Stellar Energy Transfer
One of the things planets do is transfer stellar energy. A star with planets is a situation where the energy produced by that star is more used than a star without planets. Let us explain.
Imagine a star without planets (most of them). The star is a clump of hydrogen in the process of breaking up the said atoms. What this means is that a hydrogen atom is one electron orbiting one proton. When the hydrogen clusters together in sufficient size, it produces mass of such quantity that a star-fire begins to burn. This fire is the commonly known process whereby energy is produced and transferred. It also is intense enough that it severs the electron of a hydrogen molecule from the proton of a hydrogen molecule. This is why stars produce much non-hydrogen as a result of their starfire--because there is a big mess, and when it sorts itself out, lots of different kinds of atoms turn up because different numbers of electrons end up around each proton. The detached electrons often form new types of matter, by joining the orbit around a different proton. Helium—consisting of two electrons orbiting a proton—is a gas frequently produced by the stellar process.
Think now of that lone star which you earlier imagined. In the process of producing those many other atoms than hydrogen, the star creates significant quantities of energy, such as heat and light. When the star has no planets, the heat tends to dissipate and never be used, and the same for the light—the light joins the light of many other stars and is largely forgettable.
Next, imagine that a star is instead orbited by a planet, or better yet several planets. The stellar energy is used to a much greater degree. Where before, the star was merely using hydrogen atoms to produce many other kinds of atoms, it is now doing all of that while also warming and illuminating as many planets as orbit it. The process of stellar energy transfer has just become more complicated; more seemingly useful; more intense.
Why does this matter? We do not know. However, we can easily recognize that this complexity is the result of how matter arranges itself—say, once it becomes as complicated as its arrangements are on Earth. Earth is a viable planet, and things on Earth are always becoming more complex with far, far greater speed in so doing than they would be exhibiting if the Earth-arrangements were made in one instant (or six days or 6,000 years--remember that the 6,000 years crap wasn't the starter but an attempted defense) by a Middle Eastern rabbi (Jesusian matter-derogation) or random (Bangist matter-derogation; their current attempted defense is at 10-20 billion years). Like the way that it is extremely unlikely that electrons would consistently orbit protons if that interaction were random, it is extremely unlikely that the resulting atoms would form molecules for the same reason. This pattern of complexification increases as molecules cluster by type, by types of type, and after that by far more complex arrangements capable of onsite duplication (living things). Continuing this pattern, living things can develop self awareness and then use calculus (like humans here), becoming consistently more complex.
Sticking with Earth, there is no way that even a tiny fraction of this complexity would be produced by randomness. Recognizing this trend towards complexity, Torah-based religions such as Christianity decreed that a certain type of male human had created all things. Such a claim is ridiculous, but Abrahamic religions have been very popular on Earth. (If you are not sure of that, maybe you haven’t ever heard of Christianity or Islam a.k.a. the effective attack on Europe and the effective attack on Arabia.)
The investigation of the why behind the increasing complexity of energy (frozen energy = matter) is not currently pursued on this planet, though. Nor is the apprehension of the increasing complexity of matter understood, so put that aside for now. What you should think of is the way in which planets use stellar energy. Having a planet means that star can be surrounded by things that are warm, well-lit, and so forth—using energy that would otherwise be not used. In contrast, having no planet means that all that energy produced by the breakdown of hydrogen just goes out into space. Therefore, having a planet is how that energy gets used.
We do not know why using that energy matters. However we do know that makes a big difference to us—that such relationships completely matter. Like the complexification of energy when it slows down enough to form material arrangements, energy which is used comes to cycle through a system of energy transferred, and energy which is not used goes to dissipate (melts away into space). This process of cycling seems to be why energy forms matter and the why of everything.
For example, think of sunlight on a grassy field. The grass responds to light and heat by developing and then engaging in photosynthesis, growing bigger. Something then eats it, and the energy is transferred into the body of an herbivore or an omnivore. That animal then dies and is eaten by a scavenger, or that animal moves and it is then eaten by a predator—the energy is transferred again. A while after that, the scavenger or predator itself dies, its corpse rots on the ground, and a lot of grass is thereby fed. The grass grows, the corpse decays to nothing (bones first, for a longer time), the grass keeps growing, and then a herbivore eats that grass~. What happens is a cycle of energy transference.
Or take Jupiter as the example of a non-viable planet. The sun shines on it, it gets warmer, it gets brighter in some places at some times, and a few million years pass in that way. The change seems insubstantial, but compared to all that heat and illumination being lost in outer space, that change is incredible. And certainly, what the sun’s energy accomplishes by entering the cycle of the viable planet (Earth) is dramatic. Like a toss of the dice, not every planet turns out to be viable, but the potential gain in energy transference is so big that it is worth it.
The process of complexification is profound. Posit that there is a very low ratio of viable planets. Then, posit that there are some big number of planets—say 16 trillion; is that enough? Fine, fine, make more space: say there are 243 octillion planets—now, imagine how significant is complexification.
Say that there is a 0.0000000000000001% chance that a planet with the right elements, temperature, and pressure will develop life. Say that there is a 0.0001% chance that those elements will appear. There's also a 0.001% chance for the right temperature and the same again for pressure. Life seems really unlikely, right? Actually, if there are 243 octillion planets, life is going to be quite frequent. Narcissistic fools thinking the world ends where they drew monsters on their maps are wrong. If we live to meet some planet where the inhabitants regularly order cheap food packets from this cluster of galaxies over there where the food is okay, we'll look really stupid for thinking life on Earth is this symphonic, unique marvel. (Some of us also think this one rabbi made it all and hopes we win because he loves us so much.)
See why people draw maps that they say show the whole world? Like the way that fictional "beginning" and "center" stories (cosmigasm ones, like older Jesusian Genesis or newer Bangist Big Bang), the motivation is to make everything seem smaller. In the form of cutting away the edges of big pieces of paper to get the focus on the smaller map--the known part; the weather report--the deceit attempts to make the teller appear more knowledgeable/important than she actually is. That pomposity--that idiocy--is telling. Christianity is like a retard squealing excitedly about what's in his bag lunch--you just listen a little, and you know there's something wrong, even if there is a fancy Latin name for the condition and you don't know that. Maybe it's Down's, maybe it's schizo, maybe...well, crap. Point is something's wrong. When you see Christianity trying to trim the narrative like that, the "then everything began" part of the narrative is a giveaway as much as seeing that some old map has sea monsters on the sides and big old men huff-puffing to explain away the winds. Something is here wrong. Crap about a big bang or loving a Middle Eastern rabbi more than your kids is to be expected.
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