A man in the back of the room stood up and asked, "Mr. Aldrin, what do you think of today's announcement of the discovery of possible life on Mars?" The room suddenly became silent and I couldn't help but think to myself that Buzz Aldrin, the second man to walk on the surface of the moon, would forever remember Denver as the home of the crazy guy who asked about the Martians. Much to my surprise, Buzz didn't even crack a grin, in fact he reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. With obvious excitement, Buzz looked up and said, "I just got a copy of the press release myself and I haven't had much time to go over it. I think it's a most exciting discovery!"

Could it be? Life discovered on Mars and I knew nothing about it? I must be dreaming. The excitement of having Buzz Aldrin pay a visit to the Tattered Cover Bookstore in Denver, Colorado to promote his new book was already quite overwhelming. Having been an avid fan of the space program, and the Apollo program in particular, gave a surreal feeling to the evening as it was. It has always been my opinion that our voyages to the moon were an example of supreme adventure and exploration on an almost immeasurable scale. The magnitude of the commitment that it took to achieve such a seemingly unattainable goal is mind boggling, even today. The amplitude of the impact that the first voyage had on mankind was not merely measured by the technical accomplishments of NASA or the astronauts, it was also measured by the tremendous impact that the first moon walk had on the entire population of the Earth. Never, in the history of mankind, has the population of the Earth been so united in spirit and awe as they were on July 20, 1969, when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin first set foot upon the moon. A monumental achievement that will stand forever in the annals of human history. Buzz Aldrin has always been more than just an Apollo astronaut to me, he has been an icon of the spirit of adventure that took mankind to the surface of another world.

Prior to Buzz Aldrin's arrival at the bookstore, I found my excitement growing at a surprising rate. At this stage in my life, I hadn't thought that meeting anyone would elicit such a response. Buzz was ten minutes late, which only seemed to amplify my anxious anticipation. I squirmed in my uncomfortable chair, one of a couple hundred that had been set up in an open area on the third floor of the bookstore. It was tight accommodations. Buzz would be standing about ten feet in front of me.

My first thought when he walked up in front of our group was a rather simple one. 'That's Buzz!', I thought to myself. It was Buzz - he looked remarkably similar to all the pictures I have seen of him over the years, most of them taken within the Apollo spacecraft. He has a rather large, friendly face with very animated features that let you know exactly what he's thinking. He is now 27 years older than he was on that first trip to the moon, and the years have left their mark, but he moves with a remarkable agility that seems to refute his age. He is full of life. When he smiles, 20 years seem to dissolve away.

Age has enriched him, enhanced his perception of life on Earth and given him great perspective on the real meaning of life. He has vision. During his space program days he had a reputation as a rather taciturn, analytical person with little personality, not exactly a favorable characteristic during the public relations frenzy of the Apollo era. But perhaps, it was his cool analytical head and down to business attitude that helped land him the first lunar landing mission.

Buzz looked over the press release and read portions of it to the group. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Possible microscopic fossilized life had been discovered on a meteorite that was from Mars. Such meteorites have been around for years, and this one was discovered in Antarctica. The rock itself is several billion years old, but the meteor didn't arrive on Earth until approximately 14,000 years ago. A time capsule from another world buried in the frozen wasteland of the south pole awaiting future discovery, perhaps awaiting the proper time when men from planet Earth would be able to understand the message that it carried.

The results are preliminary and much further scrutiny is required. However, the implications of finding positive proof of life on another world, no matter how primitive in form, are far reaching. Scientifically, it would be the find of the century. Philosophically, it would change our perception of man's place in the Universe forever. The magnitude of this potential discovery cannot be minimized. If life formed independently on another planet in our solar system, it could just as easily have formed on countless billions of other planets orbiting other stars. We would have proof that the Universe really isn't as lonely as we had thought. We are not alone.

I was thrilled with this monumental announcement. The excitement was definitely enhanced by being able to share it with Buzz Aldrin, one of the first humans to set foot on another world.

The boundaries of life are constantly expanding.

Five days have passed and I find myself in southeastern Utah, near the border of Arizona, standing on top of a mesa. Extending out before me lies a vast panorama encompassing 10,000 square miles. From my elevated viewpoint I can see it all - a rugged, unyielding desert landscape, completely devoid of any sign of human habitation.

