• You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

    And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

    And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

    And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.


    Aaron Freeman “You Want A Physicist To Speak at your Funeral”

    (source: npr)

    I can’t stop crying.

    (via everythinginthrees)

    Not a bit of you is gone— you’re just less orderly.

    (via qglas)

    (Source: lonelyheartsdeathmetal)

  1. flawsinthevoodoo reblogged this from twoearsandaheart
  2. xicago reblogged this from madamethursday
  3. tausara reblogged this from shinysherlock
  4. ohaligans reblogged this from ohaligans
  5. caitlinarrrgh reblogged this from justaniris
  6. thewinteromelette reblogged this from crashautumn
  7. boogie5000 reblogged this from twoearsandaheart
  8. lookit-s-stucky reblogged this from twoearsandaheart
  9. hellissharp reblogged this from twoearsandaheart
  10. lostiniowa reblogged this from twoearsandaheart
  11. twoearsandaheart reblogged this from forochel
  12. vorfreudeperidot reblogged this from squeats
  13. nazia-m reblogged this from solacesearching
  14. jild0 reblogged this from poetfire
  15. when-we-are-both-cats reblogged this from hoomanao
  16. xxxkalipepper reblogged this from crashautumn
  17. crashautumn reblogged this from david--pastrnak
  18. hoomanao reblogged this from poetfire
  19. sickenedlungs reblogged this from hammersforteeth
  20. hammersforteeth reblogged this from poetfire
  21. eenyarrrr reblogged this from poetfire
  22. littlekitty-chan reblogged this from simplymayrah
  23. simplymayrah reblogged this from poetfire
  24. poetfire reblogged this from semper-evolvere

Powered by Tumblr | Crystalline designed by Sonny T.

Just a line in your book.

Hi, I'm Rachel. I'm 19 and Scottish, and the entire purpose of my life is to make terrible maths-related puns. You're now hunting for the pun in this paragraph. I know that cos I'm an evil maths genius. Who is actually really bad at thinking up puns.