https://youtu.be/n7cOlBxtKSo?si=u1kNzjE5B4dOx1zV
How can we reconcile gravity with quantum physics? Why are there different types of particles? How can we verify the existence of additional dimensions? All these answers in 16 minutes! 0:00 - Introduction 2:17 - Strings and vibrations
4:03 - Dynamics and interactions 7:14 - Superstrings 10:09 - Compact dimensions 13:50 - Conclusion
Losing everything makes you aware of what to value.
https://womenofchristianity.com/treasures-by-martha-snell-nicholson/
“The light that you discover in your life is proportionate to the amount of the darkness you are willing to forthrightly confront.” Jordan Peterson
https://www.fatherly.com/health/how-parents-experience-the-death-of-a-child
―
Published July 10, 2018 | 
One by one He took them from me,
All the things I valued most,
Until I was empty-handed;
Every glittering toy was lost.
And I walked earth’s highways, grieving.
In my rags and poverty.
Till I heard His voice inviting,
“Lift your empty hands to Me!”
So I held my hands toward heaven,
And He filled them with a store
Of His own transcendent riches,
Till they could contain no more.
And at last I comprehended
With my stupid mind and dull,
That God COULD not pour His riches
Into hands already full!
Foxburg, an event
Recently we attended an event in Foxburg, Pa. Foxburg is a small town along
the Allegheny river and is home to the oldest golf course in the United States.
This excerpt is from GolfWRX December 23, 2017, “Consider the Foxburg
Golf Club (Pennsylvania), and The Oakhurst Golf Club (West
Virginia). Both Foxburg and Oakhurst had records of playable courses in 1884.
The Foxburg, however, was a private course on private property that originally
only had eight holes. In 1887, the Foxburg added nine new public holes to their
course, and that course has been in continuous working existence ever since.”
This isn’t a sports blog, so let’s move on.
Foxburg has a rich history, founded on land owned by the Fox family of
Philadelphia. Samuel and brother George purchased the land in the 1790s
comprised 6600 acres. Samuel’s son Joseph established a residence in 1826 near
the confluence of the Clarion River. The residence became known as “the Mansion”
where the succeeding generation of Foxes would take up season residence for 140 years.
Oil development in 1870 stimulated the founding of the town with a peak
population of 1000. Two railroads served the borough, with one lasting into the
1960s, but by 2008 the railroad remnants were no more, and the beds now host
Rails to Trails.
The Fox family founded the Quaker religion in the 1600s in England, and the
family built vast investments, business holdings and wealth in America. At one
point, the hundreds of employees included a junior accountant named Benjamin
Franklin. The Mansion legacy witnessed many upgrades over the years, including
four powder rooms, wine cellar, conservatory, music room. 17 fireplaces and
English-style pub. The entire estate grew to 26 structures, including additional homes.
The grounds offer 23 ponds, hiking trails, an aviary, complete arboretum, sugar
house for maple syrup, greenhouse, a one-of-a-kind carriage house and much
more. Known as the River Stone Estate, it is the largest private estate in
Pennsylvania.
Now you know the backstory, what is happening today, why do I offer this
post? We are members of ARCA, Allegheny Riverstone Center for the Arts based in
Foxburghttps://alleghenyriverstone.org › about › riverstone-estate. World-class performers come to this little
town’s Lincoln Hall to perform. Names such as Barbara Nissman, https://www.barbaranissman.com,
David Wickerham, https://www.manasotatheatreorgan.org/dave-wickerham/
but here is a 2024 season schedule, https://alleghenyriverstone.org/event-calendar/.
On May 5, 2024, we were in attendance for the last performance on the McKissick
Mighty Wurlitzer before it enters a yearlong renovation. There are only 350
organs left of the ten thousand originally built between 1910 and 1940. Only 38
remain in their original venues. The McKissick Mighty Wurlitzer has a history
of its own before finding its way to Foxburg. On November 22, 1928, this
instrument played during silent films and vaudeville in Cleveland’s Uptown
Theater. Lincoln Hall is in the center of Foxburg with a view of the Allegheny
River. The town also offers a winery, an art gallery (Red Brick Gallery), a
library, hotel https://foxburginn.com/ and restaurants https://www.opentable.com/r/allegheny-grille-foxburg with balconies overlooking the river. Tickets
for Lincoln Hall events sell out fast, so if you plan to attend, make your
purchases and reservations early. The patrons prove friendly and easy to talk
to.
