Too Busy to Hallucinate

I am reading "Musicophilia" by Oliver Sacks. He has a part specifically designated for musical hallucinations. Now, let this thought sink: the only reason we are not hallucinating ALL THE TIME is because we are constantly bombarded by our sensory feedback.
This, possibly, explains why meditation (or prayer) is often associated with visions. Meditative training over time increases the ability to block the sensory input, giving the brain an ability to play its own movie the way it likes.
On the afterthought: who knows, maybe, we ARE hallucinating.

Lost Identity

The nature of the human is some kind of amnesia. We get born on the Earth and spend our lifetimes trying to figure out who we are. By "we" I mean every individual but also humanity in the whole. Perhaps, even the whole world - what the hell is going on here?
You may not guess, but I am watching "Bourne-Identity" movies. And they are mesmerising for no apparent reason.
Interestingly, one of the "Bourne" movies was the last fun activity we did with my ex-husband before we've got divorced. I think it was the only entertainment thing that equally amused us both. Then we've got divorced. I think Bourne movies had nothing to do with that. But who knows. At that stage of my life, I had an interesting perception that things can be made "right". Like, you know, marry the right person, have kids, work, and that together will somehow guarantee some general "life worth living". Or, bringing it back to the topic, it will offer you some identity position in life and the validity of this position. And this identity will make you less lost in the chaos of the universe. Well, I have some good reasons to believe that this won't happen.
Instead, life is like a Bourne movie. Let me talk about myself now in case someone does not experience life in this way. In the generally disoriented situation, sometimes, I find that I possess some skills, which mysteriously present themselves when the need arrives (just like Bourne's multiple languages and fighting skills). The kind of skills that I never knew existed. Then totally meaningless events sometimes arrange themselves and become pieces of a puzzle, which starts making sense. Not the whole puzzle but some pieces of it. It is often something spread in time. I ask a question, get a totally random answer, and then years later discover that this answer has given me some vital knowledge. Really vital. Something that saved my life, for example. And through these pieces of the puzzle, some understanding of the reality emerges.
There are certainly some fun hypotheses around that. For example, it could be that everything has already happened, maybe even many times. Then there is an obvious need to fit the events so that they produce the relevant result. That's quite a weak hypothesis. Another one is that we all are a gigantic super-computer trying to find an answer to the universe (which is 42 by the way). This is nothing new of course. But I am seeing glimpses of a more coherent theory. It avoids me for now.
And to add on a positive note, our monk today told us that the law of karma says that a person who kills an animal will be reborn as this animal in the next life. Since we are growing and killing cows for food, I understand now why there are so many cows!

Perpetuum Mobile

The only reason the scientists have not yet invented any device of perpetual motion is because they did not study my cat Ginger. By no means, the first or the second law of thermodynamics can stand true if one compares the amount of lost hair that she produces in my house and the amount of food she eats. The hair is definitely more by weight, spread, and more than anything else, size!
Looks like the other cat owners have also discovered this perplexing phenomenon.

Cats, Summer, and Future

Today, I needed some inspiration. And when this happens, I go home, I mean, I read science fiction.

I re-opened Heinlein's "The Door into Summer" - and once again realised that I am anything but a separate being. Of course, I read it when I was young, of course, I am longing for an eternal summer.
"...that unpleasant white stuff" - do I ever call snow anything else?
Of course, I make cats their own doors and, of course, they still bully me into opening mines. How predictable...
Sometimes, I read a novel and my life painfully re-appears in front of my eyes: predicted by someone who never knew me. Or - wait, am I just their imagination?

Image stolen from "Simon's Cat" (TM)

How to Explain your Research Topic to an Academic

I find it generally easy to explain my research to the common folks: there's always something that a person knows and that I build on to lead her or him to my research topic. At the very least, up until now anyone who had any interest in my studies, could talk. And talking is close enough to my topic.
But when it comes to academics, the story is totally different. Academics know too much in a surprisingly limited slice of the world. And fairly enough, my research is also a very thin slice of the reality (Of course, I have to leave some work for other aspiring Ph.D.s to do. Grin).

