You know what annoys me?

Things that don’t connect.

This article has full spoilers on Arrival and Florence Foster Jenkins.

We went to the movies. We had Trump in our minds. We did a weekend full of chores and decided to soothe that with the wonder of moving pictures. Twice.

Saturday, Arrival. Sunday, Florence Foster Jenkins.

And Trump. I wrote an article,

It was supposed to be a confidence vote granted to my near future.

But then I saw this Arrival movie.

The aliens gave us a language that once learned gave one the possibility to foresee the future. But! The big but was that what was called in the movie “non linear time” meant that events were fixed. Time is set in stone and there is only one way in which it unfolds. This had to be the most depressing thesis I’ve seen lately.

But remember Interstellar? That guy messed with the time traveler paradox inside a tesseract and sent messages back in time because future transcendent humans knew from the future this had to happen in the past. One way. Time and its events set in stone. Last year I was just sad.

This year’s “SciFi”event was downright depressing.

Like, there is a woman who decides to marry a man who will leave her because she decided to go ahead and have a baby girl with him knowing that their baby will die of an incurable disease after reaching teen age all while knowing he’ll leave her because he was one who couldn’t agree with the choice of going ahead with a doomed course of events but this fundamental difference in personality type didn’t matter any more or less than the known disorder causing the yet unborn girl to have this disease killing and first causing huge pain and misery to an unsuspecting human. This whole movie looked like a huge Pro Choice advert. And very disempowering.

I mean what if Trump had to be? What if that FBI director was the shit cause that aligned the odds so that the prescribed timeline could plough ahead?

’Cause ya know, I still believe that the donald by itself is not a super force of change. But what if:

  • there is a cataclysm that suspends democracy for emergency state
  • an insurrection occurs
  • freaking aliens arrive
  • there happens a major, and I mean major not starving tribes men in deserts with rockets type of thing, major international conflict, warring superpowers
  • or maybe divergent government appears in donald’s, you know, more or less federal country?

What if things like these occur in the next two years of donald’s complete hold on power? That is a scary set in stone future to me.

And what’s with these movies? Why is this art suddenly agreeing that there is only one way? And why, may I ask, do we humans of today or yesterday always need some hot shots from other galaxies or from the future itself to solve our current problems?

Do we need as a society someone who tells us what to do, and art just reflects what we’ve already voted?

Is this nationalist racist radical dumb xenophobe political doctrine that incoming future which we can only know about and observe but never change?

Trouble.

And with that loaded into working memory we went to see Florence.

Depressed, all I needed was mixed feelings. I mean, is this about a beautiful spirit who wanted to be seen in its joyful manifestation or about how the whole world is the playground of the rich? I mean, the second option I knew before seeing the movie. Yet the way it is presented in Florence Foster Jenkins with such charisma as only Hugh Grant could ever muster, made me red faced angry. But then Meryl Streep. I mean, maybe Florence was sending the world a message, maybe we should stop trying to be the best and just do things because we like them and abort the grading of our performance.

Mixed feelings. A commoner making a fool of themselves is publicly executed. A rich person is cushioned in all possible ways. Is Florence full of ego or full of passion? Is she sane? Is it an example to follow or a story about an unusual incident?

Such potential.

But in the movie there was this line where Hugh Grant says he (ahem his character) always aimed to be an actor, but at some point realized he won’t be a great actor, and at that point ambition left. And as the tyranny of ambition left he could start to live. And:

People may say I couldn’t sing, but no one can ever say I didn’t sing,

… said a dying Florence. But, does it matter? And is lack of ambition the grease of the mediocrity engine or is ambition the hammer that thinks everything is a nail?

My article on Trump. 294 views 127 reads 14 hearts. I am starting to live.

But Florence. The story, the movie, the two scripts detailing it (there is another french version Marguerite) all appeal to the comedic factor of one wearing the emperor’s clothes and the tragic factor of the meanness of mankind targeted at a deluded human.

