March 7, 2003 LOVE AND WAR

April 3, 2003 LOOPY FOR LUPINES

April 24, 2003 FIRST PLANET I SEE TONIGHT

May 1, 2003 LIKE A DIAMOND IN THE SKY

May 8, 2003 SHADOWS ON THE MOON

May 22, 2003 CASTLES IN THE SAND

originally published May 22, 2003:

CASTLES IN THE SAND

The only thing sadder than when the ocean takes your sandcastle is
when it doesn't. After all, how will you see how the fortifications
are overrun (and aren't they always?) if the water never floods up the
beach to your building zone? How can you play the voices of the
people running from the tsunami if the waves never come?

To think of my castle, slowly sagging and wind-scoured on the beach
all night, maybe even strangers stomping it to bits, is too much for
me. On occasions when I have misread the tide and I see with dismay
the water retreating, my only recourse is to play Godzilla and destroy
the castle myself.

To create for today only can be a special joy. As time grows
precious, I find myself focused on ``worthwhile'' activities: on
things that will endure, or (better yet) make money. It is sad to
think that I have no time now for paintings from the heart, for silly
grass hats, or for love poems.

Recently watching a duck family make its way across the lake, we were
amused to see the little ones spurting forward and darting back,
lunging at each other and at bits in the water while Mommy and Daddy
paddled sedately forward. Somewhere along the line, we lose the urge
for frivolous activity. We become satisfied that we know the best way
to the feeding trough. No need to explore further. Eyes forward,
hands on the wheel; hup two, hup two!

For me, these Dancing Stars essays are like castles in the sand. Each
one is an ephemeral window into the ever-changing moment. I have the
satisfaction of assembling words that express an inner voice. Then
each week, I mail them out, and they are gone. There is no point in
fiddling with the sentence structure of last week's DSU; any typos
that are there were meant to be. Live, love, create, release.

Last night Jupiter was high and bright, but clouds scudded through the
familiar constellations. In the words of John Lee Hooker, ``nothing
but the best, but later for the garbage''. In this busy life I live,
may I remember to make some time for play; may I have the courage to
invest in joy.

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originally published May 8, 2003:

SHADOWS ON THE MOON

The Earth's atmosphere is what makes life possible for us today, but
the oxygen-rich blend that we breathe is thought to have been created
in turn by early cellular life forms. Watch this week as the Earth's
atmosphere turns the usually crystal white Moon to ember orange.

When the Earth first cooled from rock made molten by the collisions of
accreting planetesimals, there was very little atmosphere and almost
no water. The water is thought to have been delivered later by the
smaller asteroids and comets that continued to rain down after the
major bombardment had slowed. The atmosphere itself probably came
from the outgassing which accompanied violent early volcanism.

This first atmosphere was composed primarily of methane (carbon with
four hydrogens) and was very short on free oxygen. Our current
oxygen-rich atmosphere developed about two billion years ago (less
than halfway back to the formation of the Earth) probably due to a
combination of plate tectonics which buried the excess carbon and the
release of oxygen by primitive photosynthetic bacteria.

Our over-sized Moon was created in a collision of the Earth with a
Mars-sized body over four billion years ago. During next Thursday's
total lunar eclipse the Earth's atmosphere turns the Moon coppery red.

Although our still cloudy skies here in CA hide the sight, there is
even now a crescent Moon growing in the evening sky. Full moon will
be on Thursday, May 15, but while still low in the east, the Moon will
be cast into the full shadow of the Earth from 8:14pm to 9:06pm PST.

Unlike solar eclipses (in which the airless Moon passes between Earth
and Sun), light in a lunar eclipse is bent by the atmosphere of the
Earth. Even in the depths of a total lunar eclipse, the Moon is never
truly black, but glows with a ruddy sunset hue because the blue light
has been scattered away. An observer standing on the Moon during next
week's total lunar eclipse would see the Sun hidden behind an Earth
which is ringed by an intense coppery glow.

