“A man speaking sense to himself is no madder than a man speaking nonsense not to himself.”
Underneath a flagpole, I look up up to the sky, to watch the paper airplanes float in many different directions. It’s hard to focus on just one, but amongst the dull and boring, there lies a bright colorful and mysterious plane that’s not like the others. As I sit up to get a better look, it seems to have gotten lost among the mix. I run over to the clutter of planes on the ground, children laughing and running to see where the next destination their planes will land. I ask around but nobody seems to hear my concerns on the colorful plane I so very much seek.
Further away, I see a man in a pilots uniform, walking by himself, smiling at everyone, and in his hand lies the plane I was looking for. A fast paced walk turns to a sprint. Tapping his shoulder, he turns to me and says “Hey Mike, were you looking for this?” I was shocked he knew my name. “Wait, do you know me? Do I know you?” The man again smiles, and laughs with a true unique tone “Mike, I know more about you than you know about yourself.” A clear state of confusion, we continue to walk.
He begins to tell me that this plane has so much meaning, and there’s a reason he was here today, to see if I would move on approaching him, to find out more. “Sir, is this a test?” “Mike, sometimes you can’t ask too many questions, sometimes you just have to trust your gut instinct, and trust a person that you don’t know but that knows you.” I agree to zip my lips and move along for the ride. He hands me the plane and tells me to explore every inch of what that plane embellishes. The man walks further away as I sit, over looking the ocean, holding the plane to the sun, taking in each aspect it has to offer.
I notice little words written inside of the plane. I can’t make any out, but know that I must carefully take this apart, to read what’s on the inside. I find my way into the plane, and unfold the delicate paper onto the ground. The words are amazing. I’m glued to the page and can’t pull myself away from absorbing each letter, each feeling, each thought. When I get to the end of the letter, right in the bottom corner, I have to squint to see what’s written. “Let your spirit fly free and allow light into your heart” Tears stream down my face, dripping onto the letter. The words begin to smear and I catch myself from ruining the letter.
I notice the man walking towards me “Mike, relax my friend. You must rebuild the plane, and you must set it free into the ocean. That’s what today’s lesson is. The ghost of your past is in this plane. Today, you are free of the engine that’s been weighing on your mind. Today, you accept what your true potential is. Today, is the start of your new life, and your selfless way of living. I’m proud of you. It takes a lot to admit to your wrong doings, and it takes even more guts to address them and battle them head on.”
It seems to take hours, before I put the plane back to near perfect condition. I stare off into the ocean and can’t seem to open my eyes wide enough. I close them finally as the salt from the wind is causing them to burn. I take ten deep breaths, slowly raising the plane over my right shoulder, releasing into the ocean to watch my spirit take flight. I send my condolences to myself, and turn to the man who is further away than previous. He waves to me, takes his hat off, and nods. When I look into his eyes, I realize I was just talking to myself, my 60 year old self. When I run to see him close up, he disappears into the ocean, but his hat was left on the shore. I pick it up and notice a piece of paper inside. “Don’t open for 10 years”