Stars console us in their independence from us, their faithful beauty, and with the possibility, says Andrew Davis, that they express a vitality, an aliveness, that is akin to our own experience. They also share with us a mortality, albeit in time frames far beyond our own. They live and die. And so it is with the galaxies they inhabit. Galaxies also have histories. They, too, change over time in shape and size, through stellar evolution, interactions with one another, and mergers. The universe, with its billions upon billions of galaxies, each with billions of stars and planets, is in constant process. We humans, creatures among creatures on a small but beautiful planet in a backwater galaxy, are within that process.

At one level, we are but atoms among atoms in an unimaginably large universe, appropriately humbled, or decentered, by the fact that we are not the center of the universe. In all likelihood there are many forms of life on many other planets, and some may be quite superior to us. Indeed, many kindred creatures on our small planet have powers and forms of intelligence we lack. And at another level, by virtue of our experience, we may well exemplify a metaphysical reality, experience itself, that is found anywhere and everywhere. The dance of the universe is not simply that of lifeless objects in motion, it is a dance of subjective self-expression at any and every level. And in what does this dancing universe unfold? Does it unfold in empty space, whatever that might be? Or does it unfold inside a life, a Consciousness, which is the living whole of the universe itself?

​Process theologians believe the latter. When they speak of God, they have in mind a Consciousness in which all things unfold: a Consciousness which is empathic in its love, sharing in the experience of each and which seeks to lure all beings into whatever forms of beauty they are capable, relative to the conditions on their existence. The universe is alive with life, and God is the Life in which life unfolds. A Consciousness that somehow partakes of the living and dying of the universe itself, in which our lives unfold is within us, too, as an inwardly felt lure to become what we can best become, given the conditions of our lives. This lure is within all other things, too. It is everywhere yet omni-particularized. It is the spirit of God at work in the universe.

Galactic Spirituality

 I…a universe of atoms…an atom in the universe.​
 

Galaxies are large collections of stars, gas, dust, and dark matter bound together by gravity. Astronomers estimate that there are at least 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe, each with billions of stars and planets. They come in different shapes - spirals and ellipses for example - and they are both unique and connected. As unique each galaxy seems to be an island in a sea of dark matter, spread out across the void of space, harboring a black hole in its center. Its movements are dependent on the gravity of its many starts and its black hole. And yet these islands are not static. Over billions of years, galaxies can change in terms of their shape, size, and the populations of stars they contain. These changes occur the star formation, stellar evolution, and interactions with other galaxies. Thus the image of islands is but part of the story. Galaxies are part of a cosmic spider web, composed of billions of galaxies, each distinct, all connected, each evolving. We humans are not outside the web; we are within the web. And we, too, are evolving, if not physically then in terms of our consciousness. We are very small atoms within a staggeringly large multiplex. 

Galactic spirituality begins with wonder and humility. We are amazed by their beauty, their independence, their complexity, their shapes (spirals, ellipses), their time-frames, their spaciousness, and the faithful beauty of the stars that make them up. In our amazement we are simultaneously humbled or decentered from any illusions about being the physical center of the universe. This humbling can be unsettling if we like to think of ourselves as the center of things, but it is also healing, We realize that the burdens we carry and others suffer here on Earth, however severe, are not the whole of things, We are but included in incredibly vast whole, the evolving universe.

The Living Universe as a Living Whole

It is not surprising that, for some people, a feeling that we are in the presence of transcendence - that something transcends us - begins, not by imagining a person in the sky or outside the cosmos, but by feeling small but included in a larger whole of which we are a very, very small part. A sense of divine transcendence begins with a sense of the vast galactic context of life on Earth. If God is conceived in personal terms, the very notion of person is then rethought. God is not a "person" in the sense of being a localized being standing outside the galaxies, a king on a throne or a heavenly queen, but rather a womb-like Consciousness within which the galaxies evolve. The relation of God to the universe is of whole to part, not object to object, and the whole itself is not static but is instead evolving with parts.

