Risking It All for 90 Seconds

 It’s not the likelihood of the fall, but the weight of its consequences that demands caution

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI: A Man Falling on a Busy Road

Summary: During a trip to Geneva, Salim chose to jaywalk instead of waiting 90 seconds at a pedestrian signal. Mid-crossing, he tripped and narrowly avoided an oncoming car. Embarrassed but unharmed, he later reflected on how easily the incident could have ended in serious injury or worse. Salim’s experience is a reminder that decisions with low probability of adverse outcomes can have potentially outsize life-altering consequences.

The incident occurred during a one-week trip to Geneva — an event that, with slightly different outcomes, could have had lifelong repercussions. A small twist of fate, and Salim would have endlessly wished to turn back time, altering the moment that upended his life.

Salim had enjoyed the familiar routine of visiting Geneva and taking the train from the airport to Gare Cornavin. Stepping out of the station, he felt a sense of comfort as familiar sights greeted him: the Hotel Bernina directly ahead and, to its right, Les Brasseurs, where he’d enjoyed many dinners on past trips. Salim often remarked how much easier it was to travel to places he knew well, requiring little preparation and offering a sense of ease.

It was a pleasant evening in early December, uncharacteristically mild for Geneva. Since his arrival, there had been no rain. That evening, at a dinner with colleagues at Little India, Salim had savored his favorite dishes: onion bhaji with tamarind chutney, saag paneer, and, mindful of his blood sugar, just a small portion of rice. Feeling content, he strolled along Rue Lausanne back to his hotel. Rue Lausanne was bustling, as always, with cars streaming in both directions and Tram №15 periodically rattling past.

To reach his hotel, Salim needed to cross Rue Lausanne, a road with multiple stoplights to ensure safe pedestrian crossing. But for reasons he couldn’t later recall, he decided against walking to the nearest crossing. Perhaps the idea of waiting 90 seconds for the pedestrian signal to turn green seemed like an unnecessary delay. Instead, he glanced left and right, judged the traffic, and decided he had enough time to cross.

Things didn’t go as planned. As Salim hurried across, he tripped and fell — right in front of an oncoming car he’d initially deemed far enough away. In his calculations, he hadn’t accounted time for a fall, the need to scramble up, or the panic that would follow.

Luckily, Salim managed to get up in a hurry and reach the opposite curb in time. When there, his first thought wasn’t about potential injuries. Instead, he was mortified by being the object of a socially awkward situation. Desperate to avoid attention, he briskly walked away, pretending as though nothing had happened. It was only after putting a few blocks between himself and the incident location that he began to check for injuries. His knees stung, and his durable blue jeans had torn at the right knee — a testament to the severity of his fall. When he finally reached his hotel room, a body scan revealed scraped knees and a bruised left palm, the latter having borne the brunt of his fall.

Salim couldn’t help but reflect on how much worse things could have been. He might have sustained serious injuries, necessitating medical care in a foreign country. If he had not gotten out of the way quickly, the driver of the oncoming car might have had to slam on the brakes, possibly causing another accident. Worst of all, Salim himself could have been struck by the vehicle.

And all this for the sake of saving 90 seconds.

Those 90 seconds, insignificant as they seemed, could have brought about a lifetime of regret. Even though none of the worst-case scenarios materialized, the incident served as a sobering lesson: saving a few moments isn’t worth the risk of catastrophic consequences. The cost-benefit analysis was clear — even if tripping was an unlikely event, the stakes if it did happen were too high.

To this day, Salim occasionally revisits that memory. He wonders about the thoughts of those who witnessed the scene. Did a mother tell her child to learn from “that man” and always wait for the pedestrian signal? Did someone shake their head, believing Salim deserved the scare for disregarding safety rules? Whatever their thoughts, Salim will never know. He is just thankful that he got away easy.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

On the Origins of the Wisdom of the Middle Path

 

Antonyms are found because life gives so many opposite options. A life well lived, selects a path that weaves in between antonyms.

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI: The Wisdom of Following the Middle Path

Summary: The concept of balance, often referred to as following the middle path, is regarded as timeless wisdom. It is said that to achieve happiness and contentment, one should embrace the middle path. But where did this idea originate? The notion of balance may trace its roots to the earliest stages of life, with the emergence of self-replicating molecules. Over time, the principle of “survival of the fittest” evolved into the understanding that thriving requires an optimal fit with the environment — a realization that now aligns with the wisdom of the middle path.

The boundary conditions

The Earth was immersed in an ambient environment with specific characteristics, fueled by energy from the Sun. Within this setting, a “chemical soup” existed where countless chemical reactions were constantly occurring and being tested.

There was no design or designer guiding these chemical reactions or the emergence of complexity. Instead, progress was driven by trial and error, naturally favoring characteristics that proved advantageous in harnessing the available energy.

The beginning

Certain chemical reactions within the soup led to the formation of self-replicating molecules that efficiently utilized available resources. These molecules gradually developed greater complexity and organization.

This marked the onset of a competitive “arms race” for consuming the energy present in the environment. The self-replicating chemistry that thrived under ambient conditions laid the foundation for the concept of survival of the fittest.

Among these, the chemistries that excelled in energy utilization and replication gained a significant advantage, allowing them to proliferate.

From these pioneering self-replicating chemistries emerged the first cells, which developed intricate chemical processes to harness energy and eventually enclosed themselves within protective membranes.

At the cellular level, there was no inherent design or deliberate path to follow. Instead, under the prevailing environmental conditions, the chemical reactions most efficient at acquiring resources naturally thrived and proliferated.

