Twenty Twelve

I brought Princess Nell home to San Jose, with the promise of taking her biking around the beautiful, chilly scenery of northern California. Of course, then it rained torrentially for a few days, and then winter hibernation laziness kicked in... so Nell has been neglected for two weeks :( 

The sun was finally out for an extended period of time today, and I seized the opportunity to do some neighborhood exploring. Biking by myself always leads me to thinky thoughts; something about a little solitude in motion gets my mental cogs turning like pinwheels. 

So here are a few casual thoughts on my year 2012, inspired by some lovely sights from my afternoon bike ride. 

bridge that crosses over to the neighboring golf course and explorable areas

some tall grass

I LOVE CRUNCHY LEAVES

Leaves

When I was little, sometimes I used to pretend that leaves were paper currency. (leaves and bills are both green, ok, kid Elaine wasn't that crazy). At recess, or at the park, or while camping, I would collect leaves of all types until I had stacks on stacks... and when I was content with the amount of money I had laboriously "made", I would just leave it in a pile, wherever I was. 

Looking back, either I really was crazy as shit or this was my little child-minded way of paying back nature... saying thank you via a tangible offering. As I recount my 2012, I realize that this year has brought me many amazing feats of nature to be thankful for. 

     --There was the Honors camping trip... where I witnessed the brightest moon I had seen in a long time, and the sheer grandness of giant boulders heaped upon each other all the way to heaven.

     --There was the beach escapade in Laguna...where I witnessed the strength of the ocean as it pulled at my legs and the strength of the sun as it glared a vibrant orange during sundown.  

     --There was the summer I spent in the remote beauty of rural Taiwan...where I witnessed silent fog blanket lush green mountains, a lake inspired by the sun and moon, and the whispered secrets of a bamboo forest. 

     --There was the weekend I spent camping in Joshua Tree... where I witnessed stars falling to earth, and the fairylike trails that they leave behind them. 

So with this pile of leaves, I offer my thanks. Thank you, nature, for making my 2012 wonderful with scenery and trees and meteor showers and seasons and sunlight and the carbon dioxide cycle. You're the best. 

Nell stops to commune with nature

a winding path

Pathways

I've come to notice that most walking paths are curved. Why? My theory is that it ensures a more interesting and varied range of vision for the person doing the walking. If you're walking, and you can see straight ahead of you to where exactly you're going to be in 10, 20, 50 steps... then your walk suddenly becomes a lot less exciting. The thrill of what's around the corner is lost, and you'll probably find yourself turning around and going home a lot quicker than if your path looked like the one pictured above.

It's like why paragraph breaks exist- nobody really enjoys reading a wall of text.

So if most literal paths are curved, why do we so often demand that our metaphorical life paths be direct ? Why are we in such a hurry to know what the next big thing in our lives is ? Why do we demand straight answers from a God who is creative and artistic in nature ? These are all things that I had to come to grips with in 2012. With college graduation just around the riverbend one moment, and behind me the next, the natural question is "what now? what next?" In 2012, I learned how to be inquisitive, not demanding. I added a double major out of pure enjoyment of the subject. I dropped everything and went to Taiwan for a summer. I went on night drives along winding roads to calm turbulent thoughts. I let God speak to me in mountains and forests and smiling faces, and he answered many of my questions in answers phrased just as beautifully as the surroundings I had stopped to listen in.

Creeks

As far as I'm concerned, creeks are pretty much awesome. They're kind of like classrooms, but more interactive. A creek can teach any range of things that young kids learn in an elementary school science class, like the food chain, buoyancy, tadpole metamorphosis... all in a very organic manner. Sometimes it's just easier to learn something when you're directly immersed in it. 

This is something that was the core foundation of my beloved small group, Skittens. As the standalone co-ed small group in the entire ministry, and with no real paradigm to model our studies after, we were definitely an ongoing live experiment. My dear co-leader and I wanted to create a place of openness, of inquisitive minds, and of occasionally reckless behavior. Essentially, we wanted the group to be like a creek: a place to be curious, to poke around and ask questions, to learn how to skip rocks, and to get your feet a little wet. Time says we succeeded, because we ended the year with a cohesive and loving family of small group members, and I wanted to let each of them know that they've also taught me so much in return. 

wise-looking tree

dendrites !

