THE SEARCH FOR THE GRANDE ALGORITHM AND THE chained super organism JODE HIMANN The search for the GRANDE ALGORITHM & the Chained Super Organism Jode Himann Acknowledgment Published internationally by TAGDit This book is dedicated to those brave souls who live by their hearts, and who trust their intuitions to 1018 72 Ave NE, Calgary, AB T2E 8V9, Canada light their dark path. My admiration goes out to the individuals who feel a burning passion to share info.tagdit.com their intuitive knowledge for the greater good yet struggle against all odds to express your truth. © TAGDit 2019 To know something deeply of this world, and to convey that knowledge are two separate things. And to those who cannot well combine the two, Society can exact cruel punishment All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be upon those with an inability to articulate their treasured, intuitive knowledge. What can be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, lonelier that a heart yearning to share and contribute, only to be misunderstood and cast out? or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, Only those with the strongest constitution can survive the subsequent burden of inner strife, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise – confusion, judgment, dismissal or disdain. How many have wandered through life looking without prior written permission of the publisher. for a sympathetic ear have died bankrupted, taking their untold treasures to their graves? First Edition Written history is littered with many such lives, and in unwritten history, lost forever to time. Once a person has intuitively grasped a part of nature's expansive untold story with unwavering certainty, as if a secret whispered into one's ears, nothing else matters. One is seized with an overpowering force propelling one to follow the arc that all great thinkers, inventors, scientists have followed. This drive to tell nature's untold story takes on a life of its own and becomes one's raisin d'etre. Those men and women I admire the most, who have been privileged to partake in nature's secret revelations, have had their lives fatefully and permanently altered. They only knew relief when that story can be told. No man is an island. We are, each and every one of us beings, and from the moment of birth, our very survival is dependent on our social bonds with others. This odyssey is a life milestone and it could not have come about without the support of an entire network of people. While I make special mention of these few who put in exception effort and creativity in this short acknowledgement, those many others who helped greatly on this journey know who you are, and you are highly valued. To my brother Jonathon Himann, words cannot express the depth of my gratitude for his craftsmanship, patience and persistence in not only communicating a story, but his efforts in communicating with me. Writing a book to bring a bold new idea out of the darkness and into the light requires tremendous fortitude on the part of all those involved. If this book achieves its goal to speak to the world, then it can only be because I provided the breath and Jonathon provided the speech organ that articulated it into coherent words. Although the first draft of this book was writing solely by me, most of the final book was crafted in Jon’s voice. In the investigative part of the journey, I bestow deep gratitude to my close collaborator, Dr. Brett Teeple, whose utterly unique gift and intimate mathematical dialogue with nature can tease out the subtlest patterns hidden from the human mind. Brett provided the mathematical firepower to back up the intuitive knowledge. For the understanding and investigative research into the deep philosophy, cultural context and social impact, I am grateful for the support of James (Gien) Wong. Without his combined abilities of understanding and articulations I fear that I may have been one of the unfortunate ones to take my jewels-in-the-rough to the grave, awaiting the story to unfold in some future time. Lastly,I wish to thank Brad Fincaryk, who has been an essential but silent supporter of this project. He is like the ever-present parent supporting their children playing at a soccer match. Like them, Brad was consistently there in the background to provide firm support and practical guidance to keep the project on track. Without his significant patience, belief and trust in the face of frequent adversity, this book would not have seen the light of day. Thank you, Brad, for your support in me and in bringing to fruition a lifelong dream. Prologue: Voices from The Shadows I had a little notebook that I used to write in when I was a kid. It was stained with mud and god knows what else. I’d write about the world outside, like those berries over there. I’d end with questions like, why are these berries circular? Or what are these branches doing in that pattern? Why did the bees dance like that? Why are there spirals inside watermelon? Why do spider webs look like that? I didn’t really know it then, but that tendency was going to get me into trouble, later. Poking your nose everywhere is going to get you into trouble. In fact, it seems that you are looking for something. Some do not like that you are looking, because they are hiding something. Our society pretends we live in a hard world, that will never change. A rock is just a rock, a stone is just a stone. Oxygen is only oxygen. We are physical creatures first and foremost, and everything else is distraction. This world view is wrong. I know this because, I have seen this world view used as a weapon to control us, in school, at work, and in relationships. To stop questions, to prevent discussion, to create wars. In fact, it is merely, but a weapon used to control you. You do not live in a world that is the way your school describes it. There is something infinitely stranger at the heart of everything. And you are not supposed to know what this secret is. 4 1 Just as I was about to open the first page, brittle with age, my mom yelled, “Son, are you ready?” “Yes, Ma!” I put down the notebook, as my mom had never approved of grandpa’s hobbies. My fingers lingered on the rough, really loved spine. My feet The Beginning disturbed the dust for the last time in that house on the way down the stairs. That bungalow was sold soon after, and soon after that, knocked down. I’d never see it again, but that was alright as his handwriting was burned GRANDPA’S HOUSE into my brain. His search for The Grande Algorithm had become mine. Together with my memories of my grandpa, a chamber opened in my mind. Something that I need a pen and paper to open the door to. My first formative event happened in my grandpa’s house. I distinctly remember that everything on the old dresser in grandpa’s room, beside It took me back to a place where the stories were thrilling once again. the stripped bed, was covered with a patina of dust. I wondered at the He’d tell me about his job, about the lectures he gave to his students. I wish I had air vectors pushing the dust, and what laws governed how the specks had a chance to take one of those classes. He told me about his research trips on settled to the bed. The sun slanted in the window, and motes danced in the ocean and the migration routes of the crabs. He told stories of his dives in the the rays hitting the ground. One old jacket hung in the open closet. biological whirlwind of the herring. He told me of the possible geometry of biological The world had even hidden the house with a layer of silence, time. He said that there was an invisible connection between all dogs, all eagles, with another layer of grime on the windows and dead flies and all dolphins. He then put my hand on his chest and asked, “Can you feel my on the bed. No one had been in the attic for a while. heartbeat? Every animal on the planet has the same number of heartbeats. This is a fantastic truth, and is called newton’s laws of biology, which Kleiber later built on.” I took a few steps towards the boxes in the corner of the room and sighed, shaking my head, when my eyes chanced upon the bookshelf. His book, Those words still echo in my head today. where he described all his equations, was still wrapped in elastics with Three years later, when I was twelve, we took a vacation to British Columbia. papers and notes sticking out of it. Squares and hypotenuses were scrawled I just fell in love with the ocean and spent all of my time on the beach. all over it. Stamps were stuck to the cover, some peeling at the edges. I must have been drawn there, drawn to this beach. It was a rocky beach with stones of all sizes, one that was even the size of a house. Trees on That single worn book laid flat on the bookshelf. One could see a few the edges of it, protecting the homes from the salt spray. Lots of places faded words written on the thin leather cover.