Had consciousness existed at that time, these successful chemical pathways — supporting self-replicating molecules — might have been labeled as having the “mojo” or the “right balance.” But, of course, in that primordial era, there was no one to make such observations.

The concept of following a path of balance, therefore, originates from the context of chemical reactions occurring within an environment that gave rise to self-replicating molecules.

Similarly, a unique, but a different, concept of balance, shaped by environmental conditions, can be seen in the chemistry that evolved near hydrothermal vents or in the depths of the ocean — each adapting to its surroundings with its own distinct equilibrium.

The middle

Earth’s ambient conditions remained relatively stable, allowing successful cellular life forms to continue relying on the same chemical reactions and maintaining their established notion of balance.

Over time, increasingly advanced organisms evolved, all adhering to this enduring principle of balance that was first established.

However, if ambient conditions had changed, the original balance might no longer have been advantageous, prompting the evolution of a new equilibrium. Just as balance was achieved once before, chemical reactions would have inevitably adapted to establish another suitable harmony.

The arrival of humans

Evolution, driven by the principle of survival of the fittest, continued, and humans eventually emerged.

Along this evolutionary journey, the capacity for consciousness also developed.

Consciousness — The state of being aware of and responsive to one’s surroundings; a person’s awareness or perception of something; the fact of awareness by the mind of itself and the world (source Oxford Living Dictionary) — began to identify and name the elements that permeated the environment.

Consciousness also introduced a psychological dimension, presenting options such as attachment and detachment, independence and interconnectedness, between which choices had to be made. The right choices were those that improved the chances of survival and typically aligned with the middle path.

Religions emerged, each recognizing and emphasizing the virtue of following this middle path.

Conclusion

Thus, there is no inherent requirement for a first principle dictating that balance or the middle path must be followed.

From the human perspective, however, and without awareness of the underlying processes of evolution, the pervasiveness of balance often feels like the result of some fundamental principle.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

How to savor a glass of wine without wanting to have three?

Having a balance arises not from the absence of conflict but from the interaction of opposing tensions.

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar+ AI : Finding Restraint

Summary: Have a glass of wine and not three. Have a piece of chocolate and not the entire box. To rein in unconstrained runaway desires, having a restraining force would help. That force could be the sense of sobriety the realization of mortality brings.

I am always yearning for balance between striving to savor a glass of wine while resisting the temptation to reach for another. Yet, what unfolds is often the opposite of this aspiration. Even before the last sip touches the lips, thoughts of having another glass begin to swirl. Propelled by unchecked desire, the yearning for balance remains an unattainable horizon. My quest for balance between savoring (and feeling content with) a glass of wine, and not wanting another, has been a persistent call, but realizing it remains elusive.

What kind of balance, then, am I truly capable of achieving, and how?

Consider a possible state of balance as a metaphorical tightrope walk. That balance, however, is a place of unstable equilibrium. It is like a newly sharpened pencil balanced precariously on its tip. With great effort, this balance may be momentarily realized, but the slightest disturbance — a mere flutter from the wings of a butterfly — can undo it, along with all the hard work that went into it. This is not the kind of balance I seek.

Alternatively, balance could be a state of stable equilibrium. In this state, two competing forces create an outcome where opposing forces neutralize one another, allowing for stability. Achieving this state requires these opposing forces to coexist, enabling the system to settle into a middle ground. This interplay fosters an enduring state of balance that withstands life’s inevitable disruptions.

The balance I seek, thus, is not an unstable but a stable equilibrium that is longer lasting. I seek to savor a glass of wine but not drink three. Perhaps this balance will arise from the tension between two opposing forces, coexisting in harmony. The encouraging past is that such examples of balance are already part of my existence.

One such example is the tension between indulgence and restraint. Indulgence — the act of giving in to one’s desires — brings pleasure, excitement, and immediate gratification. Restraint, on the other hand, calls for discipline, patience, and long-term thinking. Alone, each force leads to extremes — indulgence to excess, ultimately harmful, and restraint to deprivation. When both are present, tempering one another, they guide life toward a middle ground of moderation.

Another pair of opposing forces that exemplifies the dynamics of balance is the relationship between control and surrender. Control represents the drive to shape, direct, and master life’s circumstances. Surrender, conversely, is the act of letting go, accepting what is beyond one’s influence, and embracing uncertainty. Life becomes unbalanced when either force dominates. Yet, when the two forces engage in constant dialogue, they create a state of equilibrium where one exerts effort without resisting the natural flow of events.

Circling back to the beginning of our quest, to find the sweet spot of balance I yearn for, perhaps what is need is an awareness of mortality as the force opposing to force of living.

Mortality brings with it the undeniable reality of life’s finitude. One of its hallmarks is the humbling realization of our impermanence. It prompts reflection on the transient nature of existence and forces us to weigh our actions.

Living with the cognition of mortality can introduce a stable balance that I seek. On one hand, mortality reminds us to embrace life, to savor its fleeting joys. On the other hand, it cautions us against allowing pleasure to become the sole, and the overarching goal. This duality of living and mortality encourages a path that is neither recklessly indulgent nor excessively cautious — a glass of wine and not three.

My yearning for balance will ultimately require an ongoing dialogue between opposing forces of living and dying, each pulling in a different direction yet working together to create harmony. The balance created by these two can augment a similar interplay between other forces that help find the middle path: indulgence and restraint, effort and rest, control and surrender, attachment and detachment, individuality and interconnectedness.

