Time Crystals, The Universe, and Free Will….

Step out of the world of Television, and make believe, into the world of the edge of belief. The thinkers and curious people of our time are making some startling discoveries, or getting remarkable insights…and they don’t watch much TV.

One guy has shown- albeit only mathematically, that Time, may form crystals. Yep. It may be possible someday to “freeze” time into a crystal. Hold a moment frozen forever. Or, stack them in your house some where; then when you want to experience a particular moment, choose that crystal, and play it. It won’t be a memory, it will be the actual “Time”. It wouldn’t be like that experience, it would be that experience happening at the exact time that it did happen. How would you get out?

Another guy is debating Einstein,  and making progress. Simply put, he thinks that Newton used a grid to hang his ideas of motion and space on. Einstein used a grid to hang relativity on- except he added a fourth dimension – SpaceTime to his grid. This new guy, says that objects are only relative to themselves over time- with no grid. Just the shape between objects. Kinda tough to wrap your mind around; or form a shape. Yet, his theory is called : “Shape Dynamics.”  He thinks about this kind of thing every day.

Yet another guy, over in Scandinavia, has shown that he can predict your choice of which button to hit, six seconds before you make the decision. He hooks you up to some fancy brain monitoring machines, and then asks you to choose between the red button, or the blue button. Before you even “decide” to reach for which button, your hand is already moving towards your “choice” of red. That happens about a few hundred milliseconds before you consciously make the “choice”. But, before even that, your brain gives off a signal for the red one- a full six seconds before any of the other parts of your brain, or your conscious volition kicks in.

Here is another intriguing theory, this one from the Social Science world. Where are the men going? It appears that almost all colleges in the USA are now highly skewed towards females. Recent numbers show that women outnumber men by a large margin in college. The average college is over 60% female, and in graduate school that number approaches 80%. So why don’t men go where the women are?

One suggestion is biological. Most women are on birth control pills for their college years. Birth control pills mimic pregnancy, therefore, women don’t put out  the little subtle cues that they are fertile. Men don’t see the subtle cues (which by the way, both sexes can spot, but not consciously- they just go: “I don’t know, she just looks more attractive. Or She goes: ” I don’t know, I just kinda wanted him.” ) So in a way, both sexes become neutral, if not kind of chemically neutered. So, since there are no signals, no invitations; men don’t bother, and women don’t notice. LOL

Here is another finding I find fascinating – the color blue does not physically exist, it is a construct of your brain – period. There is no cell in your eye (which is a bubble sticking out from your brain) that is capable of receiving the wavelength of blue light. What you do have (according the the brain folks) are two specialized yellow and green photoreceptors – that make up the purely subjective color; “Blue”. You never actually see it, no blue jeans, no blue skies, no blue moods. Yet we all “see” blue, and each in our own way.

Here is another finding of mind boggling proportions; the Schumann Fields. These are electronic fields caused by the Earth’s magnetic core; and technically are called the Schumann Cavity- the gap  between the Positively charged ionosphere, and the negatively charged earth. In this cavity exist standing waves; determined to be between 4 Hz and 12 Hz ; which is the same range of frequencies that the human brain process things at. If the Schumann Field gets excited- it releases waves called: Gamma Oscillations – at about 40 Hz to 60 Hz. Why is this important? Because brain scientists also not Gamma Oscillations in the human brain, at the same frequencies, and they think those waves are the precursor to consciousness! How’s that for mind boggling. Think of the implications…

The Earth itself may be thinking! Gaia theorists; rejoice!  Or, perhaps, genius is just a person with the right sympathetic harmonics for these waves. If said genius, say she is under a part of the Schumann Cavity that is firing off  Gamma Oscillations,  her mind then reflects that harmonic- voila! Genius.  The possibilities are endless. So far though, the only practical use of the Schumann field, is to create the lower frequencies in sound studios, to reduce exhaustion in musicians, and clear the sound.

Last but not least – Love. It turns out there is a raging debate going on over human pheromones.  A woman genius has proved we have them, but the debate is over the receptors. It appears that all of us humans, have tiny pits in our noses, called: VSO’s.  I think that just means : “vestigial sensory organs.” The debates is over whether or not the VSO’s are functional. It appears they are, because we certainly react to scent. In fact, one scientist wrote a book about these human Pheromones, called: Love Stinks. LOL  Other studies show that when a woman kisses you, she is actually tasting your immune system. You smell led her to taste you – just like food. LOL

Back to the birth control pill, it masks these ways of smelling and tasting. So women “marry” the”wrong” guy.( We are speaking only biologically here, he may be the “right” guy, in every other way!) When women go off of the pill, in order to have a baby, or for some other reason, they often remark: My husband smells different. If she hadn’t been on the pill, she may not have chose him for a mate. Interesting stuff. Stuff that makes you both think , and consider. Consider  how small seemingly unrelated things, may indeed play a significant role somewhere else.

