Recently Pip Coburn circulated a note on the importance of finding the right balance of challenge for your skill level to avoid boredom and frustration. He noted the linkage to Csikszentmihalyi's work on flow, something that's fascinated me for some time as finding states of flow is important to me.1
The note made me think about levels of frustration and feelings of 'stupidity' one can have. For some time I've identified types of stupidity with one being very useful and perhaps necessary in science. Here's my response:
It’s fascinating to think about these things. Your comment on loving the work - “absolutely loving” it - is so important.
I think it’s important finding a field that no one can possibly master but, at the same time, know parts of it well enough to find where you may have a bit of success in if you apply yourself. As a beginning grad student I had no idea how hard it is to do research. It’s much more difficult than the most demanding courses as it’s an immersion into the unknown. Some people just give up and find easier paths. I find it useful to think about how to be productively stupid.
’Stupid’ is an unfortunate word, but I haven’t found anything better. Productive stupidity isn’t the relative stupidity you may feel in a a class where the other students are doing very well. It’s also not where someone who happens to be very bright is working in an area that doesn’t use their talents. (Stephen Hawking would have been a terrible point guard in the NBA even though the position demands strategic and tactical thinking.) Rather it’s a kind of existential fact .. an absolute stupidity. It puts you in the position of being ignorant by choice (here I use 'ignorant' in the 19th century sense - realizing there's an area you don't know much about and choosing to pursue it). So it’s fine to have failures here and there as you try to find your way. And sometimes, something wonderful is found. The process can generate serendipity. Of course you end up doing many less challenging things as part of the process. They’re often rewarding, but it’s amazing when you find something totally new. It’s what drives a lot of people.
I’ve had some great conversations with people who push their fields and hear the same thing with different words. Yo-Yo Ma, Sarah Pavan (beach volleyball Olympian), a number of physicists and mathematicians as well as several artists.2 The words were different, but the paths were very familiar.
There’s another piece to this. Bringing together a very diverse set of people who excel at productive stupidity is something of an amplifier. Often there are interesting hints and even keys that you never would have thought of. That and it’s often a lot of fun.
__________
1 Years ago I attended a talk by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Afterwards I had a few questions including "how do you pronounce your name? He said this is good enough for Americans:
Me-high Cheek-sent-me-high
2 There are many others who probably do something like this .. these are just the people I've talked about it with.
Mr Gross was my high school German teacher. He was big on learning language through song and would regularly point out a German word or phrase that might be more appropriate than American English. I wasn't a good student of the language, but he made an impact on me. I still remember and use some of his offerings. Today I saw one of my favorites used in the New York Times - the first time I've seen it used in America.
freudenfreude
Mr Gross described it as the opposite of schadenfreude. It's the joy and delight we feel when someone else finds success - even when, particularly when, their success doesn't involve us. He used to describe the joy he felt when a blind student from our school won a state piano competition. It's an important social glue - a gift to be aware of and take delight in. Mr Gross has been gone for a long time, but thinking about this word turned out to be one of the best things I learned in high school.
This is the original holiday card I sketched back in 1994 along with a bit of midi. I borrowed a Wacom tablet and made a few strokes with the pen - a minute's worth of work. The music took longer. The web was new so I posted it on a server under my desk at work. I didn’t have enough time or imagination to make some new the next year so it returned unchanged. The third year rolled about and I would have forgotten about it, but there were a few dozen requests. From then on it went up every year on or soon after Thanksgiving in honor of the Winter Solstice holidays. It’s a survivor having been hosted on five different servers over the years. For the silver anniversary I though about drawing something new and held a vote. The old card stays - it was unanimous.
Reading an obscure paper from the 1880s a word stopped me - apricity. It seemed like I had come across it before and there were hints from the context, but it was time for the OED.1 I pulled out the first volume of my old compact edition - the one with the magnifying glass - and found it. An obscure word dating to 1623 meaning the warmth of the Sun in the Winter.
The warmth of a bright Sun in on a clear cold Winter day. That's something that captures most of us know - the radiant heat of the Sun isn't isn't perturbed by the cold air and can be quite comfortable. Then it hit me I heard the word in a John McPhee lecture in Princeton.2 A few decades had passed since he wrote Coming into the Country, but it was about three Alaskas including a look at the Winter. A perfect word for some of the days.
A day of apricity can make snow melt in subzero air temperatures on Southern-facing roofs only to freeze into beautifully clear long icicles at the edge. This type of ice formation is often free of bubbles producing beautifully clear ice. If you have wide enough icicles you might try making an ice lens and starting a fire.