My first forays into Foxburg occurred years ago, as a canoeist navigating
overnight river adventures. Just below the town, on the riverbank, you’ll find
free campsites to pitch a tent. In the evenings, we would walk the railroad
tracks into town to watch the Steelers play football. The town also became a
destination for our motorcycle rides. On any weekend of summer, you’ll find
motorcycles packed in the parking lot (no outlaws) but just people enjoying their ride. Foxburg can serve a wide variety of interests. We’ve motorcycled through
Europe, and the Foxburg reminds me of sleeping German village along the Mosel
River.
For additional information, www.alleghenyriverstone.org,
join the concerts and RBG exhibits. Brave Knight Writers support the arts,
literature, and music of the region. Visit us at braveknightwriters.com.
https://braveknightwriters.com/
https://youtu.be/CZKR4WLALJw?si=gnqlNyIEZbYkoO3b
Music touches the soul.
Does it? Why does it? Do we have a soul? Does the soul connect us to something greater than the universe?
If you are inclined to follow science, you might want to indulge in the latest breakthroughs in quantum physics. If you are a believer in creation, turn to your Bible. In either case, your journey may very well lead to the same point. This blog is far too short to do much more than inspire you to do more research. Mathematics and music have a close relationship, and to please a question, the pieces must fit together in perfect symmetry, and balance.
Quantum physics proposes the universe exists as a matter of frequencies, oscillations, harmonics and vibrations. Matter is merely energy of a certain frequency. In physics the definition of frequency is:
“The increase in amplitude of oscillation of an electric or mechanical system exposed to a periodic force whose frequency is equal or very close to the natural undamped frequency of the system.”
So, ask yourself, what is music? According to Merriam-Webster, “the science or art of ordering tones or sounds in succession, in combination, and in temporal relationships to produce a composition having unity and continuity” The longest book of the Bible is Psalms, many of them written by David-a man after God’s own heart- and set to music. So I would guess music is important in Christianity? In Revelation, 5, 7 and 15 we find songs. The first musician of the Bible appears in Genesis 4:21. Why does the Bible have such a consistent thread of music in it? Where else in the Bible can you find mention of Music? Try Exodus, Numbers, Judges, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Kings, Chronicles, Samuel, Ecclesiastics, Joshua and Samuel, I rest my case. Job 38:7 While the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? (CSB)
Why do we have a desire for music? Most of our desires fall into the physical realm. We desire food, drink, shelter, and physical comfort to survive in this world. Our desire for music is not derived from a physical need, it feeds our emotional desire for order and continuity, it fulfills a spiritual need. Does our very DNA, at a subcellular level, respond to harmony, frequency, and the vibrations of the music of creation? Why do sour notes turn us off? When musical continuity breaks, we are left with an uneasy feeling, just as when people indulge in distorted desires. Everyone has desires and temptations, neither of these are sins but when we act on distorted temptations, or our desires become distorted, a sour note is struck.
Distortion alters truth. Whether authenticity fails in the natural, original state, or in physics, creating a lack of proportionality, the result is a change in wave form from the original signal. Epicureans embraced the thoughts of Epicurus, where desires are not the problem within harmony. It is false beliefs which cause a distortion of desires. Society often propagates myths, false expectations, and superstitions with an offer to fulfill desires. Such offers lead us to wrong ways to find satisfaction, the results of which disturb natural continuity. The same is true in music and mathematics. Harmony requires truth, anything less becomes chaos. Science and the Bible both point to these required conditions for a successful existence.
