A neuron doesn’t do much thinking. It passes electro-chemical potentials from one synaptic gap to another. It is almost impossible to imagine how a neuron is conscious of itself. Yet, it must be conscious of itself in some very basic fashion because if you network about a 100 billion of them you get a different kind of consciousness: you get a human mind. What happens when you network several billion human minds together? You can call it a meta-mind. No, this is NOT science fiction. We may not be connected to each other the way neurons are connected to each other. And as it’s impossible to imagine how a neuron is conscious, it’s also nearly impossible to imagine how civilization’s meta-mind is conscious. So, you may ask, this is a fun little thought-game, but why do I care? The answer: the connections between humans are becoming stronger, the metaphorical “synaptic gap” between each other shorter.
I found this realization through what one might call a meta-brain storm. Like an individual’s brainstorm, disparate and random pieces of info come together (neurons from all over the brain fire) to create something new. A friend (thanks, Stace) posts a blog link about networks. Curious, I read it. I like it. I really like it. Someone said something that makes sense, about things that have been rattling in my head for years—she just brought it into coherence. That “she” is Venessa Miemis and this is the blog entry:
http://emergentbydesign.com/2010/03/16/an-idea-worth-spreading-the-future-is-networks/
I strongly encourage you to check it out. The sci-fi imagery is mine but I owe her a huge debt for getting me here. Besides, you may have to read it in order to make more sense of what I’m talking about; I’m not going to regurgitate too much of what she says.
In an earlier post (http://bit.ly/dyfAAE) I talked about how the Internet is bringing us together in unusual ways. That was only the tip of the iceberg. It’s not just connecting us, it’s changing us in interesting ways. Our society is becoming more globally conscious, the meta-mind more awake. Yeah, maybe someday we’ll all download our consciousnesses into a supercomputer and solve all the world’s problems overnight. But the meta-mind exists now and each passing day it strengthens as our technology progresses. I don’t know what the future holds—it’s impossible to predict the outcome of a brainstorm—but if we approach it with compassion and understanding, we can make the world an awesome place.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Goodbye to the Jungle
My printer was in the midst of a jungle. I had to rescue it. I was tired of living in my own place and not being able to use my own stuff. So one night (which would be morning to most people; I work graveyards) I went into the jungle and I rescued my printer so I could print out a story for critiquing. Mind you, the jungle created was not my own (unusual, but true); the jungle of boxes and bags was created by the woman who had taken residence in my living room. “Why would you allow someone to live in your living room?” you might ask. Because she hadn’t worked in over a month and didn’t have the money to pay the rent anywhere. So yes, I felt sorry for her. Yes, I didn’t want her out in the streets. There’s a word for that: empathy.
Empathy is an oft-used word that gets thrown around a lot. At my work it means, “Say the proper phrase so that the customer will be happy and therefore get off the phone faster.” It’s often used interchangeably with sympathy. Etymologically, they mean essentially the same thing but in modern English sympathy is more about what you say and empathy is more about what you feel. Empathy is about putting yourself in another’s shoes. So I asked myself, “Would I want to be strapped for cash and perhaps living homeless?” No. So I took her in.
Most people thought I was crazy; they wouldn’t even think of doing it. The woman and I were in no way romantically involved. In fact, we didn’t really get along that well. “So why the hell did you take her in, Sean?” Again, empathy. I'm not saying I'm perfect, that I'm always empathetic. I definitely did have my reservations. But I try. “I’d never do something like that!” they told me. And that is part of the problem.
We live in a very selfish society. Most of the time, we’re thinking, “What’s in it for me?” Maybe a few times of the year we’re not selfish, like around Christmas, like it’s some sort of seasonal fad. (What about the other eleven months of the year?!) I must admit that I am often like that. I'd thought several times during her stayover that maybe I was a pushover, the proto-typical example of “a nice guy finishing last.” I spun paranoia about her grifting money from me, or worse. And I personally think she wasn’t as honest as she should’ve been about her situation. Yet, the grifting fantasy (or anything else) did not come to pass. She and her jungle left with our very imperfect friendship dinged a little more. And, though I hardly “live” in it anymore, I now have my living room back. I am glad.
