Musings on Time, and Space, and Tessering....

 

By Marilyn Moore

That first stunning photo from the James Webb telescope, known as Webb’s First Deep Field, brought it all back.  Tessering, I thought….my God (and I don’t say that lightly), Madeleine L’Engle knew it, got it, and told it.  I was right back in my Basic Studies classroom at Goodrich Middle School, beginning to teach A Wrinkle in Time to sixth and seventh graders, attempting to explain the concept of “tessering.”  A fifth-dimensional concept, wrinkling time so as to transcend space.  Which is what Meg and Charles Wallace and Calvin did as they traveled across space and time to find and rescue Meg’s and Charles Wallace’s father who was experimenting with tesseracts and who is stranded on the planet Comazoz. They are led and nudged by Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which, and comforted by Aunt Beast.  And in the end, love triumphs… As John, sixth-grader with deep insight, said as we finished reading the book, “What a good story.”  And that it is….

In some way, because of her deep and rich reading in science and because of the spiritual being that she was, Madeleine L’Engle imagined a least a fragment of what we see today in this image.  The deepest look into space ever, galaxies upon galaxies upon galaxies.  A galaxy cluster as it appeared 4.6 billion years ago, and light that had traveled from one far distant galaxy 13.1 billion years before the image was captured on the Webb mirrors.  Not only are we not alone, we are in the company of untold magnificence.

I remember a time in high school physics class making a strongly asserted opinion that the universe was not infinite, that there had to be an end to it somewhere.  My teacher wisely challenged that assertion, with the questioning skills that all good teachers have.  My argument was weak, which I knew as soon as I uttered the words, but I stuck with it.  Adolescents do foolish things at times, and taking an improbable position with absolutely no facts to back it up is one such foolish thing.  From that time on, I’ve searched for greater understanding of the infinity of the universe.  Here is the next chapter…and what a chapter it is.

I’m struck by one line from the NASA website…well, I’m struck by all of it.  (And thanks to NASA for making these stunning images available to star gazers everywhere.)  But this line…"Webb’s MIRI image offers a kaleidoscope of colors and highlights where the dust is – a major ingredient for star formation, and ultimately life itself.”  You’ve heard that we’re all created from star dust; here’s an image of our origin.

If you’re looking at the image, the red objects are the ones that are enshrouded in thick layers of dust. Points of light?  Points of life?  Way beyond me to speculate with any knowledge basis at all, but I know the scientists are doing just that, analyzing data, applying theory, asking questions.  Most importantly, asking questions, seeking answers to questions they don’t even know exist…what a time to be an astrophysicist!    

I love hearing the energy and the wonder in the voices of those who have imagined, built, and launched the James Webb telescope.  Decades in the making, many failures and do-overs along the way, then the persistence to try again, try another way.  Then the launch, and the long wait for the first images.  Then – dramatic, shattering, mind-blowing wonder!  And their language reveals the deep understanding they have and the deep regard in which they hold the infinite universe.  They speak of stars, and galaxies, being born, and dying.  They give life to what I have thought are inanimate objects…they cause me to re-think life itself.  Dust, a major ingredient in star formation, and ultimately in life itself…at the core of our being is star dust.  Of course we're star gazers, seeking to know, deeply and intensely, from where we came....

Back to A Wrinkle in Time.  I really worked at teaching the concept of “tessering.”  It was a challenging concept for me, so very abstract, so dependent on physics, which is my weak point in the sciences.  But I had words, I had drawings, I had three-dimensional objects, I had metaphors, all useful tools in teaching abstract concepts.  I quickly realized my students didn’t need any of those.  They thought it was cool, it made the story work, and they didn’t need to know the mechanics to appreciate the concept.  When I looked at Webb’s First Deep Field, and read the accompanying explanation, I brought the best of my conceptual understanding of time and space to the awe-filled images, light that is billions of years old, and galaxies and stars that are being born, and dying, right in front of us.  I realized I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around what I was seeing.  But my soul could get there, seeing and knowing truth and wonder.

