Routines

…you are not journeying; you are drifting and being driven, only exchanging one place for another, although that which you seek, – to live well, – is found everywhere.
——————–Seneca, from the, Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium (Moral Letters to Lucilius), XXVIII, 5th passage.

The XP server had been approaching the end of the line for a long time, grinding along on an “esr” version of the officially retired operating system for the last couple of years.  I was trying to keep it going just a little longer while working up the enthusiasm to replace the old machine. Running more-or-less continuously for thirteen years, it was the backbone of my home office during most of the decade I worked in Vancouver.

The shopworn workhorse had hosted my virtual private network, as well as work-related technical software, and all of my on-line hardware and storage.  But increasingly frequent software malfunctions and crashes were probably trying to tell me that main hard drive was finally dying. It could be replaced, as the graphics card had been about seven or eight years back, and the power supply about five years ago. But it hardly seemed worth the trouble.  It was time to move on.

After a 24-hour long OS update on the new computer, and then an another whole day spent re-installing hardware drivers and resolving unsupported technical issues, I found myself oddly longing for the days of UNIX on a DOS machine.   Current technology may be arguably “better”, but it’s certainly more complicated… and mostly with the intent of selling me something else I don’t really want to buy.

I added the experience to my list of “times wasted”, along with that invested in replacing my new washing machine… twice, hours spent navigating the local building-permit bureaucracy over 4-square feet of “ground coverage”, car and house maintenance, shoveling snow, long drives…  life consumed in chores, the duties of a slow passage on the way to… somewhere?

It occurs to me that most of a life is the routines.  I read somewhere that an average human spends a third of his or her life sitting.  It didn’t mention what percentage might be somehow productive as opposed to things like watching TV, idling in traffic, or using the toilet.  I wonder how much is spent in front of a computer, waiting for something to happen?  And consider then that another third is spent sleeping.

Thinking about not sitting, not sleeping… I spend about an hour-a-day exercising, usually running someplace familiar.  And I  like long showers.  There’s the usual winter stuff… shoveling snow, and hosing the road grime off the truck after topping off the oil and washer fluid.  There was about an hour standing at a Customer Service counter, arranging for another washing machine.  And I clean my own house.  Seems like that doesn’t leave much time for the fun stuff… really just a few ski days over the last month.

Awhile back, I stood in an audience and watched the guitarist for a Japanese band on tour in the US.  She has to be about my age, traveling the world as an artist, moving skillfully along the neck of her old Les Paul. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel just a little envy for a life lived in such passion.  I tried to imagine…

Waking late in a hotel room, rushing to make check-out, another set-up, another stoned crowd… tearing it all down, a late dinner, driving all night in a van… doing it all again, and again.

Sidling up to the stage, I notice a digital emulator where there should be a piece of traditionally analogue equipment in the signal chain… a replacement for some dead gear.  I suddenly remembered the lyrics from one of their songs, alluding to how everything wears thin in the end… Now disconnected, we’re just repeated by the echo.”

Seneca was talking about travel as an escape from the mundane in his twenty-eighth letter to Lucilius.  He was warning that the novelty of the new always wears off at some point, and that even the travel itself can become tedious.  I was thinking about this last December, while on a personal business trip in Singapore.

The city-state is among the most modern, beautiful and peaceful places on Earth — something like Hong Kong meets Okinawa.  Much has changed since the last time I was there.  There are more tall buildings, magnificent hotels, shopping areas, and new parks on reclaimed land — all competing for attention.  Still, I found myself spending free moments simply walking neighborhoods, down side streets where local vendors sold food, or just sitting at the waterside in one of the parks.

When I was still in my early twenties, a less cautious friend ended up with an unplanned baby girl.  I don’t recall how old her little girl was when I held her.  For at least an hour, I carried her around the house, watching her eyes as she fixed them upon anything interesting… draperies, furniture, a reflection in some glass.  Then I would bring her close to what had caught her attention so that she could reach out and touch it.

Everything, it seemed, was new and interesting.  And everything we needed to be amazed was right there, simply, and within a tiny arm’s reach.  It was just in the way we chose to look at things in that moment.