This whole experience was capped when I attended a Buddhist class Sunday afternoon. The class was, fittingly, about generosity. In Buddhist terms, the act of generosity helps the giver as well as the receiver. (Actually, if you want to go deeper, “giver” and “receiver” are merely conventional labels for impermanent entities; what’s really going on is a shift toward a more compassionate society.) I like this. I’m helping out myself. My mom--one of the most selfless, compassionate people I know--asked me, “Did you learn your lesson?” Yes, Mom, I did, though not in the why you might think. Would I do it again? Absolutely, even though the experience caused headaches. However, I’ve laid down some personal ground rules to protect my interests and my sanity.
I will leave with this parting thought: the jungle. Author Upton Sinclair used it as a metaphor for the horrors of the meatpacking industry. The rock band Guns N’ Roses used it to refer to Los Angeles. I use it here to indicate the clutter one creates from her possessions. But to the millions of plants and animals who live there, the jungle is home, their abode, and for many, they couldn’t live in any other place. We don’t like the jungle because we’re big, clumsy apes who evolved in the African savanna. There is a Buddhist saying that goes: “There is no difference between non-enlightenment and enlightenment.” It means that enlightenment is always within reach; that even the most horrible, unenlightening situation can be truly, literally, enlightening. Her stay with me was not horrible, but neither was it a picnic. In her jungle I became just a little bit more empathetic. There is no difference between no-jungle and jungle.
Empathy is an oft-used word that gets thrown around a lot. At my work it means, “Say the proper phrase so that the customer will be happy and therefore get off the phone faster.” It’s often used interchangeably with sympathy. Etymologically, they mean essentially the same thing but in modern English sympathy is more about what you say and empathy is more about what you feel. Empathy is about putting yourself in another’s shoes. So I asked myself, “Would I want to be strapped for cash and perhaps living homeless?” No. So I took her in.
Most people thought I was crazy; they wouldn’t even think of doing it. The woman and I were in no way romantically involved. In fact, we didn’t really get along that well. “So why the hell did you take her in, Sean?” Again, empathy. I'm not saying I'm perfect, that I'm always empathetic. I definitely did have my reservations. But I try. “I’d never do something like that!” they told me. And that is part of the problem.
We live in a very selfish society. Most of the time, we’re thinking, “What’s in it for me?” Maybe a few times of the year we’re not selfish, like around Christmas, like it’s some sort of seasonal fad. (What about the other eleven months of the year?!) I must admit that I am often like that. I'd thought several times during her stayover that maybe I was a pushover, the proto-typical example of “a nice guy finishing last.” I spun paranoia about her grifting money from me, or worse. And I personally think she wasn’t as honest as she should’ve been about her situation. Yet, the grifting fantasy (or anything else) did not come to pass. She and her jungle left with our very imperfect friendship dinged a little more. And, though I hardly “live” in it anymore, I now have my living room back. I am glad.
This whole experience was capped when I attended a Buddhist class Sunday afternoon. The class was, fittingly, about generosity. In Buddhist terms, the act of generosity helps the giver as well as the receiver. (Actually, if you want to go deeper, “giver” and “receiver” are merely conventional labels for impermanent entities; what’s really going on is a shift toward a more compassionate society.) I like this. I’m helping out myself. My mom--one of the most selfless, compassionate people I know--asked me, “Did you learn your lesson?” Yes, Mom, I did, though not in the why you might think. Would I do it again? Absolutely, even though the experience caused headaches. However, I’ve laid down some personal ground rules to protect my interests and my sanity.
I will leave with this parting thought: the jungle. Author Upton Sinclair used it as a metaphor for the horrors of the meatpacking industry. The rock band Guns N’ Roses used it to refer to Los Angeles. I use it here to indicate the clutter one creates from her possessions. But to the millions of plants and animals who live there, the jungle is home, their abode, and for many, they couldn’t live in any other place. We don’t like the jungle because we’re big, clumsy apes who evolved in the African savanna. There is a Buddhist saying that goes: “There is no difference between non-enlightenment and enlightenment.” It means that enlightenment is always within reach; that even the most horrible, unenlightening situation can be truly, literally, enlightening. Her stay with me was not horrible, but neither was it a picnic. In her jungle I became just a little bit more empathetic. There is no difference between no-jungle and jungle.
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