Friday, September 16, 2011

my view...

A lot of folks think that I get to see a lot of things during my travels. I always reply when asked about it with, "Yeah I see a lot...a lot of the insides of arenas." I tend to jokingly add, "The backstage areas are always so picturesque."

I would say that I get to see a lot of the countryside during my travels, for we so often travel right through some beautiful and scenic areas, but alas, I would be lying if I said I do. Most of my traveling is done in the dark of night and while asleep in the lonesome confines of my bunk.

What little bit of the country I see these days is usually viewed from thirty thousand feet while peering out of the window of a commercial airliner. Which, I have noticed, in some ways give one the appreciation of just how vast, diverse, and truly beautiful our land really is. Sometimes I look down upon it all and can't help but think that the enormous tracts of land somehow resemble a patch-work quilt.

When flying during the night, I have seen different cities, large and small, and they seem to resemble little smatterings of light against a black canvas, sometimes taking on the appearance of a Jackson Pollock rendering of anything...that is if JP had ever painted with yellowish lights against a pitch black relief. From the night skies, high above the ground, you can make out the little scattered "occurances"(if that's even a word) of civilization by their spiderweb-ish designs that stand out in the dark.

The other day as I was flying through the sky at an altitude of over thirty-three thousand feet, I happened to look out the window and noticed the dusk sky colors that could only be seen above the clouds. The clouds below me had a billowy quality about them, almost as if they were an enormous bed of cottony fluff that would entice even the most well behaved youngster to jump on it. The clouds looked as though they possessed a spongy quality like memory know where you poke at it, and right before your eyes it springs back to its original shape. The colors of the late afternoon sky seemed to dance across the tops of the clouds creating little shadows of grey on one side and indescribable hues of pink, purple, and orange on the other. It seemed so picturesque and so much to the point that I imagined what it must be like to hold something like that in my hands. Would it feel as soft and plush as it appeared to be? Or would it just slowly sift through my hands like sand at the beach?

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