Tagged: flying
I Need You To Pay Attention
Monochromatic green. That’s the color of Iraq. All the cities we ever flew around appeared as varying shades of green. Despite several flights per week around the country, I can’t even say that I ever actually saw Iraq with my own two eyes. Instead, it seemed like I was in a helicopter watching a movie about flying around Iraq.
Viewed through night vision goggles, all light appears white; to include shooting stars. There we so many shooting stars. Here’s a tip for any aspiring military pilots: When executing combat missions under the cover of darkness, don’t talk about how many shooting stars you see. Other crew members simply won’t appreciate the beauty inherent to these singular events. Apparently, looking in the direction of possible threats has more value.
Why was I noticing shooting stars? Because they’re attention-getting. They are a bright light, the essence of ‘visibility’ itself, streaking across an otherwise dark sky. My crew’s point was well taken though; “Pay attention to what needs attention.”
Outside the cockpit, distractions abound. When flying, when living one of these ‘mini-lifetimes’, it is easy to categorize things as distractions. During a flight the timeline is set; the end is literally hours away. Think about what a distraction even is. Fundamentally it begs for something to be distracted from. There must be a goal, a reason. When flying, the mission, the intent, the goal; all these are clear. Mankind doesn’t take to flight on a whim. Or maybe it is a whim, but even flying for enjoyment is still a goal whose attainment distractions can prevent. Crashing and dying is not enjoyable.
Regular grounded life, on the other hand, does not have a set timeline. The end is nowhere in sight. But, just like flying, life has responsibilities that must receive attention. Does life have events like shooting stars that are distracting? Certainly. Should life’s shooting stars be viewed at the risk of failing to attend to the bigger responsibilities? No. Like I had to learn to stop noticing the seemingly unavoidable shooting star, all of us could stand to stop giving attention to life’s many distractions.
Attention is a function of time. It is a scarce resource. Pilots learn this the hard way. We call it channelized attention. Channelized attention is when we focus too much attention on something insignificant, such as a burnt out light bulb, instead of the significant gauge that tells us we’re descending into terrain. Channelized attention’s effect on grounded people may take longer, but let’s not kid ourselves about its strength.
Each of us must decide how long we will focus on life’s burnt out light bulbs while the aircraft is descending. The difficulty is, unlike large flying organizations which have an overall mission from which they delegate to pilots smaller missions, life does not have a universal mission. Each one of us must decide our purpose. Only you will ever know yours. But you do know. You’ve always known. It’s time then. Pay attention. I can’t afford for you not to.
Course Correction
Introduction. Body. Conclusion.
Pilots perform a takeoff. Pilots fly to a destination. Pilots land safely.
I always rush into things. Four blogs later, I realize I should have begun with an introduction. My thinking was that we’re all big boys and girls. Read my writings or don’t. I want you to like them for what they are in and of themselves, not because I convinced you to. Just the same, I do think that I owe you an introduction of sorts explaining why I think you should enter into this relationship. That’s easy. It’s because I am a pilot.
I love that pilots are stereotyped as arrogant. That makes this so much easier. Introduction complete.
Pilots are arrogant. But it’s justified. We actually do know better. When it comes to making decisions, especially time-sensitive decisions, nobody knows how to do it better.
This is because unlike non-pilots, pilots get practice at living. Think about it. I have. There is no more perfect metaphor to life than flying. That means there is no more perfect way to practice life, than flying. Each has three parts. 1. Birth & Takeoff. 2. Life & Flight. 3. Death & Landing.
1. Birth & Takeoff – The moment a human is born, a sequence of events which has only one ending begins. It is the same in flying. Once an aircraft takes off, either controlled or uncontrolled, it will land. “What goes up must come down,” as they say.
2. Life & Flight – The metaphor grows stronger the further we explore it. In life, as in flying, there is only the illusion of control. Life can end at any moment, no matter how it has been lived. Seemingly healthy people drop dead with no warning. There is no formula for longevity. You can do your best to live ‘correctly’, and yet you’re not in control. The same goes for flying. Everyone can agree that during the flight that killed you, you made every decision perfectly. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re dead. While the vast majority of aircraft mishaps are determined to be caused by pilot error, there are still plenty that are simply out of the pilot’s control.
