Unedited Thoughts From 35,000 Feet Up

Real Talk More Than Lyme

February 9th, 2019. Somewhere between Mexico and Seattle.

It comes at you suddenly and in the most unsuspecting of ways. 

The words whirling around like dust provoked by the swooping touch of fingers on a windowsill, my body sits curled up miles high, eyes fixated on the crescent moon that rests just above the wing of the plane, while my mind opens the door and allows the dust to have one last hoorah before all goes still.

Before it settles. 

Before it clears.

Before thoughts take shape out if the stillness and the eagerness to create something. 

To make sense of anything. 

To bring to life the idea that more is just more and nothing anymore incredible than this moment may come of it. 

Surely there is excitement and an unrelenting drive to go places and taste what the world has to offer. To allow fingertips to touch windowsill after windowsill. To pick up books and turn pages. To collect each moment one by one until every experience is placed carefully and lovingly with the other treasures left in the dark. 

From moments eagerly overlooked.

From acts of kindness so quickly covered by the idea that now isn’t now without more. 

I have no doubt that I will always yearn for more. More opportunities, ideas, and reasons to put pen to paper, but what of the crow’s eyes that goes from blue to near black as it sheds the last baby feathers. What of the momentum of waves against rocks. What of the coffee sipped before day break, sun still dancing between leaves and teasing the night.

What of the crescent moon above the wing of a plane flying from one place to the next. I could tell you of how we spent our days. Of the food we ate and activities we were eager to dive into. I could walk you through each moment, each cobbled street and unspeakably beautiful view, but the sacrifice I’d be making in doing so would far outweigh the immediate satisfaction. The desire to dive out of this moment, your moment, and into another. 

There is nothing wrong with it, not by any means. It encourages wonderful things and invites back in the possibility that adventure isn’t all that far off. 

Just don’t let me dictate what that means to you. How it needs to look and feel and taste, that is for you to open the door to—there are plenty of windowsills still covered in dust and there’s certainly more than one way to describe what the ocean looks like as the sun nestles between universes. 

It’s not found between the pages of those books you have yet to read or lessons you have yet to learn or health you have yet to gain; you will not find the wonders of this world while looking through the lens of more. You are here, within the pain, heartache, and unexplainable. You are here, in this world with dreams and wants and wishes just like the rest of us, but what if all of those things started here instead of when we got there?

What if you weren’t required to take the suggested steps in order to open that door and feel the sunlight on your face. What if you got to choose whether or not you dusted off that windowsill or purposefully left it for another to uncover? 

What if you could leave your mark on this world from this point right here? What if I could simply allow this to be the recap of my trip to Mexico? What if I didn’t explain why I didn’t post or how much anxiety riddled through my veins until I finally, truly, and unapologetically dropped the idea that success comes in the form of presence everywhere but here. 

What if I left it as is? What if I started with this? This wild and yet-to-be-discovered territory, riddled with obstacles and wonders and surely a bit of bad news here and there. 

What if I could feel this extreme privilege of traveling for luxury, and not tell myself that if they can’t have it, neither should I. What if I were to take this lucky and wonderfully broken place I find myself in and use it to create more space for others to start from here, too?

No, we might not have the same amount of room to dream. We might not be given four solid hours of uninterrupted time to write, but we are given this moment, however it may look to you, right now. 

We are given opportunities to steal moments between it all—when the disruption of every want and desire settles and stillness swallows you right up. When it all comes at you suddenly and in the most unsuspecting of ways, and there you are, left with every reason to carve out your own space in this world with the tools you have. With the tools you’ll make.

When all that’s left is an open door and a curiosity that cannot keep you on one side, but rather, somewhere in between, as if to say, “before you hurry off, the coffee is hot and the flowers are nearly ready to bloom, so won’t you stay awhile, finding yourself a seat amongst the wonders of it all?”

Chloe O'NeillComment