Loss of Signal

Last evening I was watching the NASA coverage of Artemis II as the astronauts passed behind the moon and lost radio contact with Earth. I watched as their orbit caused Earth to blink out of sight and for the next 40-ish minutes they were out of contact. The coverage had a segment about what the moon meant to each of the astronauts and it got me thinking of my childhood, well high school really, interest in space that was born in a galaxy far far away when I was 6 and Luke Skywalker was my hero.

It made me wonder why now that I have dark Door County skies why I'm not out more with my telescope, looking at the moon or Jupiter or Andromeda.  I've become more involved with the Door Peninsula Astronomical Society and now coordinating the monthly speakers at our meetings. I'm enjoying making new friends and learning new science, but I need to get out in my own backyard and wander the sky. 

I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Lisle, IL. I had my first apartment here after I graduated from the University of Illinois and spent over two years here, writing my 20 Poems for Sad Lonely Evenings from an apartment on Ogden Avenue, dating my now wife, hanging only a dart board on the beige walls, and riding the train daily to the city and spending another day with my FS90 team at Arthur Andersen. I reunited last night with some of my old AA friends, shared some beers, and watched Michigan win the NCAA tournament, but mostly told stories of the old days with a lot of talk on how we're using AI in our jobs or personal lives.

Caught between the world I used to inhabit and the retirement I'm still learning to navigate, I’m frustrated with my lack of doing, the metaphor of being out of contact, sailing around the dark of the moon, seemed appropriate. I’m out of contact with the mission control that had guided me before. I’m awaiting regaining the signal, but for now I can only wonder at a world that is only visible to me. For 30 years, there was a plan for every day, goals to achieve, flights to catch, systems to design, build, install and train. The meetings, the emails, the responsibility of it all, was prescribed and I could execute the mission before me.

Now, I’m out of contact with that world. There is no pressure to do to produce to accomplish. I’m sleeping better. I don’t wake with a panic attack worried about an issue on the other side of the world. But I’m out of contact and hoping to regain contact, even if the mission control has changed.

My telescope gear is all in the garage, just waiting on me. A clear night, 15 minutes of set-up and I’d be floating above the moon as those Artemis II astronauts make their way home. They knew they’d come out of the darkness, resume their radio contact, and start on their journey, homeward bound. I wish I had that same assurance that mission control is timing my exit, ready to pick me back up and guide me home.

I don't have an answer right now. Just a lingering frustration with my prioritization. I'll write soon on my "More List", but for now I need to move this all from thought to action. Only I can create what comes next. I'm genuinely asking: how do you move from wanting to doing?