On one of my hold-my-breath-until-we-land flights a few months ago, I was the last passenger to enter the plane (my normal routine) and sat next to a nice-looking man who barely looked up.
But I looked him up and down, gauging how well the flight would go. Not garrulous, check. Not nervous, check. Not a drinker, check. All good to go.
But as I placed my purse under my seat and opened my book, I took offense. Perhaps this man – mid-30s – dismissed me already for being one of those things: a talker or a nervous flier or worse, just an “older woman” who was – dismissible. Continue reading
Battling claustrophobia, I take my first steps
Onto the plane, my hand blessing the metal while using
X-ray vision to imagine a beam of light spreading and Continue reading
Some of my friends think that I’m psychic.
Of course, that’s ridiculous.
I can’t see into the future.
But I do think of myself as a mind bender, or perhaps a better term is mind stretcher.
We all are.
I just believe in our spirit-given gift more than others.
And that is exactly why I decided to use that gift flying 3,000 miles over the land last week.
I once flew, before I knew I couldn’t.
Not in a mechanical metal device,
but in my own voluminous state of being.
When I was young, I flittered with gossamer wings
moving the air … and me.
I flew back then, you know.
No one else believes me,
but my memory is clear and concrete. Continue reading
I’m not an easy flyer, and I know many of you aren’t either.
So imagine this.
I’m on an airplane leaving the city of love to return to the city of champions, and incidentally, the city where 9/11 began.
I keep my head buried in my book, burying as well memories and misgivings, expectations and excitement on my upcoming re-location. But the fellow sitting next to me (I’m in the aisle, he’s in the window seat, with no one in between), in his early 40s, well-dressed with the requisite 2-day-old beard and unscuffed suede loafers, continually looks at his watch.
Over and over again. Continue reading