The Way of What is to Come

Monday, listening to M.Pyres, dancing up and down over my copy of Jung's "Red Book" [on his theories of interpretation] finally arriving, though won't have time to dive into it for a couple weeks due to the increasing school work load. But soon.

For the time being here's some links that have been building up in my reader:


Images
From Kris Kuksi's Beast Anthology (above).
Dust Echoes: animated stories from the Australian dreamtime.
The dawn of a new post postmodern era in art.

Words
Viking love (and war) poetry.
Alan Moore's new zine, Dodgem Logic.
A Reader's Manifesto, or why contemporary literature sucks.
Bad sex in fiction award 2009 (NSFW).
The Books that founded D&D.

Faith and Politics
Obama omits reference to God in Thanksgiving speech.
The inherent fail of New Atheism.
Ritual sacrifices in Nepal see 320,000 animals sacrificed.
Switzerland Votes to Ban Minarets
CIA's lost magic manual resurfaces.
The global protest movement, ten years later.

Science
Doctors Recommend Medical Marjiuana for Minors with ADHD.
Humans hear through their skin.
Plants have a social life.
Science is shackled by intellectual property.
Large Hadron Collider sets world record for particle acceleration.
Virgin Galactic's Space-Grazing Aircraft Is Ready for Liftoff.

On Ultimate Realism

I haven't written much yet publicly on the new perspective or belief system I have been attempting to formulate over this past year, a perspective that I call Ultimate Realism, which is perhaps best summed up by the quote from Patchen's Memoirs of a Shy Pornogrpaher: "Everything which man can imagine, dream, or conceivably want to exist... does exist."

This view first occurred to me one day last year during a week of spiritual-existential difficulty. I had gone to a local bar and ran into an acquaintance, who said, having not seen me in ages due to my focus on school and writing, "welcome back to the real world," to which I could only reply, but isn't everywhere also just as real? and then wandered down the street struck by the total implications of everything around me being that real. There is some sense in which we tend to believe that only those habits and experiences that we usually have are really real, or at least of the most real importance to us, forgetting that other experiences we don't have are just as real. And beyond existing situations, every content of our imaginations and the stories we tell is real, in that these have real effects in the real world. And ultimately, any perspective that will allow us to articulate our lives in the whole of such a multifaceted reality, and perhaps allow us to formulate a perspective of global significance and understanding, will have to put us in relation to that whole, not just as it is scientifically and historically understood, but in relation to all that humans have said, imagined, believed, and dreamed.

This view has come out of years of questioning spiritual beliefs and the nature of the stories we tell. How do we, as human beings in a world with other human beings, deal with the fact that people have divergent and often contradictory views on what the world is and our place in it? Historically, belief systems have clashed, and continue to clash because each side takes their perspective as most true and right, whereas if one view was somehow objectively true and right there should be no cause for conflict; and yet there is. In my own life I have struggled with such limited perspectives, not knowing in what to believe, as the beliefs always seemed too small, and yet needing to believe in something, to tell some kind of story, and finally recognizing that any belief I would want to hold would have to be large enough to contain all possibilities of believing.

Similarly I fear global destruction due to the clash of these limited perspectives, and that we as a species do not have the stories to set us in relation to where we are now that might allow us to continue into the future in a meaningful, healthy, and positive way. The stories we are prone to tell today are often too small, quotidian, dealing with failure, comeuppance, and the meaningless joy ride of post-modernity, whereas we need a perspective that can address the Universe as a whole, for future generations of humanity in this Universe. These stories must be ultimate in order to place us and our actions in the widest set of meaning or significance necessary for survival.

My old professor, Dr. Fred Clothey (a student of famed mythographer Mircea Eliade), suggested that the stories we tell can tell us about ourselves, in effect modeling our understanding of reality in order to authenticate current actions and allow future actions. Our stories/ myths/ beliefs/ perspectives, etc. can do this precisely when they are cast in an "aura of ultimate significance," that is, by referring us to the widest possible scope of experience and understanding, to our cosmic and social beginnings, to our longed for and feared endings, to our ideals taking on human form. We find our place and being in between the limits of the real as we know it.

