Powder days
I was very, very fortunate to be able to visit my son in Canada for Christmas. In amongst many magical moments (including hugging my son for the first time since the pandemic started), two really stand out.
We’d had a very rocky 10 hour flight and everyone was tired and strung out as we approached Vancouver airport. When the plane hit another patch of really bad turbulence and the “fasten your seatbelts” sign clicked on yet again, the tension in the cabin was high. Then something wonderful happened. The soft, relaxed drawl of the Air Canada pilot came over the public address system. He apologised for the rough flight, wished us all a Happy Christmas then recited “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” all the way through, taking his time, making every word count and delighting everyone.
I’m not a nervous flyer but this was one of those moments that was so unexpected and so special I’m guessing it will stick with most of the passengers on that plane for a long time. When we landed and were asked “How was your flight?” it wasn’t the ten hours of discomfort we remembered but those four magical minutes when a stranger changed the way hundreds of people felt.
A much smaller plane took us on to our destination, a tiny ski town high up in the Rocky Mountains. On our first morning we woke up to every skier’s dream — 10 inches of fresh snow so dry and light and powdery it was like tiny feathers. Walking around town I was reminded of why people live here. There were signs in shops and office windows saying “We’re closed today — see you on the slopes!” People don’t live in this town because its a good place to work, they live here because its a good place to live.
As you can imagine, we enjoyed lots of other magical moments but these two stuck out because they’re something we can all do.
I don’t know if the Canadian pilot had heard of Maya Angelou but he proved the sentiment “people may not remember your name but they never forget how you make them feel.” Making people feel good just by choosing what we say and how we say it is something we can all do.
I’m fortunate to spend a lot of my time with a tribe of people who all know what to say to support each other and take the time and trouble to do it often, making real connections that help each other through the toughest of days. If you don’t have such a tribe, you’re welcome to join us.
The other thing we can all do more of is live in the moment, be more spontaneous, choose to work in a way that lets us enjoy living and not just live so that we can work.
I’d love to know what your “powder day” equivalent is? What would you drop everything to do? Could you do it more often? Hit reply and let me know!
