Plane crash? That would be awesome!

For most of my career, I’ve needed to travel a fair amount by airplane–short trips maybe once or twice a month.  Over the last 10 or 15 years, I’ve developed a two-part mental ritual during take-off.  The first part has always stayed the same, but the second part has evolved.

Part 1 involves me looking out the window and squinting my eyes so that I can see the tarmac, but not the body of the plane.  As the we accelerate down the runway, I pretend I’m the Flash, running 200 miles per hour without taking an extra breath.

Part 2 begins once the wheels leave the pavement. At first, it went like this:

1. Realize that sometimes planes crash and it’s almost always unexpected.
2. Pray to God that this plane will not crash.
3. Think about how much I love my wife and children.
4. Tear up over how much I already miss them, especially my wife.

When she decided a few years ago that marriage was unsatisfying and moved on, steps 3 and 4 changed.  I still prayed to return home safely, but my focus was on returning to my children so they would have a dad that could care for them and provide stability in a world that had forever turned upside down. 

On a recent trip, I realized my ritual was changing yet again.  Instead of the prayer and concern, I looked out the window at the rapidly shrinking mountains and thought, “I would love for this plane to crash.” 

I didn’t just think it.  I felt it.  I imagined hurtling toward the ground and experienced a sense of glad relief instead of fear. Not only would I escape this life, but it would be an accident.  No one could blame me for giving up or avoiding my responsibilities as a parent or a human being. It would be perfect.

I also realized that gladness and plane crashes should not go together and decided to look for counseling when I returned home.  I found a great one and we are talking about the possible causes and how to fix my head. I haven’t quite resolved the misplaced gladness thing yet--it comes and goes.

Nonetheless, the experience caused me to wonder how strange and fascinating it is to be human: 

• How is it that something so wrong can feel so right? 
• Why is it possible to know that escape is a bad idea in so many ways, but at the same time perceive it as ideal?
• Why does nonsense sometimes make so much sense?

I’ve read all the brainy scientific stuff, of course, but it doesn't touch the profoundness of the experience. I feel like I've come to understand something that is not understandable.  I now comprehend something, but without knowledge.

After much pondering, it occurred to me that the unfathomable understanding I’ve gained has a name. We usually call it empathy.