Flight.

What is that feeling of flight that connects us away from the bonds of earth toward something higher literally and figuratively?

In an age of connectedness, one in which our minds are seldom a singularity, what is it about that grace and remoteness that motivates us, moves us, and creates a beautiful peace? We've lost a part of our minds that can exist in tune, in perfect harmony with our surroundings. Gliding two thousand meters above the surface of the Earth, this harsh, inhospitable environment is somehow one of the last places on Earth that allow us to feel this peace.

Death: something so temporal and yet something that terrifies so many on the surface seems to flutter and blossom into the idea of a natural and contenting conclusion, a re-joining of the fabric that was split for a moment, that one might escape the serene uniformity. That is, of course only when one is freed from the apparent infinite of the connected world.

The technology and links between us persist beyond our temporal story. Links that are increasingly acting as mediations and permanent representations of those histories. We are convinced that they become us, that we, by them, inherit that immortality. They transform us, and tell us a story conflicting with our own. That book is growing and consuming, it is full of false promises and inhuman hopes.

Flight is an escape to a place that is isolating but warm, human yet free. Free from the barrage of directives and pressures. It allows us to uncover ourselves, to find the meaning of our tear in the fabric, and to sew the conflict back into perfect balance.