Moreover, if conceived as a person, this whole will be, like other wholes in the universe (living cells, animals, human beings) a living whole: that is, a whole endowed with a psyche with inwardness and subjectivity of its own. God will be the divine milieu of the universe and also the divine psyche or soul of the universe.  Is this theology? The theologian Ilia Delio speaks of this way of thinking, not as theology but rather as thehology. In her words:

In light of the mystics and relational holism, I coin a new term, “theohology” (from theos = God; and holos = whole). Theohology is experiential talk of the God-whole. This new theology or theohology is inspired by quantum physics and a renewed mysticism, in which the higher degrees of consciousness play a fundamental role in one’s experience of the whole. ( The Not-Yet God: Carl Jung, Teilhard de Chardin, and the Relational Whole (p. 29). Orbis Books. Kindle Edition.)

As the cosmic Consciousness God is, to use Teilhard de Chardin's phrase, the divine milieu in which the galaxies unfold. Galaxies are, as it were, the living cells within God's body. And if this Consciousness is in any way loving, it will be nurturant not all-controlling, because the galaxies have creative energies of their own.

The creative energies of galaxies sometimes collide with one another. Our own galaxy, the Milky Way, mid-size compared to others, is illustrative. 

Our galaxy is about 100,000 light years across, is shaped like a fried egg and we travel inside it at approximately 220 kilometres per second. The nearest one to us is much smaller and is nicknamed the Sagittarius Dwarf. But the one down the road, called Andromeda, is just as large as ours and, in 10 billion years, we'll probably crash into it.

​The more general point is that, like everything else, galaxies - the living cells within God's body - are in process. Like most everything else in the universe, galaxies do not stay still. They, too, are in process. They change and evolve in six ways:

1. Formation: Galaxies are thought to have formed early in the history of the universe through processes like gravitational collapse and mergers of smaller structures. Their formation sets the initial conditions for their subsequent evolution.
2. Star Formation: Within a galaxy, stars continue to form from clouds of gas and dust. This ongoing process of star formation can influence the galaxy's appearance and properties over time.
3. Stellar Evolution: Stars within a galaxy have their own lifecycles. They form, undergo nuclear fusion, and eventually exhaust their nuclear fuel. The way stars evolve and end their lives (e.g., as white dwarfs, neutron stars, or supernovae) can affect the galaxy's composition and energy budget.
4. Galaxy Interactions and Mergers: Galaxies can interact with and even merge with each other due to gravitational forces. When galaxies merge, it can lead to the formation of new stars and the redistribution of matter within the merged galaxy. These events can dramatically change a galaxy's appearance and structure.
5. Feedback Processes: The activity of stars, particularly massive ones, can release energy and material back into the interstellar medium through processes like supernovae explosions and stellar winds. This feedback can regulate star formation and influence the galaxy's evolution.
6. Aging and Evolution: Over billions of years, galaxies can change in terms of their shape, size, and the populations of stars they contain. These changes are driven by the combined effects of all the processes mentioned above and can result in different types of galaxies, such as elliptical, spiral, or irregular galaxies.

To "think galactically" is consider the vast scale of the universe and the multitude of galaxies beyond our own. 
​

their journeying across the night sky, and the possibility, says Andrew Davis, that their primal energies express a vitality, an aliveness, that is akin to our own experience. We are decentered by the sta Their aliveness does not last forever. Stars also live and die. Stars share with us a mortality, albeit in time frames far beyond our own.

In their mortality they may well "live and move and have their being" in a larger Life, a Consciousness, a deep Memory that permeates the multiverse, retaining their histories. This Consciousness is not outside the universe as a separate entity; it is the mind of the universe itself, albeit with a life of its own. The universe is alive in its depths; the stars are alive in their ways; and the Mind is alive. They speak of this Mind as God. This Mind is the home of stars, too.

​Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,
The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,
All things are changed, save in the east
The faithful beauty of the stars.

