Light and Flight

To answer your questions

2009-10-25T14:03:00.000-07:00

I am often asked by non-skydivers if you can move around in the sky. Here's a couple videos to answer your question. The possibilities are endless.

My 100th Jump!

2008-06-27T14:08:00.000-07:00

For my 100th jump, 8 friends and I made a tracking dive from 18,000 feet. It all went fabulous except for one small mishap. If you watch closely you will see a collision, where Kevin's camera is knocked off his head and flies off, never to be seen again. We joke that somewhere in a field in Davis there are some awesome photos of this jump!

I threw in some footage of other jumps that day too.

Video by Jackson, Brett, Donny and Sue.

It was a good day

2008-06-25T17:35:00.000-07:00

From left, Brett, me and Tui. Love the world up there.

And my first hula hoop jump - Brett on the left, Nick on the right, and YES I did make it through albeit "granny-speed" as Nick made sure to tell me.

A perfectly orchestrated equasion

2008-06-03T21:22:00.001-07:00

One guy with muscle to the back + one guy with a banana cream pie in the front + three guys with four plates of cool whip from the side = one time-honored traditional happy 1000th jump for Brett Haughn!

Congrats - and I take responsibility for absolutely none of this!

fear of the big three...

2008-05-22T23:38:00.000-07:00

As I near my 100th jump I am thinking about where I am now compared to where I was when I began. After my first skydive I thought that if I could learn to conquer the fear of skydiving that I would be able to do anything in life. Ninety-five jumps later I find that, although I have learned a lot, I am more the same than I am changed. Skydiving has taught me that I have the capacity to confront fear, even use it, and take control of my path. However, contrary to what I thought it would do, it has not erased my many other fears in life. The thought of jumping from an airplane seemed so incredibly frightening back then. It elicited a visceral gut response, an instinctual reflex to avoid... that look down, even an infant is afraid of falling. Now I realize that skydiving has not changed many of my fears. There are so many things that I am afraid of more than jumping out of an airplane. B.A.R. It is an acronym used to express the most common human psychological fears: Betrayal. Abandonment. Rejection. These things are far more difficult to master than the knee-jerk response to a fear such as falling. It turns out that facing death is less frightening than facing the big three. In fact, experiencing such a powerful experience as skydiving and embracing the respect that its dangers demand is a rather effective method of escaping, if only for 60 seconds, the fear of the big three.

But is the fear of B.A.R. really just psychological? Perhaps it is just as embedded with instinctual, irrational fear, the same place as fear of falling and spiders and snakes. It exists on the same level as the fear of death. And if you really think about it, to a child's mind, those three things are a matter of life and death. For a child the acts of betrayal, abandonment or rejection on behalf of a parent or caretaker can literally mean death. But it is one's experiences through time that truly defines one's fear. For me I am not afraid of "vermin" such as snakes, rats or spiders, for I have kept them as pets before. However, I am deathly afraid of cockroaches, because I once lived in a place which was infested with them and it made me afraid of the sickness they might give me. As for falling, I've fallen in love with that. It's associated now with great pleasure and satisfaction. Our fears are not solid, but malleable, changeable, and have different meaning over time.

So now I am back to the fear of B.A.R. -- of which I admit that skydiving has not cured. But somehow there is something comforting about that. I guess that just makes me human... just like every other skydiver and just like everyone on the ground who swears they will NEVER jump. I suppose that flying in the sky does not actually make me a superhero. And I'm okay with that. Being a superhero would be far too lonely.

It's Not About the Adrenaline

2008-04-23T23:10:00.001-07:00

It's about the silence. That peace, that stillness that exists in that moment when all senses are focused sharply in the present, where one is deeply aware of the truth of presence, of sensation. It is joy. It is fresh air. It is the quiet that breaks through the chattering, a still small smile on my lips.

Goodbye Wes, you will be missed.

2008-04-10T18:33:00.000-07:00

On Easter Sunday of this year I lost a friend to skydiving.

Wes Harberts, died at age 33, while skydiving at Skydive Tahoe, a business he opened just last summer. The exact cause of the accident is unknown. He died immediately after impact under a fully opened, spinning main canopy.

