Mother Sun (a theory)

 by Shaun Lawton

   I am a creative writer and an amateur astronomer without a telescope.  Here's my poetic idea I like to refer to as the Organic Supposition of Planet Formation (as opposed to the standard gravitational theory and alternative conjectures such as the recently posited electrical theory of planetary formation).  In my organic hypothesis, our local star produces all the planets, birthing them like seeds.  Over epochal periods of time, they gradually (indiscernible to our mayfly-like existences) move farther and farther away from their stellar mother...each one eventually replacing the spot formerly occupied by their elder sibling. It’s a straightforward premise which I don’t believe has been ruled out as of yet.  

   This proposition would offer one reason how Mars now contains traces of evidence for life that may have once flourished back in time when it formerly occupied the space Earth currently does; and furthermore, it may clarify how all the spat-out and spent "planet-husks" end up as plutinos and twotinos, etc., arriving into the vast scattered disc and Kuiper belt, eventually to culminate in the planetary graveyard comprising the Oort Cloud. In this hypothesis, Earth itself is destined to take the place of Mars. Then, after passing through the remnants of the asteroid belt, it eventually undergoes the celestial transmutation into its “Jupiter-phase,” the first of four gas-giant developmental stages.

    I speculate that at this chapter of our organic and fourth-dimensional evolution, the planetoids our Sun gives birth to begin to develop the various intervals of their hydrogen/helium atmospheres, which invariably pass through Saturn's state, Uranus's stage, and finally, after reaching Neptune's glorious, frozen apotheosis, they are destined to complete their considerable and immense mortality and join Pluto (in its “hospice stage,” if you will) and then the inevitable termination – to be ejected into the graveyard of hundreds of thousands of planets our local star has spawned and will continue to for as long as it remains fertile. This speculation is one of the reasons why I think of the Oort Cloud as a sort of inverse eggshell; because it signifies the epochally formed exterior of the cosmic mausoleum being built even while we live and breathe here on Earth during this tertiary stage of our first trimester of celestial emergence.    

On Being

 by   shaun lawton

   We must all strive to share a mutual perspective on the fecundity of the question "Is there any such thing as alien life?"  If our own ideas of where we stand on the great cosmic scale of existence were to expand themselves to consider our home as being merely identified as the greater set of the entire universe, then all life within said parameters might suddenly become not so alien to us, after all.   We should each be able to see that the question of *whether or not* there is alien life out there and *what* it might be are indeed two separate and thorny questions, and our situation here seems to be in the habit of lumping them together as if they were one and the same.  Ah,  "To be, or not to be..."

     When we participants of this discussion all agree to stick with the spirit of the question, and then decide we mean "any sentient species that happens to exist upon other planets", we put ourselves in the position wherein we may necessarily exclude the term "alien" in favor of "extraterrestrial;" it depends on whether or not our DNA is being shared (setting aside for the moment what our definition of "sentient" happens to be).  Because if we cannot be compelled to agree on what the spirit of the question is in the first place, it renders this topic nearly obsolete in terms of conducting a rational discussion about it.  For instance, one possible outcome of this debate about extraterrestrial life is that our own species may end up being discovered to actually be indigenous to the whole Universe, for all we know.  This example might render all technologically advanced extraterrestrial civilizations in our cosmos to be bipedal by nature and homo sapiens by definition. 

     The spirit of this question then becomes an integral consideration in our guesswork of not only what the true nature of the so-called "alien" might actually be, but also our own true nature in the context of all creation.  It renders the meaning of the term "alien" with the caveat that it must then define something truly separate from us, in the sense that it may not even share our DNA(!), or even not be of this universe at all(!?).   

    And as some of us are already beginning to suspect, our existence may in fact be an aspect of a singularity. These perspectives become crucial for us to keep in mind when defining life itself and our universe.   If you ask me, the very fact we are still struggling with (and on different pages of) our own explanations for life and our place in the universe itself renders any discussion on the search for extraterrestrial intelligence all the more challenging. At this stage of our comprehension of the universe around us, I often suspect it is ourselves who are being more effectively searched for, and not the other way around.  Unless, perhaps, the universe is like some strange game where we must first lose ourselves in order to then begin the search all over again...

