The High of Height

I am 30,000 miles above the L.A. sky, where the time is still 9 a.m. My cell phone alarm was set at 5. 30 a.m. but I was up long before then. I was worrying about leaving Moki, although I know that Heather will take good care of him and will provide him with enough snacks and fun activities to convince him to stop his hunger strike. That’s Moki’s way to protest against abandonment. He won’t eat for as long as he can handle it, just to make sure everybody knows how sad he is. Then he will reap the benefits of cuddling and petting twice as much than if he’d just behave normally.
Yet, you can’t really call him a player. Moki sincerely fears that I might not come back, no matter if I always do or tell him that I’ll be back soon. What a dog knows about how long two weeks can be?

So, yes, leaving Moki is hard. So was leaving my baby son when he was a baby, despite my passion for traveling. So it will be leaving my mom when it will be time to come back to the States, despite my by then “wild desire” to do so. I am much better at separation with adults who can take care of themselves and don’t have to depend on others. Babies, elders, pets, they’re so… not independent. And that is too much of a limitation to happiness, in my opinion. Babies are the lucky ones because they don’t know better. While the elderly suffer more, particularly those whose minds are still sharp though lodging in fragile bodies, And a dog would not hesitate to jump into the fire to go with you.

But here I am at 30,000 miles of physical height, and my neurons are firing up like fireworks at midnight of New Year’s Eve. I know I won’t feel so euphoric 15 hours from now, when I’ll finally land in Milan after changing plane in Atlanta. Jet lagged and sleep deprived since I am unable to sleep in a cramped position and I have to keep myself in constant check to avoid getting claustrophobic.

But heights make me high. I love to see Earth from above. That’s also why I like the Future, nested in the hills and granting open views in many directions. That’s why I cannot stand the flats.

Flat land gives me anxiety. Not even the softly rolling hills of the prairie in my otherwise beloved land in Indian reservations such as Rosebud or Lower Brule in South Dakota, are enough. I need tall hills and dark forests. Black Hills like the magic, sacred Paha Sapa where I have been questing for visions many times. When I am on top of a mountain, on top of a tree or on top of the clouds, it’s easier for me to feel good. Closer to the power source. Connected. Relaxed. Balanced.

I could walk on a rope stretched across the edge and keep my cool.

But, please, don’t ever put me in a flat territory with no heights in sight. Or I’d feel trapped in a web of emptiness and start to act weird.

Comments

[Will Campbell]

30,000 "miles" up? Wow, you ARE high! :)

I totally agree with you on your feelings for flatlands. The two most disturbing places I've ever been are shower-pan Miami (which I envision has a four-inch drain in its geographical center that everything and everyone drains into) and Springfield, Illinois. From the top floor of the tallest hotel there the world is endlessly flat and then flat some more after that.

In both places I had this horrendous sensation of having nowhere to hide (even though I wasn't specifically on the run from anyone).

And after living some 18 years in the flats of the San Fernando Valley, I'm thankful everytime I walk the dog and look upon the hills surrounding my Silver Lake abode. Give me uneven terrain any day of the week.

[heathervescent]

There are no hunger strikes in the Future! Especially when there is so much excitement going on! Moki kisses the screen and rumble growls when I scratch his belly.

[UnpanoAcconse]

Hello.
I was the key measure ...

Why not lay the returns picture ?