Unlikely Alone—Part 1

Ever since we humans came to understand that those points of light in the night sky are stars like our sun, many of us have wondered if some of those stars host planets that may contain some form of life. Are we alone in this grand universe? Is it possible that life may be thriving on other worlds out there, just as it does on our precious little planet?

These questions have lingered in people’s minds for millennia, but the means to answer them have eluded us until recently. The pursuit of this inquiry has not been encouraged by our religious institutions—particularly those that teach that human beings are special creatures molded by God, and thus at the center of the universe. This perspective remains convinced that Earth is unique and at the center of the universe. Despite that dogmatic view, many people have wondered if we may not be alone and maybe not that exceptional.

The issue has received increasing scientific attention in the last few decades. A number of projects are actively exploring the matter and are gradually leading us toward an answer. The possibility of life existing elsewhere has recently been given a major boost by two different areas of scientific research: (1) in astronomy, by the discovery of numerous planets around nearby stars by NASA and (2) in biology, by the discovery of several bizarre life-forms right here on our planet.

NASA's Kepler mission has now identified hundreds of planets around close-by stars—evidence we didn't have just a few years ago. Astronomers have for some time expected planets to be common, but until their existence could be demonstrated, we didn't really know. Now we do. The result: it is highly likely that there are billions of planets out there; just in our galaxy alone! So the likelihood of extraterrestrial life is definitely boosted—given that the more planets there are, the more chance that life could have formed on some of them.

The second recent finding—the discovery of Earthly forms of life we once did not think possible—also increases the likelihood of extraterrestrial life. Researchers have found life in forms and locations that surprise us: in rocks far underground where no light ever shines, at high temperatures we once thought would cook any critter, and in very unfriendly locations such as in strong acid environments that would dissolve the skin of any human. If life is this tough, we've had to revise our estimates of the kinds of harsh environments in which life could thrive on other worlds.

So we now have greater expectations of finding life out there. Mars may have once been warm and wet, and thus conducive to life. Jupiter's moon Europa and Saturn's moon Enceladus have scientists excited about the possibility of life there. SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) telescopes constantly scan the skies, looking for electromagnetic signals that alien intelligent species may have transmitted into space. (We ourselves do it all the time—not intentionally as a signal, but via our constant radio and TV transmissions that escape into space.)

With these findings, our level of anticipation of life elsewhere has skyrocketed. We're gaining confidence that we may not be alone. There is still no direct evidence for life elsewhere, but its likelihood is greater, as our understanding of  conditions out there increase.

More on extraterrestrial life next time…

Tufted Titmouse at the Window Feeder

What’s It Mean, Alfie?—Part 2

Driving down the road one day, I was almost involved in an accident. Had I been driving one mile per hour faster or slower, things could have been entirely different. I may either be dead or not even know I could have had a close call. Someone buys a lottery ticket and wins big money. A ticket purchased just before or after that winning one lost. A gust of wind blows down a tree in my yard and just misses the house. Were any of these events predictable? Could they have been foreseen? Even in the aftermath, can we attribute any causal factor to them? Mightn’t it be a copout to say, “Well, I guess God didn’t want my number to come up just then”?

Sure, for many of the things that happen to us, we can connect the dots and see a causal relationship with something that happened earlier. I possibly wouldn’t have luckily avoided that car accident if I had been driving faster. If I had cut down all the trees around me, I could have avoided them being blown down on my house. If she hadn’t even bought that lottery ticket, she’d have had no chance of winning.

So we have a tendency to seek meaning in things when there often is none. Unforeseen events don’t have to have some law governing them or some significance to them. Why was I born who I am and in the circumstances I was? Why was I not born into a starving family in Africa? Why was I born with this birth defect? Is there any reason for these happenings? Why can’t they just be?

The story of Job comes to my mind when I ponder these things. Why do bad things happen to good people? Or the opposite question: Why do some bad people get away with their evil activities? Is there no justice in this world? We want all the loose ends to be tied up in the final scene of our life—as in a Hollywood movie. We want meaning; we demand accountability.

That attitude can lead to a lot of angst and anger—emotions that can often be avoided by simply accepting what is. If we give up the demand to know why things happen and accept not always knowing; if we can live with the mystery, we can unburden ourselves of a lot of trouble. Rather than fret over how or why something just happened—as we sit transfixed with either horror or glee—we might better put our attention and energy into intelligently responding, before the next contingency comes along and smacks us upside the head unawares.

I’m by no means arguing that we should simply believe life is one random event after another, and that we have no control over it. It’s a balance. It’s a paradox, even. Somewhere between life having no meaning (no reason, no purpose, or concluding it’s random) and its every detail being planned and caused by some external power, is a happy balance where I dance with life and make the most of the great mystery.

           

Titmouse Wing Feather (200X)

Titmouse Down Feather (200X)

What’s It Mean, Alfie?—Part 1

We humans, being the rational and reasoning creatures we think we are, are inclined to look for—and even read—meaning into events that happen to us. Less cognizant animals take what comes along and deal with it as best they can—without examining and probing it, or seeking explanations for why it happened. When a hawk attacks a songbird, the little critter does not fret over why he’s being assaulted, or if he is being punished for some transgression he recently committed—he just responds and tries to get the hell out of the way.

Our ability to generate an understanding of the cause and nature of events has given us a huge advantage over all other creatures on this planet. It allows us to learn and to come to comprehend our world like no other being. It has allowed us to become as successful and dominant a species as we are.

Yet this inclination to seek meaning in things also leads us to experience much angst and suffering; as well as leads us astray, when we err in our attempts to explain events. We read things into experiences when often there is no explanation for why they happened. We’re uncomfortable not knowing why something occurred, so we make up reasons. We want to believe in continuity—we want to see coherence in life, we want there to be purpose to things. We want to feel that we are in control of our lives or that a greater power is leading us, so things that happen do so for a reason.

