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Today I was looking at a simple drawing that explained how an airplane flies. Lift going upward, weight pulling downward, thrust pushing forward, and drag holding it back. It was just a basic sketch on a page… but strangely, I started seeing my own life inside it.
The wing of an airplane cuts through the air as it moves forward. The air on top moves faster which lowers the pressure, and the air below moves slower which creates higher pressure. That small difference is what lifts the airplane into the sky. While staring at it, I realized life feels similar. Sometimes the pressure above us feels light, sometimes the pressure below feels heavy, and we stand somewhere in the middle trying to balance.
In my own routine, small things often become my “drag.” Like when the morning alarm rings and I tell myself “just five more minutes.” Those five minutes quietly turn into thirty. Then everything becomes rushed — getting ready quickly, leaving breakfast unfinished, worrying about being late. Traffic on the road, unnecessary noise, random delays. None of these are huge problems, but together they slow me down, just like air resistance slows an airplane.
And thrust? I think thrust in life is those little pushes we give ourselves. A short prayer from my mother, a supportive message from a friend, or sometimes just whispering to myself, “It’s okay, today will be better.” These small boosts don’t look powerful from the outside, but inside they start the engine again.
The airplane’s weight pulls it toward the ground, just like our worries pull us down. Bills to pay, work pressure, misunderstandings with people, or overthinking a simple comment someone made. What’s funny is that life’s burdens are not always big tragedies. Many times they’re tiny daily inconveniences. Your phone battery dying exactly when you need to make an important call. Slow internet when you urgently need to send something. Misplacing your keys when you’re already late. These little things steal energy more than we admit.
Lift, to me, feels like hope. You can’t see it, but you can feel its effect. A random smile from a stranger, unexpected good news, or even cool evening air after a long hot day. Just like an airplane cannot stay in the sky without lift, a human being cannot stay emotionally “up” without hope. Without it, you don’t crash instantly, but you slowly sink inside.
I think life is all about balance. Problems will never fully disappear, just like drag never disappears for an airplane. But if your inner engine keeps running — even softly — you keep moving. Some days the lift is strong, some days the weight feels heavier. Yet progress still happens in small invisible ways.
Maybe the real lesson is this: we don’t need a giant take-off every day. Sometimes just staying a little above the ground, not giving up, and moving forward inch by inch… that itself is a kind of flight.