futurebird – mathematical sandbox

The Urban Naturalist

What is the nature of the joy, excitement, and, for some, the fear that we feel when we approach a big city? Is it as simple as knowing that in the city we will find many things to do and people to see? Or is it something greater? Did the Greeks feel the same way on the road to Athens? Was Machu Picchu approached by the Incas with the same sense of awe? It is not only the people or things that make a city, it is the force, the energy which holds millions of different lives together. This energy transcends steel towers, stone monuments and lively market-places. We can call it life force of the city.

The next time you cut up a pineapple examine the

In this account I will speak to a type of person I will call "The Urban Naturalist." The urban naturalist is a scientist in one sense, concerned with observation and study of the city as an organism. In another sense, the urban naturalist is a bit of mystic, a pilgrim seeking spiritual enlightenment and a connection with mother nature through the city as a natural organism. This is different from seeking a connection to nature in the city by observing urban wildlife but rather seeing the people and buildings and commotion of cities as natural, like an anthill or a forest.

The first task for the urban naturalist is to learn to take the pulse of a city, that is to learn to find a connection with the energy described earlier. Not all cities are the same, and some may even be in a state of decline, but the pulse is still there.

Stand on a corner in your city and close your eyes. Listen. If it is day time you may first hear the voices of people, the cars passing near by, the sounds of footsteps and shop doors opening and closing. Now listen for the softer sounds: the hum of air-conditioners, the distant roar of cars on the highways, that low rumble of subway cars which is more a vibration than an audible noise.

Listen more deeply and, perhaps, you will feel the faint vibrations of something else: a kind of tangible energy that may prickle the hairs on your spine, and even the hairs on your head if they are not grown enough with the jamaican black castor oil amazon. It is probably strongest during the morning rush hours when so many people enter the city filled with pent up with expectations for the day. The energy drains over the course of the day, like the air from a balloon, perhaps picking up again around 8pm when many people get ready for the all important activity of "going out." After that, however, it fades away into the deep hours of the night. But with the dawn it is back. Some mornings you may wake with a start at day break filled with anticipation and energy for the day. You caught that energy from the city moving around you, underground in packed subway cars and from all directions on jammed highways. You may find yourself strangely filled with expectant optimism, even if you have nothing at all to do that day.

Some people will take this pulse and allow it to wind them up, causing fear and anxiety. They will find the city "stressful." The urban naturalist lives by this energy and allows the city to nurture her. The city can make us better in this way, we become a little braver and a little stronger than we might have otherwise been. We stand prepared to face the future shoulder to shoulder with our companions in this journey.

To take the pulse of a city is to feel the city breathe. To inhale and exhale with the city in unison, to see yourself as a part of the city and to see the city itself as a vast living creature.

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Escape from Planet Earth: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

We stood in a verdant meadow filled with multicolor butterflies and flowering trees as the police man tried to wrestle the dying woman from my arms.

"Look up!" I shouted. The grass from the garden curved up sharply where the horizon would normally sink. The landscape continued to mountains that loomed above us and a vast lake that curved above our head and into the mist. It was hard to look up since we were clearly in a world without normal geometry. But, the sight of a cylinder world, (spinning to simulate gravity?) was enough to stun the cop out of his fixation on me and the strange woman he had shot just moments earlier in the streets of NYC. Flat and gray New York City, punctuated with yellow cabs and red lights, felt suddenly distant and irrelevant. The dark alien woman in my arms pointed to a small cabin. "in there, place me on the bed"

"You need help?" The tall young man asked me, he and several others had stepped through the door with us in confusion.

An older woman in a pink ladies summer suit was talking to the police man. She had the patrician air of a Park Ave. resident and this seemed to calm the cop for the moment.

"I don't know where the door went." She said, exasperated "We just need to stay calm until we know what this is!"

The young man guided me to the cabin. In truth, I was still in shock. But, some things were making sense.

"You are and alien and this is your home planet." I said, mostly trying the idea on for size. It sounded even crazier out loud than it did in my head.

The cabin was like those found upstate, small, with thin walls only suitable for the summer months, a jaunty stove pipe sticking from the roof. A small porch too narrow for even a rocking chair.