Branches

This year, I learned that the word "dendrites" comes from the Greek word for "branches". (this piece of trivia came about from having a boyfriend who looks at slices of brain cells all day) Dendrites are those little gangly things in your neurons that listen to all the incoming thought traffic that goes on in your brain. Without them, your kidney or eyelid or whatever body part could be knocking all day, and no one would ever answer the door. 

The aforementioned gentleman and scholar that enlightened me to this piece of information is another significant happening of my 2012. He gave me the opportunity to branch out-- to speak up, to take a risk, and to be vulnerable with emotions that I might otherwise have kept on lock and key. Once I started extending those branches, I was then given even more opportunities-- to explore places I've never been, to speak a language I've never spoken, and to experience love from a different spiritual background.

I found some mushrooms here

heading up to the terrace!

Fences

Every time I come home to San Jose, I go from Elaine the young, wild, and free...to Elaine the 22-year old with a curfew and mandated bedtime of 12 midnight. This is, of course, absolutely maddening. I graduated college this year ! Shouldn't that count for something ? I'm practically an adult, right ? These imposed boundaries have occasionally led to me stewing under the covers at the click of midnight, knowing that my peers are out living the night.

However, just because my diploma is labeled 2012, thus releasing me from the constraints and burdens of student life, it doesn't necessarily mean that I've been released out into the metaphorical adulthood pasture. These restrictions that my parents place on me are not meant to deprive me of the joys of life; rather, they are there to keep me close to home, so I can continue learning how to be patient, observant, and appreciative of what is on the other side.

peace out 2012! thanks for the good times!

Erasure

"Please, sit down," the white-coated nurse instructed, gesturing to a thinly cushioned examination table in the center of the tiled room.

Avie sat as she was told, feeling the black leather press against the backs of her thighs. She slid her hands under her legs, providing a barrier between her warm skin and the cold seat. If she was nervous at one point, she no longer was.

The nurse handed her a rectangular tablet, and told her to read it thoroughly and then provide her thumbprint in the box at the bottom of the digital form. She slid her finger across the screen, and it scrolled. A list of bulleted liabilities and legalities flew by, their meaning barely registering in her mind...merely blurred formalities. Avie pressed her thumb to the box and held it until the border flashed green, confirming her authorization. She handed the tablet back to the nurse with what she hoped was a smile, before averting her eyes back to the patterned tile of the clinic floor.

The tile was white and lavender, colors meant to be soothing to the clients of the Memory Erasure Clinic. However, to Avie they only reminded her of why she was there. Lavender hospital walls, the place where she had lost Jule forever, as well as their darling little girl. In one painfully long millisecond, the future had been shattered into pieces, just like the glass windows of their car upon brutal impact, just like 143 miles per hour in the wrong lane.

Avie no longer had this future, so what what she doing with its ghost ? One decision, and her slate would be wiped clean. She would have no recollection of burning headlights and the stranger who got away with it. She would have no recollection of Lilly, and no recollection of Jule. How could she continue to dream of her green eyes and his loving words, if she never knew them in the first place ?

The nurse came back with a syringe of clear fluid and an oxygen mask. She instructed Avie to lay down, and with an almost motherly nature, tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ears.

"The formulas are designed to only target parts of the brain that contain the memories you aim to remove," the nurse spoke as she slipped the mask over Avie's face, cupping her nose and mouth. "However, side effects often include some loss of recent memory, as well as nausea and lightheadedness."

Avie nodded solemnly. None of her recent memories were worth keeping anyway; one should not preserve nightmares. The nurse turned Avie’s wrist upward, exposing the tattoo that criss-crossed it. She inserted the needle right above the lyrics of Jule’s favorite song, and plunged the cold fluid into Avie’s veins.

