The flight that changed my perspective on life and death:
The flight that changed my perspective on life and death:
Many of us spend a lot of time struggling to control our circumstances and avoid our deepest fears – yet life’s unexpected challenges often turn out to be our greatest blessings, changing us in profound ways.
Like many people, I always had a fear of flying because it is almost the most out of control it’s possible to be – you have to hand over trust of your life to a flying piece of metal and a couple of pilots.
On this particular trip, my anxiety levels were higher than usual. It was 2010 in Bangkok and large-scale political protests, ongoing for several weeks, had led to the military being drafted in to maintain order. Tensions were running high, people were being urged to stay at home and the airport was eerily quiet.
This was the first leg of the journey back to my home country, the UK, where I lived for half of each year. I chose the dates to coincide with the return of my beloved yoga teachers from their retreat in India, however had recently heard that they had had to delay their journey back to Thailand – meaning that we missed each other by just a few hours. My feelings were mixed as I boarded the plane – I was sad to miss saying goodbye to them but also looking forward to seeing family and friends again.
There were only about twenty passengers on board the small aircraft for the two hour journey to Kular Lumpar. Being a nervous passenger, I said my usual prayer for a safe flight and then distracted myself with a book. Take-off was smooth and uneventful. About half way into the journey, I excused myself to the person sitting next to me and got up to go to the bathroom located at the back of the plane. As I closed the door, I breathed in and suddenly realised that something was wrong: there was no oxygen! Panicking, I fumbled to open the door and saw an air hostess marching rapidly towards me. She wrapped her arms around my waist, manouvered me towards the nearest seat and pushed me down into it, fastening my seatbelt – before I had time to make sense of what was going on! Grabbing one of the oxygen masks that was hanging down, she attached it to my face, pulling it downwards sharply to activate the flow. She instructed me to “just breathe normally” and then hurried back down the aisle to the front of the plane.
Everything happened so fast, I don’t even remember feeling all that much fear – which surprised me! All other passengers were sitting towards the front of the plane breathing from oxygen masks and I was on my own at the back, wondering what on earth had happened. I was aware of a loud whooshing sound coming from the other side of the aircraft but had no understanding of its origin. The air hostesses’ calm and competent presence helped to reassure me that all would be okay, and I rationalised to myself that there was no need to worry since we had the oxygen that we needed, we couldn’t be all that far from Kular Lumpar now, and soon we would be safely on the ground again. I prayed that the landing would be smooth. I noticed that the plane was now starting to descend quite rapidly, but it felt steady and under control – no need to panic.
In a split second, though, everything changed. There was no more oxygen coming out of my mask! Panicking, I grabbed another of the masks with shaking hands, fixed it around my head and pulled it downwards, as I had seen the hostess do. Still: no oxygen! Same with the third and fourth masks. Several other people began screaming ‘help’ and some pressed the red buttons above their heads. Staff rushed to assist a couple of people closest to them, frequently rushing back to replenish their own oxygen supplies. (Or did they have portable containers? My memory is hazy now.) I remember thinking at this point “oh great, why did I decide to go the bathroom at that exact moment? Now I will likely die as the staff won’t be able to get to me in time” and almost ironically smiling to myself at my bad timing. One part of me was terrified, another weirdly curious about what would happen. Utterly helpless, there was no choice but to trust. The plane was now descending more quickly – I guessed, trying to reach a safe height whilst there was still time.
I started to feel dizzy, sleepy, disorientated and strangely euphoric. This feeling was actually quite pleasant (and one I now know to be hypoxia – when the brain is deprived of oxygen for more than twenty seconds). A rhetorical question formed in my mind “I wonder if I will I ever see my family again?” Immediately, I became aware of a presence close by, with a very loving and protective energy, and heard the words: “Don’t worry, everything will be fine, just trust”. Without hesitation, I knew that I could trust that voice. In that moment, I fully let go and surrendered – feeling totally at peace. I began to disconnect from my physical body and to watch the scene from above with a mixture of curiosity, humour and a deep sense of trust that whatever happened, all would be okay. Simultaneously, I felt energetically connected to everything – no longer separate. An incredible feeling. My physical self got sleepier and sleepier, and began to lose consciousness.
Suddenly, through the fog, I became aware of a voice echoing around the cabin: “Ladies and gentleman, we have now reached a safe height where you can now breathe normally so you can take off your masks. We will be landing at Kular Lumpar airport in about fifteen minutes. We apologise for the inconvenience to your flight today.” (“Inconvenience”?!)
Suddenly I was jolted back to physical reality and realised that, by the miracle of a narrow window of time, we had survived! After more or less preparing to die, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as shocked or confused about anything in my life! It took about half an hour to fully return to consciousness, and a few hours for the dizziness, confusion and shock to wear off. Perhaps it will sound surprising but coming back to the physical world felt like a huge anti-climax at first – returning to the plane and people and the expectation that we now just had to walk off the plane and carry on with ‘life as normal’. It turns out that the floaty space between life and death is incredibly pleasant, and not the frightening experience that I had imagined in the past.
After landing, an Australian guy turned around to explain to me what had happened to the aircraft – that a part of the door had fallen off mid-flight, which is what had led to the sudden change of cabin pressure and loss of oxygen. That was the whooshing sound that I had heard and why the air hostess had grabbed me round the waist – as there was a danger that I could have been sucked out of the aircraft.
Everything felt a bit surreal and dreamlike as I drifted through the airport – not quite grounded back in my body yet. The Australian guy suggested that all the passengers go for a drink before heading our separate ways, but all I wanted was to be on my own to process what had just happened. My next flight was thankfully smooth and on arrival back in England, I barely told anyone what had happened. Words felt inadequate to convey such a profound and life-shattering experience!
I put the experience to the back of my mind for several months whilst I busied myself with the human business of house hunting and moving. However, I wasn’t surprised when a lipoma of many years suddenly developed a serious infection ‘out of the blue’ two weeks after I got back. (My body always reacts strongly to intense emotional or spiritual experiences.) It took me time to fully process what had happened and I shared it with very few people.
That flight showed me so clearly what, on some level, I already knew but kept forgetting – that there is more to life than the physical – that we are, in essence, spiritual beings, simply having a temporary human learning experience. Whilst some of life’s challenges can feel scary if they threaten our sense of self and survival, on a higher level, there is actually never anything to fear. When I was forced to “let go” of my defences on that flight, because there was no other choice, I had the sense of being carried, of being totally looked after by a Higher Power. I knew deep inside that, no matter the outcome, everything would be okay.
When I next got on a plane around nine months later, I had totally lost my fear of flying (and of death).
Postscript: I wish I could say I had lost ALL my fears after this experience – yet I do still have some fear around suffering pain and, if I had the choice, would prefer my death to be a peaceful one when the time comes. In these moments of fear, I again remind myself that our physical experiences are only temporary lessons to help us to learn, evolve and remember our true soul nature.
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