I met Wes at Burning Man 2006. He helped me put on a parachute for the first time, so that I could photograph skydivers jumping over Black Rock City for an article we were doing for the Sacramento Bee. I remember that he was annoyed at me for taking so many notes and chatting with people when I should have been listening to his safety instructions. He set me strait on that one. That was Wes's way. He'd tell you exactly what was up.

Not long after, I fell in love with one of his best friends, Jackson, and thereafter our lives were all entwined. I never really got to know Wes on a deep personal level. And, regretfully, I never made a jump with him. But I experienced his trademark generosity when he let me have full access to his home when I was on assignment, shooting the Angora Fire in South Lake Tahoe. I shared a long bear hug with him under his not-to-be missed huge fuzzy jacket at Burning Man 2007. I've witnessed his passion and spirit, his tenacity and hard-working nature... And I've held two of his best friends, Tim and Jackson, in my arms as they cried over his leaving too soon.

There is no one on this earth who can replace Wes. He was a mover and shaker. He knew how to make things happen. He enjoyed taking people on their first skydives as tandem passengers and loved to see their reaction afterwards. He was bright fireworks. Wes did much in his 33 years, and friends can take comfort in knowing that he truly lived life to the fullest. Still, his death came tragically too soon.

Fly free Wes. You will be missed.

tandem, together or alone

2008-01-24T17:28:00.000-08:00

In skydiving we are taught a hyper-individualistic sense of self reliance. Only YOU are fully responsible for your own safety. I remember being utterly terrified on my first AFF jump because I had the ultimate responsibility for saving my own life. On my tandem jumps I was nervous, but I completely trusted that my experienced tandem-master knew what he was doing, that he would keep me safe. I was asked, like all AFF students, before I made my first AFF jump if I was 100 percent certain that I could pull my chute, that I would save my life. I answered yes, I accepted the challenge, and jump by jump even more safety responsibilities were accorded from my instructors' hands to my own. I learned how to check my gear, check my spot, how to separate myself from other skydivers to avoid collisions, everything... everything... until the day I left the airplane 100 percent alone. I took that responsibility with trepidation. Now I hold it with all my might.

Recently I was presented with the opportunity to ride as a tandem passenger for people being trained to be tandem masters. Without hesitation I agreed - a free skydive - hell yeah! Then, I almost immediately regretted my answer. Did I really just agree to climb aboard an airplane and jump out of it WITHOUT a parachute on my back? With my back turned I would have to trust someone else to clip each buckle? Couldn't I double-check them myself? And even if I was strapped in okay and the parachute opened okay, I would have to let someone else do the landing? Granted, my landings are a weak point in my skills as a skydiver right now. I wear a pretty ugly jumpsuit right now because I'm still landing on my knees, on my butt, quite frequently... but still. My landings are my landings. I'm in charge and I stand up or I fall depending on what I do right or wrong. Suddenly, the idea of being a tandem passenger sounded terrifying! I realize now that skydiving has taught me to trust myself more than I even have. And that's a good thing

Now does that mean I don't trust others anymore? What kind of question is that? In skydiving you don't have to justify your desire to be the one and only one who is responsible for saving your own life. It's just smart and it's the way it should be.

Lucky for me, I didn't have to ride tandem after all. I didn't have enough experience. It turns out that the more experienced the passenger is, the easier it is for the tandem master to do his job. Hmmm.... so it's a joint endeavor, a shared responsibility.

I'm not dogging tandem skydiving. I recommend that all my best friends and family do it at least once. Just choose someone who's not just starting out, make sure you listen, arch when you're told and help your tandem master save both of your lives.

My first time sit-flying.

2007-11-06T11:49:00.000-08:00

I made five jumps last Sunday, the most I've ever done in one day. It was so much fun! This video is of jump number 42 and 44. Number 42 was the first time I have flown in a sit.

