There’s nothing quite like preparing for a flight—already a full‑body exercise in surrender—while the news cycle is busy auditioning for the role of “background anxiety soundtrack.” I’m heading to Puerto Rico this Wednesday, and normally the pre‑flight jitters would be enough to keep my nervous system ramped up enough to jumpstart a car. But this week, the universe said, “What if we added geopolitical tension to the mix?”
That’s not funny Ms. Universe.
Let me say this plainly, because clarity is a kindness: I’m not a supporter of the Iran war, and I’m not a supporter of Resident Clump. That’s not a manifesto; it’s just a fact about where I stand. And when Iran issues retaliatory threats toward the United States, it hits differently when you’re about to board a metal tube that defies gravity through sheer audacity and engineering traveling at 500 mph or whatever it is.
Flying has never been my favorite activity. I admire the people who treat it like a spa day with champagne induced hiccups. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to maintain personal peace like it’s a rare orchid that wilts if you look at it wrong.
But here’s the strange gift(?) of this moment: when the world feels loud, the only thing left to do is get quiet.
Somewhere between packing two weeks worth of clothes and doom‑scrolling (a hobby I do not recommend), I realized that peace isn’t something I find. It’s something I practice. It’s a muscle, not a mood. And like any muscle, it gets stronger when the weight increases.
So this Wednesday, when I’m buckled into my seat, I’m going to try something radical. I’m going to let the plane be a plane. I’m going to let the world be the world. I’m going to let the headlines exist without letting them colonize my nervous system. I’m going to breathe like a person who remembers that fear is not prophecy.
And maybe—just maybe—I’ll even look out the window.
Probably not—but maybe…
Because there’s something humbling about seeing the world from above. Borders blur. Noise quiets. Everything looks small enough to hold. And for a moment, the chaos feels less like a threat and more like weather—passing, shifting, never permanent.
I can work with that. And if anyone has an extra Xanax… 🙂
If you’re also trying to maintain your inner equilibrium while the world insists on auditioning for a disaster movie, I’m right there with you. May your week include a pocket of calm, a moment of perspective, and the reminder that peace is not the absence of fear—it’s the decision not to let fear drive.
→ Wednesday in Wayfinder: A mid‑flight meditation on choosing steadiness when the ground is far below.
→ Friday in Thrive: Tending to the parts of you that want to unclench.
→ Saturday in Sexplorer: Desire as grounding. Intimacy as exhale.