Thoughts on Flying.

Somewhere between Ontario and New Brunswick, March 2016

The first solo flight I ever took. A short flight, but then again anything under 8 hours for me is a short flight.

There's something about being so high up in the air that feels so freeing, so peaceful. Maybe it's being disconnected from everyone you know back home, maybe it's being alone surrounded by total strangers, maybe it's knowing you're about to step off a plane and start another adventure. Maybe, just maybe flying is the place where you can be alone with your thoughts. Maybe it's just me.

When I'm flying I get a lot accomplished, I get a lot of creative ideas written down for paintings, and my writing, and even sometimes things to film [but never do the filming].

But at the same time a part of me is afraid to fly. What if something happens? What if my health suddenly declines? What if we crash? The germs from everyone in a small closed space. What if, what if, what if? 

Despite having general fears I still find myself looking forward to the next flight, the next adventure. I'm always thinking about where and what I want to do next.