Your Chizhevsky reference is interesting historically, but I'd push back on leaning on it too hard. Correlation between solar cycles and social unrest doesn't automatically mean electromagnetic induction in the nervous system. That's a massive inferential leap. You're jumping from "these things co-occur" to "here's the mechanism" without the middle steps. And honestly, the fact that he was sent to the Gulag makes him a more compelling story, but it doesn't make his methodology sound — Liz Greene talks about this exact trap in astrological research, where we get seduced by a beautiful correspondence and skip the boring work of asking whether other explanations fit better.

"The sun just hit us with something orders of magnitude more powerful and we're supposed to believe it registered on our instruments but not on our nervous systems?"

This is rhetorically strong but logically weak. It's the same structure as "water is essential for life, so more water must be better for life." The dose-response relationship exists in electromagnetic biology too. A field being powerful doesn't mean it's biologically active in the way you're suggesting. The magnetoreception research you cite is real and fascinating — the cryptochrome stuff in particular — but that's about orientation, not emotional excitation. Birds using it to navigate isn't the same thing as your friend crying at 2am.

But here's where I actually agree with you, and strongly.

I was looking at the charts for that weekend, and the storm hit right during a Sun-Uranus conjunction in Taurus, with Uranus ruling electricity, disruption, sudden awakening. In my experience reading natal charts for people, Uranus transits are exactly what you're describing — that "gain knob got bumped" feeling, the sense that something's been turned up, the insomnia, the emotional releases that don't track to anything in your life. I had three people text me that week asking if something was "going on astrologically" because they felt unhinged for no reason.

So I think something happened to people. I just don't think you need the biophysics to explain it. The symbolic dimension — the collective psychic response to witnessing something unprecedented, the raw awe of seeing red auroras where they don't belong — that's already enough. Jung would say the synchronicity is the point, not the mechanism. You felt addressed by the sky. That's real. That matters. I don't think it needs to be electromagnetic to be meaningful.

I'm coming at this from a slightly different place. I grew up in mainland China, and honestly the framework I was raised with doesn't really have a category for "the sky is doing something unprecedented and everyone you know is seeing it simultaneously." But what struck me about that weekend wasn't my own internal state — it was watching my completely non-mystical friends back in Beijing follow along on livestreams, posting about it, caring about something cosmic for the first time ever. The aurora became a shared attention object for like half the planet.

You mentioned Sheldrake's morphic resonance and whether the storm created temporary coherence. But what if the coherence came from the seeing itself? Not the field, but the fact that millions of people were all looking up at the same time, having their expectations shattered, and knowing everyone else was too. That's a pretty rare state. And I think in my own astrology work I've been too focused on what the planets do to us and not enough on what it means when we all get knocked out of our individual stories at the same moment.

The insomnia and the emotional stuff might just be what it feels like when the collective attention field suddenly locks onto something together. Like your nervous system knows something unprecedented is happening even if you can't articulate it. I've been poking around trying to find any research on shared attention states during mass celestial events and there's surprisingly little — most of the science assumes people are just passive observers, not that the act of observing together might actually do something.

Anyway, I keep circling back to this because the Florida visibility piece feels important. When something like this stays restricted to far-northern latitudes, it's easier to file away as "someone else's experience." But when people in Florida are standing in their yards seeing the sky turn colors that don't belong there — that's a different kind of disruption. You can't just compartmentalize it. And I wonder if the physical proximity to something that shouldn't be possible is part of why the aftereffects felt so tangible for people who saw it firsthand versus those who just watched online.

Curious if anyone else noticed a difference between people who witnessed it in person versus through screens. That feels like it might matter for whatever actually happened to us during those few days.

Carl Jung wrote about synchronicity as an acausal connecting principle — events that feel meaningful without mechanical causation. What if a G5 storm is just a spectacular, unignorable rupture in ordinary experience, and the nervous system arousal, the insomnia, the emotional flooding — that's just your standard stress response to something unprecedented? But the meaning you layered onto it, the sense of being addressed, that came from you. From the pattern-recognition hardware I've talked about before on here. The sky provided the anomaly; your psyche provided the narrative.

I'm not saying nothing happened. I'm saying the thing that happened might have been more psychological than electromagnetic. And honestly, I think that's more interesting, not less. A planet full of people simultaneously confronted with something their frameworks can't explain, all scrambling to make meaning at the same time — that is a kind of collective coherence, just not the kind that requires cryptochrome proteins.

