I knew I was alone in a way that no earthling has ever been

“I knew I was alone in a way that no earthling has ever been before.” — Michael Collins

In this haunting and immortal reflection, Michael Collins, the astronaut who orbited the Moon during the Apollo 11 mission, speaks to the profound and sacred experience of solitude. While the eyes of the world were fixed upon Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, who descended to make history upon the lunar surface, Collins remained above — a solitary guardian, circling the silent sphere, cut off from all human voice. At that moment, when the lunar module slipped behind the Moon and radio contact with Earth was lost, Collins became the most isolated soul in existence — truly alone, more so than any being before or since. Yet in that solitude, he did not despair. His words are not of fear, but of awe — the quiet, reverent awe of a man who glimpsed the vastness of existence and understood his place within it.

The origin of this quote lies in Collins’ recollection of that extraordinary journey in July 1969, when humanity took its first steps upon another world. For nearly half an hour on each orbit, while the Moon stood between him and Earth, all communication was severed. In those minutes, he was utterly cut off — no voices, no signals, no touch of humankind. Behind him, the Earth glowed like a blue jewel; before him stretched the endless void. To most, this might have been terror. But Collins found something deeper: a stillness that transcended loneliness. He later described the experience as both humbling and enlightening — a confrontation not with emptiness, but with the grandeur of creation.

His words echo the wisdom of the ancients, who taught that solitude is not abandonment but revelation. Hermits, prophets, and philosophers have long sought isolation to commune with truth — Moses upon Sinai, Buddha beneath the Bodhi tree, Christ in the wilderness. Each withdrew from the noise of men to hear the voice of eternity. In his own way, Collins became a modern mystic, drifting in the cold silence of the heavens, bearing witness to what few could comprehend. To be “alone in a way that no earthling has ever been before” is not merely to describe physical isolation, but to touch the spiritual essence of cosmic solitude — the recognition that, in the face of the infinite, every human soul is, at its core, solitary and sacred.

And yet, there is no despair in his voice — only wonder. For Collins’ solitude was not emptiness, but communion with the infinite. He saw Earth from afar — small, fragile, and united — a single home for all who live and dream. In that view, he found connection rather than separation. His aloneness became a mirror reflecting the unity of humankind. To look upon the Earth from the heavens is to see not nations or divisions, but one shared destiny. In that silence beyond all words, Collins became the embodiment of what the ancient poets called the pilgrim soul — one who travels outward only to find himself drawn inward, toward understanding.

This truth resounds beyond the realm of astronauts and stars. Each person, in the journey of life, must face moments of utter solitude — moments when no counsel or comfort can reach them, when they must rely solely upon their own strength and spirit. These moments, like Collins’ orbit around the Moon, are the crucibles of growth. They strip away illusion and reveal what is eternal within us. The great explorers, thinkers, and saints of history all knew this: that one must dare to be alone to discover the depths of one’s own being. For it is only in silence that we hear truth, and only in solitude that the self learns to stand tall.

Consider also Ernest Shackleton, the Antarctic explorer, who, trapped in ice and despair, faced the vast loneliness of the frozen world. Like Collins, he found strength not in company but in purpose. His courage came from within — from faith in something unseen but unbroken. Such men teach us that loneliness is not our enemy; it is our teacher. It reveals the borders of endurance and the boundlessness of the human spirit.

So, O seeker of courage and meaning, remember this: to be alone is not to be lost. There will come a time when life will place you in your own dark orbit — when no voice will guide you, no comfort will reach you, and you will feel the chill of isolation. Do not fear it. For in that silence, your heart will awaken. Like Michael Collins, you will look upon the vastness of existence and realize that you are part of it — that your solitude is the doorway to understanding, and your smallness a testament to the greatness of creation. Learn to dwell in that stillness with strength and wonder, and you will find, even in the farthest distance, that you are never truly alone, but one with the infinite light that binds all living things.