The following post is originally a comment I left on Freedom Guerrilla, but I thought it deserved a place here too.
While paragliding yesterday my wing suffered a collapse. Falling through empty space for a few seconds before it re-inflated was terrifying. Death’s door is not tempting at all. It’s scary. I had a great flight in strong, active conditions, but once again the Great Teacher reminded me that titanic forces can rip me apart in an instant. After 90 minutes of big air, clenched abs and busy hands, I touched down in the LZ, exhilarated, humbled, and thrashed. The first thing I noticed was existence itself — little yellow flowers, warm green grass, and solid earth beneath my feet. I realized I was safely back on the ground, breathing the same air that moments before could have taken my life. Around me people talked and laughed in the sun while a brown dog barked at humans in the sky. I packed up my gear and drove back to Seattle, grateful to fly another day.