What I learned watching Star Trek
January 10-13, 2014
So, what have I got to offer Mars? That was one of the questions Mars One put to us and one that I pondered quite a while before committing to an answer. For me it was simultaneously easy and difficult to answer. In my head, my first response: "ME! I offer ME! Here I am, Mars!" Ok, that sounds good...but I might need to say a bit more to convince the Mars One committee. What could I say about "ME!" that would move my response from "endearing child-like simplicity" to "respectable take-me-seriously-please adult-committe-people"?
One of my first notions was that I should somehow prove knowledgable...about...space....stuff....and science....and....space and stuff. Surely, astronauts are......scientific and......logical....mathy.....maybe....calm in a crisis.....maybe....maybe, someone who uses math in a crisis.....like....Spock....? Spock was in space......kind of....... Ok, I don't know anyone LESS like Spock than me. In fact, I am the opposite of Spock. I am...Spockosite.
Ok, now I was getting somewhere. What would Mars want with a Spockosite type person? (Surely there is room for us all!) I tried to picture living on Mars. What...... are we doing...... on Mars? What does a typical day on Mars contain? After my unavoidable mind flash of the space port in Total Recall, my mind forms another vision. People....sitting....People sitting at tables.....People sitting in low ceilinged rooms...dim light....at tables...staring at stuff. Stuff on the table. Hmmm...apparently, my first intentional vision of living on Mars is of me sitting in a Quonset hut staring at a box of rocks in a poorly lit space. I start to wonder what Mars has to offer me. (Just kidding--I have an unconditional love for Mars)
Slowly, though, I start to piece together what I might now offer Earth (the only planet I am in a current relationship with) and if any of those could skills translate. To my surprise, I begin to find my niche. Who am I?---what has life done with me?---what have I done back?---what have I chased?---what have I fled?---where have I gone?---where am I going?---and how am I going to get there? What have I cared about?---what have I loathed?---what have hidden from?---and what have I run to? Who have I met and who have I avoided? What have I thought, what have I believed, what have I scoffed, what have I fought for and what have I raged against? Images of my life start flashing before me. For some reason these are the things that came to be:
As a child:
~Auditioning for a children's play, palms sweating, reciting a poem I had memorized by A.A. Milne about a King and a Queen and a Dairymaid and a Cow. Not getting a part.
~Picking Elderberries on the side of the road and an adult telling me how they are going to transform them into a sweet wine. I wondered what it would taste like.
~Believing (knowing!) I could fly and running and jumping off the concrete rise to the side of the the steps at the San Francisco Public Library. Smearing my face across the sidewalk.
-Crying when I finished reading Mrs. Frisbey and the Rats of NIMH, convinced that Jonathan was dead and if the book was over how would he ever have time to come back to life? Refusing to let it go.
~Standing in a corner of a sunlit backyard and my mom approaching me slowly and cautiously, telling me that my best friend, Jessica, was dead with four holes in her heart and not another surgery to be had. I shrugged and walked away.
~Hiding in the bushes and throwing orange peels at cars. One of them, a big van, screeching to a stop and in my panic diving deeper and deeper into the shrubs to stay hidden. When it was safe, realizing I was completely ensconced in and attached to a blackberry bush.
~Hearing a rally of people in a nearby park yell and roar all day and all night about their rights and what they cared about. Later finding out they were Neo-Nazis.
~Spending the night on a houseboat on the north side of San Francisco Bay because my mother was too drunk to drive home. Waking up next to a plate glass window and opening my eyes to the very first unblemished sunrise of my life. Staring into the sun. Not really knowing what was happening.
-Writing a letter to President Reagan imploring him not to kill us all and submitting it to the local paper. They published it.
~Being tested at the University of California, Berkeley for "things not yet understood". Impressing the panel of researchers.
As a young woman:
~Running through the scrubby bushes of the landscaped area outside the West Wing of the National Gallery--casting furtive glances at the colossal wave of people marching to the capitol--staying hidden so I can keep track of them but not waiting to add to their numbers. They are frightening.
-Scaling a Potomac spanning railroad bridge to it's highest point and watching the bellies of airplanes scream overhead and land at National Airport. Wondering how I was ever going to get down again.
