Showing posts with label poet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poet. Show all posts

Thursday, September 4, 2014

On variable stars and the rationality of theories


It is not yet 5 a.m. under a clear dark sky and I have made the decision to write this note rather than to do some star-gazing ( I have one of Al Nagler's "Televue Ranger" at my disposal here with a few of his lenses well-suited to it.)

I would like to defend the thesis that the extinguishing of intelligent life on the only planet with such intelligence in the only galaxy with such life forms would result in the demise of Cepheid variables as instances of a type but not variable stars as instances of a type. Nor would it have the consequence that there had, in fact, never been Cepheid variables. What is not clear to me is how to defend the claim that those variable stars would remain a suitable means to measure intergalactic distances in light-years or in AU ( astronomical units ) or in parsecs.

The need to defend the Hubble metric stars is in the interest of a far more important claim, to wit, that the quasars remain whatever they are or were, that magnetars remain a poor location for the re-emergence of intelligent life forms and that dark energy remains whatever it is.

The anecdotal side of this is my reading of the poetry of Alain Grandbois. His "étoiles" were not the stars of Galileo in much the same sense that Heidegger was arguing about with Husserl at about the same time and which was later repeated by Arendt late in her book, "The Human Condition".

Husserl began in astronomy, but by the time of Hubble's discoveries, Heidegger had him convinced that the Galilean viewpoint somehow perverted our relation to the heavens above ... perhaps not during daylight hours or when under heavy cloud, but certainly during clear moonless nights.

Not too long after Husserl's death, a Black Brandt rocket was sent aloft to determine a direction of a stellar x-ray source. Consider the possibility that this experiment and subsequent orbital parallax studies had revealed an unstable near-by star, that, say, Antares were in fact smaller than Betelgeuse and closer than Sirius. Suppose, further, that we were able to surmise that a minor cosmic event, a routine supernova, was about to wipe out this small home planet of intelligent life but that unbeknownst to us, it would also be wiping out not only the only such life in this galaxy, but also such life in any galaxy including any location since the Big Bang itself and, further, that due to a quirk of Dark Energy and cosmic expansion, that magnetars were about to become FAR more common, reducing any prospect for subsequent rational beings to evolve anywhere in this universe.

One motivation that I have for this line of musing is the thought that Strong AI has not brought philosophers to shift their view of theory makers closer to that of their view of computing machines, but rather it has helped to shift their view of us to one in which we are seen as closer to other mammalian species (specifically, cetacean and primate) and led us to puzzle over crows and octopi.

The theory of evolution and the new evidence for ubiquitous planets and a far higher number of brown dwarfs should motivate investigation by way of thought experiments as to why solving puzzles about ones more global, as-it-were, "wide" environment, suggests the rationality of theorizing for problem-solving beings.

The Japanese, prior to enforced contact with the Western powers, were content with their "River of Stars". Fording rivers in flood and bridging rivers were both major concerns in Japan, as was boating uneventfully across rivers. The star-river, our Milky Way, the "galaxy" of the Greeks, is a trope of sorts in a great deal of extant Japanese poetry. Given to poetry competitions, the Japanese thinker was not without problems to solve concerning the mention of stars in either linked verse or witty verse. Rules abound and these rules themselves made the tasks of poesis problematic.  Each time the practice became merely formulaic, something of a revolution occurred, and the very possibilities of the poetic praxis were re-thought through the emergence of a new poetic product, the last cycle, perhaps, having been that of the haiku of Shiki.

In my own work as a writer, I am beset with a scenario in which a cloud-bedecked planet is inhabited by those who do not know why sometimes the normally red fundament above glows strangely orange and why they perish of such truly horrible diseases although there are myths of happier ends in former times. These beings, we would say, would be inhabiting a planet in orbit about a centre of mass in common with a nearby red dwarf that, in turn, is in an orbital dance with a very unstable red giant that is about to shed its first outer layers in what we know to be a very common pattern in this universe.

[ to be continued ]



Sunday, June 22, 2014

Germain Nouveau et les astres


If Germain Nouveau had lived another 3 years, would he have learned of Hubble's work on the nebulae ? But for that of Monseigneur Georges Lemaître, he would have had to live past 1927 to hear of it.

But from "Immensité", what was his grasp of the facts known of les astres when he emerged as poet and when he emerged from the asylum ?

Would he have been amused to know that Hubble's name would be attached to the work of Lemaître ?




Wednesday, August 21, 2013

John Brown : historiography and poetry


I have placed a Curl e-book of Steven Vincent Benét's "John Brown's Body" at poets.aule-browser.com/svb-jbb-006.curl 

It seems to me that the varied historiography of Brown is relevant as we approach climactic crises both environmental and climatic with Harriet Tubman figures and Frederick Douglass figures and very likely a corps of instigators not unlike Brown. 

