When the first humans looked up at the horizon several thousands of years ago, I’m sure we asked ourselves, what’s beyond that line? We moved from that primordial valley, either following sustenance or for simply curiosity. We explored.
Every time a river or a mountain stood against us we found a way to cross it. The land beyond the horizon became our goal. We walked and we ran, and then we found a way for animals to run for us. The race was almost frenetic, looking for the next new island or a greener pasture. It took us almost one hundred thousand years to scatter all around the face of the Earth. We have come this far. And suddenly, there was nowhere else to go.
For the first time in millennias, we, as species, are stuck in this planet and are aware of it. We have travelled up and wide through or world and there’s nothing left to discover. What consequences could this imply to our collective health? Exploring is at the very root of what we are. It could be said that it goes against the very nature of humankind.
We are looking up through a barred window, at the darkness of our next goal. We can hear it, deep inside the core of our very begins. We must go.
We must push forward, but not for ourselves because we will not be here when it happens, but for those who are still to come.
In the words of Carl Sagan:
But as for a long-term goal and a sacred project, there is one before us. On it the very survival of our species depends. If we have been locked and bolted into a prison of the self, here is an escape hatch—something worthy, something vastly larger than ourselves, a crucial act on behalf of humanity.