If I wanted to fly, though, either metaphorically, spiritually or physically, why would I begin by throwing myself at the ground? Forgive my ignorance, but it seems like whenever I am flying (in an airplane, of course) or feel like I am flying on the inside, I am, in essence, very far away from the ground. Or am I?
Maybe real flying is hovering closely above the ground, above rock-bottom, and somehow missing the fall. Missing gravity. Missing the urge to get sucked back down. Flirting with death, but then coyly skipping away. In this sense, I feel like there has been a lot of flying going on lately.
For myself, there are few things that I currently enjoy more than:
a) the chance to catch up with people that I hadn't seen in a while
b) a glass of good wine (or two...and a half...)
c) a good night's sleep
If my life were a multiple-choice test and the question went something along the lines of: "Which of these choices makes Becca fly a little?", then the correct answer would just have to be 'a'. Because sometimes listening to people and talking to people is exactly like throwing yourself towards the ground. The best conversations are the most difficult ones. The moments during which we would be most vulnerable but find ourselves most secure are the moments during which we can fly. When truly amazing people die, their legacies allow the rest of us to fly. Things that stem from brutal situations are the things that make us fly. The closer to disaster that we come, the more opportunity there is to escape, somehow equipping ourselves better than before.
A good number of discussions this week stemmed from death. Literally. But these were discussions grounded in life, in lively revolution. Discussion of a paradigm shift. Ways to use what we know in the most effective manner. I keep coming into contact with brilliant, inspiring people who truly believe that everything that I am and have become will be used to dramatically alter some fundamental, currently unidentified characteristic of what we think we know. What a crazy, exhilarating responsibility. The thing is, only a handful of the people that I have spoken to over the past week or so realize how damaged I have been, and likewise only a few can realize the magnitude of this jump across the spectrum of my life. I'm not entirely sure what I'm trying to say anymore, honestly. So I'll close with a lyric that summarizes what I think just might be my ultimate point.
"...and God help you if you are a Phoenix, and you dare to rise up from the ash. A thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy as you are just flying past..." - Ani DiFranco