Thirty Thousand Feet

Thirty thousand feet can provide a new and needed perspective.
A steady hum and a small window serve to clear the mind and re-frame one’s outlook on the world.
From above, my cumulus companions look more like attainable peaks than threatening rain transports.
Here the clouds are bright, white, and beside, not dark, gray, and overhead.
In fact, the only thing above me is deep blue . . . royal blue.
Even the sun has moved from her place of dominance to her place of beauty.
She now hangs to the front, well into her descent.
Not above, not below, just ahead . . . bright, beautiful, and ahead.

And the earth? Vast, green, open.
Mountains look like rolling hills. I see a road through every forest.
And those roads are narrow.
The paths of the majority are indiscernible from the hard paths.
The buildings are small.
The tops of penthouses cannot be distinguished from those of warehouses.
All man’s works are nearly impossible to identify.
Man’s efforts are lost in the expansiveness of the view.

Except that I can still recognize the occasional baseball diamond.
From a height where busyness and business have disappeared, a game has not.
Yes, this height is a meeting place for the adult and the child,
For I have found that my new and needed perspective is very much like an old one that I now remember,
A perspective in which life’s worries are lost in life’s joys,
A place where lofty hopes are not hindered by surface realities.

In this seat, the world is far away.
The Creator is close. He embraces me in the midst of his heavens.
From thirty thousand feet, man is small,
But he is reminded that there is more beyond the daily grind.
Thirty thousand feet is a place of rest.

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