Such days are made for outdoor recreation if there isn't any wind. Perhaps more importantly the basic principle - heat transfer by radiation - can keep heating expenses down. Heating and moving air to fill rooms is enormously inefficient. If you aren't moving around much you might try a small radiant heater and point it at the area where you are. Heat what you need to heat with infrared light. Direct sunlight is the same... sit in the Sun. These measures, plus wearing warm indoor clothing and being somewhat active lets you get away with low thermostat settings. And be on the lookout for aprocity as that can give a big psychological boost!
Another Winter word I like is tingilinde. It's a constructed word based on J.R.R. Tolkien's elfin language Quenya meaning the sparkle of the starlight reflecting on the snow on a dark moonless Winter night. Such sights could be spectacular in Montana away from town when it was really cold and a bit of new snow had fallen as tiny ice crystals. Another great spot is Yellowstone .. super cold air forms the right kind of ice crystal snow near the hot springs and geysers. Once it was magical - the cold starlight reflecting from millions of tiny diamonds along with the greens and reds of a bright aurora dancing overhead. On such nights you don't notice that it's really cold.
__________
1The Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary is the 1928 edition. Devilishly small print that requires a magnifying glass, but the real OED and only about $80 (still a lot back then!) rather than the fortune the full dictionary went for. There's a lovely bit of historical fiction on the dictionary and the people who made it happen: The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams. It's set in the time and place with many of the characters, but focuses on what was left out.. those who weren't white, male and of a certain class. Recommended!
2 McPhee is a great writer - a master of the creative non-fiction genre.
Yesterday Om pointed out that it was piano day - the 88th day of the year honoring the 88 keys of most pianos. I read his post a day late, but there's still hope for another celebration with the same name. An obvious choice might involve the Bösendorfer grand where options include 92 and 97 keys in addition to the normal 88. Music has been written for these beautiful instruments, but why stop there?
Press a key on the piano and a hammer strikes one or more strings which begin to vibrate producing a sound. The frequency of the vibration depends on the length of the string with longer strings vibrating at lower frequencies.1 The left most key causes the longest string to oscillate 27 times per second - 27 Hertz (Hz) - while the right most key produces a 4,186 Hz frequency. In between the keys are divided into 7 octaves, each composed of 12 keys. Each octave doubles the frequency so the C above middle C has a frequency twice as high. The notes are evenly divided so each key has a frequency 21/12 times - just under six percent higher than the preceding key.
Now we're ready.
Let's say you wanted a piano with the range of human hearing - usually given as 20 to 20,000 Hz in young children. Going from 4,186 to 20,000 Hz, after a bit of arithmetic, requires 27 extra keys on the right. Five keys on the left will get you to 20 Hz.. One hundred and twenty keys and some long arms would be sufficient to entertain young children to the limit of their range.
But what about dogs? Canine hearing goes up to about 40,000 Hz. All we need to do is add an octave, or 12 keys, to cover their range. Other mammals can hear even higher pitches. Bats top out around 160,000 Hz so we add two more octaves giving us a 156 key instrument. We don't have to go much higher as the atmosphere strongly attenuates higher frequencies. A bat can produce a very loud noise, but even their sensitive ears are only good for a 20 meter range.2
We've left out elephants which go down to about 12 Hz - that works out to 9 keys on the left. We've grown the beastmaster piano to 165 keys. I won't cover whales because pianos don't work underwater.
The game can go on. There are any number of natural sounds of lower frequency (infrasound), but we'll leave it at that..
Well - almost. There are very faint sounds in the universe - ripples that move compress and expand space-time itself. They come across a wide range of frequencies, but exquisitely sensitive instrumentation is required for some of the loudest - like colliding black holes where the energy that goes into the resulting gravity wave can be the equivalent of several solar masses. It turns out the frequency of the first one detected was a chirp that went from about 35 Hz up to about 250 Hz (close to middle C). You can play the signal as audio.
So much information there, but it may not be pleasing so let's end with one of the most demanding pieces for the human voice - in this case a coloratura soprano. The Queen of the Night in Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte.
I'll leave you to find some good piano music today. Perhaps Om's list is a place to start.
_________
1 It also depends on the mass of the string, its diameter and tension. Additionally a rich set of other frequencies are produced giving the louder central frequency richness and character. There's a good deal of art in the design and construction of a fine piano and none of the sound the same.
2 It's a feature. Longer range would confuse them with signals from other bats, plus they tend to work a few meters from their prey.
First a caveat - I have almost no background in the social sciences.
