WE ARE waiting in the runway. You look through the window and, sincerely, your mouth starts to dry. The turbine of the motors accelerates, the brake to the maximum potency and almost all the possible sensations all crowded up just before the beginning of our journey.
The sound of the airplane’s motors is something that always made my hair stands on end by the force and potency that is guessed. All of a sudden, perhaps pushed by the circumstances, the commander steps on the gas and you feel that you sink more and more in the seat, experimenting physically the converging of a lot of forces on our bodies. And at the same as centuries ago the sailors of those wooden ships let loose the moorings and began a long and unpredictable journey, we fly in the sky and we internally emulate dashing to the unknown in an always hostile means for the human being, as it is air.
This is often the succession of feelings that often I experience upon the take-off traveling by air and that is that, as much as I try, I’m not accustom at all to this about flying. Neither can I say that I should have an exacerbated fear but it is true that I keep found feelings inside of me. Definitely I should be talking about respect and that many times comes to life because neither it is acquainted nor do we dominate the process that entails this act.
It is surprising to see how our mind plays dirty tricks. Flying by air does not physically vary in nothing to when we ride a car or travel by train, but the mind tells us that we are flying and that we do not touch firm ground.
And that becomes respect, and maybe even fear, that in which we do not know how to assume ends up restricting us.
While I pick up my suitcases and I walk to the car sometimes I see how again another airplane takes off and I think about everybody that travels in that craft, in all that they leave behind and what they take accompanied of that powerful and forceful sound track that is the adventure of life.
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