My Non Skydive – A Privileged View
It’s Sunday. It’s 8.30am. I’m in a field. I can hear birdsong, a tannoy (voices speaking in tongues. Well, OK, the phonetic alphabet) & the sound of a flapping wind sock.
Not for the first time in my life, I’m wondering what I’m doing & how I got here.
30 minutes later, hot cup of coffee in hand, and I begin to tune in. People have gathered together. It’s a critical mass of jumpsuits & I’m intrigued.
Music is playing and the jumpsuits are becoming visibly pumped, anticipation building and being emitted in waves that I, a muggle non skydiver, can pick up too. It’s an inclusive wave, a sort of low frequency magnetism.
And given we’re all in a field & the sun is starting to peak through the clouds and the birds are still singing, it’s an odd combination of vast, steady, calm nature & adrenalin.
There’s no ego.
There’s a lot of canvas.
People are going to leap out of a plane. They’re going to freefall. Very quickly.
Then they’re going to float back down to this field; just them, the sky, the aforementioned canvas and a view they will be so privileged to see.
It’s another contrast, and one that the friend I’m here to visit has talked about with such infectious joy that you’d have to be made of stone not to be moved by it. Everything about this is abstract to me.
Bordering on barmy. And I feel very happy to be here.
Because, let’s face it, being party to this sort of collective rush is a wonderful thing.
And somehow, being a very welcomed outsider, I have my own privileged view.