If we can’t explain the cause for an incident, we will look to something or someone else to describe its message. We seek out a wise person or a guru who can pronounce why it happened. Some of us reason that God has a plan and thus caused this thing to happen, even though we can’t grasp why. We might simply conclude that “God works in mysterious ways,” or that the meaning will come to us in the future. Hang in there, have faith… the reason will soon become clear.

The truth is that most of the things that happen to us are not predetermined, nor do they arise because they were the logical result of some earlier event, nor is there a reason for them. Despite our tendency to look for causal relationships and continuity between the past and the present, most occurrences are really coincidental in nature. There simply is no way to foresee them happening. There are so many forces operating beyond our comprehension or control that are at play in our lives, that we can’t begin to know what they are or what they do.

More meaning next time…

Windless

Solar power and wind power are becoming increasingly used as sources of energy for humanity’s needs. Where we once generated electrical power mostly from burning nonrenewable fossil fuels, atmospheric pollution and global warming have pushed us to begin shifting towards these so-called “green” sources of energy. Neither wind nor solar pollutes the air, and neither contributes to global warming.

Another advantage of both solar- and wind-derived electrical power is that both are essentially inexhaustible. As far as we humans are concerned, there will be no end to solar energy impinging on Earth (at least for another five billion years or so) and we can surely count on the wind to keep blowing. Yes, clouds can obscure the sun temporarily and the breeze may die for a bit, but these are only transient losses. The clouds will soon pass and the wind will pick up again.

But wait a minute. Is the wind really unlimited? Maybe there is just so much energy we can extract from breezes, before we deplete them. I can’t ever see us using up all the bounty of the sun, but isn’t the wind a little more finite? We drain a battery and the flashlight goes dead. The gas tank empties and the car rolls to a stop. Would it be possible to suck all the oomph out of the wind?

This fanciful and rather ludicrous thought popped into my head, some time back while lounging in the tub. In a rather absurd scenario, I imagined a long string of wind turbines, facing bravely into the breeze. The first one spins robustly, taking a little bit of energy from the wind. The next one spins a wee bit slower, as it encounters a wee bit slower wind. On down the line it goes, until the wind just peters out and cannot spin that last turbine. The tilting windmills have killed the wind! Dead calm…no electricity! Of course that’s a ridiculous picture I have painted…or is it?

Just recently I was reading the Winter 2013 issue of Conservation Magazine and came upon an article cleverly titled “Limited Windfall.” It seems that a university research group conducted a study of the density of wind turbines on a wind farm and discovered that, once the number of generators reaches a certain limit in a given area, adding more turbines will yield no additional increase in electrical power. The farm gets saturated; no more power can be sucked from the wind, they found, if the optimum turbine density is exceeded. Their recommendation: determine the density limit for a given area and don’t build any more turbines than that.

Now, that’s not quite the same crisis that I dreamed up in my absurd scenario, but it ain’t that far off! I wonder if someone should do a similar calculation for solar power. I’d hate to think that we might install so many solar arrays that we steal the sunshine and create perpetual night!

Sharp-shinned Hawk

Photo from Cornell Lab of Ornithology Website.

Feeder Foes

I wrote last time about a sharp-shinned hawk attack on cute little chickadees at the bird feeder. The battle for life often finds one kind of critter killing another for food. Songbirds—when they’re not gorging themselves on the sunflower seeds that I put out—will eat small spiders and other bugs. The insects’ death ensures the life of the bird. In turn, a hawk catches and kills a small bird (or rodent), which ensures the life of the raptor. We humans may rue the death of an adorable songbird, but care far less about the death of a yucky bug.

The chickadee needs lots of fuel in the winter (as does the hawk). Half of all the calories that the little bird eats goes solely into shivering, which generates heat in its tiny body (about a third of an ounce, or the equivalent of two nickels).

Nature has given the songbird an exquisite sense of sight. We humans need binoculars to begin to rival their ability to spot tiny crevices in tree bark, where a bug may be hiding. They can also see into the ultraviolet range—allowing them to spot numerous food items (bugs) that may be tinged with a little UV coloring. These enhanced abilities help keep them alive through a bitter winter. Even so, many of them starve. (That’s why I feel that my bird feeder helps—by offering sunflower seeds loaded with fat.)  

The songbird foe, the sharp-shinned hawk, also has his imposing skills. His eyesight is even better, though not as keen as his larger family members—such as eagles. The “sharpie” is the smallest hawk—about the size of a blue jay. Many people who feed birds hate this small hawk, because it will lurk in a tree or bush—watching “like a hawk”—and suddenly burst out to snatch a cute songbird. Mother Nature’s wisdom, however, exceeds ours. The sharpie is actually useful in culling less fit birds (thus keeping the remaining flock healthier), as well as training them to be alert and wary. Wolves serve a similar function for deer, antelope, and other browsers.

Like other fierce-looking members of the hawk and eagle family, the sharp-shinned hawk has a hooked beak, strong feet, and curved talons, for seizing and killing prey. Its crown and back are a dark, blue-gray color, while its undersides are a beautiful white-and-rufous barred pattern. Its wings are short and wide and its tail is long—giving it the ability to make quick turns in its dash after prey. It is a migrating bird that breeds up in Canada and winters around here and farther south.

I feel constantly torn between the success and well-being of these feeder foes; but the success of one comes at the sacrifice of the other. I can’t have it both ways, nor does it make sense for me to favor one over the other. Nature doesn’t. It’s a balance. Maybe I can come to accept nature’s way, without casting my lot with either?