I Have Loved the Stars Too Dearly...

It is the combination of two ancient Greek words, άστρον (star) and ναύτης (sailor).

Astronaut literally means star sailor.

You cannot study STEM without the arts, and you cannot study humanities without the sciences. In that tiny capsule we sent to the moon, we sent physicists who are also photographers. We sent poets who are pilots.

We sent experts on exact scientific maneuvers who also express precise emotion and experience that will be quoted for decades. They play with a stuffed moon in the background of a broadcast and have Chappell Roan as their wakeup music. They drove around the far side of the moon.

If you could see the earth illuminated when you were in a place as dark as night, it would look to you more splendid than the moon.

"Though my soul may set in darkness

it will rise in perfect light;

I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night."

"Gravity assist." "Slingshot." Of course, on a very basic and objective level, yes, we are taking advantage of forces generated by outside objects to specifically help in our goals. We're getting help from objects in the same way a river can power a mill. And of course we call it a "slingshot," because the motion is very similar (mentally at least; I can't be sure about the exact physics).

Plus, especially compared to the other sciences, the terminology for astrophysics is like, really straightforward. "Black hole?" Damn yeah it sure is. "Big bang?" It sure was. "Galactic cluster?" Buddy you're never gonna guess what this is. I think it's an effect of the fact that language is generally developed for life on earth and all the strange variances that happen on its surface, that applying it to something as alien and vast as space, general terms tend to suffice very well in a lot more places than, like... idk, botany.

But, like. "Gravity assist." I still can't get the notion out of my head that such language implies us receiving active help from our celestial neighbors. They come to our aid. We are working together. We are assisted. Jupiter and the other planets saw our little messengers coming from its pale blue molecular cousin, and we set up the physics just right, so that they could help us send them out to far stranger places than this, to tell us all about what they find out there.

We are assisted.

And there is no better way to illustrate my feelings on the matter than to just show you guys one of my favorite paintings, this 1973 NASA art by Rick Guidice to show the Pioneer probe doing this exact thing:

"... You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. ..."