I finally solved the most recent problem with my blog’s administrative interface, at least for the moment. There’s much more to learn about how to avoid such problems in the future and what to do to limit the potential for technical issues beyond my capabilities to address them. For now, though, I can return to my comfortable morning routine.
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The concept in my mind is not yet fully-formed, but it seems to mature a bit more every time I give myself the opportunity to think more deeply about it. In my mind’s eye, I envision that every moment of our lives—every thought and every experience—is transformed and recorded in our brains as invisibly thin—incredibly small—waves or wafers of mental energy. Some of those waves remain for a time in our brains, as memories. The vast majority, though, simply drift into the air and the space around us. They remain, afloat and intact, for all time; they are pure energy, which as we know cannot be created or destroyed. The enormity of the universe is such that it can hold all of these miniscule waves that emanate from every person who has ever lived and all those who will live in the future. When humankind discovers a way to recapture, harness, organize, and recycle the thoughts and experiences recorded on those waves or wafers—and we will—we will be able to experience, again, every experience we have ever had. And will be able to experience others’ experiences. So, for example, you will be able to engage with and live through the experiences of your great-great-great-great grandparents and their great-great-great-great grandparents…and everyone else. This concept, I suspect, long ago evolved into the idea of “heaven.” A place where people can be reunited with their dead relatives, free of the challenges presented by life as we have known it since we became sentient creatures. Over time, this simple but amazing possibility was transformed by creative thinkers into the source of all manner of religious mysteries. In reality, though, it may be a simple fact that is explainable by physics and scientific understanding. I can imagine how, as humans gain more complete knowledge of these waves or wafers and how they function (and how they can be manipulated and controlled), privacy will become an anachronism. The unexpected consequences of being able to actually “remember” conversations that too place between people hundreds or thousands of years ago probably will be beyond our wildest dreams. Imagine how stunned one might feel to experience the world through the eyes (or replayed experiences) of the first humans to wander the savannas of Africa. If we could physically see even shadows of these tiny wafers, they would fill the sky; it would be like watching millions of “live” recordings, at once, of time gone by. The circuits in our brains might be unable to process the experience. Perhaps that is why we have not had it just yet.
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The second month of the calendar year has whizzed by me, leaving little but vague memories suggesting I was at least semi-conscious during several of the most recent 59 days. My memories of the past two months are only slightly more vivid than my memories of the time span that began in December 2023 with the preliminary diagnosis that my lung cancer had returned. Recollections of occasional travels during 2024 are nonexistent because travel came to a halt even before the diagnosis was confirmed. No long road trips, no weekend excursions, no day trips; the longest rides were rare drives to and from Little Rock. Over the course of the year, up to and including the present, the vast majority of my time has been spent at home, interrupted primarily for medical visits and an occasional meal “out.” I have gotten used to being a confirmed home-body; most of the time, I do not mind living as a recluse with mi novia, my willing partner. From time to time, though, I get cabin fever; I desperately want to get away from the house, from the Village, from this state, from this country. Lately, I have longed to be someplace fare away—Canada or Norway or Sweden or… Not to travel to one of those places, but to be there. Living in an increasingly stifling and deeply worrisome political and social hellscape often fills me with almost-crippling anxiety and stress—so much so that I feel a deep desire to be in a place of soothing escape. A quiet reserve where serenity will let me leave thoughts of the state of the world behind. Yesterday’s appalling event at the White House, when this country’s so-called “leaders” embarrassed themselves and the nation by ganging up on the leader of Ukraine, increased my desire to be isolated from those imbecilic gangsters and their remarkably stupid, gullible, heartless cult followers. There are times I cannot force myself to see them simply as people who have philosophies that differ from mine; instead, I see them as thoroughly contemptible bastards whose collective demise would dramatically improve life of Earth.
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Before it was taken over by its current lunatic overlords, the National Institutes of Health published an abstract of an article about the relationship between hair and fingernails. Here is an interesting quote from the abstract: “Hair and nails are predominantly epithelial structures derived from primitive epidermis and made up of keratinous fibrils embedded in a sulfur-rich matrix.” I have known for quite some time that hair and nails are related, but I have never understood exactly why humans do not have hair growing at the tips of their fingers, nor do we have hard, barely-flexible keratinous fibrils growing out of the tops of our heads (and other parts of the body). I still do not understand. Fortunately, I do not need to appreciate the “whys” of those facts; I can live a moderately satisfying life in the absence of such knowledge.
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Last night, we watched “To Catch a Killer” on Netflix, a police drama about the search for a serial killer, set in Baltimore. The fairly brief part of the film in which the killer discussed the sources of his deviance made me feel some empathy for the guy; I understood his alienation from the “noise” of society in general. But that’s a far cry from understanding or tolerating the senseless killing of random strangers. Had he gone after specific people who are regularly in our national news lately, I might have had more compassion for the guy. The night before, we watched “Stolen,” a Swedish film dealing with the brutality heaped upon the Sámi people (reindeer herders). It was filmed in far north Sweden. Based on a history of real events (but clearly a piece of fiction, the film was definitely worth watching.
