Physics

by

What do you call an infinite number of finite and separate beings? Maybe just “reality”.

I don’t really have much to say today.  Not that such a thing usually prevents me from running off at the keyboard (or the smartphone in this case) for stupid lengths on any given day.  But I think it may do so today, because my energy is flagging, and it’s only just very early in the morning.

I suppose today’s date is mildly entertaining:  it’s 7-7-2026, and that is the same in either the USian or the European way of ordering the day and the month.  But that’s pretty unremarkable.  Any day of a month in which the ordinal* number for the day is the same as the ordinal number for the month will produce this.  There are, thus, 12 such days every year, and they are the same days every year.  So, they are not very exciting.

I guess it would have been better back in 2007 (07-07-07), or even better, in 1977 (7-7-77).  But then it would only be fun if you drop the two digits for the century (i.e., 20… or 19…).  It’s not great, is it?

I don’t know.  What should I talk about, here with my shouting into the void and gazing into the abyss and jumping into the conclusion?

That latter expression almost sounds like a euphemism for dying, doesn’t it?  Is it like skipping to the end of a mystery novel?  Probably not, because I’m very close to being certain that, unlike the end of a mystery novel, nothing will be revealed when one dies.

By that, I don’t mean that the truth will be revealed and it will be that there is nothing.  It’s more subtle than that.  I mean nothing of any kind will be revealed to you, because that to which the revelation might occur is what will cease entirely‒in a way, that happens every moment, but not in quite the same way as it will (I suspect) at the time of death.

Of course, I could be wrong about this, in principle.  But I am not “agnostic” in the usual sense of simply not having any inkling one way or another about a question.  I think there are good, strong reasons‒based on all we know of physics and biology and mathematics, and on how many different mythologies there are about “life after death” and how much they stink of desperate human fear and wish-fulfillment, how anthropocentric they are, when clearly the universe is not anthropocentric‒to think that death is simply the dissolution of the four-dimensional pattern that was a person, a sort of re-annihilation of “virtual particles” back to the vacuum state of the quantum field.

In a spatially infinite universe (or in some other version of a multiverse) it seems to be that there will exist other versions of you, both identical ones and nearly-identical ones, as well as quite different ones, including ones that inexplicably have all the memories of being other versions of you.  But they will not literally have been you, and there will be a much higher proportion of “you” that will have random memories of every possible kind of nonsense.

Of course, none of these versions of you can violate the laws of physics**.

And they aren’t really you, are they?  If they were, you might be experiencing everything any version of you is experiencing now, and you are not.  There are strong impediments to such a simultaneous experience of infinite lives, not the least of which is the relativistic impossibility of information traveling at infinite speed, as well as the incoherence of the concept of “simultaneity” for objects with spatial separation (if this is not obvious, I encourage you to look into special relativity).

So, yeah.  You are the state of your being right now, and that state is always changing (not randomly, though a lot of it does seem to be stochastic).  There is not a much better description of “you” for accuracy, though there can be more precise and thorough descriptions of the details.

There could be a billion or a googol or Tree-3 number of “identical” copies of you, but each one would be just a separate “you”, no more a literal part of your being than would be your former womb-mate if you were one of a pair of identical twins.

Reality can be disappointing, though that’s really only if you think you have any right to expect it to be otherwise than it is.  And you don’t have any such right.

Have a good day if you can.

*I think it’s ordinal, not cardinal, in this case, but I’m not too sure.  I’ll look it up.

**I truly despise expressions, usually found in clickbait headlines, such as “this or that finding breaks physics” or “this shouldn’t happen, according to physics”.  No.  Nothing breaks physics.  Nothing that happens “should not” happen according to physics, because physics is what describes what is out there in reality.  If something seems to defy physics, that just shows that we don’t understand physics well enough.  Such things are not generally frightening or worrisome to physicists (and other scientists); these things get them motivated, for they reveal places where we can learn new things about the universe.  Scientists, ceteris paribus, love finding things no one understands.  Science knows it doesn’t know everything***, and what’s more, science kind of loves that it doesn’t know everything.  That’s part of the excitement, the challenge, the possibility of growth.

***If it thought it knew everything, it would cease.

by

Since “Evian” is “naive” spelled backwards, are its drinkers wise and sophisticated?

(This post has nothing to do with the headline, just in case you’re wondering.)

I’m not quite ready to reveal the truth about yesterday’s blog post; I’m kind of hoping that someone who doesn’t usually comment might throw their hat into the ring* and make a guess.  I don’t know who such a person might be, but it would be nice to have ever more comments.

For this post, though, I will reveal that it is being written on my smartphone.  I didn’t bring along the lapcom because I was very fatigued by the end of the day yesterday.  This was mainly mental fatigue, but that translates into low physical energy as well, since it’s the functions of the brain that largely determine the movement of the body.

Which is not meant to imply that the brain is not part of the body; it very much is.  I am no dualist in any sense of the word.  The brain is an organ, and like all other organs, it has its attributes and vulnerabilities and dysfunctions.  Trust me on that last score.

Or don’t trust me, that’s entirely up to you.  I wouldn’t be inclined to try to cajole someone into trusting me.  I’m not a huge fan of presumptive trust anymore than of giving someone presumptive “respect”.  To me, respect, like trust, has to be earned, through the outcomes of interactions, and it can never really, reasonably, be complete.

Everything is always a calculated risk, including trust, even if the calculations are…not very rigorous or conscious, and even if people claim to have it absolutely.  Those who make such claims are wrong or lying or both.  One cannot even trust oneself absolutely.  Trust me on that.  Ha ha.

Anyway…

That’s just some typical nonsense or bullshit or whatever you want to call it from me.  I don’t have any intention here‒not one of which I am aware‒other than just “to write another blog post”.  How’s that for a positive, beneficial purpose or undertaking?  How’s that for something to try to give oneself a sense of purpose or meaning or belonging?  It’s pretty unimpressive, really.

