Where Are You Not Flying?

Last week, I went on a trip to the beautiful Georgia-Tennessee mountains with a group of amazing people. Some of them were there to get certified in hang gliding. I wasn’t there for that—I went to enjoy the view, support my partner, and soak in the whole experience.

But pretty early on, I said yes to a tandem hang gliding flight. I was excited. Not nervous. I don’t really have a fear of heights, and I actually try to lean toward the things I fear.

But then... something unexpected happened.

We showed up at the airstrip—this wide open landing zone—and I saw the aircraft for the first time. These “planes” looked like they were built out of PVC pipe. The sides were missing. Just open air where your body would be. My partner casually said, “Oh yeah, they use lawnmower engines.”

And just like that, something in me shifted.

It was like watching it all from outside myself: I slowed down, and I noticed a single thought pop into my mind—

“Maybe this isn’t safe.”

And from that one thought, a feeling of fear arose.

That fear didn’t come from the world. It came from me. From my thinking. It was something I created, a story I was beginning to believe.

I caught myself imagining worst-case scenarios. I called my kids to check in with them. I was acting as if this fear was real. And it happened fast—within minutes, really—but it felt like the fear was taking root and growing into a whole new reality.

It was fascinating to watch.

At some point, I paused. I asked myself:
Why am I here?
What do I actually want?

Not what I think.
What I know.

And what I knew was: I wanted to enjoy the experience. To be fully present. To feel the wind on my face and the freedom of flight. So I stopped thinking the thoughts that weren’t aligned with that. I rested in the clarity of my desire. I trusted myself. I trusted my gut. My intuition. That’s what’s real.

So I flew.

And I remembered something so important:

I don’t just create my safety.
I create my reality.

This was about hang gliding—but it’s also about life, business, relationships, parenting, everything.

We do this all the time. We confuse our thinking with our knowing. My thinking said, “This might be unsafe.” My knowing said, “You can trust yourself.”

And when we remember the difference, when we return to what we know, we fly.
We ride the wind.
We let go of what we were never meant to carry.

Here’s the kicker:
After I landed—after I did the thing and loved it—my partner, a pilot who has studied aircraft engines, shared something that stunned me: lawnmower engines are actually among the most reliable.  They use these engines in Cessna planes.

That "unsafe" thought? It wasn’t even true.

My body had always been safe. But I created a reality where it wasn’t. Just like we all do—every day.

So I’ll leave you with this question:
Where are you not flying in your life?