For my non-skydiving friends, sit-flying is the beginning of what's called freeflying - a more free-form kind of skydiving where you fall strait up and down, either right side up - called "sit-flying" or upside down - called "head-down." This is in contrast to flying on your belly which is the more classic and common form of skydiving. Freeflying requires a tremendous amount of balance and technique to not get swept off your feet (as you will see in my bumbling attempts!)

Anyhow, I'm quite excited about these jumps because I didn't think I would be able to sit-fly just yet. It seemed like one of those elusive skills to me. I believed that eventually I would do it but that it would take a lot of time for me to stay up for more than a second. It's fun to try new things and discover that you can actually do them!

Enjoy, and don't laugh too much! I must swallow my pride a bit here - I can see so many things I am doing wrong but hey - it's a start, and a better one than I expected. Thanks as usual Jackson for your coaching and video!

More than 60 seconds......

2007-09-15T20:58:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about my willingness to put so much time, money and energy into 60 seconds - the average time of freefall in one skydive. A jump ticket costs $22 - that's $22 a minute! I can't think of anything else off the top of my head that costs more than $22 a minute, except for a tandem skydive or a coach jump!

In order to make myself feel better I try to tell myself that it is not just about the 60 seconds of freefall but about the entire process - about the journey so to speak. It's self-help, motivational-life-skills-type of talk that I am begrudgingly employing here to make myself feel more sane, less guilty about letting those dollars fly.

Heart: "It's all about the freefall! It's all about the freefall! I'll pay whatever it takes to get more time in freefall!"

"Brain: "It can't just be all about the freefall because that just doesn't make sense. It costs way too much!"

Heart: "You know I don't care about that! There's nothing like it in the world and you can't take money with you when you die."

Brain: "Well I can see that there is nothing I can say to change your mind about this so we're going to have to cooperate. Lets see if we can come up with an answer that satisfies us both."

Heart: "Well I'll work to find more meaning in the process beyond freefall and you go find more money!"

So I sat down with my heart and mind and we had little a chat - a heart to heart one could say - or a brainstorm... Okay stop me now before I overdo this whole thing...

Anyways...

When I really thought about it I realized that each $22 jump ticket really does pay for more than 60 seconds of freefall. Granted - those 60 seconds are the highlight - but there is so much more to it.

Each jump is a ritual. Living in our discombobulated and disconnected culture I often feel lost. Rituals resonate. They can bring comfort and a sense of well-being, especially when they are shared with others.

Each element of the skydiving ritual is wrought with meaning and importance because you are embarking on an activity where your life is put at risk. Pre-jump rituals remind us of this and help keep us sharp and prepared.

The ritual begins.

Manifest - You've signed up.

Your name is called.

Put your gear on... piece by piece - in an orderly fashion - in exactly the same way you do it every time lest you forget something.

Gear check

"Three handles, three straps, three rings and little yellow thing."

The number three is a spiritual one.

Pin check.

Check it again.

Ask someone else to check it.

One more time if you want to.

Anyone, friend or stranger will do it - and give you two thumps on the back - you're good to go. No one will fault you for checking it twice, three times. The group respects that each person's ritual is sacred.

Ride to altitude.

Some of my most important personal work in life has happened on the plane ride up.

For me this is a time to take stock of the situation, a time to meditate. It is a time carved out for the mind between the physical act of preparing your gear and the physical performance of the skydive itself. In this time there are so many things to think about and so many things not to think about.

Clear - your day, your tomorrow, your work, your anxiety, your fear

Visualize - your exit, your dive plan, what you will do, how it will feel, your success, your happiness.

Smile.

Visualize - your parachute malfunctioning, you calmly and deliberately pulling your cutaway handle, you calmly and deliberately deploying your reserve.

Breathe.

Now you can-

enjoy the view.
close your eyes and relax.
kiss your boyfriend on the head.
make bad jokes with Dan.
geek a camera.
give a thumbs up to a tandem student.
be excited.
be quiet.

But always be alive and in the present.

Then one last mandatory ritual.

Look each person on the plane in the eye. To each one - give a high five or peace sign. "Have a good jump."

God forbid it could be the last time you may see that person alive. It's one very real dark shadow of a fact. So good energy in this moment is a must. It is the glue that holds us all together in a common good faith and joy.

