Getting to the essence

One of the fastest-growing areas of alternative medicine is "essential oils."

Essential oils are at least something real; it's one step better than homeopathy, for example, which is charging money for water and/or sugar pills from which all biologically active compounds have been removed by serial dilution.  These oils are concentrated extracts of plants containing aromatic compounds, which the plants themselves make for a variety of reasons, including discouraging insects from eating the leaves, attracting pollinators, or encouraging animals to eat the fruits and disperse the seeds.

The claim is that these oils have positive health effects of all sorts, but when you start looking deeper, you find that a lot of times, what the essential oil companies have to say is pretty vague.  Here's one typical example, and a few representative quotes from the website:

• What are essential oils good for?  Since long ago, people have used essential oils and plant parts to improve their lives.  We’ve continued to explore their benefits today, finding that essential oils can be integrated into daily life for a plethora of purposes.
• What makes essential oils effective?...  The variety of essential oils allows you to naturally and effectively address your specific concerns.  With so many essential oils available, you can tailor them to your specific wants and needs rather than be forced to settle for a generic solution.  This makes essential oils a popular choice for those looking for the best natural solutions in the modern era.  The verstaility [sic] of essential oils is part of what has made them so popular in recent years.  People love that they can use essential oils for a variety of tasks, without having to buy multiple products.
• How do you use essential oils effectively?  Rest assured that you don’t have to be an expert to enjoy the wide array of benefits that essential oils offer.  All you really need is a basic understanding of how to apply essential oils safely and simply as part of your daily routine.

So, in essence *rimshot* -- oils are good because they've been used by people for a long time, they're all-natural, and they smell nice.  We know this because... um... reasons.  Each one is useful for something different, because they're so versatile.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Stephanie (strph) from Oklahoma City, USA, Teatreeoil, CC BY-SA 2.0]

The problem is, there's little scientific support for the claim that they'll accomplish anything but making you smell nice.  The site HealthLine has a page on essential oils, and you can tell they really really want to say how great they are, but can't quite find a way to do so without lying outright.  Over and over, they say things like this:

• It’s thought that certain application methods can improve absorption, such as applying with heat or to different areas of the body.  However, research in this area is lacking.
• [S]ome people claim that essential oils can exert a physical effect on your body.  However, this has yet to be confirmed in studies.
• Despite their widespread use, little is known about the ability of essential oils to treat certain health conditions.
• [D]ue to the scents of the compounds, it’s hard to conduct blinded studies and rule out biases.  Thus, many reviews on the stress- and anxiety-relieving effects of essential oils have been inconclusive.

Even so, HealthLine has a list of particular oils and what they can be used for -- which is more than a little disingenuous.

The problem is, we now know that beyond essential oils probably not doing anything positive for your health -- they can also be dangerous.

A study that came out a couple of weeks ago in the journal Epilepsy Research looked at a group of seizure sufferers in India, and found something staggering.  Here's a quote from The Academic Times that summarizes what they discovered:

[P]atients at four South Indian hospitals who had a seizure were evaluated for the use of camphor and eucalyptus essential oils.  Analyzing 350 seizure cases that spanned a four-year period, researchers found that 15.7%, or the seizures of 55 of the patients, may have been induced by the inhalation, ingestion, or topical use of essential oils.

Now, if you're gonna shout at me that this is correlation, not causation -- that the oil use may have been present in the patients, but not caused the seizures -- check out the next bit:

The patients were asked to stop their exposure to these essential oils and the products that contained them.  The researchers then followed up with the patients for a period of 1-3 years to monitor any recurrence of seizures.  All of the non-epileptic patients had been treated with anti-seizure medication, but for only two to four weeks following their first seizure, and none of them had a recurrence of seizures in the entire 1-3 year monitoring period after stopping their exposure to essential oils.  And 94% of the epileptic patients also remained seizure-free during the follow-up period.

Not proof, but certainly mighty suggestive.

A couple of years ago the journal Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine published an article describing a comprehensive overview of essential oils and their connection to seizures.  The results: some essential oils have potential uses as anticonvulsants, but a much longer list have been associated with causing seizures.  Which, if you know any chemistry, is exactly what you'd expect; each essential oil contains a different set of compounds, so each one is going to interact with your body differently, and carry with it its own set of potential benefits and risks.  

But that's not what the people selling essential oils tell you.  Their claim is that they're all beneficial, then wave their hands around when you ask them how they know this.  (This is called the package-deal fallacy, and is exactly the same mistake a lot of anti-GMO people make; they say "GMO = bad" without acknowledging that since clearly all genes don't do the same thing, implanting said genes in other organisms isn't going to have the same effect for each, good or bad.)

And one other thing: if an alternative health practice is getting the suspicious side-eye from Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine -- which I'd expect to be biased toward stuff like this -- it's worth listening to.

So if you're using essential oils, it might be prudent to stop.  Or at least investigate what, if anything, scientists know about the specific essential oil you like to use.  The vast majority of evidence is that other than smelling nice, they're probably not doing much for you, and there is an increasing body of data suggesting that some of them have a real potential for dangerous side-effects.