Tears welled as Avie realized she would wake up in a few hours, and only recognize the lyrics as the opening lines of a pleasant melody. The ceiling lights began to swim on their own accord, and her thoughts began to swirl as well. How long had she waited for this procedure ? Weeks had become months, and months had become years. Years that had been spent seeking, questioning, chasing answers that had never come...

...and now they never would, because the questions would soon no longer exist.

[Inspired by "The Truth" by Seven Lions. The only lyrics to this song are the repeated phrase, "getting over you"] 

Vocabulary Volume #5

People are often surprised to discover that I've never actually read George Orwell's famous dystopian novel 1984. So, to legitimize myself as a real English major, I finally picked up the book and have been thoroughly enjoying it. My love of science fiction and thinky thoughts really comes alive in this eerily foreseeable, paranoia-infused text.

The following are some words I have learned thus far.

         persiflage (n): light and slightly contemptuous mockery or banter

         concertina (n): an older model of accordion

         remonstrance (n): a forcefully reproachful protest

         wainscoting (n): wooden paneling that lines the lower walls of a room

As a graduated English major, I also believe my degree also grants me the authority to make up new words... (whether this really is within my powers is up to you to decide). The following is a term that Lucas and I coined this past week, spawned by his feelings about upcoming medical school interviews. We couldn't think of a particularly fitting word that already existed, so we decided to create one.

         aliloquate (adj). a state of being equally nervous and excited.

For example...

I was feeling very aliloquate before my interview.
The way she was looking at me made me too aliloquate to say anything in return.
Once I was actually on the road, that's when I really began to feel aliloquate.

Please feel free to spread the usage of this word; neologism is a strange and wonderful thing, and should certainly be shared :)



In other news, today is significant because it's the last triple-number-day of this century ! The next time we have another will be January 1, 2101... a date that won't pass in my lifetime, unless some crazy medical advancements are made between now and then.

I wonder what civilization and society will look like on 1/1/2101. Any ideas ?

Desert Fairytale.

Without warning the wind picked up again, bringing a slight chill to the rocky desert landscape in spite of the bright morning sun. It raised goosebumps and loosened a strand of hair from her braid, blowing it across her face. She quickly brushed it aside before taking the next step from one boulder to the next, following closely behind a pair of scuffed white chucks and the adventurous boy that was wearing them.

“Let’s stop here,” he pointed, “up on this rock.”

They clambered up to a large boulder to take a quick breather and take in the surrounding scenery. Scattered across their view were piles and piles of bulky, dust-colored stone, some stacked in almost precarious natural sculptures and some caught mid-fall down the mountainside. Thorny plants and shrubs, proving hardy against the difficult environment, thrived in little crevices between the boulders. Their spiny leaves and branches reached up toward the sun, which was currently burning a white-hot hole in the azure sky.

The two sat quietly for a moment, just taking it all in. Suddenly, their silence was punctuated by a distant sound.

“Did you hear that?” he asked. She looked around, scanning the rocks and trying to locate the source of such a bizarre noise. In contrast with the rigidness of their surroundings, this was soft, clean, and melodic, like the musical twinkling of--

“Bells. It sounds like bells,” she said. “but why are there bells in the desert?”
“Maybe this is how the desert people lure tourists into their traps,” he said with a straight face, followed by a teasing smile, “this is how we die.”
“You have such a wild imagination.” They stood, trying to hone two pairs of small ears on the direction that the twinkling was coming from.

“There ?” she pointed, and then looked toward the right “...or there ? It almost sounds like it’s coming from two different places.”
“Let’s go investigate.”

They paused every couple steps to listen again for the sound, and reevaluate the direction it seemed to be coming from. Not too long after, they were standing on top of another boulder when suddenly--

“I see it!” he exclaimed, “do you see that thing over there ?”

Tucked in a gap between larger stone, there was a small copper plate hung on a wire, swinging back and forth in the wind. With their target in sight, the two treasure seekers hopped and crawled their way over more rocks, closing the distance between them and this oddly placed musical object. 

Upon getting closer, they realized that it was not only a copper plate on a string, but a set of windchimes-- five long, cylindrical metal tubes and two copper plates, fixed to a coffee-colored wood base. As the wind blew gently, the tubes clinked and clanked against each other, producing a lovely pentatonic melody. 

