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Stephen Hawking and his views on paradise.

Once Gary Kasparov asked not asked about the political opinions or ideas on how to organize society, or what he thought about the possible extraterrestrial life, or its position towards a hypothetical life beyond death, because he knew a lot of chess, but chess only, in other subjects was a person like any other.

Despite my deep admiration for Stephen Hawking, I think that this could apply the same criteria. His knowledge of cosmology are worthy of being considered, but if you talk about religion or any concept of any particular religion, I think it can make mistakes like any other person, except in those ideas that have been tested or treated for science, which is his field.

regard to the survival of consciousness beyond human life and modestíssima my subjective opinion is that we do not know enough, nor to deny it or to secure it. We do not know enough to fund the operation of the human mind, each day we know more, but there is a dark area that escapes us and which may someday come. Some scientists, as Hameroff and Penrose Popp, have reached to speculate on the possible quantum nature of our consciousness. The quantum no longer a model that we reconcile with a little awkwardly and that explains the behavior of many phenomena, but as a potential theory it is still moment, a kind of potato that does not explain clearly some " to ques; model and therefore is not a theory.

We lack even more knowledge about the nature of consciousness in order to ensure his death with brain death, or to explain its eternity, that the case had. One can guess the end, claiming that everything dies, everything ends ... But someone might say that what we experience from birth is that we are, we always are, and we have no record of the time we were not. One other reason and have their darkness and no longer metaphors, analogies, speculations, hopes ...

Hawking has said that heaven is a story that explained the minds who fear death, and that the brain is like a computer when it dies, it stops working, and that, Consequently, the death of the brain, consciousness dies.

His statement follows the logic of immediate use, but released it as an affirmation is a risky exercise, and if done as a scientist is a mistake, we can not assure that we do not know without evidence. While we know that the brain has many similarities with computers, we also know that also has many differences. A computer does not know what it is, do not know what you think, does not realize that there can not get a surprise, perhaps lacks the resonance quantum nature of the Penrose talking, and we do not know if it goes away when the organic origin. And there are other differences, perhaps less important: the brain does not work in base two, not two-state electric potential, has more than two, metaphorically speaking, their "bits" we would say that different values \u200b\u200bto 0 and 1, would be more sensitive to nuances. And there are many other differences, most would probably still undiscovered. Therefore, it is risky to say that when the computer of our brain dies, dies identity and consciousness. For example, I can say that my laptop, which I gave four years ago, is dying, but I've recorded all information contained on a DVD, if my laptop had consciousness, have also recorded their conscience on a DVD, and transfer it to another computer, this awareness would continue to exist. Is it absolutely impossible that nature develops, with my mind, the same process that I take to out with my laptop now when I die?

Despite (in my opinion) bold assertions of Hawking, the still admire, and learn from him every day a little more about the workings of the universe and the causes of existence. We insistently recommend "A Brief History of Time" and even philosophers themselves m'enfadin also recommend "Great design" .

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Should You Have Alot Of Cm Before Period

The intimate connection between beauty, happiness, and us. And while catching waves.

The planet is so beautiful that "being" can not be bad. The beauty of nature is proof of the goodness of life. And the beauty that is perceived as beautiful existence between her and us because there is a mutually complementary intimate that attracts us. Just as we are attracted to beauty, beauty is attracted to us and makes us continually signals.

After what I have to concentrate on the present moment, without thinking anything more than what is perceived: sea, sun, wind, light, Brum of waves, foam, bouquet of salt and pines, nudity, the colors of the cliffs, the deep azure of the heavens ...

If someday die, it's because we've been alive. Life is to combat fear. Overcoming fear with the light. The knowledge and the reason we rid of fear and help us look at the beauty. The fear of darkness disappears as they do with the dawn. The victory is the victory of life over fear. To overcome fear, love those who love looking good and not to the satisfaction of personal desire, because in reality when we overcome fear and not because we have everything we want because we do not have anything available, we have everything; Now each and every here.

al'ego The excessive worship is one of the cobwebs preventing excessively dark and dense, al'Homo sapiens, the exercise of looking. When you search for happiness without respecting the limit of not break down the other (or that others are unknown), apart from not find it, we destroy the beauty and depth ferim; appears hatred in all its manifestations more or less evident: indifference, manipulation, tyranny, oppression, abuse, aggression ...

