Something happened along the way (Originally published on August 14, 2006)

A year ago, I thought it funny. Stories of men and women who jump off the grid. They become successful in the ways their society measures success and just stop. I don't find it as funny any more.

I have not quite attained the desired ends. I still have several personal milestones of success I have not yet reached but I've gained some cruising altitude. Given some time, I will reach my destination. I see no more challenge in it. Perhaps that's the problem.

It was never about money or status. I don't care about either. It was about accomplishment. Looking back on a body of work and knowing it is yours. Knowing the energy that went into it. But then, the job is complete and I have to look for another milestone. It is my nature. I have to keep going. But now I seem to have lost the destination.

Somewhere between the mundane of living debt free and the colossal of rebuilding this city, I don't see any goals. I could never chase a promotion or desire money as an end.

The only thing I am left with is getting to know my fellow humans. There just seems to be something wrong with considering that a goal. Getting to know people is something I always thought of as just happening. Viewing people as an objective seems dehumanizing to me.

For now, I will just retire to my books and my pen.

A conversation by a fence (Originally published on August 20, 2006)

Man 1: If there going to call it a Folk Festival, they should play mostly folk music.
Man 2: It doesn't matter to me what they play as long as it's good.

This was repeated in essence with different analogies for at least an hour. I did not chime in as I sat in my chair a few feet away. I had discovered something in the moment I heard the counter-play: it isn't about the music. Not for me anyway. I realized later, it never was. I hadn't really ever gone for the folk music, not really. Ani Difranco was the performer that got me to buy the tickets 4 years ago. I've never considered Ani folk but then again, I don't put things into genres.

This year, I really didn't see that much of the concerts. It is physically impossible to witness them all. I would have to estimate that I spent only 6 hours in front of a stage. It was the activity that occurred in the campsite that interested me more. That was amazing.

Dozens of moments are circulating in my mind, but one seems to want airing more than the rest. As many were, I was wearing glow sticks during the nighttime hours. I stumbled across a drum circle and began to dance. A young lady approached me and asked if she could have one of my glow sticks. As I had three and she had none, I gave one to her. She said "Thank you" and then she said "I knew you would. Hippies always share."

I was taken aback. Me? A hippy? I think back now and realize I must have looked the part. Dancing around a drum circle, unshaven, covered in dust. It was not really until I arrived in my world of concrete and steel that all the pieces came together. It's not about the music or the parties, it's about the world as it can exist. It's about a place where people share. It's about a place where you can walk up to anyone and start a conversation. It's about a place where you can leave your personal belongings by a tent and have complete confidence they will be there when you return. It's about a place where everyone walks everywhere. It's about a place where free expression is encouraged.

If wishing that place could exist year round makes me a hippy, than I am honored to be called one.

I think I'm starting to get it (Originally published on August 20, 2006)

I have spent several weeks unsure. Something had changed. I just didn't know what. I began to doubt the path I had taken. I began trying new approaches. I began to conceive myself differently.

I returned from my third Philadelphia Folk Festival today and realized I was not the same person that went the previous two times. There was no concern about being alone this time. There were no thoughts of decorum or acceptance. I didn't worry about "acting my age".

During the last year, a process started. I am not sure what triggered it although I do have my thoughts on the subject. I am becoming free. I'm not sure how far along the process has gone but it is now perceivable. The awkwardness I have always felt around my fellow humans is slowly going away. The fear of rejection or whatever it was that has caused me to label myself "A Social Retard" is going away. I still can't read body language and I'm not the world's best conversationalist, but I stopped caring about those things.

I have always thought of myself as free. I have my own world view. My own ethics. I have never let the popular opinion shape my own views. But I was inhibited. I did care what others thought of me, I just didn't admit it. Maybe one day I won't care what others think. In the meantime, I'm just going to accept that I do.

Integrated Circuits (Originallly published on August 25, 2006)

Occasionally something minor reveals something larger. We have had a network outage at the office for roughly 24 hours. The result is a company with 0 productivity. No one can get to their files or their e-mail. We are far from a paperless office. However, we can't run on paper alone.

