Flying

Harvey (not his real name) was an accountant who always wanted to be a pilot—he even went so far as to take a few lessons, but then stopped when his mother declared it too dangerous. So, we “flew” to heaven in a single-engine Piper Cub.

He did loops and barrel rolls (and I actually managed not to get sick, even though it felt very real). I have to admit, even for me, even knowing that I was the one creating the experience for us, it was exhilarating and fun. The only small planes I’ve ever been on are the little puddle jumpers that took me and my hubby from the mainland to the islands. While not scary, they don’t really give you the same view as riding in the co-pilot’s seat. Seeing the world (real or construct) through that large expanse of glass is stunning (even if I do say so myself).

We spent hours flying through that wide expanse of blue. The sun was blinding (almost as blinding as viewing your own soul), and when it shone through the poofy, white clouds, a thousand mini-rainbows appeared, sparkling like gemstones in the sky.

A flock of birds flew alongside for a bit, and Harvey commented how he felt just like one of them, as if he could simply leave the plane and fly with them. (He could, but he didn’t know that.) He was so filled with joy; he was like a child in his happiness. His grin was so infectious that I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

We flew over cities and towns, forests and fields, and he was happy, deliriously, delightedly happy. Finally, he said he wanted to show me something, and he banked left to circle lower. I could read his energies, so knew where he wanted to be and what he expected to see and quickly made sure it was there for him.

We circled down to where he could point out his boyhood home (his sister lived there now with her husband and two kids, he told me shyly). He then pointed out his old alma mater (where Beefy Masters used to beat him up after school), the library (his favorite refuge from bullies and his mother), and the apartment where his grandmother had lived.

He pulled up on the stick and headed toward downtown Manhattan, where he again swooped low to point out certain sites. (Yes, I know it’s strictly forbidden to fly over Manhattan in a little plane, but it was Harvey’s construct, so we flew over Manhattan.) He pointed out his office and his favorite coffee shop with the cute, little waitress that he was working up the nerve to ask out. (He’d been working up the nerve now for two years.) He then aimed the little plane toward the coast and headed north towards Maine.

He was amazed at how easy the plane handled, and how easily he knew how to control it—especially, he confessed, since he’d only finished a handful of lessons. He had been so sure that flying a plane would be much more difficult, but now he was glad to find out that it wasn’t.

He prattled on while pointing at this and that as he cruised through the air with me sitting quietly in the co-pilot’s seat. Then, after what seemed to him to be hours, but was really only moments, he asked where he should land. After all, he said, he was sure that the plane must be nearly out of fuel since we had been flying for so long.

So, I created an astral version of the Teeterboro airport (Teeterboro, New Jersey) and pointed it out to him. Still grinning like a kid, he banked to land. He lined up everything perfectly, and came in as gently as a feather (of course). He then taxied to the hangar that I pointed out to him.

As we climbed down from the plane, I explained that the hangar and the plane were his now, and he could take the plane anywhere he wanted to, for as long as he wanted to. With several hugs, and absolutely no dimming of that infectious grin of his, I walked away from the hangar.

As I left, I thought how interesting it was that he had never created an image of Death…we had had no other guests in the plane with us, nor did anyone join us at the airport. It was just the two of us from the moment I entered his quiet little condo in the Bronx, until I left him at the hangar. In fact, there had been no real fears at all, just a few regrets, that’s all.

Realizing that, I knew he would be just fine, so smiling to myself I planed home. It was time to start my own day now.

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