As for belonging, in particular, it’s a fairly laughable notion for me.  I don’t belong anywhere.  Maybe no one does.  Maybe the very notion of “belonging” in the social sense is and has always been a cognitive and emotional illusion.

Like individual atoms that exist within water molecules in the ocean, a person can technically be part of something bigger without any actual real involvement in that bigger thing, and without losing any nature of separateness.

Any electron in the outer portion of any atom, or anywhere else, is just an electron and‒barring highly energetic interactions‒is going to remain an electron** forever, as far as we can tell.  And it is literally identical in characteristics to every other electron that exists, and they are all entirely fungible, just like the individual cents in your electronically recorded and maintained bank account.

Of course, people, despite being composed of countless numbers of such tiny, fungible particles, are not fungible.  They are too complicated, there are too many ways to put electrons and quarks together to make a person for any two to have even a nanoscopically tiny chance to be identical in all pertinent senses.

Okay, I don’t know what point, if any, I’m trying to make here.  Probably there is none.  Or if there is, it is probably some desperate, quietly terrified attempt to connect somehow with some kindred spirit(s) somewhere.  However, I am getting weirder and weirder all the time, or so it seems to me, so it seems ever more unlikely that kindred spirits exist for me, if they ever did.

Like Melkor, I’m looking to find something or someone in the Void, but alas, it is just…void.  And my thoughts continue to be unlike those of my brethren, and, like Melkor, I become ever more dispirited and spiteful, though at least I’m not trying to conquer or destroy Arda.  I went through that phase back when I was a preteen and teenager.

I’m not saying I was necessarily wrong when I recognized that people are absolutely shit at trying to create and run civilization well.  I just don’t think it’s probably worth the effort to correct things, because it would be a neverending effort.

Oh, well.  That’s enough of my spewing words for the moment.  There seem to be brush fires down in south Florida‒we can all smell the smoke‒but it seems unlikely that they will contribute much to the destruction of current human society.

Is that good?  Is it bad?

I don’t know.

I hope you have a good day.

*Would such a hat become invisible?  Would it, if it were strong enough, gain the power to sense and dominate the wearers of all the other rings?  Would it inevitably become evil?

**The same cannot be said for muons, let alone taus, the two higher mass “species” in the electron family.  They are unstable and rapidly decay to smaller particles, but they have the same charge and spin as an electron.  Electrons, on the other hand, appear to be at some manner of ground state; they are too “light” to decay into anything smaller spontaneously, and any changes they do undergo cannot violate the conservation of charge, so they are limited.

by

He reads the post with just his fist and still believes he gets the gist

Well, I said yesterday that there would be roughly a 50/50 chance whether today I would write on the lapcom or on the smartphone, and guess what:  today I am writing this either on the lapcom or on the smartphone!  How’s that for an accurate prediction?

But wait.  Which one am I using?  Can you tell just by reading this post?  Are you sure?

Of course, I know which one I’m using.  It would be most ‘passing strange if I did not know whether I am writing this on my lapcom or on my smartphone.

Is there a way for you, the reader, to tell?  Probably.  Almost certainly.

But do you know what that way is and how to apply it?  I doubt it very much.

That’s not an insult, by the way; I don’t know what it is or how to apply it, either.  I’m just pretty sure there is such a way.

Of course, from my own point of view, the metaphorical wavefunction has already collapsed, and there is only one possible remaining outcome, whereas before there were (at least) two.

I say “metaphorical wavefunction”, invoking the quantum mechanical notion of the collapse of previously superposed quantum states into one final state, but there are good reasons for us to doubt that notion’s accuracy even within quantum mechanics.  After all, it would be the only known physical process in the universe that is not time-reversible and which destroys information about prior states of reality.  That oughtta be a pretty big red flag for scientists.  It’s almost as bad as finding a process that seems to violate the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics*.

I find the Everettian approach to quantum foundations much more intuitive, personally.  That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s more likely to be correct, but I think, I suspect, that it is.

Anyway, in the macroscopic world, the seemingly superposed possibilities that present themselves as we come to the point of a decision are not actual superpositions.  They are merely models we render in our minds of possible outcomes to try to improve our decisions.  In fact, in almost every case, it’s likely that the choice we make was “determined” ahead of time‒by the laws of physics, not by us.

I would guess that it was that way when Bohr’s and Heisenberg’s “Copenhagen Interpretation” of quantum mechanics became so dominant despite its failings.  The problem is, Bohr and/or Heisenberg (I don’t recall which one) was by reputation exceptionally charismatic, and he was well able to ensure that his/their notion(s) became predominant, not because the ideas were more convincing, but because the people were (or the person was).

That’s not a good reason.

This is part of why I dislike the practice of public “debates” about controversial topics at pretty much any level.  When it becomes a contest in and of the moment, the “winner” of the debate is not necessarily the one with the best evidence and the most consistent and clear reasoning.  It is, often, the one more skilled at mere rhetoric, the better sophist, the one with the better ability to manipulate human cognitive biases, the one with the better speaking voice, the better looking one, the one who makes the best jokes (especially at the other’s expense).

This is not a good or reliable or useful way to measure empirical reality‒except that part of reality that tells us who is more superficially persuasive to Naked House Apes.

That’s part of why the court system in general is so bad:  the one who wins in court is not necessarily (or even probably) the one who is right, but rather the one who has the better lawyer with more resources.  This usually translates to “the one who happens to have more money.”  That’s not a good basis for any kind of system that refers to itself with the term “justice”.

Oh, well, what are you gonna do?

