Dives into Life

To bungee-jump, you either commit yourself to the idea or get talked into it by a friend. (For me, it was the latter. I arrived in New Zealand ready and willing to do almost all the adventures available - cave-diving, sailing, swimming with dolphins, hiking, camping, sky-diving, kayaking, river-rafting...but not bungee-jumping. I met a woman who befriended me and, over two days and two liters of wine, convinced me to do it with her.)

So when you arrive at the site, you are weighed (to determine the appropriate strength bungee cord to use) and that number is written in large digits on the back your hand (so much for keeping that information private!) You ask whatever questions you might need answered before proceeding. If the answers seem sufficiently satisfying, you decide whether or not you want to pay for pictures and a video of the experience. When you've paid your requisite fee, you make your way out onto the bridge (that was my case; it could also be a lift to the top of a tower or something of the sort).
 
You walk to the center of the bridge and congregate with other jumpers. When your turn arrives, you sit down with legs outstretched so an expert can wrap your legs with a towel, then wrap a rope around the towel, then clip a bungee cord to the rings on the rope, then adjust the bungee cord length given your height and how close you state you want to come to the water. If you're like me, you ask the expert a barrage of questions to better understand the nature of what you're getting yourself into.... What's the fatality rate on this bridge? What are the safety precautions taken to insure the cord doesn't snap/break/come loose? How long have you been working here (i.e., do you really know what you're doing?) How many people chicken out at the last minute and decide not to jump? And so on.

When preparations and safety testing are complete, you are helped to your feet. You then hop to the edge so your toes are off the bridge. You may experience a moment or two of vertigo at this stage because the reality of what you are about to has sunk in when you see the river below, about a hundred feet beneath your toes. You turn, smile and wave at the camera, then jump.

Okay, so then here's what happens:

You freefall towards the river below, feeling unencumbered and untethered - the rope is slack at this point and uncoiling until it reaches its maximum stretch. You open your eyes at some point, not realizing that you had ever closed them, and see the earth receding from you - this is when you are bouncing back up to about 75% of your initial fall. You freefall again towards the river below; this time, the sensation isn't as sickening because you have some knowledge of the experience. Again, you bounce back up to 75% of the previous fall.
The fall and recoil continue a few more times and, if you care to take notice, the sensations in your stomach and head become less tumultuous and scary, perhaps even a bit pleasant.

Ultimately, you end up hanging upside down by your legs, swaying back and forth while you await the guy in the boat to come to you, assist you out of your predicament and ferry you to the shore.

Sky-Diving

As for sky-diving; again, you either decide to do it or you get convinced by someone else. (For me, it was the former, no question. I had been wanting to experience the sensation of flying since I was four years old and sky-diving, hand-gliding, parasailing and other such sports seemed the closest ways to realize such a dream).

Your lesson begins with safety, learning how the equipment works (airplane, jumpsuit, and parachute) and how to stay calm and survive if something malfunctions. You put on your jumpsuit and parachute and practice on the ground; you practice jumping out of the airplane, practice pulling the ripcord of your parachute and practice landing on the ground.

When you're comfortable with your preparation and your instructors agree that you're ready, you climb into the cabin of the airplane and sit as comfortably as possible while the plane taxis, takes off and ascends to the requisite height. At the designated time, you make your way to the open door, holding on to the door frame as your feet dangle outside. When you're ready, you take a deep breath (and offer a prayer if that's your inclination) and push yourself out.

Okay, so then here's what happens:

Your body falls horizontally towards the world from 15000 feet to 5000 feet in 30 seconds; at 5000 feet, you pull the ripcord on your parachute (or the second cord if the first, God forbid, fails to respond) to stop freefalling and are immediately yanked to a vertical position.

At this point your experience shifts from a rapid descent to a gentle approach towards the earth. As you cover the last 5000 feet in about 5 minutes, you have the opportunity to admire the beauty of the day, the landscape from horizon to horizon and life on the planet. (I jumped in Nelson, New Zealand, so I had the joy of experiencing a clear spring day, the plains and farms beneath me, the Abel Tasman National Park in all its verdant glory in front of me and the South Pacific Ocean to my right.) 

Finally, you alight like a feather upon the ground, letting the parachute guide your movements as it billows and ultimately collapses behind you. The exhileration of that experience may result in an adrenaline rush that lasts for days, if not weeks.

Awareness and Choice 
My spirit has approached the edge, time and time again throughout the course of my life. Every time, my spirit has jumped off that edge, despite whatever misgivings my mind or body manifest. Sometimes, mid-fall, my spirit joins my body and mind in second-guessing my choice, the choice that seems to be hurtling me towards imminent doom.

At the right moment, every time, either the bungee-cord helps me reverse direction or my parachute opens, allowing me a gentle descent.

And my world is never the same afterwards.