Day 848

calabi_yau_formatted-svg

Three centuries ago, Newton thought that reality had 3 basic components: time, particles and space. This model didn’t explain everything. Soon other forces that govern movement of particles came along like electromagnetism. Photons, gravitons and gluons emerged yet the essential ingredients of reality remain a mystery.

To explain gravity, Einstein merged space and time into a composite, space-time. Michael Faraday added the concept of a classical field that carries forces through empty space. Quantum Theory showed that all mass and energy are really excitations of underlying quantum fields. Quantum fields and space-time are incompatible, so perhaps there is a more basic component hidden beneath.

In the late 1990s, String Theory was proposed. I don’t understand it fully but basically it says that elementary particles emerge from the vibrations of one-dimensional strings. Therefore, an electron is not really a point, but a tiny loop of string. If it oscillates one way, we see an electron. If it oscillates in another way, then we call it a photon, a quark, or a …

Julian Barbour, a British physicist believes that space and time, united by Einstein must be uncoupled. The only way to define space is to consider it as the geometric relationship between observable particles. He argues that the universe is a set of possible configurations of the 3D geometry of space. He believes that these configurations or ‘snapshots’ exist in a space of possibilities. Time is not real but merely something we perceive – an illusion that comes about because the universe is constantly changing from one snapshot to another.

Spiritual masters have been teaching the concept of everything being an illusion for thousands of years. Physics seems to be catching up.

“Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”
– Albert Einstein

Ref:

Day 846

simba_497x355

Simba Muzira, son of Sara Muzira.
Exhibition of Art, Long Gallery, Maudsley Hospital. London.
Simba Muzira. Doing it again.

img_0541

Spray paint. Street art. Bold statements. Clear expressions. Innocent eyes. Pure soul.
Courage. Suffering. Passion.

img_0544

Pigeons telling him not to wear his shoes. Pigeons everywhere! No words!

img_0549

A mother’s tribute to her talented son who died at 32 after living with mental illness for a few years, in and out of the hospital. Her accounts of doing things in his best interest which turned out otherwise. Her heartbreak at having to live away from him when he was too ill to be at home. Her sense of an utter waste of a young life full of promise. Her guilt. Again and again. Her love. Immeasurable.

I salute you. Sara and Simba Muzira.

 

Day 845

images

The art of pottery has held my fascination for as long as I can remember. It is my secret dream to be a master potter, someone who creates magical ceramics that can hold the world in them.

This evening I happened to watch a pottery programme on TV. It featured 7 highly talented potters. Some of their creations brought tears to my eyes. Watching them make these artful objects step by step from scratch was a real treat. One thing they all had in common was that if the clay on the wheel went wonky in any way, they would start all over again. They made no attempts to fix the broken, damaged, warped, marred, misshapen, spoilt, wrecked potential pots. That clay went straight from the wheel onto a waste heap. However, it can be reprocessed, kneaded and made ready for the wheel again.

I identified completely with one of those accidentally wounded pots, even in the hands of master potters. No fresh clay is needed.  I just have to refashion this existing clay into a divine vessel that lovingly cradles the world.

Day 841

His bathroom has 3 lights, one on top of the mirror and the other 2 on the ceiling. The switch for the mirror light is just underneath the mirror. The switch for the ceiling lights is outside the bathroom door. I sometimes found the mirror-light switched on, on the way to his room even when he wasn’t there. I would tell him off for repeatedly forgetting to turn the light off after use. Now, it is my bathroom. I still find the mirror light on sometimes when I go upstairs, even if I haven’t been there for hours.

It is so easy to forget to turn the mirror-light off. I know that now.

I would arrange mail-order deliveries for the times when he would be home. Sometimes he would be in his room on the second floor and fail to open the door for them, especially if they came very early in the morning. We would then have to go around chasing our parcels. Again, I would get a bit annoyed with him for missing out on the deliveries.

