When an astronomer studies the Universe through his telescopes, he is observing echoes from the past.  He observes phenomenon that occurred in the past and that no longer exists in the moment of observation.  The astronomer cannot know the present whole composition or structure of the Universe at the moment of his observation.  A star or galaxy observed that existed many light years ago cannot tell us what it looks like at the present moment or even if it exist in any form at all anymore.  The speed of light is the rate of experiential activity which prevents observation of all astronomical bodies as a whole in a single moment.

The moth moves across the porch slowly, inch by inch, a brief stage of a longer journey of energy from the core of the Sun to the table of the ants.  Protons fuse at the center of the Sun, releasing energy.  The energy diffuses upward to reach the Sun's surface, where it is released as heat and light.  The light streaks across ninety-three million miles of space, reaching Earth eight minutes  later, where it falls upon green leaves of plants.  The plants store the energy as carbohydrates.  A moth stops at a flower of a plant and sips the sugary nectar.  It uses the nectar's stored energy for flight, reproduction, and building a body rich in organic compounds.  The moth beats its brains out against the porch light and falls dead to the floor, where it is discovered by a scout of a colony of ants.  The call is raised: "Food!"  The rest of the colony arrives en masse.  A storm of purpose ignites their tiny brains.  Humping their backs and fiddling their legs, they have a go at the moth.  The moth drifts across the porch floor, taking the packaged energy longer to cross a few feet of painted boards than it took to travel from sun to Earth.

We scientists are constantly distancing themselves from the spiritual and the mysterious.  We make things concrete.  We tend to be uptight about our feelings. We don't readily tear away the shell of denial that we layer over who we are.  We become scientists because we are "thing" orientated.  We are not emotion-orientated.  However, we must stop once in a while in quiet contemplation and "listen."  We must get back to seeing and hearing and smelling and not doing anything; not breaking it down and analyzing it.  Just being a receiver, a sensory system by being quiet and paying attention while maintaining a childish openness to the wholeness of the experience.  In essence, being is all we are.

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