As the World Turns

1,040 miles per hour.  That's how fast the earth is spinning right now.  And you wondered why you're feeling a little dizzy these days.  I think it's worth reminding ourselves that the earth has always been spinning at an astounding clip, yet, thanks to gravity, we've seldom taken notice.    

So why is it that we feel like our feet have left the ground these days?  Certainly, there's no shortage of gravitas.  And maybe--ironically--that's part of the reason we feel imbalanced.  Shootings. Politics.  Oppressive heat.  So much heavy stuff to take in. No wonder we are disoriented.

On Christmas Eve in 1968, I was poking at gifts under the tree, unable to contain my seven-year-old enthusiasm for the what ifs that lay under wraps.  At that same time, the Apollo 8 astronauts were getting their first look (actually, anyone's first look) at Earth from the surface of the Moon.   Pilot Jim Lovell, upon taking it all in, said this about the sight: "The vast loneliness is awe-inspiring and makes you realize just what you have back there on Earth."

Neil Degrasse Tyson talks about the transmission of that first image of earth as being the very moment when the environmental movement was born.  Taken aback by the beauty of their planet, humans were overwhelmed by a deep desire to tend to that lovely home.

And so, I stare at the image above.  Look at it long and hard.  And my heart softens again, its pace slowing down.  I stare at that image and let my head fill with wonder, amazed that so many beautiful things--people and plants and animals and micro-organisms and, yes, I realize I'm starting to sound like a song by that cheesy 70s band, America--are held together upon its surface by equal and equally invisible forces of gravity and love and hope and desire.

The more I stare at this image, the more ground I feel below my feet.  I notice a sloughing of both fear and its unwelcomed cousin, hopelessness. Hidden in this image, I start to realize, is a powerful antidote to a summer filled with so many hard and furious things.  I stare at my home, this single thing holding a trillion other things in its wide and capable arms, whispering to us that our feet are, in fact, on the ground, and we are, in fact, still together, holding fast against the odds.

And I realize, once again, "just what I have back here on Earth."And that it's most certainly worth fighting for.