She loves the very idea of chlorophyll and wonders why humans haven't evolved a green skin that feeds us like mobile plants while we enjoy the outdoors.
Why haven't we painted it on our buildings giving both energy and oxygen and using our surfeit of carbon dioxide? We could be doing better by way of collaging good ideas with necessities she supposes.
It turns out that her collage of genetic material is switched off and on in accordance with her surroundings, a veritable biologic dance with context which raises the question of free will. Who is will and what is free?
She heard microbiologists report that human bodies are made of 10 percent cells with human DNA and the other 90 percent are microbes.
And there are neurons that fire as if we are doing something simply by watching someone else do it. Tiny mites live on our faces snacking on skin cells and sweat.
This all sums up to literal body collage. Feeling a bit itchy, she sees that biologists recognize life forms as Collage.
Nothing wasted, all forms and possibilities available for any eventuality - fish, frog, fox, flamingo, flamenco dancer, keeping only what is needed, dissolving the rest. Collage of life potential.
Since molecules are made of star stuff, she pondered, our basic makeup is collaged from dust of stars exploding their guts out, icy asteroids, all strung together with original Big Bang hydrogen, taking billions of years to arrive as us and rotating those molecular constituents at such an alarming rate that it begs the question, “what is the essence that makes up the whole since the parts are so far flung and unstable?"
Taking a look at the current array of subatomic particles, she could not imagine a more charming, beguiling, and eclectic crowd. The search for reality seems to reveal ever more about less since matter as we know it accounts for only 5% of ALL THAT IS in the uni/multi- whateververse.
She delights in the assortment of physicists who come together to smash the daylights out of fundamental particles in giant colliders for no other purpose than the sheer learning. We are a species that is like that. Hurray for Higgs and his peeps!
With no real knowledge of mathematics, she loves the beauty of equations and the awesome truth that resides in numerical symbols.
The language that unites across a collage of cultures and values, describes a universe we all depend on, and provides those eggheads with day jobs causes her to bow deeply to Euler, Gauss, Godel, Witten, et.al.
As the smart physicists remind us, time is not what we think. And yes, her time stretches and shrinks with the curved spaces she inhabits. You are not crazy, this is what time does.
That’s what Einstein says about it, gravity, speed of light, pi, and time - everything you could want in one bite size equation. An equation for the pocket or maybe posted on the fridge.
This of course is the BIG PROBLEM in theoretical physics that is messing with the collage of fancy theories they want to join together in one unified equation. What the heck is it?
It looks so big and important in the previous equation: G, holding down one side all by itself. But what if it’s not a fundamental force, what if it’s an entropic force, a measure of what we don’t know?
She heard a French physicist named Catherine say this with all seriousness and geeky excitement.
In the midst of joyful musings the most inconvenient truths slip into her knowing and crash the peace with a range of emotional weather.
Communing with silent moon witness, the storms of sad recognition brew and blow as she collages possible outcomes for the blind genius species she calls her own, poised on a precipice of its own making.