Flying over the Persian Gulf towards the sunrise, I feel contemplative. I will land in Dubai shortly to switch planes.
Last night, I saw “We choose to go to the moon”, a dance created by my husband Dana and premiered at the Kennedy Center in 2015 after the passing of his father the Autumn prior. It was a collaboration with NASA, who supplied incredible visuals and access to space scientists, as well as astronaut Bruce McCandless, the first man ever to be untethered in space. The sound score includes American classics interspersed with clips from interviews Dana conducted with McCandless, the space scientists and other experts, as well as a New Mexico medicine woman whose father worked on the Apollo missions. It is being reprised at the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery for three nights as a joint presentation with the Air and Space Museum. The work explores humanity’s connection to and fascination with the planets, stars and universe, as well as the character and culture in America leading up to the moon landing.
My father, who passed on the eve of Thanksgiving three weeks ago, loved this dance. From the stage last night, my husband dedicated the performance to him.
Serendipity is many things, including the connection between possibility and reality. It is also the allowance of the Divine to manifest in our lives.
“We choose to go the moon” came to be starting with a flight en route to my husband’s hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico to visit his parents.
Dana somehow acquired a small, stuffed ‘Elroy’ character (from The Jetsons cartoon series), and found it funny to bring him with us to photograph at various locations - from airport bar to yoga studio. Elroy served as both a travel companion and a mini avatar for me. We are weird. In any event, the first leg of our Westward trip was to Houston from DC, and the third seat in our row was empty...so Elroy was sitting in it, with seatbelt fastened. That was until a lovely lady approached and requested to sit in the seat she had purchased.
She turned out to be Barbara Zelon, communications manager for the Orion Spacecraft at NASA. We talked most of the flight - about dance (both her daughters danced and one is a choreographer in New York) and space (of course), and as we debarked, I invited her (and her daughters) to come to see Dana’s dance company at the Kennedy Center in a few months time. They did. By the following year, when Dana’s space dance premiered she had been instrumental in making the NASA connections that helped supply the dance with incredible space imagery, as well as the introductions for some of the interviews that were featured in the sound score. It was an amazing collaboration between art and science.
My father, a sailer who loved the sciences and the stars, closed one eye and held up his thumb to blot out the earth during the last scene of the dance, which features a character who represents John F. Kennedy with his back to the audience, facing the world and waving as it shrinks into the distance, giving us the sense of floating away into space.
The name Dana chose for the work is from a famous speech by JFK given at Rice University.
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?
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 we intend to win, and the others, too.
At the time I don’t remember feeling the added serendipity that Rice is my father’s alma mater.
I guess I’m thinking about my father lately.
I’m now sitting in the Dubai airport before my flight to Bangalore, India. From there, I will head south to Mysore, and then to an ashram just outside of the city where I will stay through mid-January meditating, learning and training in yoga. I booked the trip months ago, before my father’s passing. Before all of this.
It feels like serendipity.