The Universal Beauty of Mathematics

When I hear someone say, “I hate math” or “I’m bad at math“, I cringe slightly, and respond almost embarrassed, “I like math, it’s quite beautiful“.

I sometimes go on to defend my belief that there is no useful difference between art, math, and science — none. I’ve had this conversation many times with many people.

Is math beautiful?

Most people seem to agree in theory — and I hear (all too common) stories involving painful memories of math classes. As if the beauty in mathematics is out of their reach, perhaps only beautiful to some nerd minority.

I remember my own math classes when I was young, and I cringe again.

The teaching of Mathematics, a language to express the ineffable beauty of existence, is reduced in classrooms everywhere to a painful Pavlovian conditioning of forced computation.

Imagine for a moment, that instead of teaching children to read and write, that we instead forced them to copy (like little drawing machines) printed books but only one letter of the alphabet at a time. Never learning to read, just forcing them to copy all the A’s on page, and then to copy all the B’s, and so on.

So a young student begins with the letter A and painfully fills in A’s on a blank sheet of paper attempting to match them to the A’s they see in a printed book.

Teachers hold up answer sheets to make sure the young students copied all the A’s and copied them to all the right places on their practice page.

This is a very good copy of the A’s,” the teacher will say.

And then as they get older they copy more and more letters, A’s, B’s, C’s and onward. We do not tell them why they are doing this, we do not tell them that these letters have any relation to their spoken language. And whenever a student asks why they have to do this, we tell them, “because I said so“.

Eventually, years later, a student has copied all the way to Z and finally copies entire pages of printed books. This student can now graduate.

As this student graduates she expresses in angst, “I will never need to do this again, I hate letters“. And she is illiterate, and so is most of this imagined society that forces children to copy letters without ever telling them why.

But perhaps this student goes to college, and while in college she decides to learn more about these letters. She takes an advanced class in letter writing.

She wonders if there are more letters to write, maybe new letters that she has never seen before. She has heard that these letters contain beauty, but she cannot possibly understand how.

The class she takes is called “Letter Theory”, and the teacher begins by asking a simple question,

What is a letter?”

How absurd, the student thinks, obviously a letter is what she’s been copying her entire life!

The teacher goes on, “when we put these letters together they form words, like the ones I am speaking now

Shocked, the student exclaims, “certainly not all words are made of letters, there are so few letters and so many words that we speak

The teacher smiles and replies, “all words, all the ideas you have ever heard with your ears, every lecture, every song, all of it, can be expressed using combinations of letters

Years later, the student has learned about grammar, semantics, composition, literature, poetry — and now she finds beauty in the letters that she never understood before.

Letters are amazing, just as numbers are amazing.

Mathematics is the study of beauty, and it is expressed in numbers.

You need not be a great writer to understand and experience beautiful writing, and you need not be a professional scientist or engineer to understand and experience the beauty of numbers.

Imagine if only professional writers learned how to read, that is our current world concerning mathematics.

If you have never experienced the beauty of numbers, understand that your entire education has failed you, and you are mathematically illiterate. Most likely, you have learned only drilled computation, and perhaps touched upon Algebra or Calculus without any explanation of what you were actually doing and, most importantly, why.

If you believe you are bad at the computation that was drilled into you at a young age, you are not alone; if you believe you were good at those computational drills, you are wrong — all humans are bad at computation. All of us. Our greatest computational geniuses are slower and stupider than even the cheapest pocket calculator. We don’t hire humans to be computers, and we don’t hire humans to be printers — fortunately, we are not training humans to be printers, but we are training children to be computers (really slow error prone computers), and we are robbing them of mathematic literacy.

And if you are mathematically illiterate, you are also (necessarily) scientifically illiterate.

This failure to teach math results in widespread illiteracy, and an inability for many people to read and express the beauty of existence, a poetry in numbers that opens our eyes to the infinite beauty of life.

When we stare at the stars and express their beauty in words, we have religious mythologies — and when we stare at the stars and express their beauty in numbers, we have a scientific revolution. For tens of thousands of years humans have had scientifically illiterate explanations for the stars (pinholes in a celestial blanket), but with the language of mathematics those stars became far grander and far more beautiful than anything we could possibly have imagined.

