We're all on the same bus (or plane...)

Today I experienced some truly awful airplane turbulence. Really horrible. It was on our descent, when all you want is to be back on the ground (or, I do anyway). I started to get nauseous, which I haven't done while flying since I was 10 years old. It was the kind of combination of nausea and fear that creates a thin film of sweat over your entire body and you are certain if you could get to a mirror your skin would have a tinge of green. Not fun.

I have realized in the past year or so that every time you step onto an airplane, you are confronting your mortality head on. It doesn't have to be a conscious realization of course, but you confront it all the same. If something happens everyone is going down whether you thought about it before take-off or not. This is kind of a morbid train of thought, but I don't know how to get around it. Really, I think it comes down to the fact that I'm paranoid about many things, it just becomes a matter of what I allow others to see.

Isn't it strange how we can compartmentalize our world? We separate our existence into what we're allowed to see, what others are allowed to see, and then the ever-so-mysterious stuff that you even hide from yourself. There are so many secrets and details that I have hidden below my "exterior" surface, the one I present to the world, the image I have created for myself. All of those secrets and details are organized (of course) into a complicated mess of hallways, rooms, and trapdoors. And within all of that, I imagine a kind soul walking around, quietly knocking on the doors I have bolted shut. Eventually, love unlocks the door, and love stays despite what is found in there.

I do not have enough power over words to even attempt to convey that experience. It begins with gratitude, but it is so much more.