I heard Urban Astronomer Paul Salazar on KFOG this morning. I get so busy with life I forget how much I love stargazing. The Universe is an amazing place.
Paul used an image for the listening audience that I'll never forget. He said that the reason the best time to watch for meteor showers is after midnight is not only because the sky is darkest at that time (although that's part of it), but mainly because the earth has rotated around and is facing directly into the rotation. At that moment, we are facing head on into meteors and space dust and anything else we may meet along the way. That's when the show is at its most dramatic.
I don't know why I find that thought so captivating. I love the idea of standing, arms outstretched, on the outer rim of the planet with my face to the Universe and the whole of planet Earth thrusting at my feet, flying and firmly grounded at the same time. What a rush.
This reminds me, too, of the Mars landing a few months ago. I was at BayCon and I got to watch the landing projected onto a huge screen in a room packed with an enthusiastic audience. One of the things I love about moments like this is the human factor. For months, even years, the people involved with these missions work steadily, like automatons. But for these brief shining moments, all their hope and fear and joy rises to the surface. There was one man in the back of the control room who just couldn't stay still; he kept pacing, then he'd stop and grip the back of his chair, and then start pacing again. When the landing was complete, he jumped up and down and hugged his colleagues. I don't know who that man is, but I love him. I love him for caring, for putting his heart into it.
Sometimes, we do good work, we humans. Sometimes, we manage to approach things noble and worthwhile.
25 Days til the Burn!
Paul used an image for the listening audience that I'll never forget. He said that the reason the best time to watch for meteor showers is after midnight is not only because the sky is darkest at that time (although that's part of it), but mainly because the earth has rotated around and is facing directly into the rotation. At that moment, we are facing head on into meteors and space dust and anything else we may meet along the way. That's when the show is at its most dramatic.
I don't know why I find that thought so captivating. I love the idea of standing, arms outstretched, on the outer rim of the planet with my face to the Universe and the whole of planet Earth thrusting at my feet, flying and firmly grounded at the same time. What a rush.
This reminds me, too, of the Mars landing a few months ago. I was at BayCon and I got to watch the landing projected onto a huge screen in a room packed with an enthusiastic audience. One of the things I love about moments like this is the human factor. For months, even years, the people involved with these missions work steadily, like automatons. But for these brief shining moments, all their hope and fear and joy rises to the surface. There was one man in the back of the control room who just couldn't stay still; he kept pacing, then he'd stop and grip the back of his chair, and then start pacing again. When the landing was complete, he jumped up and down and hugged his colleagues. I don't know who that man is, but I love him. I love him for caring, for putting his heart into it.
Sometimes, we do good work, we humans. Sometimes, we manage to approach things noble and worthwhile.
25 Days til the Burn!
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