We've all prepared ourselves - now its time to let go.

Be free.

Fly on out the door and savor the next 60 seconds.

Yoga and Skydiving

2007-09-13T21:48:00.000-07:00

I've returned to my yoga practice this week. While skydiving is physically demanding - 60 seconds of freefall can hardly be considered a sufficient workout. So I reviewed my options and found myself back on the mat after being gone for about a year.

So here I am sitting in a studio. My feet are on the mat, sporting both a french tip pedicure from the day spa and multiple scratches and bruises from skydiving.

Catching me off guard, the instructor wants each of us to introduce ourselves and share why it is that we want to practice yoga.

Uh-oh.

Honestly, I have an ulterior motive for doing yoga. I'm doing it for skydiving! I want to improve my arch in freefall and relieve some neck pain from hard openings. I want to reduce my chances for injury by staying flexible. I want increase my overall health and strength to stay on top of my game. I've been doing sun salutations in the hanger before each skydive to loosen up and focus mentally. It's really helping.... But do I share this with the group? Here we are under soft lighting in an orange room sitting on mats in front of a bronze sculpture of shiva about to chant three ohms.... While these seemingly opposite activities flow flawlessly from one to the next in my mind, this hardly seems the time or place to mention skydiving to the others.

So yeah, I'm here for peace and harmony and tighter abs I say... or something like that.

And they all smile and nod.

And I smile to myself on the inside.

Jump 28

2007-09-09T22:02:00.000-07:00

Hello beautiful people! My head is bursting with things I'd like to share with you all. I just got back from Burning Man, just made my 30th jump. But for tonight, I'll just leave you with this, a video of jump 28, shot by Jackson. It's my favorite thus far.

My first rig!

2007-08-18T23:42:00.000-07:00

I'm buying my first rig tomorrow! I made three jumps on it yesterday and it felt great. It's got a fairly slow canopy on it now, but will fit a smaller one down the line. But most of all - IT FITS ME!!!! I've had such a hard time with my gear thus far. The rental gear has been so big on me that's its been downright scary. I feel so much more safe and confident now!

I'd post pictures except for the fact that it is not exactly my color scheme... I've been told by a very reputable instructor not to let my picture be taken in it because it might come back to haunt me. The colors are black, orange, red, maroon and blue. I like all of these colors individually - so there! Besides, one must look dorky for at least the first year. It's a part of growing pains that one looks back on fondly.

Skydiving accident - and questions

2007-08-11T13:17:00.000-07:00

I just watched a very disturbing video on YouTube about a man named Chris who had an accident while skydiving that left him a quadriplegic. As a new skydiver I have to watch these things and process them. This is the reality of the sport. One can ignore the risks, or one can justify them by reasoning that death or accidents can happen to any of us at any time during our lives, anywhere, anyhow. But the truth is that skydiving is dangerous - more dangerous than many other things we can choose to do. One must enter this sport with their eyes wide open, and evaluate honestly the risk vs. reward. There is a decision to be made.

(Friends or family who are squeamish about me skydiving - I recommend that you do not watch this.)

I thought very hard about my choice to sky dive after I watched this video. As much as I wanted to just push it out of my head, choose to skydive as safely as possible and bet that it won't happen to me - I felt a responsibility to myself to really think about it.

I've found that many of the typical arguments on the subject fall flat for me. The above mentioned arguments that "life is dangerous in general" that "it won't happen to me" or even the romantic notion of "live life to the fullest," weren't enough. Truth is, many people live full lives without skydiving. Furthermore - I would never be okay with becoming permanently disabled - even by holding on to the notion of "I've lived life to the fullest." One of the reasons I love this sport is that I love experiencing my body, moving it, feeling it working, being aware, being healthy. I do not believe in the separation of body and spirit. To become disabled would strip me of the very things that motivate my skydiving in the first place.