The simple fact is that we have become reliant on the integrated circuit. Our cars, our phones, our clocks, our music, our currency exchanges, our lights, our heat, all of the things that define our civilization are contolled by wafers of silicon.

This is not true on most of the planet. Most technologies still predate IC and only the industrial centers have invested themselves so heavily.

Even here in Philadelphia, in this very office, the effect would have been minimal 10 years ago. 5 years ago it would have effected people but only 20% of the workforce would become significantly less productive. Then again, 10 years ago, my department didn't exist. 5 years ago my job didn't exist.

I guess I've found another thing that's reliant on the integrated circuit: me.

Artificial Intelligence (Originally published on August 25, 2006)

I remember seeing movies like Terminator and thinking “We could just pull the plug.” If a machine becomes persnickety, you just show it who's boss: take away its electricity. But there are less and less machines with off switches anymore.

Example: my phone. There's an off switch, but all it does is turn off the screen. You can reset it, but it just starts right back up. Even if you pull the battery, it has a backup.

What I think is funny is that in all portrayals of AI it turns out bad for us. I don't think it will. I think we might want to add an off switch just in case, but I don't think they are going to take over and kill us all.

But the question is, why? Why have the machine think for you? Why let them run on autopilot? Is it a desire for more leisure? I agree that building machines to do the jobs that require the most backbreaking work is a good idea given the caveat that the person who did the job gets an easier, better job. Machines taking the soil samples at Chernobyl and rebuilding concrete barriers there; these are two goals robotics engineers should have.

However, that's not what AI would be for. AI would involve a machine that could adapt. A machine that could change its programming in response to stimuli. There are some computer viruses that seem to come close to this. They are usually quite nasty and if anyone does write one that’s truly capable of complete adaptation, it would take millions of machines down.

Why build a machine that does the very things that make us human? A machine that does our thinking for us? What would be the point of playing chess if a machine told you which moves to make? What would be the point of playing music if the machines told you which chords to use? It’s very nice that a game could be designed that will be easier or harder depending on how good you are, but what satisfaction would you get out of winning?

I believe the only answer anyone has ever come up with is "Because we can." I can't deny this as an incentive. Many of the great works of our society have been done for that reason alone. Of course, so have many of our worst atrocities.

I want one, I want one, I want one... (Originally published on September 1, 2006)

I have always associated Nikola Tesla's name with great things. The man understood things about electricity that gave us the life we have. He was also a little nuts by all accounts which adds to his charm.

A couple of days ago, I ran into another reason to like the name. It does 0-60 in less than 4 seconds, has a top speed of roughly 130 mph and doesn't have a gas tank. This ain't your momma's electric car. This thing makes a Prius look boring.

Is it fairly priced? Hell, no! Lotus currently has the manufacturing contract. It's probably about the cheapest thing coming off of that assembly line at $100,000. Is it practical? Hell, no! It's a two seater. Does it charge off a standard 110? Hell, no! An electrician has to come to your house to install the charger. But, isn't it nice to look at an exotic car and not have to think of the 7.0 liter V10 or V12 or whatever under the hood. Isn't it nice to think of electric cars as able to replace everything coming out of Detroit. And with a 250 mile range, this thing can actually get somewhere other than down the block before you're on E.

Besides, don't worry someone else is looking at the other end of the spectrum. Cheap electric cars that can charge off a normal 110 volt outlet are coming. The same company that is bringing the SmartCar to the U.S. is also putting out some of their own. You can see them all at www.zapworld.com. They still aren't quite there with range and top speed, but you can get one for under $10,000.

The rains have come (Originally published on September 1, 2006)

It's as plain as the rain on my face... summer has left Philadelphia. She may have just gone on vacation. She usually swings back through in mid-September but the jackets, sweatshirts, umbrellas, and raincoats mark her absence. There are still roughly 22 days before the sun is no longer aligned with our hemisphere, but seasons aren't about calendar dates to me. There about interactions.

I don't really have a favorite season. I like them all but this summer seemed too short. It was mild. It was beautiful. But it seems like only yesterday we were saying goodbye to the rains of spring.

