Death and Quantum Science

 

 

DEATH and QUANTUM SCIENCE

I am in a continual state of awe at the depth and insight my young classmates possess.  Rarely am I speechless, but routinely I find myself in this unusual condition on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.  Thank you for stirring my soul and giving me food for thought.

On the eve of my favorite holiday, Halloween, I wanted to explore a few ideas about Death, the completion of life, and how the cyclical nature of our existence affects our past, present, and future. 

Halloween is my favorite holiday, not because it celebrates the deaths of Christian martyrs and saints, but because of its more pagan, ancient belief that the souls of the dead return home on one night or day of the year.  (And I am intrigued at how people’s personalities morph when in costume.)

Death is THE great mystery.  As far as we know, it is inescapable.  Humans spend a tremendous amount of energy thinking about it, analyzing it, hypothesizing about it, and still we remain completely in the dark.

Why do some people facing imminent death from an illness, such as cancer, say they have never felt so alive?  Why is it when death is on the doorstep that life finally shows up in full regalia? Would we appreciate life with the same fervor if there was no death? 

Is death really the opposite of life?  If so, is being “unborn” the same as death – both are stages of being not alive? 

Is life to death a linear progression or part of a cycle?  Is it a stage of life that marks the end of one cycle and the beginning of another? Or is it another dimension we have yet to discover? Does any aspect of what defines us as ourselves live on? 

The law of the conservation of mass states that:

for any system closed to all transfers of matter and energy (both of which have mass),

the mass of the system must remain constant over time,

as system mass cannot change quantity if it is not added or removed.

Hence, the quantity of mass is "conserved" over time.

The law implies that mass can neither be created nor destroyed,

although it may be rearranged in space, or

the entities associated with it

may be changed in form. 

So, following the laws of science, one must ask, what happens to the energy that humans exhibit when they are alive, as evidenced by an EEG which measures our electrical impulses, when their bodies die?  What form does that energy take because it is not just disapperaring? 

The science program, Through the Wormhole, explored the work of Stuart Hameroff, MD (anesthesiologist), and Roger Penrose.  They propose that the information we carry in the microtubes of our brains’ neurons are linked at a quantum level to all other information.  The microtubular forest in our cells act as a computer at a molecular level and are connected even if they are spacially separated. 

According to Hameroff and Penrose, quantum theory states that every point in space --- even empty space--- contains information.  Following the non-locality aspect of quantum science, the information of our “conscious” is connected to all of the other information in the universe.  Could this be the source of religious and spiritual beliefs in a Collective Consciousness?

Hameroff believes that souls are actually built form the fabric of the Universe, that consciousness was born in the Big Bang---at the same time that all matter and energy was created.  If this were the case, the Law of the Conservation of Mass would not be violated and the entanglement theory of quantum science would support their hypothesis. 

Hameroff suggests that during Near Death Experiences, the microtubes in the neurons begin releasing their energy and information back into the universe.  Eventually, it dissipates into the universe at large if the person dies.  However, if a person is revived, the information flows back into the microtubes of the brain.  Regardless, they believe the information lives outside the body because energy cannot be destroyed.  Whether the information recycles into a new body and explains feelings of reincarnation remains unknown. 

http://www.quantumconsciousness.org/penrose-hameroff/quantumcomputation.html

Another question I have involving the Law of the Conservation of Mass is: 

When a human is born (or anything else for that matter), where does the mass come from?  If mass in the universe is actually constant then the mass to create a new life must be subtracted from elsewhere to keep the account balance, right? Is this why there are mass extinctions occurring as our population explodes?   What about if I gain weight and have more mass?  How is this balance achieved? 

Anyway, so much for my Halloween Eve’s musing. 

Enjoy your Halloween!!!  Happy Trick or Treating!!!

 

Behind the Scenes with John Fowles

 

As I was working on my project, I came across a 7 page forward by John Fowles.  I thought it was extremely insightful and gave the reader a “behind the scenes” look into John Fowles’ philosophies. I have posted some of my favorites below.

Quotes from John Fowles from the Foreword in  The Timescapes of John Fowles

 

I write fiction very much to discover myself through texts-more precisely during the process of writing them and very little to stake a claim on the flagrant quicksand of contemporary reputation.  My fictions are far more experiments than anything else-that is, in search of something, or things, always beyond the outward narrative and themes. 

