scandinavian troniu
27.9.01
(From Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space by Carl Sagan, Random House, 1994)
... Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there - on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors, so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. 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.
Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.
... Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there - on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors, so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. 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.
Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.
23.9.01
Azi de dimineata m-am trezit la 9, dupa 18 ore de somn... Nici nu e de mirare, ultimele doua saptamini, petrecute in Romania au fost un tur de forta. Balansoar intre nord si sud, goana sa intilnim cit mai multi prieteni. Am plecat in graba din Cluj, in 21 seara (aproape) nemincati, intr-un microbuz mare si (din fericire) aproape gol. Dupa o ora jumate petercuta la granita ungureasca pentru ca unul dintre pasageri era indian, am adormit intr-un final in microbuzul ce gonea cu 135 km/h. Ca sa ajungem la Budapesta la 4:50. Ca sa stam la o coada de peste o suta de persoane la intrarea in aeroport. Ca sa intram, sa facem check-in si apoi sa plecam spre avion, toate astea intinse pe linie una dupa-alta, aproape fara sa ai timp sa te gindesti si sigur fara sa ai macar timp de o tigara intre ele. Si stai in avion asteptind decolarea, si te gindesti la toate ce se pot intimpla, si daca vei deveni sau nu o bomba zburatoare... Si se face 7:10 (ora cind trebuia sa plecam) si se face 7:40, si intr-un tirziu sintem anuntati ca asteptam pasageri din alte conexiuni. Si la un moment dat se umple avionul de fetele atit de placute ale arabilor si ale sotiilor lor atit de atent imbrobodite. Si uite asa te gindesti ca aici s-a terminat totul, ghinion ca m-am urcat in avionul asta, oare o sa-l izbeasca de Reichstag sau pe undeva prin alta parte in Europa... Dupa o ora si 45 de minute de stres, aterizam si cosmarul se termina. A fost zborul 11 din cariera mea (destul de mediocru proasta) de zburator.
Ce te frapeaza la Copenhaga prima data este aerul curat. Cu care iti face placere sa-ti umpli plaminii, nu ti-e frica sa respiri, ca la Cluj. Unde nu inspiri prea tare de frica sa nu cumva sa te intoxici... Si iarba verde, si cerul albastru. Imi place aici. Va trebui sa treaca multa vreme pina sa-mi fac din nou curaj sa plec in Romania.
Ce te frapeaza la Copenhaga prima data este aerul curat. Cu care iti face placere sa-ti umpli plaminii, nu ti-e frica sa respiri, ca la Cluj. Unde nu inspiri prea tare de frica sa nu cumva sa te intoxici... Si iarba verde, si cerul albastru. Imi place aici. Va trebui sa treaca multa vreme pina sa-mi fac din nou curaj sa plec in Romania.
16.9.01
Romania arata tare rau de aproape. Praf, drumuri proaste (mi-a si picat o plomba pe drum, daca o fi vreo legatura), oamenii sint la fel de fara orizont ca si ultima data.... Nu stiu de ce am asteptat sa fie altfel, dar ca de obicei cind ma intorc acasa ma loveste dezamagirea. Ce naiba se intimpla aici?