One such ultimate signifier, that has had a direct effect on real occurrences, is the concept of God(s). While belief in supernatural beings has allowed articulation of our relation to society and mortality, is has, perhaps most clearly and distressingly, served as a justification for centuries worth of horror and cruelty: crusades, inquisitions, terrorism, or just plain ignorance. But we are prone to forget in our polarized times that this personification of ultimate ideals was also a necessary and integral perspective for the development of scientific reasoning, framing an objective and total perspective that we humans could then hope to achieve ourselves, a belief that has existed coterminous to science up through the 20th century. Contemporary atheists might be glad that God is no longer a reference for rational understanding, but "His" death has negative impacts as well: God has traditionally not only been a signifier for ultimate perspective and knowing, but also for perfection and goodness, in short, ethical understanding of behavior, without which we do things like build the atomic bomb. Technology runs rampant when not placed in the widest relation to how it might rightly be used, or the lack of an ethical signifier allows the cultural insecurities that haunt us to become manifest, and such horrors not only be imagined but made real. One imagines a similar lack of ultimate significance in the perspectives that have allowed western culture's unparalleled material consumption, environmental destruction, and continued ideological warfare on the rest of humanity.

I am not arguing here for a return to a belief in the traditional monotheistic God or earlier gods. These stories, as we have seen, are just too small and conflict-provoking compared to those perspectives that now need to be adopted. I am arguing though for a greater belief in the reality and efficacy of the contents of our stories and imaginations, and an awareness of how these otherwise subconscious narratives influence the real world.

One of the problems to this approach is the primacy we give to literal truth, vs. the obvious falsity of our "true" representations of reality. I am a huge fan of stories of the fantastic, of the magical, supernatural, weird, heroic, or sci-fi, which, looking at the predominance of these themes in the current cultural media and imagination, I believe I am not alone in. But why do we love supermen, zombies, and the end of the world? There has been a trend in storytelling, dating from the late 18th century, of attempting to represent reality as it "really is," social or quotidian realism, and not as an allegorical reference for otherwise real things. Fiction, when it first was read as not literally true, was cast as "petite histories," in order to accept stories they had to mimic reality while being divorced from talking about reality. My immediate response to all this is, there's already too much of the world we experience on a daily basis, why create more of it, when stories beyond the everyday may raise possibilities of experience and understanding more than that which we are already familiar with. That familiarity constrains us, by being real, to the obviously inadequate belief systems we now live under. We hold up what we believe is a mirror and say, this is real, and because we say it, that marks the bounds up what we will allow to be really real.

My second issue with realism is that it is not reality despite how it primps and masquerades itself as such. It may represent aspects of reality, but does so by relying on and reaffirming our assumptions about how the world is and should be, which constrains us to accepting those views and realities as more true or valid, to the exclusion of wider views. And today it seems our view of the real is that it frankly sucks and nothing matters anymore. And any attempt to actually discuss real human issues in an emotionally valid way is negated by the irony and scorn with which we articulate the real world. The fantastic however, by being non-real and symbolic of the real (mythopoetic in Tolkien's terms), precisely allows us to highlight those human themes and conditions we want to examine in truthful ways. But in order to even accept the contents of fantastic stories we must (as Coleridge first suggested) suspend our disbelief of those things that couldn't be literally true in our everyday experience. We no longer have a problem leaping into wizard fights or across star systems, we can suspend disbelief but we are never asked to truly believe, and thus are not as prone to take such fantasies as being symbolic or ultimately significant for how we really are or could be in the world. We are content to let them be mere entertainments and diversions rather than suggestions of possibility.