I'll just end with a quote from the inimitable Tim Minchin, who in his brilliant monologue/poem "Storm," says, "There's a name for alternative medicine that works.  It's called... medicine."

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When people think of mass extinctions, the one that usually comes to mind first is the Cretaceous-Tertiary Extinction of 66 million years ago, the one that wiped out all the non-avian dinosaurs and a good many species of other types.  It certainly was massive -- current estimates are that it killed between fifty and sixty percent of the species alive at the time -- but it was far from the biggest.

The largest mass extinction ever took place 251 million years ago, and it destroyed over ninety percent of life on Earth, taking out whole taxa and changing the direction of evolution permanently.  But what could cause a disaster on this scale?

In When Life Nearly Died: The Greatest Mass Extinction of All Time, University of Bristol paleontologist Michael Benton describes an event so catastrophic that it beggars the imagination.  Following researchers to outcrops of rock from the time of the extinction, he looks at what was lost -- trilobites, horn corals, sea scorpions, and blastoids (a starfish relative) vanished completely, but no group was without losses.  Even terrestrial vertebrates, who made it through the bottleneck and proceeded to kind of take over, had losses on the order of seventy percent.

He goes through the possible causes for the extinction, along with the evidence for each, along the way painting a terrifying picture of a world that very nearly became uninhabited.  It's a grim but fascinating story, and Benton's expertise and clarity of writing makes it a brilliant read.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Cats and quakes

I ran across two stories yesterday that fall squarely into the "You People Do Realize You Have Bigger Problems To Worry About, Right?" department.

In the first, we have a senior Saudi cleric who has issued a fatwa on people taking selfies with cats.  Well, not just with cats.  Also with wolves.  But since cat selfies are way more common than wolf selfies (more's the pity), I can see why he specifically mentioned the cats.

The subject came up because of a question asked at a talk that Sheikh Saleh Bin Fawzan Al-Fawzan was giving, in which someone asked about a "new trend of taking pictures with cats which has been spreading among people who want to be like westerners."  Al-Fazwan was aghast.

"What?" he asked.  "What do you mean, pictures with cats?"

Because that's evidently an ambiguous phrase, or something.  Maybe it has subtleties in Arabic I don't know about.

So the questioner clarified, and after he got over his outrage, Al-Fazwan gave his declaration.  "Taking pictures is prohibited," he said.  "The cats don't matter here."

Which is kind of odd, given that he was being filmed at the time.  But rationality has never been these people's strong suit.

"Taking pictures is prohibited if not for a necessity," Al-Fazwan went on to say.  "Not with cats, not with dogs, not with wolves, not with anything."

Wipe that smirk off your face, young lady.  Allah does not approve of you and Mr. Whiskers.

So alrighty, then.  Now that we've got that settled, let's turn to another thing a prominent Muslim cleric is worrying about, which is: gay sex.

Of course, gay sex seems to be on these people's minds a lot, and also on the minds of their siblings-under-the-skin the Christian evangelicals.  But this time, the cleric in question, Mallam Abass Mahmud of Ghana, has said that the practice is not only prohibited because it's naughty in Allah's sight (although it certainly is that as well), but because it causes...

... earthquakes.

"Allah gets annoyed when males engage in sexual encounter," Mahmud said in an interview, then went on to add, "Such disgusting encounter causes earthquakes."

As an example, he says that this is why Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed.  Although as I recall from my reading of Genesis chapter 19, it wasn't an earthquake in that case, but having "fire and brimstone rained down upon them... so that the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace."  But I guess since gays are apparently the most powerful force of nature known, there's no reason why they couldn't also cause a volcanic eruption or something.

On the other hand, if two guys having sex is causing the ground to shake, they must really be enjoying themselves.  I don't know whether to feel scared or jealous.

What crosses my mind with all of this is that there are a few more urgent concerns in the Muslim world than worrying about cat selfies and guys making love.  Human rights, tribalism, poverty, wealth inequity, corruption, terrorism, radical insurgencies, drought.  To name a few.  You have to wonder if focusing their followers on nonsense is simply a way of keeping the hoi polloi from realizing what a horror much of the Middle East has become under the leadership of people like this.

And given the reactions they got -- which, as far as I can tell, were mostly nodding in agreement -- it appears to be working.  So if you go to Saudi Arabia or Ghana, just remember: no kitty selfies or gay sex.  Or, Allah forfend, you and your gay lover having sex then celebrating by taking a photograph of the two of you with your cat.  That'd probably just cause the Earth to explode or fall into the Sun or something.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is pure fun: Arik Kershenbaum's The Zoologist's Guide to the Galaxy: What Animals on Earth Reveal About Aliens and Ourselves.  Kershenbaum tackles a question that has fascinated me for quite some time; is evolution constrained?  By which I mean, are the patterns you see in most animals on Earth -- aerobic cellular respiration, bilateral symmetry, a central information processing system/brain, sensory organs sensitive to light, sound, and chemicals, and sexual reproduction -- such strong evolutionary drivers that they are likely to be found in alien organisms?

