The Zen of Drone Flying: Learning Patience Through Technology

Hello fellow pilots! How are you today? How was your morning routine? The coffee, the sending the kids to school, the morning fly?

My path to Drone-Zen-Nirvana

For me, I try to follow the same path I started years ago: wake up at 4 am, the first hour of the morning I drink a glass full of water, make coffee for me and my wife, start praying and maybe reading a little on the Kindle.

No mail, no hate comments from butterheads or measurebators, no social networks, WhatsApp, LinkedIn, or anything. I check the mail at 7 am. From 5 to 7 it’s writing time. This is my little communion with you guys.

I have never been a “zen” person, but every time I think about it, I’ve noticed one ability that I’ve developed through living with drones, watching them grow, their social interactions with other drones, how the alpha drone leads the others while flying in swarms, and of course their birth and death rituals (usually involving credit card transactions and gravity, respectively)… and it is that as we get this new tech to fiddle with, we’ve learned patience.

Much needed patience indeed! Like when we’re about to take off for work and just in that moment our drones decide it’s the perfect time for a Firmware Update. (That’s why on work days my cell phone and everything drone-related are in airplane mode, no connections to the exterior world AT ALL—I’ve built a Faraday cage around my drone case, and sometimes I consider one for myself too).

“I noticed how you are not going in the right direction”

And don’t let me start on the compass calibration message. I swear drones, printers, and Polizei dogs must be related: they smell the fear in us and just won’t collaborate. My drone seems to know exactly when I’m rushing to catch golden hour lighting—that’s when it hits me with the dreaded “Calibrate compass now or face certain doom” message. I’ve done the calibration dance so many times I should get professional dance credits.

These three are, in their very deep soul, the same species

And when all these roadblocks happen, it’s time to remember that we are the leaders of the pack. That we shall not show weakness of any kind, mental nor physical. We are Pilots In Command (even when we’re secretly negotiating with our drones like they’re temperamental toddlers). All these bumps in the road just make us stronger to deal with future situations.

But what does it mean to be a zen pilot anyway? It means being relaxed and not worrying about things you cannot change, finding that sweet spot between technical precision and go-with-the-flow attitude.

Did you choose that software update? No, that is why you avoid it like a person who is trying to sell you the idea that socialism works. They can tell, but they can’t prove it 😉 The drone gods have a strange sense of humor—they only push updates when you’re already late.

Did you choose that rainy weather? Those strong wind gusts that make your drone shimmy like it’s auditioning for a dance competition? No, but you can wait for better weather. I once waited three days at a location for perfect conditions. My family thought I’d joined a cult, but when I showed them the final video, as you can see down here, they understood my temporary madness.

Totally worth the wait

Did you choose to be a better pilot through all these things that can and WILL happen to you?

YES.

Our greatest teachers

The unexpected challenges are our greatest teachers. Remember that time your battery suddenly dropped from 40% to 20% and you had to navigate through a forest like you were threading a needle with oven mitts on? That wasn’t just terror—that was advanced Bildung!

Let’s say a big thanks to the drone gods that have sent their prophets to teach us not to fly over 400′ AGL. To respect the VLOS. To respect each other’s privacy. And mainly, to relax and enjoy our flights. Though I’m pretty sure these drone gods are the same ones who invented the “battery critically low BEEP BEEP BEEP the drone will return to home IN TEN SECONDS” warning that sounds exactly like a screeching pterodactyl.

Drone flying has taught me more about mindfulness than any meditation app ever could. There’s something magical about focusing entirely on that little machine dancing through the air—your breathing slows, the world fades away, and it’s just you, your controller, and that beautiful view through your goggles or screen.

I’ve learned that patience isn’t just waiting—it’s waiting with purpose. Like when you’re hovering perfectly still for that one shot where the light hits just right. Or when you’re patiently explaining to a curious park ranger that yes, you do have permission to fly here, and no, you’re not planning to spy on anyone’s barbecue.

Even the post-processing demands zen-like patience. Sifting through hours of footage to find those perfect 30 seconds, adjusting settings until your eyes blur, and then having the courage to delete shots that don’t meet your standards—now that’s spiritual growth!

The patience we learn as Drohnenpiloten extends beyond our hobby. I find myself more tolerant in traffic jams now. Instead of honking, I just imagine I’m a drone hovering above the chaos, finding the best route through. My wife says she’s noticed I don’t yell at Netflix watching a movie anymore—I just mentally map out where the aerial camera should be positioned for a better shot.

What is the biggest teaching that your drone has taught you regarding being patient? Was it during a particularly challenging shoot? A technical meltdown? Or perhaps during that conversation with authorities when you accidentally fly over the presidential palace (guilty as charged here)? Let me know in the comments!

Remember fellow pilots: blue skies, calm winds, and may your batteries always last five minutes longer than you need them to!