Yet, are ghosts and gods really real, or is this even the right way of framing the question? There is a sense that certain things are existentially real, they commit us to accepting their physical reality, being right in front of us. The invisible and imaginative do not so commit us; one can not empirically and scientifically prove a god's actual existence. To argue one way or the other for this is to miss the entire point about gods. But one can clearly see the effects that belief in such unprovables has on our world, both on our perspectives and psychologies and in actual historical occurrences. Ignoring and belittling the immaterial causes of such beliefs and effects does little to add to our understanding of ourselves in the world, allows the results of inappropriate or too-small beliefs to continue unchecked, and limits the human imagination to articulate new possibilities of being and understanding being, which are necessary for our current and continued survival, let alone enjoyment and well being. On the other hand, if we do not remember that the stories we tell are only stories, that have been made up despite their real effects, we run the risk of mistaking the stories as literally true, thus causing us to act in dangerous and inappropriate ways, when imagining better stories to live by and through is always an option (and it is this lack of awareness of the power of our symbols that I mean by the absent narrative).

I do not know where we will go from here, but I am wary and sick of the post-modern skepticism that rejects any ultimate significance in favor of what we can directly lay our hands on (and in so doing, strangle it to death). I would prefer to see interconnections of the layers of reality rather than the whole's deconstruction and rebuttal. Acting as if we know everything and nothing really matters is perhaps the smallest and most dangerous perspective one could hold. Ultimately, we exist in a Universe which we barely understand, and in which we are a bare speck, and perhaps in that widest view humanity is indeed meaningless and fated to extinction for lack of any better options. And yet it is also possible to believe, and live by the belief, that life and our consciousness of life may be more than a random fluke or evolutionary mistake; not that we serve some clear teleological purpose or extant will of God, but that for all these unknowns we are still real, and still here, and confronted with the implications of that for all reality.

Though reality may be inherently meaningless we have the choice to take on meanings and act on those meanings, to continue to be and gather greater understanding and significance, both on this planet and in the Universe as a whole, should we choose to accept this mission. Anything less than such an Ultimately Realist perspective sells ourselves short, and will only propel us down the road of meaninglessness and destruction. But if we can perhaps articulate a perspective wide enough, not just for all humans, but all life in general and beyond life, then perhaps we can continue on until that perspective, and all else we can imagine, becomes real.

Heavens and Alchemy (fiction)

It was Love at first light, the interconnection of subatomics leaping across the solar winds and the vast gulfs between star systems, our photons rejoicing in that immediate recognition. It was always this way, since the People first flew the Cradle of Worlds into these wider Heavens, replacing the primitive Einsteinian relativities with bonds that knew no bounds or bodies in too small space-time. Strife was vanquished with the false god Physics, and Love reigned supreme.

Or it had, while the People sailed out on Love’s fast fields, connecting the Cosmos as She saw fit. And wherever they alit, greeting the beings they found there as they would greet themselves: in joyous recognition. For they too were One and All, as we, my Beloved, should have been One and All, when the waves we reflected first lit each other’s senses. We sailed across the ecliptic and the trajectory of meteor showers, in search of that Dark Flow, the path that still leads to other Verses, which each god-to-be must traverse in our youth, in order to shower all the Verses with Love’s light, or so our stories go. We were still mortals then, little sparks, foolish as we raced across the terminator, your wings shimmering in Orion’s rays, each of us trying to sail ahead, to stay abreast the revolving darkness, but knowing that no matter how far apart we spanned the aether, our subtle bodies would always be in communication.

Oh Heavens and alchemy, I would have caught the stars for you that rained like angels on our orbits, I would have voiced whole new worlds, with their strange uncertain histories, I would say yes, as you reached the Event Horizon first, and leapt into the dark heart of the Cosmos, all giddy and aglow. As the People have done since we left that cradle Gaia, our split across the interstellar divide should have set a new Verse spinning, should have began the Creation anew. And yet, as I traversed, only moments after your wings brushed the Eternal, I felt you slip away. I know not where or to what Verse you fell, for as I alit in this one I felt all the celestial orbits tremble, and the suns race away as if they were afraid. For the connection to your presence, my Beloved, was nowhere to be found. No, not any beings here to recognize as ourselves in the joyous bonds of Love, no, not any One and All, only myself, particled in the scattering dark. And the stars fly apart, faster and faster than you could have imagined, than any of the stories say. Perhaps Love has been vanquished too in this here-now, for without your connection there is no force powerful enough to hold the worlds together, nothing to reflect and no light left to leap between us.

Yet perhaps this too is story, our secret untold chapter, that in each new Verse, Love must begin anew, alone, in search of its Beloved. That somewhere in these vasts and gulfs you still await, or not yet popped back into existence, specks of stardust accumulating in the warps, gathering into stars and planets that some day may birth beings to reflect Love’s light. And so I must wait, and search, and connect the One and All in the rays beyond space-time, until space and time are born anew, and so are you, and Strife is vanquished, and we fly the worlds and finally meet, in joyous recognition, beyond the edges of everything we are yet to imagine.

Space is the Place

Astronomical discoveries are all the rage right now, what with scientists finding a mysterious ribbon of atoms bounding the solar system's edge, along with a bounty of 32 new extrasolar planets.

What a shame that for the most part we are just stuck here looking up in marvel and wonder instead of out there exploring.

On Retrograde Motions

I discovered yesterday that Mercury's been in retrograde since the 7th until the 29th, which can help explain some of my current frustrations with not being able to write or otherwise express myself clearly. Riding my bike around after finding this out, I was somewhat relieved to know it was "only the planets" moving backwards again, but considered that actually, retrograde motion isn't real, it is only a centuries old misperception that we still express because of how it looks to us, which was itself a kind of crisis to the scientific methods, in that in our anthropocentric cosmologies the planets had to be moving backwards, and no simple and elegant system could fully articulate that, when really it was only a disparity of orbits and velocity, where the planets on wider orbits would get behind our perception of where they should be in the sky, thus appearing to move backwards.

On the other hand, I believe that as big gravitationally active objects, the planets must have some physical effect on us, the way the moon influences tides and periods. At the beginning of the war on Iraq, Mars was the closest its been to Earth in thousands of years, and I don't think that's a coincidence, so that even though the planets don't move backwards they do seem to fall behind, thus causing a seeming opposition in our actual lives, particularly Mercury, which is fairly close to us, going retrograde three times a year, often with disastrous effects to communication and travel, those fields the Egyptians relegated to Hermes' influence.

Of course it seems it would be impossible to scientifically prove if the effects of retrograde motion are real or imagined (not that that might make much difference to those who claim to feel the effects), as any experiment would require a control solar system similar enough to ours but without retrograde motion, which clearly we don't just have a spare solar system lying around, or otherwise for a survey historical records of all communication happening during periods of Mercury retrograde, which data computers might be able to crunch one day, except that "not working" or "going wrong" seem to be more in our perceptions of the intended effects of our communications then int the communications themselves, once again a matter of misperception. And so like God, retrograde motion may currently have to be relegated to the realm of the unprovable, and thus a matter of individual taste and faith to believe in. If anything though, real or not, knowing Mercury's in retrograde right now at least took some of the burden off of blaming myself solely for things not working right, which makes it possible to frame the attitudes necessary to do them different, because retrogrades reminds me to remember that we often, like Earth, get ahead of the reality of our perceptions.

Interim Novae

Yes I still exist, but have been too focused most of this summer so far working on my novel to post much here, though I still have been paying attention to all sorts of interesting news items that would make for great science flash fictions, some of which can be found in the massive dump of links below:

Culture:
*As a male with a unique name, I find it fascinating that the more uncommon or feminine a boy's first name is, the greater the likelihood that he will end up in prison.
*An interesting article from Adbusters about realizing that mystery is still an integral part of human existence, despite 21st century rational empiricism.
*In celebration of the 40th anniversary of the moon landing, the original landing tapes have finally been found.
*While Americans have been torn up about the death of Michael Jackson, Japan may decide to abolish money.