But nature works in cycles and an end is just another view of a beginning. Autumn in Philadelphia is prime time. Longer nights. No need for air conditioning or heat. Even on a rainy cold night, the bars, restaurants, and clubs will be packed.

There is still a third of 2006 to go. Based on the first 8 months, it's going to be a grand time.

A moment to vent (Originally published September 4, 2006)

I don't usually whine. In general I let the majority go its way and I go mine. So, most of the people don't know that I actually dislike television. It's just not a topic that I bring up. Occasionally, someone will try to start a conversation about this or that show and I'll mention that I don't own one, but I never mention that I consider them destructive.

In my estimation, the fastest way to kill a party is to turn on a television. They allow us to disconnect. It can be useful to disconnect. A good movie can be a blessing to a weary mind and a good book can expand your horizons. At times television can approach the other mediums of entertainment. It has had its highlights. It has brought us powerful images in real time.

But then there's the other 99.9999% of the programming. A distracting string of colorful pictures meant, seemingly, to remove all thought and cause immense amounts of time to be lost. For my own part, I simply got rid of mine some years ago. In most cases, I continue to avoid it being sucked in only on occasion.

Then, there's the gym. I am lucky enough to have a gym in my building. It's rather small but quiet enough that you very rarely have to wait for a machine. In the corners are televisions. Televisions that I have turned off again and again when the gym became empty only to have the next person walk in and turn it back on again. And, of course, they can not set the volume to any human level. It has to be loud enough that my iPod can no longer drown it out.

If perhaps, they occasionally turned on the Simpsons, WHYY, or something approaching entertainment, I would not mind. Today, however, I had three consecutive people walk into the empty gym. Turn on the television (in two cases while wearing headphones) and proceed to watch the U.S. Open. I don't have anything against tennis, but watching it on television is like watching paint dry.

But, compared to the usual turn of events, it was a refreshing change. Somehow, almost every time I go to the gym either "Seinfeld" or "Everybody Loves Raymond" is on. If there is a "Seinfeld" episode I have not seen a half-dozen times, I would be quite surprised. As for "Everbody Loves Raymond", there was never anything redeeming about that show. TBS apparently runs 6 episodes a night or some such nonsense.

I apologize for pointing out the inanity of my fellow humans. I just hope that when one day I yell out "Please, turn that off!", they do not misjudge me. They could, of course, forego the surprising outburst by once, just once, asking me whether or not I minded. If only one person was in a gym and the television was off, I would certainly ask before turning it on and cranking the sound up.

Actually, I take that back. I would shake that person's hand, thank them, and get on the treadmill.

Ink on Paper (Originally published on September 16, 2006)

I have written a great many words. What has been a continual question in my mind the last few months is the medium. I still think of putting ink on paper as somehow a different form of writing than aligning bits in ether.

It is romanticized in my view. It involves a purity. It is unforgiving. A pen is incapable of spell checking.  Any edits are clearly marked. It carries more inflection than anything electronic can. The pen strokes, the distance between lines, the grammatical errors, all have their story to tell.

But the hundreds of pages of longhand lack something... they have never been read. Words without wings. The thoughts of one person which wil never see the light of another's eyes.

Truly, what is a story without a reader? Even if my sprawling prose was shared with others, they would require an interpreter. The years of putting ink to paper have not made my penmanship any more legible. In fact, the need to get the bombardment of thoughts and ideas down has left, in some cases, a collection of glyphs the author finds difficulty to decipher.

There will always be a time when a worn out old journal and a pen will be the vessel of words. However, I've started to lose the notion that words captured on paper have any more weight than the collection of 1's and 0's I'm generating now.

The Art of Peace (Originally published on September 17, 2006)

I have just finished reading the Art of War and something occurred to me. There is and has always been a divide in the societies of the world. The clearest example is the split between Sparta and Athens. A trading, democratic cultured empire was defeated by an oligarchic militant state. It’s not that simple, however. The culture of Plato, Herodotus, Euripides, and Socrates existed simultaneously with war and slavery.

Short-lived examples abound in modern history. From the monks of Cambodia, peaceable resistance against Vietnam, the peaceful protests of the civil rights movement, the massacre at Tiananmen Square. The people of peace arise, band together, and come in to conflict with the people of war.

