Climbing Out.
As the plane sits at the end of the runway, there’s this sense of anticipation. I feel the vibration of the engines through the seat, and await that moment where the pilot pushes the throttles forward, knowing that I’m going to feel that pressure in my back as we accelerate down the runway.
As we reach takeoff speed, I close my eyes and allow the emotions of joy and gratitude overtake me as our wheels leave the ground, and we are climbing out, climbing away, climbing into forever.
We have not wings, yet we can fly. What greater testament to ourselves than that.
Yet I didn’t always feel this way. My original love of flying was destroyed after a particularly turbulent flight from Los Angeles to London over 20 years ago.
Although the Captain assured us we were perfectly safe, I remember being huddled in my seat as the plane shook and rattled all around us. For a portion of time, I was convinced that I was experiencing my last few hours on this good earth.
And it changed me.
Anticipation was replaced by anxiety. Joy replaced by terror. A sense of wonder was swallowed up in an overwhelming, suffocating feeling of helplessness as I realized that my life was dependent upon the skill of the pilot and those who had assembled the aircraft.
Although the plane arrived in London essentially unchanged, a seed of fear was sown in my heart. It was watered and nourished by a flight on our honeymoon, and years later by a horrendous flight into Reno that probably made a pilot’s highlight reel.
But I was determined not to allow this fear to control my life.
I learned a long time ago that the antidote to fear is knowledge, and so I began learning. I would listen to air traffic control here in Boise while working. I watched video after video on YouTube.
I came to understand how a plane flies, how rigorous the testing is, and how many planes fly each day without incident. I visited an air traffic control tower, and talked with many pilots.
And in a strange quirk of fate, fear changed to love.
I really fell for flying the day a very kind friend flew Holly and me to lunch in his plane, and allowed me to fly it for a few minutes. I can’t really describe how it felt, other than to say that I’ve never felt more at peace, and genuinely calmer and happier, than in that cockpit that day.
Watching the world pass by, we saw this wonderful planet in a way that I had never done before. There’s nothing like the view from the cockpit to remind you of just how fragile life on this planet is, and how we are so blessed to experience every day.
In the words of the great Felix Baumgartner “sometimes you have to get up really high, to see how small we are”.
Now I look forward to every flight with a sense of wonder, of gratitude and amazement. For we who are born without wings are able to soar higher than those who have them, and we can see beyond the horizon into the eternities.
How blessed we are. How blessed we are.
— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings