I was asked once why I do what I do.
I do what I do because I like it, because of the incommensurable, powerful emotion of being alive that it produces me. This feeling is what I look for. It does not matter what happens around me; once I am on that plane, everything stops in an eternal ephemeral second of pure happiness.
There is a perfection that touches the core of my soul and makes me want to cry. I want to cry of joy. It is a feeling so powerful that the closer I get to the door of the plane, the more intense it gets. It is almost as if my heart is exploding… and… then… I let myself fall out of the flying machine. For a few moments I stop breathing… It is me and the whole world underneath my body.
I start to feel the strong breeze caressing my face violently. I can barely breath and I love it. I look around me. It is just me falling down out of control. I rotate, open my arms, accelerate, decelerate,… The ground seems far, far away. It seems to never get closer, ever.
There is this god-like perfection in front of my eyes. My whole being unites with the universe. I turn my back to Earth and I look to the centre of the Galaxy. Eye to eye. I extend my eyes trying to reach out to the Universe.
No answer. I will try again next time.
Turn back. Open parachute.
Smile.
This is why I do what I do. It is not about the money. It is not a job. It is my dream.
Not everyone can say they live their dreams.
Smile.