“So this is what has been serenading us,” she remarked, satisfied at having solved the mystery. Standing on her toes, she leaned forward and swung the copper plate back and forth, releasing a louder and more frantic blend of notes. The sound echoed across the rocks. 

“What a strange item to find while hiking in the desert...” she said. “I almost feel like we are in a video game, and that we have to collect this item in order to continue the quest!”
“At least it wasn’t a death trap,” he joked. “I’ve played enough games to be suspicious of such entrancing things.”

The chimes calmed from their earlier disruption, returning to their original swaying motion. They rotated slowly in the wind, and settled back into a gentle, musical twinkling.

“This is almost magical. I swear, stuff like this only happens in movies...” Reaching out to hold his hand, she said, “...yet here we are, and suddenly, life is like a fairytale.”

“Well that means it will end happily ever after,” he smiled. 

The Experience Collection

A human desire, a selfish one perhaps ? Preemptive stirrings of nostalgia, to collect the most valuable moments in our lives—the ones we hold dearest to our hearts. The ones that we want to remember forever; from the sly sideways glance that makes the heart flutter, to the life-changing decision that sets the course of a lifetime. The ones that we naively, futilely, and inadequately attempt to capture—once in paintings and Polaroids, and now in ones and zeroes.

All this seemingly in vain, for there is no possibility that a mere picture can capture an experience.

Where an experience is a feeling… a painting is an image.

When an experience spans a length of time… a photograph is only one second.

An experience is multi-dimensional… a painting, a photograph, only two.

An experience includes the chilly breeze that whips hair into your mouth and stings your eyes. It includes the strangely foreign but pleasantly comforting smell of your friend’s laundry. It includes your peripheral vision. It includes happiness, anger, sorrow, and déjà vu.

The experience is relative. Every experience yields a widely varying range of Experiences, as each individual perceives an event in his or her own personal way.

As a collective experiences a graduation ceremony, an individual’s Experience consists of joy, relief, and the swinging of multicolored tassels as he walks. To another: pride, anticipation, and the smell of a congratulatory orchid bouquet. Apprehension, appreciation, and the slight panic of almost losing her cap in the crowd.

Such a boundless multitude of Experiences, each one as unique as the experiencer, and all distinctly memorable. Memories so vivid at one point, but eventually fading as colors in sunlight.

...what if it were possible to capture an Experience ?

What if it were possible to view your life, frame by frame, and plant little orange landscaping flags around the moments that you want to collect ? To play the role of a movie producer, sifting through hours and hours of raw video, finding the best shots worthy of keeping as memoirs of a life well lived.

Then, to distill the Experience- whether it be three seconds, hours, or days- into a tangible, material substance. A substance like a liquid, like vanilla extract, I suppose… easily stored for safekeeping in bottles, ready for future use.

All the highlights of a lifetime, captured in little bottles of varying color and shape. Color-coded, even ? archived by date, or by emotion ? Aligned atop your fireplace, or laid sideways in a cellar latticework, as one does with fine wines ? Well, it depends on you. They’re distinctly yours, after all. Your hand-picked collection of memorable Experiences. Your life’s essence.

But to what end ? What use would it be to collect an Experience, and merely bottle it for display ?

If one were to expend the time and energy to capture an Experience, would it not be for the ultimate end of reliving it ?

Just as one injects, imbibes, inhales a drug, one could do so with material Experience… and just as a drug trip transports the user beyond the range of normal human perception, so does a dose of Experience. Take Experience, to experience it again. And again, and again…

Wouldn’t it be fantastic ?

Wouldn’t it be lovely to relive that special moment. That joyous discovery. That carefree feeling. Lying in the middle of a parking lot at midnight, trying to catch shooting stars with your peripheral vision. Running along the beach with a butterfly-shaped kite, as the sea spray blows cold air and saltiness into your open mouth. Laughing at your grandfather’s silly jokes… because now you know that soon, he will forget the punch lines, and then he will forget you ?

