Walking the Earth with Eyes Turned Skyward

We were on our second lap around the trail when the wind from the incoming storm really picked up. I stopped walking, threw my arms out, and closed my eyes. When I opened them my walking buddy was giving me an odd smile. "Yes, I know. Typical me," I said. I went on to talk about the stairwell outside our office building and how it's a great place to go and fling your arms out into the wind. Feels like flying.

I have always been slightly envious of birds. They seem to move so effortlessly through life, playing in the breeze and soaking up the world from a higher view. So often I think that if I only had wings...

Last weekend the mechanical variety (which I doubt is much like the real variety at all) carried me to Pensacola. A very dear friend of mine stopped wishing for wings, and it was a joy to be at his side. After a lifetime of dreaming and years of intense training he finally earned the right to have that distinguished golden emblem pinned to his chest. I was more proud of him on that day than any in memory from the six years we've known each other. I knew how difficult the road had been and I have nothing but respect for somebody who chooses a challenging path, sticks to it at all costs, and finally accomplishes their goal. I've never had that level of dedication for anything in my life, but him... Now he gets to fly.

If I carry it into the metaphorical, suddenly we don't seem all that different. I've spent a lifetime wishing to fly too, but not in a way that airplanes and spaceships can provide. Like him, I know I have it in me to reign over the blue and, much like his road wasn't easy, mine never really will be either.

I'm pretty sure I can fly. I think I'm supposed to, but I haven't found my wings yet. Even if I had, I don't have the freedom to take off. I'm still tied down by too many things and I can't seem to figure out how to sever the ropes. Some I think somebody else has to cut loose for me. I'm not quite sure what to do about those.

While getting off the ground is a challenge, staying in the air can be just as hard. When you begin to rise above the rest of the world there's always somebody out there who wants nothing more than to shoot you down. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been known to carry a pellet gun too, but I'm very particular about where I will aim. At least it's not real bullets I'm firing.

Nor is it real bullets I'll be up against. My friend isn't so lucky. Having his dream puts his very life on the line, but it's part of the job he accepts willingly. He respects the uniform he wears, and he wears that uniform well. I have no doubt he will make his country proud.

Captured At:2306

Unexpected, Unreviewed

Nearly every hour I've had since church let out this morning has been spent at my living room table working on my paper for Launch and Mission Operations. Throughout this marathon session I've had my screen door open to let some of the outside world I wouldn't experience otherwise drift in to find me as it will. I've felt the temperature and humidity fluctuations as the storms have moved overhead, and I've listened to every sound nature's symphony chose to play for me today. I barely noticed how dark it had become until I found myself squinting to absorb the wisdom the book in hand tried to share.

My mind's wandering has caused my focus to waver at times as this has all transpired. There's a collection of circumstances at work here that feels very familiar. Some speak to the past, others to a future I sense but know nothing of. There's simplicity in all of it laced with one part peace and the other part longing. The spirit is almost tangible and I find myself frozen in its embrace.

I knew him as a child when the summers would come and I'd be on the porch or next to an open window listening to storms and insects serenade the night. I knew him as I spent hours in fields and on beaches gazing into the heavens with aching hope. I knew him my final undergraduate semester and the months that followed; he watched calmly as I tried to find acceptance that my entire world had changed. I knew him in the years that followed as I continued to fight.

And I feel him now trying to tell me that it really is all going to be okay if I can just find the strength to let go. For all the movement that takes place in this world, the level that resonates most deeply within me is as it always was. That constancy is far more important than what's beyond my control.

It's a mysterious thing, really. One of a variety I have always wished I knew how to articulate in a skillful manner. Tonight I don't know if it serves to comfort or upset. Either way, it instills a desire for flight - to run to places I've never been able to go and never will be again.

On a night like this the words simply flow forth. They touch nothing I'm even sure I want to say, but they offer proof that something else is moving within me. It seems benign enough, so I may as well let it. If only 20 pages of research had come that easily...

Captured At:2219

A quick check of my screen corner revealed that it was approaching 9 o'clock. Everybody else - in my office, in my hallway, perhaps even in my building - had gone home hours before. Taking advantage of the leftovers from the lunch meeting, I threw together a sandwich and poured myself a cup of iced tea before finally walking out. I considered that an open container could prove disastrous in my car, but decided to chance it anyway.

