Lovers of air travel find it exhilarating to hang poised between

Hear the words of Alexander Chase, who declared: “Lovers of air travel find it exhilarating to hang poised between the illusion of immortality and the fact of death.” At first, this sounds like the observation of a poet reflecting on the strangeness of flight. Yet in truth, it is a profound meditation on the human condition: that to rise into the sky is to flirt with eternity, to taste divinity for a moment, while never escaping the shadow of mortality. For in the airplane’s ascent lies both glory and danger, and in this tension the traveler feels most alive.

To step onto a plane is to challenge the ancient boundaries of man. For countless generations, humanity gazed upward at the eagle, the falcon, and the swallow, wondering if the heavens could ever be ours. With the age of flight, the impossible was seized. Yet every triumph carries its shadow. For though we soar at 30,000 feet, though clouds drift beneath us like waves, the frailty of life remains. A single miscalculation, a storm, or a failure of steel, and the voyager is reminded that man, though touching the skies, is still mortal. Thus arises the strange thrill Chase names: to live suspended between the dream of eternity and the undeniable fact of death.

The illusion of immortality comes from the very act of defying nature. When the body, made for earth, floats above mountains and seas, it feels untouchable, godlike. Time itself seems to bend, as thousands of miles are conquered in mere hours. This is why some speak of air travel as a miracle, for in those moments the traveler lives as though no law of gravity or mortality can reach him. Yet beneath this wonder runs an undertone of fragility, a reminder that all hangs on wings of steel and human craft.

History gives us vivid testimony. Recall Charles Lindbergh, who in 1927 crossed the Atlantic alone in the Spirit of St. Louis. The world hailed him as a hero, a man who touched the skies and proved the boundlessness of human will. Yet Lindbergh himself spoke of the constant presence of danger, of the thin line between triumph and destruction. His exhilaration was born not from safety, but from risking everything in the thin air between earth and eternity. This is the essence of Chase’s reflection: the thrill of existence sharpened by the nearness of its end.

The fact of death is what lends sharpness to life. Without death, there is no urgency, no sweetness to experience. When a traveler takes flight, he cannot help but sense that his life rests in fragile balance—and it is this awareness that makes the heart beat faster, the senses sharpen, the gratitude for breath deepen. Just as warriors on the battlefield often report feeling most alive while nearest death, so too does the lover of flight feel a fierce joy in the paradox of soaring safely while knowing the abyss lies just below.

The deeper meaning of the quote is that life itself mirrors this experience. Each of us lives daily between the illusion of permanence and the certainty of death. We make plans as though immortal, yet every moment we are but one breath away from our end. The wise do not ignore this paradox but embrace it, for it teaches us to live more fully, to cherish each step, each embrace, each act of courage as if it were suspended between the stars and the void.

The lesson for us is clear: do not flee from the knowledge of mortality, but let it make you braver. When you live as though immortal, you risk arrogance and waste. When you live only in fear of death, you shrink and hide. But when you live aware of both—the illusion of immortality and the fact of death—you walk with balance, gratitude, and courage. Practically, this means embracing risks worth taking, savoring beauty without delay, and never forgetting that each journey may be your last.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, remember the wisdom of Alexander Chase: to fly is to live the truth of life itself, suspended between eternity and dust. Embrace the wonder, but respect the fragility. Let mortality be not a terror, but a teacher, sharpening your joy and your courage. For it is only when you know that you may fall that you learn how to truly soar.