[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_wFEB4Oxlo[/youtube]
Come…join me on the Love Boat, on a voyage across the desert seas to nowhere, with nobody…
Dream those romantic dreams and be swept away by the sand storm breezes…
Next stop…
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_agGCODq-U[/youtube]
I’m the mental midget…your host.
Nothing happens by chance.
Each event is a coalescence of causality.
You meet a person whom you like, who likes you. You are at the right moment in your life, so are they. Hormones flush the system, pheromones connect you, body language says the right thing at the right time.
You get to know each other because of the attaction and as long as there is nothing to put you off, as there is so many times- things not always being perfectly right, then you declare you love.
Often love is one sided, half cooked, or absent. Sometimes its just physical others it can be mental but not physical.
I met Alison. She was trying out clay portraiture for the first time. Her effort was not bad for a beginner, but I don’t think she would make a great sculptor.
I found her personable and friendly. I was only the only one in the groups of that age to remember her fame.
“coalescence of causality”…I like it.
Causality is consequence - product of order and chaos.
Therefore the coalescence of patterned and non-patterned energies.
The end product…the effect can only be experienced as pattern since organisms are unities of patterned energies, feeding no patterns, perceiving only patterns…only order.
What precedes the effect - causality - is unpredictable…a product of willful choices - intentions - in a will-less environment - unintentional - affected by chaotic factors - unpredictable.
When it manifests it is, as if, it were meant to be.
If it doesn’t, then you can never know.
After-the-fact it all seems inevitable, as if it were part of some divine plan.
Individuals consciously and mostly unconsciously adjust the odds - probabilities - of the desired happening.
Sometimes the desired is not conscious - it may even be denied…but subconsciously it is at work.
Imagine all the data you subconsciously perceive but do not process consciously - infinitesimal information the brain still processes.
Imagine, now, the small little choices you make daily…insignificant stuff, details…unnoticed…yet each directing you, guiding, willing…towards an objective it may not even approved of.
Each adding to the probability.
The factor of mind/body dissonance has to be explored. Body behaving, evaluating, choosing in ways the mind - infected by an ideology - may disapprove of, may deny.
Ah, a nihilist, believing that “nothing”, which is death, could be something. There is no hole in consciousness, as there is no hole in your visual field to mark the limit of how far you can see. Death simply does not exist. Not as anything more than a noise you make with your face-hole, anyway. It is not just love that lasts beyond death,- but everything, though love is special in marking the shape of our lives. You quantum tunnel back to the moment of your birth when you die, gradually tracing a path through the possibility-tree constructed from the level of binary-urs until the original, stochastic-seed at the root has been totally exhausted: quantum immortality, I wrote posts about it here in the past. Recurrence, and not the Nietzschean kind- not a mere moral test, I mean actual recurrence. Hell, you don’t even need to jump into tensor math and ur-alternatives and information-theoretic physics,-- just the mere fact that the “real”, ontologically primary reality is not confined to our 4-dimensional spacetime manifold and the 3-dimensional, low-fidelity Platonic cave, the world of shadows where we live and die and Time moves in a straight line toward entropic maxima, is enough to rebuke your little diatribe against the immortality of the soul. Learn to think at the height of a 10-dimensional hyperspace! How sad is it to live in a world of 3-dimensions, a mortal world, a world of empty shadows, such a fallen state in comparison to, well, this world accessible to the Philosopher, the world of the Forms, the Platonic heaven, the eroto-cosmic anabasis, the rapture of the Klagean Images! A world of music; eternal music; the music of the spheres, as the ancients preferred to name it. No philosopher treats death as anything more than a failure of genius, a misstep of reason; the sign of the uninitiated, of those not yet borne up in the mysteries of Eleusis. It’s a noise made by a monkey and you think it powerful enough to destroy the universe? That, my friend, is, I have found, one of the funniest ideas commonly accepted by people. But to the thread’s subject:
Love marks the life you refused or were unable to live,- (and thus, the life that you were able to, strong enough for, and did live, as well) the life that, in a word, gathers inside you, inside that closed circle of time- a weight you bring back with you to the beginning, and carry, forever, as your soul’s debt, the thing that imprisons you on the Tantalus breaking-wheel of Samsara.
