Boundless Curiosity
This morning, I was catching up on tweets and news from the Curiosity Martian Rover. I didn't stay up for it or get up for it. I probably should have, but last night, as my eyes grew heavy, it was easy to forget what a momentous thing it was, and to decide that sleep's importance trumped this grand endeavor. I was an idiot, and I've learned my lesson. I'm watching now.
And I'm really excited about it! A big reason is my son's current enthusiasm for all things space and solar system related. He is going to eat this stuff up with a spoon and come back for fourths. This fascination started several months ago and has held on longer than any of his little obsessions...except Spider-Man, but that's shaping up to be a lifelong love.
I can't help but see his mind fixating on the solar system for so long as anything other than Providence now. Since it's been months of studying, reading, and explaining, even his five year old mind began to grasp the vast distances, the harsh conditions, and the sheer difficulty in flinging anything from one orb to another in the cosmos. He's going to actually appreciate what we've done. As a father, that is amazing and illuminating.
Because I was thinking of Elijah's oncoming wide-eyed enthusiasm for all things Curiosity, I was able to get on the same train and shed some of my usual cynicism. Which is when I realized that's exactly what things like this are for. We are a grand and amazing species, capable of feats of imagination, engineering, and exploration. What ought to seem frightening is, instead, seen as a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down for us to pick up and run with...all the way to another planet if necessary.
This is what we're built for, people. We're built to do and be the impossible. We are built to be miraculous.
I thought about the Olympics and what a tremendous celebration of human achievement that is. Even as we're throwing machines across vast, interplanetary distances, we're also pushing our own bodies to do unattainable feats. Because that's what every new record is: A declaration that something once thought unbelievable is entirely within our reach.
I began to imagine a world where international conflicts were decided by Olympic style events. Rather than war, the deciding factor would be human bodies pushed to the absolute limit in a celebration of being powerful, physical beings. Instead of flung bombs and flying bullets reminding us just how frail we are, flung javelins and flying gymnasts would remind us just how strong we can be.
Even in Oklahoma, where sports rivalries can grow bitter and ugly, this is a brighter vision than war could ever be. No matter how supposedly noble your cause, those would be truly ennobling conflicts.
But it is far, far too easy to forget our potential when the news is about homes consumed in fires, crazed gunmen, starving or abused children, rapists, and wars of epic expense in money, lives, and peace. And if those tragedies weren't enough, there's the fog of simple banality laid over our everyday existence. We get lost in the mundane tasks we force ourselves to do. All so that, after far too many hours working for someone else's bottom line, we can come home to "a little comfort." Never mind that our basest comfort is more than historical kings and god-emperors have enjoyed.
We are cracked mirrors, my friends, incapable of perfectly reflecting the glory for which we are meant. Or, far too often, we don't even reflect it at all. Most tragic, we forget that there's anything glorious we're supposed to be reflecting.
That's what the Tower of Babel story is about. When we work together, humanity is capable of the most incredible accomplishments. We can do nearly anything. But it cuts both ways. When we allow our hubris to win out over our kindheartedness, the victorious becomes the dreadful. Triumph becomes tragedy. Life, and what could have been life to the fullest, becomes murder.
Enter again the Curiosity. I imagined what our lives would be like if Mars landings were the order of the day rather than a pinnacle event. And I mean our actual, everyday lives; not just what we do all day, but our thoughts, hopes, dreams, fears, and all that other ethereal stuff that makes us us. You know, the stuff that really matters, all focused on the dignity of the human race.
We gifted ourselves with a glimpse of that today. In very different ways, I'm blessed with glimpses of that far more often than I deserve in a set of very special people (you all know who you are). Everybody! do yourselves a favor! Get a grip on this moment, on this glimpse! Demand it more often! Not just from idiot politicians and bosses who would buy your complacency with empty promises. Complacency did not get us to Mars. Demand it more often from yourselves.
Because Curiosity has a double meaning. Certainly our boundless curiosity and endless ingenuity allows humanity to do the impossible. But right now, it doesn't happen often enough to be anything other than a curiosity. That's the core of the tragedy that is us. Whether it's curing diseases, feeding the world, declaring peace, or colonizing other planets, I want to live in a world where the extraordinary is commonplace. I want to live in a world where we never forget just how amazing each and every one of us is.
Curiosity led the way, and I'm following. Who's with me?