We look towards people like Chris to comfort us. We want to see his success, his spirit in order to find peace with this question - is skydiving worth the risk? If he can find peace and happiness after an accident then we can justify our gamble. To his successes we say "you are inspiring" - such a sweet, well-meaning way of dismissal. Then we can push the nightmare out of our head and believe that all is right with the world. The truth is - all is not right with this world. Life can be cruel. It can be unfair. It can be indiscriminate when it chooses whom to harm. Innocent children are dealt a lot in life that is not proportionate to their worth. A talented gregarious skydiver is harmed in a random accident. This is cold hard reality.

I can only imagine the pain that Chris must feel - how difficult it must be for him to come to terms with what has happened. Where does he find his answers? I'll be watching the rest of his videos to find out. He does inspire me - by the fact that he is producing and sharing his thoughts and feelings through the artistry of video. But I will not make his answers my answers. Answers to such difficult questions as these are as personal as the own skin you live in. I will not use him to justify my involvement in such a dangerous sport.

Chris also made a video that shows his life before and after the accident. It made me cry. There is so much sky in the "after" portion of the video, beautiful sky, clouds rolling by. Was he wishing that he was still in the sky? For all that happened to him, what saddens me the most is that he can not sky dive anymore.

It was here that I found my answer. I look to the sky and I also yearn to be there. But I have my able body - I will use it gratefully for what I am compelled to do. I will not disable myself with the fear of becoming disabled. Each jump is a gift not a right - and a part of me will jump in honor of people like Chris.

I think about the end of my life. Were I to die without jumping I would regret that more than having a debilitating accident because of it.

Yes, I am taking a risk. I fervently hope that I will not fall prey to a terrible accident. I will evaluate my risk-taking seriously and educate myself on safety. The rest is out of my control - just like Chris's accident was largely out of his control. The rest is a roll of the dice in a game I choose to play.

Freestyle skydiving

2007-08-05T10:35:00.000-07:00

looks really fun. (for those of you who have asked - this is not me! It takes years and to develop these skills!)

Skydiving alone

2007-08-02T22:31:00.000-07:00

I just made my 16th jump yesterday. The last five I have done have been solo. All of my other ones were either tandem, with instructors or with Jackson.

I was really nervous to make the leap alone even though I knew it would be good for me. Whether someone is with me or not, I know that it is I who is ultimately responsible for saving my own life. Even though I logically know that this is true I have spent most of my life feeling more secure when someone is with me. It's all mental, really, just like everything else.

Now that I've jumped solo a few times I feel completely fine about it. It's actually kind of fun. I get to do whatever I feel like doing. I can have a plan, or improvise. There is no adjusting my speed of flight for another person. There is no performance anxiety. It's complete freedom actually. I'm glad I am doing it. It has it's place in the grand scheme of things. I can practice important skills. I can just relax and feel the wind. I can learn at my own pace.

But what I'm finding now is that I miss jumping with my sweetheart. Exiting from the plane arm and arm with him is one of the most enjoyable things I have ever experienced. Quite romantic, in theory - indescribable in practice.

So that's what I'm looking forward to the most right now - jumping with Jackson - but it's not because I need to - it's because I want to. And that's the best way to be with somebody.

Skydiving is life - life is skydiving.

I love you baby.

A fish grows wings.....

2007-07-24T18:42:00.000-07:00

Ever since I was a child people in my family called me a fish. Even though I didn't learn the proper way to swim until I was 12, I absolutely loved the water. My favorite dreams were swimming dreams where I was a mermaid able to breathe underwater. I would swim graceful loops through the open water, zip quickly through sea vegetation. I was totally free, without a care, weightless, uninhibited and joyful. Take me to a swimming pool and I was living in that dream world, no matter how small or cold the pool might be. I didn't care what anyone said - the water was my home.

I never understood why my zodiac sign was libra. That is an air sign and I was of the water. I rebelled against what the astrologists said and dubbed myself a pices. Whenever I was bored enough to look up my horoscope I would pass by libra and go strait for the fish.

Now I am getting to know air and the joy of flight. I have skydiving dreams now, to complement the swimming ones. I see air as an extension of water. I am discovering that freedom exists not just in the depths of my feeling waters but in the heights of heaven's light.