Is God the great maestro, whose creation is one great musical score where he uses it to hammer home, telegraph, or contradict the emotions and actions of happenings? Everything appears timed to the closest millisecond to provide cues for comedy, suspense, horror, and more. God gave us freewill; he wants us to add our dialogue, and play out our roles, his creation offering a backdrop for our stories. Harmony and frequency generate all we see and experience, God wants us to flow with his music, to prove we can sync with the angels. Since I can’t sing a note or play an instrument, this whole scenario leaves me feeling uneasy, why would God want me in his band? Well, maybe he finds it more important for me to let his music touch my heart, than to expect me to make my own music. It isn’t about my music. Creation’s music belongs to Him. By grace, he will invite me backstage if I accept Him as the master musician.
In my research I found many references to the sounds of the universe. Most refer to global warming, climate change, eastern mysticism, and philosophies other than Christianity. Even though there is a segment of the population who refuses to include the Bible and propositions of a music-based creation in these references, there is no denying the Bible’s musical threads which appeared long before any of these new-age theories. Check out Smithsonian Magazine, Dan Falk’s article of March 1, 2023, What Does the Universe Sound Like? “The Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory and other researchers have melded astronomy and music to offer a new oeuvre.” (Definition of oeuvre: The complete body of an artist's work.) So, I come full circle, Job 38:7, While the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy? (CSB) One goal the Smithsonian article says, “people who are blind or have low vision… can also become part of the scientific enterprise.” In Romans 14:1 “Accept the one whose faith is weak, without quarreling over disputable matters.” (NIV) So, research and draw your own conclusions. May I suggest—in your research—include the Bible.
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/what-does-the-universe-sound-like-180981715/
Behind the scenes
People see the stone house on the hill and the surround of
manicured acreage. Some voice envy, some can't hide their jealous attitude,
very few express happiness about your accomplishments. Even though blessings
have been shared and an open invitation to enjoy your fruits have been
presented, you find yourself rejected. Rejection, an unpleasant condition can
develop into dysphoria. The Cleveland Clinic offers an article with great
insight into the condition.https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/24099-rejection-sensitive-dysphoria-rsd.
A strong pain or discomfort, if not overwhelming, is classified using the Greek
word "dysphoria". Rejection can turn off the creative switch, and
dampen your desire to start new projects. Our brains use different areas to
manage emotions, memory, input senses, assessments, etc. and our minds attempt
to balance these factors throughout our lives. Our skill to do this task should
improve as we age. There are many ways to manage a rejection dysphoria such as
medications and counselors, but for my wife and I, we simply try to be nicer to
ourselves. What you are experiencing may not be a rejection, just the fact most
people are self-focused. Refrain from thinking nobody cares, everyone cares,
even if it is just about themself.
There's an adage: When I was young, I worried about what
others thought of me. When I attained middle age, I decided not to care what
others thought of me. When I reached old age, it occurred to me that no one had
ever been thinking of me.
Real, not imagined rejection is a poke from people troubled
by their own inability to manage emotions. Understanding and accepting
the short comings of others is a great management key. A healthy way to manage
your feelings is to avoid immediate reactions, push the pause button, process, so you don't say or do things you will later regret. Focus on those who
accept you, present yourself to others in the best light and learn to accept
the reactions of others. Embrace the ones who accept you, seek them out and
never chase after those who reject you. The Bible is described as a love story,
it also grants great insights into rejection. Everyone desires acceptance, it
validates, generates good feelings and comfort.
Non-believers will often write off the Bible as a book of
fairytales, words written by men to control others, but there is another side
of the coin. Many are turned off to the messages contained within the Bible by
the way it has been interpreted and presented. The meaning of its words and
usage become trivialized by zealots. Jesus came to save the world, he did no
wrong, performed miracles, healed, counseled and loved and yet was rejected.
Not only rejected, but murdered, this response by mankind speaks volumes about the human heart. Friends or relatives will not likely consider what road led to your
success, no one remembers, the loss of a child, infidelities of a spouse,
eighty-four-hour work weeks, living in a camper at job sites or while building
your home. They'll ignore the thousands of hours spent writing books, or the
cars, money, and houses you gave away. They may not think you are evil or just
bad, but still, you may sense rejection because no one gives thought
to your needs. Think of Jesus Christ, two thousand years after his murder,
people still crucify him and claim the Bible is a book of fairytales.
