Many interesting problems can be stated in 10 seconds, like "what's the relationship between the brain and mind?" or "do you really love me?"
In Richard Feynman's wonderful book "Surely you're joking Mr. Feynman!", there is an interesting entry about how Feynman tries to answer any problem that can be stated in ten seconds with the accuracy of plus minus 10 percent, in just sixty seconds.
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One day I was feeling my oats. It was lunch time in the technical area, and I don't know how I got the idea, but I announced, "I can work out in sixty seconds the answer to any problem that anybody can state in ten seconds, to 10 percent!"
People started giving me problems they thought were difficult, such as integrating a function like 1/(1 + x^4), which hardly changed over the range they gave me. The hardest one somebody gave me was the binomial coefficient of x^10 in (1 + x)^20; I got that just in time.
They were all giving me problems and I was feeling great, when Paul Olum walked by in the hall. Paul had worked with me for a while at Princeton before coming out to Los Alamos, and he was always cleverer than I was. For instance, one day I was absent-mindedly playing with one of those measuring tapes that snap back into your hand when you push a button. The tape would always slap over and hit my hand, and it hurt a little bit. "Geez!" I exclaimed. "What a dope I am. I keep playing with this thing, and it hurts me every time."
He said, "You don't hold it right," and took the damn thing, pulled out the tape, pushed the button, and it came right back. No hurt.
"Wow! How do you do that?"
I exclaimed.
"Figure it out!"
For the next two weeks I'm walking all around Princeton, snapping this tape back until my hand is absolutely raw. Finally I can't take it any longer. "Paul! I give up! How the hell do you hold it so it doesn't hurt?"
"Who says it doesn't hurt? It hurts me too!"
I felt so stupid. He had gotten me to go around and hurt my hand for two weeks!
So Paul is walking past the lunch place and these guys are all excited. "Hey, Paul!" they call out. "Feynman's terrific! We give him a problem that can be stated in ten seconds, and in a minute he gets the answer to 10 percent. Why don't you give him one?"
Without hardly stopping, he says, "The tangent of 10 to the 100th."
I was sunk: you have to divide by pi to 100 decimal places! It was hopeless.
Excerpt from "Surely your're joking, Mr. Feynman!"
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The idea is not to require the exact answer. You need to work out only to 10 percent. Feynman's brilliance shines, among the mirthful laughter of the geniuses.
It is fun to extend the game to things other than those that are numerical. You can always come up with a pretty good qualitative appraisal of issues that can be stated within ten seconds, in just sixty seconds.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
How to create a stone
When I was seven, I thought I discovered how to create a stone.
It was during the summer holidays. I was playing with mud near house, mixing with water and kneading the mud.
When the night fell, I left the mud dough on a gutter cover along the road, and went home to have supper.
The next morning, when I went to see what happened to the mud dough, I discovered a pretty pebble instead. The shape was elongated, not entirely round, and between the edges you could observe beautiful strata of colors.
I was fascinated, and believed (as a seven year old could believe) that the mud dough has somehow turned into a stone overnight.
In September, when the school started, we had to hand in each a short report about our holiday investigations. It was the thing to do for school kids in those days. I wrote a report about "how to create a stone". I theorized that you had to knead the mud dough as tightly as possible. Then you left it outdoors. The cool night air had a certain effect on the mud dough, the details of which were still unknown. By the morning, the mud dough would have been turned into a stone, its coloring depending on the details of condition.
As I look back, the strange twilight zone feeling of really believing in the metamorphosis returns. The magic of childhood.
It was not long before I started to suspect that there was something wrong with the whole idea. I started to understand that in order to make a stone you needed a very high pressure. Like when you are pressed under the massive rocks of mountains.
Despite the creeping doubts, I kept the stone as my personal gem in a drawer. When my father rebuild the house, the stone went missing. The school report was lost, too.
I would dearly love to see the stone and the school report now, if it was at all possible.
It was during the summer holidays. I was playing with mud near house, mixing with water and kneading the mud.
When the night fell, I left the mud dough on a gutter cover along the road, and went home to have supper.
