Free Will?

There’s an interesting article sitting in the Wall Street Journal. Here’s a small quote:

“The brain, they have found, appears to make up its mind 10 seconds before we become conscious of a decision — an eternity at the speed of thought.

Their findings challenge conventional notions of choice.

“We think our decisions are conscious,” said neuroscientist John-Dylan Haynes at the Bernstein Center for Computational Neuroscience in Berlin, who is pioneering this research. “But these data show that consciousness is just the tip of the iceberg. This doesn’t rule out free will, but it does make it implausible.”"

And here’s a LINK to the article.

I don’t know enough (yet?) about brain vs mind and scientific studies of consciousness .. but it seems to me that they’re putting much too much faith in the physical cells of the body as the ultimate determiner of thought, awareness, consciousness, etc.

I would wonder how the experiment would change if they tested people who are older and more in touch with themselves and their thought processes … if they were to test monks or meditators … or scientists who studied consciousness themselves.

I’ve considered the theory that the physical brain is some kind of receiver that resonates with the mind, which is a field – electromagnetic? something we don’t yet have the ability to determine? – I like that theory. I know that’s often how I feel when I’m thinking … I don’t so much create somthing new as uncover things that appear to be already there. Often its an “oh yeah!” kind of experience. Which is different than learning which is more of an “oh cool!” kind of experience. I know, not very scientific …

I remember discussing this with a friend, neuro-scientist David LaBerge who studies apical dendrites and consciousness, one evening after a good dinner with he and his wife Jan – and he didn’t dismiss my thoughts in our conversation.

Metaphor

I love metaphors … I think I love them to the point of occasionally annoying others, but hey, that’s their issue, not mine. Anyway….

Over the past two days I’ve been thinking about a situation that has me … not confused, but … puzzled. I’ve been gnawing on it, here and there, trying to follow the thread of understanding, trying to get to the heart of it.

Yesterday, I was tidying up the apartment. Things had suddenly scattered all over the place – books, folders, papers, guitar and music, knitting, pottery, blankets. In a tiny little place that kind of disarray can feel a bit overwhelming. As I put things back in their places, for the moment, I found a knitting project I’d been working on, and then ripped out because I just didn’t like the pattern. When I tried to roll the yarn back into its original ball, it got tangled up. Weeks ago.

I sat down on the couch and began to slowly and patiently untangle it. I got all excited as the threads smoothed out under my fingers, I thought it would be a great metaphor for this situation I’ve puzzling over and trying to untangle in my mind. I’d come to some kind of understanding of it earlier – and how cool it would be write about untangling the yarn and untangling the puzzle.

Oh well. Sometimes not even metaphors work out for you. I got to a place where the threads of the yarn were hopeless entangled. There was absolutely no way that I was going to be able to untangle them. If I wanted to reuse the yarn for another project I was going to have to bite the bullet and cut it. I’ll tell you – that was not the metaphor I was looking for to resolve this situation.

So … I cut the yarn. I sorted out the threads, tied a knot and rolled up the ball into a state of readiness. When I do create something else with it … it won’t be perfectly smooth. It’ll be lumpy and bumpy and .. well .. I guess I get my metaphor anyway – it’ll be a lot like life – not perfect, but, good enough.

Cows

Glass

For those of you interested in scientific puzzles – there’s a fascinating article in today’s NYT about glass.  Click HERE for the article.

Elvis

I think I love songs about Elvis more than I love Elvis. I know, that’s stepping into dangerous territory – making that admission. But, I live to take risks. I’ve dated many men who wished they could be Elvis reincarnated – and I have fond memories of watching them ‘perform’ while giggling madly. Ah, to be young.

Last night I headed over to the Silver Dollar Saloon with Jana to see the Red Elvises. I haven’t been to see a band in a bar since … well … since I sang in bars in college. They tout themselves as “Kick Ass Siberian Surfer Rock”. They are nothing, if not fun.

Here’s a quote from the Tucson weekly that captures some of the experience:

“If you saw the swingingest and cheesiest band this side of the Caspian Sea recently at Plush, the Rockabilly Russians (and one dude from Minnesota) elevated their pajama-clad act with Chuck Berry (via Marty McFly) guitar riffs, the only four-person drum solo I’ve ever seen, near-perfect sound, singalong lyrics, an ICBM-sized bass guitar, and the slinkiest, sassiest female keyboard/accordion soloist to ever strut the stage in a gold cutaway mini-dress.