That is how the conversation goes. - So tell me, what is the topic of your research?
- Well, there's a 4th planet in the 267th dwarf solar system of the Messier 82 of the M81 group system..
- Ah, so you are using the galactical theory of dwarf planets!
- No, wait. on that planet..
- Ah, so why don't you use the theory of on external galactical surfaces?
- uhm, well, it's not exactly what I am looking at. On that surface, there are different species..
- So why don't you just use cosmobiology?
- Well, it's ...yeah, it is cosmobiology, but these species are called stones
- I don't understand..
- yes, so these stones are actually carbon-based living creatures
- I knew it! You are researching the carbon-based theory of life!
- No. These creatures are distinguished by colour: blue and yellow stones..
- Wait, so you are into the spectral analysis?
- Noooo, not at all. The thing is these colours are actually the attributes of time. The same stone is visible on that planet by an observer, but when its colour is blue, it is not actually present, it is its temporal shadow..
- I have never heard of such theory. You must read "Time and Astronomy", it explains everything about what you are trying to do...
That being said, my research has nothing to do with forms of life or colours (well, almost nothing) but a colourful metaphor makes my burden lighter (despite the stones). I am not complaining, after all, I am interested in communication.


P.S. The whole conversation is totally made up. Of course.

Sunday Musings about Genetic Modification and our Abundant Future

Last year, I made a presentation about our unsustainable treatment of animals and plants. One of my concerns was the possibility of turning the Earth into a bacteria-governed cemetery of the human civilization. Now, I see that my concern was totally ungrounded!

Thanks to the Genetic Modification (GM), we have the technology to interbreed with that same bacteria that is thriving on chemical waste. Apparently, for now, we are only eating the mixed-breed children of these bacteria. But a human body is 90% bacteria, bacteria with their own DNA and their own ways of life. How do these guys welcome the arrival of the chemical-waste bacteria DNA? Interesting question...
There is evidence that this new DNA stays with us. What does it do without its favourite chemical waste meal? Maybe we should add a serving of RoundUp to our daily vitamin supplement. And then the future of the pollution is not so much of a problem - eventually, we'll just eat it :)
This was my evidence-based but far-fetched conclusion set-up for an upcoming science fiction novel.
P.S. I am surprised that a substantial portion of my superficial thinking was elaborated by other scientists, see for example here.

Image courtesy of https://alternativeeating.wordpress.com

Keep breaking your heart until it opens

"Keep breaking your heart until it opens" - I have read this quote some time ago and it has risen an immediate disagreement with me. Why should anyone break their heart - on purpose? Isn't it plain stupid? Isn't a broken heart just a consequence of stupid actions, unjustified beliefs, and eventually a plain rejection of the reality?
I kept the image with the quote on my cellphone, partially as a reminder that at least someone thinks that such stupidity has some benefit in it. Well, someone also said that we learn from our mistakes, but somehow a "broken heart" category seems to be hard to learn from. Despite our beliefs about classifications, situations and people are so different that it is hard to generalise.
And now I am reading Pema Chodron, and she gives such a beautiful answer: A "..broken heart.." is "..our link with all those who have ever loved". Indeed, here's the meaning, here's why it is not a loss, not a stupidity. You may lose one person but connect with everyone who suffers. Pain, loss, grief - these experiences are not unique. Thousands of people are suffering right now. If you are suffering yourself, you are not alone. You are just a part of this universe, where joy and sorrow are just present.
“The experience of being free of fixed mind often happens because of trauma or crisis,” says Pema Chodron. And this is another gift of a tragedy. It is that moment when the perceptions fall and life remains just as it is: momentous, unglorified, uncertain.
“When you feel bad, let it be your link to others’ suffering. When you feel good, let it be your link with others’ joy.”(Pema Chodron).

Meditation or Art

The meditation today started with Ven Chai comparing meditation with art. And this art has defined my experience today.

Indeed: art, flow, passion - these are the most cherished experienced when our life just seems "right". When it is not a struggle anymore. I also remember that this is how childhood was - everything was perceived good most of the time.

