When the captain of the airplane personally steps into the aisle to make an announcement, it’s either important—or he knows how a good leader shows up. Not speaking from behind a closed door, but visible and right at the front.
“Good morning, dear guests. Due to the current freezing rain, the airport has decided to allow only three aircraft per hour to take off and land. We’ve just received the go-ahead that we would be ready in case one of the other planes isn’t finished in time.”
I’m completely relaxed. Why? Because so far, everything that needed to work on this trip has worked—so that we could rather spontaneously make it back to the ship. Even the taxi driver, who has driven just about everything in the Kurdish mountains, brought us safely over the icy roads to the airport two hours earlier.
I’m in a great mood, writing a few notes in my book, and I know: we have 4.5 hours between now and our connecting flight to Funchal on Madeira. So why would an extra hour of waiting bother me? The captain is cool, has the right attitude, and we’re riding the momentum of our lives. Everything is fine.
While Anke is starting to fall asleep and I’m writing away like crazy, he speaks up again—right there in front of us: “We’ve just received another message from the airport, unfortunately not a good one. The airport is closed until 10:00 a.m., and our flight has been canceled.” Okay. Then we’ll just take another flight from Berlin to Frankfurt and still be ready to go by 11:45 a.m. Rental car and train wouldn’t work timewise—but there are other flights to Frankfurt.
Well. After checking the departure board and learning that all flights to Frankfurt were canceled until 2:00 p.m., only one option remained: a Lufthansa flight originally scheduled for 6:40 a.m., now postponed to 11:30 a.m. And that could have worked—if our connecting flight had also been postponed. Which, on that day, it wasn’t.
Long story short: We couldn’t get out of Berlin and therefore missed the ship, which set sail from Funchal at 6:00 p.m. The airline’s kind attempt to fly us to Funchal three days later was met by me with a tired smile and politely declined. Well. This really sucks. But hey, just be happy, right?
As I always say: in every bad situation, there must be something good (the blue glasses).
You know what? We still haven’t found the good part yet. When will we know the reason? No idea. Maybe never.
What matters most is not letting it completely ruin your mood. Feeling sad? Absolutely okay.
Swearing for a moment? Also fine. Shaking your head? Always good. Kicking the trash can? Only if it’s your trash can.
But falling into a depression for weeks and telling everyone the same story over and over again—with a sad face and maximum negative emotions? No. Definitely not. That would be the worst thing you—or in this situation, I—could do. Why is this so important?
Let’s allow Esther Hicks to answer that. She once put it beautifully in a workshop:
“We are strong advocates of being as happy as you can possibly be—because that ultimately takes care of everything else. Even if you have no reason to be happy: make one up. Imagine it. Make the decision to be happy—no matter what, regardless of what happens.
‘No matter what, I will be happy. If I have to ignore everyone else for that; if I never watch TV again; if I never read a newspaper again—I will be happy. If I never have to see this person again, I will be happy. And if I do have to see this person, I will find something in their face that makes me happy. I will be happy. I will be happy. I will be happy.’”
So for now, we’re simply choosing to be happy and focusing on what we have—and where we are. Because the situation is what it is. That won’t change at all. Only my future will change—depending on where I place my energy: in joy and hope or in lack and doubt.
This very important decision is one you make every single second, again and again.
So—how do you choose?
