The June issue of Scientific American came in the mail yesterday. So I brought it with me to read on the bus today.
One of the articles, about evidences of quantum mechanics showing up in macroscopic systems, predicts major changes in our understanding of the fundamental laws of the universe. The article is here. I think you'll be able to read it, but if not, you'll at least be able to get the main points off the "In Brief" sidebar.
But what I'm writing about is the last sentence of the fourth-to-last paragraph, which says "We must explain space and time as somehow emerging from fundamentally spaceless and timeless physics."
When I read that sentence, I didn't think of a complete change in how I see and understand the world. At least, not for more than a few seconds. What I really thought was that if reality is fundamentally timeless, then the idea of Heavenly Father seeing all times as now is a lot easier to comprehend.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Nonfictional Characters
Around the time I started high school I was pretty into historical fiction novels (as opposed to historical nonfiction novels, I suppose). They helped me relate to people living in different periods and helped me to connect with history in a way I never had before. After reading about them in novels, the events we studied in history class were no longer dry lists of dates, but influences in real people's lives. Sure, I knew that before. But I didn't realize it so much until I saw the world through their eyes for a while.
In a lot of historical fiction, real people play a role in the story. Sometimes they have little walk-on roles. Sometimes they are minor characters who appear often enough to become familiar, but are never really center stage. Occasionally they never appear onstage, but influence events indirectly. And once in a while the entire novel focuses around real historical figures.
Recently I started to wonder what these historical figures would think of the way they are portrayed in novels. Would they be offended at the way they are portrayed? Flattered? Do the authors ever get them right?
And do any of them know they are being written about?
In a lot of historical fiction, real people play a role in the story. Sometimes they have little walk-on roles. Sometimes they are minor characters who appear often enough to become familiar, but are never really center stage. Occasionally they never appear onstage, but influence events indirectly. And once in a while the entire novel focuses around real historical figures.
Recently I started to wonder what these historical figures would think of the way they are portrayed in novels. Would they be offended at the way they are portrayed? Flattered? Do the authors ever get them right?
And do any of them know they are being written about?
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Death of a Bad Man
Reading people's responses to the news of bin Laden's death last night left me feeling ill. Not all of them. The ones talking about political and military consequences didn't bother me. What got to me was people in joyful celebration of the death of another human being.
Sometimes when a person dies, their friends and family are glad that they are done with the pain and suffering from disease. I don't know much about bin Laden's condition over the last few years. It wouldn't surprise me if there had been suffering. But somehow I doubt that's what my facebook friends are celebrating. And sometimes people use a funeral as a celebration of the life that has just ended, remembering the fun times and the good things the recently deceased did and achieved. I find this an even less likely reason for my friends' attitudes. What they really remind me of are public executions.
I've read of hangings and beheading and such being festive occasions where people crowd into the town square to see the proceedings. I don't know if they actually went down as such; this image comes entirely from novels and movies. But I could never understand why somebody would want to go see a person killed, and then afterward how they could have any spirit of gaiety or even an appetite. They just watched a person die. A life was taken. Even if the punishment was deserved (and I am not at all in the mood to debate the merits of capital punishment), it should have been a sober occasion.
I tell myself that the celebrations are because they see a military victory and a step towards peace. And I am sure that for some it is. But what it looks like to me is delight in the killing of an enemy. Well, I'm not good at looking at people as enemies. The closest I come is wishing bad luck on sports rivals. I am a complete failure at hatred. And what I see is that one of Heavenly Father's children has been killed. And instead of a celebration of the great life lived, I feel sorrow for the waste of potential and the loss of the good life that could have been.
Sometimes when a person dies, their friends and family are glad that they are done with the pain and suffering from disease. I don't know much about bin Laden's condition over the last few years. It wouldn't surprise me if there had been suffering. But somehow I doubt that's what my facebook friends are celebrating. And sometimes people use a funeral as a celebration of the life that has just ended, remembering the fun times and the good things the recently deceased did and achieved. I find this an even less likely reason for my friends' attitudes. What they really remind me of are public executions.
I've read of hangings and beheading and such being festive occasions where people crowd into the town square to see the proceedings. I don't know if they actually went down as such; this image comes entirely from novels and movies. But I could never understand why somebody would want to go see a person killed, and then afterward how they could have any spirit of gaiety or even an appetite. They just watched a person die. A life was taken. Even if the punishment was deserved (and I am not at all in the mood to debate the merits of capital punishment), it should have been a sober occasion.
