An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth

An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth Plot Summary

Introduction

In the darkness of the Kazakhstan steppes, a powerful rocket erupted into flame, carrying Chris Hadfield toward the International Space Station. As the Soyuz spacecraft accelerated to 17,500 miles per hour, Hadfield wasn't consumed by fear, but filled with a profound sense of readiness. After two decades of preparation, he wasn't just riding a rocket; he was fulfilling a dream that began when he watched Neil Armstrong take humanity's first steps on the Moon in 1969. Chris Hadfield represents the perfect fusion of extraordinary skill and relatable humanity. As the first Canadian to command the International Space Station, he transformed our understanding of space travel through his photographs, videos, and social media presence that brought the wonder of space to millions. But beyond his technical accomplishments lies a deeper story about the power of preparation, the nature of fear, and the beauty of seeing our planet from above. His journey reveals how the pursuit of an impossible dream can shape a life, and how the lessons learned in space—about leadership, humility, and perspective—apply just as powerfully to life on Earth.

Chapter 1: Childhood Dreams: Seeds of a Space Explorer

On a warm summer night in 1969, nine-year-old Chris Hadfield crowded into a neighbor's cottage on Stag Island, Ontario, with his family and other vacationers. They gathered around a television set to witness a pivotal moment in human history: Neil Armstrong's first steps on the Moon. As Armstrong descended the ladder of the lunar module and declared his famous words about a small step and giant leap, the room erupted in amazement. For young Chris, the impossible had suddenly become possible. Walking back to their cottage afterward, Hadfield looked up at the Moon with new eyes. It was no longer just a distant orb but a place where humans could live and work. In that moment, he knew with absolute clarity that he wanted to be an astronaut. This was no passing childhood fancy but the beginning of a focused life journey. There was just one problem: astronauts were American, and Canada didn't even have a space agency. The path forward seemed nonexistent. Rather than giving up, Hadfield decided to imagine what an astronaut might do if he were nine years old, then do exactly that. He would eat his vegetables instead of potato chips. He would get up early to read instead of sleeping in. Every choice became an opportunity to become the kind of person who might someday go to space. Growing up on his family's corn farm in Milton, Ontario, he learned early lessons about responsibility and perseverance. When he damaged farm equipment by driving carelessly, his father didn't simply take over the job but helped him repair it and sent him back to finish his work. Hadfield threw himself into his education with purpose, joining Air Cadets at age 13 and earning his glider pilot's license at 15. The following year, he began learning to fly powered aircraft. While he loved flying for its own sake, he recognized it aligned perfectly with his astronaut aspirations. His interests expanded to include competitive skiing, playing guitar, and reading science fiction, but everything connected back to his central goal. Unlike many dreamers, however, Hadfield maintained a pragmatic attitude. He knew the odds of becoming an astronaut were infinitesimal and refused to hang his entire sense of self-worth on such an unlikely outcome. After high school, Hadfield enrolled in military college to study mechanical engineering, a practical choice that would serve him well regardless of whether he ever reached space. During his military career, he became a fighter pilot and later a test pilot – following the traditional path of early astronauts. When Canada selected its first astronauts in 1983, his impossible dream became marginally more possible, though still extraordinarily unlikely. Remarkably, when the Canadian Space Agency put out a call for applications in 1992, Hadfield was ready – his entire life had been preparation for this moment.