There may be nothing divine whatever in the published fiction; there is always something divine or time-escaping in its creation.

Even the simplest and shortest act of literary text, as brief as a haiku, is a surreptitious bid for immortality, or freedom from ordinary time. I have long believed that this perhaps special ability of the word to help us escape from time (both in facilitating the escape and in sharing it) is as important a factor for the reader as for the writer.  The reader is just as eager, if not more eager, to escape from linear or “clock” time, even though it is only aboard someone else’s poem, novel, whatever it may be.  All fiction, from the noblest to the basest, from Homer to the clumsiest pulp-market pornography, is first a private act, then a public offer, of escape from the surrounding world.

This obsessive pursuit of timelessness, of an eternal present, (deeply rooted, I believe, in buried recollection of the time-free primal relation between mother and infant), is also a moral problem for most novelists, made worse by the necessarily long and solitary nature of the fiction-writing process.  But, I have long had to realize that I live in a state of almost perpetual fugue from the present around me, and not only when I am writing.  Even with old friends, or people with whom one ought no doubt to be all ears and attention, such as interviewers, I rarely feel fully present.

It is only when I am writing, in fact, that I can safely feel fully present, a reasonably whole identity.  Many would say that the ability of the novel to help people escape present time-and circumstances-for a few hours is a quite sufficient justification in itself, and has no need of the artistic and moral bonus we expect from great art.

 I have been called an existentialist, but I am essentially a pagan.  Like every other being, I am here to enjoy life and to help others enjoy it, and now.  Even more importantly I think it is high time we liberated ourselves from the narrow blinkers imposed on us by the notion, both social and scientific, of time as an inexorable onward machine, a clock whose face we must constantly watch and respect and obey from the moment we first go to school.  Psychological time, as every novelist can vouch, is enormously richer and more complex… and more pleasurable. 

I don’t of course know if I am right in assuming that the unconscious is timeless (in the strict sense, without time, or chronology) as well as wordless.  A novelist must cherish all his ages, perhaps his child self most of all; the cost is that he will always be in exile from his society, above all from the society of his contemporaries.   What I like (in personal experience) is in fact the interaction of ‘timeless’ time and ordinary time.  It is an essential part of the meaning and pleasure of the event ‘outside’ time that it is transient, ephemeral, clock-devoured. 

Art has a very limited respect for any absolutes besides those of beauty and moral truth.  It laughs at clocks and chronologies; so also, I believe, would an intelligent human society.

Lemons or Lemonade...

Lemonade or Lemons ….

What hand have you been dealt?  Royal Flush or a hand that needs to be flushed?

Should you --- Bluff?  Fold? Quit playing? Keep playing and hope Lady Luck will finally smile on you?

It’s your choice.  CHOICE meaning that YOU have the POWER to decide.  

To employ a cliché (don’t beat me Jonah), the glass is BOTH half empty and half full.  How you perceive it is a choice.   I don’t remember where or when I heard the wisdom:

“You may not be able to control what happens to you,

but you can always, always, always control

how you respond to the external world. 

The internal world is yours.” 

When my world feels out of control, this is the mantra that centers me.  Fortunately, I am a born optimist and absolutely refuse to entertain endless pity parties and so I don’t flounder for very long before I get out the blender ready to make lemonade out of the lemons.

As Jonah expressed, finding the silver lining in a “bad” situation can fill us with euphoria and renew our belief in the rhyme and reason of the universe. “Bad” things happen to everyone, but sinking in the quicksand or grabbing the branch of silver linings is a choice – only you can extend your arm.  

 

 

When I was a child, my parents drug us off to church at least four times a week.   The deacon who was supposed to watch and protect the kids while the parents were out evangelizing spent his time molesting some of us.  His wife was the head of the nursery, where my youngest brother lay in a crib.  He scared me out of telling by threatening to hurt my brother who he had easy access to.  I stayed silent until I was 22.  Bad shit, right?

