Life is Calling

Sharing my writing, reminds me of the time the idea of skydiving took up residence in my head. I was transfixed seeing colorful parachutes with humans attached to them, hanging in the sky, - and I wanted to do it. It occurred to me that it might be risky. That I could fail with a big splat!

The idea nagged at me, the desire to go for ‘it’. So, I signed up for a one-day solo jump skydive course.

After a few hours of instruction, I was crammed into a small Cessna plane with a pilot, an instructor, and two other people in oversized jumpsuits, - who like me, thought that parachuting sounded super fun.

We were giddy with the idea of skydiving.

Sitting in the plane’s steel cavernous container, I crouched with my comrades on the cold floor looking for something to anchor myself to. Anything. The plane was devoid of cushy seats. It had been stripped of that luxury. Nor were there seatbelts – what would the point be?

A student’s parachute was pushed against me, and that concerned me. If I accidentally snagged it, could it malfunction after they jumped? That thought freaked me out.

As the plane ascended, the deafening engine noise drowned out conversation - but not the loud thumping of my heart. I looked out the compact rectangular window watching the people on the ground morph into stick figures. Cars shrunk to the size of my brother’s matchbox car collection.

Thoughts ran rampant. Various unpleasant scenarios played out in my head. I screamed to myself, “HELP”, adding, “YOU IDIOT, why did you sign up for this?”

I thought of chickening out like an earlier student. We watched her return in the plane, sad that she hadn’t gone through with it.

Nope. I paid to jump out of a plane. I was going to leap out into midair thousands of feet above ground, - and see what would come next in life. To see what would open for me.

The instructor tapped me, signaling my turn.

I scooched my bum along the steel floor towards the open plane door, my legs bent in a crab walk. At the edge of the opening, I anticipated my certain upcoming death.

“Grab the bar under the wing.” The instructor yelled above the din.

What if I missed the bar, I thought, grabbing wildly at the air until my hand connected with a bar.

“Knees in the breeze,” The instructor barked.

Pushing my legs out the door, my lower calves, ankles and feet whipped back towards the plane’s tail. I won’t need to jump; I’ll just blow away. But I was still on the airplane.

“Left foot on the step.” More instructive barking.

I forced my foot towards the itsy bitsy tiny step and glued it there. Below, I saw my fellow jumper’s parachutes open. Good for them. They’re going to live.

“Big X. Look up,” The instructor slapped my leg. “GO!”

Without thinking I let go, making a X with my limbs. Dropping 150 miles per hour, the ground rushed up.

Then my fall halted. I was jerked up as if attached to the end of a bungee cord. I looked up, stunned. A beautiful yellow and red vision formed an umbrella above me. It was my parachute. I was alive!

Now what? The wind no longer whipped me around. It caressed my helmet whistling and fluttering by my ears. Two toggles flapped by my helmet. I grabbed them.

I started to navigate this unknown territory. This new experience. I’d never done this before. I tried going left, then right. I started getting the hang of it. I discovered I could alter my direction. I was figuring this out. This was cool. Rock on!

Looking down, I spotted a bullseye in the field and recalled I was supposed to hit it. That was the goal. It was far away. With minor adjustments, I navigated closer to the target. I redirected again. And again. And then again.

I missed the target. But I was close.

If I hadn’t jumped I’d never have known the target was reachable. I’d never have learned how to navigate winds blowing me left and right. I’d never get to relive this unbelievable mind trip, again and again every time I spotted a parachute in the sky.

So here I am, at the edge of my seat - no seatbelt, taking another leap as I write and share Reflections on Life from my somewhat quirky point of view.

I survived that leap to write about it today. I’m certain a parachute will open; they usually show up at just about the right time.

Life. It's yours to live. Go all in.

What dream is sitting in your head, calling you to take a leap?