One Day In A Million - Paying Off the Attention Deficit

Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something.

It was the kind of day they call CAVU (Ceiling and Visibility Unlimited), severe clear, or clear and a million, and I was leaving mother earth, her green carpet spread invitingly to the horizon. I watched in silence as the fields and forests north of Morgantown, West Virginia slid below my feet and behind. I could almost believe I could see a million miles.

 

Suddenly I felt a bump. Just a light bump. Perhaps it was just enough to break the hypnotic spell of the drone of the engine and the surrounding nothing of blue and green.

 

The plane was not moving. The laws of physics are quite clear that the plane had to be moving, but my merely mortal senses said that I, and I alone, was suspended between heaven and earth in an old Cessna.

 

I could feel the laboring of the engine but not another bump did I encounter on that impossible climb. Just one bump - life tapping me on the shoulder as if to say, "Pay attention, Dave".

I heeded that admonition. I paid particular attention to forest, field, sky, and to the silver lake studded with delicate sails cocked into the wind. To the subtle adjustments the plane made in response to my nudges. To the satisfaction of mastery of a flying machine. To doing that which man was not meant to do.

It was just me and a red Cessna, trapped as a fly in amber, as one who cannot escape, but chooses to soldier on because that's all there is to do.

"Pay attention, Dave". I had heard those words from menacing voices in my school days, always with an implicit threat: pay attention or be left behind, pay attention or fail. Fail at games for which I hadn't signed up.

Recently, I have been privileged to step out of a world of a million voices clamoring for my attention. I don't think any of their owners gave much thought to whether they were worthy of it. A million advertisers, politicians, preachers, and charletons staking claim to our time, even when they say nothing. And worst of all - those oafs who shout out of the aether: "ATTENTION".

But then there was one day - clear and a million...

Now it was a friendly voice, big as the sky, quiet as a breath, and wise as life.

In the woods at night I hear many voices while I sleep that care not if I pay them heed but I do listen as they sing me into morning and weave their songs into my dreams.

On most mornings, I awaken with the most beautiful and amazing melodies and before I can write them they dissolve in the sunlight. It pains me that I forget and cannot share these melodies with the world – they are mine alone. I recall very few but they all matter because, at some time or other, they cheered the dawn.

 

They, like so many wonderful things in life are there, just waiting for you and me, and the only thing we have to pay is attention.