The next morning, when I went to see what happened to the mud dough, I discovered a pretty pebble instead. The shape was elongated, not entirely round, and between the edges you could observe beautiful strata of colors.
I was fascinated, and believed (as a seven year old could believe) that the mud dough has somehow turned into a stone overnight.
In September, when the school started, we had to hand in each a short report about our holiday investigations. It was the thing to do for school kids in those days. I wrote a report about "how to create a stone". I theorized that you had to knead the mud dough as tightly as possible. Then you left it outdoors. The cool night air had a certain effect on the mud dough, the details of which were still unknown. By the morning, the mud dough would have been turned into a stone, its coloring depending on the details of condition.
As I look back, the strange twilight zone feeling of really believing in the metamorphosis returns. The magic of childhood.
It was not long before I started to suspect that there was something wrong with the whole idea. I started to understand that in order to make a stone you needed a very high pressure. Like when you are pressed under the massive rocks of mountains.
Despite the creeping doubts, I kept the stone as my personal gem in a drawer. When my father rebuild the house, the stone went missing. The school report was lost, too.
I would dearly love to see the stone and the school report now, if it was at all possible.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Brain and heart.
In the favorite novel of my youth "Anne of Windy Willows" (aka "Anne of Windy Poplars", but I somehow prefer the Willows version for the vivid visual image the title invokes), Anne Shirley gives a piece of her philosophy of mind.
"My brain agrees with every word you say but my heart simply won't," said Anne. "I feel, in spite of everything, that Katherine Brooke is only a shy, unhappy girl under her disagreeable rind. I can never make any headway with her in Summerside, but if I can get her to Green Gables I believe it will thaw her out."
(From L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Windy Willows).
In the context of referring to the emotional and sentimental dispositions with which one goes about in one's life, "heart" equals "brain". It is at least so from the modern brain scientific point of view. However, the wisdom of folk psychology often distinguishes the two, as the above Anne Shirley quote tells us.
The phenomenology of the conscious mind, as it is based entirely on the activities of neurons, is in essence bound to the brain. It is interesting to see how the word "heart" is used as a means of extending one's sensitivities beyond this limitation. Anne is trying to make the life brighter for her deprived colleague Katherine Brooke, and is thus trying to go beyond the borders of individualities. The colloquial expression "heart" as opposed to "brain" thus might reflect our often unconscious wish to go beyond the dichotomy between the Dionysian and the Apollonian sensu Nietzsche.
"My brain agrees with every word you say but my heart simply won't," said Anne. "I feel, in spite of everything, that Katherine Brooke is only a shy, unhappy girl under her disagreeable rind. I can never make any headway with her in Summerside, but if I can get her to Green Gables I believe it will thaw her out."
(From L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Windy Willows).
In the context of referring to the emotional and sentimental dispositions with which one goes about in one's life, "heart" equals "brain". It is at least so from the modern brain scientific point of view. However, the wisdom of folk psychology often distinguishes the two, as the above Anne Shirley quote tells us.
The phenomenology of the conscious mind, as it is based entirely on the activities of neurons, is in essence bound to the brain. It is interesting to see how the word "heart" is used as a means of extending one's sensitivities beyond this limitation. Anne is trying to make the life brighter for her deprived colleague Katherine Brooke, and is thus trying to go beyond the borders of individualities. The colloquial expression "heart" as opposed to "brain" thus might reflect our often unconscious wish to go beyond the dichotomy between the Dionysian and the Apollonian sensu Nietzsche.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Up where the air is clear
Whenever I encounter an interesting person I try to strike up a conversation.
The other day I was running in the park forest. I chanced upon a man in the mid 50s, with a professional insect net. I used to study butterflies as a kid, and can tell a pro from an amateur.
I stopped jogging, said hello, and asked the gentleman what he was up to. "Insects", he said. "What kinds of insects?" I asked. "All kinds", he answered smiling.
I introduced my self as a "professional" entomologist. Then the gentleman became eager. "You know I have been coming to this forest for the last 10 years. Once every week. During this time, I saw Uranami-Akashijimi only once."
"Really?" I cried. "Can you really find an Uranami-Akashijimi here?"
