Transcontinental

The land is starting to rise and fall, ever so slightly as we move from the plains of Indiana west. The clouds line up 5,000 feet below this metal bird filled with precious cargo. The lives present far exceeding the number of bodies that fill the seats. We all face west – we have no choice – the designers of this space lacked the funds to create. Yet, it feels right, providing order in this foreign mode of transportation that otherwise only exists in a dreaming state: Flight.

We travel through the air, exceeding 400 miles per hour, 38,000 feet above the ground. Flying is humbling, faced with no choice but to “sit back and enjoy the ride.” And yet, it is grounding to have this ability to sit still and gain or lose time – west or east – in a semi-dreamlike state. A sense of calm as I look down at fields filled with soy, corn; mountains will appear in an hour or two. Rivers starting to divide and define the landscape and I find that the mountains are calling me, calming me. A sense of homeward movement: rise up and pull me on.

From West to East

As I was biking into work today, I couldn't help but think about how I am so committed - almost obsessively so - to biking into work whenever possible. It is my way to connect with the day. It's amazing how many simple things I experience on these rides can help shape the nature of my morning, maybe even my day. There is a traffic guard at William Penn School just down the street who is always such a bright spot when she is the one directing foot traffic. I wonder if she knows how her smile and friendly nature really impact me and others she comes into contact with. It is like she really remembers me, even knows me, and for a moment I feel a little bit less anonymous, a bigger part of this community of Philadelphia that I call home for now. Belonging.

These slower, more human scale, means of transport are quieter and literally more "down to earth" - touching the earth. So much more interactive than life behind a windshield, power windows, with my radio blaring.. making up a completely separate little universe. I think they also help me connect more quickly with my new "home" environments when I move to a new place. Smelling the honeysuckle, the exhaust (yuck!, and there is a lot of it here in Philly); hearing people chatting to each other on the sidewalks, birds singing, music blaring, horns honking - sometimes the wind - AND seeing everything with a touch more, or substantially more detail, depending upon my pace. I never feel "at home" in a new place until I have walked, biked or run through significant parts of it. I get a huge amount of almost sneaky satisfaction knowing that I biked through parts of San Francisco and now, Philly, that many people who grew up in that city have never seen or maybe even heard of. Discovery.