Excitement or Anxiety?

When I fly, I often feel a fluttering in my chest and my belly. Sometimes I sit with it for a few moments, to discern whether it's nervousness, anxiety, or excitement. It's usually the latter, an awakened anticipation of freedom when I'll soar into the great wide open, off to a new place. As the plane starts to rev up and we pull away from the gate, I settle into my seat and silently thank the pilot for doing his job keeping us steady and safe. We take our place on the runway and there's that moment of pause before the engines start again, like the beginning of a roller coaster ride. Suddenly, we are charging down the airstrip and then the front wheels lift off and we are soaring, miraculously upwards. I watch the ground float away from someplace on high, and as we bump through a few clouds, I feel a deep reverence to the sky, which helps me soften to the rumbling and shaking. The feeling on my skin is as shimmering as the sun streaming through the tiny window and I breathe with the tingling, allow for it, and I revel in my aliveness. It's one of those commonplace experiences in my gypsy life, but I don't take it for granted and I never want to dismiss the feeling - I want to be a part of all of my experiences, as big and beautiful and sometimes scary and overwhelming as they are - to be a part of it, to feel so regular, so small, yet so free and awake, in all of life and all of my humanness.

My friends, when and how do you feel yours?