I know there's supposed to be a thrill in flying, some sort of freedom. I don't see it that way at all. Flying is freedom to a bird, they are built to do it, meant to. But to a human being flying is a prison or a coffin. You are either trapped in a machine you depend on to not die, or the machine fails and you do. Either way you're a codependent or a victim. Neither option seems like freedom to me. Both rattle me to the core. I'm a land-rail-or-sea kind of gal. The world makes more sense down here.
I'm so scared of being up in the air. I hate flying, am terrified of unnatural heights. I'll be fine up in a tree but a roof of the same size makes me jittery. I hold the record for the fastest descent down the Statue of Liberty. I was nine and nearly had a panic attack in that stupid crown. I remember looking out over the Atlantic and knowing I wasn't supposed to be that high. I looked up at all those planes and all I could think of was how good it feels to walk out of the terminal and start making your way to the car or family waiting to take you home. Every time I get off a plane I am amazed I survived. I wanted everyone up there to walk out of their terminals to smiling, warm, faces. I want everyone to be content.
I think this is why I was so drawn to homesteading and why I am trying to become a farmer. There is such good in knowing everyone is okay. There is no deeper sense of calm here than when everyone is eating, and watered, fenced and safe. Tending to animals isn't the same as landing a 747, but the idea of getting everyone through the day alive is. A lot of times I don't. Foxes snatch, rabbits get sick, raccoons learn to scale walls and steal polts. But when everyone is okay I beam and sigh. A little faux order does wonders for me. I'll take a sheep over a flying machine any day.
The dogs looked up with me for a while and then peed. They could care less who falls out of the sky tonight.