 

 

The Right (or Left) Hand of Oz

I never deal in transformations, for they are not honest, and no respectable sorceress likes to make things appear to be what they are not.
— L.Frank Baum
, The Sorceress from, The Marvelous Land of Oz (1904).

The writer, L. Frank Baum, always characterized that his stories from the land of Oz were supplied to him via “wireless”, or radio, often relayed by the distant land’s ruler, Princess Ozma. So when during the 1960’s, the Cornell University astronomer, Frank Drake, began a search for radio indications of intelligent life elsewhere in the galaxy, he called the venture “Project Ozma” after Baum’s character.

Employing the National Radio Astronomy Observatory at Green Bank, West Virginia, Drake listened for any signs of interstellar radio transmissions by another civilization. The project only targeted two nearby stars, and didn’t find any indications of extraterrestrial intelligence. However, it did encourage a great deal of discussion among serious scientists and mathematicians. And among those discussions emerged the “Ozma problem”, an idea put forth by Martin Gardner in his book, The Ambidextrous Universe.

Gardner posited that it would be impossible for humans and aliens to communicate right or left handedness strictly through communication by radio. He observed that since any 3-dimensional shape or motion can be perfectly reversed, there would be no way to discern whether one was describing either a particular direction or its exact opposite. Even the poles of a magnet or a positive or negative electrical charge couldn’t be discerned. Without having either some mutually visible pattern in space (like a pattern of stars), or else an actual alien or alien artifact with which to compare one’s self, there would be no way in which to discern whether our received alien images were accurate, or if we were reproducing something mirrored.

Moreover, Gardner added that there is no demonstration or experiment that either we or the aliens could perform that would reveal whether we were looking at the other’s right hand (or tentacle), or her left. Even experiments using magnets or electricity, polarized light, or spinning objects wouldn’t reveal any difference between right or left. In fact, our aliens could even be made of entirely reversed atoms of “antimatter” with plus and minus electrical charges exchanged, and we would have no way of knowing.

Philosophers, mathematicians and scientists have long recognized this idea of “symmetry”, or that the perfect reversal of some fundamental characteristic can produce an equal, but incompatible opposite.  In the case of a physically reversed object, these differ only in their handedness, or “chirality”.  We see this approximated by our hands and visually represented by the image within a mirror, or in everyday objects like doors that open on opposite sides.  Each functions in an otherwise identical manner, but they are also fundamentally different and cannot be exchanged one for another.

Nature likewise provides many examples, most notably that all life on earth is based only on DNA molecules that spiral in a left-handed direction. Nevertheless, right-handed DNA is otherwise identical, and could just as well be used to create an entire ecosystem. But just as a right-hinged door cannot be used to replace a door hinged on the left, right-handed DNA is entirely incompatible with its left-handed counterpart. Still, there is no reason that life elsewhere, perhaps even our alien friends, couldn’t just have easily evolved from a right-handed molecule. So the universe, it seems, is fundamentally ambidextrous and indifferent to either right or left.

The science of physics likewise recognizes the idea of symmetries, or reversals which create something different but indistinguishable from its opposite.  For example, “Parity symmetry”, or “P-symmetry”, refers to reversing the direction of a particle’s spin relative to the direction of its motion.  In the mid 1950’s, however, the Chinese theoretical physicists, Tsung-Dao Lee and Chen Ning Yang, observed that while a complete symmetry between all of the known forces of nature and parity had always been assumed, it had never been fully tested.

In particular, Lee and Yang noted that some peculiar observations in particle physics might be explained if this symmetry didn’t hold true when accounting for what is known as the weak interaction.  These are the interactions of nature governed by the weak force, which like gravity or electromagnetism is among the fundamental forces of the universe.  Most notably, the weak force governs “beta decay”, which is essentially the release of an electron from the nucleus of certain types of radioactive atoms.