“In a heavy Russian accent, bass player Oleg Bernov sang, “We gonna rock this joint until we sound like Pink Floyd.” And rock they did, complete with a bar-length conga line and one of four encores featuring female volunteers (and one male) joining the band on stage to answer the musical call, “I Want To See You Belly Dance.”

Yes… we had the conga line … we had the drunken young women up on the stage attempting to belly dance .. we had the laughter … we had couples fighting in corners … we had the men ogling the keyboardist … there were two beautiful young couples just in front of me and oh, could they dance!

My friend Dan had the best seat in the house, just behind the slinkiest, sassiest female keyboard/accordian soloist. Last night her costume was impeccable and exposed everything … and nothing – he saw what the rest of the audience – dancing their hearts out – missed.

KaBoom

Just as I was winding down and thinking of sleep, the sound of fireworks called me out to the porch. I had an amazing spectacle right above the nearby synagogue and so I sat out on the stairs and watched and was, like when I was a child, awed and delighted.

It was even more fun since there was a little trio of young’uns sitting in the alley below me with their mouths open, also in awe and delight.

There’s nothing like a great fireworks show to end a motorcylce/stunt show/racing celebration – especially in the city of Butte where fireworks are clearly a hobby for many of my uptown neighbors. KaBoom.

It’s finally cool out .. the temperature has dropped from close to 90 down to 70 and is supposed to drop at least another 20 degrees overnight before leaping back up again tomorrow. I spent an unusually quiet day – at home, reading, writing, thinking. It was a nice change from all the happy scurrying about that I usually do.

It was cool enough by sun set to walk out – and so I did. The trails were deserted and I enjoyed the continued quiet.

Oh .. and I promise this is the last onomatopoeia that I’ll use for a while.

Vrooom Vroooom

Didja ever hear of Spanky Spangler? He’s a stunt performer. This evening I walked over with Jana and Jim to watch him drive a bright yellow Buick at 70ish mph up a ramp and into a bus standing on end – the bus was set on fire at the moment that he got to the ramp and he rammed into that bus and knocked it over, along with the second bus behind it. You can watch it in the video section of the Montana Standard.

I guess this is the sort of thing you watch at least once in your lifetime. I talked with Rose earlier and asked if she could imagine sitting around with her girlfriends planning something like this. She replied that they would plan something much more elaborate. With blueprints. Fair enough … it probably would have gone over much better. Spanky did slip off the side of the ramp and I don’t think it went entirely according to plan, though he did walk away just fine.

Like I told y’all yesterday, I did plan on visiting the ongoing spectacle of Evel Knieval Days, and so I did. I saw the Wall of Death .. and the Globe of Death … and the SuperBike stunt riders .. I watched the motorcycle parade pass by at Park and Montana, and oh, best of all – the crowd.

This evening, as I walked through the crowded streets with Jana and Jim, we chatted .. well, we yelled toward one another … about how each of the festivals in Butte bring out entirely different crowds. I’ll tell you, I didn’t see any of my friends in the crowd except for Corey and Justin, and it looked like they were headed away. But oh, how colorful! All the leather, and the tough guys and gals, and the revving motorcycles, and the flowing beer and flaming burgers on street corners.

And, after a short while, enough was enough. I walked back through town and headed west to Tech to walk the trail and, as I mentioned yesterday, I appreciated the silence and the moments of solitude. I fell in love again with the pink tinged Pintlers and the Madonna-lit East Ridge, with the grasses swaying in the wind, and the trees with their clattering leaves, with the small birds darting past me as darkness fell at my feet.

Vrooom

You haven’t lived until youv’e experienced the Wall of Death, the Globe of Death, and the Evel Knievel wax figure from Madame Tussand. I will admit, pretty freely, that I haven’t yet lived … but oh, I will.

Today was the first of the three day Evel Knievel Days festival in Butte. I’ll admit, I was busy with other things .. though I did wander through the family area on Park Street, mostly because I forgot today was the first day, and I couldn’t figure out why I saw a pony up on Park Street while I was walking along Galena heading for my morning coffee.

