A Million Miles Away was one of the most touching movies I’ve seen this year. It tells the story of Jose Hernandez, who, after watching Apollo 17 as a 10-year-old boy, achieved his dream of going to space. Originally from Mexico, Jose grew up working in the fields. He eventually graduated from high school to become an electrical engineer, during which he met and married his wife Adela.

Jose remained secretly obsessed with becoming an astronaut. The first time he told Adela, she laughed at the absurdity of it. It was not until 6 years later, having discovered 6 rejection letters from NASA, that Adela took time to understand.

“How big is this [dream], this space idea?”, she asks, motioning him to sit next to her. “It’s silly, it’s stupid.” “Jose, how big is it?” Looking at her, he pauses, hesitates, before allowing himself to confess his obsession. “I think about it every day. Every hour. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

With the support of his wife, Jose continued applying to NASA. After 11 rejection letters, he was finally accepted into the astronaut training program in 2004. He went to space aboard the Discovery in 2009.


Dreams are connected with fears.

This is the nature of a dream. It is deep, intimate, constant companion. It is something that bites you every moment of your life. It is immense, bizarre, absurd, and utterly terrifying.

Dreams lie on the bridge between serenity and terror. The closer we approach, the more they become entwined. The more we learn about ourselves, the more we see the chasm.

Down in that chasm, we see the shadow, a mirror, and ultimately death.

Jose knew the grasp of fear when he saw those men walk on the moon. He could not explain it. He just knew that it had a hold of him. It became an obsession for him, every moment of every day.

Dreams are connected between peace and our obsessions. Energy radiates from that junction, and thus, his body speaks.


The paralysis is real.

Faced with the prospect of chasing a dream, the paralysis of fear is obvious. The closer we know ourselves, the greater the fear becomes. The more absurd the vision, the more appealing the inaction.

For Jose, his first 6 applications were half-hearted. Lodged in secret, he knew his obsession was ridiculous, but did it on hope. The support of his wife gave his vision new breath, new life.

That’s the scary part of the process. Revealing it to the people we love. The words to express it become more difficult.

Knowing we face the unknown, truly alone. It becomes easier to stay motionless and practical. It’s easier to drop the dream and become realistic.

The real unknown lies in ourselves. The real fear lies within. Will our loved ones recognise us, if they were to know the truth? Will we recognise ourselves?

Will we be strong enough to push through the depths of unknown terror?


We ask that you listen with us.

Not just to our dreams, but our understanding of peace, and of fear.

Our hearts lie in the junction between peace and fear.
The more we know ourselves, the more intimate the connection. The more violent the juxtaposition. The more volatile. The more terrifying.

Listen to us. Listen with us. Together, you will realise that his body speaks.

Out of silence, those words will emerge.
It will drive him to obsession.
It will drive him to his new course in life.
He will not be able to let it go.

Listen to him, so he can listen.
Watch him find it, so you can find it.
Watch him grasp it, so you’ll be grasped by it.

That’s the nature of this transformation: you yourself will be transformed.
When his body speaks.

Author: David Nguyen

Posted on: November 10, 2023