~Seeing a movie star I had always fancied on a movie set, tracking him down and forcing him to take my phone number. He never called. Being shocked at this.
~Thinking it was unlikely I was ever going to get in a real brawl in my life, but believing I should at least know what it feels like to punch someone with my fist and, at an contextual moment of offense, decking a friend of mine at a party. Being pissed off when he thought it was funny.
~Witnessing another sunrise in another city on another continent and the sun bleaching out every hope I ever had. I got out of there fast.
~Finding a handsome barefoot stranger on the street on night and driving him to his friend's house because he had refused to take his medication and now he was lost. His telling stories all the way home.
-Watching the street in front of the Italian restaurant I worked in bend itself gracefully into an ocean-like wave of concrete and roll by my disbelieving eyes. Not knowing it the Loma Prieta Earthquake.
~Experiencing events that should have been impossible. Them challenging my very concept of existence and reality.
As a slightly older woman:
~Watching the news on my bed on September 11, 2001 and struggling with my contempt for sensationalistic news reporting and the feelings of excitement, horror and confusion washing over me. I had friends in New York and Washington DC..
~Feeling the despair one feels when one's life has become a bland repartition of drudgery--without purpose, without joy and withiut any end sight. Seeing no end in sight.
~Converting a spare bedroom in a small house I rented into a painting studio and creating bodies of work that actually mattered to me. Sharing them with friends.
~Studying physics and quantum theology and knowing that if I could synchronize the vibrations that composed the matter that was currently My Self and the matter that was currently The Table that I could, somehow, I could pass my hand through the solid matter of the table top. Trying to do this for years--and failing.
~Finishing my first children's book, but being too shy to let anyone read it. But telling everyone about it anyway.
~Reaching a point of disillusionment with my ability to manage my own life. and seeking the help of others. Growing and changing to the point where I fulfilled a life long dream and completed an application to colonize Mars. Ongoing feels of joy, validation and awe.
~Knowing that I am connected to some incomprehensible and unknowable-by-its-very-definition thing. Trying to stay out of my own way.
Surely, my life, like any life, had value. Participating, contributing, caring, letting others see you struggle--aren't these some of the most challenging things in life? Have I not at least earned the opportunity to be considered for space travel? And how do I put that into words? This experience would help me answer the question of "what did I have to offer Mars" in my video, but it also helped me compose a written answer to the question of "Why?"
This is what I wrote:
"Since beginning this application process, I have learned some interesting things not only about myself but about other people. The most noticeable piece of information is this: most people DO NOT WANT to go to Mars.
"Humans have been throwing rocks at the moon for millennia. My entire life I have wanted to board a ship and fly out into the open void of stars and space. I learned at a young age that I was not cut out to be an astronaut; my aptitude for math and other hard sciences was vastly dwarfed by my creative talents in both writing and drawing. I remember this moment well: I was standing in my sixth grade classroom, staring at a poster of an astronaut, a math test covered in red ink in my hand, and I knew, I knew, that I didn't have what it took to qualify to go into space. It wasn't a "giving up" thing---it was a spiritual experience of knowing what my limitations were.
"Now whether this was a self-fulfilling prophecy or not is irrelevant. The fact is, I focused on my strengths and what I had to offer. I studied the arts, I pursued philosophy and theology, I wrote and mused and contributed. And it has made me the person I am: someone who delves beneath the surface of things, who has a great capacity for love and empathy, who cares about others and subscribes to the philosophy "If you don't make it, I don't make it". My passion for literature lead me to science-fiction and futurism. Those genres fueled a new and different motivation for approaching those same sciences in which I had felt so inept. I started to see that what I loved and understood so easily was not that far off from what I seemed to have no talent. I read about physics, I studied quantum theology and string theory and scientific approaches to mythology and dogma. It appeared that the physical world and the metaphysical world were virtually the same thing: the same song sung in different languages.
"I don't pretend to understand anything. But the pursuit of understanding is what has had value. When I heard that ordinary citizens of the world, like myself, could apply to travel to Mars and establish a colony there, I said, "Where do I sign up?" After all, a dream is a dream is a dream.
