Simple Pleasure

I visited an Air Show today - militaries and commercial organisation and flying enthusiasts getting together to show off and enjoy.  As I toured the display aircraft, I realised that the light and ultra-light aircraft were making me mad.  It's an odd reaction.  I just felt cross at how many there were, and how many varieties.

There are a few levels to this.  First, I suppose I am envious and resentful of people who have tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars, and hundreds of hours to spend doing something of limited utility.

Second, I am envious of the ability to allow oneself something so expensive of such limited utility. There is something about people actually self-satisfying that galls me.

Third, I think general aviation, just going out a footling around, is a stupid thing to enjoy. Simple development and exercise of a skill is dull, dull, dull unless you create with it.  This is just my personal ego boundary though, not reality. It straitjackets me as a creative person, in circumstances when I'd be better served by simply being a man.  Practice is sheer pleasure for a lot of people, even me in certain situations.

So how do I get over this?  Analysis is probably part of my not getting over it.  Thinking it out like this is amusing and lets me justify it, and do nothing about it.  And maybe become more willing to spend on simple pleasure.

(Wait, a blog listing about futile endeavours that includes cocktails among its interests has a problem with simple pleasure?  I can only offer with Walt Whitman that I am complex, I contain multitudes.)

Repentance or dying are needed.  I need to look at this reflection of myself in resentment and realise it lies in my overall failure, my eventual death.