Why space exploration has me gripped … 

"... our beautiful world 
feels anything but stable 
thin are the spaces
where reason can thrive 
wide are the chasms 
peacemakers must cross ..."

Have you, like me, been captivated by the Artemis II mission?  I have a feeling that you’ll be in one of two camps: half the world have caught space-fever and the other half think it’s a complete waste of money, time and effort.  Space exploration is a bit like marmite: you either love or hate it.  Not many sit on the fence when it comes to space. 

I’ll admit, I wasn’t always so enthusiastic.  The first time I visited Florida, I went to the Kennedy Space Centre, because my husband wanted to go. I’m not sure I would’ve gone unprompted.  I found it interesting, yes, but I wasn’t entirely won over; I held it at arms length.  As it turned out, our visit was somewhat cut short because we happened to be there in September 2001.  Half the exhibits were closed due to security concerns following 9/11.  That suited my attention span just fine.  

My second visit was entirely different.  We went again in 2014, and spent the best part of the day seeing everything we could.  I was blown away by the size of the Saturn V rocket and the opportunity to stand closer to Space Shuttle Atlantis than I could ever have imagined.  I was awe-struck by the vision of the engineers, the bravery and skill of the astronauts and the technological advances that have benefitted us here on earth.  Did you know, for example, that laser surgery is just one of the medical advances that has the space programme to thank? 

So, this week, I’ve been listening to updates about Artemis II with keen interest.  I’ve gasped at the photographs of earth and recall the photos taken during previous missions.  Back in the 1960’s, it must have been incredible to see an image of our entire earth for the first time.  Still, in the 21st century, it’s hard not to be moved by such a sight.  

I was only 3 years old when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landed on the moon.  I don’t remember it at all.  It was the same year that my brother was born and I don’t remember that either!  So much has happened in the world since 1969 and yet, at first glance, the photos sent back from Artemis II don’t look all that different from the ones taken by the Apollo astronauts.  But things do look and feel different in countless ways.  No doubt the ice caps and the coral reefs look smaller; the world population is larger; and we don’t appear to have learnt anything from history.  War, sadly, is alive and well. 

This week’s poem is very hot off the press and is the result of my pondering about the current world situation.  The difference between my excitement at the space mission and my despair regarding the war in the Middle East could not be more pronounced.  Of course, I know it’s simplistic and naive, but am I the only one thinking, how come the human race can be so innovative and destructive at the same time?  This is just one of many questions.  I’m also wondering: How can humans demonstrate compassion towards one other and yet demonise one other at the same time?  How can we claim to care about preserving our planet and yet deny or minimise climate change?  

It doesn’t make sense to me.  Of course, I know that I’m considering opposing ends of the spectrum here, and there’s a whole range of nuanced viewpoints in between  Nothing is ever straight forward and I can’t begin to truly understand what’s going on.  I can only know how it feels from where I’m standing.  The space programme makes me feel small, but in a good way; the situation in the Middle East makes me feel helpless, in a bad way.  Finding the middle ground between those two feelings is not easy but it’s what I’m grappling with right now.  And it feels important to keep trying to make sense of things.  To paraphrase JFK’s famous quote, it’s worth doing, not because it is easy, but because it is hard.