Black holes are some of the most mystifying yet fascinating objects in our universe. Possessing extreme gravitational forces that even light cannot escape, and masses sometimes weighing more than several million suns, these powerful anomalies inhabit nearly every corner of space. Much akin to a mystical Phoenix, most black holes are born out of the “ashes” of collapsed stars, retaining all of their mass in a much more condensed form. The so-called Supermassive black holes are more puzzling; they are located at the center of many galaxies, yet don’t originate from any known planetary objects. When looking across the night sky with your naked eye, you won't notice a large black sphere and realize you found a black hole. It is nearly impossible to sight a black hole against the endless backdrop of space, so astronomers often pick them out by noting when something seems to be siphoning off light from a distant star, a telltale sign of a black hole. The only reliable way to locate black holes is by witnessing their effect on other objects. Though they can’t be seen, black holes shape the space around them, often in fantastic fashion.

Last winter, I was skiing through the snow of Lake Minnewashta Park. The frozen water was desolate and scarred, yet strangely calm. The trees, though barren and empty, possessed light and crisp snow on their branches that lent to a charming and carefree atmosphere. I had just waxed my skis, and I was flying on the packed-down trail. I rounded a turn and, seeing the cars parked at the finish line, began to pick up speed to pass a small rut in the tracks. In my excitement, I failed to notice that what I thought was a small rut was actually a wide gash that went right down to the bone of the run. I got caught in it, went down hard, and stuck solid in the dead grass. Other skiers rounded the bend, and though they failed to see a hazard with their naked eyes, they did see a sprawled-out teen sporting a slush beard and his bruised skis slowly inching away from the rut, a sight which helped them avoid it.

Black holes are the most consuming form of matter in the Universe. When stars collapse to mere specks of their former selves, their gravitational force is multiplied exponentially to overpower all other forces. The layer before the actual singularity that does the real heavy lifting is called the Event Horizon, or “the point of no return”. As the latter implies, it signifies the end of the road for anything entering the darkness, be it a beam of light or an unlucky person. It is the point at which matter can only travel inwards, continuing towards the center of mass until it is fully consumed by the awesome gravitational forces. It is at this point that you become like taffy: fragile and slowly being stretched out by the powerful hand of gravity. To anyone looking at you from the outside world, they would see you “turn increasingly red and dim as [you] became frozen in time near the black hole’s boundary”. Black holes are immensely powerful, and the existence of a “point of no return” adds a feeling of hopelessness; things get drawn to the center against their will, and are completely consumed.

Imagine watching a bad TV show, from whatever genre you’d prefer. The dialogue is cheesy, the special effects are laughable, and the script is cornball. Yet inexplicably, after watching the horribly overdone pilot, you’re hooked. You binge watch it on Netflix, join countless fan clubs, and order tons of merchandise online. So intense is the addiction, that you even rope in some of your friends to share in the experience. You lose the ability to properly gauge time, as hours and days fly while obsessing over every detail about the show, even as outside witnesses are all too aware of your situation. Nearly everything about the production is poorly done, and it is under the radar of most people; yet potential viewers are pulled into the experience and become consumed by it. The first episode watched is often the beginning of this obsession, and as such can be called “the point of no return”.

Elementary school is the prime location for creating lasting friendships. One moment you have no idea who someone is, and the next you are playing like best friends. Coming into 4th grade, however, I only had equivalents of school partners: people who seem to enjoy your company and make you feel good, but go back to rejoin their real friends as soon as the bell rings. So as I walked up the steps of Mount Cavalry Church for Sunday school, I didn’t expect a dramatic reversal. My first impression of my class didn’t make me feel very enthusiastic about my chances. There were the gossipy girls who did nothing but talk about fashion and parties, as much as 10 year olds can. There were the sports players, who had their dirty uniforms on because they played a double header 10 minutes before class started. And then there were the two boys in the corner, laughing like crazy and drawing annoyed glances from everyone in the room. I recognized the last two, though I didn’t know them very well. In unison, they picked me out and sat me down, introducing themselves to me in a very friendly way. In a whirlwind of conversation over an hour spoken in whispers, I learned that they were essentially clones of me: they liked football, video games, and playing army. As fun as this was, it was on its way to being another fleeting friendship, as class was wrapping up for the day. But then one said something to me. He invited me over to his house to watch the Vikings game and hang out. I was shocked by his fearlessness and of course I said yes. Their friendship consumed my life, as I spent every lunch, every weekend, and nearly every week of summer in 6 years with them. Before, they were completely invisible to me, like sheets of paper in a snowstorm, but now they have genuinely changed my life and made me who I am today. They have made me laugh, cry, yell in anger, confide in them, beam with happiness, and I doubt that I would have gained so much confidence and made so many new friends if I hadn’t met them that one Sunday morning.

Our universe is filled with black holes, both out in space and down on earth. They have many meanings, and most people assume they are universally bad. The fact that some of them, maybe a great many of them, are malevolent is true. The unseen and unnoticed can be an unhealthy eating habit, a rut, or a pilot episode. The event horizon can mark the ending of life, a ski run, or even your sanity. In deep space, the center of a black hole violently rips things apart, and consumes light completely. Though this is evident in many parts of life, there are singularities that change life for the better. A health scare can motivate you into turning your life around. A nasty fall can lead to playing another sport that’s more beneficial to you. You can meet someone new that you didn’t notice before. Meeting someone new can foster into a deep and meaningful friendship that shapes your personality and choices for years to come. There are many things in life that are influential and invisible, but it is unfair to assume that they are complete evil. You must accept all that life throws at you with an open mind, and though you may stumble and fall, who knows. You may find a new friend who helps you up.


Works Cited:

Andrews, Bill. “20 Things You Didn’t Know About... Gravity.” Discover Jul/Aug. 2010: 96-96. Elm4You. Web. 2 Nov. 2013.

Broderick, Avery and Loeb, Abraham. “Portrait of a Black Hole.” Scientific American Dec. 2009: i42-49. Elm4You. Web. 2 Nov. 2013.

Choi, Charles. “Dark Side of Black Holes.” Scientific American Mar. 2010: 22-24. Elm4You. Web. 2 Nov. 2013.