Perhaps tomorrow, as evening falls and I sit on the screened porch with a glass of wine in hand, I will savor the joy of the final sip and find the fortitude to resist reaching for another pour. It would be deeply gratifying to honor the balance between the unrestrained desires of living and the sobering discipline of mortality.

Ciao, and thanks for reading

Understanding the Prevalence of the Sweet Spot

Life’s sweetness lies in the balance: where effort meets ease, ambition meets contentment, and everything feels just right.

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI: Life and Need for Balance

Summary: The Goldilocks Principle highlights the value of balance and moderation for optimal outcomes. Found in nature, behavior, and systems, it emphasizes avoiding extremes. Its pervasiveness may stem from observational biases, as systems in balance are more likely to endure, or from physical laws, such as thermodynamic equilibrium or competing forces in ecosystems. While not inherently dictated by first principles, the principle’s ubiquity underscores its significance in understanding and navigating the world around us.

The Goldilocks Principle

There is the old folk tale of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Goldilocks, a curious little girl, wanders into the forest and stumbles upon a house belonging to three bears: Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear. The bears are not home when Goldilocks enters. Inside the house, Goldilocks explores and tests three sets of items that belong to the bears — the porridge, the chairs, and the bed. In the end Goldilocks chooses the porridge with the temperature that is just right, sits in the chair that feels just right, and falls asleep in the bed that has the right amount of firmness.

The moral of the story is about making choices in life that are ‘just right.’ The tale conveys the merit of moderation and the idea of finding a balance in various aspects of life to be successful and thrive. Extremes, although may feel good in the short term, have long term consequences that are sub-optimal. But alas, readily discounting the future and for the sake of immediate gratification, extremes are what we so readily fall prey to.

The Ubiquitousness of the Goldilocks Principle

How pervasive is the reach of the Goldilocks Principle? Even though we may not connect the dots and realize, the Goldilocks Principle is evident in many aspects of nature, including our behavior. Nearly everything you and I do requires balance to thrive. Eat too much and we become fat and are prone to many health issues. Eating too little and its consequences have been seen in disturbing pictures of fellow humans surviving in war zones or drought-stricken regions. Similarly, excessive or insufficient exercise or sleep negatively affects our well-being. In the end it is the practice of moderation — finding a balance between extremes — that enhances our chances (but no guarantees though) of achieving a longer, healthier life.

Or consider some tasks of learning a new skill or a new subject matter where the notion of balance helps us keep interested and keep along the path of learning. If the tasks given to us as part of learning are too easy, we lose interest; if they are too difficult, we feel discouraged and are tempted to give up. A sustained interest in learning occurs when the level of the challenge of tasks presented as part of learning fall in the middle of being too easy or too hard, i.e., when they are engaging enough to keep us motivated while not making us repeatedly fail and leaving us discouraged and deflated.

For one more example, we turn to macroeconomics, where policymakers strive to balance unemployment and inflation. Low unemployment increases labor demand, driving up wages and spending, which can lead to inflation. On the other hand, high unemployment often suppresses wage growth and spending, keeping inflation low or even causing deflation.

And so, the Goldilocks Principle and the need for balance are pervasive in nature and across all aspects of human activity and perception. All we need to do is to recall the Goldilocks Principle when we see positive outcomes of following the middle way.

Alternate Renditions of the Goldilocks Principle — The Sweet Spot and the U-Shaped Curve

The Goldilocks principle also has related concepts. The graphical representation of the Goldilocks Principle is often a U-shaped or inverted U-shaped curve.

Consider graphing the relationship between exercise and its benefits to health. Plot the intensity of exercise on the x-axis and health benefits on the y-axis. At either extreme — too little or too much exercise — health benefits are minimal. However, at a moderate intensity of exercise falling in between the two extremes, health benefits are maximized, forming an inverted U-shaped curve on the graph.

Then there is also the concept of the ‘sweet spot.’ On the U-shaped or inverted U-shaped curve, the lowest or highest point represents the sweet spot — where level of input (exercise) maximizes the output (health). Moving the input away from the sweet spot only results in sub-optimal outcomes.

And so, while the Goldilocks Principle describes the need for balance, U-shaped curves often illustrate the same principle graphically, while the sweet spot identifies point where balance is achieved.

Why the Goldilocks Principle?

Given its pervasiveness, one might ask: why Goldilocks Principle? Is the preference for balance rooted in some first principle dictating that it shall be so? Could it be a physical inevitability for the systems embedded in a certain environment? Could it simply be an outcome of an observational bias (or an anthropic outcome) that systems in balance last longer, and therefore, have a stronger imprint on our consciousness. The configurations trying to flirt with extremes implode and are not around to draw our attention.

Goldilocks Principle as an Observational Bias

So, which of the explanations for the pervasiveness is correct? The answer, as often the case– it depends.

Perhaps in some cases, systems in which the balance is perceived as the norm are just a reflection of observational bias, i.e., it is when the path that weavs in between extremes is taken the outcome is a stable configuration. The resulting configuration, and the interactions that allow it to be so, are tagged as the conditions of ‘balance.’

Consider natural selection: as wheels of natural selection turn, various options are tried and tested, and only those best suited to the prevailing environmental conditions thrive. These “winners” are often perceived as the embodiment of following the path of balance between extremes. Furthermore, because these successful systems surround us, we naturally ponder the reasons for their existence.

A key point to note, however, is that the interactions that get tagged as ‘balance’ are not an outcome of an intelligent design but are inferred post facto in that whatever configuration happens to survive is credited to have the property of balance.

