Self Known

When I was younger, I went up in a tiny airplane owned by my dad's friend. I was wedged between siblings, and I could see out a tiny window to my right. I thought for sure if I leaned over to enjoy the terrifying view, the whole plane would tilt. I gripped my father's hand with fear, because there were fields of green and beige, houses and roads, air and light. So much light. I'm reliving this now, and I can feel the stomach tightening anxiety of being oh so far away  from the world. Right now my own airplane is tipping back, my view completely strangled by the overwhelming light of my Father and the talent His creations possess. There is so much that you have, that I don't. There is so much I have that you don't. It is because we are different. It is because we are the same - both of us up in the cockpit of our planes, looking down at the cows and wheat, trying to figure out if North is the North we want. Take what you can from this: Change your persp

Bah-bum. Bah-bum. Bahbumbahbumbahbum. Realize it or not, there are many things symbolized by the progression of a not so straight line. Your heart rate. Blog stats. The rise and fall of pleasant (and not so pleasant) emotions. The complexity and depth of a plot. The taking off and landing of aircraft. There is so much held within the lines that aren't straight and here I am, pen in hand, trying to split my life down the middle with ink. The line looks like a worm and the merciless mocking cackles I hear are only echoed within my thoughts so I'm going to take it as it is. I am going to look at my work and say Hey. Look at that. It's beautiful. How I can draw and articulate my hands and - my my how wonderful is the creation of the pencil. Then you will ask how this relates back to the beginning, and I will answer, "Does it have to? This is a passage about squiggles, not circles." What makes your heart beat?