I have wanted to try to get in words why I skydive, and it seems to me it has to do somehow with both sadness and love. How is that? The more we allow ourselves to love, the sadder the leaving. We can't allow ourselves to love too much, then; and it's hard to love too much with one's spirit blowing lightly in the wind.
There is a sense as one grows older that pridefulness and excessive ego are misplaced-- there is a tendency towards humility, in the face of knowing how much of what we do is vanity. Skydiving is three things: It is a submission after years of willfulness; it is wholly absorbing, and therefore distracting from our cares; and it is the rational, peaceful contemplation of death, and eternity made less fearsome.
As skydivers, we can feel less deeply the anguish of knowing the impermanence of love, and of those we love. Skydiving *celebrates* life's impermanence with a brilliant brightness, floods it with a blinding light. Ultimately, it reminds us that life is very fragile, but very brave.