Mark DenHoed writes:

My good enemy J. R. Ahern happened to mention the other day that he had seen a PBS documentary on String Theory. It’s pretty wild stuff. I do not claim to be an expert. I have seen the same documentary and read a couple books (The Elegant Universe & The Fabric of the Cosmos. Both are by Brian Green. I highly recommend them,by the way. Mr. Green does a splendid job of explaining very obscure mathematical concepts in everyday language.)

Now, I have a very sketchy understanding of String Theory. I do not have the graduate degree in mathematics required to even barely understand the concepts involved. I do not have experience working with 6-dimensional shapes. So, I would take anything that I say on the subject of String Theory with a couple buckets of salt.

Now then, the essence of String Theory is that matter is not made up of discreet particles but tiny vibrating strands of energy. The vibrations of the string determine which properties it has, thus giving us the different ‘particles’. This theory seemed like a prime candidate for a “Theory of Everything (TOE)”. Quantum Mechanics (Quantum Electrodynamics (QED), Quantum Chromodynamics (QCD), etc) had seemed like it would prove to be fundamental except for a few things. First of all, the theory, which started out having only a few fundamental particles ended up having dozens. Those don’t seem very fundamental. Secondly, it couldn’t account for Gravity.

String Theory has only one fundamental ingredient: vibrating strands of energy. Also, in theory, it accounts for Gravity, as well as predicting properties of the ‘gravitron’, the force-carrier for gravity.

By the way, String Theory will soon have experimental verification, or defeat, with the completion of the LHC (Large Hadron Collider) at CERN. This accelerator will have enough power to see if the predictions of String Theory relating to the existence of extra dimensions hold up to observation.

But I digress.

One of the big problems with String Theory was that there were five versions of the same theory. This problem was solved with the introduction of a thing called “M-Theory”. Again, if you’re interested, refer to one of the books I mentioned earlier (particularly The Elegant Universe) for a more in-depth, and cogent, explanation.

One of the predictions of M-Theory is that a string doesn’t have to be a one-dimensional line, called a 1-brane. It can be a two dimensional plane (2-brane), or a three dimensional blob (3-brane). Brane is short for Membrane.

Now, some proponents of M-Theory posit that we live on one gigantic brane with all matter, Strings, anchored on its surface. The theory allows for there to be more than one of these, “universe containing” branes to exist. Therefore, we might be surrounded by alternate universes.

This idea, combined with some other ideas which I haven’t mentioned, causes some to adopt a belief in a ‘multiverse’: an entity which contains many forever separate universes.

Now, I’m going to kind of shift gears here.

Now, this idea would seem to negate the Cosmological Argument for God’s existence, for now the Universe has a cause other than God. It is merely part of this larger multiverse. And so, while certain universes may flash into and out of existence, the whole of the multiverse is always there. Thus, the multiverse is the first cause, or necessary being. No God needed.

However, I don’t think that the above statement is valid. I shall explain.

Just because the multiverse contains universes doesn’t make it self-explanatory. A cookie jar is no more self-explanatory than the cookies it holds. We might as well ask whether the universe is contingent as we might ask whether the multiverse is contingent. Either way, we speak of a larger entity containing many smaller entities known to be contingent. The question remains whether the contingency of the parts carries over to the whole or not. So, if it proves that the Universe is not self explanatory, I think we many safely assume that the same will hold true for the multiverse, as they are both using the same argument form. Therefore, I shall assume that we are talking about a single universe, as the terms and concepts involved are less foreign.

This post is intended to show that that multiverse theory changes nothing in the form or outcome of the cosmological argument, thus preventing anyone from saying that, “Modern Science makes the argument irrelevant.”

So, now we come down to the bear bones of the matter. Is the fallacy of composition committed in the Cosmological Argument?

But it is late, and I should probably head to bed. I shall deal with this in my next post.

NEXT TIME: “THE FALLACY OF COMPOSITION: Part 2-Is it present?”!

John Ahern writes,

Advent

So we begin again
digging our fingernails
to pry out tiny lightbulbs
jamming them back in
to make them blink or blue or both.

Warm, stifling air
we joy in
coming from dragons’ mouths
that first must practice with
arctic winds
while we drive home.

And the dead is silent, the innocent -
bright, trampled, muddied here.
And we rush to make new men and angels from it
but fear to disturb the covering over the marriage
of Heaven and earth.

(I’ve taken from Hannah Roorda’s idea of tearing apart one’s own poetry.) I’ll explain this a little bit and what I meant by it all. I was struck once or twice during this most recent Advent season with some of the symbolism. I knew it wasn’t any good to write it all out in dry prose. But I’m not satisfied with it still, especially the last stanza. I want to know what you think of it.

So we begin again….

The first line is simply there to express cyclicality in the Church’s placement of Advent at the beginning of the Church year. Perhaps what I chose to illustrate this new, recurring beginning was a little mundane – putting up Christmas lights in lines 2-5 – but it’s one of those things you do in Advent, that you associate with Advent, and that never seems to get boring (for me, anyhow).