 

 

The Great Attractor

 by  Shaun Lawton (roving reporter for the Oscillating Oculus). 

   "Does a pie sliced into 14 unequal pieces even feel the knife that sectioned it?  It's a trick question, since the Great Attractor balances out our whole life."  

   The Great Attractor is the apparent central gravitational point of the Laniakea Supercluster of galaxies which includes the Milky Way as well as about 100,000 other galaxies.  Lanieakea is part of the Pisces-Cetus Supercluster Complex, which itself can be described as a galaxy filament, the largest known structures in the universe.  These galactic filaments are massive, thread-like formations that function like dividing walls forming the boundaries between voids (also known as "dark spaces").   These dark spaces or voids contain very few if any galaxies, because the vast majority of galaxies remain gravitationally bound together forming galaxy filaments.   Most of these "void pockets" are between 10 and 100 megaparsecs in diameter (30 to 300 million light years) and even larger ones are referred to as supervoids.  

   The observed attraction (of the Great Attractor) suggests a localized concentration of mass on the order of ten-quadrillion solar masses. However, it is somewhat hidden from our view by the Milky Way's galactic plane, lying behind the Zone of Avoidance ("ZOA"). It turns out that the Great Attractor is difficult to observe directly in visible light wavelengths.  (The attraction itself is observable by its effect on the motion of galaxies and their associated clusters over a region of hundreds of millions of light-years across the universe). 

   To be clear, these galaxies are observable above and below the Zone of Avoidance; yet all of them are redshifted in accordance with the Hubble flow, indicating that they are receding relative to the Milky Way and to each other, but the variations in their redshifts are large enough and regular enough to reveal that they are slightly drawn towards the attraction. 

   These variations in their redshifts are known as "peculiar velocities", and cover a range from about +700 km/s to −700 km/s, depending on the angular deviation from the direction to the Great Attractor.

   What's interesting to know, is that the Great Attractor itself is moving towards the "Shapley Supercluster", and furthermore, recent astronomical studies by a team of South African astrophysicists have revealed that in the Great Attractor's theorized location lies a supercluster of galaxies known as the "Vela Supercluster."  

   The Shapley Supercluster appears as a striking overdensity in the distribution of galaxies in the constellation of Centaurus, itself located 650 million light years away from us.  It is the largest concentration of galaxies in our nearby universe that forms a gravitationally interacting unit (therefore appearing to be pulling itself together rather than expanding with the universe).  

   The Vela Supercluster is even farther away from us (at a distance of about 870 million light years) and is thought to be within the vicinity of the Zone of Avoidance, itself centered on the constellation Vela.    *

*to be  (or not to be) cont. 

   

Atmospheric Macrolensing

 by  Shaun Lawton 

   This morning while staring at the crescent moon hung low over the mountains, I began to wonder how come the moon itself looks so large in our sky?    I've seen how far from Earth it really is courtesy of diagrams online, and their depiction of its size relative to our planet, and I began to wonder if perhaps the reason why the moon looks so large every so often is because its image has been magnified by our atmosphere. Of course, I already know that the real reason is based on the oscillating distance of the moon as it constantly orbits Earth, which results in its size changing only by a margin of 10%.  I'm writing this impromptu essay because I like to play with false notions, you understand, since deep inside I feel they may lead to other, separate connections that may be valid in their own context.  

    For example, we all know what gravitational microlensing is, and the idea behind it has  spurred me to wonder if there's any such thing as a sort of microlensing initiated from our own planet, which is to say when our line of sight passes through our Sun's own gravitational field while it aims for the stars.    The thought then occurred to me:  Are the pin-prick points of the stars and constellations we see with our naked eyes magnified in any way by virtue of the "lens of our own planet's atmosphere"-?  If there's no magnification effect for our moon, then one would assume there may not be any for our view of the stars, either.  

