A pretty nebula in the sword region of the constellation of Orion. It is 1,500 light years from Earth. An active star forming region, its stars have been formed in the past million years. It is visible with the naked eye as a fuzzy patch of light, noticeably different than a star. The trick is to not look directly at it. Through a telescope it is a lovely sight. The nebula is made visible by the radiation from some of the more massive stars it has spawned.

It is a popular research subject for astronomers looking to investigate how stars form and evolve in their early days because of its relative closeness to the Earth. A photograph of the nebula can be found in just about every astronomy book ever published.

Found in the constellation of Orion, just below his belt on the hilt of his sword. The nebula is a few tens of light years wide, and is illuminated by a few hot, bright stars at it's core. These stars are known as the Trapezium's. It has been estimated that 1000 young stars have formed from the dust here within the past 10 million years.
Currently (as of Febuary 2001) there are plans to combine four VLT telescopes to check claims that planets are forming freely between the stars, from the vast clouds of dust present.

Orion emerges as the nights grow cold. Nestled in his sword a stellar nursery, newborn stars so brilliantly blue-white I expect to hear noise as I gaze in the eyepiece.

The Great Nebula in Orion, a fantastic cloud of glowing hydrogen, lies 1500 light years away; hydrogen atoms excited by the ultraviolet light of infant stars, spitting photons as the hydrogen molecules relax. For over a millennium the photons travel through the emptiness, finally piercing through our atmosphere, then bouncing off my mirror. 1500 years going one direction, an instant in reverse.

The fantastic greenish structure, a green spidery web, a puff of smoke, crosses the eyepiece, moving with the deliberation of an aging oceanliner, a reminder that I am on a planet that insists on spinning. I feel dizzy, break away from the eyepiece, steadying my gaze on the warm glow of a neighbor's window, trying not to fog up my eyepiece with my breath. It is cold tonight.

You can see it naked eye--a blush in Orion's sword, a little cloud, a nebula. Orion rules the wintry skies in the Northern hemisphere. Betelgeuse, the single biggest object I will see as I breathe, lies in the same constellation, a glowing red eye, complemented by the fiery blue of Rigel.

I went to elementary school in the States; I did not know the Great Nebula existed.

I went to high school in the United States, I never looked for the Great Nebula.

In college, I never talked to anyone about the Great Nebula.

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Science gets a little funny about this, but we are all made of stardust. The Earth formed from the remnants of star formation. Man is of the dust, the dust from the stars.

(Ah, the crusty words of a cranky Christian? A pagan myth? No, the creation story of modern science...the pieces fit almost too well--the ancients preceding us were wiser than we know.)

Those of you who have gazed upon the Great Nebula know how words fail its description, the haunting glow of unexpected energy, mirroring the source of our creation. For those of you, particularly the young, who have missed the eerie glow, find someone to show it to you.

For all the marvel of words and videos and music and cell phones, some things, though visible, remain beyond our comprehension.