The Wisdom to Know the Difference
- Kris J. Simpson
- 2 days ago
- 12 min read
Deciphering Signal from Noise—Love from Fear
You might say I was righteously scared into my curiosity and passion for biology, since my science teacher, Mr. Gibson, was able to frighten a 12-year-old boy who had been working on his elementary school rap sheet for a few years at that point, gaining the attention of every teacher at the school by spending countless hours in the principal’s office.
Mr. Gibson was a middle-aged man with thick, curly light-brown hair styled in a typical 1970s style, resembling a well-trimmed round bush. He was of medium build, in decent shape, and wore glasses that suited his role during working hours — as a science teacher for grades 7 and 8.
Mr. Gibson suffered from terrible migraines, and while any other teacher would probably take days off work, which would mean the school had to bring in a supply teacher — something that was a dream come true for a troublemaker like me — he would instead sit at the front of the class at his desk on a raised platform, giving him a bird’s eye view of all of us and limiting the number of elastic-propelled metal paperclips I could launch at my classmates. He would assign us a task and sit at his desk with his head drooped and his hands covering his face, not trying to hide his pain from us.
It was on a day when he had a migraine that I crossed the Rubicon into a battle with him: the non-conforming school bad-ass versus the highly irritated science teacher. As he sat at the front of his desk, head cradled in his hands, rocking slowly back and forth, I launched a paperclip I had engineered into a projectile, powered by the propellant of a high-tension elastic band. Since I had broken the paperclip in half, it now had two sharp points, which allowed it to stick into my friend’s leg as he was diligently completing his assignment on the other side of the room.
His scream alerted Mr. Gibson on the day that it would be most wise not to startle him. He didn’t ask who did it; rather, he looked directly into my eyes with fury. I thought I was going to get off with a firm verbal scolding when he asked me calmly to step outside the classroom with him. Getting out of my chair and following him into the hallway, I looked back and grinned at my classmates, feeling emboldened and thrilled, now getting the attention I was craving. What I didn’t know is that he had asked me to step outside, no different than a man would ask another man in a bar to step outside to see who would still be standing when the dust settled.
With one eye on me and the other on the door slowly closing, I was suddenly lifted off my feet and slammed into a row of lockers. He had grabbed my shirt with his large hands, curling around my neck. I was frozen with fear and didn’t resist, not that I could have anyway. With his teeth clenched and looking like he was possessed, he growled the only thing he needed to say to make me the most obedient student he had ever known: “If you ever disrupt my class again, you won’t know what hit you.”
He then dropped me like a sack of potatoes as he opened the door for me with an ingenious smile. I walked back into the classroom, no doubt looking like I had just met Satan himself, with a white face and bugged-out eyes. From that day on, I not only started outperforming many of my students but also discovered that I had a deep interest in biology, specifically cell biology, from plants right up to complex organisms like us.
It was during another humbling moment in my life, just before turning forty, that I developed an interest in philosophy—the study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence—as many people in midlife contemplate the most asked question: “What is the meaning of it all?” That experience didn’t involve another person pushing me into a wall, since I was able to do that all on my own. More details can be found in my earlier writings if you’re interested.
Through many conversations with those brave enough to ask questions such as: “What is the purpose of my existence?” along with countless hours, especially during my walks in the nature trails, I have come up with many ideas to answer that question, many of which have left me more confused than before. Thankfully, I’m not the only one asking these questions; we have a deep well of knowledge to draw from, dating back to the beginning of written history.
There also appears to be a collective aspect to these philosophies, making it appear that we possess a collective memory or wisdom that all humans, and possibly some animals or even plants, can access, even without prior knowledge of it. On a side note, author Michael Pollan has been digging into plant research for many years now, and I learned a lot of fascinating facts from his books, “This is Your Mind on Plants” and “The Botany of Desire”.
While many focus on breaking down our physical reality into smaller parts, from biological cells to atomic and quantum worlds, which is fascinating and helps us see the bigger picture, it can also lead to the belief that these parts are separate from the whole. When we narrow our focus and become myopic, we fall into the illusion that what exists outside the parts isn’t connected.
Still, there are others who, through strong intuition and observable evidence that science is now confirming, have the wisdom to understand the difference between what happens in the parts is driven by a greater force—a top-down or unitary approach—versus a bottom-up understanding of our existence.
What I learned in Mr. Gibson’s class many years ago is that life probably began billions of years ago as a single cell, likely a bacterium containing RNA or DNA, which then became more complex and gave rise to eukaryotic cells. To explain how this occurred, we have the theory of endosymbiosis, which suggests that one cell engulfed another and, instead of digesting it, established a partnership. This may be how the cell’s internal engine, the mitochondria, likely originated. Over time, cells developed into the first multicellular organisms, all enabled by intercellular communication.
