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| Detritus evolving in slow-moving stream: 8/30/10 CC Jean Stimmell |
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Emergent Behavior, Robots, and Singularity
According
to a recent Reuters’ news report: They look vaguely like miniature hockey
pucks skittering along on three pin-like metal legs, but a swarm of small
robots called Kilobots at a laboratory at Harvard University is making a little
bit of history for automatons everywhere. Researchers who created a battalion of 1,024 of these robots
said on Thursday the mini-machines are able to communicate with one another and
organize themselves into two-dimensional shapes like letters of the alphabet.
In a recent blog,
I write about an eerily similar process: swarming phenomena in nature, this
time evolving spontaneously through emergent behavior.
I quote Joseph Cambray’s
definition of emergent behavior: it is a process that happens whenever “particles interact with one another,
whatever they are, whether people or atoms, and if they interact in a
competitive environment, they have the capacity to self organize, and once they
start to self organize, you get new properties that are completely unexpected,
that’s what emergence is.”[i]
Cambray uses a mind-blowing example:
“This was something I picked up in some scientific publications,
it had nothing to do with psychology. These are beetle larvae from the Mojave
desert. They tend to clump, a number of them all get on to a little branch,
and… they make a kind of lumpy shape that apparently looks enough like a female
bee, and gives off the right pheromone, that male bees try to come and mate
with this clump. In the process, these beetle larvae, which are parasitic,
attach themselves to some of the chest hairs of the male bee, and then when the
male bee leaves, he carries them around to an actual mating event with a
female, they transfer on her back, they’re carried by her to the hive, where
they then eat the pollen. If they don’t do this, this is what’s remarkable, if
they don’t do this, they can’t complete their life cycle. So that the creation
of this bee-like structure is an emergent form. There’s no image inside these
creatures to build a bee, and there’s nobody telling them how to do this, it’s
a spontaneous self-organization into that form.[ii]
If Cambray is correct that
there was no image programed inside these creatures to build a model of a bee;
and if, in fact, there’s no one telling the larvae how to do this, then this
is, indeed, an example of spontaneous self-organization.
Remember that spontaneous
self-organization is an inherent function of Mother Nature, happening whenever particles interact with one another in a
competitive environment, whether the particles be atoms, animals or people.
If that’s indeed the case, why
won’t the swarm of tiny robots built in Harvard’s laboratory also exercise
emergent behavior: developing new properties that are completely unexpected.
We may be witnessing the first
faltering steps of a unique type of singularity. Could it be that emergent
behavior is Mother Nature’s way to coevolve through human technology?
Monday, August 11, 2014
Embodying the Mind, Part II
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| The Guardian Spirit of Emergence, Uniter of Mind and Matter |
I wrote in my blog (8/5/14) about embodying the mind: about how we are co-evolving not through some preordained destiny or higher rationality but through emergent behavior: through our moment-by moment, ongoing interactions with our social and cultural world, the natural world, and the universe itself.
We, in the individual and collective sense along with the universe itself, are unfinished beings, fashioning ourselves extemporaneously as we go. It’s like what the famous postmodern philosopher, Ludwig Wittgenstein replied when asked what side he was on during a philosophical debate; he answered, I don’t know yet; the conversations isn’t over.”
That’s the truth of our lives and of the universe.
Yesterday I received my latest Tricycle Magazine/The Buddhist Review. In a bit of synchronicity, the feature interview is entitled The Embodied Mind with philosophy professor, Evan Thompson. As opposed to most neuroscientists today who think the mind is something in the brain, Professor Thompson considers cognition as a form of embodied action:
Embodied” means that the rest of the body, not just the brain, is crucial; “action” means that agency—the capacity to act in the world—is central. Cognition is an expression of our bodily agency. We inhabit a meaningful world because we bring forth or enact meaning.”…What’s important is not just what is inside the brain but what the brain is inside of—the larger space of the body and culture. That is where we find mind and meaning.
Doesn’t that resonate with what I wrote about emergent behavior?
While most neuroscientists believe that consciousness is now largely a scientific problem of finding the neural correlates of consciousness in the brain, Professor Thompson disagrees, viewing it as yet another expression of the mind-in-the-head idea.
