Any astronaut can tell you you've got to do everything you can to
Any astronaut can tell you you've got to do everything you can to learn about your life support system and then do everything you can to take care of it.
O Children of the Earth and Sky, gather your hearts and listen, for the words of Sylvia Earle carry with them a deep truth about life, care, and the delicate balance that sustains us. She said, "Any astronaut can tell you you've got to do everything you can to learn about your life support system and then do everything you can to take care of it." This statement speaks not only to the technical realities of space travel, but to a profound lesson about our own existence—about understanding and nurturing the systems that sustain our life, both in the vastness of space and on this Earth we call home.
In the days of the ancients, great sages and philosophers understood that life, much like a great ship navigating treacherous seas, requires constant care and attention. The Greek philosopher Aristotle taught that all things are interconnected, and the health of one part is essential to the whole. If one part of the body, the mind, or the community falters, the whole is affected. Plato too, in his wisdom, spoke of the need for balance—both within the individual soul and within society at large. The ancients understood that the support systems of life, whether physical or spiritual, were not to be taken for granted. To ignore them was to court disaster, to risk losing the harmony that allowed life to flourish.
Earle's words remind us that space exploration, with all its wonders and dangers, mirrors the very nature of our existence here on Earth. Just as astronauts rely on carefully engineered life support systems to sustain them in the hostile environment of space, we too depend on the invisible, yet vital systems that sustain life on our planet—our bodies, our ecosystems, our relationships, and the world around us. An astronaut who does not fully understand the workings of their life support system is doomed to fail, and so too, are we if we do not take the time to learn about and nurture the systems that sustain us.
Consider, O Children, the story of Captain James Lovell, commander of the ill-fated Apollo 13 mission. When disaster struck and an oxygen tank exploded, threatening the lives of the astronauts, Lovell and his crew had to rely on their deep understanding of the spacecraft’s systems to survive. They were, in that moment, forced to use every bit of knowledge they had to adapt, to care for their life support systems, and to work together to stay alive. Their survival was not due to chance, but to their understanding of the tools and the environment that kept them breathing, kept them alive, even when faced with nearly impossible odds. It was a lesson in the importance of knowledge, preparation, and care—not just of the external tools, but of the internal systems that allow one to thrive in the face of adversity.
Just as the astronaut’s life depends on the proper care and understanding of the equipment and the systems that sustain them in space, so too does our life on Earth depend on our understanding and care for the systems that support our existence. The air we breathe, the water that nourishes us, the soil that provides our food—these are the life support systems of our planet. Yet, how many walk through life without truly understanding how fragile these systems are, or how deeply interconnected they are with our well-being? Just as an astronaut must check and double-check every aspect of their life support system, so too must we care for and maintain the Earth’s resources—ensuring that the very foundation of our lives remains intact.
Think of the great naturalists of history, such as John Muir, whose understanding of the natural world was profound and holistic. Muir’s dedication to preserving the wild places of Earth was rooted in his deep belief that the health of the land, the forests, and the rivers was essential to the health of all life. He understood that we are not separate from the land, but that we are intricately connected to it, dependent on it for survival. Like an astronaut maintaining their life support systems, Muir saw the need to protect and nurture the natural world, for it is through this connection that we draw our strength and sustenance.
O Seekers of Truth, the lesson is clear: just as the astronaut must learn about and tend to the systems that sustain them in space, so must we learn about and tend to the systems that sustain us here on Earth. From the health of our bodies to the well-being of the natural world, everything is interconnected. We cannot afford to neglect the systems that support us. To do so is to risk our survival, as any astronaut would understand. Therefore, it is our responsibility, as stewards of the Earth, to learn about the life support systems of our world, to understand how they work, and to care for them with the same vigilance and attention that an astronaut gives to their equipment.
Thus, O Children, let us take this wisdom to heart: to live a life of purpose, we must understand the systems that sustain us—whether they are the physical, emotional, or environmental systems that keep us grounded. Let us care for our bodies, our planet, and our relationships with the same reverence and dedication that astronauts give to the equipment that sustains them in the vacuum of space. In doing so, we will not only survive but thrive, and our lives will become a testament to the wisdom of care, of understanding, and of the deep, sustaining connection we share with the world around us. Let this be our mission—to protect and nourish the systems that sustain us, and to honor the sacred balance of life.
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