One of the worst fates that could befall a ship in the age of sail was becoming becalmed. Stuck in the middle of the vast blue with no means of escape, endangered by ones own progress. Drifting, unable to make any progress forward or back, sometimes for days or weeks. Alone, unable to even cry for help.
I have felt becalmed, as of late. As if the wind has left my sails, as if the wind in my sails has vanished, the progress I have made turned into isolation and ruin. That while I might continue on with my daily tasks and be able operate for a while, I can move forward no longer.
I have an old callback with a friend of mine, somewhere between tired old warhorse of sentimentality and a genuine piece of joy and intimacy. That some day, somehow, I will host a mars landing viewing party, and invite all my friends, and that this great dream and drive I have will not vanish into smoke. That, maybe, it’s not just my own stupid blind hope for a future as i conceived it half a decade ago.
It feels silly, quite frankly like a drastic misallocation of priorities, to genuinely care about the defunding and deprioritization of the american space program, especially more exotic and weird parts of it like a manned mission of Mars. People are starving, people are being sent to concentration camps, people are being killed. But, it also serves to have a driving force. A dream, a hope.
While, it is true, that one must fight against fascism, against authoritarianism and militarism, it is also important that one fight and direct efforts towards something. Towards a hope, a dream, a goal. Not just safety, not just a lack of danger. Something to keep the winds in your sails when you are three months out to sea, out past fascism , past fear, past moon, past all these thresholds it is so terrifying to stand just on the edge of, looking out towards a future as uncertain as it is polarized.
But I have dared hope once more, hope that maybe this fascist regime will not outlast me, hope that maybe the fear will ease, hope that while the world grows crueler, people are working harder and harder for the good.
And while the wind has only just started to pick up, and my fear and desperation has just begun to lighten, I can see a future now, not as I once did, but still kind. That while we may have to work our way through thorns, through suffering, we will someday reach the stars.
Until then, I’ll keep thinking about mars parties, and reminding myself that fascism is a death cult.
