OCTOBER 9, 2022 – As human knowledge and experience advance, so does our perspective grow sharper via ever more powerful microscopic and and telescopic lenses.
As I walk in the great outdoors, my eyes unaided by lenses other than what nature has thus far fashioned for our species (and corrected by eyewear), I wonder what the “mean” perspective might be. That is, on the scale between atomic particles and the breadth of the universe, where lies the midpoint? It’s an impossibly metaphorical question, another form of, “Where’s the middle of time?”
Today while I walked the woods, I pondered this question of ultimate relativity. The “enormous” white pine that towered above their domain: they are the giants of this neck of the woods, but next to the truly giant redwoods and sequoia of California, our local pine are minor saplings. Yet, from a distance of 100,000 feet above the earth, the unaided human eye would discern no difference in height among all vegetation.
Just then, a burst of wind turned a host of leaves into brightly colored confetti. When I stopped to watch, I noticed the unique path taken by each leaf. Some leaves dropped unceremoniously, turning slightly one way, then another, but sinking fast to the ground. Others, caught in micro-updrafts, danced theatrically through the air. It seemed that having completed their mission of photosynthesis, they were now enjoying 20 or 30 seconds of stardom. In time the colorful confetti of the trees would become part of the soil in the grand cycle of the seasons.
I picked up a fallen leaf and examined its intricacy. I recalled my high school biology classes in which we’d studied the structure of a leaf and slipped one under a microscope to get a closer look. Perspective. Where do leaves fit on the scale?
In grappling with this metaphysical question, I reduced it to a scientific one and dug around online to refresh what I’d learned (in ancient times) about leaves. One thing led to another, and on a whim, I Googled, “How many cells are in an oak leaf?” In short order, this search led to the following page: https://micro.magnet.fsu.edu/primer/java/scienceopticsu/powersof10/.
Amazingly, the page zeroed in on the very question of “perspective scale.” In a brilliantly-conceived visual demonstration, a video accessible on the page takes the viewer on a wild ride from a point 10 million light years from the Milky Way, then in stages, eventually to earth, the U.S., Florida, Tallahassee, the grounds of the National High Magnetic Field Laboratory at FSU*, an oak tree near the lab facilities, a leaf of the tree, and inside the leaf, all the way to the subatomic level!
I now feel like a bumpkin dressed in mid-17th-century attire, who wandered the local woods and conjured a metaphysical thought that in reality was no more than a re-invention of the walking stick. But so be it. “Check out the video,” I say, as I adjust my tricornered hat. “You’ll find it mind-stretching—even by 21st-century standards.”
Tomorrow I’ll write about something more original and down to earth: my encounter with Grizzly Adams.
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*Coincidentally, my oldest niece, Hillary, a Medill-educated journalist by trade and training, is Program Director, Media, Communications & Marketing for the Division of Undergraduate Studies at Florida State University, and her husband, George, is an assistant professor of the double bass at FSU and a performer of national renown. My oldest sister, Kristina, moved to Tallahassee last year to be close to Hillary, George, and their family.
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
