The Universe lies within.
Who's the first person to coin the phrase "Augmented Reality"? I'll tell you, I am.
There I was sitting in the bath, thinking of a way to describe the way we immerse ourselves so thoroughly in what's not really there; I'm talking of things like "Countries" and "Economics" and whatnot; that we allow these concepts to control us, to direct our movements and behaviour, to even make us mentally and physically ill. It's like we're diseased, that we can't truly accept what is, so that in order to live we've placed an overlay over the top of reality and moved our lives into it. In other words we've augmented reality because what's there is dull and uninteresting. We've even invented the obscene concept of intellectual property to ring-fence freedom of thought as we worship the golden calf of profit as we reside in the tunnels of our augmented reality.
Augmented Reality; as defined by me; the creator of the term.
It may sound insane to blame what happened next on one of my voices, but then I've heard voices all my life and it's only now I'm managing to come to terms with them. For all intents and purposes they exist as part of who and what I am. But still, it was one of my voices that prompted me some time after that original bath incident to Google for the term "Augmented Reality". Only to find a page on Wikipedia stating some other name responsible for coining the phrase.
Herein lies the paradox of personal time. According to my chronology the phrase popped into my mind before I'd ever heard of the field of computer research which lays claim to it. A whole host of angels dancing on the head of a pin could debate until the end of time where the phrase actually came from. But I know that the first time the phrase was ever used I was discussing philosophy and psychology with a voice in my mind. What came next was merely the flotsam and jetsam of the thing you call consensus reality.
Have Faith.
I'm a Buddhist! A Pagan, an Agnostic, or Muslim. A Christian, a Hindu, Atheist, or Satanist. Possibly Jewish. So in answer to the question "Which religion is the right one for you?" I'd have to say all of them. Or none of them. But even no religion is a religion, so I'm never going to get away from it. Hence I'm going to start my own.
I'll need sacred texts - rather handily I don't believe any one religion can claim outright dominion over truth - so I can be lazy and just lift everybody else's. I'll simply have to include Dischordianism and Bokononism because they make me laugh and make as much sense as the standard religions. And if I'm including Vonnegut then I have to include Adams - so let's face it subsuming all literature would be simpler. Actually, lets make all fictional media sacred (with the obvious exception of the "and comment" bit of "news and comment").
The only thing I need now is something no other religion has. Something mystical which theologians can argue about for rest of time. This is actually quite easy:
dd if=/dev/random of=dogma bs=41999 count=41
And finally some guidance for the membership:
- Thou shalt remember there is more than one way to do it
- Thou shalt keep it simple, stupid
- Thou shalt not proselytise unless you really need to
- Thou shalt have faith unless you really want to
And there we go, a new religion. All I need now is a catchy name.
Happy New Year and all that...
I've never managed to get the knack of New Year. In previous years I've tried to get into the spirit. But no matter what recreational substances I overdose on I simply cannot avoid exuding a general air of misanthropy. I suspect it's the proximity to the Annual Festival of Consumerism that does it.
But then I remembered that I really do believe in Father Christmas merely becuase the whole concept is a nice one. I mean it's all just perception anyway. So I moved New Year.
Now...
Resolutions...
I tend to do these in retrospect. Did okay with the last lot...
Numinosity
In recent days the word numinosity has spent an inordinate amount of time bouncing around my head. It's not the first time. Last time I made some notes. But I can't find them now. So here's the best definition I can find:
The relationship between other people, places, things, and the individual.
Unfortunately numinosity is one of those esoteric word-concepts which - if you look in the right places - lots of people use yet few define. Making it awfully difficult to understand. It's also remarkably difficult for me to define as I'm not sure I really get it either. But here's what I think:
It's the difference between a photograph of a bunch of strangers, and a photo of your family. It's what differentiates your neighbour's cat from a random cat you encounter when you're out and about. It's what makes Lourdes special to Catholics. The Atkins diet so special to enthusiasts. And turns the Swastika from a benign symbol into something entirely different.
It's also what scientists undermine by using reasoned investigation to discover truth - scientific truth that is. Because what they say is 'true', their scientists, who would dare to disagree when the fruits of their labour cost so much. But it's not, their truth exists to undermine yours, to turn your mind inside out, to grant them power over you.
The power of symbols.
