Youthful disclaimer: Apart from being grandiose, I take creative license with biology, genetics and computer science to serve my own save-the-world agenda.

Late morning sun is warm and bright, here at the June edge of a Santa Cruz summer. A fabulous condition. The 2000+ crowd of moms, dads, grandparents, professors, friends and lovers fills the Porter College quad to overflowing. They churn in happy cacophany. In the middle of it all: the black-robed block of soon-to-be-graduates, sweating in the sun. And up above, the great oak trees sway, their music inaudible above the crowd sound.

I am sitting behind the provost, faculty and fellows on stage, eyes closed in meditation. I listen to the sentimental speeches: a dance professor who urges us to be passionate people; a fellow student who bears to us her honeycomb heart; the provost who commends our achievements and foretells our great works. Meanwhile, the breath goes in and out, and with it goes all fear, anxiety, pride, hesitation. The provost calls my name and I rise, black robes flowing toward the heavy podium and an ocean of faces. With palms laid face-up on the wood I speak:

“This is dedicated to the one I love…..”

An eruption of smiles and laughter as I pause before completing the invocation:

“….You.”

I look into the crowd before me and begin a slow scan of the faces. Trying, to the limit of my ability, to make eye contact with each and every person. As I do, they slowly catch on to the meaning of my words. Now the smiles are ten-fold wider, the laughter ten-fold louder. There are a lot of people in the audience. It takes a long time. I make a complete circle, turning to include the faculty and administrators sitting behind me, until once again I am facing the ocean, now totally silent but vibrating with glee. Up above, I hear the wind blowing through the oak trees like a great, invisible breath. I begin.

I come before you in this moment, not as a bearer of words, but of a Word.

The human genome is a single, glorious Word three billion letters in length. And though spelled from an alphabet of only four characters, this one Word is more profound than all the words uttered by all our poets. For the sound of its articulation is the human being, and, by extension: all the poetry, the cave paintings, and the atom bombs that have sprung from our hands, mouths and minds.

Human creativity is Nature’s creativity, expressing through us.

Now science races to transcribe the text of our genome. When UC Santa Cruz became the first institution to share this text freely on the Internet for all to see, our species took one more step in a great Initiation. For with the deciphering of DNA’s code, the flesh will be made Word. We will step back to contemplate the very bodies in which we are clothed.

Through the vehicle of human cognition, Nature is striving to understand itself. And the arrival of this understanding will serve as The Great Reminder: that we and every species of plant, animal and microbe are branches on a Tree of Life that has been growing on this planet for three and a half billion years. Each branch is a unique expression of Nature’s endless creativity; humanity is but the most recent branchlet, straining up toward the Sun.

Did you know? You share half your genetic code with common yeast. You are 90% genetically identical to the field mouse, and only 1% separates you from the chimpanzee.

I pause as the graduates break out in wild monkey hoots and screeches (a Porter College tradition frowned upon by the administration).

And the difference between you and everyone else in this audience? A mere tenth of a percent.

What makes humankind unique among all the branches in the Tree of Life? It is our Creative Intellect, reflecting in microcosm Nature’s own creative power to fashion novel forms out of our environment. So our own creations, artistic and technological, are themselves yet further branchings in Nature’s Tree.

Thus it’s no wonder that the most advanced developments of our Information Age bear such close resemblance to Nature’s own forms: the World Wide Web, extending our collective memory in a global embrace, bears an ever-increasing resemblance to the brain’s own network organization. Computer scientists design search algorithms based on the foraging patterns of ants. Digital information storage, massively parallel computation, nanotechnology–these are all basic functions of DNA’s double helix. To call these concepts “new” is like the chicken claiming to have invented the egg.

On the Tree of Life, humanity’s Creative Mind is the one and only fruit, nurturing within it the seed — invention! — the vessel by which DNA’s message will be carried to the stars. To plant new gardens before ours is consumed in the fire of our dying Sun.

H.G. Wells wrote, “History is a race between education and disaster.”

Caught up in the dizzying spell that is modern culture, humanity has forgotten its connection to the Tree of Life.

We have forgotten our kinship with every plant and animal.

Forgotten how to live in equilibrium with our environment.

Forgotten the Word, that binds all people as one human family.

Forgotten the true source of our creativity: Nature.

And we have forgotten the stars, though they shine on us every night.

Yet this state of affairs is not tragedy! It is opportunity: for each one of us to apply the creative mind. Whether to design high-technology, adopt ecologically sustainable ways of living, or simply to extend the smile of friendship to strangers you pass in the street. We are all acting out The Great Reminder.