Kershenbaum, who is a zoologist at the University of Cambridge, looks at how our environment (and the changes thereof over geological history) shaped our physiology, and which of those features would likely appear in species on different alien worlds.  In this fantastically entertaining book, he considers what we know about animals on Earth -- including some extremely odd ones -- and uses that to speculate about what we might find when we finally do make contact (or, at the very least, detect signs of life on an exoplanet using our earthbound telescopes).

It's a wonderfully fun read, and if you're fascinated with the idea that we might not be alone in the universe but still think of aliens as the Star Trek-style humans with body paint, rubber noses, and funny accents, this book is for you.  You'll never look at the night sky the same way again.

[Note: if you purchase this book from the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

The strange tale of the disappearing soldier

I've been interested in the paranormal for a long time.  It started with my uncle's scary stories about the feu follet and loup-garou, told in French, which were sufficient to scare myself and my cousins into the near pants-wetting stage, and yet which for some reason we demanded again and again.  Later I graduated to books with titles like Twenty Terrifying True Tales of the Supernatural, Real Ghost Stories, and Bigfoot: Legend Come to Life.  I supplemented this with my fiction reading, including Lovecraft and Poe, and watching shows like Kolchak: The Night Stalker.  (With all of this, it's no wonder that I developed serious insomnia as a teenager, an ailment that continues to plague me today, four and a half decades later.)

Anyhow, all of this is meant to underscore the fact that I've read a lot of supposedly true paranormal stories.  So it always is with a bit of pleasant surprise that I run into one I've never heard before -- something that happened yesterday, when a loyal reader of Skeptophilia sent me a link telling the tale of Gil Pérez, the 16th century Spanish soldier who supposedly teleported from the Philippines to Mexico City.

The story goes like this. In October of 1593, a man showed up in the Plaza Mayor of Mexico City, disheveled and disoriented.  He was questioned by authorities, and said that moments before, he'd been on guard duty, had felt dizzy, and leaned against a wall and closed his eyes.  He opened them to find himself in Plaza Mayor...

... but moments earlier, he'd been in Manila.

Plaza Mayor in Mexico City, where Gil Pérez appeared out of nowhere [Image is in the Public Domain]

The authorities at the time were deeply Roman Catholic, and anything like this smacked of witchcraft, so they locked him up, charging him with desertion and consorting with the devil.  Pérez said that he had no idea how he'd gotten there, but it had nothing to do with Satan -- and as proof, he said that they had just gotten word that day of the assassination of Philippine Governor Gómez Pérez Dasmariñas by Chinese pirates, and that proved that he'd just been in Manila.

Of course, back then, there was no way to verify such information quickly, so poor Pérez was confined to the jail for two months until a group that had come from Manila showed up in Mexico City.  Sure enough, one of the people in the group not only recognized Pérez, but said his uniform was the correct one for the Philippine guard -- and Pérez had indeed been there, on duty, when Dasmariñas was murdered two months earlier, but had disappeared without a trace and had not been seen since.

At that point, the authorities let Pérez go, he joined the Philippine delegation, and eventually found his way back home.  Why the charges of black magic were dropped is unknown; after all, even if he hadn't deserted, there was still the problem that he seemed to have gone halfway around the globe in seconds.  But maybe they were just as happy to make him someone else's problem.  In any case, what happened to Pérez afterwards is not recorded.

The problem, of course, is that these sort of folk legends usually have a rather unfortunate genealogy, and that certainly is true here.  The version of the story I've related above comes from a 1908 issue of Harper's Magazine, written by American folklorist Thomas Allibone Janvier.  Janvier said he got the story from a 1900 collection of Mexican tales by Luis Gonzáles Obregón, and Obregón said that he learned of it from the 1609 writings of Philippine Governor Antonio de Morga, who said that "Dasmariñas's death was known in Mexico the day it happened," although he didn't know how that could possibly be.

Others have noticed similarities between the tale and Washington Irving's story "Governor Manco and the Soldier" which appeared in Tales of the Alhambra in 1832.  So it's entirely possible that an offhand, and unsubstantiated, comment by de Morga was picked up and elaborated by Obregón, then picked up and elaborated further by Janvier, with some help along the way from Irving's (fictional) tale.

In any case, it's an intriguing story.  I'm always more fond of these open-ended tales -- the ones where everything gets tied up neatly in the end always seem to me to be too pat even to consider accepting them as real.  But this one -- Pérez's mysterious disappearance and reappearance were never explained, he vanished into obscurity afterwards, and nothing more came of it -- those are the ones that captivate interest, because that's usually the way reality works.  It's why my all-time favorite "true tale of the supernatural," the story of Nurse Black, still gives me the shudders every time I think about it.

