What do we make of the moon?
To honor the moon when it was in eclipse, Diné (Navajo) writer Jaclyn Roessel’s family would be still, using the time to quietly recall stories and say ceremonial prayers. It is a sacred time for the Diné — food, sleep and noise are to be avoided as much as possible. They become the moon, seeing what she sees — still in their contemplation of the earth on one side and the vastness of nothingness on the other.
This makes sense. The moon is a place of silence, as is all of space. Ms. Roessel writes in “Grownup Navajo” that she has been taught to respect the moon: “This respect is shown in several ways but the most stark is our dedication to letting the moon be.”
Letting her be might not be an option any more. The moon has captivated people from the beginning of time, but as we get closer and closer to unlocking her commercial potential, we risk losing what made her sacred, what made her magic.
And she is magic. There have always been moon goddesses. The moon is forever tied to the feminine, to blood, to the tide, to drowning. She has always demanded worship. No culture denies her power. No mythology, no religion, declines to mention her.
The moon has always been an object of praise, much like her brother the sun. The sun represents life, with all his sunshine and helping things grow and thrive and whatnot, and the moon represents death, darkness and the silent assassins of the night, owl and bat alike.
But the moon, unlike the sun, is within reach. Mankind has touched it. It is the place in space we know best of all, a rock that belongs to all of us.
The Steel City in space
Pittsburgh almost made it to the moon. Or, rather — Pittsburghbased Astrobotic’s Peregrine lander almost made it to the moon. A malfunctioning propulsion system prevented it from getting to earth’s only natural satellite. Soon it will run out of fuel, hopefully on its way back to our planet.
Astrobotic is a company of the future: It provides shipping services to the moon. The Peregrine lander contained 20 payloads, including scientific instruments for foreign space agencies and NASA, sentimental knick-knacks, commercial endeavors and even a rover from Carnegie Mellon University.
When Astrobotic announced their flight, I thought about John F. Kennedy’s moon speech, which he gave at Rice University, whose mascot is the Owl. As a Rice alum, I have heard about it endlessly, mainly because of these lines: “But why, some say, the moon? Why choose this as our goal? And they may well ask why climb the highest mountain. Why, 35 years ago, fly the Atlantic? Why does Rice play Texas?”
He goes on to say: “We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.”
We arrived on the moon in that decade. And Rice did beat Texas in 1994. So perhaps anything is possible! And the next steps are just as exciting. Regular and stable trips to the moon from companies like Astrobotic open up the possibility of a lunar base, and “other things” only to be imagined.
Commercial endeavors
NASA’s collaboration with Astrobotic, the privatization and commercialization of moon travel, has also opened up a host of complicated questions.
While Astrobotic screens the companies who buy payload space, it’s not hard to imagine a future where people will be sending all kinds of questionable things to the moon. We’ll have to talk about pollution and space trash. We will also have to talk about what respectful use of the moon means.
Astrobotic’s 20 payloads include two from companies Celestis and Elysium Space, who, according to NPR, “are sending small portions, no more than three grams, of the cremated remains of a combined 95 people and one dog.”
This will turn the moon into a burial ground. Again.
The ashes of a NASA geologist were sent to the moon in 1998, prompting the Navajo Nation to protest, as their cultural practices forbid worshiping a place that contains human remains. NASA promised to consult them if it ever happened again. They didn’t.
Claiming the moon
As I talked this over with my family at dinner, my husband pointed out that if we do have a lunar base on the moon someday, a person could die there. It could be the burial ground of many people.
Those are the hazards of exploration.
In our haste to “organize and measure the best of our energies and skills,” it could get very noisy on the moon. But is the preservation of silence more important than human ingenuity and curiosity? The question is irrelevant. Celestis and Elysium Space never considered the Navajo point of view. They simply sold eternity on the moon for $13,000 a slice.
I’m sad that Astrobotic’s Peregrine lander was a failure. And while I know that there are no real failures in science, as there is much to be learned and gained from things not working as they should, I also wonder what else we could have learned from this mission.
Who owns the moon? Is it whoever gets there? Or does it belong to no one? To everyone? How do we share it?
The Diné have very specific thoughts about death. They avoid burial sites whenever possible and
avoid talking or thinking about the dead. Sending human remains to the moon will inevitably take something from them: How can they contemplate the moon if it is a burial ground they are forbidden to contemplate?
We will rob the Navajo of the moon. We will rob them of a piece of their culture that has existed for centuries. And it might be inevitable.
When it comes to lunar development, Navajo Nation President Buu Nygren told NPR, “We’re not trying to claim the moon. We’re not trying to claim the sky or the universe or anything like that, but you should do it in respect.”
Perhaps, in true Navajo tradition, we should consider the moon as it is. Before we make it into something else entirely.