The Island

experiments with no rules at all. He is subject to criticism but the criticism does not stem from a basic set of regulations or standards as in science. There is no repeatability required. In fact repeatability or repetition is a negation of art. Art must be unique. While these worlds, at first glance, seem far apart they are in fact quite similar but only when we see science with our quantum theorist eyes. In quantum theory each experiment gives a unique result but the uniqueness is defined within the many superposed outcomes that are possible for that experiment. Once a measurement is made the state wave function jumps to an eigen state. So in effect, each experimental outcome is unique. As in art, there are no rules for this outcome - any one of the infinite range being possible.

  Is there intent in the artistic endeavour? Science is quite clear in its objective in trying to understand the world in which we live. It searches the cosmos, the infinitesimal sub-atomic world, the biological world of the body and all living creatures and plants. The search is for understanding of how the systems work. They search for laws that control the evolution of these systems. They seek to predict the future and deconstruct the past. The goals are not personal but those of society and humanity. Whereas the artist works from a personal paradigm. He is seeking personal goals. They are not well defined, perhaps not at all definable, being deep seated in the psyche. He is looking at the world as he sees it and tries to capture his own personal essence within it. His art reflects more of society and culture than direct environment. It is human based. It looks to the human response to the environment and to existence. It is unconcerned even ignorant of science and the great cosmos that exists out there in the heavens.

  Can a broader perspective be of benefit to the artist or conversely can a deeper personal insight be of benefit to the scientist? Enlightenment comes from a broadening of experience and knowledge. Enlightenment is a necessary part of the path to wisdom. The enlightened artist or scientist will work from a greater palette of colours with a consequent explosion in his degrees of freedom to express and create. The blurring of the boundaries between them, can only lead to mutual stimulation not contamination. The great human endeavours can complement and feed off each other, to lead humanity into the dangers of the twenty-first century.

  As all these thoughts floated through my head the external world continued its daily routine. The sun had risen and clouds had passed over the blue sky sending cooling shadows across the squatting figure on the cliff top. For a while a gentle breeze rose and the tide came and went. The swells of the oceans lightly cascaded over the rocks at the cliff base. The gulls rose in the air and resettled on their cliff-side nests. The heather sweated in the mid-day heat and a sweet scent perfumed the air. Bees hovered and passed disinterestedly. Flies hovered and stayed. The heat in the afternoon air became balmy. The world was displaying all its charms and I was enthralled by its beauty.

  For the rest of afternoon I tried to just meditate on its calm beauty. I let my mind relax. Thoughts floated about but were gently pushed aside so that a warm emptiness was maintained. This emptiness was filled with my present being - the position of my body, the beat of my heart, my regular breathing, the pressure of the earth on my body. I felt the weight of the air above me, the caress of the breeze, the slight fluctuation in temperatures. I was in tune with nature and the song was sublime. I wanted to prolong it for an eternity. I could die now and all would have meaning. To be happy was what I yearned for. To have peace is the end goal. The mind free of turmoil is a beautiful template on which the body sits in contentment. The peace of death is everlasting.

  I don't know how long I was in this trance but the sun was on its descent towards evening and the air was getting colder when I was awoken by the voice of Maria as she called my name. My eyes had been closed but I had not been asleep. I smiled at her appearance, glad for her sole company, there being no Jan tagging along. She sat down beside me and we held silence for a long time just watching the setting sun.

  'It's so beautiful, isn't it?' Maria eventually spoke.

  'Yes, words can't describe it,' I replied.

  We were silent again. Silences can be very powerful. They cannot be trapped in writing - films use them to great effect. Most of our lives are lived in silence. Words are the rarity. Those who speak ceaselessly are avoided. Maria was very good at silence. I stared at her young face as she looked out intently at the ocean and the reddening sun. Her skin had a tinge of orange from the evening light. Her face had that hopeful look of the young. She was only starting out in life. I had no right to interfere with her journey. I knew so little about her or her life, yet had had such intimacy. The memory of Molly came back and I felt ashamed.

