Leaving the spaceship

A close-up of an astronaut’s footprint in the lunar soil, photographed by a 70 mm lunar surface camera during the Apollo 11 mission. This image is in the public domain via NASA.

For 11 months, I’ve been traveling in a spaceship. COVID-19 has kept me and almost every other non-essential worker in our homes. It limited our movements, cut us off from so many, all the while feeling that catastrophe lingered close by.

My shipmates were my family. We even brought along a pet dog on the adventure. In this ship, I’ve watched the events of the COVID universe go by

There were shooting stars for the millions of lives lost. A supernova in the US Capitol. All the while, somewhere “out there” a lurking alien danger stood ready to pounce on any opportunity to use my body as a host.  

But like any space voyage, at some point, you gotta leave the ship. Whether to land on a distant planet or just to take a spacewalk to do repairs. 

In books and movies, these are the moments of tension, fear, and possibility.  These are the times when we are forced to confront the catastrophe and choose whether to proceed or shrink from the moment.

In short order, I’ll be fully vaccinated. So will my better half. The Israeli government and health care system have achieved where so many other nations have struggled.

So…it’s time to leave the spaceship.  

I imagine that I’m sitting in a virtual airlock with my spacesuit ready to go. I will soon be able to walk the universe with a bit less fear of the virus. What the hell am I gonna do now?  

Finding balance and equanimity is a funny and fickle thing.  In space, survival requires a pressurized spacesuit. It requires the ability to balance the air pressure we need to survive with the crushing and unforgiving vacuum that surrounds us.

I’ve been imagining this “spacewalk” for almost a year. My mind and body are ready to align and find equilibrium again with the waiting universe. 

It’s time to take the leap. The vast opportunity of the human experience out there is not something to fear, but something to cherish. More than ever, I can see the beauty in the vast expanse of humanity rather than the cold emptiness of space.

In the movies, the Captain always says something like “I will miss this old bucket of bolts.” My COVID spaceship has taken me where I needed to go. Now it’s time to get out and discover.

About the Author
Dan is a veteran public relations, political communications and media strategist. He founded Full Court Press Communications 20 years ago. He is also the host of Mindful Work www.MindfulWork.show - a podcast at the intersection of Mindfulness, Jewish Thought, and Business. He resides in Israel.
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