Well, it would be nice if you could do your part toward at least improving these things in whatever way you might be able, especially if you are in any kind of influential position.  This here, this writing, is me doing at least some of my part, for whatever it’s worth.

In the meantime, I’d be interested to get your feedback:  do you think this post was written on the lapcom or on the smartphone?  Why do you think that?  Are those your real reasons?  Or are they the reasons you create‒some might say confabulate‒to justify a decision you made for reasons that are not clear to your conscious mind?

Please let me know in the comments.  And talk amongst yourselves there, too, if you like.

Also, please have a good day.

*This is not to say that it is impossible for net entropy to go down in a closed system.  It’s not only possible, but if you wait long enough, it’s going to happen somewhere, for the 2nd Law is statistical in character.  But for anything but the simplest situations, you’re going to have a wait for such an outcome.  Even if you’re just flipping 13 coins until you get all heads or all tails (or any other specific, ordered pattern you might want), then it’ll take a little while.  Getting all heads in a row (say) on 13 coins is a one in 8192 chance, if my mental arithmetic is right.  It would take some time, but you could pretty readily flip those 13 coins more than 8000 times, especially if you flip all 13 at once each time.  But anything much more involved than that (and just 2 more coins would require four times as many flips) becomes rapidly and astonishingly more unlikely.  If you’re waiting for any sensible region of, say, the Earth to experience spontaneously decreasing entropy, you’re going to be waiting such a long time that probably the current time (about 13.7 billion years) since our Big Bang would seem like an unnoticeably tiny fraction of the blink of an eye.  And, of course, the Earth is not going to be around that long‒not more than about another 4 or 5 billion years at most.  If that seems like a long time to you, you need to adjust your perspective.

by

Cosmic. Way out. I can relate.

Well, here we are beginning another Monday, and I’m writing this post—again—on the mini lapcom.

I say “again” not because I am writing this very post for a second (or more) time, nor because the last post I did was written on the lapcom, because it was not.  I mean “again” in the sense that last Monday I wrote my blog post on the lapcom.  I also did so on Tuesday and on Wednesday last week, but I cannot yet say that I will do so tomorrow and the next day.  I won’t even say “barring the unforeseen”, because I can rather easily imagine, and therefore foresee, situations in which I will not write those blog posts on the lapcom.

Of course, I also cannot predict whether, like last week, I will write Thursday’s and Friday’s posts on the smartphone.  It’s not that unlikely, but I don’t know ahead of time whether I will write them on the smartphone or the lapcom.  I could make predictions, but I think anything deviating terribly far from 50/50 would probably be very much a rectally sourced prediction.

I will say, though, that if I do write blog posts the rest of the days this week—which will include Saturday, alas—I will almost certainly write them either on the lapcom or the smartphone.  How’s that for a bold prediction?  It’s not a certainty, of course, but then again, pretty much nothing is.  It’s getting into the high 90 percentiles though, I’d guess.  I’m not skilled enough at probability/decision theory to get much finer in my estimation than that.

Anyway, that was about 250 words of utterly pointless drivel, wasn’t it?  It’s quite odd how much and how quickly I can write about more or less nothing of significance.  Mind you, from a certain point of view, nothing is really of significance.  Also nothing is of significance.  I mean two different things by those two different uses of the same words.

The first means that there is almost nothing in the universe that, in itself, is significant (cosmically speaking, of course—on different scales, significance has different requirements).  No individual, localized thing or fact can matter much on the largest scales.  On the other hand, nothing—the vacuum, absence, whatever you want to call it—is significant.  This partly refers to the fact that the universe appears to be expanding at an accelerated rate, and this seems to be due to the vacuum energy, the energy of “empty” space.  A uniform energy density in space creates a negative pressure, which creates “negative gravity” in a sense, and that drives an expansion of spacetime.

The nature of this vacuum energy, or cosmological constant, is definitely significant in that it will determine, almost solely as far as we can tell, the future fate of the universe.

Of course, the term “vacuum” may be somewhat misleading given its ordinary usage (quite apart from when one refers to the household appliance).  The vacuum is never really “empty” despite what the usual meaning of the word is.  It’s full of all sorts of quantum fields as well as the gravitational field that is spacetime itself.  The vacuum is just when these fields are in their lowest possible states/energy levels*.

There’s also the famous Higgs Field, which actually is one of the quantum fields, but it is interesting in that it is a scalar field, meaning that it has magnitude at every point but not direction (like a map demonstrating local temperatures on Earth’s surface, as opposed to one detailing the wind, which will have magnitude and direction).

If this seems a peculiar distinction to you, think of the electromagnetic field, which has both magnitude and direction at every point.  It’s actually a little more complex even than just that, because of course, electricity and magnetism are two aspects of the electromagnetic field, but each one of them is a vector field (with magnitude and direction) which interacts with the other, so the combination of them is something more involved.

Also, when energies are high enough (changing the way the Higgs field interacts with other fields), the weak nuclear force and the electromagnetic force turn out to be part of the same thing, called the electroweak force.  And, of course, there is the question of whether all the fields are really just aspects of some “higher” field or structure.

This would be some form of “unified field theory” (not to be confused with GUTs, or “grand unified theories”, which are less grand and less unified than unified field theories).  Of course, we don’t know that there is a unified field.  There may not be.  There may just be a minimum number of fields that cannot be further reduced.

If M-theory (AKA string theory) is correct, then yes, there is a unified form from which all fields derive their character thanks to the shapes and resonances of their vibrations in high-dimensional spaces.  On the other hand, other versions of quantum gravity such as “loop quantum gravity” leave gravity (AKA spacetime itself) as a separate kind of field, composed of tiny, tiny parts (the “loops”) knitted together.

