It’s part of our nature that when our experiences with a particular activity cross a certain threshold, those experiences lose some of their wonder. Our child-like amazement retreats somewhere more deeply inside of us.

Do you remember your first time as a child flying above the clouds? Looking down at them from the airplane window?

To me, they are like stuffing bags from the fabric store during those most dreaded trips with my mother as a young boy.
Clouds are randomly chaotic, yet perfectly level with the sky’s horizon.
Casting darkness on the ground, each shadow uniquely different, yet collectively the same.
Clouds hold their formation past the horizon, as if to say you may be high but there’s so much more to see. Limits to our technology, but no constraints to our sense of wonder.

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