And my meditation turned very arty: I was feeling rather tired, so my body welcomed my comfortable seated position, and drowsy warmth covered my skin. After the instruction to visualise a shiny sphere, I saw a tree.

Or, rather a crown of a tree - bright green, warm and leafy. I thought to myself that I've been looking at the trees a bit too much lately and tried to turn the tree into an orange sphere of light. It did not turn. Instead, my brain decided to take me on a ride to different beautiful places: we saw trees, flowers, sparkling pools, grassy paths. The images were interrupted now and then by me remembering that I am still looking for the sphere. In the end, I saw myself reading some scientific article, but once I realised that I am reading it, all the letters turned into Thai alphabet, and I could not read anymore. So I started to look for the sphere again.

I thought that usually it is easy for me to start visualising the sphere because it happens as I think of peace and happiness, which has its origin in the centre of my body, within this sphere of light. But today I was so happy and peaceful that I could not ask for any more happiness. I could imagine the sphere, but it was rather small and not particularly shiny, rather just a lovely orange circle. And then I thought that maybe that sphere is so difficult to see the sphere inside of my body because instead - my body is inside the sphere. I also remembered Ven Chai's recommendation to look into the inside of the sphere.  And indeed, once I changed my perspective, I realized that the contours of my body are no longer shaped as my body, but rather smooth and similar to an egg in shape. And the contour is a soft light - warm and orange, this light is what makes me feel so comfortable. And there's nothing inside me, nothing to disturb my peace.

I think I could have stayed there for forever. But then the class ended. 

Recently, my friend Ravi told me a story about a monk who has been meditating for 200 years. Ravi questioned, why the monk stayed meditating for so long. Now, I have the answer: nobody just told him that the session is over!

What makes Memories?

I wonder what makes the memories? There are certain events that have left me with the most vivid unforgettable memories (some of these events are my dreams). Yet, writing my master's dissertation, has left practically no memories, though it has profoundly changed me. I can easily say that I became my master's thesis, however, I most completely do not remember writing it.
Now, that I have written it, I have a hypothesis. I think it is a sudden change that is to blame. Gradual achievements accumulate step by step almost unnoticed for the brain. I also never remember running Comrades - another significant life-changing experience. Step-by-step - it is the same, and just suddenly you are 90 km away from the start. That was the same with my master's - step by step, starting from Peter Drucker's works - and suddenly, I am a different person, criticizing relentless and thoughtless money-making. "There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all."

On the contrary, I vividly remember a bright green grass dream in some gray cold winter in my childhood. It was so different and happy. Change..difference...A brain is a funny tool. And change is good - at the very least - for the memories!

Travel: Stunning Maputo

There's nothing more amazing in life than the freedom to be someone else every day. And there is no better way to achieve it than by travelling.

When you travel - do it alone. Leave your ordinary world behind and see what else the universe has to offer you. You will be surprised.

My Maputo trip was planned as a journey of another life. My luggage consisted of a backpack with a towel (hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy got it right - it is the most important travelling accessory!), scarf (some fashion magazine got this part right), spare t-shirt, socks, underwear, 2 water bottles (the most difficult thing to get when you need it!).   I had R400 in my pockets, no car, and by pure coincidence - no watch or other means to track time (I forgot my watch at home).

Cellphone – I had it with me, but I had to switch it off. Its battery runs flat sometimes in just one hour. And I needed it on my way back to call Uber. So the moment I got to the bus station, I switched it off and, for the extra confidence, took the battery out and put it in another pocket. From that point on I had to track time by the sun, and with the help of those around me.

Uber ride was blissfully fast. I was too early to the station. Another hour of wandering around, chatting to the coffee-shop attendant, meeting an unfriendly girl who was also going to Maputo and was asking me if the bus has arrived already. It wasn’t at that time, but soon enough it did.

It was empty, and I was in a happy delusion hoping to take the two seats joined together to sleep. Unfortunately, the sleep wasn't long. The moment we got to Park Station, the bus was full, and I've got a seat neighbour, who luckily was very skinny. I regretfully thought that I should have taken a seat next to a woman for more comfort, but it was too late. Luckily I slept very well.