Uranami-Akashijimi (Japonica saepestriata)
is a small gem of a butterfly, diminishing in numbers in recent years.
The gentleman told me an interesting fact. From then on, whenever I go running in the park forest, I sometimes look up to the treetops, where Japonica Saepestriata could be flying.
In the last scene of my favorite musical "Mary Poppins", the song lyric famously goes "up where the air is clear". The air has become clearer around the forest park ever since I met the gentleman with the professional net.
The tree tops in the forest park.
The other day I was running in the park forest. I chanced upon a man in the mid 50s, with a professional insect net. I used to study butterflies as a kid, and can tell a pro from an amateur.
I stopped jogging, said hello, and asked the gentleman what he was up to. "Insects", he said. "What kinds of insects?" I asked. "All kinds", he answered smiling.
I introduced my self as a "professional" entomologist. Then the gentleman became eager. "You know I have been coming to this forest for the last 10 years. Once every week. During this time, I saw Uranami-Akashijimi only once."
"Really?" I cried. "Can you really find an Uranami-Akashijimi here?"
Uranami-Akashijimi (Japonica saepestriata)
is a small gem of a butterfly, diminishing in numbers in recent years.
The gentleman told me an interesting fact. From then on, whenever I go running in the park forest, I sometimes look up to the treetops, where Japonica Saepestriata could be flying.
In the last scene of my favorite musical "Mary Poppins", the song lyric famously goes "up where the air is clear". The air has become clearer around the forest park ever since I met the gentleman with the professional net.
The tree tops in the forest park.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Spiritual embodiment
There are certain areas of spiritual tradition that leaves you bewildered in a special and indescribable impression when you are there.
The Ise Shrine is one of them.
I have visited the Shrine countless of times. The meticulous care taken in its construction in harmony with nature is apparent as you cross the bridge over the Isuzu river. The tradition of rebuilding the shrine every 20 years (Sengu) has been running for about 1300 years. The next Sengu is due in 2013.
Whenever I have been to a particular location of spiritual significance like Ise, I always wonder why I can't have the same set of feelings back in my daily environment. Why can't I be in the mindset of pondering remote things in the busy streets of Tokyo, in the laboratory, on the train.
In principle one thinks one could, but in actuality one can't.
The reason is most probably in the intimate interaction of the body with the environment. You rediscover the significance of spiritual embodiment.
The Old Shrine Site (Kodenchi) in Ise, waiting for the next rebuilding of the Shrine.
The Ise Shrine is one of them.
I have visited the Shrine countless of times. The meticulous care taken in its construction in harmony with nature is apparent as you cross the bridge over the Isuzu river. The tradition of rebuilding the shrine every 20 years (Sengu) has been running for about 1300 years. The next Sengu is due in 2013.
Whenever I have been to a particular location of spiritual significance like Ise, I always wonder why I can't have the same set of feelings back in my daily environment. Why can't I be in the mindset of pondering remote things in the busy streets of Tokyo, in the laboratory, on the train.
In principle one thinks one could, but in actuality one can't.
The reason is most probably in the intimate interaction of the body with the environment. You rediscover the significance of spiritual embodiment.
The Old Shrine Site (Kodenchi) in Ise, waiting for the next rebuilding of the Shrine.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Mastery of admiration
One of the cute and poignant things I encountered during my recent stay in Hong Kong was the Yuen Po Street Bird Garden. There you could take a look and (if you would like) purchase a variety of birds. Those animals of flight were exhibiting their gaiety in the cages hung from the roof, or, the case may be, piled up on the pavement. I was particularly interested in birds which looked like a magpie. These birds pass the mirror self recognition test. It would be fun to observe their behavior as they learn to make use of the visual reflections.
Observation is an art open to anybody, but takes many years to develop and refine. One old gentleman admiring the birds stands in a particular vividness in my memory.
He seemed to be an epitome of the mastery of admiration.
Observation is an art open to anybody, but takes many years to develop and refine. One old gentleman admiring the birds stands in a particular vividness in my memory.