Now we sleep in his room. One morning last week, I almost didn’t hear the deliveryman’s knock on the door. I thought I heard something like a knock in my sleep but disregarded it, believing it to be a dream. An identical sound came again and nudged me out of my slumber. Had the man not had enough patience, he would have left us a note and gone to his next destination. But I did manage to bundle myself up and roll myself down the stairs in a semi-comatose panic to get to the door just in time.

It’s so easy to miss a delivery. I know that now.

 

Day 840

They met on a bus, got along, got together and after a while things turned somewhat strange. They thought they wanted to erase each other’s memory from their minds. They thought it would help with the suffering, the pain. The memory was successfully erased, yet they met again, on a beach this time, got along, … “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d.” Even after their minds forgot, their beings felt their connection, simply by being themselves and vibrating at their natural frequencies.

Yes, we watched ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’ today.

I want to hoard each and every one of our memories. Erase nothing. I keep going back to Facebook to look at more pictures, his friends, their happy times, their life, their love.

A post from his first Anniversary:

“One year. It’s been one year today. One year since the lives of the many people you came into contact with had changed. A year where we’ve come together, grieved together, helped each other understand or at least try to understand the little we all knew. A year where we pushed on with our lives, hearing of other tragedies occurring around the world but not really caring as much as the day we lost you. A year where we tried harder and harder to make people aware of these mental illnesses and their symptoms so others don’t find themselves with the same heartache we felt. A Year where money has been raised for research to stop people from slipping through the cracks, yet some still do.. It’s been a year. A year of many changes. But even with all these changes there have been a few things that stayed the same. Our image of you. Our living memories of you, Our undivided love towards you.

Saagar Naresh, you are missed my old friend.
we’ll meet one day and have a much needed catch up. Xx”

– Juan Muriel Escudero

 

 

Day 839

A few weeks ago Desert Island Discs completed 75 years on BBC Radio4.(http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b08cd2fk) A brief excerpt of an interview with Archbishop Desmond Tutu caught my ear. He talked about his experience of freedom when he came to England in the 1960s. He could go into any restaurant, speak openly and be himself. White policemen spoke to him with respect. He said that anyone who had never experienced such a great contrast as the one between his home country and the UK would not understand how wonderful that freedom felt.

This made me think about what freedom means to me. I read some of the Archbishop’s teachings and found the ancient Bantu word ‘Ubuntu’ meaning “the belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity”.

“Ubuntu .. the very essence of being human. A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed.”

“We are made for goodness. We are made for love. We are made for friendliness. We are made for togetherness. We are made for all of the beautiful things that you and I know. We are made to tell the world that there are no outsiders. All are welcome: black, white, red, yellow, rich, poor, educated, not educated, male, female, gay, straight, all, all, all. We all belong to this family, this human family.”

“My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours. We belong in a bundle of life. A person is a person through other persons; you can’t be human in isolation; you are human only in relationships” ― Desmond Tutu

Nelson Mandela said something similar – ‘For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.’

Freedom cannot be achieved by isolating oneself. Waging wars in the name of freedom is a fundamentally flawed concept, be it nations or individuals. Freedom is uplifting and life enhancing for everyone, not for one at the cost of the other. Ubuntu.

‘I am what I am because of who we all are.’

Day 835

66075a17a8cc802e1b9aa49934e2896c-1

The sensitive ones feel deeply, love deeply, hurt deeply. In this hard world, they are forced to grow an armour of steel but inside they are soft and bruise easily. They suffer not only their own angst but also the pain of everyone around them, especially those they love.

They make good mimics and actors because they can literally put themselves in someone else’s shoes. It is their keen observation and empathy that enables them to imitate others accents and actions to perfection.

They make good musicians because their ears and brains are superbly tuned to their heart-strings and they can truly feel the music.

They make good friends as they are loyal, honest and true. Simple things mean a lot to them. Their purity and simplicity make them adorable.

Their sensitivity is the source of their passion and compassion, creativity and a deep appreciation of the small things in life, keen awareness and a vivid inner life.

They suffer deeply when betrayed, rejected or devalued. They fret over misunderstandings and unresolved issues.

All they want is to love and be loved.

The world needs more sensitive people but sadly, hasn’t learnt to value them enough.

drumming