MMTT4S - Seven Sisters

Captain's Log: 17 July 2019, Earth...still

I'm a hopeless dreamer. Because of that I also tend to be a closet conspiracy theorist, a believer in UFO's, a dragonfly whisperer, wielder of the Force (doesn't always work), inner Walter Mitty channeler, and viewer of the History Channel's show Ancient Aliens. 

Image courtesy of starwars.com

I believe that we simply cannot explain everything. I think we are beings that must rely on belief and faith to not only to have a meaningful existence here on Earth, but to make it through our existence here as well. We learn new things every day. That should be a priority for us as a people and also for each of us individually. 

I believe we will make contact with aliens from another planet one day.

That is, if we haven't already done so. That's an interesting topic for a much lengthier conversation, though.

Image courtesy of
Amazon.com

Today's tune is the second in a series to help us celebrate our "one giant leap for mankind" as Neal Armstrong put it so perfectly. In the song, Jimmy brings in a character from one of his best-selling novels Where is Joe Merchant.  In his tale, Buffett introduces us to Desdemona, who believes she can communicate with aliens and, in an effort to reach the Pleiades constellation,  she attempts to build a rocket ship, which doubles as a bakery while "under construction." The song "Desdemona's Building a Rocket Ship" comes directly from the story. It has a catchy bridge that mentions the Pleiades. 

Image of the Pleiades Constellation
courtesy of earthsky.org

From Greek mythology, the Pleiades were the seven daughters of Atlas, a Titan. Zeus turned the sisters into a cluster of stars because Orion the hunter pursued them so heavily. Orion, then became a constellation to continue his pursuit of the sisters, which he continues to do every night in the darkened heavens. 

Myths were a way to explain the unknown universe. Science has helped us discover actuality, but there are still plenty of inexplicable events that science has thus far been unable to clarify. So, even though we know that the Pleiades are stars and not sisters, could they be calling to the Desdemonas out there? Maybe.

Is there life out there? Are there aliens? I kinda hope so. It would seem to be such a waste of space otherwise. If we ever do encounter them (unless we, of course, have not already), I hope the meeting is a positive one. We have enough complications with our own species to add another problematic one. I like the portrayal in the movie Contact. Then again, Don Henley claims that aliens are "not here" and "they're not coming...not in a million years," in his song "They're Not Here...They're Not Coming." He argues that we really don't offer much of an incentive ("McNuggets?"). Could be. 

In any case, fifty years ago when we took that giant leap, we may have also taken a baby step in reaching out to some cosmic neighbor from light years away. So, enjoy today's tune, it can be found on Jimmy's Banana Wind CD,  and continue your celebration of Apollo 11's successful mission to the Moon. 

Info book from Banana Wind CD

Adios, amigos! Earth out.

This Light Show a Nature-Inspired By-Product - Experiences in Amazement, Part III

AKA - Light Show III. In contrast to the previous 2 posts (fireflies, lightning), the only natural aspect to this edition involves the surroundings and not the show itself. Still, an awe-inspiring moment nonetheless.  

Driving on the flat plains of west Texas bores some to tears. To me, though, the slowly (very slowly) rolling landscape of mesquite scrub resembles an open petrified ocean, freeze dried and converted to earth in some cosmic flash. Change the hues from sandy clay to deep blues and dark emeralds and replace the occasional cell tower to a trawler and you're offshore in the Atlantic.  

The terrain carries a unique beauty that stretches for hundreds of miles, painted by the most vivid, molten sunsets seen anywhere. Typically, flat top hills sporadically line the horizon at various distances - fossilized rogue waves to this sea lover's imagination. The only objects that confuse this whole creative dusty-dry to salty-soaked transformation are the occasional oil wells. If I stretch it, they could be buoys. Maybe. Too much of a jump, though, even for me.

Now, though, the wells have been joined by another intrusion of man into this wild landscape. A drive down Texas Highway 84 from Snyder to Sweetwater will present the driver with a sea of wind turbines. Thousands of smooth white blades slowly twirl atop mammoth obelisks, all facing the same direction, not too unlike sunflowers following the sun, except these space-age machines move with the wind. The view is surreal, to say the least. In the midst of pure ruggedness have sprouted acres upon acres of these perfectly symmetrical giants, completely throwing off nature's own rougher symmetry. And yet, it's strangely mesmerizing, peaceful possibly. Not necessarily disappointing, like a beachfront McDonald's on Fiji. Rather, it works in some odd way.  

By day, the scene catches the eye and keeps luring it back. Thankfully, stretches of the road provide little, if any, traffic, making it easier on the wandering eye. But at night, oh at night, is when "the moment" happens. It completely pops when driving south from Snyder, thanks to the fall from something of a shelf that drops you into the valley of the turbine farm. When following this path in the nighttime's dark blanket, dimly lit by a sky full of sparkling silver stars, one must make a conscious effort to refrain from applying the breaks, pulling to the side of the road, and placing a call to UFO Central. It really looks like the mother ship has landed. The mother of all mother ships!. And if the visitors occupying this behemoth aren't friendly, we're toast. For on top of each of the wind turbines is a blinking red light, like those on any tower that may interfere with air travel. But, here's the part that causes immediate jaw-droppage, the lights are synchronized. Yes. They all blink at the same time. 

The unison of red pulses hypnotically grasps everyone in the vehicle, and the wide-eyed gregorian chants soon begin.

 

"Ooohhh woowww."

"Maaaaann."

"Thaaaat'ssAaawwwessooomme."

"WwhhhooooooooaaaaaaaaDuuude."

 

That last chant was mine.

As we make the slow, not very steep, not very elevated descent into this transformed landscape, the feeling is a very otherworldly type of coolness. Even though the illumination is man-made, the sheer area covered makes the scene as impressive as nature's synchronized light show performed by the Congaree Lightning Bugs that we were lucky enough to catch earlier in the summer. This is indeed another rare "wow" moment. That makes a trifecta for the summer, which may qualify as a moment in and of itself. And to think, summer's not yet over. Are the moments of cosmic alignment, when amazement and wonder converge for a brief moment for those awake enough to recognize them, over for now? I'll let you know, but I have a feeling...