"You must have felt this, too," remarked the physicist Werner Heisenberg, in a conversation with Einstein: "the almost frightening simplicity and wholeness of the relationships which nature suddenly spreads out before us and for which none of us was in the least prepared." 

Newton, like Einstein, was also repeatedly astounded by the simple elegance of math's relationship with the universe. For Einstein and Newton, math was the language of god and nature and if the proof or equation was too complicated, they derived, then it could not be true because nature was always elegant and simple, breath-takingly so.

Another thing that Newton and Einstein seemed to share was that they thought in images. For example, they would both do these thought experiments in their heads, mini movies of how an experiment might go. If a human could run as fast as the speed of light what would they see, thought experiments like that, feats of imagination or magic that allowed for them to think really expansively. Einstein was known for asking simple questions. And as the mathematician Bronowski said, "and what his (Einstein's) life showed, and his work, is that when the answers are simple too, then you hear god thinking." Take Pythagorean's Theorem- a squared + b squared= c squared... every time. It's just how triangles work in this world. James Watson who discovered the double-helix of DNA described it as, "too pretty to be true." When these mental giants found themselves overthinking it, they would re-direct and often find that the answer was simple and beautiful and right there. 

I feel like that is a useful life lesson. Human relationships can be so complex. Children are much better at cutting through all of the crap and manipulation. Children don't speak that language, they just give and receive love freely and play and are curious about the mysteries of life. I feel like, as humans, we can make things so hard on ourselves. A friend of mine's father said to him just before he died, very urgently, in that space between living and dying where all things can become very clear, he said, "Follow the love." I have thought about those words a lot since he died, their simplicity. He just cut through the crap. He saw it very simply and clearly. 

Another thing... music... Einstein was obsessed with Mozart. Whenever he became stuck, he would play Mozart on his violin or listen to it. He felt like it was perfect simplicity, that it was also a form of math and symmetry and therefore God's language as well. The Greeks shared this view that truly beautiful music was so because it tapped into some perfect symmetry and simplicity of the world, of god and the universe. 

So it turns out I've got a few more biographies to read. It's been a while since I've lost myself in study. It makes the writing flow more easily. I feel like I am on a scavenger hunt, people that lead to ideas, that lead to other people and other ideas. I think I am only going to take it as far back as Aristotle though. And really it is mostly their life stories that fascinate me. They were on the ultimate truth journey; they were fearless. Some even jailed and lost their lives in this pursuit.Fear and truth are so inextricably bound. The truth is always there though and often quite simple, not necessarily convenient, but often simple. These guys were quirky and fearless though.

The book about Isaac Newton arrived and I am well into it. I am finding the story of the development of Calculus far more interesting than Calculus. I remember Carl Sagan saying that learning about astronomy and looking through powerful telescopes made him more spiritual, like looking towards God. Isaac Newton felt the same about math. He felt that the mathematical symmetry of the universe was perfect and perfectly beautiful and that it explained everything. Math, he felt, was the secret to the universe, it's code so to speak. It was a spiritual journey for him. And he never left a 100 miles radius his whole life. He never saw the ocean. He figured out that white light was made up of all of the colors of the rainbow, he figured out the tides, but he never saw the ocean. It really shows the expansiveness of the mind, to think that his mind could know so much having explored so little of the world. It's all so consistent and right there if we just are willing to see it. The same truth is in the grain of sand, that's in the movements of a fish, that's in a leaf or a tree, that's in the sunset, the small or the large, it's all just right there, it seems. It also seems that those people who were into alchemy were also really into Calculus, which is how it is for the character in my book, so I am glad that is consistent. They seemed to go together in my heart and mind, and it looks as though they do historically as well... phew...

I got side-tracked and curious about the story of Isaac Newton's life. I bought a book but also I looked on-line to see what I could find. Somehow, I already knew that he had virtually no friends and never married. And it was largely speculated that he suffered from mercury poisoning (causing madness) from all of his alchemy, a definite down side to being an alchemist:) What I discovered that I thought was sort of fascinating and unexpected was how The Great Plague of 1665 sent him home from the university and it was during this quarantine period that he developed most all of his greatest theories. That is what I love about history, how some chance encounter or turn of history allows for something so unexpected. For example, Franklin Roosevelt's polio gave him the great lens of compassion through which he led the country through the Depression and the better part of WWII. The welfare system is in place because FDR had polio and understood what it meant to suffer and be helpless. Newton developed calculus; he set foundations for his theory of light and color, and gained significant insight into the laws of planetary motion. His famous apple falling on his head gravity revelation was also supposedly during this time. 

He wasn't traditionally successful in school and needed to do it in his own way. Once he got that space, he was able to flourish. I know so many people like him with brilliant minds who never excelled in school. For Newton, the plague set him free from the constraints of school to begin what is known as the Scientific Revolution. He found his path and went for it. It sounds like he was a very difficult person too, so maybe he needed to be alone. I am curious to read his biography. 

