Sometimes You Just Have to Jump

I went skydiving for the first time last year. It was absolutely thrilling, partly terrifying, and exactly what I needed. I know, nobody “needs” to jump out of an airplane, but this felt necessary — a spiritual cleansing of sorts — . At the time I felt a little stagnant, a little bored. The workdays droned on one after the other. Things were getting a little bland. Know what’s not bland? Jumping out of an airplane.

I’d always wanted to go skydiving. It looked like so much fun and it had this high intensity allure to it. So, feeling like I needed to to resuscitate my daily routine from the clutches of the mundane, my desire to jump out of an airplane was catalyzed. I googled all the places you could do it. Read the reviews. Read ALL the reviews. I mean, you want to read the reviews, right? The reviews that say “it was great,” “would do it all over again,” “didn’t die,” that sort of thing.

Feeling confident with my decision I tried to recruit friends to jump with me. I thought there would be more takers. Instead, I got a lot of: “You know you could die, right?” Yeah, I did, but you can die at any time, with or without a parachute. The danger just happens to be a little more obvious with skydiving. My favorite reaction was elegantly simple: “Fuck that. You crazy?” 
I mean… maybe.

But, there’s freedom in taking those leaps of faith. And trust me, this jump was just as much an actual tangible fall as it was an act of faith. You have to welcome the idea that once you’re in the air there’s only so much that will be under your control (not very much at all). You have to trust the parachute, the harness, the instructor, hell, you have to trust that everything you learned during physics class years ago will work exactly the way it’s supposed to… or you know, splat. It’s an act of faith.

Having recruited a kindred spirit to jump with me, I arrived in Clewiston ready to fly. I signed all the waivers (about 20 pages worth of don’t sue us, you know the risks involved). I watched the safety video (which starred a man that looked to be a wizard of the third order of Merlin, sporting a most majestic beard. Not weird at all). Then I met my instructor, got suited up, had a brief land lesson, and headed for the plane.

We took off with the door open. Casual. Something to do with air in the cabin, whatever, not like I was sitting right next to the open door or anything. Anyway, we take off and they did eventually close the door. There was a mixture of excitement and trepidation bottled up in the cabin on our way up.

At about 13,000 ft above the ground they opened the airplane door again. Our Jump was at 14,000. Cold air rushed in, whipping my hair in every direction and forcing itself into my lungs by way of frosty inhales. That was the first moment it became real. Now it wasn’t something I had thought about doing anymore. Now it was something I was doing. It was happening — for real — .

Looking out of that open door, breathing in the sky, overlooking soft blotches of clouds floating above the greenness of the Earth beneath us, about to dive into all of it was a transcendental experience. The jump came with speed and fury. There was a count to three that went by in a blur and we were off. The moment the final inch of my foot was no longer in contact with the aircraft the free fall triggered that sinking feeling in my gut. Momentarily I forgot my land lesson and did not arch my body like I was supposed to, instead I looked down, straight down, and my body followed.

We plummeted quickly, but once my body realized the fall wasn’t fatal I remembered to arch and we stabilized. The free fall was awesome. I wouldn’t say it felt like floating because you definitely feel like you’re falling and the ground draws nearer and nearer by the second, but there is a feeling of suspension which is nice. We went through a cloud at one point. I’d always wanted to feel the texture of a cloud. It was moist and fleeting (insert sex joke here). The scariest part of the jump was actually when the parachute deployed. I had been enjoying the fall when out of nowhere (even though I knew it was coming) I got pulled right out of the sky. The harness grabbed a hold of me and stopped our descent in an instant. The same way a seat-belt stops you from flying through your windshield during a car crash, the parachute brought an abrupt end to our free fall.

All of a sudden I could hear the world again. It was too loud during the fall to be able to listen to anything, but now that we were gliding, still a few thousand feet up, sound returned. I could see other parachutes pop up in the distance too. It was strange to see my feet dangling still so far from the ground. Even though anything could still go wrong at this point, I was filled with serenity.

The landing was smooth, we actually landed on our feet, no need to slide. Standing up on a random field never felt so good. I was filled with gratitude upon landing. First to my instructor who kept us safe, but more importantly I felt gratitude in a broad sense. I was so thankful to be alive, to be on this Earth, to be able to enjoy all these things that are not promised. And that feeling of gratitude, all that positive energy that I picked up on my way down to Earth, that stayed with me. I was beaming for at least a week after the jump. I had energy for everything. I had a smile for everyone. Jumping out of that plane breathed new life into me.

So this year I decided to do it again

And I’ll probably do it again next year. It was so much fun. 
Thanks for reading :)