{"id":1775,"date":"2026-03-30T14:02:20","date_gmt":"2026-03-30T18:02:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/?p=1775"},"modified":"2026-03-30T14:02:22","modified_gmt":"2026-03-30T18:02:22","slug":"two-kinds-of-presence","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/two-kinds-of-presence\/","title":{"rendered":"Two Kinds of Presence"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Peering through the blur of the spinning propeller, Martha\u2019s Vineyard and Nantucket wait for me in the distance. Flying south towards Buzzards Bay, the coastline falls away until there\u2019s only open ocean beneath the wings. The Atlantic stretches out below, meeting the horizon at a seam softened by the summer haze. I catch the occasional glints of the midday sun as it reflects off of the waves, revealing the texture of the sea. Where the sunlight reaches through to the shallow sand, the water becomes a viridian green, streaked with ribbons of blue from the underwater dunes. From 3,500 feet it seems as though I could throw out a line and reel in Nantucket itself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inside the cockpit, the plane feels alive, buzzing with energy. The engine hums steadily, reassuring my nerves. Once trimmed, the plane slips through the air, only the slightest touch needed on the yoke. My gaze drifts between the instruments and the horizon beyond. My thoughts are interrupted by the frequent chirps of other pilots calling their positions on the radio: \u201cKatama traffic, yellow Piper Cub entering the 45 left downwind, runway 21, Katama,\u201d and \u201cKatama traffic, white Cessna Skyhawk, turning base to final, runway 21, Katama.\u201d With each transmission, I picture their positions in my mental map so I can slot myself into the pattern. I scan the sky, looking for the other planes as they converge at the airfield.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Calling Katama an \u201cairfield\u201d is no exaggeration. It\u2019s not an airport with paved runways, crowded gates, jetbridges, or even a terminal, but quite literally a field \u2014 three intersecting ribbons of grass cut from the tall summer weeds, a handful of planes parked next to the airfield diner, and a faint salt breeze drifting in from the sea. The runway ends just shy of the beach \u2014 a few more yards and we\u2019d be parked on the sand. Still, it\u2019s enough to invite anyone bold enough to land.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I ease the throttle back and the hum of the engine softens to a low murmur. We begin our descent, tracing the shoreline towards Katama. Turning downwind, the sand gives way to the green meadow of the airfield, just off of our left wing. Continuing our glide down, we turn base, then final. Crossing the runway threshold, we skim just above the blades of grass. The main wheels touch once, then again, and the airplane skitters lightly across the uneven turf. I pull back the yoke gently to hold the nose aloft as long as possible, letting the plane settle into the grass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hadn\u2019t noticed that I was holding my breath until the airplane slowed. As we rolled to a stop, the flow state of the flight dissolved into a wave of exhilaration \u2014 we just landed on the Vineyard, on a grass field by the sea. I shut down the engine, opened the door, and the cool wind rushed in, carrying with it the scent of salt and grass. We lay down under the wing, the coarse grass rough between our fingers. After lunch, we walked a few steps across the sand and let the cool Atlantic water wash over our bare feet. I still carry that memory: the immense blue, the soft horizon from 3,500 feet. To this day, even when my feet are on the ground, I know what\u2019s above.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By early evening, the light had softened, the afternoon air cooling as we prepared to head home. We took off once again, the islands fading behind us. We arrived on the mainland just as the sun swooned. I stepped out of the cockpit onto the tarmac, struck by the stillness that followed. The airport, closed for the day, lay deserted. Twilight settled over the valley, where the last streaks of gold along the hilltops gave way to the deepening violet sky. I noticed the windsock drifting lazily in the evening breeze. Five clicks of the handheld radio, and the airport came alive \u2014 the blue and green taxiway lights twinkled on, stretching outward like a constellation stitched across the ground. A few minutes later, the beacon began its revolution: one green, one white, over and over, steady as a heartbeat, sweeping across the sky. Sometimes the simplest moments ask only that I pause long enough to notice them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m reminded of something Chris Hadfield, a pilot and astronaut, once wondered: \u201cif you feel that something has enlightened you in some way, do you just have a secret smile, or do you try and share it with someone you love or write it down or take a picture?\u201d I couldn\u2019t bear to keep that smile to myself.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Peering through the blur of the spinning propeller, Martha\u2019s Vineyard and Nantucket wait for me in the distance. Flying south towards Buzzards Bay, the coastline falls away until there\u2019s only open ocean beneath the wings. The Atlantic stretches out below, meeting the horizon at a seam softened by the summer haze. I catch the occasional […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_bbp_topic_count":0,"_bbp_reply_count":0,"_bbp_total_topic_count":0,"_bbp_total_reply_count":0,"_bbp_voice_count":0,"_bbp_anonymous_reply_count":0,"_bbp_topic_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_reply_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_forum_subforum_count":0,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1775","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1775","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1775"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1775\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1785,"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1775\/revisions\/1785"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1775"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1775"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sahilnawab.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1775"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}