An X post last month from Janel Comeau (@VeryBadLlama) made the viral rounds, eventually finding its way to my Facebook feed: “hey sorry I missed your text, I am processing a non-stop 24/7 onslaught of information with a brain designed to eat berries in a cave.” Relatable, Llama.
I’ll admit (as I have before) there are weeks when there’s so much floating around in my head — and in my email inbox, and in my news feeds, and in the world — I don’t always know where to land on words for this space. It’s not that I don’t have thoughts on wars or crime or politics or the hottest topic of the past week here in Memphis — “Beale Street Music Festival! Tom Lee Park! WE’RE MAD! RAH RAH!” It’s just that sometimes, my berry-eating cave-brain takes over, and it’s either too much to rein in or too little to devote deep reflection to.
Of course, the human brain has evolved (most of them, anyway, heh), but I’m not sure our evolution is yet in line with the 24/7 onslaught. Aside from keeping up with news cycles, television shows, notifications, deadlines, or social media feeds, take my Flyer email as an example. Dozens of important messages come through daily, but there are at least 10 times as many that take up unnecessary space: “Memphis ranks #1 city with the nosiest neighbors”; “Over a third of Americans report candy-related accidents to their teeth”; “Jumpiest Horror Movies Of The Last Five Years.” The trivial mail continues (and often gets a sweeping “select” and “delete”).
Anyhow, did you all have a chance to see last weekend’s solar eclipse? While we weren’t in the path of totality, signs of the event could be caught via crescent-shaped shadows cast on sidewalks through leaves. Or in lens flares from cameras pointed toward the sky. I didn’t acquire any eclipse glasses, knowing the western part of the U.S. was where the real action would happen, but I’m happy to have paused to catch a glimpse — not staring at the sun, but through my phone’s viewfinder. In today’s hurried culture, we don’t often stop to think about our place in the vastness of the universe, or the life- and light-giving gift of that ball of fire in the sky, or the wonder of the moon’s glow as everything rotates endlessly in space. It’s nice to have those awe-inspiring glimmers that remind us we’re not just here to process a constant onslaught of information.
Speaking of the universe, an article by Adam Frank published in The Atlantic this summer has sat with me (with due credit to the headline that initially drew me in): “Scientists Found Ripples in Space and Time. And You Have to Buy Groceries.” Well, damn.
According to that recent discovery, “The whole universe is humming. Actually, the whole universe is Mongolian throat singing. Every star, every planet, every continent, every building, every person is vibrating along to the slow cosmic beat,” Frank wrote. Reverberations of galactic collisions from perhaps as far back as the birth of the universe itself are woven into the fabric of our existence. “The gravitational-wave background is huge news for the cosmos, yes, but it’s also huge news for you,” he continued. “The nature of reality has not changed — you will not suddenly be able to detect vibrations in your morning coffee that you couldn’t see before. And yet, moments like these can and should change how each of us sees our world. All of a sudden, we know that we are humming in tune with the entire universe, that each of us contains the signature of everything that has ever been. It’s all within us, around us, pushing us to and fro as we hurtle through the cosmos.”
Knowing this, with an evolved cave-brain that deep within yearns to eat berries in the forest rather than stand in line for overpriced groceries, forgive me if I sometimes have trouble drumming up commentary on the current state of things. The universe hums across eternity. A gentle breeze blows against my face. The mortgage is due. And there’s a sink full of dirty dishes.
