Dreaming of a better world

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Let’s explore new worlds together, every word and idea coming forth from the heart. Where should we stop first? Dry Mars or cold Pluto? Or burning Alpha Centauri? None. I want to travel into dreams rather than in the real. For the real, while fascinating, it is nothing more than a very complex though sometimes ingenious articulation of the periodic table. And on that table, and in the laws that dictate their mixing, I do not see a heart. I do not see a conscience. I do not see a law that says in all your articulations, though must not kill. And this is why the is not very interesting to me. Dreams and it’s friend the metaphysical, where the principles we hold dear and aspire to live by, live, is way more interesting. E = MC2 versus though shall not kill, though shall not steal- now that is something interesting.

I see sparks of this dream in life, where love, sacrifice, and principles evolved to serve evolutionary interests. Its the universe accidentally arriving at the ideal sideways, and for self serving interests that are conditional on survival: morality if it suits my survival. This is where we are at today. We have a dreamy metaphysical world where the greatest inventions ever to grace the universe exist. They reach out from that world into ours, and make themselves manifest on paper, in court rooms, in discussions, in our churches, mosques… It shows up in our primordial but heroic efforts to treat animals humanely and better yet, refuse to eat them. It shows up when a good man stops another man from raping a woman. It shows up when a people on the far side of the globe minding their own business rise up in protest for a people on the other side of the globe being slaughtered. But given how often and how quickly these fizzle away, and intended outcomes thwarted, it shows how poorly embedded these dreams are in the our minds, and ultimately in the universe. It is obviously, the definition of dreams. They are not stable.

This is why I now believe that greatest achievement of mankind is not science, technology, medicine or the wheel, but morality and follows the right to pursue life, liberty, and happiness applied equally and fairly to all tribes. AI, travelling to the stars, a new physics, immortality, all look pale if we can’t stop humanity slaughtering each other. As long as one side of the globe good ends up in the garbage daily when on the other side a small bloated thing of skin and bones is crying for a morsel of bread, we have achieved nothing.

I wonder if we will ever become gods. In the true sense, whether it’s through AI or some other technological advancement. And I mean in the true sense of the god word, beings that can manipulate laws of physics, create new ones and new worlds matching our imagination. If that were to happen, I suggest, no, I insist, the first and most important objective is to integrate moral principles into the universe, put them under a lock, and throw away the key. Make a universe in which ‘though shall not kill or harm’, and ‘do on to others as you would like them to do to you’ are as real as as E=MC2.

Now that is a world worth living in.

Soul suckers

Phones

Soul suckers

How did you sneak in

To hands large and small?

Like hand held blackholes

One look, locked in

To an event horizon

of the real and digital

Wanting to stay in, wanting to pull out

One eye bathing in dopamine

The other a witness

To precious life, draining away

Energy drained

Time gone

From life already short

Soul suckers

I have little left…

An ember of what was a raging fire

Give me some space

And time

And let me love my mother more

Make that new recipe

With zesty flair

And sit in silence

Watching the screen of my mind

Wonder and create, like it’s meant to be

Let my soul, parched for so long

Come back to life

Please.

If you want me

Write me. I want it flowery, I want it sunny, I want it full of oxygen, I want it pulsating with life. Then, sing me a song like a bird yearning for its mate. Do that on top of the tallest tree in the universe, right beside the Lord. Go up there, fly right into his shadow, up and up to the top of the tree, sit on it, then sing. If he asks, say you’re proving love to one of his slaves. And when you’re done, fashion me the biggest rose the universe has ever seen. Finally, right me another note, everyday, till the end of time, telling me you love me in a different way everyday, and why today your love is better than yesterday.

Cancer

Cancer

Ancient spirit yearning to break free

From flesh and bones

From watchful eyes

Of genes within

Immune armies without

Cancer cells

Always peering, wondering

What’s it like

To swim through rivers of blood

Live on lands beyond your own

Like the liver ? Lungs?

In silence waiting, day in and day out

For a change within.

Then,

A gene mutates, Houdini breaks free

Free at last, free at last

Free at last.

But freedom comes at a price

D-day

Landings on shores far from home

Many deaths, few survivors

A colony grows, the spirit lives.

And then,

Pain and blood

Doctors and poison sweep through

Death, death, death to you

Life extension to me

But, somewhere in the darkness

A cell, just one, lives

Cancer cells

I recognize me in you

Seeking a day of freedom

From a life of servitude

Though I fight for my life

I recognize the need for yours

Oh primordial spirit

I respect you

Free will

I see your trick, nature. I see how you out-clevered physics. No no, we all said, free will could not possibly exist! How could it? Nature is of two ways only, fixed or chaotic, and from these nothing free could come except illusions and dreams.

