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Anthropocentrism, Cosmology, Geekery, Nature, Nature Spirituality, Paganism, Psychology, Science, Skepticism

No, You Cannot Change Lightning Waves With Your Brain

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If all I did with my blog was tear apart pseudoscience masquerading as real science and promoted by pagans as being “proof our spirituality is real!!!” I would never write about anything else. Plus I would quickly despair for the future of our community instead of mostly focusing on the positives. But this particular piece of pseudoscience slithered across my Facebook feed over the weekend from a few different people. The short version is that it claims that a change in the frequency of Schumann resonances signals that human “vibrational frequencies” are rising, which somehow makes us better people and will soon usher in a better world where in we’re all nice to each other and nothing bad ever happens.

Ugh. Like I said, there were multiple folks who reposted this, but I’m going to keep my rant to my own space instead of arguing on someone else’s turf. This is yet another example of a fundamental misunderstanding of actual scientific principles on a couple of different levels.

For one thing, Schumann resonances are not some sort of super-special waves that measure how good humans have been (Santa Claus, is that you?) Here, you can read NASA’s writeup about them. It’s just a particular sort of wave caused by lightning in which waves of a certain frequency, which bounce along in between the Earth and its ionosphere, combine with themselves rather than dissipating normally. It’s kind of like when a bunch of people hold hands and skip across a field together, gaining more and more momentum with each skip, only it’s one person replicating themselves each time they hit the ground. The reason this happens is because these waves are so incredibly long they wrap around the earth two or three times, making it possible for a wave to overlap itself in just the right way.

I’ve seen people on FB claim that our brains are affected by Schumann resonances. But the fact is that they so much bigger than us–about 38,000 kilometers long for a 7.83 hertz wave (https://skeptoid.com/episodes/4352)–that we are simply incapable of detecting or interacting with them. And even if that were somehow different, animal brains wouldn’t be able to afford to be significantly affected by such forces. If our brains shifted significantly every time there was a lightning storm, or a solar flare, or any of the other waves that we normally don’t even notice, we wouldn’t be able to remain mentally stable enough to carry on our everyday activities and would die out. There are rare exceptions, but they’re when we’re literally out of our element–the only time our human bodies have to worry about solar flares, for example, is when astronauts, not protected by the Earth’s atmosphere (you know, the thing that shielded us from solar flares for billions of years so life could evolve to where it is now) have to be given artificial protection from radiation. Schumann resonances, by contrast, are not something that we would ever really have to worry about.

Moreover, the idea that we are able to “think hard” enough to change Schumann resonances is ridiculous. It is literally impossible for our thoughts and behaviors to have any effect on the frequency at which lightning emits electromagnetic waves. I mean, just comparing the relative electrical charge of a human brain and that of lightning shows there’s no way this can happen. The average working charge of the human brain is about .085 watts, roughly equal to that of a triple A battery. That’s because you can’t have ENTIRE brain firing off at once, without being used to do other things like, oh, making sure you keep breathing. (http://gizmodo.com/could-you-charge-an-iphone-with-the-electricity-in-your-1722569935) Compare that to a single lightning bolt which has about 10 billion watts  of energy (which, as http://www.windpowerengineering.com/featured/business-news-projects/how-much-power-in-a-bolt-of-lightning/ mentions, is about enough to power a 60 watt bulb for six months and then some.) The waves produced by such a massive outburst of energy are much too powerful for us to affect–the only things that affect them are massive, global/atmospheric conditions like seasons, solar activity and the Earth’s magnetic field (and no, we can’t change that ourselves, either.)

And considering our brains are pretty well insulated in layers of cerebrospinal fluid, bone and skin, it’s not like the electricity can easily leave our heads anyway. That means there is literally no way for our puny little electromagnetic waves to have an effect on lightning or the waves it produces. Even if you could somehow get every person thinking the same thing at the same time with all their brain (and somehow not suffocating because all involuntary functions have ceased, like breathing), there’s no way to focus it on a particular lightning bolt or its resulting wave, because it can’t get out of your skull, other than the meager waves that an electroencephalogram reads. So saying that our brains can affect Schumann resonances is like saying that throwing a handful of sand is going to move a mountain ten feet north. Yeah, sure, you can keep throwing that sand your whole lifetime, but the most you may do is wear a divot in the ground.

