Cowboy in Paris

The Birthday Gift ... October 28th

David Pitt — 2008-11-12T10:15:23+00:00

Did she conspire with Cynthia Mills, the author of Missing, Believed Killed, who quoted the poem, and it alone, on the frontispiece of her book? Did she collude with Mary Elizabeth Coleridge the poet who wrote the haunting lines? Did she know I would buy that book and read those lines on my first Birthday without her? Perhaps, perhaps not! No matter. I thank my Minou for her gift – and I thank Cynthia Mills and Mary Elizabeth Coleridge for their part.

Whether I live or whether I die,
Whatever the worlds I see,
I shall come to you by-and-by,
And you will come to me.

Whosoever was foolish, we were wise,
We crossed the boundary line,
I saw my soul look out of your eyes,
You saw your soul in mine.

Caveats

David Pitt — 2008-11-12T09:31:41+00:00

A couple of caveats. The list is not nearly complete, but I do believe it is representative. What it does contain is a thread. From Cusanus to Witten – often with arguably the representative genius of each century pointing in a line to the future. I am not wise enough to understand each, or any, of these geniuses completely – parts perhaps, sometimes even outlines, but no more. From the beginning let it be known that it is only a portion of each man that is my concern here. It is the thread, and more importantly the quiver and the quaver of that strand, that is central for me. The vibrations of the string, as it were. It’s not the same string, but it is a string.

To be sure we could have included Galileo, Newton, Hegel, Heisenberg, or Hawking. Or, in fact, any of a host of others. Gone backward to Aristotle or given more emphasis to the current cutting edge. When you consider what happens between Big Bangs, specifics pale in comparison. What does or doesn’t get included is relatively unimportant. Five hundred years, five thousand, five hundred thousand – a blink. And mine may be only one of a trillion possible scenarios, but it is at least in a line. The thread is everything and nothing.

December 2007 / Opposites Aren’t (2) / Caveats / 809 / Physics / Best / AFW, Pg. 11, � 2007 / CIP Nov 2008 / OAR

Possible Progress

David Pitt — 2008-11-12T08:00:27+00:00

On a more global scale progress is at minimum arguable, and from many points of view essentially non existent. Except in a few areas quality has plummeted. The concept of built in obsolescence is now the principle; and, except sometimes for appearance, design is obsolete. Education each decade aims for a lower and lower common denominator, standards slip and personal responsibility is getting very close to extinction. There is in fact more and more of less and less. The quantity is there, but the quality is not . Nothing lasts. The saddest part is that nothing lasts by design. The cookie cutter won.

Certainly there is a little bit of overstatement there. Automobiles do seem to be safer and better built than in the good old days. Medicine has certainly made strides in some areas. Computers have as many benefits as drawbacks, and definitely they are faster. Still technology promises everything and delivers plastic. If we survive another hundred years of progress, we’ll probably know then that plastic causes cancer.

October 2007 / (pp paragraphs) Possible Progress / 804 / Perspectives / Mixed / AFW, 804, � 2007 / CIP Nov 2008, par. 3 & 4 / SHE

Are They or Aren�t They

David Pitt — 2008-11-12T07:35:30+00:00

All religions, after their founder, are run by mortal men with human fallibilities. They may be closer to God than you or I, but they are not God. They must, as all humans must, play the odds. They cannot be certain they are right, even if they think they are. Even if they think they are right all the way up to a certitude – it’s still the feeling, not the being. Even if the vast majority of people on earth think they are right, it is still not enough. Only God knows.

If he, or she, or it, were the Second Coming possibly it could be God. Or the First could be God in any, or some, or all of its incarnations. Or the Second Coming could be on Pluto. There are lots of possibilities. Possibly even some probabilities, but there is no certainty. Only God knows - at least between singularities.

This could be the difference between finite and infinite. The difference between right and wrong. The difference between 0 and 1. It could also be the difference between a point particle and a string. The fuzzy math. It could be where Cusanus pointed and Witten wants to go. It could be all, or nothing. Most likely it is in between. No matter – I think, but I do not know, that Opposites Aren’t.