- Sara Teasdale, Winter Stars

​[UNTITLED ODE TO THE WONDER OF LIFE]
by Richard Feynman

I stand at the seashore, alone, and start to think. There are the rushing waves… mountains of molecules, each stupidly minding its own business… trillions apart… yet forming white surf in unison.

Ages on ages… before any eyes could see… year after year… thunderously pounding the shore as now. For whom, for what?… on a dead planet, with no life to entertain.

Never at rest… tortured by energy… wasted prodigiously by the sun… poured into space. A mite makes the sea roar.

Deep in the sea, all molecules repeat the patterns of one another till complex new ones are formed. They make others like themselves… and a new dance starts.

Growing in size and complexity… living things, masses of atoms, DNA, protein… dancing a pattern ever more intricate.

Out of the cradle onto the dry land… here it is standing… atoms with consciousness… matter with curiosity.
​
Stands at the sea… wonders at wondering… I… a universe of atoms… an atom in the universe.

​Look up to the Heavens

There's so much more
​

The actress Lillah McCarthy describes how once she went in great misery to see George Bernard Shaw, just after she had been deserted by her husband:

I was shivering. Shaw sat very still. The fire brought me warmth…How long we sat there I do not know, but presently I found myself walking with dragging steps with Shaw beside me…up and down Adelphi Terrace. The weight upon me grew a little lighter and released the tears which would never come before…He let me cry. Presently I heard a voice in which all the gentleness and tenderness of the world was speaking. It said: “Look up, dear, look up to the heavens. There is more in life than this. There is much more.”
Whatever his own faith in God or lack of it, Shaw points here to something that is fundamental to the spiritual Way. He did not offer smooth words of consolation to Lillah McCarthy, or pretend that her pain would be easy to bear. What he did was more perceptive. He told her to look out for a moment from herself, from her personal tragedy, and to see the world in its objectivity, to sense its wonder and variety, its “thusness”.

And his advice applies to all of us. However oppressed by my own or others' anguish, I am not to forget that there is more in the world than this, there is much more. St John of Kronstadt says, “Prayer is a state of continual gratitude.”
 
Kallistos, Bishop of Diokleia . The Orthodox Way . St Vladimir's Seminary Press. Kindle Edition.

​The Consolation of Stars

Stars console us in their independence from us, their faithful beauty, the vastness of their galactic homes, their journeying across the night sky, and the possibility, says Andrew Davis, that they express a vitality, an aliveness, that is akin to our own experience. They also share with us a mortality, albeit in time frames far beyond our own, Stars live and die. And in their mortality they may well "live and move and have their being" in a larger Life, a Consciousness, that is divine. 

As the story above attests, the consolation of stars isn't centered around the idea that they exist solely 'for us' or that we hold a central position in their galactic homes. On the contrary, the consolation arises from their autonomy, their existence independent of us, and their freedom from bearing the burden of our troubles. When we gaze at the night sky, we come to realize that we aren't the focal point of the universe, and our suffering, while significant, isn't the center of everything. This realization carries a healing quality, a unique grace – the grace of their intrinsic 'thusness.' The stars liberate us from an excessive sense of self-importance; they de-center us.

However, this isn't the sole source of consolation they provide. We may also find solace in what poet Sara Teasdale describes as their 'faithful beauty.'

​Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,
The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,
All things are changed, save in the east
The faithful beauty of the stars.

​They are indeed steadfast in their presence and beautiful in their shining. We can healed by their beauty and their independence at the same time. The two go together. 

Amid this sense of beauty and independence, a third intuition can emerge. For lack of a better word, I will call it the intuition of vastness: vastness in time and in space, and a vastness that includes collisions. Galaxies hold the key. The exact number of galaxies in the universe is not known with certainty, but astronomers estimate that there are at least 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe. To "think galactically" is consider the vast scale of the universe and the multitude of galaxies beyond our own. 