Why did I write this on a blog about being Super at sixty? Because to be Super at Sixty- one must learn to think, to consider, to ponder, to reason, and to learn. It keeps your brain young and intrigued. The intellectual side of it anyway. The emotional part is to fired up from “News” and doom and gloom, to think, it just loops over the negative stuff, until;  it can’t think anymore.  Find yourself lost in the world of ideas, and the world becomes ideal.

“the smell of my mother”; and other stories…..

I love life. I always have. I love people. I always have. I don’t always fit. I never have. Yet , that combination lets me get stories out of folks, that they wouldn’t normally talk about. Here, are a few of them.

I was talking with a 93 year old man, who had just retired from his wood working shop. He couldn’t find an apprentice who truly loved wood. He told me: ” I just can’t haul the wood up to my workshop from the sawmill anymore. I have to date younger women, because most of them in their early 80′s can’t even make it up to the house, let alone walk with me up into the hills.”

As he tells me about his life, how he used to put a barrel out front of his shop, filled with round stock; wood from Cherry, and Mahogany, and Dark Oak trees. He would cut them into about five foot lengths, and varying diameters, and put them into the barrel. Old mountain men would come by, pick out one or two, and go back up in the hills and carve them. They would carve faces, stories, mythical creatures, or scenes from their own lives into the wood. Making staffs, or walking sticks, or “wizard staves”; even a few shepherds hooks. Sometimes, they would carve wooden flutes, or a cane, or a Jesus, or Mary; they would carve whatever they liked.

When they were done, they would bring them back to his little shop. He would put them up for sale. He got $2.00 of the sale – for the wood. The “Artist” and woodcarver, got all the rest. He did that for all 81 years he was open. Yep. He started his own woodworking business- at twelve. He was so sharp, and I learned a lot about wood that day. I asked him if he remembered his childhood.

“Oh, Yes. Like it was yesterday. ”

“What was your favorite childhood memory?”

He thought for just a moment, closed his eyes for a second, and his whole body relaxed. When he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t here, he was there- back in his childhood.

“The smell of my mother. If I close my eyes, I am nestled on her shoulder, as she carries my little three year old body, back from the meadows. She used to gather herbs back then. We didn’t have many doctors back in the Holler ( in West Virgina, deep mountain valleys were called: “Hollers.”).  Many of the women knew what plants and herbs were good for medicinal uses. They would put on their herb pouch, slung over their shoulders and head out to find and pick them. When my legs would give out, My mother would carry me. I could smell the herbs in the pouch, the sunshine in her hair. She always picked a flower or two, and put them behind her ear. I would smell that too. I loved hugging my Mother, because her smell put me back on her shoulder, in the sunlight, in the meadow. I still have her herb pouch, and it still smells like her.”

I often ask folks what their favorite childhood memory was. I do that because it makes them go back, to something, or sometime, when  they weren’t worried and distracted. Like this story:

“What is your favorite memory?” I ask the woman across the table. She is 64 years old. Sharp and witty. Sweet.

“Oh, that’s easy. My sister. She is younger than me, by two years. When I was four, she was my very own private dolly. I would dress her up, paint her nails, fix her hair. She would always smile and do what I said. At night, when she was afraid, or scared – she used to have these terrible dreams. She never knew what they were about, but she would tremble and cry. I would haul her out of the crib, up into my big bed, and she would go right to sleep, and no bad dreams. I would talk and she would listen. Sometimes, when she got to be five or six, she would talk. I would listen. We would dream about what our life would be like as full grown women. We were never apart until I got married at 21, and moved out. She was my Maid of Honor. ”

Just then, a woman about sixty, comes over and sits down next to her. They hold hands.

“What are you talking about?”

“What is your favorite Childhood memory?” I say.

“Oh, that’s easy. My sister.”

Oh, yes, my friends, life is good. It is full. It is rich. And its memories can last you a lifetime.

Super versus Superman (or woman) the difference is Ego….

Aloha All,

Thanks for the wonderful comments, and challenging ideas; so many bright caring folks are out there in the blogosphere! Let me explain in more detail, what I mean by “Super at Sixty”, versus becoming “Superman.” In the proverbial nutshell: One is based on being the best you, you can be; the other, is based on showing people how good you are.  Internal, versus external. The funny thing is- they both can get you to the same place. Both of them work- for different kinds of people. Except for one thing, external is fragile. Very fragile. Because it is subject to other people and their standards.

To be super man; you have to compete with others, in public ways, in public arenas. Run farther, run faster, jump higher, swim more; a constant cycle of look at me! You can’t do this , can you? I am faster, stronger, smarter, and I last longer. Ah, but when you lose, to someone older, younger, a different gender, or someone you thought you could have been better than; the self doubt creeps in. The anger, the blame, the excuses. At this point, ego people either get mad, and work harder, or they quit.

To be super at sixty. You just have to walk 15 minutes at a brisk pace twice a day. No witnesses, no T-shirt, not lap times. Just better health, and a sense of accomplishment. Because you kept your promise to your self. You walked twice a day, everyday. Whoooeee! Your health improves, you feel better and you are more active. No injuries, no feeling of losing- except maybe, some weight.  To be super at sixty, most things are simply keeping your word, to your self. If you had one less soda then yesterday, one less cookie, one less doughnut; if you didn’t eat fast food that day, or skipped the 7 dollar latte with cream and sugar- those are the awards for your efforts. No witnesses necessary. No outside validation. No recognition. Just satisfaction with yourself, that you kept your word that day.