At least some versions of this theory have been disconfirmed, however, because it predicts a very, very slight difference in the speed of travel of electromagnetic waves depending on wavelength, and light from extremely distant quasars has been tested and found to be uniform in arrival time (based on variability in the quasars and specific catastrophic events, if memory serves) from wavelength the wavelength, even to tiny parts in billions of light years traveled.

Okay, well, that’s surely enough trivia for anyone early on a Monday morning.  I wish I didn’t have to work today, but then again, I wish I didn’t feel like I have to do anything.  But I do feel that way.  I guess it’s probably better than being inert.  Without a goal or goals—terminal, instrumental, or otherwise—there is no action.

You can call it a “drive” instead of a “goal” if you prefer.  That may be a more accurate term, since nature doesn’t act in a teleological way (outside of thinking minds) but instead generates drives/urges/impulses, some of which lead to increased genetic reproduction and some of which lead in the other direction.  Over time, the former are the ones that tend to accumulate, for what are probably obvious reasons.

Enough.  I already said it was enough, didn’t I?  Anyway, I hope you all have a good day.  And remember, if you tend to come to this blog via other social media, you can subscribe to it using your email, and then you’ll get emails sharing every new post with you directly.

Take care.

*There is also a thing called a false vacuum.  Spacetime itself could be in such a state, if the vacuum energy is capable of tunneling to an even lower energy level than the one at which it currently resides.  This would not be a good thing for the current inhabitants of the universe, but at least they would never know it if the drop-down happened, because everything that currently exists would be erased at the speed of light.  The universe as a whole would even be affected, but it wouldn’t be endangered per se.

by

Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew, and blog will have his day.

Hello and good morning.

It’s Thursday, the last day of April in 2026.  Tomorrow we meet a new month, same (more or less) as the old month.

I’m very tired, despite the fact that it’s the first thing (or nearly so) in the morning.  Of course, morning doesn’t necessarily mean you got any rest last night, not if you’ve got chronic pain and chronic insomnia.

The latter problem started for me several years or more before the former.  It has not escaped my consideration that my insomnia may have contributed to my chronic pain.  I am, after all, a trained physician and scientist with a fervent desire to understand…well, everything, ultimately.  So, I know a lot about both chronic pain and insomnia since in addition to my education and my curiosity, I actually am afflicted with the two things.

Don’t get me started on depression.

Actually, it’s a bit too late for that.  I am feeling the gravity well dip of worsening dysthymia that seems to be heading toward a full depressive episode, though predicting these things is unreliable.  But this morning, I felt I didn’t even want to sit up in bed (well, in futon) let alone get up and do anything at all.

That’s unusual for me.  Usually even when I’m in a bad way, the stress‒the anxiety, I guess‒associated with possibly not doing what I’m “supposed” to do, of letting people down, is too strong to let me just lie around, even though I am frequently exhausted (in the figurative sense, at least).  But today, even that almost didn’t show up, not enough to do what it usually does.  It was only really my sense of routine, of habit, that gave me the energy to get moving.

It helped that I wanted to feed the cats, but I know that they can handle themselves, at least for a few hours.  Still, it’s a positive.  I even did five pull-ups, which is not as many as I usually do, but at least I didn’t just not do them at all.

I often wish I could hibernate, or perhaps more precisely, to have a long sleep such as what some bears do during cold months.  I don’t want to go into true suspended animation, because that really doesn’t do anything for you except to let you skip forward in time.  Any period of true oblivion, however long it is, feels instantaneous from the inside.

If you pause a game, for instance, you can (in principle) come back a year later and pick it back up, and for the character, no time has passed at all.  If you were to experience things from their point of view, you would experience an uninterrupted flow of time.

What if you pause the game but never restart it?  Then the character’s experience just stops.  It’s a kind of death, of course, but it’s not a death caused by anything within that game universe.  It’s just, in a sense, that universe coming to an end.  No wailing, no moaning, no gnashing of teeth.

If you stop playing a Blu-ray in the middle of a movie, and then you break the Blu-ray disc, the characters don’t “die”, but for the purposes of that iteration of that movie, they might as well have died.  They certainly cannot continue to perform their parts.

It’s a bit like what it would be like for our universe to undergo vacuum collapse.  The wavefront of collapse would progress at essentially the speed of light.  Everything you know‒everything you are‒would cease to be at all, and it would happen far too quickly for you to experience the process.  The stuff with which you experience things would be deleted before it could begin to experience its own erasure.

It doesn’t seem like a bad way for an individual to die, but it seems a shame to lose everything in a whole universe.  Also, it’s just kind of daunting to think that everything in existence would get wiped out and turned into a hot soup of elementary fields and their “particles”, much like what happened near the beginning of “our” universe when the inflaton field (if inflation happened) collapsed.  It feels worse in some ways than other manners of death because there is literally nothing you can do to avoid it or to flee it or even to know that it’s happening.

It’s deucedly unlikely, though, so don’t fret about it.  And, anyway, if it happens, there’s literally nothing you can do about it.

That’s enough for now.  I won’t get into the news of me falling out of my seat yesterday afternoon (really, it sort of rolled out from under me as I was trying to sit down, but I ended up on the floor on my back no matter how one characterizes it) except to say that it happened, and that I have worsened stiffness today at least partly because of it.

I hope you all have good days.

TTFN

by

Should you give a fig about a freight train’s Newtons?

It’s Saturday, April 25th, in 2026 AD/CE.  There are only 7 shopping months until Newtonmas (Other holidays are available).

Anyway, I’m very groggy and tired today, though at least I am (for the moment) in slightly less pain than yesterday.  It still sucks, but now it’s more of a neutron star kind of sucking rather than a full scale black hole.

