In the local underground station they play classical music at high volume all the time. This is to discourage vagabonds, cut-purses and other lowlifes from loitering, and it seems to work in that respect. Now why would classical music do that? I have to resist the temptation to google it at this point. I will instead put down my own thoughts on the matter, and see whether they give me any insight.
I like walking descending the escalator accompanied by operatic strains. Emerging into the lobby to Wagner is exhilarating, like the smell of napalm in the morning. But clearly some people find it uncomfortable, and do not ply their dodgy trades there any more. Instead they gather at the top of the stairs. The two types of ticket touts in clusters: the straggly homeless travelcard pushers, becoming rarer with the Oystercard onslaught, and on Academy nights, the thickset cockneys offering to "buy or sell tickets" for whatever band is playing.
Is it really the music that has forced this exodus? Perhaps there's another reason. The police have been cracking down on the hassling of people in the station, but I haven't recently seen a lot of police there, and yet the ruffians still stay away. There are also a lot of CCTV cameras, of course, but there are at the top of the stairs too. So it seems as though the music really works.
It reminds me of a couple of slightly dodgy friends of mine, who, when I met up with them, complained about how brightly lit the pub was (it wasn't very). It made them so uncomfortable that they wouldn't go there again. In this case one could apply a bit of amateur psychology and speculate that they did not like to see themselves. They were, indeed, quite bedraggled and confused creatures, and having the spotlight turned on them may have mirrored to them their guilt, shiftiness, or doubt about themselves.
The Shambhala teachings talk about cocoon, as a state of mind. You desire to protect your personal comfort, and spend a long time building a reassuringly warm, dark slightly stinky cocoon to shelter you from the brightness of the world. This might include various things, from in a literal sense making your home cozy and insulated, to choosing friends who are fine playing along with your own self-deception, to.. well, avoiding brightly lit pubs, where you might see the filth on your clothes, and others might too. Ultimately though, cocoon is an inhibiting state, preventing you from seeing the world in all it's glory!
Things that intrude on our cocoon might also include rousing classical music.
Or perhaps the staff just like it!
Thursday, 28 February 2008
Wednesday, 27 February 2008
One String to Rule Them All!
Yesterday I met three guys in the canteen. As I'm re-reading the complete Sherlock Holmes short stories, I have fallen into the annoying habit of trying to guess things about people to make them amazed. I managed to guess correctly that they were PhD students, and quit while I was ahead. They were doing research into String Theory, and shared a little of their knowledge with me.
"We don't know what it is, " said the confident one, all Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall behind Joe 90 glasses.
"Oh," say I, admiring his modesty.
"Yes, it's taken us this long to admit that we really don't get it."
"Ah. Well, perhaps you know what it's for," I say, trying a different tack.
"Yes, we're looking for another force behind gravity and all the others."
"Ah, right, it's like a grand unifying theory that explains everything, " I suggest.
"Yes."
I resisted the temptation to laugh. I didn't want to end up in some kind of bizarre physics experiment ("haha," cackled the physicist as he dangled Sid above the string-dissolving acid...) and my own theories were not well enough formed at this stage to try to argue against String Theory as the blah blah blah Holy Grail-type thing.
So I sat and chewed my chicken as they talked about a conference they were organising. I suspect that they were new to it, as they were thoroughly amused by the idea that they could do what they wanted with the funding they had. They decided to hire a flash car instead of spending the money on catering! Good to know that physicists have a sense of irresponsibility too.
So what is it that made me think "poor innocent fools, to think they're really going to discover the fundamental law of the cosmos"? Well, consider this. Although we consider ourselves a technically advanced society, we really have no idea how far technical advance could go, or even if there is a limit on that. I mean, I expect that the British Victorians regarded themselves as a "technically advanced society" (TAS), and, relative to previous times, and other cultures, one could say they were. They had steam-powered machines to enable much higher rates of productivity. Massive advances were made in science, medicine, transport and so on. But of course, compared to today, they were well behind. They didn't have cars, or computers, or antibiotics, to name but three.
