Part of my “practice,” as it were, is related to something in the last post — I try to be aware of the cycles of nature, of the world around me. It makes me feel grounded, and in touch with the world.
One that I lurv lurv lurv is simple — the sky. The stars, and their stately progression, and the dances of the planets. I love the Moon with a passion, and can spend hours just watching it, especially on Full Moon nights. I love running on those nights, and even talk to it (I wonder if this is an origin for prayer — I talk to the Moon, frankly, because sometimes you can best organize your thoughts by talking to someone, or pretending to. This is why so many people start diary entries “dear diary,” or write their journals like letters to a loved one. Maybe ancient folks started talking to the Moon and other things, just to organize their thoughts like, and it…got away from them). Of the constellations, I love Orion, who seems to invoke my wilder, pagany moods, and there’s cold winter nights when I’ll see him there in the sky, glittering coldly, and hear Jethro Tull singing in my head (the song? “Orion,” of course!) I also get excited by cool conjunctions, not because of any stupid mystical reason, but just because, you know, “look at the pretties!”
An aspect I love about skywatching is the — psyc! — conjunction of past and present. And that in several way:
Firstly, the sky was important to our ancestors, and they studied it, plotted the motions, built temples and other monuments that let them know when Big Things in the sky happened. They peopled the sky with tales. We know our constellations — it’s fun to learn other mythologies, and their constellations, because that pattern finding in the sky seems to have been a human constant. Anyway. I love human history, and I love when you get those moments where you almost can feel it, and feel your place in the march of humanity and life. Looking up at the night sky is like that. At the same time, of course, we are privileged to live in a time when we better understand what’s actually up there. And even a modest look at modern astronomical understanding will fill your head with more wonder than all the mythologies of the world could create. It’s amazing to look up and realize how much we know, how much is still to be known. To look up and realize that out there are mysteries we can’t even dream of in our provencial imaginations.
Secondly, astronomy has radically changed our understanding of what we see. We know a lot more about what the planets are like, seen pictures of some of their surfaces, even. We’ve dissected light to uncover information about countless stars and other objects. And there’s that cool fact we all know — the light we see is from so far away that it may have left its star or whatever years ago — sometimes 50, sometimes 1000, sometimes millions. Actually, it’s even more interesting than that, because the light is a record of its whole journey here. Things that affect the light along that journey can change it, and so the light is like a travel journal that starts with a description of home, and then has some things to say about what it saw on the way here. You’re not looking into the past when you look up at the night sky, but you are seeing thousands of pictures of the past. There’s Mars, from 15 minutes ago. There’s a galaxy, from 3 million. What can I say to that except duuuuuuuuuuuuuude?
I have an endless fascination with old observatories, the history of science as it relates to astronomy, and archaeoastronomy. And, of course, I have endless geekgasms over space exploration. I still get goosebumps when I hear Carl Sagan’s voice in my head saying “we are starstuff.”
There’s so much awe to be had, just by looking up. It’s a shame that modern city living has made that such a minor part of so many people’s lives.