I invite you to think beyond your nihilistic abnegation. From one of my books: (This particular essay, cursorily, having originated from a sequence of letters between me and the one woman I loved, and will ever love. My great philosopher-sister, the only star that redoubled my own’s light; my only echo in the firmament, if one believes, with Plato, that each living soul was descended from its own star’s radiance.)
Lorikeet(bird brain) wrote:
Your grandiose sense of self-worth has conveniently forgotten you and Lyssa’s (the woman who can morph into a man) shameful and manipulative games with Eric.
It became so dangerous and destructive for Eric, solely because you both wanted some “entertainment”. It was amusing to read Lyssa’s pleadings, when both of you realised that it had gone too far.
“Please believe me Eric, I am not who I said I was”.
Pathological liars the pair of you.
I am given to understand that the “soul” is immutable and therefore does not submit to harm.
But then when you invent nonsense you can say what you like about it.
Sculptor
I know your voice, but by a different name. 
If defined properly soul is but a reference to mind/body synthesis.
There is no soul that survives death…sorry.
Bad news, I know. Unless you want to prove it.
Show us this soul…or do you simply feel it to be so?
Soul = memories.
Mind = experientially based memories
Body - genetic based, inherited memories.
How can these memories survive death…when they are written down…when they are passed on.
As memes.
No god necessary.
But you also offer another service with your idiocy.
you prove what I have been saying. I am banned when imbeciles attack me, insult me, and then when I reciprocate they go running for help to the admin.
Now, if I start tearing you a new-one…who will be the “bully”…you may even claim that I instigated it.
But, moron…I don’t care.
The Love boat and Fantasy Island… two great 70s classics =D>
…love and death, always being both inextricably linked in the storyline.
I would say that Our energy is the soul…
that cannot be destroyed, but can be reused.
All is energy.
Energy is all.
So mind/body is matter (brain) and neural pulses (energy) - Synthesis.
Synthesis of two pools of memories.
DNA = genetic
Experiential/Learned = memetic
Nihilists prefer the meme, and want to negate the gene, the physical, the body, because it limits the mind.
So they imagine minds without bodies, disembodiment - spirit - or minds with interchangeable bodies , cyborg, AI, mind converted to code - binary.
A reduction…body is based on 4-code system…brain uses binary code - 1/0.
Soul is not physical. 
I get that my posts might fly a bit beyond your head, but I did pretty simply indicate in the post I made a few hours ago here, in its first paragraph, that energy, in fact, is not all. Well, it is here in our 3-dimensional world of shadows, where time moves in a straight line toward entropic maxima. But then our 3-dimensional world is a pale approximation of a 4-dimensional superposition of matter across all time, which is itself a pale approximation of an 11-dimensional hyperspace beyond time entirely, whose quantum description is a matter of information-theoretic physics, not simple Newtonian mechanics and relativity/ “energy” physics. I’m not negating the body to reach the hypostasis of Nous, I’m negating your limited conceptualization of what the body is. (And what the mind is.)
Whatever you declare…omnipotent one.
Eν, Εργο…You are omniscient, so you are fluent in Greek.,…only koine, no. So not so omniscient.
It will suffice.
At work…in the process of.
Agitation.
ΕΓΡΗΓΟΡΣΗ
Flux.
I prefer your machine.
Your weakness must patronise. Its how not omnipotent you truly are. Feeble, in fact…needy.
It’s interesting that your “omniscience” must be acknowledged, appreciated, for it to be useful.
No, not interesting…its predictable.
Now back to giving us word-walls full of references.
Do you not think that the released energy, upon death, contains a blueprint from our former self?
