Steven, We Don't Say Aliens: An Open Letter to Spielberg on Disclosure Day
The real question isn't whether we're alone. It's what we do now that we know we're not.
Steven,
Your film Disclosure Day asks: if you found out we weren't alone — if someone showed you, proved it to you — would that frighten you?
It's a fair question for a film. But a lot of us don't need the film to answer it.
We already know. And no — it doesn't frighten us. What you call disclosure, many of us call Tuesday.
Let me tell you why.
As you know, we live on a spinning globe. And not just spinning in a vacuum — spinning inside an incomprehensibly vast universe, inside dark matter, inside a solar system that is one among billions. We are one planet among many. Which means, if you follow that logic, we are emphatically one living species among many.
That's not fringe. That's just math.
And yet somehow, we've let the word alien do a lot of work to make sure we never got too comfortable with that math. That word didn't come from science. It came from the Cold War — from a political agenda built on othering, on fear of the stranger. It was weaponized against our ability to be open to those that are different than us, allowing some of us to be indoctrinated into nationalism and the belief that embracing inclusivity is not in our highest and best good (see also: American nationalism and white supremacy in the US). And all of this worked. For a while.
So let's retire the word alien. What I'm actually talking about is our galactic family. Star nations. Star federations. Beings that have existed as long as existence has existed. This isn't new. What's new is our willingness to receive it.
Your Film Is Not the Revelation. It's the Opening.
I'm not here to put you on a pedestal (honestly, your films aren't really my thing — I'm more of a Nolan girl), but regardless, we all know this has been a topic of fascination for you for decades, and that's what this film is. The conversation about life on other planets isn't a fringe conversation anymore. This isn't conspiracy. This is us starting to catch up to what a lot of us have quietly known or felt for a long time.
What a film like this does is give the collective permission to gather around and consider. To sit in a darkened room together and let the question breathe. I believe culture moves through story before it moves through policy or science or law. The storyboard comes first.
What I want us to do with that opening is go further than the movie takes us.
I'll be honest with you: it took me about three years of real study and honest consideration to arrive at this place with joy. Three years to genuinely accept and believe in life on other planets. To understand myself as a galactic citizen. To welcome the support the cosmos has to offer — beyond the oversimplified understanding and fear-mongering that society and storytelling have sometimes handed us. If you're earlier in that process, that's okay. You're on the path. And if you want to go deeper with considered thought, I'd point you to the work of Dr. David Clements and Dr. Apela Colorado — two very different entry points into the same truth.
The Light Has Always Been Traveling Toward Us.
Here's something worth sitting with: the sunlight reaching us right now, touching our skin — it's already 8 minutes old by the time it gets here. We're receiving old light. And that's just from our own sun. When we're talking about stars beyond ours, we're talking about light that takes years to reach us. Sometimes millions of years.
I keep returning to that.
Truth works the same way. Information works the same way. The light of a deeper understanding of who we are — as a species, as a planet, as participants in something galactic — has been traveling toward us for a long time. And right now, we are in the moment of receiving it. Like: oh okay, wait. That's not so wild. Oh okay, I can look at this through that lens.
Now let me define something because it matters here. We all know interplanetary travel (traveling between planets) is possible— within a solar system, which we've done (robotically, via missions like the Mars rovers). But interstellar travel is different. Interstellar travel is traveling between stars, which we haven't done. We measure these distances in light-years because the light literally takes years to travel from one star to the next. Sometimes billions of years. That's not a metaphor. That's physics.
So when we talk about beings that have navigated those distances — beings that have actually figured out how to move between stars — we are talking about a relationship with time and space that we don't have frameworks for yet. We don't even have the words for it. And that's okay. That doesn't make it irresponsible or fantastical to think about. It makes it essential.
Is it so wild to think that one of the ways they close the gap across those distances is by communicating through us? In the film, Emily Blunt's character is a channel for exactly these kinds of galactic messages — made to look chaotic, disturbing, something to fear. But many of us receive downloads all the time. We call them aha moments, creative breakthroughs, dreams that feel like more than dreams. The frequency is the same. The difference is just the framing. Light is just information, and it has many ways to reach us.
The Astrology Is Supporting This Moment.
On June 12 — the exact US release date of Disclosure Day — Uranus perfects its square to the Nodes. Astrologer Pam Gregory flagged this, and it stopped me cold.
Uranus is the planet of the galactics. Of sudden revelation. Of the frequency that breaks open what's been sealed. The Nodes represent the axis of fate — where we've been, where we're going, and the crossroads between them. When Uranus squares that axis exactly, it signals a collective choice point. Not one quiet decision — a series of choices arriving quickly, asking us to trust our intuition and act in the moment.
