Someone suggested looking up this phrase: quorum sensing.
You decide why…
Someone suggested looking up this phrase: quorum sensing.
You decide why…
Do you listen to the sounds of [nonhuman] nature around you?
This morning, whilst eating oatmeal outside, I heard the alarm chirps of woodpeckers nearby, accompanied by the buzz of a chainsaw.
I looked around and could not find the source of the woodcutting sound, at first.
Finally, after using my pocket camera as a spyglass, I spotted the treehugging, limbclimbing, chainsaw-wielding giant slayer nextdoor:
I accept that my new nextdoor neighbours are responsible owners of a patch of woods in which a small house, driveway and septic field line sit.
If I was a more responsible homeowner, there wouldn’t be holes in the eaves, bats in the belfry and mice in the crawlspace.
Or is that my head I’m talking about?
Anyway, here’s the word redefinition of the day:
Civilisation — what extra children who are not needed to grow/raise food build to overcome boredom and justify their existence when predators are no longer a balancing threat; deadend offshoots of evolution; entropy states in flux.
My friends in the archaeological business found a scrap of writing that had been stuck on the bottom of the foot of a mummified person who drowned in the Dead Sea. Apparently, it clarifies the controversy surrounding the alleged age of Methuselah, said to have lived to 969 years of age.
Translation of the scrap of writing indicates that Methuselah actually lived 96 years and 9 months (or moons).
Young Earth proponents have seized on this last bit of data as evidence for a firm foundation in their beliefs that our planet is only thousands of years old.
Meanwhile, treasure seekers have begun a fullscale dredging of the Dead Sea for more fool’s gold in the form of the last civilisation’s toss-offs, trash dumps or other forgotten piles of detritus that antiquity collectors will pay top dollar in order to make connections between previous scraps that are practically senseless but cost too much to say they’re worthless.
One of the first pieces of advice you get from those who are older and have lived longer than you is to not take advice from anyone older than you, right?
Wrong.
Want to live longer, or at least pretend that you might?
Try these handy tips:
1. Drink a glass of water when you wake up. Your body loses water while you sleep, so you’re naturally dehydrated in the morning. A glass of water when you wake helps start your day fresh. When do you drink your first glass of water each day?
2. Define your top 3. Every morning Mike asks himself, “What are the top three most important tasks that I will complete today?” He prioritizes his day accordingly and doesn’t sleep until the Top 3 are complete. What’s your “Top 3” today?
3. The 50/10 Rule. Solo-task and do more faster by working in 50/10 increments. Use a timer to work for 50 minutes on only one important task with 10 minute breaks in between. Mike spends his 10 minutes getting away from his desk, going outside, calling friends, meditating, or grabbing a glass of water. What’s your most important task for the next 50 minutes?
4. Move and sweat daily. Regular movement keeps us healthy and alert. It boosts energy and mood, and relieves stress. Most mornings you’ll find Mike in a CrossFit or a yoga class. How will you sweat today?
5. Express gratitude. Gratitude fosters happiness, which is why Mike keeps a gratitude journal. Every morning, he writes out at least five things he’s thankful for. In times of stress, he’ll pause and reflect on 10 things he’s grateful for. What are you grateful for today?
6. Reflect daily. Bring closure to your day through 10 minutes of reflection. Mike asks himself, “What went well?” and “What needs improvement?” So… what went well today? How can you do more of it?
Simple and easy? No, but rural living can invigorate and revive.
Walking down the asphalt pathway that serves as a minor vein in the arterial network for motorised vehicles, I observed a dirty old dog sniffing around a rubbish bin, wondering if dog catchers still exist.
Just now, an hour later, I saw the dog catcher drive by. Bye, bye, dog, someone’s previous pet — you were loved once and now you’re gone, just like that.
Ahh…the convenience of old-fashioned social networking.
Some days, it’s best to let pictures speak for themselves.
Which is better for me: one, sitting on the sofa watching a succession of championship football games, or two, taking a walk in the woods looking at the random mix of nature’s wonders?
Which is more ridiculous: one, a career politician saying that government is good for me and has all the answers, or two, a person who inherited wealth and continues to grow richer without physical labour, never able to personally use all the wealth, saying that exploiting the physical labour of workers and the monetary credit of consumers is good for them?
They say the near vacuum of space shows no favourites.
From the perspective of our species, that is.
Out here, a few protective layers separate me and my crew from the noncruelty of cold death.
We have launched mini-satellites like bread crumbs indicating our path through the pathless mix of gravity waves, comet dust and cosmic rays.
Our corporate goals of continuous learning and continuous improvement drive us toward seeking knowledge not only for knowledge’s sake, in case we encounter a situation that requires reaction faster than we can look up a solution, but also to increase our network connections between neurons, electromechanical interfaces and the Inner Solar System Net that binds us ever closer together.
Allowing us to explore within our assigned tasks, we avoid the aimless wandering of what we were taught were the inefficient aims of an overly permissive society.
Automatic tracking functions inform us when our efforts to learn are incongruous with advancing the state-of-the-art of space travel while en-route to our destination.
