Flying solo

Subject: Flying solo

It's revealing that what we see at ground level, the mish-

mash of housing, the noise of traffic and the general pollution of our senses, the cacophony of images, is put aside and made orderly when seen from a plane not too far off the ground. The structure of the fields, the interlacing of the villages, that lake and town all given a new perspective.
It's that standing apart from the immediate landscape of ones life which gives it some sort of meaning. Once removed from the conflicting forces at play you can define your own worth outside the worth other put on you. Our ego has a way of distorting things by making too much of us in the general scheme of things and not enough of the other characters that should matter. How far we stand back and take an inventory of what's around us is the mark of a contented person, since seen in perspective, all our lives are meaningful in some way or other but often not always seen from our own perspective. 
How does a daughter/son or a friend see you. Not as you see yourself, a mirage of good intentions but as a father / friend who can be relied upon to be there, some sort of background noise which brings comfort if and when needed but we must always remember that other people are dealing with their own mirages, their own illusions, their own ego. 
So there we have it, that world outside our own, mimicking our own, different yet similar paths criss-crossing going somewhere else and yet returning, like your dog which wanders off ahead down the path to regularly return just to see if you are still following.
The dialog which we carry on in our own head, should it be placed somewhere for all to see or should it be kept to ourselves and only exposed when asked for. Do we have a duty to speak out even when there is a danger that in expressing our truth we upset another's truth. Would the world be a better place if we all expressed ourselves exactly as we see matters, politely of course not wishing to hurt but keen that we are understood. One of the aspects of modern day society is this wish to get on and assimilate at all costs even if it means burying your own views for some sort of compendium, some sort of statement which has been denuded of all sharp edges.
Flying above the clouds the world drifts out of view and the events which occur don't register anymore. One is suspended in ones own world, isolated and in someways safe but it's a safety which comes at a price since when once more we descend through the turbulence onto terra firma,  we might have become strangers to everyone who care.