I used to hate flying on airplanes. 

I still hate flying on planes.

From security to procedure to the actual act of being in the air at a near impossible measure, I loathe it. Yet, I’ve flown more times in the past four years than I have in the 27 or so that preceded it. One of those flights was a 12-hour jaunt to New Zealand from LAX. I knew it was going to be bad, so I figured I’d make the best of it. I had a creative mix of drugs that resulted in a pretty gnarly dream state that I then wrote all sorts of fun stuff about on the last leg of the trip – Aukland to Christchurch. The whole ordeal made the time in New Zealand feel even farther away than I was.

Looking at my desk now, it is a mess of notebooks, monitors, cables, mice, cameras, inkwells and more. It’s impossible to focus most days.

When I was laid up on the couch for the better part of 10 weeks, time crawled to a standstill. Cold winter months on a couch not quite comfortable enough – even with the internet the world seems to drag to a standstill. So much time, just lost in the world of infinite jest.

In this world of bottomless bowls and multiple screens and a thousand and one things that can grab our attention and run off with it, I’m learning to take flight. To find one or two things to focus deep on for hours at a time as I gently bounce through the sky. No one makes things meant to be written or viewed or listened to while the consumer is half focused on something else.

Airplane mode is a great way to dig deep and let time get lost. Everything you can do when your world is the square footage of an airline tray.