The feeling of flying

Have you seen the new Brad Pitt film, F1?

Setting aside the fact it is a summer blockbuster in the traditional sense – testosterone-fulled, macho, larger than life and, perhaps, unnecessary – it is also brilliant. And, it made me cry.

Now, I confess to being just a little bit more emotional than normal right now, what with Dad's passing, but there was a scene near the end where Brad is... flying.

The feeling of flying

I don't want to spoil things for you if you haven't seen it but, in this specific moment, our hero is in the zone. Everything is as it should be. The soundtrack retreats and the whole cinema is overwhelmed by this sense of absolute calm.

I basically burst into tears.

Why? Because I know that feeling.

It is the greatest in the world.

For me it manifests, mostly, when I am behind the drums. Despite being the loudest environment I work in, there will be those moments where the music melts away, my arms and legs are just 'doing their thing'... 40 years of muscle memory combined with a sense of groove, feel, musicality that, every now and then, just clicks.

My best friends are to the front, left and right of me. They're feeling it.

The audience are feeling it too – voices raised, arms aloft.

I can't hear any of them.

I don't need to.

I'm flying.

That feeling...

You can't make it happen.

The harder you chase it, the more it will deliberately elude you.

But it is there.

Like Neo in the Matrix: when you genuinely start to believe you can, it will happen.

Yes, there's years of hard work behind it but... (and it is a big but)...

You have to believe (and mean it).

What, when and how have you achieved the feeling of flying?