Medium“, she does not solve crimes. And she also can’t pick next week’s winning Lotto numbers. But, like Ms. Dubois, she receives signs. Some are obvious; others somewhat obscure and ambiguous. But she has learned to recognize these signs, and she’s getting more accurate about interpreting them. At first, about 25 years ago, I was very skeptical. But over time, I began to see how real this ability was.

Oh how I wish she could pick those numbers, though! But it has now dawned on me that there’s a difference to being a psychic medium and a prognosticator, which may also be a thing, it turns out. The particular and peculiar ability of my wife is that she seems to be able to “hear” from what I can only logically describe as another quantum reality – another dimension, or an alternate universe, if you will.

In physics, the principle of quantum superposition suggests that particles can be in two places at once. Many people may scoff at this notion, and certainly there are many skeptics. But we need only look back a few generations to find a time when the idea of microorganisms seemed just as mysterious and preposterous. A century before the Civil War, people still may have blamed certain maladies on witchcraft. Indeed, things we take for granted in the 21st century would definitely have been attributed to sorcery, like listening to music from a mobile device, or traveling to outer space.

I’m confident that it’s just a matter of time before we reach a greater understanding of the universe(s). Quantum physics is still a relatively new field, and scientists are making new discoveries often. Someday, I predict, we will be able to explain psychic phenomena just as confidently we can explain a thunderstorm. What used to frighten people, making them think they had angered the gods, is now a quantifiable, measureable, even predictable event.

Psychic ability, ESP, telepathy, whatever you wish to call it, could be just an acute sensitivity to energy waves or loose electrons, just as hay fever is caused by a heightened sensitivity to one or more types of pollen. When I start sneezing and my eyes water, I look up the pollen count – something invisible to the naked eye, but is indeed there – to verify what I am reacting to. Granted, subatomic particles are much, much smaller. (Check out Scale of the Universe to see how different objects and organisms compare in size.) My point is, just because something can’t be seen or detected by our modern-day instruments doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

So now I am a believer. And I trust my wife’s ability to interpret the information she receives. As for me, I can’t tell you what my reaction to ragweed means, if anything. But if it’s possible that our electrons are traveling to the other side of the universe, or to other universes, and mingling with other protons there, who knows what is possible? Perhaps there are infinite parallel dimensions, copies of our own, or ones where weird and impossible things are commonplace, like dividing by zero. Maybe there is a universe where zero doesn’t exist. Just be careful that you don’t get burned as a witch if you should stumble into that existence.

 

 

Pants on Fire

I need to institute a new policy whereby anyone who lies to me is permanently disavowed. Perhaps they deserve a second chance. Sure, but I’ve been lied to repeatedly by some people, so they squandered their opportunity a long time ago. Why does this bother me so much? There are many reasons. Most importantly, I believe lying is a true showing of one’s character, or lack thereof. Dishonesty is a most unappealing quality. It not only displays a person’s open willingness to deceive someone, but it also demonstrates his ability to abandon the conventions of society.

We here in the modern world, especially those in civilized society, have come to expect that people are honest in their dealings with us. It stands to reason that there are those who would rather live outside the law, stealing and causing harm. But most of us want to live within the bounds of social norms, acceptable practices. We want people, especially government officials, to be honest and truthful. Every election year, it appears that our collective tolerance for outright deceit hits new heights. We sit in disbelief that politicians are allowed to slander one another, stating the boldest of lies, and telling fantastic tall tales. All of them do it. Every single one.

But real human being, non-politicians, people you work with, family members, friends; these people should have no reason to lie to us. Understandably, you may need to cover up the truth because you wish to spare someone’s feelings, or the truth is too embarrassing to be revealed. But I’m not talking about “white lies”, those little untruths we tell others: “That looks great on you,” or “nice job.”

I have one or two family members who are habitual liars. It’s very frustrating, because they act like they have every reason to be trusted, but they are completely unreliable. It should be no surprise, and yet they persist. I guess it would be worse if they were thieves. (Well, that’s also the case.)