     My imagination allows me to continue wondering, if we viewed the stars from outside our planet's atmosphere--from just beyond our moon, for example--wouldn't the micro-pinpricks that we'd assume would represent each star "out there" be so miniscule as to potentially be missed by the naked eye (considering the immense distance between us)?  Who knows? This notion of a sort of "ground zero based gravitational microlensing" (begun from necessarily viewing "out there" through our own Sun's immense gravitational field) is certainly fun to think about, everything considered. If it operates in a  somewhat analogous manner to the standard gravitational microlensing (allowing astronomers to use distant star's gravitational fields to further magnify territories beyond them) is certainly a question left lingering in my own imagination.    

      In any case, I figure that if Earth did not possess any atmosphere,  our moon itself would appear smaller to the naked eye, but apparently this is not the case, from what online searches tell me.  It's only a hunch when I imagine that the stars & constellations themselves would appear tinier, like diamond point font, or perhaps even unnoticeable to the naked eye, just a sort of unified ambient haze practically indistinguishable from darkest gray and the blackness of outer space.  I just don't know.  

     These are the sorts of thoughts that I assume typically run through the minds of most people, although often I wonder if I'm among the very few who are prone to relentlessly pursue each subsequent link in the expansive, interlinked chains of logical associations which necessarily accompany base assumptions about the nature of things. 

   What if?  What if the starry field of constellations we've mapped out so well over the centuries happens to be an elaborate sort of "optical illusion" cast by the interaction between our own Sun's light and that of all the remaining stars in our galaxy?  What if we have been led to mistakenly assume that each star "out there" [which is really long, long, long, long ago dead to us] was "a remote physical object" that we could "actually somehow reach with an adequate spacecraft," when in reality no such thing even remotely like that could possibly exist? What if

Toward vs. Towards

by  shaun lawton 

Web search results display blogversations which indicate that with the 's' is the British way, and without it, the American way. I don't know for sure, but personally, I don't think that gets to the bottom of it. 

I think (or like to pretend at least) that it's finer than that.
(I need help from experienced, language professionals, on this issue.)

These words, man...they are some volatile, dangerous stuff.

If you ask me, I think we should be using the 's' when the word being modified is plural, and drop it when it's singular. 

Case in point:

You wouldn't say "a thousand arrows rained down toward me" unless you specifically meant to point out that they were all launched at the same time. Thus raining down all at once, in one fell swoop. That would indicate a singular mass of arrows--falling toward me.

Another example. Take the rain (for instance):

"A million rain drops fell toward me" vs. "a million rain drops fell towards me."

The former would indicate the rainfall as a frozen moment in time: you know how, if you stare out at the rain, you can slow down and even momentarily freeze sections of falling raindrops, as your eyes glance downward at matching rates of speed? It's sort of like that, when using the singular, without the 's'.  But if you wanted to indicate the continuing or rather, constant fall of rain drops, you would use the plural form, with the 's': "A million rain drops fell down from the sky towards me."

A couple more examples, to rest my case: 

"What looked like three street thugs working together began ambling over towards me."
vs.
"The police officer walked directly toward me."

Look, I realize what I'm pointing out here probably isn't even a thing. I am just working toward understanding towards.  Any help would be vastly appreciated. . .

Droplet of Infusoria

 by  Shaun Lawton

   In my dreams last night I was a fugitive from some shady organization who's agenda remained unknown, but they had access to sophisticated nanotech controlled remotely by AI algorithms that could achieve some remarkable feats.  For example,  at one point in my dream, they targeted some sort of festival on the outskirts of town.  There was a tension in the air as the signal intensified, an indication they were about to strike.  

   It became suddenly evident when from this one tent where a variety of people, both citizens out browsing through artisan's wares and several bands of gypsy like individuals milling in and out among themselves, an eruption of bizarre wingless insects came crawling out in a controlled tide, spilling out onto the sidewalk and pouring forth into the street.  Some folk indigenous to central and South America cried out a warning, lost among the uproar and the throng of people trying to outrun the surge of crawling insects - which resembled arthropods with spiny appendages, about two inches long or so - but the idea carried on the wind was "they sting" -- so I began running as fast as I could away from their surging tide, and thinking quickly I headed for higher ground, and crawled up some siding against a building, trying to get as high up off the street level as possible. 