Or our destiny, as some of the crew likes to see it.
One or two of the crew members will always have ideas that are not sanctioned for testing against possible implementation on a larger-than-theoretical scale.
For instance, during a five-minute thought break, I was interrupted by Reqdook, whose sole task is to ensure that our seed bank is protected at all costs, even at the expense of the crew, if necessary.
Reqdook has plenty of time to explore our information database and add thought experiments to the database for further expansion by crew members in their idle between-work cycles.
Lately, Reqdook has played with the idea that we are a duplicate crew, analysing communications threads between us and other Nodes.
Reqdook feels like there’s something left unsaid during conference calls, as if we’re told one thing, expected another and left with nothing said about a third.
At three years of age, Reqdook is our youngest and least-experienced crew member so I let Reqdook make up these stories as a way of discovering how the Network gives us room to mature in our own time.
One day, Reqdook will figure out the truth, that all but a tiny portion of our “selves,” self being an artificial concept, runs on automatic functions over which we have little “conscious” control.
Every person, every set of states of energy, has access to a circle of influence that is imaginary.
I know that I do and I don’t control the Network myself because my imagination lets me think and act upon both the “yes” and “no,” the positive and negative aspects of a single entity within a Node controlling the whole Network.
I am the small self here in this chamber of a spaceship and I am the whole known universe that must pass through this set of states of energy that is me, one way or another influencing every state of energy that ever has, ever does and ever will exist.
I, and the other dozens just like me, sent Reqdook back to the drawing board, so to speak, to better understand what duplication really means.
Redundancy is a positive word in my dictionary, key to protecting the Network.
Somewhere, out there, is another Network that is a duplicate of this one, that joins other duplicate Networks as Nodes within a bigger Network that duplicates others, etc.
Reqdook will learn this hidden message that the communication threads imply but do not state.
I cannot tell Reqdook this unspoken fact because it then becomes a theory for Reqdook to record in the information database and others to refute in their supplementary comments about contradictory theories.
Such is the life of a space explorer…
Due to climate change, Santa Claus has announced that his hideout at the North Pole, for the longest time resting on a solid base of ice, has been moved to an underwater facility, designed to resemble the Atlantis structure from the James Bond film, The Spy Who Loved Me. Don’t forget to buy the merchandise in time for Christmas gifts!!!
Film producers are working on the rights to the book, Waterworld 2, which documents the chase of Santa Claus by a gang called the Notorious Nefarious Nincompoops intent on getting their clutches into the Claus underwater fortress, saved at the last minute by an old warrior played by Kevin Costner along with his young sidekicks, played by unknown actors we’ll probably never hear from again, with a has-been starlet providing a thin plot as a love interest that makes no sense.
The men sat back in their leather chairs, cigar smoke gathering in layers below the ceiling.
“Boys, this is the way I see it. We gave the women the right to vote. A few decades later, we paid some kids to crash planes on 9/11. From my point of view, we’re right on schedule. Any objections?”
“Why are you so certain this will work?”
“Why? Because it always has. We enfranchise and disenfranchise various portions of the population to keep them off-guard and forever picketing city hall for the same rights they’ve lost and gained so many times they can’t remember.”
“If only this next one happened in my lifetime…”
“Anyone else with a question?”
“Yes. So let me get this straight. Your schedule shows us implementing Sharia law in Western countries within 100 years of 9/11/2001, thereby reinstating the role of men as supreme leaders…?”
“Uh-huh…”
“But it doesn’t bother you that our religion is pushed off to the side?”
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t Sharia law the antithesis of ours?”
“How so?”
“Well, our religions are not exactly best friends…”
“Abrahamic, Ibrahamic, call it what you will. At the end of the day, it’s patriarchical and that’s all that matters to us men. Right, boys?!”
The yellow-orange glow of burning tobacco sticks bobbed up and down.
“Next item on the agenda — determining which families get first dibs on occupying the initial Martian colonies. Any suggestions?”
“Well, hadn’t we better make sure the women we send with those families are self-sufficient if need be but ultimately dependent on men?”
“Of course, of course. As you can see from the list I gave you, the men and women from which you will choose the best candidates have been sequestered into isolated subcultures for three generations, allowing us to control their thought patterns, dietary preferences and genetic tendencies with 99.99966 percent accuracy.”
“I don’t know. Six sigma sure leaves a lot of room for error. I’d feel a lot more secure if we had a 10-sigma process in place.”
“You get what you pay for. Gentlemen, anyone want to raise the stakes to ten sigma?”
“I’ll put a wager on seven.”
“Eight for me!”
“Okay, anyone for nine? No? Okay, going once, twice, sold! Eight sigma. By my calculations we need an additional half a billion dollars for seed money to get this started.”
“I’d still feel more comfortable with ten.”
“And if you can cough up 100 billion dollars, we’ll give you ten sigma.”
“Let me think about it…”
“Sure thing. We’ll table it until next week’s Committee meeting. Now, looking at the list, are there any objections to the list of potential candidates?”