Contemplations over Pennsylvania

A sad thing I see as I sit on a plane, sun disappearing rapidly behind me in the west. Just beyond the glass, far below, the lights of ‘civilization’ gleam upward into the night sky. Stars above shine down from unfathomable distances allowing us glimpses of their past, as vast nebulae pierce the featureless darkening earth below; oceans of space and terrain dotted by beacons of life both potential and definite. A fiery yellow-orange horizon divides the earthly and celestial blackness; ever separate pools which stoically face one another and never blink

Here I sit, alone in my contemplations hampered by dozens of reading lights and the dancing images on the televisions. I wonder why it is: Are they afraid to think as deeply as this? Are they afraid to discover the beauty in the least distant places of their existence? Are they afraid of how small they truly are? Why must we fight the idea that we do not compare to the wonders of the universe? Our lives are measured in decades and yet we fight for notoriety, wealth and power only to be but a foot note in history.

It would seem that my fellow man has lost much of his clamor for the truly beautiful; hoping to find meaning and beauty only in the complexly packaged where often, no meaning exists. If all they did was turn off their lights they might be enraptured by the elaborate road map of man’s work just outside their windows. Awe-inspiring this perspective is; a rare view of our world, from below the clouds appear painted, but from here they look solid, full of substance, painted in light and shadow from dwindling Sol. A single image is timeless in its balance of the simple and complex; a single instant captured forever, never to be relived. Each of these passing instants I can find only sublime.

Polaris is a stalwart and comforting presence in the sky as we pass just south of Pittsburgh; a brilliant electric fire on the horizon, radiating all the warmth and comfort of our tiny surface lives that remain dwarfed by all the earth offers. A microbe to us, are we to our home, is our home to the galaxy... This has never depressed me: I do not feel insignificant, my wanderlust feels justified.

It would be easier to hate the people around me, watching television with their reading lights on. I wonder if they would appreciate the painting outside my window, I wonder if they have even once laughed at the provided entertainment. I wonder who they are… if they ever look to their inner selves for entertainment, for enlightenment.

I wonder if I should offer one of them my seat.

I've never been on a plane, but I have the same kind of contemplations from the ground you were flying over. It's awesome down here too. Keep your seat, sir.