Spread out across the voids of space like spun sugar, but harbouring in their centres super-massive black holes. Our galaxy is about 100,000 light years across, is shaped like a fried egg and we travel inside it at approximately 220 kilometres per second. The nearest one to us is much smaller and is nicknamed the Sagittarius Dwarf. But the one down the road, called Andromeda, is just as large as ours and, in 10 billion years, we'll probably crash into it. Galaxies - the vast islands in space of staggering beauty and even more staggering dimension.

As we sense our place in that island in space we call the Milky Way, and recognize our neighbors the Satittarius Dwarf and Andromda, we may sense that we ourselves are located in a larger sea of galactic islands which, together, form an expanding network of islands in a sea of dark matter. We are part of a vast system.
​ 
Feeling the beauty of stars and sensing our place in a multitude of galaxies is a kind of recentering. This recentering is about finding significance beyond ourselves. We are both decentered and recentered by the stars and galaxies.

Philosopher Andrew M. Davis presents yet another perspective on how we can experience this recentering. We can come to realize that our own experiences, including the sensation of being decentered, are not exceptions but rather expressions of something inherent, pervasive throughout the universe, even within the energetic events within atoms. Davis refers to this "something" as experience – the inherent capacity of things to receive influences from their surroundings and respond to those influences, resulting in the creation of something beautiful in the process. His proposition suggests that if there is life on other planets and moons, this life also embodies this concept of experience, just as the energetic events deep within stars do. I will call this "panexperiential awareness."

With panexperiential awareness, we can sense that the shining of the stars, and the death and birth of stars as well, brings with it the self-expression of something vital and self-creative. Their very independence is not just self-containment; it is a shining forth of a certain kind of inwardness, of subjectivity. The whole universe is alive with experience, and this recognition offers a profound sense of recentering, connecting us to the profound subjectivity of the cosmos itself.

​​BLOOM
by Emily Dickinson

Bloom — is Result — to meet a Flower
And casually glance
Would cause one scarcely to suspect
The minor Circumstance
Assisting in the Bright Affair
So intricately done
Then offered as a Butterfly
To the Meridian --
To pack the Bud — oppose the Worm --
Obtain its right of Dew --
Adjust the Heat — elude the Wind --
Escape the prowling Bee
Great Nature not to disappoint
Awaiting Her that Day --
To be a Flower, is profound
Responsibility --

​MY GOD, IT’S FULL OF STARS (PART 5)
by Tracy K. Smith

When my father worked on the Hubble Telescope, he said
They operated like surgeons: scrubbed and sheathed
In papery green, the room a clean cold, a bright white.

He’d read Larry Niven at home, and drink scotch on the rocks,
His eyes exhausted and pink. These were the Reagan years,
When we lived with our finger on The Button and struggled

To view our enemies as children. My father spent whole seasons
Bowing before the oracle-eye, hungry for what it would find.
His face lit up whenever anyone asked, and his arms would rise

As if he were weightless, perfectly at ease in the never-ending
Night of space. On the ground, we tied postcards to balloons
For peace. Prince Charles married Lady Di. Rock Hudson died.

We learned new words for things. The decade changed.
The first few pictures came back blurred, and I felt ashamed
For all the cheerful engineers, my father and his tribe. The second time,
The optics jibed. We saw to the edge of all there is --

​So brutal and alive it seemed to comprehend us back.

​​ACHIEVING PERSPECTIVE
by Pattiann Rogers

Straight up away from this road,
Away from the fitted particles of frost
Coating the hull of each chick pea,
And the stiff archer bug making its way
In the morning dark, toe hair by toe hair,
Up the stem of the trillium,
Straight up through the sky above this road right now,
The galaxies of the Cygnus A cluster
Are colliding with each other in a massive swarm
Of interpenetrating and exploding catastrophes.
I try to remember that.

