FootprintsintheWind.com

Anger begets anger
Hate begets Hate
Speech, your speech, has consequences

:- Doug.

Guns don’t kill people
people don’t kill people
hate kills people

:- Doug.

I no longer have a 5 0’clock shadow
I have a 5 o’clock silver lining

:- Doug.

Beyond What does it mean to be human: What can it mean?

:- Doug.

A special subset
among the chronologically gifted
the elders
serving
growing
eyes on the futures
serenely altruistic

:- Doug.

Two joys
rise to the top
among elders
joy of learning
joy of serving

:- Doug.

To look back 300 years is to look across what appears an essentially linear landscape. To look forward 300 years is trying to see over an exponential hill: it is a much farther distance. Maybe we should look back 3,000 years, or 30,000. Humanicity is probably not a straight line.

:- Doug.

What can it mean we are about to have human-created evolution? Can we be conscious of what our created evolution is creating? Science and technology cannot help but create bigger problems: can they be our sole saviors? Are there other fundamentals?

:- Doug.

If we are expanding our thinking capacity, what happens when we exponentially connect our thinkers? Perhaps today’s divisiveness is the birth pangs of connecting. Things don’t fit at first, and they’ll never fit how we imagine. This new way of meeting is conversing to the power of conversing. CC, with an exponentially growing exponent.

:- Doug.

Might a computer or an algorithm meditate? To what advantage?

:- Doug.

Time is almost fungible. I can do this project today or tomorrow. What adds to the equation is chaos, surprise, and randomness, which may tell me “You did not do that then, and you cannot do it now.” Again we can fill the jar with rocks before we fill it with sand, but it is harder the other way around. But is time a delimited jar?

:- Doug.

The muddle, uncomfortable as it is, is a required resource for growth and order. Muddle is chaos is necessary.

:- Doug.

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1893

At the potluck picnic yesterday, I did not, as intended, speak out loud the question, “What does in mean to be human?” Yet I received a response. It left me closer to the question, “What can it mean?”

I brought in food—then took the baskets back to the car to get them out of our way, and out of remembering about them—overheard a couple telling about their trip to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula—we talked about their exchange student—he was big on sports and they were not—he preferred spending time with other foreign exchange students rather than his designated surrogate family—we spoke of their son’s interest in firefighting and his next school year which would include ride-along times with EMTs—and whether he would like the emergencies and blood and all—and whether he had the muscle strength to do the job of a firefighter—I got some lemonade—people came in and out—the conversation went back to the U.P.–another couple is planning to visit there in a month or two—I asked about Painted Rocks, Lake Kit-iti-kipi, the Keweenaw Peninsula—in passing—one man was hungry so we uncovered the food and I mixed up and finished prepping my salads.

I moved into the dining room and talked with a couple and a single man who were talking about the latest political debates and candidates.

After that I got something to eat and sat at the kitchen table with another group of people and we had a lively and desultory conversation, lighthearted, joking, remembering old songs.

Then I went outside and sat at another table and listened to the host tell about his days in the aerospace industry working among engineers—another man came up and the topic switched to boats, from 50 footers people lived on to 17 footers to canoes—then to fishing and the different segments of the St. Joseph River—that group fell apart and we went to where the children were playing, and another man and I identified some of the plants as poison ivy, so that stopped the ball game.

Then I moved to the table on the deck where the 10 or 12 remaining people were talking—about picking cherries and blueberries and strawberries—about putting up and preserving foods—about knitting and crocheting and needlepoint.

Then someone said to his or her spouse, “It is about time we got going” and pretty much everybody got up to start packing up the remaining food and saying goodbyes and thank yous to the hosts.

So this is what it means to be human. This is the kind of role that machines and algorithms will not take over. What is the long-term value of this humanicity?

Please pass it on.

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Is that the question we want? The question we need? The question that carries us the furthest in the right direction?

:- Doug.

We are living into the futures.

:- Doug.

Ask yourself: are stories only about the past? Are questions only about right answers? If not, what skylights does this open for the elders now and in 11 generations?

:- Doug.

Thinking needs to be now.

:- Doug.

Yes, I need to think. Will machines in the future actually think? Probably. Will we mesh with them? Probably. Will we notice? Probably not. Will I think, now? Probably, but will I want to? Hopefully just a little more than not. It will help to think together.

:- Doug.

These are progress notes: perhaps not profound, but ways to extend thinking and open some new territory.

:- Doug.

Just as time stands still and passes unnoticed when traveling at light speed, so enhanced intelligence will not seem fast nor unusual to those using it.

:- Doug.

Computers are faster than human thinking because computers (so far) are thought machines—they travel paths already trod. Humans (some days) have to actually think, which is arduous (we don’t like it) and slow (are we there yet?). Herein a dilemma of humanity.

:- Doug.

Teach the Hoosier children to count seconds “One Indiana, Two Indiana….”

:- Doug.

Whenever you envision a danger in a future, find a way to turn it to good.

:- Doug.