To be superman, you have to push yourself to your limits. These people inspire us, because they stretch the limits; show us what is possible. The make the edges wider, and the middle bigger. They give us Hope. We need supermen and superwomen. They move the boundaries. YOU just don’t have to be one, to be super at sixty. For supermen- and superwomen- running a marathon a month for a year- is a realistic goal. For super at sixty, that same feeling can be felt, by moving every day just fast enough where you could talk to a companion, but not sing if you tried. You come home from your brisk walk satisfied and sweaty. Great. Superwomen come home with 12 medals, unsatisfied in some cases, because they could have done better.

Supermen use the words: “Wrong, bad, failure,”  a lot. Super at sixty use words like; “Well, that didn’t work for me. Okay, that is working well. I have to adjust to this, or that. ” Blaming yourself, if you want to be super at sixty, has to be let go of. You need to be honest with your starting point, or where you need to work on something, but blaming yourself – doesn’t work well in the long run. Be honest, but not brutally honest, correct yourself, without the details. Had a bigger lunch than you planned? Acknowledge it- and correct it. Eat better at the next meal. Small adjustments, no blame.

I guess in simple terms it boils down to two different attitudes: Supermen are always thinking they can do better. Super at sixty folks are thinking – I am better. Not than you, but better than I was. If you want to finish a marathon, you are probably on the super at sixty path. If you want to win, by beating everyone in your age group, you are probably in the Superman camp. Either way, have fun, do your best, and relax. Super at sixty, is not a precise goal, it is a precise process. You determine the journey, the route, and the markers that show you are being more you. There you have it. Super at sixty, and beyond. Not being superman but feeling super, man!

Background noise for the Body….

Aloha All,

Continuing to become Super at Sixty, some more lessons are becoming apparent. Recently, scientists discovered that having the TV on for “background noise” interferes with everything from relationships, to sleep cycles. Why? Because the mind takes in about 2 million bits of information a second, and we can only consciously access about 4 to 14 of those bits of information. The rest kind of seep into our minds, without our conscious volition. So we are irritated, upset, and restless; without realizing the cause. It was the background noise.

The same thing happens with your body. Chips, cookies, sodas, big portions sizes, tea, coffee, candy, chocolate; are the background noises that cause the body to be unable to hear itself. Fast food, is almost like white noise- blocking out all of the bodies emergency signals that it wants some health back. We become fat, sedentary, and sleepy… from the food in our background. People who study this stuff for real, say that the ordinary active human being, not subjected to extreme cold, or super vigorous exercise; needs less than 1,800 calories a day to be healthy. Yet, in America – we can do that eating a single sandwich with a soda!

Check around your kitchen: chips in the cupboard? Cookies on the table? Salt and sugar right at hand? Soda and beer stacked up? Cake on the counter? What’s up on the top of the Fridge? Several kinds of potato chips and pretzels? Cereal in the pantry? Ice Cream in the freezer? Whip cream, milk, and chocolate milk inside the fridge? Bread and butter, jellies and jams, deserts of all kinds scattered about your food storage areas. Pasta, pizza, and burgers- big burgers; half pound or even more, with buns and condiments.  Background noise. You won’t even notice you are eating them.

I once toured a grocery store with an expert (From France) on labeling. He found over 3,200 items with sugar on the label! Things I never even guessed at; like bacon, sausage, bread, and every single canned fruit, vegetable, and beans. Salt was in every soup. If you never left the produce section – you would still have background noise for the body; check out the salad dressing labels- yikes!

I am not saying become a raging vegan, or perfect vegetarian. Our bodies do , and can, process meat very well. In spite of what some of the stricter passionate followers of those persuasion say. We have cutting and tearing teeth for a reason. Our ancestors were not full time vegans. They ate nuts, berries and grains, and occasionally gorged on meat. Not much background noise at all. LOL

Want to see how much background noise is in your home? Put a blanket on your couch, and maybe a tray (so the ice cream won’t melt!) and then go through your kitchen and put everything you might consider a “comfort food”, on the blanket. Chips, pretzels, popcorn, candy, chocolate, ice cream, pasta, pizza, frozen dinners, anything with sugar, or salt (don’t forget the sodas, beer, catsup, mustard, mayo, butter, and salad dressings!) etc…  When you get them all moved to the couch. Take a picture. I bet the couch is full. Now, go back and look around your kitchen. Counter top clear? Top of the fridge clean? No breads, or rolls on the kitchen counters? Kinda empty isn’t it?

No wonder you couldn’t hear your body. It had to get sick before you could listen to it. At least, that is what happened to me- I got fat. I got sick. I got deaf. Then, I got healthy, or healthier. Still have a treat once in a while – but, it is truly a treat. One candy bar in 3 months, not 3 a day as a snack!

