About Intelligence

Another uninteresting and very personal reflection about intelligence and A.I.

Intelligence, Mmmh.

I remember the time when people used to say that we will have a “thinking machine” when we will be able to realise something (or the code) that will be able to beat a human in the game of Chess. For many many years this would be the true benchmark for an intelligent-capable-machine. The idea behind that was that game of chess and the incredible complexity that opens up move after move, in a chess match, seemed to be something that only a “true thinking brain” (organic), could eventually master. It seemed to be a realm where computation is not anymore sufficient, and other skills needed to kick in. Skills that could only arise in an intelligent system, organic or not. Skills like creativity, intuit, “thinking out of the box”, etc.

Generations of programmers worked on that (not many actually), and time came when the machines got better and better, starting to beat humans. °Oooh, just a glitch, just luck”, was the first reaction, but then it happened again, and the code got refined, and it started happening, again, and again, and again. Then, four years before the end of the millennium, Deep Blue won over Garry Kasparov. I am not going in detail into narrating the path lead to the epic challenge, and the evolution of it (it is a beautiful incredible story though).
I rather prefer (for now) to just move to what happened “after”.
So: the code was able to to win. The question now was: was it intelligence?
What happened to the above statement?
Well as we can imagine, the outcome of it all was something very “human”.
What happened was that the human genre moved the bar. We started saying “Oh, no, Chess was not the right choice, we will rather have a thinking machine when the code will be able to win with a Go grand master”. We were joking, it’s Go, not Chess.
Well, You all can guess what happened next. Yes, it happened.
We refined the algorithms, we developed a new mathematics, and out of that came “Alpha Go”. And Alpha Go won the greatest of all Go players. And You can imagine what the humans did.
We moved the bar, again, without much worries.

I have much more to write, and I will write something, in part II.
I stop in here for now. Before doing that I want to take your hand and take you back to the original question. To think about that, in a different way, in a deeper way. The above facts forces us into a different class of questions, questions like:
What is a true benchmark for “human intelligence” ?
and
Will we (human race) ever be ready for a different kind of intelligence?
Will we ever accept it?
Is it in the human nature to refuse and battle against the mere existence of such thing?

Next One on this will deal with:
Intelligence and Common Sense

PS: and there is more about that. There is the story about how AlphaGo works, how its daughter AlphaZero works. There is the question about the very nature in which they work, and the reflection about the mechanism in which our mind works, and … more.

With Love, humble appreciation for the beauty of Nature
(and passion for Science)

TheCrazyKitty ❤️

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And I Write …

And I write and I write and I write.
Then I write and I chant my verses, and my views, and the thoughts.
Like buds, from the tree of my soul, becoming leaves, glowing green, then becoming yellow and then falling.

Wind comes, and they fly,
unseen they rustle, unheard.
Is this important, or not?

No, it isn’t, yes, it is,
yet no, it is not,
yet, it is.

The sap of my heart will never stop them living,
blossoming every season passing season,
new snowdrops, and lilies, and shamrock leaves
and deep sorrow willow branches.

No, not important,
yes important,
The tree sees the other trees
and smiles.

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When I love, i LOVE

When I am in love, the kind of love that for me is soul sharing, devotion, selfgiving, the kind of love that for me is the peak of “love” I behave in ways that maybe are not the ways other do. I understand that each one of us has her own way of loving and ways to express it, I got mine.

When I love, for me it means curiosity.
It means curiosity even if I am by no means a person that is curious about what people do or think, in general. Yet, I am always “curious” about my beloved one, where the word means being thirsty about everything hers and everything she wishes to share with me. For this reason I feel natural for me to have her know what I think about this or that, and I think it is natural and the way to be, to have HER be the first to know.
For this reason, to my mind and soul, the natural is for me to have her knowing what my day will be, or was, what are my plans, if I am to endure a trip, or I will be away, or unavailable. And I feel like it would be insulting and lacking respect to her, if I would let someone else know these things first, normal personal things about me, to have her know something mine from someone else, or hearing it from someone else, not directly.

In this sense, for me Love is sharing, and the pleasure in doing it, having the whole of me being a home for her and feeling unbalanced and wrong when the world forces in a different direction. There are different expression of love, of loving.
I do not feel the same for a friendly type of love, no matter how deep that is.
I do not feel the same for a family type of love, or the love for my brothers, or my sister, or my mother. Those can be silent, although this does not mean less “deep”. Yet totally different that is.
This deep personal commitment to sharing is a vital part of my “loving” in a relationship. This not conceiving to have a total mutual relationship for me, without me giving this: this is part of what is for me loving someone, a central part of what it means for me to consider each other’s half. Not giving this, for me, would mean to not be truly honest and not honouring what we have.

This is not so for many, and I see people being ok with that, and it is perfect. I am always at the same time surprised, admired, and shocked, when I see relationships having totally different dynamics respect to the ones that are core, for me.

World is beautiful, and it is beautiful that there are so different ways to compose a symphony, different rules that can create an harmony. It find this thing to be enriching, to see how there are other approaches to anything, kind of beauties at every scale.

