if not now, then when?

Last night, as a friend drove me home, I had the opportunity to look up, out through his sunroof, as we drove the streets of Reston.

Have you ever stared up at the world as you fly by at so many miles per hour? (I know my best friend has, and she even has a song that makes her think of me and my sunroof.) This was my first time, despite both of my cars having a sunroof - I don't recommend manning a car and turning your eyes up at the same time.

But last night, I saw the world in the most beautiful way.

The closest I can come to describing it is watching the world being blown around you - no, more like you're being blown around by the world. You feel small and insignificant and yet the air and stars and streetlights are there and real - you haven't escaped gravity, even though your heart is up with the moon.

That's worth something, right?

Oddly enough, it reminded me of how I felt looking down from Katzen 202. Only it was about as opposite as you could get - in one, I was suspended, watching the cars rushing along, minding their white dashes, and in the other, I was the one racing between the lines. But I'd be hard pressed to find another time where I felt more alive.

We are so intent on looking straight ahead, eyes on the prize. That's certainly necessary and good... but I can't help but wonder what exactly we're missing when we just forget to look up.