There was a plan to post about skydiving this weekend. Honestly, there was time set aside, some brainstorming, even a couple of hours of typing. Despite that, this post is not about skydiving.
I was silent before the jump, I could not breathe during much of the freefall, and the world is not the same as it was before I jumped. The experience was completely terrifying and transcendent. As expected.
Bonus: My daily goal of not being dead continued with relative success!
You know how when you think you’re about to die, your life supposedly flashes before your eyes? Not so much here. Adrenaline is like a squeegee for your mind. Mental chatter blows away from sheer g-force. The clarity is lovely.
As we floated down, thoughts began to arrive like guests to a house party. Nobody brought artichoke dip, but the whole place was hopping in no time.
My first thought? It was of a man. Yeah, I know. Lame. Honestly, it was not someone I expected to think about ever, let alone after jumping from a plane. I trust eventually it will make perfect sense. (Like on the TV show Lost.)
My second thought? Upon seeing how small the earth looked beneath my shoes, I wondered if my shoes had any idea the things I would put them through. I also wondered if they would have reconsidered being purchased by me knowing what they would ultimately experience.
There were a whole bunch of thoughts between that and hitting the ground. Some were profound, most were rubbish, but here was the most important one of all…
Just before we landed, I thought: This was scary, but it’s got nothing on being truly vulnerable. To truly love and let someone love you. The people that bare their souls, share their passions, and express love regardless of whether it will be returned? Those are the brave ones. Those are the biggest daredevils.
Upon landing, I felt rather like never getting up again. But I did. Someone held out their hand and I took it. I stood up after taking another big, scary leap.
It gets easier every time.