Non-Locality

A Kung Fu master was talking to me about the power of concentration the other day and made a reference to non-locality. That’s the quantum physicists equivalent of the pull my finger gag – the one where someone in Zimbabwe farts. He was teaching me how to channel my energy flow into a pulse so that if I was ever attacked by a wall of ice I would be able to punch my way through solely with the power of my Chi. His fighting theory was about being limber and loosey-goosey. He said that physically you had to be like a baby because a baby is like the Tao. You can throw one down a flight of stairs and it’ll just bounce around like a tennis ball. With complete sincerity he said You punch baby – you break hand. Baby no Break. He then asked me to hit a 250 pound bag for six-four minute intervals just to see how I did it. By the end I could hardly breathe. So he asked me if I wanted to have a little nap. If maybe 10 hours of sleep wasn’t enough. He was really humiliating me at this point. He just kept shaking his head and staring at me saying You rook sreepy. Reeeeary Sreepy. He thought this was hilarious. But then he said that everything around us is just a quantum field of particles that our brains categorize into colors and shapes just so we can navigate around more easily. I was still panting and spitting bile as he said this mind you. So I asked him what his point was. He said that every fight is lost and won before it even begins. Because thoughts are things. And every one you have, every second of every day, is continuing the brick by brick construction of your life up to that point. Your thoughts aren’t determined by your experience he said. They govern it.

Curling

This afternoon I was invited to meet a scientist who’s apparently discovered the secret of dark matter. I think he was Indian. Then again he was big and had muscles which usually isn’t their thing. So he might have been something else. He said that for a long time a huge quantity of space, both here and there, has been considered unknown in both a what is it and a where is it sort of way, and that he’d finally discovered why. The poor guy looked like he hadn’t slept in years. His wife on the other hand was super hot. Super hot. And it’s hard to keep up with formulas when you’re looking at a beautiful woman’s earlobes. She had the kind that don’t dangle. The ones that just connect straight with the neck. So stream lined. So sleek. So great that every time he revealed another link in the equation I took the opportunity to turn to her and nod, just so I could clock them. She also had that Brazilian ass that for some reason gravity pulls upwards and outwards. It sort of made sense that she was with a quantum physicist. When he said that infinity and finite structures were complimentary she was making her way to the ladies room and my tongue was hanging out of my mouth. She had one of those over-sexed walks. The kind that makes a man wince. He then said that although Einstein had discovered that gravity is the result of space-time curving, it’s also the result of it curling. Like the way you close your hand with your pinkie first, then your ring finger, then your middle finger, etcetera, etcetera. He did it with his own hand a couple of times, just to show me. It’s actually quite beautiful. This is the secret of creation, he said. The secret of everything. And when his wife finally returned and sat down between us, I have to say, I believed him.