SPACE AND TIME
Historians, in evoking images to accentuate their accounts of nations or civilizations, select picturesque titles as labels for certain periods. We meet with words like Pleistocene, the Glacial Age, the Axial Period, the Renaissance, and so on, coined by different writers to designate different overlapping periods as illustrative of their interpretations of those periods. Confined to the affairs of the world, their accounts of the evolution of human civilization and thoughts are comforting, showing the ascending stages from the primitive to the modern. A few, imbued with scientific élan and forever pushing the frontiers of knowledge, chose as their turning points in human history the stages in the unfolding of cosmogonic discoveries -- from the geocentric to heliocentric and lately to galactic systems -- throughout which Man's concept of self had to pass through the gauntlet of frustrating realizations of his diminishing importance. When in the Ptolemaic concept Man thought himself to be the center of the universe, he now is tragically aware that even his life-giving Sun is only an insignificant star burning along the edge of the vast Milky Way. And the Milky Way itself is a galactic system among other immense galaxies swimming in a vast emptiness around an unknown Center.
There was once a TV cartoon, the message of which -- that there are many levels of physical existence -- is obviously beyond the grasp of children's minds. It is about a world of men contained in pollen of a flower. And its inhabitants desperately knew that they were about to be destroyed by gigantic human beings who picked the flower they were in. The major portion of the cartoon strip was involved with the frantic scramble of all the people in that microscopic world to make themselves heard by the giants. They tried to make all kinds of noises, but slowly realized the futility of their efforts. They decided to make a pyramid of a motley of materials they can get hold of so that one of them can get to the top and raise a yell to "heaven" and be heard. Near the end, a small boy, hitherto ignored by the people, became the last resort to climb that pyramid and give his shrill cry for help. And was heard.
Then it was their turn to pick a small flower, and after some time, also heard a little call for help coming from that small flower.
Such a perilous situation applied to our universe seems scientifically difficult to imagine, although the primitive mind can accept the possibility that there are beings greater than our visible universe. There is, within the depths of our collective unconscious, the dread of the immense Unknown. During my first realization of how vast the universe is, I remember feeling an oppressive inexpressible dread. My mind could not grasp or imagine the endlessness of that firmament I see above me. And when I came across Steele's narration of "The Man Who Saw Through Heaven", I had feelings of kinship with that troubled man and understood his overwhelming torment in possessing the crushing knowledge of astronomical realities. Perhaps Steele too went through that emotional ordeal, or else he could not have presented the problem so touchingly.
The story is about a clergyman, whose religious beliefs were circumscribed by the simple poetic logic of the Bible. He chanced to join his wife in an educational tour of an astronomical observatory. And there he was fed the awesome facts of the universe. He saw the stars, which are suns and could possibly have their own planets or worlds like our own, and was informed that the immense distances between them are measured in light-years, or the time needed for light to travel in one year. He was also told that the visible universe, compared to the Whole, might be contained, figuratively, in the gem of his ring.
The shock of such a scientific revelation turned out to be so traumatic as to make him leave his wife and disappear into the wildernesses of Africa. The eventual search turned up a trail of crude idols seated on mud thrones, and the natives referred to him as "our Father Witch". The wife, seeing the growing evidence of her husband's idolatry, became disenchanted and could not understand his apostasy. Finally, as the searchers reached the end of the trail, the last crude sculpture of the dead apostate showed a large figure of God staring at a gem on His finger. And the wife finally understood that her husband, in a burst of renewed faith that cost him his life, had spread the belief that "Our Father Which art in heaven", keeps watch over man even if he were but an infinitesimal part of the vast universe.
The mind is boggled by the idea of infinite space. Yet, there is still more to benumb it when we consider its twin concept -- Time -- and its implications on our physical existences. Life spans are measured in years -- what is it? seventy years? Each year is an accumulation of 365 days; each day a summation of twenty four hours; and down, down to nanoseconds or time measures used to rate the speeds of computers. Our calendars indicate almost two thousand years, a long, long time indeed. Yet historians tell us that millions of years stretched before our turning point, the Christian era. And cosmologists estimate that billions of years more lie in the future of our Mother Earth.
How would it really feel to have eternal life? when you know you will have no end? We are so used to think about duration as having a beginning and an end -- and of the interesting middles -- that to confront and cogitate on the idea of eternity could be difficult to comprehend. And yet I know that everybody wants to live forever. I do too, but sometimes when I really get to think hard about what I shall be doing with all those milliards and milliards of years and more, I get migraine trying to imagine what that could be. At that point, I welcome the idea that Death is not that horrible. We need ends to all the troubles that plague us in our lives.
So why waste time thinking about galaxies and trillions of years? There are more pressing problems to attend to, such as raising money for daily sustenance and to pay bills and taxes; waiting for Maynilad water to flow in every other midnight; plugging leaks during heavy rains; getting rid of vermin and termites, and so on. Never mind the prospects of colliding universes and cosmic catastrophes that could obliterate mankind in a flash. Or infinite time. Or the meaning of being. Those are not as important as our present day-to-day struggles to survive. I must tear myself from my efforts in contemplating the sublime and rouse myself to face the humdrum. And face the fact of my ephemerality.
If such emotional burdens begin to weigh heavily and seem insuperable, I think we need to raise our tortured minds to transcend the mundane and reach for the stars, figuratively, of course. Too close involvement with the nitty gritty problems of life could be oppressive (and may drive you either insane or to suicide) that there is the escape offered by the rarefied air of philosophy, or, in my case, such scientifically arcane subject as cosmology. Such a breather can preciously lengthen your life (not that it matters). Socrates must have had myriads of domestic problems in supporting his family that Xanthippe's badgerings drove him to indulge in his version of lofty naggings as his vengeance on and escape from demeaning realities.
