The slight drizzle hitting the dry ground and dead grass was the highlight of my day. It’s been over three months since the last glimpse of rainfall, the drizzle dropped and filled the cracks and crevices of the tarnished ground. I could see the amazement and feel the excitement of the grass, as it was enveloped in water. But all good things have to come to an end, and the slight drizzle stopped as quickly as it started.

(Camera Clicks) “We’re recording in, 3…2…1… Hello, my name is Joseph and I am a 15-year-old in the year 2060. To many, this year has no significance, but to me, I see it as the 40-year anniversary of the last normal year on Earth. I woke up this morning and looked outside through my glass window to see the barren wasteland that I live in, the sun’s destructive rays continue to deplete the ground of any moisture left. But like a miracle, a cloud covered the sun and it began to rain. The sight was astonishing. I ran out of my motion detecting doors as they quickly swung open to grab my camera and record. But when I came back it was all over. I put the camera down, and here I am talking to you about the rather unpleasant world that I live in.”

“Joseph! I’ve made your breakfast. Come on, or you’ll be late for school.”

“Ugh, Grandpa! I was in the middle of something very important.”

Joseph forgets to turn off the camera and takes it with him to the kitchen, where he sees his food resting on the automatic stove top. The camera catches a glimpse of his Grandpa with his robotic replacement arm. Joseph places the camera on a book, facing towards him, and takes a seat at the table.

“Thanks for the food, but I am not that hungry.”

“What’s wrong, Joe, are you okay? I made your favorite, bacon and eggs. I know it is severely outdated but I tried my best.”

“Gramps… did you know it rained this morning?” Joseph looks up from his plate, and his eyes meet with his Grandpa’s. The old man’s eyes widen.

“Really? That’s the first time this year.” He walks towards the one way, sun protective glass window and looks outside at the slightly damp ground. “You know… back in my day, during this time of year it always rained, and not just a slight drizzle. Some days there were the normal routine rainfalls, and other times there were worries of too much rain and homes would flood…”

Joseph cannot help but interrupt his grandfather out of astonishment. “Floods? Grandpa, that sounds way better than what we are living through right now. What caused everything to change?”  he blurts out.

“… however,” Grandpa continues, “as I grew older and older, nature as I once knew it began to change into what it is today.” Joseph gets up abruptly, and quickly turnes the camera so that it directly faces his Grandpa, and continues recording the conversation. He walks towards his Grandpa.

“Can you tell me more about how life was when you were a kid?”

“Well, as you know, we live in New Jersey. Back then, it was known as the Garden State, which is ironic since there aren’t any plants or grass in a 10-mile radius of the state as of now. But I remember going to parks and playing football in the grass with my friends. Smelling the fresh air in the spring mornings and feeling the cold splashes of rain in the afternoon were some of the best moments of nature during those spring months. But as time progressed and America continued to modernize, changes began to occur in nature, Joseph.”

Joseph’s gaze is so fixated on his Grandpa that he doesn’t notice the notification from his school on his phone stating that school is going to start in 30 minutes. “Keep going Grandpa.”

“Technology began to advance, the government and even some people in the public began to stop caring for the environment. Gasoline and oil began to run out quickly, and thankfully, scientists were able to find more forms of energy, but that didn’t solve the problems that had already begun. The hole in the ozone layer began to increase, which is the reason for these reinforced windows, and the temperature began to gradually increase. It’s almost as if as the need for improved technology and futuristic things got greater, the environment of our world got destroyed more and more.”

Grandpa looks down at his right robotic replacement arm and strokes it. His voice is strained. “I wonder if people would’ve still disregarded the health of nature if they knew that it would lead to the environment that we have today…” Joseph’s Grandpa clears his throat. “Joe, it is getting late. Go get your jacket so that you won’t be late for school. We will talk later kiddo.” His Grandpa walks into the room and the sliding doors close.

Joseph runs to his room and comes back with his jacket, which is visible in the camera frame. The logo stated “UV Ray Protective Suit.” He gazes at the image for a moment, then clicks the red button once more.

