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» How astronomy helps put things in perspective

Max Hill
The Peak (NUW)

A you are reading this,

you are currently hurtling
through space on a remote
chunk of rock, covered mostly
in water and protected bya
thin layer of atmosphere, at
a speed of about 460 metres
per second. This tiny chunk of
rock, which we call Earth, is
only a fraction of a much larger
Solar System, which is also

whirling around our Milky Way :
: the universe is, and a healthy
: amount of perspective on just
: how important we really are (or :
: aren't).

galaxy at about 220 kilometres
per second. And it doesn’t
stop there—our galaxy is also
speeding through space, along
with other nearby galaxies,
at about 1,000 kilometres per
second.

Just in case you forgot.

Those of us who aren’t
science students usually
don't spend much time
contemplating the vastness
of the universe, or the strange
and wonderful ways in
which it works; we leave it
to the mathematicians, the
astrophysicists, those who
study in labs rather than
libraries and with microscopes
rather than Marlowe.

But in astronomy, the

something valuable to be
learned by everyone: a better
understanding to be gained
about what our real place in

 

Asa latecomer to the

: study of astronomy, my biggest
: hurdles have been wrapping

: my head around how big

: everything is, how fast it all

: moves, and just how much

: of it there is. I’m sure this is

: acommon problem for those

: whore just learning about the
: nature of our universe—how

: there’s so much in existence

: that’s much too big or much

: too small for us to really

: comprehend.

Pop scientists like Brian

: Greene and Carl Sagan do their
: best to translate these ideas
study of celestial bodies, there’s | With aphorisms and analogies,
: but the realization that we are
: only an infinitesimally tiny part :
: of the universe is hard not to

: take personally. It’s the reason

: it took so long for our species

: to understand our Earth wasn’t
: at the centre of some grand,

: unified system—after all, how
: could we not be the centre of

: the universe? There will always
: be something comforting in the :
: thought that we are special and
: unique, that there’s nothing

: out there quite like us.

Of course, this couldn’t be

further from the truth. We are
: surrounded by galaxies and

: moons and faraway planets

: so big and so small that they

: defy comprehension. It’s

: highly unlikely that we’re the

: only planet to sustain life,

: and mathematically probable
: that some of these life forms

: bear resemblance to us. We

: have learned more about

: the universe in the past two

: centuries than the rest of

: human history combined and
: we still don’t know much about
: it.

As with most sciences,

: the study of astronomy is full
: of uncertainty; the unsolved

: mysteries of astronomy seem
: to only dwarf us further, to

: make humans seem even less
: meaningful. But my growing

: love of astronomy doesn’t make
: me feel small or insignificant.
: In fact, it’s taught me more

: about what my so-called

: purpose on this Earth really

: is than most other things ever
: could.

: I’ve never been a religious
; person—the idea of a higher

: power has never appealed

: to me. But in astronomy,

: in looking up at the stars

: and knowing that there are

innumerable complex systems

and designs that we still only

: partially understand, I feel the
: sense of humility and wonder

: that people describe when they
: think of God or other religious
: figures. The more I learn, the

: more fascinated I become.

For me, knowing more

: about the Earth’s place in

: the cosmos hashelped meto — :
: understand how we, as humans, :
: make our own meaning. We

: know what those living only a

: few centuries ago didn’t: that

: Our universe is an enormous

: work of art, and that each of us
: amounts to about a fraction of

: a fraction of a fraction of a pixel
: of that artwork. :
: But that doesn't have to bea :
: scary thought.

No one understood this

: better than Carl Sagan, whose
: genius for science was only

: matched by his generosity in

: sharing that knowledge with

: the world. In 1990, only a few

: years before his death, Sagan

: requested that the Voyager 1

: Space probe turn its camera

: back on the Earth froma

: distance of around six million
: kilometres—the now-famous

: image it took shows our planet
: asa tiny blue dot floating in the

theotherpress.ca

  

: darkness of deep space.

“That’s here,” he wrote in

his book Pale Blue Dot, named
: after the photo. “That’s home.
: That’s us. On it everyone you

: love, everyone you know,

: everyone you ever heard of,

: every human being who ever

: was, lived out their lives.” In

: forcing us to take a look at

: ourselves from outside the

: context of our own world, with
: its own share of horror and

: beauty, he helped us to put

: ourselves in perspective.

“There is perhaps no better

: demonstration of the folly

of human conceits than this

: distant image of our tiny world,”
: he said. “To me, it underscores

: our responsibility to deal more

: kindly with one another and to

: preserve and cherish the pale

: blue dot, the only home we've

: ever known.”

Of all that astronomy
has to teach us, this might be

: its most important lesson.

: Looking up into the night sky,
: it’s easy to forget that each tiny
: speck is another world, and

: that for every one light there

: are millions too dim or too far
: away to see. What we do on

: Earth isn’t made insignificant
: by the scope of what’s around
: us; if anything, our knowledge
: of what’s out there, however

: incomplete, is a testament to

: how far we’ve come, and how

: much further we’re capable of

: going.