The oval window of Yeti Air flight perfectly framed the mighty Everest in the distance. It marked the tallest summit of all Himalayan mountain range. When the sheer cloud slowly subsided, I was stunned in amazement to witness the glowing peak of Sagarmatha, the god of all mountains, bathing under generous sunshine that winter morning.

It’s a sacred mountain, solemnly meditative in his solitude. He also kept the greatest secret of all explorers. The riddle of whether the first summit attempt by Mallory and Irvine was successful in 1924? Or was it the Tenzing and Hillary’s expedition in 1953 who made the grand milestone of being the first men to set foot on its summit?

The speculation continues, even after Mallory and Irvine’s bodies were found in 1999 with no further evidence of their successful summit. Until today, the real fact remain a mystery, kept in Everest’s enigmatic silence.

Onboard, surrounded by the mightiest mountain range on Earth, all eighteen or so passengers were constantly whispering their admiration, in swished voice, as the rumbling Jetstream-41 propeller engines have taken over the cabin silence.

Complementing the raging oceans, mountains are destined to be in the state of eternal stillness. A constant meditation. And therefore, people tend to link mountains with something godly.

In Javanese mythology where I live, mountains are considered to be the dwelling of the gods. This ancient belief shares the same ideas with stories about the birthplace of religions in the Middle East, where mountains are also perceived to be the rendezvous place between the prophets and god’s messengers. These holy encounters marked the origin of mainstream religions as we know today.

On most flights, a window seat has always been my priority. At some types of aircraft, it was not the most comfortable seat, I know. However, a window seat brings me the joy of a childhood time; the presence of curiosity and sense of exploration.

Flying becomes an amusing experience. Every time I looked out through the window, the sky turned into a theatrical composition. The cloud formation, the skylight and the terrain below, as if they are diligently orchestrated every single minute to entertain me, with their splendor, surprises (and turbulence at times).

A surprise was also granted by the window seat back then, in Feb 2011, during a flight bound for Jeddah.

Shortly after entering the Saudi border, the plane was flying above Rub Al Khali, known as the World largest sand desert on Earth. Not much view, I was expecting, other than sandy terrain which seemed to be plain and boring, extended from Yaman thru the Southern hemisphere of Saudi peninsular continent.

But I was wrong.

While the Rub Al Khali itself is literally translated as “empty quarter” in Arabic, in fact it was not that entirely empty. After constant (seemingly endless) flows of sand dunes, hundreds of crop circles suddenly replaced the view, with their green and yellow remarkable colors, in contrast to the desert.

Full circle, half circle and some of them are in smaller square grids. The size was also varied, from a few hundred meters up to miles long in diameter (I guessed) as they were visible outstandingly from a 39,000 feet flying aircraft.

This project might become Saudi’s determination to ensure food security of their nation by pumping fossil water from a deep well and utilize it to develop an artificial farming in the middle of the desert, known as center pivot irrigation system.

On the other hand, the project also shows that Saudi has the same or better competence with their neighbor (and most ferocious enemy), Israel. Of which, Israel has applied the system for years by developing fish farming and Yatir forest project in the boundary of Negev desert. Something that previously thought as impossible, which turned out to be a “remarkable” achievement, even the marvel of modern science.

On a night flight, a window seat tells a different story. When the “sky theater” has closed its curtain in darkness, the blink of a wingtip becomes the only attraction. Constant, periodic and silent.

The rhythm brings the mind into a contemplating state, where there’s always a strange feeling subsequent to it. Something spiritual, a connection to the divine. Something that I rarely found in a high profile worship houses and congregations.