I’m not sure what to do about the repeated “or” in the fifth line. I think maybe it’s a bit excessive to have an “or” between “blink” and “blue” and I can’t think of any reason why to keep it there. I could point out the long “I” assonance in the third line, ahem, but it’s unintentional and accidental, so it really serves no material significance as far as I can tell.

I don’t like participles in poetry – it makes it cliché pseudo-Eliotic, I think. (There are a lot in this poem, so if you can come up with ways out of them, comment.) But “prying” might make more sense that “to pry” in line 3. I’m hoping for some opinion on that one.

Warm, stifling air…

This only works if that’s a universal experience, but I’ve always found one of the most unpleasant things about winter is getting into a car that’s been sitting out in the cold for hours at night, and waiting, waiting, waiting for the warm air to kick in. You can probably sort it out from there.

And the dead is silent, the innocent -
bright….

The first line explains it all, but I’m not sure the first line really works. What’s dead during winter or Advent, you ask? Well, everything. Plants, trees, grass, rocks, dirt, water, and all that. And I’ve noticed that in winter, everything (especially right before it snows) is quiet. The innocent is the snow.

The first line of the third stanza is synecdoche, and I’m not sure it works in this context. Anyway, the “innocent” snow is always very bright, but spoiled by the trampling and muddying. There’s some Christo-centric symbolism here I think, which is part of the reason I wrote the poem.

The cover is snow. One always wants to go out to build snowmen and wriggle around in the snow, but there’s something sacred about the snow that one is afraid to uncover. It seems improper to go and disturb it. Again, there may be some symbolism here that I’ve taken from the Virgins with Lamps and Oil, and Weddings, and all that.

For interest’s sake, I have a versed version here of the first two stanzas. Something arises up in me that kicks against free verse, so from conscience I wrote this (it’s not in meter, necessarily, but it’s syllabic):

So we begin again
our fingernails digging
into tiny lightbuls
to make them blink, blue (or) both.

We joy in stiffling air
from dragons’ mouths that first
awaken arctic winds
this while we’re driving home.

I don’t like at all, but I do like the “awaken” in line 7 more.

*******************

Here are some more haikus I’ve written down on whim.

Moldy pancakes soaked
In syrup, squished together.
It’s cytology.

(Nick suggested “cytology time” for the last line, which I at first thought was corny, but now it’s growing on me.)

*

like plane propellers
shattering my wine goblet
from too much Wagner

(Probably inspired by one of the Tenors. Thanks to Gabrielus who helped me out on this one.)

*

Glory be to God
for my sinus infection
around stinky cheese

*

Women, wittily
vaunt their two X Chromosomes.
Hm. I wonder Y

(Composed for my fellow Biology students, and most especially, MrsH.)

Nick Embrey writes,

I’ve already posted once today, and I know some of you have already seen this, but I’m extremely curious about what you think, so here you have it.

The Spider:

So whether you agree or disagree,
There is one thing,
One thing you must see:
That I do not mean to harm you in any way.
Listen to me.
Listen to what I say.
I do not want to harm you in any way;
Your pain is merely a byproduct of the equation,
And if I could have it another way,
I would.

Do not hate me for it.

The Fly:

I do agree,
And I find your case compelling.
I see that any appeal on my part
To sense or rationality,
Love or pity,
Would be dishonest art,
And far more reprehensible than your desire
To eat me (which is quite natural).
Therefore,
I will accept my place in the grand equation,
And struggle as much as is natural
And no more.

I tire. Kill me.

Nick Embrey writes,

Imagine I’m a brilliant and God-loving theologian, and I spend my days contemplating God. I, like Anselm, might come up with something like this:

1. I have a concept of that than which nothing more perfect can be conceived.

2. If this concept merely exists in my head, it is not a concept of that than which nothing more perfect can be conceived, since it can be conceived to exist in reality, and its existing in reality would be more perfect

3. Therefore, this thing exists in reality. We call it God.

If I’m misrepresenting Anselm’s argument, please let me know.

-

Imagine I’m possessed, and the diabolical powers that be are using me to twist proofs of God’s existence. I might say something like this to draw you away from God-loving theologians like Anselm:

1. I have a concept of that than which nothing more destructive*** can be conceived.

2. If this concept merely exists in my head, it is not a concept of that than which nothing more destructive can be conceived, since it can be conceived to exist in reality, and its existing in reality would be more destructive.

3. Therefore, this thing exists in reality. Ultimate evil exists, and is omnipotent.

If you find a problem with this argument, please let me know.

(***Destructive, as far as concerns this post, is defined as “powerful and evil”, or “negative perfection”. I know it’s not a perfect (heheh) word for the job, but it’s the best I could come up with in simple English.)

Hannah Roorda writes:

There was a young fellow named Nick
Whose brain was incredibly quick.
His tact was alarming,
He was terribly charming,
And he even was kind to this hick!

Happy birthday, Nick!