Upside:  My relationship with my kids.  Sex was a taboo subject growing up.  But, with my kids, sex was an extremely open topic in every way.  I was watchful, but also educated them.   I was always, always, always there for them.  The open and honest conversations we have would mortify my parents, but I am grateful for the relationship we established and continue to have due to my childhood experiences.  It also made me reject the religious carousel of guilt and fear of the big bad dude on a throne that loves you but just might throw you into hell if you don’t accept his “love.”     

Hurricanes.  Is  an upside even possible?  Of course!  Because of the repeated hurricane strikes on Pensacola Beach, my husband designed the Dome of a Home, pictured above.  In 2004, the NBC news crew stayed in it on the front lines of Hurricane Ivan.  The home has been featured on numerous TV shows, elevated public awareness about storm resistant buildings and has generated a design business specializing in environmentally conscious storm resistant homes.

Being held captive for 24 hours and repeatedly raped.  Upside?  Being a survivor of that experience gives me a perspective of appreciation for life and a “don’t sweat the small stuff” attitude.  When anxiety plagues me about, oh let’s say calculus, I remember my resolve that whether I lived or died, I wanted it to be with a peaceful spirit.

In one of my blogs, I really blasted Conchis because he mentally and emotionally tortured Nicholas.  But, after our conversation on Thursday, I now place much of the responsibility on Nicholas’ shoulders.  He could have left.  His responses were his own.  And if he was better for the experience, (experience, not a lesson, as Dr. Sexson clarified) then it is because he chose to be better for the experience.  If he let it destroy him, also his choice.  Now I feel a little ridiculous placing responsibility on a character in a book because the author wrote the plot and the character really has no free will here … but you know what I mean.

One last bit of sharing…

 

On the way home from Costa Rica, a travel agent caused an unnecessary layover of 3 hours.  The plane we were on was heading to Pensacola but we had to get off the plane, wait 3 hours, and catch another flight – even though there was room on the original plane.  My husband was livid, beating on things, yelling at the agent, and acting like a 2 year old.  Thank goodness this was before 9/11 – or I would have had to get him out of jail.

Anyway, we were flying west along the coast into the sunset.   The thunderclouds were climbing to heaven as the sun melted in the sky.  The sky became a canvas of the sun’s penetrating rays outlining the purple giants in gold.  My spirit was awestruck as I witnessed Mother Earth’s display of majesty and wonder.   I was captured, completely embraced by the beauty surrounding me.

Then, we flew into the thunderheads I had been admiring.  Impenetrable gray.  Overwhelming Mist.  Dull.

And then I realized something that transformed me:

If being inside of the gray mist was all I understood, I would have no idea that I was actually a part of the most beautiful scene I have ever witnessed.  Only with perspective would I know that I was actually centered in a majestic, ascending purple cloud embroidered by the sun’s gold. 

I learned that when I look around and see dull, gray mist, to give it a little bit of time.  With some perspective, I may discover I am actually involved in a beautiful, awe-inspiring event.

 

 

Magus Musings

More questions....

Was Conchis a sadist or trying to help Nicholas?

Why would he want to help Nicholas, he didn't have a relationship with him that would preclude wanting to help him or teach him?

Sadistic voyeurism?  Reminds of people that say their God puts them through torturous physical and mental trials to "help" them because He is their Father.

As a parent of a beautiful 27 year old daughter, I can say I have NEVER, nor will EVER put her through any mental or physical machinations to "teach" her a lesson.  What kind of parent would do that?  

As I think more and  more about it, I think Conchis' masques were for his own satisfaction and perverse needs not his "actor's" welfare.  

I just can't imagine any situation where I would do this for someone's good.

But....  I may change my mind yet again as this novel continues to percolate its way through my soul.

The God "Damned" Game

THE GOD”damned”GAME

Cycles of Deep despair.  Soaring hope.  Plunging anger.  Rising anticipation.  Deep despair.  Soaring hope. Plunging anger. Rising anticipation.  Deep despair.  Soaring hope. Plunging anger. Rising anticipation.  Deep despair.  Soaring hope. Plunging anger. Rising anticipation.  Deep despair.  Soaring hope. Plunging anger. Rising anticipation.  Deep despair.  Soaring hope. Plunging anger. Rising anticipation. Deep despair.  Soaring hope. Plunging anger. Rising anticipation.

And finally, Angry Frustration.

