Aroostook Skies: The end of the world
By Larry Berz
Like some late night black and white TV melodrama from the outer limits, the apocalyptic scenario brings the message home (in technological or natural mode) — a flash of atomic death to a whimpering, jaded, unsuspecting Adam or thunderous clouds and punctuated volcanic blasts from the Crack in the World, inexorable flow of hot, pyroclastic magma sizzling anything unlucky enough to impede its path and menacing stream. A world melted, civilization extinguished, humanity evaporated through our own innocence or malignancy (take your pick).
Destruction parades with relentless finality. Megalithic spasms of shuddering coastlines and continents, our own dear Earth and soils torn mercilessly by unimaginable convulsions and quaking, pulverizing and shattering humanity’s remaining congregation in a pathetic and desperate heave-ho. Outraged, electrified torrents of wicked waters, unmoored from customary boundaries, shriek judgment in both unchecked and enraged destruction. Terrestrial nature in total revolt against all.
Suddenly, extraterrestrial terror, now unleashed, teach the survivors unforgettable lessons. Concentrations of ragged rocks and melting metals hurtle downward in grim obedience to gravity’s rainzone — a cruel bombardment to poach and braise the planet’s skin and thus far outdistancing the best of Hollywood. Black hole vacuumizing, rogue star collision, immobilized open clusters manifest their unique plague. Gravitational havoc plays out over 100,000 galactic light years. Forces beyond mortal understanding invent the ultimate Rube Goldberg device calibrated for extermination.
All said and done, you could lose your mind — or at least your sleep — in contemplating December 21, 2012 and the cataclysmic interpretations of the ancient sky watchers of America — the Mayans. Earth uninhabitable and cinderized as time closes shop until awakened by the ordination of a new age. Yet to our
thinking and well educated citizens, why should such a climax attract and frazzle the nerves of even one resident of the county, let alone the nation? Let me offer an answer based on almost a quarter century of science education and rational uplift.
All of us live in an age, a society so saturated and dwarfed by technology, so accelerated and invaded with instantaneous information and communication, so modernized and fractured from organic connection with the faith and wisdom of past generations that too often only the cataclysmic and apocalyptic appeal to our jaded and over stimulated imaginations.
“I remember quite clearly when I got out of bed. I said, ‘oh good morning, what a beautiful day!’” And perhaps these words penned in 1971 by singer/songwriter James Taylor offer the antidote for our internal paralysis. Inch-like, the Sun, our starshine, slides along the I-95 of the sky, the ecliptic, reminding us to the core of lengthening days.
Like an overdue visit from a beloved relative, shafts of welcoming sunbeams penetrate our homes for the first time since mid-October, 2010. Wood floors arch and dry walls groan in recognition. The dawning of the 2012 Aquarian sunlight filters through our lives, our deep-celled memories, nudging our recognition that Spring, with its vernal tide, will ultimately triumph over the Big Chill.
In late February and early March, the evening continues to provide silent testimony to predictable and comforting celestial realities. Twilight’s azure awareness imposes itself upon impatient commuter traffic, if only we would stop … and gaze. Once again, late Winter offers the opportunity to coordinate and align our personal and collective best with celestial, even universal vision and morality. Can we wed our better natures to embrace the sky as part of our everyday practice. The resulting sky quest may even invite you, yes you, to participate in your universe. Consider purchasing a $5 wedge of no. 14 welder’s glass to safely view the star of the show, the Sun, from your home, your workplace, your commute, your shopping spree. The mass of dark glass offers an instant and safe sky show for you, yours, and others. Check it out yourself. Satisfaction and wonder guaranteed.
Wonder abounds. Westward, Venus, the spectacular Queen of the Night, droops unmistakably hours after sunset and twilight departs. Please believe me. When routine compels and corrodes our inner sense of joy and awe, Venus graciously offers cleansing and beauty for the heart and mind. Refocus our attention to ancient Maya for a moment, not narrowly catastrophically, but broadly astronomically. An American civilization center once existed whose calendar, architecture, and yes, even sports (ESPN take note) paid homage, respect, and privilege to Venus, the magnificent Evening or Morning Star! What Venus may inspire for 21st century Fort Fairfieldians, Presque Islanders, or native Caribouians remains submitted for your reflection.
Upward, Venus’s consort, King Jupiter keeps pace and gradually closes the gap with Her Majesty as February departs, and moody March arrives. An upcoming close encounter of the cosmic kind occurs when the two planets occupy a tiny sky space of three fingers between March 9 and 17th — a sight to startle even the most casual sky eye among us.
And finally, Mars looms dull orange eastward, a tiny tiger spark of light hinting to a sister planet some 63 million miles away, some 250 times farther than the light of the silvery full moon of March 8th! The early evening “red” planet bookmarks a future century when some humans, even from Aroostook County roots may call that beckoning world, “home.” And Saturn, “the Lord of the Rings” still seeks your acquaintance as a bright golden star stud flirting with bluish Spica, the sickle star of vernal Virgo low in southeastern March skies.
Larry Berz is director of Easton’s Francis Malcolm Planetarium and astronomy instructor at the Maine School of Science and Mathematics.
