On a hot night in the summer of 1969 I sat on the front porch steps alongside my mom and brothers. The stars were thick, but it wasn’t them we were studying as we looked up to the heavens.
The moon was bright and held our attention. I concentrated; squinting, I believed I detected movement. Our astronauts were on the moon at that very moment. Proud and amazed I felt we were one, as though all of America had stepped onto the powdery surface with Neil Armstrong.
Most Americans felt unified with the astronauts at that moment, and I am sure Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin must have felt that solidarity as they splashed back down to earth. But over time what was their new reality? What is it like to experience something so unique and fantastic and then return to the daily round? When you reflect on the vastness of the universe from the perspective of space or the freedom from gravity who do you share it with? Who will understand?
I have often wondered if it is a lonely life for those who represented us with their steps onto the surface of the moon. To quite literally soar to such great heights must leave you with so many feelings to process and no one around you who can fully comprehend. It isn’t that friends and family wouldn’t try to understand, simply that their own experience would not allow for understanding.
When my brother was looking for clinical trials and treatment options for his cancer and again when my friend was putting together her life in its new configuration following the death of her child, I thought of the astronauts. Those who journey to places few have gone before, places beyond what the imagination can conjure must surely walk alone a good deal of the time. Within them stirs a depth of emotion few can comprehend; few even have words to describe the feelings aroused by such a solitary sojourn.
I have never met an astronaut and probably never will. I may never personally know the effects of an extraordinary journey on an ordinary soul. Though my own understanding of such things is limited by my experiences I can offer a prayer of peace for those who have journeyed alone. Rest in peace, Neil Armstrong and all solitary voyagers who have gone on before. God speed.
This week this is my Bigger Picture Moment.
Neil Armstrong said when he was on the moon, looking back at the earth, it looked like a tiny pea, pretty and blue and he felt very small. I’ve heard other astronauts say when they see the earth, such a beautiful planet, isn’t it?, they see all of us as one. No beginning spot, no central spot, no hierarchy – all one. And I always feel that to a very, very slight degree when I’m in a plane looking down from above the clouds. You know, that my petty things are just that – so small.
“solitary voyagers who have gone on before…” Yes – god speed to them.
I am such an awful airplane passenger! I love the thought of looking down to let your troubles be put into perspective. I am going to try that next time.
I think this is a beautiful tribute to Neil Armstrong…
It is amazing to think of being someplace where it is so solitary… without crickets singing or water running… amazing.
Just that idea no cricket chirps in the evening, no water running. Who can really fathom that?
Wow, May! One of the most thought provoking pieces of writing I’ve read in a long time. My brain is swimming in a sea of questions and thoughts and prayers. “The effects of an extraordinary journey on an ordinary soul” – beautiful! Can we every fully understand another’s journey? I think we are all solitary voyagers in our way. And that’s where faith comes in for He understands that which no one else can. Amazing post!
Thank you, Lisa. It is a concept I first thought about when my brother was so sick. I wanted to be there for him, yet there was so much of the journey that he simply had to walk alone.
This hits home. It’s a thought-provoking piece. I had a conversation a week ago with other expats about how moving abroad enriches our lives in one sense, but isolates us from those we know and love in another. Obviously, physically we’re separated from them. But going home is hard to because our experiences make us unrelatable to other people. They’ll ask us what it’s like, but not really want to know anything deeper than a quick response. At least I have my husband journeying with me, though. So I’m not really alone. I can’t imagine how hard this would be if there really were only me. I like this sentence of yours though: “I may never personally know the effects of an extraordinary journey on an ordinary soul.” And reading your words makes me feel deeply understood, without us even having conversed.
I bet it is true that few people really want to invest the time to hear about your adventures with any depth. I think the same was true in the cases of illness and loss that I was thinking of. A combination of being too caught up in the day to day stuff and fearing the rawness and emotional commitment hearing and caring require I think.
“Within them stirs a depth of emotion few can comprehend” this is exactly the thought I had as I was reading about the solitary feelings Neil Armstrong must have felt and then that’s exactly where you went. I have many I pray for that are on the solitary path that I hope I never experience and certainly can’t fully comprehend or imagine. Beautiful tribute to many!
Oh, I have that prayer list as well!
Followed you over from Write On Edge. What a beautiful tribute to a great yet humble man. Thank you!
Thanks for stopping by. I loved your post on Escorting the Dead….lovely.
I love this post, it’s funny because I was feeling so alone this week. Like no one could possibly understand what I was going through, thinking, etc. and I’m sure that’s how they felt {and those who have struggles bigger than mine}, but you know even though we all have different experiences everyone has ears to listen, and shoulders to cry on and hugs to share and perhaps that’s the ties that can hold us all together.
Yes, that is the tie or the lifeline tethering us so we don’t drift off into space!