Harmony

Flying, for me, might never get old. At least I hope it doesn't. I still get butterflies before I fire up for the day. And when it's been a while since I've flown the feelings are even stronger. Last weekend I went home for a few days then came back to Eagle Lake to the rice contract. I had trouble sleeping the night before I was set to fly again. It wasn't nervous energy, or anxiety--more like that excitement you feel at the beginning of a relationship when you are waiting for the next time you're to see the person.

But nothing compares to the feelings I have when I'm actually flying. Having been an athlete for years I am very physically aware of and in control of my body. But nothing I've done athletically ever gave me the satisfaction I get from making the helicopter do exactly what I want it to do. With almost indiscernible movements of my hands and feet I make a machine that is said not to fly, but to beat air into submission move with such a violent grace that it seems more an extension of myself than a separate entity. As with my body, all I have to do is think about what I want the aircraft to do and it begins to do it. After all, moving your legs to walk isn't a conscious effort. And in the same way that I feel my feet and hands move and my heart beating I feel the aircraft--the vibrations from the main rotor, the tail rotor, the engine, the way it reacts to the wind and to my control input. Both hands, both feet, both sides of my brain constantly perfecting the balance between lift and weight, thrust and drag.