3. Death & Landing – This brings us to the deathbed. As we age, we certainly spend more time thinking about how we lived. Looking back, we are at least curious if we would make any decisions differently if given the opportunity. After a pilot successfully lands his aircraft, he too looks back and analyzes how the flight went. Why does he do this? Because flying, like life, is inherently dangerous. Unlike life, however, the danger in flying is imminent. The pilot knows this, and wants to avoid the danger at all costs. So the flight’s events are recounted. Mistakes are discussed in an attitude of learning. He always is thinking about the future and what can be done to avoid making the same mistakes next flight. And with every successful landing, there arrives another opportunity to take flight once more.
Here’s where the metaphor blossoms. Pilots are arrogant, we do know better, because we literally get to practice living. Each time we takeoff we face the threat of death, even if we perform our duties flawlessly. Consequently, the few hours we are in the air become mini-lifetimes. Grounded people only live real life. As mistakes are made, the consequences occur and are lasting. If similar situations arise, there is a possibility to avoid making the same mistakes. Generally though, the intensity of the consequence isn’t strong enough to avoid it on a second chance.
Consider being hundreds to thousands of feet in the air. Are you sure you want to stubbornly ignore what looks to be the thunderstorm that is building in your flight path? You know that if you fly into it, you could die. You might wait until the last moment, but you turn. But the thunderstorm that is the recurring fight with your spouse, parents or children can be flown into every day with minimal immediate consequences. Unlike a real thunderstorm that can immediately kill a pilot, that thunderstorm might take the rest of your life to kill you, but kill you it will.
What about the hydraulic leak you’re being told about? How much fluid can you lose before the system fails? If you don’t know the answer, you conservatively end the flight early, and learn the answer before you fly again. Similarly, there can be slow leaks of love and respect that when ignored can kill a relationship. But unlike the situation of the imminent threat of death if you lose your hydraulic system, taking the time to learn how to stop leaking love and respect might seem like it can be put off until another day. Can it though?
In the end, the pilot has intense motivation for actually learning from mistakes. The grounded person does not.
The pilot, then, lives one mini-lifetime after another. Over and over again. Practice, practice, practice.
Whether pilots have ever been aware of this metaphor or not, the very nature of their profession affords them the opportunity to apply the lessons they learn at work, to their personal lives. And this is why we seem arrogant. We wouldn’t make the decision if we hadn’t already thought it through using our professional debriefing skills. This is why we don’t seem to want to hear other opinions. We’re sure that we know what we’re doing, and sometimes we’re just lazy and don’t want to take the time to explain how we came to our decision over and over again. The result is that it seems like we’re dogmatic and uncaring. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.
This is not to say that pilots don’t make mistakes. This is not to say that pilots don’t sometimes treat minor life events with too much gravity. But when it comes to making decisions, to developing criteria with which to make decisions, to sorting through the vast amount of information and discerning what it truly important, pilots won’t steer you wrong.
In conclusion, this blog will serve two purposes. First, it is the place where you can come to read some of flying’s most important lessons learned. It should be clear now that these could also be called life lessons. Second, it is the place I will use to improve my writing skills. As mentioned here, the ability to stop and debrief the recent past is invaluable, so your feedback is priceless. Was I unclear? Do you disagree? Let me know. Like pilots say, “We don’t crash in compartments;” so my failures will become our failures. The same is true for you. The only way to get there is together.
Professor Batman
Even before The Dark Knight Rises is released, a lot can be learned from Bruce Wayne. Christopher Nolan’s adaptation of Batman and his self-imposed battle with the forces of evil is more than entertainment. After all, could anyone argue that Bruce Wayne is not the greatest example of a successful man?
Once you take away the awesome gadgets, the state-of-the-art superhero body-armor, and the adoring community who benefits from Batman’s vigilante nightlife, you have a man. Plain and simple. Unlike most superheroes of the comic world, Batman possesses no super-human powers other than his own strength and cunning. He is a successful hero because he maximizes and focuses on his internal qualities.
