@Astro_YOU

Last Friday, eyes shining, I’d watched as Artemis II burned through the atmosphere, disappeared from communication for six anxious minutes before returning to view mid-freefall

plunging towards the Pacific Ocean with our four new besties onboard. When it splashed down, precisely at the moment NASA had predicted it would, there was joy, relief, pride and jubilation at just what humanity could achieve. This type of voyage had happened before, I know, but most of us hadn’t been alive for that one. The twin heartbreaks of Challenger and Columbia had conspired to temper our sense of adventure with brutal reality but now, especially now, the world was in desperate need of being reminded of its potential.

In the ten days of Artemis’ mission my corner of the internet could not get enough of the brilliant, impossibly charming fantastic four astronauts and NASA as a whole. It was an intoxicating display of competence we were all thirsty for.

At some point in that time I was watching NASA clips on YouTube when my coverage was interrupted by an ad promising to rid me of an imperfection I wasn’t aware that I had. To *fix* my body and make it all better. The voiceover was pitched to resemble a familiar friend, planting seeds of doubt in my subconscious. Any other day I may have ignored it, waited the five seconds until I was allowed to skip the ad then forgotten about it completely. But placed smack dab in the middle of #moonjoy this obnoxious interruptus had exposed a glitch in the matrix and I saw it. Integrity and Orion had dared to show me possibility among the stars but now the forces on earth were collaborating to pull me right back down into place. To render me tentative, unsure, manageable, marketable.

Whew!

Self belief is dangerous. If we were ever to realize our own power this whole system would fall expeditiously. It is much easier to play to fear. Life is long and mysterious. Uncertainty is frightening. Focus on yourself. Think small. Control what you can. Buy something.

Something in my core screamed in indignation “How very dare you! The fantastic four took a rocket ship into the unknown and made it back alive!”

But what does that triumph mean for our little lives? No trips to space lie in most of our futures. Far too many of us are struggling just to make ends meet. Our once vital economy has taken hit after hit in the last year. So much so that a saying has become popular:

“This economy is so bad you might as well follow your dreams.”

Copy moondreams.

In the days following splashdown, high on competence, I made a conscious effort to say yes to my own possibilities. Before I was a writer I was an actress and lately I’d been itching to get back on stage so I found a listing for an audition and went. The familiar thrill of anticipation coursed through my body as I waited to perform. I can’t say that I blew casting away but it gave “I still got it” and it felt good to stand in the power of that skill for a few minutes. I wanted more. About an hour later I found a dance call for an opera. I promptly pas de bourrée’d right into self doubt. I was overweight and out of shape, could I even plié? More than anything I didn’t want to make a fool of myself trying to recapture something whose time had passed. And yet, while it felt ridiculous to go it felt even more ridiculous to NOT go. So I called in reinforcements. My village responded with exclamation points, why nots, what’s the worst that could happens and the pièce de résistance, Aunt Viv memes. I laughed myself out of my own way, lowered the stakes, dragged on some leggings and jumped on the subway.

Walking through midtown en route Pearl Studios I felt some of my anxiety creeping back. When I got to the waiting area a skinny dancer in a skimpy set threw shade my way. Ah yes, I’d forgotten about the mind games. Not gonna lie it worked a little bit, but I breathed through it. Wasn’t long before we were called to go into the room. My first dance call in over twenty years. There were only 3 of us there and I couldn’t bear to look at myself in the mirror so I took my glasses off, placed them on top of the piano and invoked the spirit of Aunt Viv.

As soon as the music started my body remembered and slipped right into the rhythm. The combination moved quickly but I was keeping up! Well, sort of. I started to remember why I’d stopped pursuing dance in the first place. It had always taken a while for the combination to get from my head to my body, but once it did I was on fire. Well I was sparking like crazy all over the hardwood floors but had yet to fully ignite. I needed time. There was none. We were asked to wait in the hallway for a moment and I asked one of the dancers if she wanted to run the combination. She said no. This girl was not trying to help me! Hey, listen, I respect it. At the end of the day I was competition and honestly that was compliment enough for me especially since I’d had to fight myself just to get there. We went back in for the final audition. My performance wasn’t perfect but it was joyful. I thanked the panel on the way out and I meant it.

Down the elevator, past Penn Station, onto the E train I floated, having defied gravity for an afternoon. Basking in the day’s victory I toyed with the idea of adding #astro before my Insta user name as I’d seen the astronauts in the space program do, before deciding to leave that honor to those who had earned it. In my heart, though? I am @astro_jae.

Life on earth has been rough recently. Joyful counter-programming has been necessary.

Artemis helped. Olandria helped. Alysia Liu helped. Bad Bunny helped.

Hope this helps.