Zero is just as absurd a concept as infinity.

I am a prisoner of my own indecision.

There’s no such thing as real.

Being concerned with others’ impressions of oneself follows “perception is reality.”

Otherwise, that philosophy works out pretty well.

If the mind is software and the brain just an elaborate Turing machine, could mind not exist elsewhere?  This is a hope of some Singularians.  If true, it means it must be possible to either simulate or express creativity in software.  What if DNA/natural selection is also a creative process?  It seems plausible that DNA/reproduction/selection is a complex enough coupling of mechanisms to be Turing-equivalent, so what if new adaptations are “designed” over many generations by this Darwinian creativity?  Would this not be evolutionarily advantageous?  (This is emphatically not Intelligent Design!).

I don’t believe any of this, yet it sounds like a rational argument.  Perhaps I should reevaluate the postulates.  I do believe that mind is software, but maybe the brain is actually Turing-complete + 1.  But lets assume the argument itself is valid, even if not particularly true for the given instance.

Take this down N steps and up (above the level of biological life) a few more steps and we start to see that everything might have elements of Mind.  Is this Gaia+++?  The One Choice?  The true Buddha nature of the universe?  The universal Quantum Computer?

The battle of [choice|mind|computation] versus entropy wages on.

The smallest possible unit of time is a choice.

We create time just by being.  Each bit of existence is the collapse of a quantum wave function, and mind is very much entangled with this process of decoherence.  It could be said that we make our universe be just by experiencing it.

Consciousness is a quantum feedback loop, each life a continuous cascade of possibilities made real.

Reality is choice manifest.

I hold it to be true that Truth doesn’t exist and truth is relative.

Don’t take yourself so seriously.

You’re part of the joke, too.

It’s like everyone is just waiting for something to happen.

There’s this socially innate belief that that there will be a dramatic shift within our lifetimes (be it social, technological, metaphysical, or otherwise) which will somehow save us—from death, labor, responsibility, unhappiness, evil, violence, whatever.  That the future is somehow guaranteed to be a “better” place in time than the present.

You’d think this would be cause for excitement.  Yet somehow we just get more and more down on ourselves and the world, as if we have this sinking feeling in the back of our collective head that “it” is probably still a pretty long way off, or maybe we’re not going to get there at all.  Maybe there’s nowhere to go.

The sick feeling you have is a result of unrealized expectations (which, if you think about it, can be said to cause most problems in the world).  Does this mean that hope is the enemy?  No, but i think we need to shift our perceptions of what hope really means.  The future isn’t just going to happen; we need to make it happen.  “Better” is nobody’s responsibility except our own.

You’re driving.  This is really happening.  This is life.

Fucking do something.