Toward Ending The Turbulence Problem

Two systems try to protect us. Our conscious system observes the situation we are in, and based on past experience, makes a judgment about our safety. Our unconscious system reads the emotional valence code our past experience - or our genetics - assigned to the situation we are in.

As a passenger, your conscious system doesn’t have much to work with. You can’t see where the plane is headed. You can’t see what is holding the plane in the air. Your conscious system can’t assure you that everything is alright. That can leave you feeling vulnerable.

The pilots have all the information they need. Their conscious system is well-satisfied. They don’t feel vulnerable.

What about the unconscious system? Passengers have no control and no escape. The unconscious protective system of a passenger who has experienced a significant amount of trauma will release stress hormones when flying, simply because it is a no-control, no-escape situation.

Pilots feel as secure in the cockpit of the plane as you do in the driver’s seat of your car. Pilots have control and escape. The flight controls are in their hands. Though they have no physical escape, they have technological escape. If a problem develops, they escape the problem via a backup system, and if needed, a backup to the backup system.

An airline passenger, you would feel better if you had a view of the situation, such as a view of your plane from outside. Such a view would let you see the plane is not running into any danger. But since you don’t have that view, you create it. You imagine your plane in the air.

When there is no turbulence, the view you create is reassuring. But if there is turbulence, the view you create is troubling. You visualize the plane making wild out of control motions.

I understand that. When in turbulence as a passenger, I pictured the plane moving around a lot. That, however, didn’t trouble me because I was used to movements like that from flying a jet fighter.

But when I got a chance to see an airliner flying in turbulence, I was shocked by different between what I had visualized from what I was seeing. I could not believe my eyes. I stared at the scene in disbelief.

As I was flying an airliner over the Atlantic, I saw another airliner nearby. Seeing another airliner over the Atlantic is not unusual. Airliners are assigned to fly certain tracks. My airliner may have been heading to London on Track Charlie at 35,000 feet, and right below me, Delta is on Track Charlie at 33,000 feet.

There were two ways I knew we both were in turbulence. One, I have heard the other plane report their flight conditions as turbulent. Two, I could see a contrail coming out of their engines that was swirling.

Airliners don’t always make contrails. It depends on atmospheric conditions. But when they are making a contrail, if the air is smooth, the contrail comes out of the engine as a delicate, absolutely straight, white line which stretches miles behind the plane.

But in turbulence, the contrail comes out swirling. By the time the contrail reaches the tail of the plane, the swirling has spread the contrail to equal the height of the tail.

As the years passed, I observed that scene time and time again - the contrail swirling out of the engine due to the turbulence - but no visible movement of the plane.

Since the airliner was in turbulence, there had to be some up and down motion. Passengers in the cabin had to be feeling it. I know I was. In the cockpit, I was bouncing up and down in my seat. But, outside the plane, the other plane appeared to be rock solid in the sky. Whatever movements it was making were too small to be visible.

This mismatch amazed me. The plane I was observing was in turbulence. The plane I was piloting was in the same turbulence. I am bumping up and down in my seat. The other plane is sitting there looking as solid as a rock.

As hard as it may be to wrap your head around it, when you try to satisfy your conscious protective system by visualizing your plane, don’t forget this. Your plane is not moving up and down enough for a pilot in another plane to see any movement at all.

It may help to think of croquet. When your ball is touching an opponent’s ball, if you put your foot on your ball and slam your ball with your mallet, your ball hardly moves. But your opponent’s ball shoots off. Imagine that happening vertically. Your airliner is like your ball being hit by your mallet. It gets an upward jolt from turbulence. Passengers are like the opponent’s ball. If they are not belted, the jolt could eject them from their seats.

You need - inside your plane - to visualie how little turbulence moves your plane. You could imagine a passenger in a nearby airliner is looking at your plane. Though they know you are in turbulence, they can’t see your plane moving at all.

You could imagine you are looking at their plane. You know they are in turbulence, but their plane doesn’t appear to be moving at all.

Though the movements are too slight to see, you still feel them. Mother Nature didn’t wait until you were falling to alarm you about falling. She made you supersensitive to downward motion - even the slightest downward motion - for a reason. It was to alarm you if you started to lose your balance so you could correct your balance and not fall.

But Mother Nature did not make you sensitive at all to upward motion. It takes diligence, but you need to do it. You need to notice every upward movement. Match each upward movement with each downward motion so you know they neutralize each other.

One way to make sure you notice every upward movement is to use a pen and paper. Start on the left side of the page, and slowly draw a horizontal line toward the right side of the page. That represents your airliner going across the sky. When the plane bumps up, move your pen slightly up. When the plane moves down, move your pen slightly down. When your pen approaches the right edge of the paper, start again on the left side a little below your first line.

That tracks your plane in the air. As you fly along, wearing your seat belt fully protects you. It doesn’t have to be tight. You just need it to keep you from rising from your seat.

In addition, track yourself inside the plane. Draw two horizontal lines across the page spaced an inch apart. The upper line represents the ceiling. The lower line represents the floor. Now, slowly draw a horizontal line toward the right side of the page to represent the position of your head versus the ceiling and the floor.

Since the only danger in turbulence is hitting your head on the ceiling, your drawing shows you that there simply is no danger in turbulence.

Since it is impossible for an airliner to fall, if you get the impression it is falling, correct your mental imbalance. Shift your awareness to include the upward motions of the plane. The upward motions cancel the downward motions out.

For practical purposes, this shift in awareness must take place at the first sign of turbulence, and it must continue until the turbulence is over. Mental rebalancing must take place immediately. The shift must take place before the false impression can produce enough stress hormones to cause psychic equivalence and allow imagination to take over and masquerade as reality.