Grapes of wrath … a smoldering summer saved by the stars

By Mary Kay Roth

One never-ending hour loomed ahead of us after seven weary hours on the road, traveling toward our rented lake house, a vacation caravan with my daughter, granddaughters and me in one car, my son and grandson following in another. 

It was 9 p.m. and we were exhausted – in that zombie state of mind – when we stopped to stock up on groceries and paused in the produce section, clueless about what we needed. I told my kids to take their time while I went to find coffee.

I couldn’t have been gone more than five minutes, but upon my return I found my two grown kids wheeling two separate carts, fuming, in two separate aisles of the grocery store.  They checked out and paid separately, returned to their cars without speaking and continued to the lake.

Later that night it was a tense arrival at our destination, but as we sorted out bedrooms and luggage, I finally asked the obvious question: What in the heck happened?  

They answered in unison: “It was the grapes.”

Josh: “She put cotton candy grapes in the cart, and that is the worst food ever invented in the history of mankind. A revolting Franken-fruit.”

Anna: “Then he put purple grapes in the cart, and there was no way we needed that many grapes. And besides, cotton candy grapes are fantastic.”

Good grief, summer has always been restorative for me, three glorious months of beaches and seashells, cold beer and warm bike rides, tank tops and fresh garden vegetables.

But this year, June and July have been plagued with an unease, a restlessness, and our own ridiculous grapes of wrath were only a microcosm of the bigger picture: a disturbing summer simmering and fomenting with anger.

A summer when … 

• Damning evidence at Congressional hearings illuminated a sitting president who not only tried to destroy democracy but threw ketchup at the wall when he didn’t get his way – and who (believe it or not) seems ready to announce he’s running again.
• The Supreme Court ripped away women’s control over their own bodies, eroded separation of church and state, and made it easier to carry guns (amidst a series of mass shootings across the country).
• Nebraska’s Republican party imploded, the price of a carton of eggs soared, even the giraffes at the zoo went nuts. 

And yet, just as our country smoldered and we all seemed ready to wave the white flag, I found personal salvation in a most surprising place: outer space … as the James Webb Telescope offered us a stunning snapshot of the universe’s baby pictures: The birth of stars, galaxies colliding, a mind-bending voyage way beyond our little cosmic neighborhood.  

When I pulled up those first celestial photographs my brain short-circuited. This miraculous telescope was taking us 13 billion years back in time, pivoting from one patch of the heavens to another. And everyone around me – in fact, around the entire globe – seemed to experience the same gut reaction: a connection, a collective exhale of our souls, a temporary escape from crushing news and fermenting grapes.  

Shannon Stirone, an American science journalist and editor, wrote in awe: “Stars are born, birthing new solar systems full of planets; galactic glitter sprinkles the screen as if splattered with a cosmic paintbrush … We long to understand why we’re here and to find meaning in a world where meaning is so often difficult to divine. Telescopes like this remind us that in spite of our specific challenges on Earth, the possibility of connection still exists.”

Jane Rigby, the project’s scientist for operations, who cried at the telescope’s first images, called the endeavor an example of the triumph of the human spirit, “people in a broken world managing to do something right – to see some of the majesty that’s out there.”

And Farhad Manjoo, a science writer for the New York Times, wrote a column he titled, The Webb Telescope Restored (Some of) My Faith in Humanity.  “The Webb’s success feels like a testament to the cheesy best of us — perseverance, ingenuity, rigor, openness, global cooperation, institutions, a commitment to excellence, exploration and dreamy ambition. In an otherwise dreary time, the telescope is one of those milestones that should bolster your estimation of what our species is capable of.”

***   

Back at the lake, the morning after the infamous grapes of wrath, I went for a sunrise swim and returned to a cabin filled with laughter – Josh and Anna roaring over the ridiculousness of the night before.

Eventually, inevitably, we would return to the real world where the Jan. 6 hearings would become even more ludicrous – where volunteers at Planned Parenthood would face protestors growing even more malicious – where a tank of gas would be worth the price of gold. 

