life

OMG! Google The EPR Paradox

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But only if you enjoy science. And mystery. And spookiness. And Puzzles. And want to be awed.

For nearly 60 years there has been a huge schism in scientific thought between Classical Physics (CP) and Quantum Mechanics (QM).

CP is the study of things we see and hear and touch, basically. Newton’s first law of motion, for example, paraphrased: a resting apple will not move until some force makes it move, like gravity to make it fall from a tree or William Tell placing the apple on his son’s head. (PS google that story, when you get time.)

It is through CP we understand our world, and invent things to make life easier, faster, and deadlier.

But as scientists drill deeper into the HOW of CP, the nuts and bolts, the Understanding Train goes a little off the rails. With the modern ability to see and measure sub-atomic particles, CP’s Laws tend to not apply to the world of QM with its Quarks and Qbits. In fact, the inhabitants of the QM world often act exactly the opposite of what the CP “laws” predict. One of the most intriguing disparities is the aptly named “Quantum Entanglement” (QE), a physical event so amazingly outside the CP Laws, Einstein called it “a spooky action at a distance”. Summarized for those without extensive scientific experience, “Quantum Entanglement” is when two different things (at the subatomic level or QBits’) communicate with each other over great distances with no known CP connection. In theory, but as yet unproven for obvious reasons, a pair of Qbits can theoretically communicate instantly when one is locked in a safe in Omaha and the other is embedded in Orion’s Belt. I’ll wait while you ponder Orion’s Belt is 800 LIGHT YEARS away.

QE has been proven in labs, but is hard to prove in the real world due to Schrodinger’s Cat issues and thre are no subatomic measuring devices on Mintaka (google it). If this phenomenon is true, it makes a mockery of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity notion about the speed of light (186,282 miles per second) being the fastest speed in the universe, which could change all the ways we calculate space and time. Orion’s Belt 800 LIGHT YEARS away can be reached instantly by two, communicating Qbits. In case you didn’t know it, one light years is 6 TRILLION MILES!

To revisit a past column: I am awe struck. Astounded. Amazed. and still trying to learn more. QE and the whole subatomic world, are Matrix-like mysteries, and have given rise to theories about the very nature of existence. Yay.

I sure hope they get some answers before I fly off into the beyond…or will I…?

PS Thank God for the internet…the smart parts…

Contentment…Awe…Happiness…Grace…

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A friend sent a link to a discussion on Awe, (google Dr. Dacher Keltner for more).

It reminded me of my essay about talking to the tree: it was so old, so big, so majestic…it was awe inspiring.

It’s hard to remember all that’s written, but somewhere in past essays I’ve explained my life has moments of grace, which is a form of awe and close relative to contentment and it’s older brother, happiness. A family of deep, rich, feelings one is truly blessed to experience.

But…doesn’t everyone have these experiences? More particularly, doesn’t every OLD person have these experiences? They seem to be coming with greater frequency, as if compensation for The Calamities. Is that happening to everyone, else?

It’s doubtful. Most of my older conversational partners are trapped in mindsets longing for the good old times, a way out of the times they are in, or a way to numb themselves to what they know is to come.

Sidebar: a religious article this morning led me to ponder an old question: if you are truly righteous and believe in an afterlife, why not get there as soon as possible? Why wait? And it’s not just Christianity.

Related to the Fraternity Of Good Feelings, is The Sorority of Sad Feelings. (Not a sexist insult, simply an artistic attempt at humor. Sue me.) As noted last week, a very sad day visited but left in time to not ruin the next. It was an odd bum-rush of a feeling I used to kind of enjoy when younger. If you belong to the school of Context and Perspective, sadness helps describe and enhance happiness/contentment. How do we recognize one if the other never exists?

Another sidebar? It may be the exercise I’m doing here, right, now, is part of the reason for lower levels of sadness and higher levels of undefinable Good Feelings.

One of the things Dr. Keltner mentions in his podcast is the gratefulness he feels for how his parents raised him. For my entire life I have felt the opposite. Farm life was hard. My father was not perfect. My mother was. Maybe it’s time to stop blaming them for a life I seem to enjoy so much, now. (Oh, God, Not Nature vs. Nuture, again.)

Look. Seriously, look. For some reason sunsets and sunrises have to be photographed. I have to listen to hours of Jackson Browne. Trees talk to me. I love The Chair. And Buffalo Chicken Pizza. And…

It’s easier to find reason to be content, to be awed, than to sit and absorb the reasons to angry, sad, resentful.

