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WEDDINGS

On an ordinary day in 1940, a 15 year old boy named John Goddard, wrote down 127 of his life dreams on a piece of paper. Most lists like that end up in the recycling bin. But his became a blueprint. In 1972, at the age of 47, he had achieved 103 of his original quests. In a feature entitled "A Life of No Regrets," Life magazine quoted John Goddard as saying:

"When I was 15, all the adults I knew seemed to complain, "Oh, if only I'd done this or that when I was younger. They had let life slip them by. I was sure that if I planned for it, I could have a life of excitement and fun and knowledge."

His list included: carry out careers in medicine and exploration; visit every country in the world (120 accomplished), learn to fly a plane; ride horse in Rose parade. Become an Eagle scout; dive in a submarine; land and take off from an aircraft carrier; fly in a blimp, balloon, and glider; ride an elephant, camel, ostrich and bronco; light a match with a 22 rifle, and on and on and on.

When I first came across this list, I was stunned. I wish I had come across it when I was a teenager. This was not how I lived through my adolescence. I had not made a list of all the things I wanted to do and then started to do them. Mostly I didn't know what I wanted. So mostly, I didn't do much.

What finally jerked me out of complacency, was a brush with Death with a capital D. I was a traveling salesman for computer solutions to courier companies. I traveled quite a bit. I flew all the time. One day, on a flight from California to Virginia, the plane I was on got into a fist fight with the wind and began to lose badly. The overhead bins racked, stuff flew out. The plane was pushed and pulled here and there, people began to sound like a dogs being hit: yelps and oh my!

And the turbulence would stop for a moment, and then get worse, and it seemed progressive. And three African American women at the front of the plane began to sing: Amazing Grace, and the captain never came on and the flight attendants were nowhere to be seen. And the woman sitting across the aisle from me was looking at pictures of her children with tears running down her face, and I thought– oh my god. I am going to die. On this plane.

And it was as if I had been asleep or drowsing along my whole life up until that moment. It was as if I had had my head underwater for a long time holding my breath, looking underwater at life, and all of a sudden, up came my head, and I was awake! I was alive! And I was about to die!

In a flash, I realized no one except perhaps my mother would miss me, no one would know I was gone, I had not mattered much to any other human beings in a sustained way. I was awake, I was reborn, and I knew most of my previous life had been a dream, and now that I knew, it was all for nothing, because me and everybody on that plane was going to die a fiery and dramatic death! And at that moment I knew dread, I knew fear in a way I had never even imagined possible.

I quickly became phobic about flying. I was eventually fired from my job because I wouldn't fly anymore and the job required it. I didn't step into an airplane for 12 years. I didn't even like driving to the airport to pick people up. It gave me the heebie-jeebies.

On one of my last flights, I was so scared that the young couple sitting next to me got scared too. I found myself trying to calm them down, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep my self calm. I thought I'd burst into tears or scream at the top of my lungs, that's how bad it was. It was as if Death was laughing at me.

As T.S. Eliot put it :

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid.

T. S. Eliot (1888 - 1965) U.S.-born British poet and playwright. Prufrock and Other Observations, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

Fear of flying, it turns out, is number 3 of the top 10 phobias. You may be surprised at the number one fear: arachnophobia. The abnormal fear of spiders afflicts half of women and 10% of men. Social phobia– the fear of being evaluated negatively in social situations is number 2, and flying is number 3. Even though it is number 10 on the list, I think thanatophobia is really the Mother of all Fears– Death.

Intellectually we know all living things must die. But the mid life crisis comes when we realize this applies to us to. For we all live under a death sentence. We just don’t know when it will be carried out.

I know a woman here at Eliot who is afraid of flying. Almost as much as me. But she gets on an airplane and she cries her eyes out and after the plane takes off, she is fine. Seems strange to me that it would be fine after takeoff, but that is how it is for her. She marvels at a commercial pilot she knows who is fearless when it comes to flying but is scared to death of spiders.

This woman I know also had trouble getting out of the house. She'd have panic attacks. So she also developed agoraphobia– where she would become intensely afraid of "any place or situation where escape might be difficult or help would be unavailable in the event of sudden, panic-like symptoms."

You can't simply out think this stuff. I already knew that airline travel is 29 times safer than driving a car. But that didn't stop me from being afraid of flying. Even though I’m not afraid of driving a car.

We really aren't in control of much, and commercial air travel reminds us of this. It means being stuck in a small tube high above the earth. You can't talk to the driver, you can't open a window, you can't take a rest stop. It's difficult to move around. You really can't see where you're going.

Fear of flying usually happens according to a pattern: you begin to think over and over again about your situation. You wonder if you've made a mistake. You begin to mistrust your intuition. You get resigned that there is no other option for you but to be hopeless since you feel so helpless. And then there is the term "catastrophizing," which "refers to thinking about how awful the situation is or could become"

We become a flounder on the river bed:

The neurotic is the flounder that lies on the bed of the river, securely settled in the mud, waiting to be speared. For him death is the only certainty, and the dread of that grim certainty immobilizes him. Henry Miller (1891 - 1980) U.S. novelist. Sexus

That's what I was suffering. And it was no fun. I avoided air travel– for 12 years. But there were consequences. We drove to the UU General Assembly every year. 2, 3, 4 day road trips one way, then a week there and another road trip back. Every summer we drove out to St Louis in 2 ½ days instead of a 2 ½ hour flight. It was a harder trip with spouse and kids than it would have been to fly. It meant there were certain opportunities or even vacations I wasn't going to be able to take.

