Millipede Mound—Part 2

Now back to the mystery of why this particular arthropod ascended my pyramid. It occurred to me that this critter may have been drawn upwards by some urge it did not fully comprehend. After all, pyramids are reputed to possess inexplicable powers. Maybe those powers spoke to a lowly ground-groveling insect and promised it a transcending experience, if it only could ascend the formidable hill? Egypt's pyramids were built to serve as majestic tombs for the pharaohs. They were oriented so as to soak up the sun's rays at dawn; the eastern face becoming brilliantly illuminated, to literally lift and point the pharaoh's spirit towards heaven, riding the sunbeams heavenward.

Did my millipede make its last climb in an attempt to become immortal, like the ancient pharaohs? And what did it do, after struggling to reach the summit? Was it disappointed or devastated that there was no higher place to go? Once up there, all paths led down, but maybe it was not ready to accept that form of disillusionment. Unable to accept its failure, maybe it curled up there and dozed of or simply gave up the ghost?

Or maybe my millipede had been talking to nearby caterpillars, which are also critters who often crawl around on the ground. Caterpillars know that, if they conduct themselves properly, one day they will be released from their earthly prison, as they morph into a butterfly. The butterfly elders have told the young caterpillars that one day they will be free to soar through the heavens, far above their terrestrial woes—fully liberated and unshackled from their earthly bonds. Drunk on the hope that it too might take wing, did my millipede delude itself into climbing my pyramid seeking such freedom?

For a possibly deeper understanding, let's return to the powerful energies that pyramids reputedly possess. I'm not conversant with these powers, so I engaged in an internet search. Pyramid powers, according to believers, are magical. According to some websites I visited, the energy field of a pyramid can preserve food, sharpen razor blades (whoa!), improve one's health, trigger sex urges, and function as a “thought-form incubator.” Amazing! These beliefs are collectively called pyramidology.

Some master pyramidologists even claim that the Great Pyramid at Giza has inscrutable hieroglyphics that predicted (1) the exodus of Moses from Egypt, (2) the crucifixion of Jesus, (3) the start of World War One, (4) the founding of the modern state of Israel, and many more events. Furthermore, some pyramidological accounts claim that pyramids (1) were built by extra-terrestrials, (2) possess supernatural powers, (3) have measurements with esoteric significance that contain coded messages, and (4) possess countless other stunning qualities.

One website claimed that a pyramid “resonates various energy fields;” that its shape is “an amplified receiver.” It went on to claim that inside the pyramid the received energies then interact with each other, to create a three-dimensional spherical field, like “a globe of harmonic vibrations.” What's more, this website alleged that pyramid energy “is a life-giving force called bio-cosmic energy,” which allows the pyramid to become a kind of “cosmic antenna that tunes into vast energy sources, receives energy, and changes itself into a magnetic field.” Wow!

At this point my mind became numb from all these wonderful, entrancing, and magnetic revelations about pyramids. It made me deliriously happy that I had constructed my own enchanting pyramid. I can't wait to reap all the blessings of my own “cosmic antenna.” In the meantime, I'm puzzled by the immobilized millipede still squatting at the summit. Does it know something I don't? Has it received the “harmonic vibrations” of the gods and is it pointing the way toward a kind of immortality for me too?

Postmortem: In a day or two my millipede was gone. Had it ascended to bug heaven? Had it transformed into an ethereal creature? Had a breeze blown it away? Yet one more mystery that will likely remain unfathomable for me.

Millipede Mound—Part 1

Shortly after completing my 1:250 scale model Khufu pyramid (the Great Pyramid at Giza), I found a millipede curled around its peak. I was startled to see it there. Millipedes do not normally seek heights. They grovel around in the dirt or hide under stones, eating dead plant material. What was this guy doing, poised way up on the peak of my pyramid?
What had inspired it to climb the mighty pyramid—some 30 times its size, something equivalent to a human scaling an eight-story building? Was it seeking enlightenment? Was it compulsively drawn by the mystical power of my pyramid?

A day or two went buy and the millipede did not move. Was it still alive? Had it clambered up Mount Pyramid, only to expire at the summit? The mystery deepened. I have heard of pyramidical cults that perpetuate the belief that pyramids possess perplexing powers and energy fields. Had this millipede succumbed to my pyramid's mystical powers? Had it somehow been compelled to ascend the structure, seeking some kind of release from its mundane, muddy existence?

