(I tried for something meaningful this time)

So, I’ve done this before here (*cringes* maybe you shouldn’t click on that after all, haha) in a post that is basically meaningless, so this year around when flying over the Pacific I tried to rack my brain for some deep thoughts. Again, it is unrevised. 

Hour 1 

The walls of the plane press in from every side, and though pleasant smells waft through the air, everything is artificial, forced, compressed. The roar of the engines thrums through the entire cabin, pervading the sleep that at once melts you and jolts you awake, and isn’t lost no matter how much you try to drown yourself in a movie.

Hour 4 

I think this environment is an appropriate transition to a place so foreign. Even though the whole place dips and trembles, and your legs remain stiff no matter how much you flex them and you end the flight feeling like all the marrow has been sucked out of your bones, it’s all a testament to how much you’ve travelled. It’s a different world, the place you go to, and even though I’ll be fighting sleep the next couple of days, it’s foreign enough to seem worth it, and just simply a reminder that you’re miles and miles away from the world you know.

Hour 7 

The world is so big, but I will travel so little of it. Even when we try to imagine how vast this earth is, how many people exist here, how many places to go and see and how many stories are contained, it’s never quite small enough to grasp, no matter how much we extend our minds. We can be so well-read and still so dreadfully ignorant; perhaps some things are not meant to be understood, like God or the stars millions of light years away.

Or how our plane is only just losing the light of the sun, but will chase it around the world to find it again on the Pacific coast of America.

Hour 8

I think I find release in storytelling. There is so much to say, so much to learn, so many brilliant ways to bring it across, that it is therapeutic and refreshing (to expel the buildup of observation my crazy introvert brain has), but also packed with so much meaning. I love it so much (I don’t know. Do I idolize it?) and cannot describe how it means to me, the same way I cannot describe how a story idea can flesh itself out and evolve so much in my head. Do I understand it? No.

That’ll be my last thought for the night-which-is-actually-morning. I need to get some sleep 🙂

Hopefully next week or so I can get back with something about the modern world and music — stay tuned 🙂 

Photo by Emiel Molenaar on Unsplash

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