In 1956, Lee approached a friend and fellow physicist with this idea.  Chien-Shiung Wu (吳健雄, Wú Jiànxióng) was an experimental physicist who had emigrated from China to the US twenty years earlier. As a female Chinese immigrant however, she had encountered an American academic environment that was at the time almost entirely hostile to both women and to Asian students. But through the University of Berkeley, Wu was able to continue her studies under the supervision of 1939 Nobel Prize recipient, Ernest O. Lawrence. And by 1940, she had completed her PhD as a recognized expert in the nuclear process of beta decay.

Fascinated by Lee and Yang‘s conjecture, Wu skipped a Christmas break vacation to conduct the first ever test of whether the nuclear weak force is indeed symmetric with regard to parity in what would become known as the “Wu experiment“.  She and a team of low-temperature scientists from the National Bureau of Standards (Ernest Ambler, Raymond W. Hayward, Dale D. Hoppes, and Ralph P. Hudson) built a device that would magnetically align the spins of radioactive cobalt-60 atoms held within a crystal lattice and cooled to just 3-thousandths of a degree (0.003 Kelvins) above absolute-zero while the nuclei of the atoms underwent radioactive decay by emitting an electron (beta decay).

If parity was indeed symmetric with regard to the weak force, then Wu‘s experiment would detect electrons being emitted with no preference for the atoms’ directions of spin as aligned within the magnetic field. However, this was not what Wu and her team observed. Counter to nearly all expectations, the experiment produced a result strongly biased toward electrons being ejected toward the atoms’ magnetic south poles, even when the entire apparatus was reversed.

Wolfgang Pauli and C S Wu in Berkeley, 1940-1945 [Cern Pauli Archive]

This result was so entirely counter to the expectations of established scientific consensus of the time that the physicist who first proposed what would come to be known as an electron’s “spin”, Wolfgang Pauli, called it, “…total nonsense.” Many other physicists simply concluded that Wu’s experiment had been flawed or that her results were mistaken. But when her work was later replicated by another team and its results verified, science was forced to accept that a basic and fundamental assumption about the physical workings of the universe in which we live had been incorrect.  So important was this discovery that Tsung-Dao Lee and Chen Ning Yang would receive the 1957 Nobel Prize in Physics for their conjecture.  In another apparent asymmetry of physics, Wu‘s contribution would go largely unacknowledged.

The universe, as it turns out, does distinguish between its hands.  And both we and our wireless-connected aliens could use this knowledge to finally solve the Ozma problem and determine that we are both in fact raising corresponding appendages… hopefully in a gesture of peace.  By performing Wu’s experiment, we can each agree upon the poles of a magnet.  And from there, we can employ the effects of some laws-of-nature in differentiating a common “right” and “left”.

Since Chien-Shiung Wu‘s experiment, scientists have uncovered even more curious fractures in other symmetries as well. Physics also recognizes two other related universal symmetries.  Charge, or C-symmetry, implies that every particle could be replaced with its “antiparticle”, or an identical particle with an exactly opposite electrical charge.   And time-reversal, or T-symmetry, describes an equality in the directions of time.  But in 1964, it was demonstrated that symmetry is broken when both charge and parity are considered together, resulting in yet another Nobel Prize.  And more recently, scientists discovered an asymmetry in time in the way a particular particle oscillates between two interrelated states, something like a pendulum swinging more slowly in one direction than in the other.

Physics now assumes that true symmetry within the universe exists only when all three aspects, charge, parity and time, are considered together.  Violating this last assumption would bring down so much of established physics, from the “Standard Model” to Einstein’s “Relativity” that few are willing even to consider the possibility.  But the universe has a curious habit of doing as it pleases, regardless of our expectations… and sometimes with one hand behind its back.



Post Script: Chien-Shiung Wu has always been a hero of sorts to me.  It’s difficult today to imagine what a young, Chinese woman would have encountered after arriving in the United States of 1936.  At that time, the University of Michigan, where she had first planned to attend, wouldn’t even allow women to use the front entrance.  Regardless, thousands of miles away from a family that she would never see again, and in a world divided by war, she would go on not only to survive, but to prosper.  I think this says much about both her character, and her intellect.

