The Crying Baby

I feel fearless today. I would like to take a random flight. My thoughts flow as fast as the plane, and I am already in the air cruising. I have a couple sitting in the front row, with their lovely baby. An angel. While I enjoy entertaining the possibilities of a plane crush, the angel baby becomes a crying baby.


I am looking around. I see that people start to become irritated. The experience of irritation manifests itself in different forms. Some of them behaviorally, some of them verbally, some of them silently. There are also some helping the couple and baby, and the ones avoiding their irritation by rationalization. I think we could agree that the couple is irritated, feeling uncomfortable as well. Either because of their baby’s crying, or because of other people’s reaction. Or both. So we have a crying baby and a plane of annoyed, irritated grown-ups.

crying grown-ups

Nothing extraordinary happens yet, the plane is still flying, and humans are being human. I am getting curious though. While I hear this baby crying, I am starting to think about my irritation. I am asking:

What is the difference between the crying baby outside and my irritation inside?

I am having a hard time identifying any concrete differences. My irritation in my head becomes a crying baby of my own. Then, I decide to look around again. I ask the same question for other people. Interesting. I realize that they have their own crying babies. The way they handle their crying babies differs though. They react to their crying babies, behaviorally, verbally, silently, rationally and so on. I am surprised, I am amazed. I feel like I am in a hospital room full of crying babies, flying. Each crying baby causes other babies to cry, and this, to me, is wonderful, extraordinary.

my crying baby

I am still sitting, watching what is going on. I am thinking, if and if, I am going to do anything, it should be about my own crying baby. My irritation. I see what is not working with the way other crying babies are handled. I should do something different. Doing something different. Interesting.

Do I really need to do anything? What does my crying baby want really?

I decide to watch my irritation more, and let it be there. The more I sit, the more I enjoy it. My crying baby becomes less loud. When the screams in my head become close to silence, now I watch outside more, seeing other crying babies. I decide to do the same, just watch them, give them the same treatment, same understanding, same patience. I love their crying babies, if not more, as much as I love my own.

I find it interesting that a crying baby uses the same ways in expressing their needs as a grown-up. Today, it is a crying baby, tomorrow that same baby could be a fighting baby, the one fighting with the couple.

a crying sky

I also find it interesting to replace the crying baby in this exercise with rain. I wonder how all other people will handle a crying sky? Will they find a parent to attack?

What is the role of control in all of this?

If control is the solution, at which level do we have the best command of control? If control is the problem, at which level do we let it go completely?

Could any of this explain why I felt fearless taking a random flight today?