Happy Anniversary, Moon!

I was 1 1/2 at the time of the moon landing, so I don't really remember it, but I remember watching the documentary "Moon Shot" in 1994 and weeping like it was happening for the first time. We need more noble efforts like this one, instead of endless, stupid conflicts. So that's my wish for today: A revived space program with scheduled trips to the Moon, Mars, and beyond...

47 Days til the Burn

Let Some Mysteries Remain

My dad is fond of Bigfoot stories, so my sister dropped by Felton's Bigfoot museum on the way to our weekend camping trip and picked up a book of true tales. And those became our campfire tales for this trip.

You see, my family has always believed Bigfoot was real, so we really dig stuff like that.

And of course there have been a number of hoaxes, but in spite of that, there seems to be enough genuine experiences to indicate that there is a very real creature out there.

And as the great forests of the world get pushed back, it would seem that there are fewer places for Bigfoot to hide, and that eventually he will be found.

And I don't think he should be found. For both our sakes.

Bigfoot is such a reclusive creature, it would be death to pull him out into the light.

And if he were found, and his existence proven beyond any doubt, what then? What stories would we tell then?

I think if he were found, something wondrous would be lost and a great mystery would be gone from the world. And that would be a tragedy.

You see, Bigfoot doesn't need us, but I think we need him. We need the Mystery. And therein lies the irony.




13 Days til the Burn!

Aliens Among Us, Part II

So this whole debate regarding other intelligences got me thinking about that Star Trek episode The Devil in the Dark. The whole reason that episode succeeded so brilliantly was because the Horta was not only *not* human, it wasn't even recognizably humanoid. When it comes to meeting "strange new life forms" out there in the far reaches of space, we are far more likely to meet a Horta than a Klingon.

Star Trek was never really about the aliens. It's about us. The Klingons are us. And the Vulcans. And the Romulans and the Cardassians and the Ferrengi (*especially* the Ferrengi--hahaha).

But the Horta, now... The Horta reminds us that what we meet out there will not be us. It will not look like us. It will not communicate like us. It will be so alien that we may not even recognize it as an intelligent being at first. We may mistake it for a rock. Or a monster. If we're lucky, it will *feel* like us. It will feel pain. And sympathy. It will desire to protect it's own. And it will therefore desire peace. If we're lucky.

In the meantime, we can learn a lot from these other life forms we share our planet with. They could very well hold the key to our survival, not only here on earth, but also as we take our first tentative steps outward.

In the spirit of exploration, I have been attempting Spock's mindmeld technique on my rabbit. I think she's beginning to understand me. I, on the other hand, have been experiencing inexplicable cravings for lettuces...




20 Days til the Burn!

Aliens Among Us, Part I

I was caught up in a discussion with some colleagues about animal intelligence, which was interesting because I just read an article on the subject ("The Truth About Dogs" by Stephen Budiansky). The article--and one of my colleagues--made the argument that animals are not necessarily intelligent the way humans understand intelligence, but rather we interpret their behavior according to that standard of intelligence that we set. Humans are very good at anthropomorphizing (lovely word!), especially pet owners. Therefore, the dog is not genuinely loyal, the human owner is interpreting the dog's behavior as loyalty; the dog may merely be doing its doggy thing because it wants a biscuit.

Where this theory breaks down, however, is our standard for intelligence. We are basing it entirely on our own--I would argue--limited perspective. Just because we are the dominant species on the planet does not necessarily mean we hold the only standard for intelligence. We may yet discover there are levels of cat intelligence, and dog, and horse, and gorilla, and dolphin, and whale. After all, although they don't speak our language, cats and dogs and horses and gorillas and dolphins and whales have learned to understand human very well. I'm not sure the reverse could be said to be true.

My colleague went on to argue intelligence based on a large brain, i.e. dogs and cats are smarter than rodents because their brains are bigger, and we are smarter than dogs and cats because our brains are bigger than theirs. But this theory breaks down, too. Dolphins and whales have bigger brains than humans; so who is smarter? (I went on to argue that the Neanderthal had a larger brain than Homo sapiens, but H. sapiens adapted better and outlived them... but I digress). So I don't think a large brain is the only answer to the intelligence question.