It’s like saying a cathedral is in the stones. You need stones, of course, and you need them to be connected in the right way. But what makes something a cathedral is also iconography, tradition, and its being a place of worship. In other words, the larger context in which the structure is embedded helps constitute it as a cathedral. In an analogous way, consciousness isn’t in the neurons or their connections. Here the larger context that constitutes consciousness—in the sense of sentience, or felt awareness—is biological: consciousness is a life-regulation process of the whole body in which the brain is embedded. In the case of human consciousness, the context is also psychological and social.
What we are talking about here is meaning; that’s the essence of it. That’s the crux of what makes us human! And most honest observers have to admit that when meaning is included in the discussion, scientific methods are no longer sufficient. As a remedy, Thompson recommends a cross-cultural approach.
From this cross-cultural philosophical perspective, we can’t take science for granted; we have to remember that it operates within a human community of shared norms and values and practices—what phenomenologists call the “lifeworld.” Science itself is a social practice that has the force and meaning it has because of its place in our lifeworld. Science can change the lifeworld, but it can never step completely outside it and provide some absolutely neutral perspective. To put the point another way, philosophy is concerned with the meaning of science—something that science on its own can’t tell us. And Buddhist philosophy is as relevant as Western philosophy for thinking about the meaning of science.
––––––––––––––––––
I’m hoping it’s not just synchronicity which has lead me to all these references to Embodied Mind. I’m hoping that it is the beginning of a trend: that the intelligentsia is waking up and realizing that, indeed, scientific methods aren’t sufficient, in and of themselves: that they are only tools, sometimes very useful, but not the truth, certainly not truth with a capital “T.” I’m hoping that the world is waking up to realize that rather than the truth, science is an ideology which over the last 300 years has become the dominant religion of our time, certainly at least in the western world.
After writing the first draft of this yesterday, I searched for one of my photos to illustrate it, but couldn’t find the perfect one. I decided to to go to Pawtuckaway State Park, which to me is a gateway to indigenous mysteries. I’ve written about it before, The Guardian Spirit of Pawtuckaway.
I knew I needed to bring my ultra-wide Nikon lens to capture this image, even though I didn’t know yet what it was. Wandering around in an erratic boulder field of giant stones at Pawtuckaway, I found what I was searching for, looming up in front of me two stories tall. The resulting photo is at the top of the page. I lightened her eyes in photoshop to make her appear as she did to me in person. To me, She is The Guardian Spirit of Emergence, Uniter of Matter and Mind. (Click on her image to make her bigger. Look in her eyes: what is she telling you?)
xxx
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Wonderment
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| Crab in Tree alongside Great Bay CC Jean Stimmell: 7/26/14 |
“There’s that feeling that you get when you see something that you don’t understand the origin of: wonderment. It brings about a kind of innocence, and I love that. I love to witness it. I love to be a part of making those moments happen.”
I love this quote by Caledonia Curry who started her career as a street artist, but leapfrogged to museums and galleries and now has expanded her work to include installation and performance art.
(Taken from NYT: Life of Wonderment by Melena Ryzik, 8/6/14.)
(Taken from NYT: Life of Wonderment by Melena Ryzik, 8/6/14.)
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Emergent Behavior: the fount not only of intelligence but of the very idea that God exists
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| Emergence CC Jean Stimmell: 8/1/14 |
The impetus for this blog came from an intriguing quote from a recent piece about eastern religion in the NYT that resonated with my Jungian worldview:
[S]ome Hindu philosophers have concluded that mind and the mental must be embodied. If so, reincarnation requires that mental states must be able to be “multiply realized” in different physical states. This led to the idea, much later popular among analytic philosophers of mind, that the mental is a set of functions that operate through the body. Such an approach supports the idea that there is a place for the self within nature, that a self — even one that exists over time in different bodies — need be not a supernatural phenomenon.1
This idea that mind and body can be “multiply realized” is akin to quantum physics which postulates that light can exist in different states at different point in time, sometimes as a particle, sometimes as a wave.
What many people don’t know is that Carl Jung was highly influenced by this “new physics,” keeping abreast with the discoveries of both David Bohm and Albert Einstein.
