Palms and incongruent connections

I've been reading Edward Heron-Allen's book The Language of the Hand, which was published in the late 1800's -- a time when palmistry, phrenology, and other pseudosciences were popular. Although such practices have been falsified by modern science, this rational biologist shamelessly admits to getting a thrill each time he cracks open a fortune cookie. Imagine how I would feel if this legendary foraminiferologist read my palm?

Mental sparks fly while reading Heron-Allen's text, and wildly incongruous connections are made. If afforded the opportunity to talk with him today, it seems likely that the discussion would center on how he reconciled his early years as a palm reader with his later years as a scientist. If he defended palmistry as a science to the end, then I would have to point out that the body is riddled with lines and patterns. Why restrict psychoanalysis and fortune-telling to those of the hand?

I'm curious: Notice the lines around the eyes of a young Sam Bowser:

These lines are physically closer to his spirit center; they should, by such proximity, be more revealing than those on his palm. (As I explore methods of meditation and related healing approaches, I've noticed that this sort of logic has been employed throughout the ages.)

• Did they predict the years he would spend squinting in Antarctic summer sun?
• Did they predict the chiseled grimaces of trigeminal neuralgia (TGN)?
• Did they predict years of billowing mad-scientist laughter?

Perhaps these lines are simply the consequence of his genetic stock. (Some say he has his granny's eyes. Should this also be true for the lines of his hands?)

Those lines around his eyes have become more exaggerated over the years, and are now seen to possess certain bird-like attributes. Further curiosity: What do these crow's feet foretell?

• More squinting in the Antarctic sun?
• More episodes of TGN?
• More unbridled laughter?

Eye lines revealed using highly sophisticated imaging algorithms, from images obtained while: (1) smiling, (2) resting, (3) experiencing unbearable pain, (4) laughing like a madman. Notice that the contrast of the eye lines accurately reflects emotional status. Note also that eye lines deflect at different angles relative to their resting position. I'm sure that all of this can be formulated into a new, highly "scientific" way to interpret the psyche and predict the future. Let me know if it's already been done - I don't want to waste my time!

These lines also mirror the patterns made by pseudopodia extended by foraminiferan protists. Perhaps this means that I will be a benthic foraminiferan in my next life? (No, I've made other plans.) Or perhaps I was simply destined to study these organisms...

Pseudopodia extended by the foraminiferan protist Allogromia laticollaris, initially photographed using differential interference optics, but then subjected to the same imaging algorithms used for enhancing eye lines. As can be seen by the concordance of pseudopodial patterns with my crow's feet, it's clear that I was destined to be a foraminiferologist!

This exercise proves to me that curiosity can lead to some strange connections. When depicted with skill, some might even call these connections art. In my hands, however, they seem more of a time sink. That is, until this Doctor of Philosophy improves his social status and makes some money by interpreting eyelines of the elite, as his hero Heron-Allen did so many years ago.

Imagine Dr. Bowser telling wealthy, curious souls their fortunes while they wink at him!(?)

Cellular masonry (and intelligence?)

In 1878, agglutinated foraminifera were dubbed "nature's little masons" by A.M. Norman, a prominent British reverend and naturalist. William B. Carpenter, arguably the 19th-century's premier cell biologist, also pointed to the "skill" displayed by foraminifera in selecting materials to build their shells -- a characteristic that got Edward Heron-Allen in heated debates with colleagues over the definition of intelligence. (See, for example, his paper entitled Purpose and intelligence in the Foraminifera published in the Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London, 1914:1069-1070.) In future posts, I'll dedicate some space to Heron-Allen and examine the seemingly incongruous mix of science and mysticism that marked his career.

Four species of agglutinated foraminifera from the same handful of Antarctic sediment. Each species collects a characteristic range of grain sizes or type of mineral to build a shell.

Speaking of incongruous mixes, Claire Beynon's December 28th post juxtaposed a recipe for chicken kofta and my watercolor of Astrammina rara - one of the unicellular giants that we collect in Antarctica. About a decade ago, Joan Bernhard and I used straightforward statistical approaches to show that Astrammina "selects" sediment particles that range in size from 0.25 to 0.50 mm to use as the main non-compressible (read: hard) component of its shell. Since then, we and coworkers have noted that A. rara's shell usually contains a conspicuous, red-orange sand grain. This feature prompted ceramic artist Katherine Glenday to write a poem in which, to paraphrase, she describes A. rara as "the species that builds its heart on its house." I adore the beautiful aesthetic of that anthropomorphism! But it begs the question: does it really select one red grain, or is this simply a consequence of chance? If it is indeed displaying selectivity, what is the molecular basis of this cellular process?

As an expression of rote scientific curiosity, we'll do a bit of experimental work to explore this question and post some results here. In a sense, though, I almost don't want to know the answer. Why despoil a beautiful poem with a rational whitewash?