Showing posts with label Jupiter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jupiter. Show all posts

Monday, July 24, 2017

Out with Selfies, In with Wonder

You can also read it in the Mercury News 


At the Montgomery Hill Observatory of Evergreen Valley College in San Jose, there is a public stargazing night on the first Friday of every month. It is here that a decade ago I first saw Saturn through the observatory’s 7” refractor telescope. I will never forget that magical moment. The “Lord of the Rings” planet 750 million miles or so away from the earth seemed so inviting that I wanted to reach out and touch it.
With Jupiter and Saturn gracing the night sky now, I decided to visit the observatory after a hiatus to renew my acquaintance with the two planets.

About fifty of us gathered at the observatory recently to take in the beauty of the starry sky. The line was long for the domed building that housed the telescope focused on Saturn.
What I witnessed, however, was unexpected and, frankly, shocking.
Most of the “stargazers” spent more time taking selfies than looking at the planet. Parents held their babies close to the telescope and snapped photos as the unnatural light of their smartphones lit up the dark interior of the building. They photographed the telescope’s view of Saturn, experimenting until the image was to their satisfaction.
What I found incongruous was that everyone acted as if this was normal, that unless Saturn was captured in the circuitry of their hi-tech gadgets, the physical experience of observing the ringed planet through a telescope wasn’t worth much.
It was the same with Jupiter in the adjacent roll-off roof building. Jove and his moons took a backseat to the selfies, to the document-by-camera excitement that gripped so many of the visitors. A remark I overheard put the selfies in perspective. A man turned to his spouse and said, “It’s already on Facebook and Instagram.”
The standalone selfie was apparently not worth much by itself, unless authenticated by social media and “liked.”
I managed to see Saturn, its ring tilted at a steeper angle than when I saw it last, magical and awe-inspiring as always. But the flash and whirr of the cameras seemed so pervasive that afterwards, when I looked up with unaided eyes outside, I half-expected to see the image of a partially-eaten translucent silver apple dominating the night sky.
The selfie syndrome is everywhere, not just at public events and tourist spots but in parks, woods, shores, malls, stadiums, restaurants, museums, even at graveyards and funerals!
How is it that we have so casually surrendered substance to shadow, real to virtual? Why are we so in thrall to our devices 24×7?
One reason is that smart gadgets and social media allow us to unleash our very human instinct for self-expression to a degree unprecedented in history.
But pushed to extreme, self-expression can devolve into narcissism. In particular, in the presence of the sublime and the transcendent, self-expression through selfies, rather than engaging through the senses, can be foolish and short-sighted. It is like ignoring the eternal for the ephemeral.
How to subdue this abnormal selfie craving? One way would be to renew our acquaintance with nature.
“The world is too much with us,” lamented Wordsworth at the dawn of the 19th century when the poet felt that people had lost their connection to nature because of their growing attachment to materialism. “Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:/Little we see in nature that is ours/…/For this, for everything, we are out of tune.”
Next time we go to the woods, the shore or the observatory, let’s leave behind the devices with the flickering screens so we can experience with our five senses the music of songbirds, the lullaby of surf, and the pageantry of stars and planets.

Monday, March 05, 2012

Starry Sky, Life and Death

It's a magnificent sight, the evening sky now. In the West, the irrepressible 'evening star' Venus glows with such luminosity that you want to extend your hand and touch it. Above it is Jupiter, not as bright but compelling nonetheless. Overhead, the moon is swelling as it moves eastward toward the Diablo Range. But the eastern sky belongs to Mars with its twinkling reddish hue. In the north, the two pointers of the Big Dipper are oriented up and you can easily trace their line to locate the Polaris to the left.

Last week, on February 24, the crescent moon was below Venus and just above the western horizon. The next night it had moved between Venus and Jupiter, forming an almost perfect right-angle triangle. (Pythagorean Theorem, anyone?) The next two days brought much-needed rain to the Santa Clara Valley and clouds covered the sky. A night later, the moon had moved past Jupiter near Orion. The pink plum-cherry blossom have been out in profusion along the quiet avenues and appear like snowflakes in reflected light as you look up to drink in the beauty above.

But tonight the moon has gone far past Orion. In two nights or so, the full moon will rise big and yellow-orange above the hills and one will be overwhelmed by the ineffable beauty of the March sky.

What is it about the sky, particularly when it is so star-studded, that compels us to consider other perspectives? What exactly are we after in life? Fame, glory, wealth, happiness? Does it really matter, after we have reached a certain level of satiety, to add more? Is it worth it, this relentless pursuit of more? Does it in any way enhance our insignificance?

A dear aunt passed away a month ago and I just heard that uncle (they were married for 50 years) has died today, in the same hospital, in the same ICU unit. Both of them refused medications and the experiments that doctors wanted to run on them. They were determined to leave this life with dignity and they did, surrounded only by their loved ones. No tubes, no surgeries, no medical intrusions into the sacred. Both accepted death with uncommon grace and I cannot but think that uncle has left to join his beloved. If he could look at the sky last night, the final night of his life, I think he would have known more than ever before in his heart that love transcends all.

The seasons come and go and the earth renews itself with rain and becomes brown again, and the ancient cycle continues. The old move on and their grandchildren grow up. Someone departs, someone arrives. For all our striving and advances, the sum of human joys and sorrows remain more or less constant across centuries. The planets and the stars swim along in their orbits, unhurried and unchanging, reminding us only of those things that matter, if we take the time to see and listen.