Zen cabbage!

From a recent Physics News Update:

Scientists at the Iwate University in Japan have shown that the skunk cabbage---a species of arum lily and whose Japanese name, Zazen-sou, means Zen meditation plant---can maintain its own internal temperature at about 20 C, even on a freezing day. Unlike the case of mammals, which maintain their body temperature by constant metabolism in cells all over the body, heat in the skunk cabbage is produced chiefly in the spadix, the plant's central spike-like flowering stalk through chemical reactions in the cells' mitochondria. According to one of the authors of the new study, Takanori Ito, only one other plant species, the Asian sacred lotus, is homeothermic, that is, able to maintain its own body temperature at a certain level. [...]

Moreover, the researchers, studying subtle oscillations in the plant's internal temperature, claim that the thermo-regulation process is chaotic and that this represents the first evidence for deterministic chaos among the higher plants. The resultant trajectory in the abstract phase space (where, typically, one plots the plant's temperature at one time versus the temperature at another time) is a strange attractor, which the authors refer to as a Zazen attractor, a "Zen meditation" attractor.

(This paper appeared in Physical Review E, November 2005.)

I love this because one goal/result of meditation practice is to become centered in one's own being, such that outside perturbations are not disturbing (think of making your heart the calm eye of the storm). These plants-- appropriately associated with meditation-- maintain a constantly warm heart despite the surrounding cold and storms and other inclement weather.

Freedom in Exile

I recently read the autobiography of the 14th Dalai Lama, entitled Freedom in Exile. It contains far more gems that could be quoted (or should be quoted, for this book should be read in its entirety), but I wanted to share a few.

The chapter "From East to West" touches on some of his impressions when he was first able to travel to Europe and the US after fleeing Tibet and taking up residence in India.

On arrival in New York [in 1972], where I went first, I was immediately impressed by an atmosphere of liberty. The people I met seemed very friendly and open and relaxed. But at the same time, I could not help noticing how dirty and untidy some parts of the city were. I was also very sorry to see so many tramps and homeless people taking shelter in doorways. It amazed me that there could be any beggars in this vastly rich and prosperous land. [...] Now, as I have come to know the country better, I have begun to see that, in some ways, the American political system does not live up to its own ideals.

[...]

Another observation is that there are a lot of people in the West who live very comfortably in large cities, but virtually isolated from the broad mass of humanity. I find this very strange -- that under the circumstance of such material well-being and with thousands of brothers and sisters for neighbors, so many people appear able to show their true feelings only to their cats and dogs.

On his attitude toward Christianity:

I am [...] very impressed with the practical work of Christians of all denominations through charitable organizations devoted to health and education. [...] This is one area where we can learn from our Christian brothers and sisters: it would be very useful if Buddhists could make a similar contribution to society. I feel that Buddhist monks and nuns talk a great deal about compassion without doing much about it. [...] However, if it is true that we can learn from Christians, I feel that they could also learn from us. For example, the techniques we have developed for meditation and one-pointed concentration of the mind might well help them in other areas of the spiritual life.

On materialism and spiritualism:

...[I]t is vital for there to be dialogue between [...] all religions and any form of materialist ideology. The two approaches to life are so obviously complementary. It is sad that people tend to think of them as being in opposition. If materialism and technology really are the answer to all of humanity's problems, the most advanced industrial societies would by now be full of smiling faces. But they are not. Equally, if people were meant only to be concerned with matters of spirituality, we would all be living joyously according to their religious beliefs. But then there would be no progress. Both material and spiritual development are required. And humanity must not stagnate, for that is a kind of death.

On the world and the future:

...[T]he problems we face today -- violent conflicts, destruction of nature, poverty, hunger, and so on -- are mainly problems created by humans. They can be resolved -- but only through human effort, understanding and the development of a sense of brotherhood and sisterhood. To do this, we need to cultivate a universal responsibility for one another and for the planet we share, based on a good heart and awareness.

[...]

With the ever-growing impact of science on our lives, religion and spirituality have a greater role to play in reminding us of our humanity. There is no contradiction between the two. Each gives us valuable insights into the other. Both [...] tell us of the fundamental unity of all things.

