Cloud Tears
Welcome to Present Sense – a weekend curation for Paid Subscribers – with 7 sensory recommendations: something to SEE, HEAR, SMELL, TASTE, TOUCH, BALANCE and ENVISION. Each edition also includes an audio guided meditation.
I don’t know if it’s floating above the clouds, or being sandwiched between strangers, but emotions always surface when I’m 40,000 feet in the air.
Any movie I watch on a plane, whether a drama or comedy, is bound to make me cry. I’ll listen to the few songs saved on my phone, and get sentimental as I stare out of the window.
I’m not the only one. There’s plenty of studies (though mainly anecdotal) that reveal our emotional, and sometimes strange, in-flight behavior. According to Virgin Atlantic’s 2011, “over half of respondents (55%) agreed their emotions become heightened when on a flight and 41% of men surveyed said they hid under blankets to hide their tears.”
Some of it is circumstantial. The reasons for flying vary and carry some weighted emotions, whether it’s visiting a sick family member, or reuniting with our partner.
There’s a scientific explanation for it too: “Low air pressure reduces the oxygen in our blood and can affect our decision-making and emotions.” Our brains get cloudy and the rain of tears quickly follows.
But I suppose there’s something beyond the air pressure that makes us well up. The loud propeller acts like a white-nose machine that quiets my jumbled thoughts. Even though many airline companies now offer wifi, I always opt out. So these elevated hours are often the only ones when I’m unreachable.
It’s just me and the sky, along with 200 strangers. In this stand-still of time, this buoyancy of temporary freedom, nothing can reach us – except our feelings.
As we settle into our seats, so do many weeks (sometimes months) of activity. Our daily life rarely gives us a respite to process what we’re experiencing. The stillness and silence of a plane can feel like an imposed meditation. Within this insulated environment, we barely have legroom but finally enough space for our emotions to bubble up.
There’s also an unusual intimacy that is created on flights. Our sense of personal space is obliterated as we negotiate the shared armchair and the reclining head. Social norms are also bent to fit the circumstance. Conversations usually revolve around our destination and its motivation, sometimes revealing personal details about our life. Though our paths won’t likely cross again, our destinies are intertwined in this moment.
Our plane tears may also reveal an existential realization –– that we’re not in control. Our daily routine can create the illusion that we’re stearing the ship of our lives. But when we’re in flight, we turn our fate to the pilot, the weather, and the intricate forces of the sky.
For a few hours, our earthly reality is suspended. From our oval-shaped windows, we can almost taste the azure sunsets, and meld amongst the stars. Perhaps tears express what words cannot. They become love letters to the clouds, liquid reminders that we’re specks of cosmic dust, floating amongst the universe.
In Joy,
Sabrina
PS: for those who missed it last week, I’m curating a special Seven Senses experience – an immersive dinner exploring the color green through all our senses. To reserve a spot, visit Lu.ma/TastingColor.