But I also see that this was possible because of wealth. Do you see the connection between Florence and Ryan Lochte? I do. Is the world the playground of those who win the many lotteries it provides?

Are we all the hosts in the the real life West World of the ones who succeed? Should we be because there is no progress otherwise?

I mean, Trump came back after Meryl Streep died so beautifully as only she can. And the tears of Mr. Grant, reminded me of donald’s team at the white house. Oh lord.

This brat is running the world. All those 60,350,241 votes enabling his game to work and him to play.

He gets to be president because he was born Trump and we the people just upgraded the levels reachable by the winners.

I get to go to work. You too. When is our upgrade coming?

Incipient sickness

I hate the expression:

you don’t get to [place human emotional craving here]

It is the new way of emotional punishing: crush their oxytocin levels by openly reflective reverse empathy.

Who the fuck gave you power over what I get to? Your weird crappy prescription morality? Your obvious logical superiority?

And gawd is this popular! The younger you are the more you get to imprison people in your fucked up social sharing emotional mirrors amplifying you puny little starved hatred.

Hate is better than the moral patronizing of a permanent mutiny mob.

Power in numbers, speaking for the many, amplifying opinion, all powerful weapons. I have no idea why would people think that a weapon taken from the hand of the oppressor becomes a red pill blessing in the hand of the revolutionary, when a weapon will never change purpose with a change in ownership. Weapons are the artistic expression of power and their core message is vulnerable exposure.

Amplifying what people get to and what people don’t get to is pulling the propaganda trigger. Propaganda is a weapon that fires with mentalities.

The warriors of the good today are the generals of evil tomorrow. Who tells you what you get to today, allows what you will get to tomorrow.

Are you fighting on the side of the obvious good? Be better.

Conscious machine

So there is this intelligent body and this consciousness that must somehow work together. The body doesn’t care much about its eventual expiration, it cares a lot about present integrity. The consciousness cares less about preset integrity but is scared shitless of the incoming end.

Intelligence is evolution at work. But consciousness is a side effect that rose up from the predictive analysis which intelligence enabled. Your body knows what it does. It knows it so well it doesn’t care much about you, as a person. No cell asks you if you’re happy with its DNA reading. You are built on a scripted execution environment.

At the level of the body prediction is minimal. There is possibly some kind of intelligence at the level of matter and some primal form at cellular level, but there are no unscripted decisions in the formation, maturing and living processes of a being. If it were you’d start growing a skin pocket for that cell phone by now. The homeostasis solution is known and at this level, in this environment, awareness is not required. Levels, this word repeated in this paragraph is essential to grasp: we’re layered things.

Our internal bodily processes happen without any supervision from what we call “us”. Isn’t that weird? It is amazing that most of the known diseases would be cured much easier if we could “tell” the body to stop doing something. The freaking flu happens because of too much immune response, wouldn’t it be nice to tell your body to stop overreacting?

Why don’t we have a dashboard with status parameters? Because what we call “I” or “me” is merely a small side effect of a tool the body thought would be nice to use: consciousness. We have this illusion of free will because the body does not oppose anything in particular, unless you direct your self at you. Suicide and self harm are the exception not the rule.

We’re a thin film on top of everything and the everything we’re on top of doesn’t seem to share our goals and aspirations. It is important to realize how external to your body you are. That out of body thing reported so much, that is the constant thing happening. The senses are really immersive yet what you call you is out there already. This fluctuating electrochemical equilibrium that defines you is not made of the same thing the supporting layers are made of.

You are an intelligent machinery, with billion years old scripts executing non stop in perfect order and some error correction with highly accurate short term prediction abilities, stuck to this consciousness which is a small thing busy with being itself while depending on the intelligent machinery for its existence.

We have a dream, a waking dream actually, of cohesion, as if we’re the same, integral, contiguous, smooth, inside and outside, at all times. The intelligent machine is. The consciousness is. By themselves. Together the cohesiveness breaks.