May be in larger scheme of things, there is no inherent reason for anything in the universe. It may simply be that our existence — and our consciousness that allows us to ask interesting questions — imbues what is out there with a sense of significance and with an outcome of an intelligent design.

Towards that, it does not help that we humans also possess a relentless curiosity, a drive to find reasons for everything. While this desire for explanation has fueled tremendous advances in our understanding of nature, it has also given rise to fantastical constructs such as religion or palmistry.

Goldilocks Principle as an outcome of physical laws

In some cases, the perceived existence of the Goldilocks Principle may simply result from underlying physical laws.

In the universe, fundamental laws and constraints shape the behavior of systems. For instance, the laws of thermodynamics dictate that when two objects at different temperatures come into contact, they exchange energy until they reach an equilibrium — state of balance.

This drive toward equilibrium can be understood at the molecular level. The temperature of an object corresponds to the agitation of its molecules. In a warmer object, the molecules are more agitated and transfer their motion energy to the less agitated molecules of a cooler object. This energy transfer continues until the molecules in both objects reach the same level of agitation — or, depending on your perspective, the same level of calmness. The tendency to achieve equilibrium is not the result of a grand design but rather an inevitable outcome of thermodynamic and dynamic constraints.

Some systems are governed by competing forces, such as the predator-prey dynamics in an ecosystem. In these, energy originates from vegetation, which herbivorous animals consume to survive. However, the availability of vegetation is limited, naturally constraining the population of herbivores. Adding to the complexity, carnivorous animals rely on herbivores as their energy source.

The dynamics among the three components, maintained by feedback loops, forms a delicate balance where vegetation supports herbivores, which in turn sustains carnivores. For the ecosystem to remain stable, neither the population of herbivores nor carnivores can grow or decline unchecked. This intricate interplay, the balance that ensues, ensures the continued well-being of the ecosystem.

Summary

We seem to be surrounded by systems that maintain some form of balance to survive and thrive. From an early age, we are taught that physical, psychological, and financial well-being often depends on following a path of moderation — avoiding extremes that may appear beneficial in the short term but rarely prove sustainable in the long run.

Some examples of equilibrium arise naturally, governed by the immutable laws of physics, while others emerge from competing forces finding a stable state to ensure their survival. Our understanding of balance is also shaped by an observational or anthropic bias: systems that follow a middle path are the ones that endure, and their ubiquity invites curiosity about whether an underlying principle compels systems to settle into balance.

While the necessity for balance may not be dictated by the first principles, its pervasive presence makes it a compelling possibility.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

A reflection on death

 

It’s part of the privilege of being human that we have our moment when we have to say goodbye. — Patti Smith

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

As years pass and another birthday is on me, mortality comes to say Happy Birthday. These days, sometimes it forgets to add “and many more.” Or that omission is on purpose. It knows that there are not that many more birthdays left for me.

Also, as I get older, visitations of mortality are happening more and that too in between birthdays.

In the days of my youth, it was not so. Then, it did not even bother to visit me every birthday. Things change.

An unintended consequence of getting old and facing frequent visits of mortality is that I often find myself pondering over the moment of death. The moment of crossing over from the realm of living into the land of something that I know absolutely nothing about.

For the moment of death, I have no words to describe what to expect or not to expect.

For all I know, there is nothing after. Perhaps it is as simple as that, and I will just cease to exist.

The moment of death will be like entering a room, looking around, reaching out for the light switch and turning it off.

With so many billions of people that have already crossed the threshold of death, there is surprisingly little and anecdotal evidence at best about what may be there.

Dying has been a massive experiment since the origin of life but there is not much to say about it.

Other than death happens, and not knowing much about death, I often find myself wondering what the moment of death would feel like?

The closest I have ever come to seeing someone crossing over the threshold is sitting next to my father in a small hospital room on the night when he made the journey. When it happened, I was holding his hand and thinking that my small gesture may help him in some way. Something like holding the hand of a child to help take its first steps.

Before he did cross from the world, his breathing was getting progressively intermittent and then it stopped. Something in his biology wanted to keep on living but it was too tiring of an effort to make.

When the moment did arrive, nothing unusual happened. I am sure he was not in a cognitive is a state to know what was happening. As far as I can tell, he was unaware of going over.

His case was not in any way unique.

There are so many roads travelling along which one can cross over the threshold between life and death without being aware of the moment of taking the one final step — it could occur during sleep; it could be after we have already lost our cognitive abilities to process sensory inputs; it could be a sudden accident; it could be a moment like in Hiroshima or Nagasaki.

In all such cases, the opportunity to be aware and learn something about the moment of death is not there.

There are also paths when the moment of death is known — death row inmates; the decision to end one’s own life because of being in constant pain and of no hope of recovery (euthanasia).

In those instances, can one develop a playbook of dying on how the approach the moment of death, so the fragment of experiences gets recoded, and the journeyperson keeps sending reports until the communication slowly breaks away.

It would be like an astronaut whose communication is gradually fading while sending reports back to the base in Houston. “Houston, we are drifting away in space and because of the leak, our oxygen level is steadily going down.” As moments tick away, messages get progressively intermittent and finally completely break off.

The line on the heart monitor flat lines.

The irony is that even though mortality is visiting increasingly more and keeps reminding me of death, I would never know what that experience would actually be like except that I will not be what I am now.

To know anything better than I know now, there is no experiment I can think of, or design an experiment to know more about the experience of death and communicate it to those that would be left behind.

Would it not be interesting if the approach to the moment of death was like falling into a black hole.

As I approach the event horizon of death the time slows down (at least from the perspective of people who are observing me). I approach the event horizon but never fall through the event horizon and have the luxury of sending communiques about by experiences.

