The Way to Believe

“Prove it.” Sami was having trouble believing us.

I looked at Hunter. She said, “We can fly?”

“Like with Pixie dust.”

“Why does every one think you need Pixie Dust?” I looked at Hunter; she shrugged, “No, the magic of Neverland.”

“You mean believing.”

“You were listening.” I grinned.

She grinned back, “I always listen. Okay, so? Fly.”

And I did. And so did Hunter. She’s a lot more graceful than I am.

“Okay, so now make me fly.”

Hunter asked, “Do you believe?”

“Seeing is believing.”

“Well then fly.” I told her.

And she did.

She whooped. “Flying! Why don’t more people do this?”

“Well, they don’t believe it.”

It’s true, people don’t. They have to see it to believe it. Why? Don’t ask me. I don’t know. But everyone is susceptible to it. Even me. It’s why people don’t fly now. They probably used to but either they forgot or just decided not to. Stupid really. Flying is fun. It’s like running, only better. You can go more places. You have more freedom. You are free if you can fly. Nothing can hold you down or keep you back. You will succeed in every thing you try. Because nothing will stop you, nothing will keep you from doing what you want. And feeling how you want. Nobody can stop you once you’ve begun.

I believe, because it’s true. But people believe all sorts of things that aren’t true. And it’s what holds them back.

…

We were flying over London. I could see all the rooftops, and all the lights. It was beautiful. A glittering metropolis of streets, and cars, and people. But it was ugly too. It was pollution. Air pollution and light pollution and water pollution. This wasn’t how the world was supposed to be. It was supposed to be clean and fresh. And wild. The world should be wild and free. Not contained, not domesticated, not built up or anything.

It should be wild and free and hidden.

It should be sacred. Untouched. Undisturbed. And beautiful.

We were flying over blue waters now. Clear and sparkling, water lit up the world. Sami looked at me and smiled.

Hunter looked at me and groaned.

“What?” I shouted at her.

“Plane.” Was all she said.

She ducked down behind a cloud and we followed her.

“Do you think they saw us?” I asked.

“I hope not.”

The plane passed overhead with a loud painful noise. That was wrong. Flying shouldn’t be loud. It shouldn’t hurt.

We flew on.

We were passing over Neverland now.

And it was beautiful. That was they way the world should be. Not just some parts of it. All of it.