Freedom. I find it funny when I think of some cell locked into its place and purpose, controlled by the greater good’s aim of resilience. We see this interference of the machine with the conscious aware being in the way we model what we call the world: always coming back to units with easy to understand designated functions, always striving to define and box freedom into degrees that are painless to stretch into, continuously finding solutions that work on old maladjusted systems, resistant to environment but frail on the inside.

Higher conscious levels don’t have the access required to devise a clear system. Most of what we call “I” and “me” is so busy being separate that we rely in huge proportion on insight offered by unconscious and subconscious processes.

In a world made by fully aware conscious superior beings there is only spontaneous structure, the memory is collective, knowledge freely shared, goals vary and the greater good is the shared understanding of the uncertainty ahead. But there is no such thing so far.

We’re passengers on a vessel with a known destination, except that we don’t want to get there. Some are the noble guests on the deck of this vessel. some clandestine in the hideouts of the machine’s belly. Above and below though we share the impotence of changing course.

You know, Fabiana I wrote this after going through the constellation based G universal database and trust network by Heather Marsh. Unsure of the connection :D, anyway …

My language

A white rose smells like living. I breathe it in to remind myself what it is to be missed from this dense embrace of Right-here-right-now.

A red rose looks like lure. I stare at it so that the fire in me sees it and tries to imitate it. Monkey see, monkey do can be used for good.

A lily looks like lust and smells like letting go. One can use them to let it go, literally.

The most relaxing sound is the laughter of a human challenged on their strongest territory, that innocent giggle mixed with the deeper spasms of hubris, evoking the joy of being close enough to the wounded gazelle.

In early mornings when the air is cool and it smells like dew, when the night faded, yet daylight is still not paying attention to me, I feel like me.

A tree is a thought, a forest an entire mind. I like to remember that they grow downwards, grounded in thin air and stuck with their roots searching for the center of the world.

A deep carpet of dead leafs is the unexplainable and the wind swirling them into invisible spirals is the fascination the unexplainable begets.

Metaphor is the map we use to navigate our geography of knowledge. A language is some signage on the map: which are the roads to walk on, what depicts topography, where is there some water around. I also carry my compass of belief on which I see which way is north. When my beliefs shatter, I can always look up to the sky inside myself to search for the shine of my heart, which is visible only at night, and always points my north. When I believe, it’s a constant day inside! It’s the angst that sets the sun of my drive.

We’re metaphor first creatures. I am one at least. Will you be one too? It’s more fun, the more you learn, to map the knowledge together.

Does a cat’s purr and thinly sliced pupils make you feel like they know everything and won’t tell? Does a child’s laughter look like spring? Only sometimes?

A warm sand beach with playful waves poking at it in relentless joy is the home I long for. Unlike Camus I cannot lose the sea, I never had it. Maybe only my sea of wonder, but this kind of sea doesn’t make poverty sumptuous for me. Poverty is still the wasteland incarceration of potential.

I would be a good space traveler because I love long walks. Long walks consume eagerness away. Eagerness is tiresome, like the apple fruit that hangs so heavy that it almost breaks the branch, but won’t just fall already, like that rosebud that failed to spark the blooming and it rests frozen into its failure.

You cannot find Jesus. I am dead serious. Once Jesus gets on the map, it gets in the map. Not a christian? Fear not, all religion will remap the map, for they all spill their supreme metaphors on the ones you carefully have drawn so far, smudging your knowledge, asking for your determined detachment right after it blew into the whims of the wind the intricate sand mandala of your soul.

See above? You can teleport inside your geography of knowledge: the subject is the portal. Unhappy with your setting? Change the subject. Are you the subject? Are you a subject?

I like to look at hands doing things. They are, for me, the reason we grew this world inside. We owe our brains to our fingers. When life got fingers it could finally put the universe on its pottery wheel.

Look at these letters right in front of you, these signs with the power of triggering your feelings, of changing your mind, of calling you into a place of common exploration, of rising your blood pressure, of making you blush because someone might know they made you horny and or childish. A letter, a sometimes curly line summoning then fiddling with time itself. See the efficiency of life?