Once we have savored the exoteric airs of, say, philosophy trying to comprehend the secrets of the universe, then as we go back to "earth" we can view the affairs of the world with indifference and treat them on equal levels of importance. It becomes difficult to categorize problems -- which are minor and which are major. People who have not soared the psychological heavens will then treat you with distaste, or even with contempt, for being so nitpicking when you try to worry about small things, or for being impractical when you concentrate on matters that lie beyond any man's control.
There was once a TV cartoon, the message of which -- that there are many levels of physical existence -- is obviously beyond the grasp of children's minds. It is about a world of men contained in pollen of a flower. And its inhabitants desperately knew that they were about to be destroyed by gigantic human beings who picked the flower they were in. The major portion of the cartoon strip was involved with the frantic scramble of all the people in that microscopic world to make themselves heard by the giants. They tried to make all kinds of noises, but slowly realized the futility of their efforts. They decided to make a pyramid of a motley of materials they can get hold of so that one of them can get to the top and raise a yell to "heaven" and be heard. Near the end, a small boy, hitherto ignored by the people, became the last resort to climb that pyramid and give his shrill cry for help. And was heard.
Then it was their turn to pick a small flower, and after some time, also heard a little call for help coming from that small flower.
Such a perilous situation applied to our universe seems scientifically difficult to imagine, although the primitive mind can accept the possibility that there are beings greater than our visible universe. There is, within the depths of our collective unconscious, the dread of the immense Unknown. During my first realization of how vast the universe is, I remember feeling an oppressive inexpressible dread. My mind could not grasp or imagine the endlessness of that firmament I see above me. And when I came across Steele's narration of "The Man Who Saw Through Heaven", I had feelings of kinship with that troubled man and understood his overwhelming torment in possessing the crushing knowledge of astronomical realities. Perhaps Steele too went through that emotional ordeal, or else he could not have presented the problem so touchingly.
The story is about a clergyman, whose religious beliefs were circumscribed by the simple poetic logic of the Bible. He chanced to join his wife in an educational tour of an astronomical observatory. And there he was fed the awesome facts of the universe. He saw the stars, which are suns and could possibly have their own planets or worlds like our own, and was informed that the immense distances between them are measured in light-years, or the time needed for light to travel in one year. He was also told that the visible universe, compared to the Whole, might be contained, figuratively, in the gem of his ring.
The shock of such a scientific revelation turned out to be so traumatic as to make him leave his wife and disappear into the wildernesses of Africa. The eventual search turned up a trail of crude idols seated on mud thrones, and the natives referred to him as "our Father Witch". The wife, seeing the growing evidence of her husband's idolatry, became disenchanted and could not understand his apostasy. Finally, as the searchers reached the end of the trail, the last crude sculpture of the dead apostate showed a large figure of God staring at a gem on His finger. And the wife finally understood that her husband, in a burst of renewed faith that cost him his life, had spread the belief that "Our Father Which art in heaven", keeps watch over man even if he were but an infinitesimal part of the vast universe.
The mind is boggled by the idea of infinite space. Yet, there is still more to benumb it when we consider its twin concept -- Time -- and its implications on our physical existences. Life spans are measured in years -- what is it? seventy years? Each year is an accumulation of 365 days; each day a summation of twenty four hours; and down, down to nanoseconds or time measures used to rate the speeds of computers. Our calendars indicate almost two thousand years, a long, long time indeed. Yet historians tell us that millions of years stretched before our turning point, the Christian era. And cosmologists estimate that billions of years more lie in the future of our Mother Earth.
How would it really feel to have eternal life? when you know you will have no end? We are so used to think about duration as having a beginning and an end -- and of the interesting middles -- that to confront and cogitate on the idea of eternity could be difficult to comprehend. And yet I know that everybody wants to live forever. I do too, but sometimes when I really get to think hard about what I shall be doing with all those milliards and milliards of years and more, I get migraine trying to imagine what that could be. At that point, I welcome the idea that Death is not that horrible. We need ends to all the troubles that plague us in our lives.
So why waste time thinking about galaxies and trillions of years? There are more pressing problems to attend to, such as raising money for daily sustenance and to pay bills and taxes; waiting for Maynilad water to flow in every other midnight; plugging leaks during heavy rains; getting rid of vermin and termites, and so on. Never mind the prospects of colliding universes and cosmic catastrophes that could obliterate mankind in a flash. Or infinite time. Or the meaning of being. Those are not as important as our present day-to-day struggles to survive. I must tear myself from my efforts in contemplating the sublime and rouse myself to face the humdrum. And face the fact of my ephemerality.
If such emotional burdens begin to weigh heavily and seem insuperable, I think we need to raise our tortured minds to transcend the mundane and reach for the stars, figuratively, of course. Too close involvement with the nitty gritty problems of life could be oppressive (and may drive you either insane or to suicide) that there is the escape offered by the rarefied air of philosophy, or, in my case, such scientifically arcane subject as cosmology. Such a breather can preciously lengthen your life (not that it matters). Socrates must have had myriads of domestic problems in supporting his family that Xanthippe's badgerings drove him to indulge in his version of lofty naggings as his vengeance on and escape from demeaning realities.
Once we have savored the exoteric airs of, say, philosophy trying to comprehend the secrets of the universe, then as we go back to "earth" we can view the affairs of the world with indifference and treat them on equal levels of importance. It becomes difficult to categorize problems -- which are minor and which are major. People who have not soared the psychological heavens will then treat you with distaste, or even with contempt, for being so nitpicking when you try to worry about small things, or for being impractical when you concentrate on matters that lie beyond any man's control.
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12:43 AM
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