The morning started with the bus stopped. I looked out of the window and saw stationary cars next to us. The well-known queue at the border! Sigh. I got off my seat and went to the other side of the bus where the window was bigger. Gosh, the view! It was one of the most beautiful landscapes I ever saw. In the glen below there was a river, with boulders and trees on the sides. Warm green vegetation and deliciously lime-coloured pastures were closer to the horizon. I decided to stand there and just absorb the beauty for as long as it takes. I did not have any idea of the time, and there was nothing to do about the queue either, so I just absorbed what was good. The passengers swiftly switched to Portuguese - strangely enough, since at Park Station everyone was speaking Zulu. I lazily thought that I am the only white person on this bus - I often find myself in situations like that. I listened to Portuguese, trying to adjust my ear.

The time passed - it always does somehow. The border was very confusing - the driver told us to join the queue at the immigration, and then walk straight, and he will see us at the other side. The kind of instruction that drives me insane. Which "other side"? Where? I hoped for some signs - but there was none.

Crowds of people were all busy walking, selling something, offering cell contracts, meticals, food, drinks, and anything you can ever think of. Used to South African danger and the endless begging typical to the other African countries - I stayed away from all the vendors and just walked. The girl that I met at the Midrand station was there again, but somehow by that time she forgot how to speak English, so she could not help. Eventually, I started to ask the officially looking men in uniform, and they directed me forward and forward, and finally I saw our bus. Got in, some more time waiting. Goats and chicken were wandering around. I remembered some children’s story about a little goat who was wandering from one owner to another as I was watching a little goat from the village crossing the motorway and boldly walking further and further to the South African side. The goat looked very determined and totally unbothered by the border control.

Finally the ride to Maputo! Now it became interesting. I was happy about my window seat. The fields on the side of the road were scattered with half-built houses, occasional people working on the fields, tuck shops. All seemingly unrelated and in the middle of nowhere. Long brick wall starting at one point and lasting for about 500m - what was its function? Separate the road from what? The sea was visible in the distance.

Finally, I've remembered my intention to meet some locals and decided to chat to my neighbour. He told me that he is from Maputo, but lived in SA since 1998. He is going back when the kids are finishing school. We've exchanged numbers, and he promised to help me to buy some land around Maputo if I decide to relocate. His brother is married to a German lady. This fact was supposed to be a uniting common ground, as I was thought to be a German too. He was surprised that I don't speak German (I guess I should since so many people believe I am German).

And we arrived. Long circle around Maputo. What a beautiful city - everything is there: the sea, a port, a train station, tall buildings: new and old, neat colonial houses, trees, beaches. My plan was to take it easy and just walk around and see what is there. First I stumbled upon a geological museum, which I walked in but could not visit since it required a cash payment. Another attempt - a bookstore – tried to buy a children’s book in Portuguese - those are wonderful to learn a language - again no luck with any of my standard bank cards. Ok, let's try an ATM – now: “this type of card is not accepted”. SA banks make unique payment cards - never had problems with any other cards.

Luckily I found a shopping centre and – yay! – Finally, a clean toilet, water, soap. Now I could change: the pleasure of a clean t-shirt is one of the life gifts that we forget. Feeling suddenly energised I was ready to explore the city. The same shopping centre had a currency exchange, which got me some Meticals for my Rands, a new bottle of water and the information about the time in one of the watch shops. 1:30 pm -good enough to explore the beach and walk around a bit more in the evening. Following the instructions from my bus neighbour, I made my way to the beach promenade and thoroughly enjoyed it. Relaxed pedestrians of all ages, occasional bike or a car. And no vendors! Gosh, what a pleasure! How much I dread the experience of constant attention from these tourist predators! Nothing worse than being seen as a walking ATM by multiple locals who endlessly offer you unnecessary services. And here - such a breath! No one bothered me. Even those who were selling peanuts and cell contracts were very polite. I went all the way to the beach and realised that this is the ultimate destination. If my life ended there - I would wish for no more. The ultimate purpose of life is to lie under a palm tree listening to the sound of waves.

Of course, I did get back, but this is a totally another story.