And simultaneously, Uranus is exactly square Fomalhaut — a royal fixed star at 1° Pisces, linked to Archangel Gabriel, coded as a conduit for higher knowledge and spiritual teaching. Gregory describes what's incoming as waves — waves of galactic connection, of higher knowing, of exactly the kind of expanded consciousness that a disclosure moment (or movie) would ask us to hold.
The cosmos and the culture are pointing at the same date from completely different directions. I'm not willing to call that coincidence. And honestly — I'd be very surprised if you don't have astrologers on staff, because the timing of this release is glaringly obvious to anyone looking at the sky.
On Sirius. And the Support That's Already Here.
The brightest star visible in our night sky is Sirius — Sirius A specifically, the luminous one visible from Earth. (Sirius is actually a binary system: Sirius A and Sirius B.) And across traditions — ancient Egypt, Theosophy, astrology, metaphysical frameworks going back further than we usually acknowledge — Sirius has been understood as more than a star. It has been understood as a system that may be home to its own conscious life. Beings. People, in their own right. Not just existing out there somewhere — but in active, ongoing relationship with this planet. Supporting us.
When we talk about support coming from the stars, we're not talking about energy in the abstract. We're talking about the real possibility — held across many traditions — that there are beings in the Sirian system who have been rooting for us or possibly trying to communicate through us. Some of that support coming from what might be our future. Some from deep in our past. Time folds differently at interstellar scale. It is genuinely hard for our linear minds to hold.
And that's okay. It doesn't have to fully compute to be real.
Energy comes from stars. Information comes from stars. We are — in ways we are only starting to articulate — in relationship with what is out there. And that relationship has not been adversarial. It has been supportive.
And here's what we don't say enough: it goes both ways. We, too, are supporting. Our choices, our actions, the energy we generate on a global scale — that goes out. It reaches. We are part of this exchange whether we realize it or not.
The Consciousness That's Rising.
I want to be gentle here, because I don't think it's our fault that we haven't yet fully expanded into the understanding of ourselves as galactic citizens. Most of our collective consciousness is still working on something more immediate — how to support the people right next to us. In our cities. In our country. In our world. As you read this, there are people who don't have food to eat or a place to sleep, living under political suppression that is brutal and real. We are still, as a species, learning how to support life on this planet. We haven't finished that yet.
That's not a failure. That's a stage.
And I think the moment we're moving through right now — the consciousness that's rising — is asking us to do both at once. To become better global citizens AND to maybe, for the first time, genuinely sit with the possibility that we are also galactic citizens. That there's a bigger context we belong to. And here's what I believe: that higher vantage point doesn't pull us away from the work here. It actually helps us do it better. When you understand yourself as part of something this vast, the smallness of our divisions — our borders, our nationalism, the manufactured reasons we've been taught to fear each other — all of it gets a little easier to set down. Allowing us to refocus on our shared humanity and how we can organize our lives for human flourishing — and the Earth's too.
That expansion is what's being asked of us right now.
On Fear. And Why We're Allowed to Put It Down.
Hollywood has spent decades telling us that if something is out there, it's coming to get us. That the correct response to cosmic life is terror. That disclosure means invasion.
That is a fear-based agenda. We can name it and set it down.
Here's the thing: if there are beings in the cosmos with nefarious intentions, they've had millennia to act on them. Millennia. And we're still here. Which tells you something about the majority.
It works exactly the way it works with humans. There are humans with dark agendas — humans who operate against the wellbeing of others, who we would call evil. That exists. We acknowledge it. But we don't let that faction define what humanity is. Same logic applies. Some darker forces exist out there — of course they do. But the majority? The majority is not coming for us.
We can acknowledge that fear exists as a possibility without letting it dominate the conversation. We can still live with hope and with joy and with anticipation of good things.
As John Green, author of The Fault in Our Stars, put it plainly — hope is the correct response to the arc of history.
The Choice That's Arriving.
Your premise is still alien-movie thinking — still asking whether we should be afraid of what's out there, rather than asking us to reckon with who we actually are in relationship to it. That's the conversation that takes spiritual maturity to hold. And that's the one we actually need. And while it may not seem like it to you, we are at a crossroads — and Uranus squaring the Nodes on June 12th makes that literal. The choice is to maybe accept that yes, there is in fact life on other planets. To see ourselves as galactic citizens. To let that be true — not just as a thought experiment, but as something that actually expands our identity and our understanding of why we're here.
If your spiritual maturity is ready to hold that right now — good. Let it open something.
If it isn't — that's okay too. Maybe set this down and come back to it. The light is still traveling toward you.
The real question isn't whether we're alone. It's what we do now that we know we're not. How we live, how we love, how we show up on this planet and for each other — in a way that is worthy of the cosmic company we're in.
That's not a thriller.
That's life.
We're out here (in space). We been out here, okay. And we are not alone in that, Steven.
© 2026 Lana Jackson. All Rights Reserved.