I believe we should forgive people. But forgiveness doesn’t have to include a change in my treatment of others. In other words, if someone lies to me over and over again, I will never trust that person. Why should I? I can forgive that person, whatever that really means. But trust and forgiveness are not the same thing.

Now, let’s look at the big picture. Some people just are not real big fans of facts and figures. They’d just as soon repeat the latest gossip or urban myth than actually look up something to verify it. The fact that the entire world’s information is instantly available to practically everyone you and I know has not changed the fact that there is an abundance of misinformation to counter the truth. Nevertheless, we all have the ability to gather facts. Yet not many people bother, and everyone seems to have their own version of the facts. Again, politicians and others seem to have no problem with spreading lies. Check out Politifact.com to explore how often and how boldly our leaders just flat out lie to us.

I do not always tell the absolute truth. But I work very hard at not lying to people, especially my friends. Of course, when my dad calls I might tell him I’ve been up for hours, when I actually might have slept in til 10 am on a Sunday. Hey, I work nights sometimes. But that’s more about my unwillingness to engage in a discussion about my values and priorities when I first wake up. So I tell a little fib to avoid that whole thing.

Seriously, people should try to tell the truth. And if that’s too hard, perhaps they should change their patterns of behavior so that lying is no longer necessary. I’m trying not to judge; instead, I want to help. Because if people are willing to change their ways, perhaps I will start trusting them again. But I make no promises. (And that’s a topic for another day.)

 

 

 

What Day is it?

It’s Thursday. But it feels like Friday. We’ve all said something like this at one time or another. Working through the weekend, going on holiday, being housebound for a few days with the flu; there are many causes for being a little disoriented in terms of our tendency to mark the passage of time by artificial means. What is a day, anyway? In a basic sense, a day is just the amount of time needed between sunsets. The sun drops below the horizon – day over. Simple, right?

Real time – cosmic time – is not constrained by hours, minutes, years, and weekdays. When the Apollo astronauts were careening through space toward the moon, they had no sense of day or night. Looking out the window might have told them it was night, because the sky is black in space. They probably weren’t thinking about what day of the week it was. I don’t know. But did it matter that it was a Wednesday? It strikes me as odd that we assign characteristics, almost personification, to any day of the week.

A few weeks ago I took half a day off. It was a Wednesday. I chose that day pretty much arbitrarily, but I felt it might make the week pass quicker. It didn’t. A watched pot and all that. Besides not seeming to enhance the perception of the passage of time, it actually screwed me up, because I spent that morning doing things I usually do on Saturdays: making breakfast, sleeping in a bit. Not every Saturday is like this. Sometimes I am traveling, and sometimes I’m writing or working on other projects. In any case, when I showed up for my bill-paying gig, it felt strange. And that continued through the rest of the week.

Humans like patterns. Actually, a lot of organisms get off on patterns. Bees make their hive in a geometric pattern. Geese fly in a V formation. I’ve heard that squirrels bury acorns using some sort of arithmetic algorithm. Clearly, nature loves a certain amount of order and symmetry. Even quartz forms in a geometric pattern, according to the properties of crystalline formations.

It stands to reason that we humans would at some point in our development seek to establish boundaries and controls over groupings of the number of sunsets. The study of the motion of the stars and planets helped the Maya establish an early – and quite accurate – calendar thousands of years ago. Knowing how the earth revolves around the sun, or at least how the seasons change and recycle, was surely vital to agriculture. And, presto, you have civilization. No more chasing herds of caribou or wildebeests. Now people could plant crops and know about when to expect them to be ready for harvest.

So it seems it very important to assign a name to this day and another name to the next one, and so on. I’m not a farmer, but I do a lot of gardening. It’s very important to know when to plant. It doesn’t really matter whether it’s a Monday or a Tuesday to the seeds and the compost. But it is a lot more likely I will be available on a Saturday. In Texas, late February is a pretty good time to plant seeds directly in the garden, as we have done this year.

Giant Zinnias

With a shift in the earth’s climate, time itself is shifting. Spring arrives in February now. When I was a kid, we might see icy patches in the streets as late as March. But now, seasons are harder to predict. Next year, we might have another snowstorm. Who knows.