It turned out to have been the wrong decision. Just outside the east door I thought I saw something coming at me. I heard a collision with my cup, and I decided to not take another sip until I could be certain there was nothing in it.

This proved to be a wise move, though I probably didn't need the street light to observe the intermittent green glow rolling across the liquid. I bent closer to the ground and poured out the contents of the cup. The bug was not only still alive, but seemed to make his way out of the puddle I had created. I considered it my good deed for the day. I didn't need that iced tea anyhow. Or so I would tell myself.

Looking up into the solid black sky with its smattering of stars caused me to consider my own condition. How much like my confused, trapped, struggling little glow bug did I feel?

In some respects, yes, I am being carried along and waiting for somebody to tip the cup over before it's too late. In others, I am standing still, looking at the possibilities and deciding where to go next. I am entirely at the mercy of my universe, yet it has no control over me whatsoever. How those two facts can be simultaneously true remains a mystery.

I think if I were to do it again I would trade my computer science education for the stars. Sometimes it seems so clear that that is where I should have been all along, yet at this stage in the game it seems unlikely I could get there. If I saw a path tomorrow, I think I would go. For now, I think I have to stick to this one.

Captured At:2352

Neither Road nor Island. Discuss.

We were about 180 miles too far east, but as I looked out the window while our plane descended into Providence I couldn't help thinking of home. My first view of Rhode Island - one surprisingly brown and sleepy for this stage in the spring season - seemed nearly identical to the Albany I had closed in on five months ago. I was surprised how excited the familiarity made me, yet thought nothing of the way I bounced around the baggage claim waiting for my fellow travelers. It felt nice to be back in the area.

The rapidity with which that high faded was entirely a result of my poor choices. Preceding early mornings with such late nights was a mistake, but the opportunity to spend fewer hours alone than usual was a difficult temptation to pass on. My need for real and present friends instead of the ghosts of ones past continues to make its presence strongly known.

Travel produces the unique effect of making me feel closer to the coworkers I go with. I suspect this arises from a combination of shared experiences and the way relationships have slightly more freedom outside the office. They always feel a little more like real friends when the gates pose no boundary.

Other friends came to mind as the stay progressed. I thought of my father and sister as I walked Federal Hill; each step into this Italian section of town smelled better than the previous one. I loved the accents and the snippets of the language my ears absorbed as we passed restaurants with outdoor tables. I beamed when I recognized the list of words running down the side of a building as a list of pastries and simply had to venture inside to make a purchase. I imagined one of my friends perched at the bar in the Cuban place our group of 20 congregated at after the space forum concluded. I imagined another taking pictures of his sandwich at the Irish deli, and still others wandering the conference halls or giving papers.

My own presentation was a personal disappointment. I felt I had left too many holes and rushed it far too quickly. I only received one piece of feedback and couldn't understand why it was glowing. Either I continue to be my own worst critic, or somebody thinks far more highly of me than they ought.

Some things, though, I understand as reason to believe in the better side. I did battle this week with some of my less desirable attributes and continued nudging others in the right direction. I also came face to face with something so unsettling I felt as though I had looked into the eyes of the devil himself. I had never before experienced such a deep sense of being hunted by my own demons, but the attempted manipulation and lure of false safety were unmistakable. I was shaken and shut down, yet somehow had the strength to get away. Gratitude isn't quite enough there, but I know where it belongs.

And when it seemed I wouldn't get any time to really walk around, a few hours freed up. At the very least I learned that the skating center wasn't of the ice variety and I had therefore missed out on nothing.

Once again I see how good it is for me to venture away from my little town. The need to go out and experience the world continues to win out over the difficultly of returning home. As I look ahead to June and my first glimpse of the British Isles I see the potential for both celebration and pain, but I wouldn't dream of passing up the opportunity. These things mold me into who I am and I have to believe I'm a better person for every peak and valley.

Captured At:2216

The Right Touch

For as long as I have been attending my church the same man has been outside nearly every weekend greeting people at the outermost door. He smiles and says "Good Morning" as he shakes hands with every person who walks by, sometimes throwing a question, compliment or blessing into the mix. I always try to offer a genuine smile as I pass, and on occasion we'll exchange a sentence or two more than the usual pleasantries. I recently realized that I've never thought to ask his name, and I doubt he has any idea he's usually the first person I interact with on Sundays.

