Freefalling

Tomorrow, I jump out of an airplane.

I’m of mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I know it will be exhilarating – those minutes of freefall are the closest I will ever come to knowing what flying feels like.

On the other hand, I’ve never jumped out of an airplane before. And I know, that while at this moment the idea of it doesn’t scare me, not even a little, when I’m standing in the airplane, ready to jump, I’ll feel that sliver of fear. I’ll hesitate.

Fear is the surface of instinct; tasting it is to savor our sense of self-preservation. A reminder that underneath it all, we all have a strong drive to live.

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Postnote, 11/12/06: I did, indeed, jump out of an airplane; in all truth, I can say now that the idea of it was more intoxicating than the experience itself. For me, there was no adrenaline rush while free falling from twelve-thousand feet. There was no fear at the plane’s doorway.

But there were other unexpectedly remarkable moments that made it worth the trip: the opening of the plane door as we approached jumping altitude – looking out at the ground below and knowing I’d be heading downward the more direct route; tugging hard on the control lines to force the descent into a brief, but pulse-poundingly fast, downward spiral; viewing the world from a perspective that cannot be described without experiencing it yourself.