I really wish there was a way to use pandora with my own music. Today I used itunes’ genius to make a list of songs based on Johnny Cash’s cover of Hurt. The third song on the list was Martina McBride’s rendition of Silver Bells.
But that didn’t stop murder in the name of God
From Karen Armstrong’s A History of God: The 4,000-Year Quest of Judaism, Christianity and Islam:
Despite it’s otherworldliness, religion is highly pragmatic. We shall see that it is far more important for a particular idea of God to work than for it to be logically or scientifically sound. As soon as it ceases to be effective it will be changed – sometimes for something radically different. This did not disturb most monotheists before our own day because they were quite clear that their ideas about God were not sacrosanct but could only be provisional. They were entirely man-made – they could be nothing else – and quite separate from the indescribably Reality they symbolized.
Pressure
Changes in pressure seem to be my biggest migraine trigger. So changing elevation, flying, and weather changes all make me sick. I want to choose a graduate school where I’ll almost never be sick, so I need to understand more about the types of pressure changes that cause my migraines. What’s the minimum change that makes me sick? How much does the speed of the change matter? How do different magnitudes/speeds of change affect the intensity/duration of the migraine? How long after the change do I get sick?
Remember all those graphs about Petadolex I subjected you to? The next several months you’ll be seeing lots more graphs on here. I’m going to post a graph of barometric pressure that occurs before each migraine I get (or as many as I can).
I actually have a migraine this morning, though it’s tapered off since it woke me up at about 3:30am. Here’s what the pressure looked like last night:
See all those spikes? The change is relatively small, but very very fast. I wonder if just one would have been enough to give me a migraine?
Just a shoe
What we killed Thursday – Thanksgiving edition
Just one collection of Flabellidium spinosum was ever made. Theodor Herzog found this moss growing in the Tres Cruces Cordillera almost a century ago. Theodor Herzog was a German bryologist and is famous (What? You haven’t heard of him?) for his work on the biogeography of mosses.
The area and others of they type where F. spinosum was found have since been logged and used for cultivation and F. spinosum hasn’t been spotted since its original collection. Niles Eldredge calls it “a representative of all the species that slip, unnoticed, into oblivion when an ecosystem is destroyed.”
Mosses are tiny – this one was described as “a fragile moss, with fronded, yellow-green branches growing to only about 1 cm in height.” Most people don’t notice moss at all or they think of it as all basically the same. Lucky for me, I’ve had lots of plant classes where I’ve learned to appreciate the beauty and diversity of these tiny plants.
Have you ever wondered why moss is so small? That was one of the big questions in my life when I was 5. I had to wait until college to get a real answer. Most plants have vascular systems made up of tracheids and/or vessels, which are tube-like cells that move water throughout the plant. These cells are what make up the veins in leaves and the rings in trees.
Mosses don’t have these special cells. Mosses were the first plants on land and are what botanists call primitive (the botanical term for really old and super cool). The don’t even have real roots! They get water through absorption – like little sponges. If they’re big, they can’t absorb enough water.
Their small size doesn’t mean they aren’t important. Because moss is such an early plant, we can learn a lot about plant evolution by studying them. F. spinosum seems to have been the only species in its genus, so when it went extinct, we lost a lot of important moss genes.
Mosses stabilize the soil crust – it’s often one of the first colonizers. They help prevent flash flooding by absorbing lots of water quickly and releasing it slowly and regulate humidity in a system the same way. They form the basis of several ecosystems – like peat bogs – and are incredibly important in many wetlands. Mosses are worth a lot of money, too. Even though they’re “primitive” plants, they can produce some very weird chemicals that we use in medication and perfume. Moss is even used for cleaning up oil spills on land and may prevent more extensive damage from spills.
Another thing I really like about moss is that they have really cool reproductive structures. Flowers are pretty and often big and flashy. Moss reproductive structures are teeny tiny and not very colorful, but some of them have teeth!
I get disheartened by all of the species extinctions, but today is Thanksgiving and there is a lot to be thankful for. I’m grateful for all the species that are still out there and that, while many will go extinct in my lifetime, I’m here to see and appreciate them before they go. I’m grateful for all of the systematists, naturalists, and other scientists (like Theodor Herzog!) who devoted their lives to finding and describing so many species. I’m grateful for all of the organizations dedicated to maintaining a record of the incredible diversity of life, especially the Missouri Botanical Garden and the Encyclopedia of Life. Most of all, I’m grateful for all of the people who care about non-human species and do what they can to prevent extinction.
Well, that’s depressing
I attended a conference on water issues a few weeks ago and left feeling like there’s no way to implement successful policies before it’s too late.
My research focuses on a tree that is quickly being extirpated from my state and is likely to go almost extinct in the next century or so, and lately I’ve been wondering why I’m devoting so much time to something that there’s so little chance of saving.
I’m writing a review paper on predictions of climate envelope models and am coming to the conclusion that they are much, much too conservative.
And almost no one is willing to take the steps that need to be taken to deal with climate change. I can’t even complain to my friends – they think it’s all just “doomsday talk.” So, today, instead of doing more (incredibly depressing) reading for my paper, I reread this poem a few times.
Rearmament
Robinson Jeffers
These grand and fatal movements toward death: the grandeur of the mass
Makes pity a fool, the tearing pity
For the atoms of the mass, the persons, the victims, makes it seem monstrous
To admire the tragic beauty they build.
It is beautiful as a river flowing or a slowly gathering
Glacier on a high mountain rock-face,
Bound to plow down a forest, or as frost in November,
The gold and flaming death-dance for leaves,
Or a girl in the night of her spent maidenhood, bleeding and kissing.
I would burn my right hand in a slow fire
To change the future … I should do foolishly. The beauty of modern
Man is not in the persons but in the
Disastrous rhythm, the heavy and mobile masses, the dance of the
Dream-led masses down the dark mountain.