I’ll also admit to feeling creeped out by the large crowds of children. I’m pretty sure I won’t ever wind up as an elementary school teacher. Ever. I did okay raising one … and I did sorta okay with her friends .. but after that, well, I understand the need to reproduce the species and integrate the critters into adult society, but I’d rather not be a part of it.

Tomorrow, I’m gonna live. I’m gonna head over the watch those crazy bastards defy death by wall and by globe, and the Cossacks Drill Team (I heard them described as Shriners on motorcyles .. and I don’t even know what that could possibly mean!), and the stunt show, and the freestyle show. I’m gonna come away with some pretty deep appreciations, I’m sure.

Silence. I don’t doubt I’m gonna walk away with a deeper appreciation for silence. My evening walk will surely be enhanced by the day’s activities. Solitude. I know that I’m gonna appreciate my access to solitude also.

I’m also sure I’m gonna walk away with an appreciation for the skills that I see, for the passion that they have for their chosen hobby, and a lot of good stories to share.

Be Ready

Early this morning I sat on the couch enjoying a mug of green tea, the breeze shifting the sage green curtains, and the shadows from the trees and wires creating patterns on the floor. I heard a chirp close by and there was a sharp, clear shadow of one of the small birds that enliven this street. It was perched on a wire and I could see its body tremble in the shadow as it peeped and chirped and called out to its kind.

There are so many perfect moments throughout each day, if I am willing to stop and soak them in. Standing on my front porch with the mist from the downpour outside last night cooling me; walking through town with my friend Dan after an art show opening, talking about Murray Gell-Mann and a book he loaned me called The Quark and the Jaguar about simple and complex systems; discovering a new wildflower I’ve never seen before on an evening stroll by the college; having someone ask me if I’m happy; coming to a new understanding about the world .. about myself … about someone dear to me; giggling on the phone with Rose; letting go of my fear of self-judgment and taking a sketch book out to try to draw what I see and not what I think I see… each of them, and more, so perfect.

And as I was tidying up the apartment this morning, I was about to put away a book of poetry by William Stafford that was recently returned to me after a long visit with a young poet, and I remembered this poem, and wanted to share it with you.

You Reading This, Be Ready

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life -

What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

Random Thoughts

About a week ago I dreamed that gas went up to $11.09/gallon. I dreamed this because I try to convince myself to fill my tank when it gets to be about halfway … and often I’ll glance down and think .. oh I can wait another few days (which is true based on waiting til halfway, I can actually wait another week or so at this point) but it seems that each time I decide to wait, gas goes up another 10cents/gal.

However, I just read somewhere that gas in Italy, for example, is almost $9.70/gallon. So, I’ll stop whining to myself, and you, and feel grateful that I can walk almost everywhere .. and … I’m likely to be in good enough shape to walk back and forth to school. I’m not gonna wanna. But I can.

I’ve heard from three separate people today, on three entirely different topics, that things are going so well for them that they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know that feeling. I try to ignore it and just take the blessings when they come. Back in November I remember complaining that things were going so well it was pissing me off (getting the job, finding the cabin, etc etc) and a friend said, “maybe, Cinderella, the other shoe won’t drop”. Well, he was wrong, it did, and it dropped hard, but it was worth it. It was worth it because when that glass slipper shattered, it got me to where I am today. Lord, if that shoe hadn’t dropped, I’d still be waltzing in those uncomfortable glass slippers feeling tortured. Now, I’m shimmying my hips to a middle eastern beat and dancing barefoot in my living room that is filled with light and happiness.

It’s hotter than heck right now (heck must be slightly cooler than 88 degrees) but I’m not complaining. There’s no humidity. I would give an evil scientist laugh right now (ah ha ha ha ha), but that would be unkind to my friends and family back east. So, I’ll just smile, slowly. I’m actually real comfortable here with the ceiling fan, and the shades all drawn down for the daytime heat, and the anticipation of storms in the near future.

Actually, I’m just rambling on to you because I’m trying to clear my mind of unnecessary clutter before I start on a new project. Sometimes it works, sometimes it just generate more random thoughts than you can shake a stick at. I could probably go on for hours… but … instead, I’ll settle myself down and get some more done. I hesitate to call it work – I enjoy it so much.