And The Moon Be Still As Bright0

Early tomorrow morning, NASA will be bombing the moon to generate a dust cloud for water analysis. I’m not sure who thought this was a great idea but regardless of how it began, for the first time in history we are about to unleash man-made destructive force on a body that is not our own.  Admittedly progress begins with steps like these, however painful they may be.  I want to get up early and witness it – yet part of me can’t bear to watch.

We’ll rip it up, rip the skin off, and change it to fit ourselves…We Earth Men have a talent for ruining big, beautiful things. ~Jeff Spender, Ray Bradbury’s “And the Moon Be Still as Bright”

It’s hard not to feel small thinking about this event. In my own little reality these seem like small, awkward and infantile steps into a huge universe.  As well planned as this may be, this is absolutely uncharted territory for us.  The moon has transitioned from an object of worship in early civilization to submitting to our clumsily-weilded technology… will it be without consequence?

Some say that this is the beginning of the end – I say that it is the beginning of something.

I just invite you to reflect on humanity for a moment, and recognize the symbolism of this mission that we are about to embark. I suggest a couple of good books for this time:

• Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury – excellent collection of short stories, classic
• Full Moon by Michael Light – extraordinary photos

Also, a movie:

• The Time Machine

I’ve always been fascinated with the moon – much like most people are at some point I imagine. It seems easy to get defensive about it now that we are crossing from observation to imposing force on it. There have been many scientific discoveries even recently that suggest that we really don’t understand things as well as we thought.  I hope this doesn’t become one of those discoveries.

So we’ll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul outwears the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

George Gordon, Lord Byron