I just finished reading Carrying the Fire by Michael Collins, a deeply personal and candid account of what it really meant to be an astronaut during the golden age of space exploration. Unlike many official histories, this book isn’t just a celebration of Apollo 11’s triumph—it’s an unfiltered, often humorous, and sometimes unsettling look at the relentless training, the internal rivalries, and the staggering risks that defined NASA’s early missions. Collins, as the often-overlooked third man of the first moon landing, brings a unique perspective: while Armstrong and Aldrin left footprints on the lunar surface, he orbited above, utterly alone.

“Such solitude on a grand adventure reveals a truth about human experience—our deepest achievements and moments of transformation often come when we stand alone against the unknown.”

What was it like to be the sole human cut off from both Earth and the moon, at the farthest reaches of human isolation? What kind of mindset did it take to strap into a machine built by the lowest bidder, knowing a single failure could mean a silent death in space? Carrying the Fire doesn’t just tell the story of a mission—it compels you to consider what it took to be an astronaut in the Apollo era, what kind of person thrives in that environment, and whether the spirit of such daring exploration still burns as brightly today.

Floating Over Another Celestial Body Like a God of Space

After Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin departed the command module on the 4th day of the mission to enter the lunar landing module, named Eagle, Michael Collins was alone in the Columbia Command Module. For over 23 hours, completing a lunar orbit every 2 hours, out of radio contact for 40 minutes each time the capsule went behind the moon, Collins kept Columbia safe and on course. Occasionally, he was able to monitor the progress of Armstrong and Aldrin below. During these lunar orbit phases, he recognized he was the only human being in that side of the universe. Collins had this to say about his time in solitude:

“I am alone now, truly alone, and absolutely isolated from any known life… …I feel this powerfully–not as fear or loneliness–but as awareness, anticipation, satisfaction, confidence, almost exultation. I like the feeling.”

Recognition of Solitude from Charles Lindbergh

After the Apollo 11 crew returned from their historic mission, they were in quarantine for 21 days. This was thought to be needed to ensure that no infectious materials from the moon we brought to Earth and could create an infection foreign to our biosphere. It was during this time that Michael Collins received a letter from the Charles Lindbergh, the first aviator to cross the Atlantic Ocean in an airplane (solo) in 1927.

Here is the text of the letter from Charles Lindbergh:

“Dear Colonel Collins,

My congratulations to you on your fascinating, extraordinary, and beautifully executed mission; and my sincere thanks for the part you took in issuing the invitation that permitted me to watch your Apollo 11 launching from the location assigned to the Astronauts. (There would have been constant distractions for me in the area with the VIPs, among whom I refuse to class myself–what a terrible designation!)

I managed to intercept on television the critical portion of your mission during this orbit of my own around this world. Of course after you began orbiting the moon, television attention was concentrated on the actual landing and walk-out. I watched every minute of the walk-out, and certainly it was of indescribable interest. But it seems to me you had an experience of in some ways greater profundity–the hours you spent orbiting the moon alone, and with more time for contemplation.

What a fantastic experience it must have been–alone looking down on another celestial body, like a god of space! There is a quality of aloneness that those who have not experienced it can not know–to be alone and then to return to one’s fellow men once more. You have experienced an aloneness unknown to man before. I believe you will find that it lets you think and sense with greater clarity. Sometime in the future I would like to listen to your own conclusions in this respect.

As for me, in some ways I felt closer to you in orbit that to your fellow astronauts I watched walking on the surface of the moon.

We are about to start the decent to Manilla, and I must end this letter.

My Admiration and best wishes,

Charles A. Lindbergh

Of course I feel sure that your sense of aloneness was regularly broken into by Mission Control at Houston; but there must have intervals in between–I hope enough of them. In my flying, yours ago, I didn’t have the problem of coping with radio communications.”

Letter postmarked Manilla, July 28, 1969

This is an extraordinary discussion between two men who have experienced an incredible feeling of being utterly isolated from all other human beings. It is this insightful conversation that started me thinking about solitude and inspired this post. The experience of being profoundly alone in a great adventure carries an existential weight that few ever fully encounter. It is an immersion into the deepest recesses of the self, where one’s existence is stripped down to its most fundamental elements—courage, uncertainty, faith, and raw survival. For those who embark on such journeys, solitude is not just a physical state but a profound psychological and philosophical encounter with the unknown. It is a moment where the individual stands on the edge of human limits, facing both the vast external world and the vast internal universe within.