The Bible is a book of mankind, it contains every sin and
wicked deed man indulges in. The Bible brings to light our tendency to reject,
forget and self-focus. It also offers the true definition of Love.
https://braveknightwriters.com/
In a recent encounter, a new acquaintance asked me about my greatest life challenges and how they affected me. Even after all these years my voice tightened as I spoke. My advantage came in my ability to reflect on those times, refer to scripture, and find comfort in God’s word.
Philippians 4: 10-13 NIV
“I rejoiced greatly in the Lord that at last you renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you were concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. 11 I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
Paul writes from prison to show his gratitude for those supplying him with food and necessities. He gives the glory to God for inspiring their concerns. His imprisonment produced an opportunity for others to show their concern. He also assures everyone he has learned to be content, no matter in what circumstance he finds himself.
The playroom had floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun covered the floor. The toys were a mere hodge-podge of donations: Lincoln logs, firetrucks, hot wheels, blocks, toy soldiers, and dolls. My son sat playing with a small toy knight, his bald head exposing a zipper-looking scar running from the back of his neck to the top of his skull. A shunt tube ran under his skin from his head to his abdomen, it relieved pressure and carried away spinal fluids. He was all that mattered to me, everything else faded into trivia. Money, work, marital drama all paled. His months in a coma made me relish his play.
Following his initial surgery, the doctors had pronounced him braindead; the monitors showed no brain activity and all but me had given up hope. Day after day, I read to him, and moved all his joints to prevent them from seizing. A ribbon with a bell attached hung above him. “Give it a tug” was my request as I placed his hand on it. “Ring the bell.” His hand dropped away, day after day, week after week. This is where you learn patience, ignore petty drama, and what true value is. You learn if money can solve a problem, it isn’t a real problem. You pray and you curse, you question your sanity and at times you lose it. All up and down the halls you hear the parental wails and encounter the face of grief. Your situation isn’t the worst or most shocking. This is 4 Neuro. The horrors are real. The suffering is beyond imagination, and God gets questioned.
James 1:12 tells us, ‘Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial; for once he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him.’
At this time, I wasn’t familiar with scripture, I believed in God and sought his help. My prayers focused on strength for me and healing for my son. The book of Job offers great insight into this world’s workings. It is Satan who delivers all the tragedy and misfortunes, God allows the process and so often we blame him. What we must realize is that life is a test, a refinement. God watches, just as He watched Job suffer at the hands of Satan. The test of Job is an example of how we must not lose faith when life presents challenges.
“What are you playing with?” I asked my son.
He turned to me and held out the knight; he placed his other hand over the hole in his throat, his tracheotomy.
“It’s the brave knight, the bravest of all knights.” He replied in a raspy voice.
At the time, I didn’t realize it represented the full armor of God. In the months following his awakening from his coma, our conversations were on a maturity level well beyond his five years. The night before he died, he told me he had to leave. In the days, weeks and months following his death I tried to put myself back together. The best glue I found was to acknowledge I had been blessed with a beautiful son for five years and his return from his coma came as an answer to my prayers. God gave him back to me so we could say good-bye.
Celebrating all life became the best way to honor my son. Contentment came in the knowledge that our time has limits. Every day God gave me, beyond my own five years are bonus days, not to be wasted but to be celebrated. When you are broken and know there are still others depending on you, you gather up the biggest pieces and struggle on. For years you discover the many little pieces still on the floor. You may never find all of them and it will take years to fit them all back where they belong.
Going forward wasn’t easy, and becoming a Christian isn’t an overnight success story. Endure, find contentment, identify your blessings, and be aware—expectations can lead to disappointment and stunted growth. God wants to see your transformation, and your refinement. Mistakes plague me in the past, present, and future, but I continue to reflect on false steps, confess, seek forgiveness, and try my best to right things.
In our troubles, we learn empathy, gratitude, forgiveness, and values, so be grateful for what you have. In the end God restored Job. Even so, Job carried all his losses with him. Job never lost his faith, his most valued attribute.
https://braveknightwriters.com/blog/1057-Contentment
https://braveknightwriters.com/
https://www.amazon.com/stores/William%20A.%20Wright/author/B0164HULKG
One
But test them all; hold on to what is good, reject every kind of evil.
