The fear of flying
FLYING | JUNE 2026
The fear of flying
Last year in Costa Rica, I visited a beautiful yoga studio. A friend persuaded me to try an aerial hoop class for the first time. There I was, suspended from ropes and rings, one leg in the air, my body contorted into shapes I wasn't entirely convinced it was designed for.
I was scared.
But I was flying.
And it made me wonder: how often do we have our own fear of flying in life?
It reminded me of something I often come back to. Fear doesn't always disappear before we act. More often, we carry it with us. Despite it, we can still fly.
This year I had to make some very bold life decisions, and through it all I kept returning to an email from one of my closest friends. She was one of the most extraordinary people I've ever known: brilliant, deeply kind, thoughtful and quietly ambitious. She sadly passed away before the age of 30, but her words continue to stay with me and inspire me.
So, if you're going through a life moment right now, facing difficult decisions or trying to work out how to fly in your own life, perhaps these words can give you the same comfort they gave me. Whatever flying looks like for you.
In this email, she wrote about her fear of flying:
"I am usually the person who comes too early for check-in… with zero luggage except a handbag... nervous about the validity of my ticket… giving the flight assistant my passport, permit, and whatever document she doesn't need... requesting the window seat... pacing through security checks... duty-free shops... and finally boarding the plane a little too eagerly.
Before take-off, I am that random black person chanting prayers for a safe flight... asking God for journey mercies... hoping that nothing goes wrong...
Even though I have been flying for a number of years now... and I have spent a lot of hours suspended in the air... I still have a fear of planes. I am nervous every time I board, and I am only relieved when my feet hit the ground again. But I do it... every two weeks.
But this is not an email about my travels... it is about what flying has come to symbolise in my life.
I am learning to be ok with flying in my career too... I know I might have to wait a few years to arrive at that corner office, but I am glad to wait... one airport to another... it will be worth the trip.
For now, I am happy to be the nobody doing library runs... and photocopies... and highlights... and when a day like yesterday happens... and I am able to contribute one paragraph to an international decision (without any edits)... I know that I too am contributing... one footnote at a time.
The truth is... it is intimidating to be surrounded by people who know a lot of stuff... people who have written books you studied law with... but whose humility shines through in the way they live and carry themselves.
...I pray that you find the courage to chase every single dream you have. That you are resilient enough to stand tall when the waves come. That you believe everything will work out the way it is supposed to.
So the next time you are on a plane flying somewhere... take a few minutes to reflect on how significant the journey is... and hopefully, when you arrive, someone will be holding flowers for you... and you can do a happy dance." ~Katlego
What moves me every time I read it isn't that she became fearless.
It's that she kept showing up every two weeks, prayed through the fear and boarded the plane anyway. She accepted that she wasn't yet in the corner office. She embraced contributing one paragraph, one footnote and one day at a time.
And in doing so, she quietly built an extraordinary life.
Looking back now, there is something especially poignant about those words. None of us knows how much time we have. She certainly didn't. Yet she wasn't waiting for confidence before she lived fully. She wasn't postponing courage until some future version of herself arrived. She was simply boarding the plane, every two weeks, building a remarkable life through small, faithful acts that probably didn't feel remarkable at the time.
Psychologist Albert Bandura's research on self-efficacy suggests that confidence comes primarily through mastery experiences: doing something difficult and discovering that we can cope. In other words, confidence is often the result of action, not the prerequisite for it.
We spend so much of our lives waiting to feel ready.
Ready to apply.
Ready to lead.
Ready to speak.
Ready to launch.
Ready to ask.
Ready to begin.
But readiness is often built in motion.
My friend's words have always captured something gentler than fearlessness.
Bold doesn't always have to mean climbing Mount Everest.
Sometimes it's simply boarding the plane despite our fears.
It's walking into a room where everyone seems more accomplished than you and choosing curiosity over comparison.
It's trusting that today's seemingly insignificant paragraph becomes tomorrow's body of work.
It's applying for the role before you've ticked every box.
It's starting the company before you've eliminated every uncertainty.
It's saying yes before confidence catches up.
My aunt once told me that every week we should try one new thing, even if it's as simple as buying a different product in the supermarket. It sounds almost trivial, but I think she understood something profound.
Every small act of voluntary discomfort quietly expands our sense of what we're capable of.
You discover you can survive uncertainty.
You discover you're more adaptable than you thought.
Sometimes you simply discover a brilliant new cheese.
And occasionally, those tiny experiments become life-changing opportunities.
The practice doesn't stay in the supermarket aisle. It follows us into our careers, our relationships, our purpose and our dreams.
A reflection
Ask yourself:
Where am I waiting to feel confident before taking action?
Where am I comparing myself instead of allowing myself to learn?
What would I do this week if I trusted myself just 10% more?
And here’s a practical challenge:
Choose one thing this week that makes you slightly uncomfortable, but not overwhelmed.
Send the email.
Book the coffee.
Share the idea.
Apply for the opportunity.
Try the class.
Ask the question.
Board the plane.
Because bold isn't always found in giant leaps.
It's built, almost invisibly, through hundreds of ordinary acts of courage that people don't always see.
The question isn't whether you're afraid.
The question is:
What's your version of boarding the plane?
And perhaps next time, we can discuss something even more exciting:
Where are we flying to?
And in the words of my friend, take a few minutes to reflect on just how significant this journey is.
This week I have been…
Reading: Secure by Amir Levine
Listening: Take Your Time by Donald, Mawelele and Makhosi
If you found this reflection useful, forward it to one person who would appreciate it.
Thank you and see you next month.