I wear a wristwatch. I mean an actual timepiece, not an Apple Watch or similar device. This watch was an anniversary gift from about 2001. It is a Wenger Swiss “kinetic” watch, meaning it is purely mechanical and winds itself. So, as I wear it and move around all day, the watch will continue to keep time, even when I lay it on my bedside table for a day or two. after three days it tends to stop. The strange thing is that it runs a little fast. I mean, a little. Over the course of a week, it may run one or two minutes ahead. No big deal; but, ironically, I synchronize it with my phone. C’est la guerre.

If I didn’t go to the office, if I didn’t live around people, I might easily lose track of what day it was. It would hardly matter, as I said. I wonder when days of the week ever began to matter. Early people, people for whom belief in supernatural beings controlling all aspects of our lives was the only sensible explanation for things, probably needed to mark the time, naming the days. The Old English root for Tuesday, Tiwesdæg, is translated as “Tiw’s Day”, named for the Norse god of war. The name stuck, even as the Vikings abandoned the old gods.

One way I like to mark the passage of time is by watching the trees on my property grow taller and taller. For trees, the basic unit of time is a season. Like the second hand on a watch, each season passes quickly compared to the lifespan of a liveoak or a cedar elm. The Treaty Oak in Austin, Texas is estimated to be 500 years old, definitely a mature specimen. The pair of live oaks in my front yard were about ten years old when the house was built. Now they are about 23 years old each, but decidedly adolescent as trees go. Assuming someone will be here to take care of the property in the next centuries, they will outlive everyone reading this blog.

Time appears to be relative to the observer, as Einstein proposed. Whether he was right or wrong, you must admit that time is part of our being. Each of us has our own internal clock, our heartbeat, our own rhythm. Some of us are content to sit peacefully and take it all in, while others can’t sit still for a minute. Every morning, I take a moment to look at the flowers we planted a few months ago. They tower over the walkway from the front door to the driveway, leaves and petals reaching to the sun, insatiable in their cravings. Time is not on their side, because by November they will have faded, having lost their lustre and radiance. For them, a lifetime is in the space between spring and fall, in Texas, a full nine months. They do all they can in that short time. It’s amazing, too.

Summer Fête

Summer is in full swing. As it is July in Texas, summer has been upon us for many weeks already. And since there was no true winter in 2015-2016, that is, nothing froze. The air temperature got below zero* a few times, but the ground didn’t freeze. Therefore, we have an abundance of insect life here in the suburbs this summer. But this also means that there is plenty to eat for other creatures, and for the creatures that feed on those smaller creatures, and so on. Thus the so-called “food chain” of which humans believe they are not a part.

Summer means vacations for some. Others choose not to travel during summer, people like me and my wife. We don’t have children, so we travel when it is convenient for us. It’s little consolation, but there it is. Summer is a time for barbecuing, picnicking, and going to the pool. There are many sights, smells, and sounds that go along with the season. Today on KERA, during “Anything“, a listener wrote that she had moved to Texas a few months ago and wondered when the cicada noise would come to an end. Jeff Whittington, the program’s host, blithely, and with a little schadenfreude, welcomed the listener to Texas, adding that this “noise” was more symphonic than discordant, at least to the locals’ ears. After some time you are able to tune out the cacophony.

Jeff also mentioned that this year was not as bad as others in terms of the cicada serenade. He’s probably right. I can’t imagine a summer without them, their near constant buzzing and whining from the trees. The noise seems to stop during thunderstorms and at night. But since the sun sets late in the evening this time of year, you still hear them singing until nearly 9:00 pm. It’s then that the crickets take over until dawn.

I like to hear kids playing in the neighborhood. They play basketball in the street until it gets dark, and it reminds me of days when my friends and I would play baseball or Wiffleball at all hours. The neighbors probably hated us. During the day you rarely see people out on the sidewalks. It’s not that it’s hotter in North Texas than anyplace else – I think it was 50ºC in Fallujah last week – but we’re used to air-conditioned space now, and people are a little wussified when it comes to sweating. But this weekend, this Independence Day weekend, people will be outdoors. There will be concerts, parties, picnics, barbecues, and of course fireworks.