Not, of course, that I think that the story of Pérez is true; it's simply that the more realistic a tale is, the more likely I am to be interested in it.  And after all of these years steeped in the paranormal, to find one I'd never heard of before was a lot of fun.

  

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is pure fun: Arik Kershenbaum's The Zoologist's Guide to the Galaxy: What Animals on Earth Reveal About Aliens and Ourselves.  Kershenbaum tackles a question that has fascinated me for quite some time; is evolution constrained?  By which I mean, are the patterns you see in most animals on Earth -- aerobic cellular respiration, bilateral symmetry, a central information processing system/brain, sensory organs sensitive to light, sound, and chemicals, and sexual reproduction -- such strong evolutionary drivers that they are likely to be found in alien organisms?

Kershenbaum, who is a zoologist at the University of Cambridge, looks at how our environment (and the changes thereof over geological history) shaped our physiology, and which of those features would likely appear in species on different alien worlds.  In this fantastically entertaining book, he considers what we know about animals on Earth -- including some extremely odd ones -- and uses that to speculate about what we might find when we finally do make contact (or, at the very least, detect signs of life on an exoplanet using our earthbound telescopes).

It's a wonderfully fun read, and if you're fascinated with the idea that we might not be alone in the universe but still think of aliens as the Star Trek-style humans with body paint, rubber noses, and funny accents, this book is for you.  You'll never look at the night sky the same way again.

[Note: if you purchase this book from the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Skipping the comments

A few days ago I was casting about for topics for Skeptophilia, and was perusing that amazing clearinghouse for everything from the profound to the ridiculous, Reddit.

I ran into a link to a Science Daily article about some delightful research that came out of a collaboration between physicists at four different universities in China, which centered on the physics of skipping rocks.  I absolutely love skipping rocks, and whenever I'm by a lake I will spend inordinate amounts of time finding, and then slinging, the most perfectly flat stones I can find, trying to beat my record (which stands at thirteen skips).

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Killy Ridols, Stone skimming -Patagonia-9Mar2010, CC BY-SA 2.0]

The math in the original research is way way beyond my ability to understand, despite my bachelor's degree in physics (but to be fair, I kind of sucked as a physics student).  The reader is put on notice that it's going to be rough going immediately, because the first thing the authors do is to define no fewer than 49 different variables they considered in modeling the behavior of a skipping stone.

So I went back to the summary in Science Daily, and found a nicely dumbed-down explanation of what they'd done.  They used an aluminum disk launched by an air compressor in place of the typical round stone and person's arm, with a motorized feature that started the disk spinning at a chosen rate before launch.  Attached to the disk was a set of sensors that monitored the disk while in flight, because -- as you know if you're a rock-skipper -- it can all happen so fast that it's hard to keep track of all-important data like how much the rock's path curves (and which direction), the angle your rock hits the water, and the number of skips you get.

The upshot of it was that the rate of spin is critical, because spinning induces the gyroscopic effect and stabilizes the pitch of the rock as it flies.  Less intuitively obvious, to me at least, is that the vertical acceleration of the rock has to be higher than a certain threshold (which turns out to be about four times the acceleration due to gravity) in order for the stone to bounce.

So I thought all this was pretty cool -- taking a familiar phenomenon and explaining how complex it really is using mathematical modeling.

Then I did what you should never, ever, ever do.

I looked at the comments section.

I swear, I should get fitted out with something like those "Invisible Fence" dog collars, only instead of zapping me when I cross a line on our property, it would zap me when I try to look at the comments section.  Any comments section.  Because I started sputtering with rage almost immediately, when I saw comments like these -- which, for the record, are reproduced here verbatim, because I don't want to write sic over and over:

• This is what scientists do?  Spend their time fucking around throwing rocks in the water.  How about doing stuff that might actually help people.
• I cant believe our tax dollars is going to pay for bullshit "research" like this.
• Whats next, the physics of yoyos?
• Yeah I believe it.  Liberal loonies love this kind of stuff.  Waste of time.
• SMH you can't make this shit up
• Whose approving these grant appliactions?  FFS no wonder nooone trusts scientists to tell the truth when there playing kids games instead of working.

More sensitive readers may want to plug their ears.

WILL ALL OF YOU ANTI-SCIENTIFIC, ILLITERATE YAHOOS KNUCKLE-DRAG YOUR WAY BACK TO YOUR CAVES, AND LEAVE THE INTELLECTUAL COMMENTARY TO PEOPLE WHO HAVE AN ACTUAL INTELLECT?

I mean, really.

First of all, zero American tax dollars were spent on this study, because the entire thing was done in China.  I know we Americans have a regrettable tendency to think "America" = "the entire world," but all you have to do is look at the author affiliation list, or even the line in the Science Daily summary that says the research was done by "scientists from several universities in China."  And while the research itself studied stone-skipping, the model has applications to a lot of important stuff, which you'd have figured out if you bothered to look at the very first line of the original paper: "Although skipping stones seems like a time-honored pastime, an in-depth study of this game is of vital importance for the understanding of the water landing of space flight re-entry vehicles and aircraft, hull slamming, antitorpedo and antisubmarine water entry, etc."