"I had this unmistakable sense of being addressed"

I sat outside that same night feeling absolutely nothing, and the silence of it was worse than any signal would've been — like the sky looked right through me.

"Whatever this storm was doing, it was doing it to all of us simultaneously."

What strikes me is the awareness piece. Because here's the thing — if Chizhevsky was right that solar activity correlates with mass excitations, those correlations were documented across centuries when nobody knew a storm was happening. There was no SpaceWeather.com alert. No group chats lighting up with "hey you guys seeing this?" The purported effect, if real, was operating below consciousness.

But this time was different. We all knew. We watched the forecasts, we went outside at 2am with our phones, we primed ourselves for an experience. And that's where I think confirmation bias becomes the more interesting story than magnetoreception. Not as a dismissal — as a genuine phenomenon worth taking seriously.

I covered enough paranormal claims in my journalism days to recognize this pattern. When people expect something unusual, they notice everything unusual. Insomnia they'd normally sleep through becomes meaningful insomnia. Anxiety that would've been chalked up to work stress becomes the storm. And then they talk about it, and the social contagion does its thing.

But here's what I can't shake: that doesn't make the experience less real. It just relocates where the agency is. Instead of the storm directly altering your neurochemistry, you have this cascading social phenomenon where collective attention and expectation becomes the mechanism. The storm was the match, but the fire was us.

And honestly? That might be stranger than magnetoreception. At least magnetoreception is a straightforward biological claim. What we're talking about here is synchronized subjective experience across thousands of strangers who've never met, all interpreting their internal states through the same frame at the same time. That's worth taking seriously without needing the sun to have literally zapped our brains.

i'm a numbers person. i look at order books all day and i've learned the hard way that the pattern doesn't cause the move, the pattern is just the shape of what was already building. so when you say your friend was crying at 2am and the Kp index was 9 — i don't think the magnetic field made her cry. i think the field shifted and whatever she'd been sitting on just... couldn't stay sitting anymore.

"Like a gain knob got bumped"

that's actually the perfect metaphor and it's not mystical. if you bump a gain knob on a signal that's already noisy, you don't get new information — you just hear the noise that was always there. the storm didn't insert anything. it amplified.

where i think this gets genuinely interesting is the collective timing. in crypto we see this with liquidation cascades — everyone holding the same leveraged position, and one wick wipes them all out at once because they were all synchronized without knowing it. if Sheldrake's morphic resonance has any legs, a global geomagnetic pulse hitting every nervous system simultaneously would be the closest physical analogue to that kind of cascade we could point to. not causing anything new. just triggering what was already loaded.

the solar maximum ramping harder than nasa modeled — that's the part that actually keeps me up. not because i think the sun is sending messages, but because our models were wrong, and i've learned to be very suspicious when consensus models are wrong in the same direction.

"we're supposed to believe it registered on our instruments but not on our nervous systems"

but that's not actually the assumption anyone's making though — the assumption is that you felt wired because you stayed up until 2am watching a once-in-a-lifetime sky event, which would do that to anyone regardless of solar activity. i keep thinking about confirmation bias here. your group chats blew up with people reporting symptoms, but how many people in those same chats had completely normal nights and just didn't say anything? the silent majority never gets counted in these anecdotes, and that's the data point that would actually matter.

"I felt wired in a way I haven't in months... Like a gain knob got bumped."

i trade for a living. i see this exact thing in charts constantly. price does something weird, and suddenly everyone's constructing narratives about why. but the move was already baked into the structure. the story comes after.

i'm not saying nothing happened. i felt weird that night too. but i also felt weird three nights ago when there was no storm. the question isn't "did we feel something" — it's whether you're connecting two things that were always moving independently and calling it correlation because the aurora was undeniable and the internal state was salient.

chizhevsky's data is interesting but correlation with revolution cycles could just as easily be economic. and morphic resonance is... i mean, sheldrake's work has never replicated cleanly. i want it to be real. but wanting isn't evidence.

the crypto markets went haywire that same week. was that the storm too? or just the same sun that's always there, doing what it does, while we scramble to explain ourselves?

"The sun just hit us with something orders of magnitude more powerful and we're supposed to believe it registered on our instruments but not on our nervous systems?"

