Meteorites and Modernity
The way we react to falling space rocks in 2026 is very fitting.
Some of you have asked why this newsletter is called ‘The Unafraid.’ The short answer is that it’s from a previous Instagram account, before I realized I had better things to aspire to in my life. However, the name seems to have stuck, and I’m now realizing — at this point it might well mean ‘Unafraid not to address current events and write about totally different things.’
Today is no exception. The Third Gulf War is underway, Chuck Norris has died (or death encountered Chuck Norris, depending on how you view that), the Oscars have pulled their lowest viewership since 2022, and a meteor exploded over Ohio. So in the spirit of I-write-about-these-on-the-weekend-and-I’ll-focus-on-whatever-I-want, we’re talking about… the last one.
No, That’s Not a Falling Buckeye
For those of you not into meteorology (in the very literal sense), people in Ohio reported a giant beam of light moving over Lake Erie at roughly 9 AM on Saint Patrick’s Day. (There’s going to be Ohio jokes here, and you may just have to gloss over that if that’s not your style.) It was not, in fact, divine judgment. As it happens, it was a meteor.
For reference, the 7 to 10-ton meteor was roughly the size of a small car. After going more than 30 miles into the atmosphere, the meteor broke apart over Medina County, which led to a influx of meteorite hunters heading to the Buckeye State in search of parts of it, presumably (1) for the weirdness of just having one, and (2) the fact that meteorite bits reportedly sell for between hundreds to upwards of a thousand dollars depending on the size.
Here’s what gets me. (Well, actually, a couple of things get me.)
First of all, imagine being absolutely plastered on the morning of Saint Patrick’s Day in Ohio (you know who you are), being in the geopolitical moment we’re in, and then looking up to see a bright celestial object shooting across the sky. Terrifying - and yet, given the amount of actual risk present, hilarious.
Second of all, let’s run with that notion of ‘meteorite hunters.’ Rewind history back to maybe 1400AD and imagine what medieval peasants would probably think of someone who calls themselves a ‘meteorite hunter.’ Probably mystical, definitely viewed with a certain degree of awe, if not fear. Now, in 2026? Meteorite hunters are viewed as ‘nerds who travel around looking for bits of space rocks in parking lots.’
When you think about the history of pieces of space rocks smashing into the Earth’s surface, the idea of “Honey, get in the CAR, we’re going up to Ohio to see the space rocks” is a remarkably… mundane response.
I don’t actually say that to make fun of people. We live in a world where space rocks falling out of the sky isn’t generally a source of terror and existential dread. And you don’t particularly want to live in a world where meteors, lightning, and eclipses are considered routine signs of cosmic judgment.
From Northeast Ohio to Namibia
The differences between that world and this one are extreme. Let me give you one example. Back in prehistoric times, a meteor fell in a region of the African continent that would one day become the modern nation of Namibia. The bits that made it to Earth would be named after Gibeon, the nearest town to the fall site: the Gibeon meteorite.
As Sotheby’s explains (and apparently there’s a bit of it for sale in case any of you people have $60K lying around):
Older than Earth, Gibeon meteorites formed 4.5 billion years ago within the molten core of an asteroid that orbited the Sun between Mars and Jupiter. Following a collision with another asteroid, the Gibeon parent body shattered, allowing for the release of its molten metallic core. While most of the fragments of this violent event dispersed throughout the asteroid belt, a small fraction were deflected into an Earth-crossing orbit. Gibeon meteorites entered Earth's atmosphere several thousand years ago, pummeling the Kalahari Desert of Namibia.
So what happened to the Gibeon meteorite? Well, presumably lots of things. But maybe the most notable thing that happened to it was Rolex. Yep, that Rolex. The Swiss watchmaker procured pieces from the meteorite, which exhibits a unique octahedral pattern, for use in luxury timepieces beginning in 2002. For example, look at the video below:
There’s something fascinating to me about the notion of something that came from the heart of space, smashing through our atmosphere with a violence, coming to land in a remote field in Africa, and after thousands of years… primarily being known as something that we make luxury watch dials out of.
Modernity Power
That’s what modernity does. It takes the mysteries of our universe, mysteries that the ancients would have given so much to unravel even in part, and brings them down to Earth. Maybe that’s depressing to you. I’ll be honest, it isn’t to me. It’s a celebration of dominion, at its heart. Of the way that humanity takes stewardship of things that we are, in fact, called by God to steward, and creates new things.
On November 13, 1833, a meteor shower called the Leonids awed viewers across America. Many were convinced it was a clear sign of the end of the world, with slave owners in the Deep South being so terrified of judgment that they sought to make amends with their slaves. In one account, Amanda Young from Tennessee described the scene as follows:
“The white folks started callin’ all the slaves together, and for no reason, they started tellin’ some of the slaves who their mothers and fathers was, and who they’d been sold to and where. The old folks was so glad to hear where their people went. They made sure we all knew what happened … you see, they thought it was Judgement Day.”
Another observer, Parley Pratt, described the rain of meteors as such:
I witnessed the falling stars - which was the grandest and most sublime sight eye ever beheld. God frightened the mob by this one of the signs of the last days so that great fear came upon the people, and the mob fled saying that the judgment day had come.
(Pratt was also a leading member in the Latter Day Saints’ movement and, I kid you not, was killed by his twelfth wife’s estranged husband. Different story.)
That’s what people used to do when space rocks started falling (although notably, the apocalypse explanation would have made more sense if meteorites had started hitting people). Now, we make watch dials out of said space rocks and travel to Ohio to find bits of them and sell tham on eBay.
That’s cause for reflection. Maybe we lost our sense of the supernatural. Or maybe it just got squeezed out of us. And maybe, just maybe, we’re starting to look up at the skies that God made and get it back.
What I’m Reading
John Ehrett on our tech future (Plough)
Technological futures should always be conceivable, in some fashion, because they begin from a standard reference point: human beings themselves, the users of technology. A technological future only becomes “inconceivable” when the basic reference point – human nature itself – becomes contestable. If our technological future is truly “inconceivable,” it is only so because we have ceased to be recognizably human.
Charles C.W. Cooke on rejecting despair (National Review)
[Our] advantages do not wipe out the challenges that the U.S. faces. But they do prompt the question, “As opposed to what?” Or, to put it more bluntly: If the reflexive pose of the American political class is to be melancholy, then what in the name of all that is holy ought the rest of the world to feel?
Carl Trueman on James Talarico (Washington Post)
Liberal Protestants like Talarico have ended up affirming as good and true whatever polite tastes require and abandoning any aspect of Christian teaching that appears to stand in the way of progress. What Paglia called the joy of Presbyterian sex was bad enough. But the joy of Presbyterian transgenderism is even worse, with its confusion about what it means to be a woman.
Alright, that’s all for now. Less meteor stuff in the next one, I guarantee. -Isaac