Wouldn’t it be phenomenal…

…but at the same time, precarious ?

Consider this… as one’s Experience collection grows, does it also shrink ? Like a graph that plateaus, and then decays, does the number of collected Experiences decreases as your life cycles by, one day at a time ?

As you collect more and more memories to relive at your own pleasure and judgment, you are inevitably committing your time to reliving them. The graduation ceremony could have been condensed into half an hour’s worth of Experience, but that is still thirty precious minutes of lifetime that you are sacrificing out of your day for that rendezvous with nostalgia. That half hour could certainly have lived another life, as a loving phone call to an aging grandparent, a walk in the crisp night air with that special someone, a laughter-filled cooking lesson with a beloved daughter… it could have played out as any one out of a thousand opportunities to make new memories and experience new Experiences.

Ultimately, what is the human experience, if not to take in as much as we can in our brief and finite lifetimes ? 

Nothing Better.

Because I'm an English major and I love words, one website that I occasionally visit is BetterthanEnglish.com. Guests submit their favorite notably untranslatable foreign words, and their best attempts at explaining them in layman English. Submissions often range from odd trivia, to words that span the entire human emotional spectrum and beyond. 

One such post from awhile back was a word known in the 1993 Guinness Book of World Records as the "most succinct word" in existence, because of its emotionally loaded definition. 

It is a touching and beautiful word to those observing on the outside, and a rather uncomfortable word to those actively engaged in it. Now I am sure many of you have experienced such a feeling before, and it is a difficult and complicated thing to process. You wonder, you look away. They wonder, they sit in silence. What am I waiting for, am I a coward ? What are you thinking ? Are you thinking the same thing I am thinking ? Do you ever wonder how you got to here ?

Then one day, one person takes the awkward initiative. One word leads to one response, then two statements, then three, then five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one... and before you know it, you've found yourself in a Fibonacci spiral of feels. 

Yup, life can really throw you for a loop sometimes... 

...and this is definitely one of those times. I never even imagined that we could ever arrive at this point... but this is here, and now, and there is nothing better. The feeling of mamihlapinatapai may be succinctly elaborate, but I'm sure it has nothing on the feeling that comes immediately after the turn. 

However, this is a rather recent posting on BetterthanEnglish, that I just noticed today. I think it speaks for itself quite well. 

Coming from a native-speaking Mandarin background, this is a word that, unlike the previous, I am actually familiar with. And I think that gives me the authority to say that the above definition isn't perfectly accurate either... but then again, I suppose the whole point is that there is a sort of beauty in its undefineability. 

However, if I was to add my own second definition, I would state that it is the joy that comes from pouring your feelings to your best friend, and having them fill your cup in return. 

1982

I went thrifting with my aunt yesterday :)

The last time I went thrifting was probably in last-minute desperation for an oddly specific costume piece or accessory (80's themed dinner party? murder mystery?), or at home in San Jose, where my mother frequents the grounds of the Capitol flea market.

Walking through the aisles reminded me how much I love thrifting...especially swap meets. Beyond the crowds, weird smells, and overpriced, broken junk, there are truly interesting things to be found... both tangible and otherwise.

While browsing aisles of run-down lawn equipment, one-dollar clothing piles, used tires, and once-loved plush animals, I spotted one vendor that was selling old books. The unemployed English major thrives on foraging such grounds, and it wasn't long before I was at a kneel in front of dilapidated cardboard boxes, digging through hardcovers and softcovers and books without covers.

Among fascinating titles that I brought home for myself (The Illustrated Encyclopedia of the Universe, The Gatefold Book of the World's Greatest Warplanes, This is Not a Book, and George Orwell's famous  dystopian novel 1984) were scattered a considerable myriad of outdated anthologies. A Guiness World Records volume from the early 90's. A collection featuring TIME magazine's greatest photos...from the year 2000. A bridal magazine that certainly dated itself with its cover- a voluminous, Farrah-haired blonde wearing a puff-sleeved gown. A Garden Grove High School yearbook- 1982.

