By Leah Crump

A few days ago, I lived through something I’ll never forget. American Airlines Flight 1006, bound for Dallas, emergency landed in Denver after an engine failure—on landing, an explosion, flames, smoke. The kind of thing you see in movies but never imagine happening to you.

The plane touched down hard, the cabin filled with chaos—screaming, crying, the sheer animal instinct of survival taking over. The flight attendants shouted commands, voices sharpened with urgency. People pushed, scrambled, some in shock, frozen in their seats. A mother clutched her child like a lifeline. Strangers reached for one another, some in panic, others in pure human instinct to help.

And then, the doors opened.

I was evacuated into the terminal—others had to go out onto the wing, onto the tarmac, swallowed by the swirl of smoke and sirens. The airport, a place that normally hums with routine, was now a scene from an emergency drill come to life. Police, first responders, medics moving fast. The faces of fellow passengers—a blur of relief, disbelief, tears wet on cheeks.

In those moments, time stretched and contracted all at once. One second, I was on a plane, bracing for the worst. The next, I was standing in a gate area that felt eerily normal outside of our cordoned off area, as if nothing had happened at all. People sipping coffee, checking their phones, completely unaware that just a few hundred feet away, 178 of us had just had our worlds turned upside down.

So What Now?

The question that has followed me ever since is not What if things had gone differently?—because thankfully, they didn’t. Instead, it’s What do I do with this now?

I already embrace a healthy, intentional life. I care deeply about wellness, beauty, and creating meaningful experiences. But when you walk away from a real-life, this-could-have-been-it moment, it makes you wonder: Can I turn the dial up?

More presence.

More truth.

More realness.

Because here’s the thing: It’s so easy to tell ourselves we have time. Time to launch the project, say the words, live the life we know we’re meant to. But the truth? We don’t know that.

I’ve spent years helping others build their vision—whether it’s a luxury spa, a brand, a career in wellness. And I love it. It’s my calling. But what if I let even more of me into it? What if I stopped waiting for the right moment to push my own ideas forward? What if I claimed it all—my expertise, my voice, my ability to create impact—without hesitation?

The Mission Just Got Clearer

I believe we are here to live fully, to bring something unique into the world. To show up—not halfway, not in careful, curated increments, but fully. I’ve known this, I’ve preached this. But now? Now, I feel it in my bones.

The time is now.

To be healthier—not in some restrictive, performative way, but in a way that allows me to feel fully alive in my body.

To be present—not just when it’s convenient, but when it’s messy, uncomfortable, real.

To speak up—not just when I’m sure of

 the outcome, but when it matters.

To love fiercely, create fearlessly, and stop waiting for permission to take up space.

Because if I know one thing now, it’s this: We are all on a flight, every single day. Some of us are gliding smoothly. Some of us are in turbulence. And some of us—without warning—will find ourselves in freefall, grasping for something solid.

So what do we do with the time we have?

I’m still thinking that out. But I know this—I’m not staying the same.

And maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t either.