Toward a Pen Better than Mine

Toward a Pen Better than Mine

Should I continue as always my preferred desire and spur to interest, to explore the fronts and frontiers, physics and creative philosophy? Or should I consolidate discoveries, make them more intelligible to those in the field or who would drink from our humble designs in the body of shared learning and knowledge? {hobble them} Perhaps they in turn add to it for the betterment of individuals and species, smoother adapting to the real and moral climate of science, be role models less mysterious for the predictions, forewarning and prophesy, moral freedom and responsibility where there is growth. We like the gods made flesh ephemeral in our time, climate and season, our exquisite touch and taste of Love while visible our shifts of bandwidth so clash, bounce off, adsorb, pass through each other like galaxies whose stars never touch, transcend the engines of creation from the wellspring of even the nothingness, for our work of art that drives us for its own sake or for awareness itself, our grasp of holiness to find in the immortal beauty and constant truth there is more?

The beasts beneath me race on, for the sake of running, for the hunt and stalking prey not knowing where they are going by my chance choices and my map- as if we could guide even love of the body let alone a goal to some ultimate ideal, concern for the universe, philosophy. We try to train them to their own breed and temperament, to fetch the wounded feathers of our lovers, return them to us for lesser reward, give us the sacrifice. Yet as if a lioness and her cubs carry her offspring such that her fangs never pierce, draw blood.

Then again is this not the question, the same old question for our time of where the form in its many shapes and incarnation in the abstract is made real as a part of matter, or as our consciousness? Where do the two meet at the frontiers? In my wisdom am I not any less a beast save I look down on lesser beasts and perhaps fear the greater beasts or fickle change of seasons we know deep down there no surprise?

Yes the matrix concerns the real more than some wave equation- but the matrix does not have any better grounding than our concepts of space and dimension. What in the scheme of things would make such an abstract object, ideal object, something that determines and is the solidness or something that is the purity of dustless soul? Physics just as music can be done mechanically, or its truths remain mystery disembodied.

A quason then may be something material, or it may be some Platonic like mathematical or geometrical ideal. It may be a plane, a local clash of them to fertilize the baby universe eggs- some stacking amplification of the spiral staircase in steps and strings resonating together- some local FM field of orgasm of which we bond and can so know or share an others experience of it as well. A quason in the abstract (quasom?) can be a sphere, or ring or shell- free of any scale rally, iota or uranoid or multiverse- this box like flower of our minds containing some form of structure in the vacuum beyond the maximum entropy and count of vast seas in evidence of deeper streams and dry lake waters. It can be be the maximum expansion of our space or the minimum of actions. It can contract and unfold- it can move its congruent compass anywhere or nowhere as one or many objects, thoughts. It can contain all the wisdom of symmetry and broken symmetry. A quason may seem as if material yet but a cloud in isolation from other clouds in some empty abstract space so seem discrete and finite in some space continuous and linear- or be the same place, the one electron that is all electrons. Or the vectors between unique lovers over time can be a fragile trellis on which we erect this cycles tendril patterns. A quason can erupt from the nothingness as all things in the potential of the creative so to make what we sense as the real, or it can evaporate like black holes or shine like a quasar- it can evolve complexly as if atoms evolve to higher species and greater elements. The surface of things can be merely the cube and in it the enfolded quasic dimension at some supposed deeper or natural Planck level-but in that space can be all the n-dimensions- and between such on such levels parts of the quasons are connected to others or not. And in each point of the quasons we may erect a continuum, and in them a continuum and so on.

Thus we the riders of the light control the light and are the light- wherefore we aware of our awareness and each other begin to answer what of truth and beauty is abstract or real in our various models we seek in this world.

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In view of this concept of where the abstract designs meets the concrete, the seemingly metaphysics meets the physics, thought the dust- the utility of the notion as an explanation is that we can apply across all natural laws some preferred representation of a model to explain things- some idea for example of smaller particles made of smaller ones, or nuclei having nuclei and so on... some measurement that is intelligible in some model to show perhaps direction and evolution. Or with the general and abstract quasom (quason) extending across ultimate scales and boundaries of the time and space and other dimensions- we can have a grounding of say probabilistic laws that average over space as if it were infinite or over infinite time. So the abstract pixel like quasic idea may serve as an alternative to explain any averaging or leveling of quasi-uniform space- including the occurrence of some such spaces- at least abstractly, where the laws of nature are not uniform. Thus discreteness in nature is not just a quantum thing but a quasic thing and both types describe a more general space (just as the classical can also explain say the Hydrogen spectra in shells of atoms). This is indeed how we try to interpret certain graphs and data inductively where applied to different phenomena hauntingly similar in their mathematics. Quasicity in the sense midway between our deep understandings of quantum and the relativistic-classical theories.

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So coming to this frontier and surveying the denizens with me ready to sail to new and unknown creative shores- I wonder if they are aware of what a vast sea of the new is there before us- and if a new process of thought is implied as we step off or set our crafts into the waters. One a little more advanced than this tenuous link whole or broken between mind and matter, intelligence and learning explorations.

Sometimes our mind is like the tumbleweed adapting to the desert wind and lack of rain and we assume the shape of a rolling ball sparse of leaves, the simplicity of physics. Then again what was once an inland sea teeming with life not so replete before or after in the West, mysteriously free from crocodiles, is now a dead sea and salty plain. Our theories endure better, leaves narrow or broad against too much sunlight their fragile chlorophyll, or woolly hairs to keep the heat in or hold it at bey from without- perhaps some filter of wax, creosote. For I wonder if this virtual world is more permanent than the paper in some south sea island where too much creativity is like the humid isles, the moisture that destroys everything rapidly. In the autumn of my life I only hear the leaves crinkling under my feet when my head is down at some loss or finality- alone as if in a strange city, or in the glare of passing head lights at night hitchhiking little faith a ride is coming.
Yet, I can see from the leaves the evidence of great trees above me, their kind and season.