I was a person who avoided ledges and balconies at all costs and named my worst fear as falling from great heights. So what finally possessed me to step out my comfort zone into thin air, that is, to jump out of an airplane at 3000 feet? The overriding thrill of a good story, I guess. I was a journalist at my first full-time job after my University of Missouri years. In the office of the Canton (IL) Daily Ledger, I overheard the owner of a sky-diving business tell my boss that he would pay for jump school if a reporter would do a story about the experience.
I volunteered before common sense took over. I was schooled on the body mechanics of landing: bending my knees, like springs, rather than keeping them ramrod straight. We practiced on scaffolding before the flight. I knew that my instructor would jump out of the place with me, automatically pulling the ripcord at the right time. But the fear factor was still high when I looked down from the door of the plane at the countryside below. I closed my eyes and jumped. The reward: Fifteen seconds of free fall. Utter quiet. The feeling of complete weightlessness. I felt like an angel with wings, completely fearless. I sang “Up, Up and Away” for the sheer joy of it.
I landed, safely, and immediately became aware of all the encumbrances of being earthbound. But I also found that I could revisit the experience of traveling light and living free. The memory of sky-diving still prompts me to problem-solve rather than problem-stew. By overcoming my fear of heights, I found courage to face other daunting fears head-on.
STORY CIRCLE QUESTION: When did you step out of your comfort zone?
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