lite & lucid

So far in this blog experiment I have been reporting on some of ‘all the things I’ve always wanted to do’ while adding to said list along the way!  During this episode I’d like inspect how I came the conclusion that I was in fact going to live this way and how one of the biggest dreams just kind of crept up on me.

Two adventures occurred which catalyzed this particular blog. I recently found myself smiling ear to ear after a few days of careless play in the snowy mountains of Colorado. Riding the shuttle back to the parking lot after a particularly satisfying day I realized I was absolutely careless. I wasn’t thinking or worrying about anything. I was completely present and I’ve been having more and more days that feel that good. The second experience was a fantastic, carefree (except for some lost luggage and a cancelled plane ride, but never mind that) girls weekend in North Carolina. Both induced an overabundance of child-like joy.

Many of you have seen the Disney version of the classic fairy tale story, Cinderella. Pardon the somewhat cheesy reference but for my mind-mess today the lyrics are poignant and must have somehow come unglued from my subconscious and stuck right here. I’ve been thinking about this blog for months, particularly fixated by the idea of dreams. This, since doing all the things I’ve always wanted to do can easily be translated into following my dreams. Where are these dreams created and how do I fulfill them? Is that at least contributing to having the fullest, most satisfying life? It sure feels like it. Forgive me, I’m a child of the 80’s…

A dream is a wish your heart makes
When you’re fast asleep
In dreams you will lose your heartaches
Whatever you wish for, you keep

I pondered in what sense I meant to discuss dreams. We’ve all had the ridiculous sleeping dreams that most likely came from cold pizza, like standing naked in front of a sneering high school crowd. Or waking up in a cold sweat trying to run away from the human-eating sea monster but your legs are logs. What I’m focusing on are the type of dreams we possess and long for. Not just daydreams where you escape the pain of statistics class, but the dreams that are buried deep down. The dreams that are born and survive and live among ‘One day I want to skydive’, ‘One day I want to visit Kenya’, ‘One day I want to adopt a child’. Maybe even as small as ‘One day I want to blog’, or ‘own a dog’. Where are these born and why are they so important? Why do they make us so happy? Why do we cling to them, and how do we fulfill them?

The second adventure that I mentioned above which started my mind cooking on dreams was a sunny girls weekend in Raleigh, North Carolina this past November. I rode a horse with one of my best friends with whom I hadn’t caught up with (save one short breakfast) in person for about five years. Riding a horse may not be appealing to anyone, or it may seem like a dream come true, like it did to me. Except I wasn’t consciously aware of how deep this dream lived until I sat on that horse. I’ve only been on a horse a few times since I was very young, but never one this beautiful, and certainly not with the backdrop as picturesque as a pristine North Carolina farm on a perfect day. Like many little girls I wanted a horse badly. So badly that I schemed a plan to raise funds thinking it would sway my parents to agree. I painted driveway rocks with watercolors to sell to both of my grandmothers so I could save up and be the proud owner of my own horse!

When it came to the logistics, kind of like the rest of life as one ages, things got sticky. But as a child with a wild imagination solutions were unlimited. For example, when asked where I planned to keep this hypothetical horse I confidently suggested the upstairs bathroom because, using 7-year-old logic, the bathtub would obviously be a big enough potty. Yes, of course a horse could be comfortable there. When that wasn’t convincing enough, my backup plan was to keep it in a barn down the street and ride my bike there every day to care for it. No? Well, I did get a nice stuffed one as a thoughtful consolation prize.

Unfortunately in adulthood I have acquired enough practicality to comprehend not having a horse, and many other dream-killing realities. What I learned in North Carolina though is this particular buried dream never died. It did a great job lying dormant until a sunny weekend. Well into my thirties I was as thrilled as a 7-year-old for a ride on a beautiful Morgan. Thanks to having coincidentally gone to one of the nation’s most respected equestrian schools and likewise meeting some fantastic life-long horse friends the dream meandered out of my subconscious and manifested in the form of an ear-to-ear grin. I was surprised that I couldn’t wipe a smile off my face after only a short ride. Never mind that I was completely ignorant of what I was doing or should do on top of a prize-winning horse! It was a powerful reminder that fulfilling dreams still seems magical, even though unfortunately it seems to become more difficult.

