Fed by the Amish, slept on a treehouse, greeted some giraffes and a golden pheasant, and now thinking of slippery sphalerons and flavorful quantum numbers; what an exciting week! And now here’s wondering, surrounded by extraordinary blessings, if the baryonic conundrum is what prompted Pasteur to say that the Universe is definitely asymetric… seeing the astonishing depth of his writing, that would not startle me one bit.
Immerse in warm water, the intimacy of the bathtub, diving through Cayley-Dickson’s. So much left for catching up, so little time left… And in the meantime, erratic governments hustle or struggle and (most) dogs hustle or rest, happily undisturbed by power-associative calculations happening around them. Well – it will require more than sheer sedenions to figure that one out!
Today was a beautiful day.
«Leid, milde ljos, igjennom skodde-eim,
leid du meg fram!
Eg gjeng i myrke natt langt frå min heim,
leid du meg fram!».
~ Norwegian psalm sang for the unknown woman buried in Møllendal cemetery on February 5, 1971 – une espionne?
An edit, a few days later: Thanks to the strontium isotopes stuck in her enamel, we now know she probably spent some time, in her early childhood, at Nuremberg and part of her youth somewhere between Vercelli and Milano… and somewhere around Merzig and Nancy? Was she born in Lubljana? Doesn’t look like it, when you check the result maps…
Last verses of a poem in Dutch by the beautiful Caribbean poetess Aletta Beaujon (1933-2001) ~ maybe someday in the future enough boldness and energy will coincide and attempt a decent translation:
Als ik straks dalen ga
rollen de stenen naar beneden
ik ben zo moe en zo bang
om voort te gaan
waarom kan ik hier niet blijven
zo rustig is het nergens
de wind zoemt
langs de toppen van de rotsen
en brengt zo nu en dan
het schreeuwen van de vogels
in de bomen daar beneden
zelfs een schot van de jager
een echo wordt gefluister
in de bergen
Ik wou dat ik elk plekje kende
in de verte
If someone from the distant past (gifted with precognition) had said to me at the time:
“I see you surrounded by frozen tundra at a remote Canadian province, on St Valentine Day, 2017…”
…well, it would have been hard to imagine, right?
So, believe in the seemingly impossible; it may happen someday ~ you just cannot say when.
Rainy, damp and cold… breathing well is a challenge.
Diving into the Church–Rosser … well, Alonso, where are you taking us now?
Or, with Marlowe:
‘The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.’
Intuitionistic logic: Propositional vs predicate, takes a slightly different set of equations.
To continue exploring this, found myself some fairly decent slides online.