We two-hundred (give or take) are 33000 feet up in the sky, inside a gigantic metal machine, moving forward at tremendous speed.
I love flying, because each time I do it I know I am experiencing a miracle. How can it be possible for this massive craft, weighing thousands of tons, carrying perhaps another 14 tons of humanity, to be way up here, above St. Petersberg, without muscle or feather or beady eye, and for such a miracle to take place many times a day the whole world over?
To my scientifically-challenged mind it is simply magic, just like the sleek white tablet across whose glass my fingers dance, recording contemplations which later it will effortlessly disperse across that same world for more strangers to share, in an instant.
The dancing fingers themselves are a miracle, animated as they are by brain signals, sinew and bone, and my own unique life-force, pulsing through them, inspiring, connecting, fulfilling a potential that goes far beyond any one of these and all of them.
My mother's death was traumatic to watch, and beautiful. Its gifts of gratitude, awareness, healing and connection are unfolding in me daily, still. It made me someone I could not have been without the intensity of its pain; the fear and grief that danced exquisitely with transcendent love and spiritual intimacy, as separate yet intertwined as body and soul.
The capacity of the human spirit to overcome adversity and evolve as a result is what propels me forward as a passenger of this improbable machine and in my quest to learn of others' evolution through a level of adversity I can barely fathom.
Sixty-seven years, three months, five days and almost sixteen hours ago, another miraculous machine, smaller than the one in which I sit and write, containing fewer people, flew above Hiroshima and dropped its cargo, innocuously-named "Little Boy". The lives of those below changed, and, for many, ended, in an instant, and the world has never been the same again.
Perhaps their words, their stories, will provide an answer to my questions, or perhaps I will be lucky enough to experience another shared transcendence and their collective life force will communicate with mine.
I, have, packed safely in my hand-luggage, a box of images of hope created by friends and strangers seeking and offering communication that transcends the norm. It is an honour to be the messenger delivering these gifts of empathy, to the Hibakusha and, beyond this trip, to whatever hearts they are destined to inspire. Each one is invested with The Miraculous, animated as they are by brain signals, sinew and bone, but more, each artist's unique life-force, pulsing through them, inspiring, connecting, fulfilling a potential that goes far beyond any one of these, and all of them.