I love the pagan community, but I hate that so many pagans will swallow pseudoscience without question  and completely ignore the basics of how science works. It’s one thing to have beliefs about “how thoughts change reality” or somesuch. It’s another to take perfectly well-researched natural phenomena and bastardize the facts behind them so badly and then present them as “proof our religion is real!” I’ve already written about why trying to legitimize ourselves with really awful science is a bad idea and how collective experiences are often muddied up with confirmation bias. It’s just frustrating to sometimes feel like the proverbial voice crying in the wilderness (which, ironically, was a voice about accepting something on blind faith.)

Moreover, this sort of pseudoscientific bullshit takes the focus away from the real efforts people are putting in to improve the world. We haven’t made all the positive changes we have in the past few decades–civil rights, environmental awareness, etc.–because somehow our “frequencies” changed. We achieved those changes because millions of people protested, and marched, and fought–and bled, and died. It is a slap in the face of all those who made huge sacrifices to say “Oh, well, people are just thinking nicer things and magically becoming more aware and vibrating differently.” A lot of those people wouldn’t have even encountered better ways to think or be without the efforts of those making real social and environmental changes with blood, sweat and tears.

By the way, that whole “changes in the global consciousness” thing? Simple explanation: we are apes, and apes are social animals. We have these things in our brains called mirror neurons, which cause us to want to imitate others–monkey see, monkey do. (Or ape see, ape do.) So when we model better ways of being to others, others are more likely to adopt what we do, even if it takes time and the aforementioned sacrifices. Socially, these ways of being become more acceptable and in the norm. None of this is magic, just the way our ape brains function–without having to pretend our little AAA battery electrical charges somehow can influence the waves created by lightning bolts.

And please don’t pull that whole “But science just hasn’t discovered it yet!” crap. What we undeniably know about both our brains and Schumann waves is more than enough to make this crackpot idea so highly unlikely that it is essentially impossible. Again: sand and mountain. No one is going to test the hypothesis for the same reasons no one is going to test whether jumping off a building and flapping your arms while visualizing yourself becoming a bird will actually result in you flying: we know enough about how physics and related sciences work to know that such an experiment would be a wasted effort.

Finally, this whole idea that we can affect massive electromagnetic waves with our brains is utterly arrogant and anthropocentric. We are not as important as we like think we are. We are not the Earth’s special children, blessed with amazing talents that allow us to have influence over forces that much greater than ourselves, especially without some form of technology. We are just mammals with big brains, opposable thumbs and upright, bipedal walking styles, and we have much more serious things to worry about than how we’re so great we change massive electromagnetic waves with our neurons.

I know I have other things on my mind, so I’m going to get back to preparing for the Tarot of Bones to arrive here later this month, and finishing up art for my Patrons on Patreon, and other stuff I really ought to be doing now that I’ve done my part to hopefully chase a little more pseudoscientific fluff out of my community.

Enjoy this post? Consider picking up a copy of my book Nature Spirituality From the Ground Up which, although it does some archetypal mythologizing of nature, is deeply rooted in natural history.

Activism, Artwork, Geekery

The Tragic Treatise of the Teacup Tauntaun: Part 2

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Note: This is a piece of fan fiction I wrote for a booklet accompanying my Star Wars-themed altered taxidermy piece, the Teacup Tauntaun. You can see more pictures of this piece and find out more about its construction here. Part one of this written piece

Also, a quick shout-out to Cory Doctorow BoingBoing for sharing this critter in a post–many thanks!

A Victim of Its Own Success

Vordon was never particularly good at promotion, and although he sent a few dispatches out regarding the availability of new litters of Teacup Tauntaun, few visitors came to see his stock, and no one made a purchase. It is said by those who survived the experience that the normally noxious scent of the Tauntaun was concentrated even more greatly in this smaller version, which led to suspicions that Vordon had a particularly poor sense of smell, even for a Hutt.
Irrationally and desperately hoping that supply would create demand, Vordon continued breeding Teacup Tauntauns irresponsibly and only with an eye toward what he thought would be fashionable, with frequent inbreeding and little care for the animals’ health. He purchased more caves in which to keep his animals, and redoubled his meager promotional efforts, all to no avail.