1 Thessalonians 5:21-22
Four in the morning, a world asleep. An empty street runs beyond the glow of neon in tavern windows. The streetlamps wash into the resolve of non-being. Halfway from nowhere, on my way to nowhere, I sit on my ego in a one-stoplight town. Short on patience, I wait, but not for the go light. Less than okay and bound for the fringe, I need a why. Flashed by deadly neon and awash in eerie mercury vapors, I’m stunned. Only a thin encasement of glass confines the gases creating these sick illuminations. Shadows deepen beneath a moonless night.
Stricken with irony, I grin. Electricity is my livelihood. I know well that neon gas causes headache, dizziness, fatigue, vision disturbances, confusion, and death, the perfect medium to lure customers into bars. In addition, mercury vapors induce gastrointestinal issues, mood swings, memory issues, and sensation disturbances.
My abandoned head and heart flash with weird thoughts. To clear my head, I self-confess. These less-than-okay sentiments result from bad choices, not toxic gasses. Tonight, a friend invited me to celebrate his upcoming wedding, his happy time. His flamboyance induced cascading emotions and a deep disdain for my own bad choices. I maintained an outward appearance of good humor, while under a skin as fragile as glass, I seethed. My friend raved about his future as we downed a few bottles of ego booster. Our constant laughter sealed the cracks that had formed in my thin skin. An invincible shroud confined my raw emotion as I headed off into the night.
Miles from the laughter, stopped by this light, I lack a reason to move.
At age nineteen, I had owned the choices which put me on this road of hard knocks. Now I pay the tolls, with bits of spirit, and chunks of joy. Premature adulthood meant long hours of work, a ‘do what it takes’ commitment. Blinders in place, I donned the yoke of family. Yet, nothing can alter another’s dissatisfactions or a partner’s destructive choices. Nothing could smooth the bumps, not even a road crew of professional counselors. The end came with an abrupt crash—our son’s death, and complete spousal rejection.
Scars will form, but these wounds are fresh. My crushed dreams are nothing but aggregate on the footpaths of friends, neighbors, and other conspirators. To soothe my ego, I bought this motorcycle. But loose sand can’t fill voids in a broken heart. Without a dream, chaos reigns as I drift toward the fringe. Home is where I want to go, but I can’t get there from here.
Once powerful intentions now ebb away. No momentum forms, or even a vision of the way home. Empty streets, just paths into the abyss, so I sit in the sick illumination. Negative tapes roll in my head. Secret troubles—I have no support. Shame blocks my way, and death gains a certain appeal.
In my mirror a singular light tears the ebony curtain at the edge of town. A roar shatters the night, and Satan himself rolls up next to me. A hulking powerpack comes to rest so close, dragon’s breath spewing in my face. His arrival triggers the light to go green. We rev, pop our clutches, and speed into obscurity. Thin headlamp beams center our focus. Concentric circles of vision dim, and a tiny patch of asphalt twenty feet ahead becomes the world. My odometer hits 85, then 90. I pull ahead, or maybe Satan backs off. In either case I declare I win.
Residual pockets of sun-warmed air linger in blackened flats in the valley. Crossing a bridge, pockets of chill break my flesh into shivers. The feel, smell, and taste of the road stimulates a sense of freedom undefined by words or rules. Turn after turn I dance, throttle down, lean in, and then accelerate. Nothing else offers such exuberance. This is spiritual.
Our graduation theme song, “One” by Three Dog Night, reverberates in my head. Speed has taken me back in time, to where this road of hard knocks began.
In my mirror, Satan’s headlight fades. Still, I crank the throttle in ignorance of a strained speedometer. Alone, my mind freed, bad vibes get swept away in the passing wind.
All the ugly cliches of the suburbs—phoniness, fake chatter, pretend friendships, parties, predators, and selfish choices—swirl off into the arena of nonbeing.
Philippians 2:3-4 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourself. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.