I am alone, perhaps more alone than I have ever been in my entire life. A scorching sun pierces my shirt as temperatures continue to rise well above 110 degrees. The view over the edge of the mesa is as sublime as any I have seen. 1500 feet beneath where I stand is a vast plateau that extends out toward the horizon. Deeply entrenched into this plateau, the San Juan River forms a winding canyon that descends 1500 feet further down into the plateau. From various vantage points on the mesa I can see all the way down to the river, 3000 feet below. From this great distance however, the river is silent. So am I.

South of the mesa lie the stately buttes and mesas of Monument Valley. They rise hundreds of feet from the plateau and stand like majestic pyramids on the desert floor. Their shape and deep red color seem to define the landscape of the classic American West. It is an awe inspiring view that seems to defy time and space. Had I not previously walked in the midst of these colossal buttes and mesas, I would not have believed how big they actually were. The wide open landscape and lack of any form of visual reference makes judging distances a very deceptive process. Things are always further than they appear. From the mesa they look small. So do I.

Yesterday I traveled nearly 600 miles to get here. What is it that has drawn me out here, into the middle of a searing desert during August? It is an anniversary. A commemoration. A celebration. A remembrance of my first trip out to this area ten years ago. A recognition of an event that changed the course of my life forever.

Today there is no breeze, there is no sound. I take a break in the shade of a pinon tree and decide what to do next. The Rock calls to me. Many years ago during one of my return visits to this magical area, I sought out my own personal power center on the mesa. I was drawn to it with great force and it has never released its firm grip upon me. It has presented me with a dazzling array of precious rewards beyond my wildest dreams and expectations. It has become sanctified ground for me, but it is none-the-less ground - rock, sand, the stuff of the Earth. The foundation upon which I stand throughout my daily existence.

I scramble down a pile of boulders and make my way to my special place, which is located on the edge of the mesa. A desert cottontail runs out from under a boulder, the first time I have ever seen one in this area. Suddenly the entire area feels alive. I absorb the energy of the moment. I walk around the surrounding area, which by this time has acquired the familiarity that one associates with home. I suppose that in many respects it is my home, a harbor for my soul. Sanctuary.

I do not come here to escape from life, I come here to face it. To feel life. The desert lies open before me, its soul lies bare. So does my own. The desert is raw, naked, exposed. The land lies uncovered. Yet it is a land of secrets. As I stand near my special place I hear nothing, not a breeze, not an insect, not a bird flying through the air. I hear nothing but silence. It is deafening. The silence of this land exudes secrecy. It has much to tell, but only to those who are willing to listen. I have come to lend an ear, to listen to what the land wants to tell me. But I expect to hear nothing, for to come into this land with expectations of any sort negates the reason for coming here. I come merely with respect and reverence for the land. The simple fact that I am here is reward enough for my long journey. I am humbled by the beauty of this land.

This beauty is manifested in so many ways, yet describing it is a difficult task. Dealing with its aesthetics is a very subjective process. Individual perception, interpretation and appreciation of shape, form, and color is a very personal process, unique to every individual. I have brought many people into this land, and no two interpretations have ever been similar. We all see different things. But no matter what element of the land makes its impression upon you, the more open and aware your senses become, and the more intimate the task becomes. It stirs the emotions. As your senses saturate, it overwhelms. It can become almost too much to bare. I've known a few and read of many more who have been driven to the very edge of sanity by the beauty of this land.

I hike to the original spot on the edge of the mesa where I had watched the sunset 10 years ago, a sunset that changed the course of my life. I've only returned to this exact spot twice during the 10 years that have passed. As I explore the view I am amazed at how much I can now see. All of my major personal landmarks on the mesa are visible from here. I can see it all. I look directly north and see the area where I originally spent the night ten years ago. I look northeast and see the area where I camp now. I look east and I see my special area. Ten years! I have as much trouble comprehending that amount of time as I do the countless millennia that were required to form this land. So much has changed - happened - since I first came here. I see the land through different eyes, yet it looks the same. Does that mean it has changed also? Perhaps this land's ultimate message is that nothing really does remain the same. Live in the moment, experience what is here before it is gone.

The sun reaches toward the horizon as dusk beckons. Shadows lengthen. Colors amplify. Liquid shadows flow together into concealing darkness. The world slowly fades before my eyes. Up above, a blanket of stars intensifies and reveals the glory and power of the Universe. I am reminded of the infinite dimensions of space and time. I've come full circle yet it is clear that limitless boundaries await. It is time to venture from this circle and embark upon further exploration. With dawn will come reawakening. Rebirth. Renewal. A new world awaits. I take a deep breath and begin the next 10 years of my personal journey into the heart of this magnificent land.

The boundaries of life are constantly expanding.