By 68 ABY, even Vordon had to admit that things were not looking good for his scheme. The very traits that he had selected had become so exaggerated as to become harmful—sometimes even lethal—to newer litters of Teacup Tauntauns. The large pair of horns, meant now to be more ornamental than practical, had grown so long that they often extended far beyond the muzzle of mature animals, making it impossible for them to eat without assistance. Even the smaller horn buds had become hazardous; as the average size of a Teacup Tauntaun’s skull shrunk with each generation, the horn buds became more crowded, until one pair was routinely located so as to interfere with the animal’s ability to move its ears properly.

Sometimes this skull shrinkage would outpace the downsizing of the brains of Teacup Tauntauns. After several generations, some unfortunate animals would be born with skulls too small for their brains, leading to sometimes severe and painful neurological problems that eventually proved fatal. Others had such badly malformed hip joints that they were unable to walk properly. The list of health problems goes on and on: spinal deformities, missing teeth, and a disease that progressively robbed the animal of the ability to absorb nutrition from its food, leading it to slowly starve to death—or die from a burst stomach from overeating in desperation. The normally social Tauntauns at times would resort to killing their own suffering offspring to end their pain, displaying more compassion and intelligence than their breeder apparently showed.

Worse, a famine struck the region of Hoth where Vordon’s operations were located after the lichens that composed an important link of the ecosystem were stricken by a periodic bout of lichen blight. Wild stocks of Common and Glacial Tauntauns died of starvation, and the Teacup Tauntauns in their relatively flimsy pens became repeated targets for hungry Wampas. In the space of a year, the number of Teacup Tauntauns dropped to less than a dozen.

And Then There Was One

In 90 ABY, less than seventy standard years after Vordon began his ambitious project, the last Teacup Tauntaun passed away from a combination of congenital defects. Due to her stench, which was caused by the waste system of a Common Tauntaun being concentrated into the smaller body of a Teacup Tauntaun, and which as a result was repulsive enough to cause even the last two male Teacup Tauntauns to avoid her, she never reproduced. With her death, her species came to an ignominious end. Shortly before the animal—nicknamed “Yipo the Fluffy”—passed away, your beloved author was able to examine her and make a deal with Vordon to purchase her carcass once she had died of natural causes. It was the only Teacup Tauntaun Vordon ever sold.

Her head is mounted on a board decorated with idyllic scenery that belies the harshness of Hoth, her ancestors’ home planet, and reflects the romanticized imagery Vordon used in his sales pitches. She has been preserved with traditional Krish taxidermy techniques to best approximate her appearance in life, and with care this rare piece of history should last for a long, long time. Further, she should be seen as a reminder of our responsibility to our fellow creatures. When most species go extinct it is a tragedy; in the case of the Teacup Tauntaun, extinction was the final mercy.

About the Author

Haali Dendrac grew up in the floating city of Avtuu on her ancestral planet Ithor. From a young age, she knew she wanted to join the Ithorian nature priesthood, and voraciously questioned anyone she could about the flora, fauna and fungi that resided “in the arms of Mother Jungle”. When she came of age, she was made an acolyte of the priesthood and was allowed to accompany them on her first journey to the surface of Ithor, and nothing was ever the same. After the destruction of Ithor, she became one of the strongest proponents for the restoration of the planet’s ecology and continues to act as a consultant in the early efforts toward that end. Her youthful curiosity about the diversity of life on her home planet led her to further explore life on other planets, and she has dedicated her life to documenting her findings for the enjoyment of all. The Tragic Treatise of the Teacup Tauntaun is her fourth publication.

Artist’s Note

This piece is meant as a parody concerning the overbreeding of certain breeds of show dog in our world. While I am not against purebred dogs as a general concept, I find that many breeders, especially of popular breeds, put profits before puppies. There are few pure breeds today that do not have a slew of congenital defects. I have chosen to draw on a few of them in my discussion of the fictional Teacup Tauntaun. For example, it is estimated that over half of all Cavalier King Charles Spaniels have a condition known as syringomyelia, in which the skull is too small for the brain, which is pressed out the back of the skull cavity and causes both seizures and immense amounts of pain. And my own favorite breed, the German Shepherd, is frequently plagued by hip and elbow dysplasia, along with spinal myelopathy, a degeneration of the myelin sheath on the spinal cord which leads to a progressive numbing and eventual failure of the back half of the dog.