When life began on our planet the fish evolved from amoeba, then they grew legs to crawl up on the earth and to follow came wings to fly.

I am evolving now in an exciting way. My fish is leaping from the pond. My fins are turning into wings. But I can become any creature that I want to. These wings will also swim.

First lessons in skydiving

2007-07-21T00:18:00.000-07:00

I am still the same person that I was before I started skydiving. Like anyone I want freedom from that which hurts me, but now I see freedom in a new way. It occurs not in the form of escape from life, but in immersion in it. In freefall I am suspended between the heavens and the earth yet the paradigm of life and death has reversed. Life is in the heavens and death is in the earth. In the sky I exist as my best, most pure self, for I am choosing to live fully and magically but I know that I do this at the risk of death. In this space I am an angel who is wise and bright. I observe, with reverence, that the earth is simultaneously gracious and unforgiving. In this place it all makes sense. I am flying – something I was always told was impossible.

I never thought I would become a skydiver.

For many the word “skydiver” conjures images of brightly-clad adrenaline junkies jumping out of “perfectly good airplanes,” recklessly risking death for a quick thrill. And for some this may be true. But for many I believe that this stereotype is a misconception. The reasons for flying run deeper than that, no matter what color jumpsuit the skydiver wears.

For me this path is a spiritual one. I am jumping because I believe that it is good for my sense of well-being and because I am worthy of it. I believe that I will become a wonderful flier. I believe that my photographic vision will one day extend into the sky. It will take time, but I know that it will happen.

The experience of my initial training was intense, to say the least. It was not fun. It was hard work. My mental and emotional strength were pitted against an incredible task. It was like learning to swim by attending a course about it on dry land and then being thrown into the deep end to do it. I was painfully aware that I could not afford to drift off in this class. For eight hours strait I had to focus on every word that was spoken, digest every concept that was explained to me. Anything less than 100% earned on this test could literally mean the difference between life and death. Half way through the class, as my mind began to stutter and overflow with information I questioned my participation. And my answer to myself was, “I will do this because I believe in it.”

This belief was put to the test when I had a bad fall on my second AFF jump. In no uncertain terms the concrete told me that the danger involved in this sport is very real. I am glad for that lesson. In my first thinking moment after the fall I felt completely resolved to keep skydiving, even as I tasted blood in my mouth. The scrapes and bruises were not terrible. They were an important warning to be careful. The gashes on my first helmet remind me to be thankful for and protective of what I have. These are the only possessions that any of us can really claim - our mind and our bodies. It's funny how something so simple and material, like a helmet, can protect that.

As I continue in skydiving I am making plenty of mistakes and grace escapes me most of the time. I have many aches and pains, but I know that there is a joyful fish inside of me whose fins will soon turn into wings. I had never imagined this before, but it seems not far a leap to take now. This is the same way I felt when I first began as a photojournalist. To those close to me and to myself I would say; “I know I’ve got it in me, it just hasn’t come out yet.”

Blue and Yellow - Reflection on my second skydive

2007-05-11T23:41:00.000-07:00

Blue, blue, blue… blue ocean, blue sky, emotions a contrasting yellow, a bright comet streaking over the earth. In this place there is no past. There is no future. There is no thought of what will be done or has been done. There is only now, wind bursting on your skin, the view, the sensation you feel in the best of your dreams—flight.

Now, your entire being knows that you are alive. Every time that you alight this gift is realized. But what giveth may also taketh away. At its will, your flight could return you to the earth and you will be claimed back from whence you came. Only one truth is for certain. No matter how you live, there will come a day when one breath in will be followed by one breath out and then there will be silence. You are alive now. Will you choose to fly?

I made my second skydive a couple weeks ago, over the Sea of Cortez. Though my first dive was incredible and taught me so much, this dive was all the more inspiring. I think that I'm in love.

My First Skydive - December 19, 2006.

