July 7, 2017
I had taken gravity for granted, until I thought I lost it.
During that landing, the Airbus 380 was dropping as a little boy would loosen up the string and let his toy drop freely in his backyard. When gravity almost captured it, all of a sudden, he pulled the string and the toy slipped over the tip of grass. It was forced to go up again. He thought the toy was proud of him; he thought he could make a hawk out of the toy, ready to dash down to catch a prey and soar up as a royalty.
I felt vulnerable. I lost gravity. I missed earth. My mind went blank. I could only grab his hand so tight that mine went numb. I never wanted to surrender to anyone. But I had to, to the gravity-losing sky. Maybe I had to give every part of me back to Mother Nature after all. Isn’t that the right thing to do anyway? I did not have flashbacks as people claim in life-death situations. It was just void. Did it feel the same when I was born? I lost gravity.
I had thought I would die. But I didn’t. When my feet touched the ground, I regained control over my body and mind. Gravity came back in such a fascinating way: did you see, against the gilded Southern California sun beam, that dust? It was drifting, and swirling, and lowering back to earth. It was not the only one. There was a whole orchestra. There was romance. Gravity was the conductor.
What is gravity? Is it only a force pulling anything on the earth to the earth, and anything on the moon to the moon? Is it the force that’s constantly giving me the sense of security and comfort? Is it the last string to hold on to in order to feel the existence of being? Any attempt to answer the question seems vain, and hypocritically philosophical. Even the question itself appears pointless. But when I can feel gravity, I feel alive. Therefore I can no longer take it for granted. I need to explore its meaning to me.
If I were to lose it again, I hope you know that it is a beautiful thing. It’s love from the earth. Please don’t take it for granted.
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