I’ve always liked science. It is so endlessly fascinating that I want to tip all the science books in a library on the floor, lie down and make angel shapes with my limbs, muttering, ‘I can’t take it any more.’ You see as much as I love I find it endlessly frustrating, then coherent, then counter-intuitive, you get what I mean? It is ambiguously unambiguous. I have taken several science courses with the Open University but had to know my mental limit and stopped at level two planetary science. I had almost started a level two physics course but hit a brick wall in calculus. One minute it made sense then the next it didn’t. That wonderful feeling of something becoming apparent didn’t happen enough to propel me forward. So I waved a little white flag and took a humanities course in music, which was excellent, but I felt more at home.
I hope, though, that I don’t give up there. I have decided, when I don’t know, to teach myself quantum mechanics and relativity at some point; I have Roger Penrose’s The Road to Reality sitting pristinely on my book shelf, waiting to be read. That is after I have got through about ten Richard Dawkins books, and one on Hugh Everett III.
Last year I got through a series of pop science books by Marcus Chown. Very good reads and there was one chapter about the Many Worlds Interpretation that made wonder about reality in a strange new way. Well it was actually a combination of that and a hypothetical situation devised by Swedish physicist Max Tegmark, that made me think. What if we could constantly cheat death? But don’t we already? Every single second of every day. How many times have you wondered how close something was to the Reaper’s Clutches? I am just putting out a non-mathematical thought that if we avoid death continuously. Personally I can look back on many occasions where I have somehow from calling my next address a worms’s dinner. I had a panic attack on a motorway a few years ago while driving, it was terrifying but I survived. Even sitting here in assumed safety I am avoiding fatal heart attacks, and meteorites. The thing here is it is all subjective and unprovable, which is why I call it no more than a thought.