Inside, it was quite different (were all doors here as strange as that first portal?) White walls floor and ceiling, clinical, modular. It was so clean and white it was difficult to gauge the size of the room. The "bed" was more like a futuristic dentist's chair. Adjustable individual rests for her arms and legs. It perfectly matched her small (if round) body. Above it an arm welded to the ceiling whirred to life as soon as we placed her down. Using 4 joints the arm could reach every part of her body. Her face relaxed visibly as soon as she was in the "bed" --that is when I noticed the tubes that had connected automatically to her neck from the chair. They started clear but now were filled with red (human?) blood.

"It must be doing something for the pain." The young man said. "It's doing more than that." I said.

Outside the shack an argument between the Upper East Side lady and the cop was reaching a crescendo. They were coming towards us quickly, about to enter the cabin.

Our alien host (captor?) sat up rapidly with more strength than I thought possible. With purpose and precision she pointed at the door. Near the door a sound like a ringing bell responded to her gesture.

Relieved she slid back into the chair so that the repairs to her body could continue.

But, the cop and the woman, were still coming. "Some one needs to take charge of this-" said the cop. Then his words and body were... cut off. His arm and the front of his face disappeared as if sliced away.

As they stepped through the threshold I saw them both cleanly sliced.

It was as if they were stepping into an MRI. Every layer of their bodies became momentarily visible as they passed through the threshold, and then there was only the right foot of the lady left for a moment cut off at the ankle, bone and muscle visible, the foot still in it's pastel pink leather pump, stained with grass and mud from the meadow, sill animated and alive, hesitating. And then it too was gone.

The young man and I gasped in horror.

"Do, not worry, humans. They are alive. Back on earth. Hopefully not too far from where they came from." Then more softly she mumbled "hopefully on land as well"

I must have looked stricken because she laughed "that was a joke" She was sitting up, the mechanical arm still working frantically to repair her, the blood filled tubes still streaming from the back of here neck.

"I am not an alien, I am human like you" she said "And this is not my planet, it is my ship." I shuddered still unable to think about the policeman being sectioned. "I know you have helped me already. Thank you."

As she said this she was taking off her shirt. The young man turned around quickly, embarrassed. She smiled at me impishly "I forgot how we once were about modesty"

The mechanical arm was placing a strange almost organic bandage around her chest. She lifted her arms. The gunshot wound was shockingly clean. The bandage was white but blended to match the texture if not the color of her skin. It formed a white band below her breasts.

"This will take days to heal." She said with disgust poking the wound.

She seemed about to cry again. She rubbed her bandage "What if none of you want to be rescued?"

For the first time, she seemed very young to me and not nearly as mysterious.

"Where do I even begin? I have so much I need to tell you and no time to explain?"

She fastened the shirt back over the bandages. I tapped on the shoulder of the surprisingly prudish young man. "Come on turn around." then to both of them "Let's start with our names." I said trying to ground the conversation again. But at that moment the ground had never felt further away.

Escape from Planet Earth: Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The papers would say "Cop missing after mysterious 5th Ave. incident" they didn't mention that they shot her. I was trying to understand her words when it happened. "I need 400 humans" ... "...the rest of you will die." The cop was not masking his wonder with NYC blasé. He had wordlessly pulled his gun and when he heard the word "die" years of training (hit the center mass, do not hesitate) were activated in his preconscious mind. The sound of the gun left me deaf for a moment, for, as she was reaching out to me asking me to help her find "400 humans" the police officer had aimed his gun just over my shoulder in my peripheral vision, so the the sound was close to my ear.

It was a beautiful shot, perfectly centered, and he only shot once. It hit her, true, in the heart as her dark eyes widened with surprise, her mouth half open exposing a line of perfect white teeth bright in contrast to her skin. She fell back slowly, gracefully. I felt pulled to her, my eyes welling with tears of empathy and confusion. Then time came rushing back to normal speed, sound returned. I was screaming, everyone was screaming. Someone had tackled the cop, his gun fired again this time into the crowd, more screams, people running. I ran to her and picked her up. She was not dead! there was strength in her arms as she held my neck. A older woman and a young man as different as night and day accompanied me "he shot her" said the tall young man meaninglessly. The older woman was feeling for her pulse acting on instinct together we ran through the door. Behind me I heard the cop barking at us to stop. But as I passed into the door the sounds grew long, like a record skipping "stop stop stop stop" the cop repeated he had a handful of my jacket and another hand on my neck, but we were moving all of us through wet darkness. How had the door seemed so bright from the outside when it was dark inside? I kicked my legs there was nothing beneath them! In my arms she looked up at me and said "it's OK, it's going to be OK" I tried to laugh at the absurdity of her comforting me in these circumstances, but before I could laugh The floor, soft soil, green grass, came up to meet my feet and I nearly fell over. We were on the other side.