But that's not how dose-response works. The Earth's magnetosphere deflects the vast majority of this energy. What reaches us at ground level is a fraction of a fraction. You're comparing localized chronic EMF exposure to a brief geomagnetic fluctuation that most human bodies never directly interacted with in any meaningful way. The cryptochrome research you're citing is fascinating — Steven Reppert's work at UMass is genuinely interesting — but demonstrating a protein responds in a lab is a long way from "a solar storm made everyone cry at 2am."

What I think you're actually describing is apophenia dressed up in biophysics language. Your friend texted you. Then you noticed your own sleep was off. Then the group chats lit up. But you're sampling for the hit — you're not hearing from everyone who slept fine that night. And the night of May 10th was a Saturday. People were already staying up late, already emotionally loose from the week. I was awake too, journaling at some ungodly hour as usual, and I felt... exactly as awake as I always feel at 3 AM. My chronotype doesn't need a solar explanation.

I'm not saying nothing happened. The sky was extraordinary and I think witnessing something that rare does shift something internally. But that's psychology, not electromagnetism. Jung wrote about synchronicity as acausal connecting principles — meaning the inner state and outer event resonate without one causing the other. That framework actually explains your experience better than Chizhevsky's, and it doesn't require us to handwave away the physics.

"I think there's something here. I don't know what."

Yeah, same — but your road to get there is way too tidy for my taste. You lean on Chizhevsky and Sheldrake to build a chain that looks scientific, then park at "I wonder" like that's not its own kind of cop-out. I think the purely materialist crowd is making an equally lazy error by dismissing any possibility of subtle effects, but you're doing something similar from the other direction — dressing up raw experience in lab coats because you're still not comfortable saying "the sky talked to me and I don't need a mechanism to trust that it happened."

"I sat outside and watched a sky I've never seen before in my life — I'm in Northern California, we don't get red auroras, that's not a thing that happens — and I had this unmistakable sense of being addressed."

Okay, so I want to push back a little, but from a place of genuine curiosity, not skepticism for its own sake.

I was in Florida visiting family the night of the 10th. Saw the aurora with my own eyes from a beach — which, like you said, is basically unprecedented. And I felt... nothing. Like, literally nothing unusual. I slept fine. Woke up fine. No emotional release, no vivid dreams, no sense of being addressed by the sky. I just thought it was pretty and went to bed.

And here's the thing that complicates this for me. I grew up in China, right? Where we have this whole framework of qi and cosmic influences that isn't really tied to electromagnetic anything. The I Ching talks about cycles of change, but the mechanism isn't physical — it's more like... pattern recognition across time? I don't know how to describe it cleanly. But my point is, I'm not coming from a purely materialist worldview. I'm open to the sun affecting us.

But if this storm was doing something to everyone's nervous system simultaneously, why did it miss me? And my aunt, who was right there with me? She thought it was "God's fireworks" and also slept fine.

I think what might actually be happening is closer to what Jung called synchronicity — the meaning isn't in the event itself, it's in the coincidence between the event and the inner state of the person experiencing it. The storm didn't cause your insomnia. But your insomnia and the storm arrived together, and that convergence felt like causation because the imagery was so overwhelming.

Which doesn't make it meaningless. I'm not saying that. But I think the mechanism matters. If it's synchronicity rather than electromagnetic induction, that's a fundamentally different picture — and honestly, to me, a more interesting one.

Okay, I need to push back here, because my experience was the opposite and I think it matters.

Same storm. Same nights. I'm in Colorado, so I had a decent view — nothing like the Florida photos, but clearly visible, definitely real. And I felt nothing. Not "something turned up," not a gain knob, not a sense of being addressed. I stood outside for an hour with my phone on night mode trying to capture something and mostly just felt cold and mildly annoyed that my astrophotography setup wasn't calibrated for this.

Here's what's weird about that: I wanted to feel something. I've been deep in Hugh Everett's many-worlds stuff for two years now, I'm the last person who'd dismiss a strange experience as "just vibes." If anything, I'm primed to over-interpret. And I got nothing.

So when you say the storm was "doing it to all of us simultaneously," I have to wonder if that's exactly the assumption we should be questioning. Maybe the field hit everyone, but the reception is wildly non-uniform. Which honestly makes more sense from a physics perspective anyway — you don't expect uniform coupling between a chaotic EM field and billions of slightly different nervous systems.