Not that either of those two stellar remnants can be said to “suck” in any atypical way, with respect to gravity.  It is true that the gravitation at the surface of a neutron star is extremely high (to say nothing of the “surface” of a black hole).  But that’s just because everything is so compact, and you can get much closer to the center of gravity than you would be able to do with more spread-out astronomical bodies made of more typical matter.

But, to reiterate a perhaps overused example, if the sun were suddenly (and without any other phenomena that would complicate the picture) to collapse* into a neutron star or even a black hole of the same mass, the Earth’s orbit would not change at all.

There’s no special “supergravity” or whatever some people imagine there might be due to black holes or neutron stars.  It’s just ordinary gravity with a large mass in a small region.  From farther away than the former surface of whatever collapsed into it, the gravity of a neutron star or a black hole is literally indistinguishable from that of the celestial object that became the black hole or neutron star (if it did not lose any mass in its collapse to the latter state, which in reality they almost always do).

How the hell did I get on that subject?  I don’t know.  I guess I’ll see it while editing.

I’m a little out of it this morning, because I took half a Benadryl last night in addition to my other, more typical stuff.  I don’t usually take Benadryl on a work night, but groggy and unpleasant quasi-consciousness that at least helps me to be unconscious is better than not being able even to get to sleep or stay that way for long and being groggy because of that rather than the side effects of an antihistamine.

Something like that, anyway; I’m not sure I made that very clear.

I’ve just now become briefly distracted because a redirected freight train just went by on the track in front of me (going south on the usually-northbound side of the tracks, something for which there were no doubt legitimate reasons, but which still feels quite wrong).  This happens occasionally, and I’m sure the process that leads up to it is somewhat interesting, at least from a certain point of view.

It’s definitely an event that happens only because something has gone wrong somewhere.  The tracks for commuter trains, like the course over which they run, are not really meant for heavy freight trains, so they can’t let them use them very often.  And it was heavy, I’m sure of that. There were numerous tank cars and box cars and all sorts of similar cars carrying potentially heavy stuff.  Even the train’s whistle as it approached was a different, lower pitched sound and had a more somber timbre (sombre timber?) than the usual Tri rail whistle.

I already was pretty sure it wasn’t a regular train when the nearby gates went down to stop traffic, because there’s no scheduled Tri rail train going in either direction at even close to that time on a Saturday.  If it were a behind-schedule train, it would have to have been the first train of the day going south, and it would be quite off its schedule indeed.  Trains only come every hour on the weekend.

I almost wrote “every hour on the hour” there, just for the “sound” of it, but of course it’s not feasible to have a commuter train arrive every hour on the hour at every train station unless the stations are an hour’s traveling distance apart.  That would be one hell of a commute, and not in a good way.

Anyway, I think that’s enough nonsense for today.  I still don’t feel good.  My legs and hips are still channeling low-level but constant DC current (or so it feels), and I am having more and more trouble seeing any point to continuing to try to style my way though all this.  It’s been more than 20 years and things are not improving overall.

It would be more tolerable if I had other people and reasons and points in my daily life, but I don’t, not really.  The comments here below this blog constitute the majority of my socialization, not counting work interactions (which are a different kind of thing, though related).

I’m so bloody tired.

Anyway, have a good weekend if you can.  For goodness sake, cherish the people you love and who love you, especially if you’re lucky enough to be with them every day.  And remember, when in doubt, don’t ask yourself “What would Newton do?”.  Unless you’re a scientist, that is, in which case, yeah, Newton was a decent role model.

Otherwise, he was a terribly unpleasant, vindictive, and spiteful man (and here I thought it impossible for me to admire him more than I already did).  He is reported to have laughed only once in his life, when someone asked him what was the point of studying Euclid.

I sympathize with Newton there.  That is an idiotic question for anyone who is stuck living in and making their way through three-dimensional, locally Euclidean space.

Mind you, when things like black holes and neutron stars are involved, you need to go beyond Euclid, but you can’t readily go beyond Euclid if you’ve never gotten to Euclid***.

*There’s no known process by which this could happen, by the way, so don’t worry about it.  Also, you don’t need to worry about encountering spherical cows or frictionless surfaces**.

**Though I’ve long thought that “Frictionless Cows” might be a good name for a band.

***You don’t need to read Euclid’s actual book to study Euclidean geometry, any more than you need to read Newton’s Principia Mathematica to learn Newtonian physics.  But it’s worth giving them each a tip of the hat in passing, at least, for they are among humanity’s greatest works.

by

We have met the cosmic horror, and…

Well, here I go again (on my own, like the song says) writing another blog post.  As for why I am doing so, well, there is surely a set of causes‒potentially tracing all the way back to the Big Bang, or at least the period just during and/or after inflation, assuming that happened, which seems more likely than not‒there may not be any good reason for it.

Oh, of course, I could come up with reasons.  I could “justify” myself.  Indeed, there is reason (har) to think that justification and persuasion to bolster one’s status and identity in a tribe against others with opposed motives may have been one of the driving forces behind the development of the human reasoning capacity.  This is apart from, and perhaps almost orthogonal to, the basic power of reasoning to understand and thus best navigate the territory of reality.

Once it got started, reasoning would have accelerated thanks to biological arms races between those competing for survival and reproduction, and then it would have turned out serendipitously to have been more broadly and powerfully useful than merely for securing status and food and mates.

Imagine if the peacock’s tail had turned out not only to be ostentatious and beautiful and sexy (to peahens, anyway) but tremendously useful and broadly powerful, especially once it reached a certain level.  Imagine if the peacock’s tail had allowed peacocks to build skyscrapers and boats and trains and planes and cars, if peacocks’ tails helped peacocks build a global civilization, quite apart from their ability to secure one’s status and acquire good mates.

That’s quite possibly more or less what happened with human brains.