I am nauseated with the roller coaster of emotions.  The breadcrumbs of promised “truth” only led me further into the maze.  When can I get off this ride?  Finishing the book is no cure.  I laid my bewildered brain upon my pillow, knowing that a good night’s sleep was not compatible with my subconscious’s need to organize the puzzle pieces of my chaotic psyche.

 I was still lost in the House of Mirrors this morning.  John Fowles’ reach extended from the pages and dragged me into his goddamngame and I have yet to escape.  How had I become trapped by the sadist?   Or should I call him a therapist?  Or a sadistic therapist?   Labels matter not.  I am caught in Conchis’ theatre, unable to discern when the game is at end; unable to grasp whether I have been helped or harmed by gazing into the Looking Glass. 

My reflection in the House of Mirrors splits.  One image seeks to find meaning  in the insanity swirling around me.  The other image seeks the courage to walk away, to recapture the world as I once knew it.  Once shattered, can the illusion ever be reconstructed?  No, the shards of glass will reflect the world I see differently --- the image recognizable, but the broken seams are visible, proof my world has changed.   

At my trial, what character flaws would be revealed?  Would my anger blind me to the truths dispensed?  Would I seek revenge and flog the messenger instead of myself?  Lily de Seitas, the twins’ mother, lived by the code of Honesty and never doing more harm than is necessary.  Honesty is a vital aspect of a healthy relationship.  Isn’t the most important relationship we have is the one we have with ourselves?  Can we be honest with ourselves?  At what cost?  Our fragile self-esteem is at stake.  The image we create of ourselves transforms us --- if that is shattered, what is left?  Can we rebuild a new self when our very foundations have disappeared? 

Conchis and his group of actors claimed to open their "victims" eyes, but yet they do it through deception, lies, and mis-directions.  All so the "victim" can travel the path to the truth of themselves.  Does this work--- teaching truth through lies?

Is our inability to stop the godgame due to our innate nature to participate in a quest?  Once we are aware the "Grail" exists, must we embark on the journey and never stop our quest for the Truth? Why are we here?  Perhaps to seek so we may find?

A quest for knowledge.  A quest for inner peace.  A quest for forgiveness.  A quest for land.  A quest for revenge.  A quest for glory and honor.   A quest for dominance.  A desire for wealth.  A desire for recognition.  A desire for love.    Humanity’s impetus to ask questions compels its desire to seek answers.   Humans engage in innumerable quests for an infinite number of reasons.    Although quest and question have the same Latin root of “quaestus” meaning to seek, a question may imply we simply need an answer to a mundane inquiry, while a quest implies that which we seek has significant personal value.   Regardless of whether the quest is initiated by a group of people or an individual, ultimately a quest is an intimate journey of one.  

 Quests provide opportunities for an individual’s growth.  Even when one country is on a quest to conquer another country, each warrior finds himself struggling with personal dilemmas, as the Illiad eloquently elaborates.  When the explorers who climb Mount Everest or travel across great distances regale us with their tales, it is the mental and spiritual realizations they achieve which alter their perspectives of life.  When a person is on a quest for a cure to his/her disease, it is the spiritual insights gained along the way that many times are paramount to the physical remedies.     The physical and spiritual aspects of a quest are so thoroughly intertwined that once the physical journey is embarked upon, the spiritual facet of the quest begins to transform the traveler.   

For many of us, King Arthur’s search for the Holy Grail embodies and symbolizes the transcendental quest.   Even though the Holy Grail continues to be physically elusive, is the quest considered a failure?  Are we transformed by the act of questing itself or are we only satisfied if the quests are successfully concluded?    Maybe possessing the fortitude to initiate a quest is the achievement, regardless of the outcome.    

In the Life of Pi, Pi’s initial challenge was to be rescued from the vast ocean, but the spiritual storms he survived surpassed the physical tribulations.  Pi spent his days hunting for sustenance, but his true quest was for the meaning of his life.   A tragic ocean voyage reveals the resolve of Pi’s soul as he navigates through a maze of spiritual shadows.  With great wisdom, Pi aptly dissects the demons of fear and dominates his despair.  With his arms and heart open wide, Pi embraces the tempest with wonder and awe as the magnificent storm illuminates the sky and water with deadly lightning.  Hope wells within Pi’s spirit as the sun kisses him in the delicate dawn.  Pi discovered a perspective of the universe that sustained him  as he coped with the vast expanses he traveled physically and spiritually.  While spending 277 days adrift was certainly arduous, the true journey was traveled by Pi’s soul.   Consistently, it seems that the physical odysseys we embark upon can cultivate our spiritual quests. 

