eat my dust.

_with a voice i cry out to the lord; with my voice i plead for mercy to the lord. when my spirit faints within me, you know my way!
psalm 142

planes are majestic in nature. the white trails they generate mark territory and announce the transport of travelers to new lands or return to the familiar. but these tags that prodigious engines make stand boldly for only a few precious seconds. within a few moments, a gravity-bound eye glances back. searches. only to be assured of the fact that it has in fact, vanished. like it had never even interrupted the atmosphere. a bandit in broad daylight.

but in the short lifespan of those paths, they must find themselves silently thankful for their winsome forefathers. for without those vanished pathways, they would not exist. not be in that very particular and intentionally placed position within the huge vastness of blue. they are indebted to those evaporated paths.

i watched a lot of planes on a bus ride from amsterdam. i found the faster the planes went, the faster the trail disappeared. and vice versa- slower planes had longer trials. there's science hidden in there somewhere... in the last couple years i’ve had a disappointing amount of slowing down. even points of stalling out mid air. i have lots of big ideas, mostly vague, that could potentially send me through the vast unknown at compelling speeds. however, other people, my own waning, shrinking in fear, reality checks, uncertainty… whatever the reason, it keeps me grounded… or, at best, flying at dangerously low speeds. consequently, my trail dissipates at a slower rate. pangs of hurt linger. sadness still seems real. could-have-beens still held onto, still on the radar. a shining white cloud mocking against the brilliant blue. i can look in my rearview window and the weight of those clouds could crush me beneath their weight.

i have no regrets. i’m forced to be reverent for the trails that brought me where i am. i do not completely forget them but time has a way of erasing details. memory likes to remember the good things. either consciously or not, the bad doesn’t seem quite so bad in hindsight. at least the hindsight when you’re a couple thousand miles away. when you’ve finally arrived in london, the four-hour lay over in philadelphia doesn’t seem quite so bad anymore. nevertheless, good or bad, i carry those things with me, but there is a direct relationship between the speed at which i continue forward and my perspective of the past.

when flying, airplanes don’t have a reverse. we can’t revisit the good times. cant relive the hurt... amen. but we must, with all that we have, forge ahead. remembering our trail and what has brought us to this place, taking the lessons learned, looking ahead and enjoying the ride… hoping for some turbulence—just because i really do love it. no symbolism. i really just love it.

_my mouth will speak the praise of the lord, and let all flesh bless his holy name forever and ever.
psalm 145