Everything moves. Everything. Not just big things, but the tiny stuff that makes up everything, and, as you know, the measurement of that movement is what we call temperature. Faster atomic and molecular motions equal higher temperatures. But now imagine that Clark and his fellow researchers have almost achieved the heretofore only imagined lack of motion. Nada. A stillness beyond comprehension. Seems almost spiritual.
We are creatures of motion, even in deep meditation and quiet. The motion is part of who we are: Neurons, bacteria, viruses, cells, organs and tissue, all in a seemingly chaotic motion while simultaneously working (most of the time) in unison. A drumbeat, or rather a multitude of drums beating more or less in unison. When everything seems to be going well, all the drums pound out a rhythm to which we march as a unit. But, of course as we know, keeping so many beating drums vibrating in sync isn’t easy.
It’s difficult for us to keep our own drums beating in unison for any extended period. Consider, then, how difficult it is to achieve a unity of percussion among so many different drummers. To do so, we have to cool down the drums, take away energy.
Maybe that’s why we want people in conflict to “cool down” and why we think of the “heat” associated with conflict.
It took hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of researchers’ time and material to cool a tiny drum to a previously unachieved quantum limit. Ironic, isn’t it? So much energy had to go into the experiment to reduce energy toward the magical state of motionlessness that was only a temporary accomplishment.
Want to know why we have so much conflict, so much heat and antagonistic motion, so many drummers beating different rhythms? We are creatures of incessant motion that only with the greatest effort can achieve just briefly a state of quiet and peace. Motion is built into the structure of the universe, and therefore, into the world of human activity. Sorry to say, but eventual conflict is our lot. But it’s nice to think that maybe a limit we thought we could never reach might be, in fact, reachable. Maybe the temperatures will fall someday, but I’m not betting on that cool day.