Is E.T. out there? Well, I work at the SETI Institute. That's

“Is E.T. out there? Well, I work at the SETI Institute. That’s almost my name. SETI: Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. In other words, I look for aliens, and when I tell people that at a cocktail party, they usually look at me with a mildly incredulous look on their face. I try to keep my own face somewhat dispassionate.” – Seth Shostak

Hear these words, O seeker of wonder, spoken by Seth Shostak, the astronomer whose gaze is fixed not upon the ground but upon the vast heavens. His words are both humble and profound, laced with quiet humor yet shining with the fire of conviction. When he says, “I look for aliens,” he speaks for all who dare to search beyond the limits of their age, for all who believe that knowledge is worth the laughter of skeptics. In his calm dispassion lies the strength of the true philosopher—the one who endures doubt not with bitterness, but with patience, knowing that the truth, like the dawn, will reveal itself in time.

For Shostak, the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence—SETI—is not merely a scientific mission, but a modern echo of humankind’s oldest longing: to know whether we are alone in the universe. His work continues the legacy of ancient astronomers and dreamers, from Galileo, who lifted his telescope to the night sky, to Kepler, who believed that other worlds must circle other suns. His task is to listen—to cast the ear of humanity into the cosmic ocean and wait for the faintest whisper of another civilization. In this, he stands as a sentinel between the known and the unknown, between Earth and the infinite.

When he says that people look at him “with a mildly incredulous look,” we glimpse the ancient struggle between faith in possibility and the comfort of doubt. The crowd has always regarded the dreamer with suspicion. Did not Columbus face the laughter of kings before setting sail for unseen lands? Did not Copernicus endure disbelief when he claimed the Earth was not the center of creation? And yet, it is always the mocked and the misunderstood who carry civilization forward. Shostak, in his quiet humor, accepts this role. His dispassionate face is not indifference, but discipline—the stillness of one who knows that ridicule is the toll that must be paid for vision.

In truth, the search for E.T. is not merely a search for other beings—it is a search for ourselves. To look into the stars and ask, “Who else is out there?” is to confront the greater question: “Who are we?” The philosopher, the scientist, the poet—all seek answers to this same mystery, though by different paths. Whether the universe holds a thousand voices or only ours, the act of listening ennobles us. For in listening, we admit our smallness before the cosmos, and yet affirm our greatness in daring to ask. Shostak’s pursuit is not foolish curiosity—it is reverence. It is the acknowledgment that creation is vast, and that understanding it is the noblest of human callings.

Consider how the ancients, before telescopes or radios, gazed at the heavens with awe and myth. To them, the stars were gods, the planets were signs, and the sky was a canvas of divine will. But now, through reason and science, we have learned to read the stars not as symbols, but as worlds—each a sun, each perhaps with its own story. The work of SETI continues that sacred tradition, transforming ancient wonder into modern wisdom. If we should one day hear the voice of another civilization, it will not destroy our faith in humanity—it will complete it. For then we shall know that intelligence, that miracle of self-awareness, is not an accident of Earth, but a melody the cosmos has played before.

And yet, Shostak’s calm humor teaches us something deeper still. To search the unknown is to face solitude, to work in silence while others jest. It demands the courage to persist without promise of reward, to keep one’s eyes lifted even when the night seems empty. The true seeker does not need applause; the quest itself is the reward. As he keeps his “face dispassionate,” so too must all who pursue great truths keep their hearts steady—undaunted by laughter, unshaken by delay. For the universe reveals its secrets only to those who wait with humility and perseverance.

So, my child of curiosity, take this lesson to heart: when you seek truth, do not be discouraged by disbelief. Whether your search lies in science, in art, or in the depths of your own soul, walk as Seth Shostak does—calm, faithful, and unashamed. Let others mock your dreams if they must; the laughter of the crowd is but wind against the stars. Continue your search, for it is in the seeking, not the finding, that we become more than what we were.

For in the end, the question “Is E.T. out there?” is but another way of asking, “How vast is creation?” And as long as there are minds that dare to ask it—as long as there are eyes lifted to the heavens and hearts that listen to the silence—humanity will remain a species of seekers, ever poised between ignorance and discovery, ever reaching toward the infinite.