I like turbulence. When you’re a passenger on a plane your fate is decided. There’s nothing you can do to change the outcome of the flight. It’s one of the few times in life when that’s the case. I guess I’ve always thought of flying as a break from worrying. For some, flying has the opposite effect. Some assume we’ll land and some spend each moment waiting for it. When the announcement comes on that the seatbelt sign will once again be illuminated I’ve often watched people shift their bodies and their breath. The foreign yet distinct feeling of your stomach being pulled up from your chest. The uncertainty of the severity. How bad? How long? In this brief window, way above the clouds, we’re offered a certain form of clarity. “What if this plane were to go down right now?” I think this thought drifts through most minds when we fly…in varying degrees of volume. There have been times where the sentiment burned deeply into my thoughts. When I felt like there was so much I still needed to do. Hearts to mend. Words to say. A panicked feeling in the back of my throat. Something has to change. In the last year I’ve done a lot of things for the first time. Though not always easy, I’ve found myself acting on the promises I’ve made to my 28th year. Central Time has just as many hours has Pacific and my head still needs to catch up with my heart in ways I’ve long wished it would, but today when I closed my eyes and waited for the roller coaster stomach to take effect Im comforted by the little life I’ve made for myself. I have never been more grateful than the people I miss whether I am here or there. This is more true every year. Even the long ones. The really bad days still happen, but they’re blanketed with the ones that make me aim for the next number on my cake. Turbulence on a plane usually looks the same. Rows of closed eyes all thinking about the same relief. Waiting to go “back to normal”. But we never stop craving that sense of relief, even when we land safely. Planes are supposed to feel like cruise control. An ideal flight to most would remain uninterrupted by the dips in the sky. But we often yearn for the guaranteed because it sounds so much easier. We don’t welcome bumps in the road, we dread them. Yet they will always be there. Turbulence on an airplane has always served as a gut check physically but I’ve also come to realize it’s ability to measure my mind. How the only thing that’s truly certain is where we plan on landing on the ground. Everything else is up to me. Lifetime warranty. Satisfaction (never) guaranteed. That sentiment used to terrify me but now I am comforted by it. The uncertainty of it all. I am very grateful for the peace of mind coming from this time in the sky and wish everyone a safe and healthy beginning of the holiday season.
✨Feet on the ground. Head in the sky. Guess that this must be the place✨