Religion:
*Ireland has just passed a blasphemy law, which besides seeming several centuries out of date has pissed off all the atheists who don't believe in blasphemy anyway.
*Meahwhile, The Pope's encyclical, Caritas in Veritate calls for a new global economic system based off of love.
*A Saudi genie is being sued for harassment after it stole one family's mobile phones (perhaps jealous of the telecommunications genie?).
*An interesting chart detailing the views of the dominant religions on sex.

Literature:
*In London, this coming weekend is World Literature Weekend.
*Ernest Hemingway may have actually been a failed KGB spy.
*From an article on porn and literature a list of 18 challenges in contemorary literature.
*An interesting look at Lithuanian Book Smugglers, like the outlaws in Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451.
*How does language shape or thinking?
*William Gibson on how culture shapes our language.
*The importance of the ineffable in literature, as opposed to the enormous novel of technical, scientific, or historical knowledge that has become the highest credential for contemporary male writers (though I don't see why mystery and fact have to be opposed...)
*And speaking of enormous novels of that type, I've been reading David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest for Infinite Summer, which is really a long winded, uneventful yet gripping read. More on this soon.
*Whereas I am much more intrigued by the idea of writing down our dreams as a form of literary self-criticism.

Science:
*Speaking of dreams, here's an article on the evolutionary enigma of dream contents.
*Both bird's eyes and the photosynthesis of plants may work by quantum entanglement.
*Light that has either attractive or repulsive forces of "push" has been discovered.
*Frogs and toads around the world synchronise their mating behaviour to the full moon.
*Scientists are still searching for a three foot long spitting earthworm in Idaho.
*As if she was the fountain of youth, an infant-sized teenager may provide clues to reversing the aging process.
*A synthetic tree has been built able to capture carbon from the air 1,000 times faster than real trees.
*Scientists have also created artificial sperm from stem cells, making men progressively more obsolete.
*The new interplanatery internet just got its first node on the ISS.
*Stephen Hawkings in the meantime has decided that humans have entered a new stage of evolution, one based off our ability to exchange information.
*But only if NASA doesn't build self-replicating robots on Mars first.
*Whereas planets themselves might be living super-organisms.
*Perhaps we really do have twenty-one senses, which humanity is still learning to develop.
*Ants however have suddenly become a global super-colony.
*And lastly, a new theorem shows that if humans have free will, then so must elementary particles.

That seems about it for now. Hopefully now that my writing process is stabalized I will have more time to post here. Enjoy the summer!

Water Bears in Space

While I don't usually post stuff like this here, I've been somewhat fascinated by tardigrades, more commonly known as water bears, for years now. What's not to love about a cute little microscopic critter that can repair its DNA and survive radiation and exposure to extreme elements by essentially dehydrating itself? In fact, water bears are so hardy that they can survive direct exposure to outer space.

asterism

Blinking balefully between the barlights and billboards. “that one’s Deneb,” he said, “and that’s Vega, and the third making the long point in the Summer Triangle is Altair.” It wasn’t a constellation, but it’s shape, drawn out of our peculiar penchant for pattern recognition, was one of the only asterisms visible in the city sky. “though i might be wrong which are Deneb and Vega, but it doesn’t really matter.” it’s not like we were trying to go sailing. He pulled out a piece of paper and began drawing clusters of dots, “let me show you something. you know where the big dipper is, right? well trace up from the lower side and you’ll find the Pole Star in the little dipper. Up from there, Cassiopeia, which looks like a crooked M. continue that arch and you’ll hit Andromeda and from there trace the longer arm down to Perseus. I’m not sure if that’s clear, oh wait, i’ve got a book of star charts in my bag.”