“Hello guys, I didn’t realize that I had left the camera on… I learned a lot this morning, the world has changed a lot, and it looks like it’s too late for a change. I can’t believe that there was a time where nature was beautiful.” Joseph takes time to stare out the window, and his slightly happy expression fades into dread. He looks back into the camera.

“Well, I have to head to school. I’ll talk to you guys later. This is Joseph signing out.” 

It was a blustery February morning, and just a few days before my 40^th birthday, when my cell phone rang. I thought perhaps it was someone offering me early well wishes. But it was my mom, calling with news that would forever alter the course of my life.

“Hi, Mom,” I said as I sat down. “How are you?”
“Not good,” she whispered like a frightened child sharing a dark secret. “You know I’ve been feeling really down lately.”

“Yeah,” I said softly, matching her breathy tone.

She was talking so quietly that I cupped my hand over my left ear so I could hear her.
“I just swallowed a bunch of sleeping pills,” she blurted out.

My eyes widened as I sprung to my feet, nearly tripping over my toddler.

“A bunch? Like, how many?” I asked.

“I dunno,” she replied. “A lot.”

I raced to the kitchen, my hands trembling as I fumbled to dial 911 from the landline while trying to keep Mom talking to me on my cell.

A few moments later, I told her that the paramedics were on their way. She mumbled something incoherent. I could already feel her drifting away.

“Can you hear me?”

Numbing silence filled the line. Desperate to keep her awake, I continued talking, my voice growing louder each time I spoke.

“Are you still with me? Mom? Mom!”

Sensing the intensity to my tone, my 8-year-old son asked what was wrong. I wanted to comfort him, but I had to keep focused on Mom. Meanwhile, my toddler, who had only just realized his grandmother was on the phone, threw his goldfish crackers to the floor and pleaded to speak with her. He reached for the receiver with his tiny, cheddar-stained hands and shrieked, “I talk to Ga-ma!”

“Not now,” I said gently.

Both my boys burst into tears as my mind raced with worry. I paced the floor and repeatedly asked, “Are you still there, Mom? Keep talking to me.”

But I only heard a hint of monosyllabic mumbles, then a thud.

I stopped for a moment and stood beside the sliding glass door, shifting my weight from my right leg to my left as I stared out at the falling snow. I kept my eyes fixed on a specific tree branch in an effort to still my mind even as my restless stomach churned.

The wind whipped wildly, which made the snowflakes look as if they were engaged in a vicious game of tug-of-war. Blowing in umpteen different directions, the blustery scene depicted my current state of mind: frenzied, scattered, unsettled. My anxious eyes darted back and forth between the ticking clock, my wailing kids, and the straining pine trees in the backyard.

Finally, I heard the paramedics in the background and for the first time in forever, I took a breath.

I shot off a text message to my brother.

“Call me,” I wrote. “Mom just tried to kill herself.”

Even as I hit “send” with my quivering thumb, the moment seemed surreal. Did this really just happen? How? Why?

As I drove to Missouri, I tried to imagine what was running through my mom’s desperate mind as she ingested an entire bottle of sleeping pills. I envisioned her in her soft flannel pajamas, sitting on the cold tile bathroom floor, swallowing one handful of pills after another. My eyes squeezed shut and a lump formed in the back of my throat. I knew clinical depression was scary, but I’d never seen it up-close-and-personal.

When I stepped inside the hospital room, Mom’s eyes revealed a mixture of sorrow, regret, guilt, and fear. I sat next to her on her bed. She clasped my hand in hers, gripping it tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Mom said softly, staring at the floor.

It’s okay,” I replied.

The truth was that it wasn’t okay. Not even a little bit. But what else could I say?

I stayed with her for several days, trying to soothe her by offering hugs and encouraging her by offering advice.

“Go to group therapy. Go to individual therapy. Do anything and everything to help you feel better,” I suggested. “Snarf up every resource possible.”