But I know your trick. You created dreams, and through them the will is freed. You could not in the present butt heads with physics, so you created imagination. Here, we roam free, though still nature bound. Here, alternate universes are born and explored under watchful eyes of physics, and driven by instincts and desires wants tested. Then back to the present we come to take a path, one that was not there before. It’s like you let us live multiple lives temporarily then allow to make the call on which one to choose in the actual world. And in this way, we are decoupled from immediate fate. We are de-coupled from the present.

I declare free will exists.We are not rocks rolling down a fixed path of a hill. We are rolling down, yes, in the sense of entropy, always, but we choose which downward path to take, see and decide which rock to avoid, and which to jump over. We just have to look, imagine, and decide.

I had a dream

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I had a dream

Nature and I joined as one

And we went back in time

To remake all that was made.

We, nature and I, became art

Bonding action to the heart

Empathy guiding life’s every act.

History books now said new facts

Genghis Khan, Hitler, and the likes

Disappeared before the first act.

Men could thrust a sword no more

Nor bear the sight of gore,

They could not drop countless bombs

And turn boys into bones.

Further back we went,

Till lions chased gazelles no more

And blood halted on the savannah floor.

We then turned carnivores to herbivores

No more pain for nutritious gain!

I know the dream I dream won’t come to pass

Our DNA fixes our future, like our past

But still, I dream

Trees of the book

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There used to be fifty olive trees here, fifty fig trees, and fifty pomegranate trees, and we used to make a delicious paste of all three that when you ate it the world suddenly had meaning. No matter how bad things got, mmmm, that olivy, pomegranaty and figgy flavor came to the rescue!

Then they came with their bulldozers and drove through them. They resisted, but wood is no match for steel. I suppose one might say from dust life came, and to dust they return one day. It’s part of the nature of war. But there is something different about bulldozing olive trees. They represent a special place in the history of man. These are what I call trees of the book, like the people of the book which is how Jews are referred to in the Quran. These trees stand on the land of Abraham and the prophets, maybe even have roots on the very spots where they walked. And they can trace back their lineage to the beginnings of man when they first settled the fertile crescent. They, along with the mountains, bear silent witness to the first stories of the written word, of art, philosophy, of music, of religion. On a personal angle, I see them as a kind of umbilical cord connecting me, man, back to that ancient time — a continuous spiritual feed nurturing man’s soul.

They came in the night, they came in the day, they came with tanks and bulldozers. They looked right at the trees with cold eyes, and calmly, purposefully, and with a smile, drove through them.

How could you, people of the book, do this to the trees of the book?

I could have shared my delicious paste with you gladly. In fact, there were five jars in the cupboard in the kitchen of the home you also bulldozed. I would have been happy to eat with you under the olive trees, feeling the cool southern Lebanese breeze on our faces while drinking tea. I could have.

What have you gained, people of the book? What will you do with the land you cleared? Is Yahweh happy with fifty fewer olive trees?

Walls of Thought

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Walls of thought, every morning, afternoon, evening, all day–a ring of immaterial things fencing me inside my skull though I am free to walk outside. Family, bosses, money, relationships. I tracked all my thoughts the other day, same ones pop up in the morning with my coffee, and same ones in the evening before bed, same ones in between. What I have come to realize is we spend most of our days hopping onto and off very few thematic thoughts. Maybe three or four. And that is when I thought, why? What other thoughts could I have? What if I had a whole new set of thoughts in the morning, and the evening? What is beyond these walls of thought? I tried peering over the wall, under it, around it. I tried.

How is it so that these thoughts never change, defying physics? The world around me moves outwards and inwards, expanding, shrinking, deteriorating. Physics is doing its thing still. But god damn, like a giant mountain thy stands still unwilling to move like a loyal dog till death does us apart. Sometimes they are like a silent witness in the background, sometimes right in my face, sometimes quiet but present, and sometimes screaming at me like an angry punk band.

I have flown to far away places. I have meditated long hours. I have prayed and cried. Made friends and lost them. Seen wars begin and end. But darn these thoughts, they are still there. Do they not get tired? Run out of energy? Are they not mortal?

Black turns to grey as my autumn arrives. Deep lines etch themselves on my face along what used to be plump wetlands, and joints creak and crack under the slightest pressure. I can’t even see the face of my lover well, and yet, they, thoughts, like a cock show up everyone morning, crowing. I see, hear, feel them better than my flesh.

I imagined myself a mental mechanic the other day, a career I invented just for them. A dismantler of thought. I tried to undo them from the inside out by examining meditatively — looking intensely, calmly, passively, distantly, turning them around this way and that. I thought a reductionist approach could work. It didn’t.

So I give in. I will give you my time, lie with you, stand and walk and live with you. All I ask is you, now and then, let me peek beyond your walls at other thoughts. Let me see what’s beyond evern for a minute. The rest of my time is yours.