Reflections on Perceptions

How do we characterize the way we see the world? One could argue that our awareness of the objects and colors around us has roots in biology; others might say that our ideologies shape our perceptions. But what happens when biology meets ideology? When the two separate spheres of science and humanity commingle is something new and disparate born from their happy marriage?

To use a very basic example, let’s think about the sun. What do we know about the sun, and how has a humanitarian or scientific approach shaped our beliefs about it? The Princeton dictionary defines “sun” as “a typical star that is the source of light and heat for the planets in the solar system” – a basic definition that very few would dispute. The definition, however, lacks any meaningful insight into the way the sun is interpreted globally.

If you were to observe the sun independently – isolated from a religious, astronomical, or historical background – what would you see? What would you think it symbolized? You could close your eyes and feel warmth, or watch it rise and set following an invisible path in the sky. Facts would slowly pile up, but would these facts be characterized with empirical analysis, or would you begin to answer questions about the object’s mystery with your own unique perspective?

Historically, of course, the latter occurred. Societies worshiped the sun as a deity. As a source of power and light, humans relied on the sun and it therefore invoked fear: when we depend on something so fervently, there is always the terrifying thought that one day it will cease to be there for us. In almost every primordial society there is evidence of stories explaining the sun’s rise and fall. Sun gods like Apollo (Greece) and Ra (Egypt) rode chariots to bring light to the sky every morning [see picture above]. Sun worship exists in many ancient religions, and some Judeo-Christian theologians argue that the first descriptions of Jesus Christ contain many parallels to Roman descriptions of the sun. [See Sol Invictus] Keep in mind that Christians observe “Sunday” as a day of rest and worship as well.

Centuries before the birth of Christ, a Greek philosopher Anaxagoras made one of the first scientific explanations for the Sun; he argued that it was a “giant flaming ball of metal,” but was sentenced to death for his modern beliefs. With the influx of astronomers and scientific theory regarding the solar disc in the sky, however, the myths and folklore pertaining to the sun slowly disappeared from Western culture.

And thus, when we try to define what the sun is today, we don’t describe a mysterious and powerful god ruling over the vast expanse of sky every day. We give facts about the Universe and cosmology. We think that we know what the sun is composed of physically, despite never being able to reach it personally. How did we come to rely on this specific perception of reality versus the primeval belief of the sun as an object of worship? It never ceases to astonish me that people can be deeply religious and believe in God and creation as laid out in Genesis, yet think that ancient societies’ belief in deities like the sun is just that – ancient.

So what can account for the emotions invoked by observing the sun? Why have artists and novelists been fascinated by its aesthetics and beauty? What inspires those reflective thoughts when watching a sunset? I find it personally fascinating that something we have so much scientific opinion about can also be quite astoundingly romantic.

Our conclusions about the world around us have deep humanitarian roots, but they are also characterized by a methodical and realistic evaluation of our surroundings. Can we ever observe the world independent from either perception? People say they identify with one or the other; they are a scientist or a humanitarian. I say that neither can exist without the other.

The Birth of Feeling

Just as there was a first instant when someone rubbed two sticks together to make a spark, there was a first time joy was felt, and a first time for sadness. For a while, new feelings were being invented all the time. Desire was born early, as was regret. When stubbornness was felt for the first time, it started a chain reaction, creating the feeling of resentment on the one hand, and alienation and loneliness on the other. It might have been a certain counterclockwise movement of the hips that marked the birth of ecstasy, a bolt of lightning that caused the first feeling of awe. Contrary to logic, the feeling of surprise wasn't born immediately. It only came after people had enough time to get used to things as they were. And when enough time had passed, and someone felt the first feeling of surprise, someone, somewhere else, felt the first pang of nostalgia.

It's also true that sometimes people felt things and, because there was no word for them, they went unmentioned. The oldest emotion in the world may be that of being moved; but to describe it -- just to name it -- must have been like trying to catch something invisible.

(Then again, the oldest feeling in the world might simply have been confusion.)

Having begun to feel, people's desire to feel grew. They wanted to feel more, feel deeper, despite how much it sometimes hurt. People became addicted to feeling. They struggled to uncover new emotions. It's possible that this is how art was born. New kinds of joy were forged, along with new kinds of sadness. The eternal disappointment of life as it is; the relief of unexpected reprieve; the fear of dying.

