Time, Sandfall, and the Hourglass

Time, Sandfall, and the Hourglass

L. Edgar Otto    13 March, 2013

Our symbols guide us into abstract intuitive space as much or more than contortions of our vertebrae, we who intertwine all things free in the lower dimensions, songs free in discord yet free from it in the expanse, we the ephemeral yet more fundamental than guiding numbers and geometry, attractions, that chance encounters too fixes and moves the punch and slice, the grounding as if of probes and lips of lovers.

We find the cheaper way to explore the planets and the stars, at a distance from our touch, unmanned instruments to spy on the terrain, explosions to rock the moon, bring back with but the whisper of light and weight samples for our medicine bags, idols of a sort that shield us as if our talisman.  Or spy upon ourselves, explode the myths of privacy, few traces left behind in the sand and mudflats over fleeting moments to geological time for us stillness of the sea of its price all vanished memories the dust and soul that has a place equally ephemeral yet returning with the tides that wash away our equations in the sand and wave whiten our echo hollow marrow red once of iron or blue the copper some clue, some fragment on the beach, sand grains uniform, or our bones.

It dawns on us, already so absurd, so thought costly and not universal the roots in lava beds take a plants spark, inoculation so to crack by oxygen cycled our sea not reduced thus stable by ultraviolet, unseen the electric clouds and shields but just as real as the rings of Saturn, that old symbol of Father Time his mirror Mother Nature, that the hourglass figure of woman is a good measure of our intellect.

"I think you are very wise." I said to the swimsuit model after telling her of this link from an article in the science magazines, and she smiled for she understood her mystique on all levels, wise after all.  At least in the need of explanation from the time of the Greeks we seek a myth, save some for the spirit of mystery as romance, how odd the differences of gender to which once before our navels we were one and genderless, Platonic, lucky perhaps our odd development as a species, to which love is the attractor bringing our fallen broken vases back together again, or the longing for return to the garden that moves us into future time, bonding in both the symbol and the flesh.

How odd time can develop or is expressed that we see our spinning hourglasses dance in flatland as space itself divides and multiplies, sends jets at a distance from the creative core that fits, begging the question why, our fingers numbered.  That looking toward the array, familiar at birth to the world of patterns to which we learn to long to touch and carefully touch, the music ever rising yet the footprints ever receding as our ghostly wheel of motion is a skipping stone of steps.

We have only just begun to see these things so to hold to our mind's eye a new era of thought and physics- while I offer here the slightest level of a hint- the symbols point the way for you who crave and like the craving such inquiry or if in the virtual world these dreams endure, as if stone in some cloud others crave to search in archeology, the symbols speak among themselves and tell a little better my story which often repeats- that too part of the principle of this world so it in its receding or transcending footprints in the suspension of disbelief life has freedom in the wide horizon that makes more than that lukewarm sustains our grounding in surprise.

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This morning I caught a lecture from UWM on complexity series on the PBS Wisconsin television channel.  I concerned the brain structure and the relation to the arts- music in particular.  I found of of interest that tonal music, such as jazz and classical, but not changing or atonal, evokes visions of space. Now there may be other forms in the quasifinite view of things that are diatonic and modal, closer to the just simple ratios (for example the golden ratios), the other music may describe a different situation of the dimensions defined as a space.  Such studies were rather interesting, experience of interest in music after say on a payphone a doctor was struck by lightning thru it and his reports of silver blue light, of tunnels and so on... or that a Mozart was fond of color inks... all this related somehow to emotions or some evolving model such as our ability to throw things... but above this the drive from one side of our brains for the awakening or desire of such pursuits... and so on.

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