I flipped through it, mesmerized by the map of spectral points lines, like some secret forgotten tome of connect the dots, while he turned back and continued the winding conversation about comic books, snakes on a plane, the current debacle in Israel. Around the tables others stood in the summer sweat, drinking and talking and looking for some meaning in each other’s faces but none of them looking up. I wanted to take the book and use it for what it’s for, to find a way out of here. I wanted an antique telescope (even if the magnification wasn’t enough), a tall hill, a rock to bust the streetlamps, and all the heavens spread wide before my gaze. I sighed and lit another cigarette.

For the past several years I had made it a habit to go out at night and look up, try and familiarize myself with the few constellations i could find and name and watch their course as the earth spun through the year. as if being able to orient myself to the universe i could know where i was, or what i was supposed to do with my life. for centuries man has thus looked up and seen the vast oceans of light in which we are only the barest speck of dust. we have based whole societies off these configurations, determined harvest times, sailed around the world, created mythologies in the movement of figures in which we could understand the process of life, even if the constellations only appear as congruent, due to our perspective looking out into space, one could be spread out across billions of light years distance. but i suppose it was reassuring, and still is, to imagine the sky as a large dome of night on which the stars are drawn. a sense of center, of importance. but now we have forgotten even that, and walk around as if there was nothing outside ourselves, no greater reality on which to plot our lives, like we could no longer find a place or meaning beyond that small internal starlight that pushes us through the days.

the next night, another bar, another restless longing. “i want to go on an adventure, but where? how far is there to go?” eventually remember the Perseid meteor shower and we head off to the cemetery, which though still in the city is the closest darkest place, and even if we don’t see anything it’s still a nice walk. down the path between tombstones, like the black road of the Milky Way mapped on earth. i look up, try and orient myself, excited to use this new knowledge so soon. my companions are talking, adjusting to the dark. “ok, there’s the big dipper, there’s the pole star, Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Perseus, we should be looking there… oh, fuck yeah! there’s one now!” a streak of light falling through the clouds, caught between a tree branch and an obelisk. i start jumping up and down, running backwards. “there’s another!” no one else has seen them yet and i take off running, zig-zagging through the graves to the tallest hill where i plop down on a headstone and stare up rapt. an hour passes in the drift of clouds and the overfull moon. i keep on reorienting myself but there are no meteors. eventually we head out, and on the way see a couple more, but that’s it, as if they only fell when we weren’t actually looking for them. i feel ecstatic, radiant like a star myself, but saddened that that’s the best it would get this night, this century. back on the streets it’s impossible to see anything up there and someone says, “well, now what?” Perseus may have slain the gorgon and turned Cassiopeia to stone to wed her daughter Andromeda, freed from the rocks, but now he is fading, forgotten, dying out as his story turns to dust and his stars fall, dead long before he was imagined. i wonder how long might we last, who aren’t already emblazoned in the heavens?


this following little ditty was based off key lines in the above piece, much like the deconstruction exercise...

a star fell off the map
and got tangled in the treetops
i wondered what myth had crumbled
while we kicked among the tombstones,
some warrior-god forgotten
between barlights and billboards
and finding fate in faces
and not one looking upwards.
if i had a telescope
and a rock to break the streetlamps
i'd sail the constellations
to see if it was my own

for a little shining

The sky is filled with light and noise, a barrage of fireworks and rescue helicopters and the nonstop glow of the city. It's hard to imagine that once upon a time you could look up and see the full glory of the heavens spinning off into infinity. Now, a few stars twinkle resolutely, as if to remind us that there are still some mysteries that haven't been solved, some dark corners left in the universe where we haven't yet explored and left dirty footprints and candy bar wrappers and brochures reading manifest destiny. Why do humans have this insatiable need to shed light on everything, to turn over every stone, as if it was really possible to gain some solid understanding of our lives and the world we live them in. Tomorrow they're crashing a large hunk of metal into the comet Tempel in order to see if the material in its core really is the stuff from which the whole Universe arose. So even the stars aren't that sacred anymore. These days not much is. It's all about control and concrete facts. Will we really be any closer to enjoying life if we wake up tomorrow and they say they've found the answers to everything?