What is your take on what the soul is? I think it needs to be something tangible…
Same questions to Lorikeet?
Parodites… 11 dimensions? What would 11 dimensions look like, compared to our 3?
I explored this with Maia…
All is energy. Meaning all is interactive, dynamic, probability - conceptualized as vibrations in 4-diemsional space/time and oscillations in multi-dimesional space/time.
Order = repeating consistent, predictable pattern, sequence, rhythm.
Chaos = sequence lacking pattern.
Energy is not to be confused with the convectional type…since it can be both matter and energy. Mater is nothing more than a slower form of energy. Liquid a faster…and what we conventionally refer to as energy the fastest.
Order = probability of interaction across dimensions in a particular sequence. The sequence, and rhythms and speed, is what is interpreted by a conscious mind as a kind of mater.
Different sequences, different rhythms, different speeds, are interpreted as different kinds of matter.
Same goes for energy.
Matter - slow, relative to the metabolism and processing speeds of the observer.
Energy - fast, relative to the metabolism and processing speeds of the observer.
That aside…lets get into the stuff you will like
Life energy - aura - is an organisms aggregate energies oscillating/vibrating in unison producing a field of energy around the individual . this is aura.
We receive info from it subconsciously. Like a magnetic field.
Its size is determined by the organism’s vitality, and its constitution. It interact with what is within its proximity.
This is what women refer to as chemistry.
Magnetic fields in relative harmony. Love.
Harmony reduces repulsion - it is attraction. Hate.
Disharmony, dissonance, is repulsive.
Nothing is ever in complete harmony - no absolutes - so attraction is a matter of degree. Degree of attraction, relative to repulsion.
This is also based on my positions on how personality is produced.
Personae ([size=85]private, true face[/size]) = organ hierarchies. Genetic.
Character ([size=85]public face[/size]) - how personae adapts, adjusts to environment - in human contexts how it adapts, adjusts, to socioeconomic and moral circumstances, i.e., group dynamics.
Character is a performance.
You ignored what I said. All isn’t energy. I explained why: higher dimensional physics. Is this simple enough for you? Exactly how retarded do you want me to make myself sound before you’re able to understand what I said? But about the word walls of references:
Gentle reader, I presume thou wilt be very inquisitive to know what antic or personate actor this is, that so insolently intrudes upon this common theatre, to the world’s view, arrogating another man’s name; whence he is, why he doth it, and what he hath to say; although, as [7]he said, Primum si noluero, non respondebo, quis coacturus est? I am a free man born, and may choose whether I will tell; who can compel me? If I be urged, I will as readily reply as that Egyptian in [8]Plutarch, when a curious fellow would needs know what he had in his basket, Quum vides velatam, quid inquiris in rem absconditam? It was therefore covered, because he should not know what was in it. Seek not after that which is hid; if the contents please thee, [9]“and be for thy use, suppose the Man in the Moon, or whom thou wilt to be the author;” I would not willingly be known. Yet in some sort to give thee satisfaction, which is more than I need, I will show a reason, both of this usurped name, title, and subject. And first of the name of Democritus; lest any man, by reason of it, should be deceived, expecting a pasquil, a satire, some ridiculous treatise (as I myself should have done), some prodigious tenet, or paradox of the earth’s motion, of infinite worlds, in infinito vacuo, ex fortuita atomorum collisione, in an infinite waste, so caused by an accidental collision of motes in the sun, all which Democritus held, Epicurus and their master Lucippus of old maintained, and are lately revived by Copernicus, Brunus, and some others. Besides, it hath been always an ordinary custom, as [10]Gellius observes, “for later writers and impostors, to broach many absurd and insolent fictions, under the name of so noble a philosopher as Democritus, to get themselves credit, and by that means the more to be respected,” as artificers usually do, Novo qui marmori ascribunt Praxatilem suo. 'Tis not so with me.
