We are involved in technology development for, you know

Hear the words of Ellen Ochoa, a voyager among the stars and a herald of humanity’s destiny, who declared: “We are involved in technology development for, you know, missions that we hope to plan that would take us to an asteroid and eventually to Mars.” At first glance, these words are technical, even practical. Yet beneath their surface lies the cry of humankind’s eternal longing—to journey beyond the horizon, to step where no foot has yet pressed, to claim the heavens not for conquest alone, but for discovery and for the unquenchable spirit of wonder.

She speaks of technology development, the craft by which imagination is forged into reality. For it is not enough to dream of touching the stars; one must build the vessels, the instruments, the engines to bear mortal flesh across the void. Just as the ancients carved ships to ride the seas, so now we carve machines to cross the black oceans between worlds. To prepare for missions is to stand upon the threshold of destiny, poised between what is and what may yet be.

Her words point first to the asteroid, a stepping stone in the infinite dark. These wandering rocks, remnants of creation’s birth, are both danger and promise. They hold the metals and resources that may one day sustain colonies, and they serve as proving grounds where humanity may sharpen its skills before braving greater journeys. To reach them is to declare that our reach extends beyond Earth’s cradle, that we are no longer bound only to our mother world.

And then she speaks of Mars, that red beacon of mystery, long a symbol of war, now perhaps a symbol of renewal. To step upon its dust is to achieve what the ancients once thought divine: to walk among the wandering stars. Just as Columbus once dared the ocean, or Zheng He launched his fleets across the seas, so too would humanity’s explorers dare the gulf of space. Yet unlike voyages of conquest, this journey holds the hope of unity, of survival, of ensuring that mankind’s flame does not burn only upon one fragile world.

History offers us a mirror in the tale of Apollo 11. When Neil Armstrong set foot upon the Moon, he carried not only a flag, but the dreams of all humanity. That one small step was born from the same spirit Ochoa invokes—the joining of technology and vision, the courage to plan and to risk, the patience to labor for decades toward a single moment. Just as that step changed forever how we see ourselves, so too would the journey to Mars transform our very place in the cosmos.

The wisdom of Ochoa’s words is not only for astronauts and engineers. It is for all who dream. She reminds us that great missions are not achieved at once—they begin with preparation, with the humble work of development, with laying stones before building temples. To wish to leap straight to Mars without first reaching the asteroid is folly; greatness is built step by step, through patience and perseverance.

The lesson is clear: dare greatly, but prepare carefully. Let your eyes fix on the distant horizon, but let your hands attend to the labor of today. In your own life, whether your “Mars” is a dream of art, of knowledge, of service, or of love, remember to build the tools, to take the small journeys first, and to learn from each trial. For just as Ochoa speaks of preparing humanity for the stars, so must each soul prepare itself for the destiny that awaits beyond fear.