The fragility of life

We often hear or say that life is held by a single thread... 
 I now have a new appreciation for this expression as yesterday, I truly feared for what could have happened as the plane that I was boarded on had to suddenly turn-around mid-air due to mechanical failure of one of the engines (NOBODY likes to hear that by the way). The actual expression used by the pilot was "the plane is not functioning as it should" (AGAIN, not a good way to put it). 

 Before this incident occurred, my seatmate and I were deep into conversation as we had established that we were both from the Acadian Peninsula,  feeling tired and on a mission to get home. A foreman working in Vancouver, he had missed his first flight in the morning and was now behind schedule as he was making his long way home for the Holidays after having been 21 days away. I had been in Montreal for work and was missing my office Christmas party to see my daughter in action at her school's annual Christmas concert. 

 We were seated at the very back of the plane and could thus feel the mechanical aspects of the plane that much greater. It was early on enough in the flight that we both felt something was very strange about the plane. As we had reached our altitude and the plane was going back into a more horizontal navigating position, we felt as if the pilot had suddenly slammed on the breaks of the aircraft. We both looked at each other and I knew that at the very least, there were two of us that had felt this anomaly. We also then noticed that the flight attendant had not yet begun to serve refreshments (though it had been well over 20 plus minutes of being in the air) and was held up at the front, talking incessently on the aircraft phone or disappearing behind that now-dreaded black curtain. As a side note, you should know that my brother has been a flight attendant for over 20 years and has always advised me to observe the flight attendants when I am feeling nervous during flights. Trained in safety procedures and having seen worst, they remain calm, collected and reassuring. In other words, when they start looking scared and panicked, that is when I can start panicking.  You can thus appreciate the fact that I was watching like a hawk this female flight attendant and hoping that her training would start kicking-in very soon! 
All of a sudden, 
 the safety belts lights and the message to indeed fasten our safety belts come on again. By then, many of us were looking at each other and back to the flight attendant because the plane was doing this weird "full tilt on the gas pedal and stop" (I am aware it doesn't work exactly like a car, but just trying to illustrate the feeling). Then we heard the message from the captain telling us that the "plane is not functioning as it should and therefore we will turn around to Montreal to get this looked after".  Where was my reassuring flight attendant after that? Before sitting down on her jump seat and buckling down and looking straight ahead, she relayed the same message in French. Thank you. Seriously, thank you. 

 All that I can summarize after the delivery of this gloomy message was that you could feel the collective anxiety in the air (pun intended) and everyone seemed to wonder if we would actually make it. To say I felt as if my heart stopped beating for those 30 minutes is an understatement; to say that my seatmate had a look of fear in his eyes is an understatement and to say that it is then that I prayed and prayed to just get me on safe land so that I could call and hear my loved ones again is the biggest understatement of all. It is so weird how our brain sends us messages and images in moments of true dread. That adrenaline pumping in our veins sure does its job and pushes us towards paranoia (if drugs actually induce this state, why do some people put themselves through this repetitively? That is another blog post come to think of it). In any case, that feeling of the plane swerving in the air and going fast and then slow to the point of gliding was absolutely horrendous. It was later explained to me by a frequent flyer that the computer was trying to stabilize the aircraft, which was no easy achievement seeing that it was running with only one engine. 

I kept thinking of my little girl who that very morning had asked me over the phone if I would make it back on time for her Christmas concert. I had actually answered that I would be there, making thus a promise to a 9-year old that I would have to break later on. Mind you, with no fault on my part but still.... feeling like the worst parent of the year was certainly on my mind that evening. I thought of everyone in my family and prayed that I would get to see them again. My fear was threatening to take over my logic, which was also in high gear trying to process what was happening while making plans ahead, i.e.: could I make the 3:05 pm flight if we actually landed? When we were flying, sorry swerving, over the St. Lawrence River, the vivid image of Titanic and people drowning appeared in my mind. Not the prettiest picture to make its apparition by the way when fearing for one's life.  

It is in that state of mind that my seatmate asked me this very profound question: ​"Why do we, human beings, take life so much for granted? It holds by just a single thread" he said. 

 Undoubtedly, he was also wondering if we would make it safely. The fact that this grown man, whom had successfully deterred an assault on a previous flight, (this was a fun anecdote relayed before the anomaly started) was afraid, really got to me.  The fact that the captain had lowered the wheels way earlier than usual (a clue that he was taking no chances) was scary.  The landing, all things considered, was certainly different, but happened and I wanted to burst into tears from relief.  To fast-forward the hours that ensued, I will relay that we were put on a different aircraft (sorry Ottawa-bound people for overtaking your plane!) and that I arrived at 7 pm in Moncton. As we were waiting to de-board, my husband Face-timed me so I could see my daughter perform as I was missing it live. I wanted to cry due to an array of emotions. It was the oddest feeling because I think I was simply overwhelmed with multiple feelings: relief, sadness for missing this important moment, happiness for getting to see it (thanks to technology !), and strangely enough, emptiness (probably just being drained after all this adrenaline).  I have also been wondering why we take life so much for granted since... Is it because it is the way we protect ourselves? In the very same manner our brain will block out traumatic events so we do not get to experience everything at once, do we tend to block out life, taking it in slowly as our capacity for intake allows it? 

 Is it because we feel invincible? We know on a subconscious level that we all eventually die but don't we feel as if we are going to live forever at the same time? Or perhaps it has to do with the fact that we envision dying at a much later stage and never anticipate that it can happen at any given moment. 

 Is it because we are wired to live in the present? Though I refute this thought because I know we have a hard time living in the moment. We tend to flashback or live in the past or always fast-forward to the future. Think about the last time you could say you were truly living in the moment: no thought about what is for supper or planning your day or no dwelling on yesterday's mistake. The only time I achieve living in the present comes when my mind is unencumbered and this is typically achieved after about 7 or 8 days on vacation or when at the spa or when practicing yoga (speaking of which, that shall be my call to action). 

 My conclusion is that we do take life for granted and the moments that surround us. One of the passengers on the plane (seated on the other side of the aisle) tried to encourage me with the fact that I would miss this important moment in my daughter's life but there would be others. Yes there will be others moments... but the point is, this was an important moment for her right now. Children have a better capacity than adults to live in the present moment and therefore, those moments count immensely.  Thankfully, my husband was able to provide support in that important moment for my daughter last night.  I, on the other hand, am pondering (while writing about this experience to get it out of my system) how I can make this up to her; the fact that I cannot truly breaks my heart. 

Enjoy each other and your loved ones… With my friend's passing away last week and this incident, I will truly make an effort to enjoy the blessings that I have and express even more gratitude... after all, it can all go away with a blink of the eye.