Space isn’t big enough for: Junk

You may have heard that space is big.  Space people like to remind us that space is big.

By big they mean really big.

Really very mucho super big.

Big deal.

Someday, if you like to dream, then maybe people will live in space.  Maybe not in space, but on the moon or mars.  Living in space would be hard because you still need to stand on something.

There’s this problem.  We don’t live there.  Yet.

If we’re going to live in space, then someone is going to have to make the first step.

Pretend we’re going to live on the moon.  Is there going to be a cushy sofa in every Lunar Living Room?  Or will the furniture be a bit more, rocky?

There’s going to be a lot of things that will have to be different.  Very different from what we like to see in the movies.

If we study behavior, these are things we should think about before we try Lunar living.

After all, the cost of a ticket to the moon is high, and we have to pack light.  That means we can only take the essentials.

Space just isn’t big enough for junk.

 

 

 

 

A Tale of Two Yogas

My wife and I attend a small studio up the street.  She has deep knowledge of musculature.  The poses are gentle, our progress slow, in a cozy, comfortable environment.

Across the street is a bustling studio with 4 large rooms, the coolest one being 30 degrees centigrade (85F).  Some classes go up as high as 40C (105F).  That’s hot.

When I say bustling, I mean bustling.  Not like wearing a bustle, but like being super busy.  Which is pretty good for our small town.  There’s over 15 classes a day!  And the classes have all the latest trends, bikram, barre, and whatever.

Not only that, but the classes are an hour long.  Perfect for scheduling into your busy day.

Meanwhile, in our little space, you spend the first half hour getting warmed up, the next getting into the practice, and another one figuring it all out and cooling down.

Cooling down.  That’s important.  You can’t do that in heat.  In order to listen to your body properly, you have to let it speak to you.  That’s not going to happen in an extreme environment.  Your body is working to keep you cool, and that throws all your inner workings out of wack.  Sure, you feel better, for the moment, but what did you learn?

A good yoga class is a true class.  You will come away with a nugget of knowledge, a new insight into yourself.

The trend towards fast, hot, trendy yoga is surely a money maker for the studio.  But what does it lead towards?

Students who want hotter, faster, trendier solutions to their problems.

The ultimate?

I see a drive-thru studio that offers a quick yoga drink and a semi-mystic experience while you sit in your car.  Perhaps like the drive-in diners of the 1950s.  Scantily clad roller skating yogis will bring everything to you and your friends as you sit in the comfort of your SUV.

Or you could slow down, and get to know yourself.  Not trendy, not hot, not even hard.  Just right.  Just perfect.

But if you’re planning to make it to 70, 80, or 90, you’ll appreciate it.

Otherwise, you’ll be taking plenty of pills.

Ommm.

 

First Gift, Final Gift

I’ve had a glimpse of how our society deals with death.  I spent ten days with Dad in a wonderful hospice house.  We spent the first half getting the pain meds out of his system, and the other half getting him strong enough so he could leave the place.

I spent many hours with him as cheerleader, advocate, and caregiver trainee.  However, there were many hours where he slept, so I got to know everyone.

What impressed me most was how many workers and volunteers truly care about their mission.  They are unsung, so I’m singing about them now.

However, there are also so many patients, mostly alone.  They were waiting.  Waiting to die.

Here’s the surprise.  Some of them are done.  As a gift to their children, they are content to hasten the process.

If you’re shocked, or sad, you should know that is how I felt.  At first.  When I listened to their stories it becomes obvious that many people are giving themselves up so that they are no longer a burden to their children.

It’s a wonderful gift.  It’s their decision.  And my only regret is that I’m not sure how many of those children appreciate that decision, that final gesture.

Creating a baby is only the first step to what will be a lifetime of joy.  But there are so many hard hours ahead.  Children who grow up tend to appreciate the gift of life given by their parents.

But the second greatest gift can be found at the end.  It is the parent letting go, and letting their child be free of their burden.  It’s sad to see them go, but it’s also a chance to celebrate their life and begin looking forward again.