The thing is, I don't believe this kind of cross-species intelligence rating is particularly useful. Can we really say that a cat is smarter than a dog? (Or vice versa?) Or that a fox is smarter than a rabbit? (Or vice versa?) Perhaps the most we can say is something like Budiansky's observation that dogs must be smarter than wolves because dogs hooked up with humans early on and have since enjoyed the benefits of this relationship (evidence: dog populations number in the millions while wolf populations are dwindling). But until we truly understand what it means to be a dog, or a cat, or a dolphin, or whatever, then we really shouldn't privilege human intelligence as "smarter." Better adapted, perhaps, but not necessarily smarter. We may, in the end, discover that we are, as Douglass Adams writes, merely the third most intelligent species on the planet, rather than the first.

Which raises an interesting question: If we cannot open our eyes to the possibility of non-human intelligence on our own planet, will we even be capable of recognizing extra-terrestrial intelligence when we meet it?




21 Days til the Burn!

Watching the Stars Come Out

I heard Urban Astronomer Paul Salazar on KFOG this morning. I get so busy with life I forget how much I love stargazing. The Universe is an amazing place.

Paul used an image for the listening audience that I'll never forget. He said that the reason the best time to watch for meteor showers is after midnight is not only because the sky is darkest at that time (although that's part of it), but mainly because the earth has rotated around and is facing directly into the rotation. At that moment, we are facing head on into meteors and space dust and anything else we may meet along the way. That's when the show is at its most dramatic.

I don't know why I find that thought so captivating. I love the idea of standing, arms outstretched, on the outer rim of the planet with my face to the Universe and the whole of planet Earth thrusting at my feet, flying and firmly grounded at the same time. What a rush.

This reminds me, too, of the Mars landing a few months ago. I was at BayCon and I got to watch the landing projected onto a huge screen in a room packed with an enthusiastic audience. One of the things I love about moments like this is the human factor. For months, even years, the people involved with these missions work steadily, like automatons. But for these brief shining moments, all their hope and fear and joy rises to the surface. There was one man in the back of the control room who just couldn't stay still; he kept pacing, then he'd stop and grip the back of his chair, and then start pacing again. When the landing was complete, he jumped up and down and hugged his colleagues. I don't know who that man is, but I love him. I love him for caring, for putting his heart into it.

Sometimes, we do good work, we humans. Sometimes, we manage to approach things noble and worthwhile.




25 Days til the Burn!

There's a Kind of Hush

I just realized that I went through this entire day and never gave a thought to my erstwhile marriage.

I've been divorced for ten years, and was married for ten years before that. If I'd have stayed married, this would have been our 20th anniversary.

Go on. Pinch me. I don't feel a damn thing.

A friend of mine once told me that he kept a bottle of champagne in his fridge so that he could celebrate small victories at a moment's notice. I tried that. The same bottle sat there for years. I guess I've never been very good at celebrating the little victories. I keep waiting for something big to happen.

The thing is, my life has never been better than what it is right now. I'm exploring my own personal Final Frontier and enjoying it. So. Very. Much. Too bad they don't make Hallmark cards for that.

Maybe the big thing I've been waiting for is already here. It's My Life. Maybe I should be opening that champagne bottle every day....




(....but oooh! what a headache that would be....)

Space... The Unattainable Frontier?

First, De Anza College has a New Planetarium! They have some really neat shows scheduled, so check it out.

I took my son and a friend to see a show there, and it really was worth the experience. It has been years since I've sat in a Planetarium and stared up at a starry dome, taking a mindtrip across the universe; I'd forgotten how much fun it is.

However, our host said something that left me feeling kind of disturbed and restless. He said, "This is probably the closest I'll get to experiencing actual space travel." Sadly, I couldn't help but agree with him.

Do you remember how bright and shiny the year 2000 looked from the 70s and 80s? We were going to have flying cars and space stations and trips to the Moon and maybe even a colony on Mars. I thought that even if I wasn't an astronaut I might at least get a trip into space in my lifetime.

What happened to that bright future? Who stole our Science Fiction Age?

I want to go. Oh, I do.