Skydiving has been calling for years. The desire to free fall into space to affirm life.
As the plane flew up to kiss the clouds and beyond, I sat next to the open door, looking out onto the cotton candy shapes and the never ending expanse of breathtaking blue. I could feel how alive and sentient everything was. This was not 'dead' space but pure delighted consciousness desiring to commune
And when I was free-falling through space, rocketing to the ground in the embrace of gravity? My arms were held by gossamer strings of love, each spun by an angel that exulted in my celebration of this human life. I was, I am safe in the arms of my eternal self. Loved. Held. Supported.
After a night of deep rest, I woke the next day in a space of stillness. Peace. I felt utterly surrendered within my own self. I realized that the act of jumping into space had transformed places inside of me where I had as yet to surrender. Places that had been holding tight to story and identity, to a lack of fluidity in understanding this human-cosmic dance. Places that were in a holding pattern of one kind or another, not endlessly morphing into their next becoming, surrendering into their next versions of themselves.
As I lay there, reveling in the feel of this still sacred spaciousness within, there was a new tactile awareness in the molecules around me allowing for an exquisite experience of the soft embrace of the mattress against the velvet of my skin.
And, I could feel the deep and utter fatigue that was arising. As I let go, the holding patterns that had sunk into my very bones dissolved, rising to the surface to be gently washed away. It was a new day. I was, I am, more of myself.
I continue to find my feet in this new space. The ripples of that day are still unfolding and integrating, and I can simultaneously feel new possibilities arising in my future as a result of my choice to jump into the sky.
I altered the fabric of my reality and the wave is never-ending.