I’m constantly perplexed by the science versus religion debates that seek differences and separations rather than symmetry, which is an attempt that feels more political than for humanity.
To many people, these dramatized scenes are mere entertainments. But to some people, the questioning of gods and religion is really a perpetual existential question. Whether that’s through historical records, the arts, the sciences, to search for god is to ultimately return to the question that nudges our very own meaning and existence. Because even with waves of solid scientific data, these numbers and fact can’t settle many uneasy hearts. Hence; the role of religion, stories, or even just imaginations, which is to reconcile with the unknown.
Continue reading “When Carl searches for gods”
“Imagination is more important than knowledge,” said Einstein; the man who endured years of telescoping into the unknown and meddling in the invisible fabrics of the universe, the mathematics and physics. We often disconnect math and the arts; the pure and the imagination; the objective and the subjective. Yet math, in the hands and minds of Einstein, came a bit like this: after hours and hours of rumination on math, he took violin breaks, and a little mathematical blessing comes in between the sweeping notes of music.
To anyone who assumes that different study fields are in separate pedagogical boxes; bless them, because they need to know Einstein’s idea of combinatorial creativity.
Einstein himself was never a child of prodigy. He not only skipped classes but grew to lament the German authoritarian school system that later defined his philosophies in learning. From elementary school to his university life, he picked and chose what he wanted to learn from the system. And the rest, he diligently studied at home by himself. Indeed, Einstein loved and much preferred self-learning and self-exploration ever since his uncle brought him books on math and sciences. In fact, he started tinkering with the idea of moving as fast as light –the seed of his groundbreaking special theory of relativity — at the tender age of 17 years old, when he had access to one of the best physics lab and a generous support from the more relaxed education environment in Switzerland.
Continue reading “Einstein’s Imaginations”
Etymologically speaking, cosmos derived from the Greek word kosmos that means order or world. But we don’t deliberately use this word to mean the holistic interactions within the universe until Alexander von Humboldt used it in his five-volume treatise Kosmos.
An obsessive note-taker, Humboldt traveled from Germany to South America to explore, observe, and record the minutia details of nature; from the ocean current in the coast of Peru, to the ruins of Inca, to the hostile Orinoco River in Venezuela where he named new species of plants and animals. Together with French botanist Aime Bonpland, they climbed one of the highest volcanoes in Equador, Mt. Chimborazo, to record changes in air pressures and temperatures, laying the foundation for future scientists to investigate the relationship between the living organisms and their habitat. He gave us a map of various vegetation zones, a color-coded map of terrain with its corresponding plants; perhaps the first of its kind, thus kick-starting the era of data visualization that we know and still widely used today.
Charles Darwin adored him, saying:
I am at present fit only to read Humboldt. He, like another sun, illuminates everything I behold.
Continue reading “How Humboldt resurrected the word Cosmos”
We should be thankful we live in an age that appreciates the wisdom of interconnected; the kind of thinking that appreciates the largeness of life and the interconnectedness of things. After this holistic wisdom was deemed irrelevant and then forgotten by the mechanical and efficiency-focused industrial and post-industrial age, we finally arrive at this stage where the thirst to rediscover and reconnect forgotten meanings is obvious and blossoming.
Astronomers write poems, musicians are inspired by maths, artists reinterpret physics. The sciences and the arts are merging into one, returning to its essence; nature that is hoped to be studied and experienced.
Below are three ladies of space we are currently sharing the world with who courageously put science as seen through the lens of compassion, not as a tool for relentless ambitions.
Continue reading “The women with life-long love affairs with space”
What’s behind the night sky? Against this dark backdrop there hides millions of luminous stars and galaxies that tells stories of our universe. Stretching our imagination into the edges, the dark night sky is a blank canvas to paint our meanings of existence. There, underneath this infinite and immeasurable heaven, we look up and ponder who we are, which is then responded with a graceful silence from the sky.
In 1977, in the midst of Cold War, the Voyager 1 was sent to the outerskirt of our solar system, while carrying a piece of humanity, The Golden Record. Led by Carl Sagan and Annie Druyan, this gold-plated copper disc recorded 115 images and various sounds, and music from the world; a naked photo of a man and a woman, the sound of a kiss, welcomes from 54 different languages and a humpback whales, music from Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry to Bach’s Partita for Violin Solo no. 3. The only thing is, after traveling for nearly 50 years, Voyager will lose its source of energy and no one knows exactly what’s coming afterwards. Perhaps it will be caught and flung away by another gravity force, or discovered by another spaceship thousands of years in the future. But we will lose our communications. And the Golden Record, attached on the ship, will afloat indefinitely in the midst of interstellar space.
Continue reading “What’s behind the night sky?”
Nietzsche’s God is Dead is perhaps the single most provocative statement that permeates common understanding and makes every young and modern atheist drool like Pavlov’s dogs. Used in pop cultures like worn out concert tees enduring ages of torments and misunderstandings, this statement sparks debates or ends discussions when done by folks who are unfamiliar with the context.
In Nietzsche’s 1882 collection The Gay Science, he proclaimed “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?” after seeing that god and religion had been killed by science. The post-enlightenment era saw the dawn of a new thinking where humans get to decide who they are and what their purpose is. At least, that was how scientific explorations put us in perspective against the unbiased, vast universe. Yet humans, small and fragile, lose meanings altogether, falling into a dark existential crisis where the purpose of life feels so distant and detached to our everyday life. And while juggling between the ambitious scientific pursuits and the quiet pull of the solitary minds, we feel the heavy agony of finding meaning unto life without a meaningful death. Continue reading “On Nietzsche’s God is Dead”
Apparently, melancholy was a dark fluid circling through our body. At least that was what the Greeks think. Besides melancholy, there was also joy, lethargy and sensitivity, and anger. The inherent dogma, that sadness is a hormonal imbalance in the body, persists throughout the modern age under various clinical depression names. Despite this truth, we are reluctant to admit sadness in our life, assuming it as the enemy in today’s obsession to a “fulfilling life”.
Just a few days ago, while lounging on a chic-tropical terrace of a Peruvian restaurant in the middle of Ubud, as the sunlight made its dramatic come down against the palm trees, the slow drag of sadness came unto me. Indeed there is something about afternoons that’s distinctively melancholic. I refused to look at my phone since noising out sadness gives more sadness. So as the sadness sits there in front of me, I thought, what should I do? And it occurred to me that we are never taught how to embrace sadness. Should I think, should I feel? That’s the first question. Then, should I stay silent or do something? Should I listen or should I speak? I froze on what to do. All while sadness sips black bitter tea next to me. Continue reading “Oh darkness my old friend”