This conclusion slaps my face. No one had done what they did, to harm me. Their actions centered on self, not me. Everything had happened around me, not to me. None cared but for themselves. In their defense, none even led me on with words of love or declarations of loyalty. Even my wife stated before our wedding that she didn’t want to marry me. None of my dreams found her acceptance. My insecurities and a desire to do right for a child drove the union. Joy and trust stripped away by age 27, in a loveless union.
In need of change, new stand-alone choices, I search. The biggest change will be to control all of my reactions to the conduct of others. Ten cents worth of consideration could buy labels for the innocent and the guilty. Whatever it takes, whatever my loss, I will take care of my children and their mother. She is not a wife, but always their mother.
In an instant, somewhere above the road, time slows with an injection of adrenaline. Twice my motorcycle rotates end over end, each time pounding the front wheel tighter against the engine’s frame. Unleashed forces overcome my will as I crash to earth. Several bounces on asphalt turn into a slide. The motorcycle bounces alongside me, and above me. In slow motion a vision forms, six hundred pounds of steel crushing my body.
As I spin out of control, my feet find the gas tank and push it aside. My helmet shreds and cracks. A ramp of road crud launches me over the curb. Airborne in a gauntlet of trees and shrubs, the branches welt my flesh until the railroad bed catches me. My body slams onto the steel rails, splintery ties and sharp gravel, leaving my insides jarred. In the dark, breathless, and in a state of nothingness, and soundlessness, I have no pain.
Shock, a walking death, offers its form of mercy. I heave myself to my feet, but drop to all fours to climb the embankment to the road. Touching the twisted iron of my bike, I stand too dumb and numb to take the next step.
A voice sounds down the tunnel of my stupor.
“What are you doing man?” Satan grabs my arm.
“I have to get home.”
“You need to lie down, you’re a bloody mess. And your bike is totaled.”
The biker explains as I fade “This crossing on a bend has tossed a lot of cars into those guardrails, otherwise you would have been cut in half. Tracks three inches higher than the road surface caught your rims. You must not be familiar with this road.”
I knew better. I’ve been on this road before. When I wake in the ambulance, they are cutting away chunks of denim and making notes of my visible injuries. Sprains, no broken bones, but skin loss on my hands, shoulder and buttocks. My shoes had torn away along with foot flesh; the paramedics noted white bones in bloody red meat.
Broken and alone but not dead, my body turns purple from the neck down. Six weeks unable to walk, I make my way from the spare bedroom to the bathroom in a crawl. An infection in my foot requires antibiotic footbaths with some talk of amputation, but the flesh heals.
Six weeks in bed gives me time to think of long-term resolutions and a need for God’s strength. One thing I know, to salvage a life takes resolve, and you can’t out run the Devil.
A new structure, forward movement, a focus on what is best for my children and their futures. A two-parent household, even damaged, offers the most hope.
When my son was dying, I prayed a lot. I also cursed a lot. God has touched me, it’s a story in and of itself. I came to terms with my loss and saw it as a five-year blessing of a wonderful child. Gratitude offered comfort, God blessed me.
But although I persevere, I had refrained from glorifying God. As guilty as Israel in the Old Testament, I had witnessed a miracle before my son’s death, and moved on without embracing or glorifying God.
Physical restraints leave my mind free to embrace spiritual answers. Turn everything over to God, let it be by His will, not mine. Given this second chance, I need a new focus. An answer forms as God’s will vs my will, grace instead of my disgrace. Even so, new mistakes and bad choices lay ahead. My destroyed trust, the secret of a troubled marriage still plague me but I fend off bitterness. Disgrace gets tucked away in the shadows. Self-doubt, vulnerability, and a fragile ego surface. Comfort arrives with the light of truth—a belief that everyone’s fate lies between them and God, not them and any other person.
“What is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil.” –Friedrich Nietzsche
A salvaged life requires ownership, confessions, and God’s forgiveness. Revenge belongs to the Lord; he can deal with offenders. I need to get on with life, celebrate a second chance, and enjoy my children. The key to maintaining sanity is to embrace gratitude for all the little blessings.
Luke 6:37 Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.
1 John 3:18 Dear children let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.
