LOOK UP! STARGAZING AMID A
BY DR. NURIT ISRAELI
This article is dedicated to my beloved grandson,
Ben, who taught me most of what I know
about the stars and who continues to inspire
me to keep my mind open to the possibility of
magic.
“Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the
stars, and see yourself running with them.”
– Marcus Aurelius
I can’t call it a “silver lining,” but it is a nice
side effect. Over big parts of the world, experts
noticed clearer night skies since the
beginning of the coronavirus lockdowns. The
pandemic triggered profound environmental
changes: The hustle and bustle of normal life
faded away, there were fewer flights worldwide,
fewer cars filled the roads, much of industry shut
down, smog dissipated, and a major drop in air
pollution became noticeable. An unintended
consequence of these changes was a clearer night
sky. The sight of a clear night sky studded with
countless twinkling stars became more common
and more readily available.
Also, during the era of “six-feet apart,” stargazing
became an ideal social distancing-conscious
activity: a way of connecting with nature and
the world beyond us without leaving our own
balcony or back yard. Stargazing includes time
distancing as well: Light takes time to travel,
and even the stars closest to us are astoundingly
distant, light years away. Gazing at them is a
form of looking back at time. When we look up,
we don’t see things as they are now, but rather
things as they were years ago. For example, the
stars of the Big Dipper range from 60 to 125
light years away. When we look at Dubhe, the
front star in the “bowl,” which is about 123
light years away, we see light from before we
were born...
I love watching the evening sky: follow the
fading light as a departing day takes along the
commotion of daytime and gives way to the
calmer pace of nighttime. I love watching the
sky grow darker, dyed into deeper and deeper
shades of night. I love the sounds of night: crickets
chirping, an occasional bird calling. And I
particularly love the gradual way in which the
stars come out. Initially, just a few show up, as
if testing the territory, then multiple followers
appear across a vast sky. At its peak, a starry
night looks like a luminous blanket stretched
from horizon to horizon, adorned with countless
glimmering jewels. The illuminated dark
skies, filled with the splendor of star constellations,
is enchanting!
Sometimes I pick one star, a specific point
of light, and stay with it for a while – trying to
imagine how far it is, how old, how it may look
from closer up. There is mystery in the celestial
PANDEMIC’S DARK SKIES
bodies that are so remote yet so familiar, setting
forth light that touches us.
What particularly appeals to me is the interplay
of light and darkness. How stars and a dark
night sky flow into each other like an entwined
duo in a yin-yang dance – a match made in
heaven (literally...), of opposites that attract.
I am mindful of the interdependence of light
and darkness. As Martin Luther King resolved:
“Only in the darkness can you see the stars.”
And in Carl Sagan’s book, Cosmos, I found
a quote from the tombstone epitaph of two
amateur astronomers:
“We have loved the stars too fondly to be
fearful of the night.”
Watching an infinite night sky helps me take
stock, think of the bigger picture, keep things
in perspective regarding our place in the larger
scheme of things. When we look up at the night
sky, we see only a very small fraction of what
is out there. From a cosmic perspective, we
are so minute – tiny creatures in a planet that
appears like a tiny dot in the vastness of space,
one among so many others. Each of us is one
of the billions of people on our Earth. Earth is
one of the smaller planets in our solar system.
Our Earth orbits the sun – our nearest star. Our
sun is one star among the billions in the Milky
Way – our galaxy. Our Milky Way galaxy is one
among billions of galaxies in our universe. We
are truly a minuscule part
of a universe that is larger
than we can grasp.
At the same time, we are an integral part
of something grand, something immense and
remarkable. Also, we now have unprecedented
access to the unfathomably vast cosmos.
Whatever we know about the universe has been
discovered by the human mind! We, humans,
find ways to study what cannot be seen, understand
more and more of what is beyond us!
Because so much has been unknown about
all that takes place above our heads, outside of
our planet Earth, the drama of the night sky has
prompted myths, legends, and tales around the
world and throughout history. Just one example:
an Eskimo legend tells that the stars are openings
where our loved ones, who are no longer
on this side of Earth, shine down to let us know
they are happy. Yes, this is just a legend, but a
comforting one. And... who knows?
For his birthday, we purchased a telescope
for our first-born grandson, Ben, now a PhD
student in Physics at Princeton University.
Before the pandemic, he arrived for a visit with
his new (big and heavy) telescope to show
us Jupiter and the moons orbiting it which,
according to him, were supposed to be visible
from our North Shore Towers’ balcony at 9 PM
that evening. Stepping out onto the balcony,
I was introduced to basic astrophysics – basic
ways of exploring the origins and evolution
of the universe by observing the sky. All I
had to do was look up (and concentrate...).
I learned that some bright planets (Mercury,
Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn) are visible
to the naked eye; that some of the star-like
objects moving in the sky are actually manmade
satellites orbiting the Earth (twice before,
Ben took me outside to see the International
Space Station passing over us in the night sky:
it looks like a bright star moving quickly above
the horizon); that binoculars may be a better
beginner’s tool than a telescope; that simple
applications on our mobile phones (such as
SkySafari) can help us identify stars, planets,
and constellations by holding our phones up
to the sky.
For a recent birthday, the same grandson, Ben,
gave me a gift: the scientific yet lyrical book,
Cosmos, written by the renowned astronomer,
Carl Sagan. One chapter at a time, I went along
with Sagan on a remarkable journey aimed at
exploring our place in the cosmos. Ever since,
whenever I look up, I think of Carl Sagan,
who said:
“Somewhere, something incredible is waiting
to be known.” And:
“We’re made of star stuff. We are a way for
the cosmos to know itself.” And:
“For small creatures such as we the vastness
is bearable only through love.”
Starry night — a self-made holiday costume
16 NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER ¢ June 2021