Sunday, May 31, 2020

race memory


Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Resonance

Resonance is the voice of the universe.

It manifests in specific kinds of interfaces that we see inside brains but also on trees in the fall: the dendritic arbor. That an oak tree and a Purkinje cell resemble each other structurally points to an affordance manifestly available within the universe between a frequency domain and a space-time domain, an interface between energy and matter.

A tree's arbor reflects two specific demands flowing through a material affordance. The first is a demand for surface area, a surface area for catching as many photons as a tree's chloroplasts can to sustain the process of photosynthesis. The second, diffusion reflects the need for a tree to exchange water and oxygen with the world while fixing carbon in a sugar used to feed cell functions. These happen in a fluid/gas exchange system whereby maximal conditions of diffusion can occur. This will allow the ready and least inefficient exchange of needed molecules to sustain the life processes occurring at the cellular level of a tree.

In the arbor we see a specific interface: one for maximizing the interaction of photons with photosensitive bodies. The color of a leaf reflects a specific frequency attunement to the wavelength of light to sustain the type of photon-chlorophyll interaction that maximizes interactions between the two. In other words, a tree has positioned a chloroplast both in space but also in time to be along the wave path of light as it is occurring during the sun's path across the earth.

The brain reflects a very similar construct based on the same kinds of affordances. Except in the absence of the need to capture photons this dendritic arbor becomes an interface between the frequency domain and the space time domain to both establish gnosis and model it as a hologram of interference patterns. The hologram is knowledge. The hologram is an interference pattern. This interference pattern contains the information of a three-dimensional world, one organized around light sensitive organs for sight. It is this evolutionary length interaction between light and matter, which give rise to the same dendritic arbors.

The interface between frequency and space-time is a crown of life processes, molecular diffusion, matter-energy interactions, resonance. We think of resonance in everyday phenomena as the characteristic sound or hum when a sound resonates off an object, causing a hum or a vibration to manifest momentarily. This is the building block of a gnosissphere, that in the universe, the interaction between energy and matter is the basis of a will to self knowledge within that universe. The purposeful integration of matter to capture some aspect of this resonance to create energy for cells or to form a working interface between the frequency domain and space-time domain for the sake of a kind of sentient reconstruction of the world around a life form is a foundational feature of life, of knowledge, of sentience.

Resonance is the voice of the universe. A dendritic arbor is the resonance pattern manifesting within space-time. It is the space-time interface with the frequency domain. The twain form the basis of self-knowledge in this universe.

Thursday, May 14, 2020

A Cronenberg Dream: 05/14/2020

The dream starts out in a school. The school is reminiscent of a religious school in my old hometown. The place is empty, dark. It could be after hours but I don't remember. I don't recall, but something seems to have occurred, something that makes me want to leave the place and go looking for something from my past.

I drive out on some back roads, and out, in a very tree-lined area I return to someone's home. And the neighbor is crying about 'Corewood.' I look down and I see a bone-shaped plate with the name 'Corewood' written on it on a back porch of a house that is also clearly abandoned. The neighbor, a woman next door is weeping and reminiscing about the dog, named 'Corewood.' I don't recall if this is in reference to an immediate past or something months, years, decades ago. The plate shows wear. I get in my car and drive on.

I drive down the road and the landscape has changed. People are missing. The rituals have changed. I feel beset by a change that I cannot control, a change that has taken all the people I know and all the familiar landmarks in a day from me. Whole towns are missing. Nothing looks familiar. I know that I am driving along familiar roads, except the buildings are completely gone. In their place are fields upon fields, some of which are growing these large plants reminiscent of little shop of horrors, their blooms, reaching out Aubrey-like into the sky. On one side of the road is what resembles ocean. Only it's not ocean. It shimmers an odd blue, and one can make out definition in the undulations that maybe it's a kind of plant, like countless heavy blades of grass of an odd color and rough shape with a shimmery, shiny element to this among it. I drive on.

I drive up a road that dead-ends at a building that is also abandoned. Everywhere I drive is abandoned. Next, I am in a movie theater, and this place is anything but abandoned. It's packed nearly to capacity. The movie is on, but enough light persists out the back of the theater that I can see where I am and that nearly every seat is filled. I am at the back right of the theater with regard to its screen. I overhear some talk about someone coming to bring something. I move from my seat near the back of an otherwise packed movie theater. I am surrounded by kids no more than 12, no less than 10-years old. A blonde kid with shoulder-length straight hair asks if he can sit next to me. I say, 'ok.' He hands me a small pistol and asks me, 'Do you want this?' I say 'Ok.' He continues that 'I don't know, they tell me to carry this.' I am unsure who they is or if he's even on my side. I check the gun's safety switch as the boy indicates that guns are dangerous. I stick this small gun in the back right pocket of my pants.

I get up and squat behind the rear seats in a void with my back against the theater wall. Two people, a man and woman, are standing near the entrance talking. A man comes up the aisle, older, long brown hair, reminding me of a table-top gamer. He's wearing a duster. He goes to take a seat, then he gets up and proceeds to the back where I am and sets down a small, flat triangular box with rounded corners. He asks, 'Is this pointing at you, Jason?' I tell him that it is. Then he proceeds to sit down where I had been sitting. I get up and duck around the corner of the entrance to the theater and watch as the box begins to project a barely visible light against the wall at about the height where my face was as I squatted back there. Suddenly, a long, pale, intestine-like worm begins to emerge from the box. I shoot frantically at the box, but none of my shots hit the worm-snake-intestine creature. It slithers through the wall at the side of the theater into an adjacent, also-filled theater. I run after it, and being screaming 'worm!' 'worm!' then change my plea to 'snake!' 'snake!' and I run to the front of the theater and see the creature moving along the front wall. I aim my gun to shoot the creature but it's now empty. The creature slithers away through the next wall.

I wake up.

Sunday, May 3, 2020

Approaching an unknown

The start of any good approach to an unknown is to divide it into fourths and handle known variables as x and y values based upon allowing a number to represent a quantity and to have that quantity placed at a corresponding distance from a zero point along a numbered line.

This quadrant approach itself can be proprioceptive, meaning that our own sense of our body's orientation in space serve in a translational logic where the x axis serves as a left and right, the y axis determines up and down, and 0,0 becomes the center, the mind's I. But I think that concedes too much, so let's forget it.

The quadrant approach allows known, defined, and seemingly related variables to define an imaginary space, which lets the distance between intersecting variables also to represent meaningful difference.

The quadrant approach also demonstrates a shape, which contains a dialectic. The x and y axes and their corresponding 0 positions serve as both a visual and mathematical division of what are presumably 'quantities' of phenomena into characteristically different 'units' of phenomena, that is 'things with different names' More importantly, as they're placed along a continuum their common numerical property reveal a central definition of a dialectic--that is, two objects defined by their difference from one another.

Now, the nature of differences vary. And handling phenomena as numerical quantities may suggest that an architectonic feature of varying quantities of sameness and difference may 'saturate' or 'dilute' an entity, making it one of many objects or their transitional artifacts.