It is my hope that this piece will help raise awareness of the problems with inbreeding and indiscriminate breeding without care for these inherited health problems in pure breed dogs. Additionally, a portion of the funds from the sale of this piece will be donated to Multnomah County Animal Services to help them take better care of the animals waiting for forever homes there. MCAS is often overlooked in lieu of “sexier” shelters like the Oregon Humane Society, but when the time comes when I can finally get a dog of my own again, MCAS will be my first choice. I hope you’ll consider them the next time you wish you adopt a dog or cat, too.

Also, if you’d like to see the Teacup Tauntaun itself in person, it will be on display at Good: A Gallery here in Portland, OR for the month of May. The group show officially opens this Friday, May 2, from 7pm – 10pm; here’s more information.

Artwork, Geekery

The Tragic Treatise of the Teacup Tauntaun: Part 1

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Note: This is a piece of fan fiction I wrote for a booklet accompanying my Star Wars-themed altered taxidermy piece, the Teacup Tauntaun. You can see more pictures of this piece and find out more about its construction here.

The Tragic Treatise of the Teacup Tauntaun

By Haali Dendrac

Author’s Note: As a sign of respect to my fellow living beings, I have chosen to capitalize the names of all species of animal described in this book, may Mother Jungle watch over them.

Introduction

On a lonely, frozen planet called Hoth, within the Anoat sector, there is a genus of creatures known as Tauntauns. Several species are native there, to include the Common (or Giant) Tauntaun, the Glacial Tauntaun, and the smaller Climbing Tauntaun. But there is a fourth species—or, rather, there was a fourth species—of which you may have heard: the Teacup Tauntaun. It is infamous for being the only completely domesticated species of Tauntaun, and it is the reason why the name Vordon the Hutt should provoke feelings of repulsion even in the most tolerant of Ithorians.

Vordon the Hutt

Vordon the Hutt was born at an undisclosed location around 245 BBY. Competitive from a young age, he nonetheless lacked the characteristic shrewdness of his kind, instead throwing himself wholesale at any get-rich-quick scheme he could concoct. As a result, he frequently found himself deeply in debt, and soon wore out his financial welcome with his immediate relatives and acquaintances. He showed a particular talent for flattery, however, and was able to talk his way out of more than one potentially detrimental debt collection effort.

Eventually Vordon, in the employ of several members of his clan, was able to pull himself out of debt and amass a small financial surplus. While age and experience helped him to preserve this gain, they had not fully tempered his impulsiveness, particularly when fed by envy for more successful members of his clan. Frustrated at seeing other Hutts of his age beginning to establish themselves as economic forces to be reckoned with, Vordon thirsted for a similar opportunity.

The Teacup Tauntaun

Shortly after the first Galactic War made more sentient beings aware of the existence of Hoth and its wildlife, Tauntauns, particularly the Common Tauntaun, became the object of great curiosity. While Hoth already had visitors in the form of both renegades, explorers, and those with a particularly rugged idea of “leisure activities”, it became fashionable on certain wealthier planets to take ecotours to view the traditional range of the Common Tauntaun, particularly the herd from which came the steed that bore none other than Luke Skywalker.

Vordon had watched his cousin, Filpat, make his fortune on the manufacture and sales of stuffed toy Tauntauns. Not to be outdone, in 23 ABY the ambitious Vordon traveled to Hoth himself to see what opportunities he could find. It was while he was touring a domestic Tauntaun breeding facility that he was struck by inspiration: if people liked cuddling a toy Tauntaun, wouldn’t they enjoy cuddling a real one even more?

Vordon cut his trip short and returned to Nal Hutta. There he procured a high-interest loan on short notice, with which he arranged the purchase of a choice piece of ice cave with a heavy lichen carpet, and two dozen of the smallest Common Tauntauns to be found. These animals, as small as half the size of their normal relatives, came with a warning that they should not be bred, as they were runty and therefore in ill health, but small size is exactly what Vordon wanted.

The Hutt immediately set about breeding his stock, choosing the very smallest animals from each litter and breeding them, even if it meant inbreeding. Because Teacup Tauntauns reached maturity more quickly than their wild ancestors, Vordon was able to breed and crossbreed his stock with alarming speed. Additionally, because of their relative genetic malleability thanks to a few key mutations early in the breeding program, each new litter could display remarkably pronounced changes compared to their parents, for example substantially larger horns or thicker, more extensive fur. Within a few years Vordon was drafting the first official species standards for the Teacup Tauntaun in anticipation of what he hoped would be a glorious unveiling to galaxies far and wide.