Swinging in the hammock in our dark yard, feeling the cool summer wind stir the trees and watching a few lightning bugs pretend to be shooting stars. They haven't forgotten what the sky once looked like. Somewhere bats and trains call out to each other and in my head 1905 sings "I don't want to look at the stars with you until you can look at strangers with me." Let's look up anyway, even if we can't always bear to look at each other. Perhaps the stars can reflect just a bit of the light that we hide from each other. I am enamored by the stars, and their fading, and beautiful phrases that express that things can actually change. "Everyone is a star, and every star wants to shine." Even if sometimes we get dirty and lost and want to hide a little. It's funny, trying to figure out who the fuck we are and what we want and how to deal with being our selves in this weird and often times hositle world, this too is trying to shed light on the dark corners of our hearts, trying to turn ourselves inside out and see what we are made of. Patterns of behaviour, little fears and insecurities and annoyances. Needs to control and let go. And desires, unqunechable desires. There was a stamp Selena made for her art show yesterday which read "without desire I cease to exist." Desidero ergo sum. Is that really all that sets us apart from each other, those specific wants and needs, individual hopes and dreams that pinpoint us in the constellations of our social lives? Or is this too a myth, and do we each shine with some common light that happens to be displaced just a little in space and time so that we each appear to desire different things when really we all just want to be happy and free then die knowing that we lived our lives satisfactorally?

Or does it even matter? We are here, the night is young, the stars are fading and I know you want to shine despite all the dirt history has shoveled in your path. I don't think there are any right answers, at least not any that we glorified lemurs could understand. And certainly no easy ones. So let's just rewrite all the rules for human interaction as we come to them, one trembling heartbeat and timid smile at a time. Maybe next time we look up together we'll see two new stars flickering small and bright above the city.

Black holes 'do not exist'

These mysterious objects are dark-energy stars, physicist claims.

"This strange behaviour, he says, is the signature of a 'quantum phase transition' of space-time. Chapline argues that a star doesn't simply collapse to form a black hole; instead, the space-time inside it becomes filled with dark energy and this has some intriguing gravitational effects.

Outside the 'surface' of a dark-energy star, it behaves much like a black hole, producing a strong gravitational tug. But inside, the 'negative' gravity of dark energy may cause matter to bounce back out again.

If the dark-energy star is big enough, Chapline predicts, any electrons bounced out will have been converted to positrons, which then annihilate other electrons in a burst of high-energy radiation. Chapline says that this could explain the radiation observed from the centre of our galaxy, previously interpreted as the signature of a huge black hole."

You know, I always sort of suspected that something like this would end up being the case. It just makes so much more sense that such strong gravity around a negative core would create enough kinetic force to keep the galaxies spinning. Like the void between electrons from which the virtual photon is formed that propels them apart. I imagine there's a little spot of nothing in the middle of most things, even in our own subtle energy centers, a microscopic void taking in the flux of particles and spitting it back out in some altered form, and binding the whole system together. Sartre might not have been quite wrong when he said consciousness was actually nothing.

[via posthuman blues]

poetic prelude...

Every being is a star, the center
of their own spinning
spheres of existence;
falling through space
with the rest of the cosmos.
If one were to fall
in the ocean
the waves would not be
so big as a single smile
intended as if
everything else will smile
in return. A star's light
caresses many worlds,
but is only the sun
of its own system.
From here they are just stars,
light reflectes on the water.
Yet their spinning keeps us turning
and we are waves
to each other's gravity,
interlapping influence
as far as we can reach
until its impossible to tell
from which source
each ripple came;
and it all shimmers
together.