The Natural History Museum is the place to go for a good cry. Or to get knocked down a peg or two if you find yourself boasting too much self-esteem. Today’s visit reminded me vividly of just how small and insignificant I really am. But come to think of it, as long as it’s not a mealtime, my children offer me the exact same service, actually. Of course I am neither small nor insignificant if I am filling their bellies! It’s just the rest of the time when I am doing terrible motherly things like asking them to clean their rooms or to share a coveted toy.
One sign in the exhibit says, “The lunar footprints will last a million years.” And considering that I have left no lunar footprints, and never will, I am more than a little depressed. I can’t even ride in the passenger seat of a Taurus without feeling nauseous, so I am sure that a space shuttle is no place for me. And so my footprints will not last a million years. I can’t even get my moisturizer to last more than a few minutes, so I can see that making a mark with my footprints or my words that might last a bit of time is an astronomical feat.
Speaking of astronomy, I made the mistake of watching a planetarium show today, which ensured me that the sun is the tiniest fragment of the Milky Way Galaxy and the Milky Way Galaxy is only one of many galaxies in the universe. And I personally am barely a blip in a city in a state in a country on a globe that cannot possibly compete with the vastness of space. And who knew that Jupiter was 1,000 times as big as the earth? This joint is huge! So I suppose that means I can stop worrying about the pile of laundry on the basement floor that never seems to get done.
And then there are the dinosaurs! The Cretaceous Period boasts tyrannosaurus rex, and here I am, standing in front of an actual dinosaur that lived 68 million years ago; boy do I feel small! Literally and figuratively. Makes my problems seem a bit insignificant. I’m sure I’m not the first human to worry about making ends meet or fretting about making her way in the world. And I can almost hear the echo of the dinosaur “Hey lady, you think YOU got problems?”
The bones are here of animals long dead and creatures almost forgotten. People, even, and their jaws and skulls tacked up on the wall next to the gorillas and the chimpanzees. Have I gotten much farther than this? Sure I am a bi-ped and can speak clearly and write my language, but do I have anything more to show of my life than these hapless bones on the wall?
It’s the 68 million dollar question really. What separates me from these animals, the stuffed brown bear or the mastodon or Irish Elk? How have I evolved, from the place that I have started? And most importantly I think, what will I leave behind when my flesh dissolves and my spirit flies? What is it that I want to leave?
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