Well, I think I’ve figured this train thing out. It’s bothered me for a while now that the only form of transportation I find so majestic is the railroad. When you think about it, flight is a much loftier mode. So as I flew from Birmingham to Atlanta to Dallas to Charlotte to Birmingham this past weekend, I decided to figure out why I don’t really care about planes. Or ships, for that matter. And I think I did.
Planes are unthinkable. I’m sure there are people that understand how a giant piece of metal carrying herds of travelers, their excessive belongings, and hundreds of tiny Coke products can simply lift itself into the air. But I cannot. Looking out the window of a plane, seeing the buildings of a city reduced to lego-sized blocks and the street lights of a neighborhood become tiny, sparkling fireflies dancing in perfect parallels does not amaze me the way I think it should. It is just beyond me. It is an intangible moment. It is senseless.
Ships are one in the same. You tell me how a barge or a catamaran or a massive, gaudy cruise ship floats. FLOATS. Row boats, fishing boats, durham boats, steam boats, ski boats. They float. And I don’t understand it. Again, it seems senseless to me. Intangible. It elicits no emotion.
But trains. Trains make sense. Trains are marked by precision and reason and meaning. They are methodical, powerful, dedicated. They exist to be simply that which they are. Like words and numbers. There is no mystery behind them. They just are. And it’s a tangible, emotional thing. To me, at least.
Maybe I just don’t like things I can’t understand. If so, I should probably figure that out because I’m thinking that won’t fare well in my relationship with the Lord.
Either way, I just felt like putting that into words, and it seemed like a decent enough excuse to break my blogging hiatus. So there you go.