Over time, it becomes evident that the decisions made in boardrooms carry their greatest weight in those very moments. It would take years to understand it fully, but these moments were not isolated. They were the foundation for something I would later try to give voice to.

The Day the Ordinary Disappeared

In January 1975, I was traveling through Paris on my way to the United States. What should have been a routine journey became something else entirely. Terrorists fired two RPG shells at our plane. They missed us but struck a Yugoslav Airlines JAT aircraft on the tarmac nearby.

The randomness of it all was almost impossible to process. One moment, you are a traveler moving through the world, the next, you are told to hug the floor of the aircraft, confronted with how easily that world can be altered or taken away. I did not have the language for it then; however, I carried the feeling forward. Life is not guaranteed. It is a gift given to us to deploy.

In 1978, I was leading the first Think Tank Peace Mission to Egypt and Israel. There were no direct flights between the two countries. From Cairo, we flew to Cyprus, then to Tel Aviv.

An Air Cyprus flight had landed just before ours. It was overtaken by terrorists. An Egyptian Entebbe-like rescue was attempted. It failed. When we landed hours later, the aftermath was still there — the remains of the Egyptian military C-130 sat on the tarmac, destroyed and covered. It reinforces the adage, “that timing is everything.”

You do not process it fully in the moment. You carry it. An appreciation for what lies beyond our control. A respect for those who act with purpose, regardless of outcome. An understanding that we plan for the future, yet we live in the moment.

Years later, during my military service as a paratrooper and combat medic, that lesson was no longer abstract. It was immediate, urgent and often unfolding before me. I served six frontline combat tours in Lebanon, in places where the noise of conflict was constant and the margin between survival and loss was measured in inches.

I tended to friends and foes under fire. In those moments, there was no room for theory. Care was not a matter of courage or a concept; it was an instinctive action. Communication was not a strategy; it was survival. A word, a look, a clear instruction could steady someone, guide them and save them.

Where Care Is Action, Not Theory

War has a way of stripping away everything except what matters most. You see clearly how dependent we are on one another. You understand that courage is not the absence of fear; it is the determination to act despite it. You learn that presence, simply being there for another person in their most vulnerable moment, is one of the most powerful forms of care.

I thought I understood risk. I thought I had come to terms with uncertainty. Then life reminded me again.

On a flight to visit my parents in the United States, the Tower Air jet I was on caught fire over the Atlantic. Two engines on the left side were burning. We needed to find a place to land quickly or hit the ocean. There is a particular kind of silence that fills a plane in that moment. It is not panic. It is something deeper, more introspective. You feel time stretch. You think about the people you love. You consider what has mattered and what has not.

As we made our emergency landing in Gander, Canada, I remember not relief first, but reflection. Once again, life had placed me in a moment where its fragility was undeniable.

These experiences did not turn me away from the world. They pulled me closer to it. They shaped how I see people, how I listen and how I respond. They taught me that every interaction carries weight, that every conversation can matter more than we realize.

In recent years, I have traveled to Ukraine annually before and during COVID and now during the war, supporting friends and spending time in a small community facing circumstances most of us can only imagine from afar. There, I saw the same truths I had encountered earlier in life. Community becomes everything. Information becomes lifeblood. People look to one another not only for physical support, but for clarity, reassurance and meaning. Even in the darkest conditions, communication is not secondary to care. It is part of care.

Most in the business world know me through my work at FINN Partners as a health communicator, through my writing, speaking and advocacy as a champion of health innovation and a more human-centered health system. They see my professional journey. What they do not always see is the foundation beneath it. Decades of lived experience that have reinforced, time and again, that life is precious, that it can change in an instant and that how we show up for one another in those moments defines us.

At FINN Partners, I have found a community of colleagues who reflect these same values. There is an understanding that our work carries responsibility, and that we are capable of more when we challenge ourselves to rise to it. It is a culture that encourages each of us to think beyond the immediate and contribute to something more enduring.

That understanding became even more personal through my family. My wife and I have walked alongside our child as she navigates the complexities of a rare disease. There are highs and there are lows. There are moments of hope and moments of uncertainty. In those experiences, I have seen health care from another vantage point, not as a cohesive system, but as a series of human interactions that can either comfort or compound the challenge.

When you are a parent in those moments, you listen differently. You look for clarity in every word. You hold on to empathy when it is offered and you feel its absence when it is not. You come to appreciate that communication in health is not an accessory. It is essential. It shapes understanding, trust and the ability to move forward.