  'I'll be going in the morning.' Maria's words floated on the air. 'I guess I'll never see you again. Funny, but I'm not sad.'

  'Oh.' I couldn't think of anything to add.

  'Will you finish your book?' Maria's eyes caught mine.

  'Book? Oh your bible. Yes, now that it's started it must be finished.' I said. 'Someday, you may see it in the shops. Perhaps a second hand shop. Look for a grubby little paperback browned by the sun but unopened, unread. Look inside and see the dedication. I will dedicate it to you, Maria, my first scribe.'

  'Why will it be unread?' Maria asked.

  'Because no one will deem it worthwhile to labour over the musings of a grumpy aging man with nothing else to do in his life but make useless words,' I replied.

  'I will read it for one. No words are useless, least of all yours. You have awakened something in me. I have caught some of your plague. I am confirmed in your searches also.' Maria was now speaking to the sunset, to her future.

  'What will you do with the rest of your life?' I asked.

  'Oh, who knows?' Maria's voice had no enthusiasm. 'Maybe get a job in Amsterdam. Party a bit. Find a place to live. A job. Marry. Kids. The usual story. I'd love it to be different, but I'm a practical person. I will not change the world. But I am lucky to have met you because this brief interlude has opened up an intellectual journey that I can undertake no matter where I am. Even if I am stuck in a high rise apartment with several crying kids hauling off me, I can still look to the sky and wonder. There is enough mystery out there to keep me going.'

  'Maria, you will not end up like that. I forbid it!' I was annoyed at the picture she had painted. It was so defeatist from one so young. Yet I knew it was the most likely outcome and this was what angered me most. She had to do better than benign acceptance of an ordinary life. I had sold my soul for the ordinary life, with a steady job and Sorcha and the hope for a family. I had set my stall out on that happy mundane scenario but it had not materialised.

  'No, Maria, forget about those norms. Chase your dreams, now. The future only clouds them over and then it will be too late. There is so much to learn, to achieve. Never settle for second best.'

  We said goodbye. A brief hug and Maria was gone. Sadness and loneliness mingled. I felt down. There was no place to turn to. There was no comfort to be had. A great fatigue overwhelmed me. I entered the tent and lay down. Sleep, like a drug, gave me release.

  It was dark when my eyes opened from their deep slumber. I pulled back the flap of the tent and looked out at the darkness. Black is always the colour of nothingness. Yet black is the strongest of all colours. You'd expect the vacuum to be a misty grey or grey white, suggestive of emptiness. The surprising strength of the black colour of the dark could suggest that emptiness is full of darkness, the black of postulated dark matter. The universe is lighter than it should be according to modern cosmological models. The visible matter of the galaxies makes up only less than five per cent of the expected matter. Where is all the rest of this matter and why can't we see it. Little is really known about this predicted dark matter. It is thought to lie at the centre of galaxies and is responsible for their rotational motion. Yet it could actually be everywhere but because it doesn't interact with light or electromagnetic radiation we cannot detect it. But ironically it may be staring us straight in the face in
the darkness of the night. Nothingness should not have a colour yet it is a definite strong black. No one has ever thought to ask why? Everything has to have a colour when light shines on it and if there is no light then it assumes a jet black colour. What would no colour be like? Is it possible to have no colour? The same question could be phrased as - is it possible to have nothing? Maybe we are asking the wrong question of existence. We should not ask why or how we exist but the real question is why or how we don't exist. I find it easy to accept that everything has to have a colour. Maybe this mindset should be applied to existence. Everything has to have existence. But the sceptic will immediately pose the tricky question: do blue cows exist? The facile answer is no - blue cows don't exist, but when I stop to think about it maybe they do. They may exist in one of the infinite universes of the quantum world.

  The problem with philosophy is that it tends to restrict experience to that of the human being and does not allow for the probability, however small, of their other independent experiences elsewhere in our own universe or perhaps in the myriad other parallel universes. The paradigm, that all things conceivable can exist and