And even if the researchers hadn't pointed out in the introduction to the paper exactly what the potential applications are, I absolutely abhor the attitude that pure research -- investigating a scientific question without regard to immediate utility -- is useless.  It's worth pointing out how many times what seemed like "nothing more than pure research" generated something that turned out to be incredibly important.  Here are a few examples that come to mind:

1. Two researchers, George Beadle and Edward Tatum, were researching nutrition in a mold called Neurospora, and were particularly interested in why some strains of Neurospora starved to death even when given adequate amounts of food.  Their research generated the concept of "one gene-one protein" -- the basis of our understanding of how genes control traits.
2. Charles Richet was studying how the toxin of a rare species of jellyfish affects the body.  His research led to the discovery of how anaphylactic shock works -- and the development of the epi pen, saving countless lives from death because of bee sting allergies, nut allergies, and so on.
3. Wilhelm Röntgen was researching the newly-invented cathode-ray tube, which at that point had no practical applications whatsoever.  That is, he was playing around.  He noticed that when he activated the tube, even though it was completely covered, some fluorescent papers at the other end of the room began to glow in the dark. He had just discovered x-rays.
4. Alexander Fleming was something of a ne'er-do-well in the scientific world. He did a lot of raising of bacteria on plates, and his favorite hobby was to take brightly-colored species of bacteria and paint them on agar media to make pictures.  One day, a mold spore blew in and landed on one of his picture-cultures and spoiled it.  His further messing-about with how the mold spoiled the culture led to the discovery of the first antibiotic, penicillin.
5. Roy Plunkett was working with gases that could be used to quickly cool vessels in scientific experiments, and after one failure he found that the vessel was left coated with a slick substance.  He eventually named it "Teflon."

See why I get a little impatient?

But I think what gets me most about this whole thing, and comments sections in general, is how people who are obviously ignorant on a subject still feel like their opinions have relevance.  I have a lot of faults, but at least I try not to pontificate on topics I know nothing about.

It once again reminds me of the wonderful quote by Isaac Asimov: "Anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.'"

So, that's my maddening excursion of the day.  To the scientists who did the skipping-stone study, I'll say, "Bravo."  To the people who responded to it with sneers and snarls, I'll say, "Until you learn some science, shut the fuck up."  And to the Invisible Fence people, I'll reiterate my request for a Comments-Section Collar.  I bet you could make some serious cash selling those.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is pure fun: Arik Kershenbaum's The Zoologist's Guide to the Galaxy: What Animals on Earth Reveal About Aliens and Ourselves.  Kershenbaum tackles a question that has fascinated me for quite some time; is evolution constrained?  By which I mean, are the patterns you see in most animals on Earth -- aerobic cellular respiration, bilateral symmetry, a central information processing system/brain, sensory organs sensitive to light, sound, and chemicals, and sexual reproduction -- such strong evolutionary drivers that they are likely to be found in alien organisms?

Kershenbaum, who is a zoologist at the University of Cambridge, looks at how our environment (and the changes thereof over geological history) shaped our physiology, and which of those features would likely appear in species on different alien worlds.  In this fantastically entertaining book, he considers what we know about animals on Earth -- including some extremely odd ones -- and uses that to speculate about what we might find when we finally do make contact (or, at the very least, detect signs of life on an exoplanet using our earthbound telescopes).

It's a wonderfully fun read, and if you're fascinated with the idea that we might not be alone in the universe but still think of aliens as the Star Trek-style humans with body paint, rubber noses, and funny accents, this book is for you.  You'll never look at the night sky the same way again.

[Note: if you purchase this book from the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Couplespeak

Like a lot of couples, my wife and I have a great many inside jokes and turns of phrase that amuse us no end but must puzzle the hell out of everyone else.

Part of the reason, of course, is that we've been together for over twenty years, and during that time shared experience has given us a rich reservoir to draw from.  Sometimes, it's a combination of two or more memories that gives words their relevance, and those are even harder to explain should anyone ask.  For example, I ended a series of texts with my wife a couple of weeks ago, "Thank you, Bloopie," and she started laughing so hard she was afraid her coworkers would come in and demand to know what was so funny, which would have required her to explain that it was a combination of bits from Seinfeld and an obscure British spoof of middle school educational videos called Look Around You, and there was no way the explanation would have elicited anything more than puzzled head tilts and questions about why that was even funny.

Another example is why we always laugh when we hear Bill Withers's song "Ain't No Sunshine," the lyrics of which are anything but funny.  This one is at least explainable; when we were in Spain about fifteen years ago we rented a room for the night in a B&B, and the guy in the next room spent what seemed like hours practicing the trombone.  Amongst his Greatest Hits was -- I kid you not -- "Ain't No Sunshine."

He seemed to particularly enjoy the "WOMP WOMP WOMP" part at the end of each line.

