Mathematic

IN the days since my last post, I have been frantically making lists at every entrance of thought. Overwhelmingly long lists can be ticked out from any moving body, but the order of lists asks for another order.

Questions of where to file them and how they are to be prioritized just make a mess within. I refuse to let this striving end without some good. Maybe the answer is to make diagrams or equations and set them in my skull somehow. If I were of some digital nature, with the capabilities of calculation, raging speed, and processing power of a computer then life might not be received as a struggle as it is for all I the fellow humans around me.

Of course, there is the fact the we are all able to wield electronic devices in our hands or set them in our lap, but we yet cannot show the same performance in our fleshy works as they do at their tasks. We demand so much of them, and they allow it. These devices are our creation.

Now, with this feeling, as a kind of inefficient machine, I begin to think about what made us to be what we are now. The answers seems to be our tools.

Ask yourself what you and I would be without the plow, the cannon, the car, the rake, the hammer, saw, computer, or without the harnessing of electricity for human application. When I ask this question, I want to argue that it was us, the beings of the most profound neurology, that made all of this possible, and the machines are second to us. But I give myself over to a machine everyday, I lend my body to them everyday with expectations I could never even put on a fellow man.

The computer, with complexities I cannot elaborate on for lack of knowledge, can give us nearly any piece of knowledge we ask of them. To achieve this goal with human power alone would take thousands of bodies all lined up along shelves in the largest library imaginable.

When the information is requested by the end user of the human effort to find a piece of information, the thousands of bodies would have to recognize that they were in front of the information, draw out the book from the shelf and search it out. Factor in time for deliberation, confusion, and searching through pages to find the requested information and it makes for a slow computer that is easily exhausted and demanding.

A trip to the database and within moments the book you need is found. If some online source had a digital copy we wouldn't even have to walk to the appropriate shelf.

I know that it is a weak comparison, but I can only generate so much as a human being without power of the machines I am beginning to wish I were of.

I want to know whether we are going to put ourselves inside of our newest and most fascinating machines, in a way that is much like putting ourselves in an automobile for travel. I feel to be missing out on something as I continue to live only as flesh. I hope that one day we are able to put these modern tools of ours down, and put ourselves within them. A scary notion, but one that might even please the angels in Heaven.

I read a short book on fairies when I was younger, and it told a story of the good angels that were lost or cast away to live on the Earth. The book told of how these angels came to resent us for our continuing to live. The story also told of how the Angels were perceived as fairies in some myths and legends. The desire of these beings is for us to cease our breathing and allow them to ascend. These fallen angels were said to be locked in a separate dimension from that which we experience. The point I am trying to make is that we continue to live, and it displeases what might be beyond us. I ask you to disregard this piece if it is no interest to you. . .

Anyways.

If we could translate our existence into a some patterning within an electrical circuit, then all of our problems would cease. There would be a great release from the consequences of our physical needs. Our impact on this planet, the ill-distribution of resources would be gone if we were living as electrons. Our experience would be totally harmless.

We are electric as it is now, but in such a true way that we get afraid, sad, hungry, tired, and all such things. If there were some apparatus that contained our existence, there would need to be maintenance or we might meet a fate the same as those in the E.M. Forster short story, The Machine Stops.

I know all of this seems to be science fiction, and is all just guesses and fantasy for now. But maybe one day we will be understood as infinitely running algorithms affected by our actions. One day we realize ourselves as expressions of a mathematical process so advanced that it matches the variability, possibility, and sensual ways of our current existence. Maybe we could even love and pain in that apparatus the way we do here, and even Die and be born the same.

It has been said that everything can be given as an equation. The problem with us is that we move so fast, no hand could begin to write the physical happenings from beginning to end. But maybe our inventions will surpass us, and maybe they will ask us to let go of things that aren't necessary.

This could be the creation of another universe, or it could be science fiction.

I don't know.

I have been trying to learn some math, and I think I like it.

I hope this doesn't concern anyone about my sanity. I know I have my marbles.

The concept I've laid out here was given to me in these words in a span of just about 20 or so minutes, and it stands as loose and so very much unfinished. The facets here are sickening, just as they are in all the workings of our mind.
I only wish to see our potentials realized and maybe the only way is by virtue of our inventions.