View from on High.

DATELINE: Friday, December 13, 2002
San Jose, California

By Todd Marshall

I have been flying ever since the age of twelve. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly we can travel through the air from one place to another, hardly giving our mind and body time to acclimate to the raw and unfamiliar surroundings. When I was younger I loved the take-offs. Now age and wisdom have settled in: I have to brace myself mentally for what seems to me like insanity: leaving the solid ground and entering the world of birds, clouds, and stars. I feel like a stranger, like I truly don't belong.

Flying has always seemed so surreal to me. Reality flees from the moment the plane begins to taxi towards the runway. I hold tightly to the arms of the seat when the plane reaches the runway, only to pause for a minute as if to take a deep breath. The engines rev up and the accelerating speed of the plane forces even the strongest to sit back in their seats. Up goes the plane with a force that I cannot fathom. Houses become wooden toy boxes, lakes become tiny droplets of water, and people — yes I know, you've heard it before — become ants.

The world seems different when you are 35,000 feet in the air. Problems that seemed so insurmountable vanish under the shortsightedness of the human eye. If only we could somehow squirrel away this feeling and pull it out on cold lonely nights when all we hear is the ticking of our heart.

Descent into the Details.

The perspective from above is breathtaking, but dissipates in the twinkling of an eye when we come back to earth. We lose the big picture and — almost like clockwork — begin again to torture ourselves over the aggravating details of life, wallow in the mud of guilt and shame, and bask in the shadows of self-doubt. The minute we begin the descent, we feel the anxiety of the world, the weight of our existence, the weaknesses of our soul.

The solutions to problems are clearer up there where the white clouds dance on the blue sky. It's only when we are standing next to our problems, side by side, that we feel overwhelmed and out of control. The truth is we are always out of control. It's only when we totally surrender what little control we do have, that we actually find the answers and inner peace that was suspended out there in the wind. The deep blue wind.

This morning around seven-thirty I went for a walk in the hills above San Jose. My adventurousness took me higher and higher, and I think now that, subconsciously, I wanted to regain the feeling of freedom I experienced on the plane. As I reached the top of one of the hills, I looked out over the city. I was quickly reminded of one of the vignettes crafted by Sandra Cisneros in her book, The House on Mango Street. I don't have the text with me, but I'll quote from memory. It goes something like this: "People who live on hills only look down to be content that they live on hills."

A Jet, a Hill, the Surreal.

Content to be on top of this particular hill, I studied the panoramic view and noticed the thin layer of brown smog covering the entire valley floor. From my high place above it all, above the blanket of pollution, I felt safe and content, just like Cisneros said I would. Then another view of reality hit me. I was transported back to the jet plane and recalled my reaction to being 35,000 feet in the air. Just like then, I was standing on a surreal hilltop in a place I did not belong.

I looked down upon the city. There is where I belong, down there in the valley under the blanket of haze. Down there with my brothers and sisters. The ones who don't have it, who are struggling to get it, or struggling to keep it. The ones whose silver platter has yet to be set before them, whose yoke has yet to be broken, whose opportunity has yet to knock. It's time to climb back down the hill, slip again under the smog into the wide valley, where dreams are masked and aspirations shrouded, where hopes are cloaked and wishes hushed.

I like to fly and climb hills. I like to get out of my world, if only for a moment, to see what I cannot see through conventional eyes. A man needs to gain perspective and regain strength. He needs to set his standards higher. I have to know there is something beyond the hazy confinement of my personal world, something better out there just for me.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Todd
can be reached by E-mail at
toddm@mail.uca.edu

| ©2002 by David Ebenezer Baldwin Bowles |
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