It’s never a good thing to have your life flash before your eyes. But it certainly does put things into perspective.
Although Red Mountain (see Red Mountain Adventure, Part I entry) is known for adventure travel, it wasn’t the height of excitement I experienced on this trip. Instead, it way my journey there that jolted my awareness. You see, to get to a place in paradise, you often have to utilize various forms of transportation. I’ve never been afraid of travel, even when traveling alone. I look at it all as part of the adventure, but sometimes I can do without the magnitude of what can occur in transit.
I left my home in North Carolina on January 1st since my duties as guest expert for the weekend were set to begin on the 2nd. The flight departed on time and although that’s usually my biggest worry, it turned out to be the least of which this go around. The majority of the US was under a winter weather watch, and once we reached 35,000 feet the plane was pretty much enveloped in clouds. I always wondered what it was like to fly a plane through “nothing”, meaning with no visibility. And this is exactly what our pilot had to do throughout most of the 3 hour, 20 minute flight. I’ve flown red-eye flights before when you couldn’t see a thing beyond the window, but this time the veil we were flying through included almost constant turbulence. In these situations, I generally stay calm and liken them to mere bumps in the road, but this time it was different as there were patches of our airy path that much more resembled potholes.
For the first 2 hours we simply bounced along. But then came a period of about 2 minutes when I literally felt like I was 4-wheeling through the sky. Books were flying, drinks were spilling, people were being jolted awake, and there was a palpable uncertainty amongst the passengers for how to react and what to do. I was reading at the time and could feel my body leaving the seat despite the fact that I had obeyed the rules by keeping my seatbelt tightly fastened. It was a small plane with about 50 people occupying the seats. My instant reaction was to close book and simply hold on. The reactions that followed were all internal, appropriate for a self-reflective individual. I’ve always pondered before panicking—a good trait in most cases, but one that often delays a normal or sometimes rational response.
The stream of consciousness that evolved was interesting. First, I wondered how long the turbulence would last. My thoughts then went to the recent reports about planes around the world that had experienced severe turbulence as well, causing injuries as bags and other personal items flew through the cabin. Luckily, although jolting, the severity of the turbulence didn’t quite match what I’d seen on the news, but in those cases one does start to wonder if it just the prelude to a bigger crescendo—and possible ending. This is what I remember thinking:
“Have I accomplished everything I wanted to in the case that this is ‘it’?”…
“Ohhhhh! Maybe this is why I was so compelled to clean out my house and get my things in order just prior to the holidays!”…
“Come on, God! I’m not ready for this. This sucks!!!”…
“How will my dog sitter know so she can continue caring for my critters until the executor of my will is notified?”…
“Wait! No one will take care of my dogs like I would—this can’t be how it ends!”…
“How will people find out and how will they feel?”…
“Who would I miss the most?”…
“Hmmm… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad… life would certainly be simpler if I was free of the human condition.”…
“But that’s why I’m here… to teach people to overcome their human condition… why would this be the end just when I’m ready to launch some new ideas?”…
“Hmmm… how will my soul feel about all of this?”…
“I guess I would know for sure what happens after you die.”…
“But this is just the beginning of my impact on the world… that’s just not cool to cut it short!”…
“Well, maybe I will get to be an angel.”…
“Was this what I signed up for?”…
“Am I done here?”…
“Well, if this is “it”, then I guess I’d be happy that it was doing something that I loved. (i.e., traveling)”…
“Gosh, I wonder where we’ll crash?”…
“Hmmm… I wonder what I’ll get to do next?”…
As you can see, my consciousness was experiencing a fair bit of turbulence as well, bargaining between whether it would be a good or bad thing, how I wanted to spend my final thoughts, and what I’d be doing next. I don’t remember being the least bit scared, just sort of frustrated and annoyed at the prospect that my “plans” might be changing beyond my control. The funny thing is that after this sequence of both literal and figurative bounces ended, the air smoothed out into an almost eerie calm. After having ridden through most of the trip making sure my stomach was settled and experiencing a sudden patch of potholes, the usually hoped for peaceful glide of the plane was actually the most disturbing part of the whole experience. Perhaps it is because we always expect the worst, particularly after unexpected events. Or perhaps it was the reports of how calm thunderstorms become just before a tornado strikes. Or perhaps it was simply because it took that long for my emotions to catch up with my thoughts. It could also be that I tend to react really well in the midst of crisis but fall apart afterward—possibly because I finally have the time and space to let my guard down. All I know is that the calm ride created a response when I became the most unnerved.
The remaining part of the trip was actually very uneventful—surprisingly so as we landed in Dallas with almost no visibility. But nonetheless, I was left with the feeling that my life had changed—if even a little bit. No scars or bruises, but a new awareness—and even more curiosity about what lies ahead for me, both in this life and whatever is next. As one who writes about consciousness and evolution, it became even clearer to me that life can shift in a nanosecond and that no one can really say what happens once we leave this world. It made me more aware of making the most of every moment and not diddling with anything that won’t help me grow. Not that I ascribe to the idea that life is fragile, but I do believe it is very changeable. Whether this be the Universe’s way of keeping us on our toes, or simply something to get our attention, these jolts of reality serve as priceless opportunities to take stock in life, assess what our priorities are, and redirect our actions to minimize regret.
Consciousness can come at the strangest and least expected times. My take-home message or reminder from the potholes in the sky? Living a radiant life means living every moment as if it is your last. For years, I’ve had a magnet on my fridge that says “Destined to be an old woman with no regrets.” For the most part, I’ve pretty much lived up to that. But now with even more intention and gusto.
(But wait! There’s more!!!…. Wait for Red Mountain Adventure, Part III—“Screws loose on the plane” which will be posted soon. Yet another adventure before I arrived in Utah.)
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