In my late 20’s I contracted a fear of flying. A horrible disease. Booking a flight and pressing “checkout” was a crap shoot. I know, I know. The odds were with me, and statistically I had more of a chance dying in my car in my own city…but at the time it didn’t matter. My fear was rooted in the possibility of not being there for my children. Before I had kids, I had no fear. I felt like people would be sad if..well you know..but they would carry on. My kids still needed my wisdom, discipline, and my love. And who would make their beds in the morning? The house was absolutely going to fall apart without me. And, I needed them. I needed to see them grow, struggle, win, lose, laugh, cry, first kiss, first…well maybe not total sharing on that…but making sure they knew the consequences of lust vs. love, and most importantly I wanted to love THEM for as long as possible.
After starting my company, I began speaking all over. When someone books you in Long Beach, CA or Atlanta, GA, your’e not mapping out a road trip. I had to fly…a lot. On one of my first trips about 4 years ago, I grabbed the women’s arm next to me during take off (which is one of the most dangerous parts of air travel, just ask me). She looked over and said, “Weren’t you our keynote speaker yesterday?” Red face. No more arm grabbing unless I’m sure they weren’t an audience member. However, with more bookings and more flying I became comfortable and no longer fearful. I’m still extremely ritualistic and superstitious. My Grandpa Moore was the same way. The door you entered his home was the door you exited or else. I never asked him what the “or else” was, but I thought it may involve losing a limb or my eyesight.
My family knows when I fly, I wear my 3 diamond necklace that my husband gave me after the birth of our third child (assured him there was NO need for a 4 diamond), and my cross. I hold my cross during take-off, but no longer out of fear, just my ritual. I also touch the outside of the plane with my right hand EVERY SINGLE FLIGHT. Why? My friend Erin came to visit me many years ago, who was also burdened with the “flying-fear” thing. She said she’d touch the outside of the plane for good luck. I thought, well, she flies quite a bit and has a 100% survival rate. In.
On top of my personal flying, I have a dancing daughter who travels all over the country chasing her dream. She’s 14, so actually WE travel the country. Upon boarding our last flight from our week long trip to Nationals in Orlando (Oh, I can’t help it…where she won National Tremaine Teen Dancer of the Year..) I snapped this photo unbeknownst to her. She also touches the outside of the plane with her right hand. A friend who has known me for years texted me about her winning DOTY and said “Congratulations to both of you. You put in a lot of right hand touches.”
I think the gesture is this – I got as much of “this” world as I can, and the rest is up to the Universe. So it’s not only good luck, but conceding that you can’t control everything. A little right hand love pat saying, please do your best and I promise to do mine.