But instead of concentrating on getting better, she seemed more concerned with how her behavior would be perceived.

“What will people say if they find out what I did?” Mom asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

After she was released from the hospital, I went back home to Indiana. The following month, I was cautiously optimistic when Mom invited me, my husband, and our sons to visit her for her birthday and stay through Easter weekend. I took it as a good sign that she wanted to reconnect with her grandsons, so we packed our bags and drove west.

Though it was great to spend time with Mom, she was anxious and unsettled, worried that the kids might make a mess in her house. This was a far cry from the woman who in the past would often jump into the lake to entertain her grandsons. She spoke slowly and methodically yet still stumbled on her words. She seemed uncomfortable in her own skin. She wouldn’t even sit down to eat meals. Instead she stood by the sink, nervously nibbling at her food like a rodent.

One morning when the house was quiet, Mom approached me and said meekly, “Christy. I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

I didn’t want to rush her or force her, but I was desperate to hear what she had to say.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” she said, squeezing my hands as if to relay some sort of message to me through code.

“Honest about what?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. I pressed her a bit more.

“You can tell me, Mom. Whatever it is, I’ll help you. What are you not being honest about?”

“We’d better get ready,” she said tersely, releasing my hands. “The boys want to go to the zoo today.”

Just like that, the moment was gone.

At the zoo, the kids had fun seeing the animals and riding the train, but I couldn’t get past the vacant stare in Mom’s eyes. It was like she was looking past everybody—like she wasn’t all there. Anytime I tried to engage with her, I’d get the same response: “I’m tired.”

That evening after tucking the boys into bed, I asked Mom if she wanted to talk. She looked at me with a pained expression, like she was gripping a hot plate without a pot holder.

“Well, I…um, I,” she muttered.

I don’t know if she couldn’t speak or wouldn’t speak or what was going on. But her mind definitely seemed muddled. I knew something was gnawing at Mom, but I didn’t know how to pull it out of her.

When I laid down to bed that night, tears welled up in my eyes as I confided to my husband, “I think Mom may still be suicidal.”

I hated to admit it out loud, and yet, I could sense a definite heaviness to her spirit.

“Why do you say that?” Eric asked.

“I can’t put my finger on it, but she’s definitely not herself. She’s apologized profusely for trying to kill herself, but earlier today she told me that she’s not been completely honest with me, and when I asked her what about, she clammed up. Have you noticed how empty her eyes look?”

“What do we do? Your dad won’t listen. He’s adamant that she’s getting better.”

“But clearly she’s not. I wish I could get her to confide in me, but I feel like us being here is stressing her out more,” I said. “If the boys’ energy is causing her anxiety to spike, maybe we should take off and let her and Dad have a quiet holiday weekend.”

“Okay,” Eric agreed.

The next morning, I found Mom in the kitchen. She wasn’t eating, cooking, or doing dishes. She was simply standing in her housecoat staring into space. Until she caught a glimpse of my oldest son. Then her eyes moved to him and she watched him intently, like she was memorizing his every move. She did the same when my younger son entered the room. When I sat down, she acknowledged me with a weak, forced smile like she was using every last bit of energy to keep from crying.

I approached her and said softly, “Mom, we’ve decided to leave early.”

“When?”

“Here in a few minutes,” I said. “Eric’s packing the car.”

Confusion, sadness, and relief simultaneously spread across her face.

“Why today?” she asked.

“I can tell you’re struggling, Mom, and I know the boys have a lot of energy. I want you to be able to rest so I think it’s best if we get out of your hair.”

Her lips began to quiver, her brows furrowed, and she said with palpable remorse, “I’m sorry, Christy. I’m so sorry.”

It was a phrase she had repeated numerous times over the past three days so I didn’t think much of it. I replied in the same way I had all weekend—by telling her, “It’s okay.”

We hugged and I told her I loved her.

“Things will get better,” I whispered into her ear. “I promise.”

Those were the last words I ever spoke to my mother.