The Human Thread Through Every Moment

All of these experiences converge into a single, enduring belief. Communication is not separate from care. It is how care travels along its continuum. There are moments when that truth reveals itself outside the settings we expect.

On a transatlantic flight in 2001, turbulence turned severe. At one point, a call came over the intercom: “Are there any doctors aboard?” No one responded. Minutes later, the request broadened to “any health professionals.”

My wife looked at me and quietly suggested I press the call button.

I was escorted to a passenger, pale and wrapped in a blanket. He had lost and regained consciousness. I introduced myself warmly and began with simple questions to assess his awareness. His name. The President of the United States. The day we had taken off. He answered each one without hesitation. His vitals were stable.

I explained that I was not a physician, but a former military EMT. Given the turbulence and the length of the flight, dehydration and stress were likely contributors. I reassured him and suggested that he follow up with his physician upon landing and, if he needed me, not to hesitate to hit his call button.

As I returned to my seat, a man two rows behind called out, “I’m a neurologist. I would have handled that exactly as you did.”

It was meant as an affirmation. I received it that way. Yet it lingers differently. In that moment, the instinct to act had been replaced by the comfort of waiting. The systems we build, even when grounded in expertise, can condition us to hesitate when action is needed most.

In moments like these, care is not a title or a credential. It is the willingness to engage, communicate, and act.

Across the health ecosystem and in responsible business settings, success is often measured by growth, scale and financial performance. These are necessary markers of progress. They enable innovation, access and reach. However, there is a deeper measure that often goes unspoken. When we understand our role within the continuum of care and recognize the connection between balance-sheet decisions made in boardrooms and people’s experiences felt at the bedside, our work takes on greater meaning. It moves beyond what can be counted to what ultimately counts.

Over time, I came to understand that moments are not separate. They are connected. Each one revealing, in its own way, what happens when people are seen, heard and cared for, and what happens when they are not.

That understanding became Healing the Sick Care System: Why People Matter.

A life of observing, listening, engaging and caring was the kindling. The moments themselves were the spark. Together, they revealed a simple truth: when we lose sight of people, the system falters. When we honor them, it begins to heal.

That truth asks something of us.

It is not simply about words. It is about presence. It is about accountability. It is about the choice to act when action is needed. This is how humanity shows up in systems, and how those systems, in turn, earn the trust of the people they are meant to serve.

The post The Moments That Shape Us: Why Life and People Matter Most appeared first on Medika Life.

Viktor Frankl, a renowned psychiatrist, Holocaust survivor and author, draws from experiences in Nazi concentration camps to develop a profound understanding of the importance of hope called logotherapy. This psychotherapeutic approach describes the search for a life’s meaning as the central human motivational force. Frankel observed that people in Nazi extermination camps who found a shred of hope, even in the bleakest circumstances, were more likely to endure and survive.

Frankl later wrote in his book Man’s Search for Meaning that “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

News reports of the Hamas attacks on Israel cover the unconscionable devastation of Israeli villages along the Southern border. An inhumane action directly almost entirely toward civilians, documented and shared on social media by terrorists not “caught in the act” but proudly sharing visuals online of their murder spree.  The media focuses primarily on geopolitical chaos and military response.  The human stories center around families searching for information about loved ones missing or the more than 100 civilians taken hostage to hostile territory – their destiny unknown.

The Biblical reading for Simchat Torah, the holiday marking the annual cycle of the conclusion of Torah readings, with which Hamas timed its well-coordinated attack, ends with a prophetic call from the Book of Joshua:  “Only be strong and resolute!”

The bigger story is to explore Israeli’s unwavering resilience in the face of so much horror.  Israel is built on “hope,” nurtured by hope, and resilient because hope is embedded in the people’s mental health psyche. Once the anguish and outrage are expressed, its citizens will turn to what they do best – rebuilding.  What of their neighbors? Will this successful blood-letting act be a catalyst for nation-building inspiration?

The Psychological Benefits of Hope

Psychologists have long recognized the vital role hope plays in people’s resilience. American psychologist Professor Charles Snyder defined hope as “a positive motivational state that is based on an interactively derived sense of successful agency (goal-directed energy) and pathways (planning to meet goals).” Snyder’s definition highlights the two critical components of hope: agency and pathways.

Agency is the belief that someone can initiate actions and make a difference. In desperate situations, this belief can be a lifeline. It fuels determination and empowers individuals to take control of their situation, no matter how hopeless and disappointing.

Pathways represent strategies and plans that can be developed to achieve those goals. Hope provides the internal flame framework for problem-solving and finding a way out of dire situations. Researchers emphasize that hope is intricately linked to a person’s problem-solving abilities, making it an essential psychological – even people-building – resource.

