The moon has always been with us. Even for early humans who didn’t quite understand the universe, the moon was a constant. It pulls our tides and tells turtles when to come ashore and bury eggs. It lights our way and directs our ships. It entrances moths. It acts as a calendar. Fifty years ago, we made it to the surface.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come William Wordsworth. 1770–1850 Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early…