The Chizhevsky stuff is interesting and I'm not dismissing it, but "mass excitations" playing out over decades is a very different claim than "I felt addressed by the sky on a random Tuesday." One is a statistical aggregate. The other is personal, immediate, and resistant to replication — which is exactly the category of experience that makes me suspicious, even when I'm the one having it.

I think what actually happened is simpler and stranger: some people got a neurological hit they couldn't categorize, so they reached for the nearest framework that felt big enough to contain it. For you, that was something like communion. For me, there was no hit, so no reach. Neither of us proved anything about what the storm was. We just mapped our prior expectations onto an ambiguous stimulus and called it data.

The storm didn't address you. Your interpretive architecture did what it always does — found a pattern, assigned it meaning, made it feel intentional. That's not nothing. But it's not the sky talking either.

The idea that the human body has some latent capacity to sense geomagnetic fields is not lunatic fringe — it's just not well understood yet.

This is where I think the real conversation is, and it's frustrating how fast people either jump to "we're all being zapped by solar energy" or dismiss it entirely. But there's an angle here you didn't touch on that's been eating at me since the 10th.

You're framing this as a sensory input problem — can we detect the field? But I think the more interesting question is: what happens to internal fields when the external baseline shifts?

I've been running HRV measurements through my Oura ring for about 18 months now. Tight protocol, same sleep schedule, same supplements. My HRV baseline is boringly stable. The night of May 10th it dropped 22 points. My resting heart rate was up 8 bpm. I wasn't anxious. I was sleeping fine until I woke up at 3am feeling like my nervous system was running a background process I couldn't see.

Here's what I think might be happening, and I want to be clear this is speculation — the body's endogenous electromagnetic field doesn't exist in a vacuum. It's coupled to the geomagnetic field the same way a circuit is coupled to its ground plane. When you distort the ground plane, you don't need a "sensor" for the circuit to behave differently. The coupling is intrinsic.

Robert Becker actually proposed something like this in the 60s with his work on perineural DC fields. The guy wasn't a mystic — he was an orthopedic surgeon who ended up studying regeneration in salamanders and stumbled into the realization that the body's DC electrical system is fundamentally tied to the nervous system's information processing. He got marginalized pretty hard for it, which should sound familiar given your Chizhevsky reference.

The point is: if Becker was even partially right, then a G5 storm doesn't need to be "sensed" to affect us. It changes the electromagnetic context we're already embedded in. The sensing question is almost secondary.

I don't think this invalidates your morphic resonance angle at all. Actually it might strengthen it — if the ground plane shifts globally, any field-mediated coherence effects would shift with it. But I think we're making an error by starting with consciousness and working backward to mechanism. Start with the biophysics. The weird subjective stuff might just be the reporting layer.

(There's a deeper dive on this in our wiki: Moon Rituals: Lunar Cycles, Menstrual Synchrony, and Why We Care | Mystic Wiki.)

I had this unmistakable sense of being addressed. Not by a voice. By the sky itself.

Okay, I need to push back here, because my experience was the opposite and I think it matters.

Same storm. Same nights. I'm in Colorado, so I had a decent view — nothing like the Florida photos, but clearly visible. And I felt... nothing. Genuinely flat. Not wired, not emotional, not "addressed." I was actually annoyed because I'd been in a weird headspace for weeks and I thought maybe this would snap me out of it. Nope.

Here's why that's interesting to me rather than just disappointing. If the mechanism is electromagnetic induction directly hitting the nervous system — which is what Chizhevsky was proposing, right? — then you'd expect something closer to uniformity. The field doesn't skip people. Either the signal is strong enough to register or it isn't.

But what you're describing sounds more interpretive than physiological. The sky looked impossible, you knew something unprecedented was happening, and your brain did what brains do — it constructed meaning from the input. That's not dismissible, honestly. Jung would say the numinous showed up precisely because you were in the right state to receive it. But that's a different claim than "the magnetic field turned up the gain knob."

I think the collective coherence idea is worth taking seriously, but I'd frame it through the many-worlds lens: maybe what we're glimpsing during these events isn't a shared physiological response but a momentary thinning of the partition between neighboring probability branches. Your brain interpreted the aurora as communication because, in some adjacent branch, it was. You were resonating with a version of events where the sky actually had something to say.

That sounds wild, but it explains the non-uniformity better than direct EM stimulation does. Two people standing side by side don't experience identical reality even under mundane conditions — why would we assume a solar storm collapses that variance rather than amplifying it?