Chapter 2: The Determined Path: From Military Pilot to Astronaut

When Hadfield arrived at NASA's Johnson Space Center in 1992 as one of four new Canadian Space Agency astronauts, the reality of his achievement quickly collided with a new humbling truth: he had gone from the peak of his profession to the bottom of the food chain. The newly selected candidates weren't even called astronauts yet, but "ASCANs" – astronaut candidates. Sitting at a desk beside John Young, one of the original Gemini astronauts who had walked on the Moon, Hadfield felt like "a gnat." The training regime was relentless and all-consuming. While some astronauts never make it to space, Hadfield approached this possibility with characteristic pragmatism. He viewed space flight as a bonus, not an entitlement. "My attitude was more, 'It's probably not going to happen, but I should do things that keep me moving in the right direction, just in case – and I should be sure those things interest me, so that whatever happens, I'm happy,'" he explains. This mindset allowed him to embrace the learning journey rather than fixating solely on the destination. By 1995, Hadfield's readiness met opportunity when he was assigned to Space Shuttle Atlantis mission STS-74. His primary responsibility would be operating the Canadarm, the robotic arm that would help install a docking module on the Russian space station Mir. This international cooperation marked a significant shift from Hadfield's earlier career when, as a fighter pilot, he had intercepted Soviet bombers for NORAD. Now he was part of a mission to strengthen ties between former adversaries. The actual experience of space flight proved even more profound than Hadfield had imagined. During launch, he was so overwhelmed by the experience that his face hurt – not from fear or g-forces, but because he had been smiling uncontrollably without even realizing it. Over eight days in space, the crew successfully completed their mission, though not without challenges. When they finally approached Mir to dock, all their distance sensors malfunctioned, forcing them to rely on a single camera view and manual control. When the time came to enter Mir, the hatch was sealed so firmly they had to use a Swiss Army knife to break in. Between his first and second space flights, Hadfield spent six years on Earth, serving as Capsule Communicator (CAPCOM) for 25 Shuttle missions. Far from viewing this as a disappointing grounding, he embraced the role, recognizing how it deepened his understanding of the entire space operation. This extended apprenticeship made him a much more capable astronaut when he returned to space in 2001 on STS-100, where he performed Canada's first spacewalk while helping to install Canadarm2 on the International Space Station. After another 11 years on Earth, filled with various leadership roles in both NASA and the Canadian Space Agency, Hadfield reached the pinnacle of his career: in December 2012, he launched aboard a Russian Soyuz rocket to begin a five-month mission that would culminate in his becoming the first Canadian commander of the International Space Station.

Chapter 3: Learning to Survive: Training for the Unknown

Few people understand the true nature of astronaut training. Rather than a series of exhilarating adventures, it consists largely of endless simulations, technical study, and meticulous preparation for everything that could possibly go wrong. The ratio of preparation time to time in space is many months to each single day in orbit. As Hadfield explains, "If you don't love the job, that time will not fly." At NASA, astronauts practice responding to emergencies so frequently that new instincts are formed: instead of reacting to danger with an adrenaline rush, they learn to respond unemotionally, immediately prioritizing threats and methodically seeking to defuse them. During Hadfield's time on the International Space Station, this training proved invaluable when the fire alarm blared in the middle of the night. Rather than panicking, the crew followed a calm protocol: warn, gather, work. One astronaut alerted the Russian cosmonauts in their module, another checked the computer to see which smoke detector was triggered, and they methodically investigated the situation. The alarm turned out to be false, but the response demonstrated how thoroughly they had been trained to handle potential catastrophes. This focus on anticipating and preparing for disaster runs counter to popular self-help advice about positive visualization. "Anticipating problems and figuring out how to solve them is actually the opposite of worrying: it's productive," Hadfield argues. This approach served him well during his second space mission when, during a spacewalk to install the Canadarm2 robotic arm, a serious problem arose. Anti-fog solution from his helmet visor mixed with floating droplets of water and essentially blinded him with stinging pain. Rather than panicking, he systematically worked through the problem while continuing to perform his duties. The incident underscored one of Hadfield's core principles: sweating the small stuff – paying attention to seemingly minor details – can be a matter of life and death in space. Survival training reinforced the importance of teamwork and adaptability. During a particularly arduous winter survival exercise in Quebec, Hadfield and five other astronauts spent two weeks trudging through deep snow, pulling a 300-pound sled. The physical challenge was immense, but equally important were the lessons in what NASA calls "expeditionary behavior" – the ability to work productively and cheerfully in a team under difficult conditions. Hadfield learned that even in the harshest environments, maintaining morale through humor and storytelling could be as important as technical skills. Perhaps the most unusual training exercises were the "death sims" – simulations where astronauts had to think through their own demise in granular detail. These morbid rehearsals forced participants to consider not just how they might die, but what would happen afterward to their families and to the space program. While disturbing, these exercises helped astronauts and their families prepare for worst-case scenarios and reinforced the reality that space exploration carries genuine risks. When the Space Shuttle Columbia disintegrated during re-entry in 2003, killing all seven crew members including Hadfield's friend Rick Husband, these preparations helped families navigate the aftermath of the tragedy. The Columbia disaster was devastating, but it didn't diminish Hadfield's commitment to space exploration. Instead, it strengthened his resolve to make spaceflight safer. His experiences as a test pilot studying aircraft control systems had taught him never to give up on a problem and never to assume everything would turn out fine. This mindset would later help him overcome a personal medical crisis that threatened to end his career just months before his final mission to the International Space Station.

