I have always been very sensitive to weather changes. A half-inch change in barometric pressure can throw me a migraine, a bout of fatigue, universal dislike of my entire home planet, and other discommodities. To Earth’s credit, it seems that dynamic weather patterns are to be found on all worlds, and Earth’s weather is significantly more stable than, for instance, Jupiter’s—but in any case, I do not contemplate emigration.
It frustrates me that I can’t understand the most basic things about weather. I even watched a power point tutorial for small dumb children, but I was unable to grasp any of it but words. “Convection” is the answer to most of the quiz questions, but I don’t understand what convection is. Red arrows and blue arrows, representing highs and lows, or warm air and cold air, chase each other around a map of futility; I don’t know what they mean or how they connect to what I experience as weather. It doesn’t matter, because I can’t control any of it.
What I have found by my own experimenting is that drinking coffee about four times a day has reduced the frequency of my migraines. A big change in barometric pressure, up or down, can still bring one on, but my recent migraines have been more easily vanquished than before—sometimes just with coffee; sometimes I need Sumatriptan (generic Imitrex), which never used to help at all before I started drinking coffee again.
I don’t understand what the little arrows on the weather map are doing, or the interplay between the sun and the Earth’s waters, synergizing into the mysterious dynamic dubbed “convection,” so that people could describe something they don’t actually understand either. I suspect “convection” is like “autoimmunity,” in that it is possible to acquire a degree entitling the holder to be presumed knowledgeable in the unknowable things these things are about.
Nor do I understand how the comprehensive entity I think of as “me,” interacts with my world and its Sun and the unnumberable benign forces God deploys, to coalesce in the comprehensive entities known as coffee beans. All I can know is, when clouds growl, changes come that draw comprehensive entities, like me and coffee beans, together.