controlled risk

What started as a casual skydiving discussion between my roommate and I ended with planning a spontaneous trip upstate. A couple of weeks later, Janelle and I were at a skydiving ranch in Upstate New York about to jump out of a plane. The following is a picture journey from the ground all the way up to 13,000 feet and back down again. Safely.

My death-mobile: the Freefall Express

What am I doing?!

Here's the crew as we head up to 13,000 feet... Janelle is a bit unsure about her

decision-making skills.

Nick and I about to jump....this is me freaking out and questioning MY decision-making skills.

THE JUMP!!

All's good here!

I don't think I could even tell if I was screaming. I think I was.

A whole new meaning to chubby cheeks

One of the world's most awkward photos.

Freefall is over and the chute comes out...

And we're back on the ground!

I'm alive! Thanks to Nick, best tandem jumper ever

A bit frazzled and windblown, but we're all alive and well!

As I reflected on my first jump, I realized that I like controlled risks in my life. I'll move 1,500 miles away from a small town in the South to New York City, but only because I have the safety net of family and friends there. Skydiving is a perfect, tangible representation of that. I will jump out of a plane and fall 13,000 feet, but only because I know that I am strapped to a professional and it's been done by thousands of people before me. Perhaps it's the perfect mix of knowing I'm safe but doing something wild at the same time.

And I'm ready to jump again!

blankets of petals

The cherry blossom trees of Prospect Park joyfully introduced me to a new season of life.

Hello there Spring!

bye bye summertime

So, the summer has come to a close. It's the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. The flowers will begin to fade and the leaves will drift down to the ground. The spring and summer that represents growth and new life will pass into the fall and winter of hibernation. It's the natural human tendency to become sedantary when the chill of the winter slows down the blood in our veins and the snow makes each of our steps heavy. Does that mean that we stop growing? And do we put our lives on hold? New York has a way of speeding us up and causing us to constantly move, even when we want to be still. But is it in the right direction? Do we move just because we are shoved by the crowd? And where are they pushing us? How fast can we go before we have to slow down? Hopefully the push of New York is not greater than the pull of the winter and we can actually slow down and reflect. We can be still and listen when the world seems quiet. When snow covers the ground, there is a hush over the city. And it is a needed hush. I want to be quiet and listen to the still, small voice in my soul that is constantly calling me. It is what pushes me in the right direction. Let me listen to this Voice rather than the push of the city and the people and the rush of life. If I hibernate, let it be a time to reflect on my life and listen to the Voice that doesn't want me to stay still. I have to be moving if I want to be directed.