Happiness is the enjoyment of what we have available "now" and "here" and depends on the way to look. You have to look that way which allows to grasp the totality beauty, and above all to grasp the immense light that is behind the eyes of each person that seems imperfect.

The way we look draws our happiness.

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After writing this I left to chase waves to the camera. I wanted to take a picture that takes part the sea and the other on its surface. The waves, however, I have been hard, but I've had it.

In return, the forest was bright, the wind taking away any trace of water vapor and clear light traveling without interference. The Blues were very blue, the green bottle of the spikes of the pines was contrasted with the dark sky. The yellow to red mutava the cliffs seemed sulfur. A pleasure.

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St. Lawrence under the storm. The subjective involvement

Today there have been lucky, has done a fantastic evening, the dark clouds s'agombolaven on the cliffs of the Oak Payroll and flashing. Ventola humid smell rain waving heads of oak, which unveil this season color. Throne. Soon a few drops began to fall thick and heavy, those who afraid of absurdity, who fear that they shoulder the dyed hair, or frightening to feel that the idea of \u200b\u200bsmell of rain. What pleasure, these drops! This light pearly, almost twilight! The life of the forest rejoice. The cliffs, the codines, the walls of the massif have been long gala dresses, dark and lit. Ray almost vertical fire light electrons from the top of the heavens to the ground of St. Lawrence.

Then we went to Talamanca, next to the castle in the middle of the flag waving excited stormy sky, because they say it is in the midst of the storm when the colors are more vivid and natural beauty is more evident.

The rain, thunder, storms, lightning, mountains, forests, beasts, wind ... part of the best and most beautiful in existence.

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. "I went to the woods because I wanted to live in awareness, I wanted to draw all the sap of life for failing to discover, at the time of death, I had not lived "

WHALT Whitman

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face the tragedies, the 273 daily deaths from cancer in Spain, and the research of Dr. Massagué.

Without underestimating the pain of the city of Lorca , the uncertainty of its citizens, who live amid the fear and sadness, the ruin of buildings esfondrats, the tragedy of the dead or the suffering of families who have lost loved ones ... I can not help to amaze the peculiarity of human psychology, his amazement of 9 dead and 160 wounded when compared to their relative emotional indifference confronting today 273.97 deaths due to cancer in Spain, from 273.97 yesterday deaths due to cancer, and 273.97 deaths each day due to cancer. For these deaths there are not many minutes of silence or excessive expressions of grief (some occasional marathon). For them, any athlete does not need to qualify his joy when celebrating a victory. And beware! Do not get me wrong! I'm not criticizing the noble attitude hurt's deaths by Llorca and wounded by the tragedy of the city ... is right that we do, only I'm amazed by the capacity we humans do not affect us for misfortunes that are perhaps greater in number and in intensity, but that by having them as views, not considered worthy of social mourning.
We condolences to the dead individual, acquaintances, relatives, dead and last name. The social pain, but grief unknown to the reserve to those tragedies that the media makers meet with all his power.

This phenomenon is perhaps most obvious when a plane crash or bus. 50 dead in bus accident generate floods of pain, minutes of silence, public demonstrations of grief and support for families. 54 killed in car accidents in one weekend, at best, a detached rational reflection of dismay, but hardly any public manifestation of grief, or minutes of silence, or the cancellation of any celebration.

Incidentally, talking about cancer today, as you may know, is collecting money to fight it. We
links a Dr. Massagué interesting interview I found on Youtube.

Arrested For Going On 12chan

Someone must be the last.

"Somebody has to be the last" She said, today, Mr Marcellin to version RAC1. Four words demonstrate the profound tragedy of existence. A rugged and beautiful tragedy. As Shakespeare would say: "a ludicrous story told by a madman."

"Somebody has to be the last" in every race, for which one is perfect, even though the organizers s'escarrassin, someone surely will last. The last of the race, the last row, who takes a lower grade, the fewer who like the less popular, less inviting to those dinners, most of whom laugh, to forget who else ...

