Schrodinger's Cat or Why I'm Such a Fan of Kitty

Schrodinger's Cat is an illustration of quantum superpositions. It is a theoretical experiment that goes something like this:

You place in a sealed box a live cat along with a device that releases poison. The trigger to release that poison is a decaying atom. Now, the atom has an equal probability to decay or not. Which means the trigger and poison may or may not have been set off.

Without looking inside the box, is our Kitty alive or dead?



The moment of observation defines the result. In other words, you gotta look, to see what you got. Before the observation our Kitty exists in a Quantum Superposition. He's both alive and dead.

Kind of like flipping a coin. You wont know how it landed, till you lift your hand and take a look. But its not that the coin under your hand has a heads or a tails face up, but rather that the coin is in a nebulous cloud like state. The outcome is now tied to the moment you take a look. You are the deciding factor. you are the decider.

This is the unique position in which our learned men of science found themselves after delving deeper and deeper into the nature of existence and its building blocks. We can only imagine what an awkward moment it must have been for all our lab coated scientist out there when it began to dawn on them that they were actually affecting the very results they were trying to "objectively" unravel. So much for the aloof detachment of Science.

"Boy is my face Red!" said Dr. Schrodinger "What am I? a peeping Tom?!"

The crux of the matter is there are no sidelines for us. This is not a spectator sport. The myth that there exists objectivity in observation has been debunked. The key player is the Eye that opens the box. Lifts the hand. Sees.



If we continue with this premise, the part that becomes striking is not so much that we've stumbled upon the interconnectedness of the self to the universe (ask any Mystic), but rather, that the "moment of observation" is a way of describing a process that is ongoing. In other words: We are always looking, thereby creating and recreating the results of our world.

This is not a singularity, a one time event. The illusory feeling that we are at the whims of the winds of change that are greater than ourselves has been replaced by the knowledge of our unique participation in this drama. The co-creation of the universe occurs continually, incessantly, in a process of observation, gauging, and appreciation.

This is not a singularity.

This is an ongoing and eternal dance.




See also my other posts:

http://thepassionateheart.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-going-to-tell-you-some-stories.html

http://thepassionateheart.blogspot.com/2009/05/on-subject-of-contending-realities.html

On the subject of Contending Realities:

There was a quaint little restaurant on the North side of Chicago that specialized in Spanish style Tapas and flowing libations. It was owned by an Argentinian couple that had settled out of court after the wife was run over by an ambulance. A couple of million, as I understand it. Saturdays at "El Nandu" consisted of an open mic, singing, jokes, or whatever the brave and inebriated ones could drum up.

On this particular day, an older gentleman, in a tweed jacket and hat, the kind of man that can dance a good Tango, walked up to the mike and gave us a gorgeous acappella rendition of "Dos Almas". The ladies swooned and the men reminisced. It was melodic and had just the right touch of nostalgia. Afterwards the man made his way around the tables, drink in hand, talking about the good ol' days etc. When he came to our table we all doled out praises.




I said: "How come your not a professional singer?"

"I should have been."

"In Argentina there was a show that we would all listen to on the radio. It was one of those variety shows where they did skits, and had live music and such. I must have been no older then you. In my prime."

He puffed out his chest a bit, then continued.

"One of my biggest dreams, at that time, was to sing with a group. Like my hero Leo Marini and his Sonora Matancera. When he would come on the show I would always drift off and imagine myself as part of their group. Would believe that they announced a contest to tryout and maybe join his band?! They gave us very specific instructions on how to petition to audition. I think half of Argentina applied. They would announce winners who would then come to the studio and try out."

"I still remember the day they announced the winners. It was a Wednesday,and they played up the whole thing with music and everything. Leo himself announced the winners."

"And how I felt when he announced MY name as one of the contestants?!"

"I was thrilled. I was ecstatic. I knew I was going to walk in there and I would impress them and that I would be asked to join Leo and the band."

"I couldn't sleep for days. All I could think about was the big day. Wednesday."

"The day came and I took particular care to wear my best suit. I remade my bow several times, just to get it right. I even remember the bus ride down to the station; I stood the whole way because I didn't want to wrinkle my clothes."

"When I got to the station the I went right up to the security guard and presented myself: My Name is ________ __________ I'm here for the Leo Marini contest"

"He gave me a puzzled look. Then looked at his clipboard."

- "There's no contest today."

"But there is, and I'm in it. I won the contest for the singing today!"

- "Let me check"

"He went back and called someone. They spoke back and forth and he repeated."

- "I'm sorry, but there is no contest happening today or tomorrow. I don't know what you're talking about."

"...the contest! I'm in it. I don't want to waste any more time! I need to be upstairs!"

- "Look young Man. I cant let you in. There is no contest."

"I'm not leaving here until you let me in!"