Chapter 4: Spacewalking: Dancing Among the Stars

On a crisp April morning in 2001, Chris Hadfield prepared for what would become one of the defining moments of his life: Canada's first spacewalk. After years of training and a lifetime of preparation, he would venture outside the Space Shuttle Endeavour to help install Canadarm2, the robotic arm essential for completing construction of the International Space Station. As he made his final preparations, Hadfield was intensely focused on every detail – from polishing his visor to organizing his tools and mentally rehearsing each procedure he would perform outside the spacecraft. The preparation for a spacewalk, or EVA (Extra-Vehicular Activity), is painstaking and methodical. Hadfield spent approximately 50 full days practicing in the Neutral Buoyancy Lab – essentially a giant pool where astronauts can simulate weightlessness – before his actual spacewalk. Every step was choreographed and rehearsed countless times. Now, in the airlock with fellow astronaut Scott Parazynski, Hadfield faced the moment of truth as they slowly depressurized the chamber and prepared to open the hatch to the vacuum of space. When the hatch finally opened, Hadfield faced an unexpected challenge: "Square astronaut, round hole." The bulky spacesuit with all its attached tools made exiting the airlock an awkward wriggle rather than the graceful glide he had imagined. But once he emerged and secured his tether, Hadfield turned around and encountered a sight that left him speechless. "What's coming out of my mouth is a single word: Wow. Only, elongated: Wwwooooowww," he recalls. The scale and colors of Earth and the infinite blackness of space created a visual spectacle that no training could adequately prepare him for. The beauty of the moment, however, couldn't distract from the technical challenge at hand. Spacewalking is physically demanding work – like "rock climbing, weightlifting, repairing a small engine and performing an intricate pas de deux" simultaneously while encased in a bulky suit that scrapes knuckles and fingertips raw. In the midst of this complex task, Hadfield encountered an unexpected problem when his left eye began stinging severely. The anti-fog solution he had applied to his helmet had mixed with water from his drink bag and essentially created a soapy mixture that had gotten into his eye. Unable to rub his eye inside the helmet, Hadfield initially tried to continue working with one eye closed. But soon tears – which don't flow downward in zero gravity but accumulate in a growing bubble – spread from his left eye to his right, effectively blinding him in space. Despite this crisis, Hadfield remained calm, informing Mission Control of the problem while assessing his options. With the guidance of ground control, he opened a purge valve on his suit to flush out any potentially contaminated air, and gradually his vision began to clear enough to complete the mission. The spacewalk was ultimately successful, with Hadfield and Parazynski spending nearly eight hours outside the spacecraft to install the crucial robotic arm. The experience reinforced one of Hadfield's core principles: in space, even the smallest details matter. A microscopic drop of cleaning solution had nearly compromised a multi-million-dollar piece of equipment vital to the construction of the International Space Station. But it also confirmed the value of methodical training and the ability to work through problems calmly under pressure. Years later, during his final mission as commander of the ISS, Hadfield would coordinate an emergency spacewalk when an ammonia leak threatened the station's cooling system. Though he didn't participate in the spacewalk himself, his experience and leadership were crucial in preparing his crew for the unexpected challenge. His journey from witnessing the first Moon landing to performing Canada's first spacewalk had come full circle, demonstrating how preparation and perseverance can transform even the most impossible dreams into reality.

