Sometimes nature gives us the simplest reminders. As I departed for a mid-winter cruise vacation recently, it would be safe to say that with the recent tragic midair collision of American Airlines Flight 5342 and an Army helicopter near Washington D.C.'s Ronald Reagan National Airport on February 3rd--the deadliest U.S. air disaster since 2001--frighteningly followed by a few half a dozen more plane collisions or near misses, my usual love for flying was tempered. Relatively, in always being an anxious take off and landing kinda girl, my already heightened anxiety was elevated by an unexpected rainy, foggy morning. Add to that a late departure thanks to a tardy flight attendant and another delay on the tarmac due to the pilots awaiting a lift off command from the destination airport (never heard of that before) and I was seriously thinking I should’ve packed my Bible and checked the gift shop for Rosary beads beforehand. But armed with morning prayer and, as always, faith, as the rain continued to blanket the cabin windows, I decided to let go and let God. I closed my eyes, inhaled, deep exhaled, and leaned back into the ascension.
Less than five minutes later I opened my eyes to a clear sky and, dare I say, sunlight?! I’m often tickled by the reminder that when flying at 30,000 feet, you are most likely above storm clouds and any turbulence experienced on the way up quickly becomes a thing of the past. This realization was the perfect reminder for me—and for whoever needs to hear this at this moment in history—in what is shaping up to be one of the most turbulent times citizens of this United States have faced in this century sans the pandemic (ironically under the same "leadership" and a similar administration). Although no virus of the epidemic kind has shutdown the productivity of our country (God forbid not yet) the same uncertainties around job security, food scarcity, and potential stock and housing market crashes abound. The feelings of hopelessness and helplessness have begun to take root. And dreams for any normal tomorrows have been suspended indefinitely. The question that ultimately beckons: So what do we do in this meantime? In the words of my late father, “Hang in and hold on.”
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| Photo credit: Erica Kennedy |
As if the coincidental nod from nature was not enough of a reinforced reminder, on the last day of the cruise, I took in a session entitled "For Women Only" led by female artists who headlined the cruise from Grammy-winning percussionist Sheila E. to Grammy-nominated R&B/Jazz singer Maysa--a session not about music, the business, or entertainment, but for women to exhale, lay their burdens down, and discuss surviving in these unpredictable times, while also being reminded of the importance of sisterhood and supporting one another but not at the sacrifice of self care. Yet, in the blink of an eye, those words were put to the ultimate test when an audience member underwent a medical emergency forcing the session into a frenzy and then an eerie halt.
As event and ship staff broke into action administering aid to the woman, a spiritual stillness fell over the room. Without prompting, someone began to pray out loud, and arms were extended outward toward the woman in spiritual solidarity. At the conclusion of the prayer, the proverbial "fellowship baton" was passed and another woman broke into the familiar gospel song, "I Love You (Lord Today)" that everyone quietly yet reverently joined in singing. Empathetic tears began to fall down attendees faces and comforting hugs were shared between attendees who mere minutes before were strangers but who now felt like family. As the woman was stabilized and prepared to be taken to the infirmary for further observation, the purpose of the session took on a new, more tangible meaning as the power of unity was realized in real time, blessing many of us in ways we never expected, and further motivating me to pen this blog post although I had already drafted the first half with clearly no inkling of what was to come.
So, yes, in these unpredictable times, we will pray. But we will also remember to practice self care. The journey may be long and tiresome, so we must also eliminate dead weight in the form of everything from toxic relationships to unnecessary expenses to literal tangible baggage and clutter that will “weigh down our flight” and crowd clarity of thought. We must remind ourselves to invest in the social capital of those villages that support us and tap into those networks that inform us and speak truth to power. We must turn our face towards whatever “rainbows” we can find be it our favorite book or our favorite song or simply a walk through our favorite park. We must shout like no one’s listening but also take time to dance like no one’s watching. We must create and advocate without abandon. We must turn up the volume as loud as we can on positivity wherever and whenever it emerges to drown out the noise of fear and negativity. And we must also plan as best we can for tomorrow but not at the expense of finding what we can appreciate today. And, as the old folks say, trust that “trouble won’t last always.”
As author Robert Fulghum once said, "Peace is not something you wish for, it is something you make, something you are, [and] something you do.... ” Yes, we are a resilient people. It is the gift of our ancestors and the torch that lights our tomorrow. And, yes, it’s going to be a bumpy ride, but we must remain steadfast in protecting our peace in the meantime as we wait to ascend to a familiar place once again where the sun shines ever so brightly just above the clouds. Stay strong, everyone.
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