The whole subject comes up because of a paper a couple of weeks ago in the Journal of Communication, which gave the results of a longitudinal study of communication between couples as they moved deeper -- and subsequently, sometimes out of -- relationships.  Instead of verbal communication, which would have required the participants to recall accurately what they'd said, the researchers used text messages, and found, perhaps unsurprisingly, that as relationships progress, the language of the texts becomes more and more similar.

The research, done by Miriam Brinberg (Pennsylvania State University) and Nilam Ram (Stanford University), looked at three parts of electronic communication: syntactic alignment (sentence structure, use of the different parts of speech, use of punctuation), semantic alignment (word meaning, including similarity of word choice where there's more than one way of expressing the same concept), and overall alignment (including features like the use of shortcuts like "omwh" for "on my way home").  They found that at the beginning of a romantic relationship, all three of them converge fairly quickly, and the process of becoming more similar continues -- albeit at a slower pace -- thereafter.

One interesting potential direction for further research is whether both partners shifted their speech, or if one of them moved more than the other.  "There's some research in this area that looks at power dynamics," study co-author Brinberg said, in an interview with The Academic Times.  "For example, in a job interview, the interviewee might make their language more similar to the interviewer to indicate they are more similar to them, or employees may alter their language to match that of their supervisor.  As with those examples, one might wonder if, in romantic relationship formation, there is one person who is changing their language to match the other."

In my own case, it doesn't seem like one of us altered our language use further than the other; more that we both gradually picked up phrases that then had a shared meaning.  The one exception I can think of is that there's been an unequal trade in words from our respective ethnic backgrounds.  My wife, who is Jewish, has a great many words and phrases from Yiddish that are incredibly expressive, explaining why I now use words like bupkis and verklempt and schvitz and schmutz.  Carol has picked up fewer French words from me, although I know that she's used words like macacries (Cajun French for "knick-knacks") even though there's a perfectly good Yiddish word for the same concept (tchotckies).  Other than that, I think most of the French words she's learned from me have to do with cooking, which I suppose makes sense.

But it's a fascinating phenomenon.  Language is much more than flat denotative meaning; there are wide shades and gradations of connotation that can be extremely subtle, one reason why it's so hard to learn a second (or third or fourth) language fluently.  I still remember my Intro to Linguistics professor explaining the difference between denotation and connotation using the example of "Have a nice day" versus "I hope you manage to enjoy your next twenty-four hours."

If there are cultural nuances that would be difficult to explain to a non-native speaker, consider that within those there are additional personal nuances that might be incomprehensible outside of the small number of people in the in-group who "get it," making the interpretation of informal speech a lot more complex than you might have guessed.

So that's our excursion into the subtleties of linguistics for today.  Now, I gotta go get ready for work, and I need to take a shower and wash off the schvitz and schmutz.  Can't show up looking all verklempt.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is pure fun: Arik Kershenbaum's The Zoologist's Guide to the Galaxy: What Animals on Earth Reveal About Aliens and Ourselves.  Kershenbaum tackles a question that has fascinated me for quite some time; is evolution constrained?  By which I mean, are the patterns you see in most animals on Earth -- aerobic cellular respiration, bilateral symmetry, a central information processing system/brain, sensory organs sensitive to light, sound, and chemicals, and sexual reproduction -- such strong evolutionary drivers that they are likely to be found in alien organisms?

Kershenbaum, who is a zoologist at the University of Cambridge, looks at how our environment (and the changes thereof over geological history) shaped our physiology, and which of those features would likely appear in species on different alien worlds.  In this fantastically entertaining book, he considers what we know about animals on Earth -- including some extremely odd ones -- and uses that to speculate about what we might find when we finally do make contact (or, at the very least, detect signs of life on an exoplanet using our earthbound telescopes).

It's a wonderfully fun read, and if you're fascinated with the idea that we might not be alone in the universe but still think of aliens as the Star Trek-style humans with body paint, rubber noses, and funny accents, this book is for you.  You'll never look at the night sky the same way again.

[Note: if you purchase this book from the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Misery loves creativity

I have bad news for those of you who enjoy being creative: a new study has suggested that a key ingredient in crafting timeless masterpieces is unhappiness.

As a fiction writer, I've been fascinated for years with the question of where creativity comes from.  While some of the ideas that have inspired my writing come from readily identifiable sources, a lot of my stories had their genesis in the mysterious "it just popped into my head" phenomenon.  I've talked to a lot of writers about this, and many of them have had the experience of feeling as if their inspiration came, literally, from outside of their own minds.

And like many writers (and artists and musicians) I have had serious dry spells, when the inspiration simply didn't want to come.  I keep writing through those -- I've found that the best way to push through writer's block is to throw some discipline at it -- but I won't say that what I produce during those times has much of the spark I look for when I critique my own work.  The best writing comes during times when the ideas leap into my mind unannounced, from heaven-only-knows-where.

But take a look at this study, which indicates that what I may be missing in my life is a good dose of plain, old-fashioned misery.

