“Grasping the scientific and material foundations of these extraordinary phenomena hasn’t lessened my respect and wonder in the slightest,” Lightman reflects in his book. MIT News engaged Lightman in a discussion about key chapters from his book and the interplay between observation and scientific exploration.
Aurora Borealis
In 2024, countless individuals turned their gaze skyward to witness the mesmerizing aurora borealis, or northern lights — a spectacular display triggered by solar storms. This atmospheric spectacle occurs when an influx of electrons from the sun excite oxygen and nitrogen molecules at high altitudes, with the Earth’s magnetic field sculpting dazzling formations.
Whether it’s the aurora borealis in the north or the aurora australis in the south, these breathtaking displays remind us of how the unusual ignites our inquisitiveness.
“We respond both emotionally and intellectually, feeling appreciation and sheer awe for nature,” Lightman observes. “In the earliest periods of scientific thinking, the emotional ties to the natural world were likely as crucial as the intellectual connections. The mysteries of the night sky compel us to seek understanding.”
He emphasizes: “The aurora borealis profoundly reminds us that we are part of something greater; we are not confined to our everyday world of furniture and houses. It evokes a cosmic feeling of belonging to a planet adrift in the universe.”
Galileo coined the term “aurora borealis,” drawing inspiration from the Roman goddess of dawn and the Greek god of the north wind. Various cultures have woven their own narratives around these lights. As Lightman notes, Native American tribes viewed them as spirits; the Algonquin saw them as creations of fire; while the Vikings believed they reflected Valkyrie armor. Surprisingly, geomagnetic storms were considered as an explanation only in the 20th century.
“It’s ultimately about seeking meaning and understanding,” Lightman explains. “Before modern science developed, we yearned for meaning, leading to the creation of myths. Now, modern science provides new tools for exploration, but the ancient accounts also sought to explain our extraordinary cosmos.”
Fall Foliage
While the aurora borealis showcases celestial magic, the phenomenon of fall foliage connects more with our earthly experience. Yet, Lightman suggests that, despite its commonality, it also stirs wonder in its own right. In his book, he weaves an intricate narrative around fall colors, touching on the chemistry behind leaves, the nature of color, and the dynamics of planetary motion.
It begins with the leaves. The dazzling fall colors stem from compounds known as carotenoids, which yield yellow and orange hues, and anthocyanins, which produce reds. Typically masked by chlorophyll — the green pigment crucial for photosynthesis — these vibrant colors reveal themselves as daylight diminishes in autumn, leading to a spectacular display of yellows, oranges, and reds.
Shifting perspective, seasons arise because the Earth tilts at 23.5 degrees as it orbits the sun, leading to varied sunlight distribution throughout the year.
This axial tilt originated from cosmic collisions billions of years ago. Solar systems are born from swirling clouds of gas and dust, with planets forming through gravitational pull. Earth’s tilt likely resulted from such an ancient impact; among the planets in our solar system, only Mercury has minimal axial tilt.
Lightman muses, “There’s a poetic beauty in realizing that stunning autumn foliage owes its existence partly to a cosmic accident 4 billion years ago. It’s both poetic and astonishing.”
Mandarinfish
The mandarinfish, native to the Pacific Ocean, captivates with its vibrant, intricate color patterns reminiscent of an exquisite ikat fabric.
Yet, behind this striking appearance lies an evolutionary purpose. Brilliant colors can provide survival advantages, a notion recognized by scientists from Charles Darwin to modern biologists.
“In the book, I examine organisms that possess striking characteristics,” Lightman notes. “Most scientists concur that these features often offer survival advantages, or emerge as byproducts of traits that once had survival benefits.”
Bright coloration can serve as camouflage, aid in attracting mates, or ward off predators. In the case of mandarinfish, their toxicity turns their vivid appearance into a warning for potential threats like the scorpionfish.
“For mandarinfish, their vibrant coloring is directly linked to their poisonous nature. Herein lies the wonder: the spectacular also serves a crucial function in the food web,” Lightman states.
Paramecia
Paramecia are single-celled microorganisms that navigate their surroundings using thousands of hair-like cilia that move like tiny oars. They were first identified following the advent of microscopy in the 1600s, with the Dutch scientist Antonie van Leeuwenhoek among the first to observe them.
“I noted that some of these tiny creatures were incredibly small — about a thousand times smaller than the tiniest ones I had previously encountered on cheese,” van Leeuwenhoek recorded.
“The early microscopes unveiled an entire universe at a minute scale,” Lightman reflects.
When we glance at an image of a paramecium, we witness not just a living organism, but also our own ingenuity in scientific exploration. Yet, Lightman sees paramecia as a marker of evolutionary progress, highlighting their energy utilization and motion management, which emerged 600 million years ago.
“What fascinated me about paramecia is their locomotion mechanisms, where cilia move back and forth to propel themselves quickly. This marked a significant evolutionary advancement, requiring energy and complex systems honed by natural selection,” Lightman explains.
He concludes, “One beautiful realization from this is the shared ancestry of all living things on our planet; we are all interconnected in profound ways.”
The Rings of Saturn
The first time Lightman observed Saturn’s rings, which number approximately 1,000, was during his time at the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics in the late 1970s.
“Seeing the rings of Saturn left me in sheer awe — they’re so perfectly structured,” Lightman recalls. “The scale of their construction is simply unbelievable. That initial amazement has never left me; they represent an awe-inspiring natural wonder.”
The mathematical properties of the rings are equally impressive; spanning about 240,000 miles in width—similar to the distance from Earth to the moon—the rings’ thickness is merely that of a football field. “The ratio of diameter to thickness is astounding,” Lightman observes, noting that the rings’ mass constitutes just 1/50 of 1 percent of our moon’s mass.
Most likely, the rings formed from debris shed by a moon that strayed too close to Saturn—home to 146 known moons—and was torn apart by the planet’s gravitational forces, which later shaped the rings into their iconic circular formation.
“The roundness of planets, the circular nature of planetary rings, and countless extraordinary phenomena manifest beautifully through the laws of physics,” Lightman conveys in the book. “These laws themselves have a beauty.”
Over the years, Lightman repeatedly gazed at Saturn’s rings, forever perceiving it as a “natural miracle” each time.
“Every viewing is a fresh source of amazement,” he declares.
Photo credit & article inspired by: Massachusetts Institute of Technology