Communication is all about a one on one shared map make believe.

My language is not made of letters though. I am a poor cartographer. On purpose. The roads of my knowledge map, all lead to treasure hunts. The water is sometimes an illusive oasis, other times a river of seas to get lost into. Cities of things I think about, villages of things I never understood, wilderness of serendipity testing the cadence of the sane cause and effect rhythm of my constant questioning, aroused by this silent reality’s ends that just won’t meet.

When proven wrong people don’t feel enlightenment but defeat

“The Agony of Defeat”, Trevor Batstone.

Emily Dinckinson wrote:

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory
As he defeated — dying –
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

She was correct.

Maybe the progressives should take note of this reality of the human spirit.
Maybe we should take a moment to realize that the balloon of progress is inflated more and more each day, squeezing conservatives against the wall of the unacceptable.
Maybe we all, the open minded folk, should acknowledge the dark clouds of global movement of population bringing the same problems back into societies that have already cleared them, more or less.

I’m not sure! Maybe!

I mean our mentality is barely out of the dark ages. Knowledge is out of the middle ages for hundreds of years, but our collective models of the world, well, they are just seeing the light. So the progressive pressure might be the new steam revolution, for the archetypes of the worlds.

But the main argument still holds: whenever you manage to make your take win remember someone lost. Viscerally, it has zero importance that the argument was obvious, or that “history” is on your side, or that, hell, facts are overwhelmingly with you. Sure, people will dissimulate as much as possible. Most will rationalize the defeat as “lessons”, but there will be a lot who will accumulate defeats.

The defeated don’t give up. They build up. They move from existence to subsistence. And when they emerge, the subsistence made them so sharp that they can pin the entire world to the ground.

Radicals were never the majority, yet since forever, a strong and determined group of people can change their entire world. And sometimes radicalization makes strong and determined groups of people.

And it is about nothing in particular. The wrong is everywhere: in science, in politics, in family life, at work, no matter the setting, the defeat of the ones in the wrong keeps piling up. And we’re all sometimes in the wrong! Sure, there is local defeat which sinks with the dying of generations. But global defeat on concepts and mentalities thrive with the passage of time because we forget how hard we’ve got the freedoms and the progress. Forgetting is the springboard of demagogues.

This year I realized we’re going back to salon manners. Ideas like etiquette gained solid support. Shunning merit because of nodding done behind closed doors is ever more common. The terms of sexist, racist, old, lame are imparted as easily as ever, but today there is a committee of those “in the know” and if they label you as such, you’re done. So medieval.

I also fear the new tech nobility, because it doesn’t matter how enlightened you are if you live in an ivory tower you’ll eventually get tired of the common people, forgetting the fact that:

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.

Just my 2 cents,

A

Understanding versus grasp

How to learn

The brain is very good at two things:

  1. making structure out of unstructured data
  2. finding patterns in structured data

The brain is great at figuring out how to organize streams of unknown data, and we call this process understanding.

The brain is great at recognizing patterns in ready made structures, and we call this process grasping.

The brain is awful at understanding structured data, unless it created the structure for that data.

For these reasons, whatever you learn:

a) start in the middle

b) expose yourself to data

c) use your senses

d) jump right in, aka act as if you know

e) always look for real world reference

Start in the middle

The joke is that is why Star Wars succeeded, because they started with episode three. But in reality, try not to start with the basic stuff. Go for the middle of the subject matter.

Try to figure it out by referencing the beginning. Don’t go too advanced either, because you’ll loose track of explanations on top of explanations. But, in general, the interesting factor of a subject is at medium difficulty, and the amount of “interesting” is what makes the learning reinforcement feedback fire.

Expose yourself to data

Learn a language? Sing their songs. Learn physics? Read on near phenomena like rain or lightning, or why water makes drops, or why dew forms. Whatever you learn, use data as soon as it reaches you to connect to things you already know. There is nothing more memory forming than this, since it is so close to how direct experience happens.