The shape of emotions

I recently participated in a fascinating workshop. One part was standard sitting meditation to get us focused, and in addition there were two movement sessions guided by an acting coach. These exercises drew out and allowed us to experience the relationship between body posture and emotion.

First, we simply took various positions and examined what emotions they seemed to evoke. Some were obvious-- standing with your legs apart and your back arched feels like exhileration or openness. But others were more subtle. In particular, some were different with the eyes open and closed. We made a "ball" shape, like the fetal position but balanced on our feet. With my eyes closed, this felt safe, sort of compact, warm, and comforting. But with my eyes open, seeing the big world around me, crouching in a ball felt small, as if I were attempting to hide.

[Perhaps this is closer to the truth than we might like to think. When we are blithely living in our own world (eyes closed), it feels safe to have our own routine, our own enclosed house and family and friends-- the little world we all create. But outside events-- illness, natural disasters, economic collapse-- can force our eyes open, revealing that the little worlds we create are rather small and fragile, and not really safe.]

The second session was even more fascinating. It was called "sculpture garden," and was done in pairs. One person was the artist, and one was the art. The art closed his/her eyes, and allowed the artist to position them into some pose. The job of the art was to comply with the pose, find a way to emotionally "fill" it, and just feel what was happening. ("Filling" means taking the shape wholeheartedly, not in a phony or hesitant way).

This messes with our self-image of "what we can be." If we are a timid person (or have that image of ourselves), how do we fill a pose with upraised fist and wide legs? It's an educational experience to realize that we can in fact fill any human pose, simply because we are human. And then that emotion will be evoked within us, even if we rarely allow ourselves to feel it.

I have never done any actor training, but this intrigued me to know more about how actors learn their art. I can definitely understand that poor acting is somehow related to not "filling" the poses correctly-- in other words, having the body and the implied emotion not in tune. Fascinating stuff.

Amory Lovins rocks on

Amory Lovins, founder of the Rocky Mountain Institute, author of Natural Capitalism, and generally uninhibited thinker, was recently interviewed by Discover Magazine. The article, entitled The Energizer, gives a nice overview of Lovins' current thoughts on energy.

But the opening paragraph stands out also:

When I give talks about energy, the audience already knows about the problems. That's not what they've come to hear. So I don't talk about problems, only solutions. But after a while, during the question period, someone in the back will get up and give a long riff about all the bad things that are happening — most of which are basically true. There's only one way I've found to deal with that. After this person calms down, I gently ask whether feeling that way makes him more effective.

As René Dubos, the famous biologist, once said, "Despair is a sin."

This reminds me of the second Chinese definition of optimism I posted about previously. The one where you take full account of reality and decide to focus nonetheless on what you can do to help. Lovins doesn't deny any of the bad stuff. Yep, it's all happening.

But we aren't effective when we focus on that. And we do have a choice.

So I'll come out and say something that's been on my mind for a long time. Many liberals are simply part of the problem. I know dozens of blogs whose sole purpose is apparently to point out outrage after outrage. More and more examples of stupidity, more and more egregious lapses of ethics, more and more reasons why the world is going to hell in a handbasket.

Yes, it's all happening. No need for denial. And yes, the first step in solving problems is recognize them and raise consciousness among those who are not aware.

But it's the first step. Not the 2700th step.

Science will change along with those practicing it

Horace Judson has written a 3-part series in MIT's Technology Review entitled The Great Chinese Experiment. It's an assessment of how successfully the practice of Western science is being adopted by the Chinese. Much of the piece centers on the limitations imposed by the traditions of Confucianism, which, among other things, mandates unquestioning respect for elders. This can hinder the free skepticism necessary for the advancement of science, according to Judson.

It is clear that a hierarchical mindset that forbids questioning those older than you is in serious opposition to the foundations of scientific inquiry. And China will have to deal with this if it is to reap the full benefits of scientific research. And yet, I found myself wincing at a few places. The article was written in a subtley arrogant style, essentially posing the question, "Can the Chinese really handle REAL science, given their limiting cultural background?" My God, it's scientific imperialism. (And Judson seems totally oblivious of his bias).

(By the way, no one asked this about the entrance of the Japanese into the scientific establishment, despite a cultural mindset that is far closer to Confucianism than to Western philosophy! Interesting, that).