And had it really expired, or was it being held in suspended animation by the pyramid's magical energy field? Was it maybe now marinated at the peak, rather like a pharaoh's mummy—preserved for posterity?

I felt driven to understand this phenomenon better, so I engaged in some internet searches on millipedes. These critters are an arthropod (an insect with a jointed body, with two or more legs on each joint). It is closely related to the pill millipede—or sow bug—which is much smaller, and rolls into a ball when frightened or threatened (looking like a pill). The millipede is slow moving and defends itself by its noxious smell and bright color.

How does one distinguish a millipede from a centipede? No it's not 1,000 versus 100 legs, but (1) a centipede moves much faster (my millipede was extremely slow), (2) it is carnivorous (whereas a millipede eats rotten vegetation), and (3) centipedes have only two legs per segment, rather than four. Thank goodness; now I know I don't have to count hundreds of legs to tell them apart.
More on millipede heaven next time...

Tetrahedral Tombstone

We all know about the Egyptian pyramids—those tetrahedral tombstones built to house the great pharaohs' bodies, preserved as mummies in perpetuity. For well over four thousand years the Great Pyramids of Giza have fascinated people. They are magnificent engineering feats that were included in every list of the ancient world's wonders. All the other wonders have vanished, while the pyramids endure.

I recently took an online course from Harvard University, on the Pyramids of Giza. The experience inspired me to construct my own pyramid—a 250^th scale model of the Pyramid of Khufu, which is also known as the Great Pyramid at Giza. Here are a few impressive geometric facts about this largest Egyptian tetrahedral tombstone: It is 481 feet (147 m) tall. That's equivalent to nearly the height of a 50-story building! The length of a side is 755 feet (230 m). That's equivalent to two and a half American football fields long! It is a perfect tetrahedron—that is, its faces are four equilateral triangles, and was built up using over 2.5 million stone blocks. That's pretty impressive!

The course noted that the origin of the idea for Egyptians to build pyramids came from the small, pyramid-shaped mounds of mud left behind, when the Nile River flooded each year. The flooded Nile was literally worshiped as a life-giving phenomenon, so its leftover mud deposits took on a mystical quality. Eventually, some ancient pharaohs began building geometric structures inspired by the mud mounds. The first few did not do well. Some were later torn down (or collapsed), and some had their design modified during construction, in attempts to make them stable. Finally the architect Hemiunu designed and oversaw the building of the largest pyramid for Pharaoh Khufu—built nearly 4600 years ago. The accuracy with which these tombs were built is astounding. Their longevity is astonishing.

I became inspired by the Giza Pyramids, and decided to build my own great pyramid, out of mortar (mixing cement, sand, and lime). It would be a 1:250 scale model—that is, 250 times smaller than the original. So the 481 foot tall Khufu's pyramid scaled down to a height of 23 inches (60 cm), with a side about 36 inches (90 cm) long. I would not try to build my pyramid from a couple million stone blocks as the original, but by constructing a wooden mold, and then filling it with mortar. I'd cast it while it lay on its side, and then tip it up into place.

The Great Pyramid at Giza is much more than a solid pile of stone—its interior is riddled with tomb chambers, passageways, and shafts of air that point toward the sky. Some of these chambers were hidden, but robbers excavated and stole many burial artifacts from several of the pyramids.

My 1:250 copy of Khufu's tetrahedron also has its secret chambers—in the form of bottles and cans that I immersed in the mortar, in order to decrease its potential weight from over 800 pounds (370 kg) to something about half that. Otherwise, tipping it upright would have been more of a job than I wanted.

I found that my engineering and construction skills paled in comparison to Egyptian architect Hemiunu. Maybe I can take solace in the fact that the design and construction of my pyramid required but a couple of weeks, rather than the more than 20 years for Khufu's. I discovered a few complicating factors that I'd not expected, although probably far fewer than those ancient Egyptians encountered.

So now I have my own cementaceous tetrahedron—even if it's just a tomb for trash. Will it acquire some of the mystical powers reputed to be possessed at Giza? I may have to wait a millennium or two, to find out. I possibly have a mysterious energy field already, however. The next couple of blog postings describe what has happened.