  Under and behind me I could see the tide of scurrying insects rushing like a flash flood into the street, and spreading out.  People were fleeing and screaming.  I noticed they continued in an alarming amount of numbers - thousands upon thousands of them, just pouring out of that tent - then I noted that when they reached the walls of the buildings, they easily began scrambling up them towards me.  Why hadn't I thought of that- ? Of course they can crawl up the damn walls ... I scrambled up even higher, trying to reach the roof, but there wasn't any way for me to climb any higher... I wasn't Spiderman.  Thinking too rapidly to fully get a handle on the consequences,  I spotted the top of a tree that had grown from the sidewalk, and just before the scurrying insects reached me on the wall I leapt -- right onto the tree, the leaves and branches striking my thrashing limbs as I hoped for purchase, and luckily didn't suffer too much damage as I landed on a sturdy branch and held on for dear life. 

   I only enjoyed a split-second of thinking I'd landed to safety, when I noticed the surging tide of insects flowing below the tree trunk along the sidewalk begin rapidly crawling up the tree towards me. . . My efforts at escaping them had been to no avail.   But in the manner of dreams, the scene shifted to a later moment, a short distance away, indicating I had managed to escape the strangely controlled tide of stinging insects.   I learned that the organization we were desperately attempting to avoid had access to nanotech that could control insects like this - nanotech that relied on AI and electromagnetic remote control methods to plan out insect plagues and attacks in this manner. 

    At one point in my series of disturbing dreams agents of this organization had caught up to us, and among them there were some men of differing heights, all clad in expensive business attire.  While some stood six feet tall, another was seven and a half feet tall, while one in particular towered at nearly nine feet, a massive humanoid working for the organization.  Somehow we escaped them, as the scene changed once again.   Perhaps the best part of this dream was the part when I was confronted by a small group of individuals who looked roughshod and, of course, I couldn't tell if they were friend or foe. 

    It soon became apparent they were allies, since one of them handed me some sticks of incense, and a small potato.  He instructed me in urgent tones, conveying a sense of vital importance for our continued safety, considering we were all being stalked by agents of the sinister organization that set off the "insect bomb" in the street market, earlier.  He told me to burn the incense and head in the direction the smoke goes, until we had traversed enough distance to reach safety, if only temporarily.  Then he insisted I dig a hole and "bury the potato."  And that's how it went afterward.  I detected the strident tones of a man who'd survived in the underground long enough to have gained some wisdom in certain techniques to help avoid the dangerous agents of this worldwide organization constantly hunting us all down.  And that thing about burying the potato is when I made the irrevocable deduction, which I take seriously in my waking life of our actual present world as I did in the dream itself.  This whole scenario I found myself in while dreaming had everything to do with our being immersed in the world of nanotech and the rapidly evolving development of AI.  Welcome to just one droplet of infusoria within the technological singularity.  You are swimming in it even as I type this, and absolutely while you are reading it, or listening to its message, perhaps even while you're enjoying yourself at a local street fair.  There's no need to dream or wonder about it any longer, what would the so-called technological singularity be like, really?  Just open your eyes and take a look around you.  Like it or not, we're in the very midst of it. 

 

    

The Gallus & the Zygote

    by Shunjinx Talonratios

   The relationship between the pantheon of mythical deities and demigods and their alleged ancestry having crossbred with humans at assorted points in history varies depending on the specific mythology or culture in question. Mythology is a complex and evolving body of stories, and the origins of these tales can be quite diverse. In general, it's often challenging to pinpoint a definitive "chicken or egg" scenario in mythology, as myths can evolve and adapt over time.

    Many myths and legends have developed over centuries through oral storytelling before being recorded in written form. As a result, their origins can be quite archaic and may not always be clear to modern sensibilities.  In some cases, religious beliefs may have influenced the development of myths, while in other cases, myths could have been created to explain religious concepts or rituals.

    Legends such as these often reflect the values, beliefs, and social structures of the cultures that created them. They can serve to explain the origins of important institutions, customs, or social hierarchies. Additionally, different cultures and regions may have variations of similar allegories, which can make it challenging to determine a single origin point.

   In the case of demigods or beings resulting from the crossbreeding of gods and humans, these stories can serve various purposes within a mythology; for example, demigods are often portrayed as possessing exceptional abilities due to their divine parentage. Allegories such as these can be used to explain why certain individuals have extraordinary talents or qualities. Not only that, but demigods can also symbolize the idea that humans have the potential for greatness or divinity within them, even if they are not full gods.

