Unexpected Graces in Uncertain Times
A flight deck conversation in the dark provides comfort in a global pandemic.
I work as a flight attendant for an airline that repatriated passengers and stranded citizens back home amidst the unfolding of the COVID-19 pandemic. Nowadays, people have become fearful of flying and tight spaces as planes were never designed for social distancing, but I am proud to be part of a team that worked to bring people home to their families despite the risks.
For all the times I’d wished to snatch an empty spot in the employee parking lot nearest the airport entrance, I never wished it like this. There was a quiet sombre acceptance of what was happening as I’d walked into my last repatriation flight: we’d all be laid off soon, joining so many others in the airline industry. What happens after that, or how long this crisis might last is completely unknown.
As we were only flying passengers back home, we took an empty plane down and I had the chance to sit in the flight deck for take off. It was a very early morning flight and just before we took off, the Captain turns to me and says, “This is going to be the prettiest thing you ever did see. You ready?” I smile and nod; we taxi into a glittering stream of runway lights and into a pitch black sky.
Once we were in a steady cruise, I asked the pilots if they actually spend more time watching their instruments to know where we are — rather than what’s outside their windows — because in this case, there was really nothing but darkness. The Captain, also a flight instructor, says that one of the first things he teaches new pilots is to wrap their heads around the idea that there is still vision without sight.
That floored me. What a thought for a time like this.
He gave the example of a blind person still knowing how to get from one place to another. They may not have their sight, but certainly still have their vision. He says that it’s about understanding where you are as a moving object in space and in relation to others. Both he and the First Officer explained the different instruments on their PFD’s to know the plane’s altitude, speed, angle and direction. Regardless of what they see (or don’t see) outside their windows, we are never actually lost.
I found an unexpected comfort in this conversation and thought it rather fitting for all that’s happening in the world outside the safety of that flight deck. We are all in a state of darkness, suspended in uncertainty, temporarily losing sight of our horizon lines: our career trajectories, paycheques, school schedules, travel plans or weekly routines— so many things we thought of as ‘security.’
So, if we are indeed just moving objects grasping in the dark, who are we in relation to others? What actually gives us purpose when the pictures we’ve drawn of our future selves are not so crisp anymore? What do we actually hold near and dear when the noise of work and commutes, deadlines, grocery lists and phone bills are at a standstill?
Perhaps it is time we check into our other senses to remind us of truths we’ve forgotten or forgone. Maybe it’s our intuition, our families, friends or faith. It could be in our art practices or going back to something we love; perhaps it is in a prayer, meditation or movement, a walk in nature or a verse in a book.
Perhaps, even when we can’t see what’s ahead of us, we aren’t actually lost.
A thin sliver of crescent moon turns a black sky into a deep sleepy blue, and a slight peak of orange haloes beneath the clouds signalling a new day.
THAT. That was the prettiest thing I ever did see.
After some time, the sun peaks through the clouds and climbs at par with us, a slow and steady painting right before us and I am in awe for all this grace. I remind myself to take it in — this momentary interlude from the widespread anxiety and fear that continues to shake our world. It reminded me that it is still there: all this calm and all this beauty. The dark doesn’t cancel out the light and the chaos doesn’t take away the graceful and the good. Perhaps we just have to hold space and silence to see or hear it better these days.