Just look….

Man…and Woman…Sigh…

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A close, personal relationship just ended. It’s none of your business, but the mechanics of it might be: why is it so hard for men and women to communicate?

The Men from Mars and Women from Venus trope is tired, but true. A better example is the Black Box from management courses. It says we don’t talk to each other, we talk into a Black Box. And the other person doesn’t hear us, they hear what they take out of the Black Box. Is what is said into the Black Box what is heard FROM the Black Box? Very seldom…very, very, seldom.

My recent, personal issue is a text book example. It will be discussed here, in its simplest form, and you can fill in details, you’ve probably all been through the same thing…at some time.

A plan was designed to protect someone. Said “someone” did not understand The Plan. The Plan had to be implemented at a quicker pace due to The Calamities, and so was undertaken without the complete understanding of the “someone”.

The Plan has worked to (nearly) perfection for the “someone”, which makes the planner really happy.

But, sadly, the “someone” still doesn’t understand, and in fact, thinks less of The Plan now that it worked, than the “someone” did before. And thinks even less of the planner.

It’s an interesting dilemma. There is satisfaction The Plan worked, but sadness for the hatred it caused. It’s time for soul-searching. Time to understand what means most in life. Time to suck it up.

Worst of all, here is the only place to tell the story. Hope you don’t mind a really, personal entry. If anything humorous comes to mind, it may break the gloom of the previous stuff, but don’t count on it. Every time feeling sorry tries to hijack my mind, The Plan, and how good it is for “someone”…pleases me. It’s like a yo-yo.

“What we got here is…a failure to communicate. Some (women) you just can’t reach.”

The lessen learned which might be useless this late in life, is doing the right thing might not make you happy. And write stuff down. Use charts. Bullet points. Hand puppets. Anything to make the decisions in life can be successful…for both. But isn’t divorce/breaking up normally better for one than the other?

Whatever. Remember the Black Box. It’s part of your work life, private life, and news feeds. Kidding about the news feeds…maybe.

And apologies, again, for TMI, but there are others going through the same thing, kind of, maybe.

Life. You gotta love it.

Problems, if anyone cares

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My new favorite spot is The Turning Stone Resort and Casino, ten miles down the road. It has a beautiful fitness center with a pool on the third floor of the resort’s Tower Hotel. Since moving back to New York, I swim three times a week and then stumble down to the casino floor to sacrifice $5 each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. For “fun”.

The Problem is I’m not losing. It’s hard to lose big on penny slot machines at 50 cents a play, but for years in the past, when an infrequent out-of-state visitor, as soon as the $5 was gone, my casino day was done. But now, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the inscrutable Asian/Japanese slot machine closest to my walk to my car, who’s directions I can’t read, with the big, comfortable seat, has decided to do something different. It has paid about $15 a day, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, after two or three 50 cent bets. And I cash out. Am I being set-up? On candid Camera? Being Punk’d? Should I stay longer? Play more? Bet more?

There’s an elevator in my beautiful apartment building where I live in my beautiful apartment on the second floor. My Problem is every time I take the elevator, either up or down, some one always tries to get on before they see I am trying to get off. Like the elevator is their personal conveyance. I’ve ridden elevators all over the world and never saw this type of behavior anywhere else. At least I don’t remember. And why hasn’t this happened with the beautiful, too-young-for-me blond from the third floor?

I park my car away from other cars-if possible-when visiting hospitals, etc. Three times in the short 3 months I’ve been back in NY, someone else has parked so close to my driver side door my entry was impossible. Again, I’ve parked all over the world and never seen it as bad as here, in upstate NY. (I have pictures.) So, my Problem is not really how to get into my car, but how much damage to inflict on the stupid vehicle next to me. Last time, last week, I emptied a water bottle in the front seat through a cracked open window. Banging into the new plastic doors of some of these new cars doesn’t do anything, these days. Hm. Bet the seat dried before the stupid driver got back.

One last Problem, promise: Buffalo Chicken Pizza. $4 for a one large slice, or $28 for an 18 inch pizza with 6 large slices? The Real Problem? There is nothing like hot, fresh pizza of any flavor. But an 18 inch would take a few days to eat, leaving the last few slices to be cold, reheated, refrigerated pizza. But it’s there, ready, anytime. Not ordering, driving…um…this might take some time.

Aged versus Aging: A Gas Tank Analogy

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If you are young or youngish, don’t read any more of this crap. This is a lament, not a rant, and its subtleties can only be understood by someone well over the legal drinking/ranting age.

