Usually when it comes to storytelling it’s best to start at the beginning. But this is the kind of story that needs to start from the ending and be told in rewind.

When my feet were back on Earth, I knew I just pressed through a new limit.  I felt like a little kid wanting to rush to get back in line for the cool, curvy, long tunnel slide at the park.

Jumping out of a plane or rather, flopping out of a plane, was the thrill of my life. As you start accelerating toward the Earth, there’s uneasiness about it. The initial panic of falling takes hold. And yet, although you feel like you are falling…there’s no land underneath your feet, the Earth doesn’t seem to get any closer. Once you top out at your maximum speed of 120 miles an hour…which is a speed that will get you passed by a Volkswagen hatchback on the autobahn in the far right lane… you just chill and loosen up and start enjoying the ride. You stop being cognizant that you are actually still free-falling. You get their surreal sensation that you are just hanging out in the air, the World far beneath you — out of reach. Floating. Dare I say… flying.

While hanging out suspended in the sky, I learned that a sky diver has an amazing amount of control in the air. You can direct your fall.  You can spin, flip, soar along.  My photographer soared around Conner, my tandem instructor, and I to get the best shots from all angles.  How can he do that? I asked, skill in the free-fall. Conner explained with his arms. In fact, Conner was holding my hands because in my panic, I wasn’t aware of what I was doing with my hands and it was unintentionally moving us around in the sky. We just chilled and chatted a while before the chute deployed. Conner took it upon himself to unsnap the buckle across my chest. What the heck do you think you’re doing?! I expressed so serious concern for things coming undone in the air. He tells me to chill out and to push my butt out…cus that’s a normal thing for a guy who is strapped to your back to say. So I did and, sure enough, I was sitting, comfortably in the sky.  The two of us chatted and enjoyed the SoCal scenery from above as we slowly floated back down to Earth. There’s the city, the Pacific Ocean and mountains all down below.

Conner asked me, “So, you think you’ll do a jump by yourself?”  While we floated, I thought there was no way I’d hurl myself out of an airplane. I don’t even do upside down roller coasters.  To me, jumping solo would be like giving yourself a bikini wax. I might be able to apply the wax, but no way am I just going to yank it off myself.   “We need more pretty girls in the sport, “he flirted. Homeboy was working for his tip and it worked like a charm.   I just might be willing to fulfill this diversity shortfall (pun!).   The ride to the ground was so unbelievable.

Even with all my creativity, floating in the sky was more than I could imagine just 15 seconds earlier.

Fifteen seconds before, experienced jumpers, first-time jumpers, photographers, and videographers all piled in this little, bitty propeller plane.  Some folks didn’t even have seats and just sat on the floor next to the door.  It took me back to sophomore year of high school when Andrew was the first in our crew to get his license and we took it as a challenge to see how many 16-year-olds could fit in his Honda Civic at one time as we cruised our town’s main street.

The party-like atmosphere in the plane with all the joking and co-workers poking fun at each other made the whole situation relaxed without focusing on the crazy adventure we were about to experience. At some point during our climb to out 15K feet, Conner says, “Let’s do this, come sit on my lap.”

Everyone starts moving about like musical chairs in the tightly packed cabin with bench jump seats.  Now I am not a type-A kind of person…I usually go with the flow. But when it comes to hopping out of a perfectly functioning aircraft…Type-A, micromanaging missy arrives. While Conner was attaching himself to me, I was steady double checking everything he clipped on and tightened. I know the value of double checking for human errors when it comes to safety or security. This was no time for a mental lapse. I didn’t even recognize how obvious I was making it until one of the pros called me out on it.

“Man, your partner has no faith in you.” He said.

Conner tells me with the straightest face, “If we get separated on this jump, just meet back at the little yellow square where we started.”

The little yellow box was where divers stood to get the three-minute “pre-flight training.” The training consisted of explaining what was going to happen more than what we needed to do in case of emergency.  My boss, who flies and jumps out of air planes for a living, already gave me the run down. He predicted they’d give me a lame briefing concealed as training and omit issues that folks who don’t jump wouldn’t know to ask.  So what happens if the jumped passes out of has a heart attack? What are the winds like today? Where’s the pull for the reserve chute? Asking the questions seemed to throw the staff off. They weren’t expecting inquiry. My co-worker and soul sister asked the same questions in her training. And got the same reactions…”These are very intelligent questions but don’t worry about that. Nothing will go unplanned.” No. What happens? She pressed before getting an answer.

