Here Comes the Sun

I have a love/hate relationship with flying. And I’m on a plane right now as I type this, hurtling through the clouds on my way to California for business.

I didn’t grow up flying all over the place. My parents were farmers. If you got a ride with the local crop duster once a while that was an epic adventure. Commercial air travel was something people did on tv. If anyone in my family flew it was a huge deal that rivaled the appearance of Haley’s Comet in frequency. My mom would spend days making lists, packing, and making sure my grandparents knew where the life insurance policy was.

Obviously, with a belief system like that modeled for me, the first time I stepped onto a plane at the age of 19 I was fully convinced that I had an equal chance of ending up in a fire ball on CNN as I did of arriving at my final destination.

I’ve since left my inherited anxiety behind and joined the pack of business travelers that crisscross the skies on a regular basis; however, hurtling through the clouds isn’t something human beings were designed to do and that unnatural reality is definitely responsible for the “hate” part of my relationship with flying. Every time my plane takes off?

Jesus is my best friend.

But at the same time, flying is amazing. I love it. And not just because of the convenient condensed travel time.

Take today. The sky is a grey flannel as my plane lifts off. But in less than a minute, I’m blinking into the sunshine as I soar above the dreary and into the sun. A philosophical reminder that even on cloudy days, the sun isn’t gone.

It’s just hiding.

Of course, flying has its downside beyond the natural anxiety of its unnatural logistics. I’m a petite woman and even I find the tuna can accommodations trying. What is it about the seat design in planes that makes my butt fall asleep? Every time.

And right now? I’m listening to the woman behind make a very bad case for her Amway business to her poor seatmate. I feel like telling her I’m in sales. And that the hostage situation pitch is not the best tactic. Five bucks says when this flight is over her pyramid scheme victim bolts through the airport as if being pursued by a pack of wolves.

But even despite the restrictive seating and unwelcome pyramid scheme endorsements, flying is superb. At this moment, how can I complain that I’m being whisked from tundra to palm trees in a matter of a few hours? On top of that, I’m floating far above my email and cell phone messages. Anyone trying to contact me right now is getting my Out of Office auto email reply or hearing my pleasant voice proclaim “Please leave me a message and I’ll call you back as quick as I can!”

Ah. Freedom.

Disconnected from the earth. Physically and literally.

Ultimately, getting on a plane is like every experience in life that’s worth the effort. It makes you nervous but then rewards you greatly. Anyone who’s ever flown over the Rocky Mountains or marveled at the microscopic boats zipping over Lake Michigan has tasted the majesty of the view from a plane and been awestruck by the world’s greatness. And our own smallness.

So here’s to the everyday mundane miracle of flight and its metaphorical truth.

Every day is a new chance.

To face our fears.

Soar above life’s clouds.

And find the sun.