I will try to find a moment to add a facility to tag and link notes into the text and to add the relevant Whitman links and/or texts.

The Curl browser plugin is available at www.curl.com



Friday, February 19, 2010

Milosz and the Animals

In the 1982 collection of essays translated by Richard Lourie and published as "Visions From San Francisco Bay" Czeslaw Milosz asserts his own variant of Catholic anthropocentrism.  It is not always so clear that scientism is his target: so often with Milosz it appears to be natural science that is loathesome.

One particularly troubling moment arrives in his reflections on the natural sciences, reflections in which he glides from animals to the observed behaviors of mutilated insects.

Writing in the language of a nation whose cavalry last rode into machine gun fire, obedient horses terrified by mortar shells, high-explosive ogives, whizzing and whining shrapnel, yet he fails to speak of animal suffering in a voice that I hear.

The Vatican has sought to bring some corrective to its words and statements promulgated over the years - a Vatican which was said to have opposed the creation of a humane animal mission within its walls (or was it within Rome itself?)  What, after all, are our responsibilities in the soulless behemoth, the cowering dogs, the devious cats and rats, the fickle hawks and foolish pigeons?  Where are their catacombs?

Years after his death, readers of Milosz may have leafed through a nature magazine as a series of photographs, no doubt faked, showed wolves hamstring and then harass a moose until, days later, it falls exhausted, enduring crows until blinded and then the arrival of the bears.  Lions and hyenas follow the same course.  The fate of the solitary wilderness moose must not be construed as either evil or even cruel.  And we would protect the last pristine forests of eastern Poland from shorter railways, shorter highways, shorter pipelines, shorter power lines - before we do some wrong.  No forest which has known such trespass has ever remained on its own course, to its own end.

Elias Canetti was also less than direct, but often more suggestive than Milosz of how our relationship to the animal world is evolving.  Jeshua rides into the city on the back of a donkey.  Another makes his escape while clinging to a goat.  Canetti leaves us no doubt about the donkeys in the city of Marrakesh.  And not to forget that the north African cites were so often cities of slaves and their traders and owners.

When to stop beating a horse?

Saudi morality police are said to have barred girls from exiting a burning building because of their uncovered heads.

Yes, the fate of a Sappho in any great city of Islam should concern us more than a comic-faced camel on market day.

Milosz never seemed to grasp that urwelt, mitwelt and eigenwelt would not be the cleft ontological regions of the categorized world knowledge for which he was as nostalgic as he was for an inspired deontic order like any poet untrue to his first marriage vows.

A journalist's notebook suggests that it is the rural world of  Orthodox Serbia wherein the lost world of Milosz's Lithuania can be sensed in fable and superstition - the world of a lost Lithuania and others, their people uncounted or never returned from forced exile.  Villages renamed.  Manor houses plowed under.  But here the rural life continues as it might have in a Lithuania unconverted - or Orthodox.

But which folk parables teach that the man cruel to an old horse will lose his fortune, cruel to an old rooster, will lose his wife?  A carp is fattening in a tub.  Geese are fed as we would rather not imagine.

In not so rural America, poultry parts bound for Russia begin their journey by "locking" the flightless wings behind the back of the fowl - which go silent, subdued, and are easily flipped, carried and slipped into their crates for their journey to evisceration - handled and mishandled by the poorest of the poor, night laborers traipsing back and forth from 18-wheeler into the "barn" until the feathers begin to settle and it is time for a wash, perhaps a toothbrush, and breakfast.  If your great-grandmother showed your grandmother how to lock those wings, she doubtless also showed her how to hold the hatchet, or to choke up on the haft of an ax.

Those were not chickens.  Call them "fryers". The eggs have been candled from broiler breeding hens and sit warm in the incubator racks and shelves. The stacked boxes from the hatchery arrive in a few days and a new cycle of life begins.

This is no plea for free-range poultry or vegan diet.  The extremes are always easier to advocate.

Entering the Weisman Art Musuem at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis on the south shore of the Mississippi - a distinctive Frank Gehry (Ephraim Owen Goldberg) building - a great wall painting cannot be avoided if you turn left - a wall of galvanized layer cages - layers, trapped in pairs, in a simple binary pecking order, for their eggs, their days shortened and cycling with clever clocks, timers.  Not the simple egg timer of a pleasant breakfast.  It is not my favorite work in the collection.


In these essays Milosz is telling us of how and where he finds himself, a Polish speaking poet on the western coast of California and anyone who has deep feeling for this regretted poet will have wanted to read these pages.