How often do
you look up? Up at the sky that is. I am guessing the answer is not a lot, especially if you live in the city and the wonders of the heavens are dulled
and obscured by the earthly glow of city lights.
Our ancestors
certainly looked up! Indeed they derived from the heavens everything from time,
to location and direction, to mathematical computations, to the foundations of
most world religions. My son recently studied a university unit on Astronomy and
World History. In it he looked at the beliefs of the ancient Druids who built
places such as Stonehenge and the burial mounds in Ireland, where the frail ray
of a mid-winter sun will penetrate to touch a stone placed deep in the heart of
the mound. The Ancient Greeks and the Mesopotamian caliphates evolved the basis
of western science from their study of the transit of stars and planets. In
sharp contrast the early Chinese cultures did not believe that the movement of
heavenly bodies was regimented and therefore reliable. As such they saw no
point in sundials and chose instead to use the movement and dripping of water for
time-keeping. The most holistic cultural interpretation of the skies came, not surprisingly, from Aboriginal Astronomy. As Roslyn
Huynes says in her article Astronomy and the Dreaming:
“.... natural phenomena whether
terrestrial or celestial were regarded as existing in an all-encompassing
relationship which sustained, and was sustained by, traditional rituals”
Anyone who
has been to the centre of Australia or just out into the bush away from the
city-ringed seaboard will know why it is impossible not to look up. The stars fill the sky layer upon layer projecting energy, diversity and dimensions beyond our wildest imagination. Who can lie
under a clear night sky and not see beyond themselves, not feel the potential
for something ‘magical’? As kids in Ireland occasionally Dad used to get us out
of bed to witness the lights of the Aurora Borealis streaking across the
northern sky. I knew from school books what caused the phenomena but all that was
irrelevant when seeing the shimmering tongues of light. They touched something much deeper,
much more primal and I was as awe inspired as any ancient peasant standing
searching the skies for a sign.
So yes today we’ve
got knowledge – enough even to travel ‘out there’ but look up, really look up
at the next clear night sky and tell me that it’s possible to lose the wonder.
