Last week I spent some time in a small cabin ("chalet") in the woods. At the time it was completely deserted: the silence was delicious. Finally I could breath. Finally my thoughts were my own. I am always struck in these moments, first, how essential they are to someone of my temperament, and second, how it clears the mind so that the real thinking may finally begin.
Such solitude is increasingly hard to find. I point out in another article how the world is becoming a panopticon. Soon there will be satellites with sufficient resolution and coverage that they can observe us in real time. Not even walls will be enough to conceal us: the combination of penetrating microwaves, tomography and synthetic apertures will soon allow us (or rather our nosy leaders) to map the insides of buildings in 3-D from space.
I think I finally understand what's going on here; why I am driven to find more and more extreme isolation, so much so that loneliness and anxiety frequently overcomes any peace-of-mind that might be gained from the endeavour.
When you observe something, it changes. Many interpretations of quantum mechanics have been attempted, many of them rather flaky: something is not there when you are not looking at it; there is a mystic union between the observed and the observer such that they cannot be distinguished. Lets not even get into all the different "many-worlds" hypotheses.
No, it is much simpler than that, and from the mathematics, undeniable. Chances are you can walk into any toy store today and buy a simple device consisting of an array of needles free to slide within a series of holes. Using this device, you can take a temporary cast of your face (or any other object for that matter) by simply pressing into it. Now at the same time your face is pushing these needles outwards, the needles are creating pock-mark depressions on your skin. Granted, because skin is elastic, it will almost certainly spring back to it previous form, although you might feel it for some time afterwards.
Rays of light are just like those needles. When you take leave to walk in the woods or cycle in the mountains, you are reclaiming your thoughts. You are becoming fully yourself again, because as long as others watch you, your thoughts are not your own.
It might well be my epitaph. Such solitude is no longer supportable. I guess I consider myself a dying breed.
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