It differs from the dichotomy of love and hate. War is not necessarily fueled by the intensity of hate. It is often more practical and more long lived. Peace is not synonymous with love. Peace requires planning and must be sustained consciously. Love is raw and must merely be allowed to exist.

The split arises, in my humble opinion, from a difference in philosophy.

To some, the world must be conquered. The Art of War has remained a popular allegory among this group. They conceive others as competition and nature as either an enemy or a tool. They feel as Hobbes did. That if society was taken away, chaos would ensue. That mankind in a state of nature is constantly in conflict and only civilization can bring peace of mind.

The others see the world as something that must be merely understood. They could see nothing worth remembering is Sun Tzu work other than some interesting historical references. They speak of harmony with nature and although they compete, it does not appear to me that they connect the competition with the competitors. Conflict is unavoidable but they try to circumvent it. Diplomacy is there way and governments are handy inventions for arbitration and facilitating the sharing of resources. In their view, humans in a state of nature would work together for mutual benefit.

It is always an error to try to break the whole of humanity in to a few groups. There are an infinite number of variations between any two points. However, occasionally things do polarize people. If one could find a question that warranted only a Yes or No response without any conditional statements, one could split the group. I have never come across this question.

But perhaps one only need ask, “Who are your enemies?” There are many possible answers, and this question would strike many as odd, but the answers you receive would give light to answers to another question: “Can you conceive of another human being as your enemy?”

The Children of the Moon (Originally published on September 24, 2006)

It is my way to think in analogies. I look outside myself and see patterns whether they exist or not.

The globes of the day and night have had many stories told of them. They have been worshipped, despised, misunderstood but perhaps most of all they have shaped the visions of those they shed light upon.

The Sun and the Moon are often set at odds. But Nature does not work in opposition to itself. Both the Sun and the Moon were necessary in the formation of our home.

The Sun is brazen and proud. Its light is blinding and its heat can kill. It overpowers darkness and will not abide the light of the stars or the moon. Our world craves both it's light and heat. Our plants grow towards it and our animals frolick by it.

The Moon is soft and fickle. It will hide from us but its effects are always felt. It dos not banish the darkness or silence the stars. It will let the secret things of this world remain hidden.

The Children of the Sun see its light as nurturing. They have used its strength to cultivate the land. They praise the light for destroying the darkness. To them the unknown is to be feared.

The Children of the Moon miss the darkness. To them the unknown is the great driving force that makes life interesting. They know that life is not limited to one sphere; that there are many stars and each has its place.

As I said, Nature is not in opposition. The Children of the Moon and the Children of the Sun live together now although they did not always do so. They need one another. The land nust be cultivated and the wolves kept at bay. The unknown must be explored. The explorers must have somewhere to return to.

Walking Through Clouds (Originally published October 16, 2006)

On Thursday, October 5th my brother's world disintegrated. The women he had pledged his heart to ended her life. My family and I caught flights to Seattle the next day.

The days since have been a blur. I watched as people who had never met this young lady did everything in their power to aid the family. I watched as my brother was broken and rebuilt a dozen times. On Monday a memorial service was held. Tuesday morning those with passports (myself, my brother, and her cousin Cathy) accompanied the remains on a trip to her family home in County Down in Northern Ireland. Others would follow shortly afterward.

After crossing 6 time zones, I arrived in a place which seems more dream than anything else. A place where my phone didn't work and there were few traffic lights. A land where everything seemed green and unspoiled. The people spoke my language but were sometimes hard to understand. I walked in marshes that were on the side of hills and stepped in a boghole. I stood atop a mountain and looked down on a hidden lake. People had gathered from all around the world and all opened their hearts to us. There was a never-ending supply of tea and the moon was pink. The clouds danced around the hills and cars rolled uphill. I actually liked the taste of Guinness and they called each other by names I had never heard before. The beaches had no sand and the stars were out of place. My brother spoke softly and cried often. Everyone seemed short and the cars seemed tiny. The steering wheels were on the other side and they always drove in the left lane.

