Another iPhone 5 shot of the same sunset as the image in this post. What struck me most, after crossing the cloud sea, was the way the light hit the plane window and created a series of rays that look like they are being sucked into the airplane engine. As I sort of hinted yesterday, these moments aren’t spectacular unless we pause and realize what is happening exactly in the moment. Flying is a miracle. Maybe we as a society are past the idea of flying as a source of amazement. Given the hours of prep, security, ground transportation and horrible seat space, it’s not hard to think of flying as something somewhat less than amazing.
Maybe I look at flying with so much awe because of the history that my ancestors left. It took them years to get to Utah. Only after a path was blazed by like-minded souls did the journey turn into months. 20 years or so after the first Mormon settlers arrived in Utah, they could take a train and get out west in a few days. Another 80-100 years to turn that journey into mere hours via plane. I have read pioneer journals full of physical suffering, death, crippling illness and hardship. That I can board a plane in heated or air conditioned comfort and arrive safely in a few hours to the east coast and 1.5 hours to the west coast? That’s still a miracle to me.