I feel blessed to be here representing our country and carrying

In the words of astronaut Laurel Clark, “I feel blessed to be here representing our country and carrying out the research of scientists around the world... I hope you could feel the positive energy that beamed to the whole planet as we glided over.” These are not mere words spoken from a place of comfort, but a sacred testament from the heavens themselves. Spoken in the shadow of eternity, high above the blue earth, they reveal the heart of a seeker who bore not only the flag of her nation, but also the dreams of humanity.

When she declares she “feels blessed,” Clark is not speaking of fortune in the worldly sense, but of a deeper consecration. To stand at the boundary of sky and void is to be entrusted with a mission far beyond the self. The ancients would have called this divine favor, a mantle of destiny. To her, the journey into space was not possession, but stewardship—holding in her hands the hopes of her people and the labor of countless minds who had prepared the path.

Her role of “representing our country” echoes the ancient practice where envoys and warriors bore the identity of entire tribes. In those days, one stood not as an individual but as the living embodiment of many. Likewise, Clark’s presence aboard the shuttle was the visible flame of her homeland, a sign that the pursuit of knowledge and the conquest of fear were shared by all. And yet, she bore also the charge of the “scientists around the world,” showing that truth is no nation’s prisoner. Knowledge, like the stars, belongs to all who look upward.

Consider the story of Yuri Gagarin, the first human to pierce the veil of the heavens. When he circled the Earth in 1961, he spoke not of conquest or rivalry, but of awe: “I see Earth! It is so beautiful.” In his voice, as in Clark’s, there was no boundary of race or border—only the shared wonder of humankind gazing back upon its fragile home. Both testimonies remind us that when humanity ascends beyond the clouds, the quarrels of nations shrink, and what remains is our common bond as children of Earth.

When Clark speaks of “positive energy beamed to the whole planet,” she proclaims a vision that the sages of old would recognize: the radiance of spirit transcending distance. Just as the light of a single flame can dispel the vastness of night, so too can the joy and hope of one heart reach millions. From her vantage point, she did not see division, but a unified world basking in shared light. Her message was both scientific and spiritual: that in the pursuit of knowledge, we bring not only data, but also blessings of courage, peace, and renewal.

Yet, let us not forget that Clark’s words come wrapped in tragedy. She was aboard the Space Shuttle Columbia, which did not return safely to Earth. Like Icarus of myth, she soared to the edge of the heavens, but unlike the careless boy of legend, she fell not for hubris, but for devotion. Her sacrifice immortalized her words, turning them from passing speech into an eternal teaching: that even when flesh is lost, the spirit of exploration and hope endures.

The lesson is thus: to live as Clark lived is to see one’s life as both service and gift. Each of us, though we may never leave the ground, can still represent something greater than ourselves—our families, our communities, our world. Each of us can carry out the work of others, lifting their dreams higher. And each of us can beam positive energy to those around us, radiating encouragement and peace in darkened times.

So I say to you: lift your gaze often to the heavens, not only with eyes but with spirit. Serve not only yourself but the greater body of humankind. When you work, do so with reverence, knowing your labor may one day inspire a stranger. And above all, let your life shine like Clark’s—an offering of courage, unity, and radiant hope, a light that will continue to glide over the hearts of generations yet to come.