I tell myself that the celebrations are because they see a military victory and a step towards peace. And I am sure that for some it is. But what it looks like to me is delight in the killing of an enemy. Well, I'm not good at looking at people as enemies. The closest I come is wishing bad luck on sports rivals. I am a complete failure at hatred. And what I see is that one of Heavenly Father's children has been killed. And instead of a celebration of the great life lived, I feel sorrow for the waste of potential and the loss of the good life that could have been.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Loverly
The first time I watched My Fair Lady, I was a teenager with dreams of perfect romance and I thought Eliza should end up with Freddy. After all, he was the young, attractive boy who was so smitten with her that he was happy just to wait around outside her door, then followed her to the bad part of town because he was concerned for her safety before escorting her home again.
Several years went by and I watched it again. My ideas of romance had changed somewhat since then, and this time I saw Freddy as a foolish boy with too few responsibilities and who was infatuated with Eliza because she was different than the girls he was used to. But I still don't like her going back to Professor Higgins. He treats her like an object. And the revelation that he treats her the same as everybody else, which was supposed to be a good thing, is the biggest turn-off of all. I'd rather a man treat me poorly because of some personal bias than because he just doesn't have any respect for people in general.
So I think the best ending for Eliza would be to be set up in a flower shop, like she had wanted at the beginning. Sure, it would be hard at first. But she'd adjust. And it'd be better than being married off to a man who has no concern for anybody other than himself or to a man who could never understand where she came from.
Several years went by and I watched it again. My ideas of romance had changed somewhat since then, and this time I saw Freddy as a foolish boy with too few responsibilities and who was infatuated with Eliza because she was different than the girls he was used to. But I still don't like her going back to Professor Higgins. He treats her like an object. And the revelation that he treats her the same as everybody else, which was supposed to be a good thing, is the biggest turn-off of all. I'd rather a man treat me poorly because of some personal bias than because he just doesn't have any respect for people in general.
So I think the best ending for Eliza would be to be set up in a flower shop, like she had wanted at the beginning. Sure, it would be hard at first. But she'd adjust. And it'd be better than being married off to a man who has no concern for anybody other than himself or to a man who could never understand where she came from.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
We'll Bring the World His Truth
We have been born, as Nephi of old
To goodly parents who love the Lord.
We have been taught, and we understand,
That we must do as the Lord commands.
We have been saved for these latter days
To build the kingdom in righteous ways.
We hear the words our Prophet declares:
"Let each who's worthy go forth and share."
We know his plan, and we will prepare,
Increase our knowledge through study and prayer.
Daily we'll learn until we are called
To take the gospel to all the world.
We are as the Army of Helaman.
We have been taught in our youth.
And we will be the Lord's missionaries
To bring the world his truth.
Janice Kapp Perry
Today in Primary singing time we started learning We'll Bring the World His Truth. I hadn't though about this song much lately, but I quickly remembered how I used to love it.
At one point when singing the line "of goodly parents who love the Lord," I saw the song differently than I did as a child. I started thinking about me as one of those parents, and about finding a husband who loves the Lord. And about the large responsibility I will have someday to teach my children so that they can have faith and courage like the stripling warriors.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
The Wrong Question
A week or two ago, someone asked me if I had a boyfriend. When I said no, he asked why not. I had just met the guy, so I of course did not go through all the various factors contributing to my current single status. Actually, I probably wouldn't do that for, well, anybody. I just said, "I just don't" or something along those lines.
Later on, though, I thought about his question. And I thought it was the wrong question to be asking. Because the way I see it, being single is the default state, where you are when you don't have somewhere else to be.
Then today I remembered that one of my friends previously expressed basically the same sentiment. He is a single Mormon guy, older than the typical age of marriage for Mormon guys. And he has been asked before, "Why not this girl?" or "Why not that girl?" And he said that is the wrong question. He isn't going to marry a girl just because he can't think of anything wrong with her. He is going to marry a girl because he can come up with a compelling answer to the question, "Why should I marry her?"
I am not going to be in a relationship just to be in a relationship. I am going to stay single until I find somebody I really want to be with. And until then, if somebody asks me why I'm single, I guess I'm going to have to answer, "Because there is not currently somebody in my life who I think is worth being in a romantic relationship with, who thinks the same about me." Although hopefully I will find an easier, catchier way to say it.
Later on, though, I thought about his question. And I thought it was the wrong question to be asking. Because the way I see it, being single is the default state, where you are when you don't have somewhere else to be.
