Tagged: mindful practice

XQ the subjective side of math

XQ is the exploration of maths in terms of the subjective world. It is the other side of mathematics, the human side. XQ establishes mathematics as a minimal language. XQ reflects mathematics as the model of the mind: mathematics is the territory.

The implications are quite, quite breath-taking.

Could XQ contribute a missing link to the development of an artellect, a conscious computer? Could XQ help validate buddhism in the eyes of western scientists, and establish it as a science of the subjective? Could Applied XQ work as a kind of therapy, where appropriate mathematical operations exercise certain mental processes that lead to the correction of a mental aberration? (Definitive proof, perhaps, that maths is good for you..?)

wisdom located in the space between us

Let us simplify things. Let us say that buddhism is radical subjectivism and science is radical objectivism, occupying the two extremes of the psycho-social continuum. In between these two extremes, are the rest of us, with our jobs and families and politics and shops and football and coffee and whatever else we dream and do. Where in this maelstrom of happening can there be a third extreme? And this is where I would like to locate it: directly between us. In the case of this book, it is between me the writer and you the reader. In tango, it is between the two dancers. In a family, it is between each member during every engagement. On a football pitch, it is between the players as they play. It is precisely the point between us, embodied by our actual, fully-immersed engagement, this book, a dance, a game. It is the social edge, as soon as we enter the social contract of talk-listen, as soon as we act together.

four delusions of money

The “money-can-be-saved” delusion. The notion of saving money in a bank is absurd, although it is a particularly resilient illusion.

The “we-pay-for-things” delusion. We are trapped in the delusion, we are imprisoned by our work.

The “let’s-make-some-money” delusion. But of course, the only people who make money are banks, ratified by governments or kings. It is a collective illusion that serves a very useful purpose: without which we’d still be bartering.

The “negative-money” delusion. Before negative numbers, owing had a precise face, who I owed the oranges to; now it is faceless. One of Ghandi’s working principles was to never work in credit; this application of negative numbers to money deserves more attention.