I recently flew back home to my little swath of the Midwest after visiting family in the Golden State. My flight originated at Los Angeles International Airport, known as LAX. There are a number of airports I could have chosen to fly from, since I was visiting Orange County. Yet, I decided to fly from LAX because it’s cheaper. And of course, there was another bonus.
If one doesn’t know, most departures from LAX head west, over the ocean. There are two reasons for that, according to Google. One, there’s noise abatement by having the planes take off over the ocean. Two, there’s also prevailing winds that actually help with takeoff. When those winds shift, flights do have to take off to the east and fly over the city for lift. But for the most part at LAX, departures take off towards the west, flying over part of the Pacific, and then loop back around once they gain altitude to go wherever the flight path takes them.
It makes for a beautiful view, especially if you are lucky to nab a window seat. Which I was able to do on my recent flight.
Its amazing how being up high in the sky can change your perspective on things.
Take, for example, the waves on a beach. When one is standing directly in front of the ocean, the waves can seem overwhelming. They are monstrous and loud and awe-inspiring. But when one is sitting in the back of an aircraft in the second to the last window seat, they are just miniscule blips along a thin thread of shoreline.
They seemed kind of meh.
I flew over several mountains while in that window seat for my flight, since I was flying from LAX to Denver. The San Gabriel Mountains looked like tiny hills. I could see the winding roads that stretched on for miles. I watched as the desert valleys stretched endlessly. I have traveled some of those roads in my youth, remembering how huge and expansive they seemed. Yet, even they were underwhelmingly small from my vantage point.
Even the Colorado Rockies, while beautiful, seemed Lilliputian from where I sat in my window seat. They still were breath taking. They just appeared smaller.
Watching objects that I have stood before and stared in awe, like waves and mountains, in the perspective of a flight have made me realize something. I sometimes make small things the big picture and overlook the big picture altogether.
Too often I make mountains out of molehills. Too often, something that seems huge to me really isn’t a big deal, but at the time I don’t know it.
I’m often looking at my book reports and post like numbers, worrying that I am not making a difference, that no one is reading my works. Yet there are people out there who later tell me I have a gift and to keep pressing on and to keep writing, even when I feel like giving up because I haven’t made anything of it. There are people who read what I write and never tell me they’ve read it, but mention me to others. There are others who read when they can, because their timelines and my own just don’t mesh. They are often well behind in my output, yet they are still enjoying what and how they read.
I need to take time to listen and think.
I need to take time to see things in a different light.
I need to just let things flow.
I need to just keep finding the magic and writing my own stories. For that, of course, is the big picture.
Everything else is just a molehill.
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And as always, #writeyourownstory