Chapter 5: Commanding the ISS: Leadership in Orbit

On March 14, 2013, in a televised ceremony aboard the International Space Station, Chris Hadfield formally became the first Canadian commander of the orbital outpost. It was a historic moment not just for Hadfield but for his nation, underscored by his predecessor Kevin Ford who had prepared a thoughtful speech honoring Canada and arranged to play the Canadian national anthem. For Hadfield, who had spent two decades working toward this responsibility, it represented the culmination of a lifelong journey. The ISS is a marvel of international cooperation – a one-million-pound spaceship the size of a football field, built and operated by 15 different nations. As commander, Hadfield wasn't just responsible for a vehicle, but for a multinational crew living and working in an environment where the smallest mistake could prove fatal. Yet his approach to leadership was remarkably understated. "If the rest of our time there was uneventful," he reflected, "I might never actually issue a single command." His focus wasn't on asserting authority but on creating conditions where the crew could work effectively together. Hadfield's leadership philosophy had been shaped by years of observing both good and bad examples. One particularly abrasive astronaut he'd worked with had regularly berated colleagues and created a toxic atmosphere. Hadfield took the opposite approach, understanding that in the confined environment of the ISS, teamwork wasn't just preferable – it was essential for survival. "If I got into serious trouble on orbit," he explained, "my crewmates would be my only hope of survival. For all intents and purposes, they'd be the last people in the world." This awareness informed his concept of "expeditionary behavior" – prioritizing team success over individual glory. In the tight quarters of the ISS, where crews spend months together, personality conflicts can compromise or even derail missions. Hadfield focused on fostering an environment where complaints and criticism were minimized, and crew members actively looked for ways to support each other. He set the example by taking on unglamorous tasks, like fixing the station's toilet during a Russian spacewalk, demonstrating that no job was beneath him. The commander's true test came on May 9, 2013, when Russian cosmonaut Pavel Vinogradov reported seeing "little sparks and fireworks" outside the station. What initially seemed mysterious soon became alarming: the ISS was experiencing an ammonia leak in its cooling system. Without this system, the station would lose power to critical systems and scientific experiments. With just four days remaining in his mission, Hadfield faced a critical decision: the only crew members trained to repair the American segment were Chris Cassidy and Tom Marshburn, with Hadfield himself being the logical third person for an emergency spacewalk. When NASA announced plans for an emergency EVA the next morning with Cassidy and Marshburn, Hadfield experienced a moment of disappointment. This would have been the heroic climax of his command, but he was not selected. Instead of protesting or sulking, however, he recognized that his crewmates were better qualified for this specific task and immediately focused on supporting them. "It wasn't the test I would have chosen," he reflected, "but it was a test of my fitness to command the ISS." The next day, Hadfield coordinated the preparations for the spacewalk, fashioning tools, reviewing procedures, and ensuring his crewmates were physically and mentally prepared. The EVA was a success, with Cassidy and Marshburn identifying and repairing the leak during a five-and-a-half-hour spacewalk. For Hadfield, the experience reinforced his definition of leadership: "It's about keeping your team focused on a goal and motivated to do their best to achieve it, especially when the stakes are high and the consequences really matter. It is about laying the groundwork for others' success, and then standing back and letting them shine." The ammonia leak incident demonstrated how Hadfield had evolved from the fighter pilot who once prioritized individual achievement to a leader who found fulfillment in collective success. His approach to command – combining technical competence with emotional intelligence and a willingness to serve – enabled Expedition 35 to complete a record amount of scientific research while navigating unexpected challenges.