It meant that when my mother was dying, I didn't think I could take off 2-3 weeks from church because of the long drive involved. But I lived with it. My family lived with it. You can go your whole life without having to get on an airplane, you can adapt to your phobias.

And so, one day I was wondering about this because Bonnie and the girls were going to fly out to visit my mother so that my daughters could visit their grandmother one last time before she died. And I wasn’t going. And it was my mother.

So, I went to a doctor and got a prescription, and got on an airplane, and it was okay. And we were there a week, and we flew back, and it wasn't so bad. And I wondered– it had been 12 years, with the pendulum all the way over to one side– the fear of flying. What would it be like if I could conquer my fear– really conquer it, so I could even enjoy it? What if I did the necessary work and actually learned to fly myself? What if I could become a private pilot?

And when I was thinking this thought, I wondered if God would send me a sign. I know that may sound strange but that was the thought in my head. And I was standing behind my car, having gotten my Palm Pilot out to check my schedule and I realized I was driving a Honda Pilot, and I heard the buzz of a small plane go by at that very moment, and then a bird flew over my house, and I thought, uh-oh.

And so I found Steve Campbell, a long time member here, had a small plane. And he is a banker here in St Louis and his wife lives down in New Orleans because of a job there and so for a few years, he flies down there most weekends. That's where he is right now. And I took my Valium and he took me up around in the traffic pattern out at Parks airport over there in Cahokia.

And after about six times of going up with him, I realized I had moved from white-knuckled fear even with the Valium to hey this is pretty nice. And so, on a Friday we went up and flew around and the Valium stayed in my pocket. That was a big step. And then came another.

The following Monday, I took my first flight lesson out in Chesterfield. And it was mixed. I was actually flying the airplane, and I loved it and I was actually flying the airplane and I was scared and exhilarated.

But I was stuck between a rock and a hard place– the rock of being phobic about flying, and the hard place of wanting to conquer that fear. When the instructor asked if I wanted to schedule another lesson, buy the curriculum, get going on this project, I really didn't know what to say.

And then I made another decision that changed my life. Tony Robbins talks about a process to make big meaningful changes in your life. And I decided I’d try that process. The first step is that you have to decide what you want; and then ask what’s preventing you from getting it?

Me just saying I didn’t want to be afraid of flying anymore wasn’t enough. I had to come up with a positive vision of something else to replace the fear. I had to decide who I would be instead, what I would do instead, how I would live instead.

And I decided I would be a pilot, I would fly from St Louis to other cities as a pilot in command, and I would become an aviator. I decided I wanted to get my private pilot's license in 3 or 4 months. This was a measurable goal, with all kinds of milestones along the way. It was a very clear picture. Very exciting, very scary.

Step 2 is to get sufficiently motivated. That means you have to bring the level of commitment to your goal way up on the radar. I had a grumpy family, a dying mother, and missed vacation and work opportunities in my way. I became motivated to change. I had to move from mixed emotions to an action plan. This isn’t easy.

What if I took flying lessons but stayed scared? What if– But this was the kind of thinking that got me scared of flying in the first place– thinking about consequences rather than statistics. The consequences of a plane crash are quite serious but statistics don’t lie. They are reality.

Many years ago, I had a friend in California. We were at a party. An attractive girl across the room glanced at him appreciatively for the briefest of moments, but we both saw it. I thought that was the end of hanging out with him. But he said the whole thing flashed before his eyes. He would go over there, they would talk, he'd ask her out, they'd become romantically involved and then they'd eventually break up, so why bother?

My friend was insufficiently motivated and imagining the worst. Why even try? Why even begin the process? This keeps us from changing.

So, I thought: what the heck, I lived through my first flying lesson. There are people at the flight school much younger and some much older than me who are learning. I could do it. I'll try again. And so I did. And I was pretty nervous all the time. I had just enough brain power not being used up by the fear to pay attention and learn. And once I learned I could land the plane reasonably well consistently, I eased up.

Until we learned slow flight, steep turns, and stalls. Slow flight means I was flying the plane at its minimum controllable airspeed– say about 45 miles an hour. That's pretty slow, and there's a stall horn going off to remind you that any slower and you're going to stall the airplane which means the wings stop developing lift and you begin to drop out of the sky. And of course, that's the next maneuver, because as a pilot, you want to be able to know what to do when the plane stalls and begins to drop out of the sky.

And so, I got scared all over again. Step 1 was decide what you want and what’s preventing you from getting it. Step 2 is building up your motivation. Step 3 is: you must interrupt your old pattern. The pattern of reaching for a drink, a smoke, or blowing up at your kid. You have to interrupt it. Just for a moment. Just for a minute, interrupt the pattern. How? Do something that totally does not fit the pattern.

