I’m not a huge fan of flying.
Yet, sometimes, it’s the only way to get to where I want to go.
There’s just something about keeping a large hunk of metal thousands of feet in the air that I just don’t understand. I mean, I don’t understand how it’s possible. With that said, when I’m on a plane going from one place to another, I try not to think about it – especially if it’s my only way to get to where I want to go.
So on my recent trip to California, I didn’t think about the flying part. Instead, I enjoyed the different point of view and marveled at the beauty from thousands of feet above the ground.
That’s the thing about flying – in a way, it’s amazing.
The houses, cars and everything else still on the ground gradually become smaller as the plane gains altitude. Watching the world below grow smaller and smaller makes me think about the number of people on this planet and how big it actually is.
As the plane went higher and higher, we flew through the clouds. At first it was like a thick fog. Then the clouds started to thin, rays of light started shining through and I realized we were suddenly above them. Looking down I couldn’t even see the now tiny houses or anything that lay underneath the blanket of white. What I did see was a shadow from the plane. The clouds were so thick that the sun created a shadow on their surface. It also appeared to be so thick and fluffy that I could step right out onto the clouds (but knew better and didn’t feel like falling to my death).
My mind was split between the beauty that was the world above the clouds and the world below. I kept thinking about the think, marshmallow clouds and the adventures to come in California.