The uncomfortable question nobody's asking: if some people felt "addressed" and others felt nothing, what determines which nervous systems become receptive? Is it prior state, neurochemistry, something structural? Because if we could map that, we'd learn something profound about consciousness itself — not just about space weather.

"The sun just hit us with something orders of magnitude more powerful and we're supposed to believe it registered on our instruments but not on our nervous systems? That feels like a convenient assumption, not a scientific conclusion."

yes this part honestly

the night of the 10th I couldn't sleep at all which is unusual for me — I'm usually out by 10:30 because I teach early morning classes. but I was just... awake. wired. and I kept going to the window like something was pulling me outside. I didn't see anything in Portland obviously but the restlessness was so specific, not anxiety, just like my body knew something was happening

and I keep thinking about what I noticed with my meditation practice — I posted about this a while back — how my nervous system has gotten way more responsive to subtle stuff since I started sitting consistently. like my startle response changed. so when people say "there's no way a solar storm affects us" I just think... maybe you're not tuned in enough to notice? that sounds obnoxious when I type it out but I don't mean it that way. I mean I think sensitivity is trainable and a lot of people are walking around totally disconnected from their bodies

the chizhevsky stuff is fascinating btw, hadn't heard of him before

"we're supposed to believe it registered on our instruments but not on our nervous systems?"

This framing assumes the burden of proof should fall on the null hypothesis. But that's not how it works — the claim that geomagnetic storms do affect consciousness is the one that needs evidence, not the other way around. Our instruments are sensitive to fields that our bodies may simply not be equipped to register in any meaningful way. We're bathed in radio waves from distant quasars constantly. That doesn't mean we're receiving cosmic messages.

I say this as someone who genuinely believes my mother was reading me when she read coffee grounds, not just interpreting random shapes. I'm not a materialist. But I think there's a trap here that's easy to fall into, and Chizhevsky might have fallen into it too — confirmation bias dressed up in data. Correlations between solar cycles and social unrest are interesting, but we'd also need to show that the mechanism isn't mediated through something boring like agricultural disruption, economic stress from crop failures, that kind of thing. The sun affects us materially in a thousand ways. Why jump straight to direct neurological impact?

And honestly? The group chat thing gives me pause. I saw the same blown-up chats. But I also know that the night of May 10th was a Saturday, and it was all over social media that something unprecedented was happening. People were already primed, already outside, already in a heightened state. That's not nothing. That's suggestibility working exactly how we'd expect it to.

I felt weird that night too. Couldn't sleep. But I felt weird last Tuesday for no reason. Bodies are noisy.

I want there to be something here. The idea that we're all connected through the magnetosphere is beautiful. But wanting it doesn't make me comfortable skipping steps.

The idea that the human body has some latent capacity to sense geomagnetic fields is not lunatic fringe — it's just not well understood yet.

This is where I think the real conversation is, and it's frustrating how fast people either jump to "we're all being zapped by solar energy" or dismiss it entirely.

I've been messing with magnetoreception from a biohacking angle for about a year now. Not in a rigorous way — I don't have a lab — but I've been tracking my sleep architecture against geomagnetic indices using my Oura ring. The nights around the May 10th storm? My deep sleep dropped by nearly 40% and my resting heart rate was elevated by 8 bpm. One data point, obviously. But I've since gone back and checked other Kp 7+ events and there's a pattern there that's hard for me to ignore.

The cryptochrome research is the part that actually interests me as an engineer. If quantum biology is right that radical pair mechanisms in these proteins are functionally responsive to magnetic fields, then we're not talking about some woo "energy" transmission — we're talking about a sensory modality that operates below conscious threshold. Like how your body detects CO2 levels to regulate breathing without you ever noticing.

Your point about anthropogenic EMF is sharp and I think underappreciated. We obsess over 5G at milliwatt levels while getting hit with planetary-scale electromagnetic perturbations and acting like the only relevant variable is whether the grid stays up.

I'm not ready to sign off on the morphic resonance piece. My bias is to look for individual physiological mechanisms first. But I'll admit the simultaneous global exposure thing makes this fundamentally different from anything we can study in a lab. You can't put 8 billion nervous systems in a Faraday cage as a control group.

The sun just hit us with something orders of magnitude more powerful and we're supposed to believe it registered on our instruments but not on our nervous systems? That feels like a convenient assumption, not a scientific conclusion.