Chapter 6: Social Media Stardom: Bringing Space to Earth

When Chris Hadfield began posting photos from the International Space Station on Twitter in December 2012, he had about 20,000 followers and modest expectations. His son Evan had encouraged him to share images of Earth from his unique vantage point, suggesting it was time to stop telling people how inspiring space exploration was and start showing them. What neither anticipated was how dramatically these dispatches from orbit would capture the world's imagination. Hadfield's approach to social media was refreshingly authentic. Rather than presenting himself as a superhuman explorer, he shared the everyday realities of life in space – from the mundane (how astronauts wash their hands without running water) to the sublime (the Northern Lights dancing over continents). He posted photos of cities illuminated at night, bizarre geological formations visible only from space, and startling weather patterns that revealed Earth's dynamic nature. Each image came with thoughtful observations that conveyed both scientific knowledge and genuine wonder. The response was unprecedented. By early January 2013, his Twitter following had exploded to over 100,000, and media outlets around the world began reporting on the astronaut who was giving humanity a new perspective on our planet. Working with the Canadian Space Agency, Hadfield produced educational videos demonstrating the peculiar physics of everyday activities in zero gravity – wringing out a washcloth, cutting fingernails, brushing teeth, and even crying. These short clips went viral, attracting millions of views and making complex scientific concepts accessible to viewers of all ages. What made Hadfield's outreach so effective was his ability to communicate both the technical aspects of spaceflight and its profound emotional impact. He understood that while the science conducted on the ISS was vital, people connected more deeply with the human experience of space travel. When he explained how astronauts sleep in zero gravity or demonstrated how water forms floating globules rather than flowing downward, he wasn't just sharing curiosities – he was inviting Earth-bound humans to imagine themselves in space. Music became another powerful medium for this connection. A lifelong guitarist, Hadfield had brought a guitar to the station and regularly shared performances from orbit. But his son Evan had a more ambitious idea: recording the first music video in space. They chose David Bowie's "Space Oddity," with lyrics slightly modified to reflect the reality of modern spaceflight (in their version, unlike the original, the astronaut survives). After obtaining Bowie's permission, Hadfield recorded the vocals and guitar parts aboard the ISS, which were then mixed with instrumentation added on Earth. Released just before Hadfield's return to Earth in May 2013, the video became a global sensation, garnering millions of views within days. What began as a simple idea to share the experience of space had evolved into a cultural phenomenon that reawakened public interest in space exploration. By the end of his mission, Hadfield had over a million followers across various social media platforms and had become perhaps the most recognized astronaut since the Apollo era. This unexpected fame was gratifying but also somewhat surreal. While millions watched his videos and celebrated his photographs, Hadfield remained focused on his primary responsibilities as commander of the ISS. The social media stardom was meaningful to him not as personal validation but as evidence that people remained fundamentally curious about space and hungry for connection to the cosmic perspective it offers. Through his social media presence, Hadfield accomplished something that formal education programs had struggled to achieve: he made space exploration relevant and exciting to a new generation. By sharing both the extraordinary views and the ordinary moments of life in orbit, he bridged the vast distance between the ISS and Earth, reminding humanity that space exploration isn't just about technological achievement but about extending the human experience beyond our home planet.

