Jump

Life speaks in metaphors, and my newest addiction is no exception. I dream of jumping out of planes, and I wake in a sweat, euphoric. I walk around during the day wishing for the fall, constantly both feeling that intense consuming longing and simultaneously feeling the butterflies in my stomach.

I cannot stop thinking about skydiving. I’ve been talking with a few friends about AAF; it’s not the time for a few reasons. But tandem jumps, I want them all.

I long to let go and fly, I’m scared of the fall.

Here’s the thing: the second I’m out the plane door all fear is gone. There’s excitement and awe, there’s peace and joy and utter exhilaration! I wonder if the rest of life could be the same if only I was brave enough to jump?

In the meantime, I dream constantly of being among the clouds.