Twist the throttle to the left, then push it forward.  This engages the afterburner.  Jet fuel is injected into a combustor located behind the turbine, significantly increasing thrust, the effect of which is visible as a 30-foot cone of blue fire and sometimes sparkles of flame called “shock diamonds.”  Soon you’re topping out at Mach 1.8 (1,000 mph at sea level).

That’s how easy it is to go fast.

And this matters, because it’s not just Tom Cruise who feels the need for speed.

This topic came up recently when I was talking with a friend about societal expectations.  No fan of Hollywood, this friend criticized the conventional stereotype of men.  We are supposed to be fighters.  Providers.  Stoics.  Yet these traditional models of masculinity are no longer useful, in his opinion.  He believes men would be better served learning to show emotion.

To which I responded that we have other role models besides Tom Cruise.  For example, the Mono Indians who lived by the North Fork of the San Joaquin River in California’s High Sierra had two totemic clans, one of which was associated with Eagle (Kwi’na).  But Kwi’na was not regarded as a god or spirit animal.  Kwi’na is considered a “person.”  Kwi’na is thought to be a fine example — perhaps the finest — of the kind of person we are supposed to be.

In other words, you and I are supposed to soar. 

And it’s not just men who should live this way.  I watch in fascination as call sign Rebel walks up to an F-16 Viper and begins the pre-flight checklist.  Climbs ladder into cockpit and settles into seat.  Grasps olive helmet with gold-tint visor and oxygen mask with coiled hose and tucks a blonde ponytail behind one shoulder.  Soon the craft is airborne and shuddering under the acceleration, vapor forming across the leading edges, the sprawling farmlands far below reflecting in her golden visor as she expels breath forcefully, rotates the aircraft upside down, reads off the altitude (standard procedure before heading into a power dive)  – and not in the stereotypical West Virginian drawl made famous by test pilot Chuck Yeager (“the riskier the situation, the slower I talk”), but in the lilting informal cadence of a school girl, which is her unique style.

We are all pilots.  Each of us operates a sophisticated platform, the product of four billion years of evolution.  The American Transcendentalist Ralph Waldo Emerson observed that “Life is an ecstasy.”  He elaborated — “man is a jet of flame.”  Similarly, the Norwegian painter Edvard Munch noted in his diary, “We are like flames pouring from the Earth” (this while working on his masterpiece, The Scream).

Let me translate from poetry to physics – we are the thrust.  We are the impact that occurs when the energy of life propels our platforms forward into obstruction.  Which implies that a certain quantity of stress in life is unavoidable.  Which we may perceive as thunderous vibrations, anxiety and uncertainty, or “perturbations of the soul,” in the words of the Ancient Greek philosophers, who advocated for tranquility, equanimity, and the rule of reason over the unruly passions.

You want to fly through life at 1,000 MPH?  It’s not that hard.  Draw energy from important missions.  Train yourself to be physically and mentally strong so you can channel the energy.  Practice self-discipline.  Learn self-restraint.  Try to keep yourself under control.

Indeed, when operating in a high-stakes regime, self-control is paramount.  Recall the story of Phaethon, son of Apollo, who begged his father to let him drive the chariot.  The chariot yoked to four great horses with coats of brilliant white, smoking breath, and demonic eyes — the chariot that pulls the sun across the sky.  Apollo agreed, reluctantly, but Phaethon could not control the horses.  Overcome by fright, he dropped the reins.  From high on Mt. Olympus, Zeus saw the chariot careening across the land – he had no choice but to hurl a thunderbolt, before they set the world aflame.

Control is important, too, because sometimes the right speed is not the fastest.  When approaching the landing strip, you don’t want to overshoot.  Or think about a related discipline — 200 MPH is great when barreling down the straight-away, but maybe not as you approach a hairpin turn.  Indeed, according to Ross Bentley, performance driving coach, there’s a perfect speed for every turn, and the truly great race car drivers consistently enter at within 1/2 MPH of that ideal speed on every turn on every lap.  This is harder than it may seem, as Ross observes rookie drivers trying so hard to go fast, when they’d be more effective by being smooth and gentle.  “If the driver would only slow down, the car would actually go faster.”  Similarly, Hasard Lee, a highly-regarded F-16 pilot who went on to develop the training program for the F-35 Stealth Fighter, points to the importance of keeping the mind from getting overwhelmed, which he describes as managing cognitive load.  “As stress increases, our IQ level decreases.”

As a young man, I toyed with the idea of volunteering for the Air Force, but the pilot’s job seemed too technical for my tastes.  I ended up going in a different direction.  Today, I am a barefoot hiker, moving slowly through the mountains.  When the ground is hot, the stones are sharp, or the ferns are tangled with bindweed, I may be moving at less than 1 MPH.  But even on these slow-paced missions, I feel like I share some of the same execution mindset as my heroes, including Rebel, Cruise, Lee, and others.  I feel like I share some of the same thrill.

As for my friend, this idea that men should be kinder and more emotionally accessible – well, it sounds like sensible advice.  I remember dating a young woman many years ago who had an attractive page-boy haircut and a friendly pet cat.  We were driving somewhere, when I started talking about my ambitions — how important it was for me to be successful in my career – and I suppose I went on and on, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles surely turned white, and probably driving a tad too fast, because I never did see her again.  Could I have shared my vulnerability in a manner that was smoother and more gentle?

More recently, I was hiking in the California Sierra, not far from where the Mono used to live, when I heard the rumble of fast-movers.  I scanned the skies, but they must have been moving low in a neighboring canyon, because I never caught a glimpse.  The sounds faded, and I moved on again, feeling a little wistful.

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Chasing the Grid is available for pre-order on Amazon!