Flying back after girls weekend I was glowing. I am thrilled we pulled the trigger to go through with it despite practical challenges of time and money; it was worth every cent and a dream come true in its own right. Surprised, and reflecting during the trip home, I became intrigued about what dreams are anyway. I love how open to interpretation this question is. I seem so much happier and fulfilled when I am living in this dream space, or at least uninhibited to let my imagination run wild again. It tears me away from bleak reality, or as the fairy tale song lyrics say ‘in dreams you lose your heartaches’. You forget reality, or perhaps dreams shift and improve it, resulting in a more balanced and healthy lifestyle. Is it possible to be here constantly, in a lucid state? I feel like some people have achieved this and I deeply admire them.

An example; I have been long fascinated by Alex Honnold, free soloist rock climber extraordinaire, since I saw the documentary Alone on A Wall. If you don’t know what free soloing means, it is climbing (seriously big) mountains without ropes. He is the best in the world and he is intrinsically motivated to do it. He is drawn to do it because to not do that would be to be devastatingly unfulfilling, despite the extreme risk. He climbs masterfully, giving death an increasing kinetic advantage because to not do that would be for him to lead an unconscionable existence. For some people, throwing away the proverbial oars, choosing not to participate in culturally acceptable or even practical means of achievement or success is obvious and requisite. It seems to me people like Alex are constantly living in their dreams.

I’ll have to admit honestly that I’ve always been insanely jealous of anyone so committed, anyone who from an early time was able to consciously identify this dream.

Maybe the vast majority of us have to work harder to see something like this. Maybe there are clues leading to this state so deeply embedded in our minds that we don’t recognize them. Maybe there’s a way to excavate them to lead us to such an existence. I wonder, is this what Maslow termed ‘self-actualization’ when we find and live in our self-knowing? Perhaps super natural or divine forces I could never attempt to explain help guide us. Maybe I’m a puppet on a string. I’m sure after centuries of philosophy, religion and science I am not the one to uncover the true meaning.

However I can not deny that my unexpected response riding a horse, and the extreme calm after playing outside for a couple of days led me to a deep introspection! It led me to reflect on the last few years since I decided to make some significant career and life changes. I chewed on what led me to ‘doing the things I’ve always wanted to do’, now that I’ve been doing them. Many of those things are conscious desires that I had stacked up, literally listed out, just without time to accomplish. Change had a lot to do with adjusting my lifestyle in general. What dawned on me during reflection was that in the past 16 years I had unintentionally wound up becoming a commercial airline pilot without it ever consciously being my goal. How did that happen? And as cliché as it sounds, it feels like a dream come true now, but it was as much as I can recall, never a conscious dream of mine.

Dissection begins during my transition away from active duty military. Looking back, I joined ROTC in college because it fit my post-college criteria, I am a hopeless patriot, and I had a chance encounter with a recruiter. My criteria for a post-college career as I was approaching my junior year were as follows; #1 to have a job to pay off student loans, #2 to live outside of mid-Missouri, and #3 to have something help me eventually pay for a Master’s degree. On top of fitting my job-requirements list, I was a sophomore, blow-drying my hair for class when airplanes struck the World Trade Center on live television.

How I came around to a competitive AFROTC pilot slot is also somewhat of a mystery. This is where I wonder if there are supernatural forces working on me.  Looking back I did work hard, kept decent grades and can’t think of a challenge I didn’t at least stand up to, despite the outcome. Mark Twain said, “To have success in life you have to have two things; ignorance and confidence”. I suppose this is as close to an explanation as I will get. There is no doubt it took some seriously dedicated mentors along the way who realized I was up to a challenge like Air Force pilot training. They had a vision and belief that I realize is requisite in accomplishments of this caliber. Yes, back to the Cinderella song! You have to see it and believe it, sometimes that means other people see it first.

Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling through
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing

I literally stumbled, or at least did not actively decide against, the military, and beyond that, aviation. Luckily the Air Force had me get my private pilot’s license prior to Air Force pilot training. It was during my first spin recovery in a DA-20, single engine propeller airplane, over the fertile fields east of Little Rock, Arkansas, that I realized flying was for me. For some reason, once my heart went up in my throat, I knew based on the previous amount of work experience I had accumulated that this suited me. I didn’t want to do anything else that I’d already done, like clean vomit off of a grocery cart at 1030 on a Friday night. In retrospect I believe keeping many pathways accessible led me to eventually filter into one that suited me best.

I was fortunate enough to eventually fly around the world before returning to pilot training as an instructor pilot. For some reason the dream I didn’t know I was living in the first place began to lose luster. For me though, it took many years to become aware of this fact and realize it was draining me. At that point all I felt was the strong pull for change. I was becoming frustrated that life felt stagnant and nothing I had done despite it being amazing and fulfilling at times, had fallen into the category of living my dream. Over time I accumulated a laundry list of things I actually wanted to do that seemed farther and farther out of reach. Every time I opened an Outside Magazine I read it cover to cover, and I knew I wasn’t doing those things, and I wanted to! The list gathered dust as I reached a tipping point and found myself in an emotional deficit. Those were dreams I knew I needed as soon as possible, but I didn’t know how to draw a line to them. It was a difficult decision to leave active duty but I had to listen to the voice of dissatisfaction regardless of where it led. At the risk of sounding entitled or ungrateful I will point out that this onset was insidious and due to many factors. I love being a military pilot, and an officer before that. However, it was going on 6, 7, 8, 9 years, and many of the gross governmental bureaucratic inefficiencies and personnel mismanagement fed my disillusionment. For my health and my sanity, I began to realize this wasn’t for me long term, as drawn to service as I’d been.

My dreams seemed so out of sight. But once I decided to make a change, to try a new path, I did not look back. I took some great trips and I started reflecting and figuring out that until I find my dream I will try to get paid more to do what I already know how to do, fly. So I began the difficult and time-consuming business of doing airline applications and interview preparation. That lasted months and at times was stressful and complicated. However, I got encouraging phone calls and information from friends letting me know what a great time it was to get in, and how much they loved their job and enjoyed the company culture. Moreover it allows for scheduling flexibility to be able to continue doing the rest of the things I want to do. Never did I consider this was my dream playing out. After all, there were many other paths I could have taken.

I had to work on my logbook, and in so doing flying memories and stories I had long forgotten came flooding back. I laughed and cried, and wrote and wrote and wrote in preparation for the battery of interview questions. Ironically, the most basic question posed the greatest challenge. What got you interested in aviation? It gave me pause. How the hell should I know? I just worked hard my entire life because I knew it would get me somewhere.  This experience included working at grocery stores, used sporting goods stores, a variety of office jobs, as well as studying hard and never giving up.

Anyway, I was just trying to answer a single stupid interview question and I couldn’t. Where did my interest in aviation come from? I don’t recall growing up saying ‘I want to be a pilot’. I actually wanted to be a veterinarian or a surgeon or a lawyer. Sure I got offered the pilot slot but honestly so did a few more of my friends who were sure that’s not what they wanted to do. No doubt they knew themselves better. I took it because there was no larger reason I shouldn’t do it. Despite zero flying experience it filled my criteria and sounded intriguing.