I'm currently reading Man and his Symbols, five essays, one by Carl Jung, the rest by disciples of Jung. Very interesting, difficult to describe, harder still to understand fully.
In the first essay - Jung's - the point was made that we think in terms of symbols. Trousers: the word means the same to you and me. But the mental symbol it invokes for you is not the same as it invokes for me. Normally it's a difference that not important. However, Jung seems to think (and I'd probably agree here) that our unconscious communicates with our conscious in symbolic terms, and this is especially the case in dreams. The point is then made that any correct interpretation of the symbology of dreams can therefore only be conducted by the dreamer. Any external interpretation would alter the symbology and hence the meaning.
(All of which means I'm on my own interpreting the symbology of a load of contented frogs swimming around in a glass bowl in a room of my house which isn't there.)
But it whilst I was contemplating symbology in general that I've started to wonder if there's such a thing as "reverse symbology". And could such a thing be harmful. For example, speaking medically, take Asperger's Syndrome. If you tell someone they've got it could they then change their behaviour patterns into what they see as the archetypal aspie? A kind of reverse placebo effect as it were. Or if you tell parents and grandparents a child has AS, could the changes in their behaviour have an effect on the child? A sort self fulfilling prophesy.
All of which leads me to wonder if the modern medical trend to label everything isn't perhaps a contributing factor of whatever it is you're labelling. So perhaps a holistic approach really is for the best.
The ultimate hack.
I have of late -- but wherefore I know not -- lost all my marbles.
It started out as a simple enough idea - crazy, it's true - but simple. Given that I'm a hacker - i.e. I have a flair for getting complex technology to do what I want - would it be possible for me to hack my own brain? Specifically, in the first instance, would it be possible to avoid getting quite so pissed-off in traffic jams.
The art of hacking, it has to be said, is relatively easy. You start with the symptoms, investigate the mechanics, apply a workaround, monitor the situation, repeat if needs be. Which amused me no end when I discovered that's basically the Cognitive Behavioural approach to psychotherapy. So, as seems virtually identical to what I do anyhow, I considered brain hacking perfectly doable.
There comes a point, however, where every hacker realises that their wizardly skill - their Kung-Foo as it were - is not quite up to the job. In such circumstances the usual approach is twofold. First, don't admit your ignorance. Second, do your research. Discovering where to look - especially when you are unsure what it is you're actually looking for - is what makes hacking hard. But eventually I hit upon the right track and discovered there's loads of stuff out there for budding brain hackers. Wikipedia and Project Gutenberg deserve a special mention as they have proved invaluable. Occasionally I wish that I'd made notes - but then lassie-faire hacking is always much more rewarding.
I can't, obviously, comment on results without being subjective. Yes, traffic jams are mostly fun these days (although, in general, I do still drive like an arsehole). My wife thinks I've gone insane (she claims it's in a "good way") but I have to disagree (as I currently reject the whole concept of insanity as nothing more than a classification derived from the predominant consensus reality). I also find I've somehow managed to change from being a cynic into a sceptic. But whatever..., at least I've got a fun new hobby to occupy my brain's spare cycles.
A Meme For All Seasons (part 1)
It can't have escaped your notice that this Saturday Dr Who makes it's return to BBC One's Saturday evening schedule from 26 March. Being an anorak I knew this. So I didn't need the large advertising campaign or the articles in every newspaper or magazine that has past me by over the last few weeks. In fact, being an anorak means hype usually destroys my enjoyment of the actual experience. I really don't care about Billy Piper or Christopher Ecclestone outside the confines of their roles on the small screen. I don't need to know about the mythology of the bad-guys or the different incarnations of the Doctor - I know enough about all this shit already... I just want to see the goddamn show.
Thankfully before this hype surfaced the BBC had already advertised the avaliability of a downloadable episode. So it wasn't long before I had seen it, thereby inoculating myself against the hype. Perhaps I watched it through the rose tinted spectacles of nostalgia, but I was mightily impressed. Rumour has it that the leaked episode was a rough cut lacking in special effects, and that it's not the first episode. Well, I don't care. I liked what I saw so much I watched it again - with my son (5). I enjoyed it just as much - my son enjoyed it so much he started asking for more the instant it had finished. So I think it's safe to say the two of us will be glued to the screen from 7pm for the next thirteen Saturdays (I've already moved the furniture to make it easier to get behind the sofa).