Opposites Aren’t (3) December 23, 2007 / Are They or Aren’t They / 814 / Physics / Best / AFW, Pg. 15, � 2007 / CIP Nov. 2008 / OAR

Just Call it Placro

David Pitt — 2008-11-12T06:41:01+00:00

It appears to me the beginning and the end, like Absolute Love and Absolute Hate, are identical. Only the PBU knows for sure and it doesn’t have to deal with fuzzy math.

Physicists are now hearing the music they just need to learn to dance.

Under absolute extreme conditions the hottest hot and absolute zero, like the speed of light and the speed of stop, merge. Opposites aren’t, or at most they are a Planck length apart.

Visualize the shimmering beauty of two strings intertwined that are now as long as the expanding universe’s circumference. Perhaps they contain the molecular code of everything, and they started out as a Planck length loop twisted at the junctures of placro, micro, macro, and, (on the last day, or should I say first day), placro again. The X Factor of Universal DNA writ large. Ah, to be sure there is nothing but fuzzy math now, no confirming experiments, and only a few vague hints of the possibility of a Unified Theory of Everything. A brane, a brain, or a drain away?

Picture a full moon at dawn. It’s still bright enough to shine luminously through the stray thin clouds, wafting on their way and occasionally drifting in front – let’s say its very close to perihelion. It was. Watch the light. It can almost pulse, but the dance is with the clouds. Finally, 99.9999% of the way to your eyes, a thin layer obstructs. That is the beauty of a photon and you.

More Musings (4) / 815 / Just Call it Placro / Physics / Best / FF 77 / AFW, Pg. 16, � 2007 / CIP Nov. 2008 / OAR

August 1, 2008 / The Fives � 5 Years, 5 Months, 5 Days

David Pitt — 2008-10-13T07:41:23+00:00

The first five years were heaven, the next five months were hell, and the last five days I found peace. That is my France in a nutshell.

Aix-les-Bains is the heartland of France – so are Provence and Amiens, Avignon and Annecey. But Aix-les-Bains is my heartland in France – just as the Sierra Nevada and Yosemite are my heartland in America. The geography is the same, the people similar. The milieu and pace measured. The ambiance and values are solid. It is a world which I can understand. It is a world where it is relatively safe to raise your children and send them forth.

There is greenness and there is golf. There are tourists and travails, but mostly there is the land and the love of the things on it. The people who are your neighbors, and the trees who are your air. The birds which are your song, and the stars you can actually see. These are the things that endure from season to season and give substance to life.

This is France and this is America. This is the world as it should be – much more so than Paris and New York. This is my world and the France Minou often shared with me.

13/10/2008 / August 1, 2008 / The Fives – 5 Years, 5 Months, 5 Days / Minou / Mixed / AFW, 736, � 2008 / CIP Oct 13 / SHE

February 21, 2008 / Thirty Something Hours / Four

David Pitt — 2008-10-13T07:39:34+00:00

Together her daughter and I managed till 10:00, and then she had to leave. I was afraid, deeply afraid. Minutes later the doctor came. Not the oncologist but the real caregiver, her own doctor. He had been here for her for years, and now lately had been coming almost weekly for months. He knew the score. Still I had him review my notes just to be sure. Her wishes were still paramount for me. Quietly and competently he helped her and went on his way. The die was cast. He knew the score. The steep descent had begun. I was petrified. I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was no longer physically capable of doing the only job I was born to do. It is in that moment that a man becomes useless. That is when he breaks. At least an hour loomed, perhaps an hour and a half. Could I bridge the gap?

Minutes later the fateful rattle again. Of course I went to her, but I wasn’t there. I was just playing for time. She wanted and she needed to get out of that horrible cage. No soul should be so bound, certainly not a hummingbird. I pleaded, “Wait, your dearest friend is coming”. She paused, she quieted for a moment, she may have even smiled but she couldn’t wait. She started to climb. “Wait! Wait!! I’ll call, I’ll call right now!” She paused. I ran for the phone. I ran back. I tried desperately to call. No answer. The minutes dragged and passed, each one an eon. I called again and again. Slowly I fell apart but held on till the instant her friend got there. Then I bolted.

