Unity

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

The Gospel according to Saint John

In the middle of the night, hunched over a book, I have looked for the WORD to be lurking in the equations of Dirac, Einstein, and Schrodinger. In the middle of the night, I have looked for the WORD in the universal laws of physics. In the middle of the night, I have looked for the WORD. Many have found it there. Many are still looking for the final form of the WORD. I can't seem to find it.

Figure 1: The Equations to Ponder

I am standing in the middle of the prairie that makes up the Comanche National Grassland in Northeast Colorado. The WORD flies up in front of me again and again. Night falls in central Texas on the small space set aside to preserve Greater Prairie—chickens (Atwater National Wildlife Refuge). The WORD is sitting on a dead tree 200 yards away. I am in awe. On the escarpment called la Escalera which leads to the Gran Sabana of Venezuela, the WORD practically knocks me down at every turn.

Figure 2: Comanche National Grassland

Who is that person in childhood. Does he really care that the average lifespan is 70 years? Is his own lifespan of prime concern? Is he really concerned with the great universals? Does the nature of change impress the enormity of life upon him? Does he care that Neotropic warblers are in a state of universal decline, or does he miss their song in spring?

Now I can answer. My life  flits briefly before me--not much. All I have. Let me be one. Let me integrate Let  me experience the here—and—now (never caught in the universal )

Where am I in the equations of Dirac and Einstein? Where am I?

I am standing in central Texas at sunset, seemingly alone. At my feet in the roadside ditch, a King Rail calls and tentatively steps forward. Two hundred yards away a Great Horned Owl swoops in and perches on the end of an exposed branch of a dead willow tree. Silence has not yet descended. Some creatures are settling for the night while others are just stirring.     I know I am alive.  I know I am not alone. I know that my life has meaning—not in its entirety—but right here, right now.

Figure 3: great Horned Owl

I am crying. From where did these tears arise? What has touched my core? The plane is circling a landing spot on a lake in North-central Ontario. Two weeks of canoeing the innumerable lakes of the Canadian wilderness has begun. I am crying. As the pontoons of the plane hit the water I am jubilant. As we unload the canoes, bags of provisions, tents, and fishing gear I am ecstatic. As the plane fades over the horizon, we set up camp amid growing excitement. We are alone in the wilderness. The loons begin to call. As the sun sets across the lake the campfire holds off the night. The moose begin to bellow. We know we are THERE. This is the beginning of time. This is the source. This is where it all begins. We are home.

Figure 4: Pontoon Float Plane with Canoe

But home is 2000 miles away.  My family is not with me. I have a tent, a sleeping bag, some processed food, a few utensils, a map, a compass, a canoe, a paddle , some fishing gear, and miscellaneous equipment. It's us and this stuff.  There are hundreds of lakes and thousands of square miles of boreal forest and the denizens—none human. My intellectual apparatus is nowhere to be found. For two weeks, this is all there will be: We are alone with God. Not once will it help me to be able to solve the Schrodinger equation. Not once will I encounter an oscilloscope or a table of transition coefficients or photoemission cross—sections. Nor will it help me that I can balance a checking account, or navigate the interstate highway system, or place a telephone call.  I know that the WORD is here.

Quietly the COBE satellite moves along its orbit. There is no noise in the vacuum of space. Onboard antennas are steered this way and that, seeking the signals— the cosmic microwave background—signature of the beginning of time. It is there. Evidence accumulates. We can clearly see the beginning of time— when all began—the ultimate singularity in reality.  Scientists  are ecstatic.  Gurus seek the ultimate equations which will describe it all- a program started by Einstein—the Grand Unification. Other researchers seek further evidence; they even speak of the search for the GOD particle. They do this all for me so I can see the beginning of time: so I can comprehend the totality of the universe on its grandest scale; so I can see into the most fundamental details of the stuff of creation. My love of order is impressed with the scope ,universality, and beauty of this human structure—this wealth of explanation.

Figure 5: COBE Satellite

I am alone on the Patagonian steppes.  I can barely see. Intense winds blowing in from the South Atlantic have kicked up a dust storm of vast proportions—-apparently a common event in this part of the world.  Earlier in the day, these same winds had pushed up a storm surge into the bays and harbors of Southern Argentina, wreaking havoc with civilization; taking out power , flooding business districts, bringing commerce to a standstill  Can the equations address this? Can my physicist friends give hope that predictions of such events will minimize the impact on human life. Those in the know seem to say resoundingly "NO",  while others search for the Grand Unification to explain everything.

Today in Southern Patagonia my life is in danger; this dust storm brings great peril to the traveler—to me. Today I really don’t care that on the average there are five dust storms in March in this general part of the world. I want to know the character of the weather later today (this day) , at the precise location where I am going. It clears for a spell.  I see an interesting dry lakebed in the distance—I am eager to explore. I set off in that direction.

On the Southern horizon I see a gathering…an area of intensity. I reconsider. I retreat to shelter. Sleet and dust, driven horizontally by steady intense winds, arrive as I reach the shelter making it impossible to navigate. I am safe.

Figure 6: Patagonian Dust Storm

I struggle to comprehend the regularities that physicists find in the mathematics of group theory. I learn many of these patterns.    I am fascinated.  I discover some patterns of my own— patterns within patterns, forms within forms, structure within  structure. Surely God must be hiding here. How can the deity not be expressed in this great beauty, this elegance, this symmetry, this completeness, this self—contained universe.

Surely the WORD is here. Still , I am unsure.

I feel a tug on the end of the line. He is there. These are Walleye waters. Not so quietly my sonic lure wiggles through the water below sending out the vibratory message "Come to me. I am hurt. I am in trouble". Somewhere in the depths of this lake whose name is only on the map and not in my consciousness, an instinct stirs, a need to survive suppresses itself,  a Walleye is brought to action. He hits my lure. There will be good eating tonight. I am happy. I will be fed. I am cared for .

Figure 7: Walleye is my Supper

I neither sowed nor reaped. At that instant in time we are alone in the universe, this Walleye and I; fulfilling our destinies and expressing our unity- He doesn't know my name, nor I his. It does not matter. We are one. I know he doesn’t know the Schrodinger equation or understand the mysteries of group theory. I do.

  We arise and spend time living. We pass. We are  brothers. He knows the kind of molecules my body can utilize for energy  extraction. He knows the kind of molecules my body can use to rebuild sagging tissues. He knows because he seeks them himself . He knows because his life depends on them as well. He knows because we arise from the same lifestuff .

` He neither sows or reaps.                                                                  He lives. Suddenly he dies.                                                   

My supper…  My brother.