2007-01-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

My desire to sky dive started with my desire for a sky diver.
As a staff photographer at The Bee, I was on assignment in August to cover the annual Burning Man festival. During my time there, I photographed a group of sky divers making a jump over the Nevada playa where the festival takes place in what's called Black Rock City.
From the window, I took photos of the scenery below, of the jumpers being swept out of an open airplane door. Shortly after that, I fell in love with one of them, an Arizona guy named Jason Payne.
And then I wanted to fall out of the sky.
I discovered an adventurous streak within me when I began my photojournalism career seven years ago. Like Dumbo's feather, my camera was a magical tool that allowed me to experience things I wouldn't likely do sans camera.
Empowered by the lens eye, I've done loops in the sky in a World War II plane, hung from the rafters of a baseball stadium, braved hurricanes and dangerous neighborhood streets, all to get a picture. Somehow my camera gave me a sense of confidence and safety.
As for sky diving -- I believed I could do it with my camera but maybe not otherwise.
After photographing Jason's jump, I became enthralled: first with him as a person and then with his job. He has 10 years of experience and more than 2,000 jumps under his belt. Sky diving helped shape him as a person, and I fell for that.
"If you can jump out of an airplane," I said to him in the early days of our relationship, "you can probably do anything."
The adventure wheels in my mind began to turn.
"I want to make a sky dive," I told Jason one day.
Sensing that I only halfway believed myself, he at first balked at the notion. He didn't want me to do it just because of him.
Then, the adventure wheels started moving faster within me. I insisted I wanted to do it for myself. I wanted to do it for the thrill. I wanted to face fear and conquer it. I knew it would change my life -- and it would be all the more powerful without my camera.
After I explained this, Jason agreed to arrange the sky dive.

A decision to look at the blue

I would make the jump at one of the best known drop zones in the world, Skydive Arizona in Eloy, which is midway between Phoenix and Tucson. There he works as a wind tunnel instructor. I learned that, in a short time, practice in a wind tunnel can teach things that otherwise would require many sky dives. But it would be a couple of months before I could get to Arizona to visit him again and make my jump. During the wait, I dreamed night and day about sky diving. I imagined what it would be like standing at the door looking down at the ground with an all-consuming fear.
I had doubts. I am a very emotional person. Would I become overly anxious during the plane ride? Would I hesitate and regret my decision at the door? Would I cry when I landed for having survived such a nerve-racking experience?
Then I made a decision. I would calm my heart as the airplane made its ascent and, most importantly, I would not stand at the door looking down toward the ground.
Toward fear.
I would look straight out into the sky, toward freedom and beauty, toward a new beginning.

Waivers -- and anxiety

The day we were scheduled to make the sky dive was Dec. 17. I had traveled to Arizona and the suspense began to build, especially when we got postponed one day, and then another -- due to unsatisfactory weather.
As a first-time sky diver, I would make what's called a tandem jump. My harness would be strapped to an experienced instructor, Dimitrios Sourlis. Jumping with us would be Jason and a close friend, James Flaherty, nicknamed "The Punisher," who would take photographs.
Before the jump, I sat alone in a classroom. A cheesy video played in the background as I signed on the dotted line. Pages of legally binding documents spelled out the fact that I could be seriously injured or killed during the sky dive.
While such waivers are common for participation in many sports, this one was much more frightening than waivers for my usual activities: yoga and dance.
I also was required to sign away any right to sue. I was informed that, despite the best precautions taken, every piece of equipment, every instructor, every pilot and every airplane was fallible. Jason has witnessed sky diving fatalities and had friends die as a result. This was a real risk -- a risk I accepted as I initialed line after line after line.

Fretting about garb? Good sign

After the sobering waiver experience, I shook off the doom and gloom and joined my instructor for preparations. I donned a white jumpsuit that was tight in the arms and legs but made the rest of my body look like a marshmallow. A part of me was actually concerned about the fit of the suit because I knew my picture would be taken.
"Well, that must be a good sign," I thought. "I must not be too nervous if my vanity is still intact."
I put on a little hat, little gloves and goggles (required). I made sure my shoes were tied.
Then I was given instructions. Dimitrios gave me a pink altimeter to wear on my wrist. It looked like a watch, only it showed elevation.
We would jump from 13,000 feet. I was asked to check the altimeter periodically and, at 6,000 feet, I should reach back to his hip to locate a handle. At 5,000 feet, I was to pull it, deploying the parachute.
More-experienced sky divers can wait until they're 2,000 to 3,000 feet from the ground to pull. On the altimeter, the altitude between zero and 2,500 feet was marked in red, but this red zone was much more serious than the red zone on a tachometer.
Looking at the altimeter, I decided to push the fear out of my mind. I chose instead to have faith: that the equipment, my instructor and fellow jumpers would pull me through.