The belly is going away, slowly. I do things in increments. To little , is actually better than to much. To much change at one time, and you can hurt yourself, physically and mentally. Take those small steps, well you learn to take bigger ones. Remember, I started this journey to be Super at Sixty, when I was 58 years old! Phase one , lasted two years. Phase two, just started on January 1st, and will go for a year. Next year, I will  work as hard on my mind, as I did on my body and health over the last two and half years. Wait! I see a cookie. Yummy. LOL

Moderation in all things, including moderation. To quote an old Irish Monk.

Life throws curves, it also hits Grand slams….(for most women, free shopping!)

Aloha All,

My friend sent me this little gem of knowledge in an email:

“If the plane trip on Route 66 is out of reach, then bollocks – is it your fault? I think not. If the dream, any dream is getting further and further out of reach, then getting ‘soul sick’ over it plays into the cycle of decline. Time to get a new dream. Several of them – you’re young and fit enough.
Also, I can think of no-one who needs to be less concerned about being honest with himself. The number dollar wise? The dream? Shake ‘em up so that you have the advantage. I’m not being patronising my friend – it took me a long, long time to realise what I was doing to myself by setting myself unrealistic goals – it’s not much healthier than having no goals at all. Route 66, Mercedes, iPhones, the Pyramids, the Highlands – they’ll be around  for a while yet, and life has a funny habit of dropping things in your lap, as much as it has a habit of springing obstacles and nasty surprises. ”  Friend David

David’s words sprouted into this blog. He is absolutely correct. We always assume that life will throw us a curve ball, or a strike. We forget that it often drops a complete gift in our lap; a home run, or even a Grand Slam. For you women, or at least some of you, it is the equivalent of going into a thrift store and finding someone has left a Halston dress,  or Versacci , or Gucci handbag.  For me, it was finding Kathy, having children, and discovering comedy. All were Grand Slams of the Grandest kind!

If your life gave you health. My Kathy, and my best friend, are very rarely sick. In fact, in over 60 years; I don’t think either has had as much as a cold. That is a gift from life. I met my wife, because I said hello to a lady who was singing. She invited me to a party that night in her apartment. I saw Kathy and proposed. 32 years later? Still together. Still Happy. Still can’t believe I bumped into that lady on the stairs of our apartment building – and it was the single most life changing moment of my life. Next was becoming a Dad. That is unreal. The Dad gene kicks in, and you want to become the kind of person that a child deserves to have as a Dad. You step it up a notch. Or many notches , in some cases.

Life abounds with these hidden gems that were – as David says: …”life has a funny way of dropping things in your lap.” A career, a romance, a child, an opportunity, a dream, a goal. Reconnecting with an old friend, or healing a rift from a family spat. Finding someone you can talk to. They deserve as much attention as the things that go wrong. Most of us don’t look ahead, we look behind. And my behind is to big to look at now! LOL So, I don’t.  I look forward. David made me think clearly. Having goals you can’t reach IS as bad as having no goals at all. Because they both make you just sit there. Waiting for a foul ball. Or in some women’s cases; a sale that never happens.

I know most women hate sports metaphors, and they also bristle when we suggest that shopping is high on their priority list. Yet malls are not built for men. So someone goes there. LOL I once heard one of my more successful (financially) buddies wives say this: ” I don’t understand Jim at all. He watches four of five hours of sports on Saturday and Sunday, when he could be shopping like normal people.”

I rolled. So maybe the joy life dropped in your lap isn’t a big deal. Just a thrift store open late. Or a hot dog at a ball park. Or just a kind word from a stranger, when you needed a nice moment. Maybe a cloud is shaped like a baby doll, or a unicorn. Maybe you looked up at the night sky, it was clear out, and you took a moment to see how big the Universe is. Or maybe you called your Mom , just to chat.

Life does drop things in your lap, all the time. And that , is a Grand Slam!

Belive in me…believe in you….believe me, you…

Belief is such a strong and misunderstood word. Belief  is stronger than fact. Belief is stronger than evidence. Belief is stronger than reality. That is why you should both examine your beliefs and challenge your beliefs. Why?

First of all, they may not be yours. They may just be habits and not beliefs at all. Second, they may not match reality, or the reality that you want to build. How many beliefs do you have, that were taught to you? Most, I would venture. You never challenged them to see where they came from.  One of my friends told me this story- and it shows how beliefs can grow into certainty, if you don’t challenge them. Here goes:

” Kevin, back in the 1950′s, it was hard for us Black Jazz trios to get work. We got hired by a guy in West Virginia, because he heard us in New York, and he thought we were great. So we drive to the Hotel he owns in West Virgina to see about the gig. First, he meets us at the main door of the lobby. We usually had to go through the kitchen. He shakes our hands. Takes us right into the restaurant ; and sits us down to eat lunch with us. This is 1957, Kevin. We are bewildered, and wondering what is going to go down.

