In Part 1 of this series I wrote about the chemical power
hidden in a glass of water, and how, chemically speaking, water is truly the
“living water” of Scriptural metaphor. Living water is creative -- its flow shapes
both your feet and the ground beneath them.
Every place on Earth, even the driest desert, has been
shaped and washed by the power of water. Twenty years ago when I moved from
Florida to Seattle, I moved from one place shaped indelibly by water to
another.
In Seattle, our rainfall is famous. Our familiarity with
water also runs deep in time. Long ago frozen water carved the landscape of the
Pacific Northwest with flowing, “living” glaciers. Long ago, an advancing ice
sheet from Canada traveled southwest and ran into the Olympic mountains around
where Vancouver is today. The mountains stood firm, cracking the ice in two.
One sheet turned west and joined the Pacific, carving the Strait of Juan de
Fuca. The other turned south and scooped out the Puget Sound.
In Florida, the water is different, both temperamental and
constant. Routine 4pm summer thunderstorms suddenly pour down rain that pools
in your sandals, then just as suddenly stop. There are no glacial valleys in
Florida, but there are miles of
beaches, rock atomized by surf. The water has also carved deep aquifers
underneath Florida, which would stay hidden if not for the occasional sinkhole.
All this power is wrapped up in a tiny package. Water is the
mustard seed of molecules. It is composed of two hydrogens and one oxygen, bonded
with electrons, as H2O.
You can make a molecular model of water with two grapes (for
the hydrogens), two toothpicks (for the shared electrons), and a plum (for the
oxygen). If you can make the grapes stick out from the plum with an angle of
104.5°,
then you have just made a scale model of the molecule that carved Seattle’s valleys
and fills Florida’s aquifer. In a sense, you’d be making the model of water
from water -- the fruit that you’d be using to make this model is mostly water
itself, sweetened with some natural sugar.
Water may be small but this makes it more exceptional,
because it is small yet liquid. It’s
always easier for a bunch of molecules to go to extremes than to sit in the
middle. It’s easy for big molecules to stick
together tightly and freeze (to become solid) or for small molecules to fly
apart in a thousand directions (to become gas). It’s not easy for a molecule to
find an inbetween state, neither too hot nor too cold, close enough to touch
and yet energetic enough to slide around, flowing as a liquid, condensing into
an ocean. Life needs to be in this inbetween state, its atoms coherent yet
always in motion. Therefore, life as we know it needs water, and you are alive
because of the liquid water in you.
If liquids are living, then the universe is mostly dead,
because liquids are rare. Looking at the periodic table, only two elements out
of more than 100 are liquid at room temperature: mercury and gallium. Likewise,
most molecules as small as water are gases. Big, complex molecules are harder
to make. Here on earth, only water is the only molecule that combines liquidity
with simplicity, and we literally have oceans of it.
Oceans are Earth’s defining characteristic in the solar
system, a gift to our planet that changes its distant color to that of a “pale
blue dot,” perceptibly different from yellow Venus and red Mars. Oceans made
our rocks different as well. The geologist Robert Hazen estimates that the
action of water on the Earth brought about more than 3000 new minerals when
there were only about 500 before, a multiplication of diversity in the rocks
from this one chemical.
Jade, sapphire, emerald, all were made when water mixed and
reacted with the Earth. Mother lodes of ores are found by following the ancient
paths of water to where precious metals were deposited. Panning for gold
requires a stream of running, living water.
Look at a drop of water in a microscope and you’ll see
another way it is “living” water. Even the most crystal-clear pond water is
home to thousands of undulating, spinning, pulsing amoebae and protozoa, a
microscopic menagerie. Remove all of these, looking even closer at the atoms in
water, and you would see that water is constantly moving around itself,
forming, unforming, and reforming bonds, in what Bill Bryson described as a
“quadrille.” This movement is unbridled, even joyful.
Liquid water hosts life even in extreme conditions. In the
deepest parts of the oceans, ecosystems hidden from the sun cluster around
bubbling clefts where hot, energy-laden gases escape from the earth. These vents
are rich with crabs, lobsters, octopi, pale white dappled with red. Six-foot-long
tube worms waving like ghostly grass. These animals bask and feed on the sulfurous
energy of the earth itself, mediated by the water, which is only kept liquid at
such intense temperatures by the massive pressure of the fathoms above.
The DNA of these animals can be read like a book, and it
matches the DNA of more familiar species. The pale creatures near the vents
came to that place without sun long ago, and were kept alive by the water and
the earth’s energy. Eventually they lost what they didn’t need -- pigments,
eyes, and in the case of the tube worms, even mouths (they let the bacteria
that live inside them eat for them, which is just as strange as it sounds).
Life can live without sunlight, but it cannot live without water’s liquid flow.
Life needed water and energy to survive, and it changed its
form to survive, morphing in ways unthinkable and amazing. Through liquid
water, life was able to fill what had previously been empty, to thrive and to
surprise. That sounds like grace to me.
Deep-ocean vents may shed light on another dimension to
water’s power. At that extraordinary place, living, liquid water may have shaped
the first living things on this planet, bringing a good creation to life 4
billion years ago. I will describe experiments that point in this direction in
part 3 of this series.
1 comment:
Really enjoying this!
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