Perhaps, moment of death is a singularity which we not been able to comprehend yet. But our quest continues.

Ciao.

Articles of interest:
If death was Zeno’s paradox

If death was Zeno's paradox

 

“Death’s got an Invisibility Cloak?” Harry interrupted again. “So he can sneak up on people,” said Ron — J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

There’s a paradox in wondering whether I can perceive objects or understand notions that I have never experienced.

Can I perceive a world beyond the range of my sensory physiology, which is shaped by the guardrails of what enhanced my chances of survival and reproduction.

The fact of the matter is that what I can perceive in the external world is restricted by evolution optimizing my traits to best fit the environment it had to work with. That is the reason that my eyes respond to electromagnetic spectrum between violet (380 nanometers) and red (750 nanometers). And to those experiences I have given names - violet and red.

Can I even imagine or have the words to describe what would 4th dimension of space, if it were to exist, would be like? What would it feel like to be in it? How would I describe the direction that is other than left/right, up/down, front/back.

For that matter, would 4th space dimension even be dimensions like space I am familiar with?

If the 4th space dimension does exist, and since I do not have words to describe it, perhaps I will invent words nadri and sadri to mimic left/right in the world of my current familiarity. Those words sound like a good choice as any. How else left & right themselves would have originated? In the beginning, they might have sounded silly.

A positive aspect of the things I cannot experience is that generally they do not generate the emotion of unease or fear. How can I be afraid of things that I cannot sense?

What I love, hate, fear, starts with what my senses deliver to my brain, where based on past experiences, the sensory input gets processed into an emotion, and then, into actions.

Among the class of objects that I have no firsthand experience with, and thus, have no prior frame of reference under which to categorize them and discuss, the notion of death and cognizance of my own mortality holds a unique position.

I have no firsthand idea what the moment of death feels like, and I will never know. While alive, by definition, I have not felt death, and as long I am alive, I will not feel it either.

And yet, the thought that at some moment in time my ‘self’ will cease to exist, while I have not a shred of clue what would happen to the self beyond that point, death has been an unsettling thought that keeps recurring.

It is a thought that has modulated my (and humanity’s) behavior in so many ways.

What is death anyway? I do know that it is a point of transition when I step from the realm of conscious self to a different realm. I have observed that happen round me. [Note — In that way death is somewhat different from say the 4th space dimension I do not even know if it exists. I have seen handiwork of death everywhere even though I have no personal experience of it.]

I saw death happen with my father lying in the hospital bed and watching him take his last breath. I have watched his unconscious body trying to hold on to this realm but eventually let go. When the breathing finally stopped, I was still around but he was either in a different world or he just was not anymore.

That is what is the fear and unease of death — knowing that it exists and also knowing that the act entails destruction of self and what it has been (without a phenomenological evidence that it continues on).

Would it not be wonderful if the moment of death was something like Zeno’s paradox? It would be exquisite to feel the experience the moment of death getting nearer and nearer but never arrive.

The moment of death as an asymptote. One by one layers of onion peeling away but never revealing the central core.

The thought becomes a poem in mind:

Could death’s moment
mirror Zeno’s paradox?
How exquisite — forever nearing the void,
yet never gone.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

The ailment of existential crisis

 

We all have to die one day, we might as well die with some obscure meaning attached to it — Ryan Gelpke

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

The existential crisis is a condition born from the union of life and death sleeping together in the same bed called the living.

Compelled to coexist, they strive for amicability. Yet, their efforts often culminate in struggle, especially when death seeks to strip life of all significance and meaning, leaving it exposed and trembling in the cold of night.

Nonetheless, they persist in their efforts to remain together and honor each other’s individuality. Even when their elbows occasionally collide, they hold onto the hope that the majority of their remaining time on this Earth can be of mutual respect and peaceful coexistence.

Together they strive to have shared time where empathy and mutual understanding prevail, and compassion is the bridge across their divide.

In their quest for harmonious coexistence, they’ve consulted therapists, delved into self-help books, and explored philosophical texts, seeking to unravel the significance of their ongoing struggles and discover effective solutions.

After a long enough struggle with living succumbing to the moods and vagaries of the tension that exists between them, a solution they have come is to recognize the reality that their personalities are different and the tension between them may not go away.

After enduring a protracted struggle, with living succumbing to the unpredictable shifts and nuances of the tension that binds life and death, they have arrived at a realization: their distinct personalities are there to stay, and the tension between them will remain.

To keep moving forward, they’ve reached a compromise solution that has been effective.

What they have settled down is to let life have a meaning, purpose, goal, and something to look forward to in the mornings. Yet, being perfectly aware that periods of tranquility could be taken over by occasions of death doubting the authenticity of everything life does. They have come to an acceptance that when that happens it would be moments of facing the ailment of existential crisis once again.

Indeed, they acknowledge that equilibrium between always be tenuous and is capable of shifting without a formal announcement.

For now, the arrangement has been working out well.

Ciao.

Taming mortality

 

Why fear death when we can never perceive it — Epictetus

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

Often, I envision a future where I reside in a community for those 55 and older, engaging in activities like playing pickleball. During the game, I am fully immersed, and everything is going well. However, once the game concludes, a gradual sense of futility regarding the activity begins to set in. The mechanics behind this transition is as follows:

After the game is over, a remembrance of my mortality sneaks. This thought brings a cognizance that life ends with death, the point at which the self is annihilated. While I will cease to exist, the party goes on. Remembering this, I feel as though I am enveloped in a cloud of meaninglessness that mortality can bestow upon daily engagements, including playing pickleball.

