I'm in an odd mood. I may regret finally posting this, but here goes....
Do you recognize this?
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth...."from "High Flight" by John Gillespie Magee Jr.
I've always loved that first line, and hated the rest of the poem.
I haven't flown as anything other than a passenger in 26 years. But (to adapt a quote), I still "...walk the earth with my eyes turned skyward, for there I have been, and there I will always long to return."
My first textbook when I started learning to fly was The Joy of Soaring. That title has triggered a lot of thoughts in the decades since then. I've been noodling at this for at least 35 years. In prose they boil down to:
There is a joy in soaring, just as there is in sailing, or driving, or skiing, or surfing, or even dancing. The combination of physical motion, mental stimulation, and exercise of technical proficiency creates a profound, layered, *textured* experience of synergistic pleasure.
Which seems pretentious, but I like it anyway.
I've never been able to turn it into poetry, just thoughts and fragments. I release them into the wild. Perhaps they will inspire thoughts in others.
- *********
There is a joy in motion
That takes my cares away
There is a joy in soaring
In breeze that blows against the ridge
Or thermal swirling higher
Or mountain wave so glassy smooth
Which rises, falls, repeats
There is a joy in surfing
Balancing the wave's surging lifting push
Against gravity's sliding falling pull
There is a joy in sailing
With sounds of wind above and water below
Making the best of current and course
Adapting to constant variation
There is a joy in driving
Speed and brake and turn and go
Skid and slide, twist and recover
Playing with velocity and uncertain traction
There is a joy in walking
Old sights, new sights, arriving home again
It's about the journey, not the destination
"The road goes ever on and on...." to steal a phrase.
There is a joy in motion
That takes my cares away
- *********
I've never been any good at dancing. The closest I've come to it has been flying. "Danced the skies..." yes, but "...laughter-silvered wings"? Pfui.
I haven't yet found anything nice to say about running.
I find no joy in running, myself.
All my thoughts get overwhelmed by an incessant internal voice, relentlessly counting every breath and every step.
Odd that it doesn't happen when I'm walking.
The runners I see don't look like they enjoy it either.
I've never seen a runner who looked happy while running.
Yet still they run.
I hope they catch what they are chasing.
I never did.