Beyond Mars
I held my breath. My right index finger hovered over the <return> key on my MacBook Pro, and I gazed once more over the sea of characters on the screen. Not in review. Not in uncertainty. Not furtively. But with a premonition of needing to cement this moment to memory.
And pressing that <return> key would indeed change my life forever.
How ironic that I was about to press <return> to apply for a one-way mission to Mars. The Mars One mission. To be a part of humanity’s next giant leap forward. To go one-way to Mars to help establish humankind’s first outpost on another planet. And never return.
At that moment it seemed as if I was in multidimensional space where science fiction and fact were interwoven, and that I was orchestrating the formation of a new star.
I had not thought I would be chosen. Yet I had also not thought I would not be chosen. The universe was opening before me, and it felt natural, predestined, to take that one small step. And press <return>.
Eight years later Mars One closed their doors. Not a scam as those less informed may have thought, but an idea that may not have been the right idea in the right way at the right time. Over those 8 years I have been fortunate to speak with innumerable people around the world as fascinated about the idea as me (maybe not quite as fascinated – I don’t think they applied….). Senior political figures, astronauts, school children, corporate executives, the elderly, prisoners, homeless people, you.
So the day I received an email from Bas Lansdorp, Mars One CEO, advising all of us in the Mars 100 (the 100 shortlisted candidates worldwide) of the closure of Mars One’s mission, I reflected on those dreams. And on what the seed of that incredible idea was and is:
To share space as a united humanity.
The immediate emotion I felt was a flatness. An empty sadness. The sort of heaviness you feel when you leave a place or person you love. I recognised these early pangs of grief – I had experienced them far more acutely and deeply only a year prior when my father had died.
That night as I took myself to bed feeling hollow, I stopped and ‘spoke’ with my dad. Words whispered in the darkness of my room to the idea of a man about an ideal I had embraced.
The next morning I woke with the wisdom of unbroken slumber and the gentle memory of my father. Seven clear words were gathered in my mind:
What an incredible chapter in your life!
Thanks dad.
Mars One was/is just one (incredible) chapter in the book of my rather remarkable life. And like all well written books, consistent themes are clear and woven throughout and between each chapter:
This is evident in every job I have held, every not-for-profit and community group I have volunteered with. And in the incredible, world-changing ideas I have supported or generated.
What does Dianne McGrath’s next chapter look like? Only space and time will tell. But you can guarantee as I turn the page beyond Mars, I will be setting the ink with great purpose.