Winged Migration of the Flightless Bird

One.

Something happens to astronauts as they first gaze down at the earth from the cosmos. Something spiritual. Upon gazing at their home planet as a whole, they are said to be filled with a serene and overwhelming feeling of beauty. The planet seems to be one big living organism, and extremely fragile. It has been reported that it is easy to see how we are all connected, how something that transpires on one side of the globe can effect the other side as well.

This phenomenon is referred to as "The Overview Effect", and I've often said that every world leader should have to experience it before taking office: You are responsible for your chunk of this, but remember that chunk is merely a room in this enormous house...get along with your housemates, and remember to take care of it. If the house gets condemned, you'll be evicted, too. Into oblivion! (Good way to keep their ego in check too.)

The thing is, the more I read about The Overview Effect, the more I am convinced, somehow, this has already happened to me. What the astronauts describe seems all too familiar. Now, I'm not one that heartily believes in past lives, nor do I think that I am, unbeknownst to me, an extra-terrestrial. Nor do I think I'm alone in feeling like this - frankly, I don't have the self-esteem to think that I am in any way special. I'd love to be proven incorrect.

Or, perhaps I am dead wrong, and I have absolutely no idea what it actually feels like, and this comparison of feelings is purely speculative. I only have spaceman descriptions to go by, and episodes of Doctor Who.

Perhaps this quest to find the Time Dingus will take me into space. I don't see why not. But to start, I will stay earthbound. Besides, I'm not sure I can even imagine a space helmet that would fit over Dewdrop's great bulbous beak.

So, I have heard that if you want to start an adventure, you must start with climbing the highest mountain. This always falls before swimming the deepest sea, journeying the first step, filling the barrel with monkeys, and eating the leftover take-out. So off to the only mountain I can afford to visit. Mount Killingmysorrow. I swear I've never actually called it that before now.

I have been at the foot of this mountain hundreds of times in my dreams (or maybe it was a house or a school and I had lost all my teeth and showed up late to give a speech naked, I don't know, it's from a dream. For now, it's a mountain.) I am deathly afraid of heights and Dewdrop cannot carry me over. His wings don't work like that, and I am not at my college weight. I cannot go over.

I have wandered around the base many, many times, and have not once found a passageway through. This time is different. I have hired a guide, a Sherpa I have named Benny. That is quite possibly not his name, I didn't ask; he pretends not to understand English, and only speaks in Nepali. In my reality he is Benny, for he reminds me of an ABBA song (I'm not sure which, definitely not "Dancing Queen", maybe "The Day Before You Came"? Not important. Perhaps it's the beard.). He doesn't respond to the name, but I wonder if he would respond to any name. He doesn't like me.

He tells me of a passageway at the furthest eastern edge using bad angry mime. He has never been inside, but has heard of strange creatures there. This he doesn't mime, but I can see it in his eyes, and Dewdrop shivers whenever Benny pulls out his map. I have seen the map and could not read it. To me, it is merely a paper restaurant placemat. The kind that children are encouraged to doodle and do word puzzles on. Perhaps I am too trusting, but I assume my guide sees something different when he looks at it. Eye of the beholder, and all that.

I feel some relief having Benny with us. Dewdrop has no sense of direction. It is as if he has done a somersault into water and lost track of what is up and what is down, can't find the surface to take a breath, and this has been this mindset ever since.