Ten minutes later I returned, but I knew I was broken. Thankfully she had taken over, the storm had passed, a token of calm returned. I thanked God for best friends. I showed her my notes and set off to the pharmacy one last time. When I came back with the doctor’s last prescription I told her I had to rest. She took command. She was an angel. I went upstairs and lay down. A couple of hours passed. I came back down and she told me she had conferred with the doctor and the ambulance would come at 9:00 AM the next morning. Instantly I knew it was the end. I went upstairs to prepare. I never saw my sweetheart alive again. I never even kissed her goodbye. I had held her hand tightly for ten years, but I couldn’t even kiss her goodbye. Because no one else knew it was over yet. Certainly I did, and maybe her doctor, and her best friend. I knew, and it was dawning on them. Her best friend was the best friend any person ever had. She saved the last precious day. Her thirty hours were beginning. Mine soon would. They weren’t congruent, they weren’t similar, but they overlapped.

Here two stories split. My sweetheart started an ascent to peace. I started a descent into darkness.

13/10/2008 / February 22, 2008 / Thirty Something Hours (4) / Minou / Mixed / AFW, 740, / CIP / SHE

November 2007 / Opposites Aren�t

David Pitt — 2008-10-13T07:34:40+00:00

Let’s say she is an atom. Okay, no, perhaps a particle. Let’s say she is God – whatever you conceive her to be. Jesus, Buddha, Muhammad, Indira Gandhi, Princess Di or Alan Greenspan, if any of those are your favorite. Or, if you choose, a rock, a bear, a genome, an atom, a particle, Pluto or the universe. Everything or nothing – all Gods will work.

A God who can create herself in your own image, as well as in his own image, would indeed be omnipotent. This is a God we can all believe in, even if we are a stone. A God who was here from the very first particle, and will be here as long as there is a here, here. A God who is inherent in the first article, and has been created anew with each succeeding particle. A thing that replicates itself forever. A particle that embodies the actualization that opposites aren’t. A particle that morphs and recombines in an infinite variety. A cell that grows and mutates and bursts. An ‘it’ that contains everything and nothing. The concept and the presence.

Such a presence could play word games as though it were child’s play. ‘A’ for ‘the’, it for he or she, God for particle, and on forever. Periods and commas might, or might not, count. I deeply don’t think I am such a God, but in my fingernail there might be a particle that does. Indeed any or all of my particles might. Who knows? Perhaps all particles know. Even the shadow’s.

Sometimes it feels like God not only has the ability, but delights in the ability, to present H.self in the guise that you are most comfortable accepting. Either he understands or she is the herd. He might present as black or white here, on Mars as red, and on the moon she might be cheese. Certainly it’s multilingual, multi musical and an artist. It would appear he had faith in many faiths. Let’s just call it PBU for short. The Power Beyond Us.

Now – to the meat of the matter. Opposites aren’t. The furthest far is right next door. The hottest hot is deeply frozen. Good and evil coexist in a particular fashion. Perhaps, as knowledge becomes more nearly clear; at the instant the universe is at its furthest most reaches; when it arrives at its coldest cold; and becomes a true circle – we have the singularity. Reverse deflationary contraction producing virtually instantaneously the hottest hot and nearest near. The universe is reduced to a vibrating Planck length. Opposites aren’t. PBU is reborn, unbeknownst to all but H.self for untold millenniums. From Nicolas of Cusa to Edward Witten an unbroken thread: Nicholas of Cusa (1401-64); Giordano Bruno (1548-1600); Blaise Pascal (1623-62); Immanual Kant (1724-1804); Albert Einstein (1879-1955); Edward Witten (1951-); Beyond. Dare I say full circle. Just a flicker of an eyelash before good and evil begin again.

13/10/2008 / November 2007 / Opposites Aren’t / Physics / Best / AFW, 805, � 2007 / CIP / OAR

December 2007 / Nicholas Cusanus / 1401-1464

David Pitt — 2008-10-13T07:31:17+00:00

Before Copernicus he had the concept of the earth’s rotation, and it wasn’t even circular. Before Gregory he conceived the Gregorian Calendar. Before Witten the stutter of the infinite. Before me the notion that opposites aren’t. We start with Nicholas Cusanus.

I never knew him. Until very recently (December 2, 2007 to be exact) I couldn’t have told you that he even existed. Strangely, I had read of him just months before, but his name hadn’t registered. I’m fairly sure I came across him in the Dark Ages of my youth at UCLA, but I don’t remember. And yet it seems that I have been stealing his thunder. Many of his ideas live in me. A distant echo, 500 years later. Distorted and different, but still reflective DNA. His lines are easily traceable to tomorrow. His name is spelled quite differently in Latin, German, English, and/or French. Nicolas of Cusa, Nicholaus Cusanus, Nicholas of Kues, Cusa, or Cusas – all the same man and he has frequently been called the First Modern Man.