Charles Lindbergh’s 33-hour, radio-silent flight across the Atlantic is a prime example of such an experience. In those long hours, he was entirely alone with his thoughts, his aircraft, and the unbroken expanse of sky and sea beneath him. There was no safety net, no immediate help if things went wrong—only his skill, his faith in his machine, and his endurance to see him through. In these moments, a person is not only tested physically but also spiritually. The loneliness is not just the absence of others, but an overwhelming presence—the presence of uncertainty, of the vast forces of nature, and of one’s own fragile mortality. Yet within this solitude lies an incredible paradox: in being utterly alone, one often feels most deeply connected to existence itself.

Such solitude on a grand adventure reveals a truth about human experience—our deepest achievements and moments of transformation often come when we stand alone against the unknown. There is an existential purity to it, a stripping away of all distractions and superficialities, leaving only the individual and their will to push forward. This is where the great adventurers, explorers, and pioneers of history have found themselves, standing in the midst of something far larger than themselves yet still driven to navigate it. It is in this space—between fear and faith, between self-doubt and self-reliance—that the essence of human resilience and transcendence is revealed.

Some may feel that Michael Collins got the short end of the stick regarding the Apollo, 11 moon mission; He was not able to walk on the surface of the moon for the first time. I agree with his thoughts on the matter however: he was the crucial link for the landing crew to return to earth and humanity. He was the Shepherd of the Columbia command module, without him, and that craft, there was no returning to earth. While his task served that important function, it also for him is a glimpse at the opportunity to be utterly alone, with all the emotions and revelations that come with it.

My Own Humble Experience with Solitude in the Air

I have not crossed the atlantic piloting my own plane, or orbited another heavenly object in a fantastic space machine, but I have piloted my plane for hours without talking with anyone. Alone with my thoughts, my piloting skill, and the faith in my small plane to return me safely to earth when I am ready. It is in these times when I am up there, piloting my craft in the atmosphere that I feel a little piece of what Collins and Lindbergh may have felt. You are acutely aware that your piloting skills, aeronautical decision making and the plane I am flying are all that allow me to enter this world and stay safe in it. Ironically, the solitude has a presence in the cockpit. It is intimidating yet exhilarating to be in that moment. With it comes the obligation to be competent, informed and always respectful of the responsibility aviators have to be safe and efficient at all times. There is a low margin for error in the world of the sky, and you are often alone in that world, testing your mettle. But what a feeling it is each time you are rewarded with a perfect landing to match the peaceful passage over the earth below.

Advantages of Solitude for Professionals

Solitude can be a powerful asset for professionals, offering a range of benefits that enhance productivity, creativity, and overall well-being. One of the primary advantages is enhanced focus and concentration. Working alone minimizes distractions from colleagues and office chatter, allowing professionals to engage in deep work and make significant progress on complex tasks. It also fosters increased creativity and innovation by providing the mental space needed for reflection, brainstorming, and pursuing unconventional solutions without the pressure of social conformity.

Additionally, solitude improves productivity by enabling self-paced work and streamlined decision-making, free from unnecessary meetings or office politics. It also promotes self-awareness and personal growth, offering time for introspection, goal setting, and mindfulness practices that enhance emotional intelligence and stress management. Stress reduction is another key benefit, as quiet environments help professionals decompress, lower anxiety levels, and return to work with renewed energy and focus.

Moreover, solitude enhances problem-solving skills by allowing for uninterrupted thought processes and deeper analysis, which are essential for strategic planning and leadership. It also contributes to a healthier work-life balance by helping professionals establish personal boundaries and create a customized work environment that supports their individual needs and preferences.

While collaboration and social interaction remain important, intentional periods of solitude can lead to deeper focus, increased creativity, and greater career satisfaction. Finding the right balance between solitude and engagement can optimize both professional performance and personal well-being.