"I was so agitated! Eventually, the shows Director had to come down and he re-explained to me how they've never announced any contests of the sort. He apologized for any confusion and thanked me for being a devout listener."

"I felt like the weight of the world had fallen on me. He must have seen it on my face because the Director and Door Man kept apologizing to me."

"I guess it was just a dream. I dreamt the whole thing up."

We all stopped and pondered this Classic Man's story. Someone at the table said that they should have let him up. Then someone else made a joke how we prefer him here with us. Classic Man simply smiled, shrugged and moved on to another table.

Then some drunk took the mike to make a joke about his wife and we all forgot about Classic Man...

Signs and Sadness

My family, on my father’s side came to this country from France. They quickly settled in central Mexico and became a well to do family in the small town of Zinapecuaro. After the war with France (Yes, Mexico had a war with France, it’s were the Cinco de Mayo celebration comes from), given that French weren’t highly regarded during that time, my family adopted the Flores last name.

Having white skin in Mexico was a guarantee of position and status. The dividing line of color and features made it easy to distinguish who was who. Although this presents the easy option to forgo any moral or conscious stance, when you’re on the European side, it certainly does not remove the tragic nature of the conquest. Nor does it remove the obvious subjugation of a culture and a people to the forced semblance of integration which really meant you were the one saddling my horse and shoveling the shit. My Grandfather who was raised by Indians, the caretakers, the dark skinned, felt the growing urge to even out the incongruous rules that made it ok for you to clean up after me, but not to eat at my table with me.

This was the beginning of the wonderful divide that is my family, my heritage, my unraveling. I shouldn't’t have much to worry about, cuz between you and me, the dice were rolled, and I came out whiter than my brother, whiter than most in my family. But the crux of the matter, for me, is my heart. My heart has been seasoned by the dusty streets. Mis tacos de perro. The earth drawn heart that is open, pulses, and drips slowly in the delicious agony of its sensitivity. The biggest subversion of the human spirit is not its divisiveness, but rather, its inclusiveness. The rebellion of the Indian was not to fight back, after all, it was a doomed effort. The Aztecs themselves, just one of the many conquered nations, had foreseen their collapse and had predicted it to the day. The Indian and the European were destined to meet. It had been seen as an unmistakable marker in the future of the Aztecs. The seers had long ago known of the calamitous days that would lead up to the arrival of the bearded men. Quetzalcoatl was returning; The feathered serpent that represents the unification of Heaven and Earth and which is emblazoned in the Mexican flag was coming back on this day to bring and end to the days that once were.

The signs were all around us as they led up to the portentous day when the bearded ones arrived. The comet that hovered over the city of Tenochtitlan which lit up the sky with its surreal glow for hours on end, immobile. The deformed human being, that wandered about the outskirts of Tenochtitlan, showing his dog like face and bulbous deformities in a gleeful dance of revenge. The knowledge, with the accuracy of the stars, that on Good Friday of 1519 Quetzalcoatl would return from exile to stake his claim to his land and his people. On that day, the Aztec sentries saw the massive sights of the Spanish galleons and the armored soldiers as they landed on the sandy beaches of Veracruz. There were negotiations and battles; Manipulations and coups. It was all part of the inevitable events of the “conquest.”

The true coup was not in the subjugation of the people or the destruction of a culture by some marauding Spaniards who were hungry for gold. It has been told time and again: The story of the conquest as a collision between contending cultures, worlds, philosophies. In this version, the two worlds are represented by the misunderstood enigmas that were Cuautemoc and Cortez. I offer you a different version of past events: The true coup was in the planting of the seed of the Indian heart within the souls of this new way that is our modern world. My Grandfather would always say “I have the heart of an Indian.” This was no lie. The Heart of an Indian is that incisive part of us that does not use words but enjoys silence. It is the part that removes its shoes to walk in the dirt. The part that does not run for cover when it rains. The Heart of the Indian is the heart of the Earth. The pulsating certainty that comes when I feel the Wind God stroking my face, letting me know just how I’m doing and what’s in store for me next. Anyone who understands sacrifice and loss will know exactly what I mean. The Sun still rises for us, We are still here.

The Artist describing the Artist describing the Artist...

The scene presented here is from Akira Kurosowa's "Dreams". The film itself consists of a series of dreams that the director himself had throughout his life. From some early childhood moments, to the philosophy of old age, the breadth of his dreams is truly arresting.

Here we have the Dreamer (Kurosowa himself), dreaming of a visit to a Museum. Van Gogh's work is on display. The mirrors begin to reflect upon each other and the events that transpire truly elucidate that ineffable quality of the Artists Passion.

DreamWeaver
DreamChaser
Enjoy...

A short dialogue between a Soldier and his Muse

The scene occurs in Klaipeda; a small fisherman's town in Lithuania during WWII. The Russian army is now in control of the town and have disrupted everyones lives. The people have reacted in many ways; from subversion, to defeat, to survival. HELENA is a local girl that has leveraged her beauty to help maintain the local clinic the town depends on. MIKHAIL is a Soldier that has fallen for HELENA. His conscience and choices now weigh heavily.