As we typically do, humans use metaphors to explain the abstract, that which is difficult if not impossible to interpret, comparing what we observe to things we can also perceive elsewhere. It is a specialty our species has exclusive rights to, and it certainly helps us comprehend the gestalt, or the oneness of our reality.
I see a clear metaphor in the origin of life that could shed light on its meaning by combining my understanding of biology and philosophy. In observing nature unfold, one thing is very clear, and you don’t need to be a biologist or philosopher to see it — nature is a creationist. Whether it is purpose-driven or simply doing what it does is debatable and likely impossible to prove or disprove, but what cannot be disputed is its drive to create, multiply, and increase in complexity.
Philosopher and mathematician A.N. Whitehead theorized that there must be a purpose in creation because organizing matter requires a great deal of energy; therefore, there is significance or value in it. There is further evidence of this because matter, the molecules we’re made of, defies, albeit temporarily, entropy — the second law of thermodynamics that ensures we will become “disordered” and “decay” as we approach our expiry date. However, many scientists are working to extend our lifespan, so we might resist entropy more effectively in the near future.
What science and physics also demonstrate is that connections through communication act as the glue holding all physical matter together, including both living and non-living material. Essentially, this forms all the reality we perceive. It is through this process of exchanging knowledge and acting in unity to organize into a system that not only is it responsible for sentient life, but it may also have been the force that enabled our universe to come into existence.
From the “cosmic conversation” mediated through non-verbal and unconscious exchanges of gravity, light, and physical matter that form galaxies, down to the quantum realm where two particles can be entangled or profoundly connected even if they are light-years apart. Albert Einstein famously dubbed this paradox “spooky action at a distance” and initially doubted the quantum entanglement phenomenon until it was confirmed in the 1960s by John Bell, who developed Bell’s Theorem. As difficult as it is to accept, many of the paradoxes in physics are indeed real.
Our remarkable rise as a species is directly due to, and would be impossible without, our ability to communicate with each other through verbal language within our groups and nonverbally with others, much like a baby lets you know when she is hungry. It’s not even limited to spoken words, as our bodies also serve as communicators through body language, mostly unconsciously.
The newest research in biology from Michael Levin, a biologist at Tufts University, further develops the biological electrical theory, which is emerging as a fundamental property of life. He is proving that we are more than just our genes, and that we have electrical signals that act as an “instructional” layer that guides cell behaviour through electrical communication.
On a side note, I believe Levin will win the Nobel Prize for his work, especially for his contributions to understanding cancer and the potential for non-invasive cancer treatments in the future. The origin of the bio-electrical memory that forms the instructional manual for building a human remains a mystery, and thank goodness for that, since I think we do much better not knowing what we don’t know — wonder and uncertainty keep us engaged.
So, as I suggested, the purpose of nature — and because we are a creation of nature — is to create and build complexity by communicating and forming connections, all while aligning with nature.
Basically, our task is to co-create with nature, and through that, we will achieve our universal purpose at its core. In other words, our personal purposes need to align with nature’s greater purpose.
But what if the communication isn’t aligned with the collective goal of unity, and connections are cut? What if, in fact, that exchange of information goes against that aim?
Moreover, where would this “misinformation” come from?
The confusion arises when something believes it is entirely separate from the whole. It’s like an asteroid breaking away from the larger asteroid belt and heading towards Earth to cause destruction, or a pancreas cell that has gone rogue and forgets it is part of the larger pancreas, forming a cancerous tumour that threatens the entire body.
It can also be a person who, driven by fear, jealousy, pride, resentment, or shame, forgets they are part of a marriage, a family, or a workplace team.
Communication still occurs in all these examples, but as a metaphor, it has shifted from signal to noise. It has been hijacked or disrupted, usually because the receiver misinterprets the message or the transmitter sends false messages.
Wisdom is knowing the difference between noise and the true signal.
Wisdom involves distinguishing what has value in relation to the universal purpose and what opposes it. It is like separating the wheat from the chaff, “a phrase used in the Bible as a metaphor for divine judgment, separating the righteous (“wheat”) from the wicked (“chaff”).” Wisdom views truth from a holistic perspective; what might benefit the individual might not benefit the whole.
Metaphorically speaking, over-amplified fear distorts communication, and our sense of separation from the whole grows as our self-centred thinking intensifies — now it’s more about us and less about them.
On a biological level, if the exchange of information between cells is noise that does not align with the universal purpose of the organ that the cell is part of, and the body it supports, it can stop cooperating. A cell that no longer cooperates with the organism will result in loss of function, which is a euphemism for the end is coming soon.
Our cells are autopoietic because they define their boundaries by a semipermeable membrane, separating themselves from other cells. They can organize themselves within their own closed environment while remaining open to inputs such as signals and energy.
