The other follow up idea I had was how he uses the example, "Try to visualize the big bang - a single infinitely dense point that suddenly explodes." to show "...how reason cannot be separated from bodily sensations. Any notion of space - no matter how abstract - must be filtered through our bodily perceptions of space." At first I though, "exactly, he's right, we'll never be able to really think about those type of concepts in the right way." But later after mulling it over, I realized that perhaps the fault lies in the description, not the interpretation of the description. There are an infinite amount of ways to describe something, just because science says 'a single infinitely dense point' doesn't mean that is the only way to describe it. And by describe it, I mean conjure up the feeling in someone of what the concept is.

Perhaps this is why 'science' falls so flat for so many people. Because they expect everyone to see the world as a right brain nerd would. But we don't, in fact I would argue, we're built in the complete opposite, NOT to see the world that way. So we're constantly trying to learn a language that we're not naturally good at speaking. We speak in stories, we feel in stories, we grasp concepts in stories. Maybe the right way to describe the beginning of the Universe never mentions any of those things, maybe it is a song, or a painting or a strange dance in the Outback.

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One person who seems to 'get this' is Steven Strogatz who is writing a new column in the NY Times about math. The first post titled, "From Fish To Infinity" gets right into all the juicy stuff that makes math so intriguing.

Viewed in this light, numbers start to seem a bit mysterious. They apparently exist in some sort of Platonic realm, a level above reality. In that respect they are more like other lofty concepts (e.g., truth and justice), and less like the ordinary objects of daily life. Upon further reflection, their philosophical status becomes even murkier. Where exactly do numbers come from? Did humanity invent them? Or discover them?

A further subtlety is that numbers (and all mathematical ideas, for that matter) have lives of their own. We can’t control them. Even though they exist in our minds, once we decide what we mean by them we have no say in how they behave. They obey certain laws and have certain properties, personalities, and ways of combining with one another, and there’s nothing we can do about it except watch and try to understand. In that sense they are eerily reminiscent of atoms and stars, the things of this world, which are likewise subject to laws beyond our control … except that those things exist outside our heads.

Hopefully the rest of his posts will be as interesting.

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In other news, this morning I had a minor transcendental moment when I was trying to explain to my son what the watch on my wrist was. He had never shown interest before, and for some reason he grabbed my hand, pointed at the watch and said, "what's that?" Try explaining what a watch is to a two year old. At that moment it really hit me, his mind was this virgin territory, this unfettered sponge, it had never known what a 'watch' was. I told him him it was so I could tell what 'time' it was, which was far more exciting to me then him. I could see the neurons in his head making new connections though, the software was writing onto the disk drive. Something new was being etched onto the plate.

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Speaking of which, next on my list is this NPR story about why time moves faster for older people then younger people. Already I'm not excited about their conclusions.

That's because when it's the "first", there are so many things to remember. The list of encoded memories is so dense, reading them back gives you a feeling that they must have taken forever. But that's an illusion. "It's a construction of the brain," says Eagleman. "The more memory you have of something, you think, 'Wow, that really took a long time!'

"Of course, you can see this in everyday life," says Eagleman, "when you drive to your new workplace for the first time and it seems to take a really long time to get there. But when you drive back and forth to your work every day after that, it takes no time at all, because you're not really writing it down anymore. There's nothing novel about it."

What? You could see a hundred new things on your way to work every time you go. That being said, I think the theory is that the feeling that my son gets when he firsts discovers a watch is that much more intense then when I see a new dog on my way to work. Therefore, life moves slow for him as he soaks this all in, while my dog discovery takes two nanoseconds to register.

Really? Is that really why? To be honest, time doesn't seem to have changed speed for me that much. If anything, with kids, it has slowed to a crawl.

There really is no actual preparation for the show, or put another way, I spend two weeks preparing for the show by stacking my brain up with all sorts of random information and then try and remember some of it right before we go on the air.

This week it actually worked to some extent and I felt like, thanks to Robert A. Burton, I may have had an epiphany. Maybe. Burton wrote a book called 'On Being Certain - Believing You Are Right Even When You're Not' which is in my 'top ten books that must be read' list. Because any philosophical inquiry into the meaning of life must begin one place, "how do I know anything anyway?" We take for granted that knowing is this wonderful 'feeling' in our head that tells us that, 'yes, this is right'. Burton is the only person I've found so far who has captured this subject in a way that a dude like me can understand.

Here is the first quote where he demonstrates how we biologically want to 'know' the answer to something which has no answer:

A classic example is the optical illusion of the silhouette of two opposing faces that can also be seen as a vase. Stare at the picture and the vase will alternate with the facial profiles. You cannot will yourself to continuously see either the faces r the vase. This unstable alternating relationship of foreground to background is the result of a perpetual tug-of-war between equally weighted aspects of visual perception. The question that we ask ourselves - which is it, two faces in silhouette or a vase? - has no answer even if it feels as though it might. The question has no real meaning; it is nothing more than an attempt by the hidden layer to resolve competing aspects of perception. It might be said that the problem of deciding between faces and a vase doesn't exist outside of the mind of the viewer. It isn't a "real world" issue. Consider this foreground-background-tug-of-war as a model of a biologically generated paradox that cannot be resolved.

