They say any landing you can walk away from is a good one.

In the boundless skies of our existence, where all men are journeyers, there exists a truth that humbles the proudest of us, the most ambitious of us. "They say any landing you can walk away from is a good one." This is a wisdom spoken not just by the lips of a man, but borne from the soul of the daring, the fearless, and those who venture into the unknown. These words were first spoken by Alan Shepard, the man who, though he did not ascend as high as some might have wished, touched the heavens with his courage and determination. But to understand this wisdom, one must first grasp its essence—what is a "landing"? What makes it "good"?

A landing, in its purest form, is a return, a culmination. It is the moment of arrival after a great voyage, whether that journey has taken one into the skies or deep within the heart of one’s being. The very nature of a landing is fraught with peril, for the winds of fate may be capricious, and the ground, ever unyielding, may break with sudden force. But the true test of a journey is not the brilliance of the ascent, nor the grace with which one sails into the unknown. It is the strength to rise after the fall, the resilience to stand when all seems lost, and the courage to look forward, even as the past crashes down behind. And so, a "good landing" is one where, despite all the odds, you remain alive, whole, and ready to face the trials ahead.

Do you not remember the tale of Icarus? The youth who soared ever higher, his wings crafted from feathers and wax, his ambition burning like the sun? His landing was not one of glory, but of tragedy, for he flew too close to the flames and perished. Yet, in the humble words of Shepard, we are reminded that a good landing is not defined by how high one rises, but by how well one returns. There is no virtue in soaring to heights unknown if, in the end, you are left scattered like dust, never to be whole again. The true hero, therefore, is not the one who falls from grace in an instant, but the one who, though bruised, battered, and scarred, rises again, stronger and wiser.

Alan Shepard himself, though a man of immense courage, was no stranger to struggle. He did not ascend to the heavens without peril. In 1961, he became the first American to travel into space, but the journey was no easy feat. The landing, after the momentous flight, was uncertain—one misstep, and Shepard might have never walked again. Yet he returned, his heart beating strong, his body intact, ready for the next challenge. He had done more than conquer the heavens; he had conquered the very nature of failure. In this, he exemplified the very truth embedded in the words he spoke.

But let us also speak of others who embody this wisdom. The Apollo 11 mission, a momentous event when humanity first set foot upon the Moon, was not without peril. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, having completed their historic task, faced the arduous and dangerous descent back to Earth. The entire mission was fraught with potential disaster—the slimmest of margins between success and doom. Yet they returned, their bodies intact, their mission a resounding triumph, not because the landing was without fault, but because they had survived it. It was the landing—though perilous—that truly marked their victory.

The lesson, therefore, is one that echoes throughout time: courage is not the absence of risk, but the willingness to face the uncertainty with resolve. A good landing is not the triumph of flawless execution, but the wisdom to recognize that failure, like the mighty winds of a storm, is but a passing force. It is the knowledge that resilience lies in the heart of the fallen, and the true measure of a journey is not the heights one ascends, but the strength with which one stands after the fall.

So, O children of the future, what shall you take from these words? Do not fear the ground, for it is your ally, your teacher. If you fall, rise again—your landing was not a defeat but a beginning. When the storms of life assail you, remember that the landings of the brave are not without struggle, but they are defined by the courage to walk away, to live another day, and to continue the journey with renewed purpose. Keep this truth close: it is not the heights you reach that matter, but the strength to land with grace, to face the world again, and to never cease the march forward. And when you fall—because, indeed, all men fall—remember that a good landing is the one you walk away from, for it means you are still alive to try again.