Hanging by a thread. It sometimes looks like flying. A thin filament keeping one from crashing, from falling into the black abyss.
It's a very precarious way to live. If you could choose, you'd probably opt for a more "secure" existence, although, all of us are basically one catastrophe from catastrophe. And anyway, maybe that vaunted security is really just an illusion, a little fairy-tale we use to lullaby ourselves to sleep.
You look around at the world, at the universe, and it looks solid, reliable, stable. But of course, if you do a little investigation you find that it's permeable, unreliable and in flux. So yes, you are hanging by a thread, defying gravity, even as gravity taunts you at every turn.
And others are impressed by your viability, your great ability to fly above the fray. And at the same time, some of them are rooting for you to fall. Maybe they just want to see what happens.
And sometimes you too wonder what happens if the thread disintegrates. How far do you fall? What is bottom? Is there life after death? Do you disappear, do you disintegrate into little particles, or do you bounce?
You are just like a little black spider, one thread dangling. It may look like flying, but it's really just a strategy to hang onto life. Spinning the thread and holding on. Just to see what happens.