I recently went on a flight in a military jet. This was significant—not just because it was my first time back in a jet since February 2006, but because of what it revealed about me. Nearly 20 years had passed. Where did that time go? And more importantly—who had I become in that time?
The experience was incredible. It stirred memories of my days in the Navy’s finest aircraft, the F-14 Tomcat, where I logged over 2,500 hours. You’d think something so deeply ingrained would never leave you. It was second nature back then. But as I settled into the cockpit, I realized something surprising: this once-familiar world now felt strangely distant. Even more interesting—the pilot flying with me was someone I had flown with before, back in 1998. Familiar territory, right?
And yet, something had shifted.
As we took off from Boca Raton Airport and headed toward the Everglades for some maneuvers, I experienced something I had never felt before in the air: fear. A deep, unsettling fear. At 22, I had no fear of death. The adventure, the adrenaline—those were the driving forces. Zipping along at 500 feet and 500 knots? Going inverted? It was exhilarating. But now, something inside me hesitated. The fear itself was more unsettling than the flight. Why would something that once felt like home now feel so foreign?
With time, confidence fades. The invincibility of youth gives way to the weight of experience. Back then, risk was an afterthought. Now, at 54, I have more to lose—or at least, I perceive it that way. Maybe this is wisdom. Maybe it’s a heightened awareness of consequences. But maybe—just maybe—it’s also a sign that I’ve let a part of myself slip away.
Courage is like a muscle. If we don’t use it, it weakens. The same is true for health, for discipline, for anything that requires long-term commitment. The ability to step into risk, to face uncertainty without hesitation, isn’t just a youthful trait—it’s something we can cultivate at any age. But it requires work. Just as I push my body to stay strong, just as I make daily choices to maintain my health, I need to work out the muscles of courage, confidence, and trust in myself.
This idea of rebuilding courage extends far beyond the cockpit. It’s showing up in my life in new ways—most recently, in creating my podcast. Sharing my voice, my thoughts, and my perspective in a public space has required me to step into uncertainty in ways that are both thrilling and terrifying. There’s vulnerability in speaking openly about alternative medicine, about the gaps in our healthcare system, about the potential of psychedelics for healing. These are not easy conversations, but they are necessary ones. And they require courage.
Because let’s be honest—advocating for psychedelic medicine in today’s climate isn’t easy. The topic is still met with fear, suspicion, and deeply ingrained biases. Despite the mounting scientific evidence and the profound healing experiences so many have had, there’s resistance. I’ve seen firsthand what these medicines can do, yet bringing them into the conversation means confronting decades of stigma. It means standing in the discomfort of skepticism. It means risking judgment. But just like stepping into that cockpit again, I know the only way forward is through.
Beyond that, courage feels more essential than ever in today’s world. The political climate in the U.S. is volatile, divisive, and often exhausting. It takes courage to engage in meaningful dialogue rather than retreating into ideological camps. It takes courage to stand for what we believe in without succumbing to outrage or fear. It takes courage to envision a future built on understanding rather than division.
I want that part of me back. Not recklessness, but the kind of confidence that allows us to face challenges head-on. The kind that doesn’t let fear dictate our actions. The kind that reminds us that the best version of ourselves is still within reach—if we’re willing to do the work to reclaim it.
Courage isn’t a fixed trait; it’s a practice. And just like flying, just like health, just like any skill worth having—it’s something we must keep choosing, every single day.
Gratitude for reclaiming my courage in large part goes to No Fallen Heroes.
If you’d like to experience a flight in a fighter jet, click here. You can take a flight and safe a life by donating to the No Fallen heroes Foundation.
Even a small donation can help a veteran, first responder and their families and end veteran suicide.
Be well,
Kristin/Rosie
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