Of course, like the peacock’s tail, the human brain is not without its drawbacks.  I suspect that things like depression and anxiety, and perhaps even neurodivergence, are simply potential (and statistically inevitable) outcomes for a brain that has grown powerful enough to assess the world deeply and uncover the almost Lovecraftian terror of our tiny little existence when placed against the scope and scale of the cosmos.

I say “Lovecraftian”, but even with Lovecraft, though the beings in the mythos are thoroughly inhuman and incomprehensible‒unsane, as I like to say‒they are still beings.  The true cosmic horror is surely that beings of any kind are almost nonexistent; indeed, to a very good approximation, they are nonexistent.

In some senses, this can at least be morally reassuring.  If we do go and spread out through the universe‒or even just the galaxy or even just our local family of stars‒and there are indeed no other life forms, then at least we need not worry about violating implicit rights.  Uninhabited asteroids (for instance) don’t have goals or wishes and, as far as we can tell, they cannot suffer.

Of course, we may have aesthetic concerns about such things, but aesthetics are not as urgent as ethics.  And, of course, we will still have moral/ethical concerns toward each other; that almost goes without saying.

Whether or not we will exist long enough for the ethics (or lack thereof) of changing the state of uninhabited other places in the galaxy to be pertinent is quite uncertain.  I see nothing in the laws of physics that makes it impossible, so in that sense, I am optimistic.  But I see nothing in the laws of physics, nor more specifically in human nature, that makes it certain or even likely that we will survive to spread out from our native planet to any significant degree.  And I see nothing in the laws of nature that seems to imply that, if we don’t succeed and spread through the cosmos, anyone else will do so, or indeed that anyone else even exists.

Don’t get me wrong; physics clearly and undeniably allows life to exist, and it allows (human-like) intelligence and civilization to exist.  But those are two different scales of allowance.

The molecules and principles of life as we know it, with long-chain molecules capable of carrying information and of replicating themselves, leading to “competition” and “improvement” and increasing complexity and so on, seem so straightforward as to be happening potentially (but far from certainly) in a good many places in the universe.  This is straightforward enough.  The equivalents of viruses and prokaryotes may exist in many regions.  It’s even possible that there may be such life in other places in our solar system (Europa and Enceladus being possible contenders).

But multicellular, “eukaryotic” life, seems likely to be much rarer.  Basic life started on Earth, as far as we can see, very shortly after the Earth formed and cooled enough for complex molecules to endure (nearly 4 billion years ago).  Eukaryotes, especially multicellular ones, didn’t really arrive until about 500 million years ago.  So, seven eighths into the time of life on Earth, it was basically just “bacteria” and some viruses.

Then, for significant, interpersonal, symbolic and technological intelligence to develop took another…well, basically another 500 million years.  And as far as we can tell, it’s only happened once.

That doesn’t give us a good, clear picture of how rare or common such a thing is‒one is a difficult number of experimental subjects from which to draw too many conclusions‒but it’s possible that the existence of technologically intelligent life is so rare as to occur only once per, on average, every chunk of spacetime as large as our visible universe.  It could even be rarer than that.

In an infinite cosmos, of course, even such exceedingly rare events would happen an infinite number of times (so to speak).  But that doesn’t necessarily make things less lonesome.  If you have an infinite number of decks of cards (with no jokers), all thoroughly shuffled together, there are literally just as many Aces of Spades as there are red-suited cards in total (ℵ₀, the “smallest” infinity).  Nevertheless, if you draw cards randomly, you will only get an Ace of Spades one twenty-sixth as often as you will get a red-suited card.

Similarly, there are as many whole multiples of a trillion as there are integers in general (again, ℵ₀), but if you pick a random integer, you’re still only going to pull such a multiple one out of a trillion times (on average).

So, maybe the takeaway is that the real cosmic horror may be that we are the only entities haunting the abyss, and there are no (other) mad idiot gods bubbling away at the center of celestial existence.  Maybe it’s just us.  And if our lights go out, then nobody is home.

It’s worth considering, not least because it has every chance of being true, whether literally or just practically.  For if the nearest other technological life form is in another galactic cluster, for instance, then we are, for all reasonable purposes, alone in the universe.

by

I have had a dream, past the wit of man to blog what dream it was.

Hello and good morning.

When I started waking up this morning, well before I started writing this post, I think I had a sort of an idea in my head about what sentence I was going to write after the “Hello and good morning” with which I always start my Thursday blog posts.  From there, I had a general notion of where I would go with the day’s writing.

It’s gone now, that whole set of ideas, which will probably not surprise you.  What with getting up, putting out food for cats, showering, dressing, all that jazz, the earlier concept has simply slipped my mind.

And, no, this that I’m writing now is not anything like what I thought I thought about in the night.  It’s good to be optimistic, up to a point‒at least, that’s the common “wisdom”‒but we must definitely try to avoid delusion.

I have, upon occasion, thought of ideas of things to write or whatever during the middle of the night.  When they strike me as important, I actually get up and write them out, usually in the note function of my phone or in an email to myself.  I try to make sure it has some form of enforced legibility, because I learned the lesson from that Seinfeld episode where Jerry woke up with a joke in his head, wrote it down on the pad he kept next to his bed, but then couldn’t read it the next day.

In my case, last night’s/this morning’s thought may well have suffered from the dream illusion of meaning and substance.  There was, as far as I can recall*, no actual content to what I thought I was going to write.  It’s possible, and even probably common, for the brain modules that indicate salience to become active during dreams, while the brain is presumably just sort of sweeping up after the day’s mess, but not in response to any object of one’s attention.

It’s rather akin to déjà vu.  Such free-floating feelings of memory or significance can happen sometimes in people with atypical forms of seizure disorders, but more commonly (though less frequently) they happen in brains without seizure disorders that just hit occasional blips of increased local activation.