On a whim, I decided to flip through the yearbook. The first page informed me that its previous owner was a girl named Jodie, and the following pages unfolded a surprising amount of detail on Jodie's life and persona, as well as life in the early 80's. A poll of the student body revealed that the most popular band of the year was Journey, and the most popular album was "Captured", released the previous year in 1981. Prom dresses were hideous, feathery, puff-sleeved creations. Photo montages featured faded denim, leather jackets, and orange turtlenecks. The handwritten notes reveal the excellent penmanship of a generation that grew up on manuscript, not on the computer keyboard.

Some things never change, though... the cheer captain was the same girl who won homecoming queen. There was a whole section of Nguyens. The marching band only got a single page spread in the entire yearbook.

I couldn't help but read through a few of the messages that her friends had left her. It was kind of odd, you get that sneaky-guilt feeling you only get when your friend leaves their email logged in on your computer, and you accidentally click on a message before realizing it's not your account. A lot of Jodie's friends had written about her sweet personality; one guy thanked her for always answering his questions in class, and another girl thanked her for curling her hair at an event. Another girl complimented her on her sense of humor, saying it was "super rad."

Upon realizing it, I flipped to the very back of the book and was glad to find the familiar index of names, organized by class and surname. Starting from the seniors, and then through the juniors, I finally found her name among the sophomores. It was listed that Jodie makes an appearance on two pages in the yearbook, so I memorized the two numbers and turned back through the yellowing pages. In the sophomore section, a black-and-white photo of a very friendly-looking young woman with glasses, fair skin, and a shoulder-length haircut looked back at me. I flipped to the second page, and smiled when I saw that I was looking at the ensemble portrait of the Garden Grove Marching Band and Color Guard.

I know I will likely never meet you, but in that moment, I felt like I did...and I like you, Jodie from 1982, I like you.


____________________

In other news... just for kicks and giggles... here are two of my favorite things I bought today :)

this fantastic hardbound for $2

adorable floral heels for $9

Views from the Outside

Some thinky thoughts loosely derived from a conversation held in line for the Star Tours ride at Disneyland.

I wonder... if aliens were to visit Earth as tourists, what would they think of us ?

Would they look upon us with a sense of patronizing humor, the way that an adult lavishly praises a child's elaborately and carefully concocted mud pie or crayon drawing ?

Or would they look upon us with a sense of helpless pity, the way that someone driving home from work glances at a homeless man and his bony, dirt-ridden dog ?

Or would they look at us with a sense of complete and utter bafflement, the way that students respond to a teacher when she explains something that is entirely out of line with the flow of the lesson ?


Over the summer when I was teaching in Taiwan, one of the lessons that we shared with the students was the various holidays that we celebrate in the US. Maybe it's because I've grown up with Thanksgiving, Halloween, Christmas, St. Patricks Day, etc... but I've never really questioned these major American holidays. We grow up making paper pilgrims in preschool and drinking eggnog in elementary, listening to Christmas classics and scooping the goopy brains out of innocent pumpkins before stabbing geometric shapes into their dusty orange shells. We grow older and retain our enthusiasm for these special days-- even if it does mean that the pilgrims and pumpkins are replaced by consecutive beers. Yet still, we grow up, and we understand, that these are all very normal things to do at their given times of the year.

However, when we were explaining these holidays to our aboriginal Taiwanese students, many of them were  confused, and even cynical. Why do you have to wear green on St. Patrick's Day ? Why don't you just eat the pumpkin? Why is Santa always so fat?

These are incredibly difficult questions to answer; it's kind of like asking an Eskimo to explain snow. They've never had to explain it, because it's just always been there.

Just as these Taiwanese children were entirely foreign to the concept of American holidays, would aliens also be entirely baffled by these small shrines to the human experience that are, essentially, social constructs ? Perhaps they would look at our commercialized Christmas and raise an eyebrow or earbrow or whatever puzzlement-expressing anatomical feature they possess. Perhaps they would observe the drunken carousing of New Year's and completely miss the concept... because their planet rotates so slowly, and revolves around the sun so quickly, that a day and a year are essentially equivalent.

