I read over your post a couple of times to see if I could pin down the assumption that is preventing you from comprehending the system. I believe it comes down to the way you "abstract" by using the intellect, which is a "bottom-up" approach of finding common denominators in the physical to create the "underlying" scalar motions. This is what people are trained to do in our education system.
Actually, I am abstracting by using the "top down" approach, but keep getting pulled back to the 'underlying' way of thinking. Larson does touch on this idea on pages 215-16 of 'Nothing But Motion', when he states,
...in adding to the neutrino to produce the proton, a unit of mass must be provided. The question that must be answered before this hypothetical hydrogen building process can be considered a reality is: Where does the required mass come from?
He then spends the next several paragraphs explaining this, particularly as it concerns the massless neutron, concluding that,
Here, then, is what appears, on initial consideration at least, to be a complete and consistent theoretical explanation of the transition from decay product to material atom.
Up to this point, I have been thinking that, due to the reciprocal relationship existing between the two frames of reference, the 'leftover' matter (if you will) from one sector acts as the contributor to the 'new' matter in the other (though I have a feeling that 'leftover' is not the proper terminology here). Larson seems to acknowledge this when he concludes,
...the inflow of cosmic matter into the material sector is counterbalanced by an ejection of matter from the material sector into the cosmic sector in the form of high speed explosion products. These are the two crucial phases of the great cycle which constitutes the continuing activity of the universe.
While reading Larson's text, I am taking detailed notes, yet I'm thinking that it is best for me to wait until arriving in SLC before diving into this. I am a very hands-on, visual type of learner, and I have several geometric shapes floating around in my head; those which I need to put onto paper while sitting next to others who can help to answer the questions that I have. However, there is one thing that seems to be a stumbling block: Within the spatial realm, we experience space in three dimensions, and time in one dimension. Reciprocally, in the temporal realm, time is experienced in three dimensions, space in one dimension. However, space, by its very definition, is 'an area or expanse'. Thus, three dimensional space is 'an area or expanse laid out in three dimensions.' So, how can you have a frame of reference, in this case the cosmic/temporal sector, in which space presents itself in a manner analogous to time in the spatial sector, i.e. in one dimension? How can a three dimensional sector/frame of reference have only one dimension of space? If there is a tree (or fleeble) in the cosmic sector, that tree (or fleeble), by its very nature, and regardless as to whether or not it is moving through time in three dimensions, is also occupying three dimensions of space, is it not?
To understand the Reciprocal System, you need more of the artistic, "top-down" approach where you start with something abstract then refine it into structure and form--much like writing music. I'm not a musician, but from what I've heard of Gopi describing it, music starts with a feeling and that feeling is given form by finding the instruments to express the feeling, then notes on the instruments to make a song, then words to fit the song.
Actually, it works both ways: Sometimes, you start with the music, weaving the words into this, and other times, you begin with carefully crafted words, weaving the music around this. I've taken a unique approach in that I apply the rules of poetry writing to lyric writing. My lyric sheets would be nonsensical to many, as they contain pages full of poetic scansion, dashes, underlines, rhythmic symbols representing grammatical pauses/substitutions, etc. But I take the flow of the words very seriously. Today, the only musician types who focus so closely on the proper flow of language within a musical piece are those folks within the 'Art Music' scene. Even contemporary opera doesn't so much anymore focus upon this. I wish that folks would stop belting out 'the'
on the first beat of a measure, for four beats within said measure
After 30 years, Larson concluded, "What we're dealing with is simply abstract change in three dimensions." The RS starts with an abstract concept called "motion," from which "instruments" (rotation, translation, vibration) give it form, then that form is refined by magnitudes of those motions (notes) to make the song of atoms, then coordinate physicality, structure, (words) to fit the song.
But the big difference is that an abstract is a "complete picture" and the resulting music is only a single perspective of that picture, as many songs could be written to describe the same feeling. So when you start at the bottom and work up, for example, starting with words, putting notes to the words, finding instruments to play the notes, then creating a feeling from those instruments, you believe that that "abstraction" is the whole--not just one facet of it.
It works the same in math. If you start with a high-level abstraction, you differentiate to get to a coordinate view--each step of that differentiation looses a bit of data from the original equation, so the result is an equation that represents just one facet of the original--but the original is intact. When you start with the facet and integrate back up, each stage requires the addition of a "constant of integration," an assumption concerning the abstraction that may, or may not be, correct. Thus you arrive somewhere near the high-level equation, but seldom exactly on it.
So, perhaps you can think of motion "artistically," rather than intellectually?
I get the feeling that somewhere within the following quote lies the understanding that I seek. Why do I get the feeling this is 'staring' me right in the face?:
A poem, by the very fact of its existence in time rather than in space, has duration and pace. Since it does not move throughout at exactly the same pace (there must be some acceleration or impedance, no matter how slight), the poem must also have change of pace; one part moves more rapidly or more slowly than another. All such changes of pace, it must be noted, are relative to one another: an anapest introduced into an iambic line accelerates that part of the line; an anapest in an anapestic line sustains the already established pace, but does not accelerate it. All the rhythms of poetry achieve their effect by the way they play against one another. They exist in countermotion.
Similarly, all the elements of a poem are engaged in a series of countermotions. Meter and rhythm are only two of the elements that may be involved. Diction, imagery, rhyme, line length, vowel quantities, consonant sequences, and grammatical structure are some of the other principal elements. From these elements the poem builds complxes of poetic structures, each related to all the others. The motion of these poetic structures, each against the others, is what ultimately determines the poem's performance. One simple rule seems to apply to the play of all such countermotions: Whenever in the course of a poem the poet changes either his tone or his attitude, some change will occur in the handling of the technical elements. That change in the technical handling of the poem may be slight or it may be marked, but some change mus occur. Conversely, any change in the handling of the technical elements in the course of the poem will indicate that a change has taken place in the author's tone or attitude. Attitude, in Robert Frost's phrase, may be taken to signify "the way the poet takes his subject; tone, "the way he takes himself." John Ciardi - The Silences of Poetry
This was a piece written in reference to Frost's work "The Span of Life"
, a two-line poem that is said to have taken Frost several years to write. I first learned of it while studying poetry in college. There is something here about what is said concerning a poem existing in time
rather in space
that leaves me wondering.