On the Horizon
Painting the Canvas of Life
To the other passengers, I am certain I appeared calm, but inside I was freaking out.
Without a sound, I mouthed to myself, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you...I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you...I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you..."
"What is that you're doing? Some sort of mantra or something?" my assistant asked, nudging me.
"Yes. It is the practice of ho'oponopono."
"What on earth is that?"
"Basically it is a way to release anything negative you feel. I thought I would never be able to fly again after my anxiety started a decade ago. The last time I flew was pre-anxiety. I don't feel very well at the moment but I had to go through with this to meet this woman. There is no one like her."
"She must be something special for you to suffer through so much fear for her."
"Yes, she is. Imagine your eyes having the ability to look directly into the sun. That is what I see in her eyes. She is all light, love, and peace; the fuels for living your best life. I can't turn away now that I have seen that. The way she once expressed how much she believes in me felt like a doctor had used paddles on me to bring my soul back to life. It was so uplifting. I have since learned I can't depend on others to determine how I feel about myself. Nevertheless, at the same time, humans crave support. Experiencing it for the first time blew me away."
I closed my eyes and resumed my mantra. Moments later, I leaned forward while massaging the back of my head near my neck. With my other hand, I reached for my assistant's, holding tight. "It's getting to be the worst I have ever felt. Please try to distract me. Talk about anything."
Nothing was working. I tried tapping on my leg to distract myself more. Then I focused on the light of the woman at my destination, but it looked like a shrinking ball of light above ground as I fell deeper through a hole underground in my mind. I focused on it anyway, clenching my fists and eyes closed. An unfamiliar streak of lightning shot up my arm and I screamed out in fear, clutching it until I passed out.
///
I began to stir a few hours later. With my head against the window, the first thing I saw was the runways and other stationary planes zooming by out the window. The plane was not too far from the ground. Waking up to that made me jump a little but then I sighed. My shoulders fell with relief.
"Hey, you. Welcome back. Looks like your mantra failed you," my assistant said with a slightly amused look on her face.
"On the contrary. Now I don't have to be afraid of what passing out will be like. If all goes well when we meet, I will be much less scared of future flights to see her again. In the moments during the panic attack, I have to say I agreed it had failed. I was more scared than I have ever been in my entire life. All the times before when I thought I may pass out, my brain could only interpret it as feeling like I was about to die. I suppose you could compare it to clicking shut down on a computer, and how it takes a little bit of time for the computer to actually turn off during that process. It is an odd feeling because you don't welcome it like you do when you feel sleepy and your body craves slipping into the state of sleep."
"In that case, it seems it did work. It was forcing you to face it so you could use the experience to feel better. Sometimes we have to go through hell and use what we learned from it to grow."
"Exactly. Here's to growth," I said. My assistant had gotten a couple of small bottles of bourbon while I was out and she poured them over ice after scooping cubes of it into two cups. We raised our cups together in a toast.
A stunning sunset painted the blue canvas sky in intricate streaks of golds, oranges, reds, pinks, purples, and yellows through the window behind my assistant on the other side of the cabin. The sun was round and glowing in the center of its painting as it approached the horizon.
I smiled, looking over her shoulder directly into its glowing orb. "To growth."
About the Creator
J.M. Powell
You can make anything by writing. -C.S. Lewis
My passion is to spread what it means to love.
My published books of poetry: Quantum Leap Overmorrow
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Comments (1)
This was a great story about growth and love. I really enjoy that this person deals with the toughest thing of all just for love, because they had to be with that woman. That was really well done!