Dear PiePie,
Merry Christmas. We got you loads and loads of presents, including an excavator that you can ride around and operate a shovel with while wearing a hard yellow hat. So far, you’re loving it. You’re also slowly growing into a more and more of an obstinate and whiny kid. Grandpa says having a streak of naughtiness and rebellion is good. But he doesn’t have to handle you every day. Still I’m hopeful that you’ll turn out alright – we just need to make sure we don’t spoil you too much and acquiesce to all your demands. You’re soooo good at negotiating for or sweettalking your way into things. That’s another topic for another day though.
I recently read an excerpt from William Shatner’s book, “Boldly Go: Reflections on a Life of Awe and Wonder”, which details his thoughts after heading into space in a Blue Origin spacecraft. For context, William spent a lifetime playing the captain of a spaceship on Star Trek, which is a tv/movie franchise I doubt you’ve heard of, but it was a cult hit. Despite having always been enthralled by the promise of what’s “out there”, he had an about-turn in perspective whilst in space. He says it much better than I can:
I had thought that going into space would be the ultimate catharsis of that connection I had been looking for between all living things—that being up there would be the next beautiful step to understanding the harmony of the universe… I discovered that the beauty isn’t out there, it’s down here, with all of us. Leaving that behind made my connection to our tiny planet even more profound.
It was among the strongest feelings of grief I have ever encountered. The contrast between the vicious coldness of space and the warm nurturing of Earth below filled me with overwhelming sadness. Every day, we are confronted with the knowledge of further destruction of Earth at our hands: the extinction of animal species, of flora and fauna . . . things that took five billion years to evolve, and suddenly we will never see them again because of the interference of mankind. It filled me with dread. My trip to space was supposed to be a celebration; instead, it felt like a funeral.
I learned later that I was not alone in this feeling. It is called the “Overview Effect” and is not uncommon among astronauts… Essentially, when someone travels to space and views Earth from orbit, a sense of the planet’s fragility takes hold in an ineffable, instinctive manner.
It can change the way we look at the planet but also other things like countries, ethnicities, religions; it can prompt an instant reevaluation of our shared harmony and a shift in focus to all the wonderful things we have in common instead of what makes us different. It reinforced tenfold my own view on the power of our beautiful, mysterious collective human entanglement, and eventually, it returned a feeling of hope to my heart. In this insignificance we share, we have one gift that other species perhaps do not: we are aware—not only of our insignificance, but the grandeur around us that makes us insignificant. That allows us perhaps a chance to rededicate ourselves to our planet, to each other, to life and love all around us. If we seize that chance.
William Shatner
I am not trying to convert you into an eco-warrior, or a perennial do-gooder active in social causes, although if that is what you are passionate about, more power to you. Goodness knows I’m far from being a good example of that. But hopefully this serves as a reminder of the power of perspective. That not everything emanates from you or revolves around you. That we are each but one small, insignificant cog of a broader, yet-still-insignificant little blue dot in a vast and black emptiness. That whilst we most frequently argue with those closest to us, and most often complain about the society and institutions we are in, these are the same people and institutions we would most be willing to fight for if someone “on the outside” puts them down. We simply forget about that until we had a chance to take a step out and look back at those ties that bind us.
There is a worldview called Spaceship Earth, which sees all of us on Earth as one crew working together for a common, greater good. I hope one day that this worldview makes sense to you. Having quoted so much for this letter, let me end on one more.
If, before we reach our final destination, our life is a long beautiful voyage, let’s try to make this trip quietly and cheerfully, enjoying the wonderful scenery, without annoying the other passengers too much!
Hergé
Love, Dad