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The nature of matter

In my slim experience the nature of matter is that everything conceivable and in evidence has consciousness. (Bernard Levin, eat your joyous heart out, the jokes are still massive the music fine; you so loved a parenthesis!)

But, to the thesis:

I’m writing this prompted by a discussion which is just about concurrent, as I write, on BBC Radio 4 (left to play downstairs presently) which discusses the future algorithmic potential and ‘symbiosis’ (a truly wonderful concept in all art and hap) of artificial intelligence.

The end of the discussion was lighthearted and touched upon the dimension that apparently marks human consciousness from that of future-perfect (possibly future-proofed?) artificial intelligence. Spirituality.

To me, as a man of deep beliefs, and a person who seems to be incapable of spotting evil activities, apart from the work of a number of banks (which mutually and ineffably respond to times they cannot master or control), artificial intelligence is utterly amazing and marvellous.

It is like the floret that some clever cleaning ladies will leave to look like a white rose on the head of an awaiting lavatory roll in a spotless bathroom. It might be likened more appropriately to other things too. But as in the image of man in his self-reflexive mirror, it is just one more moment in the context of its perception. And just as ego ergo ego, each such man, moment or thing is different and depends on its circumstances (I hope that women will enjoy the reference to a man as it!).

Time presses so I'll take a little imaginary leap.

In my opinion, if we use words too much such as ‘deliverables’ and ‘solutions’ and work upon these in a business-like way, all we are really doing is blindly throwing out our anchors into the mud, forgetting or unaware that the real breath and the beauty of the world and all of us (defaultedly good in our hearts at least) is not only right in front of us in real terms but is endlessly awaiting to entertain.

So once again, I’m content to read The Times Newspaper (dropped for years after Bernard Levin departed on his forward journey) to see what someone somewhere may have thought to have happened in another place, possibly, with the wind blowing in the right direction. 

Thankfully some of the servant rocks of our most amazing planet hold true however they let the light dance within them.

All silly or friendly comments truly welcome.