The fellow offers us a 3 month contract. We stay in a regular Guest room (one per person!), we eat in the Restaurant, or order room service. Drinks are free when we are working. We stare at the guy. He is white. We are three black guys. He sees we don’t trust him, and can’t believe the terms. He notices, breaks out laughing and says:

“Let me tell you a story. I didn’t start out rich. I went to the University of West Virginia and played football, and majored in business. I started out with a couple of car washes, and a golf course. I built my business into a pretty good one. I became a booster for my old college. I also owned the Cadillac Dealership in town. When we recruited football players, I loaned my cars to show new recruits around. I would also drive. But not Black Athletes. I hated them.  Well, one time, I had to take three Black kids in my Cadillac. Show them around town, and give them the pitch. Well, I had never been alone with three Black kids before, so, I didn’t say much. I listened.

They were true student Athletes. One wanted to be a Doctor, one wanted to be a Physicist, and the other wanted to Teach Math. They were talking about the beginning of the Universe, chemistry and mathematical formulas- and I was lost. That night, I went to my Mom and Dad’s house for dinner. I asked my Dad: ” Do you know what a nuclear particle is? Can you name them? ”

“No, son. I can’t. Why?”

“Can you tell me the difference between and alcohol, and an Oxyl group?”

“No. Why?”

” Do you know who Heisenberg is, or Godell, or Gallois?”

“No, son. What is this all about?”

” Well, Dad, I didn’t know any of those things either, until today. Three black kids taught me in the car.”

“What?”

“That’s right, Dad. You told me Black folks were stupid, and not very bright. That they couldn’t be educated. I am bright, and a college graduate. I didn’t understand a word these kids were talking about. And they are FRESHMAN. What other lies did you teach me?”

His belief system was taught, and never challenged until he met those young men.

 

Here is another story about a girl I knew in college. We will call her- Sandy.  We used Sandy as our dictionary, and our grammar expert, and our literary guru; kind of like a human google machine back then. One day, she laments about what a bad speller she is. We are all shocked. We used her to edit all of our papers, and correct our spelling and grammar. She had a 4.0 in English, her Major. This was back in the days, when only two people in an entire University might graduate with a 4.0- Magna Cum Laude.  So we were all kind of shocked that she thought she was a bad speller. We ask her how in the world she could be a bad speller, if she had a 4.0 , in English, and we all counted on her to save our papers from mistakes and misspellings.  She tells us this story:

“When I was a kid. I won the Spelling bee for our state, twice. And Nationals once. ( Remember this, she won the National Spelling Bee!) So, the next year, I was thought to be an easy shoe in. Well, I got into dancing- I was 15. My first recital was coming up. It was the day after the first round of the spelling Bee. I didn’t study for the Spelling Bee, I was all excited about my first dance recital.

When I hit the podium, they gave me a word. I couldn’t spell it. I was out. First one disqualified. I was in tears. As I came off stage, my teacher (who had been there for all my wins) looked right at me and said: “You can’t spell. You should be ashamed of yourself.” I haven’t been able to spell since.”

All of us, with the clarity of young people who haven’t been there, were aghast. “You believed her?” We yelled. One girl said softly: “What a narcissistic bitch. She only cared about her, not you.” Sandy was stunned. “What do you mean? She said.

The girl went on: “What I mean Sandy, is you were a 15 year old girl, who was going to dance, in public, for the first time in your life, on stage. In front of many friends and relatives. You were excited and focused. You missed that word, because your heart was in the Dance Recital, not in the Spelling contest. Anyone with any sense would know it was a simple case of priorities. You knew how to spell, so you didn’t study, you weren’t sure if you could dance, so you were nervous. That woman should have known it was just a case of two things going on at the same time. For crying out loud, you won the NATIONAL spelling bee. Of course, you can spell. That teacher was the one who was embarrassed , and not for you, but for her. She bragged about you, and then felt let down. If she really knew you, and that you had a big recital the next day, she should have told you to skip the spelling bee, this year. She just wanted to brag.”

Sandy sat for a moment. Her eyes brimming with tears. ” I can spell,” she whispered; “I can!”  She believed someone she trusted and admired, at the exact moment she was hurt, embarrassed and vulnerable – and it stuck. Even though all of the evidence around her, winning the National Championship, being State Champ twice, a scholarship to college, a straight A, GPA, and dozens of us relying on her to help us spell correctly, and she STILL THOUGHT SHE WAS A BAD SPELLER. Because she bought into someone else’s belief system.

When you are emotional, and you admire or respect someone else; and then they say something negative, it sticks.  Yet, when you exam the belief, you can see that it might not even be theirs, let alone yours. I am sure that teacher knew that Sandy was a great speller. She nourished that gift. But, in a moment of disappointment; she unloaded -unfairly- on poor Sandy. Sandy, all ready emotional, took it to heart. I bet that teacher would like to have that moment over again, to support Sandy, not bring her down.