This place is called The Aging Man for a reason. It’s not titled The Old Man. Or The Soon to be Dead Man. Its about aging and coming to grips with a force of nature bigger and larger than life and the universe and all of existence. It’s a great place for hyperbole, too.

See, when you’re old, you are done aging. Aging is the process of growing old. When you’re old, you’re old, and the process is over. Done. Kaput. Finite, the French kind.

At birth we are given a symbolic, mythical gas tank. It isn’t tangible, but its real. From birth to about age 30, the gas tank is full. It is loaded at birth with hope, promise, happiness, invincibility, and similar crap. This full tank of crap fuels our life as we mature and learn what life is really about, and what our futures will be like. We have enough gas to make several detours and be able to backtrack to where we started, and start again.

At age 30, the gas starts to run out. We sense it as we struggle with careers, family, fitness, all the important things we care about. Since we have no gas gauge, we don’t care, yet.

By age 60, it takes a little finagling, choking to start us every morning and we sometimes sputter at high speeds. This is when we begin to wonder what the heck is going on, and the gas gauge becomes visible. This is when we start to really feel the process.

We still have plenty of time and gas before we get old, but with each year the vision of the gas gauge gets clearer and clearer, and with each year that vision gets bleaker and bleaker.

And then we get old. Finally. The tank is nearly empty, just vapors left. Fumes. It’s hard to start in the morning, we can’t go fast, and we can’t go long distances. Things like grand-kids and our favorite team winning the Superbowl give us a half gallon or so of refill, but we see it, we know, it, and we learn to cherish it. We learn, too, no matter what we did the tank is empty with no gas station in site. Or in existence. The only comfort? We are not alone in the process. It happens to everyone.

It’s 2am in the morning and this is what I write? It might be time to change the title of this place.

Dreams

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Its really hard to navigate life without reference points, even with great tools. Finding a goal or a direction or a dream becomes impossible when the shoreline can’t be seen, or the horizon can’t be located, or the sun is blocked…

“I’m sick of following my dreams. I’m just going to ask them where they’re going and hook up with them later.” -Mitch Hedberg

“When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized the Lord doesn’t work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me.”-Emo Philips

“I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.”-Lily Tomlin

The fundamental challenge in life is how to live it. We NEVER as young people see a future of old age and decline. Never. And yet, no matter what we do with our life, how much money we make, or how much we waste it all, we all end up with the same simple lifeline: young, old, dead.

As we age it becomes really important to know where you stand, what your position is in life, what your accomplishments are, what you’ve done, what’s your legacy. And we try to manage all of those issues without any form of guidance. Any help. Parents? Its important to remember they are/were as clueless as we are, now. Bible? That would be a good source of guidance if it weren’t so loaded with violence, misogyny, homophobia, and patriarchy. Friends?

“I don’t fail, I succeed in finding what doesn’t work.”-Chris Titus

As the end of my time draws near, it is not a bad thing. My life could have been worse, could have been better, but it was/is overall a journey of few regrets and much enjoyment for the things and time given me.

But this logical train of thought is making me sad, these days. There is an abundance of evidence in the world that millions of people will never get the chance to learn the lessons life offers to all who live long, enough. It isn’t so much the casualty numbers from the many wars, or the horrific famine numbers from countries far way, or the death tolls of catastrophes to numerous to list. And it isn’t the fact death sometimes cuts life short. Recent stories of young people who died early reveals some of them learned something, found something, came to grips with something in the times leading up to their young deaths. What was it?

After 72 years the answer has not revealed itself to me, but there is an undeniable sadness around the loss of opportunity for others. Think of a favorite pet, like my Red, The Dog, from years back. What if he’d never been rescued by my family? In one of my books is a story about Superman. He has given up helping anyone because he can’t help them all. He’s done because he can’t handle the sadness of missing so many as he saves as many as he can.

I’ve been talking a lot with old friends and past acquaintances and the pain of getting old is felt even more when it is someone else’s, especially when dreams have been crushed, hopes dashed, lives not lived as intended. I want to shake them all and say “But you had a chance.”

It’s obvious why most religions offer some form of afterlife. It is a great comfort if you’ve lived a life without too much sin, without too much debauchery. Even if you did, Redemption is the greatest Christian invention, of all. But if we could step outside our own pain and find a reference point, a compass point, and then a path to our own contentedness with what we have done…

And, as noted before, someone I can’t remember said this: “There is a past, a present, and a future. My advice is see them all but live where your feet are.”