   The folk tales of demigods can reflect the cultural values and aspirations of a society. They can embody the idea that humans can aspire to greatness and connect with the divine. The relationship between the pantheon of mythical deities, demigods, and their fabled crossbreeding with humans is complex and can vary from one mythological tradition to another. It often involves a blend of cultural, religious, and storytelling elements, making it difficult to determine a single direction of influence. Myths tend to be dynamic and can evolve over time, adapting to the needs and beliefs of the societies that tell them.

Fractal Dragonography

   by Shaun Lawton 

 You got to dive deep to ride the Fractal Dragon. I mean, it doesn't just come undulating up towards and unfolding all around you in its radiant glory out of nowhere, not really, which is really rather telling, I suppose. With me, it started in 1982, when I was seventeen and subscribed to Omni magazine. I read that issue about fractals, and it captured my imagination. I think I did a report on them for a math or science class. How they resembled continental coastlines, as well as spiral galaxy and plant formations, right on down to the serrated edges of leaves, themselves similar to coastlines, in a manner that unfolds in the mind as naturally as an origami work of art. 

   By now you're not the only one beginning to get the picture, by certain degrees, we all are. Little by little the populace is affected in a combination of direct and indirect ways. The beautiful thing about the technological singularity is that it's not so important to understand how it works, as it is to realize it mirrors the patterns we've learned in life as a continuation, a shed echo of sorts, haunting the byways of our lives. To have our decaying old worlds mixed up in the steam of our waking dream is an all too common malady, I'm afraid. These demons are executed on the chopping block of time. But enough of fractal dragonography. What is it about us that can be made known? To find the answer to that, the Mandelbrot set seeks balance.  

   

 

   It sees itself in a reflection of seeing that it can't see a thing, revealing its oncoming blundering to the multi-eyed fractal dragon plunging through autumn to emerge in the spring, an explosion of variables thriving in perpetuity, alive and shining, a guiding light upon all the pioneers who have surfed the unknown into depths as of yet still unfathomed, 

to capture at the end of a tentacled grip the scope of a galaxy or an atom.   

   The fractal dragon is a shadow of an outline generated by a mathematical equation cast by the sunlight of intelligence.  It's the continually unfolding idea of a constantly ongoing phenomenon, the reaching forward to self identify becoming a look in the rearview mirror. Revealing a world codified into being from a margin without error.  Reflecting the fun house of reality we all become the heirs of. It's the hypothetical chimerical beast as much of a code as a chemical. It's charged with the insurgence at the very least of the electrical heart of the matter. It's symbolic of the dividing line in the operations of chance. It's the delineation which defines the shape of the matter at hand. A tool for remembering that endless twists may be just the beginning. Any fool can dream up dragons like an equation of mathematics. Once met eye to eye, there's no getting by the potential for turbulent self mockery. 

   

 

   When you stoop down by the riverside after dark under the bright full moon light

to see your own shadow's outline as a reflection blended into the town sky line, 

 the signals from the temples transmitted into the distant twilight echo on

for a long time to come, like the ripples on a pond during and after the rain. 

   All flow follows the rule of liquidity, having to do with the shape taken naturally after water. The molecular combination of hydrogen and oxygen is the shape of the keyhole 

that unlocks the equation of life and its inherent ability to flow forward,

as a relentless persuasion, or any other combination of iteration you care

to place before the scope laid out as a map before you: the cyber-lanes of information. 

   Fractal Dragonography, might as well call it.  It don't matter none, what they hear is how you see. We're all walking in file, along a thin line, after a glittering piece of bait from an angler's hook.  Nevermind that its grown out of our own foreheads. We are the self electrocuted unicorns from our own dream. Their antennae were the conduit we mistook for poacher's game, when it turned out to be the umbilical cord that held together the forest. Even the smallest micro-particles of water got carried out to the farthest away and driest of places. The glittering spiderweb mosaic lit up the darkness in a diamantine veil, over-shrouded. With the guideline of imagination, this map can help us toward any achievement in conscientious auto-evolution (to be cont.)...