West coasters will see the Moon rise as totality begins. Find a clear
eastern horizon for the sunset / moonrise (try Lighthouse Point in
Santa Cruz to get horizon views both east and west). Though dim, the
shadowy orange glow of the Moon should be visible, slowly brightening
to its usual dazzling beacon by the end of the eclipse at 10:20pm PST.

With the three hour time difference, east coasters will get the full
show with partial eclipse beginning at 10:03 pm EST and total eclipse
at 11:14pm EST (or 9:03pm and 10:14pm CST: see web pages below for
full details). Sadly, the eclipse is over before sunset in Hawaii.

While you watch the strangely orange Moon slowly brightening back to
the stunning glare of full, breathe in that wondrous life-giving air
of ours, and give thanks to those ancient photosynthetic bacteria.

Find details on next week's lunar eclipse in the following pages:
http://SkyandTelescope.com/observing/objects/eclipses/article_923_1.asp
http://sunearth.gsfc.nasa.gov/eclipse/extra/TLE2003May15.html

originally published May 1, 2003:

LIKE A DIAMOND IN THE SKY

As the sunset glow fades from the sky and the stars appear, take a
moment to appreciate anew the dancing of the jewels against the velvet
of the sky. Stars near the zenith are relatively steady, while stars
closer to the horizon bounce and wiggle.

Stars twinkle for the same reason that a coin at the bottom of a pool
appears to wobble back and forth; light rays from the object are
passing through a refractive medium which is moving. Twinkling
increases with moisture and with the distance through the medium that
the light must pass.

The sodden coastal skies where I live are rarely true black, but
usually exhibit a reddish hue caused by the scattering of light by
water in the atmosphere. (All colors are scattered, but at low light
levels the eye sees only the red.) Stars here are sparse and jittery.
Inland, in the deserts, or best yet, at high altitudes, stars are
steadier and more plentiful, while the intermingled sky is as black
and deep as the empty space that it in fact is.

In its extreme, twinkling stars are visibly jolted by the restless
atmosphere, and they flicker in a broad range of colors. This effect
is called beaconing and can be quite striking when bright stars lie
close to the horizon. The other night I spotted Sirius beaconing
prettily at me near the southwestern horizon.

Unless skimming a moisture-laden horizon, planets do not twinkle
because of their larger area. You can use this knowledge to identify
planets from fields of similar-looking stars. Jupiter booms out with
an unmistakable planetary brightness tonight, but you can identify
Saturn's more demure but steady form by comparing it with the
otherwise nearly identical Capella jumping and shaking to the north.

New moon is exact on Thursday, May 1 at 6:15 AM, PDT. Look for a

slim crescent growing in the twilight west this weekend.

originally published April 24, 2003:

FIRST PLANET I SEE TONIGHT

During one period of my life, I declared roots irrelevant and lived
for weeks on end out of my car. I made a religion of watching sunsets
and would park each evening at some scenic overlook or other:
preferably by the ocean. The rules for this ritual were (1) I had to
be ready before the sun touched the horizon, and (2) sunset was not
officially over until the first star appeared. I was often surprised
by how long this would take, and on hungrier evenings when I wished to
hurry back to my campsite, I allowed that a planet might do as well.

First stars usually appear directly overhead where the sky is darkest.
Arcturus, Vega, and Capella all play that role at different times of
the year. To find the first star, let your gaze slide back and forth,
and use your peripheral vision. If all else fails, be patient and let
the sky grow ten minutes darker.

Without incentive, eyes rarely wander across the traceless blue dome
of a sun bright sky before the stars are fully out. As any dedicated
sunset watcher quickly learns, a point of light on a bright background
can be hard to latch onto. With no features to guide, the eye slips
and wanders, and sources, even once sighted, can be hard to find again
much less point out to companions: ``It's above that tree about three
fist-widths, just left of the third ripple of that peachy wisp.''

Jupiter is now almost straight overhead at sundown (dropping of course
westward as the sky darkens). As the weeks wear on, it will slouch
ever closer to the twilight glow; by the solstice, Jupiter will be
down by the easily referenceable horizon. People will point and
exclaim over the sudden appearance of this evening star, but you can
nod and smile since you've been watching its progress now for weeks.

