From A Pilot's Point of View

Sitting in the cockpit of an aircraft, getting ready for takeoff. Your fingertips gently glide across the wheel, touching every smooth curve of the handles, firmly gripping it as your other hand drifts down toward the throttle.
A shutter flows through your body at the touch of the throttle. All this power at your fingertips and you are in control. Slowly you push forward, increasing the power to the engines. At first they whine, asking what is going on but just as quickly they are silenced at the knowledge that soon they will be where they belong, in the air.
You have been cleared to take the runway. It’s time to visit your second home, the clear blue sky. Excitement fills your soul as you pull onto the numbers at the end of the runway, the starting point for this journey. You’ve done this a thousand times before but the small flutter in the pit of your stomach makes you feel like it’s the first time all over again.
Quickly your mind races as you complete your checklist. You are moments away from flight, yet it seems like an eternity. There are hundreds of things that can go wrong but they are out of your control. You focus on the one thing that matters, taking flight.
You hear those magical words, “You’re clear for takeoff.” Moment of truth, time to fly. You push the throttle forward as far as it will go. The engines spring to life, roaring with excitement. The aircraft bounces up and down with joy, begging you to take your feet off the brakes so it can take to the sky.
“Not yet,” you whisper, knowing the power needs to build up just a bit longer. The time has come, the power is up, it’s time to set this bird free.
You release the brakes. The plane thrust forward, picking up speed with each passing second. The ground speeds behind you until it’s just a blur. Gently the aircraft lifts off the ground on its own, giving you permission to pull back on the wheel. Slowly, gently you take to the sky, flying, gliding through the air. Higher and higher you climb.
A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you turn gently away from the runway. You can’t help but smile as the sky welcomes you home with open arms.

The Storyteller

I ...believe the art of Storytelling is dying.  Not many people want to read a book anymore, finding entertainment by means of television or movies, but centuries ago, long before the written word, there were Storytellers.
These people told stories in such a way that when they spoke, everyone around them listened.  Children were both educated and entertained by the Storyteller.  Cultures passed down their history and heritage through Storytellers.
Not only did every village have their own Storyteller but there were also traveling Storytellers that brought stories from far away.
Many people would come to listen to the Storyteller as he told his tales.  The words would capture your heart as your imagination put you in the middle of the story.  Today, people who can tell a story like that are rare.
Writers today want to tell you every little BORING detail, in a sense taking the reader out of the story.  If a reader can not be IN the story, surrounded by the characters, living their lives, walking in their shoes, suffering along side them side by side then what’s the point of the story.
As a Storyteller I give you just enough to make you use your imagination to fill in any gaps, making the story unique to you and you alone.  No one else will see what you see, feel what you feel, smell what you smell, and wonder the way you will wonder.
When my story is done you will be left in awe, satisfied, yet wanting more.  Your imagination will grow hungry, longing to be fed and as a Storyteller it’s my job to feed that hunger.
Sit down and get comfortable for I’m about to tell you a story…

Life's Highway

I wrote this on March 27, 2011. I realized I never published this on my blog.  No I wasn't high on anything. I was on my way to work when this came to me. This is how I felt and I'm sure you can find many metaphors in this.  What is your opinion of this?

Life's Highway

I'm driving down the highway, fog surrounding me, Garth Brooks singing about a Dance on the radio, and I am the only car on the road.
As I fly along, going over the humps, I notice there is nothing around for miles. No entrance ramps, no exit lanes, miles and miles of lonely highway.
I look down at my speedometer and there is only one speed, full on 80.  Seems to me I’m going nowhere, fast. As I come over the next hump the highway splits off into three different directions
Straight, a whacky sharp curve to the right, and another whacky sharp curve to the left. My wheel can not turn so I continue on straight but I can see where those other two curves lead, up, over, and then back onto the main highway.
My heart begins to catch up with my car as I approach the hump. This time I fly forward at the sudden drop of the road, falling toward the highway, swerving as I touchdown.
Another hump come at me fast as the fog begins to lift slightly, allowing me to see just a little further away. Still miles and miles of nothing.
Another car comes racing by, passes me easily, before disappearing off into the distance.  Alone I drive on.
Things start popping up on the feeder road but I have no way to get to them.  They fly past me in a blur.
The song ends but starts playing over. Everything around me is a blur. Nothing but highway coming at me. My speedometer now reads 101.
My heart slows down but the highway does not. A light flashes across my windshield and I’m at a four way stop.  Where do I go from here?  Where do I go from here?