Down the Rabbit Hole

Mythical Discoveries & The Learning to Fly

"Blogging Circle of Friends "
DAY 1783 October 3, 2017
“A myth... is a metaphor for a mystery beyond human comprehension. It is a comparison that helps us understand, by analogy, some aspect of our mysterious selves. A myth, in this way of thinking, is not an untruth but a way of reaching a profound truth.” ~Christopher Vogler Do you agree or disagree? What's your favorite myth?

The myths that I find most intriguing are those that pertain to things that are lost or undiscovered be they relics or mystical objects, monsters or cities. It is an exciting prospect to think that some of the greatest treasures and discovers are still out there, waiting to be revealed in all their mystical glory.

It evokes a sense of adventure to think about pursuing quests like finding the Fountain of Youth, the treasure of the Knights Templar or the lost city of Atlantis. There are droves of people who take up the charge to discover if Bigfoot is hiding out in the great forests and mountains of the Northwest. Their belief and conviction can be contagious, even among the staunchest skeptics. Can Nessy really still be alive in that cold, deep Loch Ness? People clamber to the shores with their equipment and cameras to try to find out. And why not? What a fabulous notion that with all our technology and advancement, something fascinating and marvelous still eludes us? Who wouldn't welcome the discovery with a childish sense of wonder? To think that there are no great mysteries left in the world is a sad and tragic prospect.


"Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"
DAY 1296--October 3, 2017
Prompt:What is your most memorable airplane or airport experience, and what do you think of air travel, in general?

I work in the aviation industry. My exposure started from the time I was a child, toddling across hanger floors and airport ramps. Now, two decades later, the whine of jet engines and smell of MEK are the smells and sounds of my personal landscape. When I was an young and avid adventurer, I enjoyed flying. I loved the sensation of climbing above the clouds, the way my stomach bumped along with the air pockets. As I grew older, the prospect of flying appealed to be less and less. Perhaps it was walking past the aircraft in the shop in various states of disassembly and repair that began to weigh on my psych. It may have been the fall out from the tragedy of having lost two very good clients in terrible crashes that turned me into a reluctant flyer. Whatever the reasons, these days I fly very little, surprising in my line of work. I manage to keep my feet fairly grounded even as I celebrate our client's shiny new aircraft purchases. I can still revel in their passion and excitement, even if I myself can no longer fully relate to it.

As far as the rest of it goes, I love this industry. I love being in the hanger after our techs have gone home and walking among the shadows of the silent fuselages - breathing in the scents of spent oil, adhesives and new leather. I love getting to work early, and watching the sun rise of the wide expanse of the ramp. Or, staying just late enough in the evening to have the outside lights buzz and blink to life around me. I love hearing the heavy thud, thud, thud of a helicopter starting up or the rumble as an old piston fires up. I love the sleek and sexy way the single engine turboprops stalk off and on the ramp all day long, their owners grinning behind the yoke. I don't have to fly to love flying nor do I have to be a pilot to appreciate man's desire to command the skies. This is the industry that is home to me. It runs in my blood. After more than twenty years, I can't imagine doing anything else.