Perspectives







Today's blog post topic is PERSPECTIVES.


Merriam Webster defines "perspective" as "the capacity to view things in their true relations or relative importance."


I love looking at NASA space pictures. The above photo was taken by the Hubble Space Telescope in 2015. It shows a relatively small region of the Eagle Nebula called the "Pillars of Creation." It is one of my favorites. It fills me with awe to know that this great structure is floating out there somewhere.


I know that a lot of space photography utilizes narrow band imaging to capture things like nebulas. Three or more images are taken, each within tiny specific bands of wavelenths corresponding to gasses like sulfur, oxygen, and hydrogen. These images are later sigularly colorized, then composited into one whole. The result is a beautiful multichromatic masterpiece.


The thing is, if we were in a spaceship near these nebulas, that's not what they would look like. To our eyes they would likely be dark and devoid of much color. If we saw the Pillars of Creation in person, we would probably see this:




Not as cool as the Hubble version, but it's what we would view. For awhile, this disappointed me. How neat would it be if space stuff was actually as beautiful as we "fake" it to be? "Alas, such is not the case," I concluded.


Then one day recently I had a change of persepective. I was checking the "proof" versions of the new POSTCARD BOARD GAMES to ensure that they will be suitable for people who are colorblind. And I had a realization that the star clouds of the cosmos are most likely more amazing looking than we can even imagine. Here's an explanation:




Above is a grid of red and blue squares. Let's say the red has a BRIGHTER lightness value than the blue. If we desaturate the image to grayscale, we can still discern where all the red and blue squares are located. But if the two colors have the SAME lightness value, the grayscale result would render all squares equal to our eyes:





Now let's imagine that all the visible light that the human eye can see is called "grayscale." And any specific narrow bands or areas beyond our visual spectrum is called "real color." We cannot see "real color," only "grayscale." Now we have tools that can capture areas of the spectrum that our eyes cannot. We invented cameras that can see "real color." These cameras are used to convert certain "real color" areas of a photograph to multiple "grayscale" VALUES in order to differentiate regions of the scene.


For illustration purposes, here is how we would see a "real color" scene with our "grayscale" eyes:






And if we used a space camera that converted the "real colors" to "grayscale" values for us, the resulting image would look like this:





We can't see the hidden person with our eyes, but our tools give us an IMAGE of that person. So the "false" color added to nebula photos is stuff we can't see, but it IS ACTUALLY THERE. So in a way, it's not really a false image.


But here's the fascinating part. In our thought experiment, because our eyes aren't capable of seeing "real color," our tools convert "real color" images to shades of what we CAN see: "grayscale." Now imagine that somehow we are magically endowed with the ability to see "real color." Here is what the scene would look like in person:



Beautiful colors, right? Signifying a whole new story. Green eyes. Grass. Clouds. Blond hair. Blue Sky. Rich and vibrant. A million times more majestic than any "grayscale" image can ever attempt to replicate (given the same box confugration). A MILLION TIMES MORE GRAND.


So even if we created the craziest, most insane, most colorful and wild and vibrant image ever created by human beings, it would NEVER come close to what the cosmos ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE. Our eyes can only ever see a miniature fraction of the spectrum, even when we try to depict things outside of it. We always see "grayscale." We will never know what it looks like to see "real color."


This might be a sad thing for some people to realize. But to me, it is insanely awesome. That means that amazing, fantastical, colorfully rendered pictures like "Pillars of Creation" are in fact closer to reality than what our eyes actually perceive. Science has allowed us to see things that our eyes cannot. Think about that for a second. Not only that, but all of our rich, joyful, adventurous imagination pales in comparison to what is ACTUALLY OUT THERE. It's incredibly humbling.


We live in a universe filled with so much more than we can ever know.


In 1990, the space probe Voyager 1 had finished its mission and was leaving the solar system. Traveling for more than 12 years, she was now 3.7 billion miles away. Before she said goodbye, she turned to take one last photo of Earth. Here is that photo:







On the right side of the image, suspended in a thin beam of light, is our planet. From that distance, our whole world fits inisde a single pixel. Just a pale blue dot.


That was Voyager 1's perspective, and she shared it with all of us.


In my imagination, I envision an imperfect Earth where people slowly begin to help each other more, and hurt each other less. To love more, and hate less. To grow together, hand in hand, off into the sunset.


I hope, whoever you are, that life brings you joy, peace, and beautiful perspectives.


Take care.


-T










"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."

— Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994














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