Use your senses

Brain’s organization of data streams is not based on a priori systems. It is basic embedded biologic systems at work doing the same thing over and over, until data split in thin vertical silos begins to show connecting features between them.

Our brain’s organization of data is an internal process developed for our senses and the data they keep streaming in. It is actually optimized for that kind of raw data, and less so for structured reading of theory or formulas.

Therefore, whatever you learn, do your best to both see and hear and as much as you can touch or smell the subject. Math can be touched, make paper models of concepts, math can be smelled, all perfumes are algorithms. So if math can be enjoyed by all five senses, anything can.

Jump right in, aka act as if you know

This is the golden rule of learning, in my book. I think this is what keeps most people at bay when subjects hit their life and they need to learn:

figuring out every single detail. That is the recipe to quit.

The rule? Skip it, plow ahead.

Plow ahead, expect bruises and blunders, but act as if you understand. Don’t let yourself be pinned at some level because you don’t get it. Don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t make sense, read on, it will.

We have background processing. All learning is exposing our brain to tons of structure made by others. Finding the patterns inside manuals of theory is hard work, but while you stream data in today, the yesterday’s stuff is still being worked on.

In nature we don’t need to know what the bark of trees or the fur of cats is made of. We know that somehow they are similar, even if very different. We, and many big brain animals, skip and plow ahead with trying to grasp more and more general patterns. And there is a point where it suddenly makes sense, and you think retrospectively and that past reading makes sense.

This is also the rule of least resistance. That fog of the mind is when we’re keen on grasping things way too early. Let it go. Let it gooo. Let it goooooo. Le … Damn you Disney.

Always look for real world reference

Take geometry. That is the best example, geometry is everywhere, it is easy to make real life stories to illustrate concepts. But, take trigonometry, the classical example of “too early”, where concepts are disconnected from reality until later on.

This means: always make up a story. If the textbook doesn’t help, well, do research! See what the hell is this thing you’re boggling your mind with used for.

Overall, remember that this thing we call “learning” is not natural. Learning as a self disciplined action is unnatural. You force yourself to be vulnerable, isolated, and exposed to things you don’t understand, repressing fear with your frontal lobe censorship of emotion.

What nature intended as learning is what you require very little effort for: figuring out reality. You are doing it.

You have a brain that is the best real time three dimensional image processing system yet, you have processes such as facial recognition and social cue filtering that work around the clock, you dream, you are a perfect motion machine, you remember vast amounts of data since you were born, so don’t ever, ever, ever feel intimidated by books, especially text books.

Textbooks are best attempts to put on paper the way other people figured out stuff. This is hard and most textbooks suck.

If you are an author of learning material, do this: build patterns that grow from the center to outside and explain them upfront as the key to the knowledge ahead.

We only understand what we experience and we only grasp what we’re taught.

Do you like yourself?

Like, as a person and a human. Let’s say we make some androids to visit distant planets and, who knows, maybe meet the local intelligent lifeforms they might encounter there.

Should your self be cloned and uploaded into an android visiting the universe on behalf of the human kind? Do you represent humanity? Should you?

I mean, really, beyond what the body can do for you, skin, hair, teeth aside. How is your personality in its entirety? Do you like yourself?

Is a part of having children a way of plastering ourselves into the future? Does it work? I mean, if I think about myself, I conclude constantly that I am an accident. A happy accident, because I like myself. But an accident nevertheless.

On rare occasions I find my parents in me, usually in the badly lit portions of my self. Some other times I effectively recognize physical features of theirs when looking at my self. But all superficial. I always say the greatest thing my parents have done, indirectly, was to let me be, or in easier terms, to leave me alone. Most of the time they succeeded at doing this.