Then today I remembered that one of my friends previously expressed basically the same sentiment. He is a single Mormon guy, older than the typical age of marriage for Mormon guys. And he has been asked before, "Why not this girl?" or "Why not that girl?" And he said that is the wrong question. He isn't going to marry a girl just because he can't think of anything wrong with her. He is going to marry a girl because he can come up with a compelling answer to the question, "Why should I marry her?"
I am not going to be in a relationship just to be in a relationship. I am going to stay single until I find somebody I really want to be with. And until then, if somebody asks me why I'm single, I guess I'm going to have to answer, "Because there is not currently somebody in my life who I think is worth being in a romantic relationship with, who thinks the same about me." Although hopefully I will find an easier, catchier way to say it.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Adjusting
One day last week when I was in a hurry to get to my bus on time, I grabbed the first book I saw with an interesting cover, skimming the blurb on the dust jacket to make sure it was fiction. (Yes, I judge books by the cover. So do you.) This book turned out to be LEFT Neglected by Lisa Genova, a story about a woman who develops left neglect after being in a car crash.
Left neglect is a rather fascinating disorder. When I read the dust jacket properly after leaving the house, I was actually a bit excited to realize it played a major role in the story. Basically, left neglect is your brain neglecting the left side, like you forget it's there. Everything physically works. You can see everything in front of you, but you aren't aware of anything to the left. Your limbs send sensation information. But your brain just ignores all that information. You can't consciously move your left arm or left leg, because your brain won't send them signals.
Anyway, when this lady's insurance won't pay for any more time in the rehabilitation center, she goes home. But while she was gone, her family made some changes. Because she didn't process what she saw on the left side, and she couldn't always move her left leg when walking or use her left arm to catch her, tripping became a real issue. So all the area rugs were removed from the house. Railings and grab bars were installed on the stairs and in the shower. They put brightly colored tape on the left sides of the door-frames in an attempt to get her attention, so she'd know they were there. And her mother moved in with them to help out. There were other changes, too, but you get the idea.
So I wondered what it would be like to come home and realize that your family has rearranged their home or their lives for you. Then I realized that my own family did to a certain extent when I was diagnosed with diabetes years ago. But at the time, I was just a little kid and didn't think much about how other people were affected, and now, everything just feels normal.
I also wondered how it would be to rearrange your home or life to accommodate new limitations for a loved one.
In my English class when I was a senior in high school, we once got into an argument about who had it harder during war - the boys, who were out fighting, or the girls at home, not knowing whether their men were alive or dead and not able to do anything about it. Well, while reading this book, I started wondering whether it would be harder to be the person who is living with the injuries and the knowledge of what her family is sacrificing for her or to be the family making the sacrifices and watching their daughter, wife, or mother suffer. Upon realizing that the men at war are actually seeing their friends die, I decided they have it harder. But I still don't know about this scenario.
Left neglect is a rather fascinating disorder. When I read the dust jacket properly after leaving the house, I was actually a bit excited to realize it played a major role in the story. Basically, left neglect is your brain neglecting the left side, like you forget it's there. Everything physically works. You can see everything in front of you, but you aren't aware of anything to the left. Your limbs send sensation information. But your brain just ignores all that information. You can't consciously move your left arm or left leg, because your brain won't send them signals.
Anyway, when this lady's insurance won't pay for any more time in the rehabilitation center, she goes home. But while she was gone, her family made some changes. Because she didn't process what she saw on the left side, and she couldn't always move her left leg when walking or use her left arm to catch her, tripping became a real issue. So all the area rugs were removed from the house. Railings and grab bars were installed on the stairs and in the shower. They put brightly colored tape on the left sides of the door-frames in an attempt to get her attention, so she'd know they were there. And her mother moved in with them to help out. There were other changes, too, but you get the idea.
So I wondered what it would be like to come home and realize that your family has rearranged their home or their lives for you. Then I realized that my own family did to a certain extent when I was diagnosed with diabetes years ago. But at the time, I was just a little kid and didn't think much about how other people were affected, and now, everything just feels normal.
I also wondered how it would be to rearrange your home or life to accommodate new limitations for a loved one.
In my English class when I was a senior in high school, we once got into an argument about who had it harder during war - the boys, who were out fighting, or the girls at home, not knowing whether their men were alive or dead and not able to do anything about it. Well, while reading this book, I started wondering whether it would be harder to be the person who is living with the injuries and the knowledge of what her family is sacrificing for her or to be the family making the sacrifices and watching their daughter, wife, or mother suffer. Upon realizing that the men at war are actually seeing their friends die, I decided they have it harder. But I still don't know about this scenario.
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