Beliefs about people, about yourself, can come from many places. Challenge them. Find out why you have a belief, and if it fits you. If it does. Keep it. If it doesn’t , let it go. If you believe you are stupid, fat, slow, dull, to old, to young, to new; you will be.  If you believe the world is ugly, unsafe and terrible, it will be. It isn’t. It just is. You can change your world, by changing your beliefs. It takes work. Sometimes you actually have to confront someone you love, to realize that it was their belief system that was holding you back, not yours. If you believe in security, than taking a risk, is risky business. If you believe in risk, then security is a risky business. If you believe you are worthy of being more than you are, you will do more to become worthy. I believe in you. I believe in me. And that took some real work. Become a believer in yourself. Challenge your limits, because limits are just beliefs.  Believe me, I know. LOL

Assumptions, and hidden beliefs….

Aloha All,

Let’s start out with this wonderful email from my friend Bruce. At the end of it, we will talk more. Here goes:

Kevin of Comedy,

I like hanging out with smart people.

Not only is the conversation scintillating—

smart people provide helpful counsel.

A physician pal proffered

unsolicited medical advice—

which assisted me enormously.

A thirty-something computer guru

gave me a tip which saved data

(and my derriere).

An attorney chum

talked me into doing something

which made a huge difference.

Say what you will about smart people.

They know their stuff.

The thing is…

smart people are in short supply.

And they rarely get listened to.

Even their husbands turn a deaf ear.

Weird, huh? Bruce.

Now, how many of you were caught off guard by the Husband comment?  I think that is why I love his little dig at sexism. Might be just my generation, or it might be a lot of us. What was your honest reaction? Surprise, a little chuckle? Or irritation that this is still an issue?  Why do I bring it up on a blog about being Superatsixty?

Why? Because we make the same kind of hidden assumptions all the time, about minorities, about women, about men, and about ourselves. We assume that whatever we thought about an issue, or person – is that issue or person. It isn’t. Becoming super at sixty, means learning to spot , in yourself, when you are not being fully human. When you are not working on yourself. Worst of all, when you are limiting yourself because you assumed you weren’t capable in some way or another.

What are your hidden beliefs about yourself? Find them, find out how they got there. And then- deal with them. Shame? Guilt? Betrayal? What did you do in your past, that has been carried forward without your knowledge – at least consciously. Let it go. You are where you are now. NOW. So, this is where you start challenging your assumptions. About who you are. What you want. What you could be. In sixty plus years, I have learned a great deal, and am unlearning a great deal more. Don’t assume someone else has a better handle on your life than you do. Live your life. Let them live theirs.  Lot’s of folks my age, assume that the world was better when we were younger. Statements like : “Lots of folks”  is really a quite subtle way of introducing  “THEY”, into the conversation. It gets you to assume many people agree/disagree with what you say next. So you assume that must be how folks feel.  Your assumption, can be wrong (it may be right too). If you start saying: ” I feel. I think. I wonder. I don’t know.”

“They”, or lot’s of folks, or women think, or men are, or kids today, all lose their power. And Bruce’s email, would not have a punch line. Smiles to all, Kevin who knows little , but tries a lot.

 

 

Tune in. Turn on. Turn off.

Tune in, Turn on, and Turn Off….

Tune in to your own body. Turn on your true self. Turn off the TV. The three “T’s” are a key to success at being Super at Sixty. Let’s start with Tuning in:

Tune in, means simply to listen to your own body. It also means to tune in to the people who believe in you. The pro’s who showed me how to stretch, made me listen to my body. Once I was tuned in- I discovered, that (for me) stretching has to be done when I am truly and completely warmed up, and before my warm down. The stretches hurt, I call them the :”Oww, oww, oww, sequence.” But they work, now that I know how to do them.

One of my dearest and closest friends; was so excited that I had discovered how to stretch, that she wrote me a “cheerleading” email, that I cherish. Another friend , who does Sports Medicine for a living, sent me a short note. It simply said: “Yahhooo!” I laughed and felt good about my paltry efforts. I mean, I still can’t put my leg up on a curb. These are the people you tune in to. Because they believe in you. They encourage you. They want you to succeed. Why would you listen to folks who make you want to stop? Or tell you : “Running is bad for the knees, and hips…” (By the way, it is running technique that is “bad” for your hips and knees. Not running.) Tune in to those that care. That believe. Tune into your body, it will let you know what it likes, and what it doesn’t. So listen to it. It is smarter than you.

Turn on your belief system. Your mind chatter. Change the way you talk to yourself. Unlike most advise, I say: “Get full of yourself!” Or as a famous football player once said: “I needs me some more me.” Not in a narcissistic way, but in a self esteem building way. Here is an example of a non turned on self dialogue: ” I am slow, I am fat, I am to old, I am not good enough. I can’t do this.”

Now, here is a Turned On- self dialogue: ” I am moving again. What fun. I feel slimmer already. Wow, I just jogged farther than I ever have. Those stretches are really working. I love the feel of my body moving. I wonder how healthy I can get? You know, I think I shall skip the milk shake today. I feel like smiling. ” See? Turned on. Make that life one of passion for the moment. Lust after better thoughts, better health, better food. You gotta roar to the world: ” I am having fun learning how to be fully me. Jump on, or jump out of the way, because I am coming through. Wheeeee……”

Turn off – the TV, frenemies, and relatives who make you feel like it is as duty just to see them. If you turn off your TV, most of the crap messages of fear and ill health, won’t effect you anymore. You won’t worry about restless leg syndrome, or the side effects of pills. Heck, spend that time doing Yoga, or Meditation, or reading, or sports, or chatting with an interesting person – in a few weeks, TV will bore the crap out of you ( That is a double pun, because a boor, bores into your soul, and sucks out the joy of life, and conversation) . If you meditated as much as most folks watch TV, you would be the Dali Lama at the end of just a year or so…okay, that is a slight exaggeration; you would just FEEL like the Dali Lama.

