Metropolis Organism

  What it’s like to see something nobody else sees On discovering physics, losing my carelessness, and living with ideas that feel obvious to me and invisible to everyone else. When I was in twelfth grade I discovered physics. I wasn’t supposed to do well at it — I was the uncouth kid, the one who rattled the desks and laughed at the teacher’s jokes. But physics hooked me with a ferocity I hadn’t known I was capable of. I understood it easily, almost instinctively. Mathematics became a kind of language I could use to open the machinery of the world. I was overjoyed. For a while I felt as if I ruled the world: what I saw, literally, no one else saw. To everyone else it was another subject to struggle with. To me it was the key. Then I discovered the other side of physics — the deterministic side. The joy evaporated. If the universe obeyed universal laws, then where was my will? Had I been in control, or had I merely been carried along like a leaf in a current I could now describe? T...

 

  Metropolis Organism: blog post #20,  Sweet Caress AsS short film about the unseen support of civilization We move through our days unaware of the invisible body that sustains us. Like air — always present, always necessary — civilization surrounds us, carries us, and makes life possible. Yet we rarely notice it. Sweet Caress is a four-minute film that invites you to pause and see what usually goes unseen. ▶ Watch Sweet Caress on Vimeo The film carries a subtle reminder: we are not as independent as we imagine. Our lives are woven into a larger organism. Just as our cells live and work within the body, so we live and work within civilization. We give, we receive, and we depend on one another in ways we seldom acknowledge. Perhaps the next time you step outside, you’ll notice the quiet embrace of all that supports you. This article resonates with themes explored in   The Metropolis Organism   — a video series examining cities as literal biological systems, where h...

Do the Houses Speak? A four-minute film that lets a town whisper its truth Do you ever wonder what the houses in your town say at night when you are asleep? Do you ever wonder if they talk about you—what they whisper about the lives lived inside them? For a moment, imagine it. The porches, the windows, the painted trim. Grateful for the attention, the care, the love. And yet—aware that sooner or later, you will be gone. Another family will move in. Life will continue, but without you. This is the conceit of Nyack , a four-minute short film that is as beautiful as it is unsettling. It looks like a sentimental portrait of a town. But listen closely: the voice you hear is not a narrator’s. It belongs to the houses themselves. They thank us. They remember us. And they remind us of something we try not to face: that we are temporary, and they endure. Watch the Film Nyack (short documentary) Watch on Vimeo A Quiet Reminder Nyack is not a film about architecture, or even about a town. It’s a...

The Metropolis Organism, blog post #18,  Casting a Net for One When most people write a blog, they cast a net wide, hoping to gather followers. Success is measured in numbers: clicks, likes, shares, subscribers.   I am grateful for a few friends and occasional curious click, They are being kind and I appreciate the expression. My goal is different. I cast my net across the world not to gather many, but to sift for one. Just one person. Someone who knows the philosophy of science, who understands what I am saying, and who is open enough to discuss it. (Dare I say it—it is intellectually lonely out here, but I have a lovely wife and family to keep me warm.) Why Most People Don’t Care The truth is, most people could not care less. They are too busy living their lives to bother with speculative, conceptual questions about existence. Part of me envies them. Life might be easier without this burden of thought. Others—my dear friends among them—try to be sympathetic. With the best of...

#17 Theism and the Weight of Time Why I struggle with the argument from design I am not a militant atheist. But from time to time, I encounter a particular argument from friends—delivered with sincerity, even emotion—that I find difficult to accept. The argument goes something like this: Look at this amazing world we live in. Its beauty, its complexity, its intricacy—surely it must be evidence of a supreme being, an intelligent designer. The world could not possibly exist without one. It’s an argument that has a certain intuitive appeal. I admire it, I respect it, and in some ways, I even envy it. But when I look more closely, the reasoning does not hold up. The Weight of Deep Time Science and paleontology tell a different story. The earliest evidence of Homo sapiens dates back about 300,000 years. That may seem like a long time—until we place it against Earth’s history. Life has existed here for roughly 3.7 billion years before the appearance of humans. That is an unfathomable stretc...