"Every time I tell someone I am applying to travel to Mars, I half expect a response of wonder and envy: "Mars?! I'd LOVE to go to Mars!!" But this is not the case. Most folks want nothing to do with it. And honestly, I can't imagine why anyone wouldn't pursue this opportunity. Sign me up."
It has gotten me this far!
One of my first notions was that I should somehow prove knowledgable...about...space....stuff....and science....and....space and stuff. Surely, astronauts are......scientific and......logical....mathy.....maybe....calm in a crisis.....maybe....maybe, someone who uses math in a crisis.....like....Spock....? Spock was in space......kind of....... Ok, I don't know anyone LESS like Spock than me. In fact, I am the opposite of Spock. I am...Spockosite.
Ok, now I was getting somewhere. What would Mars want with a Spockosite type person? (Surely there is room for us all!) I tried to picture living on Mars. What...... are we doing...... on Mars? What does a typical day on Mars contain? After my unavoidable mind flash of the space port in Total Recall, my mind forms another vision. People....sitting....People sitting at tables.....People sitting in low ceilinged rooms...dim light....at tables...staring at stuff. Stuff on the table. Hmmm...apparently, my first intentional vision of living on Mars is of me sitting in a Quonset hut staring at a box of rocks in a poorly lit space. I start to wonder what Mars has to offer me. (Just kidding--I have an unconditional love for Mars)
Slowly, though, I start to piece together what I might now offer Earth (the only planet I am in a current relationship with) and if any of those could skills translate. To my surprise, I begin to find my niche. Who am I?---what has life done with me?---what have I done back?---what have I chased?---what have I fled?---where have I gone?---where am I going?---and how am I going to get there? What have I cared about?---what have I loathed?---what have hidden from?---and what have I run to? Who have I met and who have I avoided? What have I thought, what have I believed, what have I scoffed, what have I fought for and what have I raged against? Images of my life start flashing before me. For some reason these are the things that came to be:
As a child:
~Auditioning for a children's play, palms sweating, reciting a poem I had memorized by A.A. Milne about a King and a Queen and a Dairymaid and a Cow. Not getting a part.
~Picking Elderberries on the side of the road and an adult telling me how they are going to transform them into a sweet wine. I wondered what it would taste like.
~Believing (knowing!) I could fly and running and jumping off the concrete rise to the side of the the steps at the San Francisco Public Library. Smearing my face across the sidewalk.
-Crying when I finished reading Mrs. Frisbey and the Rats of NIMH, convinced that Jonathan was dead and if the book was over how would he ever have time to come back to life? Refusing to let it go.
~Standing in a corner of a sunlit backyard and my mom approaching me slowly and cautiously, telling me that my best friend, Jessica, was dead with four holes in her heart and not another surgery to be had. I shrugged and walked away.
~Hiding in the bushes and throwing orange peels at cars. One of them, a big van, screeching to a stop and in my panic diving deeper and deeper into the shrubs to stay hidden. When it was safe, realizing I was completely ensconced in and attached to a blackberry bush.
~Hearing a rally of people in a nearby park yell and roar all day and all night about their rights and what they cared about. Later finding out they were Neo-Nazis.
~Spending the night on a houseboat on the north side of San Francisco Bay because my mother was too drunk to drive home. Waking up next to a plate glass window and opening my eyes to the very first unblemished sunrise of my life. Staring into the sun. Not really knowing what was happening.
-Writing a letter to President Reagan imploring him not to kill us all and submitting it to the local paper. They published it.
~Being tested at the University of California, Berkeley for "things not yet understood". Impressing the panel of researchers.
As a young woman:
~Running through the scrubby bushes of the landscaped area outside the West Wing of the National Gallery--casting furtive glances at the colossal wave of people marching to the capitol--staying hidden so I can keep track of them but not waiting to add to their numbers. They are frightening.
-Scaling a Potomac spanning railroad bridge to it's highest point and watching the bellies of airplanes scream overhead and land at National Airport. Wondering how I was ever going to get down again.
~Seeing a movie star I had always fancied on a movie set, tracking him down and forcing him to take my phone number. He never called. Being shocked at this.
