An epic story about meeting god on a train.
Written by Harry Stottle @ fullmoon.nu

Talking to God

I met god the other day.

I know what you’re thinking. How the hell did you know it was god?

Well, I’ll explain as we go along, but basically he convinced me by having all, and I do mean ALL, the answers. Every question I flung at him he batted back with a plausible and satisfactory answer. In the end, it was easier to accept that he was god than otherwise.

Which is odd, because I’m still an atheist and we even agree on that!

It all started on the 8.20 back from Paddington. Got myself a nice window seat, no screaming brats or drunken hooligans within earshot. Not even a mobile phone in sight. Sat down, reading the paper and in he walks.

What did he look like?

Well not what you might have expected that’s for sure. He was about 30, wearing a pair of jeans and a “hobgoblin” tee shirt. Definitely casual. Looked like he could have been a social worker or perhaps a programmer like myself.

‘Anyone sitting here?’ he said.

‘Help yourself’ I replied.

Sits down, relaxes, I ignore and back to the correspondence on genetic foods entering the food chain…

Train pulls out and a few minutes later he speaks.

‘Can I ask you a question?’

Fighting to restrain my left eyebrow I replied ‘Yes’ in a tone which was intended to convey that I might not mind one question, and possibly a supplementary, but I really wasn’t in the mood for a conversation. ..

‘Why don’t you believe in god?’

The Bastard!

I love this kind of conversation and can rabbit on for hours about the nonsense of theist beliefs. But I have to be in the mood! It’s like when a jehova’s witness knocks on your door 20 minutes before you’re due to have a wisdom tooth pulled. Much as you’d really love to stay… You can’t even begin the fun. And I knew, if I gave my standard reply we’d still be arguing when we got to Cardiff. I just wasn’t in the mood. I needed to fend him off.

But then I thought ‘Odd! How is this perfect stranger so obviously confident – and correct – about my atheism?’ If I’d been driving my car, it wouldn’t have been such a mystery. I’ve got the Darwin fish on the back of mine – the antidote to that twee christian fish you see all over. So anyone spotting that and understanding it would have been in a position to guess my beliefs. But I was on a train and not even wearing my Darwin “Evolve” tshirt that day. And ‘The Independent’ isn’t a registered flag for card carrying atheists, so what, I wondered, had given the game away.

‘What makes you so certain that I don’t?’

‘Because’, he said, ‘ I am god – and you are not afraid of me’

You’ll have to take my word for it of course, but there are ways you can deliver a line like that – most of which would render the speaker a candidate for an institution, or at least prozac. Some of which could be construed as mildly amusing.

Conveying it as “indifferent fact” is a difficult task but that’s exactly how it came across. Nothing in his tone or attitude struck me as even mildly out of place with that statement. He said it because he believed it and his rationality did not appear to be drug induced or the result of a mental breakdown.

‘And why should I believe that?’

‘Well’ he said, ‘why don’t you ask me a few questions. Anything you like, and see if the answers satisfy your sceptical mind?’

This is going to be a short conversation after all, I thought.

‘Who am I?’

‘Stottle. Harry Stottle, born August 10 1947, Bristol, England. Father Paul, Mother Mary. Educated Duke of Yorks Royal Military School 1960 67, Sandhurst and Oxford, PhD in Exobiology, failed rock singer, full time trade union activist for 10 years, latterly self employed computer programmer, web author and aspiring philosopher. Married to Michelle, American citizen, two children by a previous marriage. You’re returning home after what seems to have been a successful meeting with an investor interested in your proposed product tracking anti-forgery software and protocol and you ate a full english breakfast at the hotel this morning except that, as usual, you asked them to hold the revolting english sausages and give you some extra bacon. ‘

He paused

‘You’re not convinced. Hmmm… what would it take to convince you?’

‘oh right! Your most secret password and its association’

A serious hacker might be able to obtain the password, but no one else and I mean

NO ONE

knows its association.

He did.

Read the rest of this entry »

From Nick Lepard, November 2008 (website)

“In my most recent work I explore notions of singularity, concepts of time and patterns of change.

Today, modernity requires that each of us navigate a blizzard of information. How this maelstrom of data is interpreted and synthesized constructs an individual’s paradigm. However, the qualities of the data are subject to a Catch-22: while the data works to describe an individual’s paradigm, an individual’s paradigm likewise works to describe the data.

With so much accessible information, yet so little certainty, are our interpretations of the world more complex or confused, more varied or more refined? Is the course of progress more accessible, or more elusive?”

Telefire, by Nick Lepard

Linux comes in so many flavors you won’t even be able to watch all the distros. Personally, I like Mint. Most everyone knows of Ubuntu if they’ve heard of Linux at all. And Fedora is nice and pretty, too.

THE AVATAR/MONONOKE/RÖYKSOPP CONNECTION

Ever since watching Avatar I have been drawn back to Mononoke, the classic Miyazaki film about human greed versus the full force of nature. In Avatar, the Atokirina represent the planet’s life force; in Princess Mononoke, we have the Kodama (こだま 、反響音: echo). Both kinds of wood-sprites act as the eyes and ears of the forest, and sometimes as its messengers, as we see here with Jake Sully:

"We love Jake Sully! Don't kill him!" — Woodsprites

As you may have figured by following this site, I am a huge fan of Röyksopp. So when I found this little number below I was clickin’ like a kodama, just stoked, you know. What could be better than seeing the little gangsta sprites dashing through the forest to uber-chill electronica? Really. It was just *so easy*.

