Addiction

Ever since my first tandem skydive, I've developed a bit of an addiction to the sport. To clarify: I'm willing to sleep in a tent in 30 mile and hour winds, travel for hours on buses, sleep on a bench along side homeless men talking to themselves, spend whole weekends staring at the sky hoping for sun, all for the chance of getting up in the sky and jumping out of a "perfectly good airplane".

After your first skydive each jump has certain skills to demonstrate. There is a set progression baby-stepping your way to fully jumping on your own, getting your a-license, and being known as a fun-jumper. Yes, we do this for fun.

By the third windy day attempting to dive, I was so tired of sitting on the ground; all I wanted to do was jump. One of the instructors understood this need and took me up in a tandem so that I could at least fly. In addition, while on a commercial airline I stared out the window wishing I had a parachute. Now, this might not be understandable to a majority of people but among those who frequent dropzones every weekend, no other response would make sense. After numerous wind delays where it was not safe for me to try and land on my own, this weekend I’ve finally officially begun my AFP training. That means I have my own parachute, jump out of the plane with an instructor next to me but not attached by a harness, and once I pull, I am under canopy on my own including landing. Just as scary and amazing as it sounds.

It’s hard to put into words why I ended up being so obsessed with skydiving. I’ve heard stories of how people from all different backgrounds found diving. There are social hobby divers like myself, those who do this for a job, complete with all the benefits and frustrations of any job, and those who have found freedom and, in a way, salvation in diving.

Skydivers are an interesting lot. They literally put their life on the line in order to fully live it. Certain traits like risk taking, a fondness for travel, few physical attachments, and the willingness to do anything for a story are typical. My stories of petting a cheetah and leaving for a two week international trip with four days preparation are usually unique. But on the dropzone the response beomes “I’ve done that” or at least something similar. One thing I love is never having to defend myself or my choices to divers. They get it. I’ve yet to hear that I’m crazy. In that way I’ve found kindred spirits in the diving community. Now along with any niche community they do have their quirks but are charming all the same.

The thing that has surprised me the most while training is the control over almost all aspects, even when falling at 120 miles per hour. Depending on body position, a skydiver can move faster, slower, left, right, turn, flip, basically moving in all directions of a three dimensional space. At each level there are different tasks to demonstrate control over. While focusing on each these, I find that the whole idea of the ground coming towards me disappears.

The idea of consuming concentration is one of the many reasons I like skydiving. The body still responds with a flight or fight response and you have to push past that to be completely in the moment, eventually using the body’s response to your advantage. Even instructors and divers with hundreds of jumps get butterflies. I noticed each person had a way of centering themselves before the door of the plane opened. A brief moment of closing the eyes and breathing, visualizing the jump ahead.

I also like the clear cut sense of success. If you get up and walk away from the dive it was successful. Even with things to improve (arch position ;)) the dive is an accomplishment. The most dangerous diver is the one who thinks they have nothing to improve. Diving simplifies priorities. The most important thing is to pull (in a stable position). Whatever else you do in the air don’t forget that step.

I also like the personal responsibility aspect to the success of skydiving. Skydiving for me is a very individual thing. I have to make the decision to leave the plane. And I determine how much preparation I give to each jump. My new friend, M, has a great outlook on life and diving. She shared about the significance of consequences and taking responsibility in diving and therefore life. When we jump out of the plane we have to accept the consequences of our decisions. That includes accountability to learn correct maneuvers, how to get out of malfunctions, and what we want to accomplish.

My other friend, I, recently completed his certification jumps and graduated from AFP. Having someone to talk to who is only a handful of jumps ahead of me is great because we can vent the struggles and frustrations from learning a whole new skill set, give encouragement when dives don’t go quite as planned (because they won’t always), share in the excitement and glow from a successful dive, and enable and shamelessly encourage each other’s addictions to this sport. Though to be perfectly honest, the competitive side of me wishes that I could spend a week diving and get my A-license before him.

Even if all of this makes very little sense, I highly recommend adding skydiving at least once to any sort of life list you create. I’ll always be willing to go along.

Rain

At what age do we decide that rain ruins a picnic? In the rain everyone treks into work with scowls on their faces. Except a this little girl about five years old. She had cute little ladybug boots, with a matching raincoat and umbrella that instead of covering her head she twirled around. Rain meant it was time to play, just as sun means its time to play.

Years ago, while vacationing in Disney, it started to rain. I forget whether Aimee or Rob started playing in the rain first but soon the three of us where slipping and sliding around, getting completely soaked. Back under the awning, my parents were receiving dirty looks from all the other parents whose children wanted to join us. My parents say they endured the looks because we were too old to disciple, but I think they understand the need to play.

The subways are always grumpy places when it is raining. Filling a tiny space with a bunch of wet people who have decided that the rain messed up their plans causes people to snap. I witnessed two old ladies on the train the morning of the ladybug princess. One started lecturing about deference to elders, complaining that all respect had left society. She continued on for a few stops even after the recipient had clearly stopped listening. The other woman jumped onto the train saying “I would have never fit before. I’m shrinking. Thank God for old age.” When another rider yelled at people to move in, her response was “Don’t worry about them, they are just tired this morning. How are you?” The yeller had no clue how to respond to such a positive response.

When I’m old, I want to be like the second lady. But her attitude wasn’t something she magically obtained one day. She had to develop a habit of choosing to be happy. A pattern of complaining, likewise, will carry on till you are a bitter old woman (or man).

Kids have the amazing ability to live in the present; to take whatever comes and make the best of it. They don’t (initially) live life measuring events up to an ideal situation. Hopefully I can develop a habit of playing in the rain, whatever form that takes.