Thursday 13 March 2008 @9:31
On most days, I am an extreme rationalist and philosophical materialist, but I have one major weakness. Any ‘delusion’ that inspired (for example) J.S. Bach to compose the Mass in B minor is definitely worth maintaining.
I recognize the fallacy. In Bach’s culture, credo in unum deum was the only game in town. Apologists may claim that without it, the Bachs could have been a family of bakers. And perhaps their panem diem would have been divine too, but centuries later we could not partake.
At counterpoint is the old sentiment that an ordinary person must be thoroughly trained to excel, but we’d have to train a prodigy not to. Who is to say what Bach could have composed if he grasped our deep and ancient connection to all life on earth, or perceived the majesty of the cosmos as we understand it today?
Still, what a tragedy it would be not to have the Mass in B minor.
Gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam.
Dona nobis pacem.
Thursday 13 December 2007 @14:37
Chicklet
A baby picture
Action shot
Kitty the hacker
On return from hospital
I regret having to report that Chicklet died at 10:05 Thursday morning at home, with both of us beside her. She had been ill for a while but that last night was the first she seemed to suffer. We set up the air mattress so she could sleep between us once again (but stay near the floor). At 3 AM she got up to visit her favorite hiding place in the closet. Later in the morning she moved next to the radiator and I gave her some water. We just got off the phone with the vet’s office (scheduling her final appointment) when she cried out, had a tiny seizure, and passed. A diva to the end.
Please enjoy this collection of photos, and leave your thoughts below. Chicklet (aka Kitty) came to live with us in 2000 — Art’s first year of med school. She previously belonged to Art’s brother’s family, so we have some baby pictures too. In student housing, she enjoyed her perch atop the air conditioner vents, looking out the 28th floor window at the Whitestone Bridge and the landing planes at LGA.
She moved with us to Yates Ave, and although she missed the air conditioning, she appreciated the deeper closets and the wider variety of furniture on which to sit. She traveled with us when possible, as much as six hours away by car. She loved sitting on the shelf beneath the car’s rear window, relishing the attention from passing travelers. When she couldn’t travel with us, she was watched over by a pack of caring friends, who she often tricked into giving more than her usual serving of food. Although some may think of us as jet-setters, we’re actually well-traveled homebodies. Usually upon boarding a plane for some exciting destination, our first thought would be “I miss Kitty.”
Kitty was always… er… big-boned. We tried restricting her diet, but she just became less active. A year or two ago, she started showing signs of kidney disease in her blood. (Most cats will get this, if they live long enough.) We switched her to specially-formulated food, and eventually added some daily medicines. Shortly after Thanksgiving this year, she began behaving strangely, and her vitality noticeably deteriorated.
She spent four full days in the kitty hospital the week of December 3rd, on intravenous fluids and medications. On returning she was more responsive, although she looked pitiful with her shaved forearms. For the next 5 or 6 days, we tried nursing her back to health with subcutaneous fluids, and cajoling her to eat with syringes and baby food. It was a difficult time, but we were glad to have her back and she clearly enjoyed the attention from us. We thought that if she could resume eating, she’d last weeks or maybe months. Then, everything changed Wednesday night; suddenly, she was clearly very ill and suffering. We’re glad this stage did not last long.
For seven years, Chicklet was an integral part of our lives and our relationship. We’ll miss you, baby.
Tuesday 25 September 2007 @9:18
I keep getting emails and postcards reminding me to update my information for the Johns Hopkins alumni directory. How quaint, to print a bunch of alumni data on dead trees. So last century. Have these folks never heard of web sites for professional and social networking, or for that matter, Google?
Tuesday 11 September 2007 @8:59
I was in denial about it for as long as possible, but yesterday my classes began. I can’t pretend it’s still summer anymore. Although the summer wasn’t nearly as productive as I planned back in May (I believe in aiming high; realistic goals are for weak minds 
), I did get two papers accepted and I made progress on a new manuscript that I’d like to submit by mid-October.
I also sharpened my tools, battled a web-spam invasion, built a new home computer, and changed my web host. Didn’t travel very far this summer, but we hit Block Island (RI) in May, and Boston and Montréal for a few days each in August. In the coming weeks and months, I plan to finish final revisions on my RNGzip paper for JCP, pound out the new manuscript with Stefan, organize my coursework ideas for AI and write something about that, and, of course, submit my tenure portfolio. Oh, and I’ll be going to Germany for ICFP.
Friday 7 September 2007 @10:00
One (ca. 1988): As a teenager, I believed in ghosts. I was a big fan of the Time-Life Mysteries of the Unknown series. Ouija, witchcraft, psychic phenomena — these were themes of my adolescence. One morning following a sleepover, a friend’s father ridiculed us pretty harshly for believing such nonsense. Then later that day he attended mass and professed belief in virgin birth, miraculous resurrection, and divine retribution. Even then, I recognized this as deep hypocrisy.
It’s not that belief in one impossible thing necessitates belief in six more (before breakfast). But when you’ve abandoned objective tests for truth, the distinction between cherished belief and childish myth is arbitrary and personal. So there’s not much point in ridiculing someone whose classifications differ from yours.
Two (ca. 1991): As I went off to college, I read more widely and experienced a wider world. I quickly grew to dislike fantasy novels and started reading popular science, by the likes of Weinberg, Hawking, Sagan, and Dawkins. I gained an appreciation of “god as nature,” a concept that I learned went back to Spinoza (ca. 1670), and was endorsed by Einstein. This is not in any sense a ‘personal’ god; it does not intervene in the world, and does not even receive prayers. In other words, it’s a god even a budding rationalist can believe in.
So for many years, I was happy with Spinoza’s god but agnostic about a personal god. I didn’t really accept the label ‘atheist’ because I thought it implied a certain arrogance: we don’t know everything about the universe, so how can we rule out god?
Three (ca. 1996–7): Gradually I realized that if you define ‘god’ however you want, then claiming belief in it is meaningless. When most people speak of God, they refer to a supernatural creature of some sort that hears prayers and intervenes in the world. If you think this is a falsehood, you’re an atheist. Spinoza’s god is just a philosophical construct; conceiving of god as a set of physical laws and constants does not constitute theism.
Four (ca. 2003) A health issue landed me in the hospital for 3 nights. While not exactly a brush with death, being the youngest patient in the cardiac ward did provide an opportunity to ponder my own mortality. I seriously considered whether I was on the right track, or whether I should maybe loosen up on the rationalism. But I got through it with the help of amazing (but non-miraculous) science and technology. Later I found some thinkers who provide ‘spiritual’ healing and inspiration without the hocus-pocus. Carl Sagan wrote the following as he was dying from cancer. It brings a tear every time:
I would love to believe that when I die I will live again, that some thinking, feeling, remembering part of me will continue. But much as I want to believe that, and despite the ancient and worldwide cultural traditions that assert an afterlife, I know of nothing to suggest that it is more than wishful thinking.
The world is so exquisite with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there’s little good evidence. Far better it seems to me, in our vulnerability, is to look death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides.
Five (ca. 2006–7) A greater awareness of atheism as a political stance has arisen. Partly inspired by excesses of the Bush administration, I joined the ACLU and Americans United for the Separation of Church and State. Inspired too by recent books of Dawkins and Dennett, I joined the Council for Secular Humanism and subscribed to Free Inquiry and the Skeptical Inquirer. I regularly listen to the podcasts Point of Inquiry and Skeptics’ Guide to the Universe. If moment #3 was about self-acceptance, then this one is my coming out.
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