SUPPLEMENTAL WU-WEI LESSON FOR THE DAY

When beauty is abstracted
Then ugliness has been implied;
When good is abstracted
Then evil has been implied.

So alive and dead are abstracted from nature,
Difficult and easy abstracted from progress,
Long and short abstracted from contrast,
High and low abstracted from depth,
Song and speech abstracted from melody,
After and before abstracted from sequence.

The sage experiences without abstraction,
And accomplishes without action;
He accepts the ebb and flow of things,
Nurtures them, but does not own them,
And lives, but does not dwell.

http://www.taoteching.org/chapters/2.htm

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

The Ways in Which We Change, by Nick Lepard

FUTURE-WISE

As we saw in Minus One, the future can be a very shocking proposition when it is extrapolated far out enough. But we all have to deal with the day-to-day just like anyone else. This, I believe, is why stuff like the iPad and it’s raved successors won’t be progressively more exciting, but less — these things won’t noticeably change our lives while the pace of innovation is so high (not that the iPad is the best representation of innovation, of course).

NOW-WISE

I just hope we can hang on if things really do get fast, like the futurists believe will happen. Say, if we have a computer that can improve itself, jump to the next generation in a year, and keep pace. If one existed, and many attempts (and approximations) are underway, then the second generation computer could spawn a third in six months. Continue this trend and by the tenth generation (around two years from initial boot-up), the thing is up to one-new-generation a day and greater. Can we even prepare for this? (Is there a possible answer here, at the Singularity University?)

THE PROGRESSION OF THE GENERATIONS

1. One year until generation two.
2. Six months until generation three.
3. Three months until generation four.
4. 45 days
5. 22 days until a great great grandchild is born.
6. 11.3 days until generation seven.
7. 5.6 days
8. 2.8 days until generation nine.
9. 1.4 days
10. Now it’s only 17 hours until generation 11, and it’s been roughly two years.

BUT WHAT WILL IT MEAN?

Say the first generation from above is a human-level intelligence. Just humor me. If we could, let’s also assume a doubling time of one year initially. We get to 1000 times human capacity after around 623 days, or 1.7 years. We just can’t imagine what an intelligence of 1000 times the human capacity would do, nor can we easily grasp how swiftly it would continue to evolve.

This is the essence of the singularity — not even being able to guess at what’s next when we’ve got relentlessly evolving intelligences around. Pretty vaguely, this seems to be telling us this: In the future, we are nearly equally as likely to be shocked because of our ignorance as we are to be apathetic from seeing too much change in too short a span. Indeed, these are some strange times, and the future isn’t even here yet…

SO UNTIL THEN, I SAY, EVERY DAY IS EXACTLY THE SAME

Something I felt to be perfect for these curiously-lagging-times:

Cute creatures rockin’ Wu-Wei the only way they know how… Watch and learn.

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Buddha Seal

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Turtle Strut

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Double Chin, no make that Triple...

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Jaw Use

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Tanning Turtle

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Sun Salutation

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Sasquatchin'

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Amphibian-on-Alert

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Turtle Train

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Ninja Fox

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Mohawk Rockin'

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Lover's Plea -- "Don't leave me..."

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Hot Chick

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Honey Huntin'

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Head Scratch

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Frightened Froggy

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Meeting of the Goats

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Face Wash

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Evening Yawn

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

Wu-Wei Sprawled-Out Squirrel

Go Wu-Wei, Enter and Become the Tao.

That is all for now… Until we reach 7% that is.
From: www.ellf.ru
Photographer: Sean Crane

Yes, I know corrosivity is not a word as far as you’ve heard. It is a novel combination of corrosive and acidity to me. Because I didn’t want to write ‘an ocean of acidity’ — it’s not right, not P.C., err, I mean it’s not P.H.! (Gee…) Simply equip and tip in a ton of tums to neutralize the acidic H-2-O blip; not the right video-clip. So, corrosivity it is…

And let’s get it clear: I’m here not to neutralize the seas by puffin’ calcium into the breeze. Creating a ton of anything is hard work for me, being a crab astrologically. So, what to do in a corrosive ocean? What’s the potion?

I see my buddy Pisces afloat and adrift, aloft and aloof in a fantasy of idea thrift. I know not to follow so as not to get lost. And I also can’t abandon my aqueous ship there, boss. The depths being so well-equipped to my elusive style of image-shift.

And a playful warping of the story verbosely is not the essence of this poetic trip. So I digress — unless… No. The real question is not how to rhyme this session, but how to stay solid in a corrosive ocean where you know-not-what-means-stolid.

When you live underwater, the world is heavy. Ideas are tempting but can drag you down fishy rabbit-holes quick. Mystery and deception, image and self-defense protection not a problem for the clawed-crawling-shelled-crusty creatures like me-myself and a few other watery-signed-types on the shelf. But with an ocean of emotive ideas at my finger-claw-tips, and the schools of benign-looking hook-hidden pips, the challenge remains to open-shell with the proper currents and down comrades at my hip.

Open too much and pure-essence is leaked.
Too little and neurotic claws begin to auto-collapse on the allied-peeps.

So, to flow or to swim is the question to let sink in. To roll in the under-tow or no?

And the best way for us, these crustaceans, not-to-crack, is to never let this very question stab us in the back.