How Your Life Would Change If Copernicus Were Your Personal Coach

For millennia, people believed we were the center of existence—that the sun, planets, and stars all revolved around the earth. From a certain perspective, this made perfect sense. After all, the sun rises in the east every morning and falls in the west. And the planets and stars do rotate across our sky in predictable ways. In fact, the brilliant astronomer, Ptolemy, who lived in Alexandria in the first century, published a masterwork in which he calculated with precision where each of these heavenly bodies would appear at any time in the future. His calculations assumed that the earth was at the center of it all. And although he was proven wrong, his computations actually worked.

Fifteen-hundred years later, Copernicus turned everything inside out and changed our understanding of the world forever. In addition to shifting our view of the cosmos, his work has interesting implications for how we choose to see ourselves and live our lives. Let me show you why.

Get Yourself Out of the Center of Everything

The truth, Copernicus demonstrated, is that we are not at the center. Together with the other planets in the solar system, the earth revolves around the sun. This revelation led to many other insights, including the discovery that our solar system is actually rotating within a galaxy, which itself is rotating relative to other galaxies—all of that within an expanding universe in which the earth is but a tiny outpost.

What a fundamental shift in understanding! Imagine the paradigm shift this required and the reluctance to give up an “us-centric” astronomy. While it seems strange from today’s perspective that humanity once thought the earth was the center of the universe, in a fundamental way, I believe that our view of our world often still gets stuck in first-century Alexandria.

Here’s what I mean: How easily do we place ourselves at the center of what we view as our own solar system? Think about work, for example. How commonly do we find ourselves thinking that our own objectives matter more than our colleagues’ and fail to look beyond the scope of our own work? Or at home, how quickly can we privilege our own feelings and fears over the worries and views of others’? How often do we therefore assume that the world and the people in our lives revolve around ourselves?

From one perspective—the perspective that puts oneself at the center—it makes sense to do this, of course. We have personal needs, desires, and goals that are at the center of our attention. What could possibly be wrong with that? In response, I think Copernicus might say that resisting the urge to place oneself at the center does not mean that one therefore must or even should give up the pursuit of personal needs, desires, or goals. He would suggest, however, that one would pursue them differently. And, since the different way is informed by better science and understanding, he would argue that your chances of succeeding would increase substantially.

What You at The Center Looks Like

Years ago, I had been two hours mowing a rain-drenched yard when I was called in to dinner. I was exhausted. And bugged that I was struggling alone to bring the yard under control. I climbed the stairs to our deck and entered the kitchen through our back door. I was relieved for the break but also feeling bothered.

We were having a family specialty—warm cornbread with homemade applesauce. Without waiting for the rest of the family to gather, I took a large amount of cornbread from the pan—enough to cover my entire place—and then smothered it with applesauce. I sat down, annoyed that I had to wait for everyone else to gather.

When they finally did, a few commented on the large portion I had taken. Some complained that there wasn’t enough for them. In what I interpreted as a tone of rebuke, my wife said that she would make more so there would be enough for everyone.

Now, consider this scene from two perspectives: First, consider how I might feel and react if operating from a me-at-the-center perspective. What might I say about the time I just spent (alone, mind you!) trying to tidy up the family yard? In addition, how much more important might it seem to me in that moment that I am larger than everyone else in the family and therefore need far more calories—especially in light of the hard work that no one else but me had been engaging in? How might I feel about the family letting me wait after they had called me in so urgently? And what if the whole cornbread and applesauce tradition was my own personal favorite—and, in fact, my idea in the first place?!

What might happen at the dinner table if I indulge these kinds of thoughts and view all the other players in this little family drama as revolving around me? All of these thoughts and associated feelings are symptoms of placing myself at the center. I’m stuck in Alexandria, and all my calculations prove me right. More than that, I am actively looking for calculations that prove me right! And as a result, I am about to make a hot mess of the family dinner.  

How would that experience change (and my own absconding with half the pan of cornbread change) if, by contrast, I didn’t experience myself as the center of the family experience but rather joined with them as partners—perhaps revolving together with them around a goal or aspiration or belief that we shared? What would be different? How would my impact on my family change? And how might the productivity of the family organization evolve as a result?

How to Discover a Universe of Possibilities

The insightful British writer, G.K. Chesterton said, “How much larger your life would be if your self could become smaller in it.” On the one hand, it seems one would feel larger if one viewed oneself as the massive gravitational force around which others and circumstances revolve. But think about what that orientation does to one’s experience: From the me-at-the-center perspective, my life is populated by others who, by comparison to myself, seem small, insignificant, and relatively uninteresting! By placing myself at the center, I condemn myself to living with others I view to be small, and my own experience of life shrinks as a result.

Contrast this with the life both Copernicus and Chesterton invite us to see and experience: Unstuck from yourself, you are enabled to view the amazing expanse of which you are privileged to be a part. You don’t merely see and value your own world, you see and marvel at a universe! You don’t shrink others in comparison to yourself but allow them to fill you with gratitude. How much larger your life has become! There is now so much more to explore, discover, learn about, and learn from. You are no longer bounded by you. You move and create in concert with a cosmic team.

Over the last few weeks, people are increasingly looking for positives to pull from the common experience we are sharing around the threat of COVID-19. On the one hand, the threat of infection can invite us to place ourselves even more at the center of life—to protect or enjoy ourselves at the expense of others. On the other hand, the common threat, impervious to human status or divisions of any type, offers us the opportunity to overcome our self-at-the-center astronomies and realize the truth: we are fellow travelers on this spinning globe and the cosmos holds my life in no more (and no less) sacred regard than any others’.

These considerations suggest alternative realities—two different ways you can experience life depending on whether you privilege yourself at the center or join your fellow beings in complementary orbits: Do you insist on making yourself large, which happens only by simultaneously making others smaller? Or do you see the immensity and glory of the people all around you and count yourself privileged to be connected and in relationship with them?

Put another way, during the present crisis and every day thereafter, which do you want: Big self, small life or an apparently small self that actually is the way to a big life? That, I believe, is the central question Copernicus would ask as your coach.

Copernicus’ answer? “Don’t be afraid of small,” he would say. “The large way to live is to join a universe that is way bigger than you are.”

Then he would kick you into orbit.

"Orbit around what?" you might ask.

That, my friends, is another interesting question. Perhaps we can think about it in a future conversation.

In the meantime, I'd love to hear your thoughts around these issues. I will engage with you in the comments below.