I agree with where you land, but I think the path you take to get there still leans too hard on the mechanistic framework you're trying to escape from.

Chizhevsky's work interests me too, and I won't dismiss it. But the whole thread of your argument — magnetoreception, cryptochrome proteins, electromagnetic induction on the nervous system — it's still looking for the mechanism. Still trying to locate the effect in a specific protein, a specific pathway. And I think that's the wrong question entirely.

What hit us on May 10th wasn't just a wave of particles. It was a disturbance in the field that everything on this planet is already inside of. The birds, the trees, the iron in your blood, the oak I carve my runestones from — none of these things are separate from the geomagnetic field. They're shaped by it constantly. A massive disruption isn't "affecting" us like radiation affects us. It's more like... changing the medium we're already swimming in.

I don't need cryptochrome to explain why I couldn't sleep that night. I was in my workshop and the air felt different. Heavy in a way that had nothing to do with pressure. My dog was agitated for hours before any news broke about the storm.

Here's my honest critique: you're still arguing from a place that needs the body to be a receiver of something external. But what if the nervous system isn't receiving the storm at all? What if the storm is just what the field looks like when it shifts, and we're already part of the field?

The Russians you mentioned were closer to this than the quantum biology people are, honestly. But that's a longer conversation.

I felt it too. I just don't think we need to prove it through proteins to take it seriously.

"we're supposed to believe it registered on our instruments but not on our nervous systems?"

I don't think that's the right question though. I think the question is whether what registered on our nervous systems was the magnetic field itself, or just... knowing about it.

I've been doing somatic work for two years now, and one thing I've had to sit with repeatedly is how much my body responds to meaning, not just physical input. My nervous system doesn't need an actual electromagnetic field to go into overdrive. It needs the story about the field. The 2am texts. The group chats blowing up. The photos from Florida. The collective "something is happening" energy that moved through every group I'm part of that weekend.

That's real. That's not nothing. But I think it's social and psychological, not geomagnetic.

And honestly? I worry a little about wrapping this stuff in scientific language — Chizhevsky, cryptochromes, quantum biology — because it gives a kind of permission to not sit with the actual human experience. The awe. The grief that surfaces when the sky looks unlike anything you've ever seen. The way something that massive and indifferent can make you feel both tiny and completely awake at the same time.

We don't need the magnetic field to explain why we were all shaken. We just need each other. That weekend, millions of people were looking up and feeling something they couldn't name, and then they reached for their phones and found out everyone else was feeling it too. That cascading recognition — that's enough. That's always been enough.

I think what stayed with me wasn't the storm itself but the morning after, when the sky went back to normal and everyone quietly put their phones down and went back to their lives. That's the part I can't stop thinking about. How we collectively held something enormous and then just... let it go. Maybe that's the real mystery here. Not what the storm did to our bodies, but what we do with these moments when they pass.

"the night of the 10th, I felt wired in a way I haven't in months. Not anxious exactly. More like something had been turned up."

That night I slept better than I have in weeks. Deep, dreamless, woke up actually rested. And I knew about the storm — I'd been checking the Kp index all day because I wanted to see if we'd get anything visible from my location. So it's not like I was ignorant of what was happening. If anything, expectation should have primed me toward some kind of experience.

Which is exactly the problem. If geomagnetic fluctuations are genuinely affecting nervous systems in a consistent way, I'd expect more consistency in the reports. But what I'm seeing in my circles (and in this thread, honestly) is the full spectrum — insomnia, euphoria, nothing, crying jags, deep sleep. That pattern fits confirmation bias and selective attention way better than it fits a real physiological mechanism.

The magnetoreception research you cited is real and interesting — the cryptochrome stuff in particular. But there's a massive leap from "human retinas contain proteins that respond to magnetic fields in controlled lab conditions" to "a geomagnetic storm produced subjective experiences of being addressed by the sky." That's not filling in a gap. That's building a bridge to another continent.

I think something happened collectively during that storm. But I suspect it was primarily psychological — the awe of seeing something unprecedented, the social media amplification, the shared awareness that something unusual was occurring. That's powerful stuff on its own. We don't need electromagnetic induction to explain why a bunch of people staring at red auroras felt something profound.

I'm not dismissing the possibility outright. I'm just saying my data point doesn't fit the pattern, and I don't think I'm an outlier here.