Ah, the rugged body of the land, feathered by trees and carved by rivers, roads and human ingenuity. I spy a popcorn-shaped plume of white smoke looming over a small industrial hell on the river side. The thin layers of cloud dim the view from above, as we climb higher into the emptiness of the sky.
The plane dips, and our gravity is shifted and our brains sink into our shoulders. This thing, this idea, of flying through the air in small metal ships with a body like an antediluvian sea monster, and sturdy wings like a bird, it never ceases to astonish me.
We are now almost completely above the cloud layers, that thick frosting that blankets the land. They look like waves from this angle, like the tide rushing up against grainy sand on the shore.
How can humans put so much faith into these ideas, and into each other? We sit here and read our books, drink our orange juice, remain silent, ignoring the people around us, as if this is what was natural. Granted, we grew up in a world where this is common place, and yet, does nobody stop and question absurdity of human flight? we see above the clouds, where angels and airwaves dance together. we see the sun rise from thousands of feet above the surface of the earth. amazing! Yet i think we spend our whole existences relying on what another person’s faith is, and we never stop and question things ourselves. Why?
Is it our need of conformity? Is it our desire for normality, whatever that is? What is it? why dont we think about these things? or maybe the reason why is that beyond the awe factor, self inquiry doesnt matter?
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