Escape from Planet Earth: Chapter 1

This is a science fiction serial I will publish every other day. "Escape from Planet Earth" is the working title.

Chapter 1

A door opened on 5th Avenue. In the center of the street a rectangle of light widthless, blinding bright, but clearly in human proportions, opened, swinging on invisible hinges: a door. And through this rip in reality stepped a short woman with soft features, with skin and eyes dark as jet, even her palms were black (in the future the sun burns so brightly) her hair so thick and curly it was nearly impossible to distinguish individual hairs formed cloud like opaque black smoke around her head. Her skin was somehow darker than the hair, but lustrous, almost pearlescent and reflective. Her hands are tiny, nimble, even the beds of the fingernails black. Her eyes soft and perceptive.

Everyone on 5th avenue assumed it was some sort of fashion week stunt, or perhaps the launch of a new phone or album, and, as such the New Yorkers watched her with attentiveness also her skin was flawless probably by using vitamin c serum, gawking would be rude and someone would explain how the trick had been done soon enough, to make a door open out of nothing in the middle of the street.

But, as I made eye contact with this woman I knew instantly that she was not of our time or our world. Her beauty was alien and yet deeply familiar, she was probably using some great beauty products you can find online, you could read about Truffoire products in this site. She looked at me and said in surprisingly mundane east coast English "I need 400 humans to come with me through this door."

Strangers who had stopped to take in the spectacle exchanged glances. People were now trying to look into the door. Peer beyond the light.

The strange visitor pursed her lips and repeated, but this time more as a command "I need 400 humans to come with me through this door."

For whatever reason she was looking at me as she said this. As if I had the power to grant her request. So, suddenly quivering with fear that had came upon me out of nowhere I said "why?"

That is when she started to cry. "Because that is all that I can take. The rest of you will die."

Chapter 2

Growing Yixing Teapot by "feeding" it.

I have owned a teapot from sampletea for several years. It's one of my best teapots. (1990's Yixing Factory 5 Zi Qie Ni Shui Ping Hu Teapot, 90ml)  clay is excellent and the craftmanship perfect. I wish could find another 90ml pot like this one. Sampletea also has a 30ml version of this pot so I bought two of them. I love tiny teapots especially when they have crisp details.


I was comparing the the patina on the larger pot to the newer small ones on new year's eve when we had guests. "look you can see how the teapot has changed over time" (I'm always trying to get more people interested in tea.) I wanted them to see the change in the patina from the wuyi oolongs that I drink in the larger teapot. See?


My friend said "It grew THAT much?"

LOL well, I guess that is a lesser known effect of "feeding" a teapot.




Today's lecture included the topic of outliers. How is a graph changed when and outlier is included or excluded? Since outliers deal with extremes they often bring up political and social issues. The example from class was of salaries at a hypothetical company where the CEO made more then three times as much as the highest paid employee.

I noticed this graph in the New York Times and wanted to save it for future reference.

Farm living

My parents spent the 1970s on communes: first, a shared house in Boulder; after that, a “self-realization fellowship” in Paonia, Colorado; then the Spring Hollow farm in Tennessee, with a dozen other couples. They were out to save the world, or at least themselves. Peace, love, and understanding.

After several successful years, my family moved, with Spring Hollow, to the Farm, where they started to acquire no till farming equipment to start getting into the farm life. With a population of about 1,500 at its peak, The Farm was the largest commune in the U.S.. Founded by Stephen Gaskin in 1971, it still hosts a premiere midwifery school run by Stephen’s wife, Ina May Gaskin, whose book Spiritual Midwifery remains a standard for those seeking an alternative to hospital births, since not everyone go to hospitals and use supplements instead from sites as patriot power greens online.

