#190: Embracing the cosmos and the unknown
"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known" -Carl Sagan
Hello!
I really thought this week’s newsletter wouldn’t include the moon or celestial bodies in general. But I’ve been hooked to the Co-Star app (hyper-personalized astrology) and the cosmos invariably found its way into this newsletter. (Again.)
As I write this, scenes from Richard Linklater’s latest rotoscoped animation Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood spiral in my mind. The film tells the story of a young child living in Texas in the late 1960s - the Space Age - and uses fact, fiction, daydream and nostalgia to tell the story of the moon landing. While I won’t give away any spoilers, the film certainly reminded me that we’re mere blips in the universe, micro-dots that happen to be living in the pale blue dot that is the Earth, floating around in the vast blackness of infinity.
Why, then, must we stress and lose sleep over things far beyond our control? Let us instead live moment to moment, living in wonder at a life full of uncertainty and possibilities. As writer-astrophysicist Carl Sagan put it, “Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.” Go forth and discover the unknown, dear reader.
Poetry Corner
A few poems from here and there that explore our place in the universe.
1. Thank You by Ross Gay
If you find yourself half naked
and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,
again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says
you are the air of the now and gone, that says
all you love will turn to dust,
and will meet you there, do not
raise your fist. Do not raise
your small voice against it. And do not
take cover. Instead, curl your toes
into the grass, watch the cloud
ascending from your lips. Walk
through the garden's dormant splendor.
Say only, thank you.
Thank you.
2. Testimonial by Rita Dove
Back when the earth was new
and heaven just a whisper,
back when the names of things
hadn't had time to stick;
back when the smallest breezes
melted summer into autumn,
when all the poplars quivered
sweetly in rank and file . . .
the world called, and I answered.
Each glance ignited to a gaze.
I caught my breath and called that life,
swooned between spoonfuls of lemon sorbet.
I was pirouette and flourish,
I was filigree and flame.
How could I count my blessings
when I didn't know their names?
Back when everything was still to come,
luck leaked out everywhere.
I gave my promise to the world,
and the world followed me here.
3. What Gorgeous Thing by Mary Oliver
I do not know what gorgeous thing
the bluebird keeps saying,
his voice easing out of his throat,
beak, body into the pink air
of the early morning. I like it
whatever it is. Sometimes
it seems the only thing in the world
that is without dark thoughts.
Sometimes it seems the only thing
in the world that is without
questions that can’t and probably
never will be answered, the
only thing that is entirely content
with the pink, then clear white
morning and, gratefully, says so.
4. Flying at Night by Ted Kooser
Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,
snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn
back into the little system of his care.
All night, the cities, like shimmering novas,
tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.
5. Relativity by Sarah Howe
for Stephen Hawking
When we wake up brushed by panic in the dark
our pupils grope for the shape of things we know.
Photons loosed from slits like greyhounds at the track
reveal light’s doubleness in their cast shadows
that stripe a dimmed lab’s wall—particles no more—
and with a wave bid all certainties goodbye.
For what’s sure in a universe that dopplers
away like a siren’s midnight cry? They say
a flash seen from on and off a hurtling train
will explain why time dilates like a perfect
afternoon; predicts black holes where parallel lines
will meet, whose stark horizon even starlight,
bent in its tracks, can’t resist. If we can think
this far, might not our eyes adjust to the dark?
Note: Please listen to Stephen Hawking reading the poem here + the poet’s take on the poetry of astrophysics here.
Recommended Listening
As the Earth Kissed the Moon - Michael Stearns (The Earth as a being of sound)
Richard Linklater on his soundtrack choices for Apollo 10 1/2 + the Spotify playlist for the film OST
bathroom essentials - Loofa (strange and lovely)
Hundreds of Days - Mary Lattimore (+ an old interview with Mary here)
Links of the Week
Mmmm. Hundreds of Japanese Fireworks Illustrations from the 1800s
The Case for Taking Naps (“A Nap Resistance is building”)
Time In This Time (Nine artists and creators reflect on how they understood time during the pandemic)
Framed (Wordle for film enthusiasts)
“I have processed my feelings — from trauma to falling in love — through writing and drawing my entire life. It has taught me that I can work through any struggle to arrive at a place of comfort.”
-Samantha Dion Baker on drawing and journaling as therapy
Before I return to my mundane monday and strike some to-dos off my list, I leave you with this reminder by @exquisiteparadox:
And while we’re on the subject:
“Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know before you learned it.”
-Maya Angelou
May you keep finding yourself everyday,
Rohini
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Lovely as always ❤️