Is Bruce Wayne simply a myth? Or is he a character who can inspire each of us to define our purpose in life, our personal measure of success.
Our entire lives we are taught to achieve success. In school, we aim for good grades, excellence in sports and community service, a well-rounded resume of accomplishments. But is this really what success is about? I’ve heard a number of definitions of success, often presented from the negative: “Well, I can tell you success is not just about having a lot of money” or “Success is not about how many toys you have.” These definitions are only slightly better than the, however well-intended, utterly meaningless, “Success is doing what makes you happy.”
The flaw of these definitions is their vagueness. What happens to your definition of success when you’ve lost your job due to the recessive state of the economy? Thank goodness you believe success isn’t about money, because chances are good you won’t have any in the foreseeable future. Happiness is a roller coaster in itself, hardly dependable as an emotion much less a standard. Are we to believe Bruce Wayne is happy that he has to be Batman? No, most certainly not.
My fascination with Bruce Wayne and his alter ego brought me to a realization in my own life.
Having served in the U.S. Air Force as a helicopter pilot, I became familiar with the radio call. In fact, anyone interested in aviation would acknowledge that a very important part of flying is the 4-part radio call. I would go farther than most and argue that conceptually, radio calls are the true measure of a pilot’s skills. Furthermore, the process beginning with preparing the radio call and ending with transmitting it over the airwaves is the determining factor of the flight’s success or failure. You see, the first part is the answer to the question “Who am I talking to?” The second part is the answer to, “Who am I?” The third part answers the question “Where am I?” By now, the savvy pilot or radio operator listening to the radio call can begin to visualize the next part. Fourth, and finally, you close the transmission stating your intentions; in other words, answering “What do I want to do next?” In our example Blue 96 is coordinating his final landing with the control tower, which might sound like: “Tower, Blue 96, On Final, Full Stop Landing.”
The first three parts of the radio call are very important. However, most important for the pilot—who is constantly moving forward at an accelerated rate towards an eventual end—is the last piece. If a pilot doesn’t know what he wants to do next, he clearly isn’t going to be as successful as one who does.
Let us now turn back to the epitome of success, Bruce Wayne, a.k.a. Batman. To begin, this man of few words uses them wisely. Whether he is talking to citizens of Gotham during the day as Bruce Wayne the businessman or whether he is talking to thugs or policemen, as Batman the vigilante, he demonstrably knows his audience. He illustrates flawlessly that it is no coincidence a pilot’s radio call opens with verbalizing the object of your comments. This is because your personal identification—the second part of our radio call—is dependent on your audience. Recognizing this fact is vital to being a success. To our priests, we are wretched sinners; to our children, we are parents; to our wives, we are husbands; to our pizza delivery guys, we are customers. And we hold these roles all at the same time.
Next Bruce Wayne, particularly when in his role as Batman, always knows where he is. Batman comes out on top of every situation precisely because he is more familiar with his surroundings than his opponents. Why? Because he prepares. His manipulation of time and space are an example to us all.
But most importantly, Bruce Wayne always knows what he wants to do next. In fact, his life is dedicated to the future. Batman is a creation of Bruce Wayne’s foresight. Without a goal, a desired future, Batman does not even make sense.
And when his goal is achieved Bruce Wayne will let Batman fade into the background, ready to re-appear only as a last straw. Bruce Wayne, however, will always be present, building a better future.
Growing up in America, more of us than not, have heard about the importance of the future our entire lives. “If you can dream it, you can be it.” “Opportunity comes to those who seek it.” “You make your own luck.” And my favorite of these proverbs, “What is possible is done; what is impossible will be done” captures in its most eloquent form, the idea that ‘possible’ is past-tense, whereas those notions that we find ‘impossible’ are the very ideas that we should strive to achieve.
When we take the pilot’s four-part radio-call, add the undeniable and now logical success of Bruce Wayne, and mix in a little time-tested colloquial wisdom, something spectacular happens. It is as if we stumble upon a new law of physics. We realize the inescapable truth: WE. SEE. THE. FUTURE.
Captain’s Log 