Eighth Post

I always get so far ahead of myself.

I'm sorry, that was rude. I didn't mean to jump into things. Let me give you a little background. Here's how it started --

I was stuck on a "mountain" for a few days camping out, like I mentioned a few days back. The day before we left, I decided to take a walk around the top of it; maybe a mile long circular trail. A quarter mile in, I hear distant sounds of a helicopter and start looking all around to see where the thing is, because I love helicopters and want to catch a glimpse of it and maybe wave to them so that they'll land and have lunch with me and then take me up in the helicopter with them. Anyways, after not seeing it, I keep walking and end up sitting on an overhanging rock overlooking a valley of dark green trees making up part of the Ozark's. It was beautiful. Still is, I'm just not there to look at it anymore. But then I saw it! A small yellow dot, off in the distance -- below me! The helicopter was flying through the valley, supposedly dropping chemicals that ignite on ground contact. It was cool to see the uprising of smoke as the helicopter kept making passes back and forth. So I got really excited about this helicopter. Then they started gaining altitude, and began to come over towards where I was, circled back around and back down into the valley. They went right over my head, maybe 30 feet above me. I don't remember exactly, I was too excited, but I probably jumped up and down waving at them, hoping for some lunch.

At that point, something in my heart was reignited. Passion.

"For helicopters?", you might ask. Well, yes actually. Fixed wing aircraft as well. But for more than that. For the thrill of the sky. The adrenaline of freedom. The danger of speed -- no, none of those, really. I cannot limit this passion to mere words; I am simply not scholarly enough to put this emotion on paper. It runs in my veins, somewhere deep in my soul, a longing for flight. I imagine myself sitting in the pilot's seat at the beginning of the runway, waiting for my flight instructor and air traffic control to give me the go ahead, then pushing in the throttle and my flight instructor taking over because I'm suddenly weeping and cannot do anything out of sheer joy. Surprised? For some reason I assume that everyone I know knows that I want to be a pilot, and I'm always surprised at the people that have no idea. Well, now you know. I want to be a pilot.

So that has been on my mind the past week or so. I have been eagerly searching online for colleges that offer major's in Aeronautic's/Aviation. I already emailed a few of them, requesting information. I really want to go to Embry-Riddle in Prescott, Arizona and become a commercial helicopter pilot. But it costs a lot to go there, so would depend completely on the financial aid package I was offered. Something around $63,000 a year, minimum, for that specific program. I still want to go there though. I think it fun to dream big with a safe dose of objectivity and open hands in case it is not where God wants me. That's what it comes down to. Trusting God. I honestly do not care if I ever fly a plane or helicopter, because I'm sure Jesus can hook me up in heaven if need be. They probably have super cool vehicles to fly in heaven.

And this is where I start reminding myself to focus on what is directly ahead of me. I haven't even begun my next adventure to the Pacific, and I am already thinking of my next one. Slow down, my soul, you have time enough!

See? I always get so far ahead of myself.