To The Moon And Back

Very rarely as an adult have I found moments where I'm in genuine awe of something. A sad but true truth: Adulthood beats the child-like wonder out of us. Maturity and responsibility push us toward practicality and realistic expectations.

OR

Maybe we all still have the ability to be in awe of things, but as adults, we need to give ourselves permission to observe and approach something with puppy-like enthusiasm. Maybe we need to let go of our egos and cynicism for a little bit and be wowed by something.

It's okay. Go ahead. I won't tell anyone. ;)

Over the weekend, I gave myself permission to do just that. To be in awe.

I spent all of Saturday at the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, FL observing each exhibit and reading each piece of information as a child would: With first-time enthusiasm and with all of the excitement of opening presents on Christmas morning.

Awe. Yes, that was the primary emotion I felt for most of the day, but gratitude and appreciation snuck in there too.

Appreciation and gratitude for the men and women who have spent their lives and careers charting the unknown. I'm not referring to just the astronauts. I'm talking about everyone involved in the space missions NASA has achieved so far. They are all literally pioneers.

For the first time ever, it hit me that each space exploration problem that has bubbled up was/is being solved for the very first time. There is no playbook here. Not really. A whole bunch of people a lot smarter than I have built rockets, space shuttles, and spacesuits, conducted experiments, shipped cargo, and had a hand in millions of other tiny important space exploratory activities all the while understanding the art and science of the physics and engineering behind it, and they achieved it for the first time at some point.

Pause and think about that for a minute.

That's. pretty. amazing.

In one of the videos I watched, they said in one of the first shuttles sent into space with a human on board there were over 2 million systems at play to make it all work. 2 million! My brain has a hard time understanding that number. Just imagine the brain power, the logistics, and the coordination that went into getting all 2 million systems working together. It's like the world's largest symphony being conducted. Each part is beautiful on its own, but when they all work together it's all so mindblowing. Not to mention the margin for error is so tiny.

And sometimes they didn't always get it right. One exhibit hit me particularly hard: There was a hall of remembrance for those lost in the Challenger (1986) and Columbia (2003) disasters.

Woosh. It was an emotional walk-through, for sure. Especially since for the past few years I've worked as a contractor to edit STEM curriculum for a non-profit called The Challenger Center.

A bit about The Challenger Center: In the aftermath of the Challenger accident, the crew’s families came together, firmly committed to the belief that they must carry on the spirit of their loved ones by continuing the Challenger crew’s educational mission. Their efforts resulted in the creation of Challenger Center for Space Science Education.

Making a deep connection between editing STEM curriculum for The Challenger Center and seeing the faces of the Challenger crew up close gave new meaning to my work.

My visit inspired more than just awe. My day spent at the Kennedy Space Center sparked a kaleidoscope of emotions: awe, respect, gratitude, appreciation, sadness, and grief.

But also hope. That's not exactly what I was expecting.

In one of the last videos I watched at the end of my day about the Apollo missions, I was struck by what Commander Gene Cernan had to say about Apollo 17. He was one of the last men to walk on the moon during that mission back in 1972. No one has done so since.

He said, "I have done what was once thought of as an impossible achievement. Rid your vocabulary of the word impossible. Anything is possible."

I've heard that before in many variations. But on Saturday in the context of the Kennedy Space Center in all that I was awed by and felt as I was going through the exhibits, it landed differently at that moment.

If I'm being honest, another something unexpected wormed its way into my heart after hearing from Commander Cernan...

And that's faith.

In the believing in the possibility of things I cannot yet see.

Until next time ;)