Cosmic bravery

I’ve just emerged from spending two weeks in a state of rapture. Just me, myself and my very close and personal best friends, the (inter)stellar Artemis 2 crew.

Like for so many others, this mission has mesmerised me, distracted me, melted me and left me questioning my existence, place and purpose on this glowing orb we call Earth.

When I think about this monumental endeavour I don’t think about the science or the speed or the spectacle of it all, but the acts of pure courage on display for the whole of humanity to see. Imagine riding atop a 32 story rocket built from a century of human ingenuity, while also carrying the curiosities, hopes and dreams of every living creature that’s ever looked up. Imagine knowing that in going farther than any human has gone before there’s a chance you might never come back. That you might never again see blue sky, sip fresh air, hear your child or partner’s laughter, or feel the invisible hug of gravity pulling you in for an embrace.

This is bravery.

Moving away at warp speed from everything you’ve ever known and loved. Gazing back at a starlit sphere bobbing in a pool of eternal darkness. Being physically separated from everyone that is, has been or ever will be. Putting your trust and life in the hands and minds of scientists, mathematicians and engineers 384,000km away. Knowing that getting out of the atmosphere was the easy part, and that your return will be exponentially more heated, dangerous and terrifying than anything that came before.

Cosmic bravery.

I think about this and I think about the courageous moments in my life, which by comparison are microscopic. I think about my clammy hands before publishing a newsletter, posting a Tiktok, increasing my prices, stepping on stage, starting to hire a team, investing money in my business, committing to a project that will test me and saying yes to an opportunity I feel unqualified for. I think about walking towards my future, away from my past, and in circles when I don’t know which is which.

These acts of micro-bravery are nothing when compared with a mission to the moon but they feel like something to me. Small molehills feel like huge mountains when you’re in the business of expanding who you believe you can be.

To be brave is to see your fears, to dissect them, to know them, to own them. It’s to act in their presence even though you ache (oh how you ache!) for their absence. To be brave is to look at the impending technological revolution, an uncertain job market, the cracking of institutions, a horror show political climate, your potential in the mirror, a journey around the moon…and say ‘I can find my way through and I’ll do whatever it takes’. To be brave is to love freely, go boldly, try relentlessly, learn voraciously. It’s to act confident when you feel anything but, and have will when you can’t see a way. It’s to perch atop millions of litres of explosive rocket fuel and be at peace with possibly no return.

If those four floating, fun-loving, generation-defining humans can do what it takes to meet a celestial body made of myth and legend, then you can move through otherworldly fears in pursuit of a more joyful, fulfilling life.

Every day you have a chance and a choice to be cosmically brave. So build your personal rocket and strap in.

Fly high.

Past the clouds.

To the moon.

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