I had one of those moments earlier this year. We were 6 friends spending 4th of July weekend in Cornell, New York. I woke up one morning to find a mother-child deer pair, warm sunlight, flowers and green grass poking through my window. We made our plans, got out of bed and decided to go gorge jumping.
For those of you who don't know...a gorge is rather like a small valley. It fills up with water during summer when the snow melts, or with heavy rains and then there's a lake at the bottom. One can climb atop the hill and plunge straight down. Ergo, gorge jumping.
It is mostly illegal in Cornell. If the lake isn't deep enough or the mountains are too high, gorge jumping can be fatal. We decided that we would have to do it anyway - but in order to minimise our chances of death, we picked a gorge that was somewhat commercial and certifiably deep.
Walking a plank and looking down almost twice your height is quite a rush. A flickering fear that is allayed by a shot of adrenaline. I was paralysed for a moment and then suddenly I knew the moment had come. I took a deep breathe and plunged straight down.
I knew what it felt like to fly for a few seconds. Those seconds were filled with a lightness of being and a sense of freedom that was complete. Perhaps fear crinkled around the edges, but before it could crystallise, I hit the water and felt the air cap up my lungs. I won't lie, it hurts a little bit -- the impact. And then there is the immersion in to cold cold water. Hitting your body like a million bricks. But the very same cold awakening the awareness of your warm body, its chest moving through each breath - up and down, up and down.
Soaring, flying. Living on the clouds, moving through the air, with gravity as your best friend. What an incredible high!
