After retiring from skydiving, I often reminisce about the thoughts that occupied my mind during the ride to altitude. Picture a scorching summer day with a massive airplane at the runway's end, its propeller thundering loudly. As 22 skydivers squeeze into the cramped space, we find spots on the hot floor. Once the plane takes off, we embark on a 15-minute journey to reach 13,500 feet, sitting uncomfortably close, creating a unique bond among us.
As we ascend, the diminishing oxygen levels make us tired and anxious. The monotonous drone of the engines and reduced oxygen often lull us into a state between sleep and semi-awareness. In those moments, I would often think these could be my final moments on Earth. Despite the fear, contemplating non-existence never truly grasps its reality.
Years later, I reflect on how that experience could enhance my meditation, self-awareness, and relaxation. The stark contrast between sitting in that airplane 18 years ago and my current state is striking. The past version of me, taking audacious risks, feels foreign now, but I'm grateful for those experiences. They allow me to reflect on existence, non-existence, and the immense stress I felt.
Even back then, I instinctively used deep breathing exercises to relax. I subjected myself to extreme pressure to reach a point where I can now find balance, remain calm, and focus, even when faced with overwhelming fear. I cherish this life deeply and will do everything in my power to prolong my presence. When my time comes, I'll be saddened, but only for a moment, until I transition into the next phase or experience the nothingness that follows death.
In the realm of time and space, true time doesn't exist. There is only consciousness observing the mind's fluctuations. Yet, our physical bodies and their needs entangle us in life's drama. The game is to keep ourselves alive, calm through the storm, and persevere through challenges. This is the path of self-mastery.