Then yesterday, in a kind of synchronicity, I read a transcript for a course I am taking of an interview by Joseph Cambray, Ph.D, who expounded on this very subject.
“[Jung] didn’t think that mind and matter were two fundamentally separate things…If you follow the psyche down, …you get to the psychosomatic realm of experience fairly quickly…the mind body relationship shows up in illness all the time, so already you can see that psyche is influencing soma and soma is probably influencing psyche. He’s looking to get to the point where those two things blur and blend into one another, so that matter starts to have some psychological-like properties, and the psyche seems to have a kind of substance in the world. That was the fundamental idea.”2
If, indeed, mind and matter are not fundamentally separate things but different states of the same entity – in the same manner as light can be both a particle and a wave – then that brings up interesting questions: like what exactly is intelligence and where does it come from?
Cambray talks about how scientists at the Santa Fe Institute, using simulations and modeling, showed how when particles interact with one another, whatever they are, whether people or atoms, and if they interact in a competitive environment, they have the capacity to self organize, and once they start to self organize, you get new properties that are completely unexpected, that’s what emergence is.
The world unfolds unscripted, moment by moment, through emergent behavior. Mind manifesting itself through matter. No need for humans to set themselves up as the “intelligent ones.” No need to postulate the existence of God as first mover.
Jung intuitively tapped into this idea 75 years ago before science could back it up. He connected this notion of unscripted oneness back to the classical worlds of antiquity, quoting the Greek physician Hippocrates:
“There is one common flow. One common breathing. All things are in sympathy. The whole organism and each one of it’s parts are working in conjunction for the same purpose. The great principle extends to the extremist part, and from the extremist part it returns the great principle to the one nature; being and not being.”3
This concept of “one common flow” is the essence of the eastern philosophy, particularly the Tao, the force that flows through every living and sentient object, as well as through the entire universe.
Of course, the very thought of surrendering our individual selves and our ego to one common flow, The Tao, is entirely foreign to western ears, both alien and mysterious.
Cambray gives one amazing example of emergent behavior – about intelligent behavior emerging out of the group without it being coded in any one individual – that is, at least to me and David Van Nuys who is interviewing Cambray, more than mysterious, it is absolutely mind blowing!
Here is his story about beetle larvae:
“This was something I picked up in some scientific publications, it had nothing to do with psychology. These are beetle larvae from the Mojave desert. They tend to clump, a number of them all get on to a little branch, and… they make a kind of lumpy shape that apparently looks enough like a female bee, and gives off the right pheromone, that male bees try to come and mate with this clump. In the process, these beetle larvae, which are parasitic, attach themselves to some of the chest hairs of the male bee, and then when the male bee leaves, he carries them around to an actual mating event with a female, they transfer on her back, they’re carried by her to the hive, where they then eat the pollen. If they don’t do this, this is what’s remarkable, if they don’t do this, they can’t complete their life cycle. So that the creation of this bee-like structure is an emergent form. There’s no image inside these creatures to build a bee, and there’s nobody telling them how to do this, it’s a spontaneous self-organization into that form.4
I am obviously indebted to Joseph Cambry Ph.D. for many of the ideas in this blog and look forward to finish reading his book Synchronicity and the Interconnected Universe. I wholeheartedly endorse what he says in the introduction to this work:
[Jungian] analytic explorations have the potential to activate, energize, and focus unconscious processes, which often lead to experiences that are perceived as extraordinary from the perspective of ego consciousness.5
XXX
1 What Would Krishna Do? Or Shiva? Or Vishnu? by Gary Gutting NYT8/3/14
2 Transcribed from www.ShrinkRapRadio.com : Shrink Rap Radio #311: Synchronicity and the Interconnected Universe Page 9 of 23
3 Shrink Rap Radio #311: Synchronicity and the Interconnected Universe David Van Nuys Ph.D. Interviews Dr. Joseph Cambray (transcribed from www.ShrinkRapRadio.com by Jeremy Devens)
4 Shrink Rap Radio #311: Synchronicity and the Interconnected Universe Page 15 of 23. Transcribed from www.ShrinkRapRadio.com
5 Dr. Joseph Cambray PhD. Synchronicity: Nature and Psyche in an Interconnected Universe (Kindle Locations 84-85).
5 Dr. Joseph Cambray PhD. Synchronicity: Nature and Psyche in an Interconnected Universe (Kindle Locations 84-85).
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Dreaming about the Water of Life
I had a dream last night
about searching for the water of life
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| Water of Life CC Jean Stimmell |
In my dream, I am living
in a large rambling house of many stories but have no water. For a long time, I
have been digging a well deeper and deeper under the foundation through rock
and clay; finally I reach soft sand and, then soon thereafter, water begins to
bubble up, pure and sparkling, gushing from the golden earth.
