The kairotic moment

     As the last of my tethers to the earth fall away, I cannot help but feel almost heavily as I lift off the ground.  The unbearable light of flight, I guess some tortured poet somewhere might say, but words, descriptions, they all sit heavily upon the ground.  As a youth I used to look skyward, but now, gently drifting farther away, I see all those below me as a fog.  A gentle, benign, yet all encompassing fog, it isn’t long before I can no longer see the people, the words, the experiences, all that I could see as the human condition; none of these have any defined boundaries any longer.  They all run together, as undulations in the effluvium:  here is a man taking advice too literally and seeing just how much better it is to “go fly a kite”, there sits two former soul mates, eating dinner in silence, with all that they have left to say effectively stopping any real connection that they still of course share…and me.
     Amidst the wonder of this new, seamless humanity that I see below, I see myself, though, that can’t be right, right?  There I am however, playing by the lake, or is that me flying the kite?  I almost want to stop my ascent, for a 12 story existential crisis is simply not what the doctor ordered, yet as my elevation grows in scope, so do does the disconnect from all that lay below.  I look around, to my trusted companion, yet I find no one.  I panic for a moment, only to remember that it is she who let loose the last of the fastenings, to unknowingly allow for the withdrawl from all that I though I knew.  Gosh is it pretty up here, who would have thought?
     I cannot relish the moment for too long though, for what washes over me is an intense sadness, one not befitting of the beautiful scene that lays spread so far below.  As I look around, expecting for the answer to leap out from behind, what exactly I don’t know, when it hits me square between the ears: nothing.  That’s what sets my head passionately a-spin, there is no one around, no one to share this beautiful moment, this moment of supreme detachment, this instant of unparalleled peace.  Stories always fall short: “you had to have been there” I heard one too often. A line I have told once too often, as I think now, clinging madly to what I see, the rushes of sound, the cold snap of the wind, the pleasant numb and rosy glow that I must be exuding:  even one ounce this twinkling slice of the time I call my life, I just want to take a snapshot and send it out as a Christmas card, a Hanukah card; damn, I want to send it for no reason.  And as I tilt suddenly askew, my question becomes not what might happen to me, but where I might be going.
     “The kairos is out there somewhere, and I can only hope I don’t lose everything that I know and love to find it.  In fact, what would I do with it when it finally comes across my path?”  Though for now I must push through these questions, there will be plenty of time to ask them when I become further removed from all that is common and safe.  And in the meanwhile, I could just swear that was a…