of nodes and parallel universes

[a re-post]

Both thoughts I am going to present are just imaginations, fantasies. They have nothing to do with anything I have learned anywhere (although they were inspired by some Chassidus and somewhat by Alan Lightman's Einstein's Dreams). Nor do I necessarily think that's how things are.

* * *

Imagine the five-dimensional space of the Universe as a system of nodes. A system of connected worlds that looks like a subway, through which your personal universe is going through. Most of the time it's a straight line, as far as you're concerned. But sometimes the train comes to a fork. At this junction, you have an ability to make a decision; you have freedom of will. Whatever decision you make will decide what the universe be like. If you decide to put the pencil on the desk, it will be the universe with the pencil lying on the desk. If you throw it into the trash bin, it will be a completely different universe.

And then the train keeps rolling.

By making decisions, you create the worlds; or, rather, you bring out of oblivion of potential one particular world that does exist in reality. Of all the different nodes connected to your current node, one particular node lights up; the rest stay gray. So far so good.

Now, imagine that G-d knows all the possible paths, all the possible nodes, all existing in potential, in parallel, in the gray dreamy sea of possibility.

Imagine that the network of the nodes is constructed in such a way that a certain number of key nodes necessarily exist; you must pass through them, whatever your journey to that station was.

Now comes the tricky bit. Imagine that for G-d, it does not make a difference which of they gray nodes became silvery lit up, and which remained gray. To Him, the sea of nodes never changes and stays the same. To you, the universe in which you live is the reality, and what could've been is a dream. But to Him all the possible universes are an ever-existing reality. And He knows them all equally.

And no decision of yours ever makes a change in that Knowledge.

* * *

This part is not related to the first part, above.

Imagine the same kind of network, except each node is not dependent on decisions you made, but is in fact a different reality. In this reality, the used car you're planning to take a look at turns out to be nice, and cheap, and in good condition, and just for you. And in this reality, this car turns out to be a piece of junk, and you've just wasted your time and money on the subway.

Now, imagine that based on the decisions you make in your life, G-d pushes you into one reality or the other. It's not always visible; it's not always evident, and it's not always linear. But sometimes it is. And because of that little piece of loshon horah that you decided to say you were directed into the universe where that first date went horribly, and both of you decided to walk away. While in the parallel universe, the parallel you (who kept his mouth shut) has a relatively good time, goes on with the shidduch, marries and lives happily ever after.

Or not.

Imagine your life, yourself as a little car, being bounced from one silver dot on the map to another. The different universes, different parallel worlds that you visit. Sometimes due to your decisions, sometimes not. With endless sea of gray dotes stretching out to eternity all around you.

Letter to a Roman friend

Elaine blath, Feainnewedd

Dearme aen a’caelme tedd

Eigean evelienn deireadh

Que’n esse, va en esseath

Feainnewedd, elaine blath!

(Elven nursery rhyme, from Blood of Elves by Sapkowski)

Censored by yours truly. Translated from Russian.

[...]
I’m sending to you, Postum-friend, some reading.
How’s the capital? Soft bed and rude awakening?
How’s Caesar? What’s he doing? Still intriguing?
Still intriguing, I imagine, and engorging.

In my garden, I am sitting with a night-light
No maid nor mate, not even a companion,
But instead of weak and mighty of this planet,
Buzzing pests in their unanimous dominion.


Here was laid away an Asian merchant. Clever
Merchant was he — very diligent yet decent.
He died suddenly — malaria. To barter
Business did he come, and surely not for this one.

Next to him — a legionnaire under a quartz grave.
In the battles he brought fame to the Empire.
Many times could been killed! Yet died an old brave.
Even here, there is no ordinance, my dear.


Maybe, chickens really aren’t birds, my Postum,
Yet a chicken brain should rather take precautions.
An empire, if you happened to be born to,
Better live in distant province, by the ocean.

Far away from Caesar and from tempests.
No need to cringe, to rush or to be fearful.
You are saying all procurators are looters,
But I’d rather choose a looter than a slayer.

[...]

Here, we’ve covered more than half of our life span
As an old slave, by the tavern, has just said it:
«Turning back, we look, but only see old ruins».
Surely, his view is barbaric, but yet candid.

Been to hills and now busy with some flowers.
Have to find a pitcher and to pour them water.
How’s in Libya, my Postum, or wherever?
Is it possible that we are still at war there?

[...]

Do come here, we’ll have a drink with bread and olives —
Or with plums. You’ll tell me news about the nation.
In the garden you will sleep under clear heavens,
And I’ll tell you how they name the constellations.

Postum, friend of yours once tendered to addition,
Soon shall reimburse deduction, his old duty…
Take the savings, which you’ll find under my cushion.
Haven’t got much, but for funeral — it’s plenty.

[...]

Laurel’s leaves so green — it makes your body shudder.
Wide ajar the door — a tiny window’s dusty —
Long deserted bed — an armchair is abandoned —
Noontime sun has been absorbed by the upholstery.

With the wind, by sea point cape, a boat is wrestling.
Roars the gulf behind the black fence of the pine trees.
On the old and wind-cracked bench — Pliny the Elder.
And a thrush is chirping in the mane of cypress.

(Joseph Brodsky)

The battle for King’s Landing

More of Tyrion.

Jon and Tyrion

An excerpt featuring most people’s favorite character Tyrion Lannister (at the end) and Jon Stark.

Speaking of chumros...

As I was re-reading a novella by one of my favorite writers, this paragraph caught my sight:

I bowed with my helmet on, and with the gloved fist I touched the coat of mail on my breast. I didn’t introduce myself. I had the right not to. The shield hanging by my side, turned back to front, was a clear sign that I wished to preserve my incognito. The knightly customs had by then assumed the character of commonly accepted norm. I didn’t think it a healthy development, but then the knights’ customs grew odder, not to say idiotic, by the day.

I suppose some things never change.

What do I like about Sapkowski, you ask? His sense of humor. For instance:

I bet my head that in Ireland Christianity will be a passing fashion. We Irish, we do not buy this hard, inflexible, Roman fanaticism. We are too sober-headed for that, too simple-hearted. Our Ireland is the fore-post of the West, it’s the Last Shore. Beyond, not far off, are the Old Lands: Hy Brasil, Ys, Mainistir Leitreach, Beag-Arainn. It is they, not the Cross, not the Latin liturgy, that rule people’s minds. It was so ages ago and it’s so today. Besides, we Irish are a tolerant people. Everybody believes what he wants. I heard that around the world different factions of Christians are already at each other’s throats. In Ireland it’s impossible. I can imagine everything, but not that Ulster, say, might be a scene of religious scuffles.

And more (about) cases

(Why are all pareve chocolate chips semi-sweet?)

It turns out, according to this article, that besides regular six deflection cases (more about cases) of Russian language — nominative, genitive, dative, accusative, instrumental and prepositional — there are a few rarely occurring special cases: numeric-separative, depriving, waiting, local, calling, turning, and counting.

Am I the only one to whom this sounds like some list of spells from Harry Potter?