Chien-Shiung Wu, 1958. [Smithsonian Institution

After promotion to Full-Professor in 1958, Chien-Shiung Wu became the first woman to hold a tenured faculty position in the physics department at Columbia University.  In October of 1964, shortly after becoming the first woman ever to receive the National Academy of Sciences Cyrus B. Comstock Award in Physics, Wu began an address to an audience at the MIT auditorium, “I wonder whether the tiny atoms and nuclei, or the mathematical symbols, or the DNA molecules have any preference for either masculine or feminine treatment.” Her words were met with applause.  A little over a decade later, she would go on to become the first ever female president of the American Physical Society.

Still, Chien-Shiung Wu was never a self-promoter.  Tsai-Chien Chiang, author of “Madame Chien-Shiung Wu: The First Lady of Physics Research”, recorded her difficulties in interviews with Wu, whom she characterized as “…down to earth, and of few words.”  Wu merely pursued her passion as an experimental physicist and researcher, and was recognized by others simply for her knowledge and accomplishments.

After retiring in 1981, Wu went on to advocate for the education of girls, especially in mathematics and the sciences.  She involved herself in programs in China, Taiwan, and the United States, and assisted many graduate students.  She died in 1997 at the age of 84.  True to her spirit, her ashes were interred on the grounds of the Mingde Women’s Vocational Continuing School in Nanjing, China — the school founded by her father.

瀕死の星の光

 「神々は私たちの負債を許さない。彼らは私たちにあらゆる形の美しさを与えるが、贈り物の影も与える」
The gods don’t allow us to be in their debt. They give us sensitiveness to beauty in all its forms, but the shadow of the gift goes with it.
― L.M. Montgomery

私と一緒に見る
その空いている丘の上から
星が再び現れると宣言する
だからこの光は消えません
私からも

夜の始めに安全
私について夢を見てください
輝く穀物で空を満たした
崩壊した歴史からの塵
不毛の信仰からの思い出
この神聖な場所の強さ
再び会わないで

夜の空を感じた
だから私の子供の外に出ないで
悲しみがあるときは間違って
私の狭い感情
私の過去を空に投げ捨てる
それはこの聖なる場所を教会にする
あなたの強さの重さに

私につかまって
静かに暗闇の中で
小さな光が残っているとき
優しく離れる
長い別れ

 

Hinshi no Hoshi no Hikari

Watashito-isshoni miru
Sono suiteiru oka no ue kara
Hoshi ga futatabi arawareru to sengen suru
Dakara kono hikari wa kiemasen
Watashi karamo

Yoru no hajime ni anzen
Watashinitsuite yume o mitekudasai
Kagayaku kokumotsu de sora o mitashita
Hōkai shita rekishi kara no chiri
Fumō no shinkō kara no omoide
Kono shinseina basho no tsuyo-sa
Futatabi awanaide

Yoru no sora o kanjita
Dakara watashi no kodomo no soto ni denaide
Kanashimi ga aru toki wa machigatte
Watashi no semai kanjō
Watashi no kako o sora ni nagesuteru
Sore wa kono seinaru basho o kyōkai ni suru
Anata no tsuyo-sa no omo-sa ni

Watashi ni tsukamatte
Shizuka ni kurayaminonakade
Chīsana hikari ga nokotte iru toki
Yasashiku hanareru
Nagai wakare

 

By the Light of a Dying Star

Watch with me
From that vacant hilltop
Declare our star will reappear
So this light won’t fade
From me as well

I leave you safe in nightfall closing
Think back of me as you settle in sleep
Fill our empty sky with the glittered grains
Dust from the shattered promise of a history
Memories ascending from my empty faith
In the dying embers of this sacred place
Should it not pass to meet once more

I’ve felt the evening sky retreating
So please don’t go outside my child
Misplaced to times of grief and worry
Narrowly upon a sentiment that I built
Just to lose my past in emptied arms
That make this holy place a church
Upon the weight of your strength

Grasp for me
In a darkness stilling
As the pinprick lights depart
One by gentle one
In long farewell