So now, as of February 11, 2016, we know that Einstein was right. There is such a phenomenon as a gravity wave or gravity radiation.
“Big deal,” most people probably say sarcastically. “Why do I need to know that? I know enough about gravity to avoid heights where I can fall. I know that when it slips from my hand, my coffee cup drops to the floor. Gravity waves. Humpf. Big deal.”
Well, isn’t that the way with all new knowledge? Refinements in what we know seem insignificant in light of experience and practice. Little adjustments in meaning barely turn our heads. Ho-hum. Now we seem to know more than Newton did about gravity, but, hey, he lived a long time ago, and we don’t even know whether or not his being inspired by a falling apple is as much fiction as fact.
Does indifference to new knowledge do us any good? We acquire refinements of meaning daily as we learn a little more about one another. Should we pay attention to some little discovery? Does it make a difference in how we see one another? We see the “big picture,” don’t we?
When the gravity waves that LIGO scientists detected passed through Earth, you underwent a slight change in dimensions, stretching in one direction and contracting in another in response to the waves. Did you notice? No, of course not. The dimensional change was so small that you would have to use a very tiny fraction of a proton’s size as comparison. That was really a small-to-the-nth-power change in you.
Maybe that’s the way we change most of the time, small unnoticeable changes, even those caused by universe-altering events, definitely those caused by human interactions. But over time the changes add up and we find ourselves stretched in one direction and contracted in another, that is, changed in comparison to what we were.
Right now there are human versions of unseen gravitational waves altering your dimensions. Reading this? You are expanding or contracting. Observable change? Not necessarily. But, too late, the reading went through you like those gravity waves went through you. You might never have felt either, but both somehow affected you. Not that this reading is anything special, but all those other readings, all those other bits of radiating thoughts that you encountered have added up. Your dimensions have changed.
From 1.3 billion light years away, two massive black holes merged and produced a wave. You, standing on the shore of the present, minding your own business, were bathed in the penetrating waves. You, sitting in front of your computer, reading this or some other work, or you, sitting reading a book written centuries ago—though not as long ago as the collision of the black holes—get hit by the waves of thoughts that penetrate, possibly make a small change, and then pass on through you to others in your universe. Those gravity waves connect us to the rest of the physical universe. All readings—all communications—from silly to profound, both connect and change us. Want to avoid…Too late! Having been hit by this verbal radiation, you have already changed dimensions.
“Big deal,” most people probably say sarcastically. “Why do I need to know that? I know enough about gravity to avoid heights where I can fall. I know that when it slips from my hand, my coffee cup drops to the floor. Gravity waves. Humpf. Big deal.”
Well, isn’t that the way with all new knowledge? Refinements in what we know seem insignificant in light of experience and practice. Little adjustments in meaning barely turn our heads. Ho-hum. Now we seem to know more than Newton did about gravity, but, hey, he lived a long time ago, and we don’t even know whether or not his being inspired by a falling apple is as much fiction as fact.
Does indifference to new knowledge do us any good? We acquire refinements of meaning daily as we learn a little more about one another. Should we pay attention to some little discovery? Does it make a difference in how we see one another? We see the “big picture,” don’t we?
When the gravity waves that LIGO scientists detected passed through Earth, you underwent a slight change in dimensions, stretching in one direction and contracting in another in response to the waves. Did you notice? No, of course not. The dimensional change was so small that you would have to use a very tiny fraction of a proton’s size as comparison. That was really a small-to-the-nth-power change in you.
Maybe that’s the way we change most of the time, small unnoticeable changes, even those caused by universe-altering events, definitely those caused by human interactions. But over time the changes add up and we find ourselves stretched in one direction and contracted in another, that is, changed in comparison to what we were.
Right now there are human versions of unseen gravitational waves altering your dimensions. Reading this? You are expanding or contracting. Observable change? Not necessarily. But, too late, the reading went through you like those gravity waves went through you. You might never have felt either, but both somehow affected you. Not that this reading is anything special, but all those other readings, all those other bits of radiating thoughts that you encountered have added up. Your dimensions have changed.
From 1.3 billion light years away, two massive black holes merged and produced a wave. You, standing on the shore of the present, minding your own business, were bathed in the penetrating waves. You, sitting in front of your computer, reading this or some other work, or you, sitting reading a book written centuries ago—though not as long ago as the collision of the black holes—get hit by the waves of thoughts that penetrate, possibly make a small change, and then pass on through you to others in your universe. Those gravity waves connect us to the rest of the physical universe. All readings—all communications—from silly to profound, both connect and change us. Want to avoid…Too late! Having been hit by this verbal radiation, you have already changed dimensions.
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