(Note: In the context of this discussion, ‘playing pickleball’ serves merely as an example and could be replaced with any other activity such as cooking, reading, or watching a movie.)

This vision of the future elicits an unease about the meaninglessness of activities that are occurring in the present. At its core, the reason is the dissonance between the necessity to live and the inevitability of death. This dissonance renders life’s activities seemingly futile and complicates the search for an inherent (and life-sustaining) meaning within them.

This vision of the future further intensifies the sense of existential unease about living, which also gets intertwined with the angst about the remaining days of my fleeting existence on the Earth.

The transition from engaging moments of pickleball to feelings of its futility leads me to wonder if life will follow in the same sequence of events day after day.

After each game of pickleball, when confronted with mortality, will I continue to question its meaning?

Do not misunderstand me. When I am in the midst of a pickleball game, I am completely absorbed. In those moments, there are no thoughts of mortality or the game’s futility. I strive to excel. I find myself getting frustrated with mistakes I make.

On the court, everything is as it should be. It is only afterward that the doubts begin to surface.

I also know that the malady I experience could be worse.

Currently, at least, when I play pickleball, awareness of mortality does not coincide and occupy the same mental space. Therefore, mortality does not prompt me to question the meaning of pickleball while I am engaged in it. A more troubling scenario is conceivable.

It’s possible that while playing pickleball, I become simultaneously aware of mortality, allowing both to coexist. In the midst of the game, this awareness could prompt me to question the purpose of my actions, draining all focus and pleasure from the activity.

Should that to occur, it might lead me into a depressive state, characterized by a lack of motivation to engage in any activity — a far graver situation.

The fact that, while playing pickleball, the awareness of mortality does not consume my thoughts (and remains in the background), and I experience no sense of unease, suggests a way to navigate the tension between living and dying.

The answer for appeasing the life sucking tendency of mortality (no pun intended) may lie in living in the present.

In a way, living in the present disassociates the mind away from the future, and it is in the shadows of the thought of the future where mortality lurks. Living in the present makes life forever.

To quote Ludwig Wittgenstein “Death is not an event in life: we do not live to experience death. If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present. Our life has no end in the way in which our visual field has no limits.”

Living in the present, thus, may be the antidote of the existential crisis born from the tension between living and dying.

Ciao.

The worlds beyond my senses

 

Imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, “This is an interesting world I find myself in, an interesting hole I find myself in; fits me rather neatly, doesn’t it? In fact, it fits me staggeringly well! It must have been made to have me in it! — Douglas Adams

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

My senses serve as portals to the universe. They provide my brain with the data using which the brain interprets the world outside of me. Through the signals brought in by my senses, the brain discerns what to savor and what to shun; what to love and what to avoid. Over the years, this process has shaped my preferences and aversions.

What would I call an entity that is completely isolated from the external world (that is, for some reason, it does not ingest any signals from the external world)? What could such an entity conceive and comprehend? What would its comprehension of the external world be like? For that matter, for such an entity, do words like ‘external world’ even hold a meaning.

This inquiry might seem strange (or may sound even absurd), yet in my sleep, floating amidst dreams, I am such an entity. My brain is not processing much of sensory data (for example, related to vision), and yet, devoid of sensory input, some juxtaposition of brain and mind do conjure up brilliant worlds of fantasies.

Among my quintet of senses — vision, hearing, olfaction, tactility, and gustation –the faculties of sight and sound are especially vital for discerning the external world.

Vision, frequently hailed as the most important sense, empowers me to discern forms, hues, and motions. The percepts of vision are crucial for orienting myself in my surroundings, seeking sustenance, identifying friends and adversaries, and, in the current era, for reading a book — thus broadening my perspectives through the wisdom and experiences shared by others.

Hearing allows me to perceive sounds, a sense essential for recognizing the rustling of leaves, engaging in spoken language and communication, appreciating melodies, and heeding the sonic warnings of hazards that lurk in my environment.

As indispensable as my sight and hearing may be, the part of our world that my senses can grasp is small. Beyond the confines of my sensory capabilities, there exist worlds of which I remain utterly unaware of (that is assuming that they are there but are merely beyond the capabilities of my perception). The worlds I am unaware of are far bigger than the ones I comprehend.

The mechanism of my vision involves the transformation of electromagnetic waves into electrical impulses by my retinal cells, which are then relayed to the brain for interpretation. The richness of the world I see has extraordinary details — the blue sky, constantly changing formation of clouds drifting in the wind, the mountain peaks topped with the whiteness of snow, or sometimes a rainbow unfurled across the sky.

And yet, the world I do not see is far bigger than the one I do see. The electromagnetic spectrum encompasses a wide range of wavelengths, from very low-frequency radio waves to high-frequency gamma rays. The entire electromagnetic spectrum includes, in order of increasing wavelength (or decreasing frequency): radio waves, microwaves, infrared radiation, visible light, ultraviolet radiation, X-rays, and gamma rays.

My eyes (and their physiology) can see only an exceedingly small fraction of the electromagnetic spectrum, which (and no surprise) we have named is the visible spectrum (what else would we call it?).

The visible part of the electromagnetic spectrum ranges from about 380 nanometers (nm) (violet color) to about 750 nanometers (nm) (red color) in wavelength and only makes up about 0.0035% of the entire electromagnetic spectrum. So, I am only seeing a tiny sliver of all the electromagnetic spectrum that exists around me. I have no idea what worlds exist in the part of spectrum that I cannot see.

