In 1977, two of the most important records ever created were released:

The Golden Record was shot into space toward the gas giants in our solar system and beyond. Etched on its surface, a hydrogen atom diagram, a pulsar map showing earth’s location, playback instructions, and more.

 

It was encoded with greetings recorded in 55 different languages, the sounds of earth (ocean waves, thunderstorms, volcanos, etc.), as well as 23 different musical tracks, ranging from Senegalese percussion and Mozart, to Louis Armstrong and Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.”

 

It also included the audio of the brainwaves and heartbeat of Ann Druyan, the love of Carl Sagan’s life.

Ann & Carl
 

Ann met Carl in 1974 at a dinner party in New York, when she was a writer and producer. It was a purely professional encounter, although neither forgot the experience. 

 

Shortly thereafter, Carl, my beloved astronomer and philosopher of the human experience, was appointed chair of the Voyager Interstellar Message Project. Then, by chance, NASA tapped Ann as creative director.

 

In an interview, Ann shared:

 

 

Thanks to the Golden Record, their love story is still out there, waiting to be discovered among the stars.

Ann & Carl, on their wedding day
 

It’s the purest, most human message ever recorded. A woman deeply in love, sharing her body’s song of forever with Carl with the universe. Along with it, a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, someone out there would hear the truth of her heart and mind, and understand what it means to be in love.

 

 

Two days after the launch of Voyager 1 on August 20, 1977, Ann and Carl announced their engagement. They married in 1981 and remained devoted to each other until Carl’s tragic passing in 1996.

 

Ann later shared, “The great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. I don't think I'll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.”

Why would we do such a thing?

 

Why would we cast our collective voices and stories out into the desolate void of space on the Golden Record, with no guarantee of a response?

 

I’ll admit, it’s hard to answer this question on behalf of our entire planet, so let’s bring this conversation closer in by considering it for ourselves.

 

Every time you put yourself “out there” (your voice, your truth, your stories, your ideas, your vision), that is an act of profound bravery, even if it feels small.

 

Every time you show up unmasked and vulnerable, you’re boldly trusting the void, knowing silence or rejection could be the only response.

 

In those moments, we act from hope. Hope of connection. Hope of understanding. Hope of experiencing that bliss of what it means to be truly seen by someone else, as we see them fully in return.

 

But too often, our innate desire for connection is quickly suffocated by fear. So we choose silence. We remain alone.

 

When we express ourselves authentically, we often listen for an echo; someone who speaks our emotional or intellectual language.

 

We mistakenly believe we’ll feel most seen and successful if our thoughts are mirrored back without dissent.

 

But echos are rarely the pathway to expansion, growth, or love.

 

As we’ve talked about before, we can learn a lot from magnets. It is not sameness, but rather polarity, that brings them together to form an unbreakable bond. And the building blocks of the universe provide us with countless examples of how opposites in balance are where the most beautiful portraits of creation and communion occur.

 

So, the question you must ask yourself right now is this:

 

 

Curiosity is your greatest asset.

 

Curiosity is the tipping point between independence and isolation, breakthrough and stagnation, or even a great love story and the agony of perpetual loneliness.

 

 

Right now, the Voyager 1 is still out there, far beyond the confines of our solar system. It remains humanity’s singular testament to our collective trust in something greater than ourselves. Together, we made the choice to be found and fully seen for who we are, even knowing there is a chance we may never be understood.

 

But that’s OK.

 

Yes, every time we are curious and brave enough to speak up and reach out, we risk silence as a response. But we also create an opportunity of hearing a voice whisper back with wonder, “I see you.” Even if the only voice we hear is our own.

 

Images from NASA, Smithsonian, Astronomy.com.