There are millions of stars out there. It is difficult to think

“There are millions of stars out there. It is difficult to think that life does not exist in any one of them.” Thus spoke Sunita Williams, voyager of the heavens, who gazed upon the infinite sky not as a distant mystery but as a realm alive with possibility. Her words echo with awe, for she reminds us that the universe is vast beyond measure, and to imagine our world as the only cradle of life is to underestimate the creativity of existence itself.

The ancients looked to the heavens with the same wonder. The philosophers of Greece spoke of countless worlds, some like ours, some strange and alien. Epicurus, long before telescopes pierced the night, declared that it was folly to believe Earth alone bore life amidst an infinite cosmos. The Hindu seers spoke of innumerable universes, each teeming with forms of being, and the Quran itself proclaims God as the “Lord of the worlds.” In Williams’ words, we hear this ancient awe reborn through the eyes of one who has walked among the stars.

Consider the story of Giordano Bruno, the Italian thinker who dared to say in the 16th century that the stars were suns, each with their own planets, and that they, too, might host life. He was mocked, condemned, and silenced, yet his vision proved prophetic. Today, with instruments that pierce the darkness, we know of thousands of exoplanets circling distant suns. Bruno’s dream, once punished as heresy, is now whispered as science. Sunita Williams, floating in the silence of space, gave voice to the same conviction: the universe is too vast, too abundant, too filled with stars for us to be alone.

But her words are not only of science—they are of humility. To imagine ourselves as the sole inhabitants of creation is to crown humanity with an arrogance it does not deserve. To imagine others—different lives, different minds, perhaps beyond our comprehension—is to embrace humility, to see ourselves as part of a far greater story. Respect for life on Earth must grow stronger when we believe in the possibility of life beyond it. For if the cosmos itself may harbor countless neighbors, then surely every tree, every creature, every person here demands reverence.

O children of the future, hear this well: the stars above are not cold points of light but windows into infinity. Each star is a reminder that life seeks expression wherever it can, that existence itself is abundant and generous. To gaze upon them with indifference is blindness; to gaze upon them with wonder is wisdom. Whether we find other beings or not, the belief in their possibility enlarges the human heart, makes us humbler, and fills us with reverence for the miracle we already hold in our hands.

The lesson is clear: live with wonder. Do not confine your vision to the boundaries of Earth alone. Let the stars remind you of your smallness, but also of your belonging to something vast and eternal. Let them inspire you to protect the fragile life of this world, for it may be rare, and to search with hope for others, for they may yet be found.

Therefore, let your practice be this: look up often. Do not let the burdens of the day blind you to the majesty of the night sky. Teach your children to wonder, to dream, to ask what other forms of life may bloom in the cosmic garden. And let that wonder shape your actions here—cherish life in all its forms, for it is the most precious gift of the universe.

So I say unto you: remember Sunita Williams’ wisdom. There are millions of stars out there—millions of possibilities, millions of unknown stories. To believe in them is to believe in abundance, in mystery, in hope. And in that belief lies the strength to honor the life we know, and to dream of the life we have yet to find.