So I plowed ahead in my life as best as I could. My answer to the question is yes, I like myself, I would have me embedded as a software kernel inside some android’s self. It won’t be me, this is not about immortality, it is about a self aggrandizing perspective I have on the fact that I ended up midlife as an open minded, somewhat kind, somewhat loving, somewhat funny, somewhat experienced human. Oh and I have an above average introspective capacity, which I owe to the fact that I learned what loneliness can be used for.

Do you like yourself? How out are you to yourself? In my book, this is key. I constantly preach the difference between sincerity and honesty. I strive to be honest to the world and sincere to myself. Sincerity cuts deep and lets the light in the closets we keep building. I have outed myself to me a dozen times at least. Hurts like hell but less than what the others can do. I find lying to be moral, deceit isn’t.

Here is a thesis, the world is a better place when we’ll genuinely like ourselves. No egomaniacs, just people true to themselves who work on knowing what they want and who they are. Egomania is always about the others in the circle, a never ending fear of loosing the center spot, forget about that.

Do you like yourself? No love, loving yourself is a weird subject. We all have a love-hate relationship with ourselves. But, I mean, do you like you? Enough to set yourself up as a token for all of us?

Another thesis, democracy and its tool of political participation is terribly affected by people not liking their selves and there is a constant gap of resources filled by egomaniacs.

Do you know that saying: you can’t love no one if you don’t love yourself first? Bullshit. Of course you can. You can hate yourself most of the time and still be madly in love. But, can you be loved, if you don’t like yourself?

Ergo sum. That’s all we know.

Unfortunately we don’t have direct knowledge on the first part, that is to say, I don’t have a direct knowledge of my own thinking because I am trapped in it. The moment my first thought appeared, it started to weave the layers of layers of personality, from the inside to the outside.

I don’t know if I think, or I feel, or I grasp, or I sense, or I act or or or. We can understand that we’re doing, whatever it is we’re doing, but direct knowledge assumes examination from an outside reference, and we cannot be outside our thought processes.

Meditation elevates one to upper layers, but not outside, because outside the thinking loop you cease to be you, therefore whatever is that which is looking will not pass back the knowledge of what it saw.

Limiting our basic philosophical perspective to ergo sum is a healthy choice. It is akin to:

“Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.”, M. Pollan

because right now that is all that our direct knowledge of how the complex relations between the billion moving parts of our metabolism work.

That’s all we know.

Perhaps, in the creation of artificial life and of the corresponding super artificial intelligence accompanying it, we’ll get that outside reference on the process of thinking that will validate or question the foundation laid by mr. Descartes.

My human blind spot

Larme d’or, Anne Marie Silberman

there is only one goal in evolution, to develop time resilient beings.

I woke up this morning and I stepped into my bathroom, eager to freshen up and start my new day with aplomb. Flowing from the ceiling, my newly set up naturally yellow light was swiping softly on my face and hands. You see, just yesterday I’ve spent half the day perched on a not tall enough stair, fiddling wires to install a new Phillips lighting system promising perfect daylight hues. And behold, this new light is awesome, daylight hues and all. I should feel awesome. Yet I don’t. The natural tones, well, toned down the brightness of the previous filaments. With less photons crowding the room, darkness does its artistry better. The dark has its soft brush painting details and depth just enough for my mirror to reflect my ageing skin straight into my retina, who pipes the sudden acknowledgement to my amygdala, who wakes up from the catacombs of the hippocampus my deepest fear of wasted potential brought by the inevitable death, a death that is currently meticulously busy breaking the collagen in me.

Do you ever feel like this? Like, I don’t fear death. Death after all is just that time before I was born, I’ve been there before so there is nothing to fear. Like this, I mean like a sorry filled anguish that all this construction which you are has no accurate and precise use, and that at some random and dimensionless point in time you’ll cease to exist. Such a waste of potential. All the potential in this entangled circuitry inside that pretty decorated skull doing its best to remain sane, all the potential of this virtuous orchestra of a body doing its best to remain whole.

