When I read My words on my page I feel like a seagull soaring from above and looking below to see the web of words. Flying higher, the words get smaller but their meaning becomes more clear. More real. More solid. I can see how they funnel into a path that opens into a huge vastness.
The kind of vastness that cannot really be seen from the ground. It can be alluded to from the vantage point of the seagull. But somehow, to really grasp more of it, that seagull needs to go higher.
Befriending Jonathan in flight for a ride-along journey; listening to his words of wisdom shortening the learning curve; creating powerful meaning in short bursts of flight that once took ages of camel walking across the sandy dessert. One foot in front of the other. Step after step seems so much more arduous than a slow graceful beating of wings; flapping in time with a master far ahead. Slowing to Jonathan’s’ pace even though he can speed through the air faster than time but chooses something different while soaring with me.
As I see my words on the page, I feel myself soaring gently through the sky, fresh air on my face, relaxed on the breeze, holding onto nothing but the sound of grace and the words floating beneath me. They trace an undulating journey of smooth, soft waves in the distance.
Travelling along as time stands still.
Words holding still in time.
Resting on their page.