Ummm, yeah...

They say that nature rests on the children of geniuses, but if your kid isn't particularly bright, that doesn't necessarily mean that you are a genius.

***

Imagine, for the sake of illustration, a cue ball in a game of billiards. The cue ball moves across the table with a constant speed and direction until it collides with another ball. Some of the momentum of the cue ball is transferred to the object ball, which then moves away. The object ball, hitherto motionless, did nothing to stimulate its own motion. It was merely the passive target of the cue ball’s impact, but by virtue (”virtue” being an old word meaning force or power) of the cue ball’s motion, it was launched into motion itself, and so we blame the cue ball entirely for the motion of the object ball.

This passive model of causality is a victim’s model, and has come to be known as the concept of determinism: namely, that every event is caused by a prior action which wholly explains the event. The passivity of the model is one of the reasons determinism comes in for criticism, since it seems to rob every action it explains of any intentionality or purpose. While it seems to offer the promise of control (supposedly, you can fully determine the flight of the object ball by aiming the cue ball appropriately), in fact, the ability to aim the cue ball is not free. Determinism allows only one possible aim: the aim that is determined by its antecedent causes. There is no free action in a deterministic system.

John Valley (2008)
A Theory of Freedom


For as long as I can remember myself, I have been preoccupied with the reoccurring themes of freedom, choice and agency - issues that I have devoted endless hours of fruitless pondering, issues that have caused me quite a great deal of emotional distress...

Not so long ago I stumbled upon A Philosophy of Choice that brings me right to the doorsteps of probability and chaos. I'm not sure how much of a light these chapters are going to shed on my own personal riddles, but at least this is some starting point...

After days of rain, the sun finally came out.
During the past few weeks I hardly left the apartment. Spent my time on the couch, entertaining myself with mindless distractions. It’s curious how I alternate between periods of hard work and intense productivity and periods of complete slothfulness…

I’m slowly coming to realize that the quiet domesticity I’ve been enjoying throughout this break is nothing but a decoy, a cop-out, a disguise of sorts… Domesticity is comfort. False comfort. It gives an appearance of order, normality. A perfectly cooked meal speaks of ordinariness. Clean bathroom and sparkling dishes give resemblance of order. If I got the floors moped, I will feel better. If I pick up the clutter, things will appear less chaotic. And likewise, if I choose to rebel, if I reject the notion of domesticity, cleanliness and order I will completely give in to chaos…

And yet, I do not think that even the most perfectly cooked turkey breast will be able to disguise any longer that there is something wrong, something very very wrong in all this. And I’m not sure if seeing someone this time around will do anything to help.

I do not like this time of year.
I do not like the weeks that follow the holidays. They are full of complete and utter disappointment.

I see myself in someone else’s story. I see my past repeat itself in her present. I am envious of her in a way – what she’s facing now is the world of endless possibilities and all the promise that they hold. I’ve been there before. I still remember how it feels. And it’s making me nostalgic.

In a few more days things will fall back to their usual routine. My thoughts will settle down into a neat string of numbers. Logic and rationality will keep discordant feelings at bay. If I wait this one more week out, everything will be back to ok. Not great, but at least better than this self-inflicted torture of constant questioning and doubts. Things won’t have to be existential anymore. They will simply be rational, predictable, resolvable. Endless possibilities will be left for another life or yet another world that I will go back to come Monday….

It's time to take the trash out...

Ёжик в тумане

Ежик сказал Медвежонку:
- Как все-таки хорошо, что мы друг у друга есть! Медвежонок кивнул.
- Ты только представь себе: меня нет, ты сидишь один и поговорить не с кем.
- А ты где?
- А меня нет.
- Так не бывает, — сказал Медвежонок.
- Я тоже так думаю, — сказал Ежик. — Но вдруг вот — меня совсем нет. Ты один. Ну, что ты будешь делать?
- Пойду к тебе.
- Куда?
- Как — куда? Домой. Приду и скажу: «Ну что ж ты не пришел, Ежик?» А ты скажешь…
- Вот глупый! Что же я скажу, если меня нет?
- Если нет дома, значит, ты пошел ко мне. Прибегу домой. А-а, ты здесь! И начну…
- Что?
- Ругать!
- За что?
- Как за что? За то, что не сделал, как договорились.
- А как договорились?
- Откуда я знаю? Но ты должен быть или у меня, или у себя дома.
- Но меня же совсем нет. Понимаешь?
- Так вот же ты сидишь!
- Это я сейчас сижу, а если меня не будет совсем, где я буду?
- Или у меня, или у себя.
- Это, если я есть.
- Ну, да, — сказал Медвежонок.
- А если меня совсем нет?
- Тогда ты сидишь на реке и смотришь на месяц.
- И на реке нет.
- Тогда ты пошел куда-нибудь и еще не вернулся. Я побегу, обшарю весь лес и тебя найду!
- Ты все уже обшарил, — сказал Ежик. — И не нашел.
- Побегу в соседний лес!
- И там нет.
- Переверну все вверх дном, и ты отыщешься!
- Нет меня. Нигде нет.
- Тогда, тогда… Тогда я выбегу в поле, — сказал Медвежонок. — И закричу: «Е-е-е-жи-и-и-к!»,
и ты услышишь и закричишь: «Медвежоно-о-о-к!..» Вот.
- Нет, — сказал Ежик. — Меня ни капельки нет. Понимаешь?
- Что ты ко мне пристал? — рассердился Медвежонок. — Если тебя нет, то и меня нет. Понял?

Passage courtesy of Naked Silence