Flying is one of the rare places in my life where everything else fades away. It demands full attention. No multitasking. No shortcuts. No fast-forwards. When you’re in the air, your only job is to fly—and to do it well. That’s part of what first drew me to aviation, and why I keep coming back to it.
In 2021, I earned my commercial pilot’s license and began volunteering with Patient Airlift Services (PALS). Through PALS, I fly patients who need to get to critical medical appointments but don’t have the means or mobility to make the trip on their own. These missions aren’t flashy. They’re quiet, logistical, and, in many cases, deeply personal.
And that’s why I do it.
It’s not about being a hero. It’s about showing up—literally and figuratively—with care, focus, and humility. The person I’m flying isn’t looking for grand gestures. They just need someone to get them from point A to point B, safely and on time. And they need that someone to treat their life and time with the respect it deserves.
What Flying Taught Me About Showing Up
In business, there’s often pressure to move fast, talk big, and constantly be ahead. Flying is the opposite. It teaches you to slow down and stick to the checklist. You don’t just jump in a plane and hope for the best. You plan. You brief. You inspect every component and walk through every procedure. You double-check weather conditions. You make conservative decisions because the margin for error is razor thin.
“Flying reminds me to slow down, follow procedure, and focus,” I often say. “You don’t cut corners in the air. You plan. You prepare. You show up.”
I’ve carried that mindset into my work. Whether I’m managing investments, collaborating with developers, or working on community initiatives, I lean into that pilot mentality. It’s calm, methodical, and anchored in responsibility. When something isn’t right, you don’t ignore it. You solve for it. Quietly. Clearly. Without drama.
Humility at Altitude
There’s something humbling about flying. You can be at 8,000 feet in control of an aircraft, but you’re also at the mercy of weather, air traffic control, and your own preparation. The plane doesn’t care about your résumé. It just does what it’s built to do—and it reveals whether you’ve done your part.
I like that. I like being reminded that I’m one part of a much bigger system. That even when I’m alone in the cockpit, I’m never really flying solo. I’m relying on engineers, flight instructors, service crews, and other pilots. That perspective carries over to leadership.
Being a good leader, like being a good pilot, is less about bravado and more about trust. People don’t follow you because you speak the loudest—they follow you because you show up prepared, make clear decisions, and know when to ask for help.
Quiet Confidence in a Noisy World
We live in a culture that rewards noise. The bigger the announcement, the better. The faster the result, the more valuable. But flying taught me that there’s power in quiet confidence. You don’t need to perform. You just need to perform your duty.
This perspective has changed how I move through the world. I’m less interested in being seen, and more focused on being useful. That doesn’t mean I lack ambition. It means my ambition is grounded in clarity and care, not ego.
Volunteering with PALS reinforces that every time I take off. I don’t know what’s happening in that passenger’s life—I just know that for a few hours, I can make things a little easier, a little safer, and a little more dignified. That’s enough.
The Checklist Never Ends
One of my favorite things about aviation is the checklist. It never changes, and you never outgrow it. Whether it’s your first solo flight or your hundredth mission, you walk through every step. That ritual reminds me to respect the process and to never let comfort lead to complacency.
In life and in business, we all need some version of that checklist. A system that keeps us grounded, consistent, and clear-minded. For me, flying is that system in its purest form. It brings me back to what matters: focus, humility, usefulness.
And when I land, I bring that mindset with me—into meetings, decisions, partnerships, and conversations at home.
Flying doesn’t just move me through the air. It moves me toward a better version of myself.