Chapter 7: Return and Legacy: Life After Space

On May 13, 2013, after 146 days in space, Chris Hadfield's Soyuz capsule hurtled back to Earth, a fiery descent that he described as "15 explosions followed by a car crash." The transition from weightlessness to gravity was brutal. After months of floating effortlessly, Hadfield found himself unable to support his own weight. His spine, which had elongated in zero gravity, painfully compressed; his heart struggled to pump blood against gravity's pull; and his sense of balance was thoroughly disoriented. Even simple movements required concentrated effort. "A normal landing, right on target," Hadfield observed wryly as the rescue team rushed to extract the crew from the capsule that had landed on its side in the Kazakh steppe. When a member of the ground crew lifted him out, the man remarked in Russian, "Chris, the clip is magnificent, it made us proud" – referring to the "Space Oddity" video that had reached seven million views during Hadfield's final days in orbit. Even in this remote corner of Kazakhstan, his social media impact had preceded his return to Earth. The physiological challenges of readapting to gravity were substantial. For months, Hadfield worked with rehabilitation specialists to rebuild muscle mass and bone density. His feet, unaccustomed to bearing weight, felt as though he'd been "walking across hot coals." His cardiovascular system had to relearn how to pump blood effectively against gravity. Even six months after landing, he still experienced occasional dizziness when standing up quickly. These physical challenges were accompanied by a barrage of medical tests as NASA gathered data on the effects of long-duration spaceflight on the human body. Amid this physical recovery came the inevitable question of what would come next. Hadfield had already decided to retire from the astronaut corps, recognizing that at 53, with three space missions completed, including commanding the ISS, he had reached the pinnacle of his space career. Some astronauts struggle with this transition, feeling that nothing else could match the intensity and significance of spaceflight. Hadfield, however, approached this new phase with the same positive attitude that had characterized his entire career. "Understanding my place in the grand scheme of the universe has helped me keep my own successes in perspective," he reflected. "But it hasn't made me so modest that I can no longer bear applause." Rather than defining himself solely by his achievements in space, Hadfield saw them as one chapter in a broader life story. He understood that the real value of his career wasn't just in the minutes he spent floating above Earth but in the years of preparation that made those minutes possible. In retirement, Hadfield channeled his energy into sharing the perspective he had gained in space. He wrote books, gave lectures, taught at universities, and continued to advocate for space exploration. His ability to translate complex scientific concepts into accessible language made him an effective ambassador for the space program. He emphasized that the benefits of space exploration weren't limited to scientific discoveries but included technological innovations, international cooperation, and a profound shift in how we view our planet. Perhaps most significantly, Hadfield's experience in space deepened his appreciation for Earth itself. From orbit, he had witnessed the fragility of our atmosphere and the impact of human activity on the planet's ecosystems. "You can see the deforestation in Madagascar," he noted, "how all that red soil that was once held in place by natural vegetation is now just pouring into the ocean." This perspective strengthened his commitment to environmental stewardship and inspired him to encourage others to take a longer view of humanity's relationship with Earth. Hadfield's legacy extends beyond his technical accomplishments or even his social media impact. By sharing both the wonder and the normalcy of life in space, he helped transform public perception of astronauts from untouchable heroes to relatably human explorers. His approach to leadership – prioritizing team success over personal glory – offers a model applicable far beyond spaceflight. And his fundamental message – that preparation, perspective, and positive attitude can overcome seemingly impossible challenges – continues to inspire people around the world to reach for their own stars.

Summary

Chris Hadfield's journey from a farm in Ontario to commanding the International Space Station embodies the power of purposeful preparation and maintaining the right perspective. His life demonstrates that success isn't defined by occasional moments of glory but by finding meaning and satisfaction in the daily process of working toward challenging goals. Whether fixing a toilet in space or performing complex scientific experiments, Hadfield approached each task with the same dedication and attention to detail, understanding that in space exploration, as in life, the seemingly small things often matter most. The lessons from Hadfield's cosmic voyage apply equally well to life on Earth. His approach to managing fear through preparation rather than denial, his emphasis on teamwork over individual achievement, and his ability to find joy in both extraordinary and ordinary experiences offer wisdom for anyone pursuing difficult ambitions. Perhaps his most important insight is that our perspective shapes our experience more than our circumstances do – whether floating weightlessly above the planet or standing firmly on its surface, we can choose to focus on problems or possibilities, on personal recognition or shared accomplishment. For those seeking to navigate their own challenging journeys, Hadfield's example provides not just inspiration but a practical roadmap for transforming seemingly impossible dreams into achievable realities.

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Chris Hadfield

Chris Hadfield is one of the most seasoned and accomplished astronauts in the world. The top graduate of the U.S. Air Force Test Pilot School in 1988 and U.S. Navy test pilot of the year in 1991, Hadfield was selected by the Canadian Space Agency to be an astronaut in 1992. He was CAPCOM for 25 Shuttle launches and served as Director of NASA Operations in Star City, Russia from 2001-2003, Chief of Robotics at the Johnson Space Center in Houston from 2003-2006, and Chief of International Space Station Operations from 2006-2008. Hadfield most recently served as Commander of the International Space Station where, while conducting a record-setting number of scientific experiments and overseeing an emergency spacewalk, he gained worldwide acclaim for his breathtaking photographs and educational videos about life in space. His music video, a zero-gravity version of David Bowie's "Space Oddity," received over 10 million views in its first three days online.

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