A more realistic question is something like, "How will science change as it comes to be practiced by the Chinese?" After all, there are quite a few of them, and science can realistically be defined as the union of the activities of all scientists.

I feel optimistic about this. A common Eastern assessment of the West is that it is comparatively dualistic, leaning toward seeing things in black-and-white rather than shades of gray. (Some might even say a stubborn refusal to admit the existence of the gray). Given the complex challenges of the 21st century, I think the Asian mindset has many things to offer.

Combining the best aspects of Chinese/Indian/other Asian philosophies with the best aspects of Western skepticism and scientific experimentation, we might just discover a worldview that helps everyone.

Projecting the ethics of love

In honor of Martin Luther King Day:

In struggling for human dignity the oppressed people of the world must not allow themselves to become bitter or indulge in hate campaigns. To retaliate with hate and bitterness would do nothing but intensify the hate in the world. Along the way of life, someone must have sense enough and morality enough to cut off the chain of hate. This can be done only by projecting the ethics of love to the center of our lives. --Martin Luther King, Jr.

And when you think about it, why restrict this attitude to "the oppressed people of the world"? It applies to all of us.

A new silent film

Germans Flock to See Silent Monks

An unlikely film has been filling cinemas in Germany in recent weeks: a three-hour documentary with hardly a single spoken word, set in a monastery.

[Thanks, FR!]. This is really interesting. The movie-- called Into Great Silence-- documents the austere and devoted life of Carthusian monks who live in the French Alps. Their life is very simple, consisting of single-minded devotion to God and to their religious practice. Through this life, they have gained deep peace. As the filmmaker, Philips Groening, says, "I have had the privilege of living with a community of people who live practically without any fears."

I know very little about Christian meditation or monastic life. But some of these less-known orders do seem to resemble the Eastern monastic practices with which I am more familiar. Using silence, repetition, and meditation to still the mind and open the heart is a time-honored practice in contemplative religions the world over.

I was surprised to find that the Carthusian monks (and nuns) maintain a web site. It tells about the order, their practice, and how a person might go about joining. It's a rigorous path, requiring many years of service before attaining full ordination. And it is not available to older people, so this sort of life cannot be a retirement option-- the renunciant must devote a portion of his or her "working" years to it.

The other thing that is interesting is the movie's popularity. Why would average German laypeople be fascinated by a 3-hour nearly silent movie about French Christian monks? We are curiously drawn to things like this-- retreat, silence, contemplation, insight, mysticism, etc. I certainly feel that in myself, and I know many other people do too, even if they don't act upon that interest.

Actually, it's not so fundamentally different from what drives people to be scientists or artists either. The sense that the Universe is fascinating, beautiful, and somehow here to be experienced deeply. The sense that there is "something more" beyond eating, working, sleeping, and even having relationships with people. And that this "something" is accessible by looking inward, in silence, alone.

In a sense, we are here to be the Universe. What were you today?

Of gospel and grief

I ran across this quote from Bruce Sterling:

If you approach "reality" in a humble spirit of inquiry
I think that Truth will unveil herself, whereas if you stomp
around emitting gospel and drinking your own public-relations
bathwater, you're gonna come to grief, sooner or later.

The presence of the word "gospel" tends to make us think of the current Religious Right, to whom the quote does indeed apply. But if we turn the mirror around toward ourselves, who among us can claim sufficient humility?

We all approach the world with some degree of "stomping," some attitude about How We Think Things Are (or, even worse, Should Be). This is OK-- you generally need some kind of model to function. But I try to remind myself to question everything I believe, even the "obvious" stuff, in fact, especially the obvious stuff.

What would it be like if we didn't know how things "should" be? What if they're supposed to be exactly how they are? And how would we know?

Attention, stargazers

Do you enjoy stargazing with a guidebook in hand? Universe Today has put out a free, downloadable guidebook with information on what you can see in the sky every night of 2006.

What's Up for 2006?

Optimism and pessimism

Nicole-Anne Boyer has written an eloquent piece on optimism and pessimism at WorldChanging. It's worth reading the whole thing because it really captures the essence of how and why people are obsessed with the world going to hell in a handbasket.