Even now, all possible feelings do not yet exist. There are still those that lie beyond our capacity and our imagination. Form time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written, or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom, or yet describe takes place, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges, and absorbs the impact.


-excerpt from "The History of Love" by Nicole Krauss

Methuselan Memories

So as we slowly descend into summertime, I've noticed that people aren't as partial to good old fashioned fun as they used to be. In a society where we're all connected to our iPods on the bus, where we sit with our roommates in the living room, watching the tele, our PowerBooks on our laps (btw, that comes from personal experience), it's easy to get lost in the throes of techno-fun.

What ever happened to the type of fun that we used to have when we were little kids? I remember being completely satisfied with spending an entire day on the playground, immersed in the world I created for myself. I could easily sit in my room, totally happy with building a fort and pretending to be a lookout for some secret society.

I really believe that while our current society has many advantages over the world that existed in the 1980s and early 1990s, kids these days don't have the capacity to build their own imagination, because everything comes ready-made and processed for them already. That video game my brother played every day after school? All of the characters and premise come pre-programmed, all you have to do is push the right keys in the right order to win. Instead of having free time to envision a world of their own, children's time is structured around events and plans that their parents decide for them.

I remember daydreaming about my future careers, always having so many options to choose from. I aspired to be a surgeon, engineer, laywer, President of the United States. At a young age, I would answer questions about my future with confidence and ease, always believing that my dreams would be accomplished. Have we abandoned the curiosity of our childhood? Are we really growing as we grow older?

I'm left with a lot of questions that don't really have tangible answers. While it's perfectly easy for me to reminisce about my youth, it's certainly more difficult to address the unknown that looms in the distance.

With all these thoughts regarding growth and age, it struck me that I didn't really know that much about aging, other than the obvious. While modern humanity seems to have mastered the art of hiding any signs of age with botox, plastic surgery, and makeup, Mother Nature has been doing it on her own for quite some time.

Someone asked me the other day if I'd ever heard of the Methuselah tree. In 1957, a bristlecone pine tree was discovered by Edmund Schulman at 11,000 feet above sea level in the White Mountains of California. Scientists dated the tree to 4,789 years old when they found it; the estimated germination is in 2832 BC. That means this tree has been around longer than Jesus Christ himself. Currently, it's known as the oldest living organism on the planet, and no one knows its exact coordinates to protect it from vandalism. The tree was named Methuselah, after the man with the oldest recorded age in the Bible (at 969 yrs old).

It amazes me that the tree has survived for so long, in a nearly solitary state, against all odds. Just knowing about its existence is enough to convince me that no matter how much we think we know about the world, there's always something out there to trigger the curiosity of those who are not afraid to admit they still have a lot to learn.

"To die would be an awfully big adventure..."

I think it’s about time to write about the current object of my affection.

Of course, I’m talking about the book I’ve been reading the past week, The Serpent and the Rainbow: A Harvard Scientist’s Astonishing Journey into the Secret Societies of Haitian Voodoo, Zombies, and Magic by an extraordinary anthropologist/ethnobotonist Wade Davis.

I first came across the topic of Haiti and voodoo society in my cultural anthropology class at OCC (I guess my interlude at community college before transferring to Berkeley paid off). I think our culture’s fascination with macabre topics like zombies and voodoo takes root in our inability to define death.

Sure, we know on a very literal level what death is. But it’s extremely hard to specifically define death; one can say that it is the cessation of the heartbeat or complete brain inactivity, but modern technology makes it hard to actually pin down the moment of death. Refer to wikipedia’s debate over death: Definition of Death

The very concept of death piques our interest because it’s a force that we cannot control. I truly believe that anything outside our human realm of control or understanding increases our culture’s obsession with it, death being one of the more controversial topics because of what follows: the afterlife, or lack thereof.

