The Quietest Flight
Guest Voice: Nancy Dakin, Colonel, USAF (Retired)
Foreword
Command comes easier to some women than female friendship does.
Many of us have spent years building programs, leading teams, and holding rooms together for people who needed something solid. Female friendship is the harder skill, and I am still learning how to let a friend hold me instead of the other way around.
Nancy Dakin knows this territory exactly. She spent an entire career as the only woman in rooms full of rank and command: over 30 years in the USAF, three command tours, senior leadership positions at the state and national levels within the Air National Guard, and more than 3,000 flight hours as a bomber, fighter, and ISR pilot across three distinct weapons systems. She built her whole professional life mastering skills most people never touch.
Nobody ever taught her how to be a woman’s friend.
We are both lifelong learners, and this is the lesson neither of us saw coming: how to receive a friend the way we always led a team.
She tells the story of the day we met like this: she was in the audience at a Women In Defense Michigan event where I was presenting, and she decided, sitting there, that she needed to meet me. I did not know a colonel with three command tours was in that room. I only knew, afterward, that someone had chosen me on purpose.
That is what female friendship between women like us tends to look like at the start: a decision, made deliberately, by someone who has spent a career deciding things.
She has been my teammate since the day she wore her uniform for the last time, and one of the people who helped build the woman veteran services we run today. Years later, she is still one of the people who inspires me most, not for the rank she held but for how she keeps choosing to show up, keeps choosing me, long after either of us had anything to prove to the other.
What she wrote below is one of the best pieces of writing to come through Mission Wildflower 🌻. The pacing, the restraint, the way she lets the silence in that cockpit do the work instead of rushing to explain it. That is not luck. That is craft. Get ready to fly with her.
by Nancy Dakin
Some of the most powerful moments in life happen when we aren’t looking for them.
I spent a lot of my life in airplanes. I flew thousands of hours, crossed continents, deployed around the world, and experienced things many people never get the opportunity to see. There were missions that required focus, decisions that carried weight, and moments when leadership meant everything depended on getting it right.
But one of the moments I remember most clearly wasn’t a combat mission, a major accomplishment, or a significant milestone.
It was a quiet flight at 20,000 feet above the earth.
We took off in a flight of five military aircraft from Fairbanks, Alaska in the late 1900s on a fall (very early!) morning. It was very dark, little to no moonlight, no cultural lighting from the ground – it was like flying in an abyss far away from the distractions of everyday life.
Then, from somewhere in that darkness, the northern lights appeared.
And suddenly, everything changed.
The colors were unlike anything I had ever seen. Gorgeous green and other shades I can barely describe moved across the sky in these incredible, flowing patterns. They weren’t just there—they were alive. They shifted and danced, almost as if the sky itself was breathing.
But what I remember most wasn’t only what I saw.
It was what I heard.
Nothing.
The radios were quiet. No conversations. No checklist being called out. No one was trying to fill the silence. Everyone in that formation seemed to understand that we were witnessing something bigger than ourselves.
For a few minutes, we weren’t aircrew, we weren’t professionals, we weren’t responsible for the next decision.
We were simply people experiencing something extraordinary.
We sat in awe, gazing at the beauty for what felt like an eternity, until one of the jokers in the flight started playing Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” over the radio to break the silence. We chuckled and went back to silently witnessing the magnificence before us.
Looking back, I think about how much of life is spent chasing the next accomplishment. We work hard, we set goals, we push ourselves, and we measure success by what we achieve. And there is value in that. Accomplishment matters.
But as we move through life, something changes.
We begin to realize that some of the most meaningful moments cannot be achieved. They can only be received.
That night, thousands of feet above the earth, I wasn’t thinking about my career, my accomplishments, or what came next. I was simply grateful to be there—to be a witness to something so beautiful, that so few people get to see in life, let alone from 20,000’ above the earth, with nothing to block the view.
Now, years later, I find myself appreciating those moments even more. The sound of birds in the morning. Flowers blooming in the spring, even if they make me sneeze. Longer walks. Time with family. The simple gifts that are easy to overlook when life moves at full speed.
Maybe that is the shift we all experience at some point.
The first half of life often asks, “What can I accomplish?”
The next chapter asks, “What can I contribute?”
But eventually, if we are fortunate, we learn to ask another question:
“What can I appreciate?”
That night, seemingly surrounded by the northern lights, I learned that sometimes the most significant moments in life are the ones where we stop trying to make an impact and simply allow ourselves to be impacted.
And for a few minutes, in a quiet airplane at 20,000 feet, I was reminded just how amazing it is to be part of something much bigger than myself.
About the Author
Nancy Dakin retired from the USAF at the rank of Colonel after serving over 30 years as both a non-commissioned and commissioned officer in non-traditional career fields. She is an experienced leader who has held a variety of leadership roles including three command tours, as well as senior leadership positions at the state and national levels within the Air National Guard. Nancy is also an accomplished bomber, fighter, and ISR pilot with over 3,000 flight hours in three very distinct weapons systems.
Nancy embraces the philosophy of “leaving it better than you found it”, focusing on improving the units where she served while mentoring those around her to do the same. Even in retirement this has not changed as she volunteers her time and talents to improve efficiency and effectiveness within various for profit and not-for-profit organizations.
One of her favorite quotes is from Sir Winston Churchill: “Success is not final, failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts.” Meaning we should not rest on past achievements but continue striving for growth and success, while learning from difficult challenges and experiences. Her belief in the power of perseverance and continual growth is deeply rooted in her commitment to fostering success and achievement for others. Nancy’s leadership approach is based on the core values of personal accountability and responsibility.
Nancy will tell you the northern lights taught her something about receiving instead of achieving. She teaches me something new nearly every day, the same quiet way those lights moved across her sky. We are both still learning what female friendship looks like, and I am honored to be learning it beside her.
If you have a quiet flight of your own, a moment you witnessed instead of earned, Mission Wildflower 🌻 would love to hear it. Comment below or email shelly@othersoverself.com