He seemed to be an epitome of the mastery of admiration.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Today's opposition
In the Christmas Special episode ("Party Games") of my favorite British political comedy, "Yes, Minister", Sir Arnold, the cabinet secretary, remarks to Sir Humphrey Appleby that "today's opposition is tomorrow's government".
A word of wisdom.
Because human hearts are weak, there is a tendency to take the status quo for granted. But history tells us that what appear to be the opposition today is acually tomorrow's standard and establishment.
The question is, with which you identify yourself today, the opposition or the government. I am one who always thinks that it is more fun to identify with the opposition, not only in politics but in scientific and cultural domains as well.
A word of wisdom.
Because human hearts are weak, there is a tendency to take the status quo for granted. But history tells us that what appear to be the opposition today is acually tomorrow's standard and establishment.
The question is, with which you identify yourself today, the opposition or the government. I am one who always thinks that it is more fun to identify with the opposition, not only in politics but in scientific and cultural domains as well.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
APCAP 2009 call for papers.
The fifth Asia-Pacific Computing and Philosophy Conference.
1st & 2nd October, 2009, at
University of Tokyo
You are invited to submit an abstract of up to 1000 words by 15th July, 2009.
There are eight tracks. I am going to chair the "Social Construction of the Self" session.
Social Construction of the Self
Track Chair: Ken MOGI
The self is a phenomenologically salient and functionally important aspect of human cognition. The discovery of the mirror neurons (i.e., cells in the prefrontal cortex representing actions of the self and others) has added a new and important dimension to the empirical investigation into this fundamental aspect of existence. Findings in cognitive neuroscience have revealed how the self is constructed through the interaction with others. The self is a socially constructed, embodied phenomenon. Various aspects of cognition, e.g., active vision, sensori-motor coordination, perception of time, body image, emotion, and memory, make sense only in reference to the self. Here experts from neuroscience, philosophy, artificial life, physics and other fields discuss the newly emerging science of the self. The session will be empirically based while trying to be theoretically enterprising at the same time.
AP-CAP 2009.
1st & 2nd October, 2009, at
University of Tokyo
You are invited to submit an abstract of up to 1000 words by 15th July, 2009.
There are eight tracks. I am going to chair the "Social Construction of the Self" session.
Social Construction of the Self
Track Chair: Ken MOGI
The self is a phenomenologically salient and functionally important aspect of human cognition. The discovery of the mirror neurons (i.e., cells in the prefrontal cortex representing actions of the self and others) has added a new and important dimension to the empirical investigation into this fundamental aspect of existence. Findings in cognitive neuroscience have revealed how the self is constructed through the interaction with others. The self is a socially constructed, embodied phenomenon. Various aspects of cognition, e.g., active vision, sensori-motor coordination, perception of time, body image, emotion, and memory, make sense only in reference to the self. Here experts from neuroscience, philosophy, artificial life, physics and other fields discuss the newly emerging science of the self. The session will be empirically based while trying to be theoretically enterprising at the same time.
AP-CAP 2009.
Sunset
When I was a kid, I used to imagine that it is always sunset somewhere on earth. Actually, as the earth rotates on its axis, the relation to the sun is always the same in essence. It is only that different parts of the globe are illuminated, and the bright and dark pattern moves on its surface.
There is a translational invariance in the time of the earth. Bound to Tokyo, I think that it is day, then twilight, and then night. But from the earth's point of view, it is always the same earth time.
When it comes to lives on earth, there is also a translational invariance. At any moment, somebody is being born. A loved one is passing away. Others are in the prime of juvenile joy. Some are feeling the decline. Although the points in the time of life is different for each one of us, taken on the earth scale as a whole, there is always and will ever be just one life time.
At any given moment, it is always sunset for the life of somebody among us.
There is a translational invariance in the time of the earth. Bound to Tokyo, I think that it is day, then twilight, and then night. But from the earth's point of view, it is always the same earth time.
When it comes to lives on earth, there is also a translational invariance. At any moment, somebody is being born. A loved one is passing away. Others are in the prime of juvenile joy. Some are feeling the decline. Although the points in the time of life is different for each one of us, taken on the earth scale as a whole, there is always and will ever be just one life time.
At any given moment, it is always sunset for the life of somebody among us.
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