Entitled "How Are You, My Dearest Mozart?  Well-being and Creativity of Three Famous Composers Based on their Letters," this paper in the Review of Economics and Statistics by economist and statistician Karol Jan Borowiecki of the University of Southern Denmark analyzes the letters and diaries of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Ludwig van Beethoven, and Franz Liszt, and attempts to correlate the use of words indicating level of well-being with their productivity.

Not only their productivity in quantity, but in quality.  He looked at the timing of composition of works that "made a significant contribution to the classical canon," not just how many compositions they'd been able to churn out per month.  And the highest productivity, both in quality and quantity, came during the times these composers were most likely to use words like "sadness," "hurt," "grief," and "nervous."

"An increase in negative emotions by about 36.7 percent inspires one additional important composition the following year," Borowiecki writes.  "Since depression is strongly related to sadness, and is sometimes even defined as a state of chronic sadness, this result comes very close to previous claims made by psychologists that depression leads to increased creativity."

Factors that tended to decrease creative output were being in a happy marriage and finding a permanent position with its attendant job security.

Don't tell him to cheer up -- maybe he's working on a masterpiece.  [Image is in the Public Domain]

As an aside, I recall hearing a while back on my favorite classical music radio station that there was an inquiry done into which of the famous composers had the most happy, well-balanced lives.  Some were clearly pretty awful -- Robert Schumann, who ended his life in an insane asylum, comes to mind -- but it was interesting that the winner of the happiest life contest was Franz Josef Haydn.

He of the 104 full-length symphonies. 

So Borowiecki's result is certainly not the whole story.  On the other hand, it's made me wonder if the reason I've had the attention span of a hyperactive fruit fly recently every time I sit down to get some writing done on my current work-in-progress is because I'm enjoying the beautiful spring weather too much.  Should I tell my wife that I'm sick of her being nice to me and bringing me glasses of wine and giving me shoulder rubs, that it'd be better for my muse if she gave me the silent treatment, or just smacked me in the head every so often?  Maybe even the companionship of my ever-cheerful dog is dampening my creativity.  Maybe I should get a pet that is perfectly content viewing me with sneering disdain, or even ignoring my existence completely.

Like a cat, or something.

As interesting as this study is, I'm not sure that's the approach, frankly.  All of us creative types see ebbs and flows of our output, and the fact that I've had some unproductive moments in the last few months shouldn't concern me.  Nor, I think, should it make me seek out ways to be more miserable.  It might be that the dark side of human existence can generate beautiful works of art, writing, or music -- listen to the second movement of Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata for a wonderful example of heart-wringing pathos -- but without joy as an inspiration, we'd never have had the "Bergamasca" from Ottorino Respighi's Ancient Airs and Dances, my vote for one of the most purely exuberant moments in all of classical music.

So it's a mixed bag, as you might expect.  The most creative minds weave the entirety of human experience into their works, and draw on all aspects of emotion to color what they create.  We may be no closer to understanding where creativity itself comes from, but if we can take our pain and sometimes distill it into something beautiful, at least it gives us something to carry us forward when we're at our lowest points.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is pure fun: Arik Kershenbaum's The Zoologist's Guide to the Galaxy: What Animals on Earth Reveal About Aliens and Ourselves.  Kershenbaum tackles a question that has fascinated me for quite some time; is evolution constrained?  By which I mean, are the patterns you see in most animals on Earth -- aerobic cellular respiration, bilateral symmetry, a central information processing system/brain, sensory organs sensitive to light, sound, and chemicals, and sexual reproduction -- such strong evolutionary drivers that they are likely to be found in alien organisms?

Kershenbaum, who is a zoologist at the University of Cambridge, looks at how our environment (and the changes thereof over geological history) shaped our physiology, and which of those features would likely appear in species on different alien worlds.  In this fantastically entertaining book, he considers what we know about animals on Earth -- including some extremely odd ones -- and uses that to speculate about what we might find when we finally do make contact (or, at the very least, detect signs of life on an exoplanet using our earthbound telescopes).

It's a wonderfully fun read, and if you're fascinated with the idea that we might not be alone in the universe but still think of aliens as the Star Trek-style humans with body paint, rubber noses, and funny accents, this book is for you.  You'll never look at the night sky the same way again.

[Note: if you purchase this book from the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

I felt the earth move under my feet

Some of you probably recall the highly scientific 1990 nature documentary Tremors, wherein Kevin Bacon has to battle gigantic worms that can tunnel through rock, and which have evolved such sophisticated sensory organs that they can feel your footsteps and follow you until an opportune moment to pop up and eat you for lunch, yet are still stupid enough to die from running into the wall of an aqueduct or launching themselves out of a cliff face in the fashion of Wile E. Coyote being shot from the barrel of an Acme E-Z Cannon.