In Haiti, the vodoun religion can be placed in historical context. In 1791, Haiti was mostly populated by African-born imported slaves. In this year, the black population launched one of the few successful slave revolts in history, lead by Toussaint Louverture, in which the nation overcame the French government and established the only independent black republic in the world. (Louverture is actually a SUPER interesting character, read more about his life here: Toussaint Louverture

Haiti’s African roots were not forgotten. The Haitian peasants organized into secret societies led by vodoun priests, practicing “voodoo” rituals where individuals were able to communicate directly with the many spirits who populate the everyday world. More importantly, Haitians believe that one’s spirit and soul can be captured by a master, a bokor.

This belief is central to the creation or phenomena of zombies. Through his study of Haitian society and interactions with bokors, Wade Davis made the important distinction of how victims of zombification are chosen. In a classic example, a man named Clairvius Narcisse contacted his family 12 years after his supposed death. He had gotten into a land dispute with his brother, who clearly wanted to get him out of the way. Instead of killing him, Narcisse’s brother did something much worse: he paid a bokor to make him into a zombie.

Once someone is poisoned by a bokor, their metabolic heart rate declines rapidly due to an important ingredient in the poison: tetrodotoxin, secreted in the glands of the pufferfish. Actually, in Japanese culture eating small preparations of pufferfish with tetrodotoxin has become a delicacy and a form of art. Culinary chefs have to prepare the fish with just enough of the poison to leave a tingling sensation on the tongue of the consumer, but not enough to cause any actual damage. Read more about tetrodotoxin here: Tetrodotoxin

OKAY, so the person is reduced to a near-death state, pronounced dead undoubtedly, and is buried. BUT THEY AREN’T DEAD. The bokor is able to go to their grave at night, administer a special treatment (still very ambiguous of the ingredients) to revive the person, and take them as slaves. The newly created zombie will have clearly suffered psychological brain damage due to the poisoning, and because of frequent doses of the poison administered every so often, are reduced to a trance-like state in which they cannot control their own actions and are at the whim of their master.

You see, for Haitians, slavery is much worse than death. Think about the African slave trade and the history of all the ancestors who came to Haiti seeking freedom from enslavement. In creating a zombie, the bokor is essentially able to steal the person’s free will, one of humanity’s greatest treasures.

So those like Narcisse who are ousted by their family or local criminals often suffer the fate of angry families or communities. The priests are acting in the collective interest of the village; zombies are therefore created within the social matrix of Haiti’s complex religious society. It’s fascinating to me that politicians have very little control over the citizens of their country in Haiti. Because of their fervent vodoun beliefs, people put more trust in priests and bokors than their government; and many of those with political power are also extremely reliant on the advice of religious leaders.

It’s only been recently that the creation of zombies has been acknowledged by the government of Haiti and by anthropologists around the world, perhaps in the past 20 years or so. Here’s an excerpt from Haitian Penal Code:

Article 249. It shall also be qualified as attempted murder the employment which may be made against any person of substances which, without causing actual death, produce a lethargic coma more or less prolonged. If, after the person had been buried, the act shall be considered murder no matter what result follows.

To avoid the creation of zombies, many people will pierce the heart of family members who have recently died in order to ensure that they are actually dead and cannot be brought back to life.

I guess the fear of being buried alive was a worldwide phenomenon back in the day. Wade Davis talks about Count Karnice-Karnicki, who apparently invented a device to prevent premature burials. He attended the funeral of a young girl, and just as the first pails of dirt landed on the coffin, “a pitiful scream rose from the earth.” I guess from that moment on, premature burials terrified Karnicki, and he invented a contraption made of a box and a long tube fixed into the coffin. On the chest of the dead person a glass ball was attached to a spring in the box, and if the glass ball moved (like if the person started breathing), the spring was released, initiating a chain reaction where a flag sprang above the box and a bell rang for 30 minutes. The long tube allowed oxygen into the coffin while the person inside was being saved from his or her burial.

I had NEVER heard of this device before reading the book. Obviously, you wouldn’t see one adorning many graves today, but back in the late 1800s thousands of Frenchmen left specific instructions in their wills to ensure it would be placed in their tombs, and it was so popular in the US that societies formed to promote subsidized use.

I guess premature burial is probably a fear that not many of us have today, but our fascination with the chilling reality of death still holds.