Six weeks later, my phone rang again. When I answered, I heard my dad’s voice, low and scratchy, say my name, followed by a long pause.

“She did it again,” he said quietly.

My gut clenched as all the color drained from my face.

“What?” I asked.

“She was doing better. She seemed stronger….” he said, his voice cracking.

My entire body began to tremble.

“It’s far worse this time,” he continued. “She swallowed hundreds of pills of all different kinds.”
My knees buckled.

“No-no-no-no,” I repeated.

How could this be happening again?

“I’ll jump in the car,” I told my dad as tears sprang to my burning eyes. “I can leave right now and be there by midnight.”

“Even if you left now, I don’t think you’d make it in time to say goodbye.”

Wait. What? Goodbye? Oh, Jesus!

My breath caught in my throat as my heart splintered.

When I got news in the middle of the night that Mom had died from the overdose, my world faded to grey.

Why? Why? Why? Why?

A thousand other questions bombarded my brain, but this was the predominant one. I could not, for the life of me, make sense of the fact that my sweet, loving, kind, compassionate mom would choose to take her own life. It defied logic and left me feeling helpless, hopeless, and hollow. How was I supposed to go on? How was I to let go of the guilt that gnawed at me round the clock? How was I to ever smile again? None of it seemed possible.

“Everything’s possible with God,” well-meaning people told me. But their platitudes and looks of pity only pissed me off. They didn’t know what it felt like to be leveled by grief. Though friends encouraged me to find peace through prayer, I did the opposite and gave God the silent treatment. What did I have to say to Him, anyway? I was angry that He had not only taken away my mom but that He had allowed her to exit the earth in such a terrible, tragic way. Having been a Christian all my life, I’ll admit it felt strange to cut Christ from my life, but I didn’t know what else to do. Many days, I found myself curled in the fetal position, sobbing and gasping for air.

Over the next six months, everything was a chore—driving, cooking, reading, even sleeping. Then one night I fell into a deep slumber and was met by a vivid dream that seemed to carry with it a distinct message.
I was at home when suddenly bright blue skies began to darken as a slight breeze tickled the shutters. Instantaneously, the sky transformed into a greenish-black hue. A small hiss followed a rumble, then a booming crash. The ground shook with a sinister force. Giant tree limbs snapped. Heavy shutters broke. Tin mailboxes crumpled. Wooden dog houses cracked. As the wind continued to howl, dirt, debris, and trash swirled through the air like frenzied snowflakes. Fence sections and lawn ornaments crashed through windows and dented car doors.

The scene was chaotic and scary. I glanced out the window, helpless and weak. Then, just as quickly as it built, the storm died out, and the world grew eerily still. I stepped outside to assess the damage and my jaw dropped at the sight of the devastation. Our beautiful house—a house I had always perceived to be strong and indestructible—was now a shell of its former self.

As I walked the perimeter of the house, I saw that it was uprooted from its foundation. It became evident that we wouldn’t have access to power or water anytime soon. It was going to take a lot of time and effort to rebuild this foundation—to start fresh. As a result, we would not be living comfortably for quite some time.

There was a silver lining, however. Despite such extensive damage, we determined that we could stay in the house, which provided a degree of comfort.

I stood in stunned silence, beholding the wreckage that surrounded me. I couldn’t believe the massive devastation that had leveled my life in the blink of an eye. But…I had survived.

For the first time since Mom’s suicide, I woke up with a sense of peace. I knew I would still face challenges and cry countless tears. But I had survived the worst, and though my foundation was shaky, I was still standing. And I could feel God standing beside me.

In the weeks and months ahead, I began surrounding myself with others who needed love and support, and, together, we journeyed through our pain: we shared tears, smiles, and embraces, and we held one another up, day in and day out. I learned that being in a community is perhaps the most important piece of life’s puzzle when it comes to maintaining a healthy existence. I also found that even in the deepest, darkest pit of despair, one can find a sliver of light, a glimmer of hope, a hint of peace. And that is what propels us forward, enabling us to breathe in, breathe out, and carry on.

