Dan Millls is 22 years old and lives in State College, PA, USA. He is a Geobiology and astrobiology major at Penn State University, University Park.

On a clear night, just a glimpse of the sky reminds us of our true location, our true position in the universe. The stars appear to us only as bullets of light, their true size eluding our unaided eyes. Equally, from those stars’ positions, our entire solar system is condensed into a single dot, scattered among many others, silently illuminating the darkness of interstellar space. That dot, our home as seen from those great distances, doesn’t announce our presence. It doesn’t reveal our tilted heads, fixated eyes, or questioning minds—it appears only as a dot. Although our gaze is lost in the space between worlds, it may be unknowingly returned by the longing eyes of other beings, looking out from their respective dots, floating out there in the void. The late astronomer and author Carl Sagan likened the vastness of space to the extensiveness of the ocean, with Earth as the shore. As much as our species has learned about the nature of the universe while fiddling around on our coastline, collecting and admiring the shells and stones brought in by the tide, our true identity as living beings eludes us. Our drive to explore the cosmic ocean impels us, though where does it lead? Why are we looking out there, and what do we hope to find amidst its tranquil waters? With these inquiries, our spyglass fixed at the horizon, we begin our search.

Somewhere in the universe, we have good reason to believe, are planets like our own. Perhaps on these worlds are beings like us, contemplating their origin, uniqueness, and role in nature. We are only beginning to answer these questions for ourselves. If we determine the distribution of habitable planets beyond our solar system, we also determine the likelihood of our own existence. If most planets are desolate, inhospitable, and uninhabited, then perhaps life and mind are rare, rendering our emergence a fortuitous event in a relatively lonely universe. Under this scenario, other beings may be out there, far away, but we won’t find them, not any time soon, perhaps not at all. If, however, inhabited planets teeming with life are common, then we are in good company, and soon we’ll learn of their existence, and our feeling of cosmic isolation will come to an end.

With the ability to finally detect habitable worlds beyond Earth, as NASA’s Kepler Mission actively attempts, we must anticipate the consequences of their discovery. Today we take the common knowledge—or as of now, the common assumption—that there exists a plurality of Earth-like worlds for granted. Copernicus, Kepler, and Galilei all helped reveal that we don’t occupy a central position in the universe, and the discovery of numerous inhabited planets will continue this tradition. For some, it will confirm a widely held belief. For others, it will be blasphemous. If there is life elsewhere, beyond Earth, there is nothing to suggest that life on one planet is any more important than life on another. As a result, we become mundane, denied any chance of occupying a privileged position in the universe. However, these discoveries, if made, will reveal something remarkable to us: the cosmos is inhabited, not by us alone, but by a multitude of beings. The universe is actively organizing, developing, and sustaining life, generating sensation, perception, and mind. We become part of a much larger process. We become part of the waking mind of the cosmos. Inhabited worlds spaced like neurons, joined in a universal network investigating reality. The universe doesn’t expand blindly anymore, as it did before the first organisms appeared. Collectively, life serves as the eyes, ears, and mind of the cosmos. Life is the means for universal self-realization.

The ultimate fate of living beings, on Earth and beyond, is unknown. Our first efforts to actively find life beyond our planet may ultimately lead to the unification of living systems throughout space, merging to realize truths about reality that we aren’t ready, or capable, of understanding now. It’s clear through our efforts, scientific and artistic alike, that we have a deep desire to see the stars filled with life. From the SETI Institute and the Kepler Mission, to E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and Avatar, we dream and yearn to make that first contact, to find the first evidence of our cosmic neighbors. This intense desire shapes careers and imaginations, but its source is hard to determine. Why is it important to us to make this search, to roll up our pants legs and wade into the cosmic ocean with such anticipation? Our desire to connect with others, our curiosity, ingenuity, and sense of exploration are all traits that have contributed to our success for millions of years. It’s not a coincidence that we possess these qualities, they have been selected for throughout our evolution, and we maintain them now, with new applications at our disposal. These qualities, inherited from our ancestors in genes and narratives, manifest themselves in rockets and telescopes. It is an ingrained impetus, a continuation of the universe’s imperative to create life. Life not only emergences, but sometimes, in beings like us, it strives to discover and network with creatures separated by interstellar space, in an effort to reach unification and enhance the awareness of the universe.

Carl Sagan won’t be here to experience the first discovery of life beyond Earth. His words, however, conveying his passion for knowledge and his enthusiasm for discovery, transcend time, inspiring us to keep exploring. His efforts and ideas, which he shared so selflessly, continue to fuel our imaginations, stimulate our minds, and expand our wonder. Humanity’s collective efforts, our inherently cooperative and inquisitive natures help define our species, and drive our voyage as we chart the islands of the cosmic ocean.