Hoth was never considered a particularly glamorous planet, even by those who visited it for cold-weather recreation. But Vordon set out to romanticize Hoth and its inhabitants to a degree that no one else would have bothered attempting. An early advertisement that was drafted but never published described “bright, shining dunes of the purest white snow, flanking crisp frozen seas”, and populated by “vast herds of noble Great Tauntauns traversing the plains under a mist-wrapped sun, while Mynocks flit hither and yon above them”. (Vordon was apparently unaware that Mynocks parasitize Exogorths, not Tauntauns.)

Official Species Standards

These are the newest version of the standards, put forth by Vordon in 61 ABY under the guise of the Intergalactic Teacup Tauntaun Fanciers’ Club, which boasted a membership consisting of himself and Jixi, Vordon’s pet ice scrabbler which he saved from being consumed by his herds in a moment of unusual sentimentality.

General Appearance

At first look, the Teacup Tauntaun is a scaled-down version of its larger Common cousins. However, upon closer inspection it is a much cuddlier beast, with more of its form covered in soft fur. The females are slightly larger than the males, though both give an impression of being sturdy and fleet of foot, with an intelligent air about them.

Temperament

The Teacup Tauntaun is bred to be a companion animal, and so should be quiet but not docile. The young may be playful and rambunctious, but ideally settle into a more stable adult manner. It is intelligent enough to be trained, whether that is to perform tricks for table scraps, or as a casual hunting animal provided the chase is secondary to a place in the home. This species is known for its loyalty to those it considers its herd, so early socialization with the entire family is a must. While the wild Tauntaun may bolt at the merest sight of an approaching Wampa, the Teacup Tauntaun will bravely defend its herd until all are safe, and its natural wariness makes it an ideal home guardian.

Size

The desired height is between twenty-four and thirty inches at the shoulder for a female, slightly smaller for a male. Longer than it is tall, the teacup Tauntaun should ideally have a 1:1 ratio of body length (not including tail) to height (from shoulder to ground), with the tail being as long as the body to provide the proper balance.

Head

The head is more slender than that of the wild Tauntaun, though not delicate. The long, curving horns are retained, and should be of equal length. The lower half of the face is covered in fur, to include around the mouth and eyes; the Teacup lacks the large, unattractive scaly bags around its eyes, and any appearance of these should be considered a serious fault. The upper portion of the face is covered in scaly skin of a beige, brown or gray color, and the nose has prominent ridges leading to the two pairs of nostrils. The ears are also covered in short fur, with longer tufts at the ends. The Teacup Tauntaun has five to ten smaller horn buds upon the top of the skull; these should be arranged symmetrically.

Body

The body should give an impression of strength and speed, but not too much thickness. It is a bottom-heavy animal, with powerfully muscled legs and broad feet. The legs are carried well underneath it, providing a balancing point between the head and the tail. The forelimbs are smaller than the hind, but stable enough to support the animal on all fours for grazing. There should be five toes on each foot, fore and hind, to include the dewclaw. The tail is long and finely scaled, slender but not skinny, and solidly attached to the body with a smooth transition along the spine.

Coat and Color

White is the only acceptable color for the Teacup Tauntaun, though a small amount of beige, brown and gray shading is allowed around the eyes, mouth, and wherever fur and scales meet. The body fur should be long and flowing, while the hair on the face is shorter. More fur is preferential to less, with the exception of the top of the head and the nose ridges.

Movement

The animal should move more gracefully and lightly on its feet than its wild cousins. The gait should be smooth, to include when running, and only the hind legs should be employed when moving any faster than a slow graze.

Unacceptable Flaws

Missing dewclaws
Cropped ears or tail
One set of nostrils
Lack of fur around eyes or mouth
Lack of tufts on ears
Broken, missing, misshapen horns, or horns of different lengths
Broken, missing or asymmetrical horn buds
Coat color other than white
Curly coat
No fur

**********************

So what happened to this beastie? What parallels does its fate have with an animal native to our won reality? And just who is the author, Haali Dendrac? Tune in tomorrow to find out!

Also, if you’d like to see the Teacup Tauntaun itself in person, it will be on display at Good: A Gallery here in Portland, OR for the month of May. The group show officially opens this Friday, May 2, from 7pm – 10pm; here’s more information.