We humans tend to think that things would be better if only we could be some place else. The alcoholic would stop drinking if only he could move to California, the laggard would be more productive if only he could be in another job. Perhaps the ultimate projection screen for this particular tendency is what is called “outer space.” If only we could be out there, things would be different – ethereal, romantic. Even war would be dramatic and archetypal, not the hell that it is down here.
But usually we find that we take ourselves with us, wherever we go. The desk in the new office becomes as messy as the desk in the old one. Some of the same issues arise in the second marriage as in the first (though perhaps we deal with them a little better.) Once up there, we find to our surprise that we are the same people we were down here. Thus the headline in our local paper this week, “Space Junk May Spell Doom For Pricey Satellites.” We are turning the heavens into a dump just as we did the earth. Who would have thought?