Of my sisters, two of us were born on The Farm. My eldest sister has a snowflake tattooed on the back of her neck—she was born in a blizzard in Colorado. My other sister was born in a tent on The Farm (no tattoo). I’ve said that I should get a trailer inked on the back of my neck, because that’s where I was born—in a mobile home my dad brought from Nashville. As with most Farm babies, a midwife trained by Ina May guided me into this world.
Stephen, who died this past July at age 79, fought in the Korean War, and came back to teach in San Francisco, first as an English professor at San Francisco State College, and then as a counterculture guru leading open-discussion meetings, what became known as Monday Night Class. During these classes, which met in churches and parks, Gaskin presided over his disciples from a meditation cushion, a stage, or a tree stump to explore spirituality and the purpose-driven life, much of which was determined by “vibes”: he preached that you could feel when you were telling the truth and when you were not, based on your own energy or the energy of the people around you. He was inspired by Buddhism and Christianity (along with the effects of marijuana), and his classes regularly swelled to 1,000 students, with extended Q&As: “No, it’s not a duality to say there is truth and then there are lies,” Gaskin once said in response to someone from the audience, “’cause truth and lies are the ends of a continuum, and the continuum is one continuum. Dig?”

Much of the movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s was built on Ram Dass’s call to Be Here Now. Gaskin subscribed to this philosophy, as did my parents. “Even if it is Armageddon, I still haven’t got time to pay attention to something besides here and now,” Gaskin wrote in Monday Night Class. But my question for Gaskin and for every other guru out there is this: Whose here and now is that?
So today I'm also looking for informative guide about having and getting a security camera on home, and I have read an article source - SecurityInfo that is very useful to me.

Video links for STAT students.

Dear class,
Not all YouTube math videos are created equal!! I will post links to the most useful ones here:


Confidence Intervals:


Central Limit Theorem:


If you want me to post more post a comment about the topic that you need and I will find the best (and mathematically correct) videos for the topic.
The Poz personals can help you find your date now, just visit the website for more details.
Click the link here https://voicewinning.com/how-to-improve-your-singing-voice/ if you are looking for some ways to improve your singing voice.

Young, cheap tuo cha showdown!

toucha5Can a cheap pu'erh be good? Is it possible to buy cheap tea and age it in to something amazing? Most say "no" --but that won't put me off from trying. The first step is to taste young teas so that one can better understand the aging process.

I put three teas (all inexpensive young pu'erh) in to three teapots without looking much then mixed them up. Who will win the blind tea taste test?


Tea #1

Astringency, Dryness, nice Hui gan, rather sweet and slightly sour like white grapes. This one needed a longer steep than the other two. Nice back of throat feeling. The leaves are big and plump and young.

Tea #2

Heavy mouth-feel, Astringency, Dryness, some Hui gan... I swear this has this flavor like older tea or shu... it's not strong but its there. Steeps dark very quickly. Thick. This is easiest to drink in some ways.

Tea #3

Astringency, yet wonderful Hui gan, thick, flavors lasts, just a little biter also smoky? why is raw puerh smoky? Love the after-taste.

I think in their current young state #2 is the most "drinkable" -- yet it isn't my favorite. I like #3 a bit more ... in fact I like #2 least since it isn't really what I expect from sheng. I suspect it is blended. Not that that is "bad" I just like things that are less contrived.

How will these age? Damned if I know. I have two of each tuocha, one to nibble on and one to keep for a long time. I don't have an special storage arrangements, by my in NYC apartment I never use AC-- so I'm not too worried, I'll probably try to find a self storage unit with the best self storage prices in the future. In any case, if they start to dry out I'll seek new arrangements. But, If I had to guess,I'd guess that #1 will end up too sweet and plain with age, #2 won't really age much since it's so unstable, and #3 has a shot at be good in a few years.


Let's see what happens!

And now....

The Reveal

Xia Guan Yellow Ribbon
Xia Guan Yellow Ribbon Tuo Cha 2010 100g Raw ($9)
Jia Ji Tuo Cha * Menghai Dayi Pu-erh Tea
Jia Ji Tuo Cha * Menghai Dayi Pu-erh Tea 2009 100g Raw ($7)   RUNNER-UP
Mystery Tea From ebay
"2012yr Yunnan Wild Old Tea Pu'er Cake tea 100g" Mystery Tea From ebay ($6) WINNER!


And there you have it!