Skydiving Over Siquijor, Philippines by Tim Ghazzawi:
When a plane door opens, one normally hopes the plane is on the ground. That wouldn’t be the case this time, I thought, as I listened to my instructor repeat the same set of steps three times over: “Hands on straps. Head back. Hips forward. Legs back. And we fall.” We were practicing for my upcoming skydive, attempting to simulate what would happen 10,000 feet in the air while standing firmly on the ground. His instructions were simple but my head and heart weren’t doing well. My body position wouldn’t matter if the parachute didn’t open, and that was all I could think about.
Earlier that day, I’d visited an old tree. The oldest tree, in fact, on the island of Siquijor. Legend has it that a kind spirit lives inside its massive, knotted trunk. The tree looked like five trees in one, as if the original trunk had swallowed its neighbors whole. Its tangled root system buried deep into the ground and crawled upward like a nest of snakes. I was told that the spirit gave visitors good luck. As I circled my way around the tree, I noticed money tucked into its branches and vines. It seemed that people had been desperate. Perhaps they’d been fellow skydivers who hoped the spirit could be bribed. I regretted not having small bills to spare.
From the outside, the plane looked small. On the inside, it felt impossibly smaller. Only the pilot had a seat. I sat on the metal floor in front of my instructor and felt him tighten my jacket straps. The island shrunk beneath me as the plane climbed higher and higher. The tiniest shakes left and right felt like the tremors of an oncoming earthquake and my heartbeat failed to find a steady rhythm. We climbed and climbed without saying much, my instructor and I. He reminded me of the steps and asked how I was feeling. I could barely hear him over the engine and the swirling doubts in my head. But then the door snapped open. Wind whooshed inside the plane’s hull. And it was time for me to jump.
In the moments before the dive, my feet dangled outside of the plane’s open door. I stared into the clouds beneath me and I remember feeling something I hadn’t felt in a long time: present. My anxieties released into the air and I was confronted by the new singular focus in front of me. Things were simple. My entire world was ocean blue. The wind was deafening and I heard no other noise. Until my instructor shouted into my ear, 3… 2… 1… and I did just as I thought I’d forgotten: Hands on straps. Head back. Hips forward. Legs back. And we fell. And I smiled the whole way down.
