Sylvia's Journal

I was so sure I had imprinted my intense dreams into my memory as I emerged from deep sleep. It was that extra 20 minutes of being neither awake nor asleep that messed everything up. The delicate fabric of the dream(s) disintegrated. The only thing I can remember is that they had something to do with agency and victim hood. These are the mysterious ways in which my mind comes to my rescue as I am struggling to articulate the session I want to do at next year’s Organizational Behavior Teaching Conference (OBTC) at Babson. Clearly, it will have something to do with agency and victimhood. Our very own recent experience about these two concepts will be the icing on the cake. I will get a proposal out today.

Yesterday Arne and I went flying again. It was quite windy and gusty, exactly the weather we had ordered. After last week’s flawless calm weather landing I needed practice in some more challenging conditions, such as winds gusting from 14 to 20 knots and much turbulence as low as 600 feet. I was happy that Arne was sitting next to me. His presence is like a safety blanket; he never had to put his hands on the controls. Flying with Arne is different than flying with my previous fligth instructor Greg who is about Tessa’s age. Greg is a formidable instructor, at the beginning of his pilot career. I learned much from him. While I was recovering he left Beverly and is flying in uniform now, from his base in St. Louis. Arne graciously offered to get me back to my former skills and confidence. Arne is on the other side of his flight career. Arne chatters a lot which is both fun and distracting. Ths is a good thing as it forces me to concentrate right through the talking, a skill that comes in handy when I will be flying again with friends and family (those hardy souls who want and dare to share my excitement of flying).

I did about 8 landings. It was very hard work and immeasurably satisfying. Axel had been watching the little planes go up and down in the stormy weather. I was relieved to hear that, instead of worry and fear, he had felt the exhilaraton that he thought the pilots of those little planes must have been feeling. He completely understood the excitement of doing something difficult and succeeding because of skill (not luck). I can only compare this feeling to my experience in my twenties of skiing flawlessly down a difficult slope or racing a perfect race in my rowing years. Or, more recently, completing a workshop or event and knowing that it came out exactly as intended. This is part of the attraction of flying: putting all the skills and years of practice together and producing a safe landing! The other part is the ability to enjoy the beauty of our lands from above.

In the evening we showed up at the party with the same people and at the same place where we had been expected on July 14. We messed up that party big time: as soon as the hospital call came in everyone started frantically searching for Sita’s cell phone number (a reminder for all of us to travel with contact information in our pockets or purses). But this time the party unfolded more or less as planned and no one was missing. A wonderful dinner was followed by a raucous game of pictionary in which the male team was pitted against the female team. The women won easily and the men protested. We may look like old people but we behaved pretty much like the little people at the other end of the life cycle, except when we descended the steep chairs. It was a pitiful procession that had something to do with joints.