Remember: the stars.

Remember: imagination–the inside of our heads–is the greatest frontier.

Remember: You are the Tree of Life, branches reaching upward for the Sun, ever-seeking new possibilities for being.

And what is, perhaps, closest to being, is beginning.

Edward Tufte at Stanford

Edward Tufte spoke at Stanford this afternoon and I had the pleasure of being in attendance. It was an unconventional talk, as far as academic lectures go, for Tufte was speaking “in the first person” about his own life: his origins in rural Nebraska, his education and formative years, his mentors who influenced his thinking, and the turning points that signaled moments of profound reorientation. As Tufte noted, for a sample size of N=1, the estimated variance is infinite; so other sources should be consulted.

Tufte has had a remarkable career and speaks as someone who appears to have found the courage to follow his bliss, leaving a tenured professorship at Yale to self-publish his famous books on visual information, go on speaking tours, and make large-scale landscape art in his Connecticut backyard.

There were three big lessons I took away from his talk.

Contribute to forever knowledge.

The most important decision a researcher makes is choosing what problem to focus on. One should choose problems that are not only profoundly important, but ones for which good progress is possible. It’s worth nothing to work on grand problems and make no progress. Tufte’s own compass for this decision: contribute to Forever Knowledge. That is, create knowledge that will be universally useful to humankind in any time or place in human history. Tufte ditched his career as a political economy theorist because he found he was working on only temporarily important problems, things he decided were not worth his “time, energy, passion and mind.”

Be self-exemplifying.

In whatever one’s work, be not only a great communicator of ideas and practices, be an exemplar of those same practices and this will communicate the value of what you are saying far better than anything else. Tufte’s books are not only superb treatises on the visual display of information, they are also exemplary demonstrations of clear visual communication. I call them the Kama Sutra of information graphics.

Strive for personal utopia.

Here again, Tufte is, as he presents it, self-exemplifying. While utopian cultures may be unattainable, you can pretty well approximate an ideal life through clarity of purpose, courage to act on that purpose, and, most importantly, doing what you love.

The poem Tufte opened his talk with was excerpted from T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, fitting for a self-reflection.

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?

The tag cloud displayed on my name tag at Stanford University’s H-STAR faculty retreat.

I created tag clouds for every professor’s name tag to visualize their research interests based on research statements and resumes. It was such a treat to watch these great minds interacting and using the tag clouds as launching points for conversations.

I made the tag clouds at TagCrowd. Check it out and play with creating your own clouds from your papers, resume, poetry, chat logs, or whatever suits your fancy.

The official story

U.S. President George W. Bush intended to visit the Stanford University campus yesterday to meet with members of the Hoover Institution, a neo-con think tank in Hoover Tower. But Mr. Bush never made it to Hoover Tower. Why? I was there and I’ll tell you why.

The mainstream press is reporting that Stanford protesters blocked the only road leading to Bush’s meeting so that it had to be re-located, and that three Stanford students were arrested. This is simply not true. Grassroots journalism by people who were actually there is giving a different and much more revealing account of what really happened. I’ll give you my own summary of what occurred based on being there myself, interviewing others who were there, knowing the protest organizers and being acquainted with the students who were arrested.

The “real” story

The presence of one thousand and more protesters, accompanied by the Stanford Band, caused Bush to relocate his private meeting at Hoover Tower to former Secretary of State Shultz’s house on Delores Street (about a block from where I live). However, contrary to what the press is reporting (see “How the secret was spread“, below), the road to Hoover Tower was not blocked by protesters. Law enforcement had set up barriers to ensure clear passage long before the protest began, and these barriers were respected by the crowd. However, around 4pm, police in riot gear appeared and attempted to move the crowd by force from its position on Serra Street, East of Hoover Tower. Strangely, they did not attempt to inform the crowd of the reason why.

Students resisted this move and sat down in the street. That’s when law enforcement pulled a very strange maneuver of questionable legality. They brought in a fire truck with sirens wailing and claimed (falsely) that there was a medical emergency at Hoover. After a lot of verbal abuse from police and firemen, only three protesters remained blocking the truck and these were dragged off (as shown prominently in the photo coverage), arrested, and taken away in a paddy wagon. They’ve since been released on misdemeanor charges. Absurdly, the fire truck then turned around and drove unhurriedly away, sirens off, and the protesters were allowed to fill the street again. Presumably, it had been during this confrontation that Bush’s meeting was re-located.