To all those unsung parents who have sacrificed much during their lives, and then at the very end, life itself, for the benefit of their children, I thank you.

We should all thank them.

The best way to do that is to never forget them.

Mom and Dad.

 

Dream a Little Dream

Dreams.  I can’t get them out of my head.

Dad’s dying.  Did I mention that?  Sure, everyone dies, but he’s taking his time.  He’s smart, tough, tenacious, and still has the capacity to dream.

His dreams are a bit modest nowadays.  Going to the potty.  Getting back to his old apartment.

The size of the dreams aren’t important.  It’s the fact that he has them.

He fights to make them real.  If I’ve learned nothing from Dad during the last few months, it’s how to keep fighting.  And hanging onto those dreams is critical.

I used to dream, back in my day.  All us kids dreamt of superfast trains and living on the moon.  There would be hotels under the ocean and everyone would live to be 150.

So much for those dreams.

Here’s the problem today.  I had those dreams way back when.  I wasn’t the only one.

Today, I don’t hear anyone’s dreams of the future.  The term I hear most often is “dystopia.”  People are depressed about the future.  They don’t have dreams.

They have nightmares.

If someone does dream, it’s for something next month, or next year.  A new phone.  A better snowboard.

Have you tried dreaming?  Really dreaming, long term?

I have this super smart cousin, and I asked him what he thought humanity will look like in 100 years.  His first reaction?

He’ll be dead.

Yes, but your daughters might be around.  It’s more likely that their daughters will be alive then.  What kind of world will they live in?

He didn’t like my question.  He’s been having nightmares about humanity.

I encouraged him to dream.

By the way, dreaming does not mean wishing for free money from the government.  That’s another story.

The best dreams are big dreams that you have to work for.

Don’t believe me?  You don’t have to.

Ask my Dad.

 

Pride and Prejudice: Austen for Nerds

Are you a romantic?  Know any nerds?

I’m both.  Today my romantic side lectured the nerdy side on why Jane Austen is so great.  Maybe your nerd might be interested.

 

Nerds know about computers and the software and hardware.  What follows is simplified, but generally speaking is how all computers work.

Closest to the user is a program, like chrome.  That program sits on top of the operating system, and that sits on top of the “shell” which sits on another operating system that runs directly on the processor.

Readers = computers.  We accept a file (book), getting information.

Now, lets talk about files.

Files means several things.  There are raw data or text files, there are files that are proprietary to a program, there are files that are themselves programs.  Files can also be “compiled,” and then there are a whole class of files that are compressed.  A compressed file can be any or all of the above files.

In general, a text file has little information for a given size, while a compressed file has the most.

Fellow nerds, here’s where the fun begins.

Ordinary books by ordinary authors are equivalent to text files being read by the browser.  Very low information content for a given size, almost no interaction capability.

Good books by great authors are like getting a compiled program complete with data files.  There’s a lot more going on between the pages than you see at first glance.  The book itself tells you how to run the program and read the data, so that you get an enhanced experience.  You can usually tell that you’re reading such a book because the author will tell you.

Then there’s Jane Austen.  At first glance her book looks like a simple text file.  Then you realize that there’s a program buried inside.  It’s not just any program, because she doesn’t tell you it’s there.  It sits in your brain and begins running, and it starts running on the data supplied by the book.  It’s a text file that speaks directly to the processor.

But it doesn’t end there either.  Because you can also feed it data from your life, your world, the real world.  And the program keeps running, giving you insights that weren’t there before.

Then you go back and read the book again, and again.  The book is a text file.  The book is a compiled program.  And more.

It’s compressed.  It’s compressed in such a way that it LOOKS like an ordinary text file.  But when you read it and it sits in your brain, it unspools, slowly, surely.

I figure that if P&P were written in uncompressed form, it would be somewhere around a half million words.  The book currently clocks in at 120,000.  That’s a 75% compression ratio.

So, the next time your non-nerdy friend tells you they are reading P&P, treat them with respect.  That’s no ordinary text file they are handling.

It’s goodstuff.txt.cpp.zip