This is a bit like what I suspect happens with “rogue waves”, those rare, truly gigantic swells that occur and are reported by sailors and oil rig workers.  I think that, in an ocean that’s vast and full of various waves of various amplitudes and frequencies, every now and then, local constructive interference happens to pile together in a small area and produce a wave of immense combined amplitude, ending up well toward the right end of whatever bell-like curve describes the amplitudes of ordinary ocean waves.  Then the waves separate and the rogue wave is gone**.  There is no specific cause other than just a lot of waves passing through each other in a very large medium (no pun intended).

The workings of a brain can be a large medium indeed, despite being in a rather small space (this time it was deliberate).  Sometimes the neurons just throw out a blip of higher-than-usual activation of, say, a salience module or a memory module, or even a meaning/certainty module.  It is of such stochastic regional hyperactivations that I suspect many, or at least some, religious experiences are born.

So, anyway, though I cannot remember if there was any substance to the half-dream idea for today’s blog post that occurred to me during my way-too-early awakening, let alone what such substance might have been, nevertheless it has conjured a subject for this post, as if by bootstrap levitation.

Such are the functionally unpredictable and chaotic workings of the human brain, or at least whatever kind of brain I have.  I don’t know if other people have similar experiences or not.  Maybe I’m the only one who experiences anything like all of this.

I seriously doubt that, though.  I’ve read plenty of fiction and nonfiction that deals with people talking about their thoughts, about their states of mind, their emotional experiences, and so on.  It all sounds quite similar in overall shape, though the specific details and decorations vary.  We are more alike than unalike.  Otherwise, how could you be reading and understanding my words?

Well, whatever the case as regards what I’ve written above, I hope we are unalike enough for you to have a wonderful day, preferably spending time with people you love and who love you.

TTFN

*Which, admittedly, is quite dubious, since the amnesia of sleep time intrudes at least somewhat.

**This is all just my hypothesis about the situation.  It’s possible that other factors are at play, but I’ve never heard them mentioned.

by

Queasy does it

Ugh, it’s Monday again.  I’m very much not ready to start another work week.  I’ve felt a bit queasy and under the weather since yesterday afternoon‒probably due to some dietary indiscretion, I don’t know‒and just felt kind of icky.  I’m not nauseated at the moment, though, just kind of wiped.

I’m sure that’s how you were hoping to begin your week of reading blog posts:  with news of my upset stomach from yesterday.  One can imagine Tom Brokaw, or perhaps even Walter Cronkite, breathlessly delivering such a bulletin, am I right?  What would the banner headline in the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal say about such a story?

Probably nothing, of course.  Imagine how slow and anti-interesting a news day would have to be for major news outlets to carry stories about my minor ailments.

Not to say that the ailments of certain people don’t get covered; they do, of course.  Sometimes this is just frivolous curiosity or even prurient interest, as in the case of “celebrities”.  Sometimes it really is important, as in the case of powerful individuals who carry great responsibilities.  In those cases, people can legitimately be concerned, especially if the responsibilities carried by these individuals are things only they can do.  That’s rare in the real world, but it can happen*.

Oy, sorry about the interruption there.  I had a little sneezing fit.  Oh, wait, you all didn’t experience that interruption; only I did.  How embarrassing.  I shouldn’t have said anything.  Well, it’s too late now.

Though, of course, it isn’t too late, not for me as I write it‒I could change it if I wanted to change it.  But by the time you read this, then, yes, it will be too late for me to change it.  I mean, I could edit the post after the fact‒I have that power‒but it wouldn’t affect those who had already read it.

I could conceivably affect your memory of what it had originally said if I changed it and then persistently repeated the lie that it had never been the way I originally posted it.  But even if I got everyone in the universe to believe the lie‒getting them all to care would be a big enough undertaking‒it would not change the fact of what had originally happened.

This underscores the true, fundamental powerlessness of lies.  Words can change what people “believe” in the short term, but talk is cheap (mother fucker).  No matter how much a person believes they can fly under their own power, if they step off the top of a tall building (on Earth, in normal gravity) they will plummet.

And they may believe, all the way down, that they are actually flying and that the falling is the illusion, but once they reach the bottom, everything with which they believe anything will, if the fall was far enough, be utterly broken, perhaps even scattered across the pavement.  All that they believed or remembered will be obliterated, in a very true sense of the word.

That’s one of the good, albeit sometimes frustrating, things about reality.  Whatever it is, it is, regardless of whether anyone believes it or even knows it, regardless of whether there even exists anyone who can know it.

How did I get there from having noted that I felt sick yesterday and don’t feel great today to be starting the week?  I’m sure it’ll be clear in the editing process.  But it is a fact that I got to this point, so it happened somehow.

I don’t really know what else to discuss.  Nothing of consequence happens in my life anymore, not even from the narrow, parochial point of view of my own mind.  At this stage, my life is of more or less of zero significance to anyone, including me, so I guess it doesn’t matter what I discuss.

I’m very tired, though, and it’s just the start of the day and the week.  I hope I get to feeling better as the week goes along, though the second law of thermodynamics seems to imply that such a thing is by no means guaranteed to happen, and indeed, in the long run, will definitely not happen.  At least, the tendency for entropy to increase is as definite as anything we know.

Clearly, though, huge regions of low entropy are possible; the universe as we know it “began” in such a state.  Mind you, we wouldn’t want to be suddenly transported to such a low entropy region of spacetime, as they are not readily amenable to life, which is dependent upon local gradients in free energy and entropy.  This is why life occurred in sort of the “middle state” of the universe, the mixing state, as when one sees the many swirling forms and patterns in one’s coffee cup as one is pouring in milk or cream, before the mixing finally becomes uniform.

Also, though quite uniform and low entropy, the Big Bang was also pretty darn hot, and I’m not speaking metaphorically.