It is inconceivable to think that the only interesting things that are happening in the universe are happening in the fraction of electromagnetic spectrum I can see. That idea would be too self-centric or anthropomorphic.

The range (and story) of our auditory perception is no different. The sounds I hear are compression waves travelling through the air that make our eardrum (or tympanic membrane) vibrate. These vibrations are converted to electrical signals that are sent to the brain for further processing.

The physiology of the human ear is such that it responds to compression waves between 20 Hz and 20,000 Hz (Hertz)and makes me capable of hearing things that vibrate in that range. Like for electromagnetic waves, it does not imply that compression waves do not exist beyond the frequency range of my hearing. They do and physiology of ear in different animals can respond to those waves. The Greater Wax Moth is capable of sensing compression waves at a frequency of 300kHz.

The bottom line is that there is a lot going on out there (or I assume that is so, even if I cannot be sure) of which I am not aware. Who knows what kind of wonders exist in the worlds I cannot see and cannot hear? Is there a world that exists and is beyond my perception, however, is a deeply philosophical question.

A cloud in the sky is visible to me because it reflects the electromagnetic waves coming from the sun in the range of visible spectrum. Are there no other “objects” in the sky that can reflect various parts of electromagnetic towards me, but I am unaware of them. If they do, what would they look like?

At some level, the above sentence is bizarre because I am using words and experiences that are human to discuss what is independent of us, and more so, has never been perceived by our senses. I am trying to augment the world I cannot see or hear into the world I am familiar with, but a moment of reflection tells how absurd the notion is.

Heck for that matter, there may be many more dimensions out there that my senses cannot contact. Perhaps, because of some unintended perturbations, those unknown dimensions leak into the realm I can perceive and after a moment retract themselves back to where they came from. Who knows what else is out there and is beyond the range of my senses.

Do I ever dream of floating through a space that has more than three dimensions? Even if I do, how would my waking self-know.

Ciao.

Note: Electromagnetic and compression waves: The former can travel through empty space while the latter requires the existence of a compressible medium, like air.

Hard Work: It is Necessary but not Sufficient for Success in Life

 

Humans make choices — but they are never independent choices. Every choice depends on a lot of biological, social and personal conditions that you cannot determine for yourself. I can choose what to eat, whom to marry and whom to vote for, but these choices are determined in part by my genes, my biochemistry, my gender, my family background, my national culture, etc. — and I didn’t choose which genes or family to have.” — Yuval Noah Harari

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

The United States (U.S.) is often referred to as the land of opportunity, where success is believed to be achievable through hard work. It is commonly held notion that hard work is both a necessary as well as a sufficient condition for success in America. This belief implicitly suggests that if one does not achieve success, it is due to a lack of willingness to work hard, or worse, an innate character flaw that makes individuals avoid working hard.

This topic often sparks debate when I converse with two of my ‘successful’ friends, who, like myself, are first-generation immigrants to the U.S. Judging by the quality of our lives in our adopted country, it’s fair to say that we have indeed achieved success, and hard work was a significant factor in where we are. As we approach the end of our careers, we all have comfortable homes and substantial savings to ensure a good retirement.

It is a controversial subject matter between the three of us because I believe in the position that hard work is necessary to be successful, but it is not sufficient. My friends believe that hard work is necessary and also sufficient to be successful.

The notions of “Necessity and sufficiency” are part of formal logic and mathematics but if you try to understand its meaning, the very first sentence (In logic and mathematics, necessity and sufficiency are terms used to describe a conditional or implicational relationship between two statements) will make eyes glaze over and make you mumble ‘whatever.’

In layperson’s language different options of necessary and sufficient (i.e., with one being true while other being and/or not true) in the context of hard work and being successful are:

#1 Necessary and sufficient: “Working hard is necessary and sufficient for being successful,” means you cannot be successful without working hard, and if you work hard, you will definitely be successful.

#2 Necessary but not sufficient: “Working hard is necessary but not sufficient for being successful,” means you cannot be successful without working hard, but just working hard alone will not guarantee success. You might also need other factors like talent, opportunity, luck, etc.

#3 Sufficient but not necessary: Working hard is sufficient but not necessary for being successful,” means if you work hard, you will be successful, but there might be other ways to achieve success as well, like having a unique talent, getting a lucky break, or receiving an inheritance. [Note: For our discussion, this option is same as option #1].

My friends opine that hard work is both necessary and sufficient for success, and inwardly, they are looking at themselves in the mirror as shining examples. What they forget is small events and nudges along their journey that helped them to be what they are today.

Our decision to pursue a Ph.D. program in the U.S. speaks volumes about us. Back in our home countries, we were considered above average. Our family background provided us with the opportunity to attend reputable colleges and receive quality education, which served as a springboard for our journey to the U.S. to further our studies. We had the means to attend college, a commitment that, despite being more affordable in our home countries compared to the U.S., is still a luxury not everyone can afford. Therefore, while hard work played a significant role in our journey, it was not the sole determinant of our success. By sheer luck, the family we were born in had a lot to do with it.

While I prefer not to disclose specifics about my friends, I can share that my journey to a U.S. university for a Ph.D. program involved a mix of hard work and good fortune. Originally, a colleague of mine was slated to travel to the U.S. as part of an exchange program. However, due to health complications, they were unable to seize this opportunity, instead I took their slot. This stroke of luck, coupled with my dedication and effort, has led me to where I am today. I know that my friends have experienced similar fortuitous circumstances on their paths as well.

However, prior to the fortunate events that shaped our life’s journey, it was the circumstance of our birth that initially set the stage.