[11]Non hic Centaurus, non Gorgonas, Harpyasque
Invenies, hominem pagina nostra sapit.
No Centaurs here, or Gorgons look to find,
My subject is of man and human kind.
Thou thyself art the subject of my discourse.
[12]Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus, nostri farrago libelli.
Whate’er men do, vows, fears, in ire, in sport,
Joys, wand’rings, are the sum of my report.
My intent is no otherwise to use his name, than Mercurius Gallobelgicus, Mercurius Britannicus, use the name of Mercury, [13]Democritus Christianus, &c.; although there be some other circumstances for which I have masked myself under this vizard, and some peculiar respect which I cannot so well express, until I have set down a brief character of this our Democritus, what he was, with an epitome of his life.
Democritus, as he is described by [14]Hippocrates and [15]Laertius, was a little wearish old man, very melancholy by nature, averse from company in his latter days, [16]and much given to solitariness, a famous philosopher in his age, [17]coaevus with Socrates, wholly addicted to his studies at the last, and to a private life: wrote many excellent works, a great divine, according to the divinity of those times, an expert physician, a politician, an excellent mathematician, as [18]Diacosmus and the rest of his works do witness. He was much delighted with the studies of husbandry, saith [19]Columella, and often I find him cited by [20]Constantinus and others treating of that subject. He knew the natures, differences of all beasts, plants, fishes, birds; and, as some say, could [21]understand the tunes and voices of them. In a word, he was omnifariam doctus, a general scholar, a great student; and to the intent he might better contemplate, [22]I find it related by some, that he put out his eyes, and was in his old age voluntarily blind, yet saw more than all Greece besides, and [23] writ of every subject, Nihil in toto opificio naturae, de quo non scripsit. [24]A man of an excellent wit, profound conceit; and to attain knowledge the better in his younger years, he travelled to Egypt and [25] Athens, to confer with learned men, [26]“admired of some, despised of others.” After a wandering life, he settled at Abdera, a town in Thrace, and was sent for thither to be their lawmaker, recorder, or town-clerk, as some will; or as others, he was there bred and born. Howsoever it was, there he lived at last in a garden in the suburbs, wholly betaking himself to his studies and a private life, [27]“saving that sometimes he would walk down to the haven,” [28]“and laugh heartily at such variety of ridiculous objects, which there he saw.” Such a one was Democritus.
But in the mean time, how doth this concern me, or upon what reference do I usurp his habit? I confess, indeed, that to compare myself unto him for aught I have yet said, were both impudency and arrogancy. I do not presume to make any parallel, Antistat mihi millibus trecentis, [29]parvus sum, nullus sum, altum nec spiro, nec spero. Yet thus much I will say of myself, and that I hope without all suspicion of pride, or self-conceit, I have lived a silent, sedentary, solitary, private life, mihi et musis in the University, as long almost as Xenocrates in Athens, ad senectam fere to learn wisdom as he did, penned up most part in my study. For I have been brought up a student in the most flourishing college of Europe, [30] augustissimo collegio, and can brag with [31]Jovius, almost, in ea luce domicilii Vacicani, totius orbis celeberrimi, per 37 annos multa opportunaque didici; for thirty years I have continued (having the use of as good [32]libraries as ever he had) a scholar, and would be therefore loath, either by living as a drone, to be an unprofitable or unworthy member of so learned and noble a society, or to write that which should be any way dishonourable to such a royal and ample foundation. Something I have done, though by my profession a divine, yet turbine raptus ingenii, as [33]he said, out of a running wit, an unconstant, unsettled mind, I had a great desire (not able to attain to a superficial skill in any) to have some smattering in all, to be aliquis in omnibus, nullus in singulis, [34] which [35]Plato commends, out of him [36]Lipsius approves and furthers, “as fit to be imprinted in all curious wits, not to be a slave of one science, or dwell altogether in one subject, as most do, but to rove abroad, centum puer artium, to have