flying close to ground (february 2010)


When he met her and they liked each other a great deal, he heard things better, and in his eyes the lines of the physical world were sharper than before. He was smarter, he was more aware, and he thought of new things to do with his days. He considered activities which before had been vaguely intriguing but which now seemed urgent, and which must, he thought, be done with his new companion. He wanted to fly in lightweight contraptions with her. He had always been intrigued by gliders, parachutes, ultralights and hang-gliders, and now he felt that this would be a facet of their new life: that they would be a couple that flew around on weekends and on vacations, in small aircraft. They would learn the terminology; they would join clubs. They would have a trailer of some kind, or a large van, in which to hold their new machines and supple wings folded, and they would drive to new places to see from above. The kind of flying that interested him was close to the ground – less than a thousand feet above earth. He wanted to see things moving quickly below him, wanted to be able to wave to people below, to see wildebeest run and to count dolphins streaming away from shore. He hoped this was the kind of flying she’d want to do, too. He became so attached to the idea of this person and this flying and this life entwined that he was not sure what he would do if it did not become actual. He didn’t want to do this flying alone; he would rather not do it than do it without her. But if he asked her to fly with him, and she expressed reservations, or was not inspired, would he stay with her? Could he? He decides that he would not. If she does not drive in the van with the wings carefully folded, he will have to leave, smile and leave, and then he will look again. But when and if he finds another companion, he knows his plan will not be for flying. It will be another plan with another person, because if he goes flying close to the earth it will be with her.

-Dave Eggers


It is this kind of “busy-ness” that took the heart to heal — without the coercion of acceptance or the push of surrender. There’s no other satisfying occurence than a heart healing on its own.

But what does that make of love? I’ve come to realize that love is eternal. Once it is there, no other force can snatch it from its place. It is not discovered or developed. For me falling out of love is bullshit. Maybe there was no love in the beginning.. Some say it is a choice or a decision. Hmm. Maybe those people never really felt having that one great love where you can get madly and insanely inlove with and be crazy and mad about life, and just take each other’s breath away everyday and.. you get the picture.

I think the choice comes in when love is not enough to sustain a relationship. When taking a shower together or holding hands in the rain cannot overshadow the nagging, or the fighting over the remote control, or when dirty socks on the floor is not cute anymore. When hearts talking is overshadowed by the minds arguing. It is your choice if you want to go beyond and work around all these.

Me, I never learned. I have always loved more than what I could give, more than what I could leave for myself. I have stepped on trust and respect, which are the real foundations of a relationship. It was crazy. I abused the love we had. It ended when the hearts became hostages of selfishness and arguments of whose turn it is to pay the bills.

And so yeah. The white flag was raised.

I’d like to think that the only casualties of this war were our own pride and ego. The hearts were all barricaded, ready to go back when necessary ammos are refilled.. Or when it is ready to surrender again to another love where it can lose itself again.


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