An Idea

[labelwench]

I agree but with different terminology and view on transfer in your knot to a torus ... more a slower version view Max to bring us to Dip q

There is the slowed knot or toral construct we see the transfer and inversion over BB theory clarity with the bonding containment fields breach ... or lack of symmetry symmetry ... that is not a double word error lol

kind regards graham

I am made of the relationships which define "me" mathematically.

The mathematical statements are sufficient to explain reality, without postulating an additional "hard" reality on top of them.

Originally posted by Max

First you say you exist, then you say you're made of nothing__Kinda confusing logic, or I should say__lack thereof...

I can't beleive how many can not understand math, logic and reality...

Originally posted by Lloyd Gillespie

But I always hope that the advancement of the math, particularly as we work toward quantum gravity, is put through the same test in reverse. If you can describe something mathematically but cannot describe it as a physical picture (in words that are not shrouded in jargon) then the math does not pass the test in reverse IMHO.
Originally posted by Bogie

Hmmm.... I really wonder where the conservation of Mass and Energy Theory fits in here... and how
Originally posted by Dipanyankar

It was once thought that the shove
Of this total energy was of
The order of 10**120 orders of
Magnitude above.

Well, if that were so near,
Then we couldn’t even be here;

Originally posted by Austintorn

Don't encourage Austin. LOL

Originally posted by Pat

Potential.

You all have the potential.....

...to turn my mind.....

...into a pretzel, lol......


Guys.

Truly, I do adore your kind......

(The trick question: Which one of you am I winking at?)

You can e-mail your theories on the answer to that one, lol.....

[Bogie]

What you and everything in the Universe is made of, tunklehead__Whada ya think, you're made outta, green cheese...?

Ya want a name for it...? Fundamental aether-space matter...

Oh THAT stuff. Sure, even a tunklehead should know that. Proof. You seem to know it .

[Lloyd Gillespie]

Oh THAT stuff. Sure, even a tunklehead should know that. Proof. You seem to know it .

No one needs to prove what science already knows. Catch up...

[Bogie]

No one needs to prove what science already knows. Catch up...

Ouch......

[austintorn@aol.com]

Don't encourage Austin. LOL

THE VERSE

Although the day-tide had barely spoken,
He, nonetheless, opened their precious token—
A mysterious book of poetry that had been sealed
With a waxen shield, it remaining concealed
For over ten centuries in the secret chamber
Of the library of the old monastery’s remainder.

The tome was written in some foreign language,
In verses of thirteen syllables in four-line stanzas.

They opened it as one would a tender lover:
A small bottle was encased inside the front cover;
Some of its spirit had apparently escaped
When the volume had been undraped,
For they’d been captivated by the Persia fumes—
The perfume of ageless rhymes from ancient looms.

“It’s written in Persian,” she noted, looked,
Having handled many of the foreign books
In her role as editor in the abbey’s nooks.

“It’s the library’s most valuable book,”
He said, having illuminated and unhooked
So many of the monastery’s great books.
“It was the only one I could save;
The only book we’ll ever crave.”

They watched, amazed, as the book came to life,
Like a good husband in the presence of his wife.

The words of the Persian poems then began
To move around the page, as over it they ran,
Sometimes briefly changing into English,
Entire verse-lines dancing like a dervish.

Then, after settling down from the struggle
The words would yet again jump and juggle,
Hanging back and then ever surging forth,
Darting around through the verses’ course
Within each stanza to form a brighter source,
Lines which yet stated the differing aspects
Of the original and prevading concepts.

‘Twas as this magical language transmogrification
Was attempting to preserve the entire relation
Of the original poetic scheme throughout—
The whole translation process so devout,
Including literal meaning, rhythm, rhyme,
Melody, syllables, meter, and time;
However, this didn’t seem to be workative,
And so it followed that something had to give,
And that ‘something’ was the ration
That was usually lost in the translation.

Finally, out of apparent desperation uncaged
The Persian verses jumped right off of the page
And splashed into the bottle of perfume,
Wherein they redistilled themselves, subsumed,
Leaping back out and on to the empty page,
Whereupon they recondensed, restaged,
And recomposed themselves for this new age—
Into Victorian style verse—into new quatrains
In which only the essence of the remains
Of the original concept of meaning was maintained.

The lines were now ten syllables, rather than thirteen,
With so many related meanings heretofore unseen;
But the verses were still in groups of four per stanza,
And the correct lines still rhymed, yet per lingua,
Although some of the rhyming schemes
Didn’t always have quite the same means.

Yes, some things unnecessary had been lost,
But something new had been added and tossed—
Something somehow much better told,
Although still within the spirit of the old.

“What are you?” she asked of the book.

“Are you alive?” he asked, as he shook.

The book replied, “I am the book of life,
My pages rife with the antidotes of strife;
I am conscious dream, a living philosophy—
I live forever through my words, wholly.

“On my pages you will find all of man’s follies,
Joys, sorrows, wisdom, and all the jollies.
Read me and my ideas will come alive—
Demonstrating the happiest ways to survive!

“It is by experiencing my words
That you shall know them forwards.

“Yes, many arts may enrich human experience,
But they’re no substitutes for the living of it.”

It thus began:

< 0 >
— The Poetic Form —

The verses beat the same, in measured chime;
Lines one-two set the stage, one-two-four rhyme.
Verse three’s the pivot around which thought turns;
Line four delivers the sting—just in time.

< 1 >
— Whens —

Life is a web of whos, whys, whats, and hows,
Stretched in time between eternal boughs.
Gossamer threads hold the beads that glisten,
Each minute a sequence of instant nows.

< 2 >
— A Question of Life or Death —

Since death is a certain fate on the Earth,
One might ask: How shall I live my worth?
Stay busy living—or you’ll be dying.
The answer please: There’s life after birth!

< 3 >
— Distant Promise —

To future columns we stretch our present row,
By a lifeline of tenuously spun vow.
Oh how soon the weighted web begins to fail—
The only real time under our feet is NOW.

[Bogie]

— Distant Promise —

To future columns we stretch our present row,
By a lifeline of tenuously spun vow.
Oh how soon the weighted web begins to fail—

The only real time under our feet is NOW.

We should not feel too much elation,
How life passes needs explanation.
We all know "now" has no duration,
Yet still we're lead into temptation.

[G_burnett]

deleted for being too crewl sounding ...

[Max™]

Straight mathematical egos are as dellusionally constituted as are all singularities...

If my delusion accurately constitutes myself, then yes, this statement, while quite ironic, holds true.


It is actually expected that dark matter particles would annihilate at times, but as it is unable to give off heat through radiation, it would not condense into small dense clouds, and such interactions would thus be far less common.

[Profpat]

Hi Max;

1) Why annihilation at times, it would be logical to me that like at the big bang it would be total annihilation?
2) At the big bang much heat and radiation was generated during the annihilation, why not during your annihilation?

Best,

Pat

[Bogie]

deleted for being too crewl sounding ...

I hope it wasn't my poetry that inspired that .