| Author |
 Topic  |
|
|
aeajr
477 Posts |
 Posted - 10/16/2008 : 2:24:30 PM
|
The Magic
As I approach the winch, I scan the sky and listen with my eyes. Can I feel
the force that will carry my spirit, now housed in this sailplane? Where
will I hunt? Which way to cast out with this extension of my being, looking
for the force?
Image Insert:
44.77 KB
As I hook-up to the winch line, a certain nervousness flows into my body.
Time to perform, time to launch, time to take the risk that something will
go wrong. I wiggle the rudder for the umteenth time to be sure I am not
launching dead. It is not the cost of the crash that runs through my mind,
but the fear of hurting this friend that depends on me to be prepared, to
check everything twice, to be the pilot.
The motor humms, the line pulls and I launch a part of me into the air. Up
Up Up I go, timing the settings and working the zoom .... the whistle of the
plane climbing after release tells me I did OK, this time.
As we turn for the hunting ground, I feel a moment of release, of
satisfaction that the launch went well, I was ready and met the challenge ..
this time. My buddy smiles down at me ... we are one.
As I flow up stream, looking for energy, I watch for my winged brothers, the
birds, for help and guidance. They can be very generous with their advice.
Then I feel it on my wing tip, that warm lift that tells me to "come over
here" like the sirens of ancient stories, calling to me. And I feel the
sweet nectar of energy and I drink my fill, but somehow I am never
satisfied.
We are high now, so high that my tail has disappeared and my wings are just
a small mark in the sky, nearly lost among the patches of color. Sometimes I
move by a cloud just so I can be more easily seen.
Image Insert:
18.78 KB
Look, look at me, see how I soar, free from the ground. I want to go higher,
but dare not lest I loose connection with ... home. But it is tempting, so
tempting, that siren continues to call me higher, but I must resist.
When the ride is over, I stroll toward the earth.
But, if this is a contest, I may drop my nose and race for the ground,
totally in control, totally at one with the pilot. Together we travel,
silently, only the rushing of the air to mark our passage. We race toward
the ground, working aginst the clock. We can do this!
Image Insert:
15.3 KB
As the landing mark approaches, the nerves build. This seems to be the
hardest part of the flight, because I don't really want to land, but I must.
I touch the earth, home, yet not home. I am eager to fly again.
A moment of silence, of joy and of pain as the flight is finished and all
that was gained is now a wonderous memory to be relived in dreams. I love
those kinds of dreams.
I place the plane down by my car. As I power off the receiver and the radio,
I review the flight to consider where I could have done better. But somehow,
if the plane is whole, every flight is a succcess, always a success, just
varying degrees of success.
Now, who can I help experience this joy that flows through me at this
moment. I feel light and powerful and at peace. I love this!
|
Best regards,
Ed Anderson
Long Island Silent Flyers
|
Edited by - aeajr on 10/16/2008 2:52:35 PM |
|
|
lincoln
49 Posts |
Posted - 10/17/2008 : 01:09:13 AM
|
A thread called Magic makes me think of something else entirely. I suppose it's not ENTIRELY appropriate for the Novice Lounge, but this is the ESL and you did name the thread "Magic":
http://tinyurl.com/68r4tb
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://static.rcgroups.com/forums/attachments/3/1/2/9/8/t621855-132-thumb-Magic-Front.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.rcgroups.com/forums/showthread.php%3Ft%3D431325&h=200&w=150&sz=9&hl=en&start=8&um=1&usg=__RA8DiyJ2np4pgYZdmD033kdnvB8=&tbnid=N0fw_NvlpXS4KM:&tbnh=104&tbnw=78&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dwaco%2Bmagic%2Bsailplane%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26channel%3Ds%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26hs%3DKQh%26sa%3DG
Never had one myself.
I'll try to wax subjective to maintain the tone:
Ah, the days when I could drive to Maryland (from around Boston)after work, camp out, and fly well the next day. Jacking up my Fiesta in Delaware and starting to break it in half... Doing well in contests with a lowly 2M... Hurling rocks on strings high into trees after the Swim Sore meet.. Finding poison oak (?)near Gaithersburg (?)..
Can't quite sustain the nostalgia as the mind is not foggy enough yet, but it does bring back some memories, many of which are pleasant. |
Lincoln Ross |
 |
|
| |
Topic |
|
|
|
Magic
Forum Locked
