Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Can Inertia Have Deeper Foundations

Can Inertia Have Deeper Foundations L. Edgar Otto December 13, 2011

I expect the Higgs report you have been waiting for will read rather philosophic, go back to the way, way back to the Ancient Greeks- a path I followed in my adventures. This is better than telling us nothing really, long winded. Perhaps a fresh start for physics will be acknowledged. From the general and basic thoughts on numbers and space I imagine it will be what some say is 124 but not an integer, a little more, Eddington style, and just maybe they will want to ask why.

The search for what quarks are we know has two versions, one that will consider the triality of charges as fractional, or one that will take these the unit charge- both systems have problems to solve- not the least of which is that in one system the applied complex space becomes incomplete so broken in its super symmetry. This is the sort of insight Kea has asked about for some time now. And from the TGD stance of Pitkanen (or for that matter others who looked for a slightly higher range) his being in a more general world deals with more than merely adding one, but the 15 or so I envision- that is if we do imagine in the background- as if in some proximity of bodies undergoing stronger but not directly observable gravity- space appears a little more general in its patterns than for the standard fare. Of course when we use the (hyperbolic) 3+1 mechanism as say bioctonion complex numbers it is equally well described as if we are connecting four on four things and not just the idea of overt symmetry breaking or absolutely contained binding of some value of unity on some side of spatial mirrors where we do find the doubling and differences we imagine as spin depending on the standard models we choose. In any case the Diracian triads (and that mirror that does speak for a difference in masses, say of the u or down quarks and so on...) and pentads suggests deeper properties of simple numbers involved.

That said, my thoughts came back to what in this superworld does inertia actually mean or appear. With this sort of thing in mind, and how up tight my style is lately I took a break to write a series of almost poems called Sanibel. It is partly inspired by the blog I follow here. It includes a lot of references generally known by some people. It tries to address the philosophy part on what people we encounter are and purpose as well the general references to inertia and life- that which wonders about the why and wherefore of purpose, and of the cosmic laws or those which would debate in the complexity of this world what is emerging or not as some value on which to hang our physical weights and measures. I post the two flags of Sanibel in what is not an obvious arrangement of the seven stars of the projective plane, that these do read a little differently if we exchange the x and y and subdivide- at least to some coincidence of the next level of golden divisions and not obvious that these are simple intelligible numbers fallen out of a wider idea of numbers that are not as simple if we look deeper into them. The exterior integration too in the end should distinguish where the idea is not identical of what is the square or triangle (Kea and quasic wise) or when for all practical purposes these are so on some level of physical reality.

* * * * *

Sanibel L. Edgar Otto 12-13-11

Sunset over the Gulf in the distance feels like it comes from somewhere. The rays converge to a beckoning infinity near but never reachable anymore than the moon walking with me in the sky.

This ocean view, its promise hard-by is more immense than the slow and fixed moving stars, those distant angels far from a universe of violence lost in time's imperceptible jumps, shifts and turns. Oh, there are the occasional falling sparks and the blemishes of shadows that surprise if we have forgotten to move with the gears within gears of our circumstance, here and now sense the tides.

Surprised, but not unexpected in our lazy lags not as fast in the seconds just past when the startled fish jump out of its element and slaps the water commanding your attention in the silence and the light, stirring up the phosphor eerie blue afterglow of disturbed plankton.

Nor unexpected the great eye and storm of that first and vengeful God, humbled by His power and thankful when our sand castles and thatch debris strewn and crumbled, we have survived. But such a God is near and personal, nor out of view abandoning this world in the distance beyond the stars.

So too our eternal parents, our memories in love and fear of them that persists long after we know the truth, they but flotsam and jetsam on the beach, mortals. as it dawns on us, collecting pretty shells, we too wave worn become the sand.