And even in the gold and purple pretense
Of evening, I make myself remember
That it would take 40,000 years full of gathering
Into leaf and dropping, full of pulp splitting
And the hard wrinkling of seed, of the rising up
Of wood fibers and the disintegration of forests,
Of this lake disappearing completely in the bodies
Of toad slush and duckweed rock,
40,000 years and the fastest thing we own,
To reach the one star nearest to us.

And when you speak to me like this,
I try to remember that the wood and cement walls
Of this room are being swept away now,
Molecule by molecule, in a slow and steady wind,
And nothing at all separates our bodies
From the vast emptiness expanding, and I know
We are sitting in our chairs
Discoursing in the middle of the blackness of space.
And when you look at me
I try to recall that at this moment
Somewhere millions of miles beyond the dimness
Of the sun, the comet Biela, speeding
In its rocks and ices, is just beginning to enter
The widest arc of its elliptical turn.

​LET THERE ALWAYS BE LIGHT (SEARCHING FOR DARK MATTER)
by Rebecca Elson

For this we go out dark nights, searching
For the dimmest stars,
For signs of unseen things:

To weigh us down.
To stop the universe
From rushing on and on
Into its own beyond
Till it exhausts itself and lies down cold,
Its last star going out.

Whatever they turn out to be,
Let there be swarms of them,
Enough for immortality,
Always a star where we can warm ourselves.

Let there be enough to bring it back
From its own edges,
To bring us all so close we ignite
The bright spark of resurrection.

​​DIRGE WITHOUT MUSIC
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, — but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,--
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
​
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

​SINGULARITY
              (after Marie Howe)
by Marissa Davis

in the wordless beginning
iguana & myrrh
magma & reef              ghost moth
& the cordyceps tickling its nerves
& cedar & archipelago & anemone
dodo bird & cardinal waiting for its red
ocean salt & crude oil              now black
muck now most naïve fumbling plankton
every egg clutched in the copycat soft
of me unwomaned unraced
unsexed              as the ecstatic prokaryote
that would rage my uncle’s blood
or the bacterium that will widow
your eldest daughter’s eldest son
my uncle, her son              our mammoth sun
& her uncountable siblings              & dust mite & peat
apatosaurus & nile river
& maple green & nude & chill-blushed &
yeasty keratined bug-gutted i & you
spleen & femur seven-year refreshed
seven-year shedding & taking & being this dust
& my children & your children
& their children & the children
of the black bears & gladiolus & pink florida grapefruit
here not allied but the same              perpetual breath
held fast to each other as each other’s own skin
cold-dormant & rotting & birthing & being born
in the olympus              of the smallest
possible once before once

​THE MORE LOVING ONE
by W.H. Auden

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
​
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

​​HUBBLE PHOTOGRAPHS: AFTER SAPPHO
by Adrienne Rich (2005)

It should be the most desired sight of all
the person with whom you hope to live and die

walking into a room, turning to look at you, sight for sight
Should be yet I say there is something

more desirable:       the ex-stasis of galaxies
so out from us there’s no vocabulary

but mathematics and optics
equations letting sight pierce through time

into liberations, lacerations of light and dust
exposed like a body’s cavity, violet green livid and venous, gorgeous

—beyond good and evil as ever stained into dream
beyond remorse, disillusion, fear of death

or life, rage
for order, rage for destruction

beyond this love which stirs
the air every time she walks into the room

These impersonae, however we call them
won’t invade us as on movie screens

they are so old, so new, we are not to them
we look at them or don’t from within the milky gauze

of our tilted gazing
but they don’t look back and we cannot hurt them

Thinking Galactically

​To "think galactically" means to consider the vast scale of the universe and the multitude of galaxies beyond our own. It involves considering the grandeur and complexity of the cosmos, recognizing that there are billions of galaxies, each containing billions of stars, and pondering our place in this immense expanse. Thinking galactically encourages a broader perspective on our existence and the potential for life and exploration beyond our solar system and galaxy. It emphasizes the interconnectedness of celestial objects and the profound questions about the nature of the universe that continue to captivate astronomers and cosmologists.