So apparently, The Serpent and the Rainbow was made into a cheesy 1988 horror film. I would advise against seeing that, and instead urge you to read the book instead: The Serpent and the Rainbow

I promise you it’s worth it.

P.S. Kudos to those who can name the source of the quote in the title of this post. :)

Virgin Birth for Sharks?

After quite a long weekend of complete mayhem, I'm back.

Unfortunately, with not-so-great news for surfers and other people who like to dwell in the ocean.

It has now been confirmed that sharks can reproduce asexually.

I kid you not. Evidence: Captive Shark had "Virgin Birth"

After reading this article, I learned something I never knew before. Having sex actually increases the chances for genetic mutations to occur, meaning that species can adapt to their environment or develop new traits. But if animals are reproducing asexually, the chances of this happening are really rare. So while female sharks may be able to reproduce without finding a mate, it doesn't necessarily mean that our oceans will suddenly become as shark-infested as I might have first thought.

After looking into parthenogenesis (literally translates to "virgin birth" in Greek) I discovered that Japanese scientists were trying to use their experiment on parthenogenesis in mice to apply to humans.... see The End of Males?

Just thinking about the possibility of asexual reproduction among humans kind of fascinates me. I mean, sure, women can receive artificial insemination and become pregnant, but that sperm had to come from a guy. What happens when sperm becomes genetically reproduced??

Something in the meat?

So, I noticed that something was amiss in the Oddly Enough section on Reuters. All around the mid-west, calves have been popping out of their mothers with deformities. In two recent cases, it involved one calf with six legs and another with two noses.

Case #1: Calf Born With 6 Legs
Case #2: New Calf Has 2 Noses

Can someone please explain why this is happening? It's extremely disturbing.

Ode to my Eyesight

Earlier today, I took out my contacts and then sat at my desk to immerse myself in my studies. Some time passed, and I looked up at the clock to see what time it was. The clock is on the opposite wall of my room, roughly 12 feet away. I could not read the time.

Um, apparently I am practically blind. My eyesight has deteriorated SIGNIFICANTLY, and I haven't noticed because I wear contacts everyday. This brief panic attack made me think about my vision and the way I see the world, quite literally.

I distinctly remember when the optometrist first explained that the world around me was not supposed to be blurry. It was a problem with my vision, he explained, with the way my eyes saw the world. The remedy, of course, was glasses: small enough to fit the face of a fifth-grader. They were only meant to be worn when distance prevented me from seeing clearly; I wore them in school, at the movies, watching television. As the years passed, I grew to associate distance with chaos; the further away I was from an object, the more obscure it seemed. From 20 feet away, the face of my best friend was impossible to differentiate between the face of a stranger. If I couldn’t read the sign, it was impossible for me to follow the rules.

I remember the initial shock of realizing that not everyone saw the world this way. I don't know if my dependency on glasses made my eyesight worse, or what. But when I first started driving at the age of fifteen, I panicked. I couldn't read street signs, and the freeway was a complete jungle.

How could my eyes betray me? How could the way I saw the world naturally not be an accurate representation of reality? I thought that it was subconscious; I could physically train myself to return to the near-perfect vision of my childhood. I regretted all those nights spent straining to read books in the dark, afraid my parents would scold me for staying up past bedtime.

I made the switch to contacts because, well, it was the law. I had to see clearly to drive. I realized instantly that wearing contacts was a way to hide my imperfection. It was kind of a secret now, no one had to know that the way I saw things was any different from the way others did.

But sometimes I rather enjoyed the weakness of my vision. It’s almost comforting to know that my surroundings can become a little softer, a little less perfect and sharp.

Small Pleasures

"That man is richest whose pleasures are cheapest."
-- Henry David Thoreau

I decided to take some time out of studying to make a stream-of-consciousness list of small things that make me happy...I think it's important to dwell on the little aspects of daily life that can make or break your mood.

Here I go.

- Solid water pressure in the shower. Honestly, I think this is one of the most under appreciated things in life. Weak showers are just unacceptable.