an oar in every man’s boat, to [37] taste of every dish, and sip of every cup,” which, saith [38]Montaigne, was well performed by Aristotle, and his learned countryman Adrian Turnebus. This roving humour (though not with like success) I have ever had, and like a ranging spaniel, that barks at every bird he sees, leaving his game, I have followed all, saving that which I should, and may justly complain, and truly, qui ubique est, nusquam est, [39]which [40]Gesner did in modesty, that I have read many books, but to little purpose, for want of good method; I have confusedly tumbled over divers authors in our libraries, with small profit, for want of art, order, memory, judgment. I never travelled but in map or card, in which mine unconfined thoughts have freely expatiated, as having ever been especially delighted with the study of Cosmography. [41]Saturn was lord of my geniture, culminating, &c., and Mars principal significator of manners, in partile conjunction with my ascendant; both fortunate in their houses, &c. I am not poor, I am not rich; nihil est, nihil deest, I have little, I want nothing: all my treasure is in Minerva’s tower. Greater preferment as I could never get, so am I not in debt for it, I have a competence (laus Deo) from my noble and munificent patrons, though I live still a collegiate student, as Democritus in his garden, and lead a monastic life, ipse mihi theatrum, sequestered from those tumults and troubles of the world, Et tanquam in specula positus, ([42]as he said) in some high place above you all, like Stoicus Sapiens, omnia saecula, praeterita presentiaque videns, uno velut intuitu, I hear and see what is done abroad, how others [43]run, ride, turmoil, and macerate themselves in court and country, far from those wrangling lawsuits, aulia vanitatem, fori ambitionem, ridere mecum soleo: I laugh at all, [44]only secure, lest my suit go amiss, my ships perish, corn and cattle miscarry, trade decay, I have no wife nor children good or bad to provide for. A mere spectator of other men’s fortunes and adventures, and how they act their parts, which methinks are diversely presented unto me, as from a common theatre or scene. I hear new news every day, and those ordinary rumours of war, plagues, fires, inundations, thefts, murders, massacres, meteors, comets, spectrums, prodigies, apparitions, of towns taken, cities besieged in France, Germany, Turkey, Persia, Poland, &c., daily musters and preparations, and such like, which these tempestuous times afford, battles fought, so many men slain, monomachies, shipwrecks, piracies and sea-fights; peace, leagues, stratagems, and fresh alarms. A vast confusion of vows, wishes, actions, edicts, petitions, lawsuits, pleas, laws, proclamations, complaints, grievances are daily brought to our ears. New books every day, pamphlets, corantoes, stories, whole catalogues of volumes of all sorts, new paradoxes, opinions, schisms, heresies, controversies in philosophy, religion, &c. Now come tidings of weddings, maskings, mummeries, entertainments, jubilees, embassies, tilts and tournaments, trophies, triumphs, revels, sports, plays: then again, as in a new shifted scene, treasons, cheating tricks, robberies, enormous villainies in all kinds, funerals, burials, deaths of princes, new discoveries, expeditions, now comical, then tragical matters. Today we hear of new lords and officers created, tomorrow of some great men deposed, and then again of fresh honours conferred; one is let loose, another imprisoned; one purchaseth, another breaketh: he thrives, his neighbour turns bankrupt; now plenty, then again dearth and famine; one runs, another rides, wrangles, laughs, weeps, &c. This I daily hear, and such like, both private and public news, amidst the gallantry and misery of the world; jollity, pride, perplexities and cares, simplicity and villainy; subtlety, knavery, candour and integrity, mutually mixed and offering themselves; I rub on privus privatus; as I have still lived, so I now continue, statu quo prius, left to a solitary life, and mine own domestic discontents: saving that sometimes, ne quid mentiar, as Diogenes went into the city, and Democritus to the haven to see fashions, I did for my recreation now and then walk abroad, look into the world, and could not choose but make some little observation, non tam sagax observator ac simplex recitator, [45] not as they did, to scoff or laugh at all, but with a mixed passion.
