Memories of Flight

Have you ever found yourself standing on the edge of a cliff, or atop a tall building, or in a place where the edge of solid meets the edge of sky with no boundaries between them?

In standing in that place with no boundaries, looking outward, did you see the infinite, finite blue, the great expansive disc the never gets closer, however far you travel?

Looking down, did you see the earth below?  Did you feel yourself leaning forward a bit more, a bit more, a bit more?  Feel the pull of the far distant ground drawing you in?  Feel yourself answering the call with tiny steps until you teeter on that line?

I was very young when we flew in the helicopter.  The man landed in the yard and frightened the horses and Mom put us in life jackets and into the dragonfly's head and we rose like a bubble and floated out over and around and under and I don't remember where, but I remember the feeling of being up, and being so small, so short, that I had to stretch to see out the window, and I remember sunlight on the water and wonder.

I used to sail.  Nothing big, nothing fancy, and nothing requiring more skill than a young, not-yet-teen, then-early-teen could manage.  A sunfish, and a four-twenty (I have no idea what it was actually called, only what they called it down at the harbor, and it was bigger than a sunfish and carried  a few people and I didn't like it as much).  I liked to be alone on the water, skipping across the waves, letting the wind carry me where it would.  It was a kind of flying without wings.

I flew on airplanes a lot as a child, shuttled back and forth between family homes.  I liked it.  Delta was nice but Eastern was my favorite (I mourned them when they shut down).  I liked it best when I could look out the window and see clouds below and sky above and feel as if there was no Earth to land upon.  I pressed my face against the plastic and wished I could somehow phase through it to the other side, certain that so high up I couldn't fall but would soar.  The smaller planes, the puddle jumpers, were even better.

I never feared falling from the sky.

I still don't.

On the edge, feeling tugged, I remember mechanical flight.  More, I remember a time, a place, when there was nothing between me and the air.  If I let myself take that one last step, gravity will not snatch me to earth, my memory tells me.  I will rise, and rise, until I'm just a speck, unfettered by the concerns of the below-world.

It's a leap of faith, though.  What was isn't what is, and maybe I will make a resounding splat.  The question is, is it worth the risk?

Do I let myself rely on these nebulous memories of flight, or do I remain anchored in place ever more?

Unraveling

My mother knit a scarf and hat for the Evil Genius a few years ago.  Bright green yarn shot through with other vivid colors.  When we had the Great Mouse Invasion of the van the next year, the rodent gnawed on them, leaving holes.

Such a thing can be repaired, but Mom found it easier to simply use the last of the yarn to make new ones.

I still have the old ones.

They'll never be the same, even if I could mend them, but even full of holes and slowly coming undone, I can't bring myself to toss them away.

I cling to things.

Even when they're gnawed, worn, falling apart.

Unraveling.

But sometimes...

Sometimes...

Sometimes  I DO let go.

A Prayer

Help me do good today.
Let me shine with your light.
May I be compassionate.
May I be kind.
May I be loving.
May I be my better Self.
Help me do good today.
~~~~~
There are times when I am less that the above.  Times where I strive simply not to do harm, when doing good feels far beyond my reach but I reach anyway.

Never, despite all of my madness or anger or fear or sorrow; never, despite the bitterness I have felt at human iniquities; never have I thought that anyone else should suffer or die because they didn't think, act, believe, worship, love or live as I do.

If we collectively worried less about who or how our fellows are loving and worried more about how we could do good today...perhaps the world might become a gentler, kinder, friendlier, happier, more pleasant place to live.