THE ISOLATION JOURNALS - DAY 28 - FEAR OF FLYING

Today’s prompt:

Write about a time when your bravery or curiosity was stronger than your fear. If it moves you, dance it out.

Fear of Flying

I’m a lawyer, accustomed to sitting behind a desk in a San Francisco high rise. My mentor was in charge of the hydroelectric dams that dotted the Northern California landscape. We were a modern-day odd couple. Felix and Oscar. City mouse and country mouse. Eva Gabor and Eddie Albert.

“Have you ever flown in a helicopter before?” the pilot asked me.

I looked over at my mentor. He smiled, already knowing the answer. In our few months together, I’d revealed my complete ignorance of our company’s real-world operations. I was a paper-pusher, strictly back-office. He was an ops guy, spending as much time in the field as in headquarters. I quickly came to realize that’s why he was assigned to be my mentor.

The pilot handed me a pair of heavy-duty earphones. We went through the safety checklist, and then we took off.

I was raised to be cautious. No, it was worse than that. I was raised to be afraid. Growing up, I was afraid of many things: wearing the wrong clothes, smelling of kimchee, being bitten by wild dogs, getting anything less than an A.

So, as the rotors started up and the helicopter lifted us above the ground, my natural inclination was to be afraid. To close my eyes. To prepare for the worst.

“Hail, Mary, full of grace,” I silently prayed.

“Do you see that canyon down there?” the pilot shouted over the headphones.

I took a moment to open my eyes. Not far below, I saw a scenic canyon of rock and forest with a silvery ribbon of river. It was breathtaking.

“Let’s have some fun,” the pilot said, grinning. He tilted the helicopter this way and that, skimming over the treetops.

I felt my lunch hurtling up from my stomach. Suddenly, I was afraid of throwing up all over my mentor and embarrassing myself.

“Blessed art thou amongst women,” I resumed praying, squeezing my eyes tight again.

“Look, down there,” my mentor said. I opened my eyes to see the azure-blue lake below us. It was almost otherworldly. Not only was the scenery unbelievably beautiful, it was also very remote. How many people would ever be lucky enough to see this lake from this unique vantage point?

I had a choice: to keep my eyes open and enjoy the ride, or to shut my eyes tight and fear for the worst.

I’d faced this choice before. After finishing cancer treatment, I was grateful for a second chance at life, but I was also worried about recurrence. I read countless articles about diets, exercises, drugs, and other ways to stay healthy. At the same time, I saw many of my friends die — despite their best efforts at diet, exercise, drugs, and positive attitude.

I came to realize I have limited control over the length of my life. The best I can do is live my days – however many they may be – with hope and optimism.

“I never get tired of this view,” my mentor shouted over the drone of the rotors.

I kept my eyes open. I took in the scenery.

And, somehow, I managed not to throw up.