This week a few people have written about information overload. It’s certainly been with us since the beginning of the 16th century in the Western world and one can make arguments that extend further back. The rate of new knowledge, as opposed to raw information, has increased in many fields, doubling or more every decade and causing many fields to fission into new subfields. It’s a major cause of the imposter syndrome I feel when I’m trying to hack through a paper in low temperature physics for example … sixty years ago there wasn’t a problem thinking about both.
We deal with the information increase by specializing and creating what are often rich traditions. I’ve been able to carry on rich conversations with people where I have no Mandarin and the other person had almost no English by jotting abstractions and drawings of our shared tradition on a blackboard (slate blackboards are another tradition in my field) .
But these traditions blind us to the greater knowledge around us. .. It reminds me of the early experiment where you train a dog to respond to a bell. When you measure the brainwave of the dog you get a clear signal when the bell is rung. Now put a piece of juicy meat before the dog and ring the bell. The bell signal is nowhere to be found - it’s been overridden by the sight and/or the smell of the meat.
It’s funny - we don’t make progress without tradition, but it can also blind us to the greater world.. My belief is it’s important to communicate across the boundaries of the many traditions. I think this is an area where the arts are very powerful. We’re resorting to mechanisms we don’t have a real grasp on.. machine learning comes to mind.. to deal with some of this. There are many views on the subject, but I’m guessing it isn’t as useful as many suggest.
Finally there's an issue in traditions where knowledge doesn’t increase rapidly. How to be kind, how to be a good person, love, peace. Areas where people a long time ago had figured things out within the context of their tradition and arguably we haven’t made progress..
anyway .. just random thoughts on a rainy Spring evening. There are so many issues here that are interesting to think about.
Enjoy the Spring and listen to some music and enjoy some art. And some of you are creatives so create rather than sit back!
______
A note on ignorance .. that's a complex subject in it's own right, but the title seems to fit.
Watching Apple's Mac Studio announcement yesterday took my mind to something Carl Sagan said in the Cosmos series.
The Mac Studio's underlying technology goes far beyond the many tens of thousands of person-hours Apple has invested. The semiconductor industry that stands on the shoulders of Bell Laboratories back to the fundamental work of James Clerk Maxwell and before. Apple and others are able to come up with advances that strike us as dramatic as they make an impact on our lives. The impact of some innovations like the electric light, the telephone, the automobile, powered flight, radio, the atomic bomb and the Internet have changed how we see ourselves. But take a look and they're all built on long chains of invention and innovation that are often forgotten.
This comes to mind with the horrors going on in Ukraine. Russia has always had brilliant minds. They've made stunning advances in physics and math, but they haven't been as successful as the West in building on that. A good deal of their technology is derivative. In the past 25 years this may be by design. Most of the export value comes from extraction - oil and other natural resources. These industries seem to fall under the direct control of Putin's friends. More technical industries are still under oligarchs, but these aren't super high profit. As long as the core players can control them, the real focus of the economy is what can be run by shear force and power rather than technology and sound business practices. (note - this is speculation as I'm certainly not a Russian expert.. so take it with a grain of salt).
High tech industry is required for the military and some consumer use. Although that is supposed to be home-brew there is a lot of importing and rebranding. I've seen that in electronics used in physics experiments and am told is standard operating procedure.
So imagine you can't important and rebrand the CNC tools necessary to make jet engines. Can you make the tools yourself. What if you can't even make precision bearings? What if China doesn't allow electronics into the country (they probably will, but now they can be the Mafia dons)? Sanctions can make a medium and longterm impact.
You don't need to make your Apple pies from scratch - we have our universe - but few companies or countries have the capability to build objects of the modern world without technologies that exist outside. All of these long threads few of us think about until they aren't available. Think about all of those high value products waiting for fifty cent ICs that were designed twenty years ago...
__________
PS - I'd love a Mac Studio, but it's way beyond my budget.
The Olympics can brings years of effort into very sharp focus for some of the best athletes in the world. A decade or more of hard work and sacrifice can fall one way or another in under a second. By any rational measure they're all amazing to get as far as they have. And of course the athletes don't buy that - at least not initially.
A few people have recommended a new book on regret. I haven't read it, but getting the recommendations while the Olympics are underway seems natural. I don't consider the phrase no regrets to be useful. Regret can be a powerful motivator, teacher and catalyst for self-reflection.