If one could open a teeny, tiny wormhole back to some region of the early universe just after the Big Bang, one could conceivably obtain functionally limitless energy**.  But that would affect the subsequent evolution of the early universe, I suspect, though perhaps it could not possibly affect the universe in such a way as to prevent itself from being instantiated.  Or, well, maybe for that reason it cannot be instantiated.

I don’t know.  I’m tired.  You can probably tell.  Anyway, I hope you have a good day and a good week.

*Though no examples spring to mind.  If you can think of one, please share it in the comments below.

**Though, would that outweigh the energy required to create and maintain the wormhole?  I have a strong intuition that it would not.

by

It’s not about me. It’s not about you. It’s not even about everyone.

It’s Friday today (as I write this, anyway‒it may be another day entirely as you read it), and I am in the process of heading to work.  I will also be working tomorrow, barring (as ever) the unforeseen.  And that doesn’t just include the foreseen unforeseen; the unforeseen unforeseen (especially that one) can also change what happens tomorrow, in ways that we do not expect, more or less by definition.

Of course, the Tao te Ching advises us to act without expectation, and I suppose that’s pretty good advice.  The universe doesn’t make special deals, such that if you do some particular thing, it will definitely turn out the way you hope.  The universe does what it has always done, and you are not the subject or the object of its action‒you are just one of the innumerable things the universe does.  It did not have to ask your permission, and it will not apologize.  It also does not make exceptions, not as far as anyone can see.

 

Since the beginning

not one unusual thing

has ever happened*.

 

You can imagine and draw a map that looks any way you want, that contains fairy lands and misty mountains and roads that are shorter in one direction than another**, but if your map doesn’t match the actual territory, it’s not going to be useful for traveling through that territory safely and successfully (by whatever reasonable criteria you might judge success).  Likewise, blank spots on the map don’t imply blank spots in the territory, and writing “here be dragons” does not somehow conjure dragons into existence (alas).

Reality is that which actually exists, whether or not anyone “believes” it or “believes in it”, whether or not anyone has been, is now, or ever will be aware of it.  Heck, if eternal inflation and a consequent inflationary multiverse following (for instance) the string landscape are true, then the vast majority of the stuff of reality will never, ever be known, because most of it‒the ever-expanding inflaton field and those bubble universes where local laws are such that complexity cannot exist, as well as those huge stretches of even our universe that precede (or follow) any existence of life‒will never be accessible to conscious experience.

That’s okay.  Man is not the measure (nor the measurer) of all things.  Man is the measure of almost nothing.  Man‒indeed, all life of which we know‒is a tiny little epiphenomenon that exists in a tiny little sphere of nonzero thickness on and around the surface of the Earth.  I’ll try to remember to do the math comparing that volume to the volume of the visible universe and put it in a footnote below.  If it’s not there, I didn’t do it***.

One sometimes hears people say‒often they seem to be trying to make excuses for themselves to believe in some deity or other‒that the universe is exquisitely tuned for life, such that it requires explanation by some “supernatural” means.

When I hear or read such things, my reaction is, “What universe are you looking at?!?”  Almost no place in the universe can be survived by life as we know it, let alone produce it.  The fraction is so close to nonexistent that it is zero to a good first approximation, and a good second approximation, and a good third, and so on.

It may seem that time could possibly give us a bit more comfort than space does, since life on Earth has existed between roughly a fourth and a third of the time since our Big Bang.  But the future of this universe gives every indication of being without end, whereas conditions for large scale matter to exist‒as far as we can tell‒will not last long (not compared to infinity, which to be fair, nothing is, not even TREE(3) or Graham’s number or any other huge but finite numbers).

By the time the last supermassive black holes finish evaporating due to Hawking radiation, which will be about a googol years, things will already have been impossible for any kind of life we would recognize for eons of eons.

Of course, it’s conceivable that life will grow to become cosmically important and able to engineer specific ways for the universe to avoid heat death (or whatever is coming), or to make new universes, or whatever.  But that’s a mightily narrow course for the future to thread.

And the time until a straightforward Poincaré recurrence of the current state of our universe makes a googol years seem unnoticeably teensy by comparison.

Anyway, the main point I’m making, if there is one, is that the universe neither promises nor owes you anything.  That doesn’t mean it’s not okay for things to be important to you.  You matter (on the scales we’ve been considering) nearly as much as the whole Andromeda galaxy.

It’s fine for you to try to make your life what you want it to be.  Why not?  There’s no one else who has any legitimate claim to it (not counting children, friends, etc., all of whom could be considered part of “what you want it to be”).  Just don’t expect other people, let alone the vastly bigger number of things that are not people, to be also trying to make your life the way you want it to be.

Okay, that’ll do, pig.  I’m tired (What else is new?).  I’ll most likely write a post tomorrow.  I hope you have a good day.

*I got this haiku from Eliezer Yudkowsky’s Rationality: From AI to Zombies, though I am not sure if it originated with him.

**Actually, I’m not sure how you would draw that.

***I did it, though I initially made a mistake in calculating the surface area of the Earth, as you can see below if you look closely (I forgot to square pi in the denominator).  Anyway, assuming that the depth-to-height range of life on Earth is about 20 km, then the volume for life as we know it is about 1 x 10^19 cubic meters.  The volume of the visible universe on the other hand is 2.6 x 10^81 cubic meters (if my calculations are correct).  That means that the fraction of the universe that is, to our knowledge, amenable to life is 3.8 x 10^(-63), or 0.0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000038 of the volume of the universe.  By comparison, the fraction of your volume represented by one of your tens of trillions of cells is roughly 10^(-12), or .000000000001.  You lose thousands of cells every proverbial time you scratch your nose.  How much do you notice them?  How much less would the universe notice if it scratched all life off?