When Hate Defines Purpose

Hope is not just an abstract concept; it can be nurtured and cultivated. This is one of Israel’s and its people’s most significant resources – not oil, diamonds, or other precious natural resources.  Hope is a national treasure that can be mined and replenished. It is the micro-processor of the “Start-Up Nation” credited with countless innovations that are used in medicine, technology and auto GPS systems.

Right now, Israel must secure its borders and prevent nearby nations from taking advantage of the current instability.  That “hopefully” is in its neighbors – Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, and even Saudi Arabia’s – best geopolitical interests.  Then, it must address painful steps to determine how low-tech terrorist planning overwhelmed the hi-tech intelligence system of one of the world’s greatest innovation engines. But those steps will not deter the nation’s simultaneous focus on healing and hope.

This national soul-searching is another painful chapter in the bigger saga – how will this mega terrorist war-level attack change its approach to the relationship with the Palestinians and influence Palestinian’s strategy to build a nation not based on hate?  Historically, Hamas celebratory events have not been rooted in establishing statehood-level institutions in Gaza that support culture, education, finance, health, and infrastructure. 

No one can account for the billions in regional and global aid directed to Hamas for infrastructure and refugee support. Where has it been spent? For tunnels or teachers?  For medical supplies or missiles?  Just the aid provided by Saudi Arabia alone to the Palestinian people during the last 17 years exceeded $6 billion. That does not include other United Nations members and institutions. But where is the ROI for these billions, and how does that massive investment kindle hope on the part of the Palestinian people when the fruits of the spending are invisible to the people?

As we’ve seen in the media during the past few days, Hamas invested mightily in this attack against Israel. An attack that is certain to be answered with a military response further setting back Palestinian citizens trapped in this hostile maze.  Finding hope through the possibilities of peace is almost impossible when encouraged public expression for success is in killing “the other.”

Hope is a Catalyst

Hope empowers individuals and acts as a catalyst for positive societal change. When people collectively hold onto hope for a better future, they mobilize their efforts to bring about that change: the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had “a dream” driven by the hope for racial equality and justice. This hope – still burning in a nation’s heart – galvanizes millions of people to take action and continues to lead urgent changes.

The global response to climate change is fueled by hope for a sustainable and healthy planet. Swedish environmental and climate activist Greta Thunberg embodies the transformative power of hope. Her unwavering belief that change is possible has inspired millions of young people worldwide to demand action from their governments and advocate for a greener future. Her hope drives her to eyeball global leaders and demand urgent action. 

Thunberg scolded the world’s leaders in her speech at the 2019 United Nations Climate Action Summit by exclaiming, “How dare you” about their perceived indifference and inaction to the climate crisis. Her actions are a catalyst for young people worldwide to step forward and work toward a sustainable planet.

Israel and Palestine – Hope and Hate

What has happened during the past few days in Israel – brutal attacks against women, children, and aged citizens- is horrifying.  The visuals – well documented by the terrorists themselves and proudly shared – reinforce the energy that drives Hamas – a thirst for Jewish blood that seems impossible to quench.  

But what of the Palestinian people?  Is that their destiny? Their national desire? To endure endless retaliations that rekindle hate?  To change their future, they must find – or demand – capable, trustworthy leaders who inspire nation-building hope and abandon hatred as a preferred political path!  As Professor Snyder suggested, they must have people at the helm who offer agency and a pathway – a goal–oriented agency matched by plans to achieve that goal. 

And of Israel? For the rest of their lives, like countless generations, the memories of loved ones slaughtered helplessly will haunt family, friends, and the nation.  But that tormented energy and “how and why” questions will elevate the country toward agency and a pathway, as Snyder suggested:  “Now what and to where?”

Golda Meir, the Israeli Prime Minister, who shepherded a wounded nation through the surprise Yom Kippur War – another incredibly devastating, unexpected war that started 50 years almost to the day of this October 2023 Hamas attack – offered insight paralleling Professor Snyder’s insight. “Peace will come when the Arabs will love their children more than they hate us.”  Hate is a disease that must be overcome emotionally.

For all its generational waves of suffering, the Jewish people and the nation of Israel continue to draw upon the endless resource that will guide its collective next steps – faith and purpose standing on a foundation of enduring hope. That is the inspiring story of a people – as the Biblical Prophet Isaiah proclaimed, as “A light unto the nations” – with renewable positive energy to sustain itself and contribute to the world.

The post In the Face of Horror, Hope is a Vital Mental Health Resource appeared first on Medika Life.