When in harmony with nature, they sustain a balance between solidarity and unity. They seek their own good (self-love) by distinguishing noise from signals, defending their sovereignty, and seeking the good of others (love for the other) by sending signals rather than destructive noise, respecting their autonomy in a spirit of cooperation.
Being able to hold the tension between sovereignty and unity is a challenging yet achievable goal, as our existence demonstrates.
To extend this analogy, in a biological cell, homeostasis is the process of maintaining a stable environment. This is crucial for the cell’s survival and the organism’s overall health, but when a cell either transmits false signals or receives incorrect ones, it fails to perform its function, leading to an imbalance. The longer this persists, the more unnecessary damage (entropy) occurs not only within the individual cell but also to the larger organism.
If a system operates in harmony with its nature, one cell receives messages as signals and transmits that information or wisdom to those in its immediate environment, then outward to the greater whole. The signal then becomes boosted and more constructive, like a symphony, with all the different instruments and notes coming together in harmony.
The key point is that the cell doesn’t keep that wisdom to itself, understanding it is part of something greater and must share it or, metaphorically speaking, “loves,” willing the good of the other.
On a side note, this analogy of music is well thought out by one of my favourite biologists, Englishman Denis Noble, author of the “Music of Life,” who is a royal pain in the butt for another English biologist, Richard Dawkins, author of “The Selfish Gene,” with Noble proclaiming that genes are like notes, but the actual “performance” (the organism and its functions) emerges from complex interactions at many levels. It’s what he calls top-down (downward) causation alongside bottom-up, while traditional molecular biology often emphasizes bottom-up causation (genes, proteins, cells to organisms). Noble stresses that causation in living systems flows both ways.
Because we possess consciousness, far greater than that of all living things, we arguably have a better understanding than a plant does that we are both separate and intertwined with living and non-living elements in our environment. This understanding focuses mainly on what is immediate around us and, to a lesser extent, on what is farther away. Misinterpreted, we might believe that we are truly alone. However, if we are receiving authentic signals from the top down — rather than false signals or noise — and maintain a little faith, since we cannot know what we do not know, we can stay organized and function effectively, all the while holding some tension with our environment, which is necessary.
So, what happens if misinformation (noise) is received?
A cell, or to continue with our metaphor, an individual, can also take the noise it receives and, through wisdom (knowing the difference between noise and signal), convert it into signal, defending its independence versus retaliating with more false signals (noise), allowing the source of the noise to receive signal as feedback, versus more destructive noise. In essence, to take a verse from the Lord’s prayer, “as we forgive those who trespass against us”.
Furthermore, the cell, or the individual, must ensure that it doesn’t use force when signalling other cells. Instead, it should focus on transmitting and receiving, in a spirit of humility, not acting as if it is more important than others or claiming to be correct about the information it holds. If the cell isn’t self-centred, understanding that it is autonomous yet unified with something greater, then it does what it always has, as nature has instructed, using the acquired wisdom to create harmony between noise and signal, fear and love, collapsing opposites into a more balanced state, like homeostasis.
If the lone cell or individual doesn’t realize it is part of a larger system, or worse, is self-deceived into thinking it has been separated from the whole — believing it has been cast to the periphery and cannot reach its full potential — feeling alone.
It is like a cancerous tumour, a cell that has gone rogue, separating itself from the larger organism, spreading the cellular “misinformation,” and the cancer spreads.
Since I have gone well beyond overusing this biological metaphor, I’ll bring it back to something we can all relate to. Here it is: The wisdom gained from understanding the laws of nature — between signal and noise, love and fear — can also guide us in our daily lives, helping us decide what to listen to, when to express ourselves, and when to conserve our precious energy, when to stay open, and when to close.
The idea that the individual is always part of something bigger is a shared wisdom, echoing the old saying, “all for one and one for all.” We must look beyond ourselves with senses that reach further to find true signals and share those signals with others to serve our purpose.
However, when fear drives us to overreact and withdraw, we become unable to detect these signals because we are too focused on rumination and noise-making.
Reflecting on the pivotal moment when my feet left the ground in my grade seven science class, I have a deep appreciation for Mr. Gibson. He understood that I was a noise-maker disrupting the signal he was there to teach us. In my self-centeredness, I aimed to elevate myself above the whole, and he knew how destructive that could be.
I don’t suggest we start grabbing those who are uncooperative by the collar and delivering a sharp signal by slamming them into walls; however, I do believe they need to be awakened to working in harmony with nature — paradoxically, staying small while raising humanity to new heights.
As my Uncle once told me, everything goes smoothly until someone believes they are more important than they truly are, or thinks they know more than they actually do.
Those are words of wisdom.
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