I Must Go To Mars . . . Or Not!

Recently I heard the news. The CEO of Tesla Motors, Elon Musk, is backing the launching of a rocket to Mars. It will cost a passenger a mere $200,000. I’m not sure if that is a one-way ticket or not! I’ve been thinking about this from time to time for a few days, and at first, I couldn’t understand why such a story kept popping into my mind because, in my opinion, a rocket ride to Mars is more than a bit absurd. (Couldn’t that money be put to better use here on Earth?) Yet perhaps it’s not for me to judge. If folks want to go to Mars, they can have at it! Surely it would be the adventure of a lifetime. I actually could scrape the money together to go myself, but I’ll admit it. I’m not an adventure addict. I prefer to stick close to home. Maybe that’s a flaw in my character, but that’s simply the way it is.

Mars. The notion of zipping through space toward the red planet must make more than a few people quiver with anticipation. And, such a trip certainly would contribute to space exploration efforts, wouldn’t it? The scientific community, I’m sure, holds the view that such a venture would be worthwhile and if someone other than the United States government is paying for it, why not? Think about it - the planet, Mars. We haven’t conquered that space yet.

With Mars in the back of my mind, yesterday I braved the elements (our first paltry rain of the season) to go for a long walk with my husband and our two German Shepherds. For reasons I cannot articulate, on that dark and blustery day, I felt more tuned-in to our little planet than usual. The sky was charcoal, threatening, and stunningly beautiful. At intervals, light broke through and clouds swirled madly. Gorgeous. A few raindrops gently pelted my face. As we walked down the path beside Thompson Creek that is barely flowing now with only inches of water, I realized what a lovely place this is, only blocks from where I live. While the weeds and bushes close to the water were vibrant shades of green, the grass adjacent to the pathway was dead, a washed out taupe, a wasteland of foxtails, and yet somehow it was alive with a fresh layer of newly fallen leaves leaping in haphazard circles with the wind. We breathed in the musky smell of the earth - “petrichor” - a combination of dry earth and long awaited moisture. A magnificent, snowy egret flew in the air, its wingspan wide, just as we crossed the street that would take us to the next leg of our journey. A dog barked at us from behind a tall, redwood fence. Aw, I bet he would have loved to join us. A black and white cat scampered away when it eyed our four-legged friends, and squirrels, too many to count, darted up tree trunks and dashed down limbs, jumping nimbly to safety. I heard a metal wind chime tinkling a random melody in the breeze. I stopped to listen, and I smiled, content. We walked on, the dogs circling, smelling, and crossing leashes time and again. At last at a lawn area, they were set free to run. They sprinted through the wet grass, charging, gyrating, and encircling each other with pure joy. I loved watching them.

At last, when we hiked up our steep driveway to the front door, after walking a few miles, I felt refreshed, with a renewed spirit, and absolute affection for this place I call home. Earth isn’t so bad after all.

And Mars? Not for me, thank you very much. I’ll watch from a distance and let Mr. Musk and his party of adventurers take on that ambitious quest. Safe travels!