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When voice answers other voice
Apr. 20th, 2008 12:51 amI'm going through QM problems at a steady pace, which is good... but this night's mood, compounded of an unwelcome visit and my toying with direct products, doesn't lend itself to regular, everyday details. So.
There is only one kind of wave function of maximal certainty, the bell-shaped Gaussian: symmetric about its expectation value, with one extremum and two inflection points. And there is only one potential in which it exists stably, the potential of the harmonic oscillator, that which approximates all equilibrium. The Gaussian is its lowest energy state, though all others may be derived recursively from it. In analogy: be at some fixed point, and be at your lowest in it, then you will be at your most measurable.
I write foolishly. Why have I set out on this path of self-creation, knowing as I do that I haven't the wisdom for it? Seven months since its inception, the first work of a project beyond reasonable proportions sits at three thousand words, with two gaps (three prior to tonight) left to be filled before I have a draft. However, I am not as committed to silence as my project might have me believe. Growth involves waste. You who are reading, whoever you are, ought to (and will) see more from me than the systems of that elaborate project. I still exist, as I often tell myself in response to an odd internal inquiry. I will try to convey to you the view from this side of the abyss. My words serve many moods. Perhaps you share some of them.
I grow strange in distance, I know, but I grow sick in company. I cannot hear you except as you, and your voice does not always carry beyond the noise of your person. But I need that outside voice. A lone voice grows hoarse, loses all its resonances but those near at hand, thus loses all coherence but inner; however, when voice answers other voice one may hear another in oneself, and oneself in another, and know that something and someone distant resonate. It is a lonely night, when my words reach noone but me, and the sky itself echoes them back to deafen me in narcissism, though each one calls out to friends. Are you out there?
There is only one kind of wave function of maximal certainty, the bell-shaped Gaussian: symmetric about its expectation value, with one extremum and two inflection points. And there is only one potential in which it exists stably, the potential of the harmonic oscillator, that which approximates all equilibrium. The Gaussian is its lowest energy state, though all others may be derived recursively from it. In analogy: be at some fixed point, and be at your lowest in it, then you will be at your most measurable.
I write foolishly. Why have I set out on this path of self-creation, knowing as I do that I haven't the wisdom for it? Seven months since its inception, the first work of a project beyond reasonable proportions sits at three thousand words, with two gaps (three prior to tonight) left to be filled before I have a draft. However, I am not as committed to silence as my project might have me believe. Growth involves waste. You who are reading, whoever you are, ought to (and will) see more from me than the systems of that elaborate project. I still exist, as I often tell myself in response to an odd internal inquiry. I will try to convey to you the view from this side of the abyss. My words serve many moods. Perhaps you share some of them.
I grow strange in distance, I know, but I grow sick in company. I cannot hear you except as you, and your voice does not always carry beyond the noise of your person. But I need that outside voice. A lone voice grows hoarse, loses all its resonances but those near at hand, thus loses all coherence but inner; however, when voice answers other voice one may hear another in oneself, and oneself in another, and know that something and someone distant resonate. It is a lonely night, when my words reach noone but me, and the sky itself echoes them back to deafen me in narcissism, though each one calls out to friends. Are you out there?