Delight Springs

Monday, May 17, 2021

Carrying the Fire

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Prompted by the recent passing of Apollo legend Michael Collins, I've just finished re-reading his Carrying the Fire and am reminded how exceptional an explorer he was.

His last tweet:


What an exit line.

And what thoughtful reflections, in the closing chapter. First of all the T.S. Eliot epigraph from Four Quartets that's always meant so much to me. We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.

Why explore? "Exploration produces a mood in people, a widening of interest, a stimulation of the thought process..." Of what use is that? Ben Franklin's rhetorical riposte, defending the hydrogen balloon, still zings: "Of what use is a newborn babe?" Only time will tell, but nothing in the cosmos is more pregnant with possibility. "Part of life's mystery depends on future possibilities..."

I'm struck by Collins' ability to shift his inner gaze, in an instant, from the earth to the moon. "I can now lift my mind out into space... When things are not going well here on earth... I can gain a bit of solace and perspective by making this mental trip." Like William James recalling the gulls he'd encountered in youth "down at the mouth of the Amazon,"* this is a life-altering bit of mental therapeutics they ought to teach children in elementary school. So many "adults" don't know how easy it can be to transport oneself from what James called one's "evil moods."

"Any death seems premature," Collins wrote at age 43, not quite halfway through, "but I really believe my own will seem less premature, because of what I have been able to do." And, because of the written legacy he was able to leave us. "I am condemned to the use of words," as we all are, to communicate our experience and try to inspire our peers and progeny. 

"What an awful trade that of professor is—paid to talk, talk, talk! . . . It would be an awful universe if everything could be converted into words, words, words." William James wasn't wrong. 

But it would be even more barren than the moon, without them. I'm grateful for Mike Collins's good words, and the bold deeds they recount.

* Remember when old December s darkness is everywhere about you, that the world is really in every minutest point as full of life as in the most joyous morning you ever lived through; that the sun is whanging down, and the waves dancing, and the gulls skimming down at the mouth of the Amazon, for instance, as freshly as in the first morning of creation; and the hour is just as fit as any hour that ever was for a new gospel of cheer to be preached. I am sure that one can, by merely thinking of these matters of fact, limit the power of one s evil moods over one s way of looking at the Kosmos. Letters I, 1868 


 

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