EXT/DOCK/SEASHORE/MORNING

MIKHAIL and HELENA are standing at the edge of a small dock. HELENA looks out to the Baltic sea. She has her arms wrapped around herself. The cold morning sea breeze brushes past them. No words are exchanged. Only the crashing of the sea, and the screech of the sea gulls can be heard. There are small empty fisherman's rafts all around them, bobbing in the waves.

HELENA

(softly)

Do you know why the boats aren't at sea today?

(beat)

HELENA

(cont.)

Because the men are being made to build your factories.

MIKHAIL

This isn't my war.

The winds blow stronger, making HELENA'S SKIRT and hair flap violently.

HELENA

(excited)

Do you think you can clean your conscience by

putting yourself above the rest of us? You are

here. You are wearing the uniform. You have

gun in the holster.

MIKHAIL

But I have no choice.

HELENA

(crying)

Then explain to me what I have.

(beat)

MIKAIL

(pleading)

You can leave. Go to Switzerland.

HELENA

Will you be on the boat with me?

MIKHAIL hesitates to answer. HELENA, hearing his response in his silence, turns and runs back to town. MIKHAIL is left alone on the dock.

An open dedication to my unborn Son (L.S.)

You are always welcome here. It’s ok to bide your time. I don’t expect you to do anything other than enjoy your journey. If you decide to grace us with your presence now or at any time, or if you simply wish to remain in anonymity, it is all ok.
Here’s where I am.
Here’s where I stand.
I thought you should know.

Couples & Clubs

I had a suggestion. And I was thinking about it, when we were at the club. You see how couples, over time, have tendency to get stale. So you try to find things that liven up your relationship. And in that process you come up with this pattern of behaviour that repeats and becomes stale regardless.

How do you keep it fresh?

In the case of married friends that want to do "couple stuff". They're wanting to keep their lives interesting so their idea of this if going ice skating. maybe a round of miniature golf. "Let's go bowling"

Let's not negate the value of a good round of put put. Everything can be fun. But I think the critical point occurs when you bring your "home" attitude to the club, to the bar, to the restaurant. Even though you may be in a different background, the people, the character, and the thrust doesn't change. The moment remains the same.

Frankly, that's boring.

I kind of made a joke to you last night when I said: "Do you want, the remote, a blanket, and some ice cream" when you sat down on the couch at the club. Because I found myself not knowing how to behave. What I was thinking was: You've got to take the opportunity to take advantage of being in a different scenario. You use that to allow yourself to behave in different ways.

Become somebody else!

Like that girl with the hair. I'm suspect that that's not how she walks around all day. right?! and yet when you're in this other Universe you allow yourself to be transformed and to behave in a manner which is maybe refreshing and unexpected. But you have to let that happen!

I think I said this to you on my Birthday: "How would you act if we were on a date?" "How would you act if you didn't know me?"

"How would you have fun with me?"

That's what you have to bring to these moments. You attack this moment in a totally new way, in a fresh way. You allow yourself the chance to giggle, to be goofy, to be somebody else, anybody else.

Anybody else!

You know?! Let it happen. Let it take you. And I think if you do that then you get somewhere, then you have a good time, then you discover new parts about yourself. Like when we were dancing and that song came on and you were lifting your hands like: "Hallelujah!"

You let yourself get carried by these moments and you find that you unravel other parts of yourself and your sharing these new parts with your partner. Doesn't that make sense? As opposed to going to the club and talking about Laundry or Work or Bills.

The way it works is that in the old days, when you would have a ritual with music and dancing and it would last all night. The point of that ritual was that transformation. In those moments the spirit or the holy ghost or whatever you want to call it, took you over and you WOULD become somebody else. That's why people would wear masks. They would go through the chanting and the music and the rhythms. That process of tranceformation was refreshing, it was life changing. You would Learn from yourself. The spirit would come down and speak through you and you would have Revelations.

But that ain't gonna happen unless you allow yourself to become a vessel for this new thing. Whatever it may be. All you have to do is want it. That's it. Want it, be open to it, let it happen.

Get on the fucken ride, you know?!

Compare that to those chicks that were...they weren't dancing. They were just going through the motions of something they're already used to. that's why when they went upstairs, from the hip-hop club to the upstairs club, they didn't know how to behave. Because everything they were doing downstairs was a series of patterns and fronts that they developed over time.

It was an act.

As opposed to somebody else, who, is groovin, is thumping around and the spirit moves them. If they want to get down they get down and if they want to get up they get up an if they want to raise their hands they raise them. Its something that happens from inside or outside of them, from some other place.

It's not conscious. It's unrehearsed.

That's when your drinking from the nectar of the Gods

Yulunga dead can dance
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