Pandemic Astronauts
A handful of people have had the privilege to see the whole Earth, hanging on its own in the void, being hugged by the black abyss of space. The 'Overview Effect', as its called, made these astronauts, these explorers see Earth in a new way, as a whole. All within it, the love, the hate, the joy, the anger, the ecstasy, the grief, the suffering, would seem so precious, and so fragile.
"The thing that really surprised me was that it [Earth] projected an air of fragility. And why, I don’t know. I don’t know to this day. I had a feeling it’s tiny, it’s shiny, it’s beautiful, it’s home, and it’s fragile." Michael Collins, Apollo 11.
It changed these astronauts.
Along with several billion other souls, I've been in quarantine, confined to my capsule. I can't venture outside, but over the past weeks, I've seen our Earth come into view, a sight, I'd never expected to see. With my mask as my helmet, I've become a pandemic astronaut. The stories that I’ve seen are deeply human. From the suffering: scenes of death, loneliness, fear, authoritarianism, economic collapse, empty cities, and mass graves.
To the tales of humanity, doing what it does best, reaching out to others in a time of turmoil: to connect 6ft apart. The videos of singing, of animals roaming the streets, clapping, of mountains we'd never expected to see with our naked eyes again, of health workers holding down the fort, of Andrea Bocelli singing in a church, of small acts of kindness, of the memes, and life.
We see it all, and above this we also see what we never thought we would. The act of touching another person, a hug, or a kiss, suddenly, so foreign. To dance with someone is now an act of recklessness. We're going through this period, orbiting others: even our loved ones. Something so simple, that connection to humanity, in the past, we've taken for granted.
Whilst we are hanging in zero gravity, uncertain of where we will still fall, we know that the Earth that we will return to, won't be the same. There will be trauma, anger, and grief. We will cry when we hug each other again, grieving together at the loss, not just of people, but of a past we didn't think we'd lose. As we continue our orbit around the pandemic, the world might still change in ways, we can't yet see: the dark side of the moon. We are scared and afraid for what may still come.
If we are lucky, in a few years, we come out merely with a small scar, a reminder of the time we all spent inside of our capsules. What I do know, however, is that even if life turns into a direction of prosperity, connection, and renewed direction towards a sustainable home for us all, we would still remember what it felt like when we saw the Earth come into view. Those were the days where would miss something as simple as a hug. And so: we would hug each other again.
We are pandemic astronauts, and we'll never quite see the world the same again.