This morning's exchange unexpectedly turned into a 5-10 minute conversation. I learned that the brief interactions he has with people inspire him and further motivate a genuine desire to help others. He shared with me an idea of what it would be like to clasp the hands of the people walking by and have some charge shoot between them that reveals their life's story to him. From there he would be able to help them.

On the surface it's an interesting idea, but some people are extremely private creatures. The very notion that such a thing could be possible would threaten their entire being. The defenses protecting what they close off and don't want others to know about would be rendered transparent, and it would be done without their consent or control. It's a very unsettling possibility.

What I would offer up instead is the idea that it's not the life story that is important. The summation of the journey is inconsequential when compared to the reality of the present moment. When examined at a real level I don't think people need somebody who knows every detail of their life. I think the necessity is for somebody who understands what their life feels like right now.

Or perhaps I am making the assumption that everyone is just like me in this regard.

My experiences in life thus far tell me that a real connection with another human being is an exceedingly rare and precious thing. It is the one desire I have held tightly to over the course of nearly 27 years spent around wonderful and well meaning people who simply couldn't make it.

That's not to say I have been utterly unreachable. At some of the times I needed it most the people around who displayed true empathy felt like a godsend. On the flipside, I know that other people have felt the same way about me. I'm almost too good at obliviously walking past barriers nobody is supposed to get through.

To truly help another person an understanding of exactly where they are at is critical. Without that, even the best intentioned attempts will fail. Knowing this, that handshake shouldn't display visions from somebody else's fraction of a century. It should produce that squeezing sensation in the chest that says, "I feel for this person in front of me so strongly that their joy is my joy, their pain is my pain". From there only genuine love can flow.

And isn't that what our world is really starving for?

Captured At:1403

Postlet #8-423

Usually I would try to have some sort of subject matter - some point I need or want to make - but tonight I really just need to ramble a bit. No idea why.

I am currently in this frustrating state of half-ill, half-well. I have had a practically ever-present headache since Monday. I crashed by 930p that night hoping I would feel better in the morning. Tuesday was worse. I woke up with my first alarm and got into work earlier than usual, but I was still in a fog. I ended up leaving half an hour early.

Between leaving work and getting home I stopped on some familiar territory to ask the wielder of the biggest hammer I know to smash in my fragile little world. I feel like the stupidest human being on the planet for it. Nobody in their right mind asks for that, but it has to be done. Still, slaying the wild dragon is hard when he's practically your pet. I'm almost as afraid of them failing as I am of them succeeding.

So the source for the headache became twofold. I feel genuinely miserable right now, but I am nowhere near ill enough to claim I'm too sick for life. I really just want to be far away from everybody.

I really didn't get much work done today. I'm not sure I even tried. But I am trying to make a few good things happen, so that has to count for something. At least I hope it does. As a whole, I'm a pretty well-intentioned person. Or so I tell myself. Sometimes the truth is a lot farther from what we believe than we realize.

But the truth right now is that I'm tired. I'm tired and I still feel horrible. And I'm going to need my head tomorrow if I have serious intentions of getting this paper finished for Scotland.

So, bedtime for me. Here's hoping for some wonderful dreams...

And now I hear rain outside. What wonderful timing for such a sweet serenade.

Captured At:2225

Simplicity and Pain

The bug I brought back from the Northeast has made it difficult to focus on work these past few days. It is for this reason alone that I checked my home email account while at the office. The latest email in the thread had been a short message and an eagle poster tagged with a bible quote. I have come to expect things like this from the few people I know at church. The paragraphs I chose to share in response were a piece of me, pure and uninhibited. Almost reluctantly, I pressed "send".

"Once as I drove into work up state road 3 I saw what appeared to be a large object in the median between the north and south lanes. When I got closer I discovered it was an eagle skimming over the grass mere feet from the ground. He was directly out the driver's side window of my car for only a few seconds, but it seemed like half an eternity. I had never seen an eagle before, and to be that close to one in flight was incredible beyond words. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I wanted nothing more than to keep pace as he continued his effortless glide under the morning sun.

So perhaps it will be a beach night, regardless of what this frustrating quasi-illness I picked up in Rhode Island wants to say about it. I could probably use some time with the stars."

The message I got back contained only a series of verses from the book of Isaiah. I should have expected as much, but I was sincerely disappointed. I have no doubt in my mind she believes she was encouraging me and helping me. I understand that some people out there are convinced that the Good Book is all one needs to get through life and I can respect that. I am, however, not one of those people.

