I’m on month six of my solo travels around the world and am spending two weeks in the Italian island of Sardinia. My first week has been filled with small pleasures like eating unwashed cherry tomatoes straight from the hands of market seller, successfully navigating the island’s bus system alone, and sharing a bottle of red wine with Italian strangers.
I’m very lucky to have a family friend who lives here and kindly extended an invite to come visit his hometown of Cagliari. His name is Giulio. He’s an athlete and addicted to adrenaline. His latest obsessed is skydiving. He jumps 4-9 times every weekend.
When he initially mentioned the idea of me skydiving with him, I immediately scoffed it off. Hell NO. As the imminent weekend inched closer and Giulio spoke of his plans to skydive, my mind had been unchanged. I mean a commercial plane crashed last freaking weekend. I would be crazy if I voluntarily tried to kill myself 4,000 meters in the air.
But as I heard him talk about the feeling of flying, letting go of all your thoughts and worries in the air, and the incredible safety of it, something shifted inside of me.
One of the goals of my world travels and work break this year was to push myself out of my comfort zone. Throwing myself out of a plane was precisely that.
The wheels in my mind were churning, and so was my stomach the morning after downing three drinks at a club the night before and sleeping five hours. Being hungover skydiving sounds like hell… but this was my only opportunity. My head pounded in the 90 degree 11am Sardinian heat. As we arrived to the skydiving base I was greeted by gregarious middle aged Italian men all seemingly called Gianmarco, Filipo and Francesco strapped to parachutes and wearing colorful jumpsuits. I was waiting for my doppio espresso to kick in.
It was 11:15am and I wasn’t yet committed. I told myself I’d watch some people go up in the plane and jump and then make up my mind. But Valentino, the owner, put my name on the white board as soon as he saw me. “You’re going in 40 minutes.”
Cazzo.
After a quick lay-down and chugging the Italian equivalent of Gatorade I was approached by my tandem pilot. “Bella, here’s your harness. Hurry we go now.”
“But I don’t even know if I want to go… I need to pee… I haven’t paid… Can I bring my water? I can’t take off all my jewelry. What if it gets caught on something?”
“No, you come now.”
Va bene, Filipo. Va bene.
There were 10 of us packed into a tiny toy-like plane like some Sardinian sardines. There were no seats. Someone was literally sitting on top of me.
This is definitely not safe. This is a terrible idea.
But before I had the chance to think about what the hell was happening, and what I was about to do clearly, we had ascended into the air. The loud buzzing sound of the plane mixed with the gust of air from the open door were enough to silence my anxiety — at least for a few minutes. Which is exactly the amount of time I needed before I was back safe on the ground. God willing.
I said a little prayer and my protection mantra, and then there I was mouth agape, eyes sealed shut, hanging off the side of the plane waiting for Filipo to let go.
And then he did.
There I was free falling through the air at 250 mph, clenching every muscle in my body, screaming while trying not to let my lungs combust from all the cold air.
But through the screams and my stomach summersaulting inside my throat, I was breaking the biggest smile.
I fell for one minute, 2500 meters down until Filipo pulled the parachute at 1500 meters. Then I was gliding, looking out into the Mediterranean Sea, the dark and light perfectly rectangular patches of green, and trees that looked like bunches of broccoli.
It was just me and this big, beautiful world — and of course a small bald Italian man strapped to me.
How lucky am I?
As I landed safely to the ground, I was surprised at how smooth and safe it was. I mean of course there are risks, but when you’re diving with someone who has jumped 3,000 times, you are certainly going to live. I kissed the ground and slowly found the mobility in my legs again. The churning in my stomach had resumed, this time not from last night’s Aperol Spritz’, but from my stomach dislodging from my throat and finding it’s normal position.
Holy shit. I just did that. And you know what? I would definitely do it again.
As I reflect on my experience I think about the learnings from this incredible, short but powerful experience.
Don’t think so much. If you allow yourself to ruminate on worst case scenarios and overthink pros and cons, you are in big trouble and most likely will talk yourself out of it. I didn’t have enough time to think about it seriously once I considered it, and when the natural fear surfaced I couldn’t back out — which in hindsight was a gift.
Push yourself out of your comfort zone. When you stop doing so a little part of you dies. Those challenges we go through, whether by choice or not, stimulate our cognitive function and help us grow as human beings. Who wants to live a stagnant, safe and predictable life?
Trust the experts. I had my full faith in Filipo even though I met him ten minutes before I was strapped to him in the air. I trusted the plane’s pilot with my life for those few minutes ascending to the drop point. And finally, I had faith that I would be safe because they said so. Why fight it? It’s more energy to criticize, challenge and question than it is to surrender, think with your gut, and breath.
You’re preparing yourself for physical trauma. Falling out of the sky is not a natural experience for your body, but by doing so you’re training yourself for any and all kinds of trauma you might endure in the future. The shock builds layers of resilience, and with it comes a sense of calm that will be your life-long armor, ready to protect you during life’s most unpredictable moments.
Let go. Release the inner voice that resists and creates fear-based narratives to keep you safe. Sometimes the hardest part is letting go because those narratives are all you know and that familiarity is comforting, even if they’re destructive. Sometimes you need a small bald Italian man to let go for you. Hey, whatever get’s the job done, right?
I hope this article inspires you to push yourself out of your comfort zone. Whether that is talking to a stranger at the dog park, going to a salsa class by yourself, or throwing yourself out of a plane. Trust me, you won’t regret it.
Sending all the best from Italia! Gratzie for reading.
India
The best things in life are surely on the other side of your comfort zone. So awesome!!!
Don’t think, just do!! 🪂🪂
You paint a great picture and bring back butterflies from when I jumped! 👏🏼👏🏼