There’s a moment we all know too well: you’re about to take off, you tap that little airplane icon on your screen, and suddenly the world goes silent. Notifications stop. Messages freeze mid-delivery. But here’s the funny part—the phone doesn’t stop being a phone. The camera still snaps. The music still flows. The notes app is still waiting for your ideas. Everything that matters keeps working; everything that distracts goes quiet.
Somewhere along the way, I realized people work the same way.
We carry around so much noise—opinions we didn’t ask for, expectations we didn’t sign up for, and the constant hum of comparison that’s always waiting to pull us off course. And because it’s everywhere, we start believing it’s essential. That if we aren’t always plugged in, we’ll fall behind. That if we don’t respond, react, or participate in every conversation, opportunity will slip through our fingers. It’s a tiring way to live, and most of the time, it isn’t even true.
Think about what actually happens when you disconnect. At first, there’s the discomfort, almost like your mind reaching for a notification that isn’t there. But give it a moment. Something shifts. You start hearing things you’ve been drowning out—your own voice, your own instincts, the thoughts you’ve postponed, the ideas you’ve been meaning to explore. The volume of the outside world drops just enough for the inside world to speak up.
And it’s rarely dramatic. It’s usually small. A clearer thought. A quieter mind. A better decision. A bit more honesty with yourself.
The irony is that stepping back often makes you move forward faster. When you’re not tangled in every passing opinion or every bit of noise disguised as urgency, you start seeing what truly deserves your energy. You remember what you’re good at. You focus on what actually matters. And you realize that growth doesn’t need an audience—it needs intention, space, and a little bit of quiet.
Switching to your own version of airplane mode isn’t about isolation. It’s about recalibration. You’re not cutting the world out; you’re letting yourself back in. You’re reminding yourself that your thoughts, your creativity, your sense of direction don’t depend on constant external validation. They work just fine on their own. Better, even.
So every now and then, hit that metaphorical airplane mode. Let the noise settle. Let the opinions pass by without stopping at your door. Disconnect just long enough to reconnect with the person who’s been quietly driving you this whole time.
You’ll be surprised how much still works when everything unnecessary goes silent.
Kenrick Vaz 