between here and there

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Time in the Air


I imagine that for most of us the experience of flight provides a sort of suspension . Suspension of time and body. 

For me, on days when I’m not preparing for a lecture upon landing, there is a suspension of responsibility. Letting go of all the work that I left on the ground. A suspension that feels like being under water when I am snorkeling at a reef. 

Just me and the beauty in the world. Out in it, if only briefly. Being. Fish and shelled creatures, life floating by. Sunlight hanging in the atmosphere of clouds, the birth of day as the sun grazes across the shapes of the earth below.
All just being. 

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Above the Sunrise


Rising out of the valley where I live I could see the lights below dot the floor if the Earth, Making 60,000 residents momentarily visible before we moved across the mountains .
Rising even with the horizon …The sun slit open the sky, Ripping the mountains from the darkness, the Horizon resting on jagged peaks, The Blackness of the clouds giving way to grey then dusty blue.
Not long after the sharpness of the orange, snow squalls float at mountain tops blurring the line and dulling the color until the sky was just a dusty beige. A momentary fade of earth to sky in shades of grey. And a clearing again to the early blue sky of morning .
The plane speeds along for the moment ahead of the sunrise making the transience of flying brilliant as the sun rises continually over the mountains coming and going along the horizon, then disappearing behind the atmosphere that lies between.

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I am flying again. My brain clears as distance is gained from living life up close and without pause. Now, with distance, perspective and writing is possible.
A 4 am alarm woke me this morning to ensure I get to the plane before it leaves the tarmac in Bozeman.
Once above my home ground I watch the dark sky change to early morning light. I have recently learned that what I witness from above the dark clouds this morning is called a double horizon. It looks like this: The uneven horizon line of made from clouds reveal the morning white light that fades perfectly upward to dark night blue holding a delicate crescent moon daintily in it’s darkness. This is the first and obvious horizon. Sun rising above clouds. The second one is the fire red line of light that cuts through and between the dark line of clouds below me. If it was fire season I would think it was a line of fire running across the ground below. But I know this ground, the mountains I am flying over are covered in snow. I accept that the line of red looking like a pen exploded across a black sheet of paper is the sun rising below me. Light stuttering in and out of the clouds. Here, the second horizon calls out the shape of the Earth below reminding me of the intense shards of sunrise that sparked above Teton Valley this past Fall. These sunrises were captured over many mornings for photographic volleys exchanged between my point of view in Jackson Hole and another’s found in Bozeman’s early morning hours.

Soul mates are discovered as our spirits respond to each other. Marking life, matching perspective, listening for the crackling of energy exchanged in ideas about living. Smelling for the fire that sparks a brighter sense of the world. Witnessing the single sun we orbit around as it manifests a double horizon between us. Between earth, cloud, and vapor. Day and night co-existing for a few moments before passing from sun to moon, light born over and over again.

earth meeting the morning

earth meeting the morning