This past weekend I traveled to Chicago from Nashville. BNA to Midway, Midway to BNA. Airports have a funny way of compressing experiences into arrivals and departures. And something about the time-space distortion created by plane travel (not claiming to use “time-space” in the proper way or anything) makes me feel like the plane doesn’t really go anywhere, but instead that I just walk into this crowded little room, and when I come out, I’m in another city (especially when I don’t have a window seat).

I noticed on this last trip that flying causes me somewhat more anxiety than in the past, and I think I know why. It has something to do with the expectations I’ve developed for my life over the past few years, and the awareness that I have a long way to go before many of them are realized. And when my analytical mechanisms begin to calculate the odds of surviving a 500 mph collision with the ground from 30,000 feet while encapsulated in what is essentially a large tank of fuel, I sadly face the fact that if the engines fail, I have to live (figuratively) with what I did (or didn’t do) and who I was (or wasn’t).

It’s really not about how good my life has been- it’s been great, don’t get me wrong. I’m more fortunate as a human being than the majority of the world’s population (dead and alive). Great family, great friends, amazing spouse, quality education, comfort, love, a taste of luxury now and then, enough money, enough food, a good sense of self confidence and everything in between. I would describe my life as full, even at the meager age of 27. But as I’ve grown as a person, as new knowledge has shaped my mind and as my eyes have opened just a little bit wider with every new and formative experience, I have learned to hold myself to a standard that values not so much the pleasure of existence, but the fulfillment of individual potential. And when I think of my true (as opposed to my actualized) potential, there’s a gap there, and I feel regret that I haven’t done more to close it. Especially during turbulence.

That, I suppose, is the good thing about mortality-reminders: they are conducive to introspection. Of course, in the predictable human way, I often forget those feelings of urgency and fall back into a comfortable routine of not growing, not developing, not moving forward- but of idling, satisfied just to be where I am, entertaining myself with distractions, rationalizing as needed. This is not an easy condition to remedy (given that flying is so expensive). It takes vigilance, discipline, and enthusiasm not natural to my composition for me to maximize my potential and to live to the fullest of my abilities. It’s a difficult thing to do (a sure sign of worth), and I suspect I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to break through the glass ceiling of “myself.”

But as the great and imaginary Tyler Durden once said, “This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.” Fight Club always does the trick.

“Ah! The clock is always slow;
It is later than you think.”

-Robert Service

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