Is it? Well, not really. A recent report indicates that armed conflict, and particularly very violent armed conflict, has been greatly reduced in the time period since the dissolution of the two-superpower world. One reason is likely to be the sustained and positive efforts of global institutions such as the UN.

Boyer then discusses in detail the psychological reactions to this report, which are rooted in our cultural mindsets and cognitive biases. In particular, the idea of decline looms large in many people's minds, and casts a tinge on everything they see. Some people have dismissed the study's results as too difficult to believe, or generally flaky, or too dangerous because they might lead to complacency.

Especially interesting is her discussion of the perceived intellectual fluffiness of optimism. Positive thinking is equated with Polyannish-ness, naivety, and blindness to the reality of world problems. Check your mindset-- do you believe this? You might want to read Boyer's essay.

In her words,

Whether it's amongst the intelligentsia or with friends at a cocktail party, positive interpretations of the human condition are considered "un-intellectual" and "not serious" irrespective of the facts at hand. We are socialized to think that Pollyanna's are mental pansies at best, or just plain foolish. It's just cooler, and easier, to be the dark brooding type deconstructing our reality, instead of offering something more generative.

Then she points out that optimism can be seen several ways:

I prefer how the Chinese have defined optimism with two related but different words. The first word is more akin to the English definition; it's a naive hope for a better future regardless of the reality of the situation. The second word means looking at the reality of a situation as clearly as possible, and even if it is grim, and still be hopeful and open to possibilities. It's this that we need more of.

[...] as responsible change-makers in the 21st century, I think we need to forget this simple negative-positive, optimism-pessimism divide. We to recapture some of the pre-modern "mysterious duality" that drove the insight of our most cherished artists. We need to borrow that Chinese definition of optimism, a concept that lets us live in the shadow of the lightness and darkness of our situation, the ambiguity within us and around us, even though this is discomforting...

Well said.

And if you still prefer the "dark" mindset, it is possible to state these same ideas from a position of discomfort. I recommend this moving essay by Zaid Hassan. Note that he is actually embracing the world, taking the unhappiness into himself and processing it. Beautiful.

Alloderm

Today, I am having gum graft surgery. I have raging periodontal disease, which has resulted in recession of my gums. The grafting helps restore some of the tissue so there is more protection for my teeth and the bones that support them.

Here's the intriguing part: I am getting Alloderm, which is basically donated human tissue with all the parts specific to the donor removed. That is, only the collagen matrix is used-- all of the donor's "personal" cells have been removed. So there is almost no chance of rejection or infection.

[Aside: know what tissue Alloderm comes from? Foreskins. Try not to think about it too carefully].

The procedure is to slit open my gum, insert a piece of Alloderm, pull the edges back together, and sew them shut. Over a few weeks, my body will grow its own cells into the Alloderm matrix, effectively thickening my own gum tissue.

It sounds gross, and it does hurt a bit, but I've had it done before. And it really works. I won't be able to eat crunchy foods for a while (or even solid foods for a couple of days), but it's worth it. They do one side at a time, so at least I've got half my mouth intact for careful chewing. It takes some concentration to eat this way!

Just an hour from now...

I made sure to enjoy my granola and Grape Nuts for breakfast!

Art in Crystallography

The American Crystallographic Association (ACA) is sponsoring its annual contest for artistic images that depict topics in crystallography. Some of the 2005 entries are gorgeous.

I love the intersection of art of science. Nearly all scientists appreciate the fantastic visual beauty of nature (why else be a scientist?), and many artists are intrigued by the symmetries and structures revealed by scientific investigative methods. Some especially enlightened (and financially well-off) science departments sponsor "in-house artists" who work with the scientists to produce or render the prettiest of images that relate to their research.

I am still waiting to hear of an art department or institute sponsoring an "in-house scientist." Surely there has to be some way to make that work....

Are we consuming too much?

"Sustainability" is a well-known word by now. It refers to some quality of the way we are using resources, spending money, and increasing the Earth's population. Sustainable use means that our children will continue to be able to enjoy the fruits of the Earth to the same degree that we do.

But is this sort of thing measurable? What does it really mean, this word "sustainable," and is it just one more thing for different political parties or countries to define differently, ultimately rendering it meaningless and cheapening it to mere marketspeak?

