Many years ago, I was invited to take a ride in the Blockbuster blimp for my birthday.
Yup. That many years ago. When renting video tapes was a thing. Arriving at a small airport in Northeast Philadelphia, I was startled by the size of the huge bullet-shaped “balloon.” Six strong men struggled to hold the blimp steady via long ropes. My friend yelled out, “This is going to be a hell of a ride!”
I saw an inconceivably small oval cockpit hanging beneath this floating behemoth.
I decided the butterflies in my stomach were from excitement as we squeezed into our seats. Since it was my birthday, I had the front seat next to the pilot. Lucky me. In a flash, those strong men were waving as our little engine chugged us forward. It was surreal.
I thought of the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang movie while watching neighborhoods glide beneath us.
My husband’s seatbelt wasn’t secure and our gracious host in the miniature back seat wasn’t much help. “No worries” said the pilot as he reached back to adjust the belt. No worries? The nose of the blimp moved rapidly toward the ground, giving me a full appreciation for the term, “nosedive.”
Those butterflies weren’t only in my stomach anymore.
The pilot turned back and casually righted the blimp. “See, nothing to worry about.” Funny guy. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Immediately that familiar sensation of nausea came over me. It never crossed my mind that a lifetime of motion sickness within all moving vehicles might extend to a blimp ride. I immediately got into management mode as I relaxed my body, set my gaze forward, and began breathing deeply. Placing myself in an aware trance state, I focused the delight of flying.
“Kathy! Take a look. Your husband is turning green.”
Apparently we shared an affinity for blimp sickness. Well, that man was on his own. The pilot suggested they open a window. In a blimp? Good grief. The backseat duo couldn’t get the damned window open, so the pilot reached back and battled with the sticky window.
Another nosedive while moving through rough wind currents.
Happy birthday to me. I quietly scanned for an airsick bag. Nothing. As fresh air blew through our tiny capsule, I made a quick decision. I was gonna totally enjoy this novel experience. I decided my butterflies found it thrilling. After all, how often do you float over neighborhoods, rivers, and highways? I even snapped a photo of Philadelphia before we were turned away from the restricted city air space.
I gratefully realized I was halfway through my birthday adventure without losing my cookies.
My celebration was interrupted when the pilot asked if we were interested in heading to Willow Grove to see if we could fly in the air show. Since I didn’t think I’d be flying fighter jets in the future, might as well try to show up in a blimp. When else would I get a chance to be in an air show?
I was hanging on by a thread when we got the message to “stay put” in case we could fit in the lineup. We’d been in the friendly skies nearing two hours and still had to make it back. By the way, the back seat was doing just fine with their breezy window. Enjoying some history and a tour of the grand estates in a ritzy area of town.
I’d love to tell you that we were the star of the show, but the Blockbuster Airship didn’t make the cut.
All that extra travel for nothing! Or was it? Reflecting on this gift of flight, I’m grateful I hadn’t recalled my motion sickness before we arrived. Or knew what a long, uncomfortable experience I’d have. I’m certainly glad I didn’t know anything about hanging in a mini cocoon under a gas filled balloon. Nor about nosedives and open windows.
All that knowledge would have definitely led me to worry and hesitation.
Which would have been an absolute waste of time and disrupted my birthday excitement. I learned motion sickness exists in the air and on the ground. And so does delight. As above, so below. It all depends what you chose to focus upon. Truth be told, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
In hindsight, the blimp was a walk in the park compared to the time I jumped out of an airplane.
But, that’s another story entirely.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Your attitude toward stress is important. One study showed that interpreting anxiety as feelings of excitement may actually help your mood and performance. Even more than trying to calm down. You can adopt a mind set which focuses on the positive outcomes of stressful experiences so that feeling stressed is less of a barrier. Performance research suggests you need just enough stress to get brain chemicals to give you some juice, but not so much that you feel overwhelmed or can’t think straight.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
In September, I’m returning to the Temples of Humankind in Damanhur, Italy. It feels like an understatement to claim that this is a place of power, mystery, and majesty. Yet, I’ve found this to be true for myself and those I’ve met who’ve traveled within the extraordinary to the Temples and the community of Damanhur.
One cool Spring morning, I stepped on the treadmill at the gym looking forward to walking a few miles. Recovering from an injury, I had to walk at a moderate pace so I had brought my copy of What Is Enlightenment? magazine to explore. I always found something to inspire me within this publication focused upon consciousness, culture, and cosmos.
Stress is a natural experience in life. It’s often viewed as a doorway to disruption of wellbeing, peace of mind, and a clear navigational path in a challenging situation.
I’m a bit of a news hound these days. As one who hasn’t watched a newscast in years, I’m surprising myself. Ordinarily, I wait for the news to come to me. And it does. When something is important for me to know or respond to, I hear about it. Kind friends, clients, my husband, or a random stranger share a soundbite which cues me to look into a situation further. I’ve been very comfortable with this level of engagement for years now.
In the midst of our country’s woes, I’ve got Lucinda Williams singing in my head.
“You can’t rule me
you wanna go and tell me what’s good for me
you wanna tell me what I’m payin’ for
Well, the game is fixed, it’s plain to see
I ain’t playin’ no more”
I drove through a hail storm today. It began gently, offering a musical accompaniment to my journey. Intensifying, the hail noisily demanded my attention.
