Cosmic Face-off

It's almost December, 2012, and some people are panicking. Apparently one of the apocalyptic theories is centering around a planetary conjunction (link) happening in a few weeks. I'm going to ignore the apocalyptic part entirely (already read the news today, thanks) and focus on conjunctions, which have boggled me as astronomical "events" for years now.

In fact, there's a basic division I've noticed across amateur astronomers, that I've never really understood. Forget quibbling over 'scope type or comparing CCD camera specs, this is a base-level aesthetic difference. I'm talking about the conjunction/cluster faction vs. the objects faction.

To clarify, in the first group, I'm placing the group of astronomy buffs who go out in the middle of winter, stand on piles of newspaper with a thermos, 12 layers of clothes, and 2 sets of gloves on in order to watch a conjunction or track down an open cluster. In the second group, I'm placing the group of astronomy buffs who go out in the middle of winter, stand on piles of newspaper with a thermos, 12 layers of clothes, and 2 sets of gloves in order to take a several-minute exposure of a nebula or sketch a galaxy. It's not that people don't dabble in both, but most astronomers I've known have a preference for one or the other.

Bias alert: I'm in the second group. I just don't get the attraction of watching a planet and a star appearing to approach each other, or seeing a blob of stars that formed together hanging in space. Give me the faintly-glowing building blocks of the Universe, the bright, whirling arms of a star cradle, or the death-ring of a planetary nebula. Something to really wrap my mind around the varied nature of the dimensions in which we live.

Conjunctions just baffle me. We see shapes in the sky all the time: sometimes they're made of stars, sometimes they're made with planets, but they're just all bright dots from here. We've known for quite some time that they aren't actually close to each other, so what is the attraction? I can see sitting up all night looking at Jupiter or Saturn by itself, but they're only fascinating to me as visible objects, not "stars." Stars are fascinating to think about in comparison to our own Sun, to imagine the other lives that might be orbiting them, or as parts of a constellation telling an old (and probably creepy) myth, but not solely as bright dots in the night sky.

Somehow, I feel astronomy guilt over this, like there's something I'm missing about the philosophy of observational astronomy. I know, objectively, that a sparkling smudge of starlight from a galaxy millions of lightyears away is no more or less appealing than a conjunction, Nature's temporary installation in the cosmic art gallery. But, like most art, I just don't get it. If anyone from the other side of the fence would like to jump in and explain what I'm not seeing when I look up, feel free, I'd love to finally get it!