I think about this a lot. We are the first people in human history to see the planets up close, so to speak.
For thousands of years, humans stared up at the sky and watched these luminous dots change position over time. They made up stories about them, tracked them, designed instruments to turn these blurry, luminous dots into slightly-less-blurry luminous dots.
But in this long human journey of thousands of years, we are the first generation to actually see these dots of light as the worlds they are. Us. You and me. So many thousands of years of ancient dreaming and wondering, going all the way back to our hominid ancestors, gazing at the night sky in wordless wonder.
And we, our generation of humans, are the culmination of this journey of imagination.
What they could only imagine, we know. For the first time in history, in my lifetime, we've visited every planet in the solar system. Any planet you see in the sky? We have photos of it. We've mapped its surface, or visited it directly. You want to know what sunset on Mars looks like? You don't have to guess.
We take this all for granted. I don't think we even appreciate the legacy we inherited. It feels like there should be a Planet Day, where we all celebrate the knowing. Where we symbolically link hands with our ancestors across time, with everyone who ever squinted up at all the little sparkles on the big black ocean and wished they knew what they were.
A day when everyone looks at at least one photograph from every celestial body we've seen, and appreciates the gift we've been given. And then maybe looks at the best photos we have of exoplanets, and realizes that we are in the same position today that our hominid ancestors were, wondering what these places will someday turn out to be, and who we will be when we finally know them.
This would be beautiful, but we need to be able to see the night sky first. Having moved to a large city from a tiny one, no one notices/even cares to look up here. there isnt much to see, I think that makes it meaningless to those who havent stared at a full clear night sky, no light pollution for miles. I'm jealous even with all the comforts you get here, you can't see that image our ancestors got to stare at almost every night(cloud factor).
These images are amazing, but I do feel that we as a society just sort of take them for granted now. However, I would highly recommend finding a local star party in your area. There is nothing like putting your eyeball on a telescope and seeing things for yourself. Yes, it will not be nearly as detailed as NASA images, but it will still impress.
For all of those made up stories you mentioned, I shed a tear every time I hear modern day things like flat earthers. We still have not gotten away from made up stories.
> You want to know what sunset on Mars looks like? You don't have to guess.
Sadly, people on the west coast have seen it in person.
For thousands of years, humans stared up at the sky and watched these luminous dots change position over time. They made up stories about them, tracked them, designed instruments to turn these blurry, luminous dots into slightly-less-blurry luminous dots.
But in this long human journey of thousands of years, we are the first generation to actually see these dots of light as the worlds they are. Us. You and me. So many thousands of years of ancient dreaming and wondering, going all the way back to our hominid ancestors, gazing at the night sky in wordless wonder.
And we, our generation of humans, are the culmination of this journey of imagination.
What they could only imagine, we know. For the first time in history, in my lifetime, we've visited every planet in the solar system. Any planet you see in the sky? We have photos of it. We've mapped its surface, or visited it directly. You want to know what sunset on Mars looks like? You don't have to guess.
We take this all for granted. I don't think we even appreciate the legacy we inherited. It feels like there should be a Planet Day, where we all celebrate the knowing. Where we symbolically link hands with our ancestors across time, with everyone who ever squinted up at all the little sparkles on the big black ocean and wished they knew what they were.
A day when everyone looks at at least one photograph from every celestial body we've seen, and appreciates the gift we've been given. And then maybe looks at the best photos we have of exoplanets, and realizes that we are in the same position today that our hominid ancestors were, wondering what these places will someday turn out to be, and who we will be when we finally know them.