Sky is not the Limit...

“We are flying at 10,000 feet… ascending to 11,000 feet… 13,000 feet… 15,000 feet. Open the door guys we’re in the drop zone now.” The pilot's voice cut through the electric environment of the tiny airplane.

“Are you nervous?” my instructor gently inquired as he double-checked the straps that had me fastened to his jumpsuit.

“Not at all!” I grinned like a daredevil.

As the door of the aircraft was opened, he repeated the instructions on how to stabilize myself against air resistance. We walked towards the doorway with me in front. It was noisy and windy. Feet on the step, facing the prop blast, I got a bird’s eye view of the crystal clear waters of the Bay and the map-like terrain below, before I strapped the protective frame onto my eyes.

“Ready?” screamed Brandon into my ears, against the blasting wind.

“YES!! Since forever!” I screamed out into the open nothingness.

“3..2..1..”

Our feet left the secure floor of the aircraft as we leapt into the gaping expanse, at the mercy of gravity. A lurch at the pit of my tummy; and I was falling through the sky at over 100 mph. The overpowering forces of air resistance and gravity were nothing like I had ever experienced. The sudden pressure change blocked my ears.

90 seconds of free fall: 90 seconds of detachment, yet an inexplicable connectivity with a higher force. Earth, Sky, and I - we were all one entity. I was no longer a body, but a liberated soul. In those 90 seconds all worldly strings vanished (except the ones on my harness: Thank God!). Cradled by air, like a tiny piece of life in the clear blue Californian sky, Monterey Bay beckoned from below. I wasn’t speechless. I was thoughtless. For me, that is quite a feat.

I had never until that moment been able to stop my buzzing thoughts. My head always runs a stream of constant commentary, which I find hard to shut out. But those uninhibited 90 seconds away from the world, aloof in my intimacy, had succeeded in silencing my hyper-active brain. Ironically, I had found solace in an adrenaline-packed skydive!

Brandon was monitoring the altimeter. It’s strange how one trustingly puts their life into the hands of a complete stranger. I had never met Brandon earlier nor did I meet him later. But, during the 30 odd minutes of the entire experience, we were connected in a way that only we understood. He released the parachute. The impact broke our fall and thrust us upward.

Everything changed. The gushing wind turned into a playful breeze. We were plunged into dead silence. Brandon’s expertise took over, as he steered the parachute and we sailed over the world below. My nirvana moment slunk back into its subliminal world. My senses became attuned to the panorama I floated in. The pristine scenic beauty was a spectacle...

I recently read an article on quarter-life crisis that kindled this throwback to 2012. Rather bemused with what I read, I pondered over our “instant gratification generation”- sure, we are people who need apps to monitor our eating, sleeping, dating, socializing, and pretty much our entire lifestyle, but are we really so messed up?

A tricky question! The answer – quite subjective; yet not as complicated as one would imagine. After all, my mental state before and after the skydive wasn't unique to me! Blessed are those twenty-somethings who experience the bliss of thoughtlessness in an age when young ambitions are sky-rocketing but attention-spans are plunging. For, when one is thoughtless, one is actually connected with themselves. Things start to make sense. Questions are answered. The gnawing 'crisis' retreats into its shadowy origins. 

Flying with ambition is not the problem; the problem is losing touch with the ground that holds you together. It doesn't matter whether you dive from 15,000 ft or 18,000 ft; at the end of it, the sky is not the limit...the ground is!