What is happening here is that we are being fooled by our own systems. We are able to think of situations that don't exist, of paradoxes that don't have resolution and our mind strains to come up with some answer. Therefore, when we ask 'big questions' like 'what is the meaning of life', we may be heading in the wrong direction and even though we strain our brain cells to come up with an answer, there is none, it only feels like there should be.

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To take this idea further, Burton says this:

Try to visualize the big bang - a single infinitely dense point that suddenly explodes. To see this object in our mind's eye, we place this dot against some contrasting background. Most people, when questioned, will offer that they see a dim darkness against which the initial singularity is framed. This problem of borders isn't confined to spatial considerations; time is equally impossible to visualize as either always existing or suddenly beginning. We see a beginning in contrast to what was present just before the beginning. The cruel irony is that a mind's eye's representation of no surrounding space or time occupies some space and suggests a prior time. Te relieve the question shared by science and religion - what, if anything, was present before the beginning?

...This is an example of how reason cannot be separated from bodily sensations. Any notion of space - no matter how abstract - must be filtered through our bodily perceptions of space. In our mind's eye, emptiness occupies space.

This is where the Eastern approach makes so much more sense. Instead of struggling with these mechanisms in the mind, let go of them. If you can release the endless 'trying to figure it out' and just 'be in the moment', you've saved yourself a lot of work. A scientist might counter that with, the real challenge is to figure out what the 'answerable' questions are first, and then try and find those answers. I prefer the letting go option myself.

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As a follow up, I just found this video by Robert Burton as a part of the 'Google Talks'. I look forward to listening to it.

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Along those lines, we had our regular caller dial in and tell us about his experience with Jacob Needleman's talk on Sunday. Here is Needleman's book, "What Is God?" and I here is the a link to Michael Krasny's interview with him yesterday which I heard is worth a listen.

Two quotes to think about today. The first is a reference to the Einstein/Bohr debates we were talking about last night. This is from an article which is no longer online:

Einstein entered the twentieth century firmly convinced that there was a platonic realm where his mathematical insights lived and breathed. Our physical theories, he argued, are models of that world. When we measure something, we are in fact measuring some thing.

“Not so,” said Bohr, the greatest of Danes. When we measure something we are forcing an undetermined, undefined world to assume some experimental value. We are not “measuring” the world, we are creating it.

The second is from an excellent article in The Atlantic called 'The Secret to Success' which talks about how scientists are rethinking the role of genetics in the nature vs. nurture debate. It says there are two kinds of children, 'dandelions' who are the rugged survivors that will survive any type of upbringing and the 'orchids' who will wilt under a stressful upbringing but will bloom if in a good environment. The quote that fascinates me is this one:

Suomi learned his trade as a student and protégé of, and then a direct successor to, Harry Harlow, one of the 20th century’s most influential and problematic behavioral scientists. When Harlow started his work, in the 1930s, the study of childhood development was dominated by a ruthlessly mechanistic behavioralism. The movement’s leading figure in the United States, John Watson, considered mother love “a dangerous instrument.” He urged parents to leave crying babies alone; to never hold them to give pleasure or comfort; and to kiss them only occasionally, on the forehead. Mothers were important less for their affection than as conditioners of behavior.

This is an example of what happens when science, which scientists proudly claim is 'counter-intuitive', gets it horribly wrong. Now I would suppose that 'hard' scientists would consider 'soft' scientists to be in a different league, but still, the reminder is chilling.

On another note, if you didn't listen to the end of the show, do yourself a favor and listen to this clip from Woody Allen's Manhattan. That will cheer you up.

TAGTL had a great show last night, a good friend, Teacher Steve, sat in with me and we talked about why it's so hard for normal people understand just what the hell is going on. As we we're driving to the studio, I was having my now familiar wrestle with trying to articulate what the show is all about. Having tried to read the book 'Why E=mc2', it became clear to me. Normal guys like me just don't have the chops to understand advanced physics. There, I said it. Not that it isn't obvious. And physicists apparently think they are closing in on the secrets of the universe, so this presents a real problem. There is a knowledge gap, even a, I dare say, paradigm gap. These guys and gals are able to think about the world in ways most people can't. So my goal is to bridge that gap (without resorting to the 'Idiot's Guide To Life').

On the housekeeping side of things, I am very proud to say that I put the last three shows up in the archives for you're iPod listening pleasure. I've got one more show to go and then I'll have every show of 2009 archived. Next up, creating the podcast RSS feed. Almost there.

In the meantime, I read an insightful interview with Cormac McCarthy in the WSJ this morning. I like the way he thinks.

WSJ: How does that ticking clock affect your work? Does it make you want to write more shorter pieces, or to cap things with a large, all-encompassing work?

CM: I’m not interested in writing short stories. Anything that doesn’t take years of your life and drive you to suicide hardly seems worth doing.

Couldn't agree more.

WSJ: Is the God that you grew up with in church every Sunday the same God that the man in "The Road" questions and curses?

CM: It may be. I have a great sympathy for the spiritual view of life, and I think that it's meaningful. But am I a spiritual person? I would like to be. Not that I am thinking about some afterlife that I want to go to, but just in terms of being a better person. I have friends at the Institute. They're just really bright guys who do really difficult work solving difficult problems, who say, "It's really more important to be good than it is to be smart." And I agree it is more important to be good than it is to be smart. That is all I can offer you.

I'm not exactly sure what the contrast between 'good' and 'smart' is, but I think I get the overall message.