Sitting at a desk in the spring of 2015 I still grappled for an answer. I stared a thousand miles down past the notebook in front of me, and my canvas sat blank. It was preparing for my Delta Air Lines interview. Let me try to describe what happened by a reference to one of my all time favorite movies. Do you remember Stands with a Fist in Dances with Wolves? Specifically, when her Sioux tribe was asking her to access her long forgotten English language so that they could converse with the solider, John Dunbar (Kevin Costner)? The movie scene flashed back to her early childhood on a sunny day at a picnic where hostile natives attacked her pioneer family but she escaped. She had since been adopted by the Sioux and then assimilated into their culture. Stands with a Fist struggled to reach far back into the depths of her repressed memories to access an experience she had buried, which held the key to her remembering English.  Similarly the few memories I possessed of my Grandfather began to float into view. When this occurred it actually was blurry, and dream like. The corners of the picture in my mind were fuzzy. In the dream I see the green trees and rolling landscape of mid-Missouri a thousand feet, maybe more, below. I feel banking and the roar of an engine, maybe two.  I haven’t seen this picture in my mind in a very long time. In fact it’s the first picture I saw in my mind.

How can I translate that to paper? I closed my eyes. In the dream I look to my left and past my legs sticking out of a car seat. I see my gray-haired, buzz –cut grandfather with a kind, square face. I look back over my left shoulder to see my father with his gray bomber jacket and aviator glasses on. I open my eyes. Did I really fly with Grandpa and Dad in a car seat? It’s hazy, is it a dream, and did it fuel my dreams subconsciously for more than thirty years? In fact, my Father confirmed that it happened. He and Grandpa took me up in a twin engine from the regional airport in Columbia, Missouri when I was about two years old.

Impossible. Grandpa Franke, himself a former Air Force pilot, planted a seed perhaps literally in the form of DNA, and figuratively by the act of taking me flying! It is my earliest memory, maybe my first dream. Speechless as I was, that question just got a lot easier to answer. Even though he passed when I was young, I remember my Grandmother and Father fueling the fire of aviation by taking me to air shows, and talking about military and aviation history during my childhood. Or maybe I cataloged those experiences with more importance. Either way, it must have been just the exposure I needed to launch me unsuspectingly towards a dream I didn’t realize was mine. Fast forward through college, where I majored in psychology and minored in biology, always flirting with different career ideas, none of them motivating me enough towards their respective professional commitments. Instead I seemed to swim with the current towards Air Force ROTC and pilot training. And all of a sudden here I am flying for Delta Air Lines and feeling this dream come true.

I could have never known this from the beginning. I am envious of those who do. Is this a dream my heart made when I was so young? Dreams seem to come in all sizes and at different times. I think maybe they are experiences we never thought would or could happen. The practicality of the mind so easily overrides wonder, creativity and imagination. It becomes skilled at stifling the ability to dream, big or small. I believe to live a lucid and fulfilling life we have to jump into this impractical space and float around there. Get out of our comfort zones to invite more experiences that could qualify. This could also mean wandering away from the things that do not fulfill us. We need to be brave, and give ourselves time and space to reach out and try to grab those experiences without being overburdened by expectations that we and others place on ourselves.

Changing careers in my 30’s was the best thing I could have done. I just believed that if I made a change I would find what I needed. That belief was something I had to have to start with. This kind of belief has to happen for the dream to be reached whether it’s specific or general. Without the dream we can never reach heights or experiences outside of the simple realm of day-to-day survival. Without dreams we never get close to what we are capable of. We don’t fully explore our potential.

In conclusion of all the postulating I’ve been doing, perhaps some of our dreams are obvious, like Alex Honnold’s. Otherwise, you can walk down many paths, avoid unfulfilling things and to try to discover what satisfies you the best, and what brings you the best life by giving yourself enough freedom and space to do so as unencumbered by pressures of social and material expectations as possible. Free yourself. Listen and explore. Try new things and be brave enough to try the things you’ve always wanted to do. Leave your schedule open for spontaneity and schedule things that you want to do, don’t put them off. Ruminate, dig and uncover dormant ideas and beliefs, which could catapult you to places you never (knew you) dreamed of.  But then again maybe you have once, and maybe it was your very first one.