Shakespeare’s Prospero is forced to escape with his daughter to an island of exile.  While Prospero acquires a tremendous amount of knowledge during his time there, his spiritual quest is achieved as he forgives his brothers and reunites with his family.   

Odysseus’ quest for home became a long journey fraught with many obstacles.   Perseverance was Odysseus’ greatest attribute.  He simply refused to let circumstances and the gods’ machinations deter him from his goal of reaching home.  We watch him recover from his disastrous egotistical encounter with Cyclops that resulted in many deaths when he courageously entered Circe’s lair to rescue his men.  We see his patience when Athena instructs him to not to immediately reveal himself to Penelope upon his arrival.   As Odysseus shares his stories with his hosts, he frequently refers to his extensive trials and tribulations during his voyages.  Obviously, Odysseus’ physical journeys have served to strengthen his internal fortitude. 

Do quests that originate as spiritual pilgrimages have more impact on our lives than those which begin as physical journeys? 

Like a winding river, quests are fluid and vacillating.   The quests of my youth, filled with shallow needs of wealth and vanity, have revised themselves into quests of knowledge and inner peace.   The circumstances of my life’s adventures have resulted in an adjusting of my priorities from being solely self-focused to encompassing a broader perspective.  When contemplating my quests, I now consider the ripples in my pond --- whose lives am I touching?  --- how am I impacting the world?  --- what are the long term consequences of my decisions?

        

  Interestingly, as I contemplated the events that changed my life the most, I realized with some surprise that they were not initiated by me, but by life’s circumstances.   The discoveries I made about myself during the time I was held captive by an abusive kidnapper could not have been duplicated by routine experiences.  I responded to my psychotic kidnapper with a deliberate calm.  With a peace I could not predict, I accepted life or death, but continued to contrive avenues of escaping alive.   Shockingly, as I tired of his games, I pushed him to decide to kill me immediately, as he threatened, or to release me.   When he told me that I had to die, I accepted the outcome and relaxed, glad my ordeal was finally ending.  However, it was at the last moment when I asked him to please leave some ID with my naked body so my daughter (3 at the time) would know that I had died and had not just abandoned her that he, with great frustration, let me go.  I don’t know why he did or what trigger I tripped, but I am grateful daily that I have been allowed to live.    Whenever life seems overwhelming, I remember those 24 hours and know that I can cope with whatever life throws at me.

  

          Having that confidence has served me well. 

 As the vessels of our spirits, our physical bodies may guide the soul into mysterious labyrinths.  And as the compasses of our physical bodies, our souls may inspire our bodies to travel into new territories.   Whether our first steps are taken with our feet or our hearts, I believe the paths converge to bring our souls into a space of spiritual expansion.  Choosing awe and wonder when we face the storms instead of fear and despair allows us to not only survive, but to thrive. After reading the selected texts this semester, when I hear that “life is a journey” I no longer dismiss it at as an empty cliché.   Life is a journey.  While our paths may cover many miles, it is the passages that our souls travel which impact the world most significantly.   

I realize I am not really saying anything, only asking questions.  But, it is all I have right now.  And isn’t it the questions that keep us alive, not the answers?

THE MAGUS

 

THE MAGUS

EXHAUSTED.  FRUSTRATED.  OVERWHELMED.  ANGRY. 

SURPRISED.  INTRIGRUED.  ELATED.  DEPRESSED.  HAUNTED. 

Ma·gus   [mey-guhs]

1.  a magician, sorcerer, or astrologer.

2.  The nauseousness from being whipped around too long on a roller coaster.

3.  The frustrating fear of being lost in a maze of mirrors at the House of Horrors. 

4.  Mental maze of insanity

5.  Emotional torture

 I just finished the book. 

My shocked revulsion and voyeuristic curiosity are at war with each other.  Am I repulsed or awed? 

