life is just like airports: comings and going

Materialization of thoughts in the air.


on the flight to shanghai:
Here is the cliche: life is a journey.  I have never, until conversing with a highly philosophical israeli red-neck holistic doctor,  given this any consideration.  I always choose actions believing I am aiming to achieve some illusory perfect state of life, thinking that once I get there, every action from then on will be obvious, effortless; I can just autopilot and go.  It was on the plane: the first moment that I have ever felt that being alive means that we are in transit.  There is no final destination.


on the flight back:
While looking out the window, I was posed a question:  what place in your mental state of mind are you, here above the clouds?
i answered that here, in the clouds, i am nowhere else.  all my thoughts, my emotions extend forever in all directions on this single plane.  nothing exists beyond this place.  it's like living on a single breath, and you'll never need another.  above me there is nothing but the infinity of blue.  and i believe that the infinite blue continues below the clouds, where i once believed was earth.  can living be simplified in this way?  isolation in a single plane, with Forever above you, and Forever below you at any given moment, as if you could plot moments like points in a plane?
and then i had this thought.  i never remember that regardless of the weather beneath the clouds, it's always peaceful and beautiful above.  i imagine standing on earth, poking a hole to see the sun, and then i imagine the whole world going out of focus and all the anxieties that plague our lives melt away like the wicked witch---  ahhhh... freedom.  i feel like if everyone remembered the landscape of the clouds from the other side, remembering that it exists right there above our heads, the place of permanent, perpetual peace and sunshine, or moonshine, depending, we would very rarely feel unhappy.






which do you enjoy more, breathing in, or breathing out?