~Thinking it was unlikely I was ever going to get in a real brawl in my life, but believing I should at least know what it feels like to punch someone with my fist and, at an contextual moment of offense, decking a friend of mine at a party. Being pissed off when he thought it was funny.
~Witnessing another sunrise in another city on another continent and the sun bleaching out every hope I ever had. I got out of there fast.
~Finding a handsome barefoot stranger on the street on night and driving him to his friend's house because he had refused to take his medication and now he was lost. His telling stories all the way home.
-Watching the street in front of the Italian restaurant I worked in bend itself gracefully into an ocean-like wave of concrete and roll by my disbelieving eyes. Not knowing it the Loma Prieta Earthquake.
~Experiencing events that should have been impossible. Them challenging my very concept of existence and reality.
As a slightly older woman:
~Watching the news on my bed on September 11, 2001 and struggling with my contempt for sensationalistic news reporting and the feelings of excitement, horror and confusion washing over me. I had friends in New York and Washington DC..
~Feeling the despair one feels when one's life has become a bland repartition of drudgery--without purpose, without joy and withiut any end sight. Seeing no end in sight.
~Converting a spare bedroom in a small house I rented into a painting studio and creating bodies of work that actually mattered to me. Sharing them with friends.
~Studying physics and quantum theology and knowing that if I could synchronize the vibrations that composed the matter that was currently My Self and the matter that was currently The Table that I could, somehow, I could pass my hand through the solid matter of the table top. Trying to do this for years--and failing.
~Finishing my first children's book, but being too shy to let anyone read it. But telling everyone about it anyway.
~Reaching a point of disillusionment with my ability to manage my own life. and seeking the help of others. Growing and changing to the point where I fulfilled a life long dream and completed an application to colonize Mars. Ongoing feels of joy, validation and awe.
~Knowing that I am connected to some incomprehensible and unknowable-by-its-very-definition thing. Trying to stay out of my own way.
Surely, my life, like any life, had value. Participating, contributing, caring, letting others see you struggle--aren't these some of the most challenging things in life? Have I not at least earned the opportunity to be considered for space travel? And how do I put that into words? This experience would help me answer the question of "what did I have to offer Mars" in my video, but it also helped me compose a written answer to the question of "Why?"
This is what I wrote:
"Since beginning this application process, I have learned some interesting things not only about myself but about other people. The most noticeable piece of information is this: most people DO NOT WANT to go to Mars.
"Humans have been throwing rocks at the moon for millennia. My entire life I have wanted to board a ship and fly out into the open void of stars and space. I learned at a young age that I was not cut out to be an astronaut; my aptitude for math and other hard sciences was vastly dwarfed by my creative talents in both writing and drawing. I remember this moment well: I was standing in my sixth grade classroom, staring at a poster of an astronaut, a math test covered in red ink in my hand, and I knew, I knew, that I didn't have what it took to qualify to go into space. It wasn't a "giving up" thing---it was a spiritual experience of knowing what my limitations were.
"Now whether this was a self-fulfilling prophecy or not is irrelevant. The fact is, I focused on my strengths and what I had to offer. I studied the arts, I pursued philosophy and theology, I wrote and mused and contributed. And it has made me the person I am: someone who delves beneath the surface of things, who has a great capacity for love and empathy, who cares about others and subscribes to the philosophy "If you don't make it, I don't make it". My passion for literature lead me to science-fiction and futurism. Those genres fueled a new and different motivation for approaching those same sciences in which I had felt so inept. I started to see that what I loved and understood so easily was not that far off from what I seemed to have no talent. I read about physics, I studied quantum theology and string theory and scientific approaches to mythology and dogma. It appeared that the physical world and the metaphysical world were virtually the same thing: the same song sung in different languages.
"I don't pretend to understand anything. But the pursuit of understanding is what has had value. When I heard that ordinary citizens of the world, like myself, could apply to travel to Mars and establish a colony there, I said, "Where do I sign up?" After all, a dream is a dream is a dream.
"Every time I tell someone I am applying to travel to Mars, I half expect a response of wonder and envy: "Mars?! I'd LOVE to go to Mars!!" But this is not the case. Most folks want nothing to do with it. And honestly, I can't imagine why anyone wouldn't pursue this opportunity. Sign me up."
It has gotten me this far!
