As a follow up to my last post about Robert Burton and how do we know anything. What this is taking into account is that we all have the same basic ‘knowing’ abilities, the standard human kit, but of course, this isn’t true. Right off the bat I think of people who have synesthesia. Their ability to process information and understand it in different ways is very different so in effect, they may ‘know’ things we don’t. In other words, they see patterns we don’t.
The other follow up idea I had was how he uses the example, “Try to visualize the big bang – a single infinitely dense point that suddenly explodes.” to show “…how reason cannot be separated from bodily sensations. Any notion of space – no matter how abstract – must be filtered through our bodily perceptions of space.” At first I though, “exactly, he’s right, we’ll never be able to really think about those type of concepts in the right way.” But later after mulling it over, I realized that perhaps the fault lies in the description, not the interpretation of the description. There are an infinite amount of ways to describe something, just because science says ‘a single infinitely dense point’ doesn’t mean that is the only way to describe it. And by describe it, I mean conjure up the feeling in someone of what the concept is.
Perhaps this is why ’science’ falls so flat for so many people. Because they expect everyone to see the world as a right brain nerd would. But we don’t, in fact I would argue, we’re built in the complete opposite, NOT to see the world that way. So we’re constantly trying to learn a language that we’re not naturally good at speaking. We speak in stories, we feel in stories, we grasp concepts in stories. Maybe the right way to describe the beginning of the Universe never mentions any of those things, maybe it is a song, or a painting or a strange dance in the Outback.
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One person who seems to ‘get this’ is Steven Strogatz who is writing a new column in the NY Times about math. The first post titled, “From Fish To Infinity” gets right into all the juicy stuff that makes math so intriguing.
Viewed in this light, numbers start to seem a bit mysterious. They apparently exist in some sort of Platonic realm, a level above reality. In that respect they are more like other lofty concepts (e.g., truth and justice), and less like the ordinary objects of daily life. Upon further reflection, their philosophical status becomes even murkier. Where exactly do numbers come from? Did humanity invent them? Or discover them?
A further subtlety is that numbers (and all mathematical ideas, for that matter) have lives of their own. We can’t control them. Even though they exist in our minds, once we decide what we mean by them we have no say in how they behave. They obey certain laws and have certain properties, personalities, and ways of combining with one another, and there’s nothing we can do about it except watch and try to understand. In that sense they are eerily reminiscent of atoms and stars, the things of this world, which are likewise subject to laws beyond our control … except that those things exist outside our heads.
Hopefully the rest of his posts will be as interesting.
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In other news, this morning I had a minor transcendental moment when I was trying to explain to my son what the watch on my wrist was. He had never shown interest before, and for some reason he grabbed my hand, pointed at the watch and said, “what’s that?” Try explaining what a watch is to a two year old. At that moment it really hit me, his mind was this virgin territory, this unfettered sponge, it had never known what a ‘watch’ was. I told him him it was so I could tell what ‘time’ it was, which was far more exciting to me then him. I could see the neurons in his head making new connections though, the software was writing onto the disk drive. Something new was being etched onto the plate.
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Speaking of which, next on my list is this NPR story about why time moves faster for older people then younger people. Already I’m not excited about their conclusions.
That’s because when it’s the “first”, there are so many things to remember. The list of encoded memories is so dense, reading them back gives you a feeling that they must have taken forever. But that’s an illusion. “It’s a construction of the brain,” says Eagleman. “The more memory you have of something, you think, ‘Wow, that really took a long time!’
“Of course, you can see this in everyday life,” says Eagleman, “when you drive to your new workplace for the first time and it seems to take a really long time to get there. But when you drive back and forth to your work every day after that, it takes no time at all, because you’re not really writing it down anymore. There’s nothing novel about it.”
What? You could see a hundred new things on your way to work every time you go. That being said, I think the theory is that the feeling that my son gets when he firsts discovers a watch is that much more intense then when I see a new dog on my way to work. Therefore, life moves slow for him as he soaks this all in, while my dog discovery takes two nanoseconds to register.
Really? Is that really why? To be honest, time doesn’t seem to have changed speed for me that much. If anything, with kids, it has slowed to a crawl.