I am currently sitting in the very back row of a tiny American Eagle. It is deafening. I can’t even hear my own thoughts! My whole body vibrates violently as I view the majestic mountains below—undulating ripples of autumn-tinted trees showing off the ancient, leathery sun-kissed skin of Mother Earth. I was having a sudden flashback of a time when I was sitting in the back row of an airplane on a trip in a former life. On one ill-fated AirTran flight many moons ago, the air conditioning system was dripping water on my head. I raised holy hell, and they ended up moving me to first class, the only seat left in the airplane.
I purposefully had chosen this seat, so I would not be sitting over the wing. I laugh hysterically at this realization. I had thought, sitting in my comfy desk chair, giving no thought to these forgotten unintended consequences, “It won’t be that bad.” I wanted to have an unobstructed view of the mountains from my window seat.
I did, in fact, have a beautiful view of the western North Carolina mountains below, but eventually, we ascended high enough; hence the clouds came, leaving me with only a turbulent view of every possible hue of translucent white. It was an iridescent quilted mirror of pure blinding sunshine. And it was worth it.
Shortly after takeoff, the woman in the seat next to me went into the lavatory. A young girl made her way to the back of the plane and stood with her father at the bathroom door. She was crying hysterically and hyperventilating into a vomit bag. When my original seatmate returned, the flight attendant moved her to the girl’s original seat so that she could sit closer to the bathroom. I sent her prayers of comfort as she was clearly struggling so. But when she came out of the bathroom, she was smiling, and I proceeded to have a lovely conversation with this young woman named Colleen. She looked just like a dear friend, and I enjoyed talking with her for the remainder of the flight. I told her people were always calling me Colleen. She giggled as she said that people often called her Collin.
When she was in the bathroom, I was laughing (in my head, of course) because I realized my former self would have been absolutely horrified that the flight attendant sat someone about to vomit, mere inches away from my face, on a plane ride from hell. My path has led me a long way in finding peace in the midst of chaos. One of my current Sacred Practices, when life suddenly deals me such a hand, is to begin to look for the blessing. And what a gift I received. I am grateful.
Namaste