As a relatively new and exciting science, chaos science grew very slowly during its infancy. Yet in the last decade, due to active research in many areas, it has became one of the hottest topics in academia as well as the popular science press. Many books have been published, and millions of Internet pages have been designed full of fractal pictures.1 Given that chaos is associated with disorder or confusion in a system or condition, why does it continue to attract so many people?

History of chaos

To understand chaos, one first has to understand the Newtonian worldview. Sir Isaac Newton’s (1642-1727) development of the calculus and laws of classical mechanics began a scientific revolution in seventeenth-century Europe that caused all subsequent scientists to view nature from a profoundly different perspective. Now that they finally could determine the dynamics of bodies by simple equations, they believed that they had found the ultimate eternal rules that shape the universe.

French physicist Pierre-Simon Laplace (1749-1827), who based his work upon Newton’s work, is credited with the following famous quotation (often referred to as Laplace’s Demon): ‘We may regard the present state of the universe as the effect of its past and the cause of its future. An intellect which at any given moment knew all of the forces that animate nature and the mutual positions of the beings that compose it, if this intellect were vast enough to submit the data to analysis, could condense into a single formula the movement of the greatest bodies of the universe and that of the lightest atom; for such an intellect nothing could be uncertain and the future just like the past would be present before its eyes.’2

Laplace’s Demon states the idea of determinism, that the past completely determines the future. One can clearly see why determinism was so attractive to scientists at that time. However, in Laplace’s word everything was predetermined: no chance, no choice, no uncertainty. A solid, inevitable destiny had frozen the events in every corner of the past and is continuously spreading out to the future to do same there. Determinism apparently invokes the idea that whole universe is like a clock. God set it in motion at the beginning of creation and then removed Himself, for everything had been planed before. The ideas that there was no place for free will and that God could not interfere killed the belief in a soul and, consequently, in spirituality. Philosophers and scientists have discussed this for many years. Determinism affected many philosophies and triggered the major ideological movements of during eighteenth century, especially in Europe.

Toward the end of the 1800s, mathematicians and scientists began encountering some very difficult equations, some of which we know today are unsolvable. The most troublesome are various nonlinear differential equations. Even though it looks like such a simple and totally deterministic system, the problem of three bodies attracting each other with purely gravitational forces (e.g., the sun, Earth, and moon triple) turns out to be missing an exact solution. At first, such problems were cast-off as special cases and largely ignored.

One reason for this also might come from the fascinating world of quantum mechanics, which dazzled even the great physicists, and the lack of fast computers at that time. When these equations finally were studied in detail, a fundamental change that would ultimately overthrow determinism began to occur in mathematics and science. An indication of the science that would be come to be known as ‘chaos’ began to appear.

Why does chaos interest people?

In contrast to its common usage, chaos does not actually mean disorder or confusion. By definition, it should occur in well-defined orderly systems. However, most natural physical systems often can exhibit an unpredictable or intractable behavior in the long run, even though the system is defined by clear-cut orderly mechanisms. In this sense, chaos can be defined as unpredictability rather than disorder.

For example, meteorologists use 12 sets of well-defined equations to forecast the weather. They relate such atmospheric parameters as pressure, temperature, flow speed, and time to each other. One can make a computer program that calculates the parameters’ final values by taking any initial conditions as the run’s starting point. In principle, therefore, if we know the initial temperature, pressure, and time values that describe today’s weather conditions, it is possible to derive tomorrow’s weather conditions by running a computer program, which is nothing more than a chain reaction of numerical iterations.

However, in practice, initial conditions cannot be measured exactly and so contain a degree of uncertainty. But since the system’s governing laws are known, one may estimate the effect of errors on future results. Hence, instead of giving the exact results, one can provide an approximate range of possibilities. This range can still be very useful, provided that the deviations do not stray too far from the actual values. In addition, knowing how the error grows in the system might help us understand and control the systems. But if we apply these error estimates to weather forecast equations, we will encounter a large problem, for errors grow exponentially in such systems. Even a tiny deviation at the beginning can create huge deviations from the actual values. It also can provide unrelated or nonsensical results.

