And so here I go; back in time. I gain 3 hours...but my body is too sleep deprived to comprehend.
It is approaching my 30th hour of travel as I sit awake in the 11th row, middle seat B, of Spirit Airlines flight 339 direct from Fort Lauderdale to Los Angeles.
An escape of sorts. Escape in the untraditional sense of the word...it was more of a strategic exit; our departure from El Salvador.
We left yesterday and now I am awake on this flight. Writing live from 35 000 feet.
I began to write after many attempts at sleep...each failed attempt left my mind spinning, my senses heightened as every bump of turbulence jolting my body and heart...ugh. Flying.
The end of three months in 2 third world nations. Adventuring in lands scarred by war, on unfinished roads as rickety chicken busses whip around corners faster than bats outta hell, armed guards with shot guns casually stroll about; a general degree of unsafe conditions...just typical daily occurrences that fuel great stories.
And now, here I am, high in the sky listening to the sweet familiar sounds of Matthew de Zoete albums to ease my mind. iPod's help drown out airplane noises. Ugh. Flying. My heart jumps again.
"...seriously Ash?" is all I can think to myself..."are you really that scared right now??"
"You just spent three months in rather unfavorable conditions and now you are freaking out!?"
"Really?"
Apparently this little global adventurer has a serious fear of flying!!
I love the airport. Customs lines. Baggage check. Waiting around. Watching people. Watching planes. Anticipation of the next destination. All that exciting stuff.
...but when I strap myself willingly into the seat, give myself up to the whim of the captain and copilot and we leave the comfort of solid ground...m*ther f*cker I have a hell of a hard time.
Breathe. Write. Listen to the music. Turn left...Alex is sleeping. Head turns right...sleepy random dude.
Breathe. Write. Write. Write.
And the serious expression on my face gradually softens as I write. I take deeper breaths with ease as my words flow onto the page.
Okay. "We're cool", as I talk myself out of my flying fear spiral.
Just write.
And with no prior intention, I find myself having the most wonderful time. Completely at ease as I share my words to the page.
"Ah, this is nice." As I settle in contentment.
And then in a moment of awakening I realize that writing = flight therapy.
"This is fabulous!" My eyes light up.
"Why is no one else awake?!" Thinking to myself as I scan the rows of sleeping passengers.
"Common guys, this is the best flight ever!!"
The thesis of this little midnight posting:
Flying = Scary.
Central America = not so Scary.
Doing what I love = not scary at all.
It was a nice moment when I found my mind and body in a meditative calm, an awakened vibrance.
A realization of one the greatest love affairs in my life:
Putting words to a page.
More than ever I know that this journey is not a vacation...but a step in the direction of the statement I make with my life.
And so I conclude...
Do just that. What you love.
The thing that lights you up and calms you down.
And with no compromise in your dreams;
Always let your "being" affect your "doing".