An old mechanical pump is lying
nearby to pump the water up to the house but I am aware that it is broken and
needs to be repaired. I have to act quickly before the soft sand collapses,
filling in all my hard work.
As I climb back up into my
house, my plumber happens by and I ask him for help. He is amazed at how deep the
pump is in the ground. (From the top, looking down into the pit I dug is like
looking down an elevator shaft of a skyscraper.)
My plumber says he will try
to fix the pump but doesn’t know how to haul it up to the surface. I tell him I
have a long coil of strong, old-fashioned manila rope and will gladly haul it
up for him.
However, I can’t find the
rope!
I do a frantic search through the many rooms
and layers of my house. I encounter other craftspeople working in the house but
they are dismissive of me, suggesting without saying it: “What is wrong with
you, any idiot could find that rope.”
At last, after I have
searched my whole house, the workmen take an interest and help me search the
garage which is cavernous and cluttered. Still, no rope is to be found, Finally,
in desperation, I search a special room on the main floor adjacent to the pump
shaft.
A female poet lives there
who we try hard not to disturb. Her room is decorated beautifully in soothing
shades of blue. As I feverishly pass through her room looking for the rope, I
leave behind messy trail of muddy footprints.
As I leave the poet’s room,
I run into a male patient from long ago who had suffered terrible trauma but
had been able to turn his life around while in treatment with me. He is all
dressed up, successful, self-actualized and overjoyed to see me again.
At that moment, I realize
there is no rope to be found. Some one took it to go rock climbing and forgot
to bring it back.
That’s the end of the dream.
––––––––––––––––––––––
In terms of Jungian dream
work, my house is a symbol of my entire psyche, the space I occupy, while, in
the words of Brian Collinson, a Jungian Analyst, “The water of life for which we
yearn relates directly to the waters of the unconscious. Often, only by
coming to terms with the meaning of dreams embodied in the unconscious can we
find the vitality for which we yearn.*
Thinking back to my dream,
I see it was a wild goose chase.
Both my feminine poet and
trauma survivor found peace and vitality through direct access to the water of
life by coming to terms, emotionally and spiritually, with the meaning of their
dreams embodied in the unconscious while I still sweat and strain too much,
attempting to haul up the water of life from the depths mechanically through
sheer will, books, and my intellect.
XXX
*
http://www.briancollinson.ca/index.php/2012/11/jungian-therapy-the-meaning-of-dreams-5-water.html
Monday, July 21, 2014
I blog like Leonard Cohen writes songs
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| Along the edge of the Contoocook River 7/14/14 CC Jean Stimmell |
While not
pretending to make any comparison between the content and creativity of Leonard
Cohen’s songs and my blogs, I found out today that his writing process is
similar to mine.
In an
interview with Paul Zollo* in 1992, Cohen said: To find a song that I
can sing, to engage my interest, to penetrate my boredom with myself and my
disinterest in my own opinions, to penetrate those barriers, the song has to
speak to me with a certain urgency…
That’s
exactly the impetus to my own writing: an image, idea, feeling or dream that
speaks to me in a voice I can’t ignore; or, stated in the words of Martin
Luther King, the fierce urgency of now.
Leonard
Cohen: My immediate realm of thought is bureaucratic and like a traffic jam.
My ordinary state of mind is very much like the waiting room at the DMV... So
to penetrate this chattering and this meaningless debate that is occupying most
of my attention, I have to come up with something that really speaks to my
deepest interests. Otherwise I nod off in one way or another.
So it is
exactly with me: something out-of-the-ordinary must strike a swift blow to my
head to silence the raucous troupe of chattering monkeys who spend most of my
waking hours swinging wildly and uncontrollably around the neuron dendrite
trees in my brain.