Quite possibly earlier cultures regarded themselves as TAS's too. Anthropologists are often illustrating the wonders of the Roman Empire, and other earlier cultures. I suppose it might be a little odd to say "we're such a technically backward people," but any of those might quite accurately have said that. Now it would be tantamount to heresy! Nevertheless, I'll propose it as a hypothesis, with no real attempt to justify it, except to ask, why would we think otherwise, when we look at the patterns of the past?
Another angle on this is to wonder exactly how much there is to learn about the universe. Researchers are expanding the boundaries of knowledge faster and faster. Towards a total understanding of everything? If that is the case, I don't know of a single field in which that supreme knowledge has been obtained - do you? On the contrary, as we push the boundary further out the amount of unknown knowledge becomes clearer. The boundary becomes more sharply defined, occasional bold moves push a peninsular out into the unknown, and in general we are able to ask more questions rather than less. Omnia Exeunt in Mysterium, and all that.
As I left I wished them luck, I have to admit a little skepticism crept in. "Good luck with your wild goose chase, " I said. "I'm afraid I don't think you'll discover the great unifying theory of the universe." It's a measure of the quality of PhD students at Queen Mary that they didn't reply with hostility. "We might," they laughed.
I have to get the underground to College now - I'm sure in a few years I'll get the String, but at the moment, I'm stuck with the Tube.
"We don't know what it is, " said the confident one, all Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall behind Joe 90 glasses.
"Oh," say I, admiring his modesty.
"Yes, it's taken us this long to admit that we really don't get it."
"Ah. Well, perhaps you know what it's for," I say, trying a different tack.
"Yes, we're looking for another force behind gravity and all the others."
"Ah, right, it's like a grand unifying theory that explains everything, " I suggest.
"Yes."
I resisted the temptation to laugh. I didn't want to end up in some kind of bizarre physics experiment ("haha," cackled the physicist as he dangled Sid above the string-dissolving acid...) and my own theories were not well enough formed at this stage to try to argue against String Theory as the blah blah blah Holy Grail-type thing.
So I sat and chewed my chicken as they talked about a conference they were organising. I suspect that they were new to it, as they were thoroughly amused by the idea that they could do what they wanted with the funding they had. They decided to hire a flash car instead of spending the money on catering! Good to know that physicists have a sense of irresponsibility too.
So what is it that made me think "poor innocent fools, to think they're really going to discover the fundamental law of the cosmos"? Well, consider this. Although we consider ourselves a technically advanced society, we really have no idea how far technical advance could go, or even if there is a limit on that. I mean, I expect that the British Victorians regarded themselves as a "technically advanced society" (TAS), and, relative to previous times, and other cultures, one could say they were. They had steam-powered machines to enable much higher rates of productivity. Massive advances were made in science, medicine, transport and so on. But of course, compared to today, they were well behind. They didn't have cars, or computers, or antibiotics, to name but three.
Quite possibly earlier cultures regarded themselves as TAS's too. Anthropologists are often illustrating the wonders of the Roman Empire, and other earlier cultures. I suppose it might be a little odd to say "we're such a technically backward people," but any of those might quite accurately have said that. Now it would be tantamount to heresy! Nevertheless, I'll propose it as a hypothesis, with no real attempt to justify it, except to ask, why would we think otherwise, when we look at the patterns of the past?
Another angle on this is to wonder exactly how much there is to learn about the universe. Researchers are expanding the boundaries of knowledge faster and faster. Towards a total understanding of everything? If that is the case, I don't know of a single field in which that supreme knowledge has been obtained - do you? On the contrary, as we push the boundary further out the amount of unknown knowledge becomes clearer. The boundary becomes more sharply defined, occasional bold moves push a peninsular out into the unknown, and in general we are able to ask more questions rather than less. Omnia Exeunt in Mysterium, and all that.
As I left I wished them luck, I have to admit a little skepticism crept in. "Good luck with your wild goose chase, " I said. "I'm afraid I don't think you'll discover the great unifying theory of the universe." It's a measure of the quality of PhD students at Queen Mary that they didn't reply with hostility. "We might," they laughed.
I have to get the underground to College now - I'm sure in a few years I'll get the String, but at the moment, I'm stuck with the Tube.
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