Sphinx Embedded in the Sand, Dali

I find the hardest is to let go of my scars and scratches, of my bruises, of the blood spilled, of the bumps and hurts, of the tears and screams, of the revelations, epiphanies and amazing laughs, of the look in my eyes, that look in my eyes which changes every year, getting deeper, farther and more detached. What were all they for? As my body is to be returned to the countless armies of molecules roaming reality, what is the me in I for?

What am I for? That is easy. I am a domino piece that falls only to advance the plot of a four billion saga between life and its nemesis time. Once I grasped this, a swath of new hidden doors clicked open. Yet, lacking time, I did not open them all, yet. Not even enough. But I have this permanent sensation that they’re just waiting for my gentle push.

Nevertheless, I still live forgetting this, I live for the me in I. I live to conserve this sum of experiences that defines me. Separation embraces me firmly and just like Temple Grandin’s cows my I feels safe enough to wait for the slaughter. I submit in the ecstasy of my subspace to the domination of master time, tied to teleomeres whose length is the length of the rope around my neck.

But there are no safe words. No matter what I cry out, no matter my intonation, master time has its way with me, just as the newly revealed details of age, brought forth by the light in my bathroom this morning, reminded me.

what is the me in I for?

The me helps the I face the torture of its slow death.

The Garden of Earthly Delights, Hieronymus Bosch

You see, the embedded evolutionary meaning to build time resilience is our blind spot, a blind spot of awareness caused by the illusion of free will.

Do you know the worst part about your eye’s blind spot? It is not that it renders invisible a part of reality, but the fact your brain will fill in the missing patch of reality with the most probable input. While for dodging obstacles and fending predators this behavior works great, when the blind spot is higher up in the layers of abstract consciousness it wrecks havoc. Briefly, we forget we’re dying, and, only if we’re at some particular condition, we catch a glimpse of the monster chipping away at us, in all other times we fill in the specter of death with the most probable input of consciousness: illusion. Illusions of grandeur towards nature, illusions of eternity towards other humans, illusions of superiority towards our flesh and blood bodies, illusions of separation from our very own life support, illusions of cleanliness towards the dirty and foul billions of cells hosting our illusions, and the relentless desire of twisting ourselves into something else.

That is why, I believe anyone who wants to scale back is not really a a progressive. They may have a progressive agenda but if your focus is humans, you will by default give progress a step back. You see, it depends on what is your responsibility: humans or humanity. If your concern are humans, then this concern can only grow, while if your concern is humanity, the size of the preoccupation and the scope is constant.

Indeed, if the problem is technology, then the solution is more technology. If you are one worried about “too much technology”, you might be in the wrong.

There have been plenty of centuries far worse for 99% of humans than for the current 99%.

This is the main argument for technology and its focus on humanity. We’re a species that keeps building on previous milestones. For the 1% there has been only some little benefit from humanity’s progress, in fact for every bump in the comfort of the 99%, there was a dimple in the safety of the 1%, hence there is no economic drive in making up technological progress.

Technological progress builds on our embedded azimuth of immortality.

The Great Wave off Kanagawa, Hokusai

There are in fact two factors describing progress for humanity: life expectancy and population growth. These factors are intertwined and help each other out: the more folk the more genome health, the longer the life the more folk. I think these two should be the greatest focus of our collective technological effort. Actually, it doesn’t matter what I think. At all. What you think doesn’t matter either. Overall the domino keeps falling, and that awakening all priests like to mesmerize egos with is about making death a choice of the human, not a whim of the universe.

I have no idea if that exponential curve you keep seeing whenever someone touches that dreadful idea of “singularity”, sorry Peter Diamandis but this word is so bombastic, that curve where suddenly the computing power reaches that of all human brains, no idea if that curve means anything other than a random factoid found by future generations in some footnote. I have no idea if futurologists like Ray Kurzweil or transhumanism as a philosophy mean more than hubris and the desperation facet of hope. It is actually something I deeply want not: a hopeful future, as I believe hope does only one thing, hope gives birth to disillusionment.