I love watching fireworks. Years ago, I enjoyed setting them off. But fires ensued, and things could have gotten way out of control. So we stopped with the fireworks. But it was a lot of fun, and every time I smell powder and sulfur burning, it takes me back. Not everyone likes that, I understand. Maybe it’s just me. The smell of charcoal is another favorite. I also like the way cut grass smells. And the combination of coconut oil and chlorine. I love summer.

I like the heat. Many people do not. I like it when it gets over 30ºC. Like certain plants, I need warmth. I’ve been known to enjoy a day of 40º or higher. Keep the ice cold drinks coming, and give me a hat, and I can stay out in the heat for hours. Something a little salty, too, to help keep me hydrated. You have to watch yourself. Dehydration can sneak up on you. If you stop sweating, get hydrated and cool off fast. Don’t stay in direct sunlight for long periods. And wear a hat, if you are balding, like me.

Enjoy your summer. Really live it up, because in a few months it will be time to elect our next leader. You will need to be prepared. So have a cold one, get the grill fired up. Go to a ball game. And take it easy.

Think Metric

 

Myth of Blue

Season 10, Episode 13 of Radio Lab discussed the inconceivable idea that the color blue doesn’t really exist. Strange, I know. Homer, in writing the Iliad and the Odyssey, while using a slew of colors to describe everything from sea monsters to the blood on the sand during the Trojan War, did not once use the word “blue”. As it turns out, many ancient texts never mention the color blue. In the original Hebrew, there is no mention of the color blue in the Bible. Was it that ancient people could not see blue? Is that possible? I mean, what color was the sky 5000 years ago?

ThatRadioLab story really got my attention. In fact, I listened to it repeatedly, again and again. It’s the final segment that gets my attention. It got me thinking to the extent that I wonder now about how our universe exists in our perception, and maybe we don’t have the words to describe it. The ancient world could not describe the color blue because they could not produce the color? If this is true, then we may not be able to perceive the universe as it is, not yet. Looking further in our future, I can conceive that humans may be able to overcome obstacles like self-doubt, regret, hubris, and other roadblocks to our progress. Once hurdled, I believe we could and will solve our biggest problems, like violence, greed, hunger, racism, and the list goes on.

In our future, we may have a word for the thing we don’t know exists. We might let go of our security blanket. We will have answers for all the questions we have today. But I am confident that we will have more answers. And it is my hope that we will never stop searching for the truth. Until then, I believe there is time enough for the things that matter: art, poetry, science, teaching, field trips, exploration, and daydreaming.

Work, the daily grind, will never be celebrated. No one will remember what we toiled at, only that we had our noses to the grindstone. To what point? Work is gratifying sometimes. But creating things, art, architecture, landmarks, and our achievements, these are things that inspire us.

“Earthrise” – Apollo 8 crew

I was just now listening to an interview with Buzz Aldrin, who was talking about his experiences as he walked on the surface of the moon. He and other astronauts were overwhelmed by the magnitude of their achievement, and his subsequent speeches and writings would testify to his feelings of awe in the presence of such a magnificent spectacle of seeing earth from a distance, not to mention walking on another celestial body. For his part, he inspired countless people to follow after him, taking up the banner of reaching further heights than anyone before.

Before people saw earth from the moon, there was no word “earthrise”; at least it was not a common word. There was no word for it because no one had ever seen it, the partially-shaded disc of the earth appearing over the horizon of the moon. It took humanity a million years to get there. I like to imagine, or try to imagine, the strange and beautiful, the bizarre and inconceivable that we will encounter in the future. But we will not get there if we are unable to let go of our superstitions and fears.

WHy is the sky blue? Well, it’s not, really. It’s black and pink and fuzzy and tingly, and it smells like cotton candy. And that’s without mind-altering chemicals.

Now I just need more time to absorb all this. Keep on dreaming, people.