Get ready, get set ...

Finally, I was ready.
After a short tram ride, I climbed into a small airplane with nearly two dozen other jumpers. There was a long bench in the plane, and we were packed in tightly, wearing seat-belts.
I was the only first-time jumper in the group, and while everyone else made small talk, I stayed quiet. I kept checking the altimeter. I kept wondering when I should put my goggles on.
The plane ride seemed to take forever. I took stock of my mood. Surprisingly, my breath was slow. My heart rate was up but not racing.
When my altimeter read 13,000, the plane door opened. One by one, the line of sky divers leaped out before me. I was strapped tightly to Dimitrios, a tightness that I found comforting.
Before I knew it, I was at the door. The moment had arrived. In a fraction of a second, Punisher and Jason were out, and with a calm face, I did exactly what I had planned. I looked straight out into the sky.
I jumped.
It did not feel like a jump. It felt like being hit from the side by a solid wall of air. I remember screaming with pleasure and that it was like nothing I had ever experienced or imagined.
After reaching what skydivers call "terminal velocity," or the final rate of speed -- more than 100 mph -- I did not experience the sensation of falling. It is the acceleration, or change in speed, that causes that sinking feeling.
I quickly found myself in free fall, and it was glorious. All I felt and heard was wind, strong wind pushing past me. For the first time, I was flying out in the open sky. I looked all around, laughing and smiling.
Jason flew up to me, grabbed my hands, kissed me and then let go. I stretched my arms straight out to wave at Punisher. My instructor made us spin to the right. When that stopped, I made us spin to the left.
Before I knew it, Dimitrios motioned toward the altimeter. We had reached 6,000 feet.
"Already!" I thought.
I grudgingly reached for the handle and paused. I was having so much fun I didn't want to pull the parachute, but, obviously, I did.
With a pull, a flap and a jerk, I found myself floating. All was quiet except for the "shhhh" of the open canopy, and for the first time I looked down.
I swung my feet back and forth like a child. I marveled at how far up in the sky I was. I felt like I had discovered a wondrous secret. So beautiful. So peaceful. So magical. It was a world accessible only to the few willing to take a leap.
Dimitrios pointed out the parachutes of Jason and Punisher that had opened below us. He had me take the toggles and steer the parachute left and right. As we turned, we would make a dive and pick up speed before the parachute returned to its natural flight.
Shortly after, Dimitrios returned me safely to Earth with an expert landing on our feet. It ended all too soon.
Now on the ground and reunited with Jason, I thanked Dimitrios and Punisher. But I was confused. My composure was almost nonchalant.
The experience felt so natural that it was almost anticlimactic. I wasn't giddy with excitement. I wasn't overflowing with emotion. I hadn't felt any profound change. I didn't quite know what to make of it except that I wanted to do it again.

Awakened to the possibilities

The effects of the experience seem to manifest in layers.
I quickly decided that I wanted to get my sky-diving license. I am not sure why I want to sky dive so much and, strangely, that is a big part of its pull for me. I had glimpsed a mystery that I would have to visit many more times to understand.
I can barely recall the feeling of the exit. I want the experience of sky diving to be indelibly imprinted in my mind. It had been so fleeting, I wasn't able to grab on hard enough.
Later, I began to think of all the other things I could do: scuba diving and rock climbing. I could traverse new areas of photojournalism by shooting from the sky.
I can do anything I am compelled to do. After all, I just jumped out of an airplane.
But the jump itself did not give me that power. Sky diving did not teach me how to fly. It showed me that I already knew how.
Dumbo doesn't need her feather anymore.