There is a proverb that compares the conditions of our birth to the luck of winning a lottery. This metaphor encapsulates the idea that the circumstances of one’s birth, including geographic location, socioeconomic status, and family structure, can profoundly impact one’s life opportunities and outcomes. The lottery analogy underscores the randomness of birth; our time and place of birth are determined purely by chance, not by any actions or decisions on our part. This viewpoint emphasizes the influence of luck and circumstance in our lives from the outset. It serves as a potent reminder of the numerous uncontrollable factors that can shape our life paths.

I was born into a middle-class family in a country that, while it had its share of corrupt politicians and social issues (which persist to this day), was not plagued by wars or genocide. Issues like corruption, while significant, did not cripple our society. I was fortunate to have a stable family and the opportunity to attend a reputable school and college. From the outset, the odds were in my favor.

The circumstances of our birth are the initial state from which our life trajectory develops, and these starting conditions bear considerable influence.

Certainly, there are always exceptions to the rule. Figures such as Nelson Mandela, frequently dubbed ‘black swans,’ rise from the most daunting situations conceivable. Through determination and tenacity, they break through barriers. Nonetheless, these cases are outliers and do not set norms for the majority of us.

There is often a tendency among successful individuals to downplay the role of luck and unique opportunities in their journey, holding divergent perspectives and losing sight of their roots. This mindset is also prevalent among the current generation of Republicans. They tend to believe that if someone has not managed to extricate themselves from their predicament, it is due to a lack of effort on their part.

The crux of the matter is that success in life necessitates challenging work. While hard work enhances the probability of success, it doesn’t assure it. This is akin to maintaining a healthy diet and regular exercise regimen, which can potentially extend one’s health span. However, there is no guarantee that the desired outcomes will be achieved.

I wonder if there is any action in the present that is both essential and adequate to ensure the certainty of future outcomes. Suddenly, all that one is working towards and is on the verge of achieving can be thrown off course. An ordinary medical check-up can abruptly flip our lives, turning a blissful existence into a nightmare.

Thus, the three of us continue to engage in lively debates over the matter, while maintaining amicable relations, which is the most important aspect of having friends.

Ciao.

Falling in and out of a trance: A tale of (almost) buying a home

 

It is hard to imagine a more stupid or more dangerous way of making decisions than by putting those decisions in the hands of people who pay no price for being wrong — Thomas Sowell

Arun Kumar

AI Generated Image

Yesterday, I experienced a transition from a trance-like state to a moment of sudden awakening and realization. It felt as if I was on auto-pilot, guided by a force beyond my conscious control, similar to being in a hypnotic or religious trance. Then, something snapped me out of it.

In this trance-like state, I behaved out of character, performing actions that were not typical of me. This state could be likened to a form of dissociation, where I felt detached from my actions. It was as if I was observing my actions from an outsider’s perspective, aware that the actor was me, but his actions were beyond my control.

Then, the dream shattered, and there was a sudden shift. I “woke up” and was abruptly thrust back into reality, confronting the world with a sense of surprise and confusion. This return was a jarring reconnection with reality, a stark contrast to the trance-like state I had been in.

The feeling that follows a sudden transition from a state of two disconnected selves to a state where they coalesce is strange. The process brings a feeling of disorientation like waking up in an unfamiliar place, unsure of where you are.

This state of trance was not induced by intense focus or deep meditation. It occurred during a scouting trip to the low country of South Carolina in search of potential retirement locations.

The trip involved visiting retirement communities to get a feel of what they are like and see what home models they had to offer. However, during our explorations, the mindset subtly shifted from merely looking around to considering it perfectly acceptable to spend $500K on a second home and then deal with the logistics of managing two homesteads separated by five hundred miles.

Two factors precipitated this transition.

When visiting a retirement community where new homes are still being built, the first stop is the model homes. These homes are showcased to attract you like a bee to a fragrant flower. The model homes appear far superior to the homes we ordinary mortals live in. The idea of living in them feels like a quantum leap in the standard of living, akin to moving to an imaginary life in heaven. Your eyes glaze over, and your mind is transported into a trance where reason has no place.

The other factor relates to the real estate broker accompanying you, who earns money only when a home is bought or sold. Given this, it is in their best interest to make you buy a home with the least amount of their time invested. While you are already slipping into a trance-like state, they are adept at applying subtle psychological tactics to nudge you further over the precipice of rationality. They do this by hinting that if you do not buy the home in the next few days, the price will skyrocket.

Another trick they employ is to make you feel that if you miss a particular house that you demonstrated a little admiration for will not come along. They play on your fear of missing out (FOMO).

The agent may highlight the uniqueness of a home, its features, location, or price to create a sense of scarcity. They might suggest that such opportunities are rare and if missed, similar options may be hard to come by anytime soon. Their strategy is designed to create a sense of urgency among the entranced, pushing them to decide quickly. The sense of urgency, combined with the trance-like state you are already in, makes you susceptible to signing a contract before what was supposed to be just a scouting trip is over, unless…

…unless something snaps you out of the trance and you blink with a sudden realization of the uncharacteristic folly you were about to commit. All I needed was to get out of the setting, disassociate with the real estate broker, who is part hypnotist, part manipulator, and have a cup of coffee at Starbucks sitting on their patio and feel the breeze in my face. In that simple act the trance broke and in a moment of clarity, I realized the importance of stepping back to remind myself why I was here and not getting into the logistical challenge of buying a second home.

Without carrying any regrets, tomorrow I will be heading back home. The place has a potential to settle down after retirement, however, buying a home can wait for another day.

Ciao.