I am currently enrolled in an Astronomy 115 class alongside a Classics 103 class. In astronomy, we talk about the science behind stars and space, nebulas, and planets, dark matter and galaxies. In Classics, we discuss the anthropology in humanity and suffering, culture and growth, adventures and mystery. When I told my mother that these two classes have nothing and everything in common, she looked at me in confusion but accepted my statement at face value.

The fact of the matter is, humanity’s own fascination with the stars and with space comes from the same place inside of us that makes us so intrigued by our history. The same urge that we feel to seek and escape and uncover lies in the hearts of those studying math and physics as well as in those studying theology and archaeology. There is an undeniable yearning that all of humanity feels, a desperation for something more, something bigger, something other.

It is because of this longing that we have forced ourselves to reach beyond the boundaries of what we thought humanly possible from the beginning of time. This drive to seek out and discover, this wholly unique characteristic of curiosity that urges humans to uncover new things, to not only survive but to live, is what has gotten us where we are today. Our hunger for this something more stems from our instinct to fight and survive against all odds, because of our belief that there will always be an answer out there.

In my archaeology class, we discuss on a regular basis how often people love to blame supernatural forces or aliens for the strange things we discover. In my astronomy class, we memorize the number of stars visible to the naked eye and the number of stars that are estimated to exist in the universe.

In both classes, we delve into possibilities and statistics and wonder aloud about the likelihood of there being something out there that simply cannot be explained by our science today.

We also talk about how we have spent hundreds of years looking up at the stars, and how at some point everyone has gazed up into that dark blue dome over our heads (that really has no boundaries, no beginning, and no end) and felt infinitesimally small and alone. We ask ourselves what it is about the sky that makes us feel so full and happy and so echoey and sad all at once, how it is that these two feelings can wrap around each other so perfectly and yet be so elusive. We have all looked up and secretly asked ourselves all the questions in our hearts, hoping for and against, not daring to believe that something out there has the answers. We have all looked up and secretly asked, “Hello? Is anybody there?”

Another fact about humanity is this: we are lonely. The universe has existed for approximately fourteen billion years; our solar system has only been around for about five billion of those, and humans have existed for less than one hundred thousand of those years. We are a small, insignificant speck, taking up such a small amount of time that it really makes no difference at all. In space, it is estimated that the stars in the universe number at over ten to the twenty-second power, which is a number that I don’t even know the name for. What is even harder to wrap our minds around is this; the universe continues to grow and change, even now as you read this.

We can’t even wrap our minds around how big the universe is and how small we are in comparison to it, and yet we send out satellites and telescopes and unmanned space flights, hoping to learn more and get a better grasp of what is out there. Why? Why do we do this if we know we will never fully grasp the reality of reality itself? The answer is simply this: we are wanderers, and have been from the beginning. From the moment that our ancestors followed their prey across the continent to the moment that Plato looked up and said, “Those things are moving!” and over one thousand years later when Copernicus said, “Plato was wrong,” with enough conviction that Galileo believed him one hundred years later. From the instant that Darwin first realized what was so special about those finches to the time Arthur Wegener said, “Hey, those look like puzzle pieces,” to the day John F. Kennedy thought to himself, “I believe we can make it,” we have been wanderers.

From all the moments in history that led to Neil Armstrong leaving the first footprint in the quiet dust of the moon, we have been wanderers and we have been wonderers. We have always had the power to move on to something that is not only new, but completely unheard of, and begin again. We seed the future with hope and the unknown with romance, and when someone comes along who has enough faith to believe that our combined desire for exploration and our potential for exploitation might be enough of a combination to lead us to something more… well, that is when the scars of our history become something akin to the stars in the sky. That is when we can become that

something more.

So I challenge you to hold onto that hope. Hold onto the childlike wonder that the stars bring. Hold onto the ability to believe in something bigger, even if it is a little unreasonable, and chase it. Make it real in your life and make the reality of your life have meaning in the lives of others, no matter how small and alone you feel. Every time your coworkers learn a new fact about your personal life that turns you into more than a blurry face behind a name tag, you are less alone. Every time your friends see you flagging behind, lost in your own mind, or leaping ahead with the excitement of what you imagine is ahead, you grow a little more. Whenever your parents look at you, whether they see all the cracks and breaks in their failure or if they see the amalgamation of everything they ever prayed for, you are becoming more real and fulfilling more of the possibilities that statistics say should be next to impossible.

Because, as I said before, the universe, for all its current glory and bigness, is still growing. The universe is big enough for any amount of possibility, and we have the privilege to exist in a time when we can recognize the infinite possibilities out there, even if we cannot quite grasp the reality of what that means. We have been wanderers from the beginning, and, in the massiveness of the universe and its infinite possibilities, with the gifts and opportunities that that brings, it is our duty to make use of our heritage, and to wander once more.

“For we cannot tarry here,

We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger,

We the youthful senewey races, all the rest on us depend,

Pioneers! Oh, Pioneers!”

~Walt Whitman, 1865