Letters from an Astrophysicist

by Neil deGrasse Tyson

So yes, the universe wants to kill us. But on the other hand, we all want to live.

In any case, I am delighted to learn that I have helped, in whatever small way, to sustain the rage of your cosmic flame.

Thank you for the outstanding delivery you made today. I was particularly impressed with the “meet the students where they are at” approach when it comes to education. This may be the main reason why your books are so popular with all age groups.

In a galaxy, the relevant forces are entirely gravitational, and the spiral pattern is traced by newborn stars.

Consider other things that look alike. When Sir William Herschel, in the 1800s, first saw dots of light that moved slowly across the sky, he knew they could not be stars, but they looked like stars through his telescope, so he called them “star-like,” which in Latin becomes “aster-oid” or just asteroids. Their similar appearance through a telescope eyepiece was irrelevant to what they actually are. Stars are billions of times larger than asteroids and operate under different forces of nature.

When I wonder what I am capable of as a human being, I don’t look to “relatives,” I look to all human beings. That is the genetic relationship that matters to me. The genius of Isaac Newton, the courage of Joan of Arc and Gandhi, the athletic feats of Michael Jordan, the oratorical skills of Sir Winston Churchill, the compassion of Mother Teresa. I look to the entire human race for inspiration for what I can be—because I am human. I don’t care if I am a descendent of kings or paupers, saints or sinners, the brave or cowardly. My life is what I make of it.

On my deathbed, one thought I will surely have comes from the evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins. He notes that we who die are the lucky ones. Most people—most genetic combinations of who could ever exist—will never be born, and so will never have the opportunity to die.