Turning off the negatives, gives the positives free reign. I met a 78 year old guy yesterday. He told his son about two years ago: “Man, I would love to sing. ” His son (a tuned in, turned on, and turned off person – obviously) said: “Dad, why don’t you just sing? If you are afraid of singing alone, join a choir or choral group.” His dad did just that. You know what his dad told me?

“Kevin, I now have friends that meet twice a week to sing. There are 30 of us. We range in age from 19 years old, to well, me- at 78. We sing our little hearts out, go for a coffee afterwords. I have a whole new life. We sing at whatever Church wants us to. Sometimes, we have to drive 200 miles away to get to them, and you know what that means- Road Trip!”

Tune in, Turn on, and Turn off.

 

A Eureka Moment – inspired by an article in Wired….

Aloha All,

Okay, maybe I just have too much time on my hands–or maybe, finally after 6 decades–I’m learning to think. The last couple of years patterns are becoming very accessible to me. Partly giving me the ability to understand myself, to a limited extent–other people to an even smaller extent, and the meaning of life–to a yet, smaller extent. I have the time to think–24 hours a day alone in the cabin–times more than 4000 days at sea. No wonder brainiacs want to be left alone–and given some time to think. It really does help.

Meaning of life is of course 42. If you read hitchhikers guide to the galaxy. I think it has more to do with love than any number. Perhaps the highest virtue displayed by human beings is love–or its close cousin forgiveness. That is the subject of some other e-mail. The one I want to talk about today–is the Eureka moment I had about number. It while I was reading an interview with Freeman Dyson’s son; George. It triggered the doggone Eureka Moment in me. His simple explanations made all the other stuff I had taken in – Click. Eureka!

About a dozen years ago–I read of a scientist in South America who thought that the entire universe was one giant logarithm. That if you understood math, just one order above us–you could create a three-dimensional world. In fact, physicists call this the holographic principle. That we may be 3-D representations on a two-dimensional plane, reflected from the center of the universe. I know, it hurts your mind think about stuff like this–mine to. At the time, I had not had enough “information” in my mind, to process what he was saying.

Today, it dawned on me. I was looking at my Kindle–and realizing that as I read those words–they weren’t really there. They were just a collection of numbers–zeroes and ones. The binary code that lies between everything digital. All of the color I was seeing, all the words I was reading, and all of the ideas located in the books I was reading–were simply a string of zeros and ones packed into a matrix. Then I looked at my cell phone–a smart phone–same thing. My laptop? Bingo. Everything in it, pictures that are treasures to me, e-mails that I saved from people–and ones I wrote myself–all of the software–zeros and ones. Saved in a
matrix of numbers.

You need hardware on which to run the programs–but the programs, are all just numbers. Kind of like our DNA, no individual code is alive–A, G, T, C–yet, that is you. That is your program. And it can be reduced to numbers. No individual snippet of computer code is “alive” either–but it does replicate. Just like numbers, or organic compounds. Freeman Dyson’s son has written a book (which I have not read yet) based upon this idea–that codes, information, make up everything we see. He calls it Turing’s Cathedral. I can’t wait to read the book–because it aligns with what I was thinking today. Here is a side thought to ponder:
Biologically, you need non living things to create life- amino acids. Electronically , non-living things- zeroes and ones, are the amino acids of programs… .

When I 1st read that paper, more than a decade ago–it was an interesting idea, but I couldn’t get any feel for it. Everything around us seem so real. Then again so does a movie–and we can even watch those in 3-D now. If you have a big enough matrix, you can put enough numbers inside there to create whatever you can see. I know the movie the matrix–was roughly based on this–I wrote a science fiction screenplay about a dozen years before that–called downloaded. In which I thought the electronic world was alive–and had evolved.

Because in computer time–we are morons. The time it takes us to input data–the computer is just waiting. In its time frame–it must seem like a lifetime before the next letter is typed. I even did a bit, where i said that Computers were the first “Time Machines” because they worked so fast, that a moment of our time – one second- can be split into a billion (and now much more than that) units of computer time. That space, that dead time in between inputs–is why people like Stephen Hawking’s believe that computers may be sentient. It is taken mankind something like 2000 generations to get to where we are–and modern computers can do that in less than a day.

Back when Freeman Dyson, Alan Turing, and all those guys built the 1st computer–called maniac. Well, they used a matrix that only held 5 kB–32 x 32 x 40. You needed 10 bits for the address, 10 bits for an instruction–and 20 bits for storage. So any time you put something in you got more out. Now, it is trillions per second–going in, and coming out. Truly mind-boggling. (there is an interview with Dyson’s son about this in Wired – and I got the exact numbers of the matrix (Page 96, March 2012) from that article. It is much more in depth than what I am writing, but it is where I got my Eureka moment – I understood what he was saying!)