My youngest daughter could be pouting, all ready to go into a long discussion about how she was unfairly treated or about how her sister just hit her or something, and if one of us looked at her just right, she would break out laughing, and the pouting would be gone-- the pattern had been interrupted.

In the movie "French Kiss" Meg Ryan is deathly afraid of flying but has to fly to France. Her seat mate, Kevin Kline, distracts her with jokes and elaborate ruses, until eventually she realizes they are already in the air, and her pattern of getting all worked up about flying is gone because the pattern got broken.

You can break your patterns this way too. It can be hard to remember to do this because patterns feel like you're being carried along, not like you're the one who is acting. If I remember to break my pattern, and the airplane gets turbulent, I do something like this-- <wag head back and forth, stick tongue out, and make a raspberry>. It scares my flight instructor, but that's okay.

Or I will deliberately exaggerate what's happening-- hey! another pothole up here in the sky! Can't see 'em coming! And it breaks the pattern temporarily. That's all you really need to halt the downward spiral-- just break the pattern.

I didn’t think of my fear of flying as being a pattern, but it was and is. You have to put your body a certain way-- tense up, slow or stop your movements, begin to fix your gaze on something, get hyper-sensitive to any changes in space, any bumps or sounds. You have to start imagining the worst things that could happen. This is the pattern that would happen and build up my anxiety.

But, if all of a sudden I began to grin from ear to ear or made a funny face or noise, I could interrupt the pattern.

It works, it only works for a moment, but this is just step 3. Imagine a record player with a song on it. Each time you interrupt the pattern, you put a scratch on the disc. If you only scratch it once, then that's all you get. But if you keep scratching that disc, eventually you will destroy the pattern.

1. What do we want and what's preventing us from getting it?
2. Can we get motivated?
3. Can we interrupt our old pattern?
4. Can we come up with a new pattern?

My new pattern was to learn to master the aircraft: to learn the skills involved in take off, landing, climbs, descents and turns. And to remember to use checklists and when I felt fearful to pay attention to training and statistics rather than panic and unlikely outcomes.

Step (5) is to

5. Condition your pattern so that it remains consistent.

One time I was enjoying soloing the airplane and a little voice inside my head said: hey! You’re enjoying yourself! Shouldn’t you be scared to death? Aren’t you taking this seriously? So there are set backs and the way through set backs is to re-work your steps and to condition your pattern so that it remains consistent. In this way you can replace your old pattern with a new one.

I started my lessons last summer and for now, they're over. I graduated from my class. And I've flown with several instructors who gave me check rides at various stages of my lessons. And last week I went to meet with a Designated Pilot Examiner of the Federal Aviation Administration. And I did the oral part of the test and passed with flying colors, but it was too choppy to fly, and so I was scheduled to go up again yesterday, but the ceilings were too low. And I'm scheduled to go up with her on Thursday but nobody knows about the weather.

On Friday I went up to practice my maneuvers for the test. And it was a bit choppy. And I was flying down around St. Clair which is out west on I-44, there's a small runway right near the highway. But when there is a big spread between the low and high temperature of the day it gets a little turbulent at the low altitudes you have to do the test maneuvers at..

And I couldn't bring myself to do the maneuvers. I began to get scared. But I gritted my teeth and came back to base and made a lousy landing and then went around again and came back in and made a better landing and that was it for the day. Mission not accomplished.

I've had to remind myself of the steps I've taken, the psychological work I need to do on myself to be able to get rid of the fear and relax. I've soloed the airplane many times now. I've taken cross country solo trips to Quincy, and to Joliet, Illinois.

One thing my flying lessons have done is to make me a more spiritual person. I pray every time I am heading to the airport, for example. I am much more aware of gratitude. I am much more aware of how blessed my life is, how fortunate I am. I pay more attention to that stuff.

On my way to the Spirit of St Louis airport in Chesterfield, I come across a ridge, and the highway turns down gently to the left on a straight and narrow before it turns again to the right and to a bridge over the Missouri River. And whenever I come to that dip in the highway, I know I am two exits from the airport and I look upon that barren farmland, that wide open space, and I pray:

Dear God, thank you for this life. Thank you for Bonnie, and Jessie and Kaylie. Thank you for my church and parishioners and colleagues and for my calling. Thank you for this wonderful, never to be repeated day. Thank you for all the blessings in my life whether known or unknown to myself. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Amen.

And I say that prayer every time, and it is as if I am saying that prayer for the very last time. And I breathe in a great big double lung-ful of air and exhale slowly and overtaking the fear is the feeling of gratitude, so there is a curious relationship between those two– gratitude and fear.

And one of the things I will always carry with me is a little bit of the fear of flying. But I will continue to fly, and I will continue to try and fly regularly because doing it regularly makes it easier.

This woman I was telling you about says she makes sure she goes out of the house everyday now, even if she's sick. Because if she doesn't leave the house for two days in a row, it is that much harder to get out of her house. It is still an issue. Not a life-threatening, need medication every day kind of an issue, but it is still an issue to leave the house.

And so, for me, with flying. But I’m on my way to a life of no regrets. I hope you are, also.

Let us rise and sing: Voice Still and Small, #391

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