Every successful group and organization I've been around holds postmortems for projects independent of outcome. In large particle physics experiments it's common to hold internal and external postmortems. These are particularly important where the culture and institutional memory are long term goals. External postmortems are held for other experts - often competitors - and are important for ferreting out and fixing issues that hadn't been considered. (Feynman frequently said ~ The first principle is that you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool...) Of course there are regrets and people can feel a bit stupid, but you learn and grow.
At a personal level regret can be a highly motivating teacher. With enough reflection you become much better at making decisions and you get better at what you're doing. And sometimes life's big decisions come into clearer focus. Are you really doing what you like? Are you doing what you should be doing? Should you change your goals or invent completely new ones? A life with a singular focus can lead you down a path that you realize all too late was the wrong one. The self reflection of regret seems like a mechanism to make midcourse corrections, learning and growing as you travel.
I've had wonderful failures and mostly useful regrets. To some I may seem like a failure, to others a success, but to myself I'm lucky enough to still be learning - plus - all of my fingers and eyelashes are still intact.
A few weeks ago an unexpected email arrived from Germany. A physics postdoc and had come across an ancient transition radiation detector in storage at CERN a few months before. It seemed like it could be useful in an experiment her group was thinking about. She had a few questions and it turned out I was the best person to talk to.
Many people think science is done with sparkling new state-of-the-art kit. A few pieces perhaps, but very old equipment is updated, repaired and repurposed where it might be useful. An experiment I was part of in the early 80s required a very large magnet. The best bet was one that had been a cyclotron at Berkeley fifty years earlier. It worked well, but we had to tap into institutional knowledge that had migrated out of physics entirely. That knowledge combined with technology that hadn't been invented at the time gave us something fantastic.
I have no idea how my old detector made its way from Brookhaven National Laboratories to CERN. The documentation and lab books were packed with it, but they made assumptions that the people who built it would be involved. That meant me. I asked for photos of some of the lab book pages and then it came back. I listened to her ideas, offered some suggestions and wished we had her experience back then.. Of course that experience came years later.
These interactions spanning several decades may not be common, but twenty year interactions of hardware, software and people. It's all a mesh. Old apparatus islands that have been repurposed and grafted onto new apparatus. It's an organic process that's difficult to map out and impossible to predict. Diagrams it would look like flocks of meshes that are grafted together with a lot of institutional knowledge. No one has a complete picture and local expertise is critical. A team sport spanning decades. It isn't easy, but it works.
Last week I came across something by Frank Oppenheimer in the 30s:
It's one of the better commentaries I've seen on how science progresses. The same is probably true for many other fields. I suspect it's true for any infrastructure involved in messy and complex endeavors where creativity and insight come into play.
I've been fascinated watching the techno-solutionist approach to cities - the so-called smart city. These are often based on a "start with internet and build up" model. They try to measure everything and automate control. Sensors embedded everywhere and tree-like computational structures making decisions to smooth out - well - everything. A fundamental problem is we don't know what is being measured and what the biases - social and technical - are. A simple truth I've learned from my exposure to sports science is you have to know exactly what's being measured and exactly where it is useful. (duh!) Often current measurements and/or models just don't work. Something complex like a city is that on steroids with the tree-like information structures introducing a certain rigidity.
There are a few types of people who thrive in the messy environment of a city. Impedance matchers - those who can connect and explain across disciplines, and synthesizers come to mind. (many others too - artists for example) They respond to intellectual and system friction and help spark creativity. They're ground zero essentials for creativity and invention. I have doubts that the techno-solutionist cities can be terribly creative in the long run.
Sometimes when it was really dark - those clear moonless night where the Milky Way stood out - Brian and I would load the binoculars and telescope into my parent's station wagon and either go East on Highwood Road or North on the Bootlegger Trail past Benton Lake to get away from the town lights. It could be impressively dark. The kind of dark where the ground disappeared. We covered a low powered flashlight with red plastic. Dim red light didn't damage your night vision as much as white light did. But you could do a lot better.
When you're in a very dark place try using your rod-based vision. Give your eyes at least ten minutes to begin to adapt - twenty minutes will be even better. You won't see any colors, but your eyes will be somewhere between one thousand and ten thousands times more sensitive to light. You can navigate with just the light from the Milky Way.
A friend read something about the art of defamiliarizing yourself to gain a new perspective. Artists might concentrate on the empty space between objects. A few years ago Frans Blok played with geography by inverting elevations on a map of the Earth. Everest became the deepest trench in an ocean and the Marianas Trench became the highest peak. He tweaked place names and came up with something that makes you think.
