The Theory Of Flight

Fuzz Bunnies. (A view from 30,000 feet.) November 8, 2010.

The take-off, most definitely.(would be my answer if someone asked what my favorite part of flying was. )

My favorite part of every flight (and I've taken quite a lot in the past few months) is that moment when the wheels leave the ground, and the plane takes off into the skies. There is a perceptible lift, one that makes your tummy do little flipflops in excitement (something like the kind you get when you go on a rollercoaster, but tinier.) Usually, when I know it's close to take-off, I stop whatever it is I'm doing and then anticipate the moment. "Wait for it…wait for it…and we're off!" – I'd say, something I'd keep silently to myself of course.

After which, of course, I zone out, and I don't usually listen to the safety instructions anymore, which is, essentially, not good. Still, you'll have to agree with me, nothing beats the anticipation…and that "lift". It almost feels as if it marks the start of a new adventure… :-)

And to think I almost missed my flight this morning... 

I sort of ignored the 1:30AM alarm I set (I planned on not sleeping and fixing up the house and my stuff before I left. Guess what, I hit the snooze button and overslept until 4:30AM. I needed to leave by 5AM. (Ended up leaving at a quarter to 6.) All's well that ends well, I suppose, because I got to the airport on time (and had just very narrowly escaped the Monday morning traffic jam, thank heavens! :-)

The morning sky was still a peachy pink when I took this picture…

Roadside Cloud Formation on an early manic monday morning. November 8, 2010.

The airport was bathed in a soft orange glow, that turned a hotter amber as the morning sun went on with its daily "rounds". This was what the breakfast counter looked like:

The Early Morning crew's breakfast "Afterglow".  :-p NAIA terminal 2, November 8, 2010.

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    I read the paper on board (I like PAL better than Cebu Pacific) and saw on article on the passing of the great Ophelia "Ophie" Alcantara-Dimalanta, referred to in the paper as "The Supreme doyenne of at least 2 generations of writers, poets and literature educators in the country". There were glowing praises of her work in her multiple roles as teacher, mentor, poetess and writer. Ate Becky (Rebecca Anonuevo) (a friend) spoke highly of her, and Nerisa del Carmen Guevara (I met her once in UST thorugh a friend) gave a little tribute to her in facebook. 

    In that article in the Inquirer this morning, there were excerpts of her work and poetry, most notably "A Kind of Burning", said to be "about love that remains love because it is kept at a distance, unconsummated and unrealized, so that the burning seems to last forever."

        "We have been all the hapless / lovers in this wayward world/in almost all kinds of ways/ except we never really meet/but for this kind of burning." – A Kind Of Burning, Ophelia Alcantara-Dimalanta.

    (At some point, I have felt for the hapless, whose efforts have been in (or not) vain. Yet, that was an open-ended poem…must the need for the turmoil of the "burning" justify this kind of unconsummated love? I believe there is the beauty in this suffering of "burning", it seems, but it sometimes makes me think that it will only lead to a lifetime of regret… Is it really very necessary? The idea of romantic love being treated as an ultimate suppressive sacrifice seems like a harsh reality. An evil pain… that somehow writers and poets find to be a perennial source of turmoil for great work.)

Oh, but I love her work...the visual imagery, the metaphors, the clear, crisp tight detailing..it is simply a joy to read, such a fast pace. I was breathless in the end.  I'd love to have more time to read other poetry of hers.
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    It made me think. About the beauty of love. It made me remember how I used to swoon at good poetry.

    I remembered how poetry in some way always did heal hearts, helped them recharge.

    Earlier at BookSale I came upon two books; one of prose (a compendium of essays, which I would normally pick out) and one of poetry.

    I chose the poetry. I felt I needed the structure and the refinement of poetry these days.

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    I realized that it was time to step away from the hustle and bustle of daily life. To pick up my pieces, to be a bit selfish and to devote my time to "rebuilding" parts of myself, to know what matters…and to get to know myself better.

    (If it's a bit ,melodramatic, I apologize, of course.)

    However, these past few weeks/months, I've felt that I've given too much of myself away and I've realized that before I know it, I'll be all spent. People won't really know what I'm really like, and I'll end up with nothing left to offer anyone. There is nothing to give from without.

    Perhaps, as with everything else in life, one needs space…one needs to reassess one's relationships with the world to be able to take stock and recollect.

    (This "redemption phase" is partially in connection with my unsatisfactory (but not too dismal) results of 

my psychological/psychometric testing (* Bah *) and the fact that someone gave me the opener,

    FRIEND: Isn't anger a sin?

    Me: Do you mean, like in the seven deadly sins, sin?

    Friend: Anger per se…

    Me: [thinking] oh, yeah, it's a sin…

    Friend: Didn't Jesus get angry?

    Me: Like, in the temple?

    Friend: So…Jesus sinned, didn't he?

    Me: But that doesn't count…he didn't do it out of spite.

    Friend: But still he did get angry, didn't he?

    Me: Yes, but it still doesn't count…(after which, I spun on my heels to avoid further discussion. It didn't "feel" right, but since I couldn't back it up, I felt I was going to lose that argument…) I found out later though that it was in the bible, and that anger was a sin when…click here.

    (My Psych Test results showed that I didn't pay attention to detail. haha. Now how is it that I still remember this conversation?)

But still, what bothered me was that I almost always thought I had a ready opinion for everything, but at that moment, because I haven't read much, I felt unsure. (It seems that I'm stressing out over a little detail, but it made me realize that as with everything else in life and medicine, you can't really defend yourself/or come up with something if you haven't read or prepared beforehand.)

(:-) I have a lot to catch up on.)

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My little brother's birthday cake. November 8, 2010.


HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DONSKIE!! :-)

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(There's a real Helena Bonham-Carter movie called "The Theory of Flight". I thought the title was apt. Before one can take flight, one needs the proper preparation, the right amount of anticipation, and the capacity for excitement for what the unknown will bring. But that's my theory. what's yours?)