In summary: One of the top three universities in the United States spurned President Bush from coming on to campus; three Stanford students were arrested for disobeying a lie and obstructing a misappropriation of emergency services personnel. That part of the story has yet to ripple out to the mainstream press. You read it hear first.

Now let’s back up to see how this all unfolded and how the news is now being spread by mass media and digitally-mediated grassroots journalists.

How the secret was spilled

Until a few days ago, Bush’s visit was totally unexpected here at Stanford. That’s true even for the University administration, who had scheduled many important events for next-year’s freshmen visiting for Stanford Admit weekend. The single biggest event was scheduled to happen on the same day as Bush’s visit, in Memorial Auditorium across the street from Hoover Tower, but this was suddenly scrapped due to Bush’s sudden imposition.

In the couple of days leading up to Bush’s arrival, it was fascinating to witness how rapidly this potent local news meme spread through the student population over social and digital networks. On a college campus, these networks are so closely intermingled that a meme moves seamlessly through and between each. Someone reads an email who tells a friend who tells another friend who emails a group list, etc. I received five emails in three hours from different sources. All were forwards that already had a long lineage.

The earliest signs I heard of came over the Stanford Band’s email list two days before the visit. The Band immediately started preparing a musical protest, choosing tunes that reflected political sentiments, like “American Idiot” by Greenday and “Hey, Big Brother” by Rare Earth. I overheard the news in class the next day (one day before the visit). That night, campus email lists were abuzz with info about the president’s schedule and plans for a large-scale protest: meet in White Plaza at 1:30 to rally and make signs; march to Hoover Tower at 2:00. The campus newspaper didn’t carry the story till the day of Bush’s visit, but had some interesting details about snipers being posted in Hoover Tower.

On the big day, I just happened to be tabling in White Plaza from 12 – 1:30, promoting the campus Cooperative Community with flyers and musical instruments. I also set up a sound system there to be used by student groups for a sustainability event from 12 -1. After that, I “accidentally” left the equipment set up so that when the protest rally started at 1:30, there happened to be a sound system turned on and turned up, with a microphone plugged in and ready to go. I’m no activist, but I do understand the power of technology to shape collective action.

How the secret was spread

Also interesting, now that the momentous event has now passed, is to witness the ripple of news about it propagate outward to media outlets of varying proximity (Stanford Daily, Palo Alto Weekly, San Jose Mercury News, San Francisco Chronicle, Associated Press, New York Times), and grassroots journalism sources like videos on YouTube, photos on Flickr, and coverage on blogs. The chart below shows the number of posts that contain ‘Bush + Stanford + Protest’ in recent history.

Rachelle Marshall, a senior citizen member of the Raging Grannies protest group, said “It’s the greatest thing since I’ve been at Stanford. I’ve been here 50 years.” Perhaps with the rise of densely connected online communities at college campuses everywhere, digital tools for communication and coordination are going to be figuring more and more prominently in student activism efforts. Similarly, while the power of protest has seemed to dwindle in recent times due to lack of mass media attention, the rise into legitimacy of grassroots online journalism may be giving the punch back to protest. Interesting times, indeed.

4 songs that move me

• Chicago ~ Sufjan Stevens
• Koln Concert I ~ Keith Jarrett
• I Get Out ~ Lauryn Hill
• Jealous Guy ~ John Lennon

4 books that make me think

• Investigations ~ Stuart Kauffman
• Letters to a Young Poet ~ Rainer Maria Rilke
• Permutation City ~ Greg Egan
• The Book ~ Alan Watts

4 albums (soundtracks to my life)

• Kind of Blue ~ Miles Davis
• Elegiac Cycle ~ Brad Mehldau
• Kid A ~ Radiohead
• Meddle ~ Pink Floyd

4 films that blow my mind

• Yume (Dreams) ~ Akira Kurosawa
• Thin Red Line ~ Terrence Mallick
• Ghost in the Shell ~ Mamoru Oshii
• Waking Life ~ Richard Linklater

4 heroes

• Buckminster Fuller
• My father
• Terence
• Jon Riewerts

4 dreams I have

• DDD galactic governance
• being a rock star
• falling in love again (and again)
• peace (inner and outer)

4 plans I’ve made

• make a solo album
• circumnavigate the Earth
• start a distributed school/community
• make art with my hands

4 places I liked

• Kyoto, Japan
• Huahine, French Polynesia
• Tok, Alaska
• Safed, Israel

4 people

• Amy
• Skuz
• Sal Perez
• Liz