Kenneth Arrow of Stanford University and many interdisciplinary colleagues have authored an interesting paper that attempts to quantify sustainability. It also attempts to solve many of the (well-known, and long-ignored) problems with the definition of GDP, Gross Domestic Product.

Here it is: Are We Consuming Too Much?

I don't understand all the deep economic equations. But I was intrigued by this description of the paper by Alan AtKisson:

"Are We Consuming Too Much?" is a paper that attempts to answer that fundamental question on a global scale, in pure economic terms. It was completed in 2002, but not published till 2004 in the Journal of Economic Perspectives. (It took that long to convince the editorial board to publish an inter-disciplinary paper.) "Are We Consuming Too Much?" also introduces the basic principles of Inclusive Wealth, together with the first attempt to use it with real-world data. [...]

What exactly is "Inclusive Wealth"? It is an attempt to measure the the change in value over time of all the critical capital stocks in an economic system, at constant prices. Natural resources. Ecosystems. Manufactured capital. Human welfare. Human knowledge. Inclusive Wealth is "inclusive" for two reasons: one, because it tries to include everything that actually matters in economic development (which is a first, even for economics); and two, because it includes the interests of future generations. This is a genuine economics of sustainability.

For the big-name team of economists and ecologists who thought this up, sustainability can be defined this way: the value of your wealth, in all its forms, should not decline over time. The next generation must inherit watersheds that still work, infrastructure that isn't collapsing, a store of knowledge (and healthy people who know the knowledge) that's getting bigger and richer instead of smaller and stupider, and so on. You measure sustainability by figuring out whether all those capital stocks are maintaining or increasing their value, continuously. If they aren't, it's time to change your course ... or perhaps to learn to fiddle, so that you are ready for when Rome starts to burn.

The important distinguishing feature of this method is the use of accounting prices, or what we mortals might call the "real price". Such prices reflect the actual cost of replacing the asset (what it would actually cost to replace a ruined water source, for example) and do not vary with changes in valuation by the market.

It's fascinating stuff from a policy perspective. Lest you think it is getting too theoretical to actually matter in the real world of hurricanes, oil spills, and impending Water Wars, note that Sweden already has teams of researchers working on applications of the theory to be tested in actual cities and regions of that country. Some governments are taking this stuff seriously and working on ways to implement changes.

I think what catches my eye about this area is how it brings economics closer to the real world (and vice versa). I have never liked the fact that economics is called a "science" because there is no experimental foundation (it's all theory), and none of the "truths" you can derive through the equations seem fundamental in the same way that, say, the law of gravity is fundamental.

I still don't think "sustainability economics" is closer to being a science, but folding in the effects of real climate change, actual watersheds, genuine levels of soil toxins, and other factors that are not arbitrary like a price is arbitrary, seems to ground the economics in a more satisfying way. It starts to feel solid, rather than more like handwaving, to me.

The GDP is a nearly meaningless number, and yet we base all kinds of stuff on it. It's ghastly. Maybe having something more concrete will lead us to wiser, more sustainable monetary practices also.

And so we begin again.

Another January 1st. Another year. (Of course, every day begins a new year, just with the start date shifted, but we rarely think of it that way).

What do you feel? Excited, hopeful, afraid, dreading it, tired of it all, awestruck? Perhaps all of these.

Many people look back at 2005 with some sadness. As with any year, there were ups and downs, but in 2005, there were a number of spectacular tragedies, as well as the grinding effort of a failing "war." Some people then look forward to 2006 with the hope that it will be so much better than 2005.

But we don't know.

We don't know what is coming. Living in hope and fear because we are constantly comparing the future and present to the past is itself a stressful and ultimately unsatisfactory way to live. Some people respond to uncertainty by trying even harder to clamp down on certainty-- an effort doomed to fail. Others simply give up, as if nothing we do can ultimately matter-- which is easily proven false by a cursory glance at history.

Everyone matters, and so do our everyday choices, but we are not in control of the future. Understanding this seeming contradiction is a lifelong task, the end product of which we call "wisdom."

May 2006 bring greater wisdom, to each person and to society as a whole.

And so we begin again. Life is a process of always beginning again, of always being willing to begin again.