One Small Step For Bradley

After you've willingly exited an airplane flying at ten thousand feet, much of the rest of your day seems rather boring.

Such was my day, Monday, October 11th, 2010. After my dear friend, Josh Lozoff, took me to skydive as a gift for my impending fortieth birthday, I spent the rest of the afternoon fantasizing about doing it again, and again, and again.  Never before have I experienced the complete zen, whole mind-a-blank wonder that filled me from head to toe as I rocketed out of the Cessna aircraft and sped to earth at 170 feet per second. Once I stopped screaming, I realized how extremely happy I was. That the Earth was clearly getting nearer made my comfort even bigger. I am in the hand of God, a time-rift without decided conclusion. Do i live or die? What bliss to know these feelings at least once before I smash into the Earth.

But the 'chute did work. I did slowly and gracefully float like a little wind-drifted balloon, back to the ground.

Some have called this a rash, selfish act. I am a father and a husband. These are my life's work, and I take them very seriously. My rebuttal is simply this: we take risks daily. Getting in an automobile and joining faceless thousands upon our highways is more of a crap shoot than working with a professional skydiver. Climbing a cliff, relying on my knowledge and ability is much safer than choosing to enter traffic at any given time of day.  In addition, traffic, cars, and faceless drivers seem to detract from the sanctity of my daily life, not give solace, or provide me with an immediate experience with the miraculous. Perhaps I'm not looking close enough. I'm too busy driving.

In the thirty five seconds of free fall, I knew something akin to complete peace and spiritual understanding that has only increased my ability to be a present and loving partner and parent.  That, to me, is not only important, but in my life, absolutely necessary.

Plus, it was cool.