Yet, a technology driven future is the best use I can think of for all this complexity we’re made of, the true use of the me in I. It is the expression of the evolutionary goal of time resilience. We accrue knowledge, an ever more fine interpretation of it, so that each domino sits higher, standing on the previously fallen dominoes, all for the glorious moment when one domino will make that crucial sidestep and end the war with the insistence of life winning on the persistence of time.

Hence, in my mind, anyone who wants to scale back is not really a a progressive, even if progressive otherwise. Back to working the fields with bare hands? No, thank you. Back to housing made of clay? No, thank you. Dismantle global trade and reinstate the mind boggling mesh of economic borders in all its painful glory? No, thank you, no.

Does this sound like blasphemy to you, the praise of globalization in particular? Well, nothing in particular is neither good, nor bad. Good is stability and certainty and bad is instability and uncertainty. Right and wrong are interpretative and custom to every culture. That is why we have people on moral high ground claiming life extension is immoral, while silently waiting for your random disappearance is morally sharp — in reality, all faulty interpretation of the comfort instilled by a tight leash held strongly at the other end.

The tree of life, Gustav Klimt

You want to stall progress because something is not “natural”? Well, I say nature is not progressive enough. Does this mean I have fallen into the matter? That I deny my divine making or maker? No, worry not, I am still a spiritual being, just like you. It’s just that I’ve found out that we both contain a me sculpted on the inner walls of our I. And it is my belief that this me will eventually rip through the I and, like the butterfly out of its cocoon, or the alien embryo who made it, who knows, it will become the eternal being which the me is meant to be, the me in I, the me in you becoming all those beings who will bless this plane of existence with the grace of true, complete and ultimate freedom: the freedom from death.

All of my scars and scratches, of my bruises, of the blood spilled, of the bumps and hurts, of the tears and screams, of the revelations, epiphanies and amazing laughs, and the look in my eyes, that look in my eyes which changes every year, getting deeper, farther and more detached, as my body is to be returned to the countless armies of molecules roaming reality, will have served to nudge life closer to beating time at its own game, and yours as well shall have done the same thing, and all ours together yet even more, piles of bodies feeding the cycle and armies of souls returning to their far home, all for some distant me to finally descend into a perfect homeostasis which doesn’t decay, in spite of time’s arrow relentlessly trying to pierce it, a me free from decay, a me free from death, a me that can finally use time to help the I transcend to whatever it used to call home.

Love me, I still dare you,
A

Six reverse advice

1. Before you believe — learn how to pray
Belief is a permanent state rooted in prayer. The other way around, if the prayer is rooted in belief, you’re only playing a trick on life, a way of cheating the experience by removing yourself from it, by proclaiming your divine ancestry and complaining about the temptation of the world. Mind that life will always outbid you if you try to trick it. Belief is rooted in prayer because prayer is how your ego speaks to your identity, a search for a reply, a scream of the pain of being aware of your solitude.

2. Before you shut up — learn how to talk
Being silent doesn’t make you a wise human. Just a silent one. Only when you open your mouth and bear the consequences of your speech, does your silence gain any value.

3. Before you earn — learn how to spend
Most of those who squander fortunes fall into the trap of wasting because they don’t know how to spend, that is why with consistence and persistence one can learn what worth means which is learning how to spend.

4. Before you think — learn to write
By learning to write you will enter a self discovery process. Writing is the true way of externalizing your inner voice, not speaking! And when you read what you write, you will start to make more sense of yourself. That in turn will help you think better because your identity will be more silent in your head.

5. Before you try — learn to give up
Give up claims! Give up expectations! Give up control! Only after — try. Trying without learning to give up can be extremely tiresome.

6. Before you live — learn to die
Acknowledge that life is not eternal. Pay attention to each and every day, and don’t forget you’re speeding into a sudden end, don’t forget that your generation too shall pass like all those before it. This acknowledgement is the true drug that makes one high on life.

7. Love me, I dare you,

A