It wasn't a total diversion for me though because I added something to the book today because of what I read. I added a part where one of the main characters loses his mind because of mercury poisoning. It's in the alchemy section. I hadn't quite figured out what happened to him and that is it. In the pursuit of mixing sulphur and mercury to make gold, he actually poisoned himself, that happened to a lot of people in the 17th and 18th century. In pursuit of eternal life (the making of the legendary philosopher's stone) and gold, they poisoned themselves and lost their mind. It's sort of a parable I guess. 

I really believe that we have such a limited scope of visions as humans. We follow our hearts to try to find truth; to me it seems to be pretty much the best resource as far as the blindness/limited vision we have as humans. And we do the best we can.  

"I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me."

Isaac Newton

I was never very good at Calculus. I think it was because of the abstract nature of it. After all, it is, as I understand it, the study of change. I was quite good at Geometry, shapes and fixed object, the transitive and associative properties of math. I loved that. Because I was stubborn and I felt for some reason that it was really important to learn Calculus, I took three separate courses on it over the years. And, to be honest, I never really got it. Still don't. Fortunately, it doesn't come up a lot...

And so perhaps just to torture myself I've decided to include a chapter about Calculus in my book. My main character needed to learn something old and I thought about an ancient language, but I changed my mind and I decided on Calculus. It actually works perfectly with some of the main themes of the book. I just have to make it believable. Once again, Isaac Newton figured it out. It allows for the understanding of relativity, infinity, the law of motion, etc... Before that, there was no mathematical representation of these principles. I think it's about time to find a good biography on Newton. Maybe if I don't ever quite get the concepts of Calculus, at least I can understand more about the man who created it. 

This morning at field day today, I spoke with my son's teacher for a long time about how she was learning ancient, Biblical Greek as a means of becoming an Episcopal minister. This is her last year teaching. After that, she will find a job as an Episcopal priest and move there, wherever that place is. Her life has already had a very high rate of change up to this point, a very interesting story that I don't have time to get into, she's already had some very major life transitions, etc... Now, she plans on moving to this new place alone, leaving her high school kids here with her partner. She said her calling to this work was that strong for her. Wow. That is some major life Calculus. You wouldn't guess it from looking at her, but she is so unafraid of change... People's choices and life stories never cease to amaze me. I wish Calculus came as easily for me. 

A good friend of mine was telling me recently about a funeral of this amazing woman who had died. She was in her 70s and had run a camp for years and years. Apparently the woman who had died was famous for saying that "you might not be able to stop the bad things from happening to your in life, but you can stop the good things from happening." I liked that. I liked that a lot. I asked my friend to repeat it to me again and again.
 
Sadly, we all know the sadness of the bad things, the ones you can't avoid, the ones that bring you to your knees- violence, sickness, death, etc... I was so sad the other day to hear about the death of Dean Potter, one of the most inspiring climbers of my generation. He was an incredible spirit, a person who seemingly lived at the bittersweet edge. No ropes, no fear. But what about the good things? God forbid we miss out on the good things, the ones that balance out the inevitable limitations/bad stuff of life. Earlier I wrote about my friend Andrew who was the master of 'yes' to life's good things, so much so that he created goodness and love out of bad things, the laughing Buddha incarnate in a way. He had depth but also levity, really depth through his levity. 

Beginning of one of my chapters (not sure which number)- 
"Gold never tarnishes. And when you pass it through fire, it becomes indestructible."

I have reached this part in the book where the main character is trying to make a golden pill to cure her sick mother. She is trying to decipher the cryptic recipe from a book passed down to her. Gold is pretty much central to the concept of alchemy. It is pure and balanced, tolerable to eat, never tarnishes, etc… It is one of the central themes of my book. Of course, the spiritual journey of alchemy also mimics the golden principal, that in order to attain perfection/enlightenment/whatever you want to call it, you have to burn off the impurities, metaphorically walk through fire, and be worn/distilled down to your more perfect form. That is the journey of life, it is believed. It is what I believe too. That is Penelope’s story, love and beauty and then the times where she is walking through fires. It is what makes her interesting, the story interesting, hopefully. She doesn’t just stay in the hot place, she garners wisdom and resources and has to make decisions and pass through the hard places and in doing so gains more clarity and wisdom and resources. 

I am trying to think up what the recipe should be for this golden pill, the cure for the human condition. I am pretty sure it includes ground up locust wings, some roots she digs up, something bitter and something sweet. The real recipe seems to include a ton of love, a ton of sweetness and a ton of vulnerability. Otherwise, what’s the point. To me, those are the golden parts of life, the qualities that cannot be tarnished, the fire gets hotter and the heart manages somehow to expand, not scar or close down. It also seems like you have to move through the fires of life quickly enough that you don’t get burned. You can’t stay there in the same place. You have to be adaptable. It’s true in alchemy too. It’s part of the art of it. If the alchemist is burning something to powder form, he/she can’t leave it there too long or it becomes charred and ineffectual. The recipe just doesn’t work. Maybe something strong and fortified should be in the recipe too, something sort of badass like a snake fang or the beautiful web of one of those signature spiders. As long as I don’t overthink it, I should be able to figure it out. 