That is not say I believe it is irrelevant or without application. It makes some very good and important points; I just have not found it to be the cure-all some profess. What I needed today was not biblical quotations. I needed recognition of what was really in my email and a demonstrated understanding of it. I needed acceptance of who I am. I needed the person on the other end to show me they too can think for themselves, process what I say, and offer agreement or objections. I got nothing even close.

In those situations bible verses feel like little more than a canned answer. I needed to know if the person on the other end was somebody I could actually connect with. It was disheartening to find out that my initial belief of "no" was correct. Is it really supposed to be this difficult?

Hours later I pulled the door shut on an empty office. Outside it felt like the world had frozen, and as soon as I glimpsed the sun behind the trees I stopped dead in my tracks. When I resumed walking I realized there was no weather. It was neither hot nor cold and the air carried neither humidity nor breeze. On the clouds that stretched toward the sea dusty rose highlighted soft lavender. Everything was still and at peace within the pastel sky.

In moments like those I always feel my heart open wide. No longer confined by atriums and ventricles my soul reaches out toward eternity aching to touch something on the other side. Rarely has it succeeded, and the emptiness of the hole within magnifies with each failure. Among all of the causes for celebration this week has brought about, something significant is still absent.

It is here that the clouds above my beachside table began to splash onto my screen and forced me to return home. The knotting headache that comes with my unidentified malady saw fit to meet me there, but for a few moments today I did get the respite I needed. Perhaps tomorrow will be a little easier.

Captured At:2211

Share Some Milk and Cookies and Sing the Sharing Song...

It had felt like a long day, yet it had passed too quickly to really be sure. I was once again the only person who remained in the office. My last act was to send off a single email; simple, short, announcing my latest discovery. "Guess who /finally/ got a 4.0 semester... About damn time!" it said. Once off of KSC property I called my parents to tell them too...

The idea that flashed inside my head as I crossed the street told of things to come. I imagined the team sitting in a room together, smiling and eating cake in celebration. After two and a half years the project was finally a live production system...

I knocked and let myself in the front door. The dog who greeted me followed as I walked into the bedroom. When I flopped onto the part of the bed left vacant he jumped up next to me. We bummed around there quite a while, my sister, the dog and I. We ate, we talked, we lounged on the couches and bummed around some more. There was nothing special or exciting about it...

As a child, sharing seems an easy enough concept. If I have something I can let you use or give you some of, I should. Share your toys, share your snack, share the seat... That principle doesn't change as we get older, yet the significance of the offering does. Share your thoughts, share your time, share your life... It's what binds us together as people. These things common to us, these moments we get together, help bridge the gaps and bring us closer.

Share your soul...

Ah, now this one is much more difficult, isn't it? Those things they tell us to share as children are tangible. One asks and receives, takes and is allowed, or accepts what is offered. There is little doubt as to what has happened. With those more adult things it gets harder. We share things frequently, but the act of sharing is too easy to not recognize. Thoughts, time and life don't seem to register as the gift they are, but neither party seems to pay much mind to this.

The soul is different. It cannot be quantified or broken apart. The sharing must feel like it has been recognized. It's not something often shared with just anyone.

But regardless of the thing being offered, the truth remains that sharing makes life feel more meaningful. The more significant the thing we share, the more impact the act has on us. The more understanding there is of what's been shared, the stronger the bond becomes. It's a means of connection; something that keeps us from going through life feeling utterly isolated and alone. My sharing was minor this week, but at least I was able to do it.

I have been writing here for just over seven years now. At times it feels like some message in a bottle that I've cast out from my little island into the digital sea. It's not an S.O.S. as much as one of those notes saying something like, "April 27, 2008, Canova Beach, FL. Please write to this address and tell me where you found it". It's a curiosity. How far can it go? Could somebody find it? Would they write back if they did? You roll it up, plug the hole, watch it splash into the water, and then get on with your life.

It's similar to what I do here. I write whatever has moved me, post it where anybody could stumble upon it, and get on with my life. The only theory I have as to what drives it is a desire to share. Share my thoughts, share my time, share my life, share my soul. Because maybe somewhere in this, just maybe, there's something worthwhile to keep life from feeling isolated and alone.

Captured At:1956