I don’t know what to say or to write --- which makes sense --- because you don’t know what you think until you write it.  I can’t write it because I don’t know what I think.  I am exhausted and speechless. 

I wanted to write my blog tonight, but I just cannot put any coherent thoughts together.  Hopefully, a night’s sleep will help me organize my response to The Magus.  The dreams are sure to be interesting.



I was startled when I read... (Class texts)

I was startled when I read….

THE SECULAR SCRIPTURE, page 35:

“In the context of process, the form becomes something more like the shaping spirit,

the power of ordering which seems so mysterious to the poet himself, because it

 often acts as though it were an identity separate from him.”

Occasionally I possess the courage to dig out my dusty journals and crack open the covers of emotions and ramblings of the ghost I used to be.   Entries of wisdom and insight always startle me and for a brief moment I wonder, “Who wrote in my journal?”  Recovering, my next question is, “Who used my body to write this?”  Most often these entries were written during times of meditation and contemplation.  I was relieved to read that I am not alone in feeling like the writer is an identity separate from myself.

THE SECULAR SCRIPTURE, page 60-61

“If there is no sense that the mythological universe is a human creation,

man can never get free of servile anxieties and superstitions, never surpass himself.

But, if there is no sense that it is also something uncreated, something coming from elsewhere,

man remains a narcissus staring at his own reflection, equally unable to surpass himself.

 Created and revealed scripture have to keep fighting each other

and through the maintain of this struggle, the suspension of belief

between spiritually real and humanly imaginative that our mental evolution grows.

The improbable, desiring, erotic and violent world of romance

reminds us that we are not awake when we have abolished the dream world: 

we are awake only when we have absorbed it again.

These passages are haunting me.  I am still nurturing the seed they planted, my thoughts are in a gestation stage and I am currently unable to write intelligently about them.  But, I am certainly startled by them.

THE MAGUS, page 19

After Nicholas’ parents die in a plane crash he states,

“After the first shock I felt an almost immediate sense of relief, of freedom. 

 …. I now had no family to trammel what I regarded as my real self.

What a burden expectations can be --- so heavy that our true selves become distorted under the weight of what others need and want us to be.  Having the courage to say, “No, I must be myself,” means one is willing to brave the potential loneliness and isolation from those who do not approve.  Even now, if my parents truly understood who I am and what I believe they would die of mortification.  I wonder what rollercoaster my emotions will ride once they pass on.  If their version of heaven is accurate and they can see me from their heavenly clouds, they will either disown me or come down and haunt me.

THE MAGUS, pages 21, 355

I was filled with excitement, a strange exuberant sense of taking wing.  I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew what I needed.  …I needed a new mystery.

I felt a near-absolute happiness, a being poised, not sure how all this would turn out, but also not wanting to know, totally identified with the moment.

The electricity in the air, the “knowing” that something is on the verge of manifesting, the thrill of anticipation.  Do you ever have days where your spirit is light, laughter is easy, and the joy permeates from you very pores --- and you have no idea why?  I’ve often wondered why inexplicable emotions exist.  Is it the emotions from our “other selves” from the multiple universes bleeding through the membrane?  Are we psychic and intuitively know the stars and planets are aligned correctly for us?  I don’t know, but I love those days when the atmosphere around me vibrates in excitement. 

THE MAGUS, pages 111-112

Something had been waiting there all my life.  I stood there and I knew who waited, who expected. 

 It was myself. 

It was like a dream. 

I had been walking towards a closed door, and by a sudden magic its impenetrable wood became glass, through which I saw myself coming from the other direction, the future. 

I knew I must live here. 

It was only here that my past would merge into my future. 

There comes a time in each life like a point of fulcrum. 

At that time you must accept yourself.  

It is not any more what you will become. 

It is what you are and always will be. 

You are too young to know this.  You are still becoming.  Not being.

Only the few recognize this moment.  And act on it.

 What compels us to make the decisions we make?  Sometimes what seems to be a menial decision can lead to life changing events.  But how do we know this will occur?  What is gut instinct?  And what invisible force urges us to explore one path instead of another path?  Divine intervention or pure luck?  Guidance or happenstance? 

To be continued…..