My friend Leslie and I met at a personal training conference in 2007. That 4 day training would end up being one of the most emotional, difficult and memorable experiences of my life. Another girl in our group worked in advertising and she told us they had traded a client's advertising for tandem paragliding rides and we should come too. Being newly self actualized beings, we'd experienced some recent radical shifts in our perceptions. For the first time in my life, I thought “I can do this” and the dream of flying seemed truly possible.
By the time nature cooperated and provided the right conditions for our first tandem flights, we were already certified paragliding “para waiters”. We'd been to the mountain 3 times and every time the winds had come too strong or too light or too west and our flights had been canceled. So the initial terror of stepping off a 300 foot cliff had been all but forgotten. It came roaring back to life as Jonathan, my tandem pilot, announced “it's a go” and began loading me into the harness.
I'm terrified of heights. Ask my kids. Our fun little adventure to Dead Horse Point near Moab one summer turned into a nightmare as I bottle-necked the road with my little Jeep, traffic piling up in both directions. I hadn't realized I was driving across a cliff with shear drop offs a million feet down that narrowed to about 8 feet wide on both sides until it was too late. Eventually the rangers got my white knuckled grip off the steering wheel, moved us out of the way and got us safely back to the visitor's center. I remember distinctly being invited to “not try that again”.
I'd heeded that sage advice for years. But here I was, assuming the position, (swan dive) walking calmly to the lip of the drop-off fully intent on stepping into thin air. It was pure insanity. With nothing but carabeiners connecting me to my pilot, fishing line connecting him to our wing and one monstrosity of a kite effortlessly jerking us around in anticipation of taking flight, we slowly made our way towards the edge. Jonathan's assistant thankfully stood beside me, holding me to the ground
We are told all our lives to find a firm footing, keep our feet on the ground, build a strong foundation. Strangely, all the things that had ever hurt me in life, had happened on the ground while I tried to be that grounded, stable person that was expected of me. Maybe it wasn't the best advice to listen to. Maybe getting our feet free and off the ground is a better goal. Maybe being grounded is just like it was when we were kids, a bad thing. I think having the ability to go airborne in moments of crisis and despair, having the ability to launch yourself free of preconceived notions and expectations would be a much more advantageous position from which to address the inevitable disappointments and perceived failures that life holds for us all.
The Point of the Mountain in Draper, Utah is a geographically oddity that produces some of the best paragliding/hangliding conditions in the world. A tall, bumpy ridge born of the sandy remnant of the ancient Lake Bonneville is skirted by the Wasatch Bench with a modest height of about 300 feet. That bench is a staging area for take off and landing and then by flying back and forth across the face, when the conditions are just right, a paraglider can achieve enough height to “bench up” and take advantage of the lift along the taller ridge and reach altitudes of 2,000 feet off the valley floor or higher.
For my tandem, my friend Matt was flying with us and he was benching up behind us as I got my first experience of the peaceful, transcending feeling this sport allows. Suddenly, just like that, I was now one with all those people I had envied for most of my life growing up in Salt Lake City.
Being that far off the ground with no noise, exposed to the elements (birds flying close enough to touch), gives you an amazing perspective. It diminishes the overwhelming bearing of problems and worries. It feels like breathing again for the first time after holding your breath for a very long time. It is a tranquility I still find impossible to put into adequate words.
Off on my left, Matt began swinging back and forth. “Can we do that?” I asked Jonathan, and he explained “wing overs”. We began the rhythm of leaning back and forth, pulling and pushing like a little kid on a swing set and soon the wing was rocking ahead and behind us in an ever increasing arch.
Matt pulled into a spin and began rapidly descending. “Can we do that?” “You have to promise not to barf.” “Absolutely”! And with that we angled into a tight turn and the world began circling faster and faster, the G force shocking me, the ground rising quickly, the world, the wing, Jonathan and I all rushing towards impact. It was exhilarating and I was screaming, laughing, and struggling not to puke the entire ride down.
Jonathan gently pulled out of the spin and we turned over the parking lot and back into the wind to land and reconnect with terra firma. There was Leslie visiting with our friends. Jonathon guided us barely over her head as we swooped low over them. He flared and we lowered until my toes gently touched down and it was over. Nothing like anything I could have imagined.
I have a saying written on a little card that my mom gave me before she died. It reads “If you are ever faced with two seemingly equal choices, always go with the bolder choice.” It took me most of my life to get to a place were I would understand that idea at the deeper level I think she was trying to share with me. Looking back I see all the opportunities I had in life that I walked away from, not because I didn't want them, I did, I wanted them badly. But I passed them by because of my fear, my expectations of a bad outcome, my lack of belief in myself.
“The most important decision we make,” declared Albert Einstein, “is whether we believe we live in a friendly or a hostile universe.” Trying to create indestructible static footings in a universe that is dynamic and constantly moving hasn't panned out in my experience. There is nothing guaranteed to be forever, unbreakable, without pain. And the expectation of having the wall hold firmly when the flood hits left me time and time again, struggling for breath under water while still in the shock of trying to figure out how bad things could happen when I was supposed to be safe, when I had taken the prescribed measures.
Reality is, life is constantly changing, people are messy and even your favorites are going to disappoint you some times. Things break, storms come, the worst thing you could imagine sometimes happens and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Rather it is our perception of what happens and our constant comparison of what was supposed to be and what really occurred that does us in.
Leana Horne said, “It isn't our burdens in life, it's how we carry them”. And for me that has turned out to be unquestionable truth. When I let go of my expectations I am usually given more than I wanted. I believe it is a loving supportive universe that we live in. I believe even our greatest disappointments move us to places we somehow are asking to be taken. Becoming your greatest rendition of yourself calls for letting go of the ground, even free falling sometimes, flying.
Leslie and I went into that weekend's seminar training ready to brag up a storm. Proud of ourselves and each other and the fact that we had faced a fear and not only beaten it but willing signed up for the P2 certification program. We would fly! “That's fantastic”, said our trainer. “But wait till you see what you're doing tonight. It will blow your mind.” He was right. Walking on fire is pretty cool too.