I still have not heard from Shambhu. He was my dear friend and Nepali teacher. I have not heard from his wife Banu either. I don’t know what to think or say really. I am thinking of calling the language department at my college to see if they know anything or have heard anything. Part of me still wants to wait in the unknowing. Lauren is going to Nepal in a few weeks. I am thinking of sending her by their family home with gifts and a handwritten letter. I am worried though that the building might be demolished, that she would have to call me with the sad news. I don’t want that to be her burden, so I think I should try to figure this out on my own. It’s just so hard when they are half a world away. 

Shambhu is very special to me. He was like a father, offering the unique perspective on life that is the Nepalese world view, one of joyful acceptance and openness. We laughed a lot. His door was always open to me. His version of kindest was the closest thing to the South that I had found up in the more rigid social climate of the upstate NY, a feeling of immediate warmth and welcome and of home. 

Shambhu had come to the US so his son could go to college here. We would eat weekly meals together at his house. I watched his son Binni grow. Binni was in high school then and his family was so excited when he got into college and we all sent him off to become an Engineer. When I was away in Nepal, Binni died in a fraternity hazing incident. Banu was in Nepal too when she heard the news. She didn't come out of her house for weeks and weeks. When I returned to Ithaca, Shambhu was so sad and so withdrawn. We went on many quiet and tearful walks. Shambhu’s cousin was staying with him to provide support and comfort.  Oddly enough, he was from Chattanooga. When I left Ithaca, we lost touch.

Seven or eight years later,  I was on a shuttle from Chattanooga to the Atlanta airport. There was a family with a baby two rows in front of me. I was reading a book when I heard the man call his baby Binni. It struck me, so I looked more closely. 

“Where are you traveling to?” I asked. 
His wife answered, “Nepal.”
“Is there any chance you are Shambhu Oja’s cousin?”
“Yes!”
“And the baby is named after Binni?” I asked. 
“Yes,” we all paused. 
“What a beautiful tribute.” I said and we paused some more.

I asked if they could deliver a letter to Shambhu and Banu, so I tore a page out of my journal and wrote to them. His cousin and I talked the whole way to the airport.

“You’re family is very dear to me,” I said and held my heart and passed the letter onto his cousin when we parted ways. “Send them my love.”

One of the the most common Nepali saying is ‘Y’estai cha’. You hear it all of the time. It means 'life is like that'. Life is hard, it means, but it is said in a light-hearted way. They often wiggle their head side to side as they say it. You miss the bus, y’estai cha’, something catastrophic happens, “y’estai cha”. 

When I lived there, Nepal was the poorest country in the world. Life was hard in so many ways, both hard and precious. However, it was by far the most joyful place I have ever lived, even more so than Asheville. I have hardly laughed more and certainly never danced more. It was part of the fabric of the place. The earthquake, so they say, was predicted to happen every 70 years. But like so many tragedies in life, it seemed to come out of nowhere. One day the earth was shaking. What I learned when I lived there so long ago, what Nepal, my friend Andrew, and so many experiences taught me is that you must move forward with love. 

Rather than feeling the overwhelming burden and worry, I am trying really hard to remember that and fill all of my nooks and crannies and sad spots with abundant love. So much love to Shambhu and Banu. My friends Mandira, Parvati, Tulsi, Krishna, and so many more. So much love. I feel like, in all of the futility and randomness of life, that is really all I have to offer. And the more I am in this quiet space and time, the more clear I become about this. We are here to offer love and laughter and connection in whatever ways we can. In Nepal there is no word for thank you because taking care of other people with love is just what you are expected to do. 

April Rain Song
by Langston Hughes

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain. 


One thing i love about water is that it can be a mirror. On a really still day on a lake, you can see your own reflection before you dive in. I think that is an apt metaphor. I like the fact that lakes and rivers reflect the sky. As an empath, I think I can be a mirror to people. 

By the way, that is not true, that gold is the perfect balance of sulfur and mercury. That is just what alchemy believed. Alchemists also believed that metals, because they were found in veins or root-like structures in the ground, were alive and would ripen into gold. While it is a beautiful concept, it is, of course, not true as well. Such beautiful imagery, though, it made it into the book...

What I like about the ancient alchemists is that they were both scientists and mystics, thus allowing themselves to think about the world in really imaginative and expansive ways. Einstein was certainly this, Gallileo, Newton, etc... basically the greatest thinkers of modern times were all spiritually expansive. Newton spent much of his adult life seeking out the recipe for the Philosopher's Stone. He had elaborate and encoded journals with recipes for various medicines and elixirs. And, of course, everyone wanted to be able to make gold in their lab, a less spiritually expansive aspiration, however, understandable all the same. 

Some of the biggest themes and storylines of the book have come to me in dreams. I wake up in the middle of the night and know something new. The alchemy piece was like that for me. It is a strange thing, but I am going with it.