- The satisfaction you feel after doing laundry. Don't know if it's because I'm proud of the fact I haven't fucked it up, or it amuses me that everyone tells me I have to separate my whites and darks and I don't and I truly enjoy small rebellions like that. (Nothing traumatizing has ever happened to my clothes -- they are either very durable or I've just been lucky)

- When you make eye contact with a complete stranger and can smile and acknowledge each other's existence. This happened to me today walking across the street, some random person and I recognized the presence of another human being and smiled at each other. It makes me super sad when I think that people just walk around absorbed in their own worlds, with either their iPod or cell phone permanently attached to their heads. There's this quote from the movie "Waking Life" that I like:

I know we haven't met, but I don't want to be an ant. You know? I mean, it's like we go through life with our antennas bouncing off one another, continuously on ant autopilot, with nothing really human required of us. Stop. Go. Walk here. Drive there. All action basically for survival. All communication simply to keep this ant colony buzzing along in an efficient, polite manner. "Here's your change." "Paper or plastic?' "Credit or debit?" "You want ketchup with that?" I don't want a straw. I want real human moments. I want to see you. I want you to see me. I don't want to give that up. I don't want to be ant, you know?

- The way steam curls up from a hot cup of tea. I know it sounds bizarre, but I really like watching it, it relaxes me.

- Writing with Sharpie markers. It's really satisfying.

- Appreciating the time of day right after the sun sets, but before it becomes night (best time ever)

- Waking up before your alarm goes off so you can just chill in bed without worrying about oversleeping

- Having someone tell me they've already read a book that I recommend to them...it makes me feel like I know the person well enough to judge what they'd like!

- When unexpected friends call you and say that they were just thinking about you and want to know what you're doing...because normally when people call out-of-the-blue there is a specific reason or request behind the call.

- Getting a letter from my pen pal(s)

- Making to-do lists, and then crossing out everything on it before throwing it away

- Not losing my keys in the morning (this is a very, very rare occurrence, and thus it makes me happy when I can actually find them the first time around)

- When I know more about what's happened in the world than my mom and can fill her in on the news (another rare occurrence to be savored)

- Aesthetically pleasing things in general

- Hearing other people use words that I enjoy tremendously, such as "glisten," "nefarious," "tomfoolery," "nonsense," "deliberate," "mischievous," "retrospectively," "shenanigan," "exceptional," and "certainly." Just say those words out loud, they are incredibly enjoyable.


I think I made my point. Studytime awaits!

Not Your Average Breakfast

Something has gone awry at the local grocery store in Suffolk, UK. It appears that a chick can be hatched from eggs bought at the supermarket. Hmm. I'm pretty sure you're supposed to eat those eggs, not use them to hatch chickens.

Read on:Chick Hatches from Shop Egg

This brings up a lot of questions for me. As an occasional egg-eater and carnivore myself, it makes me VERY wary of the eggs I'm going to purchase in the future. I mean, if potential chicks could be hatched from them, I'm not too sure how I feel about scrambling them with bacon.

Then again, I guess all the eggs you buy could have been potential chickens no matter what. Any animal product you buy and eat, in that sense. I think this egg-hatching has just thrown everything off for me. Cute furry baby chicks....or delicious fried eggs?

I CAN'T DECIDE.

Transvestite Killers Run Free...

...in Chile. It just came to my attention that the justice system in Chile is practically moot. Take, for example, the case of Andrea Sanchez.

Sanchez, a transvestite, was found brutally murdered in her (his? I don't know what is politically correct anymore) apartment November 2004. The man who killed her was arrested at the scene of the crime -- a pretty easy case to bring to court. Victor Vicencio Marin (the murderer) spent 3 nights in jail before paying $1,000 and being released.

The case has been going on for two and a half years, even though Vicencio admitted guilt. Sanchez's mother has been struggling to pay for lawyers to keep Vicencio in jail, but to no avail. Last month, court reached the following decision: Vicencio has a 4-year suspended sentence unless he commits another crime.

HE DOESN'T EVEN GO TO JAIL. Does anyone else see something wrong with this? You have a confessed killer, all the evidence, and yet... no jailtime.

Apparently, this is not just a one-time case in Chile. Transvestites aren't very tolerated and have become a prime target for excessive and unnecessary violence. Eleven crimes similar to Sanchez's murder have taken place since 2002, and not one of the murderers has gone to jail.

Click here for the full story: Confessed Transvestite Killer Avoids Jail