If you go out sunset-watching this Spring, Jupiter is the first
``star'' you are likely to see. Combining inherent brightness with
the premium zenith-at-sundown position makes Jupiter an ideal target
for sunset watchers eager to win the extra bon-bon for being first to
spot a star. Be warned! Sore losers in this contest will complain
that Jupiter is not a proper star. And naturally they're right. The
real question, however, is: Isn't it time to go make dinner?

originally published April 3, 2003:

LOOPY FOR LUPINES
The new moon snuck by on Tuesday, April 1 at 11:19am PST. Expect a
growing crescent in the west by this weekend, leaving morning skies
dark and moonless. Use the extra morning darkness supplied by the
clock change this weekend to look for Venus, low and ominous in the
eastern morning twilight sky. Love is dropping now behind the Sun and
won't be visible until next winter. In the evening, turn westward to
see the rising fleet-footed Mercury who will soon put on his finest
evening display of the year. Greatest elongation places the elusive
Mercury 20 degrees above just north of west on April 16.

Last weekend's blast of California sunshine made my blood sing and

my face turn suddenly brown. Everywhere I look, poppies and lupines

lead wildflower charges up grassy hillsides. Days are lengthening rapidly
now, and the sudden change of the clocks will add a leisurely hour of
twilight, making evenings feel more spacious.

Don't hesiate to enjoy the Spring, my friends! Especially to the
still be-flurried East Coasters, summer may seem far off, but every
year is shorter than the one before, and I'm always amazed at how soon
Autumn arrives. So drop the gates already; let me at it!

And whether I'm putting up a tent, working at a computer, or soaking
my soul in the splendors of the springtime Sun, a chant drones on and
on: compassion, compassion, compassion. Prayers for the soldiers,
prayers for the civilians, prayers that leaders may be wise, and
prayers for the courage to stay present with my own anguished heart.

Since I have no choice, I believe that life leads us upward. Since I
must or go mad, I believe that the unrest in the world today is a sign
of tremendous evolution. Can I give thanks for being alive at a time
such as this? Can I live and love and be at peace with myself? (Such
things are needed now more than ever.) Can I listen as well as shout?

I am happy for the fresh spring air that washes over me. I am happy
for new babies and for Venus in the east. And however painfully my
heart lurches, I am happy for the challenges presented by the world.

Use the Sky and Telescope sky chart:
http://skyandtelescope.com/observing/skychart/
to track Mercury's rise and Venus's fall over the next few weeks.

originally published March 7, 2003:

LOVE AND WAR

While back east, one of the snowiest, coldest winters in

memory rages on, here in northern California, the hills

have turned leprechaun green and fruit blossoms are

pushing their way out from twig ends. Our last spate of

rainy weather was long on clouds but short on much needed

precipitation.

Despite man's valuable intellect, growth proceeds most often

through unconscious processes. At cellular, emotional, and

even sociological levels, change is mysterious. Many of the

choices I have made seemed purely rational at the time, but

looking back, I see how profound were the influences of the

deeper parts of myself. When I find myself pushing fruitlessly

for personal change or baffled by its arrival, I have evidence

for how much of myself is out of the control of the mind. I am

kin to the birds who feed themselves and migrate vast distances

without the aid of anything that we would call intellect. I know

(but sometimes forget) that there is ineffable perfection in the

life that flows through me. I give thanks for this force, but I do
not claim to understand or control it.

Venus and Mars are slowly gliding away from each other in the predawn
east. Battle-ready Mars is edging his way westward into the evening
sky for this summer's closest approach to the Earth in 60,000 years.
Though close by Mars now, Venus, Love Goddess, follows a very
different path. She drops eastward behind the Sun and will reappear
in the evening sky moving eastward, but not until February 2004.

So we are moving into a time when the skies will be dominated by
Warrior Mars while Lover Venus hides in the brilliance of the center.
In times of unrest, it is hard for me to remember that love is still
alive. Of what use am I to the cosmos if I let my sadness overcome
the balance that is so desperately needed right now? Let me act and
act swiftly following the urgings of my heart, but may I also maintain
in my being the hope and the harmony that I wish for the world.