Onward and Outward

ISSUE #12

This is a playlist about stargazing, a suggestion courtesy of my friend Ariel, whom I've known for seven years now, which is about how long it took Cassini to get to Saturn. There's not a lot I can say about space that doesn't seem limp and feeble. It's just too big for words. Even the songs tend to be sparse in lyric. Words are wind, and there's none of that shit up there; the breeze is an earthly blessing. The stars are eternal in comparison, staunch and resolute even to Venus as she tails the sunset on these summer nights. Our greatest struggles are but trifles to these giants, to the judgement of gods. The vast expanse is beyond problem or solution.

One of my favorite party questions is, if given the chance, whether or not you'd have the guts to go to space. I'm always curious because I'd be too afraid. I can't imagine going to a place so hostile, so divorced from comfort and warmth. Overwhelmingly, it seems people have gotten cocky from seeing space in science fiction. They see a snapshot of the ocean, and they may want so badly to visit, but that doesn't mean they know how to swim. I, on the other hand, am content to keep looking from the ground. I have panic attacks in sedans, I would crumble in a space shuttle. There's no Valium up there.

They screen people, of course, and plenty are braver than I. The astronauts on that mission linked above were tested on what they call the Big Five: extroversion, agreeableness, conscientiousness, neuroticism, and openness to experience. I can make four out of five on a good day, but at my worst, I'm whittled down to number four. I personally prefer Ernest Shackleton and his qualifications for his team of South Pole explorers: "First, optimism; second, patience; third, physical endurance; fourth, idealism; fifth and last, courage." That's not only what it takes to be a good adventurer, but also a good partner, roommate, citizen, and friend. It's a question frequently asked as I look at the sky: "What does it take to be better?"

Of course, if they privatize space, the only screening will be for how many commas are in your bank account. We can't let them do that. When the gilded few start to visit the stars, there will be one less god for the rest of us. The night's sky has always been there for dreamers, and it hangs above us all as equals. If anything, it belongs to the working classes, to those who need reprieve from all our mundane tasks of the day, and those who need to look at something better.

I recommend Give Me Space, a weekly newsletter for space news, as a means of escape. Try to look up as much as you can. It never hurts to bounce your problems against those silent titans. It makes everything just a little more manageable.