This was the place where we placed the body of a girl that radiated joy and yet had destroyed herself. This was the place where a question never asked was answered. This was the place where I witnessed someone arrive late at their own funeral.

If this place was real, I must return to it someday. In the interim, I shall live with the image in my brain of a hundred people walking for miles down country roads and of having the honor of carrying a person I had hoped to call sister.

Affirming the cycle (Originally published on October 17, 2006)

The planets revolve around their stars and stars around galactic centers...

My phone was lost somewhere between Dublin and Newark. A minor annoyance that left others unable to reach me. This morning I checked my voicemail to find a message from my sister Betsy. During the trip, the need for some way to contact the outside world weighed heavily on me. I purchased a phone in the Dublin airport along with 20 euros of call time. When I left, I gave this phone to my brother so that we could remain in contact. My sister did not have the number and so was searching for it.

I called her back, gave her the number, and explained the international dialing codes. She then told me the reason she had for getting in contact with my brother Sean. Above and beyond the desire to check up on him that we all feel, she had news. It appears that he and I are going to be uncles. That's right. While we were in Northern Ireland confronting death, my sister was in Tennessee contemplating birth.

My sister was the first of the five of us to get married and will now be the first to have a child. I don't want to get too excited until an MD has confirmed it but... WOOOHOOO!!!

And so the cycle continues. The planets revolve...

Time to think (Originally published on November 13, 2006)

It took me fifteen days. Fifteen days of not being myself. Fifteen days of being unable to focus. Then I realized that something was amiss. The blur that was October had drained me. My life has been on hold during that time. But sometimes it only takes identifying the problem to fix it. My brother returns to the United States tomorrow. I only now realize that the time was far too short.

As a culture, we attempt to isolate our lives. We try to quantify the time of mourning with euphemisms like "bereavement". Our society was built by those that dedicated their lives to a body of work. The great figures of history, by and large, were considered distant by their relations. They were human beings who would have dived into work in a vain attempt to distract them from their grief.

For years, I pursued their ways. Coffee and the office for a cold rather than chicken soup and bed rest. I thought that work and life were inseparable. It wasn't bending to some corporate whim, it was doing exactly what I wanted to. I was always more driven than my bosses. It was never a daily grind or "working for a pay check". It was about a body of work. A series of projects I could look back on with pride.

A year ago, I began to see other things. Things that were just as rewarding as work. Last week, a lesson was taught to me. It took me a while to figure it out though. I may very well do great works. I may stitch myself into the fabric of history. But, even then, it wouldn't really mean anything.

We don't effect others at the office. Some piece of code I write or some product I develop will never move another human being. If I write the great American novel, it will be remembered, not me.

I guess I still forget what's important from time to time. I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't get distracted by the ebb and flow of a day.

I guess I still have a lot of work to do.

Perception (Originally published on November 26, 2006)

Ah, a universe of laws. A place of linear time. Objective reality.
All can be known through mathematics.
Straight lines. Right angles.

The world begins to bend. The line between dreaming and waking shifts.
Do I sleep or have I simply closed my eyes?

A point expands to the infinite. Analysis thwarted.
Explanations unnecessary. The power of the mind released.
The self laid bare.

Perception altered. Logic dethroned.
The conscious and the subconscious join.
Everything is illuminated.

Ah, a universe of laws. A place of linear time. Objective reality.
All can be known through mathematics.
Straight lines. Right angles.

Reflected In Their Eyes (Originally published on December 4, 2006)

It is an experience that is rare although not new to me. You see the eyes of a loved one when they look on someone you have just met. You see their eyes light up and follow their gaze. What happens next is both instantaneous and magical.

Love goes out in all directions. It joins people. It spreads. I have always felt that we define our families. That we choose to consider someone a brother, a sister, an aunt, or an uncle regardless of bloodlines. I have been blessed with an amazing family. A group of people brought together by birth whom I am honored to consider friends.

That amazing family is growing. I realized recently that when I first saw my sister look at my brother-in-law, he became my friend. Whatever doubts I may have had vanished. Something just clicked. I was immediately aware that my sister was in love but there was something more. I felt immediately close to him.