[46]Bilem saepe, jocum vestri movere tumultus.
Ye wretched mimics, whose fond heats have been,
How oft! the objects of my mirth and spleen.
I did sometime laugh and scoff with Lucian, and satirically tax with Menippus, lament with Heraclitus, sometimes again I was [47]petulanti splene chachinno, and then again, [48]urere bilis jecur, I was much moved to see that abuse which I could not mend. In which passion howsoever I may sympathise with him or them, 'tis for no such respect I shroud myself under his name; but either in an unknown habit to assume a little more liberty and freedom of speech, or if you will needs know, for that reason and only respect which Hippocrates relates at large in his Epistle to Damegetus, wherein he doth express, how coming to visit him one day, he found Democritus in his garden at Abdera, in the suburbs, [49]under a shady bower, [50]with a book on his knees, busy at his study, sometimes writing, sometimes walking. The subject of his book was melancholy and madness; about him lay the carcases of many several beasts, newly by him cut up and anatomised; not that he did contemn God’s creatures, as he told Hippocrates, but to find out the seat of this atra bilis, or melancholy, whence it proceeds, and how it was engendered in men’s bodies, to the intent he might better cure it in himself, and by his writings and observation [51]teach others how to prevent and avoid it. Which good intent of his, Hippocrates highly commended: Democritus Junior is therefore bold to imitate, and because he left it imperfect, and it is now lost, quasi succenturiator Democriti, to revive again, prosecute, and finish in this treatise.
You have had a reason of the name. If the title and inscription offend your gravity, were it a sufficient justification to accuse others, I could produce many sober treatises, even sermons themselves, which in their fronts carry more fantastical names. Howsoever, it is a kind of policy in these days, to prefix a fantastical title to a book which is to be sold; for, as larks come down to a day-net, many vain readers will tarry and stand gazing like silly passengers at an antic picture in a painter’s shop, that will not look at a judicious piece. And, indeed, as [52]Scaliger observes, “nothing more invites a reader than an argument unlooked for, unthought of, and sells better than a scurrile pamphlet,” tum maxime cum novitas excitat [53]palatum. “Many men,” saith Gellius, “are very conceited in their inscriptions,” “and able” (as [54]Pliny quotes out of Seneca) “to make him loiter by the way that went in haste to fetch a midwife for his daughter, now ready to lie down.” For my part, I have honourable [55]precedents for this which I have done: I will cite one for all, Anthony Zara, Pap. Epis., his Anatomy of Wit, in four sections, members, subsections, &c., to be read in our libraries.
If any man except against the matter or manner of treating of this my subject, and will demand a reason of it, I can allege more than one; I write of melancholy, by being busy to avoid melancholy. There is no greater cause of melancholy than idleness, “no better cure than business,” as [56] Rhasis holds: and howbeit, stultus labor est ineptiarum, to be busy in toys is to small purpose, yet hear that divine Seneca, aliud agere quam nihil, better do to no end, than nothing. I wrote therefore, and busied myself in this playing labour, oliosaque diligentia ut vitarem torporum feriandi with Vectius in Macrobius, atque otium in utile verterem negatium.
[57]Simul et jucunda et idonea dicere vita,
Lectorem delectando simul atque monendo.
That wall of references wasn’t me though, that was Robert Burton.
In 4-dimensions, all of time is rolled up in a single superpositional state. (All of our timeline.) The entire time-continuum becomes a single point on the surface of the higher-dimensional manifold, the 4-d brane. But in the fifth dimension, all possible superpositional states are integrated as a single point- all possible timelines, all the parallel universes (the “multiverse”) compatible with our own universe’s physics. In six-dimensional space, universes with different constants, different particle physics, etc. are integrated- this is the level of binary ur-alternatives, a pure informational space. You can keep going up these levels of abstraction, but stopping at six is weird enough.