But for our week at the lake, this one sheltered week, we would breathe deeply and let the restorative powers of summer – the power of the stars – wash over us. 

My overgrown kids, grandkids and yes, their grandmother, would cannonball into the cool, clear waters.  We would hike down trails lined with Bee Balm, Foxglove and Black-eyed Susan – jump off cliffs and skip stones – spend our days in swimsuits and bare feet – and kayak out into the sunrise, beyond the buoys where the herons and shorebirds live.  

On our very last evening of vacation we took a late-night swim and watched the glow of dusk turn to twilight.  Cicadas bellowed and bull frogs groaned. Fireflies glittered overhead and the feel of lake water was like velvet between our fingers. Treading water, floating on our backs in the darkness, we looked up.

Astronomer Carl Sagan so famously reflected: “The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.” 

So, that night, we gazed at the blanket of stars above us, peered into the opaque mist of the Milky Way and searched for those galaxies far, far away.

 

The Pursuit of Independence

by Mary Reiman

I've been thinking about writing this for about a month. Well, honestly, since my last post when I realized this would be the 4th of July weekend. At that time, I was thinking about the topic of independence. In the meantime, more mayhem. Many of you shared posts and messages about our independence, or lack of it, or what it means today as opposed to what it meant a month ago...or in 1776.

Independence Day is a national holiday marked by patriotic displays...Many politicians make it a point on this day to appear at a public event to praise the nation's heritage, laws, history, society, and people. (Wikipedia)

Independence Day, also called Fourth of July or July 4th, the annual celebration of nationhood. During the early years of the republic, Independence Day was commemorated with parades, oratory, and toasting in ceremonies that celebrated the existence of the new nation...It was the greatest secular holiday in the country. Celebrating the day became common only after the War of 1812. Thereafter, civic-minded groups worked to link the ideals of democracy and citizenship to the patriotic spirit of the day. (Britannica. Does anyone remember Britannica? Does anyone remember encyclopedias?)

We put out our flags for different reasons. Just as we define Independence Day differently. Some have traditional family gatherings in a park, by the pool or at a lake. Some love sparklers and fireworks. Some prefer to quietly reflect on our country's history. Some simply want a reason for a party.

As I am thinking of Independence Day this year, I cannot get past the word independence. What does independence really mean? The right to do what we feel is best for ourselves? 

The dictionary definition of independence is: freedom from the control or influence of others. Their example is: When kids grow up and move out and start making their own decisions. 

Independence and freedom. What does freedom mean? Freedom: the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint. Ultimately it is about our freedoms. Freedoms we take/took for granted?

I do mourn losses of independence this week. And losses of freedom. Hard fought freedom after much activism in the 60s and 70s. The days of protests, rallies, inspiring speakers, posters, t-shirts, much reading and long discussions about how to gain more rights for women. This week reminded us of those days, that history, the strength gained from those rallies and those conversations. 

Our children, especially daughters, granddaughters, nieces and great nieces don't have the same history. Maybe we've not talked enough with them about our fight for women's rights. Different generations. They have not had to think about what it was like before. I didn't think they needed to hear my stories. I was wrong. History can come back to haunt us. And for those who feel they are immune to the Supreme Court decisions this week. Are you sure? 

Independence may change to "in dependence." Dependence: the state of relying on or being controlled by someone or something else. Read that again. The state of relying on or being controlled by someone or something else. That's not a secure, safe, freedom-filled feeling on this holiday. 

As I attempt to channel the voices of RBG and Maya Angelou and so many others who have gone before us, I am reminded of the urgent need to not give up. Our advocacy is needed now just as it was decades ago. 

So much was written last week. So many editorials, opinions, observations. They help me know I am not alone in my sadness, anger, frustration and fear. The words of Maya Angelou: "Each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women."  The reminder to NEVER GIVE UP.

So in the midst of this mayhem, even with a tremendous sense of unease, I wish you and your loved ones the opportunity to live your own best lives, with independence, on this 4th of July.