It's hard not to be amazed by the power, grace and discipline exhibited by the Olympic athletes this past week. But of all the ways we (and so near the previous statement do I loosely say we) can locomote our body machines, one mode will always escape us - independent flight.
As Kidlet and I were driving to church this morning, a bird momentarily flew parallel with my Civic's trajectory down the interstate. As effortless as the bird's flight looked, it was equally foreign and fascinating. I feel the same awe - and earthbound lament - watching hummingbirds hovering in flight at the feeder.
What would possess a human to think, "Yeah, I'm gonna fly like that"? Thankfully there were mechanically-minded others before me who could build what we weren't genetically given; left to me, we'd still have to set aside a week to cross the continent.
ADDENDUM: On a related note, go check out Susan Rainey's completed Icarus Shawl- it's almost as good as wings.
(Had to share the runner-up graphic when I searched "Icarus" on Google Images:
I added the modesty bar. You're welcome.)
1 comment:
In random discussion of hot sun, gravity, feathers, beeswax, and flight (but not boys' private parts), I pontificated the story of Icarus to Kidlet. The story ended in a splash rather that a splat, though. I think if you asked her, she might remember if you mentioned his name.
One question of hers I can't answer to save my life, why can boys and men show their boobies outside and girls can't? Is testosterone really a more stringent law of nature to defy than gravity?
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