This story is part of our Cosmic Perspective special, in which we confront the staggering vastness of the cosmos and our place in it. Read the rest of the series here.
On a cold evening last October, I went into my garden to gaze at a fuzzy blob in the night sky. Unless you are in the darkest of places, this blob is so faint to the naked eye that it would be easy to convince yourself there is nothing there. I raised my binoculars to my face and an elongated smear with a bright centre appeared. This is the Andromeda galaxy, the most distant object it is possible to see with the unaided eye.
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I often look at Andromeda during the winter months. But I specifically chose 6 October 2023 because it was exactly 100 years to the day since Edwin Hubble made his observations that would, just over a year later, lead him to conclude that Andromeda wasn’t part of the Milky Way but a galaxy in its own right. As I stood there, I thought about how that light had travelled 2.5 million light years to reach my eyes.
Many people find it frightening to be confronted with the sheer scale of the universe. If we try to grasp the epic distances involved, we can end up feeling very small, as if nothing we do in our puny lives on this tiny planet could ever matter. But there are least two reasons why we needn’t feel that sense of insignifcance and the dread that can accompany it.
First, contemplating the huge scale of space can give us a healthy sense of perspective. This has certainly been my experience. Since I was a child, when I first learned about the vastness of space, thinking about the size of the universe has brought me comfort. When I have to do something that scares me – like give a talk to lots of people – I take a moment to consider just how big the universe is, and it doesn’t feel so intimidating.
I know I share this feeling with others. The journalist Oliver Burkeman has written that he finds this kind of thinking “really relaxing” because “it’s a reminder that in the grandest scheme of things, nothing I do or fail to do matters much at all”. In his book, Four Thousand Weeks, he calls this way of thinking ““.
The nature of significance
The second reason comes from philosphers who have thought deeply about what it means to be cosmically insignificant. “Reflecting on the size of the universe and our smallness within reveals how little power we have over the grand course of things,” says philosopher at the University of Oslo in Norway. “In that sense, we are indeed insignificant, but it would be a mistake to respond to this realisation with nihilism or despair.”
He points out that power is only valuable as a means to an end. The ends we care about – things like relationships, justice, the pursuit of knowledge and the creation and appreciation of art – don’t depend on us having power on a cosmic scale. “Most of what matters to us is within our grasp.”
Hughes says he does feel anxiety when he considers the scale of the universe. “Realising how small we are makes it vivid to me just how fragile our existence really is,” he says.
I get that. But for me, feeling small and fragile also reminds me how precious life is, and that I must appreciate every part of it. If I ever lose my perspective on that, Andromeda will be there to remind me.