I now look back and see the reaction occurring numerous times. Those things that make the people you love happy make you happy. It seems so simple. The experience itself is no less amazing.

Another day in paradise (Originally published on December 27, 2006)

Whether it's the pseudophredrine, a flu, or allergies it's hard to say. It's been 5 days. I'm in another world. A world where cats and dogs roam. My skin is dried out. My throat sore. My body wishes to leave this place.

I don't care. This world, though it is not mine, calls to me. It erases its detriments from memory. I have never understood why. It is possible the frequency of the trips has something to do with it.

The patterns are odd here. Sleep seems disconnected from time. Phones are not answered. Light and shadow circle one another. The winter gray has set in.

Spirituality for Atheists (Originally published on January 2, 2007)

I find it hard to describe to myself some times. I could use the words of philosophers, but it would be an exercise in rhetoric. I could use the words of mystics but that would only confuse the issue. I have attempted to use the words of science, but they seem to result in a series of contradictions. I cannot speak the language of poets. I guess the only words left are my own.

The split is razor thin. A higher consciousness without a divine. The human spirit being indomitable but in no way connected with a human soul. Being connected to all without having a single point of connection. A universe of rules and numbers that is none the less magick. The incredible beauty of a series of random events leading to our existence. The idea of a universal architect actually belittles the design in my view.

I don't know why exactly these worlds don't align. If we conceive of the light and energy as coming from no other source than ourselves, would we not be awe struck? If all we have been able to accomplish was simply a glimpse of our own human potential, would that not empower us? A collective consciousness not doled out from some other plane, but having billions of unique sources. The memories of millennia passed on through genetics and teaching rather than sown into the tapestry of the Fates.

Maybe it seems too narcissistic. The idea that we are these incredible creatures that exist both in the cerebral and physical universes. I do have to admit that the idea of gray matter and electrical impulses being able to defy reason seems far fetched. Then I remember a series of 0s and 1s comprise the backbone of this machine. I think of the 60 symbols that comprise all of English literature. Look at our great sun and remember it's a huge ball of gas crushed by its own weight. Simple in design magnificent in effect.

My thought process may be categorical but it remains open. I cannot doubt the vision of others. The majesty of human potential leads me to believe that anything is possible. The world may end or begin anew. We can destroy it or rebuild it. We have the power to control the random events.

And so, I say "Namaste" and "Blessed Be". I may not mean them in quite the same way as others but I do mean them.

May the Light shine on you and from you. Happy New Year!

Spring Cleaning (Originally published on January 7, 2007)

Perhaps "After Holiday Cleaning" is more accurate, but as the weather is indicative of spring, the feeling is the same. Windows open. The smell of Clorox slowly dissipating. A glass of wine on the table. Dinner on the stove. One if those serene moments when the "To Do" list in your head is all checked off. The traces of 2006 are gone. 2007 is upon us and I'm anticipating a fabulous year. Then again, I always anticipate a fabulous year. It's my way.

I'm not going to eulogize 2006. One of the reasons I write is to have a record of my thoughts at the time rather than through the screen of memory. I'd like to think I learned a bit. I'd like to think I helped others along the way. I know that I have no regrets. I know that I have not lost hope. My wish for all of you is that the same is true in your lives.

And now it's time to do another load of laundry and read a few more pages of Brave New World. Relaxed, renewed, and refreshed, it's time to jump into 2007.

Refreshed (Originally published on January 13, 2007)

It seems so simple. Music, light, and good company. Every two weeks I go to a place where the world just melts away. .It's an experience that I've encountered numerous times in numerous environments. Last night it was almost instantaneous. Five minutes after I walked in the door, I felt free. I didn't really know how stressed I was until I felt it leave me. Long hours and tight deadlines were left somewhere on a dance floor.

I don't think I've ever thanked the people who share the experience or the people that organize it. I do so now, albeit in spirit. It's become so familiar to me and yet every night feels different. Endless compositions built on the same theme.

Now, it's Saturday. I will enjoy my recovered peace and user the power it grants me. There is a beautiful world out there which I have been blind to for a while. It's time to rediscover it.