Lost in one's own cosmos

[NOTE: I've been inundated with anonymous comment spam over the last few days -- not that it does the spammers any good, as I delete all the comments without letting them see the light of day. Anyway, I've turned off anonymous comments for a while just to make my job easier. I might turn them back on later, if I can tell the spammers have moved on.]

I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that there's a lot of dross on social media these days. But every now and then it's possible to stumble across a real gem.

Here's one such example, via Twitter. (If you can't see it or otherwise don't do Twitter, it's difficult to sum this up without sounding pat, but it's a wonderful thread on the long curve of life in our cosmos, the merging of two black holes and two neutron stars at times in the almost unfathomably distant past, and how those events rippled throughout spacetime -- and we sussed out a way to measure their gravitational waves here on Earth. It's beautifully written in accessible language and, frankly, worth the time to read.) I loved it for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it successfully conveys the writer's real passion and enthusiasm over the wonders of the cosmos and astronomical science, but also for this little comment near the end: "That’s what I was thinking about when I looked like I was in my own little world."

I've heard variations of that phrase a lot in my lifetime: "Wake up, Sooz, you're off in your own little world again." Sometimes it's said in a derogatory, hey-join-the-real-world tone, and sometimes it's a well-meant attempt to remind me to engage with others. I know most people mean well, but I do take issue with one aspect of the phrase -- I think it sells the average human imagination far short. Most people I know with a rich interior life don't have just one "little world" in their heads. They've got solar systems, galaxies, even a cosmos or two hidden behind their eyes, and no one else can imagine or even guess at the existence of such private pocket universes unless those people decide to open up and share a bit of those immense interior playgrounds.

So the next time you see a friend or acquaintance walking along with a pleasantly distracted gaze, don't try to engage right away. You're probably witnessing an astronaut exploring her own internal cosmos. (You wouldn't drag Neil Armstrong back to earth prematurely, would you?)