It is in that moment where science, math, and art converge into a unified inquiry — the study of existence, the study of infinite beauty.

Ocean of Experience

We often speak of experience as a thing to be possessed or identified with, e.g., “I am happy”, “I feel hurt”, “I am in love”. We become the state of these emotions, attaching and identifying ourselves with these experiences.

But do you possess that which you experience? If you suffer, is it your suffering? Is suffering not universal to all that suffer?

Is happiness, sadness, love, or sorrow ever possessed, is it ever yours to possess?

Perhaps we do not possess sorrow or bliss any more than a drop of water in the sky possess the gravity that carries it earthbound. Our experiences are not possessions nor attributes to who we are, they are the process to which we live.

Realizing the truth of your experience, that those personal and profound experiences are not yours to possess, that there is no you to possess those experiences. You are as the drop of water hitting the ocean — you cease to be, and are a part-of and simultaneously one-with the ocean around you — vast and seemingly infinite.

The mind and body are a piece of a seemingly infinite ocean, as relevant to the universe as a drop of water to the ocean. Yet just as that drop of water experiences something as universal as gravity, so does the mind experience something as universal as love, sorrow, sadness, and bliss.

There is no ‘I’ that is separate from all that is, and there is no ‘I’ to possess that which is as universal as the experience of life.

Beautiful Ugly

It can be difficult to find Beauty in everything
There are times it is unknown to us
Our perception mingles with expectation
And we see only the divergence
The flaws from the expected Beauty

There is ugly in reality, it is everywhere
And there is Beauty– it is the paradox of life
That both are everywhere all the time
The movement of life assures this

So what are these aesthetics we cling to?
Perhaps an evolutionary morality
And we cannot help but to find and cherish
The beauty in all things

Mainly Mozart

Went to the penultimate show of the 2009 Mainly Mozart Festival. A nice pairing of Mozart and Tchaikovsky featuring the surprisingly lively St. Petersburg String Quartet.

It’s only the second time I’ve been, but I really love how the Balboa Theater has come together

Posted in Art

Blank Canvas

It starts as an illusion, a perfection of thought
An ideal for none to know

Unknowable as any hope
You were larger than life, yet existing
Only in my mind

The indelible mark of a souls existence
Is left not by serene hopes
But of the actions and reality
Of what they create

And every creation
Marks the end of the ideal
Beautiful flaws of existence

Exhibition

I see you in this place
On the other side through doors unknown
Detached and secure
A smile on your face
It stops those in the streets
Only to come closer
And marvel on the intricate
Details from every angle

Simple, Color


Dreary doldrums of gray
Drift through cold emptiness
Unaware and uncaring

Society scorns the dreamer
A lustful beauty adorns her walls
And always, light emerges

Frantic excitement
More and more
You are not supposed to

Unbridled pleasure
Vibrant and erotic
You are not supposed to

Searing, tearing pain
The dark to the light
I told you so

What a vivid contrast
To the lifeless gray

* photo by Lotus and Tim at the Gebert Gallery in Venice
** Dave, you Rock!

Life Drawing

Your back aches hunched over the sketchpad
Hands scribble furiously as
Lines slowly take shape

Outlines emerge in primordial form
Details are sparse and slowly the
Lines tighten in all perspectives

Frantically trying to capture the important
Just the right curve, the right pucker
The details can wait

Maybe a little slimmer, a little fatter
Beauty begins to shine as the artist
Injects a style all their own

And then

NEXT POSE

* Photo taken at Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School

Finding Beauty

In the bustling blur of coffee and work
Running hitherto from place to place
Life’s gentle reminder of beauty in everyday places

Was it random?
Or did an unknown artist seek tirelessly
To prepare the small aesthetic decor
That makes your dizzying life
A little more beautiful?

Late at Night

In the late of night I step outside
A brisk chill in the air

My eyes adjust to pitch black
Empty and unknown in the cold

The wind whispers as if teasing
Behind the darkness is mystery

And for but a second the whispering winds
Part the formless blurry clouds

A faint glow emerges from above
Surreal light from the moon-lit sky

For the briefest moments the darkness dimmed
And an endless sea glimmered in this enchanted night

The soft winds danced with the crashing waves
And as soon as it began, it ended

The light dimmed and the pitch black returned
A comforting and beautiful unknown

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