An example of chaotic systems

This numerical behavior was first observed by the meteorologist Edward Lorenz, a pioneer in modern chaos work. Fascinated by the results he obtained, in the early 1960s he gave an interesting metaphor to explain the situation of high sensitivity to initial conditions: A butterfly’s slight wing movement (i.e., a little deviation from the initial conditions) can change the future in a way that causes some chain reaction that ultimately result in a hurricane.

Such systems that exhibit a very high sensitivity to initial conditions are called chaotic systems. Chaos comes from the mathematical properties hidden in the equations defining the system, and such unpredictability cannot be removed. Even if the measurements’ quality could be improved by minimizing errors, chaos never disappears from a chaotic system.

One may suppose that chaos occurs in complicated systems, such as weather forecast systems having 12 sets of equations. But even much simpler systems, such as billiards, can exhibit a very high degree chaos. A usual billiard system consists of many balls and a rectangular shaped table. I challenge master billiard players by requesting them to play the game in a stadium-shaped table. I am sure that they will find it difficult to do so, because such billiard tables would be chaotic systems.

If a system is defined as chaotic, this does not necessarily mean that its behavior is totally undefined all the time. As in stadium billiards, a ball has to be inside the billiards, so it should be somewhere on the table, even though sometimes we cannot foretell its exact position because of chaos. Besides, if you send the ball with a velocity perpendicular to a straight side, it will bounce back and forth between the two sides forever. Therefore, depending on which initial conditions are taken, chaotic systems also can show characteristics of regular motion.

A 3-body problem (in general n-body problems) such as the sun, Earth, and moon system, is a chaotic system. But since we can predict the motions of these celestial objects with great precision for many years in the future, why do we call this system chaotic? This triple system possesses a very special set of conditions: distance between bodies, their masses, and their velocities. These parameters cause it to exhibit near-regular behavior. It is analogous to the example of stadium billiards given above, for this triple system bounces back and forth between the table’s sides.

Conditions for chaos

Chaos also can be caused by other factors than just uncertainties measured in the initial conditions. Scientists generally define hypothetical systems by isolating them from the outside world in order to simplify them as much as possible. However, as even objects in the real world that are far apart interact with each other, no system in the real world can be isolated. Given this, a closed (isolated) system might be defined as a fluctuating approximation to its real counterpart, which is changing in an unpredictable manner all the time. In short, even though we would know the exact initial conditions, the actual system could be chaotic due to changes in the approximate system. In this sense, many physical systems have an inclination toward being chaotic.

Due to its maximum complexity, the universe is the largest chaotic system. Observable regular patterns in special parts of that system repeat themselves in time. While the rest of the flows are unpredictable, they are not totally irregular, abrupt, or disordered. Just like whirls in a flowing river, they are in a kind of free motion searching for convenient conditions in which to give birth to organized structures.

The future of chaos

Chaos gives today’s scientist a new worldview, for Newton’s concrete, cold, and deterministic one has been shaken by the uncertainty principle of quantum mechanics. No one ever thought that the Newtonian worldview could be replaced. However, now scientists are more likely to be open to chance and choice than their predecessors. The question is whether chaos theory will cause large revolutions in how we understand the universe. However, the existing excitement, expanding research and growing number of articles, and its numerous applications from economy to biology, seem to indicate that a surprise improvement might not be so far off. ‘

Footnotes

1. Fractal: A geometric pattern that is repeated at ever smaller scales to produce irregular shapes and surfaces that cannot be represented by classical geometry. Fractals are used especially in computer modeling of irregular patterns and structures in nature.
2. ‘Chaos and Fractals: Laplace’s Demon.’ Online at: www.pha.jhu.edu/ ldb/seminar/laplace.html.