I gave Conner my, unamused face.  I know he is not playin’ right now! I knew about the reserve chute. I knew the canopy would deploy if, at a certain altitude we were still moving at 120 mph. What I never considered was what if I came aloose from the harness (aloose…my Alabama grandma used that word…if you need a definition, use context clues).

I was strapped to him so tight it was impossible to separate from him. He was basically wearing me something like the adult version of what parents of infants walk around with their baby attached to them. I think there were two jumps before me. Conner stood and I had no choice but to stand with him.  Homeboy must have killer quads to lift me like that. He made the decision how and when to flop out of the plane. So there was not backing out. No matter what, wherever he went, I was going too.

My photographer was hanging on to the side of the plane waiting for us just to fall out before diving toward us in the sky.

A few life events brought me to this point. I’d fallen (pun!) into an inactive, slump toward the end of last year and wanted to re energize myself in the upcoming year.  So when I came across a discount for tandem skydiving on Groupon back in December, I jumped (pun!) on the opportunity. Plus, I was supposed to jump in Tuskegee back before I turned 25…but my work schedule at the time didn’t allow it when all my friends went. My dream got deferred.  I planned to redeem it on my birthday…which, among my group of friends, is a triple birthday weekend. So, our group of 10 —including my friend’s 60-year-old mom, made plans.

I love traveling because it opens my mind to new considerations and perspectives. I learn something on every trip because I’m challenged past my comfort zone. This experience did the same thing for me that an international trip does (at a fraction of the price).  I’ll never be the same.

Here are a few perspectives I gained from my 3 mile trip back to Earth.

1. The imagination is an amazing, powerful thing.
And you can do so much with it.  Here I am imagining crashing into the ground when I could have been using that time to imagine myself flying faster than a speeding bullet to save someone in distress. I could have imagined I was Lois Lane and Conner was superman. I could have been imagining I was a 101st Airborne paratrooper filling the early morning sky with my comrades ready to liberate France. But I chose the less fun and exciting way to use my imagination.

2. In life, the first step or two out of a comfort zone is of course terrifying and overwhelming but pressing through that comfort zone is where you get to the good part.  I’ve already learned this lesson a thousand times before, but applying it doesn’t always happen. My friend who also jumped that day had jumped before. She told me it was surreal serenity.  When I got out of my fears I was able to understand what she was talking about.  All the noise of the world is miles away.

3. In love, I want to metaphorically be strapped with my tandem jumper. No space between the two of us. We go Book of Ruth with it: wherever you go, I will go. I will go through the falls and shocks with you if it means I getting to soar above the world with you later. After the three-minute training and harness fitting, I met the dude who would toss me out of a flying plane. I put all my trust & faith in another person. I trusted my life to a complete stranger.  And because I did, I got to share amazing moments that I’ve never shared with anyone else. Sometimes, a bit of faith is so worth it.

4. Just Jump! The longer you sit there and look…the longer you sit there and look. That’s it. That’s all that happens. Falls don’t last forever.  Don’t analyze too much. Overanalyzing to the point of paralysis doesn’t do anything.  Getting active is a great way to get out of ruts. Do something different. For Forest Gump it was a cross country jog. For Elsa, It was building a winter wonderland. For me, free falling released months of built-up tension and frustration. It was an acceptance of whatever will be will be. When you say you’re going to do something, commit and just do it. Get in shape, start a business, travel…take Taylor Swift’s advice and jump, head first fearless!

I experienced a new fantastic point of view with unbelievable sights, taken wonder by wonder, indescribable feeling, soaring, tumbling, freewheeling on an endless diamond sky. As a little girl I daydreamed about the magic Disney created in that scene and it really happened in real life. I even got told, “Don’t close your eyes, you paid for this view.”

I’ve literally been somewhere over the rainbow.  I’ve jumped into the wild blue yonder.  I never knew the vastness of the sky to truly love it.  And I hope, if you’re healthy and able you get to know it too.  They say the sky is the limit and I’ve already visited. Perhaps I’ll make the sky home.