#12 of 1001 Awesome Things: Last Episode of NatGeo’s Cosmos

August 30, 2017
“Put the table inside or else I will no longer eat here”, I told my family last night after they replaced our round wooden dining table with a plastic rectangular foldable table. I was serious and angry. I loved that table. It was there since I was a kid. We do not pass around food because of the lazy susan. After a while, I realized that I was too dramatic–a Telenovela level drama.
Today is full of drama too and I realized that drama is addictive. It sucks us dry but we still want more. We create our own drama if we can’t get enough. (Read Minimalism and Drama Queens)
I have seen plenty of drama while working with Small and Medium Enterprises in the countryside. These enterprises often form a cluster and register as an association. They start out as friends. When they form an organization after they realized they can work perfectly together and work together perfectly, they usually develop these annoying petty misunderstandings, and they eventually break away from their once loved group/s.
My first ever clients were 3 middle aged ladies who were into manufacturing handicrafts using sustainable materials. They started out as co-trainees at a livelihood training we organized. They were the best performers in a class of 40. They were three persistent, hardworking mothers too.They formed a group and started out their own enterprise. Unfortunately, their expertise and strengths were not capitalized. Instead, they used it against each other. They became competitors inside their small business. After 2 years, they disbanded.
Today, I also listened to other SME conflicts during a trade event. I had to listen because it’s part of my work. These conflicts may affect their businesses in the long run. Their conflicts were ranging from petty to “Friendship over” cases.
I also had a conversation with my officemates and I realized our office, like any other offices, is full of drama. We talked about drama in a very dramatic way.
When I got home, I had to listen to the drama of my loved ones and about the drama of people around them.
Like me, everybody is stuck with their rectangular dinner table dramas.
I remember the last episode of the documentary Cosmos where Neil Degrassi Tyson talked about the insignificance of Earth in the Universe. How the earth was actually a lonely and sad planet. How humans are actually insignificant in the vastness of the cosmos. And then I reflected on how my opinion about a rectangular dinner table or even my ego affects the infinite clouds of stars, dust, suns, and planets. We should learn how to fly using our imaginations for us to realize that above these clouds, we are nothing.
To close today’s awesome thing, let me quote Carl Sagan :
Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
 
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.
 
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
 
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
 
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.