Kitty

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Genius

When we think about “genius”. When we are in front of a work of genius, when we experience the art of a “genius”, when we read a poem that makes us inhale, exhale, and say “Wow”.
When we experience that, in the end, what we get, what we are left with, it’s “inspiration”.
It is not the work “per se”, it is not in the contingency of that creation that the genius lies. It is in what it inspires, in the doors it opens.

So, to me, a work of genius is something that inspire, it is about the things that comes because of that, after that, because of that idea, that door, that vision. What is even more amazing and beautiful about all that, is in the universality of it.
The same holds in fact true for all aspects and spheres of the world. It is like this both for science and art, both for the spiritual and the factual. It was like this for relativity, it was like this for ancient philosophers, it is like this about new math theories, it is like this for the works of Renoir, the poems of William Blake, Quantum Physics, and on and on and on.

It is like this for acts of Love. Too

#kittymichele – Oct 2020

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Foralways

Such as wild flowers, the Ocean, white clouds
like the dew under the slant light of the new day,
like butterflies, or each and every breath

Like old photos of our dear ones,
or the reassuring sky vault, holding the stars

Those who are out there, and we can count on
lifting our hearts, with a single smile, by their bare existence

Never chanted enough, celebrated enough
yet loved endlessly, deeply
because mutually owning, existing

inexplicable,
holy
symphony

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Tears

Slow
soul’s drops
pearls
falling stars,
l e t t e r s

d
o
w
n

one after the other
feelings
seeking their way
existence
coalescing tears
imbuing this paper

their last travel
this.
poem.

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Our Sacred

We get into this world with wings.

There is holiness, kindness, beauty,
evil, sweetness, coldness,
the whole spectrum of feelings
the whole potential
within each of us.

It is up to us to cultivate what we want to cultivate,
what we are strong enough to cultivate,
what we choose and want to cultivate,
to be, to become.

No matter what the world gives us.

Life.
Life gives us inputs, wounds, flowers, whippings.
visible or not, thorn or not my wings will forever exist.
growing again and again, like those of a Phoenix.

They are me,
such as my pain,
my smile,
my love,
my life.

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Life Lessons

Pain. You are a life reminder, You are the reminder that we are mortal, the reminder that we have to struggle to obtain something. You remind us that the moments when apparently nothing special is going on, they actually are moments in which all the magic of life runs smoothly. They are moments in which we should be grateful.
Oh, not necessarily religiously grateful, not necessarily being praying or such. But rather remember we should open our arms turn the head up to the sky and giggle, smile, laugh, inhale harmony.

Pain. The torment of aching, a little irking, a deadly wound. Different degrees of pain, different and still all alike. Pain is not measurable. Sometimes it is, in theory it could be, but we are human, we are love creatures, emotional creatures, and that makes it relative.

There is who is facing death, and feels calm, painless, blessed. Then there could another girl: having lost the use of a finger, she wanted to be a pianist, and so she ends up thinking her life is destroyed, with no future and those thoughts intoxicate her mind, to the point she feels like dyeing, and in fact she does. Because pain is absolute and relative at the same time. There is no absolute value, even a small one can become an insurmountable mountain. Paradoxically, the very same fact that a little thing may turn out to be unbearable, that same thing teaches us that nothing is insurmountable, and through our mind, spirit, and heart, we can put everything in perspective, and overcome anything.
Because in the same way as no relative is an absolute, then every absolute can be turned into a relative.

Pain,
Life Teacher

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Every morning I dress You
in fruits, scents and emotions,
made of unseen colours.
Shades and nuances invented for us.

Every morning
with the touch of my whispers I brush you.
The arc of your eyebrows are rainbows,
thy hair molten gold through my fingers

Forgetting the world i’m by You .
No matter the past or the future.
Bread freshly baked
love being its yeast

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Layers of Lies, Castles of Cards (LoL CoC)

The fact is that most people is made up, or wrapped, with layers of lies. I want to be good, so I assume that maybe it starts with a little lie, a little “masquerade” so to speak. But then another one attaches to the first, like little insects accumulating on flypaper.
Another and another, and slowly the layer of lies becomes the dress, it becomes the day to day dress, their new normal, so to speak.
To these layers new lies are sometimes attached, to embellish the dress, to adjust it, and on and on. Tragic how this is the standard for most people, tragic how this may be the case for the ones around us.
Sometimes something happens revealing a flash of the covered skin, the true one, the fragile one and now even more fragile, delicate, so delicate that these people feel the need to hush to cover them, immediately.
A new layer, sinking the true self even deeper inside.
There are days when there is a little ripple, from inside, the desire to rebel, to scratch those fake (sometimes even beautiful) crusts, off the skin, to come out. For a moment there is the desire to rise, to show the pale skin, the scars, the flaws and beauty but then, it fades. It fades maybe because after all these people are attached to this or that, they fear losing something from the world that knows them fro what they are not. They fear they will be not only judged, but even not accepted, hated maybe.
So they give up. For a day, two, five, their soul hide and curl inside the built dress. A burning ember hidden in a royal shell.
After this period it all comes back to natural
It all comes back to putting new layers, inventing new glowing scales for their dress, for their armor.
In doing this, succumbing even more into feeling weak. Devoured by the paradox of the whole thing, since they started it all for one reason, feeling stornger.

Kitty

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