I have a bucket list. To my credit, I had it before the movie of same name popularized it. The only difference is mine will never have an end. I am not a negative person by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I have what you would call "a zest for life", a contagious "joie de vivre". The reason I will never complete my bucket list is because the more I explore and experience our world, the more I want to see and do. For every item I cross off, another two or three "to-dos" are added. I also realize that certain things on my list may be out of my reach such as experiencing weightlessness as I don't ever plan on being part of the space program but that's not to say I can't write it down for kicks. This leads me to why most of us write a list in the first place, fear. We all have fears. Truth be told, I am afraid of taking risks, I am afraid of failure, I have a natural fear of sharks and open water, and lastly, I am afraid of heights, or falling from there, actually, am not sure which is worst.
Skydiving has been on the top of my "experiences" list (yes, before you ask, my bucket list is organized from experiences to natural wonders to UNESCO heritage sites, etc.) for a very long time, right next to learning to fly a helicopter. All I can write about the latter is that I flew for 20 seconds and that jumping out of a perfectly good plane, was much easier. That is to say, I could at least control my "falling with style" better than I could a tin flying contraption.
The notion of jumping into thin air, literally, the air is thinner at 10,000 feet, seemed beyond comprehension. I simply woke-up one morning and decided this would be the perfect month to jump. I tend to work myself up to the point of feeling nauseated, anxious, with a veritable butterfly breeding ground in my stomach but on the chosen day, I was calm. The sunshine was brilliant, the ceiling unlimited and my excitement boundless. As I said my final goodbyes to friends and family and acknowledged any last acquisition requests on their part, I couldn't help but beam at my courage. Me, the once shy girl from the farm, was, to the shock of everyone who knows me, about to skydive. The plane ride was uneventful. We climbed, and climbed, and soared high above the island. The view was fantastic! Once at elevation, I received the tap on my shoulder, the signal that we were to prepare to exit the plane. The excitement masked any apprehension I may have had at this point. I leaned back on my instructor as taught, and then, it happened. You think you are ready for anything but the moment you're thrust into mid-air with nothing to grasp, the earth coming up at you faster than you can anticipate, the expected "roller coaster" feeling non-existent but rather a sudden will to survive, followed by my piercing SCREAM, it was a rush of adrenaline beyond words. I can still replay it over and over in my mind and experience that same exhilarating rush.
The moment the parachute is deployed is comparable to someone hitting the brakes. 30 sec of free falling followed by a sudden stop and then a leisurely descent (until your instructor decides to spiral). I always assumed a certain level of noise up there, you know, wind rushing through your ears and such but in fact, it was quite the opposite. The silence coming down was deafening and pure bliss. The view, incredible. I gazed at my feet dangling so high above the earth. I was mesmerized by this concept and understood the Wright brothers fascination with flight. Who wouldn't want to soar with the eagles?!
So there you have it. I did it. I jumped out of an airplane and lived to tell about it. It is now crossed off the bucket list but that isn't to say, I won't do it again. I'm not sure I conquered my fear of heights but I took the risk and did not fail, two things I'm proud to say. Next on the list...........shark cage diving.....maybe.
