"The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena," wrote Carl Sagan in 1994 about an image of our home planet, seemingly alone in the vastness of space, captured by Voyager 1. "Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light," he continued. "Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark."

Now we can see, thanks to the mind-bending chaos of deep space revealed by the Webb telescope, that we aren't alone in a vast cosmic emptiness. We are alone in a crowd.

But the effect is the same: Our terrestrial problems have been placed in appropriate context once again. "My life is meaningless!" exclaimed my friend Agatha, in a relatable post about the Webb photos. "I'm so relieved!" Is there a word for this feeling? The comfort of knowing you are a brief speck? I feel it when I'm in a deep gorge or at the base of a giant tree. When I connect with a work of art created in a lifetime that never touched my own. When I behold a thumping rave of faraway galaxies as they existed billions of years ago. 

There were other Webb-induced pleasures this week, too: I loved the NASA image release livestream, with its technical hiccups and awkward-on-camera scientists and poorly-lit watch parties around the globe. It felt homemade and sincere in a way that almost nothing does these days. Watching good news unfurl in real time has become such a foreign sensation that it took me awhile to realize that's why I was crying. The forgotten pleasures of new information inspiring hope and wonder! The beauty of these images! And oh, the sweet relief of being a brief speck!

"I believe I have a right to exist safely in public spaces," writes Hannah Soyer. "Do others have an obligation to make that happen? What do we owe each other, as humans, as friends?" When the government gives up its responsibility to keep people safe from Covid, the responsibility falls to individuals, and the friendship fallout is real. 

I absolutely loved this conversation between Alice Wong and Ed Yong on having a body and being an organism within a larger ecosystem.

Another great conversation, this one between Anne Helen Peterson and Angela Garbes: "Raising children is not an individual responsibility. It is a social one." Plus Alison Krupnick on caring for a molting orchid mantis, and what happens when generational crises seem to all sync up at once.

In praise of gathering with friends for dinner, a simple but powerful way of connecting, by Alissa Wilkinson.

A deep read on "deep time," or "the effects of the Earth as it bears down upon on a city, its buildings and the bodies and minds of its people," by Lachlan Summers.

"Maybe I feel like the world is ending because the world is ending," writes Meg Conley. "The end of the world is what people call the collapse of a civilization when it’s their civilization that is collapsing."

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Giant, intergalactic thanks to my paying members, who enable me to show up for this lil newsletter, week after week. You can join them for just $15/year. A year!

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Eddie Ndopu on what accessibility and inclusion is really about. 

Shoutout to the Nebra disc, which I'm sure blew some minds back in its day.

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Ada Limón, one of my favorite living poets, is now the US Poet Laureate. (More good news this week! Can you believe it?) Please treat yourself today and take a few moments with "A New National Anthem." 

your bones are my bones,
and isn’t that enough?

Aug 17, virtual: I'm in conversation with Nona Willis Aronowitz about her new book, Bad Sex: Truth, Pleasure and an Unfinished Revolution.