Do Look Up

Kindness in flight

When you’re seated in an airplane exit row, the flight attendant will ask you to give an audible confirmation that you’re willing to help in the rare case of an emergency. It’s an odd experience: this verbal “yes” said with certainty means so much, and hopefully nothing at all. 

It’s late February and me and my husband are traveling for a family wedding. As I shimmy into my seat, I’m asked to give my confirmation. Yes. In the event of an emergency, I will help. 

I’ve earned my extra legroom, but this spot is no luxury. This is where I will now sit and imagine all the possible kinds of emergencies and what sort of role I could possibly play as the airplane explodes into thin air or nosedives toward the ocean. And even if we are “lucky” and it’s more of a heroic emergency landing, I’m pretty sure no one will actually hold me to my commitment.

I sit and scroll through my WhatsApp messages, taking note of the family and friends I’ve been in touch with up until this moment, noting the last messages they’ll have from me to remember, to cherish, forever. 

(I know that just got so dark, so fast, but I can’t be the only one.)

I entered this trip feeling a bit anxious to leave home. A lot going on with the kids. Things that need to be planned. My heart more heavy than usual. Deeply craving rest (again). I really hope this flight is like all the others. I’m honestly too tired to help during an emergency. 

There’s a passenger sandwiched between me and my husband, who kindly offers to switch so we can be together. (We are indeed flying United.) We settle into our spots as more and more passengers board.

Sitting at a plane entrance is a unique vantage point. The diversity of flyers. The banter between the personnel. The fashion runway on the runway. It’s a people-watcher’s dream. But you’re also glued to a seat in the thick of an uncomfortable transition, where tensions run high, as people leave the expanse of the gate and squeeze down the confining aisle of an airplane to find their tiny spot for the next few hours. I’m sitting and eyeing everyone, hyper alert to expect terse energy that is commonplace flying, especially these days.

And yet this is where I was witness to a flow of kindness that moved me to tears.

First comes an elderly woman. She is alone, boarding slowly, with one hand gripping a cane and the other on the plane entry wall. She is finding her balance and apologizing for her slow pace. The teenager behind her said “Take your time.” The flight attendant asked if she wanted to take his arm and be guided to her seat. She obliges and chuckles about how it’s not everyday a beautiful man in uniform offers to escort her. 

A middle aged woman is next. She asks the greeting crew if they have any water, she’s feeling dizzy. They’d love to offer her some, but their water is on the other side of the plane and it will take some time. A younger man behind her offers up his unopened bottle. “Here, take mine,” he says extending his bottle assertively. “Are you sure?” she asks. “Please, take it, I can get water later,” he responds. She accepts it, receiving from a stranger something he had just bought for himself. In this moment, he had realized, she needed it more. This is the definition of righteousness: justice. In this man’s eyes, the water was already hers. 

A toddler boards cranky. I’m about to offer my own humor and compassion for the mother, who already visibly stressed, when another woman in front of her starts turning round to make silly faces at the little boy. He smiles, loving the performance. The mother smiles, loving the relief. And the generosity. This woman’s funny faces are so much more invested than any offering of compassion and relating to the mom. She is truly helping. 

I would normally be cocooning into my space right about now; looking down, still scrolling on my phone. But I can’t look away. What is happening? I feel like I am in a movie, and someone has cast a kindness spell. 

Next up, a woman is tapped on the shoulder by a man behind her. She freezes, and I can see her eyes widen in anticipation of being told she’s doing something wrong. But the tapper’s voice is warm and gentle: “You’re wallet is falling out of your bag, hon.” The woman responds with relief in her voice, “Oh my! thank you!” She is touched by a simple act of care for something that could easily have been, quite literally, left hanging. 

The sweetness. The helping. The kindness. It’s not a movie but real life, right in front of me — a welcome sweet caress to my fragile state. Am I witnessing the kindness contagion? The kind we believe exists but we don’t normally get to see, traveling from one person to the next? I always felt it to be true that one small act of kindness sparks another, but to see the chain connecting and traveling right in front of my eyes feels magical and sacred. And reassuring. 

People are good. People can take care of each other. We can take what we have — our patience, a steady arm, a bottle of water, a silly face, our mere noticing — and offer it where it’s needed. 

Could it really be that if you stand out in the world, in one spot, long enough, you’ll see more good than bad?

It seems everyone here is accumulating mileage, by going the extra mile. We have not taken off, but I feel uplifted. 

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There’s so much separateness these days. So much fear of the other. So much hostility. We began the pandemic chanting affirmations and mantras of togetherness, but that feels like a distant memory. Many of us have found comfort from leaning into the familiarity and warmth of our families and immediate surroundings, but when we are exposed to a sampling of greater society, it is a harsh reality.

All the hopes of unity feel squashed, and there’s a maladaptive protection at play that says, “When you’re out in the world today, just look down.” Put one foot in front of the other. When we are noticing someone else, it’s often with a selfish ask: what can you do for me. How will you make me okay? There are more rules and regulations than usual, and so many of us are now interacting with the world in a way that is scared and protective, making us judge and distance ourselves from others who threaten our already shaky existence. And even in all our efforts to survive and even contribute, when it comes to the World Out There, it feels like if we take the wrong step or make too much noise, things won’t turn out well. So we just exist, without engaging.

In effect, acts of kindness like sharing an unopened bottle of water with a stranger, or extending a literal helping hand, have now become an act of bravery. 

Hard times and massive unifying global events are a great opportunity: to cross a shaky bridge to offer some help. To climb a perilous terrain by giving of ourselves, without knowing what’s on the other side. To not take the giving or receiving of kindness for granted. To make it matter. To not just flex, but really build muscle. To give intention and strength to our good deeds so they don’t just add up slowly one by one, but actually carry more weight individually on the scale of life — to finally tip in favor of good, for good. I feel it happening. 

When we look up and simply open our eyes, there is a flow of goodness and kindness that is likely keeping this world turning. And perhaps in hard times, in times of divisiveness, perhaps our good deeds aren’t just helpful, but world shifting. Maybe right now, they mean more than ever.

When we are feeling constricted. When there is less to go around. When we feel like we just need to find out seats. When we have somewhere to go, and feel like we are traveling solo. When it’s easier to mind our own carry-on luggage, and just look down as we shuffle along. That’s when our good deeds aren’t just on a conveyer belt, but go the extra distance. 

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I may be strapped into my seat, but my heart has expanded. I boarded feeling consumed by my own nerves, but I now realize that in the event that I am needed, I can and would rise to the occasion. Merely witnessing strangers look out for one another has activated my desire to be part of — and my sense of belonging to — a chain of kindness traveling around the world. I feel calm. This plane is not just a vessel of flight, but a vessel of light.

So many of us, in some way, are sitting in the emergency aisle of life, experiencing challenges and pain. And we need to see, and feel it all. But imagine if we knew that even when we’re carrying our own baggage and shuffling down a narrow aisle, we are still needed. That our willingness to assist, and every “small” act of kindness, makes a difference.

We can’t always give a full and audible yes. Sometimes all we can (and need) to do is focus on our own legroom. Looking down is protective, and serves a purpose for a time. But for me, I’m taking new permission to stay openhearted when the environment is tense. To connect — whether by giving or receiving — even when it feels like a risk.

Thankfully, the flight was uneventful, like all the others. More unexpected was what happened inward: my own turbulence, settled. Sometimes it really can change everything, to simply look up.

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