When a musician plays, something mysterious begins to unfold. We watch fingers, hands, and breath work together to create the sound we long to hear, stirring emotion until we feel joined to the music itself. But how does the musician know exactly what each touch will produce—what note, what octave, what feeling? A pianist presses the ivory keys, and each note arrives with its own surprise, carrying melody, movement, and the sense of becoming one with the gift of sound.
Our desire to play, to make sound, and to express the music within us gives each person a unique longing to find harmony and belong.
One day, I watched a rocket launch at KSC. As it rose into orbit, I caught myself thinking how routine it had begun to seem—almost like watching jets take off at an airport. Spaceflight has become common enough that launches no longer astonish me the way they once did.
But when the latest new rocket failed its hot-fire test, it completely changed that sense of routine. Watching the fireball, I felt the same shock and uncertainty as everyone else who saw it.
These test flights are part of humanity’s effort to send ships farther into our planetary neighborhood. For now, our goal is simply to reach the next planet over. Aside from Voyager’s distant journey—one I will never live to witness fully—this rocket felt like part of history, destined to be remembered alongside the many others that were lost in the struggle to reach space.
We recently returned from an Alaska cruise, where we saw the striking beauty of the coastline, northern straits, and narrow passages. Out on the water, I found myself reflecting on how calming the sea can be and how easily it clears the mind. Humans are not naturally meant to live at sea, yet ships carry us across it and sustain us there. In much the same way, future spacecraft may carry us to the nearest planet beyond Earth. Mars is still relatively close—farther than the moon, but only months away. The question is whether we are truly ready to go. I think about the record of the ships that may one day take humanity there.
We have a new kitten whose instinct is to climb. As it grew, it kept searching for higher places until it was perched on the tallest spots in the living room and bedrooms. That urge reminds me of humanity’s own instinct to reach farther—to explore the depths of the sea, seek knowledge, and stretch toward distant planets. We keep searching, learning, and pushing outward, always knowing there will still be more to discover. What I will miss, as Paul Harvey once said, is ‘the rest of the story.’