* * *

From Yoke to Jellyfish 12-13-11

From the beginning of their lives when the hatch-lings are the most vulnerable to the crabs and gulls and soup chefs, they must move their flippers struggling through the sand seeking the freedom one finds in flight in the depths of oceans and move toward the sound of waves not confused going into the light.

So it is that this species, older than man, wander in circles on the beach when youths meet together, their salty bodies glistening by their bonfires just outside the wildlife refuge seeking what the turtles do, returning instinctively and moves from inside by diffuse and ancestral memories at one with their joy and unrestrained dreams and paths, to spawn or pretend in innocence half faking fire, their bonding.

But Nature, so profuse her casting of eggs and seeds for those who must return to land directly warmed by the day-star cycles of the season and sun, sacrifices to hidden violence her forlorn descendants the greater part of hopeful but failed stars.
She cannot afford to mourn for her stillborn or follow the lucky ones. She satiated in her oblivion at the height of her once and only baptism into her realm, a great oceanic feeling, immunity enhanced or worn thin, her dreams and nibbled fins and mare maids tail.

Yet, together in the luck of the dance where lust and stardust meet, the empty nest and milky way sometimes she warns and blesses the chosen ones, in love to set them free to nurse them in a universe, their roe and devil's purse or necklaces of whelk cases set in minute spirals, sunflower like their growing shells. If in the twilight of their time they walk hand in hand all but left in them the hollow echoes shard between them of the wise and discordant sea, they mourn as much their unique lives as many of the hatch-lings lost and otherwise not valued, the one or many beyond distinction.

* * *

Odyssey of the Argonauts

In the relative safety of a tidal pool two brother turtles explored the coral and the current and grew. Life had purpose Homer and Sailor did not question fighting or sharing their one head for adventure, their stalking chase, the one then the ambush from the other into its mouth some shrimp or darter stinging jellyfish into its beak, which end the forward, which the back as these parked their poles of naked singularities seeking cover as electric as an eel thinking the turtle rock a crevice and not the turtles snapping mouth.

Like Sailor, relishing the swim and pounding of his oars, life was its own meaning there in the tidal womb still wide enough before they found again the great mother ocean boundless and as Homer not yet discovered finite. Not unique its action only the confined can pen an epic of heroes and past deeds not gazing into the dark and deeps and endless space, its height and depth turned inward to what light still glows within like phosphor stars to hear their jittery whisper wakes, their own heartbeats in the land of the blind.

Growing wiser with their years, other creatures free before the adult takes root fixed, space in motion adsorbed into the larvae, Sailor and Homer carried a growing weight where flourished a green jungle drinking light, blue leafy veins tracing and inscribing their streamlined shell, seeking it between barnacle mountains on skin and scale and in the turtle's blood as all such turtles do that hold up worlds. Until one day the double pair of plastron and carapace, leading out the others too, followed the tide's current outward to the wider gulfs and global sea.

* * * *

A further comment to the Hoggresearch blogspot:


I wish I had the abilities to program such things. It takes so long by hand. It is rough working with assembly code levels. n can equal very large dimensions, 2^n and a lot depends on the ordering of the entries whatever the base.

From my view this simple graph with the issues of grey code paths to fill space is a matrix or an n-dimensional n-symmetric brane(s). But I have not yet looked at this particular structure which seems to divide the parts into two paths (is this usual, the same thing would be reflected in three space).

The n=8 is already in this graph if read a certain way. What is the 16 x 16 anyway but a very terse representation of the 240 eight dimensional sphere in close packing or even the Monster group symmetry?

I know it is easy to do but do you have a code for the chain codes for these fit well into the theory also? Thank you, LoversOfWisdom@yahoo.com The problem is to show if these are unique in this world where your sixteen hypercubes in sixteen hypercubes have the depth as well as span of space structures.

Even the way we read these things in the left and right and up and down influences our perceptions or actual measures. Not only can we compress and retrieve image information I foresee we can vastly speed up some computations.

The PeSla

* * *

No comments:

Post a Comment