Certain elements of his thought I want to dwell on. Cusanus was extremely advanced in mathematics and physical science for his Age. His concept of the cosmos – rotation in a then static world was close to revolutionary. Centers and circumferences were primary to him. His notions of infinity pronounced. Absolute maximums and absolute minimums were the beginning and the end. Ignorance and knowledge everything. All very modern. And yet he was a Cardinal, a Papal Legate and a man of God.

It is not my intention to go into major detail here. For that you would need to read De Docta Ignorantia (Of Learned Ignorance, 1440). There you could get a feel for the incomprehensible incomprehensibility, and an understanding of his view that opposites coincide. Perhaps a little easier would be to read Jasper Hopkins of the University of Minnesota, probably the foremost expert on Cusanus in the English language. You could consult The American Cusanus Society (Thomas Izbickie, John Hopkins University). However, opinions vary across the board, and most of the real scholarship is in German, Latin or French, in that order. Our purpose here is just to pick up on mostly what others picked up on. They carried it forward into the succeeding centuries. Here the role of Giordano Bruno is critical.

13/10/2008 / December 2007 / Nicholas Cusanus / 1401-1464 / Physics / Best / AFW, 810, � 2007 / CIP / OAR

December 2007 / Giordano Bruno / 1548-1600

David Pitt — 2008-10-13T07:28:52+00:00

He was a poet, a rebel a mystic, and a man of science. Most of all, for us and our purposes here, he was a conduit, a transition between centuries. Still he deserves our attention if only for his bravery. He dabbled, as most of humanity since him has dabbled, in danger. It has become exciting, and now usually harmless, to pretend we are brave. For him it was exciting and extremely dangerous. He was burned at the stake. He paid the price with grace. Somehow, now we believe we are courageous when we are the herd. He was courageous and a martyr when it mattered. He led that which now has became a stampede. Giordano Bruno was a free thinker before it was free.

There was some irony there. A strange coincidence. It was the very force of opposites that kept Cusanus alive after he died. The Bruno bridge served as the connector of the Fifteenth Century to the Seventeenth. Were it not for that bridge Cusanus might well have been forgotten almost completely by succeeding centuries. Gradually it became less and less fashionable to consider church scholarship as worthy of scientific recognition or even acknowledgement. Today Cusanus would probably be almost unknown and buried deeply in the dusty archives below the Vatican. He was saved only by the championship of Giordano Bruno. On the scientific side Bruno was chiefly inspired by Cusanus and Copernicus, and then he was burned at the stake. Delicious irony. The ebb and flow of contradictions assured Cusanus of an afterlife. It was the martyrdom of Bruno that made Bruno a hero to the Renaissance. And heroes of heroes live on. A coincidence, or an opposite, or both? The PBU works in wondrous ways. A bridge too far.

Some say that Bruno’s science was mostly derivative, and that in fact he didn’t know much astronomy. Certainly he was strongly influenced by Nicolaus Copernicus and Nicolaus Cusanus. He believed in an infinite universe with a plurality of worlds whose center was everywhere and circumference nowhere. He was often associated with Neo-Platonism, the Hermetic tradition, pantheism, and heliocentric ideas, but probably his most original work was in the area of mnemonics, semantics, and mystical concepts. His De Umbras Idearum (The Shadow of Ideas) had echoes of Cusanus shadows of truth.

With his works indexed, and he himself burned at the stake for heresy and blasphemy, he quickly became the Forgotten Philosopher. Slowly though, as is often the case with martyrs, his star ascended. Like his compatriot and contemporary, the outlaw artist Carvaggio, the condemned Bruno rose from the ashes largely due to similar streaks of independence. Bruno is said to have had a fairly strong influence on Baruch Spinoza and Gottfried Leibniz, and much later on James Joyce. Fairly heavy company for being forgotten.

13/10/2008 / December 2007 / Giordano Bruno / 1548-1600 / Physics / Best / AFW, 811, � 2007 / CIP / OAR