There is always someone who is better from behind. It is inevitable. In any matter likely to enable qualified individuals, there is one last, a loser, one expired.

Ultimately, however, what the ultimate bliss of solitude, free from dependency on the victory and praise, the string with which we punish success in return us to kneel at his feet! What a charisma of the Confederate soldier who returns to his Texas home defeated and exhausted! What a quiet should be one that has nothing to suit anyone who is closer to it will not do for interest! What a liberty what does not need not be the last to be free! What a happiness that's not the worst need not to be happy!

What is surprising, however, is the absolute logical necessity from the fact that there is a final at all, and always.

I are the last friendly in recent ... infinitely more pleasant than the slaves of his own perfectionism, because these slaves tend to impose on the surrounding submission to perfection. There is nothing worse for a child's constant and obsessive correction de les seves imperfeccions; no hi ha res millor que la lloança de les seves virtuts i els ànims per arribar encara a fites més dolces.

Protegiu-me dels perfectes, perquè quasi tots els perfectes posseeixen la imperfecció de la intolerància; convençuts que tothom té la obligació de ser com ells.

Algú ha de ser l'últim, no ho oblideu perfeccionistes.

Ah! I gràcies senyor Marcel·lí!

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Outside Of Salon Shop Blueprint

spheroid or ellipsoid of revolution of the Oak

spheroid or ellipsoid of revolution.

Palau light chocolate alive.

She pulls the carpet from the skin.

Bell reflecting senses and Excellencies,

from the origin to infinity pure

future nights and rebirth.

Ellipsoid of revolution

axis God here every verse folds

of space and understand that it is so little.

Roc fimbrejant meat and honey, and

someone bats silent despulladors

of misery disguised necessary.

What we need is to lose just over

of fear, caution, and clothing.

What we need is just visible.

If necessary, nor effective without lluor,

Fulgencio nor nor name, nor protocol

or lineages, or forms, or good name,

only life, the womb and the cradle.

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Payroll Estenalles of Coll, and a few thoughts. The fox

Felix said he is fortunate to live in fifteen kilometers of wilderness, which is to say that we are fortunate to live half an hour from home. The body we have, and therefore we have the mind, has been surrounded by cliffs, caves, forests, streams, bouquet of thyme and rosemary yelling all kinds of birds, sounds of thousands of winds at different times of the day, lights that mark the time of day, chills, stifling heat, humidity and rainfall that point seasons and the cycles of life. Not even two hundred years ago we have start all this (our habitat) and confused, Malden, orphans do not know exactly why, because most do not know that Homo sapiens miss home, so never have been fully aware of where their home. Which have been longing for nature and do not know that the longing, living amid a growing worry that the push to want more, more power, get more. Looking and looking for happiness are only fifteen kilometers home (at least those who live in Terrassa) and bent to be confused with material success in no way accept it empty.

The post today talking about a walk of five kilometers in the middle of a land that has made us who we are breastfed, which ; aviciat us who loved us and offered to host our stuff, once our cycle, so you can become part of other living beings to continue the only history that survives: the the cosmos.

of the Oak wage, which is already dead, there is a path that starts and ends tar silicate, and we lifted up the barn in sight of all the year to the west, Montserrat. Narrow paths ran under the red cliffs of conglomerate Hill of Pola. Niell. Balmes. Codines. The stone falls from the walls; gratada by the sculptor of the wind. Brandished the heads of oak, a green GEMAT the middle of the dark evergreen oaks. The goddess that fox out to receive the source of Pola. The climb from thyme to Eat in the village, passing through the Oak winds.
What guy, Vila this, for several centuries.
imagine his days, amid the mountains, no roads or cars, no television, no telephone, no electric lighting. Days marked by the light of the sun, stuck on the terraces that gave the food to heat the home and the body of beasts.
family lunch four times a year; killed when the bonnet came because some sponsors and some more distant neighbor. Fred and bandits, thieves and always with taxes and the cross.
What guys, the village, a bittersweet life at home, but amid the cruelty of Homo sapiens ever.

Of the town, the shrine of Mata Montcau that the swells, the foreign fir down to the Col d'Estenalles, and we go in again.

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