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| What a neuron dendrite tree looks like, one of the vast forest of them living in my brain http://worldsoflearning.blogspot.com/p/how-we-learn.html |
Furthermore,
my best blogs, unlike my monkey’s, don’t swing easily to me on the wings of
inspiration, ready made and gift wrapped; instead, they arrive unformed and
evolve with difficulty, accompanied by the angst, uncertainty, and throbbing
pressure of giving birth. It’s only afterwards that I see what I got: a lively
newborn or an inert stillborn. Either way, it is hard work. It’s certainly true of my babies that lived, including
many of my most popular blogs (which you find listed in the right hand column
of this blog.)
Leonard
Cohen: So to find that song, that urgent song, takes a lot of versions and a
lot of work and a lot of sweat.
But why shouldn't my work be hard? Almost everybody's work is hard. One is distracted by this notion that there is such a thing as inspiration, that it comes fast and easy. And some people are graced by that style. I'm not. So I have to work as hard as any stiff, to come up with my payload.
While it is undoubtedly true that the process takes a toll on many writers: "a lot of work and a lot of sweat" to write. But few could have it tougher than Gustave Flaubert:
"Sometimes I don't uderstand why my arms don't drop from my body with fatigue, why my brain doesn't melt away. I am leading an austere life, stripped of all external pleasure, and am sustained only by a kind of permanent frenzy, which sometimes makes me weep tears of impotence but never abates. I love my work with a love that is frantic and perverted, as an ascetic loves the hair shirt that scratches his belly. Sometimes, when I am empty, when words don't come, when I find I haven't written a single sentence after scribbling whole pages, I collapse on my couch and lie there dazed, bogged own in a swamp of despair, hating myself and blaming myself for this demented pride that makes me pant after a chimera. A quarter of an hour later, everthing has changed; my heart is pouding with joy. "**
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
But why shouldn't my work be hard? Almost everybody's work is hard. One is distracted by this notion that there is such a thing as inspiration, that it comes fast and easy. And some people are graced by that style. I'm not. So I have to work as hard as any stiff, to come up with my payload.
"Sometimes I don't uderstand why my arms don't drop from my body with fatigue, why my brain doesn't melt away. I am leading an austere life, stripped of all external pleasure, and am sustained only by a kind of permanent frenzy, which sometimes makes me weep tears of impotence but never abates. I love my work with a love that is frantic and perverted, as an ascetic loves the hair shirt that scratches his belly. Sometimes, when I am empty, when words don't come, when I find I haven't written a single sentence after scribbling whole pages, I collapse on my couch and lie there dazed, bogged own in a swamp of despair, hating myself and blaming myself for this demented pride that makes me pant after a chimera. A quarter of an hour later, everthing has changed; my heart is pouding with joy. "**
An aside about my photography and its relationship to my writing: On
occasion, the image that I photograph provides the fierce urgency for my
writing. Sometimes the photograph comes to me easily, ready made, a free gift.
Sometimes I have to work long and hard in Photoshop to bring out the essence of what I
felt when I snapped the shutter, especially when I am creating an image that
only exists in my mind’s eye like my manipulations and collages.
The
photograph at the top of this piece I took July 14th while walking along the
shore of the Contoocook River immersed in sea of purple pickerelweed.
I took a lot of photos but none hit home
until, out the infinitude, a certain dynamo of color and composition hit my
eye; instantly I knew I had found a winner even before snapping the shutter. (See photograph at top of the page)
––––––––––––––––––––––––––
* The
above quotes by Leonard Cohen from his interview with Paul Zollo came from Brain Pickings Weekly, an amazing compendium
of intellect and wisdom collected by Maria Popova:
http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2014/07/15/leonard-cohen-paul-zollo-creativity/
** this Faubert quote comes from pages 31-32 of Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey: Alred Knopf, New York, 2013
** this Faubert quote comes from pages 31-32 of Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey: Alred Knopf, New York, 2013
Friday, July 11, 2014
Even rocks are animate
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| Fetching young dinosaur in the woods behind my house CC Jean Stimmell: 7/6/14 |
Quote from Going Home by Thich Nhat Hanh
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