Even holidays that are generally self-explanatory, like Mother's Day, or Father's Day... maybe they reproduce asexually, and instead, they celebrate Mitosis Day, or Budding Day, or whatever. Happy Spawnday ! *throws confetti*

Even if they were to peel away the commercial layers of Christmas and decipher it down to its spiritual roots, would they understand the concept of religion ? Alien civilizations that have developed such advanced technology to travel beyond their star systems into ours must have reached a level of scientific understanding that has either confirmed or denied the veritability of the world's major religions (it would be pretty neat if they found a way to go back in time and interview Jesus).

Or, another interesting possibility...even if they had come to a science-based, all-inclusive-yes-or-no-conclusion on the concept of religion, that they still celebrate holidays for the sake of their own social constructs ?

Do aliens have religion ?

Alien civilizations, no matter how advanced at this point in time, would certainly have risen from similarly humble hunter-gathering backgrounds. In Earth's young era, religion was often used to explain the unexplainable-- cosmic phenomena, strange happenings, and natural disasters. To say that a civilization came to being entirely bereft of religion is a weighty claim, and I personally am very curious to see what types of global religions exist on alien planets. God created an entire universe, and being an artistic creator, I doubt that He would have played out the exact same story on all of his habitable planets. What other miracles of water and wine, or light and shadow, exist on these other worlds--each as unique as our own? And then from these, what types of customs, traditions, and holidays arose and evolved over the span of time ?

It's certainly baffling to think about.


[currently listening: Velvetine - The Great Divide (Seven Lions Remix)]

Frequencies/Thinky Thoughts

Every now and then, my dad delves into a mix of science/theology/philosophy discussions over the dinner table. In the past, it's been resurrection over ramen and Star Trek over sushi, and last night's was another interesting one.

Somewhere in the midst of the evening's conversation, the topic turned to the current news broadcast and how prevailingly negative it is: people killing each other, political conspiracy theories, and the usual slew of petty crime that gets onto the local Bay Area news. My dad began explaining what seemed to start off as the usual stream of Asian-dad cynicism, but his thoughts became became more and more interesting as I listened. The following is as much as I can remember of his mealtime musings (probably with some butchering of physics terminology):

The world that we currently live in glorifies two aspects of a person's life: money and reputation. Having one or the other, or ideally both, is what makes a person well known and received, and the path to success is often defined by one's accumulation of these two things. This sort of society is shallow and materialistic- one that continually insists on placing the wrong types of people on pedestals that they buy with the excess wealth of their own gilded wallets.

Imagine now another world in which the two highlighted aspects are wisdom and personality. Unlike money that glimmers and reputation that shines, wisdom and personality are things that are generally invisible in our current society. Those that have done nothing but possess wealth and fame are greatly publicized, while many that do good go largely unnoticed, while . But, what if these two positive traits were just as visible as money and reputation? In this other world, wisdom and personality are expressed as two overlapping halos that emit light based on the amount that the owner possesses. The wiser, or better of a person you are, the brighter your respective lights are. With these two being so visible to the public, and thus being what most prized by society, it then becomes more important to accumulate these, rather than money and reputation.

Why are these two traits suddenly visible in this alternate world ? Because the whole world operates on a different frequency scale. Whereas our current world has our familiar spectrum of colors, sounds, etc that are apparent to the senses, there are also many frequencies that are undetectable by humans alone but only with the help of machines (ultraviolet, x-rays, etc). What if there exists another range of frequencies that are still undiscovered- frequencies that display such things like the vital traits of wisdom and personality as visible light ?

Even in our current world, individuals that have complementary levels of wisdom or personality naturally tend to get along quite well. The currently indescribable and inaccurate "science" of "vibes" and "vibing" well with others would finally turn tangible in this alternate world of frequencies, just as the science of sound, light, radio, etc has become an established science here. Constructive interference would occur among those that possess the desired traits of wisdom and personality, and destructive interference (or even discordance) would occur between those that are poorly matched.

In this very tangible way, the positive traits are continually encouraged, and communities are built up based on the cumulative wisdom and personality of their participants.