Moon Walking

The Original Moon Walk

Moon Walking

I read, the other day, that Neil Armstrong passed away at the age of 82.

Neil Armstrong

Sad. I fondly remember watching him become the first man to walk on the moon in the summer of '69.

At the time, I wasn't completely sure if I was happy or disappointed with the fact that humankind had reached such a lofty goal. Space travel ... the stuff of pure speculation and science fiction until that day when Mr Armstrong made footprints on the powdered beach of the Sea of Tranquillity on the moon's surface.

I worried that the moon may have lost some of its mystery, its glamour, its place in the mythological meanderings of human consciousness.

So much is associated with that hazy globe of reflected light. For many people from distant parts of the world, it connects them in an almost spiritual way, since the moon one sees is the same moon the other sees. It is what they can always share and what evokes thoughts of the other.

For others, it's a shining affirmation of love, a symbol of a constancy, light in darkness. Certainly it's the stuff of so much poetry, that I have often hesitated to ever use the moon in anything I write. Somehow, I just have the feeling that it's all been said before and probably more eloquently than I could ever muster.

Then there's all that folklore is attached to the moon as well. Werewolves, Swiss cheese, man-in-the-moon, I guess the list is almost endless.

You probably won't believe this, but, like Neil Armstrong, I have walked on the moon. I like to feel light as air and bounce through moon dust with reckless abandon. I know that I may fall into a crater or rip my spacesuit on a moon rock, so what?

What is life but a series of gambles anyway?

The little joys that we gather into our scrapbook memories are really so few, and I get tired of repeating things over and over again. Too often we take the safe route on our way to the next destination. For me, the thrill is not on the safe road. The thrill is in travelling uncharted paths. The thrill is in taking a leap into the unknown and discovering new experiences. It's a leap of faith, I suppose. The chances are that you may never make it through in one piece or that, even if you do make it through, you won't recognise yourself on the other side.

I get tired of being myself. I get tired of being the same. The great joy of life is always change — changing who you are, changing what you think, changing where you live, changing why you live. It's easy to say, "Well, that's just the way I am ..." but saying such things is just an easy excuse to ignore the challenge of change, an easy excuse to hide whenever you are confronted with a challenge to see life from another perspective.

It's easy to stay locked in a way of life, in a habitual existence. But, where's the unexpected? Where's the sudden fear of the unknown? Where's the drama of stepping into a crater and laughing all the time you're falling into empty space?

So many people need to feel in control of destiny. I wonder if they're just fooling themselves? I'm not sure any of us control destiny. Maybe there is a plan, and maybe there isn't. Either way, the idea that "this is what I want" or "that is what I want" is probably nothing more than a way to trick yourself into believing that you can write your own life story.

I prefer to subscribe to what I call the "Little Bang Theory." We rocket through our lives, and we collide with others in a way that veers us off course again and again, always in another, unexpected direction. That is how our personal "little universe" is created and continues to grow. I guess I see life as a kind of cosmic pinball game. We bounce from bumper to bumper, place to place, person to person, and we really have no control over what direction we are headed next.

For me, that's the excitement of every new day.