People noted for artistic creativity often do it. Just change something to see what you're working on from a different perspective. Haruki Murakami wrote rough drafts in English and then translated back into his native Japanese. Margaret Atwood likes to change an opening sentence or paragraph to hunt for new perspectives. She uses the example of a change to Little Red Riding Hood where the first sentence becomes: "It was dark inside the wolf." Some writers pin segments of what they're working on to a wall and ponder how the flow changes if you move them around. Some film people use storyboarding in the same way. Artists play with negative space - the space between the physical subjects in their paintings and sculptures. A cute trick some musicians use is to invert music. There are even pianos where the keys are arranged backwards for this kind of play.
Awhile back I taught an intro physics course to non-STEM majors. Hoping to make it a bit more interesting I found examples in sports. I think all of us learned something. At one point we were playing with the idea of what a sport would be like on a different world. Different atmosphere and different gravity and more unusual possibilities like cartoon physics. We found many of our assumptions broke. We came to a more fundamental question - what makes a sport interesting on Earth. Then how could you modify existing sports or invent new ones. Why current rules of sports are what they are? How deeply are they based in physics? It even led to a guest lecture by a neurologist who seemed delighted by the play.
Trying to explain a central concept to someone with your background is both difficult and useful. Wired had a fascinating series of videos on the theme. My thesis advisor required his students to explain their work in a period to high school students. One of the most difficult things I've tried and it completely changed my thinking about teaching.
If you're stuck on a particular problem sometimes it's useful to try something else - perhaps something very different. Problem solving by singing in the shower, running, or doing something else physical is real for some people.
I usually find it's best to change one thing and think about what happens as a result. find it incredibly useful to talk with folks who do very different things - musicians, writers, filmmakers, artists, business people, athletes and so on. Sometimes you get involved in a project that leads to a bit of insight that may seem completely unrelated. Last year I found some thinking on the aerodynamics of spinning volleyballs led to thinking about something curious about neutron stars. Through that interaction I learned a bit about the "chess" of a sport with just two players on a side and that led to some questions for a neurologist.
Finally it's a fundamental part of humor.. So why not end with a bad joke?
A priest, a rabbit and a minister walk into a bar. The priest and minister both order a beer, but the rabbit looks confused. The bartender asks the rabbit "what'll ya have? "The rabbit says "I dunno. I'm only here because of autocorrect."
types of stupidity
Recently Pip Coburn circulated a note on the importance of finding the right balance of challenge for your skill level to avoid boredom and frustration. He noted the linkage to Csikszentmihalyi's work on flow, something that's fascinated me for some time as finding states of flow is important to me.1
The note made me think about levels of frustration and feelings of 'stupidity' one can have. For some time I've identified types of stupidity with one being very useful and perhaps necessary in science. Here's my response:
It’s fascinating to think about these things. Your comment on loving the work - “absolutely loving” it - is so important.
I think it’s important finding a field that no one can possibly master but, at the same time, know parts of it well enough to find where you may have a bit of success in if you apply yourself. As a beginning grad student I had no idea how hard it is to do research. It’s much more difficult than the most demanding courses as it’s an immersion into the unknown. Some people just give up and find easier paths. I find it useful to think about how to be productively stupid.
’Stupid’ is an unfortunate word, but I haven’t found anything better. Productive stupidity isn’t the relative stupidity you may feel in a a class where the other students are doing very well. It’s also not where someone who happens to be very bright is working in an area that doesn’t use their talents. (Stephen Hawking would have been a terrible point guard in the NBA even though the position demands strategic and tactical thinking.) Rather it’s a kind of existential fact .. an absolute stupidity. It puts you in the position of being ignorant by choice (here I use 'ignorant' in the 19th century sense - realizing there's an area you don't know much about and choosing to pursue it). So it’s fine to have failures here and there as you try to find your way. And sometimes, something wonderful is found. The process can generate serendipity. Of course you end up doing many less challenging things as part of the process. They’re often rewarding, but it’s amazing when you find something totally new. It’s what drives a lot of people.
I’ve had some great conversations with people who push their fields and hear the same thing with different words. Yo-Yo Ma, Sarah Pavan (beach volleyball Olympian), a number of physicists and mathematicians as well as several artists.2 The words were different, but the paths were very familiar.
There’s another piece to this. Bringing together a very diverse set of people who excel at productive stupidity is something of an amplifier. Often there are interesting hints and even keys that you never would have thought of. That and it’s often a lot of fun.
__________
1 Years ago I attended a talk by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Afterwards I had a few questions including "how do you pronounce your name? He said this is good enough for Americans:
Me-high Cheek-sent-me-high
2 There are many others who probably do something like this .. these are just the people I've talked about it with.
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