Showing posts with label 11 Aug 21. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 11 Aug 21. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 11, 2021

The Natural Language of the Cosmos

Some scientists think this is cool,
Very cool, that multiple species
Across widely divergent lineages

Have separately evolved numerosity,
In some cases even showing signs
Of a rudimentary grasp of emptiness,

Zero, arithmetic, and the number line.
How wonderful to know others
Speak the language of nature!

Why would a tendency to organize
Magnitude from left to right, found
In birds as well as humans, just as

On the number line, be a part
Of nature’s own language? No one
Seems to go that far. Ascending

Numerosity from left to right may just
Be something within some brains.
Would the null set, then, be nature’s?

What of numbers themselves?
What makes math the language
Of the cosmos, other than languages

That say so? It fits. It works.
And what are fit and work? Prediction
And a bit of control thanks to same.

Alright, it is cool, very cool, that
Multiple taxa long separated
Use some of the same tricks to count,

And coolest is the core trick of likeness,
Of interpreting different but similar items
As quantifiable repetitions of the same.

If that abstraction of likeness is a trick
Common to many forms of life,
It’s a good one. Whether or not

It tells life something intrinsic about
Cosmic conversation, that’s different.
Math predicts better than any other

Way yet known of parsing memories,
Organic or prosthetic, of the past.
But the past may have more tricks

Than that, more than even math has
Dreamt of—and as for numbers, lines,
And nulls, do they converse or parrot?

Genius Only Passes Through

The spirit shoved over the face
Of the deep thinker thinking, like
Un chat passant parmi les livres,

Like a jet plane flying over
Flyover-country villages,
Like a cow crossing the meadow.

You can’t think your way to spirit
Anymore than you think your way
To worms or microbiota.

Spirit floats in from others’ mouths,
Mother’s skin, winds’ airborne pollens.
Yes, you think with it, but spirit

Is possessed by getting through you
To wherever is its next place
To loll in sun or shade, refuel.