*
​
The exact number of galaxies in the universe is not known with certainty, but astronomers estimate that there are at least 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe. These galaxies come in various shapes and sizes, and they can be broadly categorized into three main types:
​

1. Spiral Galaxies: Spiral galaxies have a spiral-like structure, with a central bulge surrounded by spiral arms. The Milky Way, our own galaxy, is a spiral galaxy. Spiral galaxies often contain young stars, and they are known for their active star-forming regions.
2. Elliptical Galaxies: Elliptical galaxies have a more rounded or elliptical shape, and they lack the spiral arms seen in spiral galaxies. They tend to contain older stars and have less ongoing star formation compared to spiral galaxies.
3. Irregular Galaxies: Irregular galaxies do not have a regular or well-defined shape. They can take on various forms and often appear chaotic. Irregular galaxies can have both young and old stars and may result from interactions between other galaxies.

The closest large galaxy to us is the Andromeda Galaxy (M31), which is approximately 2.5 million light-years away from the Milky Way. Andromeda is also a spiral galaxy and is on a collision course with the Milky Way, although this collision is not expected to occur for several billion years.

The Therapeutic Value
of Thinking Galactically

​Thinking galactically, or contemplating the vastness and mysteries of the universe, can have several therapeutic benefits for individuals, although its impact may vary from person to person. Here are some potential therapeutic values of thinking galactically:
​

1. Perspective and Mindfulness: Contemplating the scale of the universe can help put daily worries and stressors into perspective. It encourages mindfulness and a sense of awe, allowing individuals to focus on the present moment and gain a broader view of their place in the cosmos.
2. Stress Reduction: Immersing oneself in thoughts of galaxies, stars, and cosmic phenomena can be a form of escape from the pressures of everyday life. It can provide a mental escape and reduce stress and anxiety.
3. Humility and Ego Reduction: Thinking about the vastness of the universe can promote humility by reminding individuals of how small and interconnected we are in the grand scheme of things. This can help reduce ego-driven concerns and promote a more grounded sense of self.
4. Inspiration and Wonder: The beauty and complexity of the universe can inspire a sense of wonder and curiosity. This inspiration can motivate individuals to explore science, art, philosophy, or other creative pursuits, which can be therapeutic and fulfilling.
5. Connection and Unity: Contemplating the universe can foster a sense of connection to all of humanity and all living things on Earth. It can remind us that we share a common home in the universe and encourage a greater sense of empathy and global responsibility.
6. Coping with Loss and Grief: For some individuals, thinking galactically can provide comfort and solace when dealing with loss and grief. It can offer a sense of continuity and the idea that loved ones who have passed are part of a larger cosmic cycle.
7. Existential Reflection: Thinking about the universe's vastness and the mysteries it holds can lead to existential contemplation. While this may initially provoke questions about the meaning of life, it can also be a therapeutic process that helps individuals explore their beliefs and values.

Astronomers Discuss Galaxies

Melvyn Bragg and guests discuss the galaxies. Spread out across the voids of space like spun sugar, but harbouring in their centres super-massive black holes. Our galaxy is about 100,000 light years across, is shaped like a fried egg and we travel inside it at approximately 220 kilometres per second. The nearest one to us is much smaller and is nicknamed the Sagittarius Dwarf. But the one down the road, called Andromeda, is just as large as ours and, in 10 billion years, we'll probably crash into it. Galaxies - the vast islands in space of staggering beauty and even more staggering dimension. But galaxies are not simply there to adorn the universe; they house much of its visible matter and maintain the stars in a constant cycle of creation and destruction. But why do galaxies exist, how have they evolved and what lies at the centre of a galaxy to make the stars dance round it at such colossal speeds? With John Gribbin, Visiting Fellow in Astronomy at the University of Sussex; Carolin Crawford, Royal Society University Research Fellow at the Institute of Astronomy at Cambridge; Robert Kennicutt, Plumian Professor of Astronomy and Experimental Philosophy at the University of Cambridge.