Make a New Normal

Up and Down

a photo of a person, pointing to the sky
a photo of a person, pointing to the sky
Photo by Iyan Kurnia on Unsplash

The reason we know which way is up and which is down is that we share these words in common. Up is up. Every time.

Our ears even have a mechanism for orientation. We can tell which way is up and which is down without even looking.

This makes the idea of up and down seem innate, normal, universal. Always. Everyone.

The First Problem

Of course, the idea of up and down is dependent on our place on the planet. And particularly in not considering the universe. Planets circling stars; masses moving by gravity.

When we consider the universe, the very concept of up and down is laughable. There is no up and down really. It isn’t even relative—it doesn’t exist.

It only exists in this context. Living one’s life on the planet earth. Up [points to the sky] and down [points to the ground]. All relative to one’s experience—not to people thousands of miles away. Their “up” relative to us, is not our up.

The Second Problem

We determined that the Northern Hemisphere is north and “up” and the Southern Hemisphere is south and “down”. Concepts just as laughable and inaccurate in time and space. But useful for maps. And domination.

This context has a problem then of orientation.

North is always on top. It gets to be best. Even in time and space. Our consciousness conforms to North America as better than South America.

We might try to correct this phenomenon. But most of us go “That looks weird.” And it, at best, reverses the phenomenon. Making one up makes another go down.

Up and Down is always evaluative.

It doesn’t matter what we try to do. The concepts are linked in our minds. Up is better. Down is worse. Fortunes rise and fall. And we always want to be better.

People talk about the experience of going to space as life-altering precisely because it forces us out of the up/down paradigm. It forces the lucky person hurtling through cavernous space to see the finitude of humanity, the smallness of our place, and the splendor of our common experience.

Going “up there” becomes, more like “out there”. Then, as we leave orbit’s centralizing force, we realize that we exist within a universe, relative to everything—not relative to our small patch of grass we claim ownership of on the minuscule ball.

Narrative (of good/bad) always tags along with navigation, revealing our bias. Not because we want to be biased. But because we our existence to be fixed, relative, and self-oriented.

And it takes courage to realize “up” as we know it, doesn’t exist. And then, to live like it.