So my eureka moment has 2 parts. One, I finally understand in a very dim way–that something simple, can create something far more complex. The 2nd part is, I understand now what they mean when they suggested all the information in the world, and the universe–is the universe. And that universe is a number.

There is a 3rd glimmer starting–and that is once you set up a program–you have to run it to see what will happen. The computer geeks call this debugging a program. It just means that once you started–you always get some unexpected results. Like humans. LOL

I still don’t understand the intangibles–loving, forgiving, hurting–remembering–and soul–if there is one. Or if those are merely byproducts of the code in the machinery. But at least I kind of understand now–what those geniuses were saying years and years ago. It took me more than a decade, with 10 times the amount of time to think than ordinary working people–to even get a clue to what they were saying. Holy cow. It really makes you appreciate genius.

So maybe I’m not Kevin after all–maybe I’m just an address in the digital world. One with a few more bits of information than say a fly, or a cow. Or maybe, I’m a digital address that became sentient–self-aware. Or maybe I only think that, because it’s been programmed in. So was there an original programmer? Or did we reduce it to the level where we instilled a program, that runs off of simple commands–replicated over and over again–at higher and higher speed–until the end result is the universe?

I don’t have those fixed in my brain yet. I do however, understand why some people think that the universe may actually be an mathematical construct–and we can never be aware of the next order of magnitude above us–otherwise we could create the logarithm bigger than ourselves. And an, in a very literal sense–we would become GOD.

Okay, see what happens when you have too much time to yourself–and you’ve been of called a reader ? LOL

Kevin at an unknown address….

 

 

Super at Sixty… a note about Phase II….

Aloha Gang,

I am well into Phase II, of being Super At Sixty. I started some serious food/exercise combinations in January, and they are going fairly well. I also started jogging religiously – albeit slowly (would you believe only 3.2 miles an hour for the first two weeks? Sheesh). I have now jogged 9 of the last ten days. I feel pretty good, but had a tight hamstring. Old injury and no flexibility.

Okay, so Anton and Adam are up in the Gym ( Alex and Eugenia, you can skip this part! You are already at their level – Olympic level. What I am going to say next is probably really old stuff for you two! I sure hope you meet these guys. They will love you both- who wouldn’t? LOL)

I finish my forty minute jog. I do my two little tiny stretches. I see that Adam is in between exercises. So, I go over and ask about stretching my hamstring. First, he says, make sure you are truly warmed up. Having just finished my jog, and still sweating like a pig. I qualified. Second, make sure you have water in you. I did. I was always a fairly good hydrator, and had my water with me.

Okay, now, here is a good hamstring stretch. Well, he flings his leg up onto a table a little more than Waist high. Well, that one is out. I couldn’t get my leg up on a curb. LOL So, he says, we can do it on the ground. Well, couldn’t do that one either. Okay he says; let’s do it this way. Bear in mind, at no time did he mention my inflexibility, nor did he point out my poor shape. He just kept adjusting until I could finally even begin a proper stretching exercise. He kept my self esteem intact the whole time. Cool.

Okay, he has me kneel, and put one leg out in front of me, then put my hand behind my knee and slowly go until it got “tight”. He said when he used to first stretch, he would cry. Because then he knew you were really stretching the muscle. Okay, I bend about two inches…oww….and hold it….oww….hold it….ow (In my head I am going : “Cripes, it has been like a minute, when do I stop?)

A few more seconds go by…oww….owww… “Okay , Kevin, relax. That was about 20 seconds ( What? 20 seconds?) – that is about the minimum for a stretch, and good enough for a beginner. Now, do it three times with each leg. Owww….owwww….owww…. Then he showed me a whole body stretch. Couldn’t do it anywhere near his level. He said those two would be enough for now. In about a month- if I stretch every day. He said I should be ready for some more different and slightly more difficult stretches.

He also gave me another tip. You should stretch twice as long as the hardest part of your workout. If you worked hard for 20 minutes, stretch for 40. 40 minutes of ; owwww? Arghh….

He also said to bring sweatpants. Cold is the enemy of stretching. He told me I probably got hurt from stretching before because I wasn’t warmed up properly, dressed properly and I overstretched. Bingo. So, sweat pants prevent the little drafts from cooling the muscle down to quickly. So, sweatpants now will come with me to the gym. You need them off to run, since cool muscles run more efficiently, but you need to put them on right after the run to stretch.

Okay, got it. How do I feel after my first torture session? Great. For the first time in a long time, I believe my Hamstring will get better. It feels better, still tight, but not as tight. And that is after just one session of crying like a baby. What a difference a coach makes, and asking an expert – was a wise move on my part. He had an arsenal of stretching moves to draw from, and could find one that fit my -er, shape!

Okay, now a shower, then some food. Smiles Kevin in Phase II