So I’m sitting in an airplane. It’s not even near capacity, so I have taken over two seats, spreading my belongings and enormously long legs over the pleasurably cramp-ish space, and thinking about what it means to be a human being. When floating above the world, where even with both feet on the ground my head is “in the clouds” as the expression goes, my mind seems to wander more than usual. I always assume that I will feel insignificant on a plane, faced with the majesty and vastness of the planet we occupy; however, I tend to feel overwhelmed by my place on this earth. Obviously, I am confronted with the ridiculously high number of human beings living on this crazy planet. Yet this realization, or recognition of fact, only makes me insanely aware that I am playing an important, albeit small, role in this comedic/tragic journey. I know that the majority of the current and future population will never know who I am or what I’ve done, or what I have yet to do. And I don’t want to portray some sort of “there must be a reason I am here” attitude; nevertheless, is there a reason? I don’t mean to say that I was specifically put on this earth to be some sort of significant presence…what I mean is that everyone, no matter how long they are a part of this life that we know, contributes a piece to the puzzle of humanity. I’m sure it seems that there are big and small pieces, and to be honest, some pieces are bigger than others. But I am a firm believer that bigger does not always mean better (I will allow time here for dirty thoughts, and I chuckle along with your adolescent humor, as I share and delight in it myself J ). As I get older, I am further convinced that the most important thing in life is to love and be loved. Perhaps that sounds lame or clichéd or whatever, I don’t care. Love is word of vast meaning and infinite interpretation. Perhaps my romantic view of the world exists primarily because I have been exposed to pure love from the moment I came into being. I am aware that this is not the case for all, and to be honest, I’m not sure how to reason that one. However, it is difficult for me to believe that there is anyone who isn’t loved by at least one person, unless they have purposely put themselves into seclusion; yet there must be a reason for this seclusion, maybe even the fear of love. Enough tragic love stories exist for all of us to know that “true love” does not necessarily mean a happy ending.
Time for me to put my laptop away…I shall expand on this later.
I told you my mind wanders in the air J
[amanda]
LOVE this. Eloquent, beautiful, and what many of us think, but are too afraid to question
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