My name is Sarah, and I’m a skydiver. Well, I’ve done it once, but once is all it takes to stake that claim. Skydiving connects our most primal and instinctual drive to…well, stay alive, with our equally visceral, and distinctly human drive to explore and to transcend. I remember, with vivid clarity, climbing onto the tiny four-seater plane and holding onto the feeble seatbelt with clenched white knuckles. The deafening hum of the engine helped to conceal the sound of my voice as I muttered a few lines of a prayer to someone, who seemingly felt closer with each mile of elevation. The air around me felt eerily cooler as we continued to climb.

Is this really a good idea?

I imagined what my obituary would look like, the news stories, the relatives mumbling about what a waste it was…

What if something goes wrong? What if something fails?

Suddenly, with a nod from the pilot, it was time. It was time to stand up and step to the platform.

How can I get out of this? Can I get out of this?

Like Libra’s scale, the hefty weight of every decision that I had made up to that point landed with each timid footstep towards that twenty-four-inch platform that hovered 15,000 feet in space. Whether I had done it all wrong or all right, didn’t matter at that moment. What mattered was that I was about to take a step into an unknown. Would it be bliss? Would it be a chaotic plunge to the end? I was about to freefall and there was no comfort in the unknown.

We’ve all found ourselves there at some point in our lives. Sometimes we find ourselves there often. We’re standing at a decision point, at a journey’s turn, at a fork in the road, and we need to make a decision. We simply need to step onto the platform.

Do you have a goal? I’ve had many, however, life circumstances have guided my decisions from relationships to career choices. I’ve found that I’ve failed both many times over. When I was a child, I wanted to be a meteorologist. I would watch The Weather Channel and take notes about cold fronts and low-pressure systems, while my friends watched cartoons. Yes, I was “that” kid.

I also wanted to be a rockstar. I picked up the guitar at 14 and never put it down. I’ve learned about 8 chords. Yes, the rockstar meteorologist. My childhood had its unique challenges, and ultimately, I ended up marrying young and divorcing young. I had daughters. My career choices were brought by necessity as opposed to preference, and here I am, living in an eccentrically charming town in Pennsylvania and working in finance. And quite honestly, I’ve learned to love it, the way the partners in an arranged marriage grow to have an affinity towards each other. It’s not a romantic or glamorous story, but I feel like there’s some success in being a woman, a mother, in mid-level management at a small bank in a small town driving a Subaru to work every morning. Right? Maybe. But to me, there’s a larger goal. My goal in my life, as well as my career, is to learn to honor the flight, you know, the ascent. I want to honor the fear, the chaos, the unknown, and be willing to see what is waiting after the jump when I open my eyes.

I’m hoping that through my words, we can talk about those moments before we have to step onto the platform. I’ve stood on a lot of platforms, and through a few successes and a lot of failures, I’ve learned some things that I’d like to share with you because maybe you’re about to step up to your own platform.

The freefall was ethereal. The momentum stirred my brain so violently that I thought I was going to faint. I couldn’t make out a landscape, all I saw were colors. Green of trees, blue of sky, brown of earth, all moving closer as I tumbled towards them. It was like a dream. I only heard the rush of the air and didn’t have time to feel fear. Then at once, all according to the plan, I pulled the line and the parachute opened. It all became clear. I could make out hills and buildings and cars. Clarity came back and the journey felt different. I was able to be present, and then…I landed.

Right now, regardless of where you are, take some time to honor your flight. Listen to the questions that the universe is begging of you. Maybe it will go according to plan, but perhaps it won’t. Honor the ascent. Sometimes the lesson comes from the freefall, but most times it comes from the rise.

-SF