The reason this comes up is because of a piece of research in the journal Geology, which I can confidently assert would have reminded no one else in the entire world of Tremors, but I'm not responsible for how my brain works, and I figure if on some level you didn't enjoy free association, you wouldn't be here.  Anyhow, the paper is titled "Eruption Risks from Covert Silicic Magma Bodies," which as you can tell from the title has zero to do with giant carnivorous worms, but does have to do with the fact that there seem to be dangerous and undetected pockets of magma underground that can be located by their seismic traces.

(See the connection?  See?  The tagline for Tremors is "They say there's nothing new under the sun, but under the ground...".  I rest my case.)

What spurred the four geologists who wrote the paper -- Shane M. Rooyakkers, John Stix, and Kim Berlo (of McGill University), Maurizio Petrelli (of Università degli Studi di Perugia), and Freysteinn Sigmundsson (of the University of Iceland - Reykjavík) -- were three instances of what they euphemistically call "Unintentional encounters with silicic magma at ~2-2.5 km. in depth," which is science-speak for some people at a drill site looking into the hole and then yelling, "FUCKING HELL WE JUST HIT A MAGMA CHAMBER."  The three sites were on Krafla (in Iceland), Menengai (in Kenya), and Kilauea (in Hawaii), and in each case was a shock because the areas had been studied extensively and the magma chambers they hit hadn't previously been detected.

Magma chambers are usually found by their seismic properties; the sound waves from explosions, and the pressure waves from earthquakes, travel at a different speed in solids than they do in liquids, so by comparing how long it took for those waves to arrive at detectors in different locations, you can infer how much of the intervening material is liquid and how much is solid.  (That's a vast oversimplification, but the gist of it, anyhow.)  Given how good this technique is, geologists thought they had all of the near-surface magma chambers pinpointed, so it was a significant shock to find out that there were some out there that we didn't know about.

Another piece of this that raised red flags for me was that word "silicic" in the title.  Magma usually comes in two flavors, mafic and felsic (or silicic).  Mafic magma is high in magnesium and iron, hardens into dark-colored rocks like basalt, and when it's molten it's highly fluid, like the rivers of lava you probably think of when you picture a volcano.  Felsic magma is high in silica and feldspar, hardens into light-colored rocks like granite and rhyolite, and is very viscous and thick when it's molten -- so volcanoes powered by a felsic magma chamber often build up so much pressure beneath that blob of sticky glop that when they erupt, it's explosive.  (Examples are Vesuvius, Mount Saint Helens, and La Soufrière -- currently erupting on the island of Saint Vincent.)

So an undetected near-surface magma chamber filled with felsic/silicic magma is not good news.  People are walking around without realizing it on top of what amounts to a giant superheated bomb.

The 1980 eruption of Mount Saint Helens [Image is in the Public Domain courtesy of NASA]

"In traditional approaches to volcano monitoring, a lot of emphasis is placed on knowing where magma is and which magma bodies are active," said study lead author Shane Rooyakkers, in an interview with Science Daily.  "Krafla is one of the most intensely-monitored and instrumented volcanoes in the world.  They've thrown everything but the kitchen sink at it in terms of geophysics.  And yet we still didn't know there was this rhyolitic magma body sitting at just two kilometers' depth that's capable of producing a hazardous eruption...  So the concern in this case would be that you have a shallow rhyolitic magma that you don't know about, so it hasn't been considered in hazards planning.  If it's hit by new magma moving up, you might have a much more explosive eruption than you were anticipating."

Which is a lot worse than a bunch of giant carnivorous earthworms.

Anyhow, that's our unsettling piece of scientific research for today.  The good news is that it's not like these magma chambers are scattered about everywhere; they still seem to occur only near active volcanoes.  So it's not like an eruption is likely to take place in the middle of Newark, or anything, which is kind of a shame, because an erupting volcano in Newark would probably be considered urban renewal.  But you never know.  Even Kevin Bacon got taken off guard by what's underground.

************************************

This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is pure fun: Arik Kershenbaum's The Zoologist's Guide to the Galaxy: What Animals on Earth Reveal About Aliens and Ourselves.  Kershenbaum tackles a question that has fascinated me for quite some time; is evolution constrained?  By which I mean, are the patterns you see in most animals on Earth -- aerobic cellular respiration, bilateral symmetry, a central information processing system/brain, sensory organs sensitive to light, sound, and chemicals, and sexual reproduction -- such strong evolutionary drivers that they are likely to be found in alien organisms?

Kershenbaum, who is a zoologist at the University of Cambridge, looks at how our environment (and the changes thereof over geological history) shaped our physiology, and which of those features would likely appear in species on different alien worlds.  In this fantastically entertaining book, he considers what we know about animals on Earth -- including some extremely odd ones -- and uses that to speculate about what we might find when we finally do make contact (or, at the very least, detect signs of life on an exoplanet using our earthbound telescopes